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Guys ,I am starting one more new story

It was kept by me in 2014 folder
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A Royal Impregnation
Update 1

It was inconceivable that the people should know the Maharaj (King) was impotent. He could have adopted one like many kings do. But the political fragility of his rule did not permit him to make a public admission of this all too human failing.

The first thought was that the senior queen may have been infertile. It was decided then that the other lesser queens should be tried. Before doing this, the King had to send word to the Principal Queen's father who was the powerful King of a neighboring country. Important political alliances could be upset by careless handling of such issues as which queen is to bear the crown prince.

Maharani couldn't believe all of this. The Royal bed was the scene of many a battle but he had been on the receiving side. The Maharani engaged in sexual politics to retain her position as the Chief Queen; she wanted that not only in the legal sense but also in the marital sense. He had responded to her moves and yet, the truth was he couldn't impregnate her. Then again on reflection she felt it was she who was more aggressive than him in bed. His penis was slender, but she knew that had nothing to do with impotence.

So when the message went to her father, it went with her own little note, telling her father she concurred that the crown prince was to be delivered by one of the junior queens. It was hard for her to give details but she made the point that she was open to other queens being considered and that it posed no threat to her primacy.

Several months of fucking later, they all knew the truth. Maharani sat in the adjoining room knowing Maharaj was busy humping a competitor queen; for competitors were what they were. Even as grunts and moans floated to her ears, Maharani flushed at the recollection of how much she had played the game in the royal bed to make him her slave. Even as each of those others worked hard to leave an everlasting impression on the king in his moment of need, she knew it was not going to happen anytime soon.

Kings have harems. Inevitable. But making sure that the best fuck he ever got was with her; now there was an art. And Maharani played it with finesse. She allowed chosen maids to surprise the Maharaj on occasion by having them wait in the wings while she was driving him mad with her cock-teasing. The king had marveled on all those occasions. Once a soft pair of hands gripped his wrists and pulled them off the maharani's plump breasts and held him down flat on the bed. The maid who the queen had called in for this would take no orders from him. And she held him down, pinned him and held him in various poses for the Maharani to fuck.

And then there was the time he was made to sit on the lap of a nude maid who held him in his grip and the Maharani climbed on top of him and milked him dry. It didn't take much to wear him out, but she knew his nature and realized he would still want to forage. On many an occasions, while they were intertwined in post-coital sleep, she had a maid mouth him awake, have him aroused to a new erection and sucked dry by the maid. She could well have done it herself, but the Maharani knew it was not about pleasure, but about pleasure from different women.

In this fashion, the Maharani kept the Maharaja under her thumb. He kept coming back for more and more to this woman who gave him everything a man could fantasize about. Since her energies were so focused on the politics of the situation, the Maharani found her own sexual needs languishing. The situations she invented for her husband aroused her no end. But the man was perpetually drained and didn't have significant staying power anyway.

And then came the orders from the Rajmata that the kingdom needed a Crown Prince. The discovery which followed plunged the inner circle of the Royal Family in gloom.


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Update 2

So now, The Maharani (Queen) and the Rajmata (the King's mother) sat fidgeting as the King and the Court Physician pondered the situation. The silence had been long and had become embarrassing. Finally, Rajmata decided to speak up. She knew the solution; she had known it all along, but she just didn't want to be the one to suggest it. Yet, since the Royal Physician was making such a mess of it, she felt the need to step in.

"We send the Maharani to Gurudev's ashram for rest and a yagna. The Crown Prince will be conceived there," she declared.

"Mother!" thundered the Maharaja, shocked that his mother would suggest this remedy.

It was an ancient and accepted tradition. It was discreet. And there was a safety in the sharing of such delicate issues with the Gurus, Sages and ascetics who were linked with the Royal Family.

Each Royal Family had its own spiritual counselors and they received patronage from the Kingdoms. The need was mutual and the loyalty was time tested over generations. And no King messed around with a rival's Raj Guru. Not that they would have succeeded if they had tried; the spiritual ascetics were above temptation.

They had conquered all, including sexual desire. And thus their reputation for sexual power and prowess. Their deep practice of yoga, physical fitness and energy flows in their body meant power was a given. But it was under their control. They were family men but in keeping with the traditional prescription for how a man should lead his life, the sexual phase was limited to the post – student, middle years of their lives. Thereafter, restraint was practiced and this restraint was seen as a source of power.

They lived in the Himalayas, in the foothills on the banks of mighty rivers. Some ventured further into the mountains. Others achieved spiritual heights from which they never returned.

And those that were linked with the Royal Families, every once in so many generations were called upon to fulfill this one more duty: siring the Crown Prince. It was a good bloodline to let into the Royal dynasty in any case.

All this was known and taught to the Maharaja in his days as a prince under training. But he never thought this would happen to him.

Reluctantly, he agreed to the Rajmata's proposal, but it was all to be done quietly. It was a small team of three hand-maids, the Chief of the Royal Guards with three of his men, the Rajmata and the Maharani herself who were to go on the 'pilgrimage'. In this retinue only the Rajmata and the Maharani knew the real purpose of the trip. The journey involved two night stopovers and they were scheduled to spend 4 to 6 weeks there, returning only after the pregnancy was confirmed.

The Chief of the Royal Guards rode ahead of the retinue, checking the path. Sometimes he sent his soldiers ahead to scan the landscape. At other times he rode to the back of the entourage to ensure there were no laggards and that all was going to perfect plan.


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Update 3

A young man of 20 years, he was son of the General of the Army and his family had served in exact identical fashion for several generations now. The sons of the house served in the Royal Guard, participated in various campaigns and matured; till the father stepped aside as General for his son to take his place.

And so it was with Samar Singh, an experienced soldier, who was battle hardened and brave despite his youth. He was just a year younger than his master, the Maharaja. He was tall, broad shouldered, muscles rippling and resplendent in his uniform. He rode his horse with majestic control and the customary mustache added to the authority and control he reflected.

The women certainly felt safe with him personally escorting the group. The Rajmata had a special affection for the boy who had played with her son in the growing years. She watched him through the window of the carriage, proud to see him carry himself with so much grace. She sighed. The young man did not know what was in her mind. No one new what her real plan and she just hoped she could pull it off.

The Rajmata reflected on the events of the past few months. She knew that her son was impotent. She allowed him to fuck the two junior queens just so that he would realize there was no option but to listen to her. Her son had been thrust upon the throne at a young age for the untimely death of her own husband. There had been intrigue and palace politics and the new Maharaja's position was weak. The queens in order of seniority were chosen by her to create strong allies in the neighboring states.

The Rajmata felt responsible for establishing the Kingdom on a firm footing and therefore the sense of urgency about the Crown Prince. But she wanted a bold, brave and strong Crown Pirnce; not someone intellectual and spiritually inclined. She felt strongly that a son sired by the sage would not meet that standard. It would have someone who had a martial orientation in his blood. Someone like Samar Singh, the Chief of the Royal Guard. Trusted and capable, practically family, the young man seemed the right choice.

It was not going to be easy. Both the Maharani and Samar Singh had to agree. The Maharani was the daughter of a powerful ally; if she demurred there was not much she could do. And the loyalty which the Rajmata was relying on in the case of Samar Singh could well turn the other way with the solider refusing to sleep with his master's wife.

The Rajmata would have to give them time to get used to the idea. She made up her mind; she would tell them tonight so they could reflect on it for the next two days. Then an auspicious hour on the third night would be chosen for the consummation. She would supervise the deed to ensure it stayed within the confines of a job to be done. She didn't want any complications of emotion and sexual exploration. Samar Singh was not married yet, and she wanted the impregnation handled clinically. There was no place for intimacy or lingering. Her presence would ensure that.

Samar Singh was shocked. Shocked that the Rajmata should ask him to fuck the Maharani. Shocked at the way she put it across in terms which seemed lewd to him.



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..He did not think she could use the words that she did use in asking him to fuck her. She was also explicit in telling him that there was to be no breast sucking, no caressing, no kisses and no lingering.

"I am saying this to you because you may be a virgin and you may not have experienced a woman. But the temptation to lie on the woman under you and doze will overcome you. You will not. You will leave immediately. Understood?" instructed the Maharani, looking the young soldier in the eye.

Samar Singh stared right back. Added to one kind of shock was the other shock of the fact that he now had a raging erection. He was glad this meeting was taking place while he was still in his riding breeches. If this had happened an hour or so later he would have been casually attired. Right after the royal tents had been setup, his own tent would have been up and he would have changed.

The casual clothes that he wore would not have restrained his erection to any confines. It would have stood, full and proud and the Rajmata would have noticed it straight off. In fact, right now he was frozen, staring right back at her, because he was fearful that any movement would give away his aroused state.

"I can't do it," he mumbled, his mind firmly on the though of lying between Maharani's legs and sinking his shaft into her folds.

"You must. For the king and kingdom for which you are ready to lay down your life, this is a simple and quick duty," ordered Rajmata, relieved that the youngster felt inhibited. This improved the chances of the entire situation remaining under control.

"Yes, I am ready to lay down my life, but this is different. I have never looked at Her Highness in any fashion and always have my head down in front of her. It seems like an act of treachery that I should touch her," protested Samar Singh. His mind was dizzy at the thought of losing his virginity to the queen. His mind recalled the occasion when he had seen her chest thrust out proud and full. The breasts that made her chest so full must be large and sumptuous he thought. His cock twitched and he felt wetness.

Samar Singh knelt down; partially to ensure his physical state was not detected and in part because he felt he no longer stand.

"This has the King's sanction. Do you think the Maharani and I are headed out for such a long pilgrimage without his knowing why?" laughed the Rajmata.

She stood up and walked to where he was kneeling and placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscle-hard man. Instantly, her mind wondered about how her daughter-in-law would react to the touch of a man so well endowed and sculpted with muscle. She sighed. This entire situation had a corrupting influence and she knew that. She could feel her own reaction to Samar Singh as that of a woman assessing a virile man; for that one moment, gone was the Rajmata – subject relationship.

"Son, you are a good man. I wouldn't ask you to do something which was not of national importance. And I wouldn't ask anyone outside our inner circle to do it either. Do you realize, if not you, someone has to make her pregnant?" she reasoned.

Samar Singh looked up at her. Her eyes were large, beautiful and full of kindness. He could not say no to her. And he did not want some one else touching the Maharani. Better him, who had the good of the kingdom above everything else in his mind.

But with the hormones raging in his bloodstream he could not think of getting the act done without touching, feeling, kissing and fondling her. In the last fifteen minutes that he had been with the Rajmata, his mind was on the Maharani's breasts, her soft thighs and in his mind he had clutched her curvaceous ass, pulling her onto his cock as he fucked her.

"It is a lot to ask for," he said. "I am a virgin not because I did not have opportunity. It is because I wanted my first encounter to be special and with someone special. I had many plans for this. It was neither quick nor short nor hurried. It was to be a long feast, a celebration," he confessed.

"Yes it is a lot to ask for and that is why I am asking you," replied the Rajmata. Samar Singh's words had a deep impact on her. She herself was in her forties and her husband's untimely death had left her with unfulfilled desires. Her bed felt empty but the Rajmata's exalted position in the kingdom demanded that she conduct herself with discretion.

She caught herself imagining that she could have been that someone special and shared special moments with this young man.

"Had this occurred to me before, I could have fulfilled this need in this boy and prepared him for the fuck with Samyukta," she reflected. She would have enjoyed the sexual bonding and she could have instructed him with great care. The heat of his sexuality and his virginity would have been tempered and the risks of emotional or sexual involvement with the Maharani would have been limited.

The Rajamata shook herself from this reverie the moment she felt warmth between her legs. She turned her back on him and said, "Don't treat this as that special first. It is just a job that you have to do. Keep your plans for the real first."

She did not turn back, waiting to see if he would say anything else. There was silence.

Samar Singh stayed kneeling. "As you wish," he said at last, "But there are obviously lots or arrangements that need to be made. Has the Maharani been told?"

"Yes, she knows that this needs to be done. But she doesn't know that I prefer you," she said, glad that her back was to Samar Singh.

"You need her concurrence before I build this up in my mind, isn't it?" asked Samar Singh.

The Rajmata's response was instant and severe. "You will not build up anything for this, okay!" she hissed. Then she calmed down. She needed cooperation and promises; this was not a time to be dictatorial.

"She will do as I say. Both of you need to mentally accept this, that's all. Other preparations relate to when we will do it. You of course, need to be bathed and specially prepared for your union with her. You know how to fuck a woman, don't you?" she asked, mentally ruing the tasks that were involved in managing the affairs of state.

"Only theoretically, yes" responded Samar Singh, cursing this situation in which he had to share his sexual secrets with an older woman, that too her Royal Highness the Rajmata who most people did not even get to speak to.

"From where?" asked Rajmata.

"I have read parts of Vatsyayana's Kama Sutra," he replied.

"So you know the basics?" she pushed on. She needed to attend to all the details of this very delicate task. The young man would have to get it right first time, and impregnate the woman. She could not afford a miss, so that the couple would have to have a go at each other once again. More encounters could only lead to more complications.

"More than just the basics," replied Samar Singh.

"Well you need nothing more than the basics. You must enter her, and slide in and out enough number of times to stimulate yourself towards an orgasm," she instructed. And now she had to ask some very embarrassingly detailed questions. "Have you really never been with a woman?"

"No," said Samar Singh. He did not want to volunteer any additional information after Rajmata's sharp reply to his saying he knew more than the basics.

"Are you sure? Not even Sangram Singh's daughter?" pushed on the Rajmata.

Samar Singh marveled at her detailed intelligence on him. Then again, all the key families had most members serving the palace in one capacity or the other, so such information might not be so difficult to obtain, after all.

"Well, just once when she was tending to a wound on my back," he mumbled.

"Aha! What happened then?" asked Rajmata. Strangely she felt let down that the young man would have not have seen her as special if something had happened with Sangram Singh's daughter. "Vivacious, pretty thing that lass," she thought to herself, "I wouldn't blame Samar for anything."

"She let her fingers play on my body and rubbed her breasts all over my back as she leaned over me to massage," said Samar Singh.

"That's ok! Its not sex," exclaimed the Rajmata. There was hope. "Hope for what?" she caught herself thinking. "You are the Rajmata and a widow. Shameful thoughts these!"

"Well, I got aroused and soon we were indulging is some rough play. I grabbed at her and caught her breast by mistake and she mischievously reached between my legs and accidentally caught my hard on. I had been lying face down and the movement against the floor below had already stimulated me. In the heat of the moment, she didn't let go of my ......." Samar Singh couldn't complete the sentence.

"And then what happened?" asked Rajmata, her breathing became rapid and her face flushed.

"And then my seed spurted forth, into her hand, and she ran away in embarrassment," he ended.

"That's it!" exclaimed Rajmata, "That spurt! That is what we need inside Samyukta!"

"I know," said Samar Singh.

"You know? Do you masturbate?" asked Rajmata. The question was spontaneous and she regretted it. Her own body was juiced up and her sexual instincts were now in full flow. She herself was going to need to masturbate tonight; so turned on was she by the entire proceedings. Perhaps she could fuck this young virgin here and now. But the risk of Samyukta walking in was too high. Otherwise, Rajmata was delirious with sexual desire.

A long silence ensued as Samar Singh struggled to answer. Did he need to answer? He though keeping quiet would answer the question.

Rajmata turned around and put her hand on Samar's chin and made him face her. She looked deep into his eyes, her breasts heaving in sexual tension. The movement of the bosom was not lost on Samar Singh. In this atmosphere, the woman's beauty magically came to life in front of him. "How could I not have noticed the buxom, burlesque sexuality of Rajmata?" he wondered. "Because I am a loyal soldier of the kingdom" his brain replied


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Update 5

Do you masturbate? Answer me, it is a serious question," Rajmata persisted.

Samar Singh felt his throat dry up. The Maharaja's mother was perilously close to him, he could smell her perfume and even the natural aroma of her body. He nodded silently.

"Well, you will fuck Samyukta till you feel the same sensation rise up in you as you feel when you masturbate. When the crisis is upon you, you will fuck harder; not slow down to prolong the act. When you fuck harder, you will explode into orgasm and shoot forth your seed. And when you shoot, you will keep yourself embedded deep in her. Every spurt must spray into her womb. Pull back between spurts, so that you bring out greater bursts of seed. Understood?" asked the Rajmata, unconsciously licking her lips as she salivated. It was a reflexive action on her part, but the sexual message from her was clearly visible to Samar Singh.

He gaped in disbelief at her. He understood every word, but it was hopelessly unreal. As he was transfixed, Rajmata mistook it for ignorance.

"Here, let me show you," said the Rajmata pushing on with the job of preparing the young man for the royal service. She slid her hands down his torso, leaning over him. Her hands pressed on the breast plate and armor and raced downward. She insinuated her hand between armor and the folds of his dhoti. Her fingers found the forest of pubic hair and the massively engorged head of his penis pressed back against his stomach.

Her fingertips slid around the head, marveling at the size of the knob. Her palm slid down the underside of his cock; she noted the thickness and found herself worrying for her daughter-in-law. Thankfully it was not unreasonably long, though she found herself wondering whether a longer cock would have ensured the drenching of the womb.

Samar Singh collapsed to the floor with the convulsions that wracked him as he felt the smooth silken fingers probe the contours of his manhood. The woman he had seen during his growing years as the Rajmata now loomed over his supine body. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were lidded heavy. Suddenly, the slut in her was on full display.

Samar Singh gasped as she loosened the folds of his dhoti, unraveling the long garment so that he now lay unpackaged with his trappings spread under him. Her globe-like breasts hung above him, inviting him to grab her but he didn't dare do that.

"This," whispered Rajmata, "is what I want you to use." Her fingers traveled up and down the thick weapon, feeling its heat. The trunk of his cock was dry but the head was smeared with a slimy cap of precum. She ran her thumb over the head, smearing her own thumb with the juices and spreading them on the ram. She was going to simulate a fuck with her fist and show him how to hold back between spurts and how to thrust in during the spurting. She needed to prepare the cock to take the rough fisting that was to come without hurting this darling boy.

"This is the act of fucking," she murmured, her mouth slurring with the saliva pooling there reflexively. "My fist is Samyukta's cunt. When my fist rises up, that is when your cock is at the mouth of her lips. Yes?" she asked, wanting to ensure her student understood the mechanics of the lesson.

Samar Singh shuddered, "Y-y-y-esssss" he managed, as the bejeweled hand rode up the cock, the bottom of her clenched fist letting the head slip out.

"You will be this wet, and she may well add to your wetness. That will not be good for the task at hand. We need you to be aroused quickly and orgasm even faster. So you may have to dry your cock. But just now, I will not, because I don't want to hurt you," she explained. "In fact, these must go" she said and deftly removed the several rings she wore on her fingers.

She now gripped his cock hard in her fist and Samar Singh growled. Without the bands of the rings and with the extra pressure she was driving him mad with lust. Rajmata relaxed her fist on the Chief of Guard's cock. "A cunt is never as tight as one can make one's fist. The trick to a quick cum is knowing the extra sensitive zone on your head" she went, marveling at her own sexual expertise.

She rotated her thumb on the head and looked into his eyes to see where the reaction was most. Samar Singh had his fists clenched and was thumping the carpet in frustration. Suddenly he pulled up his knees, shuddering. "Aaaaaaaaah!" he growled in his throat. He would have liked to scream at the pleasure those soft silken fingers were showering him with; but his team would enter the tent in the blink of an eye if he did that.

"There!" said the Rajmata triumphantly. "That is where the zone is. It is this you must manipulate to rub the lips of her cunt as you fuck. Now, lets show you how."

She pushed her bangles up from her wrist so they wouldn't jangle and attract attention. More importantly, they might fall on or scrape the wonderful specimen of manhood she was enjoying handling. The equipment was crucial for the mission at hand and in the corner of her mind she noted that here was an asset that merited careful handling... "Listen carefully," she instructed her student.

"When my fist is up and off your cock, you are outside Samyukta," she said, noting the copious fluid. No chance of hurting with this much of ooze, she thought to herself.

"When I slide my fist down, that is you thrusting forward, and the cock entering the cunt. Remember, it is you who will be thrusting and the cunt that is not moving," she clarified. "How can I be so sure?" she wondered. "Won't Samyukta twitch, throb, convulse and thrust up?"

"Now this," she said as her fist rode down the cock, pulling the sheath back, "is what happens when you plunge into her. Do you feel the caressing and stimulation in your cock?"

"Unh!" grunted Samar Singh in response.

"Do you? Answer me! You have to observe, not lose yourself in pleasure," she insisted, demanding the impossible of him.

Samar Singh nodded, his mind spinning. This was unreal. And what if someone walked in? He had told his deputy that he would back in a jiffy to set up their own tents. Or worse, if Samyukta walked in on the sight of the Chief of Guards being fisted by the Rajmata? Yet, he desperately hoped the Rajmata would not have the same fears and stop. He didn't want this to stop. Right now he wanted to push the woman back and impale her like a beast falling on its prey. He thrust his hips back and forward seeking his own pleasure, against her command.

His eyes moved over her kind if now-sluttish face and down that wonderful neck where he could see her pulse down to her heaving bosom. He wanted to maul those large succulent breasts. Now!

But all he did was nod back.

"That stimulation is what you must latch on to very early during the fuck. Don't forget, she is the queen and your intercourse with her must not extend beyond the bare minimum. Now here is the trick; when you pull back you must drag your cock head along the wall of her cunt so that most sensitive zone – this," she said, moving her hand off and tapping the zone on his bulb, "is stimulated as well."

Samar Singh jumped when she tapped him there, groaning loudly as he realized this woman was a veteran. God knows what all she had been doing in the royal quarters. But she had in a few minutes zeroed in on the exact strokes he masturbated himself with.

"So fuck in," she mumbled as she slid her fist down the cock down to the coarse forest of pubic hair, "and pull out" she said as she loving caressed the cock sliding her fist up, pulling at the foreskin. Streaks of viscous precum ran from cock to fist as she completed the stroke with a flourish. She carefully caught the slop in her fist; it would be useful in increasing the speed and finishing this important and infinitely pleasurable job. What a pity. She should have thought of all this before. There would have been no need for a hurried encounter on the floor of a camp tent, fraught with the danger of discovery.

"Fuck in," she slammed her fist down. Samar Singh gasped at the sudden vigor and his hand involuntarily grabbed her arm.

"Pull out," she squeezed his cock as she milked it. "In. Out. In. Out. In. out!" her eyes were transfixed on the sight of his deeply colored cock and the surging of its head as she said 'in'. That bulbous monster belonged inside her, she thought to herself obscenely as she fisted the cock with a vigorous series of strokes. She barely noticed Samar Singh grab her breast through the silk blouse. His thumb desperately sought out the nipple so he could know the lay of the land.

"Ah! Yes. Unh. Haaah!" he howled with each thrust, eyes fixed on the luxuriously long fingers, the royal fist and his wildly responsive animal of a cock.

Rajmata Priyamvada was lost in the world of milking this young man's cock. For a few moments the lesson being taught was forgotten. Saliva dripped from her mouth onto the mess below where fist and cock were sliding in and out. When his invading thumb unfurled her nipple, she shuddered.

"Wait, Samar," she gasped. "Look here!" she pleaded. Gratefully, his hand claimed the breast, kneading and stroking, since the Rajmata did not stop him.

"When you are deep in her, do you see how your cockhead swells?" she asked. Her eyes were transfixed. She was in a trance as she fucked him with her fist.

Samar nodded moaning in ecstasy.

"Your skin is pulled back, the head is swollen; if you spurt when your cock is like this at its depth inside her, the job will be done. So tell me, are you sufficiently aroused to cum?" she asked.

In reply he gripped her wrist and moved her hand at a fast pace, rapidly. Rajmata rested her other hand on the ground for support. His cock was dangerously near her face. Her hair fell forward. She swept it back quickly for she needed him to see the spurt and learn the lesson well.

"Now!" he blabbered, as he felt his orgasm coming up.


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Update 6

Rajmata noted that the speed and vigor of the fisting meant Samyukta would have to be fucked with the same energy if the encounter was to be short yet effective. She found herself wondering if Samyukta had ever been pounded so well and effectively. And if not, then would she not be like a lioness tasting blood? Would she not, in fact, feel the same way that Rajmata was feeling right now, that Samar Singh was to be enjoyed in toto?

"Keep your eyes here!," she ordered him.

Samar Singh's body convulsed.

"This is when you must fuck extra hard, not slow down," her fist moved up and down in rapid strokes.

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" wailed Samar Singh. When he masturbated this was when he slowed down to prolong the pleasure. But the Rajmata expertly ran her thumb over the zone between strokes.

He squeezed his buttocks as he felt his entire being summoned to the experience.

"Cum for me, my laadla," crooned the Rajmata, at her sluttish worst and recalling the familiarity of his growing years at the same time. (Laadla: an endearment for a beloved son.)

"Here!" she exclaimed in victory. "Note how my fist is down at your every convulsion!"

Just as she said this both she and Samar Singh lost momentary control and a few random jerks ensued. He gripped her and pulled her to himself. His face was buried in her bosom and his hips thrust into her hard. But the Rajmata took the situation back.

"Now," she exhorted him. Her fingers read the pulsating pillar in her grip.

"Watch," she ordered him as she fisted him down expecting a shot from his cock which she sensed was ready to explode. The cock was tremulous; the seed seemed to pause. She quickly slid up and back down. "Fuck like that to make it burst; don't allow it to recede," she said quickly, using the opportunity to make a point.

She fisted down and watched, hoping this was it. Samar Singh released his buttocks and his entire cock seemed to melt in that instance. Fluids held back seemed to gather and flow through.

"Take what now is Samyukta's!" hollered the subjugated soldier as he let go.

The spurt was huge and caught Rajmata unawares. It splattered on her neck. The fact that her fist was at the base of his cock and the cock was unsheathed so that, like a slingshot it released its load with force; the shot hit her with a splatter.

"That! That!," gasped the sexual virtuoso of a woman. But she could not complete the intended sentence. The flailing and thrusting was rapid. The scene had moved on.

Her fist rose. "You must pull back so that the next shot is as vigorous," she explained and rammed her fist back in time for the next spurt. This was more copious and less forceful.

"Now, one more!" goaded the Rajmata. The spurt became more heavy as the force dwindled.

"Now, a trick," she smiled, thinking of who, when and how she had learned of this one. "If you want to build up this melting spew into one last shot, clench your buttocks. Clench!" she said forcefully, bringing him to reality from the stupor of orgasmic delight.

"Now, rapid jabs in and out to raise the stimulation," she fisted the head alone. "Nod to me when you feel that you are ready to burst but for the clenching," she looked intently at his face. She noticed he was sweating. She realized that she too was sweating. And that first gob that had hit her on her throat was now racing down. The slopes of her bosom made sure the stream of cum ran down her cleavage. It soaked the silk bodice within.

He nodded. "Now! Maaaaaaaaaaa!" he screamed.

She ran her fist down fully, completely, unsheathing the wonderfully stimulated, conquered, tortured, milked cock. Samar Singh sucked in his stomach, his loins shuddered and he spurted a shot comparable with the very first one. It did not have as much volume as that first; it tried to reach out for the rose-tinted and flushed neck of the Rajmata and fell back to the amalgam of fist and cock below.

Samar Singh twisted and turned. The head of his cock was now extra sensitive. The pleasure was unbearable. The breast in his hand was massaged and twisted and pummeled. Soon enough he buried his head in it and bit at the nipple.

Her own cunt was a soppy mess and she didn't need this mouthing of her nipple. It was going to be a long night for her as these fires ignited in her would need putting out. She would have stopped him but her hand was soaked and coated in this cum. She looked at the milky white mess and its abundance. The pressure was now gone. The cock now spewed in helpless weak dribbles. But it seemed never ending.

"Good," thought the Rajmata, "this surfeit of semen will help." She would make her daughter-in-law stay lying back, knees pulled up so that all this goodness would find its way seeping into the womb.

"The temptation to maximize pleasure is great. But the time for that is not when you are spurting in her womb. I need those full-blooded shots into her womb. Your reward in pleasure is now," she said. Her fingers closing around the head of the cock and squeezing the rapidly receding bulb in and out. Samar Singh spasmed and shuddered, luxuriating in the sheer pleasure that the Rajamata was bestowing on him. He sobbed into her breast, milking her through the flimsy, now-wet silk, as she milked him.

As the heat of the moment receded, sanity began to make a comeback.

"This pleasure is for you only today," confessed a more sober Rajmata. "Please realize that on that day you will be with the Maharani. You cannot seek your own pleasure with her. That would be improper."

Samar Singh nodded. His mouth was on her nipple. The blouse soaked with his saliva revealed the treasure of her flesh to him. As sanity returned he let the nipple slip reluctantly out of his lips. He was grateful for the continuing ministrations of her fingers. Smalls jerks and spasms continued to wrack him as he felt a great sleep wash over him. The tiredness of the day's riding came rushing on.

Rajmata tousled his hair and smiled.

"So, now you know what to do. And now I know my choice is correct," said the Rajmata matter of factly. She wiped her cum smothered hand on the dhoti which lay on crumpled now below him. There was a lot of cum and that pleased her no end.

She threw the cloth of the dhoti across his body. –it was so strange; what seemed beautiful and joyous in the ardor of the moment was now embarrassing.

Samar Singh's eyes roamed the woman's body. The nipple poked out in attention visible through the wet silk of the blouse. The streak of semen now semi-dry, drew a line from her throat to the cleavage, though it was still moist where it had touched her gold chains. Suddenly, his hand, which was no longer mauling squeezing the breast could feel its fullness and weight.

"She must be a goddess in bed," wondered Samar Singh. The Rajmata looked radiant-pink in the flushed aftermath of the intense time together.

She gently removed his hand from her breast and covered her bosom with the drapes of her duppatta. She blushed; this storm of sexual emotion was an old fire that had lain dormant for a while. She stared at the supine form of Samar Singh. She been able to see the strength of his physique over the years; more so these last couple of days since this new plan had occurred to her. And now she had seen his endowment at close quarters.

They sat there immersed in thoughts of the possibilities of each other for a while. Rajmata realised that they needed to move. She now had to talk to her daughter-in-law. She looked in his eyes and could see similarities in his thoughts. As her eyes wandered down his body for the n-th time, she noticed a twitching bulge develop beneath and a tent forming where his groin was.

She simply had to move. This time she may not be able to resist him; and there was no assurance that he would be able to control himself anymore.

Both of them arranged their clothes. She used the end of her dupatta to wipe the stains from her throat, neck and chest. He tied his dhoti as best as he could, tucking away his fresh erection.

As they arrived at an acceptable state of clothing, Maharani Samyukta swept into her mother-in-law's chamber attired in a relaxed, evening dress.

She was taken aback to see both of them there. Their proximity would be normal between any two persons. But considering that one of them was the Rajmata, it was close. They also seemed disheveled; her immediate thought was neither had changed while she had freshened up and changed.

"Come, beti," invited the Queen Mother pre-empting any questions from the Queen of the Kingdom. "You have come in at just the right time."

"She has no idea how well timed her entry is," thought Samar Singh to himself as he bowed and backed out of the Royal tents on still-quivering legs.


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The Rajmata (Queen Mother) sat behind the thin veil of a curtain and watched as her daughter-in-law, the Maharani spread herself out under the looming figure of Samar Singh, the Chief of the Royal Guard.

Samar Singh, just twenty years old and a virgin had been drafted by the Rajmata (Queen Mother) to impregnate Maharani Samyukta. The lad was a battle-scarred veteran of many a battle, but a complete novice at what he was about to do. His forearms and chest had cuts and nicks but his back was free of marks of any woman having clawed him in the desperation of her orgasmic burst.

"This has to go well," thought the 46 year old widowed Rajmata, grimly. "It has to be clinical, quick and she must become pregnant in just this one encounter."

The King was impotent and this was the time tested fix for the problem; spiriting the Queen away to the Himalayan ashram of a sage. What was different was that instead of the sage being prevailed upon to beget the kingdom a successor, the Chief of Guards had been asked by the Rajmata to do the deed. Her logic was simple; the seed and graft with a warrior clan would produce a better heir than the product of an intellectual with soft hands. She wanted to stabilize the reign of her young son, whose own succession had been shaky.

The choice of Samar Singh over the sage was her very own, very private decision. The sages were preferred for they were ascetic, unattached and there was no scope for any complications. Complications could arise from the biological father resurfacing; emotional bonding between the Queen and the impregnator; political machinations and so on. For all these reasons, from time immemorial, Indian Kingdoms had preferred to have the problem solved by approaching sages and ascetics who were well disposed towards their particular kingdom. Royalty and the Spiritual gurus knew each other for generations. While the sages were not celibate, they followed a prescribed way of life which never crossed paths with the rest of the world. And thus the insurance against complications.

The Rajmata sighed. Samar Singh had grown up in front of her. He was the King's playmate of childhood days. His father was the General of the Army; the head of their family had been so for generations. So would Samar Singh, after his father's time, become the General.

It had not taken much time to convince the lad of his duty towards kingdom in impregnating the Maharani. The Rajmata expected no less from the loyal soldier; he came from a clan and family that had served the Royal Family well. But the quick acceptance of the proposal sowed the seed of doubt in her mind; would Samar Singh be as clinical as she had instructed him to be? Would he avoid caresses, touching and lingering kisses? Would he avoid the prolonging of pleasure? Finally, she had decided to be a silent spectator to the deed, ensuring that neither soldier nor the queen would be sidetracked by lust.

It was indeed corrupting and she reflected on the wisdom of the ages in entrusting this delicate task to the spiritually inclined ascetics. She found herself wondering whether she had erred; even her own son did not know she had different plans.

The ascetics were reputed to do the same deed differently. Her mind wandered back to the account rendered by one of the elderly maids in her own mother's palace. That lady had been part of an entourage in another principality, where the queen had been dispatched to get an heir after that king had been discovered impotent. These things were done very quietly with just a handful in the know, for the impotence of a king was political dynamite. If a king was to be a strong ruler, how could he be impotent? The psychology of the masses of those who were ruled was such. And so, there was no direct knowledge; just the grapevine and the gossip circles.

The Rajmata had been a young princess at the time, being educated at her mother's place in the art of statecraft. It was during one of those sessions that the salacious bit on the impregnation by a sage had been disclosed.

He sat in deep meditation, she was told. They married and had sex only for procreation, never for pleasure. They measured their spiritual powers by restraint and by capturing the vitality of their own living being through yoga and the forsaking of every thing material.

It was not that they repressed desire; they never allowed it to overcome them. They felt it come to them as their bodies are of flesh. But in their yogic state, they observe their own reaction and behavior as an outsider might observe them. As they watched themselves, they developed the power to control themselves. It was not about repression and avoidance. It was about acknowledgement and harnessing.

That power, sexuality being the most potent of the powers, when harnessed, led to spiritual awareness, growth and sublimation.

Some engaged in tantric sex as the path to sublimation. They drifted on the darker side of spirituality. At that fringe, there were those who used powers to perform magic and use their power to manipulate, destroy and command.

But the yogis at the ashrams were not on The Dark Side. The kingdoms wouldn't patronize such an ashram. The oldest ashrams had already conquered and therefore could not be attracted by material blandishments. They had age-old alliances with specific kingdoms. And for these yogis, sexuality was something they commanded; it did not command them. That is why sending a queen to a sage was acceptable. But it was fascinating to hear of how it was done.

And that old maid had told them.

"He sat cross-legged, deep in meditation. It was an appointed time so when we entered his space we were surprised to see him in meditation. On hindsight, it was silly to have expected a bed or something like that," she recalled, with all the wisdom and nuance of a woman that had experienced the world.

"Our Queen was a fragile, delicate beauty. She was overwhelmed by his presence, but also by the complexity of the task at hand; she was expected to subject herself to him and be impregnated. She was quivering with tension and knew not how to progress."

"The ladies of the ashram held her and led her up to where the yogi sat. The Queen had her hands folded in supplication to the spiritual master. The women gently slid the well-tucked cloth around her waist and the several yards of cloth wrapped around her unraveled. It didn't quite fall to the ground, but we all dropped our eyes instinctively. We had seen her nude so often while bathing, massaging and soothing her. But that day, it didn't seem right."

"Her bodice remained where it was, her breasts held in the restraining confines of the band of cloth around her chest. The lady did not know what to expect. The yogi remained seated with eyes shut. They moved her forward so that she was now directly in front of him, up close. His head was at the level of her groin. The two women on either side of the queen continued to walk towards the yogi, crossing him, still gently holding the Queen in their grip."

"The only way the queen could have continued to retain her balance was to spread her legs. She instinctively understood what was expected of her. Her hands continued to be folded in prayer and she now closed her eyes. Her ankles grazed his knees because he was sitting cross legged and his knees jutted out. She came to stand over him, feeling the stray whiskers of his long beard tickle the insides of her thighs. If they had walked further, her groin would have been at his forehead. But they didn't walk."

"She was now trembling. She did not know what was expected of her. She felt the cool breeze of those Himalayan climbs caress her most private parts. Her eyes were full of tears. Her face was red. She was ready to turn and flee. She might well have any moment then, when they gently pressed her shoulders down, willing her to sit."

"She bent her knees to comply and come down to the level of where he was sitting. As far as she could make out he was still sitting unmoved. Scared as she was she quickly opened a narrow slit in her eyelids to see what he was doing. He was doing nothing."

"We were all transfixed; no one had been asked to leave, no one had been told any rules of engagement. It was as if we were not there. My body was burning as with head bowed, but eyes straining upward I could see that she was straddling him and standing in front of him. The space was lit only with dim diya lamps (small oil lamps). The light and shade contrast in illumination was dramatic, even if dim. And I saw our Queen bend her legs and lower her body. We could see the legs spread dramatically. I am sure if he had opened his eyes, he would have seen her gaping yoni (cunt). But his eyes were shut."

"What was to happen next? What use an open and waiting yoni in front of a meditating and austere ascetic? She continued to lower her body. The two women on either side supported her to help keep balance. One hand was on the small of her back and the other between her shoulder blades. Suddenly, the hand which was passively on the small of her back, gently pushed forward."

"She gasped loudly as her pubic hair caressed the outline of a bobbing lingam (penis) and the gates of her yoni scraped the monster. Arising from between his legs was a lance of flesh, bobbing and bouncing at an upward pointing angle. Instinctively, she drew up her knees, and her bottom descended into the receptacle of his lap. Equally involuntary was her guttural groan when the lingam speared her. It was if she had fallen on a sword and it had pierced her being."

"In one fluid movement, her ass had snugly fit into his lap. It was another matter that the snug fit had placed her at a point where her yoni was splayed open and his lingam had stabbed into her as far as her womb. There was no obstruction from his thighs, while he still sat cross-legged. Her legs were raised and crossed his waist. The hands which were folded in supplication were now clutching at his shoulders.