"Well, do you know how to get to Trip's apartments at least?"
He nodded. "This way, miss. The king lives in the west wing."
I followed George through the hallways. He seemed young but he didn't smile, just like everyone else. I noticed that Starkish people tended to have dark hair, high cheekbones, and slim builds. Trip looked Starkish, but he was more muscular and taller than the average man. Trip was like the perfect Starkish man, handsome, muscular, tall, and with those incredible cheekbones and that perfect jawline.
I found myself daydreaming about him as we walked through the castle maze, heading back toward the west wing. I recognized certain paintings and statues, and I began to guess that maybe they had all those things out all over the place to help people guide themselves.
Eventually, George led me up to the same door I remembered from before. He stepped and gestured. "The king's apartments," he said.
"Thanks, George."
He nodded and then fell back across the hall and away to a respectful distance.
I knocked on Trip's door, feeling incredibly nervous suddenly. I had known what it meant when he sent me this dress, and what he wanted when he told me not to wear any panties. I'd obeyed, loving that he was giving me commands, but suddenly I was worried. I'd never done anything remotely like this before, so I had no clue what was expected of me or what was going to happen. He was the king after all. I realized that I wanted to please him, even though he was a total asshole.
Finally, Trip opened the door. He was in his usual outfit, though he looked incredible.
"Perfect," he said, a big grin breaking across his face.
"What?" I asked, blushing.
"Give me a spin."
I turned for him, looking over my shoulder.
"Perfect," he said again. "Fuck, Bryce, that is perfect."
"Stop," I said, smiling despite myself. "Are you going to invite me in?"
"Yes," he said, "but first. George?" he called. "You're dismissed. Al and the others have a few hours off; you can join them."
"Yes, Your Highness," he said, and instantly left.
I laughed. "Is it weird that people actually listen to your commands?"
"Yes and no. You get used to it." He stared down at me, his eyes full of something hungry. "But when people disobey, it only makes me want to command them that much more."
I looked away. "Come on, let's go inside."
He grinned at me and turned, letting me in. He shut the door behind me.
"Drink?" he asked.
"Sure," I said.
He poured two glasses and handed me one. "It's a local wine," he said. "We're known more for beer, but we can make wine, too."
I sipped it. The wine was thick and delicious. "It's good."
"It's passable. Come." He led me over to the couches and we sat down. "It's been one fucking stressful day."
"I'm sorry about the attacks," I said.
"They aren't your fault. Or are you a rebel spy?"
I laughed. "I'd be the greatest spy in the world if that were the case."
"You have gotten very close to the king."
"Not by choice."
"I don't know," he said, sitting close to me. "Look at you. That dress is perfect, revealing just enough to entice me."
"You picked the dress," I pointed out.
"True," he acknowledged, "but you've also played hard to get so wonderfully. Every time you push me away, it only makes me want you that much more."
"That's not by design," I said, laughing. "I can't help it if you want me to obey so badly."
"I do," he admitted. "Nothing makes me harder than you obeying my commands."
"What do you want to command me to do?" I asked him, my heart beating fast in my chest.
"Stand," he said simply.
I stood. He took my glass from my hand and set it down on the end table.
"Turn," he said.
I turned around, looking over my shoulder at him.
He took my hips and pulled me closer to him. I felt his fingertips trail along my thighs, slowly pulling my dress up.
The fabric slipped over my ass. I bit my lip, looking back at him. He looked up at me, his eyes serious, and he grinned at me as he kissed my skin, his hands firm on my hips.
"What now?" I asked.
He slapped my ass lightly. "I didn't command you to speak."
I bit my lip.
"That's better," he said. "Spread your legs."
I listened, spreading them apart.
"Very good," he murmured. "God, I love this fucking ass."
I gasped as he spread my legs farther. I felt his fingers press up along my skin and slowly find my dripping wet clit.
"Trip," I gasped.
"Don't move," he said. "And don't say a word. I just want a little taste."
I groaned as I felt his tongue begin to explore my pussy from behind. He licked every inch of me, his tongue pressing deep inside my pussy, and I couldn't believe how dirty he was. Trip didn't seem to mind one bit as he licked my pussy from behind. His fingers worked my clit as he licked me, and I could barely stand straight.
"Delicious," he said. "Exactly like I remembered."
I let out a little whimper and he spun me around. He pulled me down onto him. I straddled his body as he kissed me, my dripping wet pussy pressing against his hard cock. I could feel him straining against his dress slacks, so I reached down and began to stroke his shaft.
The king was big. Very big. I was surprised at first, but I shouldn't have been. Everything about Trip was big. His personality, his muscles, his castle, it was all huge. And now I got to work his big, thick cock.
I kissed him hard, our tongues working together, and I knew what I wanted. I knew I was finally getting what I needed, after all this time of going back and forth with him. This was what I wanted and what I really needed.
"Now," he whispered in my ear, "I want you down on your knees in front of me."
"You're not my king," I said. "I won't kneel for you."
"Your issues are duly noted," he said.
I slowly slipped off the couch and knelt down in front of him. I worked his belt open and pulled his slacks off. He was wearing black briefs, and his cock was straining against the tight cotton. I pulled them off too, not wasting any time.
God, the king was so large. I took his cock in my hand and slowly stroked him.
He put his hands in my hair and tipped my chin back. He leaned forward and kissed me as I slowly stroked his thick cock.
He released me, and I leaned forward, licking him base to tip. I pressed his cock between my lips and began to suck him hard, instantly loving his taste. He groaned, his hands on my head as I sucked him.
"Fuck, Bryce," he groaned. "I've been dreaming about my cock in your mouth all fucking day. You drive me fucking wild."
I began to suck him faster, working his thick shaft with my other hand. I tried to take as much of him into my mouth and throat as I could, but he was just too big. He groaned, pushing me down.
"Suck that fucking cock," he commanded. I was dripping wet, wild with need for him. "Now rub your own wet little pussy while you take my cock."
I obeyed, putting my left hand between my legs. I couldn't believe I was doing it, but it was driving me wild. I began to rub my own soaking wet clit as I sucked his cock and jerked him off with my right hand.
"That's right. Moan while you suck this fucking cock," he said. "Moan while you take my big cock into your throat, you dirty fucking girl."
I worked him, losing myself, going wild. I rubbed my clit as I sucked him faster, taking him deeper and deeper into my throat. I couldn't stop moaning, couldn't stop sucking, because I loved it. I loved that he was commanding me, making me obey. I wanted to obey him, my king and his big cock.
"Yes," he groaned, pushing me down. "Take my cock into your fucking throat."
I pressed my fingers inside myself as I took him into my mouth.
He released me, and I gasped, staring up at him, my mouth hanging open.
"Stand," he ordered.
We stood together and he grabbed me, sweeping me off my feet. He tossed me over his shoulder and I couldn't help but yelp, surprised.
"Trip!" I said.
"No time to waste," he said, grinning. He carried me like that down the back hallway and kicked open his bedroom door.
His room was simple, just like his main apartment. He threw me down onto the bed, and I giggled as he unbuttoned his shirt. I went to take off my dress, but he shook his head.
"Leave it," he said. "I went to tear it off you."
"You can't. You'll ruin it."
"Good. I have plenty of clothes you can wear."
"Trip," I said, but it was too late. He'd already pulled off his shirt, revealing his incredibly gorgeous torso.
I stared at his tattoos. "Do kings usually have so much ink?" I asked him.
"No," he said. "Rarely. But I'm not a normal king." He got onto the bed and came toward me, pressing me down against the mattress. He took my hands and raised them up above my head, lightly holding them there. "I'm a very special king."