The Bastard Seed Ch 02 Defeated

Author's note: This is the second of five chapters in a medieval-set story with a strong impregnation/breeding fetish focus. This is also my first ever erotic story, so any feedback would be much appreciated.

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Chapter Two: Defeated

18 years later...

Little did they know it, but King Edmin's three daughters were at the same time engaging in sexual encounters.

--

For Princess Cathleyn, it was more a chore than a pleasure. Her old, fat husband, the Duke of Glennister, was performing his nightly routine. Her naked body lay on the bed, legs spread, as the Duke pumped away inside her with rigid, rhythmic monotony.

His heavy breathing stank of wine, while his hands pushed away her long blonde hair to clumsily grab at her large, round breasts.

Cathelyn looked away from him and closed her blue eyes, trying to imagine it was a more attractive, virile man penetrating her right now. Her hand tried to reach down below to touch her clit, but the folds of her husband's swollen stomach prevented access to her pussy.

Again and again his small cock sawed back and forth inside of her. The pace picked up. His breathing became heavier, raspier. He was close. Soon this would be over.

With one final thrust he groaned as he ejaculated, shooting his pathetic semen inside of her. He pulled out and collapsed onto the bed next to her, immediately rolling over and drifting off to sleep.

Cathelyn sighed and put her hand down to her pussy to feel the sticky residue left behind - the only reminder of another forgettable night of so-called love-making. One of the many times she had had intercourse with her husband without even the remotest chance of orgasm.

But what else was she to do? She was betrothed to the Duke as a young girl and at the age of 18 they had been married to improve the fortunes of her debt-ridden kingdom. That was five years ago, and since then she had performed her duties as a wife - producing two children with her husband.

Unfortunately for the kingdom, it seemed the female curse had continued. Just like her mother, the Queen Maureen, she had failed to produce a male heir; only giving birth to daughters.

If her father were to die, she would become Queen of Nordheim. Already the prospect of a female ruler caused much discontent throughout the kingdom. If she could produce no male heir either, the entire future of Nordheim was in jeopardy from enemies seeking to use such misfortune as a means to seize power.

Cathelyn pulled up the bedsheets and rolled over to face away from her husband. Despite such anxieties, she drifted off to sleep. As long as her father remained alive, this was a problem for another day.

--

Princess Stefanie, on the other hand, had not a problem in the world. Except for attaining a body-shaking, mind-bending orgasm. Her hips rocked powerfully as she pumped her pussy up and down on the cock she was currently straddling.

Her chosen mate for tonight, a soldier in the King's Army, looked up delirously, overwhelmed by the sensation of having this beautiful blonde woman fucking him so hungrily.

There was a reason Stefanie had picked him tonight. He was ridiculously good looking for one - strong jaw, muscled abs and broad shoulders. But the main reason was because he had a massive dick - a turgid nine-inch pole that she loved nothing better than to slide up and down on.

She always preferred being on top. Being in charge. She was not like her sisters, ladies of the court who passively passed the time doing menial tasks while the men made important decisions for the Kingdom.

No, she was a soldier. A keen, battle-hardened warrior who felt more comfortable with a sword in hand than a sewing needle. Her parents repeatedly tried to make her more like a lady, but her stubbornness eventually prevailed.

Rather than be married off like her poor, unfortunate sister Cathelyn, she had been privately trained for battle and joined the King's Army. She hoped to lead it too one day - though her father had always said that would happen over his dead body.

Nevertheless she was happy to do her two favourite things - fighting and fucking. 21 years of age, all her other friends had by now been wed to fellow nobles and started producing children. But why should she? Stefanie knew how unhappy her sister was having to have that oaf, the Duke of Glennister, shove his meagre cock into her every night. And she certainly didn't want to ruin her strong, toned body by having babies.

Instead she could choose whoever she wanted to fuck, whenever she wanted to fuck. Whoever she thought could satisfy her needs.

The man beneath her was certainly doing the job. She could feel every inch of his rigid, thick member inside of her as her pussy sucked and slided up and down. One of his hands caressed her beautiful bouncing breasts while the other grabbed on to her arse as she rode him furiously.

All the while he looked up at the sight before him - this beautiful royal creature with ocean-coloured eyes, supple lips and short blonde hair. Yes, it did make her look more tomboyish. But also incredibly sexy. Here was a woman who didn't play by the rules.

The pressure was building as she bounced up and down, up and down, up and down on his perfect cock until finally she reached a dizzying crescendo. She moaned in ecstasy as she ascended to the top of her pleasure; releasing an orgasm that washed over her.

Her throbbing pussy tightened in delight, causing the man beneath her to cum as well. He grunted his approval as she felt jets of his sperm shoot up inside of her. She collapsed on top of him as the two basked in the aftermath of their shared orgasm.

"Thank you," stuttered the man.

"No, thank you," Stefanie replied breathlessly.

--

Princess Lorena was also close to cumming, though unfortunately it was no cock pushing her to the brink of orgasm. Her own hand was doing the work, rubbing her clit and massaging the sweet folds of her aroused pussy.

Oh how she ached for a man to be inside of her right now, plundering her 18-year-old virgin pussy. Alas that would not be happening anytime soon. She was neither married like Cathelyn nor wayward like Stefanie. She would dutifully wait until a marriage was arranged by her father before she would finally feel a cock inside of her, penetrating her body and filling her womb with children. Until then, her hand would just have to do.

She continued to finger her pussy while fantasting about the person she would like to have inside of her right now. His name was Henry - a tall, lithe young man with sky blue eyes and a mop of chestnut-coloured hair.

He was the ideal man - patient, loyal, thoughtful and funny. They had known each other since they were children and had always cared deeply for one another. But as they had grown up into adults it was clear it was something more. They were in love.

But neither could speak about it. They couldn't even think about it. Because it was impossible. She was a princess and he was but a lowly servant. She would be married off to a rich nobleman and have his babies. He would likely wed a fellow servant girl and have a poor, humble family with her. Their life together would remain a fantasy.

But that wouldn't stop Lorena from indulging it. She was too innocent to picture in her head anything lewd. She didn't even know what a real dick looked like. Instead, while she rubbed away she imagined the man of her dreams kissing her tenderly and whispering into her ear that he loved her again and again.

It did the trick. Her clit felt like it was on fire as her pussy began convulsing to the touch of her fingers. Lorena let out a sigh of sheer delight as she came on her hand before drifting off to sleep.

In reality, she knew that her and Henry could never be together. But in her dreams, they were never apart.

--

A month later the three sisters were informed of the gravest of news. Their father, the king, was dead.

Edmin had succumbed to the dreaded summer fever that had swept throughout the kingdom, dying suddenly, but peacefully, in the night.

His body was laid to rest in the Great Abbey in a funeral that was a spectacular if sombre occasion. The Queen Maureen, dressed all in black with her long grey hair braided back, wept as she led the procession to her late husband's final resting place.

--

Throughout the Kingdom, people mourned. But one man was delighted.

His name was Torren, a muscular 18-year-old with dark, knotty hair, olive skin, brown eyes, slightly hooked nose and an insidious smile. He was celebrating the news of the king's death by indulging in his favourite activity, impregnating an innocent young woman.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Torren thrust back and forth with giddy abandon. Bent over in front of him was Molly, the naive, young tavern wench who had fallen for his charms upon meeting him earlier that evening.

She gurgled and groaned as she felt Torren's enormous dick pummel her pussy relentlessly from behind. Her frazzled ginger locks fell over her face, while her large breasts wildly swayed around from the violent fucking.

The sweet, poor young girl had never been with a man before, though she had often been tempted. Many a visitor to the tavern had tried to take her dress off. Some had copped a feel of her gorgeous large breasts. Another had even managed to stick his fingers up her twat and feel her deep arousal.

But none had ever managed to deflower her. She knew she must save herself for marriage, or risk being ostracised by her family and the townsfolk. Only whores gave away their pussy willingly.

And yet here she was, bent over her bed, being violated by a man she had only just met. When he had come in to the tavern that evening, everything about him had entranced her - his deep voice, devilish grin and confident demeanor. She could tell instantly that this man was bad. And it made her soaking wet.

Torren was now using that arousal to his full advantage, revelling in the sucking sound her drenched pussy was making every time he slid his dick inside her. He hammered away incessantly, making sure that every part of her could feel his member.

Her eyes glazed over and a deep gasp escaped her lips as it hit her. A ground shaking orgasm that spread like wildfire from her cunt all throughout her body. She was cumming around a man's cock, and it was beyond her wildest expectations.

Torren snarled in delight at the sight of her struggling to control the sensation rushing through her. It was now his turn. The moment he had been waiting for. With fury he thrust into her frantically, feeling his dick expand and his balls boil. And then he erupted. Torrent after torrent of his potent cum blasting her insides and coating her cervix.

He pulled out triumphantly, gazing on at the marvelous sight in front of him. A young girl bent over, her cunt lips red raw, and a steady stream of creamy cum dripping out from her gaping hole down on to the floor below.

Molly collapsed to the bed, exhausted from her first fuck and on the verge of losing consciousness. Only the sound of laughter behind her kept her awake.

She turned around, face flushed, to see Torren standing up behind her. He was staring at her while clutching his still rock-hard cock and cackling. Molly's face fell, disheartened.

"What's funny? Was I not good?" she nervously asked, the afterglow of pleasure from her orgasm wilting away.

Torren gave her a hideous smile.

"Do you not what realise what I have done? I have ruined your young body. In a month or so you will feel the sickness. You will think it's the fever that has struck down our king. But it is not. It's the child growing inside of you. The child I just planted there. You will begin to show as your breasts expand and your belly swells. Everyone who comes to this tavern will know you for the whore you are. Then nine months from now you will give birth to a dark-haired, brown-eyed son who will suckle at your milky tits. A child you will have to care for on your own as you will never see me again."

Molly looked at Torren, at first dumbstruck but now increasingly scared.

"How, how do you know all of this?" she stammered.

"Because I have powers beyond any mere mortal man. I am the child of a king and a witch, a bastard with the ability to impregnate whoever I spread my seed into. You are just the latest in a long line of fertile wenches who will bear me sons."

Molly gulped in horror before placing a hand down to her sticky, cum-soaked pussy. She knew what he said was true. Even now, she could feel his vicious semen swimming through her, assaulting her defenceless egg until one finally punctured through - inseminating her.

She was carrying his child. And her life as she knew it would never be the same.

--

The king was dead. Long live...the queen. Cathleyn's coronation was a month later. She was Queen Cathelyn, first of her name. The first woman to rule Nordheim.

The crown weighed heavily on her head as she sat on the throne for the very first time. The people cheered but she felt no joy. She had never desired to rule - had always hoped that her mother might get pregnant one last time and produce a male heir.

But instead she now found herself with an entire kingdom, make that queendom, to look after. But she knew nothing of politics and did not care for war. All that mattered to her was her young children, Princesses Bea and Chloe.

They were the only good thing to come out of her insufferable husband, the Duke of Glennister - Prince Glennister now. He sat in a throne next to hers, barely containing a grin on his oafish face.

He'd played the long game for sure - but now the old goat had everything. A vast fortune, a beautiful wife much younger than him who he could bed every night, and now a kingdom to rule over with her.

Cathelyn frowned at him. The husband might be the lord of the household, but she would make sure she was the one ruling over the people.

--

"Your majesty, your sisters are here to see you."

"Send them in," Cathleyn replied to her servant.

Stefanie and Lorena stepped forward into the throne room. Despite them all being sisters, Cathelyn couldn't believe how different they were.

Stefanie, with her short blonde hair and powerful physique, strode into the room with all the confidence in the world. She wore a leather fighting outfit that clung tightly to her body, showing off the curves of her big arse and shapely breasts. She was a woman acutely aware of her sexuality.

Her younger sister, Lorena, timidly tread behind, a delicate flower compared to Stefanie's vicious sword. She had only recently blossomed into womanhood, and still didn't know how to flaunt it. Her conservative dress covered her body completely, while she still wore her hair in a childish style - two braided blonde pigtails that rested on each shoulder.

And here was Cathelyn, the eldest. The most sensible and mature. Dressed in regal finery, a purple corset and robes that accentuated both her power and intense beauty. Bedazzled in opulent jewels, with her golden hair braided back just like her mother's.

"It is a pleasure to see both of you. What is it that you want?"

Stefanie stepped forward first - too quickly and confidently. The queen's guard immediately stood to attention. Stefanie smirked, unimpressed, before awkwardly bowing in front of her sister.

"My Queen. I come her to ask you a favour. Our father, the king, was in charge of our forces. Now that he has sadly departed, a new leader of our army is needed. I ask you to consider me for the position."

Prince Glennister, who had been eyeing up Stefanie lustily, spluttered upon hearing her words.

"A woman leading our army. I have not heard something so absurd in all my life."

Stefanie glowered at the old fool in front of her. How on Earth was he married to the most powerful and beautiful woman in the land?

"Oh, that's not the most absurd thing in our kingdom," she acerbically replied.

A puzzled Prince Glennister tried to work out the meaning of Stefanie's words, but was put out of his misery when Cathelyn spoke up.

"Dear sister, despite difficult odds and constant judgment, you have proved yourself a worthy warrior. If there can be a first female ruler of Nordheim, I don't see why there can't be a first female general as well. You will lead our armies going forward."

Prince Glennister struggled to respond.

"But Cath, my Queen..."

"And that will be the last of it," she firmly stated.

Prince Glennister looked back at Stefanie, speechless. She smiled back at him, before bowing once more to Cathelyn.

"Thank you, my Queen. I will not fail you."

She strode back. It was Lorena's turn to come forward.

"And what would you like, sweet sister?" asked Cathelyn.

Lorena shyly looked down at the ground, trying to muster the courage to speak.

"My Queen. I am now 18 years of age and eligible to be married - yet I do not have a suitor. I ask that I may be able to choose my husband."

"And which husband would you choose?" the Queen replied.

"Henry Golden," whispered Lorena.

"The servant?"

"Yes, your majesty."

Cathelyn felt sorry for Lorena. Clearly she was in love with Henry and would like nothing more than to marry him and have his children. But this was a favour she had to refuse. The king's death left Nordheim in a fragile state. She needed to use her sister in order to strengthen the political alliances within the kingdom.

"My sister, you know that such a request I cannot grant you. Royals and lowborn cannot marry one another. And when it comes to royal marriages, most often they are made for politics, not for love."

Cathelyn cooly looked over at her stupid husband as she said those words.

"An appropriate suitor of noble stock will be found for you straight away. Please perish all thoughts of this servant boy from your head."

Lorena continued to stare down at the floor, tears trickling out of her eyes. She knew her sister would say this, but she had naively still held on to the small hope that perhaps they could find a way to be together. But it wasn't to be. She would be wed off to a stranger - probably an old man like Prince Glennister. Her maidenhead would be lost to such a creature, who would promptly impregnate her, giving her children to look after. This was the life ordained for her.

"I understand, my Queen," she sobbed softly.

--

Cathelyn had only been Queen for three months, and already Nordheim was embroiled in crisis.

First, a rebellion had broken out in the north, led by a man who claimed he was the rightful ruler of the kingdom. Torren was his name - an 18-year-old man who claimed that he was the illegitimate son of the late King Edmin. A band of nobles had already flocked to his cause, charmed by his charisma and motivated to ensure than a man was put back on the throne.

Of course Cathelyn knew it to be nonsense. This pretender might be able to captivate others, but there was no way he was of royal blood. Her father had been faithful to his mother his entire life. This was just a cheap trick to undermine her rule.

The second crisis was that the summer fever that had taken the king had now swept back into the capital, striking down mainly children and the elderly. Already weakened by her grief, the former Queen Maureen began to show signs of succumbing to the sickness.

Cathelyn, Stefanie and Lorena sat by her bedside as her body grew weaker and weaker.

"My three children, I have something I need to tell you," she quietly croaked.

"The man leading this rebellion by the name of Torren claims to be your father's son."

"A filthy lie," barked Stefanie.

"I'm afraid my child, I think it is true. 18 years ago, on the day I gave birth to Lorena, your father was so mad at my failure to produce a son that he refused to even see me and stormed off to go hunting in Flenhorn Forest.