There once lived a valiant, warrior king who had claimed two-thirds of the known world as his own. To quench his insatiable, sexual appetite, he decreed that his land's most beautiful maidens be brought to his castle when they reached the age of maturity at age 18. There, they would learn the art of seduction and become vessels for his lust.
Emmarie was one such girl. Her parents, like most parents, were greatly honored to have their daughter brought to the king, for the selected girls were often married off to rich noblemen, thus saving their families a costly dowry.
Emmarie's grandmother, however, did not see it as an honor. As they carried the weeping girl away, she whispered in her ear, "My darling, they may carry your body but never let them carry your mind."
Life in the castle was exactly is Emmarie expected— a large group of women, giggling and fawning over their captor. While most girls were eager to learn about pleasing their master and the mechanics of sex, Emmarie used the access to the king's vast library to her advantage. She listened and learned, but had no intention of submitting to the king. They learned about all forms of sex, but, above all, they learned the importance of a man's pleasure. Emmarie often wondered if this was the real reason that the king's captors were in such high demand by his noblemen.
When they weren't in class, they spent their days in a large, game room. Every so often, the king would appear and select his prize for the evening. Emmarie never participated. Most of the time, she spent these events sitting on a tufted chaise lounge, reading a book in the corner. The king never so much as glanced her direction and she was grateful.
In the wee hours of the morning, the chosen girl would creep back into their shared quarters, coated in semen. While she couldn't care less about the act itself, Emmarie was fascinated at the king's biological "art form." He spread his seed on the poor creatures indiscriminately. It became a mental game for Emmarie to guess where the king would come on his virginal trophies. One poor girl returned, her hair sticky with semen. Another was painted from her forehead to the tops of her breasts.
"Animal," Emmarie whispered to herself.
Years past, and Emmarie knew her ability to go untouched was coming to a close. Her suspicion was confirmed when one of the housemothers informed her that she was now the oldest girl in the king's collection and, if she wasn't chosen soon, she would be relegated to the kitchen staff. Unwilling to live the life of a servant, Emmarie decided that she could make herself a bit more visible. Upon the King's next visit, she stayed perched on her chair, but this time lifted her satin skirt almost to her waist and pulled her corset down to expose the slightest amount of nipple.
It worked. The king made his way over to her almost as soon as he entered the room.
"What are you reading, dearest?" he said, leaning over to examine her more closely.
"A book based on your military exploits, sire."
"And what is your impression of my military strategy?"
"It seems appropriately ruthless."
"You find me ruthless?"
"Am I not your captive?"
"I'd like you to think of yourself as my guest."
"So, then I have the freedom to leave if I wish?"
The king stood for a moment, stunned, but visibly amused before he responded.
"I could not allow you to leave until I showed you the full benefit of my hospitality."
"Then, I shall wait with bated breath."
"And, you shall not wait long. I will see you tonight Miss..."
"Emmarie."
"Until tonight then, Miss Emmarie."
Once he was gone, Emmarie was sick to her stomach. She had imagined the brutality of his touch, the savageness of his penetration more times than she could count. When evening fell, she was dressed in a thick, gauzy nightgown worn by all the king's virgins and was led down a long hallway by two, large guards.
"Overkill," Emmarie thought, as they knocked on a large, wooden door.
The door opened to the king's chamber, a cozy stone room. He was sitting on a large, four-poster bed, draped with sheer curtains. A fire burned in an adjacent fireplace. After the king dismissed them, the guards nodded and left. A shiver raced up Emmarie's spine as the door thundered shut behind her.
The king approached her with purpose, but she forced her eyes to the floor. She flinched as he raised his hand to her.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"Shouldn't I be?"
"Have I ever harmed you?"
"Other than taking me from my family?"
"Your parents willingly sent you here. They believed it to be a great honor."
" I see how you 'bestow your honor' on your prisoners."
After a long pause, he said, "I am not sure why, but I find your antagonism charming. To prove that I am not the monster you perceive me to be, I will allow you to guide our encounter."
Emmarie was silent for a moment.
"Very well. Tonight, I want you to teach me."
He lifted her chin with one finger and said with a seductive smile, "It will be my honor to educate you."
He gently loosened the gauzy gown and it fell to the floor, leaving her stark naked in the room's glow. He saw her shudder and wrapped her in a velvet blanket. In one swift motion, he lifted her onto the bed.
"Roll onto your stomach," he said.
He gathered her hair and laid it over her shoulder. He ran one finger along the outline of her neck.
"You judge me for the way those girls returned to their quarters," he said, tracing the lines of her body. "I was simply fulfilling their desire. Their eagerness. Their blind adoration. They wanted to be fucked by a king, and I gave them wanted. Besides, dutiful submission irritates me."
With that, he traced lower and lower on her back, until he reached the top of her ass. With a flat, gentle hand, he cupped each of her cheeks. He started to slip his finger between her thighs when he felt her tense. He placed a sure hand on her hips, rolled her onto her back, and looked directly into her eyes.
"Do you ever touch yourself?"
"Sometimes," she whispered.
"Has anyone else ever touched you?"
She shook her head slowly, remembering how some of her classmates touched each other after particularly graphic lessons.
He took one fingertip and grazed it across her left nipple. She inhaled sharply at the sensation, the first time anyone had touched her this way. He did the same to the right nipple and began massaging her breasts one after the other. He lowered his head to slip one into his mouth when she raised her hand to stop him.
"Very well," he said and began softly drawing circles on her belly and caressing the tops of her thighs with his fingertips. He pulled her legs open, and she gave no resistance. He ran one hand up her inner thigh and barely grazed one of her lips. Even though she anticipated his touch, the sensation startled and thrilled her so much that she writhed. He continued to lightly stroke the outside of her pussy, just along the edge. He seemed to avoid the places she most craved, her clit pulsing, her pussy aching. He abruptly stopped and got on top of her. Even though he was wearing pants, she could feel his cock pressing against its confines. His imprisoned cock was rubbing deliciously between her legs, yet somehow avoiding places designed to give her the most pleasure.
"What lesson shall you learn tonight, my pet?" he said, pinning her arms above her head and laying the full weight of his body on her. She was both frightened and thrilled, unable to answer him. He slid his hands down her arms and placed them firmly around her neck, turning her head to the side.
