I turned to the council members, still frozen in place by the orb's influence. "You will draft a new royal decree. The Queen will dictate it."
One elderly councilor found himself able to move again, retrieving parchment and quill with trembling hands. The Queen stood beside him, her robe still open, her body still marked with evidence of our coupling.
"By royal decree," she began, her voice steady and formal despite her appearance, "the kingdom recognizes a new order of authority. Jamal of the Borderlands is henceforth acknowledged as the kingdom's true ruler, with all rights and powers therein."
The councilor wrote frantically, unable to disobey.
"Furthermore," she continued, "new titles are hereby established. I, Queen Isolde, shall henceforth be known as the Royal Receptacle, vessel of the true ruler's pleasure and seed."
The King made another sound of protest, quickly silenced by a guard's hand on his shoulder.
"King Aldric shall be known as the Royal Witness, whose purpose is to observe the new order without interference." She paused, looking at me for approval before continuing. "All members of court will use these titles in official capacity, effective immediately."
When the decree was finished, I nodded to the Queen. She approached me again, kneeling to take my cock into her mouth. After a few moments, I pulled away and ejaculated onto the royal seal that would mark the document. The councilor mixed my seed with the hot wax, his hands shaking with disgust and fear, then pressed the seal onto the parchment.
"Sign," I commanded the council members, and one by one, they did, adding their names as witnesses to the transfer of power.
As the last signature was added, the doors burst open again. Princess Rosalind stood in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her—her mother naked and kneeling, her father bound to his chair, the council members signing away the kingdom.
"What's happening?" she demanded, though the hunger in her eyes suggested she already knew.
"The inevitable," I replied, not bothering to cover myself. "Your mother has acknowledged the new order. Your father has witnessed it. Now it's your turn, Princess."
Instead of fear or outrage, a flush spread across her cheeks. She had been watching, I realized. She had seen what happened between her mother and me, perhaps through the same peephole where I'd first noticed her.
"My turn?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Rosalind, no!" the King shouted. "Run! Get away from this monster!"
But the Princess didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on me—on my still-hard cock glistening with her mother's juices.
"I've been waiting," she admitted, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "Watching. Wondering when you would come for me too."
The Queen looked up at her daughter, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "He's everything I told you he was," she said. "Everything and more."
I extended my hand to the Princess. "Come. Your initiation should take place somewhere more... symbolic."
She placed her hand in mine without hesitation, ignoring her father's continued protests. I led her from the chamber, the Queen following behind us like an eager handmaiden. The guards remained with the King and council, ensuring they stayed to contemplate their new positions in the hierarchy.
We proceeded through the palace to the throne room, servants and courtiers pressing themselves against walls as we passed. Word had spread quickly—the prisoner had escaped, the Queen had been claimed, the kingdom was changing hands.
The massive doors of the throne room opened at our approach. The cavernous space was empty save for the raised dais where the twin thrones sat—symbols of power that had ruled this land for generations.
"Prepare the throne," I commanded the Queen.
Understanding immediately, she hurried ahead of us, dropping to her knees before the King's massive throne. Without hesitation, she began to lick the ornate gold and velvet seat, her tongue working over every inch of the surface where her husband had sat in judgment for decades.
The Princess watched, transfixed, as her mother debased herself willingly.
"She's cleaning it for you," I explained, my hand moving to caress the Princess's perfect ass through her silk gown. "Preparing it for its true purpose."
When the Queen had thoroughly cleaned the throne with her tongue, she looked up at me expectantly. I nodded my approval and took my place on the seat of power, my naked cock standing proudly against my stomach.
"Remove your gown," I told the Princess. "Show me what you've been hiding beneath all that royal finery."
With trembling hands—not from fear but anticipation—she unlaced her elaborate gown, letting it pool around her feet. Beneath it, she wore nothing, her body already prepared for this moment.
She was perfection—younger than her mother but with the same regal beauty, her breasts high and firm, her waist narrow, her hips flaring in feminine invitation. Between her thighs, she was completely bare, like her mother, but without the evidence of childbirth. A true princess, untouched and perfect.
"You've been watching us," I said, not a question but a statement.
She nodded, her cheeks flushing deeper. "Through the peephole in the royal chambers. I saw what you did to my mother. How you broke her. How you made her scream."
"And what did you do while you watched?" I asked, stroking myself slowly.
"I touched myself," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I imagined it was me you were claiming. Me you were filling."
"Show me," I commanded. "Show me how the princess pleasures herself while watching her mother get fucked."
Without hesitation, she slid her hand between her thighs, her fingers finding her clit with practiced ease. This was not her first time pleasuring herself, royal virgin or not.
"I would imagine your cock stretching me," she said, her fingers working faster. "Filling me completely. Making me forget I was a princess."
The Queen watched her daughter with hungry eyes, her own hand moving between her legs in mirror image.
"Enough," I said after a few moments. "Come here, Princess. It's time you learned what your mother now knows."
She approached the throne, her naked body glowing in the light streaming through the stained glass windows. I guided her to straddle me, her virgin pussy poised just above my cock.
"Your royal bloodline ends today," I told her, loud enough for the Queen to hear as well. "From this moment forward, you exist for my pleasure, my seed, my legacy."
"Yes," she breathed, lowering herself slightly so the head of my cock pressed against her entrance. "I want nothing else."
I gripped her hips, holding her in place. "Your title," I said. "Renounce it."
She understood immediately. "I am no longer Princess Rosalind," she declared. "I am..." She looked to her mother for guidance.
"The Second Hole," the Queen supplied helpfully. "I am the Royal Receptacle, and you are the Second Hole."
"I am the Second Hole," Rosalind repeated, the degradation visibly arousing her further. "My only purpose is to receive my master's cock and seed."
With those words, I pulled her down, impaling her on my full length in one brutal thrust. Her maidenhead tore with an audible pop, and she screamed—a sound of pain mixed with pleasure that echoed through the throne room.
"So tight," I groaned, feeling her virgin pussy stretch around my invasion. "The perfect royal cunt."
Blood trickled down my shaft, the evidence of her virginity marking the throne beneath us. The symbolism wasn't lost on any of us—royal blood spilled as the kingdom changed hands.