Twenty of the Harem slaves stood in their exercise garments: soft grey loin cloths to their knees and matching tunics cropped below their breasts. The loin cloths covered most, but not all, of their young butts and exposed all of their legs and hips; their tunics kept their entire abdomen, back, and arms open for view. Their exercise loin cloths ended just above their knees, in between their legs, unlike their standard slave loin cloths, which extended to their ankles.
The young women stood in a grid: four girls to a row and five rows. All of them stood barefoot over their own simple grey mat on the floor beneath them.
The Lady Persephone entered the room in simple green, linen trousers and a matching long-sleeve tunic. She was not the property of the Harem but rather a courtier charged with keeping the harem slaves in shape to be fucked by their master.
"Good morning, ladies," Persephone said as she walked to the front of the large, square exercise chamber. She was a stunning young woman of 24, five feet and eight inches tall, lean and toned. Her long auburn hair was tied into a single, thick braid down her back. She had hazel eyes that seemed to radiate energy above her high cheek bones and angular jawline. Her firm ass twitched underneath her trousers with each step, and she swayed her hips out of habit... knowing the effect it had on the men at court.
Persephone was the third daughter and seventh child of Sir Ashton Briar, the Palace's Horse Master and a cavalry rider in the service of the King. She had grown up on their horse farm just outside the capitol walls and had practically been raised at court. Her work with horses, and her father's fitness regimen for riders, had led her to the employ of several ladies at court wishing to maintain their figures. Her successes and reputation had been such that the Lady Raquel had hired her to keep the Harem slaves in shape.
Rare for her Kingdom, Persephone enjoyed something of a middle-class lifestyle. She was not a peasant nor was her family technically noble. Her older sisters, all beauties too, had been married off to handsome knights and younger sons of lords. Her brothers had gained prestige on the battlefield and in royal service and contracted other advantageous marriages... when they were not to be found bedding willing common harlots.
In public, her father had declined a lordship. He maintained that a knighthood was as high an honor a cavalryman should seek. Privately she suspected that, as a close friend of the King's eldest son, he would likely be appointed to higher office and titles if he waited for the succession. And, if not, he had grown wealthy and influential all the same.
Persephone, as the youngest child of her family, had been allowed a great deal of freedom in her marriage prospects. By the time she was of age, her father had contracted as many opportunities as were likely to be possible. Privately she had been deflowered by a poet-artist at court, had a fling with a member of the King's Guard, had blown the Prince Roland at a holiday feast, and had cultivated a short affair with the Summitlan Ambassador at court, a man fifteen years her senior at the time.
Still, even for the youngest daughter of a horse trainer, 24 was straining propriety for her to be married off.
"Positions please," Persephone said. The slaves stood on their mats with their legs pressed together and their hands resting on their chests in prayer. Persephone was not especially approving of the King's use of slavery, but she knew the Harem was a tradition and symbol of royal power unlikely to change in her lifetime.
Persephone modeled the motions the slaves were to perform. She raised her arms above her head and stretched her entire body from fingertips to toes. Her C-Cup breasts strained at the fabric of her tunic. She led the slaves through several more rounds of standing, full body stretches before directing them onto their hands and knees in a tabletop position.
When they landed on all fours, the door to the chamber swung open and a member of the Palace Guard, Sir Philip, entered in great haste. Before Persephone could inquire about his intrusion, the King himself stepped into the chamber. He was dressed in magnificent purple robes and a silver-grey tunic and trousers.
Some of the slaves gasped as the King came into view. They remained on all fours but bowed their heads.
"Good morning, Persephone," the King said. Although in the Harem she enjoyed the style of 'Lady' Persephone, she was not the daughter of a prominent lord and therefore did not enjoy the title 'Lady' with the King.
"Your Grace!" Persephone started, "I... I..."
"No, no!" The King said, "It is I who am intruding. I have come to review some of the Harem. I understand this morning that all of the slaves who have been in the Harem for more than one year take their training with you - is that so?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Persephone answered, "The more senior of Your Grace's servants are allowed more leisure time in the morning as a reward for their tenure. And they then join me."
"Excellent," the King said. He then addressed the remainder of the room, "Your King has taken to breeding the Harem as I am sure you have heard. Alas, my newer mounts will continue on with me but I must make some selections from among my seasoned property."
The King admired Persephone's figure a moment and his mind lingered on all of the possibilities he could have with her, but he had a mission he had come to complete. He began walking through the rows of slave girls who remained on all fours for the King's inspection.
"Rejoice!" The King said, clasping his hands, "I will make my selections here today. Those of you who are not chosen to remain in the Harem will be offered as gifts to some of our most loyal subjects. And you will continue to service them as you have serviced me. Those of you who are chosen to remain will take the royal seed at my pleasure... and I will mean to impregnate you."
The King returned to the front of the room and found the slave girl on the front row, farthest to his right as he faced them. It was Enya, a girl of 20, with short black hair tied into pigtails, blue eyes, porcelain white skin, and B-cup breasts. She was perhaps 100 pounds and five feet, five inches.
"Well... Your Grace," Persephone said, "How may we assist... in your selection?"
"There will be no need for assistance," the King said as he rounded on Enya to stand behind and above her. He admired her young, toned legs and lean, exposed back for a few moments before kneeling behind her. "Those who wish to remain in the Harem will prove themselves worthy and I am certain the rest will make fine presents for other lords."
The King pulled Enya's short grey loin cloth up over her back to expose her bald, tight, little pussy... powerless to resist his unexpected arrival. Enya kept her head bowed, but her eyes darted around hoping to see what was transpiring behind her.
The King reached down to his trousers and let his already engorged member free of its restraints. Without another word he pressed his tip against Enya's helpless clit. He massaged her a moment before pressing his tip up to her young fuckhole and deposited himself into the nubile cunt he owned. Enya gasped and her right foot kicked against the floor as the King took her.
Moments later he was buried to the hilt inside his 20-year-old fucktoy. He held her hips to force her back against him, relenting only to pull out and then slam her back on him again like a piece of meat he wished to tenderize.
"Ahhhh yes," the King said, "I remember this one. Slow to warm up but exquisite. I believe you were not a virgin when you came to the harem?"
"No, Your Grace," Enya said as her master fucked her.
"That's right," the King said, "And I believe I enjoyed your ass before I ever had this delightful passage I'm in now..."
