Becoming
Morgause fumed silently as she watched King Cenred of Mercia swagger into the throne room a good quarter of an hour past their agreed upon meeting time. How dare he waste my time and then saunter in here as if this were an unexpected social call! Despite her outrage the blonde sorceress maintained a cool – albeit slightly annoyed – expression.
"Lady Morgause, how lovely of you to drop by!" The arrogant king greeted her as he approached.
"King Cenred." She replied in a clipped tone. "I'm sure you have a very good reason for keeping me waiting." Morgause continued, giving him a pointed look.
Cenred ignored the quip and smiled as he leaned over her hand and places a soft kiss on it. It was all Morgause could do not to rip her hand from his. The things I do for family.
The king slowly pulled back from her practically undressing her with his eyes. Again Morgause felt a shiver of disgust. She was the last High Priestess of the Old Religion and far above some petty tyrant, but she needed an army and he had one, so he remained useful… for now.
"My my my Morgause, don't you look lovely this evening." Cenred's tone dripped with arrogance and what she supposed was meant to be charm. Morgause was aware of his lascivious nature from the start and found that he was much more agreeable when she was dressed provocatively. This was probably because he was too busy staring at her assets to fully hear what she said. Tonight she wore a blood red dress that hugged every curve; it had sheer silver, sequined sleeves and a neckline, perfect for displaying the goods. Not that Cenred would ever get near those goods but it certainly helped to let him think so. The besotted fool often mistook her air of disgust for reluctant desire. "That color is quite becoming on you… of course if I were on you I'd be cumming too!" "Well we can't have that now can we?" The priestess flicked her wrist and smirked at the sound of the king's neck breaking.