The Alien King’s Prey (Royal Aliens 1)

Abraxus was tall and blond, with a very light smattering of scaling around his eyes and across his brow. Not enough to make him look properly royal, but more than enough to distinguish himself from the rest of the common people. He was dressed in fine silk robes, all black, setting off the near white hues of his hair and skin, and he cut a rather dashing image as he crossed the room, took the dancer by the back of her neck, turned her around, and pushed her over the arm of Archon's throne.

At one time, no noble would have dared desecrate the crown that way, but there were no howls of outrage, no soldiers moving to protect the royal seat. Abraxus bent the dancer over the throne and used his third hand to spread her cheeks, revealing not one, but two perfectly presented pussies, one in line with the other.

“Oh ho ho! Two holes. I knew it!”

He loosened his pants, exposing two cocks, one atop the other.

“Nothing so delicious as mutually compatible mutations,” he chortled as both cocks twitched and throbbed inches from the dancer’s well lubricated holes. If she had any objection to being fucked publicly, she did not voice it. She arched up on her toes, the motion of her muscular behind and thighs displaying soft and supple curves to their best advantage.

The entertainment provided by the dancers was replaced by the entertainment provided by Abraxus and the thick pale rods which extended several inches from his body, thick and meaty, already dripping with the potent seed of his noble lineage.

He transferred his grip to her hair, pulling her head back with a light, but insistent tension so all could see her face as his cocks pressed up against their matching slits, and began to penetrate. Two sets of pussy lips spread slowly around the cocks, the pale heads moving between pink flesh with an exquisite motion. Abraxus had the attention of every entity in the room, and none more so than the dancer herself, whose eyes widened as she felt herself being filled.

Abraxus pushed forward slowly and insistently, drawing the moment out. He could have been rough and brutal, but he had already made all the display of power and nerve he needed by fucking her on the throne. Slowly, and deliberately, he pushed inside the dancer, breaking twin hymens in the process. He felt them tear underneath the pressure of his cock, a slight bit of resistance followed by a soft moan of submission.

Finally, he was buried deep inside the female of his choice, both prongs of turgid flesh engulfed by the buttery hot interior of the dancer.

“Yes, oh gods yes,” he growled, his head falling back, his mouth open in unmistakeable ecstasy. “You’re perfect.”

She was perfect. She was his first choice, and he had gotten precisely what he wanted.

His example set a chain reaction running through the party. Those who had been reluctant to defile the females set aside for the king’s pleasure, or who still respected the throne were emboldened by Abraxus’ blasphemy. They also realized that what had begun was something of a first in first served free-for-all. The dancers had come to be mated, and mated they would be.

The dancers were not what one might call reluctant. Most of them were slicked with desire already. A large number of them had taken aphrodisiacs and other substances which would give their pussies protection from the king’s rough cock, as he was known to be a forceful lover.

The nobles surged for the dancers, seizing the females they desired. There were a few shocked gasps and squeals of dissent, but they did not last long. What was happening had a life of its own. There was an energy in the room, a fate which would not be denied.

Abraxus fucked his chosen mate with firm strokes, bouncing her against the throne. The feet of the hallowed chair scraped against the floor beneath, scraping with every increasingly rough thrust. His grunts and her moans mingled with those of the others as one by one, each of the dancers found a cock lodged deep in her cunt.

Soon, the hall was filled with a chorus of similar sounds, a sibilant symphony of twenty four young women being mated as they were meant to be. The nobles who slaked their cocks that night were incurring a debt to the king they would not want to pay when the debt came due.

The dancers were mated willingly enough. No female wanted to leave that hall without a cunt full of the most potent male seed. But none of them were getting what they truly wanted. The seed being pumped inside them was not royal seed, and it did not carry the potency which came with the crown. They would bear the babies of nobles and perhaps a cocky courtier, or even a serving man who sneaked in among the sexual thrust and parry.