The King's Pleasure Read online

  His hand drifted from her hair to part the strands of beads and jewels. He caressed her bottom, his fingers moving lewdly between her cheeks. He was pushing her buttons, testing her. She squirmed uncomfortably, even though there was no one to see the exchange.

  “I’m not letting you go. I don’t care how you were raised. You’ll learn,” he said.

  Her breath hitched in her throat as he touched her. It was as if her body had lain dormant, waiting for the right man to come along and awaken her to her erotic potential. Every touch, every caress, no matter how lewd or invasive heated her from somewhere deep within. She wondered if he’d share her with visiting nobles as was custom. The thought made her heart thump hard in her chest, and she prayed he’d show her mercy when men started asking for her, even though a part of her grew wet over the idea.

  Finally he stopped fingering her. “Sit up.”

  Abigail obeyed the order, afraid of what might be coming next, but he simply gathered her in his arms, adjusting her so she sat on his lap. Then he guided her head to rest on his shoulder and held her, rubbing her back.

  “You will be exquisite. I’ll train you, and in time this shyness and discomfort will go away. Your wishes will not factor into my choices, however, I want to know where you are right now. If it’s possible, do you want me to take your inhibitions away?”

  With her face pressed against the king’s neck, she felt safer. “Yes, Master.”

  “Have you always had these feelings of discomfort and repulsion about our ways?”

  She knew he felt her head shake against his shoulder. But for some reason she felt compelled to explain her reply. “When I was little, I wanted to grow up and be one of the king’s harem. I didn’t know what a harem was then. I just knew I thought they were beautiful and free, and I wanted to feel like that. But my father got angry and yelled at me when I said something about it. He told me those women were bad people, and it was shameful to want to be like them. So I pushed the feelings away because I didn’t want to be bad.”

  “Oh, Abby,” he said, sighing.

  It felt like the world stopped while he held her, everything pausing in that sad sigh. She wished they could stay like this forever, alone in this room away from everyone, but too soon a knock interrupted the private moment of sanctuary.

  “Enter,” the king said.

  It was John. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but our guests have arrived.”

  “Send in the members of court and we’ll get started.”

  Abigail’s stomach churned as the doors opened and several high-ranking members of the king’s court filed in, followed by a few guards.

  They all bowed and waited patiently for the king’s address, not hiding the curiosity in their gazes at the sight of the new addition to court.

  “I will be formally introducing my slave to the kingdom at the feast and festival tomorrow night. A royal proclamation will go out this afternoon. Abigail, stand here beside me and let them all get a good look at you.”

  She stood shakily and turned to face the court. The king slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. She was grateful for the small offering of support and comfort. Then he stood behind her. His hands moved around to her front and he began stroking over her breasts and belly and between her thighs. It was a proprietary touch as if to say: “Look at what’s mine.”

  She closed her eyes, but he whispered in her ear, “Look at them, Abby. Look at how much they desire you.”

  His voice was kind; his intent, clear. He was doing what he said he’d do, stripping away her inhibitions, peeling back the stifling layers that had held her captive to other people’s discomforts. She forced her eyes open. Though not all of them looked happy to see the king had taken a gypsy, most had clear lust and admiration in their eyes. It sent an unexpected wave of arousal between her legs.

  The king continued to casually run his hands over her as he spoke. “She will be treated with the same respect as any other pleasure slave. She will only be touched in any way with my permission. As my personal property, she ranks higher than all of you. If I hear anyone has said or done anything malicious toward her or her family, there will be heavy consequences. You can also expect legislation within the month that prohibits unprovoked attacks on any gypsy.”

  Abigail sucked in a breath. The nervous tension in the air was thick, and she wasn’t sure it was all hers. She’d heard being the king’s slave was a position that was honored, but she really hadn’t understood it was this extreme. In another kingdom, would that have made her the queen? Maybe not. Other kingdoms wouldn’t have displayed the queen as a sexual object. She wished she didn’t find all of this so foreign when others were at ease. It didn’t seem to occur to anyone else to link a sexually open and available woman with anything shameful or bad.

  “This is an outrage!” one of the men said. “You can’t take a gypsy. You’ll make a mockery out of Himeros!”

  “Careful, Mark,” the king said.

  “No! Take my title if you like. I won’t stand behind something like this. Others will side with me. This is unacceptable even for us.”

  Abigail craned her neck to look up at the king, expecting anger, but instead she saw... triumph?

  “Why don’t I take your life instead?”

  “On what grounds?” the man shouted, seemingly unaware of how his situation had deteriorated.

  “Treason against your king, of course. Do you think my father would have stood for such a mutinous outburst? When I make a proclamation, everyone falls in line. Or else. Guards, take him. Today’s proceedings will be reported in the official proclamation so there is no confusion about my feelings. I wouldn’t want to have to quietly kill half the kingdom to get my point across.”

  Two guards came out of the crowd of nobles and grabbed the man’s arms, dragging him out of the room. Mark dug his heels in and screamed obscenities.

  The king sighed. “This is not your first breech of loyalty, and you know it. But it is your last.” He turned to one of the other guards. “Please show our festival guests in. They must be very tired from their journey.”

  Abigail stared in horror as the man was taken away. Her impression of the king’s mercy was fading fast. It was impossible to reconcile the previous night’s kindness, as well as the tenderness he’d shown her only a few minutes ago in private, with the way he was behaving now. How easily he could dispense with a life.

  She looked back at him, and he caught her gaze. Surely all her feelings of betrayal were shining out from her eyes. Her fear was confirmed when he looked out at the court and said, “If you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

  The king stood and gently escorted Abigail into a side chamber. He shut the door behind him and turned the lock in place.

  She took a step back. “Are you going to kill me too if I talk back?” Tears streamed down her face.

  “Abby, please don’t cry.” The king moved closer and wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “You’ll make your face all red.”

  “Why are you doing this? You humiliated me in front of my family. Now you’re killing a man for not liking your choice in slave? Nobody should have to die for me!”

  The king seemed more unstable by the minute, just another shade, another flavor, of evil, no better than his gypsy-killing father. She tried not to think about his hands on her the night before, or just moments ago in court. She couldn’t let herself react sexually to such a man.

  “I didn’t realize your family would have a problem, but I understand your shyness better now. You will get over it. I won’t be more lenient just because you were raised in a repressed environment. That nonsense will end,” he said. “As for Mark, he has been a thorn in my side for months. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to send him to his maker. Too many people inside the walls of this castle have taken my mercy for weakness. I didn’t realize when I took the throne that I was in another war, one with my own people. I had hoped someone would lash out, and I’m glad it was Mark. An execution sends the message
more clearly. It will keep you safe. I don’t want anyone else breaking my toy.”

  Abigail cringed at that last part, but then he pulled her close to him and held her, gently stroking her back. It confirmed yet another cultural difference between them. To her my toy seemed demeaning and cruel, but he’d obviously meant it as an endearment.

  “You’ll get used to our ways. You’ll even come to enjoy them.” He held her quietly for another minute. “Are you finished with the tears, now?”

  “Yes, Master.” It was all she could say. He didn’t owe her an explanation for his actions. The fact that he’d given her one must count for something.

  “Good. We need to get back.”

  Although she didn’t like it, there was a sense of logic to his stance. After all, even she had let her guard down before he’d spanked her the previous night. It was too easy to forget his power if he didn’t display and enforce it. He had to protect his position and wanted to protect his property as well. For that, she felt she should be grateful, or at the very least, not surly.

  If anyone in the kingdom thought going against his choice in a slave was okay, it could put her life in danger.

  When they returned, the king didn’t direct her to kneel on the cushion, but to lie down on the chaise.

  Abigail lay on the king’s lap as he greeted foreign guests who’d traveled for the festival. They would be staying in the guest wing. As they exchanged pleasantries, the king pulled the pins from her hair to let it fall freely around her shoulders. She let out a shaky breath. Although she’d been mentally preparing herself for what came next, she still let out a shocked little whimper when he spread her thighs and began to rub between her legs. She shuddered against his hand, surprised by how ready her body was for his touch even surrounded by a roomful of voyeurs.

  The panties underneath the strands of beads and jewels had been made with the king’s interests in mind. It wasn’t a solid piece of cloth, but two pieces that overlapped and could be easily pulled aside. The king slipped a finger between her nether lips, possessively stroking her as he spoke to one of the guests.

  Her face heated at being on display, even as she felt warmth and wetness growing between her thighs. She stifled a moan, but the king noticed.

  “Don’t hold back, Abby. I want to hear your pleasure. I want everyone to hear it. You will surrender to me whenever and however I demand.” Despite his proclamation, he’d issued his directions in a low, gravelly whisper.

  She bit her lip and looked up. “Please,” she said, knowing she was far from ready for something like this. She was still overwhelmed by all the changes. “You know I can’t … ”

  “Remember what happened last night when you told me that?”

  It was all she needed to hear. Being spanked bare-assed in front of the nobles, guards, and guests of the castle would be far worse than moaning for them. She had to remember how others saw things if she wanted to spare herself maximum humiliation. They wouldn’t care or be shocked or appalled by witnessing a sexual display.

  The king returned his attention to his guest who was obviously a first-time visitor to Himeros, because, while the man looked painfully aroused, he also looked quite shocked with the casual way Abigail was being touched in open court. The king didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was so used to these reactions from strangers that he paid it no mind other than mild amusement at the prudery of other kingdoms.

  “As you can see, I don’t have a full harem. I only have Abigail. However, I’m sure one of the young women originally trained for my harem would be happy to serve their king by entertaining you during your stay. I understand they give wonderful erotic massages, and sonnets have been written about their oral skills.”

  The man’s eyes lit as the king motioned to one of the guards. A side door opened and in came several beautiful, blonde women, their skin so pale it was almost translucent. They’d obviously never seen sunlight for more than a few minutes at a time, always kept covered and in the shade to preserve their milky-white complexions.

  Abigail looked away from the jealousy and distaste in their eyes. They weren’t wearing the same clothes as she was. Her garments were only for those the king had personally chosen for his harem. Their clothing was beautiful and no less revealing of their curves, but there were no jewels or beads in sight, only expensive fabric with intricate embroidery and some ribbons.

  The guest, though obviously desiring the understudy harem, seemed skeptical. Though he didn’t dare say it, Abigail could guess his hesitation was because he wondered what was wrong with them if the king had rejected them. Her master seemed to sense the same question.

  “I have…more exotic tastes,” the king said. During the conversation he’d continued to stroke Abigail, her orgasm catching her by surprise. She couldn’t stop the moan that issued from her mouth. Her cheeks flushed at the stunned expression on the stranger’s face, and she looked away from him.

  “You’re free to select someone now,” the king said. “I’m sure you’re quite worked up from the show.”

  The man moved in a daze toward the blonde women and picked one from the line. She gave him a fake smile and made a little bow, then exited out the back door with him. No doubt, they were going to his room to test the sonnet theory.

  As the next guest stepped forward, the king removed Abigail’s top so he could fondle her bare breasts. The man was appreciative of the view but showed no shock as he watched her nipples harden in response to the groping.

  “Sir Frederick,” the king said, “It’s wonderful to see you again. Couldn’t stay away?”

  Fredrick shook his head. He looked to be around thirty and was nearly as handsome as the king. He bowed. “It’s good of you to have me here, Your Majesty. It’s always a breath of fresh air to be in Himeros where the women aren’t so uptight. It’s a mystery to me why men in other lands have worked so hard to suppress female sexuality when they could be displaying it.” His gaze went to Abigail, drinking her in, almost physically violating her with only a look. “She’s exquisite,” he said. “I’m jealous.”

  The king laughed and waved him off. Frederick crooked a finger at a woman from the line. She grinned at him as if they had a history, and maybe they did. Abigail was surprised when he didn’t take her out of the court, but instead moved to the far wall to one of many ornate couches. The woman didn’t seem to mind, uninhibitedly removing her clothing and kneeling at his feet. He sat on the couch and undid his pants, freeing his impressive cock. The woman took him into her mouth without hesitation, as if it was the best thing she’d ever had between her lips.

  Abigail watched in twisted fascination as the woman bobbed up and down on the man’s member. He glanced up and held Abby’s eyes with a knowing smirk until she looked away.

  The king was right: Abigail may as well have been a virgin for all her naiveté about the debauchery of court. The pattern repeated itself over the next hour or so. The king greeted guests, and they each picked a woman to entertain them during their stay. Some retired to their guest room, while others stayed and fondled and fucked in the open, slowly turning the proceedings into a mini-orgy as guests swapped women or put them together to watch them pleasure each other for everyone’s amusement. Abigail had known this went on at court, but seeing it or being a part of it was something quite different.

  She should have felt more shame, but the comfort and acceptance of everyone in attendance made it seem normal and less tawdry. Titillating and exciting, but not wrong.

  When the guests had been greeted and everyone was settled and involved in their own activities, the smell of sex growing stronger in the air by the minute, the king stood and moved to the other side of the chaise.

  “Get on your hands and knees.” His voice was strained, barely above a low growl. It wasn’t just the guests and nobles whose excitement had grown higher as they’d watched Abigail writhe against the king’s hand. He’d had to wait until the formalities were past before he could lose himself inside her.
r />   She didn’t hesitate, afraid to keep the king waiting for even another second. In record time, he’d divested himself of his clothing, perfectly comfortable and content to display his own nudity. He took the belt and panties off her, careful not to tear them. She’d grown so sensitive as he’d rubbed and teased her, his fingers dancing along the wet folds of her most private parts, that she groaned with relief when she was finally impaled on him.

  As the king used her, Sir Frederick approached, wearing nothing but a cocky smirk.

  “May I touch her?”

  The king must have nodded because a second later, Frederick squeezed and stroked her breasts. His hands slid over her thighs and belly and hips as if she were a side of meat he might purchase for his table. Then he stroked his cock a few inches from her face.

  “Frederick is an old and dear friend and ally,” the king said. “Open your mouth for him, Abby. Let him get inside you.”

  She hesitated, but then opened and allowed the stranger to slide into the warmth of her mouth, reveling in her own degradation and the hedonism that had taken them all like a demonic possession.

  “She’s shy. I didn’t know such a thing existed in Himeros,” Frederick commented, sounding genuinely surprised.

  “She is a rare flower, indeed,” the king said. “I’ll be almost sad when she’s jaded to all of this. Watching her reactions to each new stimulus pleases me very much.”

  Abigail still felt uncomfortable, but she couldn’t deny a dark part of her was aroused by the sexual attention. Becoming their vessel and toy loosened the tension within her. The many long years of worrying constantly about food and shelter and feeling unwell melted away, replaced with only a single concern at the forefront of her mind: pleasing the king and whomever he shared her with.

  “May I instruct her?” Frederick asked.

  “Be my guest.”

  Frederick moved his hand to her cheek, petting her as if she were a farm animal he was coaxing to give milk. “Relax your jaw, sweetheart.”