|By : Nickamano|
Category: +M through R > Mortal Kombat
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|Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Kombat, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.|
Jerrod, King of Edenia, held tight to his beautiful wife’s head with both hands as he angrily and deliberately slammed his cock in and out of her tightly clutching throat.
He felt the glorious caress of wetness and heat and the tight constricting grip of her lips, the cinch of her oesophagus and the fast lap, flick and lave of her skilled tongue. There could be few sensations more sublime than driving his erection in and out of his wife’s throat while she worked hard to pleasure him with all her skills, skills she had developed over centuries of both practice following an intensive course of education to best prepare her for the role of Queen. Those skills had ben fostered by women and men with expertise in offering such pleasures of the flesh. And this level of skill was only available to those who would pay a fortune to learn it.
Millennia ago when Jerrod had first been crowned, the ‘career’ of Queen was simple and threefold. Firstly, to always look good beside the King, the absolute ruler of the realm, to compliment him. Secondly, to bear the King children, preferably sons. And thirdly, to give the King all the physical pleasure possible to receive. The idea being that if the Queen was able to satisfy all the King’s needs exclusively, then the King’s head would not be turned by other ladies of the court, and that should prohibit the problems of illegitimate claims to the throne from bastard sons.
As the tall and powerfully muscular King of Edenia thrust the entirety of the impressive length of his royal manhood between the full and pouting lips of his delicious Queen, he thought with residual frustration back to the events of that afternoon --
With a sharp hiss of huffed out breath, the King snapped himself up from his great throne and swept furiously from the vast vaulted chamber, robes flapping behind him, as though they themselves hurried to keep up. He left behind the breathless messenger, kneeling before the dais and the two lines of advisors, seated, their backs to the twin lines of cylindrical pillars, along either side of the throne room’s central walkway.
Grinding his teeth in barely repressed rage, Jerrod swept around the dead space to the rear of his huge and imposing granite and gold throne, heading toward one of his many private chambers situated behind it.
He was tired, angry and frustrated, because he was essentially stuck in the middle of what was shaping up to be the second worst situation his Kingdom had known throughout all the millennia in which he had ruled. It would be second only to the attempt to annex the realm by Shao Kahn and the forces of Outworld.
Worst of all was that his role as King had just come up against and thoroughly stomped on his, to him equally important, role as loving husband. And he hated that fact more than anything else.
“I can't believe this. It’s just too much!” He huffed through savagely gritted teeth.
Snatching up a golden-oak goblet from a side table, he tossed in a few fingers of sweet wine and gulped the contents down in a hurry. It didn't help. Nor did the second helping, only serving to trap wind behind his ribs and forcing a belch to rise embarrassingly upward.
Over the centuries, Jerrod had worked hard to bring up the role of Queen toward a position of equality, not only in the rule of law but also in the eyes of his always-dedicated-to-tradition subjects. And through an ongoing process it had, so far, worked. His Queen was now looked at as equal ruler over Edenia, in the eyes of his advisors, equally listened to and equally respected. Even though, as King, he still maintained overall authority - the transition to equal and joint rule was a slow one and not always easy to be accepted; even by the Queen herself, who was as used to the idea of the ultimate authority lying with the King as everyone else. After all, it had been that way since the dawn of time.
She had recently borne him their daughter Kitana. And additional changes in the rule of law now allowed the child to be crowned Queen in their stead, without a requirement for a male heir. More privately, Jerrod and his Queen still enjoyed a fantastic sex life, though it was a fantastic sex life of two people who adored each other, who couldn’t get enough of each other, rather than the unbalanced and one-sided adoration of old. He just hoped that mutual love and respect hadn’t just died.
His chief advisor knocked on the heavy door. Announcing himself clearly and expectantly. And knowing he could be one of the only people the King would be prepared to admit. Under normal circumstances it would be their beloved Queen, but this was nowhere near a normal circumstance.
“Damn those Delandrians!” Jerrod snarled, whipping around to address his advisor as the old man entered.
He slumped down onto the edge of the desk beneath the window and let out a long, frustrated sigh, looking expectantly across at his chief advisor as the old berobed man closed the door securely behind him.
“I’m here to offer my listening services, Majesty.” The advisor said with a bow.
“Thank you, my friend, but I think my path is clear.”
His duty as King simply had to come first and foremost. And if that meant his luscious young wife was unfairly angry with him and not speaking to him, there was really nothing he could do about it. He must be the King first and a loving, doting husband second, however much he wished his duties to be the reverse.
“Why did it have to be the damned Delandrians?”
“Possibly their connection to her divine Majesty made them assume you would turn a blind eye, Sire…?”
“As her divine Majesty no doubt wants me to do...”
The advisor, wisely, didn't offer a response.
“It should not matter.” The King went on. “Civil war between prefectures of Edenia is simply unthinkable. I cannot allow it. Even if the instigator is revealed to be my beloved wife’s own father!”
The advisor didn't offer a response.
“He always was a proud man. And always quick to temper...” The King muttered, now more reminiscing over past experiences with his wife’s Prefect of Delanria father. “And yet he must realise the position he puts me in. Does he truly expect his daughter to turn me from my sworn duty as reigning monarch?”
“I cannot say, Sire. Though not wholly out of character for her divine Majesty’s esteemed father. It still seems somehow… suspect.”
He paused for a moment. Watching the King stare off into space.
“I would like to add Sire, that not for one moment do I or any of the other advisors have any suspicions concerning the Queen herself. She is absolutely above reproach. No one thinks she might have any direct involvement.... or even indirect involvement.”
“I am relieved to hear it.” Jerrod said, through all but gritted teeth. “You are quite correct that Sindel is above suspicion. And it would have been a shame to have had to put one or two of my advisors to death over any accusations put against the Queen’s honour and good name.”
“I regret any offence caused, Majesty.” The chief advisor put in hurriedly.
“It matters not my friend. I would not have punished a question asked with sensitivity and away from the ears of my wife. But an open accusation in the throne room would certainly have resulted in dire consequences. I am relieved to see my advisors have learned tact and diplomacy.”
“It is indeed a relief, Sire.” The advisor said with a smile. “Still, her divine Majesty's father, making such a move, knowing what a position it would put you in, Sire… it seems very unusual.”
“That's what I can't get past. And yet I can't let it slide. It must be stopped and the instigators punished, no matter how the situation arose or who, in particular, caused it.”
“Sindel will not be happy, nor will she understand. Her family loyalty has always battled with her place as my Queen, the realm’s Queen... She even bows to her father when we or they visit. That has ever bothered me, though I stay my tongue...”
“I understand, Sire. Her divine Majesty's loyalties are as sacrosanct as your own. And with every respect she knows this well. She may be angry, perhaps feeling betrayed, however she cannot refute her duty to the Kingdom... Or to you, Sire.”
“You don't know my wife, my friend.” Jerrod grunted, and with it came a wry smile.
“Again, with every respect, Sire. I know Royal Law and Duty. They are written into the Edicts and cannot be disavowed. By anyone.”
The advisor spoke carefully and with as much respect as he could express. Which Jerrod appreciated.
“Yes... Still, leaving Sindel’s tantrums and her anger aside for a moment, I feel… you and I both feel there is more going on here...”
He fell silent, thinking. And the advisor stood statue still, waiting for the coming order.
“Very well... gather the 'Grasses'. I understand Malachite's cell are in the Palace. Send them to Delandria and Daegon with all haste, and find out the real truth of this situation. No matter what it is.”
“At once, Sire.”
Sindel was fantastic. The skill she used on his pulsing erection as he continued to drive it back and forth in and out of her throat, literally made Jerrod weak at the knees. Her tongue writhed across the underside of his shaft with all the energy and vigour of an electric eel. The entryway between her mouth with its writhing, flicking tongue and narrow, gripping throat squeezed him with a heated wet-tightness that was simply divine.
However, she wasn't infallible and she still needed to breathe. So, Jerrod kept half an eye on the state of her, looking out for signs that she was struggling and in need of oxygen. He knew that, as if to spite him, she would never let up without her Liege's permission. She would work herself into a faint rather than stop. And as her King, it was for him to pay attention to her and release her from her obligation before she did herself harm, momentary or not. He might be her King but he was also her husband and, though angry with her, he loved her to distraction and the last thing he wanted to do was to cause her harm.
So, when her prodigious efforts started to lessen, her flushed cheeks began to pale and her head began to droop, eyes rolling uncontrolled in her head, he quickly pulled back out of her throat, keeping the heat of her breath and contact with her sweet tongue. Holding her there, with his cock filling most of her mouth, he stared into her eyes to watch for a return of awareness. When it did return it returned with a vengeance, her eyes refocussed and stared up at him, positively blazing.
The Queen carefully drew her lips backward until his cock was outside of her mouth, her eyes on him, searching for a reaction. He offered none. She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself, all the while staring up into his face. Something dark and intimidating masked her true emotions, even with the tears of exertion and the run make-up making her appear, at first glance, to be suffering and emotionally defeated. She took a final deep breath and then planted a nasty fraudulent smile across her gorgeous face.
"Would his gracious Majesty like his devoted and acquiescent Queen to work on his royal erection a while?"
Sindel, staring up at him with her lovely yet teary and fierily defiant eyes, was essentially staring daggers at him and Jerrod had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes in exasperation.
"His gracious Majesty would like that very much." He grunted.
Serious now, Sindel nodded and then leaned in again, mouth first, to take his fat gleaming helmet to her lips. Her full pouting lips pressed against the glans, forward pressure holding him steady and in place. The tip of her tongue pushed forward and teased his crown directly tickling and caressing, and then slowly her lips spread and advanced along the thick bulbous girth of his large erection. Her pout folded over the wide-splayed corona of his helmet, her jaw stretching in order to get it into her mouth.
Sucking in air through her flared nostrils, Sindel pushed herself down her husband’s thick cock, pausing as the ridge of his crown met her tonsils. Reangling her jaw slightly, she launched herself forward, driving his meat hard into her throat and herself all the way down to his balls. There came the sudden expected gush of hot saliva, aiding lubrication and the swallowing of the King’s royal shaft. A high throaty groan of pure ecstasy from Jerrod punctuated his Queen’s expertise.
She kept him all the way down. Palm and long thin fingers manipulating his big, heavy scrotum while her tongue whipped back and forth and worked quick washing circles across the thick ridge, running along the underside of the heavy length of his jaw-stretching meat. And then she offered additional textural caresses of humming and swallowing around that gullet-sheathed length, her tight throat muscles stroking and rubbing and squeezing against his pulsing cock, while her voice-box sent divine vibrations sparking throughout his hot flesh.
To stop himself from climaxing before he wanted to, Jerrod forced his attention back to the events of the afternoon. --
Having returned to the throne room after the private conversation with his chief advisor, Jerrod initiated the necessary conversation about what response would be best relating to the civil conflict between the two northern Prefectures.
The reports, situational breakdown, advice - often conflicting - and arguments went on into the night. And by the time the King finally retired to his private chambers for the night, he was weary as well as greatly frustrated. Very little had been concluded, other than sending the second and fifth divisions of Cavalry and the fourth brigade of Foot to the north to put down the fighting between the two Prefectures. And that had been the very first action taken, it had been obvious and essential. However, since then nothing more in the way of progress had been gained.
That first action had also had Sindel raging for a full five minutes, before turning obstinately on her heel and storming out of the throne room. Jerrod had listened to her intently and respectfully. And in silence. Refusing to argue or take up any of the Queen's barbed accusations and insults. As King he knew she should be censured for her disrespect to the Crown. But he maintained his silence and his temper, even as she stormed out of the throne room with neither the requisite bow to the Crown or a request of the necessary permission to leave the King’s company.
Jerrod didn't care about those things. His chief advisor might be a stickler for the rules but to Jerrod, as long as there as a general respect shown to the position of King, he could take personal insults without concern. Certainly from his wife. He understood his Queen's anger and her frustration of the way her loyalties were being tested. Though none other than herself was even questioning her loyalty. Perhaps her father, from afar in some respect. And perhaps that was what she was truly reacting to. If anything, it felt like it was Jerrod's own loyalty was the thing being tested, by his wife through her father’s actions.
And that was the most hurtful thing. She knew better. She knew he was stuck between a rock-and-a-hard-place and yet her anger revealed her wish for him to support her father's position, and possibly, though she did not outright say as much, to add the Crown's armies to those of her father.
Well, that was never going to happen, and she should have realised that from the start. Jerrod thought, wracked with a saddened longing for Sindel. They had always had a fantastic relationship both as King and Queen, and as husband and wife. Living and ruling as equals, except when the trappings of royal dogma insisted that they maintain a pretence of his superiority over her, which they had always seen as nothing more than a tradition.
And yet right now their relationship that equality, sharing and mutual respect, felt broken and he was angry with her as she was with him. He felt like she was acting childishly, locking herself in her private chambers, unwilling to come to the door to see him or even speak to him. Well, he wasn't going to countenance that any longer.
He looked over at his personal guard. A young warrior woman who was highly trained with both Ying Yeung style halberd and defensive blades. In a way, she represented one element of the Palace and his status as King that made him uncomfortable - the servants and the guards, supposedly meant to always be present but never noticed, always there to serve without getting in the way. He hated the idea of treating them like a piece of furniture and always made a point of acknowledging them, recognising them, where possible offering a grateful squeeze of a forearm or hand on a broad shoulder, a show of respect and appreciation for the difficulty of their duties.
“I'm afraid I have a difficult task for you.”
“Go and fetch the Queen?”
“Exactly. She will be stubborn and send you away. But I summon her as King, not merely as her Husband, which gives you the authority to dismiss her counter instructions and… insist.”
“I understand, Majesty.”
She offered a deep, well-practiced bow and then strode from his chamber. He caught her at the door with a last word.
“Take care. Of yourself, as much as my beloved.”
The young guard was a real beauty. Her glossy chestnut hair was cropped, as all guards sported so that they could easily don their helmets. Though she had done something to it to maintain a certain femininity to the cut and style. Large innocent eyes, small nondescript nose and full pouting lips aided there a lot. The armour was the usual silver and gold filigree half-plate of breastplate, pauldrons and greaves. There was a gorget but it was hinged and folded across the upper back and shoulders, not unlike a cowl. For ease of movement as well as long hours standing still on guard duty, that was the extent of the armour. The guards did have a tasset covering their thighs and a hauberk beneath the breastplate. Both were made of translucent Edenian silk, which could itself stop a sword slash or an arrow. They were in pale yellow and all but weightless, and pretty revealing. Pleated gathers at the crotch covered modesty but muscular thighs and steel hard buttocks were all but exposed to onlookers. If it came to a full battle, there were quick-lock ceramic-alloy pieces that matched the standard armour which stood ready beside the guard-post, along with the helm, gauntlets and back up weapons. But they were unnecessary for day-to-day guard duty.
The guard Sharni, all but suppressed her smile but did offer a curt nod of understanding and then left to procure her divine Majesty. Jerrod found himself staring at those hard sculpted silk sheathed buttocks as the young guard strolled off along the passageway.
She reappeared five minutes later with Sindel at her side, the Queen gripped by an upper arm. The guard also sported a nasty looking bruise already swelling over one eye. Sindel looked utterly enraged and that emotion shot across the chamber to Jerrod as a bitter icy coldness that made him shiver. Though it was accompanied with a suspicious degree of calm collectedness.
“Thank you, Sharni. Please place yourself outside the door.”
“Yes Majesty.” The guard said, her cheeks blushing visibly.
Jerrod could see relief and gratitude in the young woman’s eyes. He gave her a little nod of the head. There was very little that could be considered more terrible than Sindel in a bad mood. Jerrod was about the only one who could manage her and right now the only reason he knew he would succeed is because he was King of the Realm and, as much as she was his Queen and his Wife, she was also his subject and therefore beneath him, even if only speaking in political terms. Guards would always take his command over hers if there was ever any discord. Mostly he hated that reality, but right now it worked in his favour, as well as stoking the oft-tamped down fires of his dominant streak.
“Approach your King, lady.”
There was a momentary flush that invaded the smooth marble of her perfect sculpted cheeks, but she lowered her eyes and swished smoothly across the room, her body moving with all the grace and poise of her station. Though she couldn’t control the erotic bounce and quiver of her huge full breasts. And he had to stifle the groan he always found himself releasing whenever he saw her immaculate physique. She came to a halt two feet from Jerrod, her silken gossamer night-robes swirling around her as she abruptly ceased her advance. Her eyes remained lowered.
“You will kneel.” He said coldly.
He stared her down as she momentarily glanced up, holding her eyes with his. His attempt to maintain the icy cold in his eyes, as she was so perfectly able to accomplish with hers, proved a real struggle. She looked down again and then knelt on the cool sand-marble flooring. Instinctively, Jerrod glanced around and then took two steps away. He retrieved a thick padded cushion from a chair against the wall by one of the tall narrow windows. He dropped the cushion to the floor and idly kicked it over to her. It slid to a stop by her knees. She picked up the cushion, raised herself just enough to slide it under her and then settled back into position again. Jerrod returned to stand a hand span from the tip of her nose.
His eyes roved over her in a perfect storm of adoration and hunger. She looked immaculate, her magnificent, unbeatable hourglass figure profoundly accentuated by the transparent yellow and silver of her flowing layered gown. Silver threads of vines and flowers concealed her nipples and her groin, though barely. Her silver mane was centre parted, trailing down her exquisitely muscled back and loosely secured behind her small flat ears by a delicate silver bejewelled hair clip at the back of her head. Other than a little flush across her cheeks and a tightness to her full lips, she was all strength within a framework of preternatural beauty. The strong jaw, the high cheek bones, the fierce intelligence behind those flinty eyes, small straight nose, those full wanton lips. The complexion, buffed smooth alabaster, was completely flawless. Perhaps only the severe arch to her high, thin brows offered a haughtiness that might make her appear disdainful. At least, to those who did not know her.
She knelt demurely before him, submissive and subjugated as all subjects were to their King. At least ideologically. However, he could see glowing behind those lovely long lashed eyes was a powerful defiance that glowed white hot and he felt the tingles of his love and lust for her. The two sensations battling each other for supremacy. It was a tricky thing for him. He often felt the two heart-aching feelings for his wife as separate entities, his love a spiritual experience and combined with being continually and utterly impressed with the person she was - her strength, her intellect, her cool impartiality with which she beheld the problems of her subjects which gave arise to pristine fairness. She was not taken in by plucks to the heartstrings or influences of bias or culture or favouritism. Well, usually. Of course, she always had a blind spot when it came to her father.
And then there was the sheer raw sexuality of her. That was gargantuanly powerful, it tore at the spiritual way she impressed and inspired him, and held those parts down, beating them into submission with her strong and aggressive sexual drive. He desired her in a mindless animalistic manner, that raw hot sexiness that she carried around with her so effortlessly, distracting and capturing those around her. His physical desire for that immaculately affecting appearance. Her lusty, icy beauty, her incredible, delectable figure that might as well have been fashioned by a divinely inspired master sculptor. The ice-cold and yet nuclear-hot seductiveness that she so effortlessly brought to bear. She simply blazed sexuality.
Of course, there was also her martial power. Though their daughter Kitana, and perhaps Jade of the Grasses, could give her a run for her money, Sindel was one of the most powerful and blessed warriors in all the known Realms. She could best ninety-nine percent of other combatants and the other one percent would have no easy task of besting her in one-on-one combat. However, her martial power held absolutely no weight next to the power of her rampant sexuality. With that, she could floor any man, or any woman, that way inclined.
Though better still, beyond the blinding brilliance of her torrid sexuality, was that she possessed all the physical skills to make the most of her appearance. She didn’t just walk the walk. She could rip earth shattering orgasms from any partner in seconds, leaving them content to die in the glorious unassailable ecstasy she had provided. And then she would start all over again and it would prove to be better than the last time. And it would go on and on until she had exhausted you. And she would barely have even broken a sweat. That was the divine individual who knelt before King Jerrod.
And yet the rage inside her was unmitigated and barely held in check, even before her Liege. She was encased in a cold, bitter hardness that kept Jerrod from merely taking her into his arms, from spoiling her with adoring kisses and placating expressions of ever-lasting devotion and idolising love. It was frustration and the blatant unfairness of that bitter anger that enabled Jerrod to stare her down, to switch off the admiration and heartrending idolatry and instead to offer her a look of cold, commanding majesty.
“Now lady, suck.” He growled.
With the tone, he might have been commanding a slave girl rather than his most beloved, and Queen of the Edenian Realm.
After a half-moment of hesitation, a not-quite sigh, Sindel shuffled forward like an automaton until her pursed lips kissed the blunt heat of the hard crown of Jerrod’s throbbing cock. Then she unceremoniously parted those plump lips and slid her mouth down her King’s erection.
“That’s it… That’s it! Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh! …Ohhh, you’re so good!” Jerrod gasped.
“Wait! Wait, stop, lady. Stop!” His gasping became suddenly desperate. “Heed your King’s command, woman!”
She stopped, slowly drawing the vacuum seal of her puffed up lips back along the length of his steaming, spit polished cock, unable to withhold the lopsided superior smile. He knew her game, she had brought him so close to climax, casually defying his command to stop, in an effort to make him cum and sap him, at least for the time being, of his virility. Of course, she would only take it so far. He might not ever deign to actually punish her for her defiance but still, he knew she would only take it so far.
Jerrod managed a rickety step backward. And Sindel grinned, her lower face slick with drool and well flushed, yet appearing haughty in her sexual superiority. His erection was terribly ruddy and pulsed to the pace of his rapidly fluttering heart. It was swollen, almost monstrously, red with friction and engorgement. It looked almost ready to burst, like an overripe fruit. Panting and sweating, and quivering with his lust, he shakily gestured toward the huge silk riven royal bed.
"Over there now. To perform your duty to your King, Madam.”
She didn’t move at first, still smug and gloating. Jerrod, rampant and barely maintaining royal decorum, again, waved a hand toward the fourposter.
“Remove your raiment at once. You will perform your primary duty as Queen."
Despite his barely contained state of sexual hunger, Jerrod chose his words carefully, deliberately belittling her royal position.
"Of course, your divine and gracious Imperial Majesty, my Lord." The sarcasm veritably dripped.
She unclipped the silk front-panel, which was pinned with broach-like fastenings at the shoulders, midriff and hips to the pleated coat-like gown on either side of it. The floaty yellow gossamer drooped, revealing her naked torso completely, from her throat to the tops of her thighs. She shrugged the robe from her shoulders, allowing it to pool around her ankles and then stepped out of it. Now naked, apart from cotton slippers, the lustrous Queen sauntered over to the bed, deliberately swaying her hips provocatively, the powerful muscles of her thighs and all those intricate muscles of her naked back rhythmically clenching, shining under the lamplight of the royal bedchamber.
“What position, does his divine Majesty require of his lowly Queen, my lord?”
Jerrod looked back at her smouldering, searing eyes. The anger there was scorching hot and yet chilling at the same time. She had paused to address him at a three-quarter angle, one knee up on the mattress, one hand grasping an intricately carved bedpost, the best angle to show off her bodacious, slender yet curvy figure. Her silky hair swished across the pronounced upper curves of the tops of her immaculate buttocks. The sarcastic smile was gone, the lips parted slightly, at once wanton and innocent. Her eyes glimmering under the lamplight. It was all a ploy, playacting the powerless submissive when they both knew she was anything but. She was belittling him right back.
“Sharni!” He called.
The outer door swung open and the young guard stepped into the room and stamped to whip-crack attention.
“Manacles and a silencer.”
“At once Majesty.”
Jerrod enjoyed the guard’s shocked, wide-eyed expression almost as much as seeing his wife’s mute horror. The guard slipped out of the room and closed the door. She wouldn’t go herself, that would be a dereliction. But there were always servants and page boys around the Palace. She knocked on the door within a minute and on Jerrod’s command entered, marched over to him with one hand outstretched, carrying handcuffs and what was essentially a ball gag, though instead of a rubber ball it was a six-inch-long and jaw achingly thick moulded phallus. Holes had been drilled into it for breathing purposes. He took them from the guard who this time, though her cheeks were flushed and her swollen eye was patched with a poultice, refused to lift her gaze from the floor. He knew it was partially to show respect to the Queen. Not that Sindel would appreciate it - though she was rarely unfair and perhaps, once this situation was resolved and she had adequately calmed, she might quietly apologise to the young guard and maybe even offer some small trifle in recompense. However, in that moment, Jerrod cared no more than Sindel about it. He took the items from the guard whispered a little “thank you” and then dismissed her.
Once she had closed the door behind her, Jerrod turned back to his wife. He tossed the gag onto the mattress before her.
“Put that on. Buckle it tight.”
She stared daggers at him. But reached down and picked up the straps and then slid the phallus past her lips and into the entrance of her throat. He watched her do so. Enjoying her obedience as much as her humiliation.
“Now, on your back on the mattress and chain yourself to the headboard.”
Her eyes, now glistening exquisitely with tears of effort – stuffed throat and aching jaw, stared back at him, the defiance temporarily replaced with shock, even disbelief. He decided to placate her a little. Once she was manacled to the bed and on her back with her knees up and her legs spread to receive him, he came and stood beside the bed and pressed the manacle key into one of her strong fisted palms.
“Only when you have my permission.” The King said, holding her glistening eyes with his.
She replied with a submissive and awkward nod. Jerrod grunted, he was hungry for her body and his still slick erection was throbbing with a need to be inside her. He didn’t think this would take long. If he didn’t love her so much, this was be classed as a hate fuck.
His hand caressed her long, toned thigh, fingers sliding up and down, enjoying the smoothness of her flesh and the hard, powerful bulges of muscle beneath. Then he slapped her inner thigh, enjoying the loud crack of flesh on flesh that echoed around the large chamber, as well Sindel’s little high pitched muffled yelp.
His hand slid against down her thigh to the smooth jut of her hip bone, across her pubis and then up over the hills and valleys of her taut though undeniably feminine abdominals, the hardness of her ribs and then on to the orbs of her breasts. Her huge bosom was spread out across her upper chest, their size drawing them toward her armpits. They looked magnificent, gleaming with sweat and no doubt some saliva, dark pink areolae puckered and dimpled though infinitely soft, capped by fully hardened nipples right now as long as the first joint of a pinkie finger. And even though her perfect and huge breasts were splayed toward the outer curves of her rib cage, the nipples still looked perfectly placed, high and proud. “I should commission a dozen artists,” He thought as he took hold of those perfect hefty orbs, “no two dozen, a hundred to capture her perfection in every art form possible. That would give them the ultimate challenge, to capture true perfection.”
Jerrod spent long minutes simply caressing his wife’s lovely breasts, stroking and squeezing them. At first he was gentle, marvelling at their texture, their beauty, their sheer perfection. However, all too soon he allowed his anger free reign and for a few moments he was all but crushing the delectable pair in his grasp. He pinched her nipples hard, twisted and rolled them between his fingers, used his grip to stretch the orbs out away from her chest, until she was arching up off the mattress, goading her with his mild sadomasochism, making her hiss and squirm and voice wordless whimpering sounds of protest.
Finding the calm centre again, he released his deliberately cruel grip and returned to his gentle, almost massaging caresses. “A warm oil would be pleasant” he thought, but his anger suddenly flared again. This was supposed to be a dominating punishment. He shifted back, climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her obediently spread thighs.
Normally he would enjoy putting his mouth to Sindel’s pussy and sucking two or three succulent gushing climaxes out of her before penetrating her, and he actually salivated at the prospect. But he wasn’t here for her pleasure. He wasn’t here to share pleasure. He was here to take it. She was here to provide it for him.
Even so, Jerrod probed her vulva gently with his fingers, noting the way Sindel gave a sharp inhale and her uplifted inner thighs corded as he tenderly spread her open. He was satisfied to find her flushed and swollen and her labia pouting out from between the puffy outer lips. Her pea-size clitoris was fully engorged and jutting forth from its hood and her juices glistened on her inner lips. A trickle flowing down the curve of her stretched labia even as he explored.
Again, he bit back the urge to taste her, to flick at her with his tongue, to bury his mouth in her tight little pussy and suck her sweet nectar. Even after having given birth to Kitana, Sindel remained as tight as an un-plucked maiden.
The King advanced into position, kneeling upright with his thighs pushed underneath hers and his feet under his buttocks. He levered his erection into place, spreading her inner lips around the bloated crown. And then he pulled backward with his hips, to keep himself at the mouth of her pussy, at the same time reaching forward with his hands to once again capture those magnificent breasts.
Jerrod enjoyed a few moments teasing her pussy entrance with micro thrusts, sliding the same half-inch of his crown forward and back, stretching her lips apart without pushing any deeper. At the same time, he massaged her breasts for his own pleasure, fingers plying the succulent softness of the hefty orbs, drawing them together in the middle of her chest, squeezing them, using them as handholds and playthings.
The Queen appeared to be trying to keep her emotions restrained, but he could see it in her wide, glistening eyes, the purse of her lips, the way she gave little blowing exhales through her gag, and a little rumble or two in the back of her throat. He could feel her hard nipples poking firmly into his palms and even in his own hot grip they felt hot and barely spongey, the taut flesh engorged as much as his erection.
He couldn’t hold back a groan at the sheer lascivious pleasure of the feel of her body laid out for his pleasure, her breasts overfilling his big, powerful hands and the slick heat of her pulsing vagina enveloping the tip of his erection. It was so much pleasure that he wanted to overdose on it. And he couldn’t help, then and there, than to drive his hips powerfully forward with an animalistic growl, though it was almost drowned out by Sindel’s sudden breathy moan of intense passion. Her back arched, head tossed between her uplifted arms, eyes flying open wide and momentarily rolling up in her head.
Jerrod screwed his wife with rapid pummelling thrusts. Going at her with a kind of blind fervour. Using the two-handed clutch of her awesome breasts to help propel him in and out of the oven hot clutching depths of her tunnel. With his powerful, muscular hips, thighs and buttocks he hammered his engorged erection into her with all the power and velocity he could manage. He was never going to last long at this pace and degree of lust. He didn’t care to. This was purely for his own pleasure. His wife’s pleasure shouldn’t matter. Not after the way she had treated him this day. But of course, it did matter.
He watched her closely, knowing her body, the way her nipples had stiffened to diamonds and engorged themselves, and the desperation and tone of her vocal cacophony. All were ‘tells’ he knew all too intimately, and he was able to hold off his own climax until, rather pridefully, she was engulfed in a none too minor orgasm of her own. Her whole body locked up and tensed and she went into the throes of violent shivering, quaking and groaning, a shrill back-of-the-throat sound that always made him glow with desire and warmth toward her.
Her sudden, no doubt unwanted thirty seconds of bed-rocking joy brought about Jerrod’s own orgasm and he snatched backward with his hips, yanking his cock out of his wife’s luscious body and abruptly shot his load all over her.
His bloated, swollen shaft, ruddy and gleaming with her juices, swung about like a pendulum even as the thick ropes of his seed erupted like gallons of hot oil spurted from a projectile thrower. Eight heavy streams, viscous and creamy and almost steaming hot, plied Sindel’s flesh along the full length of her hourglass torso. Jerrod’s hips continued thrusting subconsciously while his head and shoulders were thrown backward in his orgasmic glory.
He coated the Queen over and over, from her silver hairline to the sweat-matted tuft of her pubic hair. Brazen ribbons of the thickest spunk cascading brilliantly over her bronzed flesh, gluing one eyelid, covering a nostril and both forced-wide lips. The streams followed the mountainous curves of her breasts, even hooking onto one lust-fattened nipple, then flowing around the overt form of her breast’s outer curve. Others maintained a centre line, following the terrain of her powerful stomach muscles, brimming in her navel as it rose and fell rapidly.
The ropes eventually became a heady dribble from his still thickly swollen crown, trickling out of him and over her pulsing, ruddy pussy like a tap needing a replacement washer. A trickle pooled over her protruding clitoris, bringing responsive whimpers and shivering from the delectable Queen, while the remainder oozed downward, concealing her urethra, coating her labia, her inner thighs, trickling onward between her straining, clenched buttocks and staining the bedding beneath her.
Once it was over. He retrieved a wash cloth and towel from the off-bedchamber bathing rooms, gave Sindel permission to un-manacle herself from the headboard and clean herself up with the offered wash cloth. Then he retired to the bathing rooms himself to empty his bladder. When he returned, she had departed already, though she had left the towel and washcloth carefully folded on a chair. A maid knocked, announcing that her Majesty had called for her to come and change his bedding for him. A kind of peace offering perhaps? Perhaps.
He would have to wait and see how he fared in her presence over the following days.
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