by Multiple
Women offered themselves and were offered to him, but she could sense that such willing desire was new and different to him. It was a wholly new experience for the God-King that commanded fear beyond respect or obedience.
Pushing back on her shoulder, he made her rest beneath him upon the cool soapstone table. She had served her stuck up princess her meal here but a day ago upon that intricately carved surface. How things did change.
Looking over her voluptuous form, those heavy breasts that rested against her chest, the wide hips and pleading thighs, he rested his gaze against her slick slit to see the proof of her arousal. “You’ll get your wish,” he promised, watching as her slender fingers took hold of his unearthly heft and guided his manhood to her flower. The tenderness of that moment making him groan with desire even before he jabbed his hips forward and impaled the doting servant on his godlike ebon shaft.
She screamed, but it wasn’t the usual sound of protest and hurt. It was something so deep and primal, and a hissed ‘yes!’ trailed beneath it. Her thick thighs wrapped against his hips, but she could scarcely accommodate all of his length, despite her desire and the intense arousal that made her body easier to plumb.
He was so deep within her canal, and the sensation was too much for her to bear. Though she had never been easy to bring to such pleasure—countless men had tried and failed, despite their diligence—all it took was the simple, single thrust of her new god’s cock to send her pivoting over the edge.
He felt the way her cunny spasmed, the muscles contracting and massaging him so delightfully, but her cries and squirms were almost sweeter still. Her shoulders shifted, and with them, her breasts tilted to the side, the heavy orbs resting against her bicep before she jerked back against the table. Her back arched as the waves of ecstasy seemed to continue for an eternity.
When finally she managed to still her twitching form, she was still posed so near to the edge that her eyes watered as her hips began to grind him, “I’m sorry you can’t fit, Your Greatness!’
The giant of a man had brought many a woman to screams and orgasms upon the end of his massive cock, but never before had he done so with such relative ease. Never with a woman being so willing and wanting. To feel her quake in unmistakable pleasure around his girth, coating him with such a thick rush of honey was satisfying beyond measure.
Resting a palm against the stone table beside her, he slid the other up over her, felt her large breast then teased her neck before stroking her cheek. It was hard not to appreciate the contrast of his dark cock against her olive skin, that thick trunk-like shaft of his prying her labia so wide, stretching them painfully about his veiny shaft.
“It’ll do,” he said in a quiet husk, moving his hand from the table to grip her hip and beginning to control her so forcefully as he rammed himself into her.
Even had he been gentle, it would have been a harsh experience, but the dark God-King spared her nothing as he began to piston his powerful hips, savaging her cunt with his dick as he grunted in pleasure. The look of rising satisfaction on his broad, handsome face such a thing of beauty, his long black hair dangled about him as he pounded harder, faster. They filled the garden with the sounds of flesh thudding against flesh.
She tried to look at him, to watch him tear her asunder and appreciate her body, but each new wave of pleasure sent her reeling. It took her another few seconds to recover, only to feel her body betray her inner thoughts to the man again and again. She was greedy to see him, but with each new orgasm, her mind hazed over further and further until finally she just lay with her eyes closed, letting her body respond naturally to the powerful thrusts.
Her breathing and moaning never stopped, and she couldn’t stop her compliments from flooding past her mouth, and even her pain sounded exquisite as she shrieked and groaned beneath him. “I will care for your heir, make him strong and powerful, yet he’ll never be like you. He’ll be born of someone less than you and never rival your throne, but he’ll terrify his enemies as you do,” she moaned out, and her pleasure would not stop her praise. Her pain wouldn’t hinder her from giving him what he needed, and she willed her body to open and blossom for the man, to give him what he needed.
It was with a quaking fury that the brute of a man hammered into her with a final, earth shaking cry, ramming his wide crowned cock into her depths and let loose his seed. With his strong fingers dug into her hip and breast, his hips twitched as he ground himself against her womb, the thick flood of his seed burning out of him and into her as he lost control.
It was excruciating for her, the way he battered her cervix with each new slap, but the satisfaction on his face as he unleashed himself inside her was all she could have hoped for.
The whole of his charcoal dark skin was coated in a sheen of light perspiration, making his hard muscles stand out all the more. She looked down, seeing his enormous cock sticking out of her so lewdly, begin to ooze the thick cream of his cum. Panting lightly, the large man’s heavy breaths were of pure satisfaction, the act being nowhere near enough exertion to tire his muscular form.
With a lick of his lips he looked over her form with lidded eyes. “You’ve a breeder’s body,” he confirmed, “and the mindset to go with it, if you speak true.” It was only then he loosened his grip on her breast, which drew attention to just how hard he had grabbed at her.
She felt the absence of his hand, and yearned for the aching pain once more, but instead she laid back, breathing desperately as she tried to regain her composure. She’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had atop his great cock, but was grateful for every last one.
“Lying to you would be a carnal sin,” she gasped, as if insulted to think she could do such a thing. Her green eyes worked up his body, but they only made it halfway before they dipped back down, staring at him as he impaled her, seeing the lips pulled so tight over his shaft. She wanted to say it to his face, but she simply couldn’t stop looking at the lewd scene.
“Your Greatness, My Lord,” she breathed out reverentially. “Please reserve me for yourself. If one of those… lessers impregnated me before you, I couldn’t live with myself. I could be of such better use to only you.” Though something told her it was already too late for that, that virile god had planted his seed and no man would supplant it.
The giant, dark man licked around his lips. He had curious, almond-shaped eyes that were a bit narrowed usually, and his jaw was chiselled and hard. He was such a curious blend of human masculine beauty and dark ethereal majesty it was hard to place anything about him specifically as he watched her.
“By custom,” he began, his pecs still swelling with each new intake of breath, “I would hand you over to the troops to be used until they grew tired of you, or you were worn out.” The ominous nature of his words were amplified by his harsh, gravelly voice. “And if you survived a birth to show a child of my breeding, you would be rewarded.”
He was a cunning man, and he watched her through narrowed eyes, studying her in the silence after his declaration.
Her lips fell apart and her eyes reluctantly rose to his, a slow smirk coming to her lips, “I would expect no less from a cunning god,” she spoke with such reverence. Her thighs were still so tightly pressed to him, the fleshy, sensitive insides held against his hips, angling herself back to try to trap all of the cum she could within the deepest recesses of her form.
“I defer to you, Your Greatness, but I cannot promise I will serve them well. My body belongs to another, and it would withhold their assaults until I could be returned to my rightful owner.”
Trailing his hand up her form he cupped her jaw line, his thumb stroking along her lower lip where she tasted it there, suckling diligently as he spoke. “The princess,” he began, “if she were mine… willingly mine… I would have a legitimate claim to the throne that none could contend with,” he said huskily, suggestiveness rich on his voice.
There was the smallest hint of distaste at his words, but it quickly made way for thoughtfulness
. Her hands held his wrists, massaging his palm as she withdrew his thumb from her plush mouth, “Her father is dead, Your Greatness?”
Instead of pulling from her, the mighty man kept his cock hilted inside her slick cunt and lowered his hard body down atop her. His weight of pure muscle and bone could’ve crushed her, but he kept it enough to merely pin her with a delightful ache. “I split him open myself,” he husked, his face so near to her now it let Mirella truly appreciate his dark, masculine beauty fully.
It excited her, his words, his closeness, his weight, and he watched as she swooned beneath him for a second before she swallowed. “Keep me with her. Keep us for yourself, and I will teach her what it means to be a concubine to a god. All I do will be for your benefit,” she swore, and there was no begging to her tone. No neediness.
Though she desired to please him, she would do so in any manner he saw fit, and would not presume to tell him his business. If he chose for her to be passed around like a doll, she would be the best damn doll that those men ever fucked.
Perhaps it was that desire to please, or perhaps it was instead her willingness to barter for her position so cunningly, but it made his mighty shaft twitch within her quim, showing signs of renewed life. “If you do this for me,” he began, licking his lower lip, “I will keep you in my harem until she is mine willingly. I will give you all that time to bear the fruit of my loins. And should you succeed before then, I will keep you to myself all the same.” It was almost romantic the tone of his dark voice, talking to her so closely as they still lay entangled. “Help trick her into being mine, and there will be rewards for you beyond measure.”
As close as he was to her, he could feel the beat of her heart quicken, and the muscles in her pussy clenched him tightly, though as large as he was, she needn’t work hard. “I will not disappoint you, for I know the punishments will be greater still.”
Rolling his hips, the thick, veiny shaft pulled out, then pushed back in. The soft suckling of her cum and honey glazed folds gripped him so tightly. He began to pump himself into her again, his cock stirring back to fullness. “Time is of the essence,” he husked, the slap of his balls against her ass resounding in the courtyard as his pace quickened and he took her yet again upon the table.
Once more he silenced rational thought with a haze of pleasure, and she was back to compliments, instead. Pretty, truthful words that only rang more genuine as her hips moved against him and her thighs lifted her up. She cried as he hit against her inner barrier, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but for him and his awesome power.
Chapter 3
Returned to the tent by one of the concubine-guards, Mirella had spent the evening tending to the delicate, needful princess. The morning didn’t seem like it would hold much different.
New food was placed out for the women of the tent, and despite the odd mix it seemed obvious they were treated well, or so was the intention while there. In the span of that one evening she’d seen a few of the women taken and replaced, presumably to serve the needs of the God-King, but he hadn’t shown up again, regrettably.
Plucking at some of the food on the manor platters, the princess whined, “This is awful.” The food, though from the palace’s kitchens, was not prepared to the standards the delicate woman was accustomed to.
“Come, now, Princess. It’s not that bad,” she popped another bit of melon in her mouth, chewing it and smiling, the entire act like the condescending way one speaks to a child. “See? Besides, you need your strength, my lovely girl. You need to be strong and fit so that you can get through these days.”
Mirella had been watching everything with an excruciating attention to detail, noting which women were taken, how long they were gone, and everything about their demeanour before and after. She had a keen eye for intrigue, and she took it upon herself to be aware of potential competition or threats.
Only one of the taken women had returned thus far, a brown haired local with curly locks, she had the wide-eyed look of someone stunned upon returning and had kept to herself since. Her competition seemed less spirited than herself, she had to confess.
The princess, however, had spirit. It was just of the wrong sort. “Father will be here soon,” she told herself stubbornly, the waifish princess refusing to eat. “Those… brutes,” she said, gesturing towards the tall concubine-soldiers that were their guards, “tried telling me he was dead,” and the refusal to believe it was strong with her.
She had thought on it for the entire night, wondering if she could break the princess and remould her into something fresh and better, or if she should use that naive hope against her. Mirella hadn’t come to a proper conclusion. She licked her lips, “Princess, he would not like to see you starved and abused, too weak to stand on your own feet because of your refusal to eat.” She plucked up some honeyed fruit, pressing it towards the woman and taking on a sterner tone, “Eat.”
With a scowl the petite princess finally gave in and took a small morsel of food. It had taken all morning to get that much done and once swallowed—with great distaste—she seemed disinclined to eat more. “What’s going to become of me, Mirella?” she huffed with despair, her slender shoulders sagging.
“You’ll always be a great Princess, my lady. Always. Even here, among these beasts, they recognize your status and you’ll be treated well. They won’t hurt you as long as you don’t make trouble for them.” Her hand stroked along the woman’s cheek, “I’m trying to help you. To make a deal with that g— the leader,” she quickly corrected herself to a more amiable term.
Lifting her watery blue eyes up to her servant, the delicate princess stared at her with wide wonder, “Make a deal?” Slowly distaste filled her features, “Is that what you were doing yesterday when I awoke and you were gone? Consorting with the enemy?” The young woman’s voice trembled in anger, disbelief and doubt.
“For you. To try to get you free and safe and back to your family,” she said calmly, though she forced a twinge of hurt to her tone. “We can’t fight, Princess. We’re captured, and if we’re not careful, terrible things might happen to us. To you. I can’t allow that to happen.”
There was obviously some conflict within her, the trembling, pale little woman lowering her eyes and darting them about in frustration. “That’s no excuse to… to barter with the devil!” she exclaimed in a breathy voice.
This was all too much to handle for the young woman who’d only once been beyond the city itself, and then simply to be betrothed to her future husband, a prince of the Empire. Swallowing down her rage she asked, “What have you done, Mirella?”
“I’ve only looked out for your best interests, my lady. You are my Princess, and I only ever want what is best for you,” she responded, obedience in her tone. “I’m only sorry that you had to wake alone. I so wanted to be there to ensure you were feeling well.”
She seemed so sincere and downtrodden to be accused of such things, and her green eyes fell demurely.
The virginal princess could hardly wrap her mind about what had actually happened, and it seemed apparent she was struggling with the reality of it all. “I need some time to think,” she said, though before anything more could be said that familiar sound of people falling to their knees could be heard behind them.
His was a presence felt before it was seen, and so Mirella was able to turn in time to see the grand, dark man sweep into the tent. Once again, where others cowered or bowed, she gazed up longingly.
Her gaze was returned, for the large tyrant approached them both. His dark gaze moved to the princess however, eying her quivering little form. “Good morning, princess Flair,” came his dusky voice, so hard and masculine, using her official title for the first time.
Mirella had to pull her eyes from him, using all her will to look back to the Princess, stroking the backs of her fingers against her lady’s hand. “Princess, please,” she murmured softly. She wanted the praise of her god, and if she could only warp the princess to his will…
Why did she have to be so obstinate? Why did her father spoil her so? Mirella shoved aside the rage, her light caresses so encouraging, “He can help you.”
The princess didn’t flinch from her touch, which was a good sign, but she still remained cowering from the visage of the mighty giant towering over them.
“You needn’t fear me, princess,” he intoned evenly in that booming voice of his that seemed incapable of doing anything but commanding attention.
The princess, however, snapped then, “My father will come and save me! I don’t need you or anyone to take care of me until then!” Obstinately she pushed away Mirella’s consoling hand and rose up on shaky limbs, resolutely defiant in her ignorance of reality.
“Princess!” she gasped as she stood on far more certain feet. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you get yourself injured,” she murmured, leaning in to the other woman’s ear, “Be rational,” she pleaded.
Stumbling upon the cushions that lined the floor as she pushed Mirella away, Anabelle tried to escape them both but toppled onto a mound of velvet and silk, crying as she tried to separate herself from them both. “Leave me alone!” she cried. Mirella knew that tone of voice well, there would be no consoling the princess now, not until she had sobbed herself clean of her worries.
However, the greatest disappointment was the look on the ebon God-King’s face. He said no more, but he chose two other women then, leaving her there to wait out the sobs of the petulant princess.
Chapter 4
After hours of crying and pouting, Mirella’s anger had plenty of time to boil. Despite her calming and matronly tone, her rage at disappointing her god, at being denied him was the most intense emotion she had ever felt.
At the palace, the Princess’s moods like this could go on for weeks at a time on occasion. Here, under such dramatic circumstances, she feared for how stubborn she could be. Sleep claimed her eventually, and in the midst of the night the concubine-guards came to her in quiet, shifting through the dim, candle lit tent to rouse the handmaid from her rest.