Her Stolen Grace Ch. 03

"Lay your hands flat, palms down, on the table." She felt him take a step back, again waiting for her to do as he commanded. Slowly, she leaned over, spreading her hands flat on the table. Amora shivered as she felt his hand trace slowly down her back. She had worn a light fabric dress because she had believed their meeting would be brief. She'd wanted something she could easily take off when it was time for her to go to bed. Had she known the King would be so close to her, she would not have worn something that would allow her body to deceive her so easily. She could feel her breasts swelling at his touch, her nipples tightening as it grazed against the light fabric. She was suddenly grateful that he could not see her trying to control her breaths. Again, he leaned against her to whisper in her ear.

"Do not move." It was a quiet yet firm command and her body reacted instantly to obey. She stilled and felt his arms move their way from her shoulders down the sides of her waist and then to her hips. She gasped lightly as she felt him start to hike the skirt of her dress upwards. When she felt they were just above her bottom, she closed her eyes in hopes that he couldn't see her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Biting back her protests, she felt him flip the skirt onto her back, revealing her undergarments.

Slowly, William slid his fingers into the band and slid them down from her hips until they reached her thighs. From there, the garments slipped easily from around her legs to the floor. William kicked them aside. Before she could react to the coolness of the air, William gently caressed her plump bottom with his large palms. Playfully he grabbed at the flesh, kneading it and lightly pinching different parts of her.

Suddenly, his hands were gone and she felt a new sensation brushing against her behind. The King of the Jodellian Empire was nuzzling his face against her ass. The feeling of his facial hair grazing against one of the most sensitive parts of her body was overwhelming. She stood still as one of her round cheeks was caressed by the King's hand, the other was being massaged by his face. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome. Amora could feel that burning sensation in her stomach making its way down and she squirmed.

"Do not move, pet," murmured the King from behind her, "I am enjoying this."

She felt him bite her bottom lightly and she squealed, resisting her urge to move. It was so erotic, the feeling of his mouth so near to a forbidden place. He continued to shower her bottom with a barrage of small nips, licks, and kisses. Never had she been touched by anyone, much less - like this. Losing an internal debate, Amora tried to deny that she was not enjoying it, too. She could feel the growing wetness between her legs and breaths slowed and felt heavy. Amora was immediately disappointed when the feeling was gone. Unexpectedly, his hands and face left her, and she felt a sudden twinge of disappointment, overcoming however, the urge to look back to see where he'd went.

Amora heard the King sigh in disappointment. Not daring to move, she waited. His hand was at the base of her neck now, his fingers twining in between her soft curls. She felt another hand tug at the drawstring of her dress. With one fell swoop, she felt the dress sink loosely around her shoulders, her breasts easily falling out the top. He was behind her now and she could feel his body press headily into hers. He lightly kissed the nape of her neck, trailing down to her shoulders and back. She could feel the thickness of his desire pressed against the back of her thigh, just the feel sent a sensation of sinful wanting through her.

However, as quickly as she'd felt him pressed against her, he was gone, only the hand on the back of her neck remained. With a gentle push, he pressed her head downward, signifying he wanted her to bend forward. She complied with his silent instruction. Another hand, reached down to caress her ass once more. Amora didn't know why but she leaned into his touch, her body reacting to every stroke. However, in a moment it was gone and the onslaught began.

A firm slap elicited a yelp from Amora. The King gripped the back of her neck tightly, and he gruffly spat one command.

"Count."

Remembering their previous encounter, Amora rattled off the tally. This spanking was much harsher and swift; she could feel his anger behind every strike. He did not stop to caress her bottom between cuffs. By 'four', Amora's ass was raw and she was biting back the urge to cry. So many emotions were coursing through her veins. She felt the wetness running down her legs and she was angry that a small part of her was enjoying this. Especially pleased that it was William delving out such an illicit punishment. Her body reacted accordingly, to the pain and the pleasure of it.

Though as intense as it was, the spanking was a short one, and at 'ten' the King stopped. He finally massaged the tender flesh, as if admiring his own handiwork. Finally, he returned the skirt of her dress to its rightful place and lifted her head, allowing her to turn to face him. Before she could say anything, he crushed his lips upon hers pressing the full weight of his body against her. At first she was stunned, but Amora's body reacted instantly to his touch, her lips parting to take him in. She could feel his length pressing needily against her belly, her hands involuntarily making their way to his shoulders to draw him closer to her. His scent was intoxicating, and she moved to pull him even closer to her. The King gripped one of her breasts with greed, causing a moan to escape from her into his mouth.

He broke their kiss, leaving Amora panting and disappointed. Quickly, it dawned on her: she had just kissed the most powerful man in the known world. It had been her first and was like nothing she could have ever imagined. It was wild and raw, left her wanting. Her fingers instinctually brushed against her lips, the memory of his tongue against hers still fresh and lingering. As he stood back, she covered herself in sudden discomfiture. William looked at her carefully, catching his own breath.

"Do you understand why?" Amora looked down and nodded in shame. William, however, was not convinced.

"Say it," he commanded. Mortified, Amora closed her eyes. Why did he insist on chastising her like a child?

"Because I tried to escape."

William leaned in closer to her, his hands resting on either side of her against the table. His nearness quickly filling her senses with heat. Once more, she forgot how to breathe.

"No," he urged quietly, his breath low and heavy. He leaned his forehead into hers looking down at her breasts. "Think. Tell me why."

Confused, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. Was that not why he was upset? Because she'd attempted to leave, once again? A dull pain reminded her of the earlier events of the day.

"Because I stole the sword?" She was unsure and so waited for him to confirm. He bent down, once more hiking the skirt of her dress upwards. She steadied herself by placing her hands on his shoulders. Her breathing slowed as she felt his fingers trace his way up her legs and then her thighs.

Once more, William shook his head.

"No pet, think." He whispered roughly, his fingers now gripping her waist as he used his hips to part her legs. Feeling him press against her, she moaned at the need she felt.

How shameful, she berated herself, I am like a bitch in heat.

She could feel the heat radiating from between her legs, she prayed to the gods that he could not feel her wetness beneath the fabric of his own trousers. His thick shaft strained against her, urging to be free.

Hazy from overstimulation, Amora fought to make her mind work to answer him.

"I don't...I don't know," she gasped.

"Think! I will grant you one more try." His response was needy, demanding. As if her answer would determine what would happen next. Pressure mounting, she fought to come up with the right answer. His teeth grazed over her neck and all she wanted in that moment was to feel his lips upon hers again.

"Because...because I was injured?" she tried desperately, hoping it was the right answer. The King kissed her neckline and broke away from her. Her answer was clearly not the right one as the disappointment on his face was evident. Hurt that they didn't finish...whatever it was they had been doing, she found herself once more overcome with shame. The King stepped back and pointed to the chair in front of one of the silver platters.

"Sit." He sighed, pinching his temples in annoyance. She had clearly upset him, in more ways than one. Self-conscious, she quickly pulled down her skirt and went to sit down. A small cry escaped her as she felt the sting of pain from her bottom. As the King sat down in front of her, he slid the other tray in front of him and watched as she writhed in an attempt to find a comfortable position in which to sit.

"Let this serve as a lesson," he said flatly as he began to eat, "I did not punish you specifically because of your attempt at escape, nor because you got yourself hurt. I punished you because you defied me."

Though the spanking was nowhere near as bad as a lashing, it did not make her bottom, nor her pride, hurt any less. Unable to look him in the eye, Amora looked down at her hands in her lap.

"One thing you will come to learn is that I do not tolerate disobedience. The next time you defy me, I will have you flogged and thrown into a dungeon with the others. Do you understand?"

She nodded and looked at him, hoping he would see her compunction. His eyes demanded something more and Amora remembered to vocalize herself.

"Yes, your grace." He nodded, his hardened look softening.

"Good. You may eat."

Wincing at her aching bottom, Amora shifted to one side and joined the King in feast. They ate silently for a time, her pain slowing fading away as she reveled the delectableness of the meal. Without looking at her, William spoke.

"As for Kenneth, you are wrong."

Amora peered up from her meal. The King did not even glance in her direction as he continued,

"I have no intention of using him against you. In fact, my reasons for keeping him are purely self-motivated."

Amora suddenly felt sick. What reason would he have interest in Kenneth?

"Why? He is child of a dead servant, nothing more."

"Quite the contrary. He is the bastard of a dead king, and I plan to adopt him as my own."

******

Amora could not focus on her history lesson. Restor Rian had long given up on her for the day and left her with an assignment to research the history of Nightwall. She sat contemplating the revelation of the King a few nights before.

Ken was the son of the late King Geric. Now that she knew, the resemblance was obvious. How could she have not known? His chestnut locks mimicked the former King's brown wavy hair. Even the boy's rosy cheeks sat high like Geric's once did. It was plain to see, Ken was Geric's son.

What really surprised her was that Fiori had been the King's mistress. Although a shock, it made sense. Fiori was headmaiden to Queen Maria, therefore was privy to having the most interaction with both monarchs. She just couldn't fathom Fiori having anything that would have interested King Geric.

Not that she hadn't been attractive, Fiori was just... mean. She'd been cold not just in her demeanor towards Amora, but everyone else. Even with Ken, her own son, she had not been as tender with him as she recalled her own mother had been with her. The thought of her mother brought a wave of sadness over Amora. Intent on not letting it overcome her, she cast the thoughts aside.

The King was planning on adopting Ken as his to solidify his hold over the Relanese province. It pained Amora to think about. Ever since learning he was alive, she foolishly believed that she would be the one to raise him. Now he would have grand scholars and tutors and the like to educate him. He would want for nothing. He would be a prince, or at least a lord. Amora contemplated if she was jealous, but after brief reflection, she determined she was not. She simply wished that she would have been able to have a more direct role in his rearing.

The King informed her that as long she behaved, she would be allowed regular visits with Ken while he stayed at the castle. Should she earn the privilege, he would even allow her to visit him at Braewood. While grateful for the offer, she still felt like the King was giving her an ultimatum.

It was a lot to process, her thoughts becoming no less clear throughout the course of the week. Three days passed and she found herself unable to concentrate on her daily chores and tasks. The King had not sent for her since the night of her latest escape, only seeing him twice in passing. Once again, she found herself conflicted with both disappointment and relief.

The castle was unusually busy today, people moving in and out with energetic fervor. Even Levan seemed to have no time to annoy her, oddly disappearing altogether. All the servants, including Amora, had been assigned extra chores. It was the start of the day and the vendors had come to sell their goods. Amora went with them, escorted by a knight, to the front courtyard where the vendors did their business with the castle. It was the first time Amora had been allowed outside and though it was just at the castle doors, she was grateful.

Not familiar with the Jodellian way, Amora watched curiously as the servants inspected goods from the vendors' carts. Each had been given money by the headservant to make purchases for the castle. Well, everyone except Amora. Her escort, a brawny knight whose name she could not remember, stood a few feet behind her as she wandered over to the gardens. No doubt making sure that she didn't get far, should she decide to run. After her last attempt, she had no desire to repeat those events. Besides, there were way too many guards stationed at the front. She wouldn't have made it ten feet.

She noticed two women dressed in slightly tattered clothing walking among the wildflower beds several feet away. They wore grey hoods and their faces were covered by large bundled scarves. They were also watching the vendors with interest. Amora looked around, no one seemed to think that their presence was out of place. One of them laid eyes on her and offered a kind nod. Hesitant, Amora returned it, noting the striking gleam in the woman's eyes. Out of nowhere, two soldiers appeared behind the two women. One of them spoke to the women and pointed at the castle. Nodding, they both turned to walk inside. Amora watched as they made their way up the steps and into Nightwall.

More captives, she thought sadly. Prisoners of war, like she was. She wondered where they had come from and if their homeland had been invaded by the Emperor as hers was. Conflicted, she abruptly recalled the Emperor's touch on her skin, the feel of his lips as he had claimed her mouth. Her body quivered and for a moment and Amora almost forgot where she was. Feeling silly, she sauntered off to join the other servants with their chores.

******

Oxmere, Ularia

Anthony was extremely pleased. Everything was going according to his plan. Re-reading the stack of papers that was handed to him the night before, he could barely contain his excitement. Setting them back down on the table, he looked to his best spy once more.

"Are you absolutely sure?" he demanded of the young man. "You must be certain. I want no mistake."

"Without a doubt, your majesty. I spent the better part of three years making sure there was no mistake."

Anthony giggled with maniacal delight. Everything would fall into place now. He turned to face the old man lying on the bed behind him.

"Do you hear that, Father? It would seem I was right. Just as I was with Nemis." Henri's ragged breathing could be heard from anywhere within the large room, but he said nothing. He was unable to. He simply stared angrily and wide-eyed at his son, just as he'd done to anyone who had spoken to him for the last four months. Knowing his father couldn't respond, Anthony continued,

"Nemis...Nemis was a test. I issued him a challenge and he accepted. It cost me a hundred men but do you know what this means, Father?" Not waiting for a reply, Anthony answered his own question. "It means he considers me a worthy advisory. Not just you."

The King of Ularia's eyes moved heatedly from side to side, seething with fury. This pleased Anthony and he continued his gloating.

"Not you, not Azer, but me. I am his greatest opponent now. And do you know what this is?" Anthony held up a piece of paper and shoved it in the paralytic King's face, pointing fervently.

"This is an invitation to the Holly Harvest. It is addressed to me, directly, by name. Only his most formidable opponents are invited to attend. Have you ever received one, Father?"

The King of Ularia had obviously wanted to say something but it only came out as a sad bleat of noise. Anthony snickered, unable to contain his pleasure seeing his father in such a compromising position.

"I didn't think so," he sneered nastily, "This is an outstanding achievement, wouldn't you say?" Anthony turned to his spy, expectant of a response. The young man nodded in agreement.

"Yes, your grace. It seems your plan has worked."

"Of course it has, there's no reason for it not to." Turning away from them both, Anthony started talking to himself excitedly.

"This is another opportunity. I must figure out what to do next."

"Perhaps," the man offered suggestively, "you would allow me to attend as well, your grace? I am familiar with Nightwall due in part to my previous reconnaissance. It would be helpful for me to find out more about the inner workings of the castle. The Harvest is would make an excellent distraction."

"Oh yes! Brilliant. You shall come along, then." Anthony was brooding now, "Yes, yes. It all makes sense. I will able to challenge him in person, as well. I can't wait to see the look on his face!"

If Henri could scowl, he would have been doing so at this very moment. Anthony grinned at his father, his aura oozing with accomplishment.

"Make the preparations," he commanded of his spy, who nodded in obedience. "I want everything in place before we depart. We only have three weeks."

The young man bowed and took his leave. Anthony sat back down beside his father's bed. Caressing Henri's head and rereading the parchment paper once more.

"Don't you see, Father? In time, I am going to be the ruler of the greatest empire in the world."

--

A wooden shack, somewhere deep in the wilderness just north of Calter

Four nights had passed and the young man finally reached his destination. He knocked on the door with a calculated series of raps and waited

"It's late." Called a gruff voice from the other side.

"Early enough for the moon to rise, late enough for the sun to set," recited the young man impassively. As he expected, the door opened slowly and the young man entered the shack.

It was dark, except for the light of a single candle burning on the other side of the room. It kept the shack cold and the occupants of the shack concealed.

"Well?" rumbled a deep voice from the large shadowy figure seated before him. The man who answered the door stood fast in his position at the front of the shack.

"He is accepting the invitation, as expected. He has also heeded my suggestion that he take me with him."

"Excellent," growled the seated figure.

"You will make sure to keep suggesting things to him, in accordance to our plan."