Old 03-22-2014, 04:32 PM   #1
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It's Good To Be The King

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King Francis VII sat on the gilded throne in the sun washed salon, his legs crossed, his brown bearded chin resting on his hand as he consider the two men that stood before him. His eyes were darker by lack of sleep and the recovery from over indulgence of wine. Whilst he still remains a young King, God does not even let royality be in excess without some punishment. If it wasn’t his duty to sit for requests and grievances this hour, he would be back in his own bed continuing to sleep this haze off or grinding into one of the maids designated to keep his room well maintained. Still a King has his duties, and seated here in the Salon he blesses them with his presence. He had to make many wait until he was ready to see anyone this day, and the room seemed filled with nobility of different heraldry whether waiting their turn or not. As painful as it was, the King only could begin and hope the end would come soon.

For the duty of the day, he looked regal with a studded top coat lined with the purple color of his nature. His powdered wig was understated, but this hall should consider itself lucky he agreed to continue with such a sober state he was in. Donning just simple riding pants and house slippers, one could say the King did as little as he could to be ready for this hall.

Francis was already growing bored with the proceedings however, and itched to move on to some other duty in some other chamber. He pulled a parchment of order straight from the Chancellor’s hands and reviewed it quickly. “Lords Lesserby and Umberton,” the king proclaimed passively, “you both come to me with the same request of coin. I have no time to be bothered by both of you, so …” He dropped the parchment at the Chancellor’s feet and waved to the lords. “Only the one who is most agreeable will have my coins. For now, you only have have my attention, but even that too is fleeting.”

“I only ask for 10 crowns so that the manor kitchen maybe grown, and in return to repaying the loan, your Majesty will be the first guest of honor to the grand ball we will have fed from the new services,” spoke the refined Duke of Lesserby.

“And I,” the Duke of Umberton nearly interrupted, “ask for 10 crowns as well, but would be to fund an aqueduct, so my vassals can farm your lands with greater yield. Tis been a horridly dry spell the Good Lord has seen us to struggle through, and yet with some water we shall prevail.”

Lesserby guffawed, “you ask for money just to feed beggars.”

“And you to feed your own fat bellies,” Umberton returned slightly louder.

“Fat bellies,” Lesserby spouted, “we are dignified, we welcome royalty; whilst you slaughter a pig in the street to feed His Magistry.”

“At the hands of your dead servants, who have none the food to feed their wee children.” Umberton turned and stood tall to the looming Lesserby, a cane raised as if soon he will strike.

The two began to bicker back and forth, growing in volume and declining in decorum. The King just pressed his fingers into his temples, and rubbed them until the latest headache began to wane. Yet the feat was near impossible as these two fat old men continued to speak.

“Enough,” the King commanded. Once silence resumed he stood, “I shall take a moment to consider.”

He stepped from the throne, wandered through the crowd to the side door. Most in the room had turned to pay their own attention or to grumble quietly to themselves. One by the door did not. At first the King noticed her stunningly beautiful smile underneath a full white wig, but it took little for him to notice more. She wore a ball proper powder blue dress accented with eggshell soft white lacing. The shoulders of which raised high to her shoulder blades before plunging deeply to present heavy, yet magnificent breasts.

The king stopped in front of her, gave her a devilish grin, and slid his hand easily into the dress until his fingers surrounded her nipple. She gave a shocked breath and raised a fan up to her chest, not as much to stop the man but to hide what he had done. Not that anyone would think to speak ill of her, or suggest she should remove his hand or stop any other advances he may make. She noticeably enjoyed his toying with her nipple, yet even that wouldn’t hurt her favor in the court.

All this simply because, he was the King. In his court, he ruled absolutely, and all were to follow his wishes.

While mauling the lusciousness of the breast his gazed turned up to hers and found eyes more wicked than his.. With a nod of the head, he slipped his hand from her dress and lead her out of the room with him.

Shortly after in his study, the lady in the blue dress bent over the harpsichord and gripped the at the far edge. Her dress was pulled down to the waist as her heavy glands ground into the instrument. The lower portion of the dress was pooled up high above her hips. As customarily unspoken terms set out by the King to any lady in his castle, she stood there without undergarments of any type except for the stockings ending well short of the treasure between her legs. And it was that treasure the King was currently plundering.

The king continued to plunge his hungry member over and over into her soft depths. She was no maiden for sure, but the youthfulness of her sex suggested she had yet to bear a child either. It took little to ready her for his needs, but once she was sprawled across the harpsichord he cared only to drive his hardness deep into her repeatedly until her repetitive climaxes made her wetness drool down to the stockings below. Quickly he rode her to his own finish, and from what was left of a long night with many fair ladies he still poured heavy seed into her spasming womb. He slowed, laid against her back, and slowly moved his hands between the wooden instrument and her breasts.

She was unknown to him. A stranger who knew only to follow her king’s orders. Yes she was nobility, but laid out over this instrument he made her into nothing more than a common whore. He chose to prove that too her simply by rewarding himself by asking his favorite after-coitus question.

“Tell me, my lady,” he said between breaths. “What is your name?”

She purred softly under him, his softening member still insider her. She turned her head and replied, “Gwendelyn, the Lady of Lesserby.”

The court was one that rumors spread, even if it was well known that such distasteful rumors were the norm in King Francis’s reign. The King returned to the salon, his wig misplaced, his hand stuffing his shirt back into his pants, and the glow on his face that all who know his court recognizes what he had been up to moments before. Behind him is the disheveled Dutchess and knowing whispers grew of what had transpired. As if there was any question left in the their minds, the King slumping satisfyingly into the throne made a declaration that removed any doubt.

“Ten Crowns to the Dutchy of Lesserby, and I shall be there for the Grand Ball if for nothing more to receive a tribute for this loan. Next business than?”
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Old 03-25-2014, 04:25 PM   #2
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Marie:

Marie descended the steps, her eyes scanning the vast ornamental gardens for the sight of the woman who had become her benefactress. A simple girl of modest French nobility, Marie was ill at ease within the finery of the English court, yet, ever dutiful and loyal she had been given no choice but to make her way to England as hastily as possible as soon as she had received the letters requesting her assistance. England and France, though proclaimed allies currently and openly welcoming an interchange with the other’s cultures and society, still held a suspicion and lack of trust as far as politics and power were concerned, or so the Duchess had explained to her the previous evening. Just what the reasons were for her great-uncle’s incarceration Marie could not guess. Neither did she know exactly where he was being held, but she had heard nightmare accounts of ‘The Tower’ and knew that she had to do all she could to petition for her uncle’s release.

Marie had been fearful of being met with hostility given her nationality and her family ties, but as the Duchess had assured her, the court looked upon the ladies of France in quite a different light to that of their male counterparts. And it was this fact the Duchess told Marie which would lead to her presence being brought to the attention of the king and in turn give the young French girl the opportunity to beg clemency from King Francis who she was told was easily moved to compassion by a pretty face and a genuine plea for assistance. In pursuit of such a project, the Duchess had set about equipping Marie with the necessary finery, though whilst she insisted that Marie present herself in a fashion that perhaps surpassed her actual status as minor nobility, she counselled Marie to eschew the typically English formalities of the white wig and bejewelled embellishments which were commonplace amongst the ladies of the court.

” … simple, honest and without artifice …”

The Duchess declared was the approach that Marie was to take, much to the young girl’s relief for she was already finding it impossible to hide the fact she was far from comfortable amongst such lavish surroundings and, though it was the entire reasoning behind her visit, the prospect of meeting the King filled her with trepidation.
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Old 03-29-2014, 04:25 PM   #3
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Francis was dunking bread into a wooden bowl of stew and sloping it in his mouth. “What’s next”, he said thru half chewed food. Sure he knew how to present himself as refined and proper at the right occasion, but when he had nothing to do but be King, one would picture his eating habits on par with any holligan at any Inn in the country.

“Your Aunt, her Magistry of Bulgaria, has sent you candidates from her duchy suitable for marriage.” The chancellor proclaimed with every bit of dignity he could present.

“How Many?” the king asked as he rose up and dropped the bowl of stew to the floor leaving it for servents to clean up later. He moved a few paces, pulled down his pants, and began to urinate in a chamberpot with the aim of newborn. Liquid splattered about the floor and mixed with the leftover stew.

“Four, your majesty,” the Chancellor responded, looking away to give his sire some diginity even if his sire didn’t ask for it.

“Bahh,” the king replied, “more hags and wenches. Why’est not we have a good war to fight, rather than this drudgery of boring court members and their simple wishes and pleas and hopes I marry when I bloody well choose not to. Have them stay for dinner in-case I want to bed one of them, but they shall not spend the night.” He flicked his hand to suggest the Chancellor should act promptly, which left some of the fluid on his hand to fly about the room as well.

Close confidants through time would long note that all royalty act the way Francis does when away from the eyes of the court. Francis however …

In order to act, the Chancellor just turned to four women, in the finest that Eastern European taylors could produce, stood upon in varying degrees of anger, shock, and relief. A wave of his hand, and the girls turned to leave. The king’s display was truely that, there amongst the finery and elegance of the court. Finishing off his relief, he shook his member without caring if any or all of the court watched then returned to the throne stuffing it back in his pants.

“What else?”

“Ahh,” the Chancellor opened his scroll. “The Brothers of St Bartholomew are concerned for their goods will run out through the winter and have asked the king for a donation of grains from the harvest this season.”

Francis looked up with a smile. “Ahh, lest we have something worthy of a King’s time. Are they here?”

“No Sir,” the Chancellor responded.

“Well, send for a representative. Tell them they shall have the grain, but we wish to see it as business deal. Those bloody munks make the best Ale, so they shall have as much grain as they want but we must see some of that which they profit from. Speaking of which, that stew was too little. Let us get to buisness so we can move to dinner. What’s Next?”

“A plea for clemency from …”

“No clemency,” Francis interrupted, “next.”

“That is all, sire.”

“Good,” Francis said and stood from his throne.

“Sire, if I could,” spoke an advisor to his side, “it will not look well upon your kingdom if you do not at the least meet with she who asks for clemency. Once you have heard from her, than decide what you shall.”

Francis groaned a little and fell back to the throne in a huff, “alright, then where is this … she?”

The chancellor called forth for Marie to come forward, and immediately Francis sat up in his throne and raised an eyebrow as she came through the crowd. Sure he had spent a long night with some of the ladies of the court, and the smell of Lesserby still stuck to him, but this one started refiring the hot coals in his loins. “So be it, I shall meet with this one privately to discuss her plea.” He turned to the advisor and spat, “Does that suit how one will look upon me, Blackwood? Or do you need to be there as well to watch.”

The advisor just huffed, and crossed his arms.

“So it’s settled, it’s this woman, then dinner, then whatever Bulgaria has to offer a king. You are all dismissed.”
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Old 04-05-2014, 05:07 AM   #4
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The plan had been for Marie to find her feet at court and in doing so hope that the King would notice her and that her plea for clemency could occur ‘naturally’, but Marie was shocked to find that the Duchesse had arranged for an audience with the King that very morning.

” … but Madame .. I am not prepared, not dressed to … “

Her protestations were dismissed instantly and before she knew it Marie found herself in the antechamber outside the King’s private quarters awaiting an audience with the man himself. She was far from prepared and had no idea as to how she might persuade the monarch to grant a favour to a French girl of no importance, especially given that her uncle had been accused of a crime against the English. Marie closed her eyes and prayed that the King might decide he was too busy or not in a receiving mood that morning, but these intercessions came to naught as the Chancellor summoned her and she found herself moving forward prompting her to move slowly through the assembled courtiers towards the intimidating throne set in the middle of the room beyond.

Nervously Marie moved through the heavy double doors noting as she did so that the few assembled courtiers exited through that same doorway, closing the heavy wooden panels upon the two of them. For long moments Marie hesitated, immobile as she stood just beyond the threshold, her eyes shyly averted, before taking a steadying breath and summoning her courage to step forward and advance to stand before the royal throne. Wordlessly she swept into a deep courtesy, remaining almost on her knees before the English monarch.

”Your Majesty … “

Her voice was breathless, her head tipped upwards hesitantly meeting his gaze with her blue eyes, her fair cheeks tinged with a rosy hue at the intimidating sight of him as she awaited permission to rise.

”I had not expected that you would receive me so promptly … “

She offered by way of apology for her lack of coherence.

”I am Marie, Marie Deschamps, your Majesty.”

Her French accent was unmistakeable and so much stronger for her nervousness.

”My family, they are lovers of England.”

She assured him.

” … I beg your Majesty to believe the Deschamps offer nothing but friendship and would never be an enemy to England.”

Had he made the connection? She could not presume to read his reactions.

”If your Majesty would consider ... mon oncle … Charles Deschamps … “

She broke off uncertainly awaiting an indication that she might continue.
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Old 04-08-2014, 07:55 PM   #5
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Inside his chambers was stifling warm in the summer heat, and worse yet in the heavy cloths that were needed for court. Before they left he asked the windows to be opened but not a bit of wind flowed through yet. Not to bother, though, shortly enough he would be free of the drapery of royalty, but not till the french girl was there to attend to him.

When she entered, he gave her a stronger appreciation of her wares. In fact, he had to be appreciative of his own taste in women. She was a fine catch, she was, and curved in all the ways that made the king proud of his own decision. The french do seem to grow fine beauty, and she was clearly one that rose up to meet that level.

As she started to talk, he gave a wave to her addressing her bosom, and turned away towards the window. The wave he gave was known throughout the castle as his simple request to unfasten her top so he may gaze upon her breasts. Though being a young woman, he gave her the decency to expose herself whilst his back was turned. Be breathed in the air as best as he could, only barely picking up a word here or there. He removed the royal purple jacket and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor, and began to unbutton his shirt.

Quite indeed, he did catch a word or two there of what she spoke to. The ‘I beg your Magesty’ and ‘lovers’ and the ‘offer’s she no doubt was giving to him in her time of need. These clemency wishers were so boring in their requests that he could recite them with them.

As he turned back to her, she finished: ”Mon oncle … Charles Deschamps … “

“What is this?” he demanded. He waved his hand more forceful & animated in the air towards her bosom. “Did you not see?”

He stepped closer to her, and he his hand shook open palm nearly in front of her. “Do you not know this is a request for amnesty? Why are you not showing me your breasts?”
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Old 04-09-2014, 04:10 PM   #6
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“What is this?”

The King had turned back to her abruptly and somehow seemed displeased. Hesitantly Marie rose, incomprehension clear on her face.

"Your Majesty?"

She questioned softly as he waved, pointing towards the glimpse of clevage evident from the relatively simple dress she wore.

“Did you not see?”

She glanced around not knowing what it was that she should see, apart from the sudden realisation that they were completely alone ...

“Do you not know this is a request for amnesty? Why are you not showing me your breasts?”


Marie was too shocked to consider court correctness. Both of her hands flew to the top of her dress in an irrationally protective instinct. She looked into the face of the Monarch who had advanced so closely.

"I ... do not understand ... "

She uttered in confusion.

"I come to speak to you of my uncle ... I do not ... cannot ... "

She blushed hotly and yet she was filled with trepidation at the displeasure with which he was sure to respond...
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Old 04-09-2014, 06:14 PM   #7
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“Yes, yes,” Francis muttered, “your uncle, Deschamps is it.”

The King’s hand kept waving in front of her bosom, as if doing so would some how reveal them magically. His voice matched the frustration that seemed to be with his movements.

“You have come to ask me for clemency, what is there to understand. Surely the clemency is the same word one speaks in France as they do in England. You do not seem to ask for Charity by mistake do you?”

He threw his hands to the side, and kicked his boots off as his patience grew thin..

“Keep your breasts cover if you wish, you may just lift your dress and show what lies beneath. Otherwise I will not be firm enough to enter. I am kind enough to let you speak as we go about such business but business is what we must proceed to, My Lady … Mayde? Mauree? Marie? Is it?”

He was unbuttoning the last of the buttons on his shirt and pulling the tails from his pants.

“But you must be aware that you are not the last European woman I must bed today, so please halt yourself from anymore delays, and bare yourself to your King.”
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Old 04-10-2014, 03:13 AM   #8
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“Yes, yes, your uncle, Deschamps is it.”

Her eyes brightened, daring to hope that he had been listening, that he would still consider her plea.

“You have come to ask me for clemency, what is there to understand.
Surely the clemency is the same word one speaks in France as they do in England. You do not seem to ask for Charity by mistake do you?”


She watched as he kicked off his boots and involuntarily took a step back as she regarded him warily.

“Keep your breasts cover if you wish, you may just lift your dress and show what lies beneath. Otherwise I will not be firm enough to enter."

Her face flushed crimson. The King's intent finally clear.

"I am kind enough to let you speak as we go about such business but business is what we must proceed to, My Lady … Mayde? Mauree? Marie? Is it?”

She gasped as he began to undress. He was a King and was obviously used to doing as he pleased with the ladies of his court, a fact she felt shocking in itself. Loyal as she was to her uncle, Marie could not believe that he would wish her to surrender her virginity as payment for his freedom? She could not o give herself to a man, even if he were a King, who did not even remember her name!

“But you must be aware that you are not the last European woman I must bed today, so please halt yourself from anymore delays, and bare yourself to your King.”

She recoiled in horror at his words.

"Non..."

She replied, only belatedly adding, " ... your Majesty."

She feared his displeasure, feared that he might even force her.

"You are the English King ... what you expect ... in France such things ... they do not take place ... "

She could not imagine such practices took place within the French court.
Yet all she could do was throw herself upon his mercy.

"Please your Majesty. You say you have many women to bed.
You cannot care for a girl with ... no experience ... "


Her eyes pricked with shameful tears at the confession of her innocence.
Surely he could have little interest once he knew she had no experience with men?

She sunk to her knees before him.

"Mon Dieu, Your Majesty, do not demand a price I cannot give."

She begged desperately.
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Old 04-18-2014, 03:50 PM   #9
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King Francis was taken aback. Such insolence from this French Girl.

"You are the English King ... what you expect ... in France such things ... they do not take place ... "

His face started burning red, his anger growing. To hold the French People to a higher standard than England’s King? This child thinks to rebuke him, in his own castle? There was no reason for it, none that would be conceivable.

"Please your Majesty. You say you have many women to bed. You cannot care for a girl with ... no experience ... "

“Ahhh, a virgin,” he interrupted bluntly showing his full understanding of her innuendo. “That explains your reluctance, but not everything. Rare though from a French girl I suppose.”

Her voice became more shattered and pleading but was far from etching through the indignance of her behavior. When she dropped to her knees he raised an eyebrow and let a devilish look come across his face.

“Ahh, now that is more like what I come to expect from France.”

He stepped forward a couple of paces and stood directly in front of her face. He waved a hand in front of his pelvis and smiled to her.

“Few I allow such opportunity, but you may proceed with your mouth as you propose.”
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Old 04-21-2014, 12:13 PM   #10
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“Ahhh, a virgin,”

Marie flinched at those words. Her face flamed as he continued to discuss her 'virtue'.

“That explains your reluctance, but not everything. Rare though from a French girl I suppose.”

She feared he would demand the impossible, yet perhaps still more frightening might be the prospect that he may simply dismiss her and not entertain her pleas. It was the first occasion that she had even considered her virginity as anything less than an asset.

“Ahh, now that is more like what I come to expect from France.”

The approval in his voice drew her attention upwards.

"Your Majesty...?"

Marie questioned breathlessly her eyes meeting his in confusion as he actually smiled at her.

“Few I allow such opportunity, but you may proceed with your mouth as you propose.”

For long moments his words made no sense ... and then ... she gasped her eyes dropping to his crotch in horror as she hastily backed up and scrambled to her feet. If her cheeks were pink before, they were flaming now.

"You cannot think that I ..."

Her indignation and shock fortunately choked her preventing the full extent of her disgust to pour forth.

"I have never ... would never ... "

She shook her head mutely. She would only ever allow a husband to make such demands on her. Not even a King, any King would ever have any rights upon her virtue.

"Mon Dieu... c'est incroyable ... "

She exclaimed in agitation as she surveyed the King from what she hoped was a 'safe' distance, dreading yet wishing that he would dismiss her and praying that her Uncle would understand that sometimes a price was too high to pay ...
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