The Warlord's Concubine by Keep J.E. & Keep M

Author:Keep, J.E. & Keep, M. [Keep, J.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-05-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Svella had once stated that it was considered an excessive waste—a sin even—for the God-King to spill his seed fruitlessly. So that meant he could not spare his virility for the pregnant of his harem. Since meeting with the demigod’s seer-mother, he’d kept her with him instead of in the tent, and she’d wondered if she could get him to violate that taboo in private.

On her knees before him and between his legs as he sat by the window, she lavished his manhood with her affections as he sat nude, seeming to fluctuate between deep contemplation and appreciation for her and her ministrations.

The tower he was in gave a view of the mountain pass, and it was not favoured by the old rulers. The room itself, though large and opulent, would’ve been reserved for guests only, but he preferred it. His mind always on the next challenge beyond.

For the past few days, she’d been a constant around the palace, and was growing to like it more and more, despite the worries that plagued her. She wanted to be of more help and use to the god, but she could barely make sense of the woman’s ranting. As her tongue ran up the base of his shaft, she played with him, enjoying his company immensely.

“Your Greatness?” she murmured softly, her kittenish tongue prodding him.

Through all his deep contemplations, she always managed to keep him so rock hard, that magnificent shaft never losing its rigidity. So when he looked down at her, its thick girth blocked out much of her face. “Mirella?” he responded in his husky tone, that organ throbbing, disgorging more of its slick precum from its dark, ebon-purple tip.

Her tongue swirled up to capture it. She took such pleasure in his body, it overrode everything else, “How do I become a witch of the coven?” Both of them had been lost in their own contemplations. As she worked him so skilfully, her green eyes peering at him from beneath the sizable shaft, her tongue poking out along the sides, she knew she needed more from him.

Taking a deep breath his broad chest swelled, those hard muscles, seemingly etched in stone, rising then falling as he peered back out the window. “Mother will see to it when I march off to meet the princes army,” he said plainly, the obsidian king enjoying his time with her, seeming more relaxed than she’d saw him to be in ages. “I don’t know more than that, I’m afraid.”

He hesitated, licking his lips, “The Ka’reem men despise the might of the witches. And women in general,” he explained. “They work mysterious magics that have effects beyond their understanding. But they more often refuse to use those powers. Regardless of the cost to the people. So,” he shrugged his broad shoulders, “the men fear them for what they might do, but loathe them for having such strength over them and refusing to use it.”

She was thoughtful for a long time as she worked that huge member, devoted to it.

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