CHAPTER 8:
1165 Words
In the dim light of the fifth bed chamber of the palace, sensual sounds filled the air as an Omega woman ground herself atop Zarim.
The atmosphere was thick with an intoxicating mix of desire and pleasure, resonating through the lavish quarters reserved for his concubines.
The omega moans echoed off the ornate walls, creating an almost musical backdrop to their fervor.
"Oohhh... Aahhhhh... y-your Majesty. Uhmmm," she gasped, her eyes wide and filled with ecstasy. "More, your Majesty. Fill me more." Her breathless pleas ignited a fire inside him.
With a surge of his lust, he thrust harder and faster, his hands roaming freely to her shapely breasts. He savored every moment, teasingly sucking the tips before playfully biting them, eliciting further moans of ecstacy.
"Uhmm. Damn! So good," he breathed, lost in the intensity of the encounter, gripping her hips to guide her movements.
Before the omega reached her peak, he deftly maneuvered her onto the bed, positioning himself behind her. With a powerful thrust, he filled her completely, causing her to scream in a mix of pain and pleasure.
His hips drove into her with an urgent rhythm, each thrust coaxing loud moans from her lips.
"Aaaahhhh, y-your Majesty. Ooooh. It hurts. Ahhhhh," she cried out, but he was lost in the moment, undeterred by her words.
He pressed her face into the bed, anchoring her as he intensified every movement.
"Fuck... aaahhhh!" he exclaimed, a moan escaping his own lips as he felt the impending climax.
Suddenly, he pulled out, taking her by the hair to face him.
"Open your mouth, Omega. Open wide," he commanded, and without hesitation, he plunged his length into her mouth.
He continued his fervent assault, driving deep until the tip brushed the back of her throat, pushing the boundaries of pleasure and desperation.
"Ahhh! Your mouth is so f*****g hot, Omega. Ahhhh..."
Saliva pooled around her lips, a testament to their shared decadence, as he claimed her entirely.
"f**k so tight. So hot," he groaned, obscene words spilling forth uncontrollably as he reveled in their shared ecstasy.
Her face, glistening with sweat and coated in saliva, was a canvas of their passion—a reflection of the deep connection forged in that moment.
He continued his movements, the rhythm of his bodies intertwined in silent agreement. His hands tugged at her hair, guiding every thrust of his hips, pushing her deeper into a place of pleasure where time blurred and reality faded.
He gasped softly, feeling the tide of ecstasy building within him, until finally, he released his essence into her mouth.
“Uhmmp! Aaaahhh,” he groaned, his breath hitching as he pushed deeper, his desires consuming him whole.
Looking down, he bit his lower lip, captivated by the sight of her savoring what he had given, the juice of his lust spilling from her lips. She was utterly engulfed in this visceral dance, a canvas of raw emotion painted across her face.
As he violently withdrew, a mix of satisfaction and urgency coursed through him. he instinctively reached for him, pulling his gaze back to her, and he felt the weight of her expectation.
“Swallow it, Omega, don’t ever waste a single drop,” he commanded, his tone dripping with authority and need.
Cradling her chin, he closed her lips with a firm grip.
“Don’t waste it,” he reiterated, his voice serious, battling the waves of nausea and revulsion that threatened to rise within him.
For a moment, their eyes locked, but he quickly averted his gaze, unable to bear what he saw reflected in her. It was a grotesque tableau: sweat mingled with tears, a runny nose, and the remnants of their intimate encounter decorating her face. He feel disgusted.
“Clean yourself,” he ordered, the chilling distance creeping between them.
With that, he turned his back, leaving her in solitude as he grasped her robe and exited the room, his heart pounding with confusion and desire.
As he stepped into the hallway, his Beta was already awaiting him, standing resolute just outside the door.
“Your Majesty, it’s time for the ceremony,” the Beta greeted him, the formality of the moment grounding him once again.
Quickly, he returned to his own quarters, his mind racing as he prepared for the significant event ahead, the Beta helping him adjust his attire as he steeled himself to face all those present for his enthronement.
....
"Long live the King. Long live your Majesty."
The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices a blend of reverence and celebration as they witnessed the glorious moment of the crown being transferred to him.
They paid homage, kneeling before his newly ascended authority.
Seated majestically in front of them was King Ghassan, on a regal throne chair crafted solely for the king—a chair that would soon be his upon the passing of the crown.
Suddenly, a deafening whistle cut through the excitement, signaling him to approach his grandfather and kneel.
"Long live your Majesty," he declared, bowing deeply three times as tradition demanded.
The air crackled with anticipation; the small firecrackers surrounding them were lit, and the bright bursts of sparks followed by swirling smoke provided the cue for his grandfather.
It was time for the crown to be removed from his head and placed upon the future king.
Adjusting his kneeling position, he straightened his back, feeling the weight of the moment. His grandfather regarded him with solemnity, a look that spoke volumes.
With practiced grace, he removed the royal cape draped around him, helping him don it and expertly tying it around his neck.
As another whistle blew, the cape settled into place, marking a pivotal moment in the ceremony. Then came the final deafening whistle, heralding the grand moment—the crown was upon him.
He held his breath, the weight of the crown settling comfortably, yet significantly, atop his head.
"Long live the king!"
The audience erupted once more, their voices reverberating with enthusiasm as he stood gracefully from his knees, his eyes fixed on the glittering crown.
In his hand, he was given a small cane, a symbol that the coronation was complete. His grandfather offered a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a nod, encouraging him to face those who had witnessed the transfer of power.
A secret grin spread across his face; he now held the reins of the entire kingdom. This was the coveted dream he had harbored deep within his heart—to rule all of Syria, to be the law of the land.
Memories flooded his mind—the lashes he had endured, the battles fought, the countless times he had been pushed to the brink, all in a relentless quest to prove his superiority over his cousins and claim his rightful place atop the throne.
Now, this throne, once a symbol of pain and struggle, was his to command, overcoming the tests and trials his grandfather had set before him.
- Writer
