Ethel nodded barely perceptibly and then watched her go as she returned to queen’s duties.
And so began his second day of reign, with bad news that, unfortunately, was quite expected.
Nevertheless, he was sure she derived some perverse pleasure from his gaze, relishing in the attention bestowed upon her by a young man who happened to be her very own son.
A plan was already taking shape in his mind.
===
Time passed, and as night fell, she would always push him away, wrapping herself in a shroud of darkness before changing, and sternly demanding him to look away. No matter how much he tried to sneak a peek or convince her again to let him watch, her answer was always the same: No.
He didn’t want to ruin their relationship at all, so he had to obey.
Without delay, Ethel sought out the royal tailor, Young, renowned for crafting exquisite garments for the queen herself.
“I need something from you. Can you make some modifications to her robes?” Ethel requested of the tailor, guarded by a group of stern-faced soldiers. “Alter them in such a way that it requires multiple attendants to assist her with the donning and removal. Do me a favor.”
The aged tailor peered at Ethel through his tiny spectacles and studied him for a moment before nodding serenely, as if it was not the worst thing he had been asked to do.
Now, he had to deal with the servants. What was the point of these changes if the queen could simply ask them to help her instead of him?
====
“I fear for our lives, mother,” he said to her one evening when they were alone. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the walls. He sighed and turned his gaze to the intricate patterns of the wallpaper as she changed. “It seems like I’ve already memorized every inch of this damn wall,” he thought to himself.
“What do you mean, my dear?” his mother inquired, slipping into a light sleeping garment and unfurling her long hair.
“Do you think Father died of natural causes? I’ve overheard whispers of unrest among the staff. And the way he died…it was too quick, too convenient. I’m sure one of the servants was involved. Probably some kind of poison or whatever”
She looked closely at him as he turned around. In the dim light of the hearth, her breast contours were clearly visible, but her nipples were still hidden by the dress pattern.
“So,they shouldn’t be allowed here, in our room,” he asserted, his gaze lingering on her.
“It will be difficult to deal with our routine without the servants.”
“I don’t think it’s a problem. If you need any help, just come to me.”
“Fine,” she sighed after a moment of hesitation. He lay there, hidden beneath the warmth of the blanket, watching her slip into bed. As she finally settled beside him, the delicate fabric of her nightdress brushed against his skin, igniting his senses with a heady rush of warmth. The softness of her breath brushed against his cheek, carrying a whisper of temptation that sent shivers down his spine. Sometimes it seemed that he couldn’t wait any longer; he was overwhelmed with desire and lust. As the silence settled around them, she spoke softly. “Good night, my dear”
With a bittersweet ache, he echoed the sentiment. “Good night, mom,” he breathed, his desires simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the day when he could no longer suppress the fire that burned within. He was so hard, feeling his precum splurt from the tip right on the bedsheet. His virgin cock desired a pussy, and this desired pussy belonged to his mother.
In the hushed embrace of the night, they both drifted off to sleep.
===
In a couple of weeks, his request to Young finally bore fruit.
“What on earth does Young think he’s doing, completely ruining my exquisite dress? He has to be the most atrocious dresser I’ve ever encountered in all my years.”
Beatrice couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her robe as she couldn’t manage to put it on. Her puzzled gaze fixed on the intricate folds of her robe.
“Let me help,” Ethel approached from behind, touching her bare shoulders and pale soft skin.
“Thank you,” she softly said, feeling his touch. He carefully helped her with the dress, his hands encircled her waist and lightly brushed against her buttocks. He gently slid the robe up her arms, adjusting it to fit comfortably over her shoulders.His eyes met hers. “This dress looks absolutely stunning on you,” he complimented, a genuine smile gracing his lips.
“But putting it on is a nightmare,” she replied with a sigh.
“Well, it’s worth it,” his fingers gently brushed against her lush, black hair, inhaling the intoxicating scent that surrounded her.
“That’s enough, Ethel. I have to go. Thanks again for your help.” With a swift turn, she left the room, her dress finally perfectly in place. With a lingering touch released, Ethel reluctantly let her hair slip from his grasp. As Beatrice gracefully turned and departed the room, he watched the sway of her hips.
“I want more. I want it all. I want all of her,” he said to himself watching her go.
===
Over time, Ethel began to assist her with dressing every morning and evening, and it quickly became a daily routine. Ethel’s tender support became an unwavering presence, his gentle touch gliding along the contours of her shoulders, tracing the delicate curve of her neck, and occasionally grazing her hips.
As days turned into weeks, his touches were no longer merely functional, but rather lingered in places they shouldn’t. In gratitude for his help, she began kissing him on the cheek. And while the kisses were appreciated, he yearned for a deeper connection, one that transcended the boundaries of parent and child.
One day he finally decided to pay Alfred a visit in the kitchen.
“So, how is your love life, King?” Alfred asked teasingly, emerging from the bustling kitchen and meeting Ethel’s gaze.
“I need your sexy fern,” Ethel interrupted him half-heartedly standing in the middle of the kitchen. Several of the cooks passing by looked at him weirdly.
“Sexy what?” Alfred gently took his friend aside making a fake smile.
“Sexy fern.” Similarly confidently, Ethel repeated.
“You mean xerpentine?… Man, what do you want it for? I thought you can’t have a girlfriend as a king.”
“I want to use it for the queen,” he said firmly and Aflred furrowed his eyebrows.
“Wow, so you finally decided to embrace this weird marriage and be with her?” Alfred patted him on the shoulder admiringly. “No judgement”
“Will you help me with that? Just do your thing and add it discreetly to the queen’s dish.”
“It sounds easier than it is. You know how hard it is to add something in the food? Everybody will think I try to poison her.”
“You are a smart guy. Take some time to ponder on a clever solution”
Alfred nodded, impressed by his friend’s newfound dedication, and assured him, “Consider it done.”
Just as Ethel turned to leave, Alfred discreetly cleared his throat, capturing his attention once more.”I do you a favor, my king. I hope you won’t forget about me in the future”
Ethel met Alfred’s gaze. “I won’t, Al. I won’t”
===
The evening has come and he started to wait hoping that Alfred’s magic herb worked. Every passing moment felt like an eternity, his heart pounding in his chest. That was the first time when he started to doubt what he was doing. He couldn’t help but ponder: “Am I truly doing the right thing? Perhaps the mother was right, and this forbidden relationship should never have happened. Am I really going to fuck her?”
A surge of conflicting emotions flooded through him. The realization of the potential harm he could inflict upon his own mother settled upon his troubled thoughts. It was as if he was, in a way, coercing her into a deeply intimate act against her will.
Finally, the doors swung open and he dismissed all concerts. “There’s no turning back.”
Exhausted and weary, Beatrice made her way into the opulent chambers, longing for respite. Frustration etched on her face, she attempted to rid herself of the confounding dress that seemed to conspire against her at every turn.
“Damn that incompetent tailor,” she muttered under her breath, her irritation seeping through her words. The gown, stubbornly clinging to her, refused to yield to her efforts once again.
Sensing her distress, Ethel approached from behind. “Let me help”.
The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the chill in the room. His fingers grazed her soft shoulders, providing a gentle caress, while his lips brushed against the delicate curve of her neck. As his lips ventured closer to the forbidden territory, a longing ignited within him.
Their eyes locked, the unspoken connection between mother and son momentarily eclipsed. Ethel’s voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. “I know we are mother and son. But you, my dear mother, are my queen, and our union extends beyond blood. The kingdom demands that we seek more from this marriage, that we fulfill our duty to both crown and country.”
His words hung in the air. The plea for a deeper connection, an acknowledgment of their shared destiny, echoed with a sense of urgency that left Beatrice contemplating the delicate balance between loyalty, obligation, and the longing of her own heart. He leaned closer to meet her lips in a hot embrace, their breaths mingling, but she pushed him aside.
“Ethel, my beloved son,” her words trembled with a bittersweet tenderness, echoing the love that had nurtured their bond throughout the years. “I cannot cross that line. I know how you feel, I truly do. But I want to find solace in love we share as mother and son”
His face remained unmoving, his eyes locked on hers. “I have needs that only you, my queen, can fulfill. I yearn for your touch, your presence. ”
“My dear Ethel,” she touched his cheek gently. “We have already gone too far. And if we go further we both will regret about it deeply.”
“But I’m not asking for anything physical. Of course, I’m not,” he said, trying to contain his desire. “There are other ways. You can… satisfy my needs with your hands. We won’t cross any line with that”
“Just listen to yourself. how can you even suggest such a thing?” her cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and conflicting emotions washing over her. She stepped back, creating a small but necessary distance. “No, Ethel. I cannot do this. It is not right. Don’t even ask me.”
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