Chapter LIX: Bent
The king summoned Isabella to his royal office. As she entered, beautiful and postured in a dark blue dress, he gestured for his servants and scribes to leave, the room quickly emptying to grant them privacy. The heavy door closed behind them, sealing them in silence.
Without a word, he walked toward her, his eyes dark with intent. He reached out and pulled the straps of her dress down, the fabric slipping from her shoulders. His hands were rough and hungry as he squeezed and pinched the flesh of her breasts, his touch igniting a fire within her.
Isabella gasped, a mixture of surprise and desire flooding her senses. "My king," she began, her voice trembling.
"Quiet," he commanded, his voice low and urgent. "You’re here to serve me."
He pulled her into a fiery, passionate kiss, his lips claiming hers with an intensity that left no room for doubt about his immediate intentions. Isabella's body responded instinctively, melting against him as he turned her around and bent her over his table.
"You are mine, Isabella," he murmured against her lips, squeezing her cheeks to turn her neck back. "Say it."
"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm yours."
He groaned softly, his hands exploring her exposed skin with a fervor that matched the heat of their kiss. The cool surface of the table contrasted sharply with the warmth of his body, heightening her sensations.
"Do you want this?" he asked, brushing the volume in his pants against her ass, his breath hot against her ear.
"Yes," she gasped, her heart racing. "I want you, my king."
The king's movements were urgent, filled with a raw passion that took her breath away. He positioned himself behind her and lifted her dress, his hands gripping her hips firmly. His fingers found their way to her cunt and the king was delighted to find her already so wet. Her body shivered at his invasive touch.
"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a possessive whisper as he opened his pants. In a single thrust, he penetrated her from behind, claiming her completely. "Mine to fuck, mine to breed, mine to use like a whore. Any time I want."
The king began to fuck her so hard he almost lifted her feet off the floor, she had to hold tight onto the marble table to be able to stand. He pulled her hair with his fist and kept thrusting hard. Isabella moaned and screamed in pleasure, unable to contain herself.
With some final rough thrusts, the king came and spilled himself deep inside of her cunt. Still breathless, he pulled out his cock and watched his seed drip out of her sweet, swollen folds. He closed his pants and slapped her ass as he returned to his chair on the other side of the table. “You’re dismissed,” he said, still staring at her lustfully.
Isabella bowed courtly, with a sly smile on her lips, and left the royal office, her cheeks flushed, her hair messy and the straps of her dress still fallen down from the intense pounding. As she stepped into the corridor, still with her bare breasts partially uncovered, a line of servants waited outside the door. They bowed their heads respectfully as she passed, their eyes carefully averted.
Isabella adjusted the straps still loose on her shoulders, but she didn't mind. There was a subtle smile on her lips, a reflection of the satisfaction she had from being with the king and letting everyone know this. The servants' respectful silence only added to her sense of power and privilege, a silent acknowledgment of her special place in the king's affections.
Isabella's daily routine was a carefully orchestrated symphony of indulgence and anticipation. Each morning, she would rise early, greeted by the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains. The harem maids would already be bustling about, preparing her chambers for the day ahead. Alicent would bring her Prince Ikkar to his morning feed, usually still at the king’s bed.
After a light breakfast of fresh fruits and pastries, Isabella would retire to her private bathing chamber, where the maids awaited her. They would draw a steaming bath scented with perfumed oils and flower petals, filling the air with a heady fragrance. Isabella would sink into the warm water, letting its soothing embrace wash away the tensions and soreness of the night before, where the king would unleash the intensity of his desire upon her body.
As the maids tended to her, Isabella would indulge in a glass of fine wine, usually the fortified wine Lady Belet had her drinking to aid her fertility, savoring its rich flavor as she reclined in the tub. Fresh fruits and delicacies would be arranged on a nearby tray, providing a feast for her senses as well as her palate.
Once her bath was complete, Isabella would be treated to a luxurious massage, the skilled hands of the maids working out any lingering knots of tension in her muscles. She would close her eyes and surrender to the sensation, feeling herself relax more deeply with each knead and stroke.
After her massage, Isabella would indulge in an extensive routine to enhance her natural beauty. Her hair would be styled in intricate braids and curls, adorned with jewels and ornaments fit for a queen. Her skin would be dusted with shimmering powders and scented oils, leaving her radiant and irresistible.
Throughout the day, Isabella would enjoy moments of leisure and relaxation, perhaps taking a stroll through the palace gardens or indulging in her favorite pastimes, always attentive to her son’s needs. But always, in the back of her mind, was the anticipation of the evening to come, when she would once again be alone with the king, ready to fulfill his every desire. It made her feel good to be at the king’s service like that, she enjoyed being fucked and used by him, to live to please him. As long as she was the only one, she was more than happy to be his whore.
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