The Ing

The tavern was full that night, loud with celebration and relief. Huge steins of beer were passed around while, froth spilling over the sides while people laughed and toasted.

"Amelia!" a patron shouted my name from the bar. "Another!"

Filling an empty stein, I shouted back over the noise.

"The whole village is here tonight!"

"Well, of course," he grinned back at me, a few teeth missing. "The King is dead!"

With that, the rest of the tavern cheered. Amongst all the chaos, I spotted someone not quite as cheerful.

A lone man sat at the bar, a whiskey in hand. His hood was pulled up over his head and a long, inky black cloak covered his body, leaving little to identify him. I narrowed my eyes. The village was getting by but no one from around here had the money for a fabric like the velvet draped over his shoulders.

"You new?" I asked him, suspicious but attempting to disguise it by casually wiping a glass.

"No," he replied and said nothing more. I frowned.

"We're a close community," I told him, voice stern. "We look out for each other here."

He didn't reply but it felt like he was waiting for me to say more.

"Remove your hood."

His lips twitched into a smile.

"I'll remove my hood if you answer one question."

I crossed my arms.

"Go on then."

"Have you ever been with a man?"

Heat immediately flushed to my cheeks.

"How-how dare you-" I spluttered. He only chuckled.

"I'm not really interested in your answer," he smiled.

"You just wanted to embarrass me?"

"I wanted to see you vulnerable," he replied, matter-of-fact. I swallowed.

The stranger tipped back his whiskey before standing up abruptly.

"I'll see you soon," he inclined his head. "Amelia."

*

The invitation came through a few weeks later, hand-delivered by a well-dressed man in a carriage. He bowed when he gave it to me, his gilded horses waiting patiently on the dirt track, causing several looks from the rest of the village and a strange feeling that settled in my stomach.

The envelope was unblemished and beautiful, the invitation itself even more so. The thick card it was written on was probably worth more than I'd ever earned in my life. I handled it carefully, reading the lopping font.

Amelia,

You have been invited by the newly-crowned King Elric for an indefinite stay at his home, Sunspear Castle.

"Indefinite?" I read through three times to be sure. I looked up at the delivery man, eyebrows raised, but he remained stony-faced.

"May I carry your things, Miss Amelia?" he responded instead.

Within a few minutes, all my worldly possessions had been thrown in a bag and, along with my, tucked into the carriage. The village watched my departure as we left, hushed. The old King had a reputation that spoke for itself, but his son, the new King... I didn't know what this meant. Why me?

"King Elric asks that you change into a dress of his choice for your meeting," the delivery man said, handing me a neatly-tied package. When I opened it, I revealed a white dress, long enough to fall to my feet but completely sheer. It was nipped at the waist, with thin straps and a plunging neckline. A familiar heat crawled up my neck.

"This?"

"King Elric requests it," he replied in a tone that made it clear it was not a request at all.

"Where do I change?" I asked, exasperated.

The man looked at me, unblinking.

"Right," I whispered under my breath. "Carriage it is."

Blushing furiously, I attempted to undress myself and pull on the transparent dress while retaining a modicum of decency. The delivery man, for his part, looked away but I couldn't escape the humiliation.

The carriage eventually drew up to the castle and the delivery man climbed out first to open the door for me. Trying my hardest to retain some dignity, I stepped out of the carriage with only a thin, sheer material between myself and the rest of the world.

Guards lined the entrance, standing stock still as I followed the man into Sunspear Castle. I expected more ogling but all of them kept their eyes firmly ahead. A small amount of relief flooded my chest and I tipped my chin up.

King Elric sat on his throne in a room filled with more gold than I had ever seen in one place. Great, marble columns surrounded us and his throne perched atop a small staircase carved from obsidian.

"Amelia," he smiled as I walked in. The delivery man, true to his job, delivered me right up to the bottom of the stairs.

"My King," he bowed before stepping to the side with the other guards. Following suit, I curtsied.

"My King," I inclined my head, heart pounding. I desperately wanted to ask him what he was to do with me but managed to keep myself quiet.

His footsteps echoed as he descended, stopping only when he was inches away. I fought the urge to step back and gain my personal space again.

Without his hood up, I could see his face clearly. He was handsome but carried an air of danger, his shoulders broad and the several inches of height he had over me making him seem like a dominating force. As I took in the features of his face, I realised he must have been at least ten years older than me.

"I've been thinking about you all these weeks," he spoke quietly even though there was a rough undercurrent to his words. "You're as beautiful as I remember."

Oh, I thought with a jolt. The man with the black cloak. I cringed internally remembering how I'd spoken to him.

He dragged a finger down my cheek. My breath quickened as I thought of the last King and the things he did to his people. Fear and anticipation set my spine straight as his hand moved down to stroke my shoulder. I became painfully aware of the thin, sheer dress and the fact he could see every inch of me.

"M-my King?" I struggled to get the words out as he moved his eyes upwards to meet mine. "Why have you called me here?"

He smiled, almost sympathetically, setting a new wave of fear through me.

"Amelia," he replied. "You're mine now."

Oh, no.

"I saw you in that tavern and I knew. All Kings get married eventually but until they do... they have someone like you," he smiled again, and his eyes began to roam. "You're my Pleasure Wife."

All of the air left my lungs.

Pleasure Wife.

"You're mine to use as I please. You'll live here, with me, and you'll be well taken care of, I can assure you. But," he brought his hand up to the side of my neck, his thumb trailing over my throat. "You'll also be a beautiful body for me to fuck, and touch, and lick."

I swallowed, unable to move. Against my will, I began to feel a heat between my legs at his words. He moved behind me and brushed my hair from my neck. He kissed the skin under my ear, softly pressing his lips against me. I shuddered under his touch.

"That throne," he whispered, his hands running from my arms to my waist. I could feel the warmth of him through my dress. "That throne is where I'll sit and you'll suck my cock while my guards watch."

A moan escapes my lips, part terror and part excitement. I feel his smile against my neck and then, abruptly, he releases me.

"Get her ready for my chamber," he barks at the guards.

"No, please," I whimper, the reality of the situation rushing over me, but two guards grab my upper arm and start pulling me through to another room.

For the next hour, servants bathe and dress me, washing sweet-scented soaps over my skin and bringing me a fresh dress. This one isn't much better than the last -- two strips of sheer cloth over my breasts and a long skirt with slits up to my waist. At some point, I ask where my underwear is but the servant just gives me a half-sympathetic look and I realise how ridiculous the question is, swallowing hard.

None of the guards look at me as they walk me to the King's chamber and I begin to realise why; I belong to the King now.

Elric's chamber is as grand as I expected, with an intimidatingly large four-poster bed standing proudly in the centre. Elric is pouring himself a whiskey as the guards leave us alone.

"Well," he says, eyes roaming. I fight the urge to cover myself. "Don't you look magnificent."

"My King," I curtsy obediently. He takes a sip of whiskey, considering me for a moment.

"On your knees," he commands. Fear stabs at me but I so what he says, slowly lowering myself to the ground. My breathe quickens.

He stalks over and tips my face up by the chin as tears well in my eyes. He quickly unbuttons himself and frees his bulge. I begin to shake, seeing the size of his girth.

"Open your mouth," he commands, voice level. I obey and the first tear slides down my cheek.

With one hand on the back of my head, he pushes himself past my lips. I can taste pre-cum and clamp my lips around his shaft in an effort to stop him going any further but this only encourages him. He draws back before sliding in again, deeper this time. The head of his cock reaches my throat and I gag. This doesn't seem to bother him and he begins to pick up speed.

I barely move my head and his hands keep me steady, instead he thrusts his hips as though my mouth is just a hole for him. Which it is, I realise. All of me is just a hole for his pleasure.

To my horror, I feel myself getting wet. I'm kneeling with my knees together but there's a stickiness between my thighs that is apparent. I look up at the King with watery eyes and he looks back down at me and moans.

He pulls my head back, freeing his cock and I'm temporarily relieved until I see the glint in his eye. He begins to stroke himself and, hand still in my hair, he directs my face to his balls.

Dutifully, I take one into my mouth and began to suck gently. He gives a small groan so I apply more pressure until he throws his head back.

"Yes," he gasps, and grips my hair harder. "Good whore."

The humiliation of his words and the situation I'm in feels like a slap in the face; on my knees, barely clothes and sucking the Kings balls for his complete pleasure and no regard for my own. He pulls me back and re-directs me to his cock. The movement sends jolts of pain and pleasure shoot through me and he buries himself deep into the back of my throat. Seeing my chance, I push through the gagging and use my tongue to stroke the underside of his cock. He grips me harder and shudders as thick ropes of cum stream down my throat.

"Fuck," he half-moans, half-sighs, his cock still buried in my mouth, forcing me to swallow. Eventually, he releases me, his flaccid member sliding past my lips. After a few breaths, he tucks himself back into his trousers and buttons up. He leans down and I almost think he's going to help me up when he instead places a hand around my neck. He applies enough force to pull me up to my feet without choking me, his fingers pressing into the side of my neck. I look at him, eyes streaming, the mascara applied carefully by the servants now running down my cheeks. I catch a glace of my reflection in the large mirror next to the bed and see my lipstick smeared across my mouth.

"Amelia," King Elric says, voice almost slurring. To my surprise, he puts his lips on mine.

He kisses me deeply but not roughly. His hand remains around my neck, a show that he is still dominant despite this show of affection. His tongue brushes over mine.

"Did you like that?" he asks after we eventually break apart. "Having my cock in your mouth?"

I look up at him as he towers over me.

"It doesn't matter if I liked it, my King," I say. "I am only here to serve at your pleasure."

He stares at me, smiling, before brushing another kiss over my lips.

"That's right."