Lady Desiree Amrien had been surprised to hear that his highness, King Roland, had come to her husband's manor, especially at so late an hour. As she knew it, the freshly minted king rarely visited his subject lords at home, instead preferring that they meet with him inside the castle's walls. Her lord husband had often ranted about how this was a sign of the king's weakness, that he doesn't dare leave behind the safety of his palace to visit others, and that his true influence does not extend beyond the castle's walls. Desiree didn't know if it was true or not- the king was the king of the entire kingdom, wasn't he?- and only paid half-attention when her lord husband worked up into one of his lathers.
She never paid much attention to the comings and goings of her lord husband. He had made it very clear early on where his priorities lie, and where he saw her place in his household. That place wasn't to question him, manage his business, or do much more than smile prettily, maintain good relations with the other ladies of the capital, and carry his seed. Luckily for Desiree, smiling was easy, she enjoyed riding and tea parties, and she had never been adept at reading, maths and keeping ledgers. Having to tolerate her older, fatter husband opening her legs every few weeks was small price to pay for such an easy life.
But now, the king himself was here, not an hour past dinner. Desiree was convinced some important business must have driven him to meet with her lord husband at home. Unfortunately, His Grace picked a poor time to arrive, as her husband was still away at whatever business he had that consumed his afternoon and evening.
"So it is up to me to entertain His Majesty until Benoit returns," she told herself while standing at her full-length mirror. She carefully brushed back honey-blonde hair, as a serving girl tightened the corset on her pale pink dress, one that bared her shoulders and displayed her generous cleavage while accenting her curves. It was, perhaps, a little racy for meeting with the king, but if she could awaken some desire in the king, it might prove advantageous for her husband. At least, that seemed the sort of thing, to her, that a cunning lady might try to do. Besides, she was proud of how well she had maintained her figure after giving Benoit his heir.
"Yes, milady," the serving girl replied mildly, not realizing that Desiree had not been speaking to her.
Once she was laced in, Desiree dismissed her serving girl and proceeded to the tea room where her royal guest was waiting. Making the king wait also seemed like a cunning thing to do. Her lord husband often made people visiting him on business wait unnecessarily.
As she meandered her way through the manor, Desiree couldn't help but notice that her husband's house guards were gone, replaced by massive men, each not less than six feet tall, with thick, tangled beards and black lacquered armour. The royal guards, she supposed. Well, the safety of the king would be paramount. Perhaps they merely sent the house guards away and took over while the king was here. After all, he was very important, and had good reason to be cautious, if half the rumours Desiree had heard were true.
When she entered the tea room, with it's plush couches, glass display cases of fine china, and delicately carved table, the king was standing by the window, looking contemplatively at the courtyard garden. The click of the door shutting behind her drew his attention, and he smiled easily at her. "Lady Desiree Amrien. You are more lovely that I had imagined."
Desiree felt her cheeks grow warm and she offered a curtsy. She knew her own reputation- a beautiful young woman married off to be second wife to an influential older man. Some called her a "bedwarmer", others less savoury names. No doubt that's where King Roland's imaginings had stemmed from. And surely, a man of the King's appetites would know the difference between a bedwarmer and a wife. "Your Grace is too kind," she replied, before noticing the tea service tray had been set on a side table, away from the sitting area at the centre of the room. "You do not wish for tea, Your Grace? Is there something else I can send for?"
"There is no need, everything I desire is already at hand," he replied, before gesturing for Desiree to sit as one of the couches. Desiree was confused by his turn of phrase, wondering if that meant he had his fill of tea already. Trying to maintain a lady's dignity, she obeyed her king's direction, trying to puzzle out the meaning of his words.
"What brings you all the way to my humble home, Your Grace?" she asked politely, "I thought your normally chose to entertain, rather than impose on the hospitality of your lords and ladies?"
"I have a private matter to discuss with Lord Amrien," the king replied, smiling in a way that reminded Desiree, uncomfortably, of a cat cornering a mouse. She smoothed her skirts uneasily as the king went on. "Though I suppose I should impose upon my tribute lords more often, if their hospitality comes so thoughtfully presented."
It took Desiree a moment to understand what the king was saying, and she felt her cheeks heat again. Her cunning plan appeared to be working, at least, and for that she was glad. The king's expression was undeniably lustful, she realized, and the feeling of his hungry gaze on her made her equal parts discomfited and aroused. To be lusted after by a man who could have any woman in his kingdom was flattering in a way that seemed almost erotic.
"Your lord husband, does he still feel displeased by how I usurped his position at the treasury?" King Roland asked, as he stalked around the room to stand behind Desiree. The cat circling the cowering mouse, wondering if the subject of his interest would bolt.
"Oh... not that I'm aware of, Your Grace." She knew that she shouldn't lie to the king, but it also wouldn't do to betray her lord husband's confidence. Besides, Benoit's former position at the treasury was among the least of his complaints about the new king. "He doesn't tell me much about that sort of thing. Politics, I mean. After all, I'm just his wife."
"Ah, of course," The king loomed over her, leaning down to put his mouth close to her ear. Lady Desiree, would you like me to tie you up and fuck you now?"
"Uh, tie, and, uh, make love, Your Grace?" Desiree's eyes went wide, and she felt a nervous lurch in her tummy. She couldn't quite believe that the king had used such vile language, and propositioned her like a whore! "I-I'm afraid I do not understand...."
Before she realized what was going on, King Roland had seized her wrists, and dragged her off the couch and onto her knees. By the time she collected herself and began to fight back against him, the king had wrapped some kind of silken scarf around her wrists, binding them firmly together, but not so hard that it hurt. She screamed as she struggled, but nobody came.
"I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Lady Desiree," the king told her as he pulled her onto the table, and flipped her onto her back, "But your lord husband has been a very unpleasant man and made some quite grave mistakes." He grinned at her, the cat closing in to put the poor mouse out of it's misery. "If it's any consolation, however, my arousal for you is entirely honest."
Desiree squirmed as she felt the king reach under her skirts. "Please, Your Grace!" she begged, "You don't have to... to... ravish me! I'm sorry for whatever we did to displease you!" She felt the sting of tears. How quickly did she fall from a cunning lady wife to... this?
With the hem of her dress bunched up around her waist, the king began to force her legs apart. "Well, Lady Desiree, in that, you're... hmm? What's this?" The king ripped away her underclothes, and held them up to examine them in the candlelight. "Lady Desiree, you're soaking wet. Have you been wishing for me to fuck you?"
"No, please...!" Her pleas were cut off with a moan as the king ran a finger within her slit, touching ever so lightly on the hard nub of her clit.
"Well, my lady," the king said, releasing his belt with a tinkle of metal before pushing her arms down over her head, "I shan't keep you waiting. Your wish is getting granted today."
The royal cock pushed between Desiree's lower lips in one smooth stroke, helped by her overflowing wetness, and she simply lost herself. King Roland was so strong, able to stop her struggles with one hand if he needed to, that Desiree was rendered completely helpless. No one but her husband had ever penetrated her, and her husband's panting exertions could simply not compare to how it felt to be so completely dominated. Her body responded, completely absent of her protests, her arching back and spreading thighs allowing the king to penetrate her deeper than she had ever been filled before. Before long, Desiree was straining and writhing in the king's clutches, not because she was resisting him, but in the throes of a powerful orgasm. And yet, relentlessly, the king kept thrusting on.
Suddenly, King Roland seemed to seize, and the royal cock exploded inside her, jets of the king's seed filling her as they orgasmed simultaneously. If anything, this orgasm was even more powerful than the first, leaving Desiree dazed and panting. She was only dimly aware of the bonds being removed from her wrists. She could nothing except pant with exertion on the tea room table.
