Now the queen had her hands wrapped around the jutting monster as she hungrily devoured it with her mouth. As she gobbled away, the king curled his fingers down into the queen’s hair and began working his fat ass back and forth while he slowly fucked the queen’s pretty face. As the king’s big dick slid in and out between the queen’s lips, she ran her hands around to his ass, clutching it, pushing and pulling on it to control the tempo of the lewd act.
Was he going to come in her mouth, Atheling wondered? Was the queen going to let him shoot his wad in her mouth? The king’s ass moved back and forth faster and faster until all of a sudden, he jerked back and pulled his spit-covered peter out of her mouth. Then he reached down and took hold of her hands.
Atheling watched on as she struggled to her feet in the tub. Streams of bubbly water coursed down her exquisite body as the king let go of her hands and pushed his pants down his hairy legs. Stepping out of them, he took the queen’s hand as she stepped out of the tub. Atheling watched her mammoth breasts quiver and bob as the king led her toward her big, queen-sized, four poster bed. The king’s big, stiff peter jutted out in front of him, flouncing up and down wildly as he shuffled toward the bed.
Reaching the bed, the queen immediately crawled up on it and rolled over onto her back. Atheling watched on in an envious rage as she quickly spread her legs apart and fingered her pussy open. Now she was open and ready for the king as he quickly crawled up between her outstretched legs. If only it were me she was inviting down between her legs, Atheling jealously thought as the king grabbed hold of his cock and aimed it down at the gaping hole between her legs. If only that was my cock, Atheling resentfully thought as he watched the king mount her and slide his big peter down inside the queen’s greedy cunt.
Atheling couldn’t watch anymore. He wanted her so badly he ached all over as he stuffed his cock back in his pants and stumbled back out of the bushes. There had to be a way, he told himself. A way to get the queen mother into his bed. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he did.
His delusional fixation on his mother grew with each passing day until it became an obsession with him. And as his obsession with his mother grew, his hate for his father, the king grew on a proportional scale. He was tottering on the brink of insanity when he finally decided he had to act . . .
~
Prince Atheling’s big, black war-horse went clattering across the drawbridge and out into the bailey of the castle. Reining the behemoth to a stop, he tossed the reins down to the groom waiting for him and dropped to his feet by the giant horse. Patting the horse’s lathered neck, he turned and quickly strode across the stone floor toward the castle entrance.
Stepping inside, he saw that everyone was dressed in black. Every one was grieving for the lately departed king. His father, good King Enclaus, had been killed by a bolt from a crossbow in the recent battle of Hastings. Too bad, Prince Atheling smiled to himself, finding little incentive to mourn the passing of his father. His father’s death had conveniently opened up a whole new world to Prince Atheling. And soon, he would no longer be Prince Atheling! He would be christened King Atheling. The new king and it would be him ruling the land, not his poor, deceased father. Then, at last, he would finally be able to quiet the insistent craving that he had carried with him for so long.
The only thing nagging the prince was the little sliver of guilt he felt. How could the bolt from his crossbow go so far wide? It was almost as if the bolt had a mind of its own and had flown straight for his father’s heart. And how could he have known of the chink in his father’s mail that had been weakened by the hand of someone close to the king? How could he, the best crossbowman in the land have his shot go so wrong? Why if one didn’t know better, one would say that he did it on purpose. And now, it was his destiny to take over the land. Take his father’s place. Take over the land and the king’s possessions. All of the old king’s possessions . . .
Just then, Prince Atheling saw his mother, Queen Ides come striding toward him with tears streaming down her pretty face. She was dressed in a long, flowing, black cote-hardie and he couldn’t keep from dropping his eyes down to her bounteous bosom as it floundered about under the dress. The sweeping neckline of the black, velvet dress revealed the tops of her large breasts and seemed to magnify their size and volume. And the fact that her breasts were filled with breast milk made Prince Atheling even more determined to have them as his own.
“Oh, my son,” she blubbered out, stepping up to him and wrapping her arms around him.
The prince reveled in the feel of her bosom crushed against his chest as he slowly wrapped his arms around her to return her hug.
“I’m so sorry, mother,” Prince Atheling lied, crocodile tears streaming down his cheeks as he pulled her to him. “I wish that it had been me instead of him . . .”
“No, no, you mustn’t think that, my son. What is done is done. Now we must move on,” she wept, stepping back and daintily dabbing at her tear-stained cheek with a black, silk handkerchief. “I can only be thankful that the both of you weren’t taken from me.”
“You still have a part of him,” Prince Atheling said, reaching out and wiping away a big tear off her cheek with the back of a finger. “You have Prince Gothling . . . and me . . .”
“Yes, I know and if you’ll excuse me, my Lord, I must go to the prince now,” she told him, stepping back away from him. “It is time for his feeding . . .”
“We’ll talk later, my Queen,” he mumbled watching her turn away from him.
Then he stood watching the sway of her long, black dress as she quickly made her way over to the nursery maid who stood holding little Prince Gothling. Nursing time, he thought, watching the queen lead the maid across the main hall toward her quarters. Enjoy your time with your other son while you may, my mother, he said to himself. For Prince Gothling’s remaining time on this earth is short . . .
In a week’s time, the coronation of Prince Atheling was over and he was now the king of the land. After he was king, he systematically set about replacing his father’s men with ones he knew were loyal to himself. Finally, there was only one last detail left that he needed to take care of. Prince Gothling! Prince Gothling, his brother, was his last threat to the throne. And that threat had to be removed . . .
He sent a message to Baron Sade, his most trusted and loyal friend inviting him to join him in his chambers . . .
“Baron, my friend,” the king smiled, motioning for the Baron to take a seat in the ornate chair that sat by the roaring fire. “I’ve brought you here to ask a great favor of you.”
“Yes, my sire?” the baron asked, smiling and taking the gold goblet of wine that the king offered him. “What can a lowly baron do for my king?”
“I have a task for you that calls for a most discrete handling,” the king said, stepping over to the other chair sitting by the fireplace. “I would do it myself, but it would be so, so unkingly, shall we say.”
“What is this task, my sire?” the baron asked, taking a sip of wine.
“It is one for which you will be well rewarded for, my liege,” the king smiled.
“What my sire? What? The suspense is killing me,” the baron asked.
“Prince Gothling!” the king stated.
The baron looked back at him with a puzzled look on his face. “Prince Gothling? I don’t understand my Lord.”
“I need someone to remove the last challenge to my throne . . .”
“You—you mean—you mean kill Prince Gothling?” the baron choked out his face turning an ashen white.
“Yes, that is what I mean! And the rank of earl will be yours when the job is done.”
Atheling could almost hear the wheels turning inside the baron’s head as the color slowly seeped back into his face.
“Earl! Earl of Sade? That does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it,” the baron smiled, the shock of the request seemingly dissipated by the promise of the new rank.
“Then you’ll do this for me?” the king asked, taking another sip of wine.
“Consider it done, my sire,” the baron said, lifting his goblet in a salute to the king. “Your wish is my command . . .”
The next morning, the king rose early and went out to his throne.
The wait was short as he heard a horrifying scream rent the air of the castle. The scream came from the queen’s quarters and he immediately knew that the baron, no, make that the Earl of Sade had been successful.
Just then, the door to the queen’s chamber’s crashed open and the queen came staggering out carrying the lifeless body of Prince Gothling in her arms.
“He is dead!” she screamed. “Dead! Who would kill such a dear child?”
Just then, her eyes found his. A momentary look of hate flitted across her face and she held the baby out toward him.
“He’s dead . . .” she groaned out, dropping to her knees and clutching the child to her bosom.
Now she’ll need someone else to suckle those big breasts, he sickly thought. And I know just the person to take over for poor, Prince Gothling.
The king let his mother mourn the loss of her son for a week before he put his plan into motion. After the week passed, he sent a note to her asking her to join him in his quarters. And to bring milk with her for he was thirsting for a drink of milk.Sitting by the fireplace, King Atheling sipped on a goblet of wine as he waited for his mother to respond to his request. The roaring fire had taken the chill off the room as the brisk winds of winter blew outside. Snow had begun to fall and was now beginning to stick to the ground. It promised to be a day that would drive a person inside, he told himself, smiling in anticipation of what he had planned to occupy himself on this cold, blustery day.
When he heard the light knock on the door, he set his goblet down and slowly walked to the door. Pulling it open, he saw his mother standing in the hall with a jug of milk in her hands.
Leave a Reply