Can't Get Enough of Her News: In this chapter, King Auz gives Queen Ambi the rogering of her life.
Can't Get Enough of Her
This chapter gives us a teasing taste of how the king and queen of Inisfree like to fool around. The queen, Ambrosia, happens to be a vampire. Vampires can take much more damage, as we all know, so, naturally, they enjoy much rougher sex.
Can't Get Enough of Her
Ambrosia LeMorte ('Ambi', as she liked to be called by her lovers) was like most girls; she enjoyed a good, strong, focused man who got excited by her body and words. She could be sweet when she felt safe, but she also loved to be wild and crazy, hot and rough. She once told her husband, King Auz, to toss her around like a ragdoll. "Fuck me like the beast you are!" she had hornily cried out her need and plea to him. This is how he did...
The King took breaks from his work every few hours to satisfy his endless appetite for Ambrosia, coming to her and then cumming in her, gripping and squeezing her in his hands and arms as he flexed all his cum out into her pussy or ass, groaning blissfully through his clenched teeth with each full spurt, and finally burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply of her scent until every last drop was worked deep inside her. Oh, how he loved and craved her. So many times he took her without warning, sometimes for quickies, sometimes for the entire afternoon, always with passion and roughness, then sweet, relaxing peace. Now that she shared his great bed, every night he fucked her to sleep, and every time he woke up, he slid his morning wood right into her, kissing her everywhere through his horny smile. Fuck by fuck, he explored and learned every inch of her mind and body, discovering her sweet spots and working them with total attention until she was a puddle of trembling orgasms, limp and needy and drunkenly smiling in his hands. There were times he took the entire day and night off, postponing the tour of their city so that he could fuck her all day long, and the whole night through, never once thinking of sleep. She gave him so much fuel and warmth, and he always wanted more. He desired her in a way no words can express.
The way he took control of her was enough to make any other woman cry out for mercy, cry out in fear; in a panic. The powerful urges Ambrosia's size and shape and moves and sounds and smells and softness all gave him were profound, and he got drunk on them, and he liked that. Even when she had her mood swings and violent, threatening outbursts at others, all it did was turn him on even more, for he saw so much of his Own volcanic rage in her, and he Had to dominate and fuck her every time she let it loose. She was vicious and feral and a thrilling mix -like him, and whenever they had time for each other, he made her his fuck toy and sex object, worshiping her pussy and ass and tits and throat and mouth and even her ankles and scalp; all of her. She was his drug, and that jacked up his life force as much as his cock. Even if he'd just forced a dozen shots of cum up inside of her, she could Always make him generate and eagerly squeeze out a few more. It was a good thing she was a vampire; with how often he couldn't help himself and strangled her while he jackhammered all her holes, she would have had severe bruising all around neck, possibly even a fractured pelvis. Her incredible ability to heal and regenerate had kept him from breaking her neck -and her wrists and fingers when he grabbed her hands to hold them far out and down. Such was how skyhigh his lust was for her. It took him hours, sometimes days, of nonstop, almost crazed, animalistic frenzy fucking before he had spent himself inside her enough to finally calm down, and that calm was just the calm in the eye of the storm; it never lasted long. Always he ended up grabbing her, throwing her down or up against a wall, pinning her there, and devouring and thrashing her pussy and all the rest of her again. If she entered the room he was in, or signaled to him, beckoning him with her mind, she knew for certain he would charge at and pounce on her, and fuck her like she'd never been fucked before. When he fucked her from behind, he would even grab her by her hair and repeatedly dunk her whole face and head down in bowls and tubs of cum and blood, loving how sleek and sexy it made her look to him -even on top of how sexy she already naturally was.
Anyone who tried to stop them or otherwise intervene got killed, all their furniture got broken by the rough sex alone (not to mention the occasional flying body of whichever Outlander fool might have started to try and intervene), and then they feasted by drinking the fallen ones dry, even bathing in bathtubs and jacuzzis full of those offending fools' blood. Only the Inisfreeans were strong enough to never be in danger, and wise enough to only participate when they were commanded to begin an orgy. It was good all the Inisfreeans helped him slaughter all who dared question how he fucked his woman, the queen, for it was largely their eternal loyalty to and love of him that kept the peace in a realm he would have, without those things, destroyed. If one could apply a viking berserk mode to raw sex, and even to lovemaking, it was this king, the man who loved her.
And when she seemed to be a little down or drained, he would push her buttons like she was one of the guys; Ambrosia got smacked in the face when he walked by her chair, and she got spanked -on her pussy, and had her hair yanked almost hatefully, and when she stood up to fight back, he choke slammed her or threw her off her throne and across the room, and when she was trying to change positions to fuck and view her king from a new angle he would make her physically fight him just to earn each new position, but only to make sure she attacked back and hatefucked him, for that was when their sex was white hot and scalding; the only thing and way suitable for and worthy of them both. She, his bride, could strike him in total blackened anger, but all he would ever think of and do is tackle and fuck her until her thighs shivered and she came enough to soak the whole kingdom, and he sucked on her throat and nipples to make sure she involuntarily and harshly grinded her pussy and asshole on him like a crazed woman every time, rolling his hips to extend his cock up to slam against her uterus as they kept cumming for each other. Their tender moments always came, and he melted each time she squeaked and cuddled with him and surprise hugged him from behind, falling asleep draped over his body with her hair under his nose and her tits on his chest and her throbbing pussy still leaking out a pint of his cum down onto her steaming glistening slippery thighs and his own, but there was always that duality when he was around her. Ambrosia Always got fucked. She was the perfect match, partner, spouse, and stimulator for the King.
One day he even lusted for her so hard that he rushed her and flipped a table out of the way in the process, sending dishware and candles and papers flying, and while those things were all still loudly crashing and rolling down on and around the floor, he slapped her cheek and mouth in one brutal, singular blow that would have left any other girl seeing stars, hearing ringing in her ears, and bleeding from the mouth. Before she knew what hit her, he was kicking a fallen goblet out of the way, tearing her dress in half, reaching into her torn open dress, grabbing her titties in both hands, and ramming his face into her groin to roll his lapping tongue all over her crotch, soaking her pussy and legs and lower belly all the same. He ate her out for an Hour like that, finally grabbing her hips and sliding her up the wall and off her feet, tossing her legs over his shoulders, and keeping her six feet off the ground and pinned to the wall near the ceiling by his head pressed right up between her helplessly parted legs, moaning his pleasure loudly as he ate her whole pussy and clit out even more. There was no end to this. His appetite for her fucking, and even for her cute and sweet moments, was that same appetite of Thor for battle and for food. It was no coincidence that her name, Ambrosia, meant food of the gods. She was, and she was His. Every time she was around him, she was his.
He had so much more energy because of what she did to him; how she made him feel. Even when they couldn't see each other for days or even weeks, he ran faster, worked out harder, lifted more, fought better, learned more easily, and did everything with a greater enthusiasm and skip in his step. He was high on life because of her, and he knew she would feel that even from afar. Even without their mental powers, their connection had become such a powerful one. While he was godlike on his own, and she, goddesslike, they Were a god and goddess now that they had gotten together. There wasn't an honest soul alive in all of Creation that didn't desire both them and what they now had.
His Secret Service agents --who, in the Inisfreean Way, doubled as his maids-- got used to changing not the bedsheets, but the entire bed whenever their king fucked his queen. They Knew he would destroy their furniture when he fucked her, but they smiled at this; it made them horny in hopes of the same wild usage. Some girls even began to think it would be completely worth it even if it got them killed, so long as they got to experience the passions of their king and queen, if only for a moment. These same girls who served as his all-female Secret Service now also served as Ambrosia's, of course, and they had made sure to let her know that whenever she wanted their King all to herself, it was they, these Secret Service girls, who would always stand guard outside, below, and above whichever room Ambrosia chose to spend her private time with her husband, the King. Ambrosia would seldom have to fight or even threaten anyone anymore; the Inisfreean Secret Service would take care of that For her --unless she just wanted to enjoy that pleasure of command and power, too. They were on her side.
And whenever he was busy directing the building and expansion of their new and innovative empire, the King left Roomfuls of freshly picked flowers for her, and bathtubs and swimming pools whose surfaces were covered in petals, and always poured at least one mouthful of fresh blood directly from His mouth down into hers for breakfast --while his cock pulsed inside her and his fingers worked whichever hole his cock Wasn't stuffing. The King aDored his queen. She had become his great love. She didn't have to tell him to take advantage of her, or to be rough with her like the beast she and he both were; he always did, and he always loved it. He always loved Her for it.
(And there was always plenty of that blood to go around, for Inisfree had its share of idiotic enemies trying to stop them from enjoying their freedoms and natural urges; those whining bastards were Always slain and finally made useful by the red gold that flowed within their veins.)
She had brought him the kind of girls she knew he enjoyed, thoughtfully and brilliantly encouraging that which he loved to do rather than trying to pressure him to change, and now it was His turn; as often as he had a rose or a goblet or some Other luxurious gift waiting for his queen, he also handpicked a freshly kidnapped and enslaved Outlander girl for Ambrosia to terrorize and use however she saw fit. As much as Ambrosia loved seeing her man, the King, get fired up at the sight and prospect of fucking a new girl in one of their occasional, fiery orgies, He loved seeing Ambrosia get fired up at the sight and prospect of feeding on the fear of one of their sexual sacrifices. He loved so many different things about that quality of hers, and he fed and stoked its growing fire to ensure it manifested itself Fully in her --for Both their entertainment and satisfaction.
Furthermore, whereas 99% of females he forbade from ever wearing clothing in his presence, he had seen Ambrosia prove that she knew how to wear a dress Well. She filled dresses in Perfectly. She made them look Good, and so it was that she, not just because she had become queen, but also because of how hands-down, by-far, goddamned sexy she was, became one of the only women in all of Inisfree and its surrounding territories to ever get to wear clothing whenever she pleased. There were plenty of times when she picked her clothing out so well that even by itself that sexy couture attire would have been enough to make her husband fuck the ever loving shit out of her right there where she stood, modeling it for him at the risk of her own pussy being fucked so hard it would be left sore for days. There were Also a number of times when he was so overcome with lust for her, and deep, instinctive appreciation for the sexy way she dressed herself for him, that he didn't even think to bite open or tear off her dress or lingerie at all; he just used them as crude handlebars, twisting them up to further bind and restrain her, using them for leverage as he savagely fucked and creamed in her every hole a dozen times before finding the willpower to finally release them and her, all of her garments then wrinkled up and soaked straight through by both his and her sweat and cum. He always left her as satisfied, sore, and supersaturated as that deliciously wet pussy of hers.
Spanking her so hard on one of her asscheeks that it lifted her a foot off the ground and briefly into the air, he would wolfishly grin at the amazing woman who had just aroused and pleased him, telling her in that sexy, manly rumble of his, "Now go be a good girl and put on a fresh little dress so I can lose my mind and fuck you hard aGain." That was how he said his goodbyes to her, always striding off before he changed his mind and fucked her straight down through the floor or a wall, not caring what he broke and destroyed, so long as he fucked Her. The goal always was, of course, to inject so much of his cum into her over the years they spent as lovers and married that, if collected, it would be enough to fill up one of their Swimming pools --or, he grinned, thinking to himself, maybe even Inisfree's three mile long lake. In time, he thought, smiling about his mental image of her. In time. He would Shower her in his cum if he could.
Another day, after she had moved her things into the royal bathroom and master bedroom of his private mansion high up on the city's biggest mountain, she would be handed by one of his Secret Service girls a wax-sealed envelope in which he had inscribed in perfect penmanship, and in calligraphy, no less, this personal message to her: "My beautiful bride to be, beat of my heart, heat of my loins, sexiest of all women, strength in my darkest quests, I know you crave lots and lots of steamy one-on-one time with me, and I crave so very much of that with you, too, but I also know you love seeing how fired up and bullish I become when you bring us other girls to fuck, and I have been wanting to see You get that fired up for other sex slaves, too. Pick out a handful of men and women you find arousing, have my Inisfreean girls help you invite -or capture- them, bring them to one of our many mansions or castles or sex dungeons here in Inisfree, and call out to me with your mind. I will meet you there, and all I want you to do is have them fuck you as hard as they can. I will sit there and watch, and we will see how long I can last before I have to knock them out of the way and have my way with you, too; and Fuck you, too. This will be a little game of ours, played once every blue moon... or whenever my queen's heart desires. I love you, my dark goddess, my dark doll."
Some of his own blood he had let drip down onto the bottom of the page, and he had then used it to drag with his fountaintip pen in order to sign "Love," and his name to her. And this was only the beginning.
Before she had time to think about that sexy lover's secret note he'd written to her, the nearby wall practically exPloded as he came barreling like a wrecking ball straight through it. Punching and kicking splintered timbers and cracked panels out of the way, he marched right over the crumbling, settling rubble and took her by both sides of her head and planted a kiss on her that would have made any woman pass out from pleasure overload. She was desired so much that no one would ever believe it if they hadn't experienced it first hand.
His hands then released her head and one slid its fingers in between thick groups of her hairs at the back of her neck, tightening down around them all to raise her chin up, tilting her head back, and at the same time his Other hand slid into the low collar of her dress and cupped her breast to squeeze it while he French kissed her a second time. He pressed his groin up against hers, letting her feel how thick and hard his shaft had become, chubbing and ready to spring up just for her, if only she could regain enough control of her mind and body to use her hands to set it free. Kicking her legs open by sliding her feet far apart, he smacked the back of her pelvis up against the edge of the table where she had been handed that special note to stir her pussy's fires, and with her trapped in that position, and a seven foot tall, four foot wide crater of a hole in the wall behind him still dropping the odd piece of its structure every now and then, he penetrated, fucked, and filled her standing up like that, never once letting her sit down, and only getting even More of a hard-on for her every time her legs shook and her knees gave out. There was a big puddle of cum on the marble floor between her wide stance from where it had both streamed down and been aggressively pumped right back out of her, and he made sure she stepped in it while he was busy picking her up by her neck and crotch to throw her literally over his head and ten feet across the room to land with a bounce on their newly replaced bed. That had only been his warm up; running through a wall and Everything. Now it was time to Really fuck his wife. With a devilish smirk forming a dimple on one side of his face, and his eyes fixed directly onto his target, Her, he menacingly approached their new bed... It would be broken within the hour.
Their Secret Service agents silently sealed the doors to their gigantic royal bedchamber, posting security at every possible access point --and doubling that security at the hole in the wall as it began to heal. Anyone who might try to disturb the King and Queen in their fantastic lovemaking would become their next meal. Such was the Way in Inisfree.
*This story isn't over... More to 'come'...