“No buts, hen. It’s time.”
“Is… is this a punishment?” I ask softly.
“No, my love,” he says, his eyes warming. “This is part of the ceremony and if I could protect you from it, I would, but I canno’. Now do as you’re told and take off your clothes.”
Slowly, I step out of my heels and kick them away before pulling my sweater over my head. My hands shake as they unbutton my blouse and slide it down my arms, casting it away as well. Then my cute belt, the one I never want to see again after this. Next my trousers, which fall to the floor easily and I step out of them, kicking them aside. I bite my lip as I reach behind me and unhook my bra, letting the white lace fall down my arms, and last, I try to turn away, to look anywhere someone isn’t standing, watching, but there’s nowhere safe.
“Eyes on me, hen,” Rhys commands and I turn my gaze back to his while I slide my panties down my legs and to the floor. “Good girl.”
“Now you will undress your king to anoint him,” Craig says and Rhys moves to stand in front of me.
I unbutton his dress shirt and someone holds the Scepter and Orb for him to slide out each arm, letting the shirt drift to the floor before the relics areimmediately placed back in Rhys’s waiting grasp. Then, I unbuckle his belt and push his pants off his hips. I realize my mistake when the fine wool gets caught on his shoes and socks and drop to my knees to slide each from his body all while he’s holding the fucking pool cue and coffee mug.
“The King will then retake his seat on his throne and you will anoint him in holy oil,”
Craig says, handing me a small bowl filled with some kind of oil and a small silver teaspoon. “You will drip the oil over his shoulders, his arms, and his chest and then rub it in. After, you will drip more down his legs and his… uh… staff.”
“What?” I whisper and Rhys smiles.
“He means my cock.”
“What?” I gasp.
“Do it, hen,” Rhys says. “Make sure there’s plenty on it.”
“Uhh… yes,” Craig replies awkwardly. “What he says. The King will need to be, um… erect.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter.
“I don’t think I’ll have trouble with that,” Rhys mutters and I notice that he’s already hard in a room full of people.
“Now I understand the privacy screens,” I mutter.
“Not completely, but you’re getting there.”
“What more could there be?” I ask.
But before Rhys can answer, Craig does.
“Now you will set down the oil and straddle the King’s lap.”
I feel my heart stutter to a complete stop.
“Breathe, hen,” Rhys quietly commands. When I do, he says, “Come here.”
I move toward him and climb onto his lap, his hard, slick length wedged between us. It’s more than a little awkward since he can’t help me because his hands are full. If this wasn’t in front of so many witnesses, it might even be fun, but now, I don’t know. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I feel heat race through my body as his cock presses against my clit.
I want more, but I don’t.
The longer we sit here, the more likely I am to beg for him to let me come.
Lucky or unlucky for me, depending on how you look at it, Craig issues more instructions for me. “Now take the King inside you. This ensures that you’re doing everything in your power to conceive an heir because not doing so is high treason and punishable by death.”
“Less talk on the high treason because it’s not doing great things for my cock, buddy,” Rhys mutters.
“Sorry,” Craig replies, making Rhys laugh. The effect jostles me on his lap, which pulls a moan from me when he hits my clit just right.
“Seems like the crisis has been averted,” Rhys jokes before looking in my eyes and saying, “Now put me inside that lush cunt, hen.”