Duty Bound

The new King was impotent and I, his new Queen, was to accept an unknown male to conceive an heir. My duty.

That the King could not fulfill his matrimonial duties was both surprise and disappointment. Everyone, including me, assumed his virility beyond question. And I had accepted that I would submit to him, my first, immediately after the wedding. Instead, I would be supplied a surrogate to both take my maidenhood and fill me with viable seed.

"You may think me a tyrant," he said, standing at my bedside, "but I cannot afford to be insensitive to my duties. The kingdom expects an heir and I, we, will provide one."

"But couldn't you just..." I wanted him to take my virginity, not relinquish it to some unknown who'd boast about it for years.

"No," he said. "And don't ask why."

The 'why' was that my maidenhead was part of the payment. I just nodded to him, heartbroken but resigned.

Suddenly, I felt sorry for him. If I hadn't truly loved him before, I did at least respect him. "I'm sorry you must do this," I said.

He turned away.

I was heartbroken.

He faced me again, eyes watering.

I felt the sadness.

"I'm sorry," he said. "A King should never show emotion."

Yet he had. To me. I reached for his hand squeezed it. "His Queen," I said, "understands the burden you shoulder."

He nodded. "Such kindness. I am touched. Therefore, I will proceed with my plan with a lighter heart. After your monthly times cease, the nightly visits will stop," he said. "However, his identity must remain unknown to you. To that end, I have given Gwyneth special instructions. You're to follow them without question."

Gwyneth was my lady-in-waiting. "So she knows of him?"

He shook his head. "She knows only that it's my request, and that I prefer women so prepared. You mustn't enlighten her."

"Prepared how?"

He turned away. "Just do as I ask," he said. He faced me again. "Please, for the sake of the kingdom."

I nodded. What choice did I have? "I will comply."

He bent down and kissed me on the forehead. "Thank you. You will be richly rewarded. And, I promise to frequent your bed often, though congress will be fruitless."

"And I will welcome those times," I said.

He smiled. "I hope so."

"Is my lover to visit me shortly?" No matter who he was, I would find him distasteful.

"After I retire."

So soon? "I'll... I'll be fine," I said.

He nodded. "In the morning, as far as anyone is concerned, our first meeting was most satisfactory."

Abruptly, he left my chamber.

In the sudden silence that followed, I wondered why, of all the eligible women in the kingdom, he had chosen me as Queen. Had he thought me the most receptive, most tractable, to what he surely knew must be done. What, in my past, had assured him of this? But nothing of substance came as answer.

My visitor must also possess a special talent or trait. He would be virile, of proven ability. Hence, our offspring would have half-brothers or sisters. Once entwined, our unique gifts would complement each other's and assure both successful and unrevealed couplings.

Still, I mourned the loss of my prized asset, my virginity, to a man I would never know, never love, and one forbidden to raise his own child.

I was washed and powdered, combed and braided. More importantly, she instructed me in the expectations of men—my knowledge of them sorely lacking. Gwyneth's eye-opening descriptions shocked me.

As blue blooded and negotiable currency, I had been chaperoned since puberty. Now, barely concealed beneath a finely laced nightdress, the moment had come. It just wasn't the moment I had dreamt about.

"These extra preparations our King talks about, are they onerous?"

"You're to simply lie and accept," she said, quickly glancing away, then faced me again. "You'll have no choice."

"So I've been told."

Gwyneth shook her head. "It's more than that, milady. You're to be fastened to the bed and blindfolded. I'm sorry."

I was sorry too. "You're to do this to me?"

She lowered her eyes. "Yes, milady. And I'm to make sure you're ready...," She glanced away. "...accepting. There's to be no impediment when it comes time to take your maidenhead. Once the King's seed is deposited, he will leave."

"Are you to prepare me now?"

She nodded. "Shortly."

"Who else knows?"

"No one, milady."

No one except my new lover. And those the King had confided in to help carry out this wicked plan. The whole realm would soon know. I would be the laughing stock of the palace. I sighed. The King would suffer more, his manliness in ruins, his respect severely eroded. Again, I felt sorry for him.

I could spoil everything by telling Gwyneth it would not be the King who comes, but a surrogate. But I would not. I would submit, as ordered. My husband had been correct in his assumptions—I was amenable, I would do my duty and keep my tongue.

So too, he must be certain the surrogate approved of his women being fettered, unable to resist. I was reduced to a fertile vessel to seed. The only questioned that remained was whether being so bound disgusted me.

"Go fetch your ropes," I said.

"But it's too early, milady."

"If I'm to be bound nightly then I should get accustomed to it. Bind me, prepare me, as you were ordered."

She bowed and left, then returned with a basket of heavy cord. "These are silk, milady, imported from the east."

At least my husband had considered my personal comfort. "How should I lie?"

"Without any clothing," said Gwyneth. "Wrists and ankles to the corners."

Vulnerable. Exposed. Easy prey. I pulled my nightdress over my head and tossed it aside. I had long lost my shyness around her. She'd been in charge of my personal grooming for years. As such, she'd seen every corner of me.

I lay back, arms and legs extended. "Is this satisfactory?"

She pulled a silken cord from the basket. "I shall be gentle. But you mustn't be able to remove yourself." She hesitated.

"What is it?" I said.

"I'm sorry you must be so bound. If I could, I would gladly endure the unpleasantness in your stead."

I hugged her. "And what point would it serve?"

She giggle nervously. "He expects to see someone, a woman, waiting. And this room will be darkened."

"And shall you then try and transfer the resulting issue into me when he leaves?"

She shook her head, giggled. "That would be difficult."

"Don't fret, it's my duty and I shall survive. After all, I have you to protect me."

"Yes, milady, I will always do my utmost, whatever your needs or wants."

"Therefore you will come fetch me, after, or if I'm in distress"

She lowered her eyes. "No, milady," she said. "I'm only to enter after he leaves."

I would suffer any mistreatment unprotected. I prayed my husband had chosen wisely.

Gwyneth proved adept at tying silk. I could not pull or wiggle free yet I did not feel undue pain or distress. A small pillow under my hips ensured I would be an easy mount. However, I wouldn't tire. Then I was rendered blind, a leather band over my eyes. I tried to remove it, tried to see under or past in some small way, and failed.

"It's well tied at the back," she said. "It will not shift."

I was secure without hope of sight. "Now I wait," I said. "How much time remains?"

"Some," she said. "But I'm not done."

I laughed. "What else could you possibly do?"

I felt the edge of the bed dip—she'd sat beside me. "Please, milady, what I do now is what I was ordered to do, nothing more. I beg forgiveness. And remember, I wish our situations were reversed."

She was genuinely distressed, I could hear it. And ready, accepting, meant not only fettered, but conditioned to yield easily. She would arouse me manually.

"I could have used my own hand," I said, then sighed. "Gwyneth, I will reward your devotion handsomely. Please continue as ordered." After, I would submit to an unknown man's thrust, his seed, and Gwyneth would return to rescue me. "I can satisfy myself after," I said, "if it comes to that."

"Please. Again, I'm sorry, I wish... I wish it were me so ordered. But the King demands you relinquish all sovereignty over your desires."

"All?"

Silence.

I closed my eyes. "Do as you must. Proceed," I said.

"I will when it's time." Then she rose.

I heard her move about, doing what I did not know, just that she was not attending to me. My predicament became clear. My lady-in-waiting was now my master. She was, in turn, servant to the King. All sexual activities had been move beyond my control. I would submit and he, whomever he was, would take. From that, the King would have an heir and the kingdom would be jubilant.

And later, should I perhaps bind Gwyneth as I am now, that she may share my experience, my plight? Would the experience help her become a better servant? I imagined her thus bound, arousal slowly prized from her. And there remained the injustice in our situations. My nakedness was not new to her. She bathes and grooms me daily. But I had never seen her unclothed.

The edge of the bed sunk. Gwyneth. She touched me, but just on my thigh. I gasped anyway. "Should I speak?"

Silence. I should not. I should only submit. But I might not become aroused. After all, she was a woman.

Her caresses, back and forth, feather-like, fleeting, spanned my legs, then skirted to my stomach. Then a maddening dance around my breasts. By the time she reached the first nipple, taut, my arousal had surfaced. Woman or not, I had responded.

By the time she teased the second I began to despair at her pace. "You may," I said, "without fear of reprimand, touch me where necessary."

Again, silence.

But the delicate tease continued and I became thoroughly kindled and frustrated at the pace. I resolved that if it ever came to pass that we do switch positions—if I am unable by whatever reason to submit for a particular evening—I will drive her to madness no matter the ferocity by which she wishes it to end.

Indeed, I was well prepared, moist, all obstacles to entry removed. Then she did touch my petals and I moaned loudly. She knew my state, exactly. The Queen was ready. Her servant had done her duty.

But then a finger pushed between them, not deep inside but enough to verify my purity. Then she withdrew, my most sensitive junction her new focus. I would not utter a sound again. I would be stoic, ladylike, and not betray my desire. She knew her work, the tension rising, my body, legs, becoming taut, muscles straining. I would soon reach summit, the pent up demand too great to restrain.

"Gwyneth," I said, "you mustn't continue. I—"

I was panting, out of breath. But I knew she understood me. Yet she did not slow or change. Again, I resolved, positions reversed, I would show her no mercy. None.

But my passion threatened to overflow, to erupt, to ruin the proceedings. This was too soon. Then it did, thwarting my will to resist, or because of it, forcing me to succumb to its savage fluctuations, while I strained and moaned most unladylike in my silken bonds.

And was entered! Fully.

A massive intrusion, emptying my lungs of air, the sharp tearing fleeting, fully absorbed by my arousal. This was not Gwyneth. This was my new lover. I contracted around him, hard, writhing and whimpering. I wanted more and he supplied it, pounding deep and long, powerful hands gripping my hips, forcing us together.

My pinnacle, instead of subsiding, continued, drawing him back into me when he withdrew, squeezing hard when he collided with me. This, I decided, was matrimonial bliss. If only it could be within a true marriage. Instead, I had committed treason.

Then he erupted, spurting hot, deep, his muscles trembling as he held himself aloft, his manhood firm against my womb, held there until his spasms subsided. He fell against me, long burning breaths against my neck.

"So lovely, my Queen."

The King. My King! My husband. I could not help it, I cried, tears bursting forth. Joyous. So very unexpected and welcome. I wanted to hold him.

"Kiss me," I said.

He did. Passionate, searching.

He pulled away, still out of breath. "I love you," he whispered into my ear.

"And I you."

I should ask him why he approached me thus. Why had he not ask to bind me as a matter of course, if he wanted that? I would have, reluctantly. In an instant I knew the brilliance of this tact. After experiencing such bliss, I craved reliving the experience. "You'll do this to me again?" I said. "Soon perhaps?" Nightly.

"Yes. But do not ask."

He rose, withdrawing, the sudden absence a void. I missed his body upon mine. I missed his royal member. I missed being so deftly aroused. I missed him.

"Don't leave me," I said. I resented the cords now. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go.

"I must. Protocol must be observed. But keep the cords at hand," he said. Then the door leading to his chamber closed.

I heard Gwyneth enter.

She removed the blindfold. Then untied me. But I remained as if fixed, wrists and ankles at the corners.

"You never touched me," I said, "did you?"

"No, milady. It's not my place."

His claim of impotence was no more than a ruse. But the Queen's love—my love—and respect for him was reality. I would never be able to resist him and his needs.

I giggle to myself. Of course I wouldn't. As per my duty, he'd bind me so I could not.