FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

All His

Chapter 64

Corene hadn't expected that the king would come to her chambers that night. He hadn't come to her at night in so very long, that she was surprised when she awoke in her bed to find him peeling back her covers to look at her. She had expected Jonathan, as they were escaping that night, but she opened her eyes and her heart leapt to find the king sitting on the edge of her bed, peering at her with hungry eyes as he slowly unlaced her nightgown.

His mane was tousled and his clothes unkempt: he had been drinking. She swallowed hard as her swollen breasts pressed free, and then he was suckling them, slowly and carefully, rolling his tongue against the tiny jutting nipples and pulling gently with his lips. Corene trembled and curled her fingers in his red mane, and it came loose of its tail, tumbling down around his face as he licked her breasts.

"Does it hurt you?" he whispered anxiously.

"No, your majesty," she lied. Her breasts were a little sore that night, but his mouth felt so good on them, she didn't want him to stop.

He grabbed the front of her nightgown, and she screamed softly when he tore it open. Her breasts bounced heavily as her round belly was revealed. She lay naked in the tattered fragments of her nightgown as he stared at her soft body in the darkness, as the moon streamed through her windows and across the bed. She was nervous and afraid. She couldn't catch her breath, and her swollen breasts were riding with her soft gasps. There was a strange light in his eyes. She thought he looked sad. He looked at her and swallowed hard.

"I have never loved anyone in my life," he said to her. His voice was hoarse.

Corene blinked, not knowing what to say.

"Not Yvonne," he went on. "She and I were an arranged marriage. She was the best candidate for queen, despite the fact that she was twice my age. I married her when I was a mere boy of eighteen, and such things she taught me . . ." He cupped his paw on her breast and gently squeezed. "How to pleasure a female, how to make her wet, how to make her scream . . . and I made her scream. As I have made you scream. I always was an apt student." His eyes danced over her round belly and he rubbed it slowly. "We had Adrian . . . and my darling Alexandria . . ."

Corene frowned: he had forgotten his middle child. "And Hellene, your majesty."

The king's lips quivered with a strange smile. "Yes," he whispered. "And Hellene." His paw smoothed to her sex, and Corene's lips parted in a gasp when he slid his fingers inside. "Now here I am . . . about to have another child . . ." He frowned sadly. "Or am I? You are going to leave me tonight. Aren't you?" He looked at her, his face devoid of anger.

Corene's heart stopped. "Your . . . m-majesty . . ."

"There's no reason to lie," he continued in the same soft voice and dropped his eyes to her belly again. "I knew the moment that Kingsley boy came here, he would try to take you from me. As everything has been taken from me." He looked at Corene and his eyes were hollow.

Corene couldn't understand what was the matter. She glanced past him and saw Candy Cane standing beside her vanity, her eyes like candle flames, her bloody dress hanging tattered to her feet. The spirit slowly smiled. "Tra, la, la, la, the bitch is dead," it sang softly.

Corene slowly turned her eyes to the king, who was looking at her unhappily. Ah. So word had finally reached him: he knew Donica was dead. But if he knew the truth, that meant the fox imposture had failed. Corene could only imagine what was going on in Wychowl. Perhaps Hellene had sniffed the fox out and had seized the throne. But would Hellene be able to stand against such a powerful creature as that magical fox? Perhaps the fox had shape shifted again and had escaped. Or perhaps the fox had revealed her true self to the world at last, and maybe Hellene was dead now too. Candy Cane had often called the vixen the queen of the world, not just of Varimore. Maybe the fox had succeeded. Maybe she was leading a campaign to conquer the world at that very moment.

Corene decided to coax the truth from the king. He was in a fragile state. He was in shock, was grieving and defeated and had come to her for comfort. Who else was gong to comfort him? Queen Yvonne was cold, distant, and hadn't thought much of Donica nor of the Carringtons and their endless pursuit of the throne in Wychowl -- it was a widely known fact. And the king's brothers had long left Wandourg. Adrian and Alexandria would also be of no comfort to King Louis, as they would just weep for their aunt and further his own misery. He had come to Corene, to hold him, to kiss him. Now was the opportune moment to wind him around her finger.

Corene struggled to sit up and he gently helped her. She touched his cheek and whispered, "What is the matter, my king?"

"I know you don't love me," he said to her. "No one has ever loved me, and I deserve that. But . . . pretend tonight. Pretend to love me. . . . and then you can go." He swallowed hard.

She stared into his face, trying to decide if he meant it.

"Though I don't wish for you to," he said and dropped his face in her shoulder. She felt his arms slip around her, and they were trembling as he embraced her.

Corene hugged the king and stroked his mane, smiling sadly as she thought, That's right. I killed your horrid sister. And I'd kill her again. And again. She closed her eyes and could see Donica standing over her desk in her nightgown, daring her to do it, daring her to push the letter opener. And with one little push, Corene killed her. The great swordfighter and warrior queen died of something so simple. Died at the paw of someone she had perceived as weak and helpless. Never had Corene felt so powerful and in control of her own destiny as the moment when she pressed that letter opener . . . and watched the blood spill.

And now, holding the king in her arms, she felt the reins switching back to her paws. Since her arrival at Wandourg, it had been a constant power struggle. First she resisted his advances, and he spanked her and threatened her, until she succumbed. And she submitted to the pleasure and humiliation, in awe of him and his power over her. She took control again when it became known she was pregnant, only to lose their chess match when Alexandria walked on the board, when Jonathan's appearance raised his suspicions. And now? Now he was broken and disheveled, and she could ask for anything she wanted. And he would give it to her. Just like that.

The king shivered in Corene's arms, and she heard him sobbing softly. He sounded so helpless. So wretched. She stroked his mane and kissed his ear, thinking that she had caused him this pain. The king wept for a long time, and it suddenly hit her that she had killed the only one who had ever loved him in his life: his sister.

The king was alone now. Really alone. He slept in the same bed as his wife, but he was sleeping alone. He ate at the same table with his wretched, spoilt children, but he was eating alone. His brothers lived far away. His parents were dead. No wonder he had wanted the child so badly. Perhaps he thought he could make some connection, bond with it, and end his own isolation and suffering. She felt his paw rubbing her belly, and he cried harder.

"Your majesty," Corene whispered sadly, pretending she hadn't a clue. "Do tell me what's the matter. What can I do?"

The king pulled back and looked at her softly. His big paw smoothed down her mane, and she was surprised when he kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Be my sweet, sweet simpleton," he whispered against her lips and his paw stroked her mane again. "Hold me and kiss me . . . and be soft and beautiful in my arms." He stared at her lips, as if he wanted to kiss her again.

"But is everything alright, your majesty?" Corene insisted anxiously. "Is Hellene alright?"

The king laughed through his tears and smiled his quivering smile again. "Hellene is just fine."

Corene's lashes fanned down. "Oh," she whispered more dismally than she meant to. That meant the vixen was in trouble, that she had lost.

The king laughed again. "Don't sound so relieved," he said sarcastically.

"Your majesty, I-I --" Corene protested but he touched her trembling lip and shushed her.

"I know you despise my children," he said to her softly. "And I know they have given you reason to. Will you despise this child? If it's mine?" He smoothed his paw over her belly again and looked in her eyes, frowning sadly. "Promise me you will love it. A child should be loved."

"Yes," whispered Candy Cane from the shadows, "it should."

The king swallowed hard and looked at Corene sadly. "Promise me?"

Corene kissed him on the cheek, unable to stand his begging eyes. "I promise."

"Little broken thing," he whispered and touched her lip with his thumb. "You could have stayed here with me. I would have given you everything. But you love him, don't you?" He glowered. "That Kingsley boy."

Corene cast her eyes down. The king couldn't stand that he was losing to a Kingsley. Jonathan coming from a rival family no doubt made the loss of her ten times worse. She couldn't understand why he was letting her leave if that was the case. It seemed like he would have fought all the harder to keep her and Jonathan apart, perhaps pushing the marriage to Alexandria, who seemed more than eager to have Jonathan. But she looked in the king's defeated eyes and saw he had given up.

"Your majesty . . ." Corene dropped her eyes and took his paw . . . and smoothed it over her belly. They rubbed her round belly together as they sat on the bed, the moonlight streaming over them. "Shouldn't the king's child stay with the king?" she said -- not because she wanted to stay but to coax an explanation from him. She looked at him and waited.

The king shook his head. "I realized tonight . . . I do not want my children to wind up like . . ."

_Like Donica,_Corene thought, and the image of Donica gasping in a pool of her own blood flashed across her eyes. The king wanted his child safe but was sending it away with the very one who had murdered his sister. The irony left a bitter taste in Corene's mouth.

"I realized the dangers of the life I live," the king said. "It is something I have always known, only tonight . . . it became all the clearer. My children live in danger everyday . . . Hellene was almost assassinated alongside her own husband not long ago. And her child, little Philomena . . . I can't let the gods have this one as well." He stared at Corene's belly in silence a long moment, and he was silent for so very long, Corene was wondering what troubled thoughts were going through his mind when he suddenly spoke, "If I can save just one of my children from a life of intrigue and murder, then it is best to let you go." He looked at her. "Go far away. And don't ever let him know who his father is. Tell him he belongs to your lover," the king sneered. "In fact, make Jonathan believe my son is his."

His son, Corene thought impatiently. The king had been insisting since day one that he was having a son. Typical.

"The damn Kingsley boy as his caregiver wouldn't have been my first choice," the king said darkly and looked away. "But he has money, a title, a family who makes a point of staying far removed from court politics. I couldn't ask for better. You go back to Varimore and have my child there. And I will write Hellene . . . I will ask her to protect Howlester at all costs."

Corene sat still, trying to digest what she was hearing. Not only was he letting her go, but he was going to continue looking after her from afar as well? He was waiting for a reaction, a response. "Your majesty -- I'm afraid!" she blurted and her lushes fluttered as hot tears started to her eyes. She looked at him frantically, milking his misery for all it was worth as she pretended to sob and silently begged with her wide-eyed gaze. It was just the sort of reaction he would expect, just the sort of reaction that would make him believe he was fully in control. "I can't go back to Howlester!" She shook her head and her mass of white curls tumbled. "I c-can't --!"

"Hush," he whispered and frowned. He pulled his kerchief from his waistcoat, and she realized for the first time that he was still fully dressed in the middle of the night. His breath was also stale with liquor, and the smell hit her face as he leaned close to dab her eyes. "My pretty, helpless simpleton," he said. "My frightened little girl. There is nothing to be afraid of. You are afraid because you have suffered so long. But you have to trust me now."

Corene blinked and sniffled quietly, glad to see her charade had earned his gentle sympathy. The more she cried, the softer he became. But her trembles were real when he pushed the tatters of her torn gown from her arms. She cupped her swollen breasts and tried to cover them, her lashes fluttering as he trailed tender kisses up her neck and to her ear. He gently pried her paws away and squeezed her breasts.

"Your m-majesty," she protested softly, even as the pleasure tingled through her.

"Hush now," he whispered, unbuttoning his pants with one paw. He continued kissing her neck, and she trembled harder. His big paw cupped her cheek as he fumbled with his belt, and his hot kisses traveled down to her nipple. "Everything will be alright . . ." he whispered between gentle sucks. "I won't let Xandria touch you or the child . . . I refuse to let my children kill each other . . ."

Corene's heart skipped a beat. Is that what Alexandria was planning? She knew the princess wanted Jonathan, but she never imagined she would actually go after Corene to get him. Corene was under the king's protection. Would she really defy her father, who she doted on so readily?

The king's lips smacked on Corene's rigid nipple, and his paw cradled her head as he eased her down on the bed. Corene's lashed fluttered at the ceiling as his fingers caressed and explored, slipping in her sex until it was moist, massaging her little clit to swelling. His kisses traveled from her supple breasts, over her round belly, and down to her sex. She gasped softly as his mouth tasted her. He moaned and licked her slowly, hungrily. He had always loved to go down on her, and he was so very good at it, he never failed to make her heart thunder behind her breasts.

And as the king's tongue worked Corene toward a throbbing climax, she realized he was leaving his mark_on her. He knew Jonathan was coming. And he _wanted_Jonathan to smell him on her body, on her fur, on her breasts and her sex. He wanted Jonathan to know everything he had done to her and who she _really belonged to. She would never be free of the king and she would always be his. Even after she had long returned to Varimore.

Corene hugged the bedpost, her round belly bumping it gently as the king took her from behind. He cupped her breasts and massaged them as he rocked against her, and the bed creaked gently with his every grunt, with every slow punch of his thick erection. She took it breathlessly, frowning with pleasure as her breasts jiggled in his paws, and her soft, helpless cries of ecstasy were the first thing Jonathan heard when he walked in the door.

Corene wanted to die and blushed to her mane as Jonathan stood there, tensely watching the king lift her thigh and slowly hump her against the bedpost. Corene looked at Jonathan, filled with shame even as cries of deepest pleasure escaped her mouth. Her eyes hooded when the king took her by the hip and punched in to the base, and he squeezed her breast as he said to her, "Call me Daddy. Like you used to. Like you loved to."

Jonathan's nostrils flared but he didn't move as Corene blushed furiously and whispered, "D-Daddy . . ."

The king spanked her backside, and she squealed softly as a red blush crept over her jiggling buttocks. "Louder," he softly commanded.

Corene looked at Jonathan wretchedly, but her eyes rolled back when the king swelled thick inside, and her sex clenched on his sliding erection, greedy and hungry as she shouted breathlessly, "Oh, Daddy! Daddy, fuck me! Fuck me, Daddy!" The king punched harder and she scrambled to clutch the bedpost, whispering helplessly, "Oh, god, fuck me . . . oh, Daddy."

"Ah! Ah! Ahh!" Corene frowned and squeezed her eyes shut as her arousal hit its peak and she squirted hard. She sagged against the bedpost as the king continued rocking her, as her own juices dripped down her thighs -- a silent testament that she was enjoying every wet, nasty second of it. And Jonathan was standing there. Watching. She wanted to die. She wanted to die. She could feel his angry eyes burning a hole through her.

The king grunted and came inside her, and as his hot fluids rushed to fill her, she knew he was looking Jonathan in the eye. He let her fall on the bed and stood, buttoning up his pants as he smiled at Jonathan.

Jonathan was stiff with fury but said nothing as the king walked past him to the door. "Take her," he said on his way out. "She's all yours now."