by Reed James
I paced outside of my wife's bedchamber. Her moans echoed inside along with the midwife's muffled voice. How long did labor take? It had been hours. Almost the full day had passed. The sun had already set. Night wearied on.
I reached the end of the hallway and turned to walk back.
Lady Delilah stood before me. I started. Where had she come from?
“Your majesty,” the magnificent woman bowed, her red hair curling about the shiny pauldrons of her armor. “I have found him.”
“What?” I asked, my mind struggling to focus. “Oh, the next assassin?”
“One more subtle than Fireeyes,” Lady Delilah purred as she strolled closer. “One that will kill Angela at the right moment. So stop your worrying.”
I glanced at the door to my wife's bedchamber. That was hard. My son was being born while the threat to his life and rule, Angela, was out there questing to find the pieces of her ancestor's sword. Why didn't I just have her killed instead of listening to this mad plan to begin with?
“Who?” I demanded. “Who is this assassin?”
“A changeling,” Lady Delilah answered with a smile. “You know how good they are at deception and seduction. My contacts tell me he is in the southern Magery. Right along Angela's path once she finishes her business in the orc lands.”
“You mean, once she has found the first piece of the High King's sword?” I growled.
“One out of five. Relax, your majesty.”
“How can I relax when—”
The door opened, and the midwife stepped out, wiping her hands clean on a cloth. “Your majesty, you have a healthy son.”
Through the door I could hear his wails. Excitement beat in my heart. I walked past Lady Delilah and stepped into the room. My wife, her face wan, held a small bundle wrapped in cloth, his pink face peeking out of the swaddling.
“My son,” I whispered as I moved to the bed, awe beating through my heart. He was so tiny. I sat on the bed, leaning over to look at him. His eyes were closed but his mouth opened wide. “Henry. One day you will be king. And no one, especially not an upstart knight, will take that from you.”
Part Four
~~~
Song's Passion
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Changeling's Seduction
Chaun – Lor-Khev, The Magery of Thosi
The tavern watched me, enraptured by my song and skill. My fingers danced across my lyre, a far too fine instrument for the rough Maiden's Cherry, while my words echoed through the common room. It was a bawdy song I played—the high epics of court would not go over well here, even with my skill. The men, mostly farmers and laborers, clapped while they enjoyed their pint and a fondle of one of the many buxom barmaids flouncing through the room.
Five years ago, I would have been playing in the refined court of Gruber, Prince of Kivnar. That was before my affair with the man's wife had been uncovered. I had taken on Prince Gruber's form when I visited his lusty wife—Adelaide savored the wicked delight of cuckolding her boorish husband with a changeling that looked just like him—when the Prince himself unexpectedly walked in.
All in court knew I was a changeling. I made no secret of it when I arrived. They had welcomed me then—I was a graduate of the Bardic College of Az.
That welcome ended when the Prince witnessed me cumming in his gasping wife. Our love affair was doomed. I didn't blame my sweet Adelaide for claiming ignorance. She would have faced death for cheating on the lord of the Princedom of Kivnar.
If it wasn't for a bewitching song I had sung, drowsing Gruber, I would not have escaped.
For five years I had been a fugitive, wanted in every one of the Princedoms of Zeutch and blacklisted by the Bardic College. No great lord or royal court would hire me. I was forced to parley my skills in any low establishment I could.
At least there was always a pretty wife for me to seduce and an oblivious husband for me to cuckold.
It was in my blood. I was a changeling. My race, spawned by Las's seed, had an urge. I could look at a woman and, if she had been wedded beneath the god of marriage's grace, I recognized it like a glow about her. An intoxicating glow. My body would instinctively know the form and manner of her husband. I would steal into her bed and take her, the woman never knowing it was not her husband who fucked her. She would be too thrilled at his sudden skill in bed.
If she conceived a child, a new changeling would be born.
My powers also worked on unmarried women. I could assume the form of their lover or just enjoy the woman in whatever appearance was convenient. I would enjoy myself greatly, but it lacked the thrill of cuckolding a man while wearing his own appearance.
We were not a popular race. I rarely appeared in my natural state—jet-black skin, silvery hair, violet eyes, a graceful body, pointed ears like an elf, and a face sculpted to the perfection of masculinity. A face that would make even the most prudish woman part her thighs. Persecution would find me if I wore my true appearance.
Today I wore the face of a Hazian, dusky and handsome, exotic enough for the barmaids at the Maiden's Cherry to giggle and flutter their eyes at me. If a married woman didn't enter, I would take one or maybe two of the barmaids back to my room.
I missed my Adelaide, but I was a changeling. Even when my Adelaide and I proclaimed our love in her bed, I had other women I visited. But she was the woman. In five years, I had not met one that could rival my sweet Adelaide.
A touch of regret and loss entered my song. I corrected that. If I made the crowd weep in their beer, Master Reisain would be most displeased.
My eyes swept the bar as I played and froze at the red-haired woman who entered the tavern. She was out of place, a noble lady slinking into the slums. Her cloak was a fine red fringed with gold, and her dress was its match, equally vibrant and showing off an impressive bosom that wanted to swallow my gaze.
The woman shone silver. Married.
My cock hardened. A lusty strain entered my voice as I watched her cross the room. She ordered wine, sipping the ruby drink from the nicest glass the tavern owned. The wine stained her lips red. I wanted to kiss them.
I knew who I would spend the night with.
I serenaded her with bawdy songs as she sipped her wine and watched, a smile playing on her lips as she shifted in her seat. My music worked on her, slowly building the lust inside of her. Color blossomed across her fair cheeks, matching the fire of her hair. She shifted as my music sank into her flesh, warming her, preparing her.
She was entranced by me. Her dark eyes never left mine as I played for hours, only pausing to sip my wine. The form of her husband was locked in my mind. A strong man, tall and proud, with dark hair and eyes. He was muscled, but not from labor. He was a warrior. He carried himself with bold confidence, a man of action, a man accustomed to violence and taking what was his.
The woman stood when I finished playing, clapping with everyone else. The crowds began drifting from the inn. And so did the woman. She payed for her wine and walked with a sway to her hips through the rough men. None grabbed her. She carried herself with confidence, giving hard stares at any man who came too close.
They all backed away.
The barmaids struggled to get my attention as I placed my finely wrought lyre into my case. I hefted it and crossed the room, trailing after the woman. I had marked her. I could follow her across the city. I could find her anywhere before sunrise.
Sunrise always broke a changeling's spell.
Her path led to a finer inn, the Merchant's Rest, more fitting for a woman of her station. She was on the third floor, my eyes flashing up to a large balcony. The inn's finest room. She was nobly born. A traveling duchess or baroness. Was her husband with her?
No. She would not have frequented such a low establishment if he was.
There were times when nobly born ladies sought rougher men, hoping their brutishness would give them a thrill in the bedroom. If she hadn't fallen into my spell, I was sure she would have brought some uncouth farmer back to her
room only to have her fine breasts pawed by grubby hands.
Those breasts deserved better.
I ascended the stairs and reached her room. I took on the form of her husband. I reached into my pouch and pulled out my troubadour's chest. It was magically enhanced by a Tuathan witch named Bebhinn. It swelled in size to a full clothing chest. I opened it and found an outfit fit for a lord. I dressed swiftly. Her husband was a tall man, one of the tallest I had ever mimicked. The strength of his flesh filled me. My hand itched for a sword. I dressed in the velvet doublet of a lord, an embroidered codpiece over tight hose.
With boldness, I threw open the door.
The woman was naked on her bed, her hand rubbing between her thighs. Her large breasts—each fat, dark-red nipple pierced by a gold ring—heaved as she pleasured herself. Her head was thrown back, her moans so sweet.
“Delilah,” I spoke, the name her husband would address her as rising from my thoughts.
The woman gasped, her eyes widening as she gazed on me. Hope and longing flashed through them. “My Lord?”
“I've missed you,” I said, speaking in her husband's rich baritone, my accent similar to Secaren, like the woman's, but different in subtle ways. “I couldn't bear to be apart from you.”
She sat up as I moved closer, her hands reaching out for me. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I...” She swallowed. “It's wonderful to see you.”
I let my eyes flow down her body. “And you... You look as beautiful as the day I tamed you.”
I had no idea why I said those words. Sometimes they just came to me.
Delilah moaned and seized my neck. She pulled me down to her hot kiss. Her tongue thrust into me. My music had done its work. Her body was primed to explode. She needed release, so she didn't question why her husband was here.
My tongue probed her mouth. She clung to me, her fingers tightening in my hair. Her pillowy tits pressed against me through the doublet. I let her pull me down atop her in the bed, her body lithe and squirming beneath me.
My hand cupped a breast. She moaned into the kiss as I kneaded her pliant flesh. My fingers moved up, brushing the tops of her nipples. Her husband had pierced this nipples when he tamed her.
I tugged hard on them.
Her purr became more aggressive. She wrapped her thighs about my waist, grinding her wet pussy into the codpiece. My cock was hard beneath, aching to know her flesh. But I had to worship her. I had to make love to this woman better than her husband ever had.
I broke the kiss. I moved down to her ear. “You are so wet tonight.”
“Yes,” moaned Delilah. “Take me. Hard. I need it. Fuck me, my Lord.”
“After I've played with you.”
Her fingernails pressed through my doublet and bit into my shoulders as I kissed my way down her heaving breasts. The married woman gasped and moaned as I kissed up her mounds. I sucked her nipples between my teeth, stretching them out before releasing them. Her breasts jiggled. I pressed my face between them, rubbing their softness while my fingers pinched them.
She undulated and moaned beneath me. The married woman was wet and burning. I could fuck her hard now, but I wanted her to explode.
“Such delicious breasts,” I grinned.
“Your breasts, my Lord,” moaned Delilah. “I've been faithful. No man has known me in your absence.”
No man except me. I wanted to grin as I kissed my way down to her pussy.
“You've never been tempted?” I asked as I nibbled on her stomach.
“So many times, my Lord. But you tamed me. I obey your will still.”
“What about tonight?” I probed my tongue into her belly button.
“What about tonight?”
My hands pushed her thighs apart. Her fiery aroma tickled my nose. Her pussy was wet and hot. She undulated, rubbing her shaved flesh against my chest, leaving behind her sticky passion. “You were at a tavern. A rough place. Why?”
“I heard there was a troubadour of unsurpassed skill,” she answered. “I desired to hear him play.”
“And that's all? You were masturbating fiercely when I arrived.”
“Oh, he was a sexy man, my Lord, and his song stirred me. If I was weak, I might have surrendered and let him claim me.” Her voice was so smoky. My dick throbbed. She was being claimed tonight.
“Then you deserve a reward,” I told her. “For your fidelity.”
I reached one hand down to pull my cock out of my hose, stroking it as I lowered my lips to her pussy. The thrill of tricking this woman into breaking her vow of fidelity made me ache. It took all my self-control not to thrust my dick into her pussy.
I tongued through her folds. I licked and nuzzled, drinking down her fiery flavor. She gasped and moaned, humping against me while her large tits jiggled. Her hands gripped my dark hair, holding me in place as she undulated.
“Yes, my Lord, eat my pussy. Oh, it's been so long since you've had me. Don't be shy. Give me what I love. Devour me.”
I redoubled my efforts. I slid my tongue around her clit while I thrust two fingers into her pussy. She gasped and her tight sheath clenched down on my fingers. Her thighs clenched and relaxed. Her juices flowed into my mouth as I kept sucking hard on her clit.
“You like that?” I asked. “Am I making your pussy cum, wife?”
“Wife,” purred Delilah. Her eyes fluttered. “Oh, yes. You're almost as skilled as I remember. More fingers. You know I can take it. Make me cum, my Lord.”
I thrust a third finger into her tight pussy, stretching out her flesh. She gasped and bucked into my thrusts. My tongue flicked at her clit. Her pink nub throbbed and ached beneath my tongue's lashing. Her pussy clenched down on my fingers as her moans built.
She pulled and played with her piercings, gasping for joy as I brought her closer and closer to eruption. I shoved a fourth finger into her pussy. Her eyes widened and she let out such a pleased moan before flopping back onto her pillows.
“That's it. Oh, yes. But you know I need more. Fist me. Stretch my pussy out, my Lord. Make me cum so hard. That's how you tamed me. With that fist! Ram it inside me. Make me cum! It's been so long.”
I stroked my dick faster with my left hand as I curled my fingers into a fist. It was so obscene the way her pussy lips spread about my fingers. I shoved deep into her married cunt. Her flesh clenched tight about my fingers as she bucked and moaned.
“Oh, yes. Oh, that's it. Mmm, yes. Tame my pussy with your fist, my Lord. Oh, yes. Oh, gods. Pater's cock. Oh, you're making me cum so hard, my Lord.”
Her pussy spasmed about my fist. Her flesh was so tight. Juices squirted around my wrist, splashing up my arm to my open mouth. I drank her passion. She burned hot inside as her orgasm consumed her.
My dick ached. I ripped my fist out of her pussy and moved up her body. My dick had to cum. I had to violate this woman's oath and fuck her married pussy hard. Her husband, the powerful man who tamed this hot-blooded woman, had never been cuckolded.
I hoped she quickened with my child, proof that she had broken her oath.
Her hand seized my throat, squeezed tight. Her hard eyes fixed on me, the pleasure bleeding out of her face. “Stop.”
“What?” I demanded. “Submit, wife.”
“But you are not my husband, and I swore an oath.” A dangerous smile crossed the woman's lips. Her fingers tightened at my throat. Fear rippled across my skin. What was going on? “Reveal your true form, Chaun.”
“H-how do you know who I am?”
“I once saw you play at Echur. I almost enjoyed your music as much as Princess Adelaide. She was quite taken with you. She told me all about your affair.” Delilah's smile grew. “I've kept an eye on you after your...indiscretion was discovered.”
“Why?” I asked, my form rippling, her husband's appearance replaced by my ebony-black skin. I was darker than any human, even those who lived in the Halani Desert. The clothing hung loose on my slimmer form.
“I have need of your skills,” Delilah purred. “If y
ou fulfill our contract, you will once again play in a royal court.”
My heart almost stopped beating. “How is that possible?”
“It is. Will you do it?”
I swallowed. To play at a proper court, to put my skills to use in the way they were intended. “What do I have to do?”
~ * ~
King Edward IV – Shesax, Secare
“Are you still worried about Lady Delilah's plan?” my wife, Queen Lavinia, asked. She nursed our newborn son Henry. It had been five days since his birth. He was a lusty boy, always eager to nurse from his mother's teat.
A boy after my own heart.
“Yes,” I answered, turning to my blonde wife as she sat in our bed. “A changeling? Even if he is a bard, I don't see how he could kill Angela.”
“By gaining her trust,” answered Lavinia. A smile played on her lips. “Remember, bards are masters of seduction. He will wear her down and, when the moment is right, plunge the dagger into her heart. Then all you have to do is pay off the Bardic College and employ him. We could use another bard.”
“You could use another lover?” I asked.
“Now that the heir is secured, would you object? I would take precautions.”
A smile crossed my lips. “They say changelings take the form of a wife's husband when they sneak into her bed.”
“Do you want to watch yourself fuck me, my Lord?” laughed Queen Lavinia. “See, this plan has merit. Angela will die, our son shall have a secure inheritance, and you will live out one of your wicked fantasies. A pity there are no female changelings. It might be interesting to watch myself with you.”
The idea flashed through my head, two blonde beauties writhing in passion, mirrors of each other.
Lavinia looked down at our son. “Nothing will stop you from being King. Holy Mother Slata will answer my prayers and protect my son's birthright.”
I sat down on the bed and watched my son nurse. My wife was right. Fireeyes had failed. He had been too direct. Subtlety was required. A quiet knife slipped into Angela's back while she recovered from the changeling's skill in bed.
