The Royal Line

Duchess Delicacia of Brinmoore sat demurely by the hearth of her tower room, plying her needle. Her husband, the young Duke Bold, stood at the window with the shutters thrown wide, letting the cool night air wash over him.

"I hate it here at court," Bold said savagely. "Endless councils and feasts and Lord Condign swooping around everywhere like an overgrown vulture."

"We could hardly avoid attending the celebration of my brothers' birth," Delicacia pointed out, in reasonable tones. She had indeed been the Princess Delicacia of House Greyleon until her wedding earlier that year.

Bold sighed heavily, unmollified. "You have endless brothers," the eighteen-year old complained. "And now they are all my brothers as well, though I can't even recall a tithe of their names. It really is too bad."

"Well, I doubt I shall get any more at least," said Delicacia. "The wise women have declared my mother's child bearing years over at last."

Bold was not listening. "But if it was only staying for the babes' naming rites, I shouldn't mind so much. But now it seems I've been roped in to attend another of Condign's damned hearings on the state of the navy. I could be out boar hunting back on our estates, not listening to clerks drone on about timber prices and harbor depths."

"Well," began Delicacia who had spent most of the feast that night in tacit negotiations that had earned Bold a seat at that hearing, "Brinmoore does stand to be one of the greatest gainers if the King can be convinced that his lords should be allowed to form their own fleets."

"Does it?" asked Bold listlessly. Then, "You know, I bet the new mastiff pups will be born while we're here. I hope Abernathy looks after them properly."

"I'm sure he will," said Delicacia soothingly. "And yes, it does. You just have to stress to Lord Condign how much we need those ships to combat pirate raids. If you can convince him it's a matter of national security..."

"Oh Deli," Bold sighed, turning away from the window. "You know I'll never remember what to say. I'll just end up sitting there with my head in my hands, wishing I was out hunting hares with Frost and Dancer."

Delicacia put down her needlepoint and stood. She was a tall, graceful woman of twenty-seven years, with her mother's deep blue eyes. "You can see your falcons soon enough. For now, you need to be my strong, shrewd husband and make sure we get those ships."

"It's no use," Bold insisted, coming and settling himself in the seat Delicacia had vacated. She suppressed a sigh and went to close the shutters. The stars shone down coldly from a black velvet sky. She fastened the catch with a click and made up her mind in the same instant. It was time for drastic measures. She turned back to face Bold, who was staring moodily into the flickering flames.

"What if I promised you a very special treat?" she said.

"What?" said Bold, glancing up.

"If you can promise me you'll remember to tell Lord Condign why Brinmoore needs its own fleet, I might have a very special treat for you," Delicacia said, injecting a slight purr into the harmonics of her voice as she stalked towards her young husband.

"Like what?" Bold asked. The Duchess saw the pulse in his throat quicken.

"Anything your heart," Delicacia glanced down at the growing bulge between Bold's legs as she spoke the word, "desires."

Bold wetted his lips with his tongue. When he spoke, there was a slight tremor in his voice. "Well, I don't know Deli. I have you already. What more could my heart desire than that?"

"You have me?" Delicacia asked, settling herself on the arm of Bold's chair. "Or you have had me?"

"Both, I suppose," Bold mumbled.

"But there are so many ways a man can have a woman," Delicacia pointed out. "Not just as a man has his wife, but as a stallion has his mare. As a hound has his bitch..."

She heard the sharp intake of breath from Bold, and she grinned, wide and wicked.

"You'd let me..." Bold stopped. He tried again, "You'd do that for me?"

"Get us those ships, husband, and I'll do that and more for you every night of our lives."

Bold reached out and pulled Delicacia down off the chair's arm and onto his lap. She could feel the hot spar of his cock through the layers of fabric, pressing against the flesh of her thighs. He buried his face in her night black hair.

"Oh Deli..." he whispered reverently.

Delicacia sighed contentedly and leaned back into the circle of his arms. Bold had broad, muscular arms and the chest and shoulders to match, along with a head of chestnut curls and a round, perpetually boyish face. The duchess considered that she could have done far worse for herself.

She turned her head and ran her tongue along the line of Bold's jaw. She felt him shiver in delight.

"Are you satisfied with my terms, your grace?" she whispered.

Bold was cautiously sliding his hand along the length of her leg, his fingers slipping under the folds of her gown like pilgrims questing into uncharted territories.

"They are intriguing terms, your grace," he said softly. "But I remain unclear on the specifics."

Delicacia squirmed slightly in her seat, letting her rump rub gently against Bold's loins.

"Would a demonstration help alleviate some of your qualms?" she inquired sweetly.

"Yes," Bold managed. His voice was thick. "Please."

Delicacia stood abruptly, looping her fingers through Bold's belt and hauling him to his feet as well. He reached for her, his fingers grasping at the curves of her breasts visible, above the dark silk of her gown. Light as a dancer, she stepped back, evading him.

"Now, now..." she chided. "You are a hunter, my husband. You'll not catch your quarry with such clumsy lunges."

"You are my quarry now?" Bold asked, blinking.

"I am your hind now," she agreed, backing away. "The hounds pursue me, panting and slavering. I can feel their hot breath on my skin, so close do they dog me."

Bold, who indeed was beginning to pant, asked, "And what am I?"

"A mastiff," replied Delicacia, "The mightiest brute of all that cry. Your coat is steaming. The muscles beneath are like liquid steel. You will be the one to catch me. Yet I shall run."

And with these words, she turned on her heel and fled. Bold found himself growling, a deep rumbling sound filling his chest and throat, and he ran after her.

Bold's legs were the longer and unimpeded by skirts, but their suite of rooms was small and well furnished. Delicacia danced and darted around furniture, light on her feet, always keeping one step ahead of her young husband. Around and around their rooms they tore, upsetting chairs and sliding on rugs. At last, face flushed and sides heaving, Delicacia stumbled. Bold lunged across the space between with a snarl of triumph. Even so, he only caught her by her long, dark hair.

She yelped as he dragged her to him. The pain in her scalp was fierce and wonderful. She struggled and fought, but he threw a strong arm about her from behind and swung her about to face one of the grey stone walls. She braced her arms against it and arched her spine like a stretching cat so that her callipygian backside stood out starkly beneath her gown.

"I am your bitch now," she told Bold, as he fumbled with the laces of his hoes. "Half she-wolf and half silken. Take me, mastiff. Fill my up cunt with your cock and your seed and my belly with your pups to whelp."

Bold needed no further prompting. He swept up Delicacia's many skirts in a single violent motion. Her smallclothes were dripping wet with her sweat and musky juices. The drenched fabric tore like rice paper under Bold' frantic fingers. The heart shaped hillock of Delicacia's bared ass gleamed like soft ivory in the torchlight.

The duchess let out a piercing yowl of ecstasy as Bold entered her from behind. His cock was as stiff as a hunting crop and felt nearly as long as it stabbed into her. Again and again he thrust, battering against her most secret places and filling her mind with lightning.

"Harder!" she screamed. "Harder, you cur!"

Bold seized a plump buttock in each hand and began to pump his legs faster and faster.

"Harder!" Delicacia screamed again.

Without slowing, Bold bent low over her, until his lips almost brushed the back of her neck. Every breath he drew was heavy with the scent of her. She was arching and rolling beneath him, straining against his every frantic sally, deepening the strokes. He reached around and seized her right breast through the cloth of her gown. She let out a hissing gasp. Her nipple was as hard as an acorn cap. He pinched and worried it, and was pleased with moans and whimpers he received.

Bold grabbed Delicacia's neckline with both hands and yanked it roughly down along with her breast band. Her bare breasts swung free, shaking wildly with each thrust that shook Delicacia's slender frame. Bold took hold of them—no easy feat, for each was fully the size of sweet melon—and redoubled his nipple stroking.

It was too much for Delicacia. She came, with an animal cry that split the welkin. Her whole body shuddered and twitched and her vision swam.

But Bold was not finished.

After a last lingering squeeze, her released Delicacia's breasts and returned one hand to its place gripping her superb ass, fingers pressing deep into smooth, warm flesh. With the other, he seized the dark cascade of her hair, now tousled and sweat-slicked. He wove his fingers through its softness, and then closed his hand like a vise.

With a snarl, Bold hauled back on his wife's hair arching her spine back like a strung bow. Delicacia fought to breathe, reveling in the sweet agony. The aftershocks of her first mindbending climax still wracked her body. Bold could feel the slick walls of her cunt spasm against the length of his cock. He delighted in it. It made the beast within him want to come too, come now and come hard. With a great effort, Bold fought the beast down and kept thrusting, harder and faster. His mighty strokes were like the waves that run before a storm, each higher than the last, arriving sooner and sooner upon the heels of its forerunner, until individuals are all lost in the roar of the tempest. Delicacia jerked and shuddered along, dragging her long nails down the stone wall before her in an effort to remain on her feet. The grating was drowned out by her loud yelps and moans, which grew in intensity and volume until at last she came again.

Her legs buckled and gave way, like the legs of a mare that has run too fast for too long, but Bold threw a brawny arm about her waist, clamping her to him. Now new aftershocks chased the old up and down the length of Delicacia's quivering form. With each twitch her cunt clenched, hard as a fist, against Bold's cock. His eyes watered and swam with the effort of restraint.

Bold lowered his mouth to his wife's ear. Sweat was running down his face, and hot drops fell to splash against Delicacia's bare shoulder and heaving bosom. In a ragged voice, Bold whispered, "You liked that, eh Deli?"

Delicacia could only whimper.

"You liked coming twice with no room to breathe?"

"Yes," she managed to hiss between clenched teeth.

Bold grinned and reached around with his free hand. His thick fingers brushed the tightly curled hairs of her bush and, like pilgrims at last entering the temple of their grail, forced their way past and deeper.

Delicacia gasped aloud as she felt Bold's fingers join his massive cock in exploring her interior. He drew his thumb hard across the tight nub of her clitoris, drawing a still louder gasp from her.

"How's that Deli?" Bold whispered gloatingly. "You like that too?"

Delicacia tried to choke out a reply, but only a gurgle escaped. Bold's fingers and thumb continued their work, moving faster and faster. Delicacia felt almost rawly sensitive already and when Bold began to pump his hips in time with his thumb's rough stroking, she could endure it no more. She came again, twice in quick succession, but Bold did not let up.

"You like coming for me, Deli?"

"Yes," Delicacia sobbed.

"You want to come for me again?" he asked. Finger, thumb, and throbbing cock still beat their wild tattoo. The arm holding her up against him had risen from its post about her waist and its hand was groping once more at the fat, sweat-slick melons of her breasts.

"No," Delicacia pleaded.

"Hard luck," Bold growled. "As your lord and master I command it. Come for me, Deli."

She did.

"Come for me, my wife."

She did.

"Come for me, my hind."

She did.

"Come for me, my bitch."

She did, and he came with her. Semen, hot and thick, burst from his pulsing cock like lightning from a storm cloud. It filled Delicacia up and spilled over, running down her legs and Bold's arm. When he drew his fingers from her with a sucking sound, they were sticky with their mingled juices. Gently, he slid those thick fingers into Delicacia's open mouth. Her soft lips closed around them, suckling the fluids from them as if she were a nursing babe. Their musky taste on her tongue was the last thing she knew, before exhaustion claimed her and her eyes fluttered closed.

Bold carried his unconscious wife to their bed and laid her gently down. He stripped away the tattered remnants of her evening clothes away and, after a long look at (and quick grope of) her naked body, he covered her in their downy quilt. He himself changed into a simple robe and fetched a book from the case, before settling himself in front of the hearth, where a few coals still glimmered redly. The title on the leather-bound cover read, in gold leaf, A History of Naval Warfare by Scribe Unton.

***

It was a little past noon on the following day. Almost no one ever visited to little garret at the top of the north-northwest tower of Castle Grey, which might have been considered a pity, since it meant that fewer people had the opportunity to enjoy the unparalleled view that room's little window offered of the Greyport harbor. Delicacia, however, did not consider it to be a pity. She was a woman who understood the value of privacy.

She did not hear the soft tread on the staircase leading up to the garret, but then, she hadn't expected too. Nevertheless, she greeted the man who entered without raising her eyes from the docks.

"Hello Satin."

"Hello, dear sister," Satin replied, unperturbed.

"How fare you this day?" she inquired.

"Quite well," Satin admitted. "Yourself?"

"Nothing that won't heal in time," Delicacia said placidly.

Satin raised an eyebrow and came to stand next to his sister. For a while they watched the ships loading and unloading together in silence. Eventually Satin spoke again.

"A little bird tells me that Lord Condign has formally promised to support the creation of new navies for the coastal fiefdoms."

"Really." Delicacia's voice was as mild as milk.

"Indeed. Before witnesses, apparently."

"Oh yes?"

"One of those witnesses was the young Duke Bold, I understand."

Delicacia only smiled.

"For my part," she said at length, "I have been given to understand that our old friend John Umber has recently left Greyport to visit his ailing aunt in country once more."

"Master Umber's aunt is notoriously sickly," Satin agreed. Then suddenly serious, he said, "There is much for all six of us to discuss. We must meet soon. "

"And so we shall," said Delicacia said soothingly. "And so we shall."