The Alien King's Prey - Loki Renard Page 0,5
marks of Energon. They proved he was of royal blood, a direct descendant of the dragon king.
The more a king embodied the dragon which allegedly founded the royal line with its seed more than a thousand years earlier, the more blessed he was considered to be.
Archon was forty years old, and in those forty years he had built up a mythology about himself which made the blood of even the hottest of enemies turn to ice in their veins. His reputation for mass brutality preceded him. A gathering like this was more likely to turn bloody than culminate in celebration.
That was the reason everybody stayed silent until Archon had safely departed the chamber. The music had stopped when he stood up, in anticipation of him speaking, so Archon departed the chamber to the sound of silence punctuated by a few disappointed sobs from the dancers.
“Bastard,” a noble cursed when they were very sure he was gone, his voice swept up in the concerned clanking of cutlery and glasses as everybody rushed to finish the feast.
The dancers would not be honored with the king’s seed tonight. None of the delicate political alliances which had been hanging in the balance based on the king’s choice would be coming to fruition. By leaving without choosing a mate, Archon had thrown the kingdom of Archaeus into quiet chaos.
It did not take long for someone to take advantage of the situation. A room full of powerful nobles was trouble waiting to happen. A good king would have known better than to leave until the nobles had departed, fallen asleep, or otherwise neutralized the threat they posed. But Archon was not a good king. He was a new king, and an arrogant one.
“Girls! Bend over the tables! Noble cocks will fill your holes and offer you some respite from your arousal.” Lord Abraxus shouted.
He had no real authority to make orders, but he sensed the vacuum of power left in the king’s wake and clearly intended to capitalize on it.
The entire evening, he’d had his eye on a certain female, a dancer with four breasts and the most amazing falls of golden hair emitting from both her head and shoulders. She had made teasing eye contact with him more than once, which suggested a certain intelligence.
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