Serving The King Ch 02

I was up well before dawn, writing a letter by the meager light of a candle, waiting for the call to gather for the day's work. Mother had already sent me her reply, which I glanced at as I paused with my quill above my paper. I chuckled as I remembered that she had referred to me as her "diligent, virtuous daughter".

Which virtue did having a secret affair with the king in the hopes of carrying his bastard heir count as? Certainly not temperance or chastity. I tried to think of one that I might exemplify, but couldn't remember the full list of the ten holy virtues. That would have required paying more attention to sermons, and less attention to Hayes the farm boy.

It had already been almost a month since I started the affair with the king, and I had been frustrated to see the blood spots last week, which had gone on for the better part of six days. The king had been supremely uninterested in me while I was menstruating, but my period had ended seven days ago and I was itching to find time with his royal majesty. He was finally back from his long hunting trip, and my stomach was tense with anticipation at finding him in his bedroom again. "My virtue is probably not patience, then," I muttered to myself. Did I have any virtues?

If the king wanted an heir, and all evidence suggested he must, then maybe trying to provide one for him counted as charity? My ultimate goal was to get a comfortable allowance of money so I could send some home to help with my parents' debt. That was definitely charity, right?

I looked out my small window at the faint light on the horizon, and decided it was time. I finished dressing, putting my apron over my dress, and stepped into the hallway. Around me, the other maids were getting ready. Most were bunked two to a room, with some of the young ones having three beds in one room, but I was one of a lucky few who got her own room. Apparently someone had put in a good word with the housekeeper or butler and gotten me a bit more privilege.

We gathered, and the head housekeeper gave us a onceover to make sure we looked immaculate. She paid attention to details of our uniform like she was a sergeant in an army. As she reprimanded one of the girls for having put on the apron slightly off-centered, I revised that last point - the average sergeant probably didn't take their duties half as seriously as Charlotte.

Our brave leader decided the staff was adequately dressed to clean a room, and she led us all up the stairs. Some of the ladies broke off to clean the main floor, and some followed us upstairs then turned to go down the guest wing. Five of us went into the royal wing, past waiting guards who gave us a nod of approval, and stopped outside of the queen's chamber.

The routine played itself out exactly as it did every morning, down to the minute. The sunlight reached halfway up the stained glass window, and Charlotte led the respectful charge. Two broke off to prepare the queen's seating room, one went to prepare the baths, and Charlotte and I moved swiftly and quietly into the queen's bedchamber proper. I pulled the curtains as Charlotte gently woke queen Rosalyn and started the process of dressing her royal body.

I turned my attention to the queen's bedding, as I did every morning, and aligned every inch of the royal bedding to its exact spot. The queen was nothing if not exacting.

"Maid," a woman's voice said behind me, and it took me a moment to realize that I was being addressed by the queen herself. I quickly stood and spun, dropping into a proper curtsey before the queen had to repeat herself. I kept my eyes down, but took in enough of the room to realize Charlotte was out for a moment.

"What is your name, maid?"

"My name is Arabela, your highness," I managed to squeeze out, voice squeaking just a bit.

"Arabela?" she asked, stepping close. "Very well. I know what you are doing, Arabela."

I glanced up and found the queen staring intently at me. "I'm, uh," I stammered, "I'm not sure what her highness means. I'm simply cleaning her chambers. If I'm doing anything incorrectly, I would be happy to-"

"Enough," she curtly cut me off. "I am busy, and I don't have time for coyness or beating around the bush. I know that you, maid, are having an affair with my husband Edward."

I stammered incoherently for a moment, mind reeling. This was not part of the plan.

"Silence yourself, girl," the queen ordered, and I did. "Better. I tell you this not because you are in trouble. To be truthful, I don't really care much one way or the other where the king sticks his cock. At least now he's not bothering me as often."

I glanced up at her again, and wondered what in the hells I was supposed to say. "I'm not sure what you want from me, your highness."

Her breath came out in a huff, and I winced slightly. "You're not the first girl he's had a dalliance with, nor the second. I doubt you're even the sixth or seventh. You can continue your silly little affair - as I said, I care not. But what I do care about is being embarrassed. Therefore, you will carry on your activities with absolute discretion. If I get a hint of any rumors surrounding you and the king, I will send you to the tiniest, rockiest corner of the kingdom to be forgotten about forever. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly, your highness."

"Good," she answered curtly as the door opened behind her. "This one is done here," the queen told Charlotte, not even turning to face her. "Run along."

I dipped into a deep curtsey and scuttled out of the room like a roach running from the light. I stopped once I was out in the hallway, the door safely closed behind me. I leaned against the wall and waited for my heart to stop hammering. "My virtue is probably not courage," I whispered, then chuckled weakly.

The queen could have had almost any punishment brought down on me, but instead she was choosing to ignore my actions. As long as they stayed covert, I reminded myself.

I stepped up to the other door in the hallway, quietly knocked and stepped in. There was only one other servant here, who gave me a nod and a smile. "His highness has already eaten," he informed me. "He has elected to wait on having his bath until later. He is in his chambers currently. I imagine he's still tired from the long ride yesterday."

"Ah," I answered, my mind working to catch up.

"I suppose he will send for us whenever he is ready," the man continued. "But his chamber will still need to be attended to."

With that, he turned and stepped out of the king's seating room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. If the king had already eaten and wasn't going to bathe immediately, then it would be just the two of us...

I took a moment to clear my head, then gently knocked on the door to the king's personal chamber. "Do come in," his voice came a moment later, and I softly eased the door open and shut it behind me.

The curtains were already open and a small fire was lit in his majesty's personal fireplace, which left the room brightly illuminated. The man himself, King Edward I, was standing beside his armoire, holding a glass of what I assumed was freshly-squeezed juice of some kind. He was known to have quite a taste for it, and kitchen servants crushed fruit after fruit to supply him the chilled juice he liked.

"Ah, Arabela," he said as he looked at me, and a slow grin spread across his face. "I was hoping it was you."

"Yes, your majesty," I answered as I gave him a deep curtsey. "I'm here to tidy your bed."

He glanced over at the bed, and his grin got even wider. "Please, by all means."

I dropped my gaze from him and walked around the bed, taking hold of the sheets and shaking them to release any dust or wrinkles. The pillows I arranged next, carefully fluffing and stacking them just so. The king said nothing as I worked, and I wouldn't even know he was there but for the soft slurp as he took another sip of his drink.

I took the edge of the silken sheets and dragged them up, tucking them above the first layer of pillows but below the second. I was on my hands and knees on the king's bed, tugging on the sheet to get it to lay just right.

It's possible I was also rocking my body slightly more than was necessary. If the king was going to stare at me while I was bent over, I might as well point on a bit of a show.

King Edward obviously approved of the show, because I heard the gentle clink of his drink being set down and the soft sounds of his thick slippers moving across the royal floors.

I left the sheet where it was, satisfied that it was wrinkle-free, and backed up, still on my hands and knees. I stopped when my foot touched something solid behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to see the king standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at me. His gaze slowly traveled up from my ass to rest on my face, and I almost shuddered at the intensity of his stare.

"Your majesty?" I asked, giving him what I hoped was a coy look.

In lieu of answering, he reached down and grabbed my waist, lifting upwards. I let myself be pulled into a kneeling position on the bed, my feet hanging over the edge and my back against his chest.

"You are so beautiful, Arabela." His lips were by my ear, and his hot breath made gooseflesh trickle down my neck as he whispered.

I debated how modestly I should answer, but he didn't seem to be waiting on what I might have to say.

His hands moved up from my waist, gliding along my sides and coming to a rest - one on my stomach and one on my left breast.

He kissed the side of my neck, and my reaction was fully automatic. I tilted my chin back and sighed in contentment as his lips grazed my sensitive skin.

"So beautiful," he repeated, lightly squeezing my breast. Then his hands were moving down together, down the front of my body. I leaned back harder against him, giving the king easier access to my body. His hands smoothed down the front of my dress and apron, over my stomach and mons, down my thighs, until finally meeting at the edge of my dresses. He took hold of the fabric and pulled up, lifting the layers of cloth until my thighs were left bare to the world.

One of his hands stayed there, while his other slid back up my front to my chest. He gently kneaded the flesh of my breast as his other hand slid up my bare thigh. My skin tingled where his light touch trailed up my leg, until he found what he was looking for. His left hand was on my chest and holding me against him, and his right was pressed against me, only the thin fabric of my panties between his fingers and my labia.

I inhaled sharply in excitement, anticipation, nerves. His fingers delicately trailed along the front of my panties and up to the top of them, then back down as he slipped them beneath the fabric.His fingertips delicately traced my short-cropped pubic hair before moving down.

He kissed my neck again, sucking on the tender skin as his fingers slid down further, until they touched the very top of my delicate folds. He traced a fingertip along those sensitive lines, and a shudder ran through my body. I sighed in contentment as his finger pressed more firmly against the lips of my womanhood, tracing the valley between. I could feel myself getting slicker as he moved his finger. I was aroused and eager, and I could tell I wasn't the only one, based on the growing hardness against my lower back.

I was still playing the shy and awkward maid role, so I didn't reach back to grab him through his robe... but I sure thought about doing it.

His fingers slid up and down, still tracing my silky folds, and I felt heat spread in response to his touch.

We had only had three previous rendezvous, and this was more foreplay than the king had shown interest in before. But king Edward was not a patient man. His hand soon withdrew, leaving me quietly gasping and wishing for more.

Then one of his hands was on my back, gently pushing me, and I let him guide me back down onto all fours. He took hold of me by my hips and pulled, bringing me closer to the edge of the bed.

A flip of his hand had my dress piled up around my waist, exposing my ass to the cooler air of the room. The only layer between me and his royal highness was my undergarments, and he tugged those down in a single motion, leaving me bare to him.

I looked back over my shoulder, and wasn't surprised to see that he had removed his housecoat already, leaving him even more naked than I was. His erection pointed proudly into the air, swaying slightly as he inched towards me.

He took hold of that cock with one hand, the other returning to my pussy. A moment later I felt the head of it against my sensitive flesh. He shifted, sliding the tip against my lips, picking up where his hands had left off. He slid against the soft skin there, passing back and forth. I felt shivers go up my spine, partly from the sensations and partly from the anticipation. It felt nice, but I knew that what came next was even nicer.

Sure enough, as his tip dragged its way from my clit back down, he stopped at my slick entrance and started pressing forward. My body yielded before the king, accompanied by the familiar sting as my pussy opened for him.

He paused again, not even an inch in, and let me recover. Even with the extra foreplay, the first moment or two of sex can be... slow. But it's a good kind of slowness.

Then he was pressing forward again, moving with glacial deliberation. I could acutely feel my pussy spreading as his shaft pressed deeper, deeper. The feeling was one of pleasure mixed with discomfort as he pushed into me, but I managed to bite down on the moan that tried to slip out of my lips. He paused again before giving one last, small thrust of his hips. He slid all the way into me, until the curly hair on his pelvis was pressed against my ass and his cock was fully nestled inside of me.

I sighed in contentment, as did the king. This, the moment where two bodies were fully pressed together for the first time, was my third favorite feeling in the world.

King Edward's hands traced the curves of my posterior. He gently squeezed one cheek before tracing the curving line up to my hips and waist. The queen had large enough breasts, but she was slender, and I think the king enjoyed how much curvier I was. He certainly wouldn't be the first man to be enamored with the shape of my body. After a moment of consideration, I decided that my virtue was probably not modesty either.

His hands settled on the swell of my hips, holding me steady as he shifted his hips back. The tip of his shaft dragged along my slick, tight walls, leaving a wake of pleasant tingles. Then he thrust forward, still moving slowly and deliberately. I sighed as I felt him slide back into me again.

He shifted his hands slightly, getting a better grip on me, then pulled back and thrust again. He still moved slowly, but now it was long smooth motions instead of the erratic movements that he always starts with. He pulled back and left a feeling of emptiness, a vacuum waiting to be filled - and then he pushed back into me and filled it.

He found a rhythm, not too slow and not too fast, just steady deep thrusts. I felt my body adapting to his rhythm, starting to move with him of its own accord. I pushed my hips back with each of his thrusts, bringing him in deeper and harder.

One of Edward's hands shifted again, sliding around my waist until it was on my stomach. Then he traced a single digit in a straight line down my stomach and past my freshly trimmed pubes. I sighed in appreciation as his finger found its way to the site of our connection. He brushed his finger over my sensitive nub at the same time as he thrust his cock into me, and I couldn't suppress a shudder and a sigh of appreciation.

All his teasing and playing had left me very warmed up, and the addition of this extra stimulation got me right back to where we left off.

His finger traced around my clit, circling it and leaving trails of tingling pleasure. He kept thrusting, moving just a bit faster now that we were both getting worked up. I could feel my heat and wetness redoubling as he stroked me.

This was the most interest he'd shown in ensuring my pleasure, but I could barely bring myself to wonder about the sudden change. Had he simply missed me while he was away on his little trip? Had one of his royal advisors given him advice on how to pleasure a woman? Had he slept with a particularly talented whore? What difference did it make anyway, as long as he kept it up.

He found a new rhythm, with both his hips and his finger. He was pumping harder and faster, enough to make my body shake and my breasts bounce with each thrust. His finger was moving faster too, but he managed not to press down too roughly. I heard another moan of pleasure, and realized it had come out of my own throat. I hadn't even realized I was starting to get loud, and clenched my mouth shut to keep the noise from waking the whole damn castle.

Tingles radiated from my clit with each stroke of his finger, and from the depths of my vagina with each deep thrust. The sensations met and raced up my spine, leaving me panting. I was already getting close.

His majesty the king was thrusting faster, his cock pumping in and out of my slick passage. Each motion was deep and long, stimulating me from my entrance to my deepest point. His fingers kept up their movements over my clit, and as he thrust into me again I felt myself teeter over the edge.

I dropped my head down and used my arm to muffle my loud moan. A wall of tingling pleasure exploded from my core and raced outwards, and all of my muscles clamped up as my orgasm overtook me. My whole body shuddered as pleasure ran up my spine and down my limbs. I stopped being able to meet his thrusts with my own, but the king just kept pounding.

I could distantly hear him grunting, probably in pleasure at the feeling of my body clamping down around his cock, but it may as well have been a thousand miles away - I was totally lost in the feeling of bliss. If the first moment of full penetration was my third favorite feeling in the world, then this was my second favorite: mind numbing orgasm.

I buried my face in the blankets, keeping my gasps of pleasure from ringing out through the whole damn town. I shook and trembled, and I think the king's hands holding my waist were the only thing keeping me from collapsing entirely.

My orgasm came like waves crashing onto the shore, lasting longer and reaching higher heights than any I'd ever had before. The king had stopped fingering my clit, which was good - any more stimulation and I would have exploded.

I passed the crest of my pleasure, coming down from the high and returning to my body. I became more fully aware of the feeling of Edward's hands digging into my hips just a bit too hard. His breathing was a bit too fast, thrusts even faster than that.

His pelvis slapped against my ass again, again, again. I didn't want the king to get any ideas about pulling out before I was finished with him, so I reached between my legs to where we met, gently holding his testicles in my palm. I figured he probably didn't mind, based on his groan of pleasure as I gently held and fondled his sack.

Then he was grinding himself against me, holding himself there. His cock twitched, and I could feel the muscle pulsating both inside of me and against my hand. His balls squeezed tighter against his body as he throbbed again. The muscle just above his testicles twitched along with his cock as his body started rapidly churning. He shifted slightly then pressed hard against me, as his cock twitched again.

A sudden burst of heat came as he ground the tip of his cock as deep in me as it would go. He groaned loudly as he shot his first salvo of cum, spraying the entrance that separated him from my womb.

I sighed, voice still muffled by the blankets my face was pressed against. This moment, right here... this was my very favorite feeling in the world. He twitched and pressed himself harder against me, as if trying to go deeper. A gush of that sweet heat spread within me as a second burst of cum poured into me. My hips were higher than my head, and it felt like my whole body was perfectly lined up to receive his seed. I could feel the heat of his semen spreading into me, like it would permeate my whole body.