The Trials of Valeriya: Back in Bonds; Chapter 3/15

WARNING – ADULTS ONLY

Please be advised that this is sexually explicit material and is not to be viewed by minors under the age of 18. If you are not of legal age please close this window immediately.

All rights reserved. No part of this text may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Copyright © 2014 by High Smut

All characters and events in this story are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

highsmut.blogspot.com

THE TRIALS OF VALERIYA
BACK IN BONDS

Chapter 3
Tanacu, Cincu

Cincu, a Kingdom named after its vast marshland. It is a peculiar country to say the least. Her native populace, the Cincumen—commonly known as the marsh-folk, or ‘the little people’—dwells in her huge stretch of marshlands, and by the meandering rivers. Their main occupation: fishing and herb trading. But there are your regular taller folk in most towns and trading posts. Mostly Alfelder settlers, coming in long before Cincu’s byzantine inception—and traders and craftsmen, for Cincu is the principal source of super-tasty mud perch, giant crabs, and many rare herbs. They even far outnumber the native Cincumen in most dry settlements she boasts.

“Beg your pardon, Majesty,” said Valeriya, remembering to lower her head in deference, “but I was led to believe that I was to execute … not a marquis!” And a Laski one at that!

“Ah. I see,” said King Durriken. He was a stubby man in his mid-fifties with curly salt-and-pepper hair and beard, and a rotund middle-part. “But you don’t need to use the lofty titles here, dear. We’re not at court. Here, I’m just a man with a trident.” The Trident! Valeriya snorted inwardly. …And a crown! The Golden Trident was an ancient artifact of untold value; now serving as the Cincu monarch’s royal scepter. “Young Danior has not been completely honest with you, then—because of his great haste to leave Alfeld no doubt.” He eyed the young Cincuman tersely.

“But father, she’s a powerful sorceress,” mumbled Danior in a whining tone. “She can do it!”—now with a bit more force in his voice—“I guarantee it!” Yes, the little weasel had turned out to be one of Durriken’s brats. “And you!” he turned to Valeriya, “You said you’d do it if the cause is just and we pay you well. As you’ve just heard, the cause is just. And we are paying you well.” The princeling’s voice had gained considerable strength now that he had stopped addressing his royal father.

“Not well enough to kill a Laski marquis!” Valeriya spat defiantly, “…In his home!” But the rest is true though, she had to admit. Marquis Vlad of Gorczyca was lobbying for the Laski king, King Maxim IX, to take ‘necessary action’ to ‘amalgamate’ The Glorious Laski Empire and the stagnant Cincu, and redistribute Cincu’s lands and settlements afterwards between more capable rulers—preferably Laski ones. He was going to put the motion forward before the king in four weeks’ time, and—if Durriken’s sources are to be believed—he had the necessary number of noble houses backing him up to make the king consider the motion very seriously.

Of course, the Cincumen liked the idea of losing their sovereignty not one bit. But their kingdom was the weakest among the nine Riverine Kingdoms—many people still refer it as eight kingdoms—by a fair margin, whereas Laski was the strongest, and wealthiest to boot. No wonder Durriken had given way to scheming and hiring killers. And it also explains why Danior couldn’t hire assassins from Dolne or Stece.

“So it’s about coin, then,” the king said. “No offense, but I do have my doubts about your expertise, and experience. But we do not have time to go looking for a new assassin anymore. If it’s more coin you seek, you shall have it. Name your price.” Durriken waved a chubby hand in front of her, as if in bestowing benevolence.

Valeriya deliberated for a while. Laski was a dangerous place for a woman, especially a young and beautiful foreign woman. Laski was the only riverine kingdom where slavery was still openly practiced, encouraged even. Anyone who wasn’t a taxpaying Laski citizen or a registered visitor, could be captured and enslaved, and traded—as she had learnt firsthand at a very young age. Valeriya would have to plan this very carefully. Never had she embarked upon an endeavor this outrageous. It was quite a challenge, in fact. Valeriya liked challenges. And she genuinely wanted to help. “100 dragons,” she announced at length.

“What!” Durriken sat up straight on his miniature throne of a chair. He was interviewing her in his private audience chamber. “But that’s preposterous! This is how much a master assassin would charge, for the assassination of a king no less!” Besides Marsh-King Durriken, his son Prince Danior and Valeriya herself, there was only a very old and frail-looking aide present inside the chamber. And by the look of him, he was either dead, or fast asleep. “I’ll give you … 31 dragons and 25 harts,” he said with finality. “And a good fishing boat,” he added.

Valeriya sighed. So this is how it is going to be. “75 dragons and I’ll—” she was going to say ‘suck your dick’, but thought better of it. However weak, Durriken was still a king, and he had been nice enough to her—a commoner!—so far. “75 dragons,” she repeated more firmly.

Valeriya and Danior had reached Tanacu in the evening, the day after she’d let the Cincu princeling fuck her. As soon as they had reached the gates of the marsh-king’s wooden palace, the bowing little guardsmen betrayed Danior’s identity. Valeriya was pissed, to say the least. Why the cloak-and-dagger? He was the son—a son, not even the heir!—of the poorest king among the nine, not a long-lost Ilimniri princess! He could’ve at least told her after she had given him the privilege of climbing between her legs!

After much screaming and apologizing—the screaming from the femme fatale and the apologizing from the little prince—in front of the apprehensive little guards, Danior had finally shown Valeriya to the palace’s guest quarters. After a pair of shy maids had drawn up a bath for her, the sword-maiden had let them scrub her back and wash her hair while she relaxed in the warm, soapy water. Then after a two-hour sleep, she was woken and escorted to the great hall to dine at the king’s table. Valeriya had never seen so many varieties of fishes on a single table before. The steamed giant crab legs were refreshingly new to her palate.

After the dinner, when the king had bidden farewell to the Tanacu elders, Valeriya was properly introduced to the king. This was the second king she’d ever seen, the first being the king of her native Ilimnir. Durriken had been eyeing the blonde, like rest of his court, since the moment she walked into the great hall—though he was at least trying to be subtle about it. Valeriya loved showing off her tight body in her chainmail bikini. She had gripped the hilt of her sword and stored three-fourth of her mana into the gemstone set in its pommel. And most of it had already regenerated by the time they had entered the audience chamber after dinner, so turned on was she.

“39 dragons and 25 harts final,” the marsh-king declared. “And I’ll grant you an acre of land near Lake Movileni.”

Calduil grant me strength… wheezed Valeriya irritatedly. And this man’s supposed to be a king! “55 dragons!” she countered in a raised, impatient tone. “And I’ll suck your dick!” If his kingship takes offense, then good! Valeriya was confident that she could cut her way out of the whole palace.

The king was quite taken aback. Then his lips curved in an impish little smile. He looked at his son.

Danior shrugged. “I told you she has a peculiar way of bartering.” Then he dropped his shoulders and whined at the furious blonde, “You told me I could tell…” His voice trailed off, beautiful Valeriya was looking daggers at him.

The way it happened was, during dinner Durriken had declared that Valeriya was the most stunning creature to walk his halls. And if he wasn’t already married to that ‘fat cow of a woman’ Danior called mother, he would’ve made this beautiful woman his marsh-queen. Danior then irately boasted that he had already fucked this beautiful woman in her beautiful ass.

“48 dragons and 75 harts,” the king said, “and I get to do what Danior here did to you.”

“Nooo…” groaned Danior.

“And, as a gesture of good faith, I’ll also pronounce you a Protector of the Realm.”

“Fine!” Valeriya said. She was tired of haggling like a bunch of grubby fishmongers. She wanted to be done with this. She had no idea what ‘Protector of the Realm’ meant, but assumed it was a worthless honorary title. She had acceded to the king’s ignoble demands just to rub it on that rat Danior’s face. Valeriya was sure Durriken would’ve agreed to the deal even without the sex. Beggars can’t be choosers, as they say. She doubted the marsh-king could afford to pay more than 50 dragons anyway.

Danior got to his feet and sulkily stormed out of the room.

“Done! We have a deal, then.” The king slapped his right knee elatedly and got up to his marsh-feet. “Go to your chambers, dear maid, and prepare for me. I’ll give my queen the slip and come to you anon.”

* * *

There was a furtive knock on the door. “Come in,” bid Valeriya. It had been almost an hour since she returned to her allotted chamber. She had no trouble finding her room, the king’s palace wasn’t that big—though it was rather warm and cozy. And the room she had been provided with was reasonably spacious and quaintly-appointed—well-lit by a small chandelier.

The door parted and Durriken wiggled through. He was still carrying his heavy trident. “So, my lusty Ilimniri assassin, have you prepared for me?” he queried cheerfully.

She had. Valeriya had emptied her bowels and lubricated her anus with scented oil. “Yes my king,” she replied deferentially. Once she had calmed down, Valeriya decided that it wasn’t so bad. A king was a king. No matter how weak. It could prove useful for her cause to befriend a couple of them. It was her ultimate goal to kill one, after all.

“Marvelous!” the marsh-king cheered. “Now, get out of your … swimwear so I can see the rest, not that there’s much left to see, mind—but I do wish to see it desperately.”

It seemed the king knew his stuff. Bikinis, though primarily used by slavers to display female flesh, it was not their own invention. Barbarian warmaidens of particularly sluttish nature had always worn them in one form or another. But fifty years or so ago, the silken versions of it had become rather popular among the noble ladies of the Garden Kingdoms as the preferred attire for splashing around in their private pools.

Valeriya complied. The golden-haired warrior undid her bra and tossed it to the antique divan she had been sitting upon. Then she turned around and slowly slid her panties down her long, heavenly legs—bending down from the hips and giving him a mind-blowing view of her lush posterior.

Valeriya remained bent over, legs straight, holding the bikini bottom at her ankles. The king rushed to her and kneeled behind her. Setting his trident down, he buried his face between her curved buns. He slobbered everywhere, from her tailbone to her engorged clitoris. But mainly he focused on her perfumed anus. Parting her firm, round cheeks with his hands, he made out with her asshole. He kissed it, licked it, and pushed his tongue deep inside it. Valeriya moaned with pleasure as her sphincter was repeatedly violated by the marsh-king’s warm and soggy tongue.

Valeriya rubbed her buttocks on the king’s face and he deeply inhaled her heady aroma. “Ouch!” The sweet nymph squealed in surprise. The king had just bit her on the ass. It didn’t hurt much, just took her by surprise. She giggled breathily and shoved her perfect behind back on his face. His beard was tickly on her snatch. Valeriya had dropped her panties and set her hands down on the divan’s seat, fending off the assault of Durriken’s tongue.

The king stood up once her orifices were sufficiently marinated. He slapped her hard on her juicy rump and she moaned like a wanton whore. “Yes!” she screamed. “Spank my ass! Take your coin’s worth!” Valeriya rolled her ass in a teasing circular motion and received another stinging smack, then another, and another. Soon her cream white ass had turned cherry red. But the king didn’t stop, and neither did Valeriya. She kept pushing her ass back for more after each loud smack. Her shapely buns jiggled with every sizzling impact of Durriken’s open palms.

Suddenly something large was being shoved inside her twat. Valeriya moaned at the pleasure of her slippery sheath being stretched. What’s that?! It felt like a cock, but not like any cock she expected on a Cincuman. “Oowwe … ’tis big!” she groaned. It was massive.

“What did you think slattern?” Durriken grabbed her flanks and shoved himself inside her completely. “That every Cincuman is as needle-dicked as my whelp?” The king grunted as he bottomed out, then pulled out several fat inches and drove in again. He brutalized Valeriya’s tight, pink paradise with deep, powerful thrusts. Her reddened buttocks were hot against his stomach.

Valeriya pulled one booted foot out of her chainmail panties, then spreading her feet but joining her knees together, she braced them against the divan and lowered her rear end further so that Durriken could get at her pussy better. The relative coldness of his hairy belly felt nice against her tender buttocks. And the stretching of her vagina was incredible. Valeriya wasn’t filled this good since her self-inflicted rape by that troll near Thale.

Valeriya shoved her ass back on the kingly impaler again and again, and every time Durriken met her staunchly. “How’s that pussy?” she teased. “Good enough for 50 dragons?” She grunted and took his full length again.

“48 dragons and 75 harts,” corrected the king breathlessly. He pulled his hips back and impaled her love mound with his manly thickness again. “Good enough and more, if you can just kill that bastard.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Valeriya sounded more confident than she felt. Durriken let go of her hips and grabbed one of her legs. He pulled it up so it was parallel to the rug covered floor. She had to put more weight on her hands to balance her body on one leg, but this position allowed the king deeper penetration, which in turn increased her pleasure. Valeriya tried clenching onto his love pump, but it was too thick.

The marsh-king piston-fucked her leaking twat for five more minutes—kneading and clawing the firm flesh of her shapely thigh in his possession—before the blonde shuddered with a strong orgasm. Valeriya’s limbs gave way and she slid off his fleshy pole and collapsed onto the divan. But Durriken gave her no quarter. Valeriya was pulled up forcibly by her ponytail and forced down on her knees, directly facing his crotch.

Valeriya’s lovely blue-gray eyes bulged in disbelief at the sight of the monster that had just vacated her birth canal. She could recognize sorcery when she saw it. The king had probably had it enhanced in his youth. He probably had to save up for a year to pay the sorcerer! Such masterful enhancements were neither quick and easy, nor cheap.

Valeriya licked her lips wantonly. It was at least nine inch long and more than two inch wide—a size-queen’s dream. He pressed the tip to her soft lips which she promptly parted to allow him in. Valeriya took the head in her mouth and tongued its underside. He was just too big for a proper cock worshiping. She stroked his shaft with both hands while continuing to suck on the head.

“Hands off, harlot!” Durriken was having none of it. He grabbed her head by her ears and pushed his meat further in, trying to shove it down her gullet. It hit her tonsils, but couldn’t force its way down. Valeriya gagged and he pulled back, and then pushed in again.

The king repeatedly bludgeoned the back of her throat, making her gag and slobber irrepressibly. Saliva dribbled down her chin and flooded her breasts. Valeriya prayed she didn’t hurl the contents of her stomach. She kept her hands off as ordered and endured the violation of her mouth.

The king pulled back from her mouth after he had his fill. He seized her by an arm and turning her around, shoved her down back onto the divan. Then he mounted her rump. Valeriya was lying flat on her stomach. Durriken grabbed his spit-shone schlong with a hand and pushed it between her firm and shapely buttocks. He placed the tip at her puckered hole and pushed resolutely.

Valeriya raised herself on her elbows, and arching her back as sharply as she could with the stocky man straddling her, she raised her pert bottom in the air. She felt her oiled anus give way to the steady pressure. Her tight ring of muscle opened up and reluctantly accepted the serpent’s head into her anal canal. But it kept on the steady pressure and snaked its way up her channel into her rectum, and after a bit more shoving, into her colon.

Durriken had buried himself inside the squirming beauty to the hilt. Valeriya whimpered from the pain of her anus being stretched beyond its limits, but still held her ass raised for the king’s pleasure. A girl should arch her back and raise her posterior when a man is taking her from behind, her bitch of a mistress had always told. This makes the girl more desirable to her lover, and anyone else who cared to look. And now there remained no half-heartedness with Valeriya when it came to pleasing cock.

Durriken grabbed the blonde’s hips and raised her ass farther. He pulled his cock out until only the mushroom-shaped head remained north of her straining sphincter. Then he pushed back in forcefully until his balls rested against her bald labia. “Fucking great!” grunted the king. “Tightest ass I’ve ever fucked! Pity it’ll not remain so after I’m done with you.”

“Ouch! Fuck!” she cried. Huh! We shall se. Bigger men had said that before, thought Valeriya defiantly just as her body was submitting to the wonderful specimen of manhood. …But the fucker is big, I’ll give him that. She bit her full, pouty lips—grunting every time his tree stump of a cock lodged itself inside her innards and his groin smashed against her upraised buttocks—and rode through the pain until her asshole loosened enough for her to start enjoying the royal shag. Then there was no holding her back. Valeriya matched him stroke for stroke, milking his mulish trout every time it snaked out of her rectum—desperate for that thick, white chowder.

The marsh-king plundered her bowels fast and hard for several more minutes before his cock started spurting inside her clenching channel—but he didn’t stop. He kept pistoning her ass with his lathered girth, lubing her poop chute with a liberal coating of frothing white cream.

The king stopped thrusting when he couldn’t hold onto his erection any longer, and then pulled himself free with a soft plop. But Valeriya still held herself up, back arched, ass raised. She parted her legs a little to show the king her holes. Her sweaty buns were slightly parted and her swollen back hole was clearly visible—dripping gooey semen down her shaved vulva. Valeriya pushed with her bowels and more royal sperm gushed out with a wet fart. “Oops!” she giggled.

“Fucking beautiful!” King Durriken roared with elation and slapped her ass hard, then leaned down and picked up his trident.

Valeriya felt a cold, smooth ball-shaped object pressing between her ass cheeks and looked back over her shoulder. The king was going to push the bottom end of his trident into her asshole. Valeriya moaned lasciviously, somehow she found the act very erotic. The Golden Trident was a sacred artifact to the Cincumen. The ball at the bottom was nearly as big as Durriken’s cock-head. But the shaft was slimmer.

Valeriya didn’t struggle as the king pushed his holy badge of divine dominion through her sore and abused anal hole. The cold metal traveling up her tired rectum felt rather soothing. She sighed with contentment and dropped her shoulders to the divan, but raised her rear end higher still by pushing with her knees, now that Durriken’s bulk was off her back.

The belle reached between her thighs and started playing with her pussy. The king slowly pumped his trident in and out of her ass, taking care not to bruise her innards, feeding her almost a foot of the cold, hard metal. The rod faced no obstruction in her cum-slicked passage. Valeriya came before the marsh-king counted his hundredth stroke.

King Durriken penetrated her backside deeply with his Golden Trident. “And thus I anoint thee—Protector over the Cincu Marshlands,” he intoned melodramatically, devouring the panting young woman with his eyes. His trouser snake had once again regained its spirit.

“Thank you, my king,” mumbled Valeriya wearily.

Author’s note: This is the third installation of a protracted series of fifteen chapters that I had originally written for my blog. Back in Bonds is actually the second story that I have written starring Valeriya. You can always read the first one at highsmut.blogspot.com, but it’s not required for continuity.

---