It was inconceivable that the people should know the Maharaj (King) was impotent. He could have adopted one like many kings do. But the political fragility of his rule did not permit him to make a public admission of this all too human failing.
The first thought was that the senior queen may have been infertile. It was decided then that the other lesser queens should be tried. Before doing this, the King had to send word to the Principal Queen's father who was the powerful King of a neighboring country. Important political alliances could be upset by careless handling of such issues as which queen is to bear the crown prince.
Maharani couldn't believe all of this. The Royal bed was the scene of many a battle but he had been on the receiving side. The Maharani engaged in sexual politics to retain her position as the Chief Queen; she wanted that not only in the legal sense but also in the marital sense. He had responded to her moves and yet, the truth was he couldn't impregnate her. Then again on reflection she felt it was she who was more aggressive than him in bed. His penis was slender, but she knew that had nothing to do with impotence.
So when the message went to her father, it went with her own little note, telling her father she concurred that the crown prince was to be delivered by one of the junior queens. It was hard for her to give details but she made the point that she was open to other queens being considered and that it posed no threat to her primacy.
Several months of fucking later, they all knew the truth. Maharani sat in the adjoining room knowing Maharaj was busy humping a competitor queen; for competitors were what they were. Even as grunts and moans floated to her ears, Maharani flushed at the recollection of how much she had played the game in the royal bed to make him her slave. Even as each of those others worked hard to leave an everlasting impression on the king in his moment of need, she knew it was not going to happen anytime soon.
Kings have harems. Inevitable. But making sure that the best fuck he ever got was with her; now there was an art. And Maharani played it with finesse. She allowed chosen maids to surprise the Maharaj on occasion by having them wait in the wings while she was driving him mad with her cock-teasing. The king had marveled on all those occasions. Once a soft pair of hands gripped his wrists and pulled them off the maharani's plump breasts and held him down flat on the bed. The maid who the queen had called in for this would take no orders from him. And she held him down, pinned him and held him in various poses for the Maharani to fuck.
And then there was the time he was made to sit on the lap of a nude maid who held him in his grip and the Maharani climbed on top of him and milked him dry. It didn't take much to wear him out, but she knew his nature and realized he would still want to forage. On many an occasions, while they were intertwined in post-coital sleep, she had a maid mouth him awake, have him aroused to a new erection and sucked dry by the maid. She could well have done it herself, but the Maharani knew it was not about pleasure, but about pleasure from different women.
In this fashion, the Maharani kept the Maharaja under her thumb. He kept coming back for more and more to this woman who gave him everything a man could fantasize about. Since her energies were so focused on the politics of the situation, the Maharani found her own sexual needs languishing. The situations she invented for her husband aroused her no end. But the man was perpetually drained and didn't have significant staying power anyway.
And then came the orders from the Rajmata that the kingdom needed a Crown Prince. The discovery which followed plunged the inner circle of the Royal Family in gloom.
So now, The Maharani (Queen) and the Rajmata (the King's mother) sat fidgeting as the King and the Court Physician pondered the situation. The silence had been long and had become embarrassing. Finally, Rajmata decided to speak up. She knew the solution; she had known it all along, but she just didn't want to be the one to suggest it. Yet, since the Royal Physician was making such a mess of it, she felt the need to step in.
"We send the Maharani to Gurudev's ashram for rest and a yagna. The Crown Prince will be conceived there," she declared.
"Mother!" thundered the Maharaja, shocked that his mother would suggest this remedy.
It was an ancient and accepted tradition. It was discreet. And there was a safety in the sharing of such delicate issues with the Gurus, Sages and ascetics who were linked with the Royal Family.
Each Royal Family had its own spiritual counselors and they received patronage from the Kingdoms. The need was mutual and the loyalty was time tested over generations. And no King messed around with a rival's Raj Guru. Not that they would have succeeded if they had tried; the spiritual ascetics were above temptation.
They had conquered all, including sexual desire. And thus their reputation for sexual power and prowess. Their deep practice of yoga, physical fitness and energy flows in their body meant power was a given. But it was under their control. They were family men but in keeping with the traditional prescription for how a man should lead his life, the sexual phase was limited to the post – student, middle years of their lives. Thereafter, restraint was practiced and this restraint was seen as a source of power.
They lived in the Himalayas, in the foothills on the banks of mighty rivers. Some ventured further into the mountains. Others achieved spiritual heights from which they never returned.
And those that were linked with the Royal Families, every once in so many generations were called upon to fulfill this one more duty: siring the Crown Prince. It was a good bloodline to let into the Royal dynasty in any case.
All this was known and taught to the Maharaja in his days as a prince under training. But he never thought this would happen to him.
Reluctantly, he agreed to the Rajmata's proposal, but it was all to be done quietly. It was a small team of three hand-maids, the Chief of the Royal Guards with three of his men, the Rajmata and the Maharani herself who were to go on the 'pilgrimage'. In this retinue only the Rajmata and the Maharani knew the real purpose of the trip. The journey involved two night stopovers and they were scheduled to spend 4 to 6 weeks there, returning only after the pregnancy was confirmed.
The Chief of the Royal Guards rode ahead of the retinue, checking the path. Sometimes he sent his soldiers ahead to scan the landscape. At other times he rode to the back of the entourage to ensure there were no laggards and that all was going to perfect plan.
A young man of 20 years, he was son of the General of the Army and his family had served in exact identical fashion for several generations now. The sons of the house served in the Royal Guard, participated in various campaigns and matured; till the father stepped aside as General for his son to take his place.
And so it was with Samar Singh, an experienced soldier, who was battle hardened and brave despite his youth. He was just a year younger than his master, the Maharaja. He was tall, broad shouldered, muscles rippling and resplendent in his uniform. He rode his horse with majestic control and the customary mustache added to the authority and control he reflected.
The women certainly felt safe with him personally escorting the group. The Rajmata had a special affection for the boy who had played with her son in the growing years. She watched him through the window of the carriage, proud to see him carry himself with so much grace. She sighed. The young man did not know what was in her mind. No one new what her real plan and she just hoped she could pull it off.
The Rajmata reflected on the events of the past few months. She knew that her son was impotent. She allowed him to fuck the two junior queens just so that he would realize there was no option but to listen to her. Her son had been thrust upon the throne at a young age for the untimely death of her own husband. There had been intrigue and palace politics and the new Maharaja's position was weak. The queens in order of seniority were chosen by her to create strong allies in the neighboring states.
The Rajmata felt responsible for establishing the Kingdom on a firm footing and therefore the sense of urgency about the Crown Prince. But she wanted a bold, brave and strong Crown Pirnce; not someone intellectual and spiritually inclined. She felt strongly that a son sired by the sage would not meet that standard. It would have someone who had a martial orientation in his blood. Someone like Samar Singh, the Chief of the Royal Guard. Trusted and capable, practically family, the young man seemed the right choice.
It was not going to be easy. Both the Maharani and Samar Singh had to agree. The Maharani was the daughter of a powerful ally; if she demurred there was not much she could do. And the loyalty which the Rajmata was relying on in the case of Samar Singh could well turn the other way with the solider refusing to sleep with his master's wife.
The Rajmata would have to give them time to get used to the idea. She made up her mind; she would tell them tonight so they could reflect on it for the next two days. Then an auspicious hour on the third night would be chosen for the consummation. She would supervise the deed to ensure it stayed within the confines of a job to be done. She didn't want any complications of emotion and sexual exploration. Samar Singh was not married yet, and she wanted the impregnation handled clinically. There was no place for intimacy or lingering. Her presence would ensure that.
Samar Singh was shocked. Shocked that the Rajmata should ask him to fuck the Maharani. Shocked at the way she put it across in terms which seemed lewd to him.
The first thought was that the senior queen may have been infertile. It was decided then that the other lesser queens should be tried. Before doing this, the King had to send word to the Principal Queen's father who was the powerful King of a neighboring country. Important political alliances could be upset by careless handling of such issues as which queen is to bear the crown prince.
Maharani couldn't believe all of this. The Royal bed was the scene of many a battle but he had been on the receiving side. The Maharani engaged in sexual politics to retain her position as the Chief Queen; she wanted that not only in the legal sense but also in the marital sense. He had responded to her moves and yet, the truth was he couldn't impregnate her. Then again on reflection she felt it was she who was more aggressive than him in bed. His penis was slender, but she knew that had nothing to do with impotence.
So when the message went to her father, it went with her own little note, telling her father she concurred that the crown prince was to be delivered by one of the junior queens. It was hard for her to give details but she made the point that she was open to other queens being considered and that it posed no threat to her primacy.
Several months of fucking later, they all knew the truth. Maharani sat in the adjoining room knowing Maharaj was busy humping a competitor queen; for competitors were what they were. Even as grunts and moans floated to her ears, Maharani flushed at the recollection of how much she had played the game in the royal bed to make him her slave. Even as each of those others worked hard to leave an everlasting impression on the king in his moment of need, she knew it was not going to happen anytime soon.
Kings have harems. Inevitable. But making sure that the best fuck he ever got was with her; now there was an art. And Maharani played it with finesse. She allowed chosen maids to surprise the Maharaj on occasion by having them wait in the wings while she was driving him mad with her cock-teasing. The king had marveled on all those occasions. Once a soft pair of hands gripped his wrists and pulled them off the maharani's plump breasts and held him down flat on the bed. The maid who the queen had called in for this would take no orders from him. And she held him down, pinned him and held him in various poses for the Maharani to fuck.
And then there was the time he was made to sit on the lap of a nude maid who held him in his grip and the Maharani climbed on top of him and milked him dry. It didn't take much to wear him out, but she knew his nature and realized he would still want to forage. On many an occasions, while they were intertwined in post-coital sleep, she had a maid mouth him awake, have him aroused to a new erection and sucked dry by the maid. She could well have done it herself, but the Maharani knew it was not about pleasure, but about pleasure from different women.
In this fashion, the Maharani kept the Maharaja under her thumb. He kept coming back for more and more to this woman who gave him everything a man could fantasize about. Since her energies were so focused on the politics of the situation, the Maharani found her own sexual needs languishing. The situations she invented for her husband aroused her no end. But the man was perpetually drained and didn't have significant staying power anyway.
And then came the orders from the Rajmata that the kingdom needed a Crown Prince. The discovery which followed plunged the inner circle of the Royal Family in gloom.
So now, The Maharani (Queen) and the Rajmata (the King's mother) sat fidgeting as the King and the Court Physician pondered the situation. The silence had been long and had become embarrassing. Finally, Rajmata decided to speak up. She knew the solution; she had known it all along, but she just didn't want to be the one to suggest it. Yet, since the Royal Physician was making such a mess of it, she felt the need to step in.
"We send the Maharani to Gurudev's ashram for rest and a yagna. The Crown Prince will be conceived there," she declared.
"Mother!" thundered the Maharaja, shocked that his mother would suggest this remedy.
It was an ancient and accepted tradition. It was discreet. And there was a safety in the sharing of such delicate issues with the Gurus, Sages and ascetics who were linked with the Royal Family.
Each Royal Family had its own spiritual counselors and they received patronage from the Kingdoms. The need was mutual and the loyalty was time tested over generations. And no King messed around with a rival's Raj Guru. Not that they would have succeeded if they had tried; the spiritual ascetics were above temptation.
They had conquered all, including sexual desire. And thus their reputation for sexual power and prowess. Their deep practice of yoga, physical fitness and energy flows in their body meant power was a given. But it was under their control. They were family men but in keeping with the traditional prescription for how a man should lead his life, the sexual phase was limited to the post – student, middle years of their lives. Thereafter, restraint was practiced and this restraint was seen as a source of power.
They lived in the Himalayas, in the foothills on the banks of mighty rivers. Some ventured further into the mountains. Others achieved spiritual heights from which they never returned.
And those that were linked with the Royal Families, every once in so many generations were called upon to fulfill this one more duty: siring the Crown Prince. It was a good bloodline to let into the Royal dynasty in any case.
All this was known and taught to the Maharaja in his days as a prince under training. But he never thought this would happen to him.
Reluctantly, he agreed to the Rajmata's proposal, but it was all to be done quietly. It was a small team of three hand-maids, the Chief of the Royal Guards with three of his men, the Rajmata and the Maharani herself who were to go on the 'pilgrimage'. In this retinue only the Rajmata and the Maharani knew the real purpose of the trip. The journey involved two night stopovers and they were scheduled to spend 4 to 6 weeks there, returning only after the pregnancy was confirmed.
The Chief of the Royal Guards rode ahead of the retinue, checking the path. Sometimes he sent his soldiers ahead to scan the landscape. At other times he rode to the back of the entourage to ensure there were no laggards and that all was going to perfect plan.
A young man of 20 years, he was son of the General of the Army and his family had served in exact identical fashion for several generations now. The sons of the house served in the Royal Guard, participated in various campaigns and matured; till the father stepped aside as General for his son to take his place.
And so it was with Samar Singh, an experienced soldier, who was battle hardened and brave despite his youth. He was just a year younger than his master, the Maharaja. He was tall, broad shouldered, muscles rippling and resplendent in his uniform. He rode his horse with majestic control and the customary mustache added to the authority and control he reflected.
The women certainly felt safe with him personally escorting the group. The Rajmata had a special affection for the boy who had played with her son in the growing years. She watched him through the window of the carriage, proud to see him carry himself with so much grace. She sighed. The young man did not know what was in her mind. No one new what her real plan and she just hoped she could pull it off.
The Rajmata reflected on the events of the past few months. She knew that her son was impotent. She allowed him to fuck the two junior queens just so that he would realize there was no option but to listen to her. Her son had been thrust upon the throne at a young age for the untimely death of her own husband. There had been intrigue and palace politics and the new Maharaja's position was weak. The queens in order of seniority were chosen by her to create strong allies in the neighboring states.
The Rajmata felt responsible for establishing the Kingdom on a firm footing and therefore the sense of urgency about the Crown Prince. But she wanted a bold, brave and strong Crown Pirnce; not someone intellectual and spiritually inclined. She felt strongly that a son sired by the sage would not meet that standard. It would have someone who had a martial orientation in his blood. Someone like Samar Singh, the Chief of the Royal Guard. Trusted and capable, practically family, the young man seemed the right choice.
It was not going to be easy. Both the Maharani and Samar Singh had to agree. The Maharani was the daughter of a powerful ally; if she demurred there was not much she could do. And the loyalty which the Rajmata was relying on in the case of Samar Singh could well turn the other way with the solider refusing to sleep with his master's wife.
The Rajmata would have to give them time to get used to the idea. She made up her mind; she would tell them tonight so they could reflect on it for the next two days. Then an auspicious hour on the third night would be chosen for the consummation. She would supervise the deed to ensure it stayed within the confines of a job to be done. She didn't want any complications of emotion and sexual exploration. Samar Singh was not married yet, and she wanted the impregnation handled clinically. There was no place for intimacy or lingering. Her presence would ensure that.
Samar Singh was shocked. Shocked that the Rajmata should ask him to fuck the Maharani. Shocked at the way she put it across in terms which seemed lewd to him.