Kol Lord of Ass

Kol, Lord of Ass – Chapter 1

By Colin DV

Note: This is my first foray into fantasy erotica, but if you're interested in the sex life of me and my cum-addicted husband, Benj, please check out my ongoing series: "Benj Loves My Cream."

For this first Chapter of the series, Part I provides background for the main character, Kol, and the series. Part II is more background for this particular chapter. And Part III is the sex if any horndog wants to jump straight to the fucking. And, I promise you, every chapter will have lots of fucking.

If you like the series, let me know! ColinDV80@yahoo.com

Part I

I am Kol, Duke of Asselvya and, for 20 years now, Lord Protector of the Realm on behalf of my only brother, His Glorious Majesty, King Vik the Third of Ignatia. I am my brother's most powerful lord in men of arms, in wealth, in land, in influence. As Lord Protector, my word is law, second only to the King, even above his own sons.

And I am loyal. I love my brother and he loves me. Such is not always the case with brothers, especially those of noble blood. But it always was the case with us. Though I am but two years junior, we were always together as if twins. My more serious mien often led newcomers to believe that I was the elder brother and heir.

Our brotherly bonds were first seriously tested when our glorious Royal Father, King Vik the Second, died of a fever during my fifteenth year. Though my brother, at age 17, was man-grown, our two uncles, Svel and Kol (our family is not too inventive with names), argued to the great lords of the Kingdom that my brother needed a regent, a Lord Protector. A severe insult.

Fortunately, my brother and I have something in common besides our strong bodies, tan complexions, quick minds and large cocks – a will to power. I have no patience for the god endlessly talked about by the dour clerics of the Church, but I do believe there is something that one is born with, if not God-given. My brother was born to rule. And so was I – though I have always been content being a Duke in my own right and my brother's strong right hand. And what considerable power we were born with was further increased by the milk we drank at our Lady Mother's breast and the lessons we learned at the knees of our Royal Father.

Men (and, aye, women, too) with this will to power possess a magnetism, and most men of weaker personality will yield to it, if it's not mishandled. Such was the case with us, and when my brother first assembled the great lords of the land in his castle, he was a towering, compelling presence. Once the room was his, he loudly declared that he agreed with our "exalted" uncles that he should have a Lord Protector. Then, stunning everyone, he announced that I would be his Lord Protector.

My brother had not told me of his plan. Indeed, I suspect the declaration was a spur of the moment when he realized he held all those great lords in the palm of his hand. I was surprised, but I did not shirk or hesitate. I stepped forward, and we stood shoulder to shoulder in that great hall. And those great lords of the realm? They yielded, happily – for their wealth and power flowed from a stable realm. And here stood two strong young pillars to support it.

But uncles can be a dangerous thing in a monarchy – and, alas, our uncles proved to be so. The first time, my brother narrowly avoided a perilous accident on a hunting excursion. The second time, an actual assassin came for me in the middle of the night. Fortunately, I am a light sleeper and, double-fortunately, our Lady Mother raised us to always have a blade nearby – small, wickedly sharp ones were her preferred tool. Using such a tool, I surprised and captured my would-be assailant.

After conferring with my brother, we had announced the next day that an intruder – a likely thief – had been killed by the castle guards. Meanwhile, we had the assassin secretly interrogated and he gave up the name of his paymaster before he died. Following that, it was but the work of days and two more interrogations to connect the assassination attempt directly to our youngest uncle, also named Kol.

That Uncle Kol was behind the attempt was both surprising and not-surprising. If my brother and I were to die without sons, our uncle Svel would be next in line, and then his son, and only then Kol and his three sons. But it was not-surprising in that Kol was, by far, the least intelligent member of our family. His ambition greatly overmatched his abilities.

So, once again in my brother's young reign, we summoned the great lords of the realm so that charges could be brought against Kol. At that meeting, Kol did not come, nor did any of his sons. Instead, he sent a message pleading illness, swearing fealty, and requesting patience so he could assemble a legal defense.

Our Uncle Svel did join the great gathering. Before all the assembled lords, Svel and his only son, Kol (yes, a third Kol!), sweared his loyalty and innocence. They were quite convincing, too. I suspected that Svel, not being an idiot, had had some knowledge of Uncle Kol's intentions, but was content to watch and see how things played out. In the worst case, Kol would be caught and Svel would do as he did that moment – loudly proclaim his loyalty. In the best case, Kol would have removed one or two obstacles between Svel's line and the throne while receiving all the blame and opprobrium for being a traitor and kin-murderer.

In private, I urged my brother to accept Svel's word and to send a message to Kol agreeing to wait until he had recovered. And my brother agreed. Let Kol think we were two timid milkfed boys! In the meantime, we as quietly as possible summoned the banners from our closest estates and lords. We planned to move quickly so as to arrive no later than a week after our messenger.

Gratifyingly, our bannermen quickly responded to our call without resistance, and we marched. Both my brother and I had been raised to the sword, and had fought and killed before. Even in times of peace, border skirmishes and bandits are useful for blooding boys into men. But this was to be our first fight at the head of an army, if only a small strike-force one.

A young King, without issue, and his brother heir, fighting in the same battle was a dangerous gamble. Battles are chancy things. But we had to decisively put down this challenge to my brother's authority. And I was young and confident. Our uncle had no great reputation as a warrior. His lands, though rich, were firmly in our kingdom's interior, so he didn't have the martial bearing of a border lord.

And so we marched with 500 good men, lightly provisioned for speed. I am now 35 years old and there have been many times I have wondered if I would meet my Maker, but that was not such a time. Indeed, there wasn't even a battle. There were no lookouts. We arrived with no defenses arranged.

We could have ridden in flying the colors with 20 good men and achieved the same result. Though, mind you, having 500 didn't hurt. A few guards did dare to challenge our right to enter the castle. But a couple of judicious sword thrusts to some necks (maximum blood spray) persuaded the others to bow down to their rightful King.

After that, it was a simple matter of rounding up Kol and his family and marching them back to the capital in disgrace. Once again before the assembled lords, Uncle Kol, brought low, admitted his treachery, but said that he had acted alone. He begged for exile such that his eldest son could take his place. My brother said he would deliberate and reconvene the lords in three days. Kol and his family were then placed in secured quarters, as befitting their station.

My brother was livid – less at the poorly planned trap for himself than the assassination attempt on me. By our own kin. He desired to have our uncle publicly drawn and quartered. By both law and tradition, no sentence was too severe for treason, so my brother would have been well within his rights. No one would have naysayed him.

But I counseled against it. Our Royal Father had taught us that, in dispensing justice, a ruler must balance both resolve and mercy. In my view, we needed to signal to the realm that we would brook no treason while also not engaging in wanton cruelty. We discussed the matter extensively and then, together, came to a decision. It would be a hard thing, but countries are not secured through weakness.

On the day of judgment, before the prisoners and assembled lords, my brother, my King, declared: "Kol, once Duke of Ambraugh, you have been found guilty of treason. To strike against your rightful King is a crime against both man and God. Let every pulpit spread the message!" With that, he gestured to the assembled High Clerics, seated in their black finery. They nodded eagerly, like a murder of crows.

"For such a crime, death can be the only penalty." Our uncle closed his eyes in resignation at that, all his stupid bravado gone. "However, out of deference to their once being Princes of the Blood, we grant the mercy of a quick death. Let the sentence be immediately carried out."

At that, the entire assemblage moved out into the grand courtyard. My brother sat on a large makeshift throne that had been erected on a raised platform. I stood at his right side. At my gesture, our uncle was tied down at the foot of the platform.

As his family was frogmarched into the middle of the courtyard, our uncle apparently realized that the sentence of death was not his alone. He began to scream: "No! No! They are innocent!"

My brother leaned back in his throne, crossing his legs, and loudly declared: "There are no innocents in a nest of traitors! Let it be known that any treason found will be ripped out, root and stem!" At my gesture, a guard stepped to Kol's wife and stabbed her in the heart. As she collapsed, Kol began to scream.

And he screamed as each of his three sons and one daughter – cousins we had occasionally played with growing up – were brought forward and executed. We even brought out his mistress and his two acknowledged bastards and they joined the pile. Only when there were no more members of the House of Kol was he dragged, still screaming, to a standing position and given the same merciful death. After parceling out pieces to the bannermen who'd answered our call, Kol's former duchy was absorbed back into the Crownlands.

Throughout this I had kept a steely gaze, locked to the future. But at one point I shifted my gaze to my Uncle Svel and his family. As I stared into Svel's eyes, I communicated all my rage and all my will. Without words, I told him that the pile of corpses here, once our family, would be a mercy compared to what we'd do if ever again we were betrayed by our kin. I saw my message deeply received and, indeed, these twenty years there has not been a whiff of treachery from the House of Svel. Which is good, because my will has not softened or withered with age, nor has my brother's – and it would be a pity to have no cousins.

So that early trial by fire further strengthened our brotherly bonds and what followed bounded us in hoops of steel. Early in the second year of his reign, my brother became greatly ill due to some passing pestilence. As Lord Protector, I raced to the capital – damned be the pestilence – to tend to my brother and stabilize the government.

After assessing the situation, I promptly dismissed the doctors who'd been treating him with bleedings. I was no man of science, but any warrior knows that men die when they bleed out. I had no patience for idiots. While dismissing my brother's doctors was not a politically astute move – if he died, it would look to many as if I had arranged for his death – but I was determined that he receive the best treatment possible.

I offered rich rewards to doctors and scholars throughout the realm who could treat the King – after explaining to me their practices without charlatanry. Fortunately, I found such a doctor who used the wisdom gained from experiments and wise villagewomen to treat my brother's fever and convulsions. After weeks of treatment and yet more months of convalesence, my brother achieved a full recovery.

During that time, I ruled the Kingdom. I even arranged a betrothal between my brother and a princess of our only continental rival and frequent enemy, Xavia. While my brother might not thank me for choosing his bride (she was intelligent and comely, from all reports!), I thought it important to signal my confidence in his survival.

After his recovery and resumption of kingly duties, I stepped aside and returned to my duchy. During my Protectorship, I had ruled ably and well. And all knew that, if I had had the slightest desire, I could have easily ensured my brother die of his illness. So my loyalty to the crown was assured, and if my brother had ever had any niggling doubts about my loyalty after the episode with our uncles, they were eliminated forever.

So, in all, his severe illness proved to be a fortuitous thing. Having a powerful Lord Protector that one can trust is invaluable to a King and my brother has never removed my title though he has, of course, long been a man-grown. And the realm has benefited from having our twin pillars.

Part II

I now come to the present day. It is a crisp Autumn day and I am returning to my ducal capital after conducting a two-week progress of my southern areas. I am accompanied by 50 of my household warriors and various retainers – so a relatively small party. Being a lord over vast lands involves frequently being on the hoof or on boats. I believe strongly that relations with my bannermen require continual nurturing and reinforcement, petty feuds must be settled before they become too bloody, and (though I take pains to keep honest magistrates) the people must see their lord dispensing justice from time to time. None of these things can be done by remaining in one's castle.

As we approached Asselvya City, I could smell the sea breeze on the air. See, Asselvya City is our Kingdom's largest port city. A network of great bridges links the two sides of the City as it straddles a tributary of the mighty Loyolan River. I am gratified to see alert sentries atop the City's walls.

However, we will not enter the City today. I am tired and so we ride on past the great gates to my castle which adjoins the City. As we ride into the main courtyard of the keep's outer ring, I notice a well-dressed young man standing there waiting. From his clothes and height, I can tell that he is a scion of either a noble or wealthy merchant family.

And he looks slightly familiar. Though more slender than I'm usually drawn to, he's a handsome lad with blond wavy hair. And he was wearing spectacles, an extremely expensive import from the Western Kingdom. Very clever and inventive – my Lady Mother's people.

After I dismount and stretch my legs a bit, he approaches me. The fact that he is not immediately tackled by my household guards indicates that he's already been identified, welcomed by my steward, and is of high enough status to approach me uninvited.

He bows. "My Lord, I am Torsten, second son of Lord Gil."

Ah, Gil – one of the minor lords on the mountainous northern periphery of my lands.

I nod at him: "Yes, Gil. I trust your father is in good health. You are welcome here, Tor-sten." I put a little mocking emphasis on the second syllable to tease him a little. It's recently become the fashion to ape the styles of Xavia and name their boys with womanish multi-syllabic names. I don't know what the world is coming to.

The lad colored prettily and said: "My Lord, my Lord Father bid me come to you with a business proposal to increase sales of our minerals through your great port."

I nodded. "A good idea – he'll make more money from foreign sales. You may speak to me more of your proposal at High Table tonight." With that, I walked off, as he bowed.

Later that evening, I was seated in my Great Hall and there was much feasting and merriment. There's nothing like coming home after a long progress to raise the spirits! Except for formal banquets, I keep a fairly informal dining style. Those invited to eat at High Table – usually 20 people or so – are free to move about and address me directly. For the rest of my court, they move freely among the lower tables, catching as catch can as food comes out of the kitchens. Those not at High Table must gain permission from my steward to approach.

At my right hand was my best friend and most trusted comrade-at-arms, Glen. To my left was my wife, Alvina, and her closest lady companion, Kristina, then my two daughters, Kolwynna the Elder and Kolwynna the Younger (ages 16 and 14). Everyone calls them Kollie and Wynnie.

We were having a raucous good time, and I'd just ate my fill, when Torsten moved down the table and squeezed in between two of my men, across from me. Waiting until his Lord was well-sated until initiating business – the boy was well-bred.

Pulling out a scroll, Torsten said: "My Lord if I may..."

I gestured for him to go forward.

"As you know, my Lord Father's mountain holdings produce abundant rich metals. And our family prospers under the benevolent rule of you and our glorious King." I nodded at him to continue. "Well, God favors us yet more – our miners have in recent months struck ever richer veins of metal – so rich in fact that we believe the amount exceeds the needs of our realm. So you see our problem?"

"Yes, either sell the excess here and see prices collapse, or horde the metal until there is high demand."

"Yes, my Lord – which is why we are seeking a third option – find new markets. We believe your grant of an export license would prove mutually beneficial. We would be able to sell our excess metals and you'd gain greater export duties..."

I waved at him to stop. "I've heard enough. The basic plan seems sound. I will review your proposal with my ministers and let you know my answer in the coming months."

The boy looked discomfited by that, so I gruffly said: "What? I make no idle promises. I assure you I will review your proposal and, if it has merit, my offer will be fair." I let a little growl enter my voice. "I'm not known for gouging my peasants or my bannermen."

The boy colored deeply behind his spectacles – his skin was really remarkably fair. Must not get much sun in those mountains. "Of course not, my Lord. You are a just and generous Lord. I never meant to imply otherwise; it's just that..."

I smacked the table. "Well, what? Spit it out, boy!"

"It's that my Lord Father was hoping that you would consider our proposal this week."

I leaned back and laughed. "This week?! I agree your proposal has much appeal but does your Lord Father believe I'll drop the running of my lands and the realm at a snap of his finger?"

"No, my Lord, of course not! . . . If I may..."

"If you may what?" I'd grown increasingly heated.

"If I might... beg permission for a private audience to convince you of the advantages of a quick arrangement..."

With this, my men began either smirking or outright laughing. My wife snorted and Kollie rolled her eyes, as only an embarrassed youth can do. Wynnie was young enough to be oblivious.

Smiling widely, Glen then said loudly: "I'm sure our Lord of Assssselvya will grant your request." And even more of the Hall broke out into good-natured laughing and ribbing.

Glen had emphasized the first syllable of my title to say a common moniker for me, the "Lord of Ass." It was known throughout the realm and beyond that I only took men to my bed. And, indeed, the moniker had been invented by my brother in our youth after he found me fucking a stableboy. There are few secrets and little privacy in castles.

Our holy books called such acts an abomination, but I never felt so, nor did my glorious Royal Father. For him, to be a great lord is to have great appetites. As long as a lord performed his duties, such as producing heirs, he could stick his cock where he wished. Piddling holy strictures were for peasants.

My brother, though he did not share my love of fine male ass (indeed, he had tupped every maid in the castle that wasn't ugly or pious even before he became King), was always supportive – perhaps too supportive given the glee with which he spread his "Lord of Ass" name amongst our friends and the people.

Before long, as maids were to my brother, men of a bendable persuasion were after me for some advantage or other. One kitchen lad, Rik, was of a lazy disposition but had a fine ass. He wanted the wages and security of palace work, but not all the drudgery. And I was happy to oblige. I fucked him every night after he brought up the hot water for my bath. In exchange, he had my princely blessing to laze about the kitchen, pilfering pies and extra provisions for his growing family. He might not have been the most popular member of the kitchens, but he seemed more than content.

As my Royal Father predicted, coming of age and becoming Duke in more than just title as well as Lord Protector only increased my lordly appetites. These past twenty years, everyone from the humblest peasant to the greatest of lords knew that one of the easiest routes to my favor was the presentation of a nice ass. Hence, why this Lord Gil had sent his comely second son to negotiate this deal.

But I was no cock-led fool. I bestow power, business, wealth and influence on those where it is in the interest of my King, the realm and myself, in that order. While nobility comes only from blood, I believe that there should be movement amongst the lower classes based on merit.

All my officials and bannermen knew my feelings on the matter. Clever young farmer boys and girls were plucked from farms and sent to schools, at my expense, to become clerks, clerics, tradesmen and healers. Strong lads and those with a penchant for violence were similarly plucked and trained to be my warriors. Non-noble families filled with dunces were sent to the fields and the mines; their positions then given to the more intelligent.

In short, I wouldn't make the finest ass who couldn't handle a sword a member of my guard or an official in my duchy. But if a man had obtained his position from me based on real swordskill or intelligence, he certainly could gain greater favor through my bed.

Berg, seated tonight at one of the lower tables, was a giant brute of a man and a stone cold killer. His armor, weaponry, horse, housing and salary were all provided by me as part of his position as one of my household warriors. But his fine leather boots and the gold necklace he was surprisingly vain about? Those he earned by rough fucks on his back, his giant legs over my shoulders. That gold necklace in fact was earned one memorable patrol when he agreed to let me fuck him by the campfire in front of the men.

But that's another story. Turning back to Torsten, after the laughter had died down some, I told him that my steward would arrange a private audience that night. Torsten colored again and left the hall with as much dignity as he could muster.

Part III

That night, I was in my steaming hot bath, the healers' salts soothing my sore limbs from the progress, when my steward (also, the brother of my wife – yet another story) ushered Torsten into my private chambers. After announcing Torsten, he bowed and departed.

I gazed at Torsten from my bath: "Did my steward prepare you as to my desires?" My steward is a happy fuck who bends for me and half the castle and so is well-acquainted with my preferences.

Torsten nodded. I said, "Good," as I got out of the tub and wrapped a thick linen robe about me. I did so slowly so the lad could get a good look at the size of my cock and make his own decisions.

I sat in a chair by the fire. There was a goblet and pitcher of diluted wine on the table. I glanced at the pitcher, then at Torsten. The lad was raised to have servants, but, fortunately, he was not dense. He hopped into action and poured me a goblet of wine.

I sipped my wine and looked at him, dressed in new finery. "Tor-sten, I don't know what your father has told you, but you could have the tight ass of Our Savior and I would not bestow a license on you unless the terms were to my benefit."

Torsten winced at the blasphemy, but did not back down. "My Lord, all the Realm knows your fair business dealings. My Lord Father only hopes to receive your consideration sooner than he might rightfully expect."

I laughed. "Very prettily said. And you come here freely to convince me to give you this early consideration?"

Torsten nodded.

"Use your words, boy! I can snap my fingers and have ten men brawling to take my cock! Think you that I need some reluctant maid in my bed?"

He colored again. "No, my Lord, of course not. I come freely. Nay, gladly, to secure your favor."

I stared at him and he held my gaze. "Very well. If you please me sufficiently tonight, I will give your father an answer within a week. Though I make no promises. And if his proposal is insultingly low, I will make my displeasure felt, am I clear?"

Torsten bowed low. "Crystal clear, my Lord."

"Very well. Take off your clothes."

The lad took off his clothes with agreeable haste, even if some of the items were clearly more difficult to remove without a valet. He then stood before me in the light of the fireplace and my many candles.

He had a pleasing figure. I had originally thought him slim, but he was, in fact, lean – his chest and arms had some slight musculature. He was not particularly hairy except for a little blond hair on his chest and a darker thatch above his soft cock.

I bid him move closer, and I grabbed his hands. They had calluses, which combined with the arm development, showed me that the boy did not neglect his sword practice, even if he did wear spectacles. Which reminded me...

"Where are your spectacles?"

"I left them in my chambers, Lord, so as not to appear unsightly."

I gestured at my body, laughing. "I am a magnificent specimen, am I not? I prefer my men to see their Lord clearly. After tonight, never appear before me again without them."

"Yes, my Lord."

"OK, turn around." He did so. His back was strong and with very few blemishes. His ass was unfortunately small, yet even so it was firm and had a pleasing shape.

I turned him back around. "You are a handsome lad. Have you sucked a cock before?"

"No, my Lord."

"No? Pretty boy like you? Have you no cousins or friends? How old are you?"

"Almost 19, my Lord. And, no, I have not – the Church says it is wicked."

I sighed. Damned clerics.

I opened my robe and my large cock pointed up like a tower. "Fine. It isn't hard. Use your tongue and mind your teeth."

Torsten just looked at me, so I barked: "Well? My cock's not going to suck itself, boy!"

He startled at that, then dropped to his knees. Without delay, he grabbed my cock then put my large knob into his mouth.

I looked down at him. His mouth stretch around my cock was a pretty image, to be sure, but he wasn't doing anything with it. I raised an eyebrow and the boy began to suck and tried to take more of my cock into his mouth.

Unsurprisingly, he began to gag and sputter before I was even halfway in. And though he was clearly trying not to, I could feel his teeth. After a few minutes of this, I told him to stop and pulled my cock out of his mouth.

I could've trained the boy, of course, but, frankly, it wasn't worth the effort for a lad who'd be gone in days. If I wanted a good blowjob, there were at least three men in the castle with mouths so talented that a man could weep. No, I would not waste time with a poor cocksucking.

I gestured for Torsten to stand up and turn around. "And I take it no one has fucked you either.

He seem startled by the question. "No, my Lord, the Church..."

"Yes, yes, I know. And the Church also says to honor and obey your Lord, does it not?"

"Yes."

"Good, then maybe you can do so. Virgins are not usually my preferred dish – your lot's too much trouble."

"My Lord..."

"Never mind. Fortunately for you, I'm in a mood to plow an untouched field. Bend over and grab your ankles."

He did so, bending deeply enough that I could see his pink hole covered with a dusting of blond hair. "Ah, that's a sight." I gazed at his hole and worked my cock with a special ointment I kept on hand for times like this.

I was really quite painfully hard and would blow soon. I stood up behind him, shaking off my robe. "Get on your knees and open your mouth."

Torsten did so, looking up at me with his mouth open.

"Wider, boy! I will give you my seed and you will swallow it, spilling none – you understand?"

He nodded, mouth open.

I jerked my cock hard and as I felt my ecstacy come, I placed the head at his mouth. And a river of my seed flowed onto his tongue and out the sides of his mouth. My cock jerked again and a blob of seed shot onto his cheek.

His eyes widened with dismay as he realized that my seed was spilling. (I really knew it was an impossible demand). Unbidden, he engulfed my cock with his entire mouth tightly to take the remaining seed, swallowing furiously.

After he had adequately sucked the seed from my cock, I pulled my cock from his mouth and stepped back. Reaching down and grabbing his chin, I tilted his head up at me. "Torsten?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"What do you say when your Lord gives you his seed?"

He paused. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Very good. Now, speak truthfully – tell me of my seed."

He again paused, clearly considering. I could see his mouth work as he tried to remember my taste. "It has the feel of fresh cream, Lord, though not the taste."

"And what of the taste then?"

He tasted again. "There's none, Lord, though a slight sweetness. Am I wrong, Lord?"

I shrugged. "I know not. Merely curious. Get onto the bed." As he clambered onto my large bed, I noticed that his cock had filled out. Perhaps my little lordling preferred men as well. Or perhaps the poor boy was just eager for any sexual activity. Damned clerics.

After some more wine, I climbed onto bed behind him and turned him so he was lying flat on his back. I bent and spread his legs. Without ceremony, I took some ointment and began rubbing it on his hole. He jerked like a new colt so I rubbed his belly with my other hand to soothe him.

After warming the ointment and getting him used to the feel of my fingers on his hole. With more ointment, I pressed a finger inside, then two, steadily stretching his hole. His face showed that he did not quite know what to make of these feelings and his cock started to wilt.

With two fingers I then dived deep into his hole and curled forward to press that place of pleasure. He really jolted that time and a little fluid flowed out of his restiffened cock.

"What was that?! My Lord."

"Just your ass-joy, boy. All men have one to varying degrees."

"Will you touch it again?" I honestly could not tell whether he was asking or requesting.

"Nay. Ass-joys are not for fingers. God put it there to give you pleasure while you ride my cock, boy."

My fingers returned to relaxing and widening his hole. After he could take three fingers without sign of discomfort, I flipped him over on his hands and knees. "For first rides, boy, it goes easier if we follow the example of horses." He nodded nervously at that.

On my knees behind him, I generously annointed my cock with ointment and pressed the head to his warm, greasy hole. I pushed in, not easily, until the head was gripped tightly by his ass. Torsten made a sound, not one of pleasure.

So, stroking his back, I said: "Bear down like you're in the shitter." After he'd wrapped his brain around that, he began to loosen slightly and I pushed steadily in. As I pushed in, he made another sound of discontent, but then he yelped like a pup. Thank God for the ass-joy.

After I was fully seated, my hairy crotch tight against his smooth backside, I waited a moment so he could again get used to my girth filling him. As I pulled out, not all the way, he made another weird sound, but when I pushed back in, he yelped again. He seemed as surprised by the sound as I was!

His ass was deliciously tight – I hadn't been in such a one for some time. As I began rocking back and forth into him faster, continuing to elicit those little yelps, I said: "Ah, you're a rare ride, Tor-sten. Your hole is like a glove."

Reaching around I felt that his cock was hard and leaking. "Ah, feel this hard cock. Your ass was made to be ridden, boy!" I then pushed his head down into the mattress and began pounding him in earnest. Let the boy be in no doubt that a great lord was riding him.

Feeling myself sweaty and close, I gripped the boy's cock hard and jerked it. Crying out he spilled into my hand. And his ass tightened further – which is what I wanted – and I yelled out plowing my seed deep into him.

Still nestled in his tight creamy vise, I reached over to the rope near my bed that connected to the bell in the servants' hall. I then smacked his ass and said: "Your Lord has just given you his seed. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Lord."

Satisfied with that, I slowly pulled out, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of his messy hole, and collapsed into the bed.

He was still on his hands and knees, in a bit of a stupor, so I pulled him down next to me. After catching my breath, I got out of bed and refilled my goblet. After drinking my fill, I brought it over to him and let him replenish himself. Perhaps I was already favoring him too much by serving him.

After he, too, had drunk his fill, I got back into bed and then directed him to lie on his stomach. He looked at me quizically and said: "My Lord?"

I patted him gently on the head and relaxed into my pillows. "You will stay the night with me. But sleep on your stomach. My seed's in you and I don't want it all leaking out. My bitches always bear my pups." At that moment, a chamberlain entered the room and I directed him to bank the fire and extinguish the candle.

Well-sated – both of us I think – we slipped off to sleep.

I awoke a few hours later, as was often my habit. Torsten had rolled onto his side and was lightly snoring with his mouth open. I could see his face clearly in the moonlight. He strongly reminded me of one of the angels painted in the Royal Chapel in the capital. An angel with my seed leaking out of his ass. That was a nice image I'd have to hang onto for the next time I attended services.

I pulled the servant rope and leaned over to kiss Torsten's open mouth. He jerked back, startled, having forgotten where he was no doubt. Once his eyes were fully open, I placed my hand behind his head and brought our mouths back together.

He was a decent kisser – a far better kisser than cocksucker at any rate. Perhaps, his Churchy scruples had allowed him to kiss a blushing maid or two? After much kissing, Torsten was almost panting, I grabbed his head and put it on my hairy chest. "Suck my tits, boy. My chest is broad but, I dare say, even you should be able to get your mouth on it."

Moving up, Torsten put my nipple in his mouth and sucked at it eagerly like a babe. Unbidden, with his hands, he squeezed my muscular pecs and then arched over to take my other nipple in his mouth.

One of my guards then knocked and let in a chamberlain. As I said, I often wake in the middle of the night. Sometimes my most penetrating insights came in the night and I needed to work on them immediately. Other times, my cock just needed servicing. Often times both. In any event, my staff knew that the night bell should only be responded to by a man capable of lighting the candles, emptying my chamberpot and servicing my cock.

Indeed, over time, the night bell became one of the most coveted positions in the castle, for both men and women – not because they were all capable or qualified to service me, but for the tips. Servants, soldiers, visiting nobles – all soon learned that a way of jumping the queue to gain my attention was through the night bell. So a servant on night bell duty could earn rich tips by stopping en route and letting someone know that I'd called.

As a result, I never knew who'd show up. I trusted the guards outside my door to ensure that no one inappropriate or a danger would be let in. But beyond that? I'd come to appreciate the surprise – an exception to my otherwise tightly controlled life.

In this case, it was not a surprise guest, but a chamberlain – one of the three whose mouth could make a man weep that I mentioned earlier. He approached the bed, and I directed him to relight the candles.

As I spoke, Torsten pulled back, so I smacked the side of his ass. "Did I say stop, boy?" And he duly resumed sucking my chest as the chamberlain went around lighting the candles.

After the chamberlain left, I pulled Torsten off my chest and maneuvered him onto his back. Bending and spreading his legs back as I had done when first preparing him. I took a couple of fingers and stuck them into his hole. He winced.

He'd tightened up some but was still moist from the ointment and my spend. On my knees, I grabbed the ointment and began rubbing it slowly up and down my cock so he could get an even better look at its size.

As I moved forward to spear him – I wanted to taste his mouth as I rode him.

But his face screwed up and, gathering his courage apparently, he said: "Please, my Lord. I'm so sore!"

Bracing myself above him, I looked down at him, smiling sympathetically. "Aw, sore? Poor lad! You wish to quit my bed? You may – you're no prisoner. You've adequately pleased me – I'll consider your father's proposal within a week, as agreed."

He paused, looking at me, and said: "No, my Lord, I don't wish to quit your bed."

"Then," with that I took my cock and pushed it into his tight hole and didn't stop until I was buried to the hilt. Torsten hissed loudly. "Then," I repeated, "you don't tell your Lord you're sore."

Gasping, he said: "No, my Lord."

"What do you say to your Lord?"

"Thank you, my Lord."

I began to slowly move in and out of him. "Thank me for what?!"

"Thank you... for your cock, my Lord!"

"That's right." Still buried in him, I reached for his hands and ran my thumbs down his calluses. "You got these from sword practice, boy?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And, on the practice ground, did you complain to your swordmaster of your little hurts and bruises? Did you run to your mummy's skirts?"

His face screwed up: "No, my Lord!"

"No, you didn't, boy! You bore it like a man!"

I reached down and grabbed his cock, which was half-hard. Fucking him, I said: "I remember your family better now. Your older brother – what's his name, Morton?"

"Morgen, my Lord."

"Aye, Morgen. He's a fine-looking lad like you. But much bigger, a born soldier. I can always tell. Speak truthfully – could he take this cock better than you?"

Torsten glared at me. I laughed and smacked his chest: "I asked you a question, boy!"

Still glaring, Torsten said: "No, my Lord!"

I laughed again. "No? You have a tight piece, I grant you. But I bet he does, too – and soldiers know how to please their commanders."

Nothing like a little brotherly competition. Some combination of my mocking words or my cock pounding his tired ass-joy caused Torsten's cock to harden back up nicely.

Fucking him hard now, dripping sweat, I said: "Prove it. Use that clever mouth. If you stop talking for one moment, I will be displeased."

"My Lord!"

"Yes..."

"Thank you, my Lord!"

"Can't do better than that, boy?! You're on my cock! You're the luckiest man in the Kingdom right now! Is that all you can say?!"

And the dam broke. Torsten shouted loudly into my face: "Thank you, Lord! I want your cock, Lord! Thank you! Please give me your seed, Lord!"

I was close, I put my face down and bit his shoulder as I fucked him hard.

Torsten kept saying: "Thank you, Lord! I'm yours, Lord!"

And with that, I again spilled my seed deep into my little lordling, kissing him roughly.

I pulled out and rolled over onto my back, breathing heavily.

Torsten was breathing heavily, too. He turned his head to me and said, softly now: "Thank you for your seed, Lord."

I grunted and closed my eyes. After a moment, I reached down and grabbed his incredibly hard cock. "Quite the cockstand you have there."

I released his cock and again closed my eyes. "On your knees, boy. Climb on top of me."

Confused again, he did so – his hard, leaking cock pointed at me. I took my hand and quickly buried three fingers in his messy hole. He winced again at my roughness.

With my fingers deep in his hole, I pushed him forward until his cock was at my lips. I then opened my mouth and sucked his cock in.

I fingered his hole roughly as I sucked him hard. I loved the feel of my seed in a fine ass. I could tell Torsten was close. I could have touched his assjoy to push him over the edge. But assjoys are not for fingers – especially for young colts. Proper training required their linking that with a man's cock – mine preferably.

After a moment of this, the boy groaned: "My Lord!" in warning. But I kept sucking, and with a cry he spilled his sweet seed into my mouth and down my throat.

I then pulled him down onto the bed beside me. He collapsed on his back, saying: "Thank you, Lord." I turned my head to look at him, lying there. And I gave him a pointed look.

He seemed to remember himself and he rolled onto his stomach to better treasure my seed.

"Sleep," I said.

I awoke the next morning to find Torsten awake beside me, gazing at me. I smirked. "Does my appearance please you?"

Torsten smiled: "It is known throughout the realm that my Lord is the handsomest of men."

I laughed. "Careful, with a tongue like that I might make you a courtier! Do you sing, too?"

He frowned. "Was no flattery, my Lord. I speak truth. Though if I might ask..."

I looked at him: "Yes?"

"Your skin is like a man's at high summer."

"Yes, my Lady Mother is from the Western Kingdom – surely, you know that, boy!"

"I do, my Lord, but we are not so worldly in the mountains, and reading about things and hearing about things are not the same as seeing."

I gave him a soft smile. "True enough, boy. . . . Well, as much as I'd like to lie in bed all morning discussing my pedigree and how handsome I am, there is a Kingdom to run." With that, I pulled the servant rope. And when the chamberlain arrived, I directed that a healer be immediately brought as well as breakfast, hot water and the like.

After the chamberlain left, I stood and got into my robe. Torsten moved to likewise get out of bed and dressed, but I told him: "Stay there."

Within minutes, one of the senior healers, Wal, entered the room. I sat down on the bed beside Torsten and said: "Turn over, boy. Show me your ass."

Torsten turned bright scarlet, but flipped over, burying his head in the pillows.

I grabbed his ass, spreading his cheeks and directed the healer to inspect. "Wal, I don't often play with virgins. Check and make sure the boy is fine."

After a few minutes of prodding and questions to the boy, the old man answered: "The flesh is tender, but undamaged, my Lord. I will prepare a restorative ointment for his relief."

"Good, have it delivered directly to his chambers." Wal bowed low as he was dismissed.

As more servants began entering with my breakfast and other morning matters, I directed that Torsten be dressed and taken to his chambers. As the boy was ushered out of my private chambers, I told him to attend me in the main courtyard mid-day.

Several hours later, I entered the sunny courtyard with my retinue. As instructed, Torsten and his retinue were dressed for riding, with their horses saddled. And the boy was wearing his spectacles – good. He looked confused as I walked up to him. After he bowed, I gestured for my clerk to hand him a parchment case.

"The license Lord Gil requested. I made some changes to the duty percentages, but I trust your Lord Father will find them satisfactory."

Torsten bowed low again. "I have no doubt, my Lord! Thank you, my Lord – we never expected such a speedy consideration."

I laughed loudly: "Well, I was inspired!" And many in the courtyard joined in the laughter. "It's a good proposal, and you represented your family well."

Torsten colored slightly behind his spectacles.

I leaned in close to him, and said into his ear: "Did you receive the healer's ointment?"

He looked down. "Yes, my Lord."

"Good." I then smacked him hard on the ass and said loudly: "Then have a good ride home, young Lord Tor-sten!"