The King Is Not To Be Ordered About

“I am your King, and you will not presume to tell me how I am to behave.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Now obey me, and remove your armor.”

“I- Yes, your majesty.” Greta is one of your personal guard enters. They are all women and they come from Svinnbard. Svinnbard is a frozen land to the North and the people of that land are tall and fair featured. She is over six arms tall with long blonde hair that spills out of her open-faced helmet. Her armor covers her large breasts but bares her muscular stomach. A skirt made of plated steal covers her most intimate areas.

She reaches back and undoes the buckle of her bustier-like chest piece. The armor unceremoniously clangs to the floor. Greta has large breasts and they almost hypnotize your senses. Meanwhile Greta unfastens the buckle of her plated steel skirt. She slides this down along her long alabaster legs revealing her shaved cleft.

Your member is throbbing hot and red. You take Greta and throw her to the bed with her legs still hanging off. You grab her long and narrow hips and raise her posterior into the air. You spread the cheeks of her muscular ass and probe the narrow opening with the head of your cock. Greta moans as her façade of hesitance fades. The fact is that you frequently have your way with your personal guard.

Suddenly the concubine cries out and a spray of blood flies across the room. You turn to see that your loyal concubine has thrown herself in the path of the assassin’s dagger. Her limp body shows that she suffered a quick ****, but the assassin remains.