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Cheyenne's life was marked by a few certainties that she had come to accept: firstly, she was a Princess, which meant that one day she would be married off to the most suitable suitor and become a Queen. Secondly, she knew that true love was something she would never experience in her life. And lastly, she was expected to use her "birthing hips" to bring happiness to her husband and pride to her people.
Ever since she could remember, King Richard III of Wybury -her father- had been working tirelessly to ensure that she was raised to be accomplished in every art, especially the ones useful in entertaining noblemen. If she wanted to be married to a good man, she needed to be a lot more than just pretty because even peasants can look pretty, he always said. She was supposed to be elegant, interesting, smart (but not that much), to talk only when necessary (which was rarely, leaving her wondering how she was supposed to show how quick her brain and her tongue truly were) and most importantly, to make a lot of heirs.
All of that seemed to be extremely silly now that she was sitting next to her heavily pregnant husband. Yes, husband. And yes, heavily pregnant.
A little bit more than a year prior, Cheyenne married the King of a neighbouring country: he was older than her but not extremely so and presented himself as a gentleman, which was always pleasing. The forced proximity between the newly wedded couple and their duty to the crown pushed them very soon forward trying for an heir. On that occasion, the Queen found out that what she thought to be a dreadful activity, as often described, was indeed quite fun thanks to the right partner!
Anyway, even if the tentatives were many, she seemed to be unable to conceive and she soon required the assistance of a royal physician, who promptly provided her with a fertility potion. It was hard to know what went wrong, probably she had to use it with her husband and not on her husband, but the damage was done and the King was now pregnant with twins and almost overdue.
If Cheyenne had a saying on that, the King never looked better and the pregnancy suited him perfectly, way more than it would have ever suited her. On the other hand, matter of fact, his body was not made to be put under that type of strain and it was taking a great toll on him. This was particularly true today, as the Queen could tell something was bothering him more. In the time they spent together, she learned to read his body language perfectly and to respond to that accordingly, just as it was expected from her. It was the way he was playing with the breakfast on his plate instead of eating it that told her something was wrong.
"Your Highness" she started with a soft murmur to get his attention. "Something is troubling you. The food doesn't sit well with your stomach?"
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01-23-2024, 07:38 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-23-2024, 08:48 PM by
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August wanted to laugh at his wife's innocent question. It wasn't just the food that didn't sit well. Nothing did in this preposterous situation, and hadn't for quite some time. It was just becoming increasingly more difficult to hide the fact. He shifted in his seat, absently resting his hand on his tight, swollen, belly. The life within--lives, he reminded himself. Two. There were two--turned and prodded, vying for position and space. There should have been more than enough. King August Ettiene Carmine was a large man, towering over most of the members of his court, with a broad chest and sturdy build. Before, his core had been fit and muscled but now ballooned outward with a weight and heft he had not seen on another. Then again, he was also a man, and men were not made for this kind of work.
He had not believed it at first. In truth, who would? But his wife's tale of potions and his body's undeniable changes forced him to accept the truth. The King was pregnant. Long live the king. Of course, non but his closest circle knew the truth. In the beginning it was easy to hide with loose fabrics and lavish decorations but as things progressed so did the stories and rumors that were whispered through the capital--non as ludacris and absurd as the impossible truth.
As the end drew nearer, he grew increasingly irritated with the whole affair. This was not the role of a king. He should not be the one burdened with the pressure and pangs that seemed to grow worse every day. To suffer the tedium of sleepless nights, or aching bones of a man twice his age. She was.
He glances over the table at his queen. She was a pretty little thing--prettier still when she was writhing and gasping beneath him--and he would be lying to say he had not imagined her plump and round with his child. She had been willing, surprisingly so, and he had relished in all the glorious ways he would go about completing the task. Devilish, hedonistic, ways.
He tugged the sash of his robe tighter around his waist. His predicament had hindered all that, though not halted it outright. He still had needs, and a king got what he desired. It was his right.
He set down his fork and leaned back in his chair.
"It seems I am not hungry, this morning." His mouth turned up into a sly grin. "For food."
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Yes, this was what he needed. This would do the trick and take his mind from his discomfort and the intervals of cramping that were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. What better way was there than to replace pain with pleasure? And his eager new wife certainly know how to give him that. He spread his legs wider, letting his stomach sag lower between them, and allowing his woman to perch perfectly on his thigh. He sweet voice and false naivety was enough to undo any man. How lucky this match had been.
He slipped his hand beneath her skirts and trailed his fingers up, up, up, until they rested against the core between her legs. He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck before using his thumb, and tipping her chin up so their eyes met.
"I want something sweet." His deep voice grumbled. "Something sweet...and juicy." He moved back to her shoulder and bit down playfully. "I am absolutely starving for it." His hand moved between her legs. "Do you think my 'humble servant' knows of a dish like that?"
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There was something in his body language, maybe the confidence that he still held even while being so taxed by the pregnancy that was able to draw Cheyenne insane with lust. If someone would have told her that she would have find a gravid man extremely attractive, the now Queen would have probably laughed to their face and then imprisoned them for treason against the throne and yet, right now she was barely able to keep her hands off his glorious orb that she cupped as soon as she was close enough. The mass was solid under the fabric of his clothing, even more than usual, as she made a mental note to ask August about it later.
At the moment, in fact, she was too busy spreading her legs open enough for his hand to trail freely on her delicate thighs, providing her husband the complete access to her most intimate region. She melted in his touch like the airy snow of Spring, a breathy sigh escaping her lips just from their closeness, shivers running down her spine even before his lips touched the sensitive skin of her neck.
Gasping lightly, Cheyenne pressed her voluptous body against his in order to erase any distance set betweeen them, desire sparking in her as soon as his hand moved between her fold, always warm and ready to welcome him. “I may have half an idea, kind Sir. Does it involve something…” her hand trailed toward the his crotch, her fingers tracing what she could tell was his already semi erected length. “Yes, something exactly like this” she smirked, her lips capturing August in a stolen kiss.
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01-24-2024, 02:55 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-24-2024, 04:58 AM by
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He grunted as her hands cupped his distended belly. She always seemed to find it. More than not he awoke with her curled around it. Indeed she found it more pleasing than he did. She was the only one he allowed to touch it. Not even his dresser had that privilege.
He felt her move with his touch, welcoming his mouth and his fingers. He bucked his hips forward as she found his length, letting it linger against her hand.
"Oh, yes..." he hummed, meeting her lips with his. "This is indeed a start." He kissed her deeper, tasting her with his tongue, and lingering, hoping to capture a her subtle moan as he slid his finger deeper. One. Then another. Lazily toying with her depth. Enjoying her wetness on his skin. "Though, it seems you have not quite done your best." He guided her hand back and forth across the bulge of his semi erect cock. "How ever will you make it up to me?"
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August couldn't really blame his wife's ability to always find his heavy belly, it wasn't exactly little or easily concealable anymore. Even knowing that her husband wasn't pleased at all with his condition, she couldn't help but wonder what it felt like carrying the lives of your children inside you, detecting their movement under your own skin, knowing that you're the one securing the line to the throne. Cheyenne supposed that, after the twins were born and the King recovered from the pregnancy, she may try to conceive again and find out herself. It was also a way to show how she didn't fail her role of wife, wasn't it?
Going back to the matter at hand -pun intended- a light chuckle resonated in her throat as their tongue met, intertwining with each other as their limbs and bodies were doing. Being on the shorter side, Cheyenne thought at first that the tall and broad physic of her husband would have never made them a good match, their height would have collided and their movements would have been uncoordinated, they would have made a fool of themselves when dancing or in their public appearances; instead their bodied fit one other perfectly, especially when they were so close, fingers and lips melting together in the heat of their passion. Cheyenne held her breath when her depth trapped his finger inside, keeping it against her soft spot, then the second finger joined its sibling and the moan August was expecting crushed loud and clear against his lips. Her distracted brain was then bombarded with two different information: she needed to reply to his question and she had to address the growing hardness underneath her palm. "With anything you want, my beloved" she murmured, her eyes bright with pleasure while her hand followed the path he showed in long, slow strokes all along his growing length.
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He leaned back, enjoying her teasing strokes for a moment, and trading his own in kind. He curled his fingers within her, catching another moan with his mouth, and letting out a husky growl of his own. He licked his lips. What he wanted was his wife, here and now, on her knees in front of him. Though, he would not debase her as such. A bit of playful frolic was one thing but the queen could not be caught under the breakfast table trading favors like some common party whore. Still, it was clear to him by the glint in here eye that neither of them would be satisfied with a few simple strokes. He kissed her once more, tugging her lips playfully with his teeth as he pulled away, and slid his hand free from her depths. Game perhaps--one they had played many times before.
"What I want, my Queen, is your unabashed and unwavering obedience."
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The Queen was more than happy to be on her knees for him, or in whatever position he wanted her to be, but was also well aware that they still had to observe some decor even in the privacy of their castle and that every plain surface wasn't a spot for them to use in inappropriate ways. Knowing that they should have brought their breakfast back to their private quarters didn't mean that Cheyenne was willing to be deprived of his touch, would it be only for a short time, and she made her discontent manifest by grumbling an unsatisfied sound.
"I'm afraid the only way I have of showing you how obedient and reverent I am, My King, is in our chamber. How could I, if my actions will be under the eyes of other men?" she enquired, once again making use of that faux innocence she mastered so well. She quickly got off his lap, straightening the fold of her beautiful dress, one of his gifts. The sole fact that he chose it for her, explicitly and exclusively for her, made her heart (and her sex) clench with satisfaction. Once she was on her feet, the Queen offered him her hand, a quiet way to provide some help to get out of the seat he was occupying. August was a proud man, he would have hardly ever confessed he needed assistance, but Cheyenne always found the most subtle way to do it regardless. Who could ever provide the King some support if not his own Queen?
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01-25-2024, 12:48 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-25-2024, 01:53 AM by
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He pursed his lips. Gods she was something. What would that timid little princess he met on their wedding day think seeing herself now? She had bloomed so fully, come into her own, and now she offered to lead the King himself to their bedchambers.
"What an idea." He rumbled, taking her hand.
He grunted as he heaved himself from his seat. Standing had become increasingly difficult and secretly he was grateful for his wife's unprevoked supported--although he was certain her petite frame would be little help against his size if he began to topple. It wasn't merely standing he had begun to find a chore. Walking, sitting, sleeping--well, most things--strained him. He had been able to jump from saddle to field and now he worried he would fall walking the royal halls. How ridiculous it was that he had spent years in baracks and battlefields, sleeping in tens and on the cold hard ground without issue, and now a night in a plush feather bed sent his back into spasms. The bed, however, has one feature the others did not--magnificent his queen.
He plodded behind her, as they made their way to the staircase that led to the upper rooms. His mind and body stirred with ideas to keep them both utterly satisfied. As he reached the first stair he was pulled unexpectantly from those thoughts.
He let out a surprised huff as his belly tightened and did not let go. The strength of it sent him off balanced and he gripped the bannister to steady himself. "Hmmph..." he murmured in annoyance as he shifted his weight. It was yet another burdern he would have to deal with in this unfortunate situation.
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01-25-2024, 10:37 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-25-2024, 10:37 AM by
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That timid little princess he met on their wedding day was the timid little Queen his father wanted her to be: a silent shadow of her husband, a jewel he would proudly show to the court because of her beautiful face, a broken record who spoke only on command. She would have acted the part of the invisible wife if August had been another type of husband; instead, he corrupted her innocence, he let her know how much he craved her and she bashed on the power her body had on her spouse. He was the one teaching her how her obedience drove him insane with lust and now Cheyenne had him wrapped around her fingers enough that yes, she was the one leading the King in his chamber. He must have been aware that it was all his handiwork, just as he must be aware that her devotion wasn’t just an act and that her heart beat for him with the most sincere of sentiments.
Her fingers wrapped tightly around his hand, a content expression relaxing her features as August accepted her help without further words. While a part of her felt almost successful for it, as if she had won who knows what important battle, the more logical part of her concluded that he must be overly taxed if he just accepted her help. Which immediately brought her back to the fact that he had barely eaten something that morning and that she should take a more careful watch on him. August wasn’t one to voice his discomfort, unless one exasperated him enough.
They slowly made their way toward to chamber, even more than usual, his steps heavy against the stone floor resonated inside the hall and in her ears. Tentatively, Cheyenne got closer to him to wrap an arm around his aching lower back to offer some support, already expecting him to remind her that he was not incapable or something like that, but the Queen was -unfortunately for him- quite stubborn.
Her concern proved to be right when August was stopped on his track by an invisible force which threw him off balance and threatened to pull them both on the ground if he didn’t promptly catch the bannister in front of them. Thanks to her closeness, her smaller body practically pressed against his side, Cheyenne was able to feel a strange pull coming directly from his gravid womb and her free hand immediately rushed to the lower curve of it, now remarkably tens. Practice cramps weren’t something new, not after they scared the life out of her one night after a great session of lovemaking, and yet this one seemed way more intense than the other ones… “My Love?” her eyes darted toward his face, searching for an answer.
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"It's nothing," he grunted, though less convincingly than he wanted to. His voice was gruff and commanding but there was a tinge of something else too. His forehead creased as tension continued and he moved his free hand to his belly. He stroked the tight orb, perhaps hoping that it would relieve some of the discomfort, before resting his hand on top of his wife's. After a moment, the tension broke and his stomach released, leaving nothing the residual ache in his lower back. "It's nothing," he said again. He wondered if he was attempting to convince his queen or himself.
She was staring at him--worry evident on her face. It shouldn't have surprised him. She was a kind woman and raised to portray all the necessary traits a queen should exibit. Obedience. Loyalty. Decorum. She was a picture of noble birth, but before she joined his house it had never crossed his mind that there could be love there too. Marriage was a contract just like any other, and August had treated it as such. Feeling, not even desire, had ever entered into it. Yet, now this woman clung to him, supported him. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. The thought was intoxicating and took his mind from the pangs of his stomach to the deep pulse of his growing erection.
If he could have he would have tossed her over his shoulder like some kind of primative ape and carried to their bed that very instant. Instead he took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Shall we?"
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August would have done a great job if he needed to convince a servant to leave him alone by scaring them, but Cheyenne was perfectly able to read behind the imposing and commanding tone. She noticed the frown of his brows, the tension in his jawline and most importantly his hand flying toward his belly to stroke it: he was uncomfortable to say the least if he was brought to voice the tightness of his muscles, which continued unfaltering for several seconds. "It didn't seem just nothing" she murmured, ready to insist, but the King melt her resolution down a little bit by kissing her hand.
"Only if you promise me that today you will rest and allow me to tend to you" her eyes were resolute but her words came out of her lips almost as a prayer, until her the same lips quirked up in a ravenous smile. "In every way it may please you, my Lord" after all the both of them were still unsatisfied and the Queen knew her husband pretty well to know that he was always easier to convince after a powerful coitus. Holding his hand, Cheyenne guided him up on the stairs: the sooner they will reach the royal chambers, the sooner he could be off his feet and the sooner she could be all over him, away from unwanted eyes. When they were practically outside their quarters, the Queen looked up at him mischievously, suddenly running away inside and hiding behind one of the furniture to tease him a little bit but also to see if his mood could be improved or if her was too much uncomfortable to play her game.
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She was quite persuasive when she wanted to be and her words made him grin. "Tend to me?" His growled, squeezing her backside. "I'm counting on it."
He followed her up the stairs, ignoring the toll hear step took on him. He was about to open the door to the room they shared when his bolted inside. He swore he heard her giggle.
He took a step across the threshold and licked his lips. "This is not at all obedient, my little wife." He closed the door and clicked the lock into place. "Whatever will I do with you?" He looked back and forth , feigning confusion knowing she would be watching him. He took another step. "Perhaps I will have to chide you." He moved slowling, lumbering towards the bed. "Perhaps I will have to put you over my knee." He turned to face a large oak wardrobe. "Or perhaps you deserve to be truly and decidedly punished..."
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A surprised squick came from her as he took a handful of her glutes. "Your Majesty! Some decorum please" she teased, sounding much like one of the strict governesses she used to have as a young princess. If only they would see her now, they would be so disappointed in her lack of modesty: the dress she wore showed way too much cleavage for a proper princess, and her hair should have been braided fully instead of cascading in auburn locks all over her back and she missed at least a few layers of undergarments but that was how August liked her: easily attainable.
Cheyenne pressed her back against the side of the large wardrobe because her legs started to fail her as soon as the King's hungry voice started to speak, caressing her fantasy. The pool of heat that was starting to form in her abdomen when they were having breakfast came again with vengeance, making her feel too constricted in her bodice. The Queen was betrayed by her own mouth, which sighed too loud with his last affirmation. Well, betrayed was a strong affirmation, she hid herself in plain sight because she wanted to be found after all. The anticipation of being cornered by his great figure made her breath hitch and her skin tingle, how shamefully of her?
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"Now where could you be?"
August leered down at her as he closed in, traping her between himself, the wardrobe, and the wall. In an instant he had her wrists pinned above her head, holding her just a little to tightly. He could keep her there with only one hand. His throat rumbled as she wriggle against his strength. Exquisite. From the catch of her breath and the need in here eyes he knew she wanted him just as badly.
He trailed his fingers down her arm and to her waist, where his hand clamped down. He leaned his body against hers, leaving only inches between their faces. Before, she would have felt the whole hard length of him brushing against her, but now it was his taut belly that pressed against her. He grazed his lips to hers, taunting and teasing, but nothing more. Seeing her longing, her need filled him with so much lust is was almost criminal. He could have taken her right then and there but he didnt. The agony of waiting was so much more delicious.
He caressed her cheek before stepping back to the center of the room, pulling her body with him. He slid his foot between hers and spread her leg apart. He then slunk behind her and with a quick pull of her hair he forced her eyes forward.
"Stay." He purred in a husky whisper and stepped away. He took a seat on the padded bench at the end of the bed and leaned forward. "Now, my obedient wife, it is time I see all of you."
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Cheyenne ended up gasping in surprise even if she knew that it was inevitable that he would find her, she mentally reprimanded herself for being still so naive from time to time, but when his husband was so close a part of her brain stopped working properly. The wood of the wardrobe proved itself a little bit too sturdy when he blocked her wrists above her hand, causing her shoulder blade to clash with an uncomfortable pang. She tried to avoid that little contact but she had nowhere to go and with his grip becoming increasingly tight the Queen flinched lightly. With nowhere to go, pinned by August's impressive mound and his solid held, Cheyenne's body sagged sheepishly to his will.
A shiver ran down her spine while his hand trailed down her waist and his breath broke against her lips, toward which she leant only to be teased. Her neck stretched to reach his strong and proud face once again, but her husband had no intention of giving her the satisfaction, leaving his Queen unsatisfied and asking for more, so much that she brushed her cheek against his palm while he caressed her.
Even if weighed down by his pregnancy, the King seemed still quite agile because if a second before Cheyenne was bashing in his little caress she was now forced into a contorted position, her petite body stretching toward his eyes, stealing a first, miserable moan from her lips. Dear heavens, she was completely drenched and he had barely touched her. As commanded, she stayed still on the spot her left her, chest heaving to catch some air, her breast almost pooling out the rim of the dress due to her heavy breath.
"Does my husband want me to undress on my own?" she asked in her reverent tone, trying to pull her thighs as close as possible to aid the pulse of her core without losing balance.
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"Oh yes," he growled. "I want you to struggle free from that bodice and let that dress pool at your feet. I want you to show me your flushed pink skin in all its beauty, and I want to see you quiver without my touch before I give you what you want." The glint in his eye was almost sinister. "Or you can disobey me and recieve the consequence."
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Cheyenne didn't know what she wanted more: doing her best to get off that beautiful but constricting and overcomplicated dress or remaining completely still and let him punish her. She knew that, in any case, she would end up absolutely exhausted and satisfied. The glint in his eyes told her August was ready to ravage her at any given minute and so, she decided to try her fortune.
She took a first step, breaking his rule of standing still, and then another and a one more untill she was just an inch distant from his sat form. Then, she turned him her back, and slowly untied the ribbon that kept the laces of her dress locked in place. Was she or was she not obeying? To him the decision.
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"Clever..." He rumbled, twirling the lace around his finger. He slowly and gently pulled it loose, row by row. His large hands were nimble with practice and soon the bodice slipped over Cheyenne's small frame. He pulled her to him, setting her down on his knee, and cupped her breast in his hand. His thumb found her nipple and her stroked languidly. "However, my dear, Idid tell you to stay."
He pinched down hard, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers, trying to find that perfect place between pain and pleasure. His other hand held her still, forcing her to endure his touch. He loved to watch her mewl and to writhe from the strength of him finger. Again and agian he toyed until he was certain she was near ready to burst. He then took it into his mouth, soothing with a lap of his tongue and a gentle kiss.
He brought her hands to the tie of his linen trouser, sliding them inside for just a moment to feel just how much he lusted for her. "If you will not undress yourself as you were told, I command you to undress me."