solstice_castle10

Archive-name: solstice_castle10

Subject: Solstice Castle 10/14

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

SOLSTICE CASTLE PART X
(In which our hero, teenaged orphan Jaze, seeking to find the mysterious green-cloaked stranger who clubbed the Prime Minister and stole some of the magical royal gemstones, finds himself a guest at the royal's debauch-filled stag party. Having enjoyed the combined favors of two nubile young cousins and peering at Princess Paleem while trying to avoid the mysterious assailant, Jaze, along with his flute instructor and lover, Madame Jeara, have with their wild musical duet brought the fest to a wild, orgiastic frenzy.) [..I turned my head back in the direction of Jeara to embrace her within my good fortune, and a familiar color caught my eye. Behind her, in the shadows, stood a man in a green cloak, a ruby ring glistening at the hand that rested at his side. Only one eye and the side of his face were visible, and only dimly at that. He was staring at me in recognition and anger. From his glare and the clenched set of his jaw, I knew that this stranger - the mysterious assailant of the prime minister - had figured out that I was the one who had come upon him in the midst of his attack.
At that moment, I would not have bet a rusty brass halfcoin on the value of my life... (End of Part 9)]

Notwithstanding the palpable chill that trickled down my spine, ill humor was difficult to maintain. Cheers still rang through the crowd, and Charel and Licia had rushed over to hug me at their excitement. In that they had been seeing to Madame Jeara's pleasure during our mad, passion-inducing duet, the two nymphs were not themselves the recipient of any lovemaking. They insisted that I join them for a further lustful threesome which, they assured me, would bring to me pleasure which I could only hope to imagine. Pulling my breeches back over my hips, I promised them that I soon would join them but was for the moment somewhat disabled by my second spending of the night. With a simultaneous glaring at the lovely Jenfeer, who still wore my seed on her lips, the two cousins flounced off.
I glanced up at the palace balcony on which Princess Paleem had enjoyed what I sensed was her first orgasm at the hand of another. I just glimpsed the back of the three young women's heads as they left the balcony. After a moment, Queen Serjeen herself appeared and glanced down at the grounds. Her eyes grew wide at the site of the nobles and young maids wandering about in various stages of undress. I can only surmise that until then she - and most certainly the King - were unaware that the site could be observed from the Princess' balcony. As she surveyed the scene, the Queen's eyes locked onto mine. I good naturedly waved my flute at her; she glowered back in mock anger as though to say, I should have known you'd be at the center of all of this. Shaking her head in disgust, Queen Serjeen left the balcony.
Jeara and the musicians launched into another tune, a sprightlier, simpler song, to maintain the general blissful air of the party. Obviously, all of the nobles who had just themselves reached their releases were even older than I and not yet prepared to resume their lustful rutting. At Jeara's cue, I added touches of harmony to the tunes, but did not purport to further play as her equal. Jeara had by this point fully removed her blindfold, which seemed to trouble no one. She seemed genuinely flattered by the effect she'd had on the assembled guests, and I caught her appraising a few of the more handsome young members of the nobility, as well as a couple of the serving wenches, as potential bedmates. I suppressed an unbidden sense of jealousy and succeeded in feeling rather more pride and pleasure that the fest was wresting her from the melancholy and grief of the death of her husband so many months before.
The serving maids bustled around bringing glasses of wine and trays of chilled fruits and seasoned meats to the nobles, many of whom could not seem to erase from their faces broad grins of pleasure and not a little pride. I suspected that some of the older dukes and counts had not performed so lustfully for many years, but had managed to do so now with the assistance of the pounding music.
After several more tunes, I made sure my breeches were re- fastened properly and wandered down by the pool to find some refreshments. My transit was hampered by several smoke-impaired, hearty nobles, each of whom clapped me on the back and allowed how I was certainly the most promising of young musicians. One even uttered to me in a loud, drunken whisper that he was attempting to seduce the virtuous, beautiful young wife of one of his knights and that he would make it worth my while to come play another such lust-inducing tune at the scene of his next contemplated assignation. I politely assured him that I would with every expectation that the offer would be forgotten the next morrow -- abetting the cuckolding of a knight was not a wise man's action!
I sat near the pond's edge and leaned against the sloping grass hillside. Charel came over with a glass of deep ruby wine and a pocket of spiced-meat pie and extended it reluctantly, her pout still affixed to her face. Sardonically, she uttered, "Well, milord, at least I can say that I enjoyed the skills of your lips before the rest of the crowd."
I tried to bow from a sitting position in what I hoped was a decent imitation of a gentleman. "My sweet, fair-haired maiden, I would much rather try to create music at your vessel than with even the greatest of orchestras."
Charel rolled her eyes in knowing disdain. "Oh, I see you have been working in the stables as well, for you seem to have brought their most prolific product with you." Still, she gave me a lovely if measured smile for my willingness to at least attempt to mollify her, and walked away to continue her serving duties.
"Here, here, good Jaze! What a festival you have made it!" I looked up dreamily into the reddened face of Prince Phrenshraw, who clearly was several glasses of wine ahead of me. On each arm was a maiden of astonishing beauty; obviously, the crown prince was entitled to favors which were not to be shared with just any noble. The tall, serene brunette on his far arm projected a stunning elegance, and I realized that her visage was not unlike that of Queen Serjeen; with a mother of such beauty, any fascination that the prince might have toward a lookalike was unsurprising.
Phrenshraw added, "For enhancing the revels, you have the gratitude of my family, particularly my father, who most benefitted from the inspiration -- or perhaps it is you who really benefitted, Onassa." He leered at the brunette to his right, who blushed and looked down. I tried to suppress my astonishment; the King himself was freely trysting with the maids on this evening. My guilt at my limited, but - technically - consummated coupling with the Queen the preceding evening abated considerably. The honey-haired, younger maid on his near arm giggled modestly, which gave me an excuse to stare at her own stunning features. She bore the slimness of Charel but was taller, with even more electrifyingly gorgeous features. Her small, narrow face with its huge brown eyes and bow-like mouth entranced me.
"My father would like to thank you himself," said Phrenshraw with a slight slur, directed more into the Onassa's neck, which he then was nuzzling, then toward me. "Auria here will escort you." He motioned toward the honey-haired stunner; she bowed engagingly.
Without waiting for a response, the Prince and Onassa staggered off, leaving me with Auria. She turned slightly, indicating with her eyes the tent on the far side of the pool from the stage, but I remain transfixed by her dark eyes. She laughed - oh could any musician hope to replicate that laugh- and held out her hand for me to take. The low fold of her simple, spare gown revealed under her outstretched arm much of her firm right breast. Notwithstanding my assertions to Charel and Licia just a few moments before of my inability to resume any lovemaking, I felt a thick lurch at my loins.
Shaking my head to clear it, I held out my arm for her to take, and we slowly walked around the pool, obstructed by groupings of nobles and maidens, who slowly were beginning to resume some of their libidinous activities. Just before we reached the tent, Auria stopped me and turned to me, again capturing me with her large brown eyes. (Yes, gentle reader, I know I repeat myself in waxing rhapsodic about those ebony windows into her soul, but you would as well if you had come under their spell.)
Her voice was high, like a nightingale's song. "Milord Jaze? I too hope to be a musician, and have had some training from the castle musicians in the hope of being able to bring some pleasure to the royal family when they desire a simple tune. But, to be able to tell a tale of wonder as you were able - and to play with Madame Jeara - that is beyond their capacity to teach." She tentatively placed her hands on my chest, then drew them up behind my neck. "I could arrange for you to come into the castle to give me lessons, privately... if..." she hesitated, "if you would be willing to do so."
How could I conceivably have turned down such a request? "I would be delighted, milady, if it pleases the royal family." Her eyes widened with glee, and, I tell you, bringing joy to such a face sends flocks of doves aloft in one's soul. She impetuously pulled my face to hers and bussed me warmly. While I expect she intended the kiss to be one of gratitude, she complained not when I sustained it and placed my hands on her waist. Our lips remain locked and her sweet tongue darted forward toward mine. As they darted and duelled, my hands cupped her slim, firm ass and lightly pressed her to me, such that she could feel my re- awakening member pressed against the flatness of your stomach. She groaned - and not unhappily - and pulled her face back breathlessly. "Well, I guess perhaps our lessons might be more encompassing than I expected," she whispered. She looked up at me and smiled shyly. "I suppose those are among the sacrifices a musician is expected to make to learn her craft." She paused and slid her long-fingered hand between our bodies and pressed it over my bulging trousers. Her face clouded briefly in surprise, and then pleasure, as her fingers measured me. "Yes, I will arrange for those lessons to begin very, very soon." She quickly kissed me again and pushed me up the steps to the opening of the large, colorful tent in which the King awaited, gesturing to the guards to allow me inside.
The older of the two guards whirled and stuck his head inside the flap which now covered the entrance, apparently to announce me. He pulled his head out, now with a rather shocked look on his face. He conferred briefly with his partner and shrugged, then asked me my name. Turning back toward the flap, but not entering,the guard intoned, "Master Jaze of Speysard!" He pulled the flap aside and motioned me to hurry in. I lowered my head and stepped inside.
Words can hardly do justice to the scene in the royal tent. Though only perhaps six paces on a side, the tent was full of just about everything a sybarite - nay, a satyr - could desire. Near the entrance of low tables were flagons of heavenly smelling wines and victuals of every description. Several small pipes of the aphrodisiac herbs which I had described before - the ingestion of which is normally rigidly controlled by priests for newlyweds to insure a successful consummation of their marriages - were strewn across several tables. Three pipes remained lit and I could sense that, merely by remaining in the room, one would within ten minutes begin rutting like a bull.
Around the center and the back of the tent were various silken pillows of assorted sizes and shapes, most in various hues of red. Some were almost as couches or mattresses. Several flutes and a lyre lay near one side of the tent. Littered near the door were various official looking documents; apparently the King had been attempting to conduct some business before the fest began.
In the center of all of this was the King, slightly overweight but otherwise heavily muscled and thick necked. He was as naked as at his birth, sprawled on his back against several pillows. His eyes were closed, but he clearly was awake, but not entirely conscious. Three nude, slim beauties with long, straight blonde hair were attending to him. One knelt on each side of him, while the third was sprawled on a pillow above his head. All three were rubbing his head, torso and neck, almost as though they were trying to revive him. I could not help but notice that his royal member dangled somewhat limply at his groin, notwithstanding the ardor of the trio's ministrations.
One of the kneeling girls turned to me and smiled, without interrupting her stroking of the king's neck and dark beard. Her bright, almost translucent blue eyes peered at me. The other girls looked up as well, and I realized even in the dim light of the tent that the three were identical to one another. They must be triplets! Their slim hips and barely budding breasts suggested that they were mere youngsters, no older than thirteen. The first girl greeted me, "Hello, young minstrel," and I detected from her husky contralto that no matter how young the girls appeared, they might well be my own age of seventeen years. Still, notwithstanding my own prejudices against against taking advantage of girls of tender years, the sudden blossoming of my own crotch forced me to admit that the girls' appearance appealed to some deep-harbored fantasy suppressed only out of a desire to avoid harm to such maidens' immature emotions and bodies. Such a fantasy obviously had at least as great an appeal to King Abred.
The King sensed the diversion of the girls' attention, and his eyes snapped open. "The mighty flute player appears," he intoned with the raspiness that comes from drink and smoke. "These girls are mad at you, you know. Your little tune with Madame Jeara got me so worked up that that little brunette, Ona... whatever, drained me entirely. That was quite a tapestry you two weaved. Recall that once I too was a young prince rushing off to lead an army into battle, and the story of the soldier's return to his lover drew strong memories from me." I was astonished that the King, in his drunkenness, still was perceptive enough to pick up on the storyline. He went on, "It's too early for the party to end, but I don't seem to have much left for this lithesome trio." He clumsily hugged the two kneeling blondes.
My astonishment at seeing my King in such a state and my respect for the majesty of his position bid me to hold my tongue's suggestion that perhaps his ingestion of wine was at greater fault. I stared dumbly.
"So, little flute player, I was hoping that you could find another tune that would be equally inspiring. We would be grateful..." His dark-browed eyes were almost pleading with me. Surely my life had changed in the past two days! I nodded.
"Of course, Your Majesty. I live only to serve you and your family. Of what tale should I play?"
Abred frowned. "Hell if I know. You've got three luscious young girls here - you ought to be able to think of something."
I scowled in thought, little wishing to tell the King that the girls' youthful appearance brought to mind little more than nursery rhymes, however delectable they might be.
The first of the kneeling maids walked over to me on her knees, her unsteadiness betraying her own ingestion of the lust inducing pipe. She stopped in front of me with a crooked grin and reached up to place a hand on my bare chest. A small finger serpentined down my sternum to the top of my breeches. Her hot breath against my loins re-stiffened my slumbering cock, and she smiled as she detected her impact on me. She looked up with a winsome, albeit crooked grin. "I am Helia. Perhaps I can inspire you, milord?" She pursed her lips and leaned forward, her kiss landing squarely in my navel. She extended her tongue and probed at the indentation, and then swirled it around the edges. She lowered her head slightly and liquidly flicked sideways, back and forth, on the light fuzz above my beltline that ran from navel to the top of the thicker hair covering my pubic region. I could not help but think that this fuzz appeared thicker than the soft down that I could see guarding the maiden's mons.
Of an instant, a thought came to mind, just as the girl's tongue reached my breeches and began to trace the outline of my stiff member beneath the fabric. "Your majesty!" I managed to blurt. Helia giggled at my discomfort, and continued her torture. "Do you enjoy the sea, the mysteries it might unfold?"
The King's eyebrows rose. "Why yes. Very much. When I was a lad, swimming in the inlets below the castle here was one of the few pleasures permitted me where I was not surrounded by our family's usual retinue of governesses, guards and ministers. I always fantasized about meeting someone new, different."
I reached down and cupped Helia's chin, drawing her to her feet. She arched her eyebrows in anticipation of my own approach to her and pressed her slender frame against me, her lips nuzzling at my cheek. "No, no," I whispered to her, "I am not the sort who dallies with the King's maidens. This is what I envision for you." I then told her of the scenario I'd conjured up. She giggled and nodded, and rushed over to her sisters, pulling them out of earshot of the King. She whispered to them, drawing giggles from all three, and then they scampered back to their original positions around the King, but did not touch him. He looked at me questioningly. I picked up the most promising of the flutes nearby, and, after running an experimental scale to insure its adequacy for my needs, began to play...

I play first of the sea, of a warm day with waves crashing, and a lad, powerful but unworldly, who has slipped away from the castle and now splashes in the surf. The waves crash and pound, and the lad - identified by a royal riff as the young prince - savors the privacy and sensual refreshment of the sea. As the King closes his eyes to drink in the setting, the blonde girls flick their hair over his thighs to mimic the splash of the surf. With growing tension, a monstrous wave crests, and the girls rise, their long locks rising together up his torso and over his shoulders and head, which jerks in panic.
A lilting, piercing melody of beauty intertwined with the sea interrupts the lethal chaos of the drowning surf. The water has not subsided, but the lad begins to relax. The King's eyes open to slits. He sees three sea maidens, long blonde hair flowing, surrounding him, welcoming him to their lair and safety. I catch the eye of one of Helia's sisters and nod my head toward one of the burning pipes. All three lean over and draw from the stem heavily, and lean over the waiting King. In turn, each presses their lips to his slack mouth and breathe life - air and fantasy - into his waiting lungs.
My music becomes less necessary as the intoxicating herbs take hold and transport the three to the sea floor. I lower volume and pitch, as the quartet descends, the pounding surf above barely detectable in the silent sea. The girls swim over the lad, all four with tongues extended savoring the flavors of their flesh. As the loins of any one maiden nears the King's head, his lips descend upon her nearly hairless labia, and his tongue works its way inside, drawing tranquil screams from the girl. Hands and legs remain in motion, squirming over one another.
I duck my head to one side and see that the King's member has returned to a stiffened state, and lower my tone to a lustful, earthy state. As one, the three girls plant their lips on the King's chest, and slowly work their slavering mouths ever lower on his torso, tonguing at his hip bone and outer thighs. As though directed by an architect, the three find themselves sprawled before him on their stomachs in a star design, two stretched to either side of him and one with her feet pointing directly away. The identical, golden heads of the triplets point toward his groin, their breaths ruffling his dark pubic hairs.
With a thick, spine-clenching tone, I signal their advance, and the maidens' tongues and mouths travel up the King's thigh, their tongue tips tickling lightly at his balls and shaft. I raise the pitch slightly, and their exertions increase. With a steady throaty cadence, I lure the mouths of the two blondes splayed to the sides to clamp onto the side of the broad cudgel. The King's hips begin to jerk up and down this sleeve created by the suctioning mouths. Up and down they ride, almost meeting around the side. The third sister awaits her role as the King jerks and lunges; she is content to lightly rub his thighs and dangling pink balls. His breath grows harsher and his eyes clench shut, and I can see that in his mind's eye the fantasy is much more vivid than I could have designed. His hands rub up and down the slim backs of the two nymphs stretched out beside him, stopping to stroke and clench their long, yellow hair.
I increase the tempo and add a major chord, and the third sister - I am amost sure it's Helia, although I've lost track of the girls' original placement in the midst of their contortions - finally brings her head forward, lips slightly parted. As her soft pink lips reach and lightly brush the tip of the King's tortured organ, his hips rise off the silk pillows beneath him and drive his cock halfway into her mouth. I can barely make out his length, as his lap is obscured by the pale blonde hair fanned out over it. Yet, with the sounds of sucking and slurping and the bobbing of the middle lass' head, I can tell he is receiving constant, torturous oral attention.
I maintain the pace as it is. Satisfied that the participants are fully occupied in their oral attentions, I step carefully around the room, peering at the papers scattered about, looking for any information that might assist in identifying the mysterious assailant or the Drofnats clan that appears to be behind the plot. Most seem to relate to innocuous awards of franchises or concessions, and I am almost ready to give up, particularly in that the King's huffing and wailing seems to signal an impending climax.
Kicking aside a decree governing disposal of animal wastes, I see underneath an undersized sheet of paper with a more casual scrawl than appeared on the more formal documents. I can barely make out the words, which appear to say:

"Apprs. legitimate heir not all dead. Not
enough jwls. to be sure. All holders must
concur, but expect trouble from church and
gyps. TN"

I read the message over twice more to commit it to memory, trying at the same time to not lose sight of the simple tune I am playing so as to keep the King's lurching loins from flagging.
As he starts to bellow, I kick the animal feces decree back on top of the mysterious note and start to blow with full force. Looking back on the lustful foursome, I see the King's hips madly pumping off the cushions, the tip of his stiff cock driving all the way into Helia's throat, and then pulling away with a loud suction. The lips of her sisters remain attached to the sides of his driving shaft.
With the crashing of the surf on my flute, the King roars again and his hips jerk up and lock in place, his ass a foot off of the pillows. Helia's eyes open in schock and she moans liquidly in gleeful surprise as the first jets of his sperm reach her young mouth. The second blast obviously overflows the capacity of her small maw, as a river of semen pulses from the corner of her mouth. She quickly pulls her mouth off, clamping her cum-spotted lips together, and directs the spurting tip to the mouth of her nearest sister, who eagerly capures it and drinks in his essence, while Helia continues to milk him with small fingers. As the mouth of the second blonde vixen also overflows with the stream of the royal emission, she in turn passes the cudgel to her remaining sister, who takes the King deep into her throat, meeting Helia's hand where it clutches the base of the thick rod. Sister No. 3 finishes the job, swallowing the cream that the King deposits, then licking at the final drops of cum that bead at the tip.
With two more jerks, the King's hips dropped to the pillowed floor with a muffled plop. His breathing was labored, but he smiled. His eyes cracked open and he gazed almost lovingly at the cum-spotted faces of his three identical attendants. "Thought your King was too old for a second go-round, didn't you?" he laughed. "We never had a doubt for a moment, Your Majesty," chirped Helia unconvincingly.
Finally, the King looked over at me, suddenly remembering my presence. He said, "We'll have to find something to do with you in the castle, young man. You obviously have some uses. God forbid that you should ever play such tunes around my daughter, though. If she's got any of the wanton insatiableness of her mother she wouldn't have a chance of resisting you... and then of course I'd have to have you killed."
[End of Part 10] *Trane*

Last modified (12/24/96 14:06:57) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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