Fit for a Ing

The king breathed slowly through his nose as the princess came to the end of her story. During her story, the princess had played idly with her bare breasts, twisting and tugging a nipple, lifting and dropping a breast. The king had been hypnotized by the sight of her dewy pussy dripping onto the cushion.

The princess's teasing was transparently a test of his character, but the king knew that many men would have failed regardless. The king was being tempted to break the princess's rule, but he would not interrupt her while she was telling a story, no matter how his cock hurt. He adjusted multiple times, but nothing offered any release. He tented the front of his hose before the princess's eyes, leaking precome in a growing wet spot.

The story about the fucking dragon went on and on. The princess narrated scene after scene of beautiful women being debauched by a massive cock and wet pussies rubbing together in erotic ecstasy. By the end, the king had grit his teeth together against the agony of desire. He must have the princess as a wife.

"You are quiet tonight," the princess said. "I was hoping to hear your criticism."

The king blinked at her. "Yes, princess," he said. He watched as she picked up her goblet of wine, each minute motion of her naked form fascinating. "I learned a little about your country," he said, clearing his throat but not his mind. "This area used to worship a local goddess before unification."

"Oh?"

"Women held bureaucratic roles, even outside the temples. They could own land, wealth. The regional offices would have put an end to all that."

"Your grandfather's time," the princess said.

"You don't have a favorable view of men. We are either schemers or brutes--or both."

"You must be fair--is my view of women much better?"

"The wives and whores were molded to be so. They are not to blame."

"Is the dragon? His humanity was tricked from him."

The king breathed deeply through his nose, feeling that his humanity had also been tricked from him. He needed to press her into the couch and fuck her. He needed his fist in her cloud of hair, his cock pounding screams of pleasure from her. The king used to be a gentle man.

Before him, the princess dipped her hand between her legs. Her cunt glistened in its wetness, and she teased her labia apart, fingers sliding over her clit. With her other hand, she took another sip of wine. The king swallowed.

"Is there any hope for the dragon?" The king asked.

"As much as for the wives and whores," the princess said warmly. "You don't seem to like my stories much, my lord. On an intellectual level, anyway." Her eyes lingered on the king's erect cock straining under his hose.

"I do like them," he said. "I would hear more of them."

"Would you like another story now, my lord?"

"No, please. Have pity."

The princess's gaze softened. She set down her goblet of wine. "You surprise me, my lord. I did not expect you to act with grace." She got up from the couch to stand before the king. She picked one leg up and braced it against the back of the king's seat, her foot next to his head. Her legs opened in front of his eyes.

"You were baiting me," the king said. "Have I passed the test?"

The princess pushed two fingers into herself. Then three. She fucked herself lazily on that many, skin flushed. She stared down fondly at the king, her wetness dripping down onto his shirt. He felt like a dog watching his owner for a command.

"Yes, I think so," the princess muttered, lips forming a smile.

The king breathed again through his nose, a deep sigh, as he took in the scent of dark wine and sex. He cupped one hand under the princess's ass, and with the other, removed her fingers from inside her. He replaced them with his own thick fingers, first two, then three. He sighed in relief as her wetness enveloped them. Her clit, pink and plump, seemed to invite him forward.

The king gently fucked the princess on his fingers and leaned in. He took her clit on his tongue like a pearl. The princess moaned softly, her body relaxing in the slow fuck. Only a minute of attention, and she came, clenching hard on the king's fingers.

The princess clutched at the king's shoulders for balance, panting. He fucked her through it, unrelenting even as her legs began to tremble.

"My lord," she pleaded. The king responded by pulling his fingers out, tongue still lapping over her clit. Instead of relenting, he pushed four fingers inside her. The princess groaned, making an animal sound that went straight to the king's cock. "Please, my lord."

"I listened to that whole story, one coupling after another, fuck after fuck," the king muttered, voice low. "And I didn't interrupt you. Now it's my turn. Let me convince you why you should be my bride."

"No interruptions," the princess agreed, barely keeping herself upright. The king returned his mouth to her clit and started to fuck four fingers into her. He was rougher, relishing the wet squelch of his fingers pounding the princess. She moaned in time with his thrusts, eyes half-lidded, as she neared another orgasm.

"I'm going to fuck you every day, at my pleasure," the king said, talking against her cunt. "I'm going to keep you full of my come, leaking with seed." The princess's cunt spasmed, and he fucked her harder, the tip of his thumb entering her, teasing his fist. "You're going to carry my heirs, one after another. You're going to pleasure my wife in bed with your mouth and fingers, however she demands. You will help me please her."

"Yes, my lord," the princess said, wetness streaming down her shaking legs.

The king gently removed his fingers, and the princess whined. Instead, he got out his cock. It was big--uncomfortable for most women to fit, let alone fuck. The princess stared down at it, red and stiff, and nearly as thick as her pudgy arm.

"My lord," she groaned.

"Try it," he said.

The princess obediently knelt over the king, his cock poking up against her entrance. The wet warmth felt like a kiss against the tip, and he sighed in relief.

"At your own pace," the king said. He occupied his hands on the princess's breasts, and her cunt fluttered over the head of his cock. He bit the inside of his cheek. "Sit down on it."

Gradually, the princess lowered herself onto his cock. Her mouth fell open as he sank deep inside her. He was thick, and the princess groaned as she was slowly stretched around him. He felt himself bottom out inside her, cockhead pushing on her womb. Several inches hadn't fit.

The princess gave a shuddering moan, then began to fuck herself on his cock. She went slowly, her legs shaking from the effort.

"It feels so good," she whined, sitting back down on it. "I want you to fuck me, my lord. Pound me. Impregnate me. I want to be round with your heir in my bridal garments."

The king could not withstand any more teasing. He thrust up, pulling the princess down by her hips. He slammed his cock up into her, sending a jolt through her body with each thrust. Her breasts and stomach jiggled before his eyes. The princess grunted in animal pleasure at the brutal pace. His cockhead strained against her womb with each thrust, the princess's cunt egging him on as it squeezed him, orgasm mounting.

As the king's orgasm neared, he bounced the princess ruthlessly on his cock. She wailed as she came hard, her cunt pulsing again and again around him. He fucked a few more strokes into her before spilling inside her.

His load began to trickle down the edges, and the king began to soften. He found the princess's arms wrapped around his neck, his lips captured in a kiss. She rocked on his soft cock, tongue invading the king's mouth, as each pulse of her orgasm gradually slowed to a finish.

"Come inside me again, my lord," the princess said against his mouth. "Fuck me again."

The king did as he was asked.

*

A royal marriage took months to arrange, no matter how the king tried to take shortcuts. A generous dowry was agreed upon without protracted negotiations, but the nuptial ceremony required planning. The king agreed, after yet another debate with the planning committee, that it would be ill advised to insult and shame his second wife with a sloppy wedding.

And so the king was forced to wait. The marriage date was set, the preparations made, and at last, seven long months later, the date arrived.

The king and queen watched the caravan slowly wind its way through the heart of the city. Hired celebrants chased alongside, throwing handfuls of pink blossoms over the bride to be. The king embraced his first wife and kissed her neck fondly as they watched.

"She will be your wife too," the king said, not for the first time.

The queen hummed her approval--but she would soon be enthusiastic. The king knew, as soon as she heard the princess speak, she would love her for her political mind and cleverness. And then, likely, for her erotic mind and body.

The king and queen were dressed by their servants for the ceremony, and the long day of ritual and spectacle commenced.

The princess was carried up to the dais on a palanquin, seated on a throne made of flowers. She wore a white veil over her entire form, which billowed in the wind. The entire city held their breath, it seemed. The king could not take his eyes from her, eyes itching to unveil her.

The royal officiant and the representatives from the temples called the princess up from her dais. Slowly, she stood. She allowed the veil to fall into the arms of her attendants. The princess was robed in lush green, significant in the folk culture of her region. Her hair was plaited with yellow flowers. The king's chest seized at the sight of her beauty--and then, at the sight of the swell of her stomach.

The city erupted in a fervor. The rest of the ceremony was conducted at a shout as the city celebrated the conception of the king's heir. The princess took the king and queen's hands in hers as she lowered her head to be crowned.

"I've thought up a number of new stories," she said sweetly. "Perhaps I can entertain my husband and wife this evening?"