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The Soft King

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jacksjg89

PROCRASTINATOR
Once upon a time there was a Kingdom, ruled over by a very handsome king.

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He was young, had golden hair, and was both strong and intelligent, for he exercised everyday while his wise men taught him math and sciences. He was very rich, and very powerful, and all who beheld him envied him. But he was not happy, for he had no wife. So he sent for the most beautiful woman in all the land.

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From the Green Isle of the West came the most beautiful princess in all the land, a beautiful woman with redgold hair, wearing all white. All who saw her were stunned by her beauty, and yet there was an aura of incorruptible purity about her. All the women wanted to protect her from the men, and the men wanted to protect her from the other men, and her fathers servants wanted to protect her from them all.

The King and the Princess from the Green Isles of the West met as the first leaves of autumn fell, and were married on the drawbridge to his castle, and then they both disappeared into the king's bedchamber for 5 days. At first, not even the dirtiest of perverts could make a comment about their beautiful new queens sexual gifts. By day five, not even the purest of souls could refrain from thinking about it. “It’s good to be the king” was a phrase heard often in the market and in taverns.

And then, at the end of day 5, The king emerged from his bedchamber, and ordered his wife removed, put in the attic, decreed the door sealed with bricks. Rumor has it that there were no bloody sheets that were changed.

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“Ha,” said the town fool. “Our queen was not as pure and virginal as she appeared. Our king was wise to get rid of her.”

“But why did he keep her for five days?” asked the young pretty baker.

“Who knows,” said the Innkeeper wisely, sticking his hand on the wench’s buttocks and patting it.

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The King then sent for the Princess of the Southern Sand Mountains. She arrived right on Christmas Day, dressed in a loose skirt, and a scandalous top, with a golden orb crown atop her head and black makeup around her eyes. She was accompanied by six of her most fiercest eunuchs. This woman was a sensual beauty, who made everyman who saw her a hard man, a many of the women had secret taboo thoughts themselves. The young baker saw her and thought ‘She’s pretty, but she isn’t my type.’ The royal wedding was on Christmas Day, and then the king and queen disappeared for 6 days into the King’s chambers.

“She’s got him around his finger as we speak,” said the fool, warming himself by the inn fire.

“Then why isn’t she ruling us already?” Asked the young pretty blond baker.

“Who knows,” said the innkeeper wisely, who reached around and squeezed the wench’s breast. She was beginning to get sick of him.

And apparently the King had gotten sick of the new queen, for he emerged from the bedroom, and ordered his still naked wife to be put into chains. The drawbridge was lowered, and the woman with once hypnotizing beauty was flogged naked through the streets, stumbling through the snow in her bare feet. Once passed the gate she was left, and told never to come back. The last anyone ever saw of her, she was making yellow snow, still wearing her restraints, and looking not long for this world.

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The King, desperate for a worthy wife, sent for the daughter of the vicious pirate king of the north, in exchange for a truce. The Princess arrived at the castle on a wooden raft made of stick, rowed by her brother. The sea people are a private bunch, and neither get the news of the day, nor did they ask if the king had previously been married. They were married as the first snows melted, and the hills turned green.

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The king and his new wife disappeared into his bedchamber. And the whole kingdom speculated as to what was going on in there.

“Will the king keep this one I wonder?” Said the fool. “She’s quite the beauty, but you can never trust a pirate, even a female one.”

“And is there a reason that a woman can’t be just as good of a pirate as a man?” Asked the pretty young blond French baker.

“Who knows,” said the innkeeper wisely, and tried to put his hand between the bakers legs. She whacked him with a stale baguette and knocked him unconscious. She did not desire to attract the attentions of men.

The very next day, the Queen was found naked in the stocks in the town square. A line formed behind her, as all the men of the city wanted to try what the king had had and for whatever reason disposed of. The baker, Paskell, went to watch, feeling sorry for the shortly reigned queen. The first man made her scream in pain and ecstasy, and she bled.

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“How could you be bleeding when you have slept with the king?” Asked the man.

“Aye, I slept with the king. I Slept next to him, after hours of hard work on my part, using my hands, using my mouth, even using my feet. The royal worm is a lazy worm. The king cannot get hard.”

News spread throughout the kingdom, throughout the neighboring kingdoms, all over the world, that the richest, most powerful, most handsome king in all the land was incapable of getting an erection. By nightfall, the king's executioner came to the disgraced queen in the stocks, and struck off her head, and it lay below her still displayed body, still accessible to the cocks of men. But instead of looking at the humiliating spectacle of the former queen, the citizens talked about their flaccid king.

The next day, a proclamation appeared. The king admitted to being afflicted with erectile dysfunction and announced a contest. Any woman who could get him hard would become his wife, his queen, and would be gifted with the greatest jewel in all the land.

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If the woman tried and failed, a fate worse than death awaited them.

So, who wants to try and raise the kings kingmaker? Open to anyone to try.
 
The next day, a proclamation appeared. The king admitted to being afflicted with erectile dysfunction and announced a contest. Any woman who could get him hard would become his wife, his queen, and would be gifted with the greatest jewel in all the land.
If the woman tried and failed, a fate worse than death awaited them.

So, who wants to try and raise the kings kingmaker? Open to anyone to try.

xM_08 (2).jpg Hum, I'm afraid that this young blond baker is going to have some fixes ... remember me her name ?

“Who knows,” said the innkeeper wisely, who reached around and squeezed the wench’s breast. She was beginning to get sick of him.

messa pensive 12.jpg I'm a baker, not your maid in this inn ! I sell to you some bread and Wonderful French Pastries that ,only I, know to do here, but stop our relation there !!!:mad:
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Or maybe the King needs a different kind of Lady!
 

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(No pictures yet, but if my lovely assistants could help out here that would be most appreciated.)

2

News spread throughout the land of the King’s contest. There were many women who, having planned for their failure, claimed they had no interest in courting the king, and resorted to calling him names, and making jokes at his expense. However, it could not be denied that the fabled Dildo of Diamonds, or DOD, was the most desirable piece of jewelry in all the land. And what’s more, every Sunday a column of soldiers escorted the pretty thing around the city in a glass case, for all to see. Such a thing no woman could keep their eye from, and as such it provoked a few women to make some very rash decisions. A mother of three, who had left her eldest teenage daughter to care for the little ones while she went to market to get food, followed the procession back up to the palace, where she intended to raise up her liege. No one ever found out what methods she used, but they know the result. The white figure of the nude woman appeared on top of the north tower, and under her was a long pole, and attached to the was a weight. She screamed as she was lifted by her wrist away from the platform, over to the ground below, the pole tickling the inside of her pussy as the weight below caused it to move around. The crowd gathered round to see what horror would befall this woman, but they avoided being directly under her. This was fortunate for the onlookers, because rope that connected her wrist to the tower snapped, and she dropped straight down. A young man who saw her drop, but disappeared behind a building. He and several others went around to see the final results. The woman’s body was doing the splits on the ground, skewered completely, but her head had been ripped off and was dangling at the top. Contestants were fewer after this, but not non-existent.

The preachers daughter was a good wholesome girl, and yet she could not help but notice that whenever she walked by a man, there appeared to be added weight in his crouch. And though she had never laid with a man, she was confident in her abilities to seduce the king. So she went to the palace, motivated not by greed or desire, but merely by curiosity. It was said that she was brought into the king’s private chamber, and just stood there, in her white Sunday dress, and moved around a little, and disturbed to find the king seated on his throne in his royal costume, but with his floppy hang out. She spent a nervous thirty minutes talking to the king about the mundane aspects of the whether, sang a hymn, and in her final five minutes, got down on her knees before her kings cock and prayed to the lord to give the king strength to make a child. When that failed to produce results, the king snapped his fingers, and the girl was removed from his presence. She was horrified to be stripped of her clothing, for it had not occurred to her that she would be exposed this day, and taken to the walls of the castle, where she was placed in a skinny cage that allowed her neither the ability to sit or stand straight, and their she remains.

These were two of the more comical contestants, but they were far from the only ones. Famous courtesans from all over the world came to impress the king, and they all met grim fates. And very soon, a people who were normally reserved and prudish in their speech talked of nothing but what could arouse their king.

Frances Sarah Gulliver, better known to her friends as FSG, thought she had the answer. “You see, my dear Paskell,” said FSG, digging into a large gooey cinnamon roll her friend had made for her. “What attracts the king and what attracts the plebs are two entirely different things. These scrawny peasant workers, they want a little skinny bitch they can toss around and feel power over. That’s not going to work for the King, for he’s felt powerful every second of his life, and I’m pretty sure he’s about sick of it.”

Paskell, sitting across from her friend, had removed the tip of one of her croissants and was digging into it to remove the insides. “So, you Believe, my dear Frances, that the answer is to treat the king like a slave.”

“Absolutely,” said FSG. “There have so far been nineteen woman, including the first three princesses, and I bet you a baker's dozen strikes on the arse the not one of them weighs a feather below 150 lbs, (or whatever your local measurements are). Our king needs a real woman, and it would be difficult to get more real than myself.” She gestured to herself while taking a bite of her pastry. “Goddammit, why are these so goddamn good?”

Paskell had made an appreciative bow from her seat, but was very contemplative. The idea of her friend being queen of all the land made her happy, but then there was of course, the risk. “But what happens if you are wrong, my dear?”

FSG smirked over her coffee. “Well, I better not be.”

“But,” said Paskell nervously, “you’re taking an awfully grave risk, aren’t you?”

“Well,” said FSG, setting her fork down on an empty plate that once held a delicious cinnamon roll on it, “truth is, I have very little options at the moment. Speaking of which, may I make use of your rear entrance?”

Paskell blushed, and looked around her empty store front. “You mean like, right now? Could you wait for me to close for lunch?”

“No, I meant could I leave from the back?” Clarified FSG.

“Oh, of course,” said Paskell, embarrassed by the thoughts going through her head. “May I ask why?”

For an answer, FSG drew back the curtain a little for the baker to see. Five rich looking gentlemen were standing outside the bakery, and the objects they had in their hand were obscene and violent looking.

“I was the entertainment for their party last night,” FSG explained.

“You didn’t underperform, did you?” Paskell asked Gently.

“Of course not,” FSG was indignant. “They were all unconscious by the time I was done with them. I left them with smiles on their faces.”

“They aren’t smiling now,” Paskell noted.

“Yeah, well, since they were all asleep when my shift ended, I had to collect my own fee’s. Also, added 300% gratuity since it was a party of five, also collected a tip from each of them, and there was a bottle of 30 year old scotch which I finished off.”

Paskell looked out, fixated on a man who had a pear on a stick, idly turning a knob so that the pear opened and closed menacingly.

“So that’s it? That’s why your going to compete for the King’s hand?” Asked Paskell.

“Compete for the King’s cock, and yes, and also no. The DOD is very pretty, don’t you think?”

“I haven’t given it much thought,” Paskell responded.

“Well, when I am queen, I’ll send the royal carriage for you, and you can get acquainted with it.” FSG, stood from the table, and kissed Paskell on her sweet lips.

“Take care,” the baker said.

“I always do,” FSG said.

She left through the back, and Paskell went to grab her most stale baguette, and confront the men on her doorstep.
 
Maybe the solution is that, instead of sending their most desirable princess, some nation should sent their handsomest prince.;)
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Gotta be worth a try. :D:rolleyes:

The king admitted to being afflicted with erectile dysfunction and announced a contest. Any woman who could get him hard would become his wife, his queen, and would be gifted with the greatest jewel in all the land.



If the woman tried and failed, a fate worse than death awaited them.
If I was a princess or beautiful woman, and I can safely say that I am neither:p, I would remark that the story is faithful to the tales of old, and I look forward to reading more of the king's plight and maidens' fates :beer:, and also that I would not touch a challenge like this for any jewel. :rolleyes::eek::D

Fortunately these stories are full of hapless princesses. There's got to be a special clever girl that can do the job. :confused::doh:
 
There were many women who, having planned for their failure, claimed they had no interest in courting the king, and resorted to calling him names, and making jokes at his expense.
That sounds very sensible to me. :cool::D
These scrawny peasant workers, they want a little skinny bitch they can toss around and feel power over. That’s not going to work for the King, for he’s felt powerful every second of his life, and I’m pretty sure he’s about sick of it.”
As good a hypothesis as any. :confused::doh:

“Well, when I am queen, I’ll send the royal carriage for you, and you can get acquainted with it.” FSG, stood from the table, and kissed Paskell on her sweet lips.
Well said! Best of luck. :devil:
 
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