Aristocrat: Her Cum Fetish

By Sophie Sin

Zsofia Swallow finds herself caught up in the schemes of her evil husband-to-be and must do the impossible. Sassy, bright and sexually open-minded, the woman must take the seed of a king and obtain a heir to the throne or face the worst at the hands of the one she despises. With the help of some very good friends and several eye opening experiences she will find her way to salvation and go beyond.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lunatic Ink Publishing
• Release date: Mar 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005871734

Sophie Sin

Sophie Sin writes heterosexual erotica. She also occasionally writes gay erotic fiction under the pen name Dick Powers.

Book preview

ARISTOCRAT: HER CUM FETISH

Sophie Sin

Copyright 2021 Lunatic Ink Publishing

More stories at Sophie's Book List. Her gay erotica at Dick Powers.

All characters consent and are over 18yrs.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Small Satisfaction

Table of Cocks

Summoned to His Castle

The Black One

His Requirement

Impregnation Attempts

Kingly Dealings

SMALL SATISFACTION

The day I am to marry that man will be the day I wish to die.

You live under my roof and you will obey my rules! her father bellowed.

Zsofia’s face screwed up into a tight ball of rage and reddened.

I might live here, but you don’t own me.

Of course I do, his retort came. You are my first born and you will do what I tell you.

But I don’t want to marry Izsak. He’s tortures kittens.

There was a long hard silence.

Your cousin does not do that.

He had and she’d seen it. However, when her father was like this, there was no talking him down.

I will not marry a blood relative. Surely there must be someone else. It’s not like there is a lack of noble blood in this country.

More silence. More heavy eye contact. Her step-mother had a white handkerchief decorated with gold thread pressed to her lips. She was probably smiling because in all likelihood she was the one who had orchestrated this offense.

You are third in line to the throne and you are 21. Your mother and I were set to marry before birth. At 16 we tied the knot. You are too old to be picky.

I’m not picky and that is a terrible example. You two were forced to marry. I want to marry for love.

There was silence in the room. The nanny trying to encourage her little brother to walk glanced over to the lord of the house and then back to the child hanging with its feet pedaling the air in front of her. The room was quiet and the servants were hiding. Only the fire burning in the corner gave off any sound.

Daughter, you will marry your cousin or I will ship you off to France.

I hate France, she groaned. How could you threaten me with that?

Her mind was filled with frogs legs and paintings of nude individuals. Those French were uncouth and disgusting to the extreme. That they would eat anything and had no morals disgusted her. There was no civility in the French.

You’ll be studying there until you marry if you don’t at least be nice when he comes to visit.

What?

More silence. A conversation not punctuated by long silences in this house was often the kind where the servants would be busy cleaning up the latest thing that one of them had thrown in the heat of the moment. Silences were good. It gave time to grind one’s fingernails into the palms of one’s hands to remind oneself that poisoning one’s parents at dinner was not looked on well in Hungarian high society.

Izsak will be here next week. He is to stay for the month.

Father! Have you gone mad! We must hide the pets before the man arrives. He will murder them all.

Her father’s eyes flared hot and angry. If one of those stupid French artists was to paint him at this time, it would have been all horns and flashing red eyes and fire breathed from some kind of lion’s mouth. In her mind’s eye she could see it. Yes, that would be exactly how a Frenchman would depict the Lord of The Short Plains and holder of many kilometers of farmland that produced corn and potatoes for the neighboring cities and towns.

You should speak more respectfully to your father.

The witch’s hand was on her father’s arm. The man was restraining himself and he probably would have spanked the life out of her if left to his own devices. Her step-mother Enim enjoyed physical violence and verbal abuse equally, but there was a time and a place for the prior and their child was in the room with the nanny there. If the three of them had been alone, the beating would have been swift and pleasing. Zsofia almost wished for it. Anytime that witch got involved things turned sour very quickly.

I am respecting him and we are talking. You should keep out of this.

Enim’s coloring reddened. However, she didn’t explode as was desired. Instead the woman did what she always did, which was to make things worse with her words.

I believe that you and Izsak will make for a good match. Why not listen to your father and give him a chance?

They stared at each other.

No.

That was all Zsofia said before spinning on her heel and rushing to the door to race through and slam it behind her.

You will marry him! her father shouted after her.

She stopped and turned then turned back and kept walking. Best not to push her luck.

You, get me my horse. I wish to ride.

The servant wiping a large metal statue nearly jumped out of her shoes.

Now!

Word went ahead. The horse was standing outside with the stable master holding the bridal. He probably had heard that the family was arguing again and had prepared the horse in advance of her coming.

I will ride alone.

The guards waiting on horseback bowed their heads in acknowledgement. They would hang back but not too far. Alone for the third in line to the Hungarian throne meant heavily guarded and always protected. Fortunately, they weren’t always around. That at least allowed her some freedom in her hobbies.

Tell the tutor that she will be required. I have studies that must be attended to.

A servant ran off into the large two story brick building that was her family’s primary home and she slipped up side saddle and took off at a healthy pace. Her ire was overwhelming this time and only one thing would calm her down. First she would ride and then she would have it. The brisk rocking of the horse against her privates was the perfect warm up for what she had in mind.

*****

Her tutored entered as she was at the desk with her fingers buried between her legs and her digits wet.

Ma’am, I have come as summoned.

The young woman was only 20 - barely an adult herself - and blond with straw colored hair and blue eyes. Her breasts were nearly non-existent and few would be able to find other words than ‘flat chested’ to describe her. She wore the standard black flowing dress of the servant class and this reached down to the floor in the prudishness manner that society preferred.

Come here.

Zsofia was at her large wooden desk in the small study where she took