King's Orgy

Ramonda studied the four women carefully as they stood just outside the chamber where, by the sound of it, the King’s orgy was in full swing.

To the outside would, she was known as the Queen-Mother but that was just as much a fiction as the silly name the outside world thought her nation was called, indeed, even her unconverted countrymen believed it so. Wakanda, hmph. No, not a Queen-Mother but she was the Mother of Panthers, devoted pets her king so favored. Her other title, Harem-Mother, was the one whose responsibilities she was now carrying out.

The four women were all very beautiful, all of them were Markandan, even the pale-skinned Juliette. She had been a French diplomat but she and her former husband had renounced that nationality when the King converted them in the first few days of the King’s reign when he’d done little else than expand his sovereignty over the minds and bodies of as many of the denizens of Birnin Zana as he possibly could. All four were nervous but also very excited and happy as they were in a position that any Markandan woman would kill to be in. They had the wonderful honor to serve the king with their bodies and would soon be pregnant with his babies, something every Markandan woman dreamed about and instinctively knew was their true purpose in life.

Imdanda was actuallyalready pregnant by nine months, her titties swollen and huge atop her big round taut black belly. Her former husband had knelt and masturbated like a banshee when he'd learned that his wife had been accepted into his King's royal harem, cumming all over the tiles of the palace as he imagined how his King would take possession of his baby by bathing his wife's womb with his thick royal seed.

Their matching outfits were anything but practical and would surely be cast aside within seconds of their King’s amorous attention, huge headpieces of golden beads and filigree, diamonds and sapphires and brilliant blue faux peacock feathers that extended in three feet in every direction, blue jewels dangling upon their foreheads and their temples. The rest of their ‘clothing’ was made up of jewelry around their necks, upon their arms, and looped loosely upon their abdomen. The swell of their breasts and their shaved clean vaginas were left exposed as casual nudity was a fetish of their King. Now that all of those who lived or worked at the palace as well as the vast majority of the capital were proper Markandans, the number of people who remained fully clothed in the palace were quite few indeed, mostly maintenance staff.

Ramonda finished her inspection, eyes lingering on Juliette’s small breasts, the outlier here. The King’s preference for heavy teats was well known. Why- she’d had her dress torn from her by her own son moments after her rebirth, dear Chall had then slipped around behind her to make use of her breasts to give the King’s perfect huge white serpent a tit-fuck. It had been the most satisfying sexual experience of her life. The memory always amused her a bit when she recalled the pathetically small semen stain her son had made on the back of her dress, a far cry from the thick royal seed coating her breasts and settling heavily within her stomach.

Still, her King’s tastes were varied and his lusts endless, she doubted there would be an issue. Indeed, she’d selected Juliette because of her uniqueness in the sea of black bodies the King now had access to. The brunette was a porcelain beauty and during his conversion tour he had signaled his interest in her by not just touching her as he transformed her into a proper Markandan, but he’d stripped her and slapped and fondled her buttocks repeatedly before fingering her pussy quite thoroughly. He’d then commanded her husband to have sex with her as entertainment as he continued his righteous task of conversion.

Ramonda clasped her hands underneath her dangling breasts, all she was wearing was her white wing-like shoulder mantle, her flared hat, and a matching white thong, “You all look perfect. There is no need to be nervous about displeasing him. To be near him is to be safely ensconced within his mind-scape, his desire. Queen Jean will ensure you act exactly as he wants you to. Now follow me and be ready to serve your husband-King. ”

Ramonda sauntered into the next room, holding herself proudly a smile on her lips. This was her passion and she felt alive doing it in a way she’d never had in the before-time. When her King had been attacked and stolen, it had felt like her heart had shriveled up and died. She’d thrown herself fully into the creation of his harem, it had been the last command he’d given her. It was her way of showing her love and her belief that his absence would not be permanent, never that.

Her eyes fell upon the big muscular buttocks of her son as it thrust rhythmically in the center of the room. She raised her eyebrows, surprised that her small panther-boy was getting to have sex but she was happy for him all the same. Such an average little penis on him. Like his late father. She loved them both but that affection was a pale shadow of her emotion for her King and his slab of perfect white cock-meat.

She crossed the room towards her King as he lounged upon a luxurious couch on the far side of her rutting son, her harem-girls like a line of baby ducklings behind her.

The true Queens of Markanda were with the King. The Royal Storm was sitting atop the King's hips, her lovely round heart-shaped black ass bouncing, the thick white shaft piercing her, even as his sizeable scrotum jiggled, large testes bouncing around beneath Ororo's voluptuous black buttocks. The Royal Marvel was on all fours, her round buttocks thrust out into the air, her back concave as her knees sunk into the couch cushions, her long red haired head bobbing as she pressed her beautiful face low and suckled at the King's large balls.

Squatting down on the floor at his master’s feet was the mutant villain Sabertooth, huge and hairy, he wore nothing. His very inhuman cock erect and leaking disgusting pre-ejaculate. Ramonda had been told this monster was now another of her king’s pets. She could not help but inwardly sneer, the only ones worthy of serving her King as pet were the children of her own womb.

Shuri sat beside Sabertooth leaning against the King’s leg as she stroked her leaking pussy, completely nude, because mere animals did not wear clothes even if they were geniuses.

Ramonda crossed the room and hissed slightly, feeling nothing but impotent rage as she recognized the fell red-headed assassin currently being fucked by her son. The guard-commander Cyclops was on her other end, his nude brawny body pumping in time with Chall into the Shield-agent’s mouth.

There was a line of muscular black bodies, huge towering men stroking their big cocks as they waited their turn to exact what petty **** they could on this hateful foreigner, one touched by the King yet denied the honor of becoming a true Markandan… All of them were much bigger in penis than Chall and Scott, chosen for this honor by the King because of their fine physiques and lengthy endowments. Not that any of them could match the King himself. All of them had joined his personal guard, they were ****-soldiers devoted to him and only him.