The King's Harem Pt. 02 by JeouxCheval,JeouxCheval

All characters in sexual situations are 18 years of age and older.

“This council is adjourned,” the King said to his military advisors. “Now… I can go play!” All the nobles, generals, and courtiers gathered around the table chuckled. They all had their own mounts to ride that evening, but the King would be the one soonest unloading his seed into a pliant, young siren.

The King stood and left the council chamber. One of his stewards waited in the antechamber and the King pulled him in to give him an order.

“Have them bring Slave 51 to my bed chamber,” the King said, “And tell them to send a pot of the rose oil with her.” The Steward nodded and suppressed a smile. ‘That poor girl,’ thought the Steward. It was common enough for the King to request rose oil, but on the night he would deflower a new member of his harem it meant a certain extra depravity was in store.

* * *

Ayla burst through the harem common room’s main door. The dozen or so of the King’s slaves gathered there looked up in excitement. Ayla only came in to collect one of them at the King’s orders.

“51,” Ayla said with an almost annoyed insistence in her voice, “The King has ordered you to his chamber.” A few audible sighs of disappointment filled the room. 51, who just that morning had sucked the King’s cock for the first time and been gifted with his cum in her mouth, was apparently the new toy of the palace. Jealousy was fleeting in the harem, but it still ran rampant. 51’s petite frame stood and followed Ayla out of the common room.

“Now remember,” Ayla said, walking her down the hall to the preparation rooms, “Your training is to be followed to the letter unless commanded otherwise by His Grace. Take this as well to the royal bedchamber.” Ayla handed 51 a small clay pot.

“What is this, Madam?” 51 asked. Ayla glowered at her.

“Take this to the King’s chamber. He requested it come with you. That is all.” 51 nodded and entered the preparation chambers. Inside a team of eunuchs would prepare her as fast as they could to be sent off to the King.

* * *

The King stood on the open air balcony of his primary bedchamber, sipping on a goblet of wine he had requested. It was a circular room with the balcony on the western side, a large plush bed on the north and the main entry doors on the eastern wall. On the south sat a fireplace, kept roaring by his stewards at all hours. In front of the fireplace were several sofas and arm chairs strewn about over a large, thick fur rug.

The sun had set over the western mountains, but its light still flared out from behind the peaks. He loved dusk. He loved to consider how it brought you into the night and all the excitement night could bring.

A knock at the door brought him back from his thoughts.

“Come!” the King called toward his door. Two stewards opened the double oak doors into his chamber, but then only the senior steward stepped forward from the door to speak to the sovereign.

“Your Grace,” the steward said, “The slave of the Royal Harem you requested.”

“Enter,” the King commanded. He came back into the interior of the room but left the balcony doors open to keep the night air flowing in.

51 entered his chamber. Her elfin features, 5’4″ petite frame, and blonde hair highlighting the innocent nature of her teen presence. She had been dressed in a sleeveless, white silk gown. It formed a bow behind her neck and covered her entire front but none of her back, even leaving the tops of her firm little ass cheeks visible for the King. Although the hem of the gown reached to her ankles, a wide slit travelled up the gown along her left leg, ending at her left hip and making plain that she was not permitted any underwear.

Her hair had been wrapped up in a series of knots, each tied with a white silk bow. The king admired her from her golden locks down to the slit in her gown that exposed her entire left leg in all its gorgeous, toned length. Her diminutive feet were wrapped in the standard slave’s boot. A brown suede with a one inch heel. In her hands she cupped the small clay pot he had requested.

“Come forward, 51,” the King said. “Leave us…” he said to the stewards. They closed the door behind them, and 51 was left to meet her fate.

The petite creature he now owned stepped forward silently, standing next to one of the sofas in front of the fire. The King touched 51’s face, her gaze still on the King’s feet.

He soaked in how the firelight betrayed the translucent nature of her thin gown. He could clearly see her pert nipples poke through the silk and was assured that she had been pruned of all body hair that wasn’t above her nose. Her smooth mound was discernible through the white material.

The King rounded on his slave to stand behind her and then ran a finger down her taught, exposed back; he ended at the top of her tiny crack. The King let a hand grasp her entire little teen ass in one palm. He reveled in how firm and pert it was.

“Extraordinary,” said the King. “You will serve me well.” The King took the clay pot out of her hands and placed it on the end table next to the largest sofa. He felt his royal member begin to stiffen and brought his left hand around to the slit of 51’s gown, letting it trail up her leg to her young pussy. 51 drew in a sharp breath as his old fingers grasped her smooth, defenseless cunt. It might have been her body once, but it was now the property of the King.

Her master began playing with her lips and clit, bringing decades of experience to bear and quickly causing her to soak her virgin passage. Her breath quickened as she involuntarily began to enjoy the King’s attention just as her fellow slaves assured her she would. She kept her arms by her side but clenched both fists while the King experimented with his plaything. At once he stopped and let his index finger penetrate her wet hole.

The King groaned in her ear, admiring how tight his little fucktoy came to him. “What a prize.”

The King untied the bow on 51’s neck, letting her gown fall to the floor and leaving her naked except for her boots.

“Turn around, pet.” The lithe, young, flushed nymph turned on her toes and faced her lord. A man that could use her and discard her if he was not pleased with how fuckable she was. Her eyes stayed down at the King’s feet but her breathing was rapid.

The King placed a finger under her chin and lifted her mouth. The same mouth he had used without a second word that morning. His royal semen had been in her undeserving, but lean, little stomach all day. He imagined the other slaves reviled in jealousy at the new 51. They had all been trained to worship him, to yearn for his favor, and a new piece was now getting his attention.

He leaned in and kissed her 18-year-old mouth. His mouth. She responded in kind, as she was trained and hoped to do, by passionately kissing him back and coming up on her toes. Her arms remained submissively down by her sides as the King’s hand wrapped around the small of her back and pulled her naked body onto his plush robes. She could feel her pussy quiver, hoping to please its owner.

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