Our wedding was a tripartite: Him, my sister and I. He was the regent of a land far from home. We where sent to be His wives. Ever skilled with the blade and confident with people, my sister soon took to the field to ride out as diplomat and bare His banner far across the world. I, being more of the mind, stay by His side, to ensure the continuity and stability of His line. Watching as my sister claims the glory, the wealth and power, But doing nothing to further the line, Serving distantly, Always away from Him, never here, While every night He uses me, confides in me, He keeps me close, guarding me jealously like He does any of His precious jewels and prizes. Filling me with His seed to ensure His line continues strong and proud. Siring the next generation of kings, queens and knights within my fertile womb. She has to leave, to campaign, perform emissary and political works, Undertake long and dangerous tasks far from home, far from Him. I stay, safe, close, always there to serve faithfully, He never will question either of our loyalty. For when she returns, I watch, I serve her as I would serve Him Helping her out of her armour when she has been out practising in the tilts, washing and tending to her wounds, Comforting her and tending to her other needs, as He desires. We stand in the training yard, I am in armour intended for her, so alike are we in body but not in mind. The master smith stands by, although confident in the skill of the forge, there still are worries, for if I die, so too shall the smith. My sister is inspecting the fit and finish, I work though basic drills slowly, arching and swinging a dull training blade, While I serve Him in the bed and palace, I still practice the blade and bow in private, for He would expect nothing less, I must maintain my body so His line given the mother they most deserve, not some sagging sow of the farm. Content she takes the sword, and glanced to Him. I take up a basic braced stance, she swings. The armour takes the blow, I stumble back. Winded and possibly bruised but safe. She swings and beats me several more times, testing the armour. By the end I am battered, bruised and winded, a few bloody gashes where the blade deflected oddly. The armour passes. He pays the smith, and I remove it, I shall spend the evening polishing it back to it's good gleam, She has a squire and servants, but she has a pride. Praising her He takes her into the place, I take the armour to our rooms. Later that evening they return, I am by the fire, carefully ensuring her blades and armour are polished and packed for a coming tournament, that the painted flourishes are perfect. They are merry and joyful, tumbling into bed they undress with haste. His imperious rod stands hard as they play. They play for long enough for me to finish my work. Standing I take my place at such times, Nude, Kneeling in supplication at the end of the bed, Watching and waiting to be summoned or dismissed. Sometimes neither happens and I simply watch. This time He calls me up, Has me use my tongue and mouth upon my sister as He watches. When content He pushes me aside as if I where part of the bedding, and mounts her. She has difficulty taking Him, It's not often she feels His masthead, so it is not surprising. He decides to not try, for it may harm her, the tournament must come first, Instead He has me fetch a wooden shaft carved and polished to look like a miniature of His own Bids her use it, while He takes me. For when she returns, surly victorious from the seasons tournaments, I should birth a litter for them. He is not so gentle with me, He knows I can take harshness in the bed, He knows I enjoyed the beating in the armour, for I live to serve and please. She goads Him on, Begging Him to fill me, her sister, with His seed, to fill me with His worthy successors. She works her cunt with the shaft He works me like such. I wrap my legs around His broad waist and claw at His back, moaning and panting. Soon we are braced together, His knot locking us together. He sags down upon me, kissing and nibbling me and my sister. Telling us both of His love for us. He can be a harsh tyrant and gentle lover within the bedroom Turning from one to other as so the weather may at sea. He roles to the side, Holding us in His arms, As we settle to sleep. Tomorrow we shall be feasting before the next my sister leaves for the tournament fields of the south, the noble lords to best in combat. After dispatching her and being left sore about my nethers from His regular use of me, we return to normal. She is on the road and will soon be showing her skill with lance and sword. He has me curl up at His side On the floor for the long meetings of state, Occasionally shifting to use my throat as a chamber pot, I take note to tell the servants to bring more wine and light beer, He tastes strong and is dark. He trusts me with the secrets of the crown, I am His wife, Eternally devoted to Him, Rarely from His sight and side. A lord from the scattered principalities of a foreign land arrives for diplomatic talks With drink flowing, The princeling asks to be excused and expel the drink. Instead He the use of me. The manhood proffered is different to that of my lord, But clean and of good health and standing, I obediently drink down the amber flow. The swell of the manhood catches His attention. He suggests to perhaps relieve the pressure Offering the continued use of my muzzle, Or, perhaps have me flag my tail As the shaft is already being pleasured in my muzzle, the decision is made, Soon bitter white spray is added to the expelled drink. As the day draws to an end, I receive letters from my older brothers and mother. For as I serve Him, these brothers are bound to an Empress East in a hot land of olives and oranges. They write of the young they have fathered Great works they have accomplished, A drawing of a great temple to the god of their lands, designed by one (a skilled architect). Our mother writes of news and gossip of home, Morning our fathers passing long ago, Like my brother's and I, He and our uncle where bound to her. Our youngest brother shall take the throne. I sit and write replies, News of the castle, Of peace finally to the north and of the pups I hope to soon carry for Him. Mother will come when I am near ready, A first litter can be a stressful time. The sun is low I take a turn around the gardens, He finds me looking out over the lake with a servant, Talking plans for the gardens. He does not dismiss the boy, Waits for us to finish, The young lad finds it difficult to not be silent To not be reserved and cowed Near His Lord and Master. Taking pity I dismiss the boy, who gratefully scurries away. He steps up and bids me close my eyes and raise my hand. I feel Him press a cool shaft into my grip The carving feels like my hand mirror. He guides it into place Asks for my stillness. I feel Him tower over me He slips something around my neck. At command I open my eyes, In the mirror, I see His stupid boyish grin on my shoulder, For even though He is my King, Master and Husband, He is still affectionate and playful. At times as earnest in infatuation and love as a pup of courting age. But it's what He is grinning over I spy. Sitting upon my décolletage is a knot work Silver and gold with fine ceramic inlay. It is the symbol the binds us together. As I am bound to Him, He is bound to me. Within the delicate work is our house arms co-mingled. A matching knotwork chained about His neck Matching my own and my sister's All three placed together lock to form a single whole. As we three do It's an ancient tradition of the lands. When wed tripartite as we are. He nuzzles and nips into my neck and shoulder, Whisperings of love and admiration upon His lips. His hand trails down to rest upon my belly, Holding me as if I where with child. Soon I will be He tells me, For until His seed takes root And I swell with His pups, He shall take any and all opportunities to enjoy me. Whether I desire it or not Of course, I do and would, For where where my sister is strong willed and confident, I am meek and withdrawing, She is dominance and command, I submission and obedience That is why she rides out under His banner in the field, While I stay under His sheet in the bed. His whispers and touch drive me to the edge, I request of Him but one thing at this time; To plant His seed here, Among the fertile beds which soon will be verdant with new life, So too should He fill me with life new. He takes the looking glass, Placing it next to the gnomon of a sundial, Ushering me to sit upon a stone bench. He kneels before me as if in supplication and prayer, Uttering a short verse of scripture in the tongue of His faith One I am still learning, For the “Ald Kirk” I am of is quite different A verse about thankfulness of a feast to receive. I think for a moment I have misheard, Misunderstood, In a single rapid action He delves under my skirts Applies His tongue to my lips. His large and practised appendage moves easily within, Tasting every facet of my cunt. He tastes me like a starved man would a feast. His teeth occasionally nipping, scraping, Over my folds Over my pearl. Under His ministrations I reach crescendo I erupt upon His face, Collapsing back onto the bench My soul sours out of my body Where it may dance with Eros and Aphrodite. As I return from the heavens He is over me A greater god of gods His member resting upon my mound. He salivates and pants like a beast in rut. And that is how He takes me. His powerful hips work my cunt. The stone of the bench shifting Giving way to our ecstasy The bench topples. With the bench collapsed under us He drags me onto the grass Thus he continues Drawing fourth many loud moans. He howls as His knot expands. I howl in unison. Such clamour has hardly been heard since consummations of our marriage. Where there where three those days, There are two now Our vocalisations are such volume as to be heard miles off I would believe. In passing I may have heard the whisper of my sister's distant howls Blown on the wind Acknowledging Reciprocating Celebrating Our joy Our union. He makes good of His promise, Every night, Morning And many times between, Regardless if I truly desire it or no, He takes me. Soon His ploughing of my furrow shows well It's effectiveness evident as my belly swells with His pups. Our mating does not abate, To see the results of His seed The swell of my belly These drive Him wild. Especially to see my usually small teats swell large Filling with the milk of life for our pups. My mother makes the journey to see me though the pregnancy, The first of hopefully many. No longer does He keep me at His foot Instead I am given a chair, A chaise, A bed in rooms, I may recline at His side when He sits for court upon the throne, As is my desire, He sends out word Bringing the most learned of the world Scholar or physician Priest or Scientist Such is His desire to ensure my, and thence His progeny, Health. Fresh fruits, roots and vegetables take over our plates, Soon those of the common folk of our land swell too Plethora of exotics flow to markets all. Dignitaries bring strange and wonderful gifts To bring our trade to their shores, No longer will He conquer the world by cold steel, But with the glint of gold and commerce. The flourish of artistry The torch of learning. My sister writes Victories on the fields of tournaments, Drawings and gifts, Complaining of the lack of His laying siege to her breaches. Jealousy of my pregnancy The months pass and I grow. He is like a puppy Pressing His ear to my swollen belly Whispering sweet nothings to it, Marvelling at the size my teats have grown to. He is hardly able to keep His hands off of me, From sexual desire And From fascination with how I grow and change. He treats me with less rough edges than once did, Now He has not only to worry for my well being Considering me hardy and able to take a beating He may give But that of His delicate pups I carry. We still play, In less rowdy a form we once did. He likes to take me on top, Groping my swollen breasts and full belly, Watching as His shaft stretches me How I react. On occasion, Especially of a morning, He will press into me from the side We lie back to chest, And take my rear. My sister may need to loosen to take His shaft into her forward I need no such, However I still need some for my rear. He slicks His fingers with oil and grease, His thick finger exploring my ring, Twisting and feeling, Soon a second joins, Flexing and widening my entrance. Readied He presses His spear against me, Easing in Drawing a lusty moan, With one hand He holds me close, The other plays with my nipples or sex. He soon is working me at a languid pace, No rush to finish, He relishes the touch and closeness. After a glorious time, On occasion several climaxes on my part, He will finish. He may simply reach down Grip His knot, Spending within me but not completing, Others; He may have my grip His bulb, Roll me over to paint my belly If there are no urgent tasks, or it is an evening, He will stretch me wide His wonderful knot forcing us to stay close for a long time more.