The wedding night of Lord Rook, Beneovelnt Father-King, Master of Communications, Father of Knowledge and his Queen, his beloved and his greatest treasure, worth beyond measure. His prize finally won after an ages-long courtship period. Oh, she had acted, demure and distant, the game of hard to get, the hunt of predator to prey. How he loved it, and how longed for her. And how she turned the tables on him or at least attempted too.
And she had relented, and became…
His wife, his child, his queen.
He had taken her and crafted her into his perfect mate. His baby, his snookums. His precious.
And here, he had her in his arms. About to make love to her, no empty course animal fucking but the true coupling of a husband and a wife. The last divine shred left in him.
Where was she?
He had her, bridal style. Their royal and
She was clad in a transparent veneer of a dress. Silken drapery going down her womanly form. Large full handsome breasts. And a shaved mound. Wide childbearing hips and strong legs with lean muscle and a hard stomach.
Their martial bed was large, more then big enough for the both of them. Lucious black sheets atop a nest of feathers from all kinds of rare and powerful creatures…the phoenix to sirens and harpies to the bird of the moon and the Winged Kirin to the Amphiteres including the very rare and sacred Black Quetzal, to the torn off wings of angels and feathers granted from the various apects.
He gently laid her down onto the nest, stroking a few strands of her luminescent hair off her brow. Her large dark eyes looked into his lovingly, her pale hand caressed his dark face. He flapped his great wings as he climbed onto the bed with her, and he too laid down next to her, his side on the bed, his strong legs laying together as he held her on this most sacred of nights.
Veils hung from the ceiling, dark and black, opaque. See through. Thin sea-through shadows on a grey and stormy night. Long skeletal hands held the veils up, connected from a to a skull, long and grinning, with unseeing eye sockets. Its neck and ribs were mounted, the spine pointing down, a trophy of an powerful enemy killed from some long forgotten war.
Beyond the nest, which hung from chains in the ceiling. A mounted dragon, wings flared out, glassy eyes unseeing, long transcluent feathers, that twinkled in the wind. It sat back on its haunches, one forepaw held up, clutching a basket of blood fruits. Fruits grown from the Forest of Self-Immolation. A beautiful darkness. The fruit, rare and valuable, thought to bring fertility to the most barren of wombs. Guarded by the Mothers of the Unwanted, doling them out only to those they thought worthy.
And the stealing the children of those who had abused their gift.
His sharp talons picked up the fruit, only to be beaten by his young Queen,s tail, as it wrapped around a fruit and brought it before him. He smiled at her and took a bite as she now held the fruit in her pale hands, pale like the ghost fog that rolled in from the dead writhing ocean of souls. Stained red. His dark lips , his fangs dug into the skin, tore off the flesh of the fruit, tasting like blood and meat, and he can feel it beating as he ate it. Pulsating.
She laid the fruit between her legs, the juices soaking into her sacred slit, the scabbard for his sword. And then he gently grabbed the curve of her face, one talon tracing over full white lips, a claw running over her long feminine dark eyelashes, her face with a bluish blush over her cheeks.
The fruit still beat within his mouth, his great dark wings covered them both, shielding them from the world that was already barricaded from their inner sanctum by veils and great locked doors. His obsidian wings, black and sharp feathered enveloped hers, as she relaxed and into his embrace, one arm wrapping around the curve of her back and clutching her waist, drawing his precious queen close to him. The other hand of his stroked his lumisecent cloud white hair, his lips over hers in a passionate kiss, pushing the bitten up pieces into her mouth, red bloody juice dripping down their both lips.
And she swallowed it, and he can feel the blossoming in her womb. Her red tinged white lips brought a twitching to his sword, and he pressed her close, both his talons gently running down her spine, more like parallel to it. Leaving thin lines of cuts, little beads of blood emerging. His sword nestled against her mound, and she gave a little gasp as it pressed against her. He put his chin on her shoulder, brought her white neck to him and he started to bite into it, nipping, claiming her as his. And she would gasp and moan and delightfully try to push him off, only for him to assert his dominance by holding her close, her arms locked to her side by the strength of his embrace, her hands around his waist.
And with one final cry, he was done nipping, a trail of bite marks from her pointed ears, running down her neck to her the base of his neck. A stateusue beauty marred.
She nuzzled against him, licking his neck, her tongue picking up the juice that ran down his lips, a swipe of it, cleaning off his face. She pushed him down, he relented, her tongue, dividing his lips apart, diving into his moist mouth, tracing over his sharp fangs, scooping up the remnants of the fruit, her tongue divinding, splitting, tasting him. He tasted of fire and obsidian, endless determination and ambition crafting kingdoms and great metropolises.
She was finally done, her King rose, and she ran her fingers down his strong chest, beautifully chised with ages worth of experience. Fine sharp claws of hers, grazed his chest, leaving small cuts.
Her mark on him. Husband and wife, owning the other.
Her lips still dripped bloody juice, small rivulets down her face, the ritual was not done. The King pressed her down, his sword was now romrod straight, her lips sucking the head of his shaft, giving it a fine coating of juice. It gleamed, giving it a red juicy sheen.
The fruit rolled from between her legs, and he grabbed it, and it laid against his ball.s All that he can say that it was nice, her crimson sheened lips, nibbling the head, sometimes forking his shaft with her forked pronged tongue. Nestled between crimson flesh, the two halves of it, individualy moved and controlled by his queen. One half of it went up, the other went down. Waves of pleasure.
Or she would then run his penis along her halves of pronged tongue.Leaving it ready and nice. And she would slide her tongue along with the fork up and down. Leasing him. Swipes of her muscle at the base of his penis, then she would deepthroat him.
Nevergagging on his penis. The king grabbed her, rising on his knees, while she was on all fours, kneeling, her mouth still on his scepter. And then he started to push his shaft deeper into her, penetrating his orifice, and then he withdrew, not wanting this night to be defiled by an animal, beast like lust. He did not rut his new wife, he wanted to make love to her like a civilized regal person.
Her head bowed, his talons caressing hier chin, he raised it up, her blue-greenish eyes meeting his blackish brown ones. His thumb running over her check, both their gentials splotched red with the juice and the flesh of the heartfruit, the remains laid nestled on a blanket nearby, polluiting it was, it was now withered and black, all vitality sucked away by the newly wed royal couple. He tossed it over the edge, the rotting remains spinning as it fell into the gaping maw of oblivion.
His hands pressed his queen down and she laid on her back, in a niche created by the sheets and the feathers. He touched her right breast, envisioning it full of life-giving milk, nourishment for his future little ones.
And for him.
He cupped her breast, his legs spread overs her, his scepter laying over her mound. He bent his neck, his lips closing over her nipple. And he sucked it. Reminding his queen of her duty once their little ones came out of her. The sensation for her was strange but pleasureable. And she looked forward to it becoming more frequent.
His wings fanned out some more, touching the tips of hers. As his hand, rubbed over her stomach. Envisioning it becoming rounder and fuller with new life inside of it. And the bloodspill that would happen once the child or children came out. His beautiful wife and child.His talons retracted back into his hands, revealing strong fingers, and his hand swept down to her sacred slit. And entered, his fingers moved inside her, his thumb rubbing in a circular motion over her jewel, hidden beneath its hood. His thumb moved the hood past, and his fingers kept touching it , alternating between jewel and sacred slit.
She gasped and moaned, and his lips closed over hers. Quieting his beloved queen with a passionate kiss, their lips moving together in union. Finally, it was time. He withdrew his hand from the slit, and his sword entered her scabbard. They were now, husband and wife, their wedding night consummated.
He penetrated her, going deeper and deeper. Sometimes he would tease her with just the head of his shaft. It circling around the enetrance of her inner sanctum. And she would beg for it , wanting more. Only for it to rush inside with full speed. The curve of it, hitting her cervix, the pain making her cry with joy. She was tight, very tight. Her lessons on the sensual arts had served her well. But it made the lovemaking painful even as he went slow and gentle, but she enjoyed it. His balls rocking against her.
He gripped her hips, and she aimed them skyward so the shaft inside of her can hit deep inside of her.
She was beyond the pain now, into ecstasy, her fingers rubbing her jewel, giving her more pleasure. He smiled at her, his eyes full of love and lust as he ravished his beloved. She tightened the insides of her sacred slit, her muscles wrapping around her husband’s shaft.
She enjoyed the sensations and hope he did too. His body loomed over hers as her husband topped. She wanted to dominate him, she rolled over, taking her husband by surprise. She was now straddling him and rode him, her hips grinding and sliding against his, and cried out. Roaring with power, her wings rising, flaring out, becoming red with aggression and lust. The blades of her pure white feathers were now red tinged, the edges and fringes. The muscles of her sacred slit enveloped his shaft, squeezing it, she wanted every single drop of his life giving information.
Her husband flipped her back down, enjoying her bestial emotions, tasting delicious against the backdrop of his attempt at romantic lovemaking, he was on top, he is her husband and will ravish her he should be. He pinned her to the ground, a feral smile on his face. His royal jewels felt full, it was time. But
First he needed to tease his beloved. For rising against him and trying to usurp some of his power. His shaft slowly withdrew from her, ignoring her cries of putting it back in, her wings settling back into a more placid obedient pale white-blue. With delicate streaks of pink, symbolizing her lust. His own were dark, but colorful hues were there, dark and strong but subtle. Only seen when light hit his wings directly, colorful hues shimmering the in light. Such light was rare in his kingdom, hiding his emotions behind umbra and a stoic veneer.
His fingers unrevealed her jewel, large for a female, engorged due to her lust, shining with the juices from the heart fruit. It was a pale blue, made purple by the bloody juice. His tongue ran over it, his fingers fanned over her slit, stroking down the lips, he held the slit wide apart, darting his tongue in, exploring it with his fingers. He would rub his shaft over it, but never going in. he smiled to himself with satisfaction at her mewling cries.
Finally, when he had enough, his shaft dove into her. And he rocked her hips, grinding against her, fucking her. She was his, she wanted her, full and ripe, like a proper woman should be. And she wanted him to come inside of her, her insides were flaring with want and need, her wings blazing with a desperate pink, the color of submission and green streaks. She wanted a child and begged and begged.
He complied. His shaft was pulsating and his royal jewals unleashed the dam of life giving information. With each pulse, her tight pussy felt it, her wings streaked with black, the color of those who were congquered.
She was ravished.
She felt the liquid inside of her, and she gave a great scream as her pussy became tighter, contracting, orgasming from the sheer pleasure and ecstasy, and she the shaft head against her cervix, the liquid flowing into her womb, the red glow of her stomach, sticky with fluids as a confirmation that the fruit had worked.
She was now pregnant. After a gestation of many years, she would give birth. To how many, she did not know. Her husband embraced her and kissed her. she was exhausted and so was he. He grabbed her arms, he felt protective of her, a woman with child should not move too often, it would damage the little ones, and cuffed her to the nest by the ankle. Gleaming silver alloy, lined with soft feathers and fur, to avoid chainburn. And he placed a silver gleaming collar around her neck, it too with soft lining, marking her as his, as his wife.