Conquering the Queen - Part 7

You were so wrapped up in your passion that you almost didn't notice when your monthly courses did not come. But when the morning sickness came, you realized that could only mean one thing. 

You put a hand to your belly and looked at yourself in the mirror. You were wearing your thin lace nightgown, and your body didn’t look any different than it did yesterday. Perhaps more than anything, it was an instinct. An instinct that something was now growing within you…

Just then, King Casimir entered your chambers. He had a smoldering look. The look of someone lusting hard after his beloved queen. And indeed, even though it had already been a month, Casimir's desire for you hadn't waned in the least. Every day, he wanted to ravish you. Caress your breasts, taste your flesh, suck your juices. 

And that, perhaps, was why doubt started to creep into you. You loved the way he worshipped your body. But you also loved the way he looked at you. The way he spoke to you. The way you'd have intimate conversations about anything and everything after intercourse, him whispering into your ear and stroking your hair as you leaned on his chest. 

You didn’t want any of it to end. 

You were greedy. You knew that this was what you were for. You were his vessel. But would he still let you be his vessel, even after your body changed as it bore the fruit of your combined labor? 

“My queen,” he said, murmuring into your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He pressed into you, and you could feel how hard he was already. 

“My King,” you said, and spun around. Your chest felt heavy. You wanted to ask him… but would you dare?

But as you looked into his dark eyes, at his handsome face with his smooth cheekbones and deep, thoughtful mouth, you realized that you wanted to see him cum. Desperately. 

So you started peppering his neck and chest with kisses. Surprised, he tried to take control, but you wouldn’t let him. You gave him a nibble on his collarbone, and then started to peel off his shirt. You ran your hands all over his smooth, hard muscle, drew your thumb over his sharp hipbones. You pressed a kiss to the flesh of his thigh, and then you took his cock into your mouth.

“My queen,” he groaned again, guttural. He tipped his head back. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your mouth full of his dick, sucking up and down his length. His cock felt so perfect inside your mouth - warm, pulsing with virility and male energy, tasting of him. Salty, sweet, perfect.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come—“ he hissed. He gripped your hair, and then he shuddered. His seed spilled into your mouth, hot, sticky, and warm. You relished the taste of it, and lapped up every last bit.

He stood there, panting, looking at you all disheveled from his hands gripping your hair, your bosom exposed to him. 

“You spoil me, my queen. But next time, I shall spill it all over your tits,” he told you, bending forward and lifting you up. “I like to see you marked completely and utterly as my property.”

You laughed as he carried you over to the bed, tossing you gently onto the blankets. 

“And now it’s my turn to pleasure you, my queen,” he said, reaching down for your pussy.

“No!” you cried, trying to grab his hand, but he merely looked up at you in confusion as you tried to futilely push back against his muscular arm.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“…” You didn’t answer. Couldn’t, for fear that if he knew the truth, then this would all end…