Chapter 232 Fucking Both Royal Consorts And Enjoying Them

Alaric’s hands tangled in the hair of both women, pulling their heads back gently but firmly. He didn’t yank or twist, just held them captive as he angled their bodies against the edge of his massive oak desk. Margaret gasped softly, her back arching. Josephine whimpered, a sound thick with anticipation.

‘Look at them,’ Alaric thought, his eyes hooded. ‘Queen and Consort. Reduced to this. Reduced to needing this.’

He leaned closer, his massive form pressing in slightly. His thumbs found the delicate skin just above their stockings, tracing upward, seeking.

“Such good girls,” he purred, his voice low and rough. He slid a finger beneath the lace of Margaret’s intimate wear, finding her slickness instantly. She shifted against the desk, her breathing uneven.

“And you, my sweet Josephine,” he murmured, his other hand mirrored the action, finding an even deeper pool of readiness. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

Josephine pressed herself back into his finger, a soft groan escaping her lips. ‘Gods, no. I couldn’t.’

“Already soaking,” Alaric chuckled softly, a private, knowing sound. “You two truly are sluts, aren’t you? Just begging to be used.” It wasn’t an accusation, more a statement of delighted recognition. He didn’t see it as debasement, but as their true nature finally laid bare for him. And for themselves.

He removed his fingers, leaving them dripping, glistening in the soft lamplight of the study. The women watched him, eyes wide, chests heaving.

“Now,” he said, the word a command and a promise, “let’s see how well those little sluts can take what they’ve been craving.”

He didn’t give them time to think, to hesitate. He adjusted their positions slightly, leveraging their bodies against the sturdy desk. Margaret was positioned first, angled awkwardly but effectively.

Alaric, still fully dressed below the waist except for the straining front of his trousers, didn’t waste time. He reached down, freeing his massive erection. It sprang forth, thick and dark, already engorged and glistening with pre-come.

Margaret saw it, her breath catching in her throat. ‘It’s even bigger than I remember. How will I take it?’ But the fear was fleeting, quickly drowned by a rising tide of excitement. She wanted to take it. She needed to.

He took her by the hips, steadying her against the desk. Her naked buttocks pressed into the cool wood. He angled himself, his hard belly pressing against her soft, lower back. There was no prolonged foreplay here, just the raw need building between them.

He found her entrance with the tip of his cock, nudging gently. Margaret instinctively parted her legs wider, bracing herself.

“Tight,” he grunted, a hint of approval in his voice. “Still trying to play the Queen, even now?”

He pushed, a slow, deliberate invasion. Margaret cried out, a sharp, surprised sound. It wasn’t pain, not really, more the shock of displacement, of being filled so utterly.

‘He’s so… full,’ she thought, clenching around him. ‘Every inch.’

Alaric slid in deeper, burying himself to the hilt with a single powerful thrust. Margaret cried out again, her body seizing around him.

“There it is,” Alaric breathed, holding her hips firmly. “That’s the sound I like.”

He didn’t move immediately, letting them both adjust to the profound invasion. He could feel her body trembling against his, hear her quick, shallow breaths.

Josephine watched, her own arousal a hot, insistent ache between her legs. ‘Soon. It will be my turn soon.’ She shifted her weight, trying to get a better view, her eyes devouring the sight of the Queen impaled on Alaric’s magnificent cock.

Alaric began to move, slow, deep strokes initially. In and out, filling Margaret completely, pulling back almost entirely before plunging back in. Each movement sent ripples through her body, up her spine, pooling heat between her breasts.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Margaret?” he asked, his voice rough with exertion and pleasure. “Being used like this? Being taken?”

Margaret couldn’t speak, only nod, her hair still held lightly in his hand. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the desk.

The rhythm picked up. Faster, harder. Alaric’s breath came in ragged gasps. Margaret’s head fell back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Her moans grew louder, less inhibited.

‘He’s pounding me,’ she thought, her mind clouding with sensation. ‘He’s claiming me.’

He pulled her back slightly, freeing a bit of his length, then thrust forward with sudden, brutal force. Margaret shrieked, her body arching dramatically.

“Yes! That’s it!” Alaric roared, his voice animalistic. He hammered into her, his hips working furiously against hers. He grabbed a handful of her buttocks, squeezing hard, leaving red marks on her pale skin.

“So soft,” he grunted, slapping her cheek lightly with his free hand. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’re a Queen.”

He drove into her again and again, building towards his peak. Margaret’s legs began to tremble uncontrollably. Her inner muscles clenched and released around him, desperately trying to keep pace.

‘Almost there,’ Alaric thought, feeling the familiar pressure building. ‘She’s so wet. So tight.’

With a final series of brutal, deep thrusts, he let out a guttural roar and poured himself into her. Margaret cried out again, a long, drawn-out moan as she felt the hot surge of his seed filling her womb. Her body convulsed around his, her own climax hitting moments after his, sharp and intense, leaving her weak and panting.

Alaric withdrew slowly, his chest heaving. Margaret sagged against the desk, slick and exhausted. He didn’t release her hair or her hips immediately, keeping her captive for a moment longer.

He looked down at her, a possessive glint in his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice already recovering. He gave her bottom a firm smack. “That was just the warm-up.”

He released her, and she stumbled back slightly, her legs shaky. She leaned against the desk, trying to catch her breath, her body humming with the aftershocks of her climax.

Josephine stepped forward instantly, her eyes blazing with need. ‘My turn. Please.’

Alaric turned to her, his eyes sweeping over her lush, trembling form. “Eager, aren’t we, Josephine?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, Alaric,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. “So eager.”

He grabbed her hips, pulling her against him, letting her feel the still-hard weight of his cock pressing against her belly. She wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, pressing her soft, generous breasts against his chest.

He backed her up to the desk, positioning her much as he had Margaret. Josephine braced her hands on the wood, arching her back slightly, offering herself readily.

“Open wide,” he commanded softly, his voice rougher now, the slight edge of exhaustion from the first round adding to the gravelly tone.

Josephine spread her legs wider, her eyes never leaving his. Alaric positioned himself, letting his cock slide against her slick entrance.

‘So wet,’ he thought. ‘Even wetter than Margaret. Little slut.’

He pushed in, a single, powerful thrust that buried him completely inside her. Josephine gasped, a soft, choked sound, her body tightening around him like a vice.

“Oh, gods,” she moaned, burying her face in her arms on the desk. “You’re so big.”

“And you’re so ready,” Alaric countered, gripping her hips. He began to move, slower than with Margaret, exploring the depths of her. Her muscles gripped and released him with each stroke.

‘She feels different,’ he thought. ‘Tighter in some places, yielding in others. More… lush.’

He moved his hands, cupping her heavy, round buttocks, kneading the soft flesh. He lifted her slightly, adjusting the angle, finding new depths, new points of exquisite friction.

Josephine dug her fingers into the wood of the desk, her back arching further. His every thrust sent waves of pleasure through her. Her nipples were hard, aching points against her chest.

“Faster, Alaric,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Please… faster.”

He grinned, a predatory flash of teeth. “Begging already, Consort? I thought you were supposed to be the reserved one.”

He obliged, picking up the pace. Faster, harder, deeper. The rhythmic slapping of skin against skin echoed in the study. The scent of their arousal, thick and sweet, filled the air.

Josephine cried out, her hips grinding back against him. Her body began to convulse around his cock. ‘Oh, it’s too much… not enough!’

Alaric felt her impending climax and grinned. He held her still, plunging into her with rapid, powerful thrusts.

“Come for me, Josephine,” he growled in her ear. “Come hard.”

She shrieked, a high, pure sound of release, her entire body shaking violently around his. Her muscles clamped down on him, milking him.

Alaric, fueled by her intense reaction, felt his own climax surging. With a final, deep thrust, he roared and emptied himself into her. Josephine cried out again, clinging to the edge of the desk, her body still trembling.

He stayed buried inside her for a moment, letting the heat subside, feeling the last spasms of her climax and his own ebb away. He leaned his forehead against her back, catching his breath.

“That was… good,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

He pulled out slowly, the sound of the separation slick and loud in the sudden quiet. Josephine sagged, turning to face him, her face flushed, eyes glazed with pleasure.

Margaret watched, her own body aching with renewed desire as she saw Josephine’s state. ‘He drained her. Just like he drained me. And he’s still hard.’

Indeed, Alaric’s erection, though slightly less rigid, was still imposing. He looked between the two women, a triumphant, hungry look on his face.

“Right,” he said, clapping his hands together softly. “Round two.”

He reached out, taking Margaret’s hand. “On your knees, Queen.”

Margaret obeyed without hesitation. Her legs were still a little shaky, but she knelt before him, her head bowed slightly. He positioned her between his legs.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly.

She raised her head, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were still dilated from her climax, full of a mixture of exhaustion and simmering anticipation.

He took her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “You know what I want, don’t you?”

Margaret swallowed, her eyes dropping to his groin, where his cock jutted proudly from his trousers. ‘Yes. Oh, yes.’

She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly, and wrapped them around his shaft. It was hot, hard, and pulsed slightly under her touch. She squeezed gently.

Alaric groaned softly, leaning back in his chair. “Good girl,” he repeated. “Show me how well you serve your Lord.”

Margaret took a deep breath and lowered her head. She opened her mouth, her lips brushing against the head of his cock. The sensation sent a jolt through her. It had been a long time since she had done this for anyone, let alone a man like Alaric.

She took him into her mouth slowly, letting her lips slide down the smooth length. She used her tongue, circling the tip, licking the underside, tasting him. Alaric closed his eyes, leaning back, letting her.

‘She’s a Queen,’ he thought. ‘Giving me head like a common whore. It’s intoxicating.’

Margaret grew bolder, her movements more confident. She took more of him into her mouth, letting the back of her throat stretch and accommodate his size. She bobbed her head, working him, her hands still stroking his shaft, her fingers occasionally dipping beneath his balls.

Alaric shifted in his chair, groaning louder. “That’s it, Margaret. That’s the way.”

He reached out, grabbing a handful of her hair, guiding her movements, setting a faster pace. Margaret choked slightly, but kept going, eager to please him, eager to feel him pulse inside her mouth.

Beside them, Josephine watched, her desire mounting again. She reached down, her fingers finding her own damp curls, stroking herself gently, trying to mimic the rhythm of Margaret’s head.

Alaric climaxed in Margaret’s mouth with a deep, throaty roar. He held her head firmly, emptying himself completely into her. Margaret gagged slightly, but swallowed obediently, taking every drop.

He pulled her head back, his hand still tangled in her hair. He looked down at her, her face slick with sweat and his seed.

“Good Queen,” he praised, his voice rough. He released her hair, and she slumped back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

He turned his attention to Josephine, who was practically vibrating with need. “Your turn, Consort. But not on your knees. I want to see you work.”

He stood, letting his trousers fall to the floor, revealing his powerful legs and the slight slump of his now depleted balls. He was still magnificent, his body sculpted and powerful.

Josephine watched, her eyes wide. He was completely naked before her.

“Over the desk,” he commanded, gesturing with his chin.

Josephine moved instantly, bracing her hands on the desk, presenting her spectacular backside to him. Her round, high buttocks seemed to beg for attention.

Alaric grinned. ‘Perfect.’

He stepped behind her, his eyes lingering on the enticing curve of her back, the impossibly narrow dip of her waist, the lush flare of her hips. He reached out, slapping her left cheek with a loud smack.

Josephine cried out, her back arching. ‘He slapped me!’ But it wasn’t painful, not really. It was exhilarating. It felt like possession.

“Such a fine ass,” he grunted, slapping the other cheek. “Looks like it was made for taking punishment.”

He ran his hands down her sides, gripping her hips again. He spread her legs slightly wider, pushing them apart. His still-thick cock bobbed between them.

“Ready for more, my eager Consort?”

“Yes, Alaric,” she gasped, her voice muffled by her arms on the desk. “Ready.”

He pushed the head of his cock against her entrance, already slick and yielding. He slid in, deeper this time, her body already stretched from their earlier encounter.

Josephine cried out, not in pain, but in sheer, overwhelming pleasure. ‘Oh, it’s so good! So full!’

Alaric began to thrust, a powerful, steady rhythm. He held her hips firmly, lifting and driving her back onto his cock. Her breasts, heavy and full, swung freely beneath her.

“Look at you,” he rasped, burying his face in her hair. “Whimpering and begging for it. Just like a common slut.”

Josephine moaned, grinding back against him. ‘I am a slut for you, Alaric. Your slut.’

He leaned down, biting the sensitive skin of her shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a stinging mark. Josephine shivered, a wave of pleasure washing over her.

He continued to drive into her, his hands moving from her hips to cup her heavy breasts from behind, squeezing them gently. He pulled her back onto him, burying himself as deep as possible.

“Tight,” he grunted. “So beautifully tight.”

He picked up the pace, each thrust harder than the last. Josephine’s moans grew louder, more frantic. She could feel the intense pressure building inside her, the delicious ache pooling low in her belly.

‘I’m going to come again,’ she thought desperately. ‘Right here. For him.’

Alaric felt her tightening around him, heard the change in her breathing. He held her still, his hands now flat against her lower back, pinning her.

“Come on, Consort,” he urged, his voice rough. “Show me how good you are.”

He gave a final series of brutal, deep thrusts, pulling her back onto his cock with every ounce of his strength. Josephine shrieked, her body spasming around him, a violent, explosive climax leaving her gasping for air.

Alaric pulled out slowly, his chest heaving. Josephine slumped forward onto the desk, shaking.

He stood back, looking at her panting, naked form draped over his desk. He reached out and smacked her bottom again, harder this time.

“Get up,” he commanded. “Let’s see those tits.”

Josephine pushed herself up, turning slowly to face him. Her face was flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded. Her large breasts swayed with the movement, her nipples dark and engorged.

Alaric reached out, cupping one of her breasts in his hand. It was heavy, soft, and warm. He squeezed gently, feeling the weight of it.

“Magnificent,” he murmured. He leaned down, taking her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Josephine moaned, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

He moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention. He nipped at her nipples, flicked them with his tongue, sucked and licked until they were hard as pebbles.

Meanwhile, Margaret, having recovered slightly, watched them, her own body stirring again. The sight of Alaric dominating Josephine, claiming her body with such hunger, was a potent aphrodisiac.

Alaric pulled away from Josephine’s breasts, leaving them aching and sensitive. “Right,” he said, clapping his hands together again. “Let’s change things up.”

He pointed towards the large rug in the center of the study. “Down. Both of you.”

Margaret and Josephine obeyed, moving gracefully despite their exhaustion, kneeling naked on the thick rug.

Alaric strode over to them, his impressive cock still prominent. He knelt down between them.

“Intertwine,” he commanded simply. “I want to see how you pleasure each other for me.”

Margaret and Josephine exchanged a glance. This was new. They had shared beds at the palace, shared secrets, even shared baths, but never… this.

Hesitantly at first, then with growing curiosity and a shared sense of daring, they turned towards each other.

Margaret reached out, her hand resting on Josephine’s hip. Josephine, emboldened, reached out and cupped Margaret’s breast. Margaret gasped softly at the touch.

‘He wants us to please him by pleasing each other,’ Margaret thought. ‘It’s… exciting.’

They began to touch each other tentatively, then with more confidence. Fingers traced skin, hands explored curves. They leaned closer, their breaths mingling.

Alaric watched, leaning back on his hands, his cock resting on the rug between his knees. He didn’t interfere, just observed, his eyes sharp and assessing.

Margaret leaned down, her lips brushing against Josephine’s neck, then moving lower, finding the soft skin of her shoulder. Josephine shivered, a small moan escaping her lips.

Josephine, meanwhile, had become fascinated by Margaret’s breasts. She ran her hands over them, feeling their weight, their softness. She leaned down, taking one of Margaret’s nipples into her mouth, licking it, then sucking gently.

Margaret cried out softly, arching her back. The sensation of Josephine suckling her was surprisingly intense, different from Alaric’s rougher handling, but deeply arousing.

They explored each other’s bodies with growing confidence, encouraged by Alaric’s silent, watching presence. They kissed, their lips meeting tentatively, then with more passion. Their tongues danced, exploring each other’s mouths.

Margaret’s hand found Josephine’s thigh, sliding upwards, tracing the curve of her inner leg. Josephine moaned, pressing her legs together slightly.

Josephine, meanwhile, had moved lower, exploring Margaret’s belly, her navel, her flat, pale skin. She reached the soft curls at the base of Margaret’s abdomen, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin.

‘Oh, gods,’ Margaret thought, her body tensing. ‘She’s going there.’

Josephine hesitated for a moment, glancing at Alaric. He gave no sign, just watched. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her head further.

Margaret gasped, digging her fingers into the rug. Josephine’s tongue found her slickness, tasting her.

‘She’s… she’s licking me!’ Margaret’s mind reeled with the sheer audacity, the delicious degradation. But her body didn’t care for propriety. It surged with sensation.

Josephine explored Margaret with her mouth and tongue, learning the contours, the sensitive spots. Margaret moaned, her hips beginning to buck gently against the rug.

Seeing Margaret receiving pleasure, Josephine felt a rush of power, of accomplishment. She worked harder, determined to bring the Queen to climax with her mouth.

Margaret’s climax was a sudden, violent tremor that wracked her entire body. She cried out, her back arching dramatically, her hands fisting the rug. Josephine continued her ministrations, savoring the moment, feeling the raw power of bringing the Queen to such a state.

When Margaret finally sagged back, panting, Josephine raised her head, her lips wet and glistening. She looked at Alaric, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

‘See?’ the look said. ‘I can please her. For you.’

Alaric nodded slowly, a flicker of approval in his eyes. “Well done, Consort.”

Now it was Margaret’s turn. Her body still humming from her climax, she looked at Josephine, seeing the eagerness in her eyes.

Hesitantly, Margaret lowered her head. Her fingers traced the line of Josephine’s thigh, then moved inwards. Josephine parted her legs slightly, granting access.

Margaret took a deep breath and lowered her mouth. She found Josephine’s entrance, already wet and swollen from her earlier encounters with Alaric and from watching Margaret’s climax.

Margaret began to lick and tease, her tongue exploring Josephine’s sensitive flesh. Josephine moaned softly, her hands gripping the rug.

‘The Queen,’ Josephine thought, her breath catching. ‘The Queen is… doing this to me.’ The thrill was immense.

Margaret found a rhythm, using her tongue, her lips, her teeth gently, learning Josephine’s body. She discovered the hard nub of Josephine’s clitoris and focused her attention there, licking, sucking, nibbling gently.

Josephine gasped, her hips beginning to move involuntarily. ‘Oh, gods, Margaret… yes… there…’

Margaret worked the sensitive spot, feeling Josephine tense beneath her. She increased the pressure, using her tongue with more force, circling, flicking, sucking.

Josephine’s climax hit her like a wave. She cried out, her body writhing on the rug, her fingers digging into the fibers. Margaret held her head steady, continuing her work until Josephine sagged back, spent and trembling.

Margaret raised her head, her own breath coming in ragged gasps. She looked at Josephine, who was smiling, a dazed, blissful look on her face.

Alaric watched them, his eyes burning with a primal hunger. They were beautiful, naked and slick and exhausted, having pleasured each other for his amusement.

“Excellent,” he finally said, his voice thick with anticipation. He pushed himself off the rug, his erection once again fully engorged. The sight of their mutual pleasure had served as potent foreplay for him.

He stood over them, looking down at their entwined, panting bodies. “You’ve earned your reward. Properly this time.”

He reached down, taking Margaret’s arm, pulling her up. He then took Josephine’s, bringing her to her feet beside the Queen.

“Now,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl, “let’s move to the couch. I want you both.”

He led them towards a large, plush couch in the corner of the study. Margaret and Josephine followed, their legs still shaky, their bodies aching but humming with renewed readiness.

Alaric positioned them on the couch, one on each side of him. He settled back, pulling Margaret onto his lap first.

“Let’s start with you, Queen,” he said, his hands finding her hips, guiding her. He angled himself, positioning his cock between her legs.

Margaret gasped as he nudged her open. She spread her legs wider, wrapping them around his waist as he guided her down onto him.

He slid into her, slow and deep. Margaret moaned, burying her face in his neck. ‘He’s filling me again. So completely.’

He held her there for a moment, letting her feel the full length and thickness of him inside her.

“Feel that, Margaret?” he whispered in her ear. “That’s where you belong. Impaled on my cock.”

He began to move, a slow, grinding rhythm that made the couch creak slightly. Margaret moved with him, instinctively finding a pace that pleased them both. Her breasts bounced with the motion, occasionally brushing against his chest.

Meanwhile, Josephine sat beside them, watching, touching herself gently between her legs, mimicking Margaret’s movements.

Alaric reached out, his free hand finding Josephine’s breast, kneading the soft flesh, tweaking her nipple. Josephine gasped, arching her back.

“Don’t just sit there, Consort,” Alaric said, without missing a beat in his rhythm with Margaret. “Show me you’re ready. Show me you want it.”

Josephine didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, her lips finding Alaric’s shoulder, kissing and biting gently. Her other hand slid down, finding his thigh, stroking the hard muscle.

Alaric groaned, his thrusts into Margaret deepening. He pulled Margaret closer, holding her tightly as he pounded into her.

‘This is incredible,’ Margaret thought, her body heating up again. ‘Being filled by him while he touches her…’

He drove into Margaret harder and harder, his climax building rapidly. Margaret felt her own body responding, tightening around him.

With a final, powerful thrust, Alaric cried out, his body stiffening, pouring himself into Margaret for the second time. Margaret convulsed around him, her own climax hitting hard, leaving her breathless and trembling as she clung to him.

He held her for a moment, letting his cock slowly soften inside her. Then, with a grunt, he shifted, easing her off him. She slumped back onto the couch, panting.

He immediately turned to Josephine. She was already practically leaning into him, her eyes wide and needy.

“Your turn, Consort,” he said, his voice rough but full of anticipation. He pulled her onto his lap, just as he had Margaret.

Josephine wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands finding his broad shoulders. She was ready. More than ready.

Alaric angled her, guiding his cock towards her entrance. It slid in easily, her body already eager and welcoming.

“Ah, Josephine,” he sighed, leaning back. “You’re always so wet for me.”

He began to move, a long, slow stroke that filled her completely. Josephine moaned, burying her face in his chest, breathing in his scent.

‘Finally,’ she thought. ‘Finally, he’s inside me again.’

He thrust into her, picking up the pace gradually. Josephine rode his cock, her hips working against his, meeting his every thrust. Her large breasts pressed against his chest with every movement.

Alaric reached out, his hand finding Margaret’s breast, stroking it gently, letting her feel his attention even while he was buried inside Josephine.

Margaret watched them, a complicated mix of exhaustion, satisfaction from her own rounds, and a renewed stirring of desire. Seeing him possess Josephine so completely, feeling the lingering ache between her own legs, was intensely arousing.

Alaric moved faster now, his rhythm powerful and relentless. Josephine cried out, her body tensing around him. She was close.

He held her hips firmly, driving into her with deep, powerful thrusts. “Come on, Consort,” he urged. “Give me everything you have.”

Josephine shrieked, her body convulsing around his, her climax hitting hard and fast. She clung to him, shaking, her release intense and overwhelming.

Alaric felt her climax milking him, and his own peak surged forward. He roared, emptying himself deep inside her for the second time. Josephine cried out again, matching his release, her body still trembling violently.

He held her close, letting his cock soften inside her. He was breathing hard, sweat glistening on his skin.

He eased her off him, and she slumped back onto the couch, panting, her face flushed, her eyes half-closed.

Margaret, watching, felt a fierce wave of possessiveness. He had just emptied himself into both of them. They were marked by him.

Alaric looked between the two women, a smug, satisfied smile on his face. They were exhausted, slick, and thoroughly ravished.

“That was just the beginning,” he said, his voice a low growl. “We have all night.”

He didn’t let them rest for long. He pulled Margaret back onto his lap, settling her body against his.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his hand slapping her bottom lightly. “I want that beautiful ass.”

Margaret, still panting from her last climax, turned obediently. She straddled his lap, facing away from him. He reached around, cupping her breasts from the front, while guiding his still-ready cock towards her backdoor.

Margaret gasped. ‘The back way? I’ve never…’ But the thought was instantly overridden by the sheer excitement of it.

He nudged her entrance, pushing gently. Margaret tensed for a moment, then slowly relaxed, parting her cheeks slightly.

He pushed in, slowly at first, stretching her. Margaret bit her lip, a small moan escaping her throat. It was different, tighter, a strange, intense feeling.

“Just relax,” he murmured, his voice close to her ear. “Let me in.”

He pushed deeper, slowly, inexorably. Margaret cried out softly as he finally buried himself to the hilt.

“There,” he grunted, holding her hips. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being filled completely.”

He began to move, a slow, grinding motion that made Margaret’s eyes widen. It was intense, different from vaginal penetration, focusing on a different set of nerves, a deeper pressure.

‘Oh, gods,’ she thought, gripping his thighs. ‘This is… incredible.’

He picked up the pace, thrusting into her backside with powerful, steady strokes. Margaret bounced on his lap, riding his cock. Her breasts swung freely in front of her.

Alaric reached around, finding her nipples, tweaking them, licking them. Margaret moaned, her head falling back.

Meanwhile, Josephine had crawled closer, leaning against Alaric’s leg, watching. He reached down, stroking her hair.

“Join us, Consort,” he commanded softly. “Show the Queen how it’s done.”

Josephine, eager to please, lowered her head, her mouth finding Alaric’s thigh, kissing it, licking it. She then reached out, her hand finding Margaret’s thigh, stroking it.

Margaret, impaled on Alaric’s cock and being touched by Josephine, felt her body ignite again. The combination of sensations was overwhelming.

Alaric hammered into Margaret’s backside, his thrusts growing harder and faster. Margaret cried out, her body tensing.

“Come for me, Margaret,” he growled. “Come on my cock again.”

Margaret shrieked, her body convulsing, her climax hitting her in wave after wave as Alaric drove into her. She slumped forward, resting her head on his chest, trembling.

Alaric, feeling her intense release, climaxed almost immediately after, pouring himself deep inside her backside with a final, powerful thrust. He held her close, catching his breath.

He eased her off his lap, letting her collapse onto the couch beside him, slick and panting.

He immediately turned to Josephine, pulling her onto his lap.

“Your turn for the rear,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s see if you’re as tight as the Queen.”

Josephine trembled slightly, but nodded, her eyes bright with anticipation. She shifted on his lap, turning around to present her backside.

Alaric positioned himself, nudging her entrance. Josephine tensed, then relaxed, letting him in.

He pushed in, slow and deliberate, filling her. Josephine gasped, her body stretching around him.

“Tighter,” Alaric commented, a hint of pleasure in his voice. “Much tighter. Just how I like it.”

He began to move, a slow, deep penetration that made Josephine moan, her body writhing on his lap. He held her hips, controlling the pace, burying himself completely with each thrust.

He reached around, finding her magnificent breasts, cupping them, kneading them, lifting their weight.

“So heavy,” he grunted, admiring their size and shape. “Perfect.”

He leaned forward, biting her shoulder, then moving lower, biting the sensitive skin of her back. Josephine shivered, arching against him.

Margaret watched, her breathing evening out, her body starting to recover. Seeing Alaric buried deep inside Josephine’s backside, controlling her completely, sent shivers down her own spine.

Alaric picked up the pace, driving into Josephine with increasing speed and power. Josephine cried out, her hips bucking against his. She was close, so close.

“Come for me, Consort,” Alaric urged, his voice a low growl. “Show me how much you love it.”

Josephine shrieked, her body seizing, her climax hitting hard and fast. She convulsed around his cock, shaking uncontrollably.

Alaric, feeling her intense release, roared and emptied himself deep inside her backside. He held her close, his body stiffening, his own climax ripping through him.

He held her for a moment, his chest heaving. Then he eased her off his lap, letting her collapse onto the couch beside Margaret, both women slick and panting.

The study was filled with the scent of sex, the sounds of their ragged breathing, the soft creak of the couch.

Alaric slumped back against the cushions, looking at the two women. They were exhausted, ravished, but a palpable aura of satisfaction radiated from them. Their bodies were marked with red handprints on their buttocks, faint bite marks on their shoulders. Their hair was disheveled, their lips swollen, their nipples hard.

‘They took it,’ he thought, a wave of possessive triumph washing over him. ‘They took everything I gave them. And they came back for more.’

He wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. The night was still young.

“Alright,” he said, pushing himself up slightly. “That’s four rounds. A dozen more to go before sunrise.”

Margaret and Josephine looked at each other, a mixture of exhaustion and thrilled anticipation in their eyes. The thought of enduring a dozen more rounds should have been daunting, terrifying. Instead, it felt like a promise of even deeper oblivion, even more exquisite surrender.

Alaric wasn’t interested in their protests. He reached out, pulling Margaret back onto his lap, settling her body against his.

“Let’s try you face down this time, Queen,” he suggested, his voice a low purr. “I want to see that ass twitch for me.”

Margaret nodded, shifting on his lap, turning to lie face down across his thighs. He reached down, spreading her buttocks, admiring the view.

“Lovely,” he murmured, his hand slapping her cheek again. “Such a target.”

He positioned himself, guiding his cock towards her, entering her from behind as she lay prone across his lap. She gasped as he slid inside her.

He began to move, a slow, deep thrusting that made her body tremble against his. He held her hips, controlling the depth, burying himself completely with each stroke.

He leaned over her, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her back, licking, kissing, biting gently.

Meanwhile, Josephine lay beside them on the couch, watching, her own body aching with need. Alaric reached out, his hand finding her breast, kneading it gently, reminding her she was next.

Margaret bucked against him, her hips rising and falling with his rhythm. He drove into her harder, picking up the pace. Margaret cried out, her head turning to the side, burying her face in the couch cushion.

‘He’s using me like an animal,’ she thought, and the thought sent a thrill of pure, raw excitement through her.

Alaric felt her nearing climax. He gripped her hips tightly, pounding into her with relentless force.

“Come on, slut,” he growled. “Come for your Lord.”

Margaret shrieked, her body seizing around his cock, her climax wracking her. She convulsed against him, shaking violently.

Alaric roared, emptying himself deep inside her with a final, brutal thrust. He collapsed onto her back, catching his breath.

He pulled out slowly, and she slumped onto the couch, trembling.

He immediately turned to Josephine, pulling her across his lap, positioning her face down.

“Your turn, Consort,” he said, his voice still thick with satisfaction. “Let’s see if you can scream louder than the Queen.”

Josephine, panting, shifted on his lap, presenting her magnificent backside. Alaric positioned himself, entering her from behind as she lay across his thighs. She gasped as he slid inside her, feeling him fill her completely.

He began to move, a powerful, steady thrusting that made her body tremble. He held her hips, controlling the depth, burying himself completely with each stroke.

He leaned over her, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her back, licking, kissing, biting gently.

Margaret lay beside them, watching, her body still humming from her own climax. Seeing Alaric buried deep inside Josephine’s backside, controlling her completely, sent shivers down her own spine.

Alaric picked up the pace, driving into Josephine with increasing speed and power. Josephine cried out, her hips bucking against his. She was close, so close.

“Come on, slut,” he growled. “Come for your Lord.”

Josephine shrieked, her body seizing around his cock, her climax wracking her. She convulsed against him, shaking uncontrollably.

Alaric roared, emptying himself deep inside her with a final, brutal thrust. He collapsed onto her back, catching his breath.

He pulled out slowly, and she slumped onto the couch, trembling.

The night wore on. The hours blurred into a haze of sensation, of gasps and moans, of the rhythmic slap of skin. Alaric moved them from the couch to the rug, from the rug to the edge of the desk, finding new positions, new ways to use them. He stood them up against the wall, taking them standing. He had them kneel before him, taking them from behind. He laid them on their backs, one after the other, mounting them, driving into them, watching their faces as they cried out beneath him.

He took Margaret on her back, holding her legs high on his shoulders, exposing her completely, driving deep inside her, pounding into her until she screamed his name.

He took Josephine on her back, spreading her wide, burying his face between her breasts as he drove into her, feeling their heavy weight against his skin.

He made them kneel side by side, taking one, then the other, sometimes reaching over to touch the one not currently being used, reminding her she was still part of his game.

He demanded oral pleasure again, having them take turns worshipping his cock with their mouths until he was ready to bury himself inside one of them again.

He climaxed again and again, inside their pussies, inside their anuses, showering their bellies and breasts with his seed. They took it all, desperate to please him, desperate for the next wave of sensation, the next overwhelming release.

Margaret lost track of how many times she came. Her body felt like a raw, exposed nerve, trembling constantly. Each climax was more intense than the last, stripping away layers of inhibition, leaving her bare and craving more.

Josephine was the same. Her body ached, her muscles screamed, but her core pulsed with a constant, insistent need. Each time she came, she felt herself dissolving, losing herself in the sheer pleasure.

Alaric drove them relentless, never showing a hint of slowing down. His endurance seemed limitless. He seemed to feed on their exhaustion, on their surrender, on their sheer, overwhelming pleasure.

Dialogue was sparse now, mostly gasps and moans and rough commands from Alaric.

“Higher!”

“Spread wider!”

“Take it all!”

And their responses, breathless and eager:

“Yes, Alaric!”

“Oh, gods!”

“Please!”

The sun began to paint the sky with the first hint of dawn. The study was a mess of discarded clothes, slick bodies, and the heavy, sweet scent of spent passion.

Margaret lay on the rug, her body aching, her breathing shallow. Beside her, Josephine was in a similar state, eyes closed, lips swollen.

Alaric stood over them, naked, glistening with sweat, his erection still hard, though perhaps not as rigid as it had been hours ago. He looked down at them, a triumphant smile on his face.

‘Over a dozen rounds each,’ he thought, feeling the pleasant ache in his own body. ‘Twenty-plus climaxes apiece, easily.’

He knelt down between them, reaching out, stroking Margaret’s cheek with a thumb.

“Almost done, Queen,” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and satisfaction. “Just one more.”

Margaret’s eyes fluttered open. Despite her exhaustion, a flicker of readiness ignited within her. ‘One more? How?’

He turned to Josephine, stroking her cheek. “And you, Consort. One last ride.”

He wasn’t asking. He was telling.

He positioned himself between them, kneeling on the rug. He reached out, taking Margaret’s wrist, then Josephine’s, bringing their hands together, tangling their fingers.

“Hold each other,” he commanded softly. “Hold each other while I take you one last time. As one.”

He lowered himself slowly, positioning his cock first at Margaret’s entrance, then shifting slightly, finding Josephine’s. He planned to take them both, one after the other, but simultaneously if he could manage it, ending the night with a final, shared act of possession.

He pushed into Margaret first, burying himself deep with a groan. Margaret gasped, her body responding instinctively despite her exhaustion.

He began to move, a slow, deep thrusting, holding her gaze.

“Feel that, Margaret?” he whispered. “That’s your Lord. Inside you.”

He pulled out slightly, then shifted, nudging Josephine’s entrance. Josephine opened for him, her body aching but willing. He pushed in, sliding inside her as well, though not as deeply as with Margaret.

He held them both, his cock buried in Margaret, his shaft partially in Josephine, trying to find a rhythm that encompassed them both.

It was awkward, physically challenging, but intensely symbolic. He was using them both, simultaneously, a final assertion of his dominance.

He moved between them, a slow, powerful thrust into Margaret, then a shallower one into Josephine, back and forth, back and forth.

Margaret and Josephine held each other, their hands clasped tightly, their bodies slick and exhausted, accepting his final claim. Their eyes met, a shared look of pain, pleasure, and utter surrender.

Alaric groaned, his body tensing. He felt his final climax surging, powerful and overwhelming.

“Mine,” he roared, the word ripping from his throat, not a cliche assertion, but a primal, guttural declaration of victory, of possession earned through sheer domination. “You are mine!”

He convulsed between them, emptying himself deep into both Margaret and Josephine, a final, shared offering of his seed.

Margaret and Josephine cried out, their bodies seizing, a final, shared climax wracking them as they clung to each other, impaled by their Lord.

When it was over, Alaric collapsed between them, breathing heavily, his body spent but his mind alive with a fierce, satisfied triumph.

He lay there for a moment, feeling their exhausted bodies pressed against his, listening to their ragged breathing.

‘Mine,’ the thought echoed in his mind. Not theirs by right of station, but his by right of power, by right of claiming them utterly, body and soul, over and over, until nothing was left but their raw, aching need for him.

The first rays of dawn streamed through the study windows, illuminating the scene of their exhaustion and surrender. The night was over. The Lord had claimed his due. And the Royal Consorts… they had finally received their reward. All night long. And they had loved every brutal, exhilarating second of it.