First is first, this story features no AI or AI help. This was all written using ye old creativity.
Second, this story has futa. Apologies for those of you who aren't into that.
Third, and most importantly, enjoy the story. :)
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The fires of war had settled, the smoke of desolation had cleared, the skies had little promise of incoming storms and the lands were not at war anymore.
20 years. 20 long years to war, bleed and cut stiff backs and arrogant eyes. The lords that populated the land were lesser now than what they had been 20 years ago, but the ones left willingly joined arms, and weapons, with them today.
Leisore had known many petty princes for a long time, but the title of "king" had long been vacant, and the crowns the lords wore too small to really fit the title.
But after 20 bloody long years, the crown had grown, the land unified inch by gory inch, and the lords once again gained their authority not from their might of arms.
But from the King's.
The whole world still laid broken beyond the lands that spoke a sensible tongue but, in Leisore at least, a first step had been taken in restoring glory that it had once known.
So it was, King Adze, first of his name, had called all of them together, his deadliest swords, his best warriors, as well as his ablest administrators and notable petty lords. Those who had dropped a knee to him dared not send someone in their steed, and those who had been made to do so had no choice in the matter; they all had to come.
The harvest had been good the last few years, and the land and seasons were getting warmer. Providence from the divine, no doubt, but the harvests that followed the Adzian Unification filled the pantries to bursting, and the markets to rotting. The calves grew big and fat, and the goat kids proud and strong. This was a time of plenty, a time of celebration, and, some were the whispers...
A time of gift giving.
Morrigan, who was part of King Adze's household, already knew the truth of course.
As befit a warrior, she was a red-haired woman of tall stature. Five feet and nine inches, if the tailors were still right, only now 40 years old. She had not been born in Leisore herself, of course, but the Druidic law lands of her childhood were but a hazy memory now. Her father, the exile, had fought for Adze's father and so had gotten her involved early on, opening the door for a proper career of bloodletting-ship.
Many thought it a pity, for war had stopped her from continuing her line and finding a spouse. Doubly so because many saw themselves as that spouse.
But they just didn't know.
Tall she might be, but Morrigan had long been considered something of a beauty. Aside from her red hair, her eyes were an uncommon gray that few other women shared in this land. Her nose was straight and upturned. Yes, even in her 40s. Her cheeks were naturally rosy, her chin small, her lips inherently red, and her eyes large. A face for looking and being looked at, her father had always said.
But most men looked at her body.
The rigors of training and battle meant that her shoulders were slabs of toned muscles, and her back muscles small pyramids that reached for her neck. Generally, however, fights tended to drag on, and the sort of body that best dealt with that particular rigor tended to be lithe. Her arms, which were defined with rope-like cords of muscle, reflected that. Her stomach, which was utterly flat, reflected that. Her legs, whose muscles were otherwise very defined, reflected that.
But for some reason, her tits and ass did not.
Large was the bust divine will had endowed her, and pillowy the ass that she sat down on. Her skin, being white, had freckles that went through it out all over, but these showed the most in breasts that were as large as catapult stones. It showed on her pasty ass, and dissapeared upon getting to her wide hips.
Morrigan had made of her body a temple to fight, but all most men who looked upon her saw was a brothel to fuck. Perhaps, she really SHOULD have gotten married long before now, if only to discourage such eyes and whispers in the dark.
But, as she stood guard on the long banquet of the palace being built on her lord's Capital, a hand came around to remind her why she hadn't.
It slapped her ass and made it jiggle, almost eliciting a gasp from her. It was a vulgar hand, a daring her, and one whose owner would have normally had to pay with a bloody lip for going that far.
But Morrigan didn't, because it belonged to the Queen.
"Having fun?" a woman who was 2 years her senior asked, a bit of white hair starting to show on her roots..
"Fun is something that those noble and rich do," Morrigan duly informed the black-haired woman, "As I am but a mere household guard, I only know duty."
"What a waste," the Queen slid her hand through Morrigan's ass, not a single person in the party there noticing that anything was amiss.
Morrigan's seniority in her Lord's guard meant that she could choose her own post for even this event, and she had chosen to observe the goings and comings of the King's party from the second floor of the still unfinished palace. It was a place that was hard to get to, and poorly populated, but it endowed her with an unparalleled ability to observe everyone below.
"How about you make it your duty to let me enjoy my fun, then?" the Queen asked, leaning against her in a way that would have raised many eyebrows if anyone could see them from this angle.
Because, as chance would have it, this spot also allowed the Queen to seek a spot of adultery with her.
"What of the prince and princesses?" Morrigan asked as the Queen stuck her hand inside chain mail shirt Morrigan was wearing, seeking out her tits.
"My boy's a-courting, and the girls a-courissing," the woman softly replied, "Or do you, perhaps..."
"Mean your daughter?"
"Pleeease," Morrigan hissed as she felt her queen pinch her nipples, "Anessa, please, don't repeat those words ever again."
"Oh, but we are alone here and now, you and I," the woman replied.
"Why hide the truth, especially when it's oh so intoxicating?"
"Because it's worth your and mine head should anyone know of it," even as sexual desire rose up in her loins, Morrigan couldn't help but drily reply.
"But they haven't," the Queen said, "And they never will."
"But should they," she said, "None of them would ever suspect that you have-"
She reached down into the armored skirt that Morrigan had, and sneaked her hand where Morrigan's panties were, "-this."
Cold hand touched the limp 9 inch dick that Morrigan had. But the touch was enough to make it start to grow and fill out her skirt.
When fully erect, it was full foot of dick that was rather hard to hide or wear around in her heavy mail. But the Queen had her ways of making it go away, so Morrigan leaned back, and allowed the woman she had been having an illicit, if dangerous relationship, get close to her face to-
"MORRIGAN!" the king's voice barked from down below.
Had the Queen been any faster in detaching herself from Morrigan, perhaps she would have made for a good warrior herself had she spent time training. As for Morrigan herself, she only had but too look around them to make sure that, yes, nobody had seen them.
And yet.
"MORRIGAN!" King Adze called again, "Come down, my good sword, come down and stand in front of me."
"The time to reward has come and I would give to those who first stood with me!"
Morrigan looked at the Queen in askance.
"No, I don't know what it's about," she sighed with relief, "But I am glad that he's doing it. You deserve it, after all."