Elia knelt before the throne, axe brandished across her thigh, allowing the faintest of smiles to tug at the corner of her mouth as the thunderous applause washed over her. She had returned a hero, not just to this minor royal family and their petty-kingdom in the northlands, but also to herself. Adventuring had been scarce as of late, with many of the fey beasts and creatures retreating into their caves and wooded dells for the winter. The cold months were always the hardest, loitering in half frozen inns and public houses looking for work, stretching each penny to its fullest extent.
Yet now a fortune awaited her, as the slayer of a hill troll that had tainted the lands for years. Elia’s eyes gleamed with the prospect of hot food every day for the next few months, and even a feather bed here or there when she felt like it.
“Now,” a booming voice called out, quelling the applause. “You shall have your reward as well, shieldmaiden!”
Elia raised her head to look up at the burly man that stood before her: the king. He was past his prime, gray-white hair with flecks of platinum, yet under his thick robes and cloaks, Elia saw a strength that had yet to be entirely subdued. In his youth he must have been a warrior to be feared and loved. His aura demanded as much now.
Beside him, on her own throne, sat his queen, elegant in her growing age, though a touch younger. Her hair was still a bright red, no touch of gray or wrinkle upon her face to betray her years. Only her searching gaze and placid facade revealed the matron for who she really was.
*A little help from the court witch never hurt either. Cosmetics were one of their many specialities.*
Arrayed beside the two were sergeants and captains in their mail and leather, at attention as their liege spoke, while behind Elia a throng of villagers, local nobles and other court callers looked on.
“Your payment!” the king cried, beckoning a small boy that stood at the front of the throng. The child ran up from behind Elia, dropping a pouch that jangled satisfactorily to her as it hit the floor. She would count it after this was all over. No need to be rude now.
“And of course, your other reward,” the king continued.
*Other reward? Had there been one? I should have read that listing more carefully.*
“You are granted the status of concubine of the prince!”
Elia almost swallowed her own tongue, ducking her head as the claps from behind drowned out her quickly beating heart.
*Had she heard him right? Concubine!? Surely this was an optional reward right? Or perhaps I get to choose? Did I hear him say “or”? I’m sure he said “or” at some point there!*
—
The room smelled of perfume and smoke, though Elia’s attention was pulled away from the aroma as they entered. It was a large salon, filled with low couches and chaises, all pointed towards an open fire that burned away in a stone pit in the center of the room. What caught Elia’s eye though, hands clutching the purse that contained the first half of her reward, were the women.
There were two dozen, give or take, some clothed in loose robes or dresses, while others wore just skirts. Most wore nothing at all, lounging about reading or talking in hushed tones. One sat in the corner plucking away at a lyre absentmindedly, melding the soft tones of the instrument with the cracking and popping of the fire.
“And here we are,” the queen announced, stepping past Elia into the room. Several of the girls smiled when they saw her, though only one approached, a young girl, perhaps a few years younger than Elia herself, nineteen at the oldest. She was entirely naked.
“Welcome, my Lady,” the girl said, bowing, the dark curls of her hair falling around her head. She was pale, thin as a birch tree, with small breasts. She walked with grace, stepping lightly over the stony floor as she had approached them, almost floating.
“Thank you, Fenne. I’ve brought you a new member..”
“And deprive me of more of your time?” Fenne responded, raising herself upright, face in a mock pout.
“No, she is not for me.”
“Neither am I.”
“Technically not,” the Queen smiled, “But that’s just our little secret, isn’t it?”
“Of course, my Lady.”
“Now,” the matron continued, striding over to one of the couches. “Do what you do that compels me to visit so often, while I introduce Elia here to her new home.”
“With pleasure.”
The Queen chose an unoccupied chaise lounge, seating herself in such a way that still preserved her elegance and refinement, tapping the fabric of the chair lightly beside her. Ellia shuffled over, still holding the gold pieces, awkwardly dropping down onto the cushioned seat.
“I think there’s been some mistake-” she started.
“Oh? Did that oaf of a husband of mine miscount again? This is the third time this has happened this year! Don’t worry, just tell me what’s missing, and I’ll have someone pop into the treasury for you.”
“Er- no, ma’am. I mean, my Lady,” Elia stammered. The queen was loosening her belt, a sash of silver fabric wrapped around her waist, dropping it into a neat ball on the chaise.
“I just- maybe I misread the job posting, but I didn’t think there was anything about becoming a concubine involved!” Elia rushed to get the last part out, as the top of the royal gown the queen wore slipped off her shoulders, falling to her waist, revealing two large, milk-white breasts, strands of the noble woman’s fiery red hair falling onto them.
“It’s the standard for our land! All women are offered this position when completing great tasks,” the queen responded nonchalantly, shifting so that she could pull the gown farther down, allowing the large piece of fabric to drop to the floor, exposing herself completely. As she did so, the dainty Fenne, on all fours, crawled between her legs, pressing kisses into the bare skin of her thighs, slowly making her way up.
“Oh Fenne, you’ve been an oasis in this frigid land,” the queen cooed, running her fingers through the dark strands of the young girl’s hair. “What would I do without you?”
Elia was dumbfounded by what was happening before her. How could they be so casual about this? She glanced furtively around the room. No one else seemed to be paying attention. Perhaps this was standard here. It was a harem, after all.
“It’s a very nice offer,” Elia continued, eyes locked on the flushed cheeks rubbing against the legs of the woman beside her. “I just don’t really think it’s for me.”
“Well, you’ll find out soon enough,” the Queen dismissed her, gasping slightly as Fenne’s lips finally hit their mark, pressing greedily into her pussy.
“I’d rather just move along. I should be out on the road by now anyways,” Elia countered, trying to find strength within herself to respond.
“Well we can’t be letting that happen. The sun has just gone down anyways,” the Queen murmured, one hand now on her own breast, lightly pinching a nipple. “Don’t worry. Fenne will convince you to stay.”
Elia sat quietly, watching as the scene in front of her continued to unfold. Fenne was quite skilled, tongue probing her mistress, drawing her further and further into pleasure, fingers pulling at the woman’s back, up her side, clutching at a breast. She was a master.
At last, the Queen let out a long, low moan, biting her lip as she clutched Fenne’s hair with both hands, tugging it, pulling the girl’s face into her pussy. Then it was over, and she released her grip, falling backwards into the chaise. She slowly pet the girl’s head, the two looking one another in the eye.
“My sweet, sweet Fenne, how good you are to me.”
“I live to serve,” the girl responded.
“Speaking of which, would you serve Elia as well? And use the wellemitte. Martus should be arriving tonight, and I’m sure he’ll want to play with his new toy.”
“Right away, my Lady.”
And with that, Fenne stood and floated away, off to where a small corner bar cabinet sat, opening a panel near the base and digging around inside.
“Fenne really is the best,” the Queen breathed, closing her eyes as she stretched out on the chaise. Elia had never seen someone so relaxed. The only sex she had ever had, had been rough, as if she and her partner had been trying to subdue some basic animal need, and no more. She hadn’t even known the names of most of the men she had been with. Adventurers tended to live short lives. No need to get too involved with one another, and she definitely had never slept with a woman.
“I’ve never seen someone enjoy sex like that,” Elia offered, surprised as the words came out of her mouth. “For adventurers, it’s just fucking. We’re basically animals.”
“That puts a disservice to animals,” the Queen laughed, opening her eyes and searching the room.
“See her, with the golden hair?” she continued, pointing to a girl with sun colored hair that fell in long rivulets around her back and breasts. She was seated in a wingback reading chair, legs curled up supporting a novel that she was engrossed in. She was the most beautiful woman Elia had ever seen.
“Yes,” Elia responded, unable to rend her eyes from the light that seemed to emanate from her. Perfect breasts poked out from the loose white shirt she wore, large mounds that were held up by some miracle of magic.
“Her name is Gira, and you should see her fuck one of the hunting dogs. Or suck off one of the horses. I promise, it’s an exhilarating sight to behold. So much passion. So much drive. I never miss a chance to come down and watch her get dominated.”
For what felt like the millionth time that day, Elia was flabbergasted.
“That’s why she’s kept here, really,” the Queen continued. “We let the dogs burn some energy on her instead of searching out stray bitches to fill with unwanted pups. Plus the prince loves the spectacle as much as I do. I’m sure you’ll see her at it, sooner or later.”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/osgg0e/the_new_concubine_mfff_fantasyincoralreluc
“Yes. I’m sure,” Elia nodded, each word a struggle to get off her tongue, imagining the fairy girl that lounged across the salon ravaged by dogs.
At last, Fenne returned, thankfully breaking Elia’s thoughts, carrying a small tray with two glasses, each filled with clear liquid that shone ever so faintly, giving off their own mystic light. She handed one to the Queen, and kept one for herself.
“Shall I begin now, my Lady?” Fenne asked, pressing the drink between her breasts.
“Yes, please do,” the queen answered, taking a swig of the mystery liquid. “Come now, Elia. Let’s get you out of that adventuring garb.”
“It’s really ok,” Elia stammered, pressing the leather of her britches together. “I’m just a concubine girl myself, right? Shouldn’t we be saving ourselves for the prince?”
“Nonsense!” the queen laughed. “You’re the guest of honor tonight. Honored Slayer of Trolls! This is my personal gift to you.”
Elia looked into the glowing eyes of the young girl who stood before her, pale blue irises reflecting back. She really was pretty, and judging by the queen’s reaction, had been quite good at her job. Elia’s eyes traced the figure of the girl once again.
*And why not? She was the guest of honor here! She should be served. Maybe she would enjoy the touch of another woman. There was only one way to find out.*
“Perhaps you are right,” Elia murmured, placing a hand on the top buckle of the leather jerkin, loosening it. She made her way all the way down, undoing them one by one, until finally the jerkin and shirt beneath were pulled over her head by Fenne, revealing her own small breasts below.
*Small, but well formed at least.*
Her britches were easier, Fenne unlacing them deftly and pulling them to the floor, allowing Elia to raise her legs as she removed them completely. She was made bare, blending into the salon, now looking the part of a harem girl.
Before starting though, Fenne took a moment to down her own drink entirely, placing the emptied glass on the tray that now sat on the floor. And then Elia was lost forever.
She had never felt such softness, the warm cheeks and lips of the lithe concubine brushing lightly against her inner thighs. It was magical, and she couldn’t help but feel enamoured, placing her hand on one of Fenne’s that rested on her hip, exhaling in pleasure. The kisses drove her further into ecstasy, Fenne repeating the pattern she had practiced on the queen, inching ever higher until last she arrived. Elia was aflame in passion.
The girl’s tongue pressed into her, exploring her pussy, lapping at her with increasing eagerness. Yet there was something beyond Elia’s lust as well, a certain static that was building in her, as with each lick and kiss, a sensation travelled from Fenne into her. Something was now pulling at her psyche, pressing into it, drawing a part of her out and away. Her inhibitions were fleeting, accepting the pleasure of the moment.
She turned her head to the side, soft moans escaping from her lips, yet as she breathed in an aroma grew stronger. To her surprise, her lips were met, now by the queen. Any form of hesitation still left in Elia was immediately banished, and she met the kiss enthusiastically, pressing her tongue into the woman’s mouth. The sensation of losing herself grew stronger, now transferred via her own tongue, inhibitions banished into the ether of her subconscious. This was where she belonged.
“I knew I would find you down here,” a booming voice called, interrupting Elia’s kiss as the queen pulled away. Though, Fenne seemed unperturbed, continuing the work that had been assigned to her.
At first, Elia thought it was the king, but upon looking realized it was none other than the prince, standing just as tall as his father, blonde hair yet to be overcome by the gray of age, though reddened slightly with hints of strawberry: a gift of his mother. His piercing blue eyes looked coldly over the threesome on the chaise.
“We were just breaking in your new concubine,” the queen answered, beckoning him over. She seemed unashamed at having been caught. “I didn’t expect you to be back so early.”
“The hunt went well,” the prince answered gruffly, now standing in front of them. He was dressed in plain leather, a patch in the form of a longship sewn into his jacket the only indication of his rank: the symbol of his household. Elia looked him over through her own bouts of pleasure, breasts heaving. Fenne really was the best.
He was strong, a strapping man in his late twenties, clearly of noble birth. His arms were those of a rower, or a hunter, sinewy, filling out the thin jacket he wore. Elia noticed a small bulge had begun to grow in his pants, and she looked at it hungrily.
“Closer, closer,” the queen demanded. “Her name is Elia. She’s been made ready for you.”
The prince took a step closer, now stradling Fenne, towering over Elia whose eyes remained locked to the bulge growing in his pants. Yet before she could reach out to begin untying them, another set of hands went to work: the queen!
“Mother, please,” the prince sighed, exasperated, as his pants were untied and allowed to fall, revealing an erection larger than any Elia had seen before. “Is this really necessary?”
“Oh hush,” the queen responded, taking the cock in her hand, moving up and down the shaft gently. “These girls are no good at this.”
“How would you even know?” came his reply, but no other protest, placing a wide hand on the queen’s head.
“You know why.”
And with that, the queen planted a kiss on the prince’s cock, hand still massaging it up and down, before tugging at it, directing it towards Elia. Elia required no further instruction, pressing her own mouth around the bulbous head.
It tasted salty, and fleshy, yet somehow pleasant in a pungently aromatic way. It was the scent of a conqueror, a warrior, a hunter. She wanted more, bobbing her head now in time with the queen’s hand, allowing the shaft to push farther and farther into her own mouth. As she worked the queen clutched a handful of her hair, pushing and pulling her along, while Fenne remained
engrossed between her legs, matching Elia’s hips as she began to buck and gyrate in ecstasy.
“This is your place now, understand?” the queen asked, pressing her forehead into Elia’s temple, planting a kiss where the cock and her lips met. Elia could only murmur in reply.
“If you’re lucky, I might even let you service me. Though, I’m sure Fenne wouldn’t like that.”
Elia’s mind was enraptured, assenting through breaths and moans to everything the queen was saying. She wanted to be a concubine. This was where she belonged now, soft tongue between her legs while a cock filled her mouth. Even the firm hands of the queen, tugging at her hair, dominating her, was arousing.
And then the eruption came.
Elia pressed her legs together, squeezing Fenne’s head as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. At the same time, the prince reached his own climax, thrusting forward as hot streams of cum filled her mouth, a foreign yet not unwelcome taste to her.
“Make sure you swallow it all,” the queen whispered in her ear, hand moving from the shaft to fondle the balls below. “A gift from your new master.”
Elia made sure to, running her tongue around the cock still in her mouth, sucking down every last drop, hungering for more. This was her place, and she basked in the moment. She was liberated from her past-self.
Yet it could not last forever, as finally the prince stepped away, though not before the queen could plant one last kiss on his shaft.
“He never let’s me do that,” she said to Elia, leaning back in the chaise once again, work completed.
“Why do you think I even have a harem, mother?” the prince responded curtly, turning away. “Now where’s that Gira? The dog’s have been restless ever since that first kill this morning.”