Jaspernon The Prince : The Rise of the Cult of the Goddess : Ch.1 : Court Of The King (Section 1)

                  Jaspernon The Prince : The Rise of the Cult of the Goddess

 

Note To Readers

These events took place around one thousand years before the stories of the ‘Life and Times of a Priestess’, which describes the Life and Times of the Priestess Danella, during the Times when the Empire of the Goddess was partly conquered and came under the most threat from the nations of the continent of Vanmar. ‘Jaspernon The Prince : The Rise of the Cult of the Goddess’ describes the events just before the founding of the Empire of the Goddess, when Jaspernon who became King, and then Emperor, was just a Prince.

 

Chapter 1 : Court Of The King

 

    Jaspernon saw how good this life could be. He was in no fear of what others might think. He was a Prince and therefore he was under few obligations in his behaviour.

 

    His father, the King, openly enjoyed his mistress who was effectively the belle of the court. Everyone was drawn to her. The males of the court wished she could be their wife or mistress, or that she would flirt with them. She breathed life into a court which might otherwise have been dull. They felt motivated by her enchanting laugh, coaxed by her bright and knowledgeable confidences. The ladies, whether real ladies or just servant girls wanted to be like her, to be loved and idealised, to be able to command the respect of men wherever she went. There were some women who secretly desired to explore her beautiful form themselves and share her charms.

 

    Young Jaspernon hid in the balcony of his father’s apartments. This was the regular time for father’s trysts with Riala. After what he had seen the last time he wanted to see more of the beauty of this courtesan. Admittedly it did seem rather distasteful to view his father’s rampant desire, not something he particularly wished to do, but when he viewed his father’s lustful behaviour he could replace father with his own body, and imagine his own hands and slender body were upon the soft curvaceous tanned flesh of the beauty, instead of his father.

 

    As before father wasted little time. He was a busy man and running his kingdom was a huge responsibility, beset as it was by opposing factions and the intrigues of powerful neighbours. Riala asked him what she could do for him tonight.

 

    “Unburden yourself of your clothes mistress. I have little time,” Jaspernon heard him say.

 

    “Are you sure you would not like to sit with me awhile, while I stroke you,” she teased.

 

     “Of course, if we had time, but I will be faster if you unburden your body first.”

 

     “Very well sire!” She began to strip for him, peeling off her finery, piece by piece. This had a magnetic effect on the extent of the King’s penis, which became fully stretched and taut, and twice the size of before.

 

 

    Jaspernon had seen his father being seduced by his young mistress Riala on more than one summer evening in his tower. Those scenes were etched upon his mind from the moment he had witnessed the forbidden events. He dreamed and daydreamed constantly about the re-enactment of these scenes.

 

    He had kept a distance from her in the court because she was so beautiful, not wanting to embarrass his father, to whom she belonged. Riala was a lively and strong woman however, who made it her business to know everyone in the Palace, so he could not escape her charms, and he was coming to know her well, despite his attempts to avoid close contact. The contact he did have made his obsession with her all the stronger and now his secretive viewings of what she did with his father made him completely lustful towards her.

 

     Riala wantonly straddled herself, gloriously naked, over the laid down handsome body of the King. She showed all the fruits of her tanned body to his father as she impaled herself carefully onto his father’s taut and hardened penis. Jaspernon could delight in the curvaceous body from the distance of the balcony as he saw his father’s cock disappear deep into her chasm of lust and view her luscious backside rising and falling in varying tempos. He felt as stiffened as his father obviously was. Feverishly Jaspernon reached for his own cock, freeing it as quickly as he could from the confines of his breaches. Then he pulled on it, quick hard strokes of pure joy.

 

     “My King, I feel it is time for you to mount me,” cried Riala, breathlessly. “I sense your time may be near.”

 

     “Yes, my love it is time,” replied the King. “Let me have you!”

 

     She raised herself off his glistening cock, and laid back on the bed beside him. The King raised himself to his knees and fell upon her swiftly, before the mood could wear off. She was a beautiful colourful butterfly, to entrap a King. Not even the highest monarch could have refused her charms. Croesian buffeted her swiftly with his cock, allowing her no time to compose herself. Her legs were raised and his arms bore the strain as his backside moved with the compulsion of lust against her. She squeeled with her own delight and berated him to finish her, which he did, causing her to gush her fluids, while he spent himself deep inside her, with an agonised look of extreme passion on his bearded face.

 

     Just as Riala cried out, as the King drove her into her final orgasm, Jaspernon the Prince shot his own semen, out of his own penis and into the rag he had brought with him for such a purpose. His moment came at exactly the same time as his father, the King, grunted his release. Swiftly Jaspernon calmed his own breathing so neither of the lovers below should hear him. He laid low while they collected themselves, and the King rushed away for his next meeting. Shortly Riala went to bathe herself in the small bathroom servants had filled with boiled water earlier. This was Jaspernon’s moment to escape towards his own apartment elsewhere in the Castle.

 

 

 

    Jaspernon, the Prince, grabbed his knife and fork and dug into his fish and potatoes meal enthusiastically.

 

    Riala the courtesan, her cutlery idle, looked fixedly at Jaspernon, a bemused expression on her pretty face (she was only 24 to Jaspernon’s 18 at this time). She looked at him as if bored by the conversational clatter of political talk. Keen to entertain herself, as ever, she found it pleasing to look into the eyes of the child who was now a man. The years which separated them were not great, but she had the confidence of knowing that every man in the kingdom desired her, and that the Prince’s father prized her above his wife and other concubines. She was not perhaps mature enough to recognise that she, like the others, was expendable and could easily find herself on the backbench of the King’s concubines, rarely called for, rarely listened to, and falling in status. But while her looks held and she treated the King well there was no immediate need for her to worry about her future. She was one who had the resources of persuasion and confidence to make a good life for herself, whichever way it turned out. She knew how to please men and therefore one way or another she would make the most of her life.

 

     Riala had the 18 year old Prince in her sights now. She wanted him and had enough access to him to be confident of persuading him. He would be the next King, although Croesion, the King, was still strong, attractive, and could be expected to last for many years. She enjoyed him, but if he could enjoy other sexual partners then she did not see why she should not too. Such behaviour was not the normality, but she was an intelligent woman and she could see no reason why she should not have a full life.

 

 

    “So,” said the General Ageus, the First Minister, whose alert, all seeing eyes missed nothing. “My dear High Priestess! Do I detect the signs of homesickness on your face? You have been here in sinful Anachronar for some time. You must be missing the quieter cloisters of your monastery. Tell us. What has kept you here for so long? And what provoked your exile from that place?”

 

    There was hidden meaning in his questions for it was well known that the general disapproved of his master’s fascination with the old religion. He viewed the King’s continuing approval of it as a necessary or sensible political safeguard, but he wasted no opportunity to belittle it in quiet conversations. He had told the King many times that the Priesthood was no longer very relevant in the modern age, and even the population no longer looked to it except in superstitious awe, by certain lower sections.

 

    High Priestess Patience reached up with a habitual gesture and smoothed the white shawl which covered her hair. “I follow the paths of righteousness wherever they lead,” she said softly. Evidently she had no wish to oppose the First Minister, who in so many matters had the King’s ear. Like the early prophets of her religion she had no wish to offer resistance to criticism, but sought at all times to understand and to forgive.

 

    “I came to Anachronar because our flock is diminishing. We of the Priesthood are no longer listened to by the people in your city. I am called to remind you of the words of our prophets and to bring understanding to your people. I was told the city’s people are falling into decay; that they are greedy and selfish and sinning; that political rabble rousers cause them to riot and hatreds; that some fall prey to the sins of the flesh, and others to dangerous concoctions of drink or strange drugs. I find there is much work for me to do here.

 

    “What are you going to do to them?” asked the General. “Turn them into zealous priests and priestesses like yourself, who have no desire to achieve the ordinary hopes of life? I believe you never marry and you have little use for money! If you can succeed in encouraging the people of this city to avoid marriage and no longer desire money then you will have achieved something very notable, a miracle perhaps.”

 

    “We do not try to turn them into priests and priestesses. Only the ones who appear to be well suited to it. No, we only encourage them in the ways of civility, humility and love. We wish them to engage in marriage, for that is what creates a stable life in the cities as well as the countryside, enabling the partners to bear their responsibilities and to bring up the next generation. As for money? Yes, we believe it to be a dangerous cause of attraction, even of addiction. For it encaptures souls and encourages people to greed. The people covet possessions, which they can never truly own. Some covet it so much they will take from others, in crime, or in the activities of business where they become not content with earning a living, but wish to deprive others of theirs.”

 

 

     Riala, the King’s concubine, giggled unmistakably, rather rudely, thought some of those around the table, but there was no suggestion of any intentional attempt to make the Priestess uncomfortable. She merely found those high minded views too difficult to stomach without some expression of humour. The king’s concubine was one who was not married in the sense that Priestess Patience had just spoken, but then she was a consort of the King, the highest figure in the land. Her status was far greater than that of most mere married women. She enjoyed both the eye of the King and every other part of his body, whenever she wished, for she was his favourite, currently. And his money, within some bounds of reasonability was hers to command. It was for these considerations of power and money she had made herself available to the King; precisely the ones which Patience rejected.

 

     “How did you prepare yourself for this lonely calling?” asked Riala, as politely as she could muster. “Have you rejected paths previously trod with men in order to escape from their clutches, or have you always been celibate?” Her eyes lit up as she asked the question. Some around the table thought her a little rude to be confronting such a good and innocent woman with this.

 

    “I have been destined for the Priesthood since childhood, my lady, answered Patience most patiently. She was not easily irked, having suffered the slings of the world.

 

    “A great shame, don’t you agree,” said the concubine, referring with her eyes to the gentlemen sat around the table.