The Fall of the Ice Queen

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Helmeted guards stood at the side of each of the captives. They took them by the arms, hauling them forward, presenting them to their King. The prisoners stood dejectedly, barefoot, wearing nothing but their thin white shifts, paralyzed with fear, their eyes rigidly downcast, hands tied in front of them. Without a word, the King raised a jeweled hand and stabbed a long pointed finger directly at the Lady of Andur. Before she could react, the shift was roughly torn from Alea’s lush, twisting body, and she was dragged forward to be placed, naked, on her knees before her sovereign. Her blue eyes were wide with terror; she might have cried out, but she was too afraid to make a sound. Everyone knew it was forbidden at a royal audience to speak, unless one was first given permission by the King.

Now Rahn let his lecherous eyes play over the ravishing beauty who knelt at his feet, her blond head hung in abject submission. It was well known that our King had an eye for those pale, northern beauties, with their fair skin and that incredible silken blond hair. Some of his most favored slave girls had been acquired by the raiding parties, he regularly sent across the northern frontiers in the hunt for the prized, blond women, captives to feed the appetite of their insatiable Overlord. And hardy women they were, lean, and long of limb: handsome women with hard bodies, strong thighs, and splendidly muscled legs.

Apparently, when she retired for the night, it had been the Lady’s habit to twist her long hair into a single braided length, which she wore pinned up while she slept. It was a bit bedraggled, but more or less intact, still coiled and pinned in place. Rahn beckoned to a slave girl, and whispered a word in her ear. Obediently, she came up behind the kneeling woman, and deftly undid the coil of hair releasing the soft, blond mass to tumble down over bare shoulders, and fan out halfway down her back. As his captive had her head lowered, the freed hair fell forward to hang partially draping her face.

I watched Rahn’s lips curl in a grin of pleased satisfaction as he studied his newest prize: the smooth crown of her shiny blond head, the shimmering hair that glowed in the candlelight, the huddled shoulders, the flattened cones of her gently-mounded breasts with pink n*****s that were wide and slightly up-tilted, and below the silken thicket of pale blond fur that shaded the pubis tucked between those splendid thighs.

With a commanding gesture, he bade her to rise up. The big blonde, her hands till bound, struggled to her feet, rising to her full height to stand before her liege lord.

“Raise your head, woman. Look at me!”

Slowly, the proud widow of Andur lifted her chin, and stood with her shoulders thrown back, chin held high, her clear eyes on some distant horizon. Her smooth high brow seemed curiously untroubled, the blue eyes calm and steady, under their fine blond arches. One could only guess at her thoughts as she stood there under the scrutinizing gaze of her lecherous sovereign. Undoubtedly the Lady was fearful for her life and that of her children. Any sensible woman would be, especially one who was the wife of a declared enemy of the King. Yet Alea could hardly be called distraught over the death of her brutish boor of a husband.

If the facts be known, the beautiful young widow was undoubtedly glad to be rid of him. And although not exactly pleased to find herself being eyed up as an object of desire in the King’s acquisitive gaze, she may have saw more hope for herself here, than in the dreary isolation of that grim pile of dank stones at Andur. So it was hard to tell just what thoughts went through that pretty head as she stood there, for there was not a trace of emotion in those soft, blue eyes and that vacant stare; impossible to know what she thought, as she was made to turn around so as to present the man with her back, allowing him to appraise her handsome well-made bottom; the splendid ass that had once been claimed by Andur, and now was the victor’s for the taking!

And what were the feelings of this elegant Lady as she stood perfectly still? Did Alea feel the heat of the King’s longing gaze on her naked bottom? Could she even dream of the perverse humiliation she would be made to endure at the hands of that vengeful monarch? Could she even imagine what it meant to be called upon to submit, and to serve, in the most debauched and decadent court known to man?

Only after his greedy eyes had leisurely devoured that magnificent behind did he allow the young woman to turn and face him once more.

“Release her.”

The captive’s hands were freed. “You may approach,” he said imperiously, scanning that pale, expressionless face.

Moving as in a trance, the stately nude stepped forward, placing a bare foot on the thick fur rug that lined the steps to the throne. We watched in silence as she mounted the steps, moving with measured dignity -- one, two, three steps, till she brought herself to the place where our Monarch pointed -- a patch of fur rug just between his opened legs.

By now there was an unmistakable bulge in the King’s kilt. His blood was fired with lust, and he could no longer keep from enjoying, with his hungry hands, that which so far he had savored only with his eyes. He reached out for his latest acquisition. Large, masculine hands curved around naked feminine haunches, as he drew her hips towards him. Strong fingers curled around her hips, and dug into the rearcheeks as he grasped two full handfuls of his prisoner’s buttocks. He held her in his hands, tightening his grip, testing the underlying firmness of her twin mounds, squeezing …harder, till he had the long woman leaning back with closed eyes, swaying as she arched back.

“Look at me!” he hissed, suddenly infuriated by the blonde’s quiet composure, that maddening detachment that seemed to him to border on disdain. The big blonde stood straight and tall, her hands loosely at her sides. And as she looked down on her enthroned sovereign, she saw him brush back the short hem of his kilt and free his obviously ready p***s which surged on being exposed and now stood proudly erect before her.

I saw the Lady’s blue eyes widen as she stared fixedly at the phallic apparition, studying the King’s erect manhood, transfixed, suddenly taken aback to realize what was being demanded of her before the eyes of the court. The impatient monarch made his wishes perfectly clear.

“On your knees, woman!” he spat, pointing to the spot on the rug between his widespread thighs. We watched in perfect silence as, with quiet dignity, the Lady Alea lowered herself; kneeling till her eyes were even with her sovereign’s erect manhood that stood pulsating with lust only inches away from her lips.

We watched her closely as she reached for him, wrapping her fingers around that swollen shaft, holding him lightly in her curled fingers. Then she tilted his stiffened sword forward to bring the taut ring of her lips down over the throbbing crown, docilely accepting the hard prick of her Lord and Master into her receptive mouth.

I saw Rahn’s eyes flutter closed; his drawn lips curled up in pleasure as the elegant Lady went down on him. The golden silk spilled over his thighs when she buried her head in his lap. Her soft breasts shifted seductively, swaying heavily beneath her as she leaned forward. He reached down, placing his hands on her head, running his fingers through the mass of hair, holding her lightly, while she worked him over with mouth, and lips, and tongue.

I glanced over to where the daughter stood watching from the shadows, curious to see her reaction as her mother was forced to her knees, to show in abject obeisance -- paying tribute to the King’s mighty rod in front of the entire court! The girl stood perfectly still, looking on, a fascinated look on her crisp, pretty features. There was fear, it is true, but there was also a note of s****l curiosity in those wide blue eyes -- eyes that were so much like her mother’s, I thought.

I turned back just as the King, grunted and threw back his head at the sudden stab of pure delight that shot up from his loins. His head lolled back, and fell to one shoulder and his eyes opened-- to fix on me! He gave me a truly, wicked grin as I stood transfixed, watching my King being pleasured by the humbled consort of his beaten foe.

I heard a wavering groan escape his lips, and now, he too, let his gaze fall on the observing daughter, watching the lass through dark, half-lidded eyes. Perhaps, like me, he was curious to see her reaction to the sight of her mother paying such obsequious devotion to the royal staff. In any event, his study was cut short as the blond head was now bobbing more vigorously and bringing on a shock of pleasure that forced his eyes closed, so that he might more fully savor the exquisite thrills rippling up from his loins. Rahn threw back his head, tightened his grip on the throne, and strained backwards, raising his hips, arching his back and pumping himself even deeper into the ministering woman’s mouth.

He struggled to hold onto his control till the last possible moment and then, when the creamy wave of ecstasy overtook him, he reached down, grabbed the woman by the hair, and pulled her head back, to yank his erupting manhood from her mouth. Holding the head of his pulsating prick inches from her face, he splattered those fine aristocratic features with his royal sperm, decorating her forehead, trailing down her closed eyelids, along her nose, down one cheek, painting that lovely blond face with thick, ropy gobs of semen. The creamy residue soaked the edge of her hair, and oozed down over her lips and dribbled from her chin.

Satiated and weakened, the King slumped back and dismissed his aristocratic cocksucker with a contemptuous wave of his hand. I wondered about her fate. Would he keep her as a concubine in the House of Women? Would she be raised up to become his consort? Or would she be humbled even further, kept naked to serve the court as a common s*x slave? One never knew about the whims of our capricious King.

But for now she was dismissed; the guards came forth to pick her up by the arms, and drag her back into the shadows. They tied her hands again, but this time, her wrists were bound behind her: shoulders back, her superb breasts jutting out proudly, nicely taut, high and firm. They placed the captive on her knees, and she knelt upright, head hung low, naked shoulders heaving raggedly, the King of Thralkild’s spendings drying slowly on her pale face. Next, she was gagged; forced to wear the leather strap around her mouth, although I failed to see the reason for that refinement. Perhaps the King saw it as a precaution, lest the Lady forget herself, and cry out in anguish at what she was about to witness. For now her sovereign turned the royal eye from the consort, to the fruit of the loins, of his vanquished foe.

***

At his gesture the young woman was brought before him, and at his command, one of the servants of Andur’s house, a good-looking tousled-haired stable boy. I wondered what the King had in mind. At the King’s nod, the captors were swiftly stripped on their thin coverings. Naked, they were shoved forward, to be presented to the King for his pleasure. I judged the two young people to be in their late teens, perhaps eighteen or twenty-one; he was maybe a year or so older than her -- it was hard to know. The young man, was wide eyed with terror. He stood tense and expectant, holding himself rigidly erect as though frozen in fear to be within reach of his terrible Monarch in such an unprotected state.

Rahn eyed the lad’s wiry, young body, his eyes taking in the somnolent male s*x, a skinny, drooping soldier that hung shriveled with fear. Rahn nodded at the boy’s pitiful state, and dismissed him with a leering grin. The pleasing shape of the young woman’s body however, held our monarch’s lecherous interest for quite a bit longer. Even in his depleted state, having been so recently drained of his lust by the mother, the old Satyr felt a twinge of desire as he leisurely examined the appealing young lass.