To the King!

You'll continue with your plan. How long could possibly take to brighten the King's mood? If you can't, he'll dismiss you, and you can see what the summons is all about. The throne room is on the way, the quarters are upstairs beyond the main hall. It just makes sense.
You scurry down the darkened halls, travelling between pools of flickering torchlight. The sconces are placed far apart in the stone hallways. The sturdy door of the throne room, built of iron bands and heavy timbers, looms ahead. You have a fleeting thought to turn and run, as fast as your legs will carry you, back to your quarters. "Foolishness" you tell yourself, "that fear is not for this fool" you finish the thought aloud. Without a second thought, you push the door open and slip inside.

King Gregory sits at his throne, he is not wearing his crown, but is in his fineries from the feast. He looks regal and strong, he has a strong jaw and piercing eyes, he has dark hair, which seems a bit long and disheveled when compared to his neatly trimmed beard. He notices you and looks up, brow furroughed.
"Yes?" He says, his eyes questioning.
"My liege, I wished to check on your well-being. Your mood seemed dour at the feast." You hear yourself saying.
"My state of mind is not your affair. I have matters that require my attention more than your humor."
"Of course, Sire." You turn to leave, and stop. You turn back to him, and hear yourself say:
"Sire, it is my place to lift your spirits, is it not? You may think on your matters, but as my wise mentor once said: 'a burdened mind should be set at ease to do its best thinking.' Allow me to help you unburden your troubled mind."
"I have-" He begins to say, and then, seeing the steel in your eyes, he finishes "very well, do what you feel you must."
You believe you perceive a hint of a smile.

You begin with your routine, skipping some of the big theatrics, and making do with the abbreviated items you have in your small satchel. No unicycle, but you have juggling balls, cards, small items. You impress him with a mindreading trick, drawing a picture from his imagination. Soon he is fixated on you like the feast revellers were, and you begin your tumbling routine, pratfalls and somersaults. A set of backflips accompany a punchline. Soon, your brow is wet with sweat, and he is taken interest in your acrobatics. Alarmed, you think you see a lump growing in his lap, what would you do then? You stop, flushing hotly, fortunately this is covered by your powdered makeup. He stands and claps, his reaction is impossible to miss!

"Well Done." He says. His words hit you like a hammer and leave you floating through the air.
"My leige!" You say, and bow deeply. He steps down from the dias on which the throne sits, and lifts your head, he removes the colorful cap from atop your head. Your wild blonde curls are freed, and the border of white makeup is revealed at your forehead. He looks down into your eyes, and you feel your cheeks burning even hotter. He puts his hand beneath your chin, but before he can lift your face to his, you push away.
"Sire!" You say in protest, scanning the room for the nearest exit. Your heart is fluttering, and you find yourself warm and ready for him under your tights. You turn away from him, and he pulls you close, his hard member pushes against your tight-clad bottom. It is so HOT resting in the cleft of your buttocks, throbbing too, your head is swimming "He is the KING!" you think, what will you do now?

He pushes you into a wall, grinding his hips against yours, his hands splay across your toned buttocks and then drift upward, pushing up your vest and cupping your pert breasts. His lips are at your ear now, his hot breath and silver tongue flatter and excite you, shivers go down your spine. You grind back into him, pushing your ass back to rub against his crotch. You take a deep breath and turn to face him, putting your hand in the middle of his chest, softly holding him back. His heartbeat is strong and fast against your hand, you feel a bit like a jezebel, you have to be careful, you are playing with fire!

You softly but firmly push him back, he playfully goes along, genuinely smiling for the first time in the last year, you think. He backs to his throne, and you sit him down. Lowering to your knees before him, he leans back comfortably in his huge seat of power, his cock straining against the fabric of his trousers. Your hand deftly plays across his belt, unbuckling it, your eyes locked on his, as you gaze across his tented lap into his burning gaze. Lowering his pants in the front, his cock springs from its confines, you are unable to keep your eyes fixed. You gaze unabashedly at his manhood, still not entirely stiff, but engorged, you're not sure that would fit in your poor quim. You reach up and wrap a small hand around it, and the king rolls his head back, moaning. You rise up a bit on your haunches, yellow bottom rising, and put your crimson lips over the head, turning your head slightly sideways, your white cheek balloons as the head pushes against the inside. GOD, it's so HOT in your mouth! The bulb of your cheek recedes as you suck the head HARD! His hand goes to the back of your head and he grunts with pleasure, his hips buck slightly as you begin to run your tongue against the underside. A novice to this, you go about slurping and grunting as you work the shaft with a combination of bouncing your head and gripping the shaft with your hand, the latter is assisted by the slimy spit dribbling down to his balls.

Soon, he is under your control, just like an audience, his hands are on your head as you lick, suck,and stroke him to a frenzy. When you open your eyes, you see him either transfixed by your bouncing yellow bottom, or shutting his eyes and throwing his head back.
"Yes! Yes! You bring me to the brink with your lips, my painted mistress!" as he shouts this you can picture your white face and red lips, the diamonds painted on your cheek, the dark made-up eyes, it would be like violating a china doll! Your mouth slides up and down across his member. You twirl your tongue under the head as it swells and throbs. The King grabs your head and thrusts it deep into your mouth, bucking his hips, he pushes it down your throat! Your hands open and flex as they come off of his lap, you gag and feel his balls begin to tighten, Oh God, he's about to loose his seed!

"Yes! Yes!" He grunts as his seed begins to shoot into your throat, a huge load! You swallow much of the thick jism and then retch as the fluid fills your mouth around his stiff cock. He holds your head on his shaft and spurts twice more, yelling out with release. He lets go of your head and you fall backward, legs akimbo, on the floor before the throne, the viscuous glaze dribbling down over your bottom lip and down your chin, falling to your bright red vest.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment and you avert your eyes. He stands and raises his trousers, offering you a hand up. You take it and look again at his face.
"I would very much like another private performance." He says. "Allow me to offer you a place to refresh before we continue."
"Sire." You say. "Please allow me to return for this continuation of my ministrations. I am afraid I've neglected a matter of immediate import, I will find my way to you at your soonest discretion, tonight even if you so desire!"
"You are tired, it has been a night of some exertion. I will send for you later and you will go recover. Be well, my fine Fool." He says with a smile.

You quickly make your way through the great door from the throne room and lean against it's iron frame, catching your breath. Finding your way to the kitchen, you use some towels and water to hastily clean up. You throw your curled locks into a ponytail and clean off much of your makeup. You must now see about your summons from the prince...