Princil's Magic Ch. 05 Pt. 02 Concubine

"Go into the King's bedchamber now," said the lady Keeper of the King's Chamber. "Do what I told you and you will have little to worry about. Sometimes he has drunk too much and he falls asleep, but sometimes he is full of passion! He can be quite forceful at times. Just accept him with good grace and you will be alright. Whatever you do you must obey him!" There was a clear warning in her voice.

"Where's the wench?" said the King in a booming voice. The Chamberlady held the door open for her. There was no choice but to go in to the lion's den. She went into a well furnished hostel room.

Some of Guthelm's Generals were coming out as she went in, unkempt, warlike, mean looking men, who looked as if they could order massacres without any pangs of conscience. Now the business of war was over for the night and it was time for the King to relax. He had been feasting and drinking already with his battle hardened servants of war.

Having sat in a room with some of the King's other women and his chamber servants she knew the King liked his ladies. She also knew that he had plenty of them, that he discarded many and liked fresh ones. The women here were mostly the battle followers, not the wives and concubines he kept at home in Grumandria. This made her even more frightened, scared of the dislike of her new master and of the competition. Although she hated this King already for the death of her father and the ruin of her city she was obliged to try to please this monster for the sake of her existence in his 'court'.

As she stumbled nervously into his room, Guthelm lumbered towards her, inspecting her immediately with a casual interest. "So you're the wench from the councillor's family? You're a good looking wench! I can see Valdark was right. He promised he would select the best for me and he has." She sensed immediately that the cruel King was drunk, which did little to ease her growing senses of fear and repugnance.

"What's your name girl?"

"Remzain," she reminded him, tongue tied before this beast of a King, whose reputation she had heard even before this unexpected conquest.

It was evident to Remzain that Guthelm was not as impressive as he might once have been. The paunch from too many rich meals, washed down with too much wine or beer had taken its toll on the King's girth. He seemed to wheeze as well, suggesting he could no longer be the unbeatable warrior his fearsome reputation spoke of.

"You're going to lie down for me wench, and let me take a good look at you. Take that dress off!"

She wanted to ask, 'Now?', but this was the fearsome barbarian King. This man was used to being obeyed and his violence was unpredictable. She did not dare to question him. His intent was clear. She found she had no words to say.

The King shrugged, "Well come on girl. The night passes swiftly."

There was no doubting what she had to do. She unbuttoned her dress, dropped it from her shoulders, and pulled it down, as she had done for Aribor earlier in the day. She was down to her underclothes. The inebriated King came close and pulled them apart. Not content with removing them the royal brute grabbed the silk undergarment and ripped it with his hands, to reveal the soft slender body beneath. He grabbed her clumsily and brought his unkempt whiskered face to her breasts.

"Heavenly!" he declared. "What lovely breasts you do have, so small and yet so pretty." His hands explored them feverishly as he spoke and swept downwards to the slenderness of her hips, and around to clutch her pretty backside.

His breath smelled of beer or wine, and there were dribbles of meat and gravy in his beard. A powerful strong man he was, but his gut had filled a little too much and he made no effort to be clean. These barbarians were, as her father and brothers had warned, uncouth in personal grooming as in manners. They recognised not the true comforts and enjoyments of life, but constructed their own less cultured ways of conversing and social congregation.

The King began to unbutton his tunic, but struggled with some of the buttons. Remzain thought he was too drunk to unfasten them easily. Impatiently he loosened the buttons of his pants and dropped them down before he dealt with the tunic.

"Take my trousers off girl!" he commanded, as he flopped unsteadily back onto the bed. This was not going to be much fun she thought, wishing she was anywhere else but here with this uncouth bear of a man. She got down on her knees before him and drew the trousers down his muscular legs. His penis flopped before her, half erect, which might be a miracle given his inebriation. Even only half erect it was big. As with Aribor's she felt a tingle of exhilaration at its size.

"Unfasten these buttons," he commanded her to remove his tunic. She knelt before him, half naked, fiddling with buttery fingers to undo the buttons which were tight on his bulging body. As she fiddled before him he felt her face with his left hand and placed his other hand on his cock, pulling the skin back to reveal its sudden growth in size. Insensitive to her efforts to undo the tunic, which she would have accomplished if he had let her, he said, "That's enough wench. Suck it now, but be gentle."

She brought two hands to the duty and steeling herself for the salty unwashed taste she accepted him inside her mouth, while he felt her breasts and shoulders. He seemed to like her, because he encouraged her with words, "Ah yes you are a beauty! That's a good girl. Lick me gently." He was a man like any other she realised. How could such an ordinary man be responsible for so many deaths, such destruction?

After a while he said, "I need to take you. Lie down upon the bed and open your legs!" She did as she was bid, relieved to take him from her mouth, but concerned about his weight and how brutal he might be. Half clothed he mounted her impatiently. Roughly he pushed his swollen member inside her and shook her like a rag doll in his lust. He sucked at her breasts and possessed her fragile body as well as he could. She bore him equitably, reminded of the attraction she held for many of the men she came across, even now when life had changed so shockingly. That thought gave her small consolation as she contemplated the evil this beast had done to all she loved.

The King seemed to be enjoying her. He ordered her to roll over and face the bedpillows as he entered her from behind. After some time she was again thrust onto her back and he buried himself into her flesh from above, sinking into her in every way. She hoped he would soon satiate himself and this ordeal would be over. She hoped for her own sleep. He seemed no nearer to completion and seemed to grow tired of her, as he buried his face in her chest and slowed his thrusting. She began to consider that he might be finding her too dull, but when his movements stopped altogether and he began to snore she realised that the wine must be taking effect, lulling him into sleep on top of her. She waited for a while, confused about what she should do. He seemed to wake again. He mumbled and slavered, then subsided and returned to full sleep.

She considered whether and how she might be able to kill the barbarian King who was responsible for the deaths of her father and so many of her own fellow citizens, and people in other campaigns in other places. She wanted revenge for her fellow citizens. Why should this scoundrel be given her precious young body on a plate? He should rather be given punishment for his evil. Perhaps he was protected by some magic. Valdark and his sorcerors might well have some means of protecting him from harm. She did not know magic, could sense it, but only sometimes. Doubtless if she tried to smother him with one of his pillows he might awake and force her off with his renowned strength, probably to bash her brains out on the hard floor. If sorcery there was to protect him she might find herself restrained until caught redhanded, or murdered in some gruesome torture. If there was no magic protecting him she would not escape the room without arrest and some awful punishment to follow, probably death.

If there had been hope that her father might survive his arrest there might have been no benefit in attempting vengeance upon the King. Now she had some opportunity to avenge him, but she felt powerless to attempt anything. Her own will to continue living was far too strong to consider that alternative.

She had been told by the Keeper of the King's Bedchamber that when the act was done or when the King had finished with her she should leave. If the King slept she should leave his company and come back out of his room. What had passed between them had not taken so long, although it had seemed an age to her. The King was not for conversation with underlings. He had wanted to use her quickly before the sleep of his inebriation came upon him. He had lusted for her, but his sleep had been preordained by the drink he must have consumed.

She felt no pleasure in the act, less than she had eventually felt with Aribor. At least the wizard had hungered for her. She had felt cause to give him what he wanted as part of a bargain to save her family, and maybe to save her father. Guthelm may have been a model of physical prowess once, but anyone could see he was getting fat. Now it was obvious that his minions must be the ones to fight his battles for him. He could have torn her apart surely, but he was no longer the warrior he had been.

She was frightened to pull the sleeping monarch off her, lest she wake him. His penis had shrunken to its normal flaccid size now that he was asleep so it would be possible to remove it from her inner recesses. The sheer weight of the King was the problem for her. She was not physically strong enough just to pull him off. Gradually she prized herself from under him, after much effort. Eventually she wormed herself free as he slobbered and snored.

Picking up her clothing from the floor where she had stripped for him she quickly put them all back on and fled the King's bedchamber, aware of her own exhaustion at last, now the greatest danger had passed.

The Keeper of the King's Bedchamber was waiting outside, perhaps listening at the door. Surely the lady had been listening at the door, aware that the King was snoring loudly now, wondering whether the young woman for tonight had fallen asleep. There was concern on the mature woman's face, perhaps even fear. There were guards here too, in the corridor, ready to defend their King at the slightest excuse. They too had heard the snoring and knew he was alive.

"Where have you been? The King's been asleep for a long time!"

"I could not free myself," she confided, without any attempt at denial. There would be few secrets here. The Keeper of the King's Bedchamber would know everything which went on in these rooms.

There was relief now on the woman's face, no longer fear. Probably she was charged with the King's immediate safety. She would, Remzain sensed, be held responsible for any harm which might come to the King. A young woman of high family in a newly conquered city, whose father had been executed this day, was naturally a potential source of risk to the King. She had been thoroughly searched for weapons or knives, but there were always risks. Doubtless there was little chance of a slender young woman of Remzain's age being able to dominate a warrior King, but when the King was drunk, lulled by the beauty of a woman, disarmed and ready for sleep, there were dangers. The lady and the guards would fear the King's wrath, which could be terrible if they intervened against the King's wishes, disturbing his privacy or his sleep. But they would be held responsible if the King was injured in any way.