The King's Men

All was at peace until, the kingdom of Turionia having been obliterated for all time by the heavy hand of the Duke of Gano, Guy and his forces, including Guido—and my channel still twitches at the thought of him—Guido returned to court in Lefkosea.

In Guy, Blanche, to her credit, saw a much more formidable and evil opponent than she had seen in Rene. The gazes he cast upon the king, and the way he worked his way in between the thrones of the king and the queen in his counseling of the king, worried Blanche far more than anything else she had encountered in this strange island kingdom on the edge of the civilized world, where the warriors looked wilder and more bloodthirsty than any she had known on the continent and where their weapons were vicious and their manners unrefined. Blanche was to come to appreciate the wild-man weapons and rough manners of the local noblemen, of course.

She both did not like the look of domination and possessiveness that the overpowering and darkly handsome warrior duke cast on Claude, and, at the same time, she melted to it when turned her way. I watched Guy, seeing that he was assessing both the king and queen as avenues to influence and power. Such was his vanity—and his ability—that he almost managed both.

His chest was massive, his stride strong and self-assured, the pouch between his thighs bulging—and he had his breeches tailored to have the codpiece in contrasting color to emphasize that he was a horse and to be closefitting enough for the whole line of his pride to be followed by the eye.

Blanche was a queen, but she also was a woman and a hot blooded one at that. And try as he might and as beautiful as he was, the king’s cocking was not fully satisfactory to her. She had taken a lover, one of the musicians in the king’s small orchestra. He was a young man with a long and expressive tongue. She dare not go any further, and he did satisfy her for short periods with that talented tongue of his, but it had now been many months since a long, thick cock had worked inside her.

The Duke of Gano had the effect on her of both frightening her and arousing her. I watched her eyes go to that codpiece and saw it move and its contents thicken, as if on command, and I knew even then that the Duke of Gano would be riding the queen—if he wanted to. His demeanor when the king wasn’t in evidence showed that he did want to and knew that he could if he wished.

At the same time, while understanding fully that the duke was a sensual, full-blooded man, Blanche also saw the interest he took in the king in matters that were much more than comradeship and fealty. What was this effect in her husband, she wondered, that set the juices of other men so? He, of course, had a beautiful body and was a king. But she had had better-endowed men of greater command in the bed. Could the reserve she felt in him when they were fucking have its roots in the attraction other men had for him? And did he know it? And did he feel the same way? She rather thought not, on both counts. At least for now. She thought perhaps that it was narcissism—that he was so beautiful and of such standing that he only had eyes for himself.

The king looked at Guy with full openness, though, and Guy’s grasping and calculating nature was equally honestly displayed. Blanche thought of someone like Guy with the throne’s power, and she shivered at the vision. She decided she must see to it that it didn’t come to that.

But why, she wondered, was it her lot that Claude was king and not Guy? Guy had a stable of sons—even several by the women he had married and buried. The rumor had gone through the court that Guy had a cock that wore women out and split them asunder. His manner of dress at court bore this out. To most of her maidens this was the stuff of fear and of trying to avoid his interest. But for Blanche, it set her heart thumping and gave her hot flashes.

What if, before Blanche could conceive and bear a son for Claude, that burning fire of sensuality that was the Duke of Gano achieved the attention of Claude. She was able to discern that Guy had the ambition and the desire and the appetite to gain complete sexual control over Claude if Claude permitted it. He certainly was showing the capacity to become more and more indispensable to Claude in matters of the kingdom.

She knew what Guido was to Guy too. Her spies were effective. She knew that, just as Guy had power to control with the cock, he could also be controlled with a youth’s ass. And she knew of the instantaneous animosity that had sprung up between Kobus and Guido the day Guy and his entourage arrived at court. What if . . . what if the channel Guy plumbed at night was one devoted to the queen rather than to Guy?

She decided to divide and conquer—and to keep the king’s men revolving around Claude in flux and uncertainty for as long as it took to produce an heir. Then she knew her power position would be solidified.

She decided to use Kobus once more.

And Kobus, having reasoned out the nature of Guido’s control over me, decided to use me.

Thus it was that I, a silent, unseen fixture in the presence of the nobles at the Kibrit court, became instrumental yet again in their intrigues. I must admit, though, that it was neither the last nor the most significant moment that I passed over the stage of momentous events in the world of kings, queens, and dukes and found the spotlight, if only fleetingly, cast on me—or perhaps on the empty boards three paces from where I recently had been standing.

Kobus did not act directly. Through others he put out that I had a secret or two that Guy would like to know in his grasp for more and more power. And Kobus saw to it that this rumor reached the ears of Guido—and not just once nor from one source but from enough directions and frequency that it piqued Guido’s interest. He had fucked useful secrets out of me before.

At the same time, the court being what it was, the rumors were running that the queen and Kobus were scheming something that affected Guy’s standing.

Not those rumors alone either. The court in the dullness of peacetime was a snake pit of intrigue and gossip. Also, the tongue of the queen’s musician became loosened with wine and with the bursting of pride of his special service to the queen, and this information too reached the ear of the duke.

Guy saw in that an opportunity. The beauty of the queen was not lost on Guy. His sexual drive knew no bounds and, although he had a special, deep longing for Claude, he was quite capable of enjoying a moist cunt as well—not to mention control of the influence the queen held.

In the weeks he’d been at court, he increasingly wondered about Blanche’s cunt. Better networked abroad than even King Claude, he had heard rumors of Blanche’s history with men and of her passion for big cocks. He had assumed she was no virgin when she came to Claude—but then all courtiers of intelligence in Lefkosea had assumed that as well. Except for trusting Claude, of course.

I was there on that afternoon as well—on the afternoon when, as Queen Blanche was walking the back passages of the castle from the women’s wing to the queen’s private garden—just me in attendance—Guy had materialized from the shadows—as I almost simultaneously shrank into them—and he took Blanche’s arms roughly in his hands.

“What signifies this outrage, sir?” Blanche declared in a brave, yet tremulous voice. The mere presence of him so close to her set her breasts aching. “Unhand me and let me be on my way.”

“You are not with child as yet, are you, your highness?” There was almost a sneer apparent in his voice.

“What is it to you?”

“After all these months, Claude’s seed has not taken, has it? You are a smart woman. Have you not thought of what needs to be done about that?”

“You are too forward, Lord Guy.”

“I also by-blow sons on alternate Fridays, my lady. Have you not thought of that? Have you not heard about and seen for yourself, the bow-legged stumbling of maidens and lads alike from my chambers with sloppy grins on their faces?”

She had. And there was nothing she could think to say about that. She was trembling almost uncontrollably. And Guy assumed—rightly—that very little of it was from fright.

“I have heard of your musician with the talented tongue, your highness. Did you think he would keep that tongue only for your entertainment? His tongue has been wagging about his privileged position at your girdle. The king may not have heard of it—and I can see that he doesn’t. Although it will mean a permanent silencing of that tongue.”

Blanche shuddered, knowing exactly what he was saying.

“But you would not miss such a tongue if it were replaced with a cock, would you? And not just any cock, but a cock such as I have. Surely you’ve heard of my cock, Blanche.”

Blanche began to moan and to collapse in on herself. At this moment she was no longer a queen; she was a woman. Guy wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her close into his body. He unlaced his codpiece, let the flap fall, and forced one of her hands below his waist. She gasped and moaned again, but she did not remove the hand when he lifted his hand free to cup her chin.

“And I know you have some other scheme afoot. I know not what it is, but I could reform it as the rumor revolves to sound like a plot against the king.”

“You wouldn’t,” she cried out, the negative echoing down the canyon of the stone-walled corridor.

“And I have eyes and ears in courts as far away as Holland too. I know you like a fat cock. And now you have the measure of mine for your own. I know of your interest in horse-hung men and yet the king does not. Give a thought to how trustworthy I can be with your secrets—and how well I can fill that jewel purse of yours. Let us make a prince or three for the king, you and I, Blanche. There can be great pleasure in the serving of our king—for the both of us. Then all rumors in the kingdom will be stifled.”

Blanche groaned, but she was still cupping his hard cock in her hand when he pushed her skirts up and roughly tore her undergarments away—and laughed when he felt her wet for him.

He laughed a hearty laugh again when it was Blanche’s hands that guided his cock to plunging position. And when he swiftly filled and stretched her, riding her against the clammy stone wall, she encircled his hips with her legs and cried out in her passion of at long last—and perhaps as never before—being dominated and pumped by a cock far thicker and capable of reaching far deeper than Claude’s did. When I saw his fat buttocks cheeks tighten and his body shudder and his head rear back with a roar to the ceiling, I also saw her tightly clasp her ankles behind his waist and beg him not to withdraw but, rather, to rest a bit and to do it again. I knew she was his, and my own heart shuddered at the thought.

A cock that could conceive a king. A man worthy of producing a king.

All of this I, a mere unseen, unremarked servant, observed and tucked away in my mind for further consideration.

* * * *

I am much grieved of my own part in what transpired between Kobus and Guido—and the misery and loss it marked for Rene and me. But I did what I could when I could to set that aright.

The queen’s new plan was to use Kobus to neutralize Guy and to give her inside information on Guy’s thoughts and schemes, and, in this, it became obvious that Guido needed to be removed.

The irony is that this was all set in motion and continued in motion as of itself before the queen took Guy as a lover and because the queen failed to inform Kobus of a change in circumstances.

Guy continued to meet the queen secretly and to fuck her silly, supposedly in their shared desire to produce a male heir for the king, but really, on Guy’s part, to neutralize the power and scheming of the queen and on the queen’s part because Guy had the thickest, strongest, longest, and most resilient cock she’d ever had inside her. And because he was a cruel lover. I never understood why women—or men, for that matter—often prefer a rough and cruel lover, but I can’t deny that they do.

Come to think of it, I cannot deny that often I did as well.

That the queen never did produce a son in the natural sense or any daughters either, for that matter, probably spoke more of the capabilities of her womb than of the king’s seed—although I never have heard of talk of a by-blow from Claude and don’t expect ever to hear of one—than of the efforts of Guy. As it was, Guy, in his overweaning vanity, probably would have assumed the son she did produce, like a rabbit out of hat, was his—if Guy had been alive when she produced that son.

Alas, I was the instrument of Guido’s undoing, although that was the last momentous event—but one, which I shudder to think about—that happened outside my control. I may burn for what I write from henceforth of events if anyone sees this before I naturally die. But it is a story that needs to be told—if only to myself, so that I may fully appreciate what I have to account for in life. Besides, as feverish as I feel at this moment, what I write has my cock hard and standing straight and, from time to time, weeping quite pleasantly indeed. I regret that I did not write this all down sooner.

I did not knowingly or willingly undo Guido. To some extent he did it himself. The rumors that I knew things that would be very useful to his master, Guy, reached his ears and were repeated often enough for him to accept them as fact. And then he started to seek me out. I really had no idea that I was supposed to know anything—and I hardly thought it would help his master if what I told Guido was that his master was fucking my mistress, which he probably knew anyway, because, even if Guy wasn’t sharing the information with Guido, Blanche was good enough at sucking the cum out of a man that Guido’s channel was not being exercised as much now as it had been in the past by Guy’s cock.

He thought I was teasing about not telling him the secrets. He tried bluster, but when that didn’t work, he decided to try sex. He knew that that had worked in the past. The fucking worked wonders on me, but I still had nothing to tell him—and I was completely confused concerning why he was continuing to ask. The encounters had been furtive, brief couplings in nearly public areas, though. Guido reasoned that bedding me for a full night might be enough to loosen my tongue. I was delighted at the invitation, and his suggestion of using my small chamber in the queen’s rooms was quite fine with me. So, the burden of the location chosen is on him, not on me. It was fully my mistake, however, of mentioning it to Kobus, seeking his help in keeping a private time for Guido and me.

This was the opportunity Kobus had been waiting for.

I was on my back on my cot, in the near-total darkness Guido had demanded, my legs open to Guido, who, after a first coupling with me bent over the cot, and, he behind me, had, gloriously, taken us both down together in an entangled, heavy-breathing unity on the cot and slept briefly there as I regained my breath and he regained his stamina. He whispered his questions in my ear, and I tried my best to think of what I might tell him that he wanted to hear. Taking my reaction as coyness, he sighed a deep sigh of resignation and turned me on my back and presented himself between my raised and spread legs. I was in heaven. He was mining me deeper and for longer than I’d ever had before, when he gave a little cry and collapsed on me and I felt the handle of the knife buried between his ribs and the wetness of his blood.

Kobus was standing over the cot, a gleam of victory in his eyes, completely unfeeling of the shock and extreme despair I felt. Guido had been right. I was attractive to almost no man. He was a god among men. But even knowing he fucked me to control me, I loved him because he fucked me. And that was all the world to me.

“I have men outside. They will take care of the body,” Kobus was whispering. I only half heard him, still deep in trauma myself. The body was still lying on top of me. His cock was still hard inside me. I whimpered at the feel of it shriveling up inside me, knowing I would never feel its hardness again.

“You clean the room. Leave not a trace of him or his blood. The body will completely disappear. No one will know what happened.”

As Guido’s lifeless body was being taken off me, I felt his cock leaving me. For the last time. I waited until I was alone. And then I curled into a ball on the cot and cried like a baby. Later in the night, when I had done everything that Kobus instructed me to do, I sat on the floor of my chamber—in a corner as far away from the cot as I could—and as I rocked my enfolded body back and forth and my tears continued to flow, I began to scheme on my own.

I may have been invisible—almost a nonperson—to these noblemen with their intrigue and treacheries, but I was not powerless. And I determined then to make my own mark on the court of the island kingdom of Kibrit.

Within a week, Guy, showing only slight pique at Guido’s disappearance and rather more frustration at the absence of his channel, had learned of Kobus’s massage skills, experienced Kobus’s talents at massaging his cock, and had taken Kobus into his bed.

Kobus assumed that, like he had done with Rene, his service to the queen was to keep Guy from coupling with the king and to be her eyes and ears in Guy’s bedchamber. What he didn’t know—and never learned, because he himself was not long for this world—was that the queen was preoccupied with Guy’s cock and mastered by his control now herself and no longer greatly cared who did or did not couple with the king.

Rene despaired the loss of Kobus in his bed, and in that loss, now, once again turned his eyes on the king. The difference now was that Rene knew the glories of churning in a man’s channel. He knew far more now both about his affection for the king and about what that entailed than he had at the fall of St. Jerome.

And what I knew was that the king probably wanted what Rene had to give, even though he did not realize it—and that Rene deserved to have his chance with the king.

I also knew that both Guy and Kobus had to go. I was too genetically loyal to the queen to give any similar thought to her.