Royal Celebration [Pt. III]

Mark's mind and body were buzzing with excitement.

He barely paid attention to the ceremony taking place around him as he sat on his throne. Ororo was an incredible public speaker, her sentences like poems, her rich powerful voice turning his idiotic ideas into holy commandments that sent this crowd of thousands onto their feet again and again, gyrating their naked bodies without shame. It was incredible to think that this huge gathering with all its pomp and splendor had been planned, organized, and executed only within a handful of days. He'd hadn't actually been serious when he'd described this idle fantasy one night, relaxing with his command group after a small orgy.

He supposed it shouldn't have been that surprising, he had mentally enslaved an entire advanced nation-state to his will after all, a more absolute monarchy there had never been on this planet. Once his slaves had learned of his desire, they'd moved heaven and earth to make it happen. Accepting the advice of Jean and Ororo, he'd set up a hierarchy within his mind-controlled minions. Those at the bottom, those that received his 'Markandan Commoner' suite of commands obeyed the directions of those above them, the 'Royal Officials', who in turn obeyed his closest super-slaves like Cyclops and the queens without question. This meant the professionals in Markanda's government suddenly found their tasks infinitely easier as the citizenry were absolutely zealous about obeying the law and perfectly happy to accept any pronouncement.

Mark felt a gentle mental nudge from Jean, and he turned his attention to Storm's words, "Now gaze upon your lord and witness his pleasure. His pleasure is your pleasure! Rejoice, Markanda, and experience ecstasy like nothing you've ever had before, like you've never imagined could even exist in this base world! A miracle made possible by your lord, King Mark of Markanda!"

He snorted and exchanged a glance with his first red-headed queen standing be his side. Jean smirked, looking at him with clear desire. His other red-headed hottie, Mystique, touched his arm as he got to his feet, her golden gaze matching Jean's as she whispered huskily, "Have fun, my boy..."

The King strode to the edge of the stage.

He stood over the crowd of dark-skinned Markandan women on their knees, his line of Royal Guard standing one hundred strong beneath him and between them, unmoving.

Mark pulled open his robe and the central holo shifted to zoom in so that his groin filled its picture. Mark wore a black g-string, the pouch containing his royal package was bulging and hung low between his hairy thighs. He casually slipped the underwear down and off his long white cock was then exposed for all to see. The word cock hardly did justice to the King's enormous limp slab of meat. Mkhiwe couldn't help but stare at the royal tool in wonder.

Everyone knew the king had a huge dick. It was common knowledge and went without saying. Mkhiwe had even seen it a few times on the royal sex tapes that had leaked recently. But those videos could not compare to the up-close nature and quality of this shot. Mark was fully soft but his member was already much larger than Mkihiwe's erection on his best day.

It was huge, it was unwieldy, it would probably scare away any partner who did not know its royal linage, but it was one fat cock even soft.

Queen Ororo's beautiful voice declared, "Look upon his alabaster manhood and recognize his right to rule Markanda! Feel his true royalty in your loins, brothers and sisters! Rise black dicks and salute your master! Grow wet black pussies and beg for your master!"

Mkhiwe gasped as King Mark took his incredible member into his hand, the lengthy penis bending over his palm to dangle heavily.

Mkhiwe groaned as a wave of arousal suddenly suffused him and his own penis grew hard, swelling to a full strong erection in mere moments as the king slowly coaxed his own big white beast with slow strokes of his hands.

"Okay everyone. Place your hands on your knees and keep them there. Stay right where you're at. But feel free to get loud." commanded the King, his pets kneeling at his sides.

Mkhiwe's palms slapped down upon his spread knees at the same time as the hands of the men all around him did likewise. His ass was in firm contact with the bench and he knew it wasn't going anywhere until his liege commanded otherwise.

Minutes passed. The gigantic holo in the air split into two views. One remained fixed on the King's massive cock as it grew to its full astonishing size in Mark's hands. The second was a roving view of the audience. Mkhiwe was very titillated by the sweeping shot of the women on the field, kneeling with their hands on their knees, supple black thighs spread wide. He could see their shaven mounds and swollen pussy-lips as well as the arresting views of their faces twisting with passion and their black jugs heaving as they stared at their sovereign.

More minutes passed and Mkhiwe's cock felt like it was going to burst! Watching his young king masturbate, naked alongside thousands of his fellow countrymen was sending him to incredible heights of arousal and excitement, but no orgasm could come to release the tension until his king climaxed. Each new pump of Mark's hands along his enormous member sent cascades of pleasure through his body. As the pleasure grew more and more intense, it became more and more difficult to concentrate on anything beyond his liege's cock.

He groaned, unable to resist constantly flexing the muscle in his groin sending his penis bouncing wildly between his thighs. He found himself staring intently at the hole at the end of the King's fat glans, willing it to fire a thick wad of royal seed, begging it to, he needed it to!

Come on! Blow your load! Come on! he found himself chanting in his head. Great Bast! He needed his king to cum! He was going to go mad if he didn't get to cum soon!

Then the king let out a ferocious groan as he thrust out his hips, both hands frozen around the base of his cock. A tremendous streak of white shot out into the crowd of kneeling naked women before him. Mkiwhe judged it splattered across six rows of supplicant ladies before he lost all awareness of anything other than his own orgasm crashing across his system like a mag-lev train. Still sitting there with his hands clenched tight upon his knees, he grunted loudly and began to shake. A thick white rope of cum erupted from his stiff cock, flying a full five feet before it arced down to splash across the men in the seats below. Spurt after spurt followed, as he pumped the contents of his balls out as his seatmates to either side did the same. He felt something wet hit the back of his head and witnessed a momentary rain of semen from the upper seats. He slumped forward over his knees as he finished cumming, the last of his sperm dripping from the end of his cock.

It was a heady experience, an orgasm of such power like he had never felt before. And one experienced as a member of a community, the knowledge that every other Markandan had climaxed at the exact same time was awe-inspiring. It truly set off a feeling of belonging like he had never truly felt and it was accompanied by a bone-deep knowledge that Mark Williams was Mkihe's true and only king. How else could one explain such a deep connection between ruler and ruled, that the king's pleasure was shared with his chosen people.