Swine King Triumphant
Cyneweald woke slowly, and groaned miserably as he did. The wolf's head was a throbbing vortex of pain, and he squeezed his eyes tight after the first glimpse of dull light around him. The fur over his right eye was crusty and matted, making it hard to open. He tried to shift his arms into a more comfortable position, but something resisted his movements. He gave a weak tug, heavy muscles struggling to summon any strength, and only then did he notice the sound of quiet sobbing nearby.
He gingerly rolled his head to the side, cracked an eyelid, and stared bewildered at what he saw. His twin sister, Cyneflaed, was laying beside him on the rush floor, and she was the source of the sobbing. Like him, she was tied at the wrists and ankles with rough rope, and like him, she was fully nude.
"Ah..." said a deep, smug voice from somewhere in the dim room, "the little lord finally awakes."
Cyneweald's eyes flew open at the sound of the voice, and the events of the past several hours flooded back to him.
"Aescgar," he growled in defiance, twisting his head as he sought the man, vainly trying to free his arms and legs from their bindings.
There was a metallic shuffling, and then a painful blow to his stomach drove the air from his lungs.
"That's Lord Aescgar!" the voice roared while Cyneweald doubled over and gasped for breath in the dust. He could see two thick, bristly, cloven feet in front of his face, and he craned his neck to look up at the massive boar who stood over him. He was clad in shining chainmail, and held a short thrusting sword pointed at Cyneweald's face.
Aescgar, the lord in exile. Aescgar, the Swine King. He had come to Auchterthwaite from his wretched land of Swinfos under the banner of peace, claiming that he was ready to swear fealty to Cyneweald's father, Cyneric, true king of the realm. Cyneweald's eyes burned as he remembered his father clutching the sword in his stomach, Aescgar standing triumphant over the dying king.
"I swore an oath to my father that I would make him lord in Auchterthwaite, as he swore to his father and he swore to his father before him. Three generations of broken oaths!" he shouted, and kicked Cyneweald again, in the chest this time. "Three generations wallowing in that miserable wasteland, while your weak bloodline held the kingdom. My father may have died without seeing this day, but I will not have my son make the same oath. You will call me lord," he snarled quietly.
Cyneweald tried to summon up his reserves of courage, but the sword shifted closer to his face, and he swallowed. "Yes, my Lord," he choked out, dropping his gaze in shame.
Aescgar grinned, eyes closed, lips peeling back from his tusks, as he relished the sound of that word. "Good," he said at last, voice suddenly polite again, and let the sword fall back to his side. "It is good to know your place."
Cyneweald swore an impotent oath then, to see Aescgar fed to the wild dogs alongside the traitor Ealstan.
Ealstan, head of the king's personal guard. Ealstan, the kind, strong man who had taught Cyneweald to hold a sword.
A pack of old women could have held Auchterthwaite through a siege for years. The only way the fort could ever have been taken was through treachery.
Ealstan.
Cyneweald's last memory before waking up in this place had been Ealstan's hungry sneer as dragged the screaming queen away from the king's bloody corpse, and then he had been struck on the head by Aescgar's men until blackness took him.
There was a piercing scream from somewhere outside, and Cyneweald could smell distant smoke. Auchterthwaite had fallen.
"You've awoken just in time," Aescgar said, ignoring the sound, and sat on a low bench nearby. Only then did Cyneweald realize they were in the fort's chapel, that he was lying on the floor just a few feet from the altar.
"You're going to desecrate my father's church with our blood?" Cyneweald spat, finding a small core of defiance in the face of what he assumed was certain death. "Sacrifice us to your pagan devils?" His sister whimpered loudly beside him and then resumed her quiet sobs.
Aescgar reached into his chainmail to scratch lazily at his armpit, pulled out a fattened tick, and flicked it at the altar. "I will not desecrate it with your deaths, no," he said evasively. He hesitated a moment, staring down at Cyneweald. "If your family hadn't betrayed mine, I would have gladly been your servant. My great grandfather won this land for you, but because he let the king's cousin get himself killed in a pointless duel, he was sent into exile. I'm sure you tell the story differently," he added, waving an arm dismissively.
Cyneweald glared at him, snarling as he thought of the vile tales his family told of the Swine Lords, and Aescgar sighed. The boar suddenly seemed very tired.
"I have no particular desire to be king, but not even the gods can escape fate. I must do what I must do. I will not kill you, though everyone tells me I should. Still, you and your sister are a threat. I have plans-" he started, but was interrupted by the chapel's heavy door swinging open with a great creak. Fading orange sunlight filled the room before the door was closed again.
"Dear God," a familiar, strangled voice said.
"Father Deorwine!" Aescgar said cheerfully, his strange mood evaporating immediately. He leapt to his feet and spread his arms. "I'm heartened to see you well. I have an important task for you, one which Head Priest Thorley was unfortunately... reluctant to perform."
Cyneweald turned his head, and watched as a burly, sneering bear in leather armor prodded the timid priest forward with the butt of a spear. Father Deorwine stepped over a crumpled body near the doorway of the chapel, the remains of the previous Head Priest. Deorwine's brown robe was bloody and torn, though aside from a swollen, bleeding muzzle where he had been struck in the mouth he looked unharmed. He was shepherded towards the new king, who laid a friendly arm around the wolf's shoulders, dwarfing him.
Father Deorwine looked at the two bound, naked heirs on the floor. His gaze lingered on Cyneflead's exposed breasts for longer than was decent, then he met Cyneweald's hard eyes and quickly glanced away. Aescgar watched with quiet amusement.
"Lord King," Deorwine addressed Aescgar plaintively, either plucking up his courage or wanting to make up for his momentary lapse in priestliness. "I beg you, be merciful to the children of your enemies. The Lord would surely bless your reign if you spared them."
Aescgar chuckled, and patted the priest's shoulder fondly. "I am glad to hear that," he said, "and you need not fear. I had already resolved to let them live. In fact, I intend to bring them into my household."
"God be praised! And the Lord King as well," Deorwine added hastily, "for he, like the Lord God, is wise in his mercy."
Cyneweald bared his teeth, but managed not to growl out loud. It made sense - if Aescgar could join their two families in marriage, it would help legitimize his conquest of the kingdom. And if Cyneric's two surviving heirs were both married already, they couldn't lend that legitimacy to any other family who might wish to rebel against the new king.
Aescgar gently led the priest towards the far side of the altar. "Now, Father, I'd consider it a personal favor if you'd officiate this ceremony. Everything must be legitimate in the eyes of the Lord. I can trust you with this task, yes? Unlike Father Thorley, I believe you will be equal to it," he said silkily.
Cyneweald watched Aescgar maneuver the priest to face outwards towards the chapel room as if he was addressing a congregation. Father Deorwine wasn't looking at the two naked captives, or at the body of his dead master - he was seeing a future where he not only survived this ordeal, but came out of it with a high position under the new king.
"Of course, my Lord King," he said effusively and fell to his knees, gripping one of Aescgar's armored gloves and holding it reverently to his lips. "I'm sure the Lord God would smile on anything your Lordship desires."
"Coward!" Cyneweald snarled at the priest. "Quisling! The dark lord's dogs will gnaw at your rotten corpse for an eternity! You'll join your new king in the refuse pit of hell, and I'll send you both there myself!"
Deorwine recoiled from the vehemence of the captured lordling, making a holy sign to ward off the power of the curse, but Aescgar just smiled benignly and lifted the priest to his feet. "No harm shall befall any true man of God under my reign, father, I assure you, and no man of mine need fear any curse. Ruadri!"
"Lord King?" the bear soldier answered in a gravely voice.
"See that the Lord Cyneweald can't bother anyone else with his vile curses."
"Yes, Lord," Ruadri said warmly, and Cyneweald tried to thrash away as the bear knelt beside him. Aescgar began discussing something with Deorwine, turning the priest around so he wouldn't have to witness the scene, and the bear cuffed Cyneweald sharply on the head, nearly knocking him unconscious again with the renewed pain in his skull.
"Listen, blichen," the bear said, gripping his muzzle in one massive paw while he was dazed, "either I tie your whimpering mouth closed, or I take your tongue." To make his point, the bear drew a wicked, chipped knife from his belt and held it in front of Cyneweald's nose. The captive lordling swallowed heavily, and stopped resisting.
The bear's thick accent and strange words answered one of the questions that had been flitting through Cyneweald's mind. Aescgar could never have raised enough men from his own scanty land to make this attack, so he had raised an army of men from the far northern countries instead.
Ruadri grinned. "Thought you'd see it my way, cnuimh." He released Cyneweald's face, but kept the knife drawn and used it to cut a long length of thin rope, which he wrapped tight around Cyneweald's muzzle and tied off.
Cyneweald glared at him, but the bear just chuckled, spat on his snout, and stood up.
"Should I tie up the bitch, too, Lord King?" Ruadri asked hopefully.
Aescgar turned from his discussion with Father Deorwine and looked down at the two captives indifferently. "Well, Lady Cyneflaed?" he asked. Her sobbing had nearly stopped, but she whined quietly as she was directly addressed for the first time. "Will you spit curses like your brother? Must we silence you as well?"
Cyneweald rolled his head in the dirt to look at his sister, and she stared back at him with wide, doleful eyes. She was shivering, and he tried to will her to be strong, but she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "No, my lord king," she said meekly. Cyneweald closed his eyes and stifled a groan.
Aescgar smiled benevolently, and looked at Deorwine, who cautiously returned the smile. Ruadri grunted, disappointed, and satisfied himself by leering at Cyneflaed's body instead. He gently pushed aside her tucked tail with the butt of his spear for a better view of her backside, and she flinched but otherwise didn't resist.
"Day is fading, Father," Aescgar said, "and there's still much to be done. Shall we begin?"
Deorwine hesitated for only a moment, looking down at his ruined robes, then nodded. "Yes, of course, Lord King."
Aescgar gestured at Ruadri, then pointed at Cyneweald. The bear sighed, looked one last time at Cyneflaed, then bent over and grabbed Cyneweald by the arms, dragging him roughly towards a bench. The lordling grunted in pain as his throbbing head was jolted around, and he started to pull himself up as if to sit on the bench, but Ruadri dropped one of his arms to leave him dangling and cuffed him on the head again, stunning him.
"Not like that, lord," Ruadri sneered the title sarcastically, then draped him so his stomach was on the bench and his arms and legs hung front and back. Cyneweald distantly felt his hands being tied to his knees under the bench, and he turned his head to see Aescgar doing the same to his sister on the other side of the room. She whined and cried anew but didn't put up a struggle.
Slowly his position dawned on his half-concussed mind, and he tried weakly to thrash free, but it was too late. Ruadri had already finished trying the new bindings in place, and he stood up, giving the naked, trapped lordling a half-hearted kick in the legs for the trouble.
Aescgar finished tying his own captive, and paused to smile grimly at his ongoing triumph. Father Deorwine, who had been watching dubiously but without interfering, finally spoke up. "Are you sure about this, Lord King?" he asked. "The Good Lord God will certainly see the wisdom in this, but your most humble servant finds it... irregular," he said placatingly.
"Good Father," Aescgar said curtly, "You are right that the Lord will see the wisdom in it." He paused as if that was all he would say, and Deorwine cringed, but then the boar smiled. "We're just being expedient, Father. We'll have the marriage and the consummation at the same time. Bring them in!" he bellowed, before the priest could gather his wits.
The door opened again, painting the room dark red with dying sunlight, and there was the clattering, clanking sound of several people in armor entering the chapel, some of them panting and grunting with exertion.
Deorwine was wide-eyed, and Cyneflaed suddenly wailed out loud in despair. Cyneweald tried to turn his head to see what had caused that reaction, but Ruadri still stood behind him, blocking his view.
"These... these are the...?" Deorwine stammered.
"Yes, father, these grooms are members of my household."
Cyneweald pulled at his bindings, grunting and growling into his tied muzzle as his worst fears were confirmed. He was going to be given to a man like a bride! Ruadri silently drew his sword and slapped his face with the flat of the blade - it wasn't hard, but it was enough to cause pain to flair through his battered head, and he stilled his thrashing as he stared at his own eye in the well-oiled blade's reflection.
"But they're... Lord King, it isn't allowed! God would-"
"God," Aescgar interrupted, "has spoken to me."
Deorwine's jaw snapped closed.
"God told me he would grant me a great victory today, that I might spread his kingdom to the furthest lands. He told me that he would place a loyal advisor at my side, a man who would guide his spiritual kingdom as I guide the earthly kingdom."
Deorwine was nearly panting now, and he half-knelt again, but paused just a moment. "But-"
"Do this thing, Father Deorwine - do this not for me, but for the Lord God who wills it so. Do this one thing tonight, and your first act as Head Priest of my kingdom will be to baptize me in the river tomorrow morning."
"Lord King!" Deorwine cried, falling to his knees and kissing Aescgar's feet.
Aescgar grinned, and turned that grin on the men who had gathered in the chapel who all stifled laughter, then straightened his face and pulled the priest to his feet once more.
"Will you do this one thing?" Aescgar asked gravely.
"For the glory of God, for the glory of my Lord King, I would do anything," Deorwine said ecstatically. He started to fall to his knees again, but Aescgar held him upright and pushed him to the altar. The new king raised a hand to his men, and there was another series of scuffling and grunting sounds.
"Look, lord and lady. Look well upon your new husbands."
Ruadri dropped his sword, and Cyneweald was at first dumbfounded, then horrified at what he saw behind the blade. Two massive boars stood in the aisle between the siblings, each with a large soldier holding a rough rope leash to keep them under control.
"My two finest war boars! Lady Cyneflaed, I give you to Wulfetere, and Lord Cyneweald, I give you to Wulfcwelm. You should be honored. I raised them from fearhen myself, and they will guard you as fiercely as they guard my house."
Cyneflaed started sobbing uncontrollably, and Cyneweald began to roar and tried to pull free of his bonds before Ruadri's blade once more slapped against his head.
"Let him fight, if he likes," Aescgar said. "It won't change anything." Ruadri shrugged and sheathed his sword.
"Do I have my Lord King's blessing to begin the ceremony?" Deorwine asked.
The king nodded graciously, and while the ragged priest began his introductory sermon, Aescgar gestured at one of his men. "Bring her," he said shortly, and watched Cyneweald struggle uselessly against his ropes with a satisfied smirk, not even pretending to listen to Deorwine.
As Deorwine was pontificating to the oblivious congregation about the benefits of a strong king, the chapel doors opened again. Cyneweald twisted his neck to look at the newcomer, and howled hoarsley through his teeth as he saw his mother. She was as naked as the twins, her fur was ragged, and her inner thighs were a slick, matted mess. She had a faraway expression on her face, until she noticed her children, and then she screamed and would have collapsed to the ground if Ealstan hadn't been beside her, holding her up by the arm. He yanked her to her feet, slapped her once to silence her, and pulled her into the chapel.
Deorwine's sermon had faltered at the ex-queen's appearance, but Aescgar loudly cleared his throat. "It's only right for a mother to hand her children over to their new husbands. Continue, Father. And, pray, don't let any further outbursts disturb you."
Deorwine swallowed at the tone of his new Lord's voice, then turned his eyes up to stare at the ceiling and picked up where he had left off, with the joys of subservience to a divinely appointed king.
Ealstan pulled Wilfreda towards Aescgar at the king's gesture, and Cyneweald watched as the boar leaned over and whispered something into Wilfreda's ear. She stiffened, and then screamed again, trying to pull away from Ealstan's iron grip.
"Do it!" Aescgar roared, grabbing her face in one cloven mitt, forcing her to look in his eyes as he spoke. "Do as your king commands," he said coldly, "if you wish your children to see the morning."
Wilfreda sobbed, and Aescgar let her pull her face away. She took several shaky breaths, then straightened. Deorwine continued droning, though he had flinched and stammered through a benediction on the new king's reign.
The old queen held out a paw, and one of Aescgar's leering soldiers pushed a small pot towards her. She took it, shuddered, and walked under her own power towards Cyneflaed. She bent down, placed a gentle paw on the girl's shoulder, and spoke something into her ear. Cyneflaed sobbed loudly, then choked back further cries and nodded her head. Wilfreda stroked her head once, then knelt behind her daughter, dipped a paw into the pot, and smeared something thick and wet between her legs. Cyneflaed gasped, then shuddered, hanging her head while her mother worked her paw at her crotch.
Cyneweald watched it all in shock. He had no idea what was happening - was this one of the women's mysteries, that strange magic men were rarely privy to? Suddenly, Cyneflaed began to pant, and then she moaned desperately. She strained her bonds, but it didn't seem like she was trying to free herself, only that she was overwhelmed by... something.
Once her daughter began to react, Wilfreda stood, and started walking towards her son, carefully walking behind the two boars that stood grunting in the aisle. They had suddenly become more animated, and their handlers held fast to their ropes to keep them under control. Cyneweald's eyes grew, and he again started to fight the bonds, trying to get free, trying to shift himself down the bench away from his mother, who was bringing strange magic towards him.
"My son..." She said in a voice ragged from screaming. He could smell the seed that tainted her and he ignored her, continuing his struggle. She stared at him for a while, trying to find words, but none came to her. "Live," she said at last, a quiet plea.
She knelt behind him, and he strained to pull away from her, but she lifted the base of his tail firmly with one paw, and then he felt her other spread the warm, slimy concoction around his exposed rump. He yelped, and strained as hard as he could, but there was no escape. His mother rubbed a pad around his ring, and he felt an odd tingling sensation start in his backside. Her paw left, and returned a moment later, with more of the strange ointment. She worked it downwards from his hole, and he felt her hesitate for just a moment, then slather a large portion directly onto his testicles. He tried to snarl, tried to bark, but he could only make strangled sounds that were humiliatingly close to a whine.
Then her pad was suddenly back at his tail hole, with another thick glob. He tossed his head, flailed his paws uselessly where they were tied together. "This will make it easier," he heard his mother whisper, and then she pushed in.
Cyneweald froze, and groaned low and long. Wilfreda massaged her paw pad inside her son's tailhole, making sure to spread the unguent along his passage, gently stretching him, then removed her digit and stood up. She looked at her children, tried to think of something, anything she could say or do. Then, she turned and walked back to Ealstan with all the dignity she could muster.
There was a heat building under Cyneweald's tail. At first he thought it was just the violation, but he could feel it spreading through his groin and everywhere his mother had touched. He moaned and shivered, terrified and confused. All he knew was that his mother had worked magic on him at his enemy's bidding, and soon he couldn't even focus on that thought. The heat was unbearable, and still it kept building. The pathetic whining noises increased, and he was helpless to stop them. He was horrified to realize he could feel his sheath swelling, but worse was the incomprehensible need building in his passage.
"And just as we serve the Lord God, just as we serve the Lord King, so should a wife serve her husband," Father Deorwine proclaimed, finally bringing his sermon on Aescgar's many merits back to more immediate concerns.
"I'd say that's as good a sign as any," Aescgar said, and nodded at the two soldiers holding the boars' leashes. They grinned at each other, and pulled their boars apart, towards the two bound siblings.
"It is the husband's duty to guide and protect his wife, and it is the wife's duty to... to submit her body and soul to..." Deorwine faltered, unprepared to preach to a copulating audience.
"Is something wrong Father?" Aescgar asked in warning, and Deorwine launched back into it, even louder.
"To submit her body and soul to her husband, that his every want and need be fulfilled."
Cyneweald was straining in his bonds again, but this time instead of straining to get out, he was straining in all directions. He felt as if he would go insane, and all that would be left of him would be the inescapable fire consuming his loins. He needed - he wasn't sure what, only that he needed.
There was a cold wetness at his backside as Wulfcwelm unceremoniously shoved his snout under his tail. Cyneweald yelped and tried to jump, but only succeeded in straining his joints, nearly pulling his shoulder out of its socket. Everything else in the room disappeared, all Cyneweald could focus on now was the cold nose and hot breath snuffling at his vulnerable rear, which only seemed to fan the unnatural heat building inside him.
His ears flattened, and he squeezed his eyes tight, feeling the burn of helpless tears. He was exhausted, he felt like a prisoner in his own rampant body, and he realized with humiliation that he couldn't even manage to lower his own tail to protect himself from the boar's attention. He dropped his panting head and whined pitifully, finally overwhelmed by hopelessness, and heard Ruadri chuckle nearby.
As if taking his resignation for an invitation, the massive boar jumped onto his back, crushing the breath out of his lungs and causing the wood bench to creak with their combined weight. The boar's front feet scrambled for purchase, then found the bench and stood up, removing most of the weight from Cyneweald's back and allowing him to breath again. As he gasped for air, he looked up and saw the beast's massive head hanging directly above him. Its deep grunts filled his ears, and its feral scent filled his nose.
Cyneweald felt the boar's twisted prick jab against his inner thigh, and he sobbed then, no longer able to deny what it was his body was yearning for. His legs quivered, his tailhole clenched in anticipation, and his shaft throbbed inside its sheathe. On the other side of the room his sister squealed sharply as her husband-to-be quickly found her dripping folds and sank in, but Wulfcwelm was struggling. The boar's hips barely shifted, but Cyneweald twitched and groaned as the boar stabbed at his thighs, his testicles, even once slipping along his sheath, and he moaned mindlessly as their cock tips briefly brushed together.
The room was filled with laughter and jeers and bestial grunting, and above it all Deorwine's interminable droning. Suddenly, Aescgar snapped a command that cut through it all.
Cyneweald was staring at the ground, and watched as two sets of feet walked around to his front. He weakly turned his head to look up and saw Ealstan sneering down at him next to his mother who turned her face away, then he grunted pitifully as Wulfcwelm jabbed into his testicles again.
Ealstan pushed Wilfreda to the ground, and she continued to avoid her son's eyes as she laid on her back and pulled herself under the bench. Cyneweald was utterly lost until he felt his mother take hold of Wulfcwelm's wild cock, then felt her other paw seek blindly for his twitching tailhole. He mewled in protest, and Wilfreda uttered a silent prayer for forgiveness as she guided the boar's prick to her son's waiting passage.
Cyneweald jerked once as he felt the cock tip brush his virgin hole, a last weak attempt to escape the inevitable, and for a single breathless moment Wulfcwelm's cock stopped thrusting. Then, with a grunt, the boar's cock twisted forward, driving mercilessly into the trapped lordling. Cyneweald moaned loud and low in shock and pain, and Wilfreda shut her eyes and turned away from the sight of her son being raped.
The burning in Cyneweald's loins flared at the penetration, and then smoldered through his body as the boar's cock pistoned into him. It wasn't large, but it was long and relentless and it was like a brand burning through him. He lowed like a cow through his tied muzzle, blind to Ealstan who was unbuckling his mail coat in front of him.
Wilfreda had tried to pull herself back out from the bench, to escape her son's torment, but as she started to move Ealstan had placed a foot on her stomach to keep her in place. The sight of the twins being raped by the huge beasts, and of Wilfreda aiding in her own son's rape, had reignited the wild lust he had been slaking on Wilfreda for hours. He knelt down now, and pushed himself between her legs.
"Watch, boy," Ealstan growled, and jerked Cyneweald's face down. He was grunting and whining in time with Wulfcwelm's thrusts, but his eyes focused just enough to see Ealstan's bright red cock line up with his mother's snatch and easily slide in.
Wilfreda shuddered and groaned as her sore cunt was used once more. She could feel her son's drool dripping onto her stomach as he was forced to watch her being taken, and Ealstan growled his pleasure.
"I'll give you a proper son," he said, "A strong son, who won't lift his tail for a beast."
Wilfreda whimpered, but Cyneweald was too far gone to understand anything that happened around him. His brain was overloaded by the fire in his hole, which was only being spread deeper and deeper by Wulcwelm's powerful cock. Cyneweald's own cock was now mostly free of its sheath, bouncing in time with the boar's thrusts, and he moaned like a cheap whore. Whatever magic had been in the strange potion had him fully in its thrall now.
In spite of herself Wilfreda stared upwards, mesmerized by the sight of the boar's long cock sliding effortlessly in and out of her son, and her son's cock waving freely in the air above her face. A small trail of pre-cum dribbled from the tip, swaying like a pendulum, and suddenly dropped, landing on the floor next to her ear.
"Do you, Cyneweald," Deorwine intoned loudly, "take Wulfcwelm, and you Cyneflaed, take Wulfetere, to be your husbands in holy matrimony, to live for and serve them in sickness and health, for all the days of your lives?"
Cyneflaed cried in ecstasy, and Cyneweald continued to moan and grunt, and neither could form a coherent thought, let alone respond.
"I think we can all see how they take them," Aescgar said simply, and the soldiers in the room guffawed.
Cyneweald shuddered and whined as something enormous began to well up inside of him, and his hole began to clench spasmodically around Wulfcwelm's cock.
"And do you, Wulfcwelm, and you Wulfetere, take-"
Deorwine was momentarily cut off as Wulfetere squealed loudly, and Cyneflaed shrieked. The boar was flooding his new bride's womb with hot, potent cum.
"Take!" Deorwine continued, shouting over the raucous orgasms, "These two as your wives, to protect and guide all the days of your life!"
"They do!" Aescgar said, speaking for his charges, and his soldiers roared their approval.
"By the power of the Lord God," Deorwine said, once Cyneflaed and Wulfetere had stifled themselves to quiet grunts and gasps again, "and by the grace of his Lord the High King Aescgar, I pro-"
Now it was Wulfcwelm's turn to squeal, and Cyneweald gave a muffled shriek just as his sister had as the boar's cock stopped thrusting and began spraying hot seed into his bowels. The whole room went silent to watch. Cyneweald's entire body quivered violently, and as the boar's orgasm continued and the pressure in his hole built, his shriek devolved into a high-pitched, quavering moan. Beneath him, his cock twitched one last time and then spurted onto his mother's face. The first blast sprayed a trail from between her eyes, up her snout and onto her lips, and broke the spell she seemed to be under. She shamefully turned her face, allowing the rest of her son's cum to spray across her cheek and muzzle, the smell and taste of it inescapable.
Cyneweald shivered and went limp. The burning sensation that had consumed him inside and out was finally extinguished.
Father Deorwine swallowed, and said in a much quieter voice, "I pronounce you husband and wife, and husband and wife."
Ealstan growled loudly, and Cyneweald watched as the man who betrayed the kingdom knotted himself fully inside his mother's ravished cunt, filling her once more with his seed.
"You may now... live in God's grace." Deorwine finished weakly.
Cyneweald moaned again as his new husband's cock slipped backwards slightly, and then began to fill him with the thick gel that would lock the boar's cum in place.
--
"Lord Cyneweald?"
Cyneweald snapped from his reflection, and turned to look across Wulfcwelm's wide back at Aescgar. The High King was sitting on his simple throne, having just finished speaking with the day's final petitioner. Cyneweald was sitting on a straw cushion on the wooden floor, close beside Wulfcwelm, who himself sat as guard at the right side of the king's throne. Cyneflaed and Wulfetere were similarly arranged on the throne's opposite side. Ealstan had been given a holding on the kingdom's eastern border and had taken the pregnant Wilfreda with him as wife, but the twins had remained at Auchterthwaite under Aescgar's stewardship.
"Yes, my Lord King?" Cyneweald asked.
A brief smile played across the king's jowls, and he gestured at Wulfcwelm. "I hope your husband is in good health today?"
Cyneweald regarded the huge boar beside him, marking how many of the rough bristles had gone to grey. "Yes, Lord King. He is still strong, and his joints don't seem to pain him today. We are both most grateful for the medicine you provided." He blushed slightly as he remembered how he was awoken that morning. The boar's joints were indeed much improved.
Wulfcwelm was much older than his sister's husband, nearly fifteen now. He had not thought that such a brutish looking creature could be so clever, could be so gentle, could be so kind and tender and playful, but there had been many surprises in those years. Wulfcwelm settled slowly onto his side, exposing his belly to his wife, and Cyneweald - with only a moment's hesitation - reached out a paw to gently scratch at his favorite place. The boar lifted his head to watch him for a moment, then dropped it again and chuffed in satisfaction.
"I am glad to hear it," Aescgar said, smiling fondly now. "He has served me well these many years, and you have served him well in turn. I am glad he has you. If there is anything I can offer the two of you, you have but to ask for it."
Cyneweald looked up at his king, then bowed his head graciously. Aescgar turned to speak with Cyneflaed and her husband, and Cyneweald fought the urge to rest his head on his husband's warm chest. A long dormant part of him screamed that he should feel indignant, but he couldn't deny that he had grown to love his husband. He knew he would be inconsolable when the boar's time came.
The king once asked if Cyneweald still hated him.
"No, Lord King," Cyneweald had said almost immediately, surprised at the truth of his answer.
He was still certain that there was magic involved, that a spell had been worked upon him the night of his wedding, but he no longer cared, nor could he deny that Aescgar had become a fine king. The realm had expanded, a wary peace was maintained with the neighboring countries, and trade was good. Taxes were high, but the kingdom's granaries opened every winter to keep the people fed, so no one complained too loudly. Publicly he had converted to the realm's new religion, although privately Cyneweald knew he still held pagan beliefs, and he never showed partiality towards either group. And while he was feared for his ruthless reputation, he granted clemency more often than not. In learning to rule through hardship in Swinfos, Aescgar had learned how to make the hard decisions that kept a kingdom strong.
Cyneweald at last lost the battle for propriety with himself, and curled against the security of his husband's great bulk. There was no one else in the hall to see but the king, his sister, and the few guards. He knew that soon he was likely to become another political pawn, handed off as a bride again to secure peace, but he inhaled Wulfcwelm's heady scent, listened to the great beast's powerful heart, and resolved to enjoy his contentment while he could.