Serving The King Ch 05

I woke up alone. That wasn't such an uncommon experience for me, but usually it only happened in my own bed. I rolled over and drowsily patted the bed, double checking that King Edward wasn't beside me. It wouldn't have been hard to lose him somewhere in all of the blankets-- the king had a truly massive bed, after all.

But no, he wasn't there. The mattress wasn't even warm anymore, so he obviously hadn't been in bed for a while.

A quick glance at the blinds and the absolute lack of light coming through confirmed my immediate assumption about it being either quite late at night, or quite early in the morning.

I rolled out of bed with less grace than I would have liked, and padded out to the central chamber of the king's private rooms. This served as a combination of a private dining space, a study, and an intimate reception area. It connected to the enormous bedroom and the private bathroom on one one side, and the king's personal library on the other.

None of the connecting rooms were lit, so the king obviously wasn't having a late-night bath or reading session tonight.

For a different man, I might have assumed that he'd gone to his wife's chambers for some private time. But King Edward Greyhill visited the queen's chambers about once a month, and even then only after she reminded him several times that he had a duty to perform. The Greyhill home life was certainly not a warm or loving environment.

But then, if it had been, he wouldn't have needed a mistress, now would he?

I pulled on the white slip I'd worn earlier tonight, and a pair of luxuriously soft slippers. They were lined with real mink fur, and had been a gift from Edward to celebrate the three-month anniversary since he'd officially declared me his mistress.

After a moment's consideration, I also pulled on a plush housecoat that covered me from nape to ankle. It wouldn't do to wander the halls nearly naked, after all. My position had caused enough of a scandal already, no sense adding to it by letting the staff see me in my unmentionables.

I cracked the door to the main hall, and found two soldiers on guard outside. I immediately recognised the pair, seeing as I had made a habit of coming and going from the king's room late at night since he and I had first become intimate four months ago.

"Is his majesty out and about?" I addressed the woman standing at attention to the left of the door, Margaery.

"Aye, my lady," she greeted me with a polite bob of the head. No one really knew where I stood in the official hierarchy, and what greetings, titles, and formalities were necessary. Most of the guards and staff of the castle had opted for "my lady" and head nods that acknowledged my authority without being as deferential as the bows they would offer proper noble ladies. "He left perhaps an hour ago, stating that he wanted to walk around to clear his head. Henrick and Tellyr joined him."

I wrinkled my nose at the mention of the latter's name. Tellyr was the king's personal bodyguard, an ex-gladiator the king had enticed into his service while visiting my home country of Sawarra half a year ago. There was no better fighter in the whole of the country-- the tall, dark-skinned man was worth a squad of soldiers by himself. But I always got the impression he didn't particularly care for me.

"I think I will join his majesty," I informed the guard, although I didn't have to. Strictly speaking, I was allowed to roam the halls at my leisure. But it was always best to stay on the good side of the people whose job it was to keep everyone in the castle alive.

"Very good, my lady," she answered with another deferential nod.

I picked up a candelabra, lit it with a taper, and carried the light source with me as I drifted down the halls. It didn't take me long to find the king: he'd gone exactly where I would have guessed. Tellyr's looming presence outside of the throne room's grandiose doors only confirmed it.

"Is he inside?" I asked, somewhat unnecessarily. Tellyr stared at me motionlessly for so long that I started to wonder if he was just not going to answer. Finally, he gave a slight nod. "And are you going to stand aside so I can go in and see him?"

His answer came quicker this time: a small sidestep that moved him just enough that I could reach past him to open the door leading inside. Enough space that the large man couldn't be said to be blocking my path, but not enough for me to step past him without either turning sideways or bumping into him. And there wasn't much point in me trying the latter, since I wasn't even five-and-a-half feet tall, and Tellyr had the build and physique of the gladiator he started his career as. I could slam into the man at a full sprint and not move him an inch.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" I asked him quietly, not particularly expecting an answer.

To my surprise, after another drawn out stare, he actually deigned to spare a word for me: "No."

"And why is that, Tellyr?"

"The king likes you too much." It was the most words he'd ever spoken to me at once. Speaking six words in a row practically counted as being expansive or effusive for the king's surly bodyguard.

I could have let the matter drop at that, but if there was one thing I hated, it was an unsolved mystery. Even worse when that mystery was a person, and I couldn't figure out what made them tick... and what could be used as leverage for them. "And why is that a problem, Tellyr?"

He sighed and stood there in silence for a minute, and I was about to give up on him when he finally spoke. "The king likes the queen well enough. But if there was a threat to their lives, he'd let the guards secure her however we felt was best. You, he likes much more. For you, he might do something stupid like stand between you and an assailant. That's a vulnerability, and not something he can afford."

I stared slack-jawed at the man for a few long moments.

Was he serious? Did King Edward really care about me enough that he would risk his safety for mine? Sure, he obviously liked me more than he did his own wife, but that was a pretty low bar to clear.

"Thank you for telling me, Tellyr," I answered, and he gave me a shallow nod in return. Figuring that was as much as I could expect to get from him right now-- actually far more than I could ever have hoped for from a man like him-- I turned sideways and sidled past him to step through the door into the king's throne room.

During the day, this was a place of beauty and unrepentant excess. The throne room was meant to wow anyone stepping into it, and a century of architects, designers, and decorators had worked together to accomplish that goal. White marble columns with elaborately carved designs punctuated the space, benches of luxuriously expensive white woods imported from the elven homeland across the ocean flanked the walls, tapestries and paintings created by master artists swaddled the room in luxury, and a brilliant blue carpet ran from the receiving doors to the throne proper to show off the kingdom's casual use of rare and expensive dyes.

At night, illuminated only by the handful of lit sconces and the candelabra beside the king's feet, the room felt distinctly different. The tapestries and paintings were no more than grey-black outlines, the white wood and white marble looked shadowy and faded, and the blue carpet looked like a puddle of inky blackness. What light there was in the room was centered on the throne, with its beautiful white-oak panels inlaid with gold-filigree and topped with rich blue fabric.

The throne stood out in the room like a lone player standing in the spotlight on a darkened stage. And on top of it, wearing a matching blue-and-gold housecoat and slouched under the weight of the world, was the king himself.

Like the rest of the room, King Edward Greyhill was the very image of regal and resplendent during the day, where others might see him. Tonight, with his elbows on his knees and head bowed low as he stared at the crown he held, the king just seemed like a weary, lonely man.

"Your majesty?" I called out softly as I approached the lit circle and the man sitting inside of it. "Edward?"

"Bella." He seemed to come alive as he registered my presence, sitting up straight in the most powerful seat in the realm and reassembling the social armour he wore. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You don't have to put on your official king face." I crossed the rest of the distance until I was standing within arm's reach, one step down on the dais the throne was centered on. "It's just me here."

Edward's shoulders slumped like a balloon whose air was rushing out. "Yes, I... Sorry I left without telling you, my sweet."

"You don't have to update me whenever you feel like leaving a room," I reminded him with a laugh. "You're the king of Amella. I'm just your mistress."

"You're so much more than just that, Arabella." He had stars in his eyes as he looked up at me. The king held out a hand, and I took the last step up to stand beside him and hold his hand. It was funny how in just a few short months, the feeling of his hand on mine had come to feel so natural. "I couldn't sleep, so I left to walk about the castle, and found myself here."

The throne room, the place where ambassadors, dignitaries, envoys, courtiers, and the assembled masses came to look upon the kingdom's throne, the gleaming crown, and the man who happened to fill the space between the two. The place where decisions that would save or ruin thousands of lives were made daily-- where the crown always felt its heaviest, Edward had once told me.

Strange that in times of stress, he always seemed to be drawn here instead of trying to get away from it. He could afford any luxury in the world, yet he always drifted back to the source of the pressure that weighed him down.

"What troubles you, your majesty?"

"The usual, Arabella. Just the combined troubles and concerns of a million subjects, no more than that." He gave a tired smile to punctuate his comment. "Some days it all weighs very heavily."

"That's because you're a good king, Edward."

"Am I?" This was a side of the king that few others saw. Maybe no one else. The anxiety, the fear, the vulnerability.

"Of course you are," I assured him, squeezing his hand tightly as I spoke. "A poor king wouldn't ever lose a night's sleep worrying about whether the peasants were starving or not. A poor king wouldn't have spent time, effort, and money building a better highway system to connect all the corners of the kingdom so that all could trade and flourish together. He wouldn't focus on building churches and schools, he'd be too focused on building... what do crappy kings see built?"

"Mostly brothels," Edward answered with a snort. "I feel like we already have plenty of those."

"There, see? Spoken like a proper king, not some creepy lech."

He lifted my hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against the back of my fingers, then another on the very tips of them. "I don't know about that," he said in something closer to his normal voice. There was a hint of flirting in his tone now, even humour. "I seem to recall feeling quite lecherous just a few hours ago."

"Ah," I sighed as his kisses moved from my fingers to my palm, and then my inner wrist. "I remember that quite well. I'm surprised you weren't able to sleep after so much... exertion."

His lip stopped moving up my arm and his shoulders started rising again, as if he were hunching down to avoid a blow. "I've just been under a lot of pressure, that's all. It's nothing to do with... You were perfect, my dear."

"Let's see if I can help with all that pressure, then," I said coyly. With a swish of my hips, I stepped around his legs until I faced him with his feet between mine. I slipped from his grip and reached out to grip his shoulders with both hands. Then I gently increased pressure until I was squeezing the muscles there.

"Ara-- ahh," he sighed as I massaged his tense shoulders. The angle wasn't quite as good from here as it would have been with him flat on his stomach, but I did the best I could to work the tension out of him.

He relaxed noticeably in my hands, muscles going lax as I worked. Then he snuck one arm out to wrap around my waist and pull me towards him, and I fell forward with a giggle. My knees were on the cushion of the throne now, my ass on his thighs. I worked my fingers up from his shoulders to the muscles on the sides of his neck, and he stretched his neck forward to give me better access as I massaged them.

I couldn't help but sneak a kiss while he was tilted towards me with his eyes closed. He became very alert, very quickly, and pulled me more firmly against him as our lips met and opened.

King Edward guided me a bit closer, and I couldn't help but giggle again at the pressure against my thigh.

"I think I found another stiff, sore muscle," I teased. I let my hands roam down his front, sliding across the luxurious softness of the fur-lined housecoat he wore in private. Below his waist, where he was pressed against me, my fingers found where he was tense.

I clicked my tongue in a "tut-tut-tut" of disappointment. "How did this get so tense so quickly? I seem to recall massaging it quite thoroughly, just recently."

"Sometimes a muscle needs to be messaged more than once," he teased me right back with a small shrug.

That shrug was the only thing about King Edward that could possibly be considered "small".

Taking the bait, I shimmied forward a bit more and lifted myself to grind against him, then winced. "These cushions-- I had expected the throne to be soft and comfortable, but they're kind of..."

"They're absolutely dreadful," he lamented. "Here, turn around, Arabella. That might be a bit more comfortable."

I knew right away what he wanted, and couldn't help my eager grin as I stepped backwards and turned around. I sat down on his lap again, with my legs on the outside of his. I leaned back a bit, until my back was pressed against his chest. Now he was the only one suffering the horrors of sitting on the uncomfortable cushions.

"Better?" he asked, and I gave a wiggle of my hips to show my appreciation. The motion made my ass rock against his growing stiffness, and he squeezed my hips to show his appreciation right back.

"A bit better," I conceded, "but it might be even better if--"

He cut me off by reaching around my waist and undoing the tie there, then pulling my robe open. His fingers immediately quested lower, and he slid one hand up under the short hem of my shift.

"Yeah, that's just what I was thinking." He barely needed my encouragement, however, as he eagerly traced along my labia with his index finger.

I was already slick, partially from sitting on his lap and teasing him, but mostly as a result of our earlier lovemaking. I'd used the toilet shortly after we fucked, but there was still a film of his fluid leftover on and inside of my vagina.

As he stroked along the sensitive skin there, my growing arousal mixed with the remnants from our last session to leave me slick. It wasn't long before I was wet enough for him to dip a finger into me and spread the lubrication up and onto my clit so he could take the teasing up a notch. I sighed happily as he stroked me with deft, practiced motions. This time it was my turn to let all of my muscles go limp as he finger-fucked me.

That is, until Edward thrust his hips upwards and pressed his erection into my back to remind me what else was in store for tonight. Not that I would have ever forgotten.

Without needing to exchange another word, we both moved at the same time. I tensed my legs and lifted my hips while Edward pushed the front of his plush robe open and shoved his pants down to let his cock swing free. Both of us were too impatient to bother with stripping properly. We settled for him pushing the back of my robe up while I hiked up the edge of my nightdress.

Then, with nothing more separating our bodies, I took hold of his shaft and held it straight as I angled my hips and lowered myself towards him. A bare instant later, the rounded tip of him was pressing against my slick and ready entrance. Once we were properly aligned, I shifted my knees and pushed myself down against his cock.

The initial pressure and tension lasted for only a moment, then my lips and inner walls were spreading and he was entering me.

"Oh," I sighed at the heavenly feeling of that first moment of penetration. Tight inner muscles opened up before the insistent intruder I was pushing down against. I let gravity control my descent, letting it pull me down the length of his shaft, inch by inch. "Oh, gods."

It was slow going, but I didn't stop or hesitate even once. Before we knew it, he was nestled fully inside of me, his curly pubic hair tickling my pert ass cheeks.

We held still for a moment then, just a brief respite to enjoy the feeling of renewed connection.

"Hells," he sighed in obvious contentment. "You feel so perfect."

I couldn't think enough to formulate an actual answer just then, so I settled for a nod and an "Mm," of agreement.

In lieu of talking, I opted for a more simple form of comforting my king. I rocked my hips forward, sliding my wet cunt up along maybe half of his length before pushing backwards to slam back against him. We both sighed in contentment as our bodies slotted together again.

Every time we fucked, every time I felt King Edward's hardness inside of my body, it felt perfect. It felt like coming home.

I grabbed onto the thickly padded arms of the throne for leverage. There wasn't enough room on the seat for me to get my knees up beside him, so I had to settle for drawing my heels up onto the edge of the throne.

With my new position giving a bit of freedom of movement, I was able to ride him faster. I leaned forward for balance and worked my hips up until not much more than the head of him was still inside, then pushed back down to slide the walls of my needy cunt down around him. The feeling of his head spreading me open as he slid in was heavenly, and I groaned with rising pleasure as I repeated the motion.

Edward's hands were free to move as I rode his cock, and he eagerly took advantage. Predictably, he slid both up under my loose shift until he could grab my breasts. He palmed them both, and playfully rolled my nipples as I slammed my ass down onto him again.

I let my head loll back, using his shoulder as a pillow. His chest and shoulders were just a bit too toned to make for comfortable cushioning, but I enjoyed the intimacy and connection that came with my body being pressed against his. I kept rocking my hips, maintaining a rhythm. Up, down, in, out.

Each tense and release of my thighs brought my hips up and back down against him, sliding me down onto his waiting cock. Each time I slid down his length, I was treated to the delicious feeling of his cock pushing up into me. And each time he slid into me and opened me up around his thick cock, I felt my blood burn even hotter.

He pinched my nipples a bit harder, and I hissed in surprise, discomfort... and not a small amount of pleasure. Sometimes the king liked to get rough, and I wondered if he was going to let that side of himself out tonight, in his own throne room.

Instead, to my surprise, he returned to a gentler touch. He lightly squeezed my entire breast with one hand before dragging his thumb back across the stiff nipple. His other hand forsook its place on my chest and began sliding lower.

I grinned with growing anticipation as he dragged the tips of his fingers down my sternum, the top of my stomach, my navel, the short hairs above my slit... My hands may have been occupied by clutching the arms of the chair for dear life, but his royal majesty wasn't about to let my clit go untouched.