Her King - Kingdom of Raultshire
“Well, allow me,” I say, getting back in bed after setting my wares on the bedside table.
“We shall get crumbs everywhere.”
“So what?” I ask, kissing her neck.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter so much,” she says breathlessly. I reach over and grab a piece of chocolate off of the table. I put it to her lips, and she moans.
“What is this?”
“A milk chocolate bar,” I say.
“I have never heard of it,” she says, taking more of the confection.
“‘Tis new, from Switzerland.”
“It is divine,” she says. “More, please.”
Watching her eat the sinful treat is erotic. She licks her lips after each morsel. She loves it. Next, I pop a plump, juicy strawberry into her mouth.
“Mmm, strawberry,” she moans, biting her full bottom lip. My cock hardens, a dilemma I am sure I will never tire of.
“You like?” I ask, licking a bit of strawberry juice from the corner of her mouth.
“Yes,” she whispers before climbing into my lap. Her cunt slides down my cock until she is fully seated upon it. “You are a bad man, My king.”
“How so?” I ask, amused.
“You tempt me so,” she says.
“You tempt me as well.”
“So, I am a bad girl?”
“No, not at all. You are a very good girl, indeed.” She beams a smile and then moves. My hands squeeze her hips and guide her up and down on my shaft.
My queen is going to be the death of me—a happy death, but death nonetheless.
"Braya and Christofur, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?" Bishop Taylor asks, beginning the Catholic wedding ceremony. Raultshire's primary religion is Catholicism, though we are tolerant of all others.
"We do," we answer in unison.
"Very well. My lady, your vows," the bishop says.
“I, Braya, take you, Christofur, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life. I will be a faithful defender of the realm, by your side always. Loyal until my very last breath," Braya says, surprising me. Marrying me was enough. I was not expecting a vow of loyalty to king and country as well.
“Your Majesty, your vows."
“I, Christofur, take you, Braya, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life. My new queen, I swear this solemn oath of allegiance to ye. I vow to protect you and our children from this day until my last day. My sword is your sword. Your fight is my fight. Your heart is my heart, forevermore.”
"Oh Christofur," she murmurs, taking my hand. I slide her wedding ring on her finger.
"I now proclaim you are husband and wife, in the eyes of God. What He hath joined, let no man put asunder."
He prays with us before putting Braya’s crown on her head, making her the queen of Raultshire as well as my wife. The brief ceremony has sealed our fates.
After the ceremony, each of my knights swears fealty to their new queen as she sits on her throne for the first time. Her father never did darken our doorstep, lucky for him.
Epilogue
Braya
January 1876
Jarryd, our son, entered the world, screaming. His healthy wails could be heard throughout the castle. My king was by my side the whole eighteen hours of my labor. He refused to eat, refused to sleep until he knew I was going to be alright. He can’t live without me, you see. Nor can I live without him, but now we have a son who has only brought us closer together. We have been married for a year now, and I feel we should celebrate the milestone. My husband has been hearing disputes all morning from among the nobility—an eloped daughter, a missing cow, after that the list gets stupider things, really. When I enter the throne room after luncheon, it appears he is down to his last dispute of the day. Christopher dismisses the men with a promise to think of the solution to their problem and to come back tomorrow.
When we are alone, I hurry to sit at his feet. I kick off my shoes before getting down on the floor. I love to sit here, my cheek resting on his thigh while he plays with my hair. It’s soothing.
“I missed you today, my king,” I tell him.
“I missed you as well, my queen,” he says, pulling me up to sit on the arms of his throne. He buries his face in my neck and breathes me in.
“Come to bed, my king. I need you now,” I tell him as he proceeds to lick my collarbone, squeezing my plentiful bottom at the same time.