*All characters are 18 . This is a work of fiction for erotic entertainment only. Real-life sex should always be with enthusiastic consent.*

Copyright © 2024 Sastri Vera

Previously published by my alternate pen name Apophenia on Literotica. The story has a few small changes.

***

The first thing I learned in the palace was to never fall in love.

Well, the first thing was to obey, I suppose, but with this collar around my neck, there was no other choice. Any noble could touch it and command me — my body would obey no matter what I wanted.

But the collar could not force my emotions or my thoughts. And this court enjoyed its cruel games.

Today, my body rocked on the smooth mahogany table as the third lord this night pounded away inside me, stroking my soaked inner walls, driving me closer to another unwanted rush of heat and bliss. I pushed at his chest, struggling weakly to escape his thrusting, to avoid the building pleasure. Sometimes they liked it when I fought, but I couldn't help it; I wasn't here by choice.

A few courtiers watched, but most in the dining hall ignored us. I wasn’t the only entertainment and most near me had already taken their turns, emptying themselves down my throat or on my naked body. I hoped this one would at least be my last tonight.

"You're a tight little whore," the man grunted.

"Please stop, please…" I gasped as he thrust harder, deeper, faster, seemingly spurred onward by my struggles and my cries. His thick shaft simply continued to plunge in and out, stretching me, filling me, invading me as he took his pleasure from my flesh.

And I couldn't help but lift my hips to meet his every thrust even while my palms pressed against his chest, while I panted and moaned and sought my own release.

No. I had to stop, I didn't want to give them my pleasure. Not again. My body betrayed me almost every time a cock penetrated me, used me, finished inside me. Please not this time, please—

"Ah! Ahh! AHH! Ohhh…" Too late. Despair accompanied the waves of bliss, my inner muscles clenching on the thick shaft ramming in and out of my spasming tunnel.

"Mmm, you're a good fucking whore, coming on my cock. Yes, take it, take my cum, you slut," he groaned, pumping a few more times before his cock twitched and released hot streams of fluid deep inside me.

I screamed again, a strangled sound while I tried to suppress another pulse of ecstasy from the heat of his seed flooding my womb.

When my cries of pleasure faded, I faintly heard a voice.

"Bring her to me."

The king hadn't shouted over the din of clattering silverware, scattered conversation, and a few other thumping tables, but silence fell nonetheless. I was glad for the moment of peace as the man above me retreated.

A guard pulled me off the table.

Me? Why would the king want me?

I stared at the ground in front of the dais where he sat on his throne, cum dripping from between my legs, streaking across my stomach, sliding down my breasts, my face.

"What is your name?" That deep, echoing voice grabbed me. I couldn't breathe.

The guard shook me.

"Fiona," I barely managed to whisper.

The guard slapped me. "You address the king as 'sire'."

The king waved away my feeble attempt to speak again. "Clean her up and place her in my chambers."

My exhausted daze faded sometime in the bath while a servant wiped my skin with a wet cloth. The water was scented — rose and lavender. The servant dried me with soft cotton towels and wrapped me in a satin robe.

A dream. This must be a dream; I'd finally been fucked out of my mind.

Well, at least it was a pleasant dream. I laid down on the softest, largest bed I had ever seen, and promptly fell asleep.

—

"Fiona."

I flailed awake, tangling the sheets with my robe, my heart leaping into my throat. Oh. I guess it wasn’t a dream.

The king — I realized I didn't know his name — strode toward a chair, then sat to kick off his shoes. He glanced at me.

"Remove your robe. You will wear nothing whilst you are in my chambers."

"Yes, sire," I murmured.

He proceeded to undress as well, revealing his broad shoulders and toned body. I suppressed a sigh. Of course, I knew he was going to take me.

"What do you want?" he asked idly.

I blinked at the question no one in the palace had ever asked me. "My king?"

He nodded at my collar. "You are not here willingly. If you serve me well, I may set you free. What do you desire beyond that freedom? Wealth, land, a husband?"

I stared, my mind completely blank. The king… was offering me freedom? And perhaps more? Impossible. Nonsense. But he spoke so casually as if suggesting a perfectly normal arrangement. Maybe it was, for him.

He smiled, climbing onto the bed at my feet. "Love? Do you wish to be courted like a lady?"

My face flushed. Yes, I wanted love. Once. No one loves a whore. I bit my lip. "I — I don't know."

His hands ran up my legs, spread them apart, kneaded my thighs. He brushed my hips and my pelvis before his fingers reached my mound, lightly exploring every inch of my soft flesh.

I felt myself responding as usual, my skin heating, my core flooding with desire. My cheeks turned redder. I was so easily aroused, it made me feel like a whore that my body readily accepted every man who used me. His question seemed all the more ridiculous. What did I want? What did it matter?

His fingers were slowly chasing away my embarrassment and despair. He massaged my mound without touching the most sensitive bits, sliding his hands back and forth along my inner thighs. I was dripping by the time he pressed a single finger to my slit, the tingling warmth almost overwhelming as he dragged that digit slowly in my wetness, gradually up to my clit, and finally pressing his fingers at the top of my mound in a small, sweet circle.

I gasped, my head thrown back, my body tensing, my ass pushing at his fingers. Then the warmth of his mouth latched onto my clit, his finger thrust inside me, and I cried out. He sucked and licked and pumped, his finger stroking in and out, then his tongue was inside me, lapping at my entrance, then his finger again. I tensed and held onto that long, curved finger as my body pulsed and unraveled.

My pussy grabbed his finger, my hips straining to rise as he continued to pump my twitching flesh and suck my throbbing clit, pushing me higher and higher. I was humping his face before I was done, the mindless pleasure making me forget who he was, who I was.

When my hips relaxed, he raised his head and licked his lips, his eyes glazed. "My mistresses have more status than some of the ladies at court. Please me, and you might have what you wish. Perhaps a lord, a knight… what do you want, Fiona?"

"To please you, my king," I whispered, panting. The safe answer.

His finger pushed inside me again and stroked my sensitive flesh. "And?"

I moaned. "A… husband, yes, my king. A handsome lord who loves me. Ohh…" My face heated in embarrassment, but also in need.

He chuckled. "So long as you are mine, no one else will touch you." He moved up the bed and settled between my legs. His large hands lifted my hips to press the tip of his hard cock at my entrance, then he buried himself in one swift lunge.

I arched into him as he groaned. He gripped my hips and slowly withdrew. "And when I am done… perhaps you can tell me which lord you like best."

I could barely understand him, my eyes fixed at the point where our bodies joined, watching and feeling every inch of his thick shaft sliding in and out of me, disappearing and reappearing, my body joyfully taking everything he gave.

"You're surprisingly tight, Fiona. Are you enjoying this? Do you like being fucked by your king?" His deep voice was a touch breathless.

"Yes, sire. Yes… ah, ah…" I didn't try to resist him. I didn't want to resist him.

Unlike his courtiers, he was slow, deliberate, attentive, rolling into my clit with the base of his cock, pulling out to stretch my opening with that spongy tip before plunging back into my soaking tunnel. Every pump in and out of me was controlled, forceful but delightful.

He let my hips fall to the bed and laid his body over mine, stretching my arms above my head, ramming himself all the way inside me. "Tell me that you want my cock. Beg, Fiona."

I panted and whimpered, my hips humping, seeking pressure, wanting him to — "Fuck me, please fuck me, sire! Oh, please let me cum, please."

A small part of me was shocked at the words I used, at how I dared to speak to the king, but mostly I just needed his cock to move inside me again.

He chuckled and drew back his hips, then impaled me in one swift motion, again and again, in and out, a ceaseless tide of pleasure slowly pulling me under.

"Like this, my pet? Is this how you want me to fuck your hot, tight little pussy?"

"Yes… yes, sire, please fuck me harder… ohh…"

He licked my neck, swirled his tongue in my ear as he pounded away, over and over. He breathed into my ear, "Scream for me, my pet. I want to hear you come on my cock."

I obeyed. "Ah! Ah! Sire-!" I whimpered and screamed, the intense waves breaking over me, my pussy grabbing his cock like a lifeline. He held himself still inside me as my warm walls pulsed around him, as I clung onto his arms and whined my pleasure long and loud.

He chuckled. "Good. Good little whore," he growled against my neck.

I barely heard him. He was moving again, his hips pumping faster and faster, setting a forceful pace that rocked my body and shook my tits. I gasped, the intense waves renewed, my body accepting every harsh thrust, every claiming stab, every demanding plunge until he groaned and released within me. Warmth flooded my loins as his cock twitched, splashing his cum deep in my pulsing, hungry tunnel.

His thrusting continued, our combined juices slowly leaking out. I whined, quiet and soft, unable to do anything but enjoy the sensations he was forcing through my body.

Finally, sadly, he withdrew and rolled off me. Then he grabbed my hair and pulled me toward his hips.

"Clean my cock," he commanded. He pressed my head down toward his half-hard shaft.

My face flushed in shame as I opened my mouth and tasted us, licking and sucking our juices off his softening cock while cum dripped out of my pussy. He let go of my hair and cupped my tit instead, kneading gently. With one last, hard squeeze, he sighed. "Clean yourself, my pet. You sleep in my bed tonight."

"Yes, sire."

He curled his arm around me when I returned to the bed, grasping a breast and pushing my back against his chest. I felt small but comforted in his warm embrace. He had been kind, hadn't he?

—

He was gone when I woke. A servant helped me into a diaphanous gown, soft and light, fit for a lady except that it revealed more than it hid. The lords had already seen me unclothed, but this was different — a mockery of status, a dressed-up whore. They'd delight in ripping it to shreds, fucking me in the tattered, ruined cloth. I followed a leering guard into the dining hall, my eyes fixed on the floor.

But no one touched me. The guard led me to where the king beckoned me to his side. I walked past courtiers who did not even sneer at me.

I sat by the king where he fed me succulent meats and fruits, tipped heady mead and strong spirits to my lips. He danced with me amongst the nobles, his eyes only on me, smiling at me. I caught the occasional mocking look from the lords and ladies, but never while he watched.

My head spun when he let me loose in the dancing crowd. No one touched me. A few lords even offered a small bow, only the faintest smirk on their lips. The same lords who had me on a table in this very room not so long ago. I lifted my chin.

The king danced with his court. Exhausted and overwhelmed, I drifted toward a quiet wall. Around a pillar, somewhat hidden from the crowd, I leaned against the cold stone.

“Fiona.”

An unfamiliar voice hissed from the shadows. I jumped.

The shadows stepped forward, revealing himself a man — a noble in rich, black robes trimmed with gold. He glanced around.

"Fiona. You need to come with me,” he urged, beckoning down the darkened hall from where he'd appeared.

This lord had always made me uncomfortable. He watched me constantly, though not my tits or ass, but I always felt his eyes on me. I frowned and shifted away.

"I belong to the king, my lord."

His eyes flicked to my collar, then to each side of us before he extended a hand. "Please trust me. It's not safe for you here."

I flinched and backed away. He lunged, grabbing my arm. With a soft cry, I hurriedly yanked my arm back, his fingernails scratching my skin. The lord made another attempt to catch me as I turned and fled.

Right into a pair of guards. They rounded the corner, metal colliding with my soft body, leather-gloved hands grasping both my arms as I struggled blindly.

"Release her."

The king’s commanding tone was never more welcome. Relief made me limp. His warm arms encircled me.

"My pet. You're shaking like an autumn leaf. What's wrong?"

"S-sire. I—" Dare I accuse a lord of harming me?

He lifted my arm, rubbed a thumb over my scratch. His eyes looked past me. "Your dress is torn. Did he touch you?"

I jerked a nod. The king growled.

"Collar him."

The lord stepped back as the guards advanced. "My king, forgive me, it was unintentional—" A guard's gauntleted fist cracked into his face, and he fell to the ground. A collar snapped around his neck moments later.

The king spun me in his arms, his fingers threading through my hair. His voice rose to that commanding, carrying echo. "No one touches you but me. You will tell me if anyone dares, won't you, my pet?"

I couldn't look away. I didn't want to look away. "Yes, sire."

When we rejoined the dance, all the court watched us. Watched me. They'd heard that clear command.

And though I was only allowed translucent, revealing strips of cloth, still no one touched me. Even the king kept his hands gentle, fond. He only took me in private and always made certain of my pleasure. What is a young village girl to feel, bathed in the luxuries and affections of a king?

So I began to believe him.

I returned his smiles, laughed more often and with sincerity. I glared back at the nobles' disdainful looks, delighted when their sneers became shock, and unafraid when shock turned into cruel grins.

Not every lord obeyed easily. The more inebriated ones allowed their disdain to show, encouraged by a glimpse of my soft skin. At the next dance, one in particular decided to have words with me. The king hadn't forbidden conversation.

The first word out of this drunkard's mouth was, "Slut." He spat it at me as he passed, not deigning to look at me while he spoke. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I'll have your cunt again soon enough.”

I turned my head sharply and raised my voice. "Lord Mayfield. How is your lady? The king mentioned she has a delightful mouth."

The lord's eyes widened as he was forced to stop and confront me. "You dare speak of my wife. A peasant bitch should be chained in the kennels when you're not in use." His hand reached for my collar.

My heart beat quicker as I held my ground. No one would touch me, the king had said. "Is that where the king kept your lady when he tired of her cunt?"

His lips twisted in the beginnings of a snarl, then the expression suddenly vanished and his hand fell.

"Fiona, my dear, is there a problem?" The king stepped to my side, his arm sliding around my waist.

I held the lord's eyes and smiled sweetly. "No, sire. Not at all."

The lord bowed. "My king."

"Has Lord Mayfield upset you, my pet?"

The lord paled.

I stared a little longer, letting him fret. "I… suppose not. If he were to apologize."

Rage flared and died in a moment. The lord bowed his head stiffly. "My apologies, lady. I misspoke."

I nodded graciously and glanced at my king. "No harm done, my lord."

The king seemed amused. He waved away the red-faced lord. Smiling down at me, he lifted my chin and claimed a kiss, open-mouthed and long, our tongues tangling as his court watched.

When he took me, I welcomed it, enjoyed it, wanted it. I loved the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of my needy, always wet pussy, his hand grazing my neck below the collar he never used. He had but to look at me, and I would be ready for him, wanting him. It amused him, I think. He would glance at me with those dark eyes, then as my desire rose, he'd ignore me for hours, sometimes days, until I begged him to take me.

—

At breakfast in the hall the next morning, the king smiled when I joined him. His gaze ran over my pale green dress, lingering on my breasts before he met my eyes.

He waved a hand at the courtiers of his hall. "Which one?"

I blinked in surprise and a pang of disappointment. He was done with me. He spoke again, "Choose your husband, my dear. Any one of them. He will court you at my command."

My glance darted from table to table. I hesitated. "I don't want him to be forced…"

He nodded. "Then he may refuse, and you may choose another." He tapped his fingers on the table. "Go on, Fiona. Tell me who you desire."

There were a few who seemed kind, who had never mocked me or used me. But the man I wanted now… oh, this was foolish.

"What if I want you, sire?" I whispered.

His intense eyes pinned me before his lips twisted in a strange smile. "You want me? You want a king for your husband? How ambitious."

My cheeks reddened. "No, I just want you. Not… the king."

He didn't seem to hear me. "I offer you the lords of my hall, and you refuse them. You want more. You think yourself a queen."

I shook my head. There was something wrong with his voice. "No, no, I just want to stay by your side. Please. I don't mean to offend, sire."

He stared at me a while longer, then laughed and nodded to the servants. The hall was swiftly cleared for dancing.

He offered me his hand and that comforting, familiar smile. I relaxed. It was fine. He wasn't angry.

He led me to the center of the hall, to a circle surrounded by his courtiers, then pulled me into his arms and claimed my lips. His kiss was rough, branding, the thrust and sweep of his tongue dizzying.

He whispered in my ear, "Do you love me, my pet? Tell me. Say it."

I swallowed, my heart fluttering. "Yes, sire," I barely whispered.

"I can’t hear you."

"I—" My throat tightened. He stared into my eyes with a small, beautiful smile.

"I love you, sire." My words were too loud in the sudden silence.

His smile spread across his face, twisted, cruelty gleaming in his gaze. His fingers wrapped around my throat. My collar — I'd nearly forgotten about it. "Be still," he commanded.

He leaned into my ear as I stood there, unable to move, barely able to breathe. "You should have chosen a lord, stupid little whore."

He turned his back and I watched him walk away.

His voice carried from the throne. "A whore doesn't need clothes. Strip her."

The courtiers eagerly tore my diaphanous dress to shreds, their hands pawing at my frozen body, squeezing my tits, cupping my pussy, mauling my ass.

"This little slut thinks she's good enough to be your queen. Show her what she's actually good for."

The hands became rough, pinching my nipples, pulling my hair, slapping my ass. They touched my collar again and again.

"Spread your legs."

"Stroke my cock."

"Shake your tits."

Tears fell as my body obeyed, as I writhed and danced obscenely at their command. I did love him. He had been gentle and kind. He had saved me from the attention of his harsh court.

I still hoped he would save me again when they pushed me to my knees and a cock shoved into my mouth, scraping over my tongue. I licked and sucked as best I could, knowing that they would punish me more if I didn't perform. The lord held my head and pumped my mouth, hitting the back of my throat with every thrust. I choked and gagged, tears streaming down my cheeks to mix with the saliva dripping from my chin. He groaned and thrust harder, trying to force his cock into my throat. I whimpered and pushed at his hips. They didn't command me to stop. They wanted to watch me struggle.

The lord grabbed my hair and pulled my head back and forth, fucking my mouth while he forced me to bob on his shaft. He finally stabbed into the back of my throat with a grunt, his cock swelling and twitching as it spurted hot, salty cum that I had no choice but to swallow. Then he pulled out and shot the next rope of thick white fluid at my face as I coughed and gasped for breath.

I closed my eyes and felt another splash of warm liquid land on my arm from the side — a different, overeager lord. Another spongy head pressed against my lips again, erupting almost as soon as my mouth closed around it. I swallowed instinctively. It thrust almost gently until it was spent, then pulled out.

I sobbed in the few moments they weren't touching me. They weren't giving me time to rest — they were just shifting positions, the lords who had finished making way for fresh, swollen cocks. It was then that I noticed my always-eager flesh flushed with desire, the wetness between my thighs dripping lewdly onto the floor.

"On your back."

I fell to the ground, spreading my legs so they wouldn't hurt me doing it themselves. They yanked my limps further apart anyway, pulled my arms above my head.

I begged silently for the king to stop this as the first lord that night penetrated my slick pussy. The king had stopped this once; he could again. He would, he had to, or so I convinced myself as the tip of another cock rubbed against my mouth, then slid against my tongue.

I whimpered as my body responded, all too willing to accept the thick shafts ravaging both my holes. They fucked me with erratic abandon, ignoring my tears, winces, and weak attempts to escape when one rammed my bones too hard into the ground or the other sought to invade my throat.

Then I felt it again. That humiliating, horrible heat gathered low in my stomach as the men used me without any care for my well-being, much less my pleasure. I loved the king and how he had shown me something like respect, hadn't abused or hurt me, had always made sure I found my release first. Not this.

They relished how my body betrayed me, again and again. Like now. No. No…

Thrust. Flinch. Thrust. Whimper. Thrust. Shudder.

I think they sensed my oncoming release, the cock in my mouth stuffing up my air to intensify my inevitable reaction, while between my legs the lord pounded harder and harder, in and out, faster and faster. Waves of heat began to take hold of me, my pussy clenching, my mouth gasping soundlessly, uselessly. I shattered.

The beginning of my scream was muffled and garbled by the cock trying to cut off my air, then it withdrew as though to let my cry of ecstasy echo into the hall, to let everyone know how much a whore enjoyed being used.

Tears followed my terrible, wonderful, horrible climax. My eager pussy still milked the cock that began to swell and twitch, the lord forcing himself deep inside me, groaning as he spilled his seed within my flesh. I keened helplessly in pleasure as the warmth spread in my core. He thrust again, my pulsing inner muscles squeezing every drop from his spurting shaft.

Hot liquid landed on my cheek and I flinched but didn't dare turn away. They might hit me if I tried to avoid them. Instead, I opened my mouth and caught the thick ropes of cum on my tongue, letting it slide down my throat.

I felt empty when the cock slipped from my depths — empty in my heart, my soul, my body. Another readily took his place, but it was only another spear through my heart, a hammer at the lead in my chest.

As this lord took his pleasure from my flesh, I imagined that perhaps I could apologize. Perhaps I could beg the king to forgive me.

Someone spoke, his voice idly curious. "What's this? Someone piss off the king?"

"She's just another one of his stupid village girls."

"Oh. How long did she last?" Boredom in his tone.

"A month, maybe. Pathetic how easily they fall for him, isn't it?"

My hope died.

I never considered that the king had shown me affection only so he could break my heart. So he could break me all over again.

I don't know how many men used me that night. But the king never gave me another moment of his attention.