Read Online Letting the King Watch (Exhibitionism and Voyeurism Erotica): Part Eleven of the Erotic Adventures of Heraklea by Roxie Noir - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roxie Noir
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room, telling her it was still nighttime and that everyone but her was still fast asleep, relaxing in their beds.
Her problem twofold. First, it had slowly dawned on her that, even though she was bound to the king by the gods' proclamation and was technically in the palace as something between a prisoner and an errand-girl, she liked it there. Before this she had been married to an inbred king of a faraway place, someone who thought she was an innocent good girl like most Greek princesses, and whose highest aspiration for her was to bear as many children as possible. Heraklea had always thought that was the only real path open to her, other than a life of poverty and spinsterhood, once her parents were gone. Obviously she couldn't inherit anything.
Before her marriage she'd been insatiable, willing to fuck nearly anything that moved, something she knew she got from her father, Zeus, and in her current situation that had proven to be the most useful thing, though whether that was by accident or design she didn't know. But her time here was running out, and that was her second problem: she could count. She had only been assigned twelve tasks, and the monster Geryon--part human, part lion, part dragon--had been number ten. After two more, she'd have to go back to her parents and pretend along with them that a tragic accident had befallen her husband, but Heraklea wasn't dumb. She knew she was damaged goods now, already married once.
In short, she didn't have a lot to look forward to, and it was slowly dawning on her that right where she was--in the palace of King Eurystheus, her taskmaster--was probably the very best place for her, but she also didn't know how she felt about him. Sometimes he was high-handed and domineering; sometimes he seemed almost nice and relatable. Sometimes she wanted to fuck his brains out and sometimes she just wanted to stab him through the heart.
It was really a lot to think about, and so she stayed awake.
The next few days stretched into the next few weeks, then nearly a month. It was the longest she'd ever gone without a task from the king, and though she tried to act normal on the outside, continuing to spar with the guards, take meals, go to the baths, all the normal things a Greek noblewoman did at court, on the inside she was increasingly uncertain about what was going on. She assumed that, if he wanted her to leave, the king would let her know, but what if she simply hadn't gotten the memo?
Then again, she began to wonder if this was a complicated scheme for her to stay: if she never got another task, technically, she would wait there at the palace for the rest of her life. It was house arrest, but it was better than the house arrest of being some idiot's wife and mother, though it meant she'd never leave Rhodes again, never see the world beyond the borders of this fairly small kingdom.
Klea went to target practice. She showed up in court. She sparred with the guards, she went for long walks around the palace grounds, she even took up needlework . She was terrible at it.
Then, one day, she turned a corner in the gardens and there he was, sitting on a bench, looking around at the flowers and plants, two guards a respectful distance away.
"Heraklea," he said.
"Your majesty," she said, surprised. She'd never seen him this casual before, anywhere that wasn't carefully designed by him to give him an air of authority over her, to make her uncomfortable and him kingly. Right now, sitting on the bench and contemplating nature, he just seemed, well, normal.
"The birds are beginning their annual migrations," he said. "It'll be autumn soon."
"Yes," she said, still not sure what he was getting at.
"Harvest time is soon," he said. "Then, winter. The clock of the world spins round again."
He was getting poetic. She had no idea how to respond.
Then, he swung his head to look at her, sharply. "Do you enjoy your tasks?" he asked.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Every task he'd sent
Her problem twofold. First, it had slowly dawned on her that, even though she was bound to the king by the gods' proclamation and was technically in the palace as something between a prisoner and an errand-girl, she liked it there. Before this she had been married to an inbred king of a faraway place, someone who thought she was an innocent good girl like most Greek princesses, and whose highest aspiration for her was to bear as many children as possible. Heraklea had always thought that was the only real path open to her, other than a life of poverty and spinsterhood, once her parents were gone. Obviously she couldn't inherit anything.
Before her marriage she'd been insatiable, willing to fuck nearly anything that moved, something she knew she got from her father, Zeus, and in her current situation that had proven to be the most useful thing, though whether that was by accident or design she didn't know. But her time here was running out, and that was her second problem: she could count. She had only been assigned twelve tasks, and the monster Geryon--part human, part lion, part dragon--had been number ten. After two more, she'd have to go back to her parents and pretend along with them that a tragic accident had befallen her husband, but Heraklea wasn't dumb. She knew she was damaged goods now, already married once.
In short, she didn't have a lot to look forward to, and it was slowly dawning on her that right where she was--in the palace of King Eurystheus, her taskmaster--was probably the very best place for her, but she also didn't know how she felt about him. Sometimes he was high-handed and domineering; sometimes he seemed almost nice and relatable. Sometimes she wanted to fuck his brains out and sometimes she just wanted to stab him through the heart.
It was really a lot to think about, and so she stayed awake.
The next few days stretched into the next few weeks, then nearly a month. It was the longest she'd ever gone without a task from the king, and though she tried to act normal on the outside, continuing to spar with the guards, take meals, go to the baths, all the normal things a Greek noblewoman did at court, on the inside she was increasingly uncertain about what was going on. She assumed that, if he wanted her to leave, the king would let her know, but what if she simply hadn't gotten the memo?
Then again, she began to wonder if this was a complicated scheme for her to stay: if she never got another task, technically, she would wait there at the palace for the rest of her life. It was house arrest, but it was better than the house arrest of being some idiot's wife and mother, though it meant she'd never leave Rhodes again, never see the world beyond the borders of this fairly small kingdom.
Klea went to target practice. She showed up in court. She sparred with the guards, she went for long walks around the palace grounds, she even took up needlework . She was terrible at it.
Then, one day, she turned a corner in the gardens and there he was, sitting on a bench, looking around at the flowers and plants, two guards a respectful distance away.
"Heraklea," he said.
"Your majesty," she said, surprised. She'd never seen him this casual before, anywhere that wasn't carefully designed by him to give him an air of authority over her, to make her uncomfortable and him kingly. Right now, sitting on the bench and contemplating nature, he just seemed, well, normal.
"The birds are beginning their annual migrations," he said. "It'll be autumn soon."
"Yes," she said, still not sure what he was getting at.
"Harvest time is soon," he said. "Then, winter. The clock of the world spins round again."
He was getting poetic. She had no idea how to respond.
Then, he swung his head to look at her, sharply. "Do you enjoy your tasks?" he asked.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Every task he'd sent
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