A court to behold

Uraca Montclair awaited her guests in the coastal room, the mansion's most revered and marvellous hall as well as the largest, even if not the oldest. Her grandmother had ordered the construction by combining two smaller rooms and also oversaw the new decoration and was ultimately responsible for the design. In short: she was the reason that the coastal room was also called Magna Cum Macula. An anecdote had it that a travelling salesman used this expression during one of the parties, shortly before he told a largely embarrassed crowd that this hall looked like a horde of horny elephants had had an orgy in here. A follow-up story added that Uraca’s mother had been so enraged by the comment, that she had her servants spike the man’s drink with a potion so potent, that he seemed possessed by Centurions spirit for the rest of the evening. Naturally in that story he used a now massive cock to empty his balls for a thousand times on a number of happy women.

In truth the wandering merchant had been a well-known dignitary of a now almost forgotten town. He had used both expression and infuriated Uraca’s mother but he didn’t get lucky. In fact he never did any major business in Tharros again and was soon afterwards forgotten by history. To the Montclairs the offence had not been the description of the room, because that had been accurate, not even that he had said it in front of such a crowd. No, it had been quite simply his ignorance of the beauty displayed within these walls, irrespective of the topic.

The first thing a visitor noticed after passing through the silver plated blackwood door depicting an expensively dressed merchant man with his giant cock hanging out and a very interested mermaid on two rocks within a thunderstorm - was the view.

The entire seaward wall was missing, opening up for a tremendous view across Tharros' harbor and the sea beyond. Twelve columns and eleven arches carried the ceiling and every single one was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Each arch depicted a nonsexual everyday life scene, the ledges below the arch seemed unevenly crafted but in fact portrayed servants of the family, their bodily contours rising only slightly from the white stone.

On the other hand each of the twelve columns was well-known even outside the city. At the front of each column there was a statue appearing as if born from the immaculate white marble. The statue shad skin without blemish, faces seemed teeming with life and appeared so lifelike it seemed as though you could take the accessories they wore right off them.

They were known as “the twelve lusts” of Ignatia Canteri, her greatest and last works. According to her legend she had cried for a day in front of each statue, devastated by realizing that she had reached the pinnacle of her craft. Never again had she made another statue, but instead spent the last 46 years of her life in this building to be close to her greatest creation and their new owner.

Out of these beauties four were distinctly female, their large bosoms more or less covered yet never hidden. Their taut bellies curved enticingly and their hips invited closer inspections, yet none was like the other and the longer a visitor looked at them, the more differences he or she saw. No party in this room ended without some poor drunk visitor trying to lick their pussies or suckling at their nipples.

Four of them were male muscled in a classical and beautiful way, clothed in marble tunics or armour, their features noble, seductive, lecherous or proud. There was one thing they all had in common; they pressed their hips outward, presenting their hard erections into the room. None of them was well hung though, in fact they were rather short but what they lacked in length was balanced by a thickness no living man had ever reached.

Like their beauty, their rock hard erections were legendary and many women of Tharros dreamed of an invitation to a social event not only to reach these circles of society but also to lay their eyes on these men of stone.

Especially infamous were the masked balls in these halls, when even the most noble women of Tharros high society dropped their panties, lifted their skirts and tried to ease their feverish holes on one these stone cold lovers. On wilder occasions adventurous husbands or lovers lifted their women and wives to impale their sweet and willing asses on them, before they ravaged their gushing cunts.

The last statues were perhaps the most teasing ones, rolling tongues, smiling eyes and a postured which promised insanely lustful pleasure. Despite that all four of them were mythological horned creatures, richly decorated and undeniably female in attitude and body. Each of them showed off massive tits with huge engorged nipples, often ringed or otherwise adorned, sometimes lifted up, so that their lascivious oversized tongues could lick at them. Mouths were opened wide and faces contorted in orgasmic bliss, so that the viewer could almost hear their heated moans and groans.

To reach those statues an visitor had to wander across a floor almost as beautiful, if not more so, as the marble decoration on those columns. It consisted of one of biggest mosaics ever created; a great oval framed by four entirely white corners, showing the entire Montclair family. It had been created with centuries to come in mind and so it had still a lot of free space, which currently showed a large ballroom. Every Montclair in the picture was shown in his or her prime, as an adult with a perfect and highly eroticized body. Needless to say every person was naked, nipples were hard, balls swollen and cocks erect. Motherly tits gleamed with droplets of milk, pussies glistened and pre-cum decorated raging hard shafts. Female fingers explored each other’s holes but all faces were visible, men hugged their relatives but although intercourse was highly implied none was shown. The artist responsible for this masterpiece left the story and consequence to the perverted fantasy of its viewer. Uraca was not yet to be seen on the floor.

This earthly picture was the opposite of a huge fresco on the ceiling. Knowing they owed their riches to the trade by sea, the family had used the ceiling to build a monument to it. The rectangular ceiling was framed by stormy waters, which were currently entwined in a merciless and massive battle with dozens of merchant ships, sailing around the room, while much of their freight and many of their crew went overboard.

Below the waves waited the Seaking’s court, dozens of merman and women, as well as his animal servants, taking care of everything that went overboard. Seamen, who by all means should have drowned, were saved by the mermaids. Some pressed the humans to their bosoms, others had them on their backs, the humans grabbing for their bare tits and their faces making clear how they connected with each other. Those human women under the waves often times sucked on a merman’s cock, which the creatures used like a fishing rod, letting it dangle behind them. Of course it helped that they had schlong, which were easily nine feet long, dragging the sucking human women deeper under the waves. Other human couples rode and fucked each other on maritime life forms that brought them closer to the palace.

In the centre of the ceiling, within a circle of gold and fed by the lost goods, sat the Seaking on his throne, surrounded by what looked like hundreds of coupling bodies, his own people and the humans. Even then more and more people seemed happy to join the growing orgy, mermaids looking dazed while being pressed between two sailors, human women wrapped into two or three squirting mermen cocks and eating out some underwater slut.

Many guest lamented about their necks hurting the day after their visit. Or at least those who did not switch their gaze to the walls in time. There were three and each different. Both shorter walls had open arch ways, so there wasn’t much space left. On their seaward side they both were already hard pressed by the columns and statues, so all they showed was the family crest and respectively a pedigree. On the other side of those arch ways stood one fountain each.

On the right side of the main entrance there stood a platform with the marble statue of a nubile woman, her legs far apart she squatted over a bowl. Naked, she smiled naughtily at anyone was able to look up from her very detailed love triangle or bountiful breasts. The statue was designed so that if you caressed her clit or nipples, her pussy started to gush out whatever drink the kitchen had prepared that day. But today the bowl would remain empty.

On the left knelt the statue of a male on the floor, another fountain, legs as closed as possible as his oversized balls would allow. His cock was erect and he held that roughly 5 feet long and very thick monster close. On top was also a bowl, which the crown of his cock seemed to pierce. Normally the guests had only to caress the underside of his mighty cock end to get the bowl refilled but at parties there was usually a whole group of women rubbing themselves all over the statue or at least feeling along the thick veins which meandered along his shaft.

This left the long wall. Evenly distributed among them and opposite to the twelve statues were large mirrors; so that those lucky women rubbing themselves over these statues or were impaled on them, could watch themselves in those ornamented mirrors, except for when used in their secondary function as doors to the corridor behind the wall.

The wall itself was another giant fresco, which showed a large market place in the middle of Tharros. Again it was an incredible detailed and finely painted work of art, worthy of its owner but with its obscenities and secrets. Along the wall there were several life sized women, at least one on either side of a mirror. These figures weren’t directed towards to each other or doing anything else related to the painting, but instead presented themselves to the audience. There was a confident looking whore, standing legs apart, presenting her pussy and ripping apart her upper dress to present her ample tits, two female guardsmen lifting their loincloths, one to show off her perfect and dark tanned ass, the other her twat, A noble woman in a complicated and expansive dress berating her husband, who laid on the floor and was obviously drunk, not noticing how his wife lifted her dress to show her ass and spread her cheeks or a simple maidservant kneeling in an ally, picking up some coin from the ground with her mouth open and tongue dangling out. There were lots of such scenes and the reason for them was simple.

All of those life sized paintings had a hatch, which could easily be removed, allowing for certain interactions. Behind each mirror was the entrance to the corridor between the inner and outer door of the coastal room. Originally each mirror had only hid a small room from which a person could go left or right into another niche, separated by a curtain.

It had been Uraca’s mother, a frequent user of that corridor, who had had finally had enough. She loved to switch between the pictures and always getting out and using another mirror had annoyed her. Soon the renovation was finished and every picture could be reached from any mirror, although a side effect was that you may have to go past people behind other pictures. That had its own charm.

Uraca remembered the first time her mother had taken her with her behind a mirror. It had been during a very depraved party and one of the first women they had come across was her aunt, who offered her ass to the hole. Without a doubt Uraca had known that her very own father had stuck his cock through that hole. She had been shocked at first, when her mother’s only reaction had been to kneel down and eat her sister’s gushing cunt. Then a cock coming through another hole had poked Uraca’s leg and in the heat of the moment, she'd simply knelt down and begun to play with the big pole.

The holes weren’t reserved for females only, although there were rules for men. If they went behind the wall, they were only allowed to fuck those sluts servicing the holes or pushing their cocks outside. It was always hilarious to see, when a cock came out of some figure’s mouth, cunt or ass. If no female guest wanted to service that cock publicly, usually a servant girl was called. To a fault, they showed no such qualms when allowed to play with some fat dick.

Uraca could have told many stories about what this room had seen and not even she knew every detail about them. Even at an old age her grandmother had always enjoyed to invite guests and offer the hatches to them, while her daughters and nieces waited behind the wall. Not a single time had the old lady forgotten which women had serviced which guest, how many in total and how satisfied the guests had been afterwards. Sadly Uraca’s mother hadn’t gotten that old herself and only had seen the oldest niece taking dick.

Currently the hatches were unoccupied and Uraca had seen no need to send her servants behind that wall. Her daughters were just old enough to fuck anyway, barely experienced enough to be called women. And since the matter of the day was business and not pleasure, there was no reason to let that Captain and her new exotic pets become too comfortable.

She on the other hand felt quite so sitting on her white throne of ivory, nacre and alabaster. It stood on a small pedestal in front of the central arch way and though many people suspected it and her very own holes certainly wished for it, there was no dildo mounted on the padding. Even if it wasn't that large, the throne had an undeniable splendour. Above the backrest was the family’s thinly plated coat of arm, made to glow bright by the light from the sea. The armrest and legs of the chair showed women writhing in the obvious pleasure they gave freely to each other.

Not that a visitor could have preferred to look at this glorified chair instead of Uraca herself. She truly was a sight to behold, a silken dress the colour of freshly fired cum that was actually two dresses, both fighting hard to cover half of Uraca’s magnificent body each. Needless to say, it was a futile attempt and the middle of her voluptuous flesh, in fact most of it, remained naked and showed of her taut flawless skin. Only two flimsy pieces of fabric kept the war going on and tried to make ground over the two curved and undeniable colossal globes that were her tits.

With such an impossible mission it wasn’t surprising that the textiles struggled with even covering her dime sized areolae and her small nipples currently hard enough to cut diamonds. A traditionalist might have hoped that gravity would have at least taken hold of the dress, even though it had no intention of violating Uraca’s chest with its ****. Truth be told it might have, if not for the three golden rings, each of them big enough to fit a large cock through it, which connected the pieces of fabric with each other.

Down below a small triangle of white silk covered her gorgeous pussy, held in place by nothing but a few thin strings as thin as spider threads, the back one disappearing between her butt cheeks and all but invisible to hungry eyes. In contrast to that was her jewellery, heavy golden rings adorned Uraca’s arms and wrists and brought colour to a lightly toned body and her long white hair.

The colour of her was not due to old age. In younger years Uraca had been known as “the flat chested”, a name which had bothered the young merchant woman greatly and had driven her to consume ever more obscure potions and creams. All this culminated in an ultimately successfully enhanced chest that could easily rival those of the most famous pleasure girls in the Kettle for their size, firmness and sheer beauty. But such artificial and alchemistic measures rarely came without a price.

For any observer her white hair was the most obvious side effect, even if they might never make the connection as they stared drooling at her luscious body. More than a few other consequences stayed hidden beneath her excuse for clothes. Two that didn't were her solid golden eyes and similar slightly golden tone of her skin, which had evoked lust, love, adoration and fear within countless people of all classes and backgrounds.

Below the fabric, which covered the greedy hole between her legs, the thick cream was already bursting forth out of its caldera. This was another side effect with which Uraca had learned to live. Unable to truly control her almost unearthly libido, even by the standards of Tharros, she had learned to use its benefits. For example the powerful aroma and aphrodisiac effect of her juices.

No one would ravage her but her scent lowered the inhibitions of those around her. All this and more made the fact that her areolae were only dime sized and almost smaller than her nipples itself, a piece of remorselessly forgettable information.

Nonetheless even in all her glory she wouldn’t want to greet the delegation alone, so her dearest employees and her family surrounded the ambitious business woman. It wasn’t an overly large group but as impressive as befitted her position. Among them were her sons and daughters, her most trusted advisors, servants and wards, who were arrayed around Uraca according to their importance. Directly behind her stood Centurion, a man worthy of that name at least in stature, if not in merit yet. He was Uraca's first born son and the result of a passionate affair with a man from the northern tribes. He wore his long golden hair proudly and it worked well with the slight golden taint he had inherited from his mother. Dressed in an almost simple white robe with trousers underneath, most of him was hidden behind the chair.

To Uraca’s left stood her oldest daughter Fulca, just a few years younger than Centurion. Famous for her brilliant and analytical mind, she sadly missed some of her mother’s political and social instincts. In fact the fire haired beauty was known to be direct and without much finesse in all she did. Her clothes were functionall, a band of simple white cloth covered most of her immense bust, except for the upper and lower part and a micro skirt did the same to her pussy and ass, at least as long as she didn’t move. Flat sandals protected her feet. Next to her stood a young man, unrelated to the family, he had joined this court a year ago on his 18th birthday. Born into one of the noblest lines of aristocracy his presence could be considered an honour, at least by those who didn’t know the story behind his status.

Laureq de Verten was here for two reasons and none of them was very noble. His family had been in debt to Uraca with a considerable amount of money and thought they could let him pay off the tidy sum… in her bed.

Lesser women might have taken the offer without thought, others could have felt insulted. Uraca had started to laugh as soon as the herald who brought the offer had left and kept laughing for minutes later. She usually would have declined this proposal but the chance to influence the most important years of a nobleman who might inherit a title was something she couldn’t let past. Hence why the blonde young man stood there in his blue tunic with golden threads.

Contrary to his family’s beliefs, Uraca hadn’t had any sexual motivations at first. It was only after a few weeks of not hearing any stories about her ward ravaging the servant girls, she got curious and invited him to an interrogation after an intimate dinner.

At this point the matriarch had finally realized how conservative, almost prudish the young man’s family truly was. He had had certain experiences with women, but in Uraca’s world those were still innocent enough to be considered a virgin. As a highlight he had revealed to her that he had never experienced the joy of fucking a horny slut’s greedy asshole.

Of all she had learned that night, this had been the biggest shock and so she had spontaneously decided to correct that lack of knowledge right then and there. As soon as she had turned around, showing her ward her naked glorious ass, Laureq’s pants had burst and his eight inch howitzer stood out proudly. Nonetheless she had to impale her secondary twat on him herself, he was simply to perplexed and didn’t last long on that hard ride but since then he had been a common guest in her bedrooms. After a few of those she had to admit that he was pleasing to the eye and his efforts not just admirable but enjoyable as well, although the main purpose of his stay still was his education.

This education had involved some interesting lessons. Two nights ago Uraca had masturbated furiously while watching from an alcove in the library how Fulca had let Laureq empty his balls in her ass. Right after she had noticed his erection and told him it would be useless to continue his studies as long as his soldier stood at attention, she'd bent over the table and let him choose the hole. To the surprise of daughter and mother alike, he had plunged into her tight asshole without hesitation.

Later Uraca had caught up with her daughter before she could waste the load on the lavatory, pressing her against the wall and eating out that dark hole was something any woman in the household might do. And as was the custom among them, Fulca did not turn around, but simply enjoyed being pleasured without knowing whom she had to thank.

Back in the hall, the group was still waiting. To Uraca’s right stood her twin boys. Blessed with sharp grey eyes and reddish brown hair, they were rapidly approaching their prime and were well known as dashing adventurers – in the field and in the sheets. The halls of their home often filled with the lustful screams of a lucky noble woman who got caught between them, often quite literally. The boys loved to share the most distinguished women of the noble or rich houses, and dozens of them had already succumbed to the advances of the two.

Their pants were made of black leather as dark as the intention of their libido and so tight it looked as if someone had poured the fabric over them. Both sported bulges, which weren’t as large as they themselves hoped and their mother smiled at how much it must hurt their pride to know that there were much larger fishes in the pond. Running into a few walls in their youth wasn’t that bad and they were still big enough for most women. Uraca knew that because it was almost impossible to live in a house with them, without every once in a while seeing them naked and hard. Nonetheless the risk wasn’t worth the benefit, and to let them take unproven potions was too dangerous for a not yet fully grown man. Echedey and Cayotano were their names and their upper torsos stuck in white vests, adorned with precious stones which did in fact sparkle, yet not even with half the ferocity of their radiant smiles.

In front of Uraca sat her other set of twins, Jimena and Ximena, two golden haired and blue eyed angels in flowing white dresses – her youngest daughters barely of age to witness this. They weren’t virgins, her mother had made sure of that, yet they were the most inexperienced of the group and they swung between insecurity and shy looks on the men folk or open lust for them.

They all formed her inner circle, while the servants and advisors stood as an outer shell. All of them dressed in elegantly tailored white doublets or dresses embroidered and adorned according to their station. Leading in that department was Allrich, Uraca’s oldest advisor, essentially a form of viceroy, who had served the family for years and whose loyalty and abilities were without question. This also included his massive 12 inch attitude adjuster. In the past whenever Uraca had made a mistake or broke a house rule, he had been there to punish the young matriarch mercilessly. Today they still shared a bed from time to time.

Next to him stood Mallinda, a step or two lower in the hierarchy but despite her youth, she was not even 40, already responsible for the trade with exotic spices. As such Uraca had thought the hard looking raven haired beauty could benefit from this meeting.

Alexandro was Uraca’s personal scribe, not that her mind wasn’t able to keep track with her business but sometimes it was better to have it written down on ink and parchment. At a similar age and importance as Mallinda, there had been many rumours that the two shared more than just their quill trader. Of course these rumours only circulated in Tharros, within the household everyone knew that they fucked like crazy rabbits whenever they had the chance.

Bolian was the steward of this particular house. He was quite possibly the oldest one present, as could be seen by his already grey hair. Nonetheless his stature was still that of an indomitable commander of a large household and spoke volumes of a glory only slightly diminished by the years. Sometimes he'd remember his youth by vigorously fuck some horny slut for a couple of hours.

At last servant girls flanked the group, two on each side. All four dressed and groomed immaculately, as was to be expected of such a highly esteemed household and as employees under the watchful eye of Bolian. They were all young and had barely seen 20 summers, yet they wouldn’t be here, if Bolian wouldn’t have deemed them competent enough for such an occasion.

This was the atmosphere into which the three ladies and their entourage walked.