Love Charms (81 page)

Her
skin excited with the sudden change in temperatures, his heated form at her
front, and the cold rock on her back. She was so malleable and eager for him,
and it only grew with his increased passion for her. Arms wrapping about him,
her lips lunged for him again, even as her legs spread, that large phallus
sending that combination of delight and fear through her.

She had
never wanted pain so bad.

“To
please you is a joy greater than I’ve known,” she gasped before her tongue
explored his demonic mouth, her need growing with every pulse of that great
shaft.

Women
offered themselves and were offered to him, but she could sense that such
willing desire was new and different to him. It was a wholly new experience for
the God-King that commanded fear beyond respect or obedience.

Pushing
back on her shoulder, he made her rest beneath him upon the cool soapstone
table. She had served her stuck up princess her meal here but a day ago upon
that intricately carved surface. How things did change.

Looking
over her voluptuous form, those heavy breasts that rested against her chest,
the wide hips and pleading thighs, he rested his gaze against her slick slit to
see the proof of her arousal. “You’ll get your wish,” he promised, watching as
her slender fingers took hold of his unearthly heft and guided his manhood to
her flower. The tenderness of that moment making him groan with desire even
before he jabbed his hips forward and impaled the doting servant on his godlike
ebon shaft.

She
screamed, but it wasn’t the usual sound of protest and hurt. It was something
so deep and primal, and a hissed ‘yes!’ trailed beneath it. Her thick thighs
wrapped against his hips, but she could scarcely accommodate all of his length,
despite her desire and the intense arousal that made her body easier to plumb.

He was
so deep within her canal, and the sensation was too much for her to bear.
Though she had never been easy to bring to such pleasure—countless men
had tried and failed, despite their diligence—all it took was the simple,
single thrust of her new god’s cock to send her pivoting over the edge.

He felt
the way her cunny spasmed, the muscles contracting and massaging him so
delightfully, but her cries and squirms were almost sweeter still. Her
shoulders shifted, and with them, her breasts tilted to the side, the heavy
orbs resting against her bicep before she jerked back against the table. Her
back arched as the waves of ecstasy seemed to continue for an eternity.

When
finally she managed to still her twitching form, she was still posed so near to
the edge that her eyes watered as her hips began to grind him, “I’m sorry you
can’t fit, Your Greatness!’

The
giant of a man had brought many a woman to screams and orgasms upon the end of
his massive cock, but never before had he done so with such relative ease.
Never with a woman being so willing and wanting. To feel her quake in unmistakable
pleasure around his girth, coating him with such a thick rush of honey was
satisfying beyond measure.

Resting
a palm against the stone table beside her, he slid the other up over her, felt
her large breast then teased her neck before stroking her cheek. It was hard
not to appreciate the contrast of his dark cock against her olive skin, that
thick trunk-like shaft of his prying her labia so wide, stretching them
painfully about his veiny shaft.

“It’ll
do,” he said in a quiet husk, moving his hand from the table to grip her hip
and beginning to control her so forcefully as he rammed himself into her.

Even
had he been gentle, it would have been a harsh experience, but the dark
God-King spared her nothing as he began to piston his powerful hips, savaging
her cunt with his dick as he grunted in pleasure. The look of rising
satisfaction on his broad, handsome face such a thing of beauty, his long black
hair dangled about him as he pounded harder, faster. They filled the garden
with the sounds of flesh thudding against flesh.

She
tried to look at him, to watch him tear her asunder and appreciate her body,
but each new wave of pleasure sent her reeling. It took her another few seconds
to recover, only to feel her body betray her inner thoughts to the man again
and again. She was greedy to see him, but with each new orgasm, her mind hazed
over further and further until finally she just lay with her eyes closed,
letting her body respond naturally to the powerful thrusts.

Her
breathing and moaning never stopped, and she couldn’t stop her compliments from
flooding past her mouth, and even her pain sounded exquisite as she shrieked
and groaned beneath him. “I will care for your heir, make him strong and
powerful, yet he’ll never be like you. He’ll be born of someone less than you
and never rival your throne, but he'll terrify his enemies as you do,” she
moaned out, and her pleasure would not stop her praise. Her pain wouldn’t
hinder her from giving him what he needed, and she willed her body to open and
blossom for the man, to give him what he needed.

It was
with a quaking fury that the brute of a man hammered into her with a final,
earth shaking cry, ramming his wide crowned cock into her depths and let loose
his seed. With his strong fingers dug into her hip and breast, his hips
twitched as he ground himself against her womb, the thick flood of his seed
burning out of him and into her as he lost control.

It was
excruciating for her, the way he battered her cervix with each new slap, but
the satisfaction on his face as he unleashed himself inside her was all she
could have hoped for.

The
whole of his charcoal dark skin was coated in a sheen of light perspiration,
making his hard muscles stand out all the more. She looked down, seeing his
enormous cock sticking out of her so lewdly, begin to ooze the thick cream of
his cum. Panting lightly, the large man’s heavy breaths were of pure
satisfaction, the act being nowhere near enough exertion to tire his muscular
form.

With a
lick of his lips he looked over her form with lidded eyes. “You’ve a breeder’s
body,” he confirmed, “and the mindset to go with it, if you speak true.” It was
only then he loosened his grip on her breast, which drew attention to just how
hard he had grabbed at her.

She
felt the absence of his hand, and yearned for the aching pain once more, but
instead she laid back, breathing desperately as she tried to regain her
composure. She’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had atop his great cock,
but was grateful for every last one.

“Lying
to you would be a carnal sin,” she gasped, as if insulted to think she could do
such a thing. Her green eyes worked up his body, but they only made it halfway
before they dipped back down, staring at him as he impaled her, seeing the lips
pulled so tight over his shaft. She wanted to say it to his face, but she
simply couldn’t stop looking at the lewd scene.

“Your
Greatness, My Lord,” she breathed out reverentially. “Please reserve me for
yourself. If one of those... lessers impregnated me before you, I couldn’t live
with myself. I could be of such better use to only you.” Though something told
her it was already too late for that, that virile god had planted his seed and
no man would supplant it.

The
giant, dark man licked around his lips. He had curious, almond-shaped eyes that
were a bit narrowed usually, and his jaw was chiselled and hard. He was such a
curious blend of human masculine beauty and dark ethereal majesty it was hard
to place anything about him specifically as he watched her.

“By
custom,” he began, his pecs still swelling with each new intake of breath, “I
would hand you over to the troops to be used until they grew tired of you, or
you were worn out.” The ominous nature of his words were amplified by his
harsh, gravelly voice. “And if you survived a birth to show a child of my
breeding, you would be rewarded.”

He was
a cunning man, and he watched her through narrowed eyes, studying her in the
silence after his declaration.

Her
lips fell apart and her eyes reluctantly rose to his, a slow smirk coming to
her lips, “I would expect no less from a cunning god,” she spoke with such
reverence. Her thighs were still so tightly pressed to him, the fleshy,
sensitive insides held against his hips, angling herself back to try to trap
all of the cum she could within the deepest recesses of her form.

“I
defer to you, Your Greatness, but I cannot promise I will serve them well. My
body belongs to another, and it would withhold their assaults until I could be
returned to my rightful owner.”

Trailing
his hand up her form he cupped her jaw line, his thumb stroking along her lower
lip where she tasted it there, suckling diligently as he spoke. “The princess,”
he began, “if she were mine... willingly mine... I would have a legitimate
claim to the throne that none could contend with,” he said huskily,
suggestiveness rich on his voice.

There
was the smallest hint of distaste at his words, but it quickly made way for
thoughtfulness. Her hands held his wrists, massaging his palm as she withdrew
his thumb from her plush mouth, “Her father is dead, Your Greatness?”

Instead
of pulling from her, the mighty man kept his cock hilted inside her slick cunt
and lowered his hard body down atop her. His weight of pure muscle and bone
could’ve crushed her, but he kept it enough to merely pin her with a delightful
ache. “I split him open myself,” he husked, his face so near to her now it let
Mirella truly appreciate his dark, masculine beauty fully.

It
excited her, his words, his closeness, his weight, and he watched as she
swooned beneath him for a second before she swallowed. “Keep me with her. Keep
us for yourself, and I will teach her what it means to be a concubine to a god.
All I do will be for your benefit,” she swore, and there was no begging to her
tone. No neediness.

Though
she desired to please him, she would do so in any manner he saw fit, and would
not presume to tell him his business. If he chose for her to be passed around
like a doll, she would be the best damn doll that those men ever fucked.

Perhaps
it was that desire to please, or perhaps it was instead her willingness to
barter for her position so cunningly, but it made his mighty shaft twitch
within her quim, showing signs of renewed life. “If you do this for me,” he
began, licking his lower lip, “I will keep you in my harem until she is mine
willingly. I will give you all that time to bear the fruit of my loins. And
should you succeed before then, I will keep you to myself all the same.” It was
almost romantic the tone of his dark voice, talking to her so closely as they
still lay entangled. “Help trick her into being mine, and there will be rewards
for you beyond measure.”

As
close as he was to her, he could feel the beat of her heart quicken, and the
muscles in her pussy clenched him tightly, though as large as he was, she
needn’t work hard. “I will not disappoint you, for I know the punishments will
be greater still.”

Rolling
his hips, the thick, veiny shaft pulled out, then pushed back in. The soft
suckling of her cum and honey glazed folds gripped him so tightly. He began to
pump himself into her again, his cock stirring back to fullness. “Time is of
the essence,” he husked, the slap of his balls against her ass resounding in
the courtyard as his pace quickened and he took her yet again upon the table.

Once
more he silenced rational thought with a haze of pleasure, and she was back to
compliments, instead. Pretty, truthful words that only rang more genuine as her
hips moved against him and her thighs lifted her up. She cried as he hit
against her inner barrier, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but for him
and his awesome power.

Chapter 3

Returned
to the tent by one of the concubine-guards, Mirella had spent the evening
tending to the delicate, needful princess. The morning didn’t seem like it
would hold much different.

New
food was placed out for the women of the tent, and despite the odd mix it
seemed obvious they were treated well, or so was the intention while there. In
the span of that one evening she’d seen a few of the women taken and replaced,
presumably to serve the needs of the God-King, but he hadn’t shown up again,
regrettably.

Plucking
at some of the food on the manor platters, the princess whined, “This is
awful.” The food, though from the palace's kitchens, was not prepared to the
standards the delicate woman was accustomed to.

“Come,
now, Princess. It’s not that bad,” she popped another bit of melon in her
mouth, chewing it and smiling, the entire act like the condescending way one
speaks to a child. “See? Besides, you need your strength, my lovely girl. You
need to be strong and fit so that you can get through these days.”

Mirella
had been watching everything with an excruciating attention to detail, noting
which women were taken, how long they were gone, and everything about their
demeanour before and after. She had a keen eye for intrigue, and she took it
upon herself to be aware of potential competition or threats.

Only
one of the taken women had returned thus far, a brown haired local with curly
locks, she had the wide-eyed look of someone stunned upon returning and had
kept to herself since. Her competition seemed less spirited than herself, she
had to confess.

The
princess, however, had spirit. It was just of the wrong sort. “Father will be
here soon,” she told herself stubbornly, the waifish princess refusing to eat.
“Those... brutes,” she said, gesturing towards the tall concubine-soldiers that
were their guards, “tried telling me he was dead,” and the refusal to believe
it was strong with her.

She had
thought on it for the entire night, wondering if she could break the princess
and remould her into something fresh and better, or if she should use that
naive hope against her. Mirella hadn’t come to a proper conclusion. She licked
her lips, “Princess, he would not like to see you starved and abused, too weak
to stand on your own feet because of your refusal to eat.” She plucked up some
honeyed fruit, pressing it towards the woman and taking on a sterner tone,
“Eat.”

With a
scowl the petite princess finally gave in and took a small morsel of food. It
had taken all morning to get that much done and once swallowed—with great
distaste—she seemed disinclined to eat more. “What’s going to become of
me, Mirella?” she huffed with despair, her slender shoulders sagging.

“You’ll
always be a great Princess, my lady. Always. Even here, among these beasts,
they recognize your status and you’ll be treated well. They won’t hurt you as
long as you don’t make trouble for them.” Her hand stroked along the woman’s
cheek, “I’m trying to help you. To make a deal with that g— the leader,”
she quickly corrected herself to a more amiable term.

Lifting
her watery blue eyes up to her servant, the delicate princess stared at her
with wide wonder, “Make a deal?” Slowly distaste filled her features, “Is that
what you were doing yesterday when I awoke and you were gone? Consorting with
the enemy?” The young woman’s voice trembled in anger, disbelief and doubt.

“For
you. To try to get you free and safe and back to your family,” she said calmly,
though she forced a twinge of hurt to her tone. “We can’t fight, Princess.
We’re captured, and if we’re not careful, terrible things might happen to us.
To you. I can’t allow that to happen.”

There
was obviously some conflict within her, the trembling, pale little woman
lowering her eyes and darting them about in frustration. “That’s no excuse
to... to barter with the devil!” she exclaimed in a breathy voice.

This
was all too much to handle for the young woman who’d only once been beyond the
city itself, and then simply to be betrothed to her future husband, a prince of
the Empire. Swallowing down her rage she asked, “What have you done, Mirella?”

“I’ve
only looked out for your best interests, my lady. You are my Princess, and I
only ever want what is best for you,” she responded, obedience in her tone.
“I’m only sorry that you had to wake alone. I so wanted to be there to ensure
you were feeling well.”

She
seemed so sincere and downtrodden to be accused of such things, and her green
eyes fell demurely.

The
virginal princess could hardly wrap her mind about what had actually happened,
and it seemed apparent she was struggling with the reality of it all. “I need
some time to think,” she said, though before anything more could be said that
familiar sound of people falling to their knees could be heard behind them.

His was
a presence felt before it was seen, and so Mirella was able to turn in time to
see the grand, dark man sweep into the tent. Once again, where others cowered
or bowed, she gazed up longingly.

Her
gaze was returned, for the large tyrant approached them both. His dark gaze
moved to the princess however, eying her quivering little form. “Good morning,
princess Flair,” came his dusky voice, so hard and masculine, using her
official title for the first time.

Mirella
had to pull her eyes from him, using all her will to look back to the Princess,
stroking the backs of her fingers against her lady’s hand. “Princess, please,”
she murmured softly. She wanted the praise of her god, and if she could only
warp the princess to his will...

Why did
she have to be so obstinate? Why did her father spoil her so? Mirella shoved
aside the rage, her light caresses so encouraging, “He can help you.”

The
princess didn’t flinch from her touch, which was a good sign, but she still
remained cowering from the visage of the mighty giant towering over them.

“You
needn’t fear me, princess,” he intoned evenly in that booming voice of his that
seemed incapable of doing anything but commanding attention.

The
princess, however, snapped then, “My father will come and save me! I don’t need
you or anyone to take care of me until then!” Obstinately she pushed away
Mirella’s consoling hand and rose up on shaky limbs, resolutely defiant in her
ignorance of reality.

“Princess!”
she gasped as she stood on far more certain feet. “You’ll be no good to anyone
if you get yourself injured,” she murmured, leaning in to the other woman’s
ear, “Be rational,” she pleaded.

Stumbling
upon the cushions that lined the floor as she pushed Mirella away, Anabelle
tried to escape them both but toppled onto a mound of velvet and silk, crying
as she tried to separate herself from them both. “Leave me alone!” she cried.
Mirella knew that tone of voice well, there would be no consoling the princess
now, not until she had sobbed herself clean of her worries.

However,
the greatest disappointment was the look on the ebon God-King’s face. He said
no more, but he chose two other women then, leaving her there to wait out the
sobs of the petulant princess.