Jonos & the Whore Queen

And now for something completely different! Not sure where this idea came - part Conan style fantasy homage - part my normal incest style story - and much, much more. I'm sure you'll agree this is not my normal fare and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts!

As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters within are simply figments of my imagination! Enjoy.

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Although the great age of heroes and villains is now long past, lost amid the ruin and dust of time, I, the storyteller, remain to remind humanity that giants once walked the Earth, that humans lived, fought and lusted with a furiousness and passion now lost to this race. I alone can tell the tale of Jonos, Conqueror and King, Lover and Loved. Gather around me and revel in the telling of his glory!

Old King Janish stirs restlessly from his throne, wandering the nearly deserted hall to gaze out a window at his capital city of Atria. A bloody moon hangs over the city and he grins up at it. It is a good omen -- a moon of death overlooking bloody deeds below. "By now the deed is done," he mutters to himself, unconcerned with his personal guards always standing nearby.

A soft sob echoes through the room, drawing King Janish's attention from the window and to the woman who sits slumped on the steps leading to the dais of his throne.

His eyes slide unappreciatively over her lovely body, dressed scantily in silk wraps that do little to hide her bountiful breasts and long, shapely legs. "Hush woman," he snaps. "He's my son, too and it must be done." For a moment, he does acknowledge her almost unearthly beauty, but only in that it reminds him of his own aged body, now immune to the lusts and desires of his younger years. "Damn witch," he hisses as he steps by her and resumes his wait on the jeweled throne of Agosta.

He begins to nod off, his thoughts mixing with his dreams. He finds himself in the streets of the city, mist rising up to dim his way. Off in the distance he spies a proud, young man walking towards him. Tall, muscular and striding with the ease and agility of a noble panther, long hair brushing his shoulders as he walks, almost hiding his face...his almost always scowling face. He is flanked by two of the Prince's Guard, cloaked in the red and black colors of the Prince. He hears one of them saying something about a visit to Lynestra's -- Atria's most opulent bordello and the young man laughs lustfully and nods agreement. At that moment, his guards suddenly pull their swords and the young man turns, a look of shock and disbelief on his face as the two armed men close with him. The mist swallows them up and there is an awful scream...

King Janish jerks awake, startled as the great doors to the throne room open with a boom to admit a cloaked and helmeted member of the Prince's Guard. Janish sits up, his heart suddenly pounding. Below him, the woman sits up as well, her lovely, dusky face streaked with tears. Everyone's eyes are drawn to the sword held low by the guard, much of its length darkened by blood that still glistens on the razor edged metal.

"Is it done? Is my son dead, Captain Leone?" the King rasps. "Does your sword bear the heart blood of Prince Jonos?" He stands and takes a step downwards, barely able to control his desire to take the sword and embrace its potential to restore his youth and vigor.

The guard approaches and holds out the sword, hilt first. "Your command was obeyed, my King," a harsh voice replies.

The woman on the dais begins to weep again, sobbing, "Jonos, Jonos...my child." Ignoring her, the old man descends the dais, laughing and holding out his hands to take the sword, his face alight like a child receiving gifts at Winterfest.

The guard speaks again, "Your command was obeyed, my King, but...Father, your men failed." With one hand, the guard quickly removes his helmet and the long hair of the Prince Jonos tumbles to his brawny shoulders even as with long practiced ease, the long sword in his left hand is twirled and caught at the hilt.

The King halts, his eyes widening in surprise. "Jonos? Alive??" He backpedals up the steps. "Nooooo. Guards! I am betrayed!" he wails.

The several guards stationed around the throne room begin to move towards the young prince but stop as he holds up his free hand and with a voice used to giving commands, cries out, "NO! I claim the right -- the right of challenge between one who is wronged and the wrongdoer. My father attempts to kill the rightful heir without cause or justification. I now demand the right of satisfaction." As he speaks, he undoes the clasp of the red and black cloak, letting it billow to the ground. A long bloody slash runs the width of his torso, still oozing blood from a nearly fatal strike.

Jonos stands dressed only in the kilt he mostly favors as apparel, his nearly naked body well muscled and gleaming with sweat. He offers his sword up as guarantee to his next words. "Any man who stands against me in my quest for satisfaction will die slowly!"

The guards look uncertainly at each other and then all look to one man for guidance, his colors are the black and purple -- the Captain of the King's Guard. He nods and motions for his men to stand down. "He has claimed the right." The Captain removes his helmut and nods to King Janish. "Your majesty...Prince Jonos, by your leave." He points towards the door and his men march out.

The old King looks on in absolute horror, continuing to back up until he almost stumbles against his throne. "Jonos...there is a misunderstanding. You don't know...I am your father...I AM YOUR KING!" King Janish's face is ashen as he gropes around the arm of the throne until his hand closes around the hilt of "Vanquisher" the sword of Kings for time immemorial that he had once led armies into battle with. He raises it uncertainly and looks at his son. "You owe me your allegiance, boy!"

Prince Jonos smiles back darkly. He begins to climb the steps. "And you had it, Father. I would have given you my life willingly had you but asked. But this rank betrayal...and only to extend your own miserable life. Leone told me everything in the end -- your plans to use sorcery..." The Prince glances over at his mother who is on her knees, staring at him in disbelief, "...and my blood to regain your youth..." Jonos steps up to face his father on the dais. "You want my blood, old man, come take it if you can."

At the taunt of "old man" the King's eyes fill with insane anger and he lunges at his son, the sword slashing through the air with a speed that belies his faded age and vigor, hissing, "Whelp of a whoring witch, I will kill you!"

The sword descends towards Jonos' unprotected neck only to miss as at the last possible second, the young prince simply steps aside and then before the King recovers, his son drives his own sword home, deep into the King's black heart.

King Janish gives a pained and anguished cry, then squeals like a wounded sow as his son twists his sword and in a soft, almost tender voice, says, "I claim it all, Father. What was yours is now mine," again glancing over at his mother, her face paling as she watches her husband's life blood spill onto the dais. "Everything, father. Your throne, your kingdom, your queen...it all belongs to me now!"

Jonos twists his sword again, the sound of flesh and muscle tearing echoes wetly across the room and King Janish's final cry of denial and rage die, choked off in a gush of blood from his lips. Jonos gives a harsh laugh and jerks his sword free from his father's still standing body. He stares into King Janish's now sightless eyes and with contempt, shoves the lifeless corpse off the dais to land with a meaty thump. Jonos looks at his dead father with satisfaction, his eyes coming to rest on the sword still in Janish's grasp and then the bejeweled gold ringlet sitting askew on his head.

The young man turns to the Queen and in a voice that brooks no argument commands, "Mother, bring me my sword. Bring me my crown." He eases himself into the throne, making a little grunt of contentment

The woman, her hands clasped at her breast can only stare at her son in amazement for a moment before she can tear her eyes from his nearly naked form and rise to her feet. She tries to ignore her son's frank and interested stare as she walks towards her dead husband, her body moving lithely. She has felt his hungering eyes before, his amongst thousands who have looked with lust upon her comely body.

Her large and magnificent breasts heave mightily under the scant silk wrappings, huge, jewel sized nipples now erect and visible against the filmy material. Her bare, flat stomach and shapely thighs do more than hint at her well toned and fit beauty. Her dark eyes which give her away as a Princess of the far off lands of Elysiis flit again and again to her son, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

She squats carefully, long strands of silk covering her sex, but molding against her pudena, revealing the shape and fullness of her mound. She removes her husband's crown from his head and then pries 'Vanquisher' from his hand. Slowly she then climbs the steps to the foot of King Janish's -- no, now her son's throne. She holds out crown and sword to her son.

Jonos snorts and says in a voice full of derision, "Kneel before your King, mother."

She takes a deep breath and slowly drops to her knees, knowing full well she offers her son a splendid view of her extravagant cleavage. She cannot help but blush before his gaze, especially as she realizes that she is almost face to face with a prominent tenting in her son's kilt. Jonos takes the sword from her and then raises his head and cries out. "King's guards -- you are commanded to enter the Hall."

As if waiting for their cue, the great doors open and the company of the King's Guard just dismissed, march in, accompanied by three men in rich, luxurious robes. The Guard spread out and resume their stations while their captain approaches the throne. The Queen begins to rise, but a single command of, "Stay as you are, Mother," keeps her kneeling before her son.

Jonos nods to the soldier approaching and the Captain of the Guard halts and kneels. "Captain Torrene, did you know of my father's plot to kill me?"

Torrene raises his head and removes his helmet, his short gray hair almost gone white. Despite his advanced years, Jonos knows him as a skilled and deadly warrior. Without hesitation, he replies, "Yes, my majesty. I knew."

Jonos nods and then turns to the new arrivals, each wide-eyed as they stare at the now blood soaked corpse of their King. "Ministers -- Lords Krane, Sykes and Lorrel -- did you know of the King's plot to kill me?"

Each man blanches and looks to the others and then shakes their heads and cry out, "No!" and "Madness!"

Jonos nods watching the Captain's reaction as well as that of his father's closest advisors. He sees something in Captain Torrene's eyes that he doesn't see in the others. "Captain Torrene, who do you serve?"

The old man nods and replies, "I serve the King."

"Am I the King?"

Again the old officer nods and says, "You are, by right of birth and by right of challenge."

"I believe you. Will you continue as my Captain of the King's Guard?"

Something akin to fire flashes in the old man's eyes and he smiles grimly and says, "My life is yours, Sire. Command me."

Jonos smiles, cold and harsh and replies, "Rise, Captain Torrene. Stand ready to serve." He turns again to the advisors. "Gentlemen, who do you serve?"

The three men prostrate themselves and babble, "You, your majesty -- we are yours to command." They look at each other with some signs of relief.

Jonos smiles and says, "Very well. Please throw yourselves out yon window." He points to the very window his father gazed out of scant minutes past. "It is my will that you jump to your deaths."

The oldest of the three advisors, Lord Krane of the Treasury sputters. "Sire? You jest surely?" When Jonos shakes his head in the negative, Krane draws himself up. "My King...I am your Warden of the Treasury. You cannot command me to jump out a window only to die. I'm...I'm...IMPORTANT!" The other advisors nod in agreement.

"No, Krane -- you are mine to do with as I see fit. Captain, help them along."

Tollene replies, "As you command, majesty." A few simple signals and his men are in motion and one by one, the screaming, protesting advisors are hurled out the window -- their cries fading before merging into three wet and crunchy explosions.

All return to their stations and then as one cry out, "Hail, King Jonos!"

Jonos smiles and then returns his attention to his mother. "Mother, am I your king as well?"

His mother finally meets his gaze. "Oh yes, my son...my King. I am yours -- command me."

Jonos smiles and says, "Rise, Queen Celise." He looks at the soldiers in the room. "I am King Jonos, by right of birth and by right of challenge. The Queen of my treacherous father herself swears allegiance and now places the crown upon my brow." He nods and his mother steps up and behind him, so close he can smell her perfume -- jasmine based, as well as sweat and something else. He can feel her full, voluptuous breasts brush against his bare back as she gently places the crown upon his head.

She steps back and cries out, "King Janish is dead, Long live King Jonos!" Her cry is echoed by all in the room. She moves to step away but Jonos's arm shoots out and takes her wrist in an iron grasp. "Mother, did you know of my father's plot?" He jerks her around and down to fall at the foot of his throne. The violence of his action exposes her right breast, huge and fleshy and for a woman of at least fifty years, marvelously firm and upright without a hint of sagging.

Queen Celise stifles a sudden urge to cry and beg and with her eyes filled with shame, nods quickly and replies, "Yes, my son -- forgive me."

King Jonos snorts derisively and says, "Captain Torrene, have my mother escorted to my father's -- HAH! -- to my chambers and guard her well while I consider her fate." Guards appear on either side of his mother and take her by the arms. She is crying silently now, but does not beg for mercy as she is led away.

Once she has left, Jonos instructs his Captain further. "Summon the High Council. Inform them we shall meet at high noon come the morrow. Spread the word throughout Agosta that I have slain my father in challenged combat and claimed the throne. Let any who would challenge me make their claim tomorrow."

He stands and descends the dais, 'Vanquisher' still in his hands. "Recall Captains Prius and Nasser from the Battle Lines -- have the wizards bring them. I want them here when I awake come morning."

Torrene nods and replies, "As you command, majesty."

Jonos steps over his father's corpse and strides from the room, followed by two of his Guard, pausing only to call over his shoulder, "Leave that wretch's corpse where it lies."

He stops in front of his parents' bedchambers. Two Guards stand there already. "Do not disturb me or the Queen till morning," he commands as the Guards take up station. He grins darkly, making the guards swallow and sweat. "No matter what you hear."

Jonos pushes open the doors and slams them shut behind him. Scented candles scattered about, illuminate the room. The opulent bed covered with furs and soft satins and silks sits empty. The room is filled with a lifetime's worth of mementos and trophies from his father's near six decade long reign. A great tapestry divides a small portion of the room from the rest and he stalks over to it and gripping the ancient piece firmly, he rips it to the floor, revealing the Queen's portion of the room -- her lair when the King had dismissed her from his bed, but wanted her to be close at hand.

A small, but luxurious bed sets across from a small vanity with silvered mirror that stands against the outside wall. Before it, his mother, Queen Celise sits, her eyes downcast. Without looking up, she whispers, "My king, what do you wish of me?"

Jonos feels his heart swelling with a storm of conflicting emotions which spur him into enraged action. "Witch, I wish I knew!" He springs towards her, grabbing a fistful of her dark hair and jerks her upright and she screams as he then hurls her across the room, knocking over a teak table and shattering a bottle of Elysiisian wine on the cold stone floor.

Celise lets out a terrified cry and struggles to her feet, her knees skinned and bloody from the impact. Jonos storms towards her, bringing his sword up and touches the tip to his mother's throat. "Should I kill you now, Mother," he hisses, his voice quivering with rage. "Would you have worked the spell for him -- would you have used my blood -- the blood of your son to restore my father's youth and vigor?" He steps closer, his sword tip pressing hard enough to ever so slightly pierce his mother's skin, causing a trickle of blood to run down her long, slender throat. He puts his lips to her ear and whispers, "Did you miss your husband's cock so much that you would kill your son to regain it?"

Celise trembles with fear, but her son's last words provoke an almost angry reaction. "NO!" she cries out. Her hands come up to cup Jonos's face and she says, "You are my son. I love you and I am no dark sorceress! I...how can you even think of such a thing?"

Jonos takes step back and snarls, "You knew! By your own confession you knew what father wanted and you did nothing to stop him!" His right arm tenses as if preparing to run his mother through."

Tears pour down his mother's face as she sobs, "He was King -- I could not betray him!" She tries to reach out and caress Jonos's face again, but he places his hand against her chest and keeps her from moving. Both instinctively shiver as his flesh touches hers, her breast soft and firm beneath his palm. Celise stifles a moan and whispers. "I would have done his bidding as his wife and then I would have killed myself for my deeds.

"You are now my king, Jonos. Believe what you will and do what you will, but know that I have always loved you." Again she shivers as his hand digs into her meaty breast while the point of his sword scratches the soft skin of her throat.

Celise moans as she feels her son's hand clench, tearing into the silk fabric of her wrap. Jonos growls, "I believe you are a devious bitch." His voices grows raspier as he squeezes her breast, the silk giving way and his hands, still stained with his father's blood brushes her flesh. "What is truly in your heart, Mother, I do not ken."

Celise moans as his tight grip on her breast brings both pleasure and pain. Jonos is breathing heavy -- the tent in his kilt reappearing now as his mighty chest heaves. Celise's dusky skin darkens as she blushes with embarrassment and arousal, her heavy and firm breasts bouncing slightly as she shakes with fear and other almost animalistic emotions. Her large, thick nipples swell, perhaps from the cold air, perhaps from something else. Between her legs, she feels her well groomed forest of black hair go from moistness to sodden heat.

"What is in my heart is love," she breathes. "Love for my son, love for the man who has freed me from the depredations of an evil man, love for my King." Celise reaches out and grasps her son just below the knee. "What would you have me do, my son, my king, to prove my love and loyalty to you?" She gazes into the stormy eyes of her son as she speaks, her hand sliding upward a little.

Jonos licks his lips and says softly, "I am the King and you are mine to do with what I will -- do you not agree?" His kilt shifts noticeably as the swelling of the tent becomes more pronounced.

Celise cannot long bear his gaze and then as she looks downward, she averts her eyes from the obvious erection her son is now sporting. "Y-yes, my majesty," she whispers.