The Alien King's Prey - Loki Renard Page 0,6

of power and nerve he needed by fucking her on the throne. Slowly, and deliberately, he pushed inside the dancer, breaking twin hymens in the process. He felt them tear underneath the pressure of his cock, a slight bit of resistance followed by a soft moan of submission.

Finally, he was buried deep inside the female of his choice, both prongs of turgid flesh engulfed by the buttery hot interior of the dancer.

“Yes, oh gods yes,” he growled, his head falling back, his mouth open in unmistakeable ecstasy. “You’re perfect.”

She was perfect. She was his first choice, and he had gotten precisely what he wanted.

His example set a chain reaction running through the party. Those who had been reluctant to defile the females set aside for the king’s pleasure, or who still respected the throne were emboldened by Abraxus’ blasphemy. They also realized that what had begun was something of a first in first served free-for-all. The dancers had come to be mated, and mated they would be.

The dancers were not what one might call reluctant. Most of them were slicked with desire already. A large number of them had taken aphrodisiacs and other substances which would give their pussies protection from the king’s rough cock, as he was known to be a forceful lover.

The nobles surged for the dancers, seizing the females they desired. There were a few shocked gasps and squeals of dissent, but they did not last long. What was happening had a life of its own. There was an energy in the room, a fate which would not be denied.

Abraxus fucked his chosen mate with firm strokes, bouncing her against the throne. The feet of the hallowed chair scraped against the floor beneath, scraping with every increasingly rough thrust. His grunts and her moans mingled with those of the others as one by one, each of the dancers found a cock lodged deep in her cunt.

Soon, the hall was filled with a chorus of similar sounds, a sibilant symphony of twenty four young women being mated as they were meant to be. The nobles who slaked their cocks that night were incurring a debt to the king they would not want to pay when the debt came due.

The dancers were mated willingly enough. No female wanted to leave that hall without a cunt full of the most potent male seed. But none of them were getting what they truly wanted. The seed being pumped inside them was not royal seed, and it did not carry the potency which came with the crown. They would bear the babies of nobles and perhaps a cocky courtier, or even a serving man who sneaked in among the sexual thrust and parry.

Parentage would be dubious, as the nobles and other males swapped the dancers among themselves. The more popular dancers were mated six or seven times, until their swollen vulvas dripped with the mixed seed of a half dozen males.

What had begun as a ritual turned into an orgy, a group mating which smelled like seed and looked like filth as bodies were pressed against the remnants of the feast, cream and jelly and trifle all going places they were never intended to go, finding crevices and cracks and coating the rampant members of drunk nobles who sprayed their seed into anything hot and tight.

The cleaners were going to be busy in the morning, when they would find nobles and insensate dancers draped naked over remnants of what would be ironically described for posterity as the chaste feast of Archon.

Meanwhile…

Relieved at having escaped what might have loosely been called festivities, Archon made for the relative peace of the tower where he had come to reside, taking the stairs two at a time.

He knew very well what the nobles and courtiers he had left behind with the dancers thought of him. He knew they were ingrates without a scrap of sense, growing fat and dull on the largesse of the kingdom.

Archon did not concern himself with their opinions. He was a natural king, even if he was born a bastard.

That was not to be mentioned, though Brimsley had been heard to mention to his fellow servants that the brutal nature of the king could be put down to the wildness of his mother, a female who was not of a good house of breeding. She had never danced before the court, never displayed her mutations and her body to those who watched the breeding ceremonies.

Archon would never have come close to the