The Warlord's Concubine (4 page)

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.

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.