The Warlord's Concubine (3 page)

She swallowed and dabbed her pink tongue to the bottom of her lip,
“She is not used to serving another.”

Knelt as she was, it made it easy to gaze up at his impressive
package, that bulge which contained his loins so massive through the
black leather of his pants. The statue had done him little disservice
in its representation of what lay beneath, but to be so close to the
actual thing...

“I wouldn’t imagine, no,” he intoned
thoughtfully.

Taking his time mulling over something he looked back down at her.
“You will suffice,” he stated, with a wave of his hand he
gestured for her to follow. He went to the tent flap, exiting in a
pace that seemed relaxed for him, but was brisk for her shorter
limbs.

Excitement spurred her on, however, and she had no issue keeping
up with his pace. She stayed a step and a half behind him and just to
the side at all times, trailing him like she had so many others
before, ready to aid him and yet giving him total control over all.

“My Lord, is it true that the others will have free reign
with me when we finish?” she asked, his acceptance of her
brightening her entire face despite the dark thought.

One unmistakable thing was that this time, unlike her arrival to
the tent, the savages at his command not only averted their eyes,
they were all prone before him. The first to notice his exiting his
tent had set off a wave of like action, and as they re-entered the
palace, it was uncanny. Never before had she seen such frightful
obedience in all her years serving the royal family.

The old King had obedience, but nothing so deeply rooted as this.

Taking a different route through the ruins of the palace he spoke
to her sparingly, “Your future remains to be seen,” he
stated simply. She had trouble guessing where he was leading her.
When finally they emerged out onto a small garden area, reserved for
the royal families’ quiet breakfasts overlooking the city, she
noticed the place was better composed than the rest.

The flowers were untrampled, the gazebo still stood. It was like a
quiet center of the storm about the palace, untouched by the fury of
the northerners. There he stood, magnificent but so oddly out of
place, as he felt out of place wherever he was, like a being from
another plane of existence.

Her eyes moved around, and her shoulders relaxed as they arrived,
“I’m glad you ordered this place untouched,” she
murmured as she took a daring step nearer to the strange, godlike man
with his otherworldly form. She was a fair bit shorter than he,
though she was fairly tall for a lady. Her eyes twinkled with
perverse delight at being alone with him, yet her heart raced with
fear and desire, the two emotions whorling together and becoming one.

Though she hadn’t been so frightened and cowed as the
others, she knew what that hefty shaft could do to her, and her
stomach turned in excitement as she dropped once more to her knees.
Her hands reached for him, then faltered, “Do you prefer to
tell me what you’d wish of me, My Lord?”

Her new dark king looked permanently consumed with matters of
another realm, always seeming to be concerned with things beyond mere
mortals understanding. Looking to her as she knelt before him, he
took his time before answering. “You’re a curious woman.
You don’t resist your fate at all, do you?” he asked, not
seeming to expect an answer. He didn’t seem to be used to
carrying on conversations with women, or perhaps it was people, at
all in fact.

“If my fate were unwelcome, I would resist. You are not
unwelcome to me,” she breathed, and he could see her chest rise
and fall more rapidly beneath the burgundy gown.

“Are you used to serving like this?” he asked more
meaningfully. “Did someone train you for a life on your knees
before a man?” Despite his hard, husky words, she saw that
hefty bulge twitch to life before her, the leather audibly straining
as reacted to her.

“No, My Lord,” she admitted. She had many
lovers growing up, but none who were above her. None who deserved
her. Her eyes dipped from his, trailing over his stomach and then
further down, and she could swear her mouth was beginning to salivate
in anticipation.

Studying the olive skinned servant, he took a step closer to her,
lifting his hand from beneath his cloak and resting it upon her head.
The man was so large her head seemed to fit in his palm snugly, and
so strong and magnificently built, she would swear he could crush her
skull if he wished.

“You have served your princess then as a servant,” he
stated rather than asked, “and not as the King’s
amusement or plaything.” His heavy hand pet her sleek black
hair, the weight of it pushing her towards his bulging loins until
she was nearly pressed to it, the smell of leather and musk rich in
her sinuses, and utterly pleasant.

“I never wished nor consented to serve a man in such a
manner, My Lord, until I saw you.” The words were completely
genuine, and she shook a little as she said them. She wanted him, and
she feared only that he would find her displeasing and send her away.
She licked over her pinkened lips, “I am malleable to your
whims, and be taught to please you best.” Her desire made the
words come out as a begged request as her green eyes met his, feeling
so safe in his monstrous hand.

If he wished her dead, then she would only be pleased it was at a
god’s hands.

Perhaps if she thought with a clear head, she would realize how
extreme her reaction to this man was, but there was no such moment of
pause to escape the reality of kneeling before a God-King of the
north.

Licking along his own full lips, the dark man brought his free
hand to the gap between them, his fingers undoing some strap as he
spoke, “You’re a brazen woman,” he stated firmly.
“None of the Ka’reem”—a term for the northern
savages nobody within Ariste had previously cared to use for the
barbarians—“would dare speak to me so blatantly as you
have. And none of the weak southerners can muster more than screams
or cowering.”

With the strap undone, his leather audibly groaned as it gave way
to his heated flesh. The tension unfurled, his heavy cock toppled
free, its shaft gloriously long and hard, thick veins ribbing its
length as it struck her face, contrasting so darkly against her.

Her gasp was one of appreciation and as that heavy slab of
masculinity rested against her flesh, her lashes fluttered down. “If
I displease you, I will correct my behaviour,” she promised,
and her dainty fingers worked to his cock, grasping him and getting a
feel for his size and heft. “I would kill my own mother to be
able to gratify and breed for you. It would be the greatest honour,”
she muttered, barely even hearing herself any longer as her fingers
pushed back his foreskin, her eyes riveted to that thick,
otherworldly cock.

Never had she seen one so large and perfectly sculpted, and if she
had ever doubted his godliness, it was completely disappeared now. He
was perfect.

The dark man’s brows raised as he watched her reverentially
stroke his shaft. He was surprised, and it showed, for he didn’t
appear to be a man who was often caught off guard.

Slowly he resumed stroking her hair, “You’d do that
willingly. Breed me an heir without complaint,” though his
voice was so dark and husky, she could detect that slight hint of
surprise lining his words. “Other women are offered up to me,
but even they cringe in fear of me. Fear what they shall birth, no
matter how much their loved ones talk of the honour and privilege.”

“Then they don’t understand the honour of breeding a
demi-god, My Lord,” she purred, and the way she caressed his
cock against the soft flesh of her cheek spoke so much affection and
devotion. She still hadn’t licked it, but she worshiped that
pillar of strength with such adoring touches.

“If they don’t understand the privilege, then they are
too daft to be worthy of you,” she rubbed him against her jaw
and a light tress of hair grazed against his divine flesh. “I
am not worthy of you, but I wish for your child to be.”

Virile as he was, her words and caresses made the giant give a low
growl of desire. It sounded divine from him, darkly divine. It was
the first crack in his composed veneer she’d yet to see, and it
was from stoking desire in him for her.

His strong fingers curled in her hair, taking hold of her head by
the dark strands and with the ease of his might began to rub her
cheek against his heated shaft even further. “It is a shame you
weren’t the princess,” he mused gruffly, that hard voice
of his lower, more seductive as she watched his glorious muscles
swell and rise with his increased breathing.

Her own breath was baited as she revelled in it all, in his touch,
in the feel of his flesh as it moved against her and filled her with
such need. She had never felt anything close to this before, and her
lip trembled with the power of her lust. “I’m sorry she
will not serve you well. She will cry, and complain, and to break her
will be lovely but it will not be a challenge.”

Those words elicited a brief chuckle of amusement from the ebon
giant, and he pushed her face down further, until she was nestled
beneath that shaft, his hefty balls pressed to her chin. Releasing
her from his hold he stroked her hair again, the morning breeze
washing over them both as she knelt before him. “You are no
noble born, that much is obvious.”

“I do not care for pride and useless people,” she
said, her lips grazing against the flesh at the base of the cock, and
she found it impossible to resist any longer. Her motions were so
small and tentative, but fuelled by lust and need of an intensity she
had never felt before. Her breath was a sweet wash over his member as
her tongue pressed out, grazing across his skin.

She moaned at the first taste of his flesh, and she writhed
beneath him, getting closer as his cock throbbed atop her face. It
was undignified, but she cared not for such concerns. She just wanted
to please her god.

With a light intake of breath, her tongue had an effect upon him.
That thick shaft twitched and the mighty lord throbbed against her
face. But a day ago she was a middle-aged servant to a prissy
princess; today she was a concubine to a God-King that seemed to
appreciate her efforts at least more than her former mistress had.

Breathing heavily, he watched her every little motion as she
lavished his manhood with her affections. “Neither do I,”
he said at last, his voice heavy with desire.

Her mouth began to join her tongue, kissing against him as her
lips tried to encompass the circumference of his hard, aroused cock.
Every vein she traveled to its conclusion, and he could tell she was
doing nothing to speed his way to his end. Whereas others might, in
their fear and loathing, be hurried for his cum, she was taking her
time.

Her concern for his pleasure, and her need for him to enjoy
outweighed all. Her hands and mouth worked in tandem to feel out
those glorious, pulsing veins and the soft flesh that covered the
iron hardness of his cock. “If I were smarter, perhaps I would
fear what you could do to me with such a weapon,” she purred,
but her words were nothing short of ecstatic. “Instead, the
desire kept burning in me through the night. If I am not at my best,
I apologize. Thoughts of you...” she moaned and shut herself up
by curling her tongue along the shaft of his cock.

His harsh breathing grown so heavy, he yanked her face off his
cock from its worship, his mouth open, his lips glossy from having
licked at them with his hunger. “Show me your flesh,” he
commanded of her, those thick courtly servants robes now a
distasteful hindrance from letting the mighty God-King see her in her
fullness.

Her fingers worked diligently and it was only a moment before the
heavy material slipped back from her shoulders and pooled at her
feet. She was suddenly grateful for the quick trip she had taken back
in the Princess’ room to shed herself of her undergarments. She
had understood all too readily what would be expected of her, and her
firm, feminine curves were revealed to his hungry eyes.

She stood unmoving, encouraging him to look at her, to stare at
the weight of her breasts and the light brown nipples peaked atop
them, and the light bit of black hair that shielded her sex from him.
Her curves were prominent and her hips were ample, as if made to bare
his children. Her hand moved to her hair and removing a couple of the
pins, she let the silky, black strands down around her olive
shoulders, the straight tresses laid delicately atop her aroused
breasts. Her hair was down to the middle of her back, yet she ensured
that none of it hid her body from him.

“I can only dream that I please you, despite my lowly
status. But then, we are all lowly compared to you,
My
Lord. Even
that is too good for us, as it denotes our ownership of you. Your
Greatness,” she sighed as her eyes fell, “Shall I turn
for you?”

Something she had said or done, or perhaps it was just her beauty,
set him off.

The giant barbarian warlord grabbed for her, took hold of her neck
and pulled her in as he lunged down, pushing a hard kiss to her
mouth. It was such a passionate embrace of their lips, and the heat
of his manhood jabbed in against her stomach as he forced his tongue
into her mouth so deeply.

With a hungry growl he broke their kiss and took hold of her by
her hip. “Your sweet words hide a sweeter form,” he
husked to her with almost venomous desire. The hungry man pushed her
back towards the soapstone table upon which the royal family had
eaten so many breakfasts over the years, pressing her against it so
that she had to rest back on its cool stone surface.

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.