A long time ago...
Lizzette was without doubt one of the most beautiful girls King Alec had ever seen. Over the years he had certainly seen many who were very beautiful, but this one seemed exceptional. While out in the provinces one morning he caught the aroma of freshly baked bread, and spying the nearby bakery, made his driver stop the coach. He entered unannounced. She was bent down, stocking a display case and turned the other way. As she turned and looked up, he saw her eyes and for a moment it was as if the world had stopped.
"Lizzette!" Her father called her name from the back, an urgent tone in his voice. Perhaps he knew the King had just entered and had an inkling what it might mean. But it was too late. He had seen her. In an instant there was simply no question. He had to have her. She saw his retinue behind him and she also knew it, only moments after he did. She knew it from the fire in his eyes, and because he did not look away. Yet, even though he was her King, and many years her senior, Lizzette also did not look away.
They stood in silence that seemed to stretch into infinity, until the King spoke. "Good morning, Miss. Your bread smells absolutely divine. One whiff and I simply had to come in. Do you think I might have a taste?"
"Of course, sire. It would be my pleasure to serve you."
Alec took a seat and watched her graceful hands cut a slice off a loaf and present it to him. Her downy forearms, her wrists, her tiny fingers, all moved together with a grace that completely enchanted him. He looked up again at her eyes. They were big and brown and endlessly warm. Her smile was soft and pleasing. Her hair shone like silk. Her lips were full and inviting. He was taken with her completely, at second glance even more firmly than the first.
She handed him the piece of bread and he closed his eyes to savor the taste, but as he did so, his mind's eye was entirely full of her. He inhaled deeply. "Delicious." He opened his eyes to gaze directly into hers. "Wondrously delicious."
She giggled, embarrassed because she felt it. The taste of the bread was not the only thing that had delighted him.
"How old are you my dear?"
"I'll be 18 tomorrow, sire."
"Perfect."
And then her father appeared beside her, bowing and scraping and being obsequious, monopolizing the conversation as he sent her to the back. The King bought five loaves.
"The girl in the shop," he told his man as soon as they got back into the coach. "Have the lawyers draw up the papers and send someone back here tomorrow. I wish to claim her."
"Certainly, sire."
It had been several months since King Alec last made a claim, but his men knew better than to second guess or contradict him in such matters, even when his decision might seem sudden and capricious. He seldom asserted his rights, but when he chose to, there was no dissuading him.
Lizzette was so captivatingly beautiful, in the coach Alec closed his eyes again, still drunk on her wine. His cock got hard as he contemplated the pleasures that would await them, together.
The King's men returned the next morning. Lizzette and her father were in the shop, as was their usual, but both were nervous. They had no notice, but the arrival of the royal emissaries was not a complete surprise, to either of them, even though they had not spoken of it.
"Lizzette Barbeau, it is my great honor and privilege to inform you that under the powers granted by The Sovereignty Act, his Royal Highness, King Alec II, has exercised his rights of droit de seigneur to lay claim to the benefits of your affections. Congratulations, young lady, your every need will be provided for. As you are no doubt aware, this is a very great honor. Your family will be more than justly compensated. You are to accompany us at once."
"But what of my things?"
"You may make a list of personal effects or items of sentiment. We will send someone to retrieve them. But as stated, your every need will be provided for. You will have the finest in clothes, food, every type of care."
"I knew it," her father said. "I knew it at once when he was in here yesterday. I saw it in his eye."
"Yes, father, you were right."
"It is not what I dreamed for you. It may not be what you dreamed for yourself. But do us proud, Lizzette. Do us proud." He kissed her forehead.
She kissed his cheek. "I shall, father." Lizzette was a good girl and a dutiful daughter. She was apprehensive, but resolved. She got into their carriage and left with the men as she'd been told.
A young girl dreams. And then she sets aside those dreams, and sets her sights on dreams that seem more within reach, more realistic. Lizzette had many romantic notions when she was younger, but as she had grown older, they were tempered by the knowledge of what most men really wanted from her, what they desired, what they valued. Her wit, her talents, her character, all these were not without value, but in the minds of men they certainly seemed to run secondary to the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the treasured prize she kept between her legs. Like moths to a flame they were drawn to her, especially over these last two years, flittering and crashing senselessly in pursuit of something she guarded jealously and would not let them obtain.
But now, without even meaning to, she'd drawn the biggest moth of them all, the King himself. But he would not be crashing senselessly. No. He would have what he wanted from her, and she would give it, of that there could be no doubt. That certain knowledge both scared her and thrilled her as she rode in the King's carriage to begin her new life in the palace as the King's concubine.