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A King-sized Lollipop

Chapter 40

Sitting stiff in the tower, Evelyn could hear the distant roll of drums. She closed her eyes and felt a hot tear escape. Lenard and Eldon were being marched to the headsman's block. With every beat, their feet were drawing them nearer. She could imagine it: the scaffold, the twisted faces of the jeering crowd whose shouts reached her even in her distant tower.

Once Evelyn arrived at Wychowl, Lily was taken from her. They clung to each other and continued to reach desperately when the mastiffs pried them apart. Evelyn screamed in a sudden rage when a mastiff calmly stepped forward and sank a needle in Lily's neck. Lily slipped down in the arms of those who restrained her, and as she was carried away, Evelyn yelled herself hoarse. But no one would listen to her.

She was marched to the tower with assurances that it was for her own good, and as they led her inside, she only caught a glimpse of Lenard and Eldon, whose wrists were shackled, whose uniforms were singed and torn, whose manes fell in faces smeared with blood and battered from battle. She looked at them and tried to shout that she was sorry, she was sorry her actions had brought this upon them. They flattened their ears to hear her screams and would not look at her.

And as she listened to the distant roll of the drums now, she could feel her heart beating out the guilt, beating so hard it hurt. They were facing execution. And because of her.

Evelyn's face twisted and she threw herself on her narrow bed. It was one of the few pieces of furniture in the tiny room. Besides the bed, there was a corner table with a washbasin and pitcher, as well as a nightstand with a few candles and a low chair. She had been named princess consort and her child was heir apparent, but she might as well have been a prisoner. The walls were barren; the window tiny, barred, and high; and the only bit of clothing she had was a long white nightgown that draped softly over her protruding belly.

Beaucerons came the day they brought her. The slaves silently stripped her, bathed her, and gathered her clothing. They left her with the necklace Lily had given her, along with a fresh nightgown, and as they solemnly retreated, she looked at their muscular backs and missed friendly Decius.

A physician came soon after and examined her and the pup. He frowned between her legs as Charles and Dick stood in the corner, arms folded as they oversaw the examination.

Charles and Dick came to see Evelyn as soon as possible the day of her arrival. She fell upon Charles and wept desperately. Charles held her and shushed her, and Dick drew near and stroked her mane. Dick put his arms around her and both males hugged her tight. She looked at them and suddenly didn't know what she would do without them. The thought of remaining in the tower at Wychowl alone horrified her.

Dick eventually withdrew with the promise that he would check on Lily. Evelyn begged Charles to remain, but she didn't have to ask. Charles kept at her side for days, never leaving the tower, never swaying, even when the king himself summoned him to court. They sat on Evelyn's bed together, her head on his shoulder as they talked in hushed whispers about all that had happened. They shared the meals the Beaucerons brought, and Charles fussed over Evelyn like a mother hen, begging her to eat more, rest more, and mind herself each time she stood. Evelyn remembered a time when she would have scoffed at Charles for mollycoddling, but this was her first pregnancy, and she had to admit . . . she was terrified.

Now the sound of the drumbeats, the sound of distant death drawing ever nearer . . . it not only signaled the dismal end of Lenard and Eldon. It signaled her inevitable end. Somehow, some way, the queen would find a way to dispose of her - and she would have enough evidence against Evelyn that the king would look unreasonable if he didn't acknowledge it. In the eyes of the church, Evelyn's enthusiasm for fox culture was nothing short of heresy, and her manipulations concerning the king were damning. Charles was a fool for asking the king to bring her back, and she told him so over and over.

"I wasn't going to ask," Charles protested. He stood against the wall, watching sadly as Evelyn wept on the bed. "I was simply going to petition that the king pardon you, and then perhaps you could come home to Howlester. But Dick and I arrived . . ." He began to pace, wringing his kerchief as he turned sharply at each wall. ". . . and we discovered Princess Corene. You have to understand that her very existence is a threat to you. The queen would have found out, darling. Her and his majesty have always known where you were. She would have sent someone to kill you and the child, then perhaps blamed it on the foxes, and the king would not have hesitated to wipe the foxes out in your name. This was going to happen anyway. At least my way, you survived --"

"I don't fucking care!" Evelyn shouted and sat up, curly mane bouncing as she glared with wet eyes at her brother. "I was happy in Homyn Willow!" she said with an angry shake of her head. "I had Lily! I was damned happy! You selfish --"

"I know," Charles said miserably and came to her. He put his arm around her and she wept desperately into his loose mane.

"Ch-Charlie . . ." Evelyn sobbed.

"I know . . ." Charles whispered again and stroked her mane. "But Mother made me swear."

Evelyn looked up at him, mouth open. "Swear what?"

"She never wanted you to leave Howlester. And she never wanted you caught up in the king's court. I suppose I failed on both accounts . . ."

"No . . ." Evelyn dropped her face in his coat. "I ran away. That wasn't your doing. But you should have let me b-be . . ."

"I can't let you be. I love you."

Evelyn wept harder. The drums stopped, and their ears pricked forward in the sudden silence. Evelyn curled her fingers tight in the bunched fabric of her brother's coat. She waited, shoulders tense, for the blades to fall. They did. The sound was so swift and hard her ears flinched and flattened. She sobbed wretchedly. Charles held her tighter.

"Dick has convinced his majesty to let us take Lily home with us," Charles said soothingly.

Evelyn didn't answer, just cried harder into his chest.

"Behind the queen's back, of course," Charles went on dismally. "We think she's going to kill Lily just to spite you. Evie . . . I never meant for her to get caught up in this, I swear. The foxes weren't supposed to come to any harm. The queen . . ."

"I know," Evelyn said darkly and pulled back, sniffling with tears. Her lashes fluttered as Charles sadly dabbed her face with his kerchief. "At least Lily will be safe. Promise you'll take of her," she whispered, gripping his coat in desperate fingers. She shook his lapels. "Promise me!"

"I promise you," Charles vowed and kissed her head.

Evelyn looked gratefully into her brother's gentle eyes and blinked out tears. She sank against him, and as if misery had drained the life from him as well, he sank with her to the sheets. They lay on the narrow bed together, listening grimly to the cheers of the distant crowd. Lenard and Eldon had just been beheaded as heretics who had disobeyed their king for the sake of joining the foxes and their savagery. All of it was about as true as the king being purple. Evelyn's teeth set when she heard the queen's voice rising above the cheering:

"And let this to be a lesson to all fox lovers everywhere!"

"That munter," Charles muttered.

Evelyn nuzzled her face in his neck and squeezed her eyes shut, as if to squeeze out the world. His arms tightened around her, and like a trembling child, she clutched with helpless fingers at his coat and let the tears fall.

Charles kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep, darling."

Evelyn's ears flattened in her mussed mane, and she smiled as Charles began to sing.

"There must be something more to us than . . . you and me. It must be tangled up somehow in . . . destiny. I used to think the sum of one and one . . . was two. But we add up to more, me and you. When we are close together it's so . . . plain to see. Together we are better than we . . . used to be. I don't know how to say the things I'm thinking of --"

"But the something more I'm feeling . . . must be love," Evelyn finished. She kissed Charles on the cheek and they fell asleep.

Evelyn awoke again when she heard the rattle of the door opening. The door had a small barred window, and as Evelyn sat up, she could see the indifferent face of Primus on the other side. Other Beaucerons were with him. But why? She glanced at the window and realized with a jolt that night had fallen, and as she and Charles were sleeping, the Beaucerons had already brought supper. It sat on a tray on the nightstand, roast duck and wine, glossy in the candlelight. It was not a mealtime, so why had Primus come?

"Evie . . .?" Charles slowly sat up and stretched. Evelyn didn't understand it when he jerked suddenly to his feet. But she looked up as someone came through the door, and her heart stopped.

King Bastian stepped into the room, head towering against the ceiling. Evelyn hadn't seen the king since her arrival at Wychowl and thought the long months had saddened his gray eyes. His long golden mane was loose around his powerful shoulders, and over his chest lay the ruby jewel he always wore on a thick gold chain. He moved heavily and slowly as he came toward the bed, clad in a dark red coat and tight breeches. Evelyn stiffened when he sat on the bed beside her, his heavy weight pulling down the mattress. Behind him, Primus closed the door and turned his back. Evelyn could see the back of the Beauceron's head in the window and knew he was guarding the hall.

"Evelyn," the king whispered happily. He lifted the back of his paw to stroke her curls, and she flinched away, a tear escaping over her lip. He frowned, hurt by her cringing. "How are you?"

Evelyn scowled and brazenly slapped the gentle touch of his paw away. He let it fall to his lap. She wished he would stop staring at her. Staring like a pup who had been kicked.

"Your majesty," spoke up Charles, who hovered against the wall like a nervous boy, "she does not understand that you had no part in the queen's senseless slaughter of the foxes --"

"But he could have prevented it," Evelyn sneered. She glared at the king and slowly shook her head.

The king frowned. "My only thought was to bring you to safety," he said. He swallowed hard. "And now my only thought is to protect you. When Charles told me you were carrying my child . . ." His eyes went to her belly, large behind her nightgown.

Evelyn smoothed protective paws over her belly. "I don't want him to be king!"

King Bastian lifted his brows. "Him?"

Evelyn bit her lip, hating herself for the slip. Yes. Thanks to Oromo the Wise she knew it was a him. She swallowed miserably: Oromo the Wise had been burned on a pyre by now.

When Evelyn made no indication that she would respond, the king looked at Charles. "I sent for you days ago --"

"Is he your pet that he comes the moment you beckon?" Evelyn snapped, big breasts heaving behind the nightgown. They had swelled like melons with her pregnancy and the nipples were always jutting sharp. But they were tender too. She saw the king's eyes pass over her heaving breasts and longed to cover herself with a blanket. But she defiantly remained still.

"Yes, actually," the king said with a smile. "He is."

Evelyn's mouth dropped open when the king reached for Charles, and taking him by the paw, he knew him near. He put a big paw on Charles' shoulder, guiding him to kneel between his thighs. Charles humbly followed the silent instructions, his cheeks blushing faintly as Evelyn stared at him in disbelief.

"Charlie!" she whispered.

"Your brother will do anything for you," the king said, stroking Charles' white mane with a big paw. "Anything."

Evelyn swallowed hard, tears standing in her eyes. "What have you done to him!"

"No more than he wished," the king replied calmly.

Evelyn began to tremble as he reached for her nightgown. "Let me be!" she hissed and shrugged him off.

The king shook his head. "I can't let you be . . ." His paw came again, pinching the lace on the front of her gown. He gently pulled and it tumbled free, falling around her naked shoulders to reveal her heaving breasts and the pink nipples. Evelyn fumbled to cover herself, curly mane tumbling around her as her cheeks flamed. The king gently pinched one of her jutting nipples. She cried out.

"Your majesty . . ." Charles whispered to the floor. "She is quite tender . . ."

"Hush," the king said. With soft eyes, he pealed Evelyn's gown further down around her naked shoulders. She was shivering and crying as she hugged herself and softly protested. He brushed away her tear, and taking her by the paw, led her to kneel beside Charles. Both of them looked up at the king, enclosed by the hard wall of his thighs. He cupped Evelyn's cheek, his helpless eyes traveling between them. "I can't let either of you be. . . ."

Evelyn saw Charles close his eyes as the king pulled away his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his soft white chest and neck. He smoothed his big paw up Charles' bare chest to his face and smoothed his thumb under his eye. Charles shivered at his touch, and Evelyn blushed when her brother got hard in his trousers. He avoided Evelyn's eye and instead kept his eyes down as the king explored him.

"You are both . . . exquisite," Bastian whispered, gray eyes narrowed in fascination. "Indescribably. . . "

Evelyn swallowed hard when Bastian's thumb touched her lip. She watched, heart pounding, as he unbuttoned his trousers. His nostrils flared with anticipation as he looked at them, as the hard desire hidden away in the fabric pushed itself free. It stood large and strong in their faces, pulsing with veins and fleshy pink. He pulled the fabric down further, and his heavy sack sank out. The smell of hit Evelyn's face, musky and powerful as the male it belonged to. She remembered that day against the wall in the garden and felt her thighs tremble.

With soft eyes, the king cupped the back of Charles' head and drew him close. Charles obediently extended his tongue and licked carefully along the enormous shaft. His glasses slid down his snout and the king pushed them back up. His eyes went to Evelyn, and cupping the back of her head, he brought her close as well.

Heart pounding, Evelyn extended her tongue and serviced the king in long, hard licks, even as Charles licked the other side of the shaft with gentle, teasing strokes. Their licks alternated up and down, slow, long, until the king's face was tense and strained. As they pleasured him, he watched with narrowed eyes, tugging gently at their clothes, touching their manes. He pushed Charles' coat off and pulled his shirt down over his naked shoulder, watching as his white mane spilled around his ears. He pulled Evelyn's gown up over her tail, exposing her high backside to the chill air.

Bastian's hard organ flinched and strained against the wet, hot slapping of their tongues. Evelyn was startled when Charles moved his mouth to the head of the king's enormous penis and sucked it gently. "Mmm . . . . mmm." His eyes were closed and he seemed to be enjoying himself. She had to wonder just how many times he had gotten on his knees in service of the king. Her heart leapt when the king clapped a paw on her head, guiding her lower. She obediently licked and sucked his heavy sack. It was soft as silk against her tongue and lips, and she saw his eyes hood when she took it carefully in her mouth. The sack was so large it gagged her. But she kept licking and tasting. His chest heaved and he touched the back of his paw to her cheek.

Evelyn didn't know why, but she suddenly became as fervent as Charles, sucking at the king's heavy sack with abandon. She dragged her tongue along the hot shaft of his erection and thought with a pounding heart of his kisses in the garden, of the power of his muscular body as he lifted her easily against the wall and punched his way in. She remembered how her sex moistened and oozed for him, how the pleasure of it melted her in his arms. So enormous inside the wet walls of her sex. So powerful. Everything about him was potent, big, and strong, and it was suddenly intoxicating. She couldn't stop licking and sucking, nor did she want to. And when she looked over at Charles, she knew he felt the same: he was taken by the power and beauty of the king.

They would have sucked his penis all night.

Their moans, sucks, and licks filled the silence as their saliva glossed the king's enormous phallus into shining. He watched what was happening with tight lips, with soft eyes, cupping their faces, touching their manes. One of his big paws weighed Evelyn's breast. It was so swollen, the nipple was a tiny pink raisin jutting from it. He guided Evelyn to her feet, his hungry eyes fixed on her heaving breasts and their pink nipples.

Charles pulled his mouth from the king's penis in a line of glossy saliva. "Your m-majesty," he stammered anxiously.

The king's reply was to clap a paw on Charles head and slide his mouth over his erection, choking him to silence with its width. Charles closed his eyes again and began to suck the king in long, wet strokes. The king watched him a moment, swallowing weakly as that hot mouth brought him pleasure. He looked again at Evelyn, and taking her by the paw, he guided her to sit on his thigh. She obeyed, trembling a little when his strong arm closed around her. As Charles knelt between the king's thighs and sucked his penis hungrily, the king bowed his head over Evelyn's breasts . . . and gently suckled. Evelyn's head fell back. Bastian's arm tightened around her. He lifted her big breast carefully and his gentle lips tasted her nipple. He rolled his tongue against it, paused to moan with longing, and licked her again. She was still trembling and curled her fingers in his golden mane. Her lashes fluttered when he slipped his fingers in her sex and caressed her heaving clit with his thumb. With sudden hunger, he dragged his tongue from her nipple to her neck, then closed his mouth over hers and kissed her passionately.

Evelyn gulped on the king's tongue as he fingered her, blushing all over with the pleasure. He carefully laid her on the bed, then looked at Charles and guided him to his feet. Evelyn watched as her brother was pressed down on the bed beside her and felt her heart pounding when the king knelt over them both and started prying off their clothes. Her heart leapt when he grabbed Charles' pants and forcefully tugged them down. Charles' body jerked from the motion and his mane fell in his eyes. His white cheeks flushed furiously when his erection sprang free, standing cold against the air. The king's eyes narrowed on Charles' erection and he leaned down to suck it once, slowly and wetly, letting his lips glide over the head. Charles closed his eyes and frowned with pleasure, a small gasp escaping him. Bastian smiled. He turned Charles onto his stomach, and pulling his hips into the air, he pealed his buttocks apart and slid himself home . . . but his eyes were on Evelyn, who lay naked beside her brother, big breasts bare and curly mane spread around her. He fondled Charles as he slowly began to hump, and lying beside Evelyn with his cheek sinking in the pillow, Charles moaned. With his other paw, the king squeezed Evelyn's breasts and his gray eyes still burned with desire. He leaned down to suckle her carefully, his fingers pushing through her curly mane as he slowly rode Charles to helpless gasping.

Big as he was, the king's body practically consumed them both. He made love to Charles even as he fondled Evelyn, sinking his fingers carefully in her sex, sucking and caressing her big breasts, kissing her mouth. He kissed Charles in the neck and fondled him to squirting. When he finally came inside, he moaned in the duke's mane, stroking it and kissing it lazily in his breathlessness. He got up from the bed, buttoned his trousers, and left the siblings breathless and undone, manes mussed and faces blushing, in the wake of his passion.

The Beaucerons entered the room and quietly gathered the sheets. Standing against the wall as they helped each other redress, Evelyn and Charles watched as the slaves spread new sheets, as they collected the bedpan, as they went about tidying the room.

"How long?" Evelyn whispered.

"It's not like I _planned_it," Charles protested wearily. He laced up Evelyn's nightgown for her as she buttoned his shirt, and his glasses slipped down his snout. Evelyn pushed them back up.

"The queen invited me to their bed, and ever since . . ."

"How does Dick feel about it?"

Charles shrugged wretchedly as she helped him pull on his coat. "He pretends it doesn't bother him. But it does. I promise, Evie, as soon as that child's born, we will leave here. We will find a way."

"And go where?" Evelyn said dully. She eased down on the newly made bed and watched with a curl in her eyes as the Beaucerons left, quietly closing the door behind them. Charles sat beside her and put his arm around her, and she dropped her head on shoulder. "You heard the king," she said. "He'll never let us be."