The King's Consort

The King’s Prize-2

Pan nodded silently, the scent of his mother’s perfumed hair in his nostrils. Of course he realised what an honour it was. If he was accepted into the Royal Harem, it would mean his family had the protection of the all-powerful Seronisis for the rest of their days. They could live tax-free and prosper with the extra income. They’d be entitled to enter the sacred palace once a year to visit him. It seemed that Pan’s dreams of a better life were going to come true, for both him and his family. How could he deny them that?

After dressing and eating a hurried breakfast, Pan hoisted himself onto the back of the simple wooden cart standing outside the cottage and turned to look at his family. His mother was doing her best to restrain her tears and his father, bronzed and weathered from a life in the sun, comforted her as best he could. His sisters held each other and sobbed in their nightdresses. Then, as the sergeant mounted his horse, Pan waved a final goodbye to his family and watched them growing smaller and smaller as the cart traveled down the dirt track and over the grassy hillock that would take them to the main road.

A solitary tear spilled onto his cheek and he did his best to sniff the others back. He was determined to be strong. Bravery was the mark of a man and now was the time to shed any last vestiges of boyhood.

Silence marked the first leg of the journey. No words could change his situation or alter the fact that he was already missing those he loved. Through the blur of tears he stared at the increasingly unfamiliar scenery while the troopers talked and grunted amongst themselves. Pan was glad their attentions were otherwise engaged since he was in no mood for conversation. It was his sole desire to be left alone to contemplate the sudden strange turn of events.

That evening, as the twin moons of Tansa followed each other into a sky burnt copper by the setting sun, the small group of travellers made camp under the broad, leafy branches of a Banton tree. Pan was lifted down from the cart, stripped and his hands tethered to the wheel of the cart. One of the troopers bound his feet as an extra precaution against escape, though even if Pan were to slip the ropes, he wouldn’t get far naked.

Apart from being restricted by his bindings, the troopers treated Pan well. He dined on forest fowl, fruit and nuts and they gave him sweet wine to sate his thirst. Even the gruff-looking sergeant made sure Pan was comfortable by supplying him with a small pillow and although he wasn’t permitted a blanket, he had the warmth of a trooper on either side of him to keep the cool night at bay. Still wary of these beasts, he kept one eye open until he was certain that they had fallen asleep.

It seemed he had just closed his eyes when he was awakened by a sharp pain. Tiredness and the unfamiliar setting delayed his awareness of where he was and what was happening, and when he opened his mouth to cry out, a great padded hand reached around from behind and cupped it.

“Quiet,” grunted the sergeant.

Though this was easier said than done, especially when the sergeant’s massive c**k was sliding in and out of his tight arsehole.

“Just enjoy it,” said the sergeant, puffing into his ear. “You’ll have to get used to taking it up the arse if you’re going to join the King’s harem.”

Until that evening Pan had been a virgin and while no stranger to m**********n, he’d never experienced the delights of another person’s flesh. Free time was a scarcity on the farm and the opportunity for s****l relations had never presented itself. But now he that was experiencing intercourse firsthand he was in two minds about its attraction. For while the first few moments of penetration had been blindingly uncomfortable, he could feel himself starting to relax. There was still a dull throb as the mighty c**k slid in and out of his arsehole, but the sergeant’s whispered words of encouragement seemed to soothe the ache away.

“That feels better now, doesn’t it?” asked the sergeant as Pan’s muscles relaxed around the girth of his thick prick. “Now if I take my hand away, promise you won’t cry out?”

Pan nodded. It was obvious that shouting for help would be futile since he was tied up out in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by three other troopers, with their leader, the sergeant, buried to the balls inside him.

The sergeant removed his hand and placed it on Pan’s naked hip, using it to steady himself as he gently f****d him with his huge black c**k. Despite himself Pan began to enjoy the sensation of having the sergeant inside him, the cockhead rubbing against his prostate and the beast’s wiry pubic hair tickling his fleshy buttocks. He became aware that his breathing had became deeper, more laboured. His lips soon found the flesh of his arm and while the trooper thrust faster and harder, he kissed himself as though his arm were the lips of a lover. Then without any warning he felt the sergeant’s huge, padded hand grip his c**k and begin stroking it. Pan had never felt anything like it before, so firm and yet so pleasurable. The touch of another on his most private part sent shivers rippling through his body. Between the action of the sergeant’s c**k inside him and the bulky, Hapsid hand on his c**k Pan knew it wouldn’t be long before he succumbed to ecstasy.

“You want my load?” asked the sergeant.

“Your what?” Pan asked naively.

“Never mind,” mumbled the sergeant as his body tensed. “Here it comes.”

The sergeant squirted his load deep inside Pan’s hole, sending a thick, creamy river of jism splashing across Pan’s bowels, but not once did he break the rhythm of his hand on Pan’s rigid tool. It was due to this consideration that Pan soon felt a sensation stronger than he had ever felt before welling up in the depths of his abdomen. As the sergeant’s hand jerked his c**k faster and faster, he arched his back, groaned and sent a stream of sticky, white c*m shooting over the back of the sleeping trooper in front of him.

“The king’s going to like you,” said the sergeant as he slid his dripping c**k from the boy.

Pan rolled onto his back as the sergeant settled into the soft grass, a broad smile growing on his face. He could feel a slight trickling sensation between his legs as some of the trooper’s massive load trickled out of his throbbing arsehole and disappeared into the ground below. It somehow flavoured his dreams that night, for when he woke the following morning there was a crusty mess on his inner thigh.

For the next three days each of the troopers took turns at the farm boy and his tight pucker. They f****d him because they could, because they were horny from days on the road and because they had to ensure that Pan was ready to receive the king upon arrival. He’d been told it was imperative that he didn’t cry out or utter any word of complaint when the king entered him. It was as grave a faux pas as spitting in his eye and the resultant punishment would be banishment from the Kingdom. The troopers also educated him in the fine art of rimming, teaching him to savour the musty smells of their arseholes by pushing his face, nose-first, into their hairy arse cracks at every opportunity; and guiding him as he licked and tongued their black puckers until their loads erupted over the slender blades of Sluice grass. For the three nights of their journey, he was fingered and f****d and used at their whim as a s****l plaything.

Their arrival at the palace gates was heralded by a fanfare from a quartet of trumpeters who stood in the towers on either side of the entrance. Beyond the thick, stone walls there was a flurry of activity as the members of the king’s court and the villagers that worked in the palace congregated at the gates to see the king’s new acquisition. They weren’t disappointed.