Queen Under The Mountain

Author's note: This story is brief. All it really does is set up an idea that may or may not ever actually go anywhere ever again. But I like it.

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"What are they going to do with us?"

The three women had been captured as spoils of war when the menfolk of their city had made the gravely unwise decision to resist the expansion of the Wymhalt Empire. When the Queen's soldiers had entered the city they had, very politely but very firmly, collected together all the young women of marriageable age, married or not, told the least ripe and attractive two thirds to go home and then drawn lots among the remainder to pick the three who were now sitting in a cell that was luxurious and opulently furnished but undeniably a cell.

"I've heard that they make human sacrifices!" The second woman whimpered, trying to curl into a ball to maintain what was left of her modesty.

The three had been taken, in a very luxurious but sturdy and locked carriage with no windows, to the Wymhalt itself. They had been taken blindfolded from the carriage to this room, where they had been met by six beautiful but also very strong and insistent women who had stripped them naked and lead them into the adjoining room, where a large, steaming bath awaited them.

They had been bathed, more thoroughly than they had ever done before, and then massaged from head to foot with a light, headily scented oil before being dressed in light gowns that hang loosely but were snug enough to hang from features of which the women were suddenly self-conscious, and specially so without undergarments to control or conceal them.

"Hold your tongue!" The third woman snapped. She had been quiet throughout the day, with an expression that was carefully blank but which had from time to time revealed the seething fury and the wariness inside. "If they're going to sacrifice us there's precious little we can do about it. If they're going to rape us, as you seem so afraid of Enda, there's precious little we can do about that! All we can do is wait and endure, which is all women can!"

This unexpected display of fire roused an answering, perhaps angrier through a flush of guilt, fire from the first woman, Enda, who started to retort "That's all very well for you to say, Valda - you don't have anything to live for anyway!" But as she opened her mouth the door reverberated to the sound of the great locks and what must be a locking bar on the other side being removed, and the three drew themselves into themselves, one stoically but tinged with fear, one afraid, one somewhat petrified.

The door was thrown open by two of the Queen's muscular, lightly armoured guards, and in between them strode the same six women who had attended them earlier, carrying once more the blindfolds but also three soft leather collars, to which were attached three silken but obviously very strong ropes.

The third captive squealed and tried to fight, Enda nearly spat in their faces and even Valda closed her eyes involuntarily when the collar was closed around her neck, and in seconds all three were walking through the door, lead at a pace that none of them were comfortable with, blindfolded as they were.

Outside the doors they were stopped and, as their insides reverberated with the thud of the doors' closing, their feet were lifted one by one and soft sandals put on.

The sandals fit them snugly and securely, but did nothing to make them comfortable with the pace at which they were made to walk.

How long they walked none of them could have accurately guessed, but there were two staircases up and one down, at least three corners and all in an eerie hush in which only the tread of feet - their own shuffling and uneven, the guards' even and solid, the women attending them soft and steady - could be heard. Even echoes were smothered quickly.

Then they could sense that they were walking through another huge set of doors, and into a space so vast that it might have been open air. They were lead forwards, still at the same pace, then abruptly stopped and for a second there was stillness.

After that hushed second a feminine voice that was at once rich, powerful, seductive and imbued with a sense of wrongness that made their skins crawl said "Remove their blindfolds."

Light flooded back to the three captives, and they saw the Queen.

As one, their knees buckled and they dropped to the floor in overwhelmed awe and subjection.

The Queen sat on a throne carved from a single solid block of timber stained a deep blood-red, and with leather seat a brighter red. She sat tall and upright, and for the three captives she dominated the room so completely that no other details registered.

She wore boots of soft calf skin that wrapped lovingly around her feet and calves and ended at her knees. She wore a skirt made out of fine black kid leather that draped over her legs at mid-thigh. She wore a corset of finest silver mesh that wrapped around her torso from her hip bones to where they encased, caressed and lifted a pair of magnificent breasts, the nipples of which could not have been more than barely covered by the silken lining of the corset. She wore a necklace that supported a cascade of diamonds that descended in a triangle from the sides of her neck to just miss the abrupt thrust of the upper slopes of her breasts, and between those mounds rested a giant ruby set in a silver clasp that collected the two ends of the jet-black cloak that spread over her shoulders and cascaded over the seat of her throne. On her head she wore a crown of intricate silver lacework that encircled her head, dipped low between her eyes and rose into a circlet of spines like questing serpent heads.

Every detail was etched upon the captive's minds as their eyes were locked helpless upon the Queen, trapped by a magic that they could neither fight nor even comprehend.

The Queen, satisfied, smiled and waved a hand gently.

Three of the female attendants stepped forwards, passed the leashes through rings set into the floor in front of each woman, and tugged sharply, yanking them forwards onto their hands and knees. At the same time, a deep throbbing beat began from drummers lining each side of the chamber and braziers, set in a circle that began on either side of the throne and extended in a sweeping arc around the women with them at its centre, exploded into fire, roaring flames reaching twice head height towards a ceiling that was still lost in gloom even then.

The captives, whose eyes had stayed locked on the Queen, heads snapping upwards when they had been pulled forwards, whimpered in unison as they felt their skin crawl and tingle, points of fire pricking out all over their bodies and spreading until they felt themselves burning, a fire that did not spare their flushing breasts, suddenly hard nipples or heated, itching cunts that made them squirm unconsciously, all the while helplessly staring at the Queen.

They barely noticed when their thin dresses were cut from their backs, dropping to the floor beneath them, leaving them naked.

Then the Queen began to speak again, and this time her voice filled their heads and made them cower in meek submission, rather than squirm with unplaced fear.

"You have been chosen as the first tithe from your city, to serve here in the Wymhalt and take your place among representatives from all my lands. If your city ever falls to another army, you will die. If it misbehaves, you will be punished. If they behave themselves, next year you will be joined by another three maidens come to serve me and my people. You are the link between the heart of my empire, and each domain within it. You will be as well-treated as I treat all my people, but you will serve as all my people must serve me, body and soul.

"And to ensure your soul, we must take your body."

Simultaneously each of the three felt strong male hands grasp their hips and, befuddled minds barely comprehending this fact, experienced no warning before they were each impaled by the priests kneeling behind them.

Each of the men had, two hours before, drunk of the Queen's potions and they were unnaturally hard.

One of the captives was a virgin. She screamed the loudest, but they all screamed in shock. Nothing had prepared any of them for the sheer girth of the men who were now penetrating them.

As the men set up a deep and fast rhythm, the screams turned to moans of first disbelief, then despair. There was no brutal assault slowly turning to sexual stimulation, no desperate battle against their own bodies. When the priests chosen and prepared for this duty entered them, they were already puffy-lipped, wet and waiting, prepared by the oil that had soaked into their skin, aroused without their even noticing.

Their eyes fixed on the Queen grew wider and acquired a look of wildness and incomprehension.

"When you reach your climax, and the men cum within you, your souls will be mine," the Queen sweet-smilingly explained. "I take no chances with oaths and I do not drive servants with fear of punishment. I simply take possession of your desires, and write them as I choose. It's so much better that way."

Within seconds, each of the three women was approaching her peak, and groans had turned to moans and then whimpers and finally desperate gasps as, their bodies captured and their minds dominated by the Queen's magic, they willed themselves to cum.

Except that Valda wasn't. Her groans were stricken by her arousal, but her eyes still held a glimpse of her own soul, and her hands were clenched in disgust not lust.

It was such an extraordinary, unexpected situation that the man sunk deep within her did not even notice, and it took even the Queen a second to realise what was happening. When she did she leaned forwards slightly, her interest piqued. Her interest quickly grew to astonishment as she realised that there was very real repugnance in this young brunette's mind, and that although her body was screaming with lust the cock abusing her quim was repelling, not inflaming, her.

Then all three men came, sunk deep within the women, and the two captives either side of Valda screamed in ecstasy as they convulsed in the throws of their orgasm, the drugged cum rushing inside them stripping away the last of their wills, their minds collapsing into soft clay for the Queen to mould, a lifetime of practice needing little more than a thought of recognition from her to write their new personalities while her attention was focused on the woman who, in defiance of magic that had never failed yet, had not climaxed and was still within her own mind, even with the potion in the cum within her soaking into her blood stream and every cell within her body.

Astonishment quickly grew to delight in the Queen's mind as, barely allowing herself to dream that she was right, she waved a hand at one of her attendants, a statuesque woman who carried her rod of authority like a spear.

"Go and help her out, Meara."

The staff that Meara bore was tipped with ivory, and although the ivory had been carved into a shape that bore no immediate resemblance to any object animal, human or artificial, when she walked behind Valda, pushing the hurriedly scrabbling, fearfully confused priest out of the way, it fit the captive's cunt perfectly.

Valda had not been allowed to spare any attention for the woman who was now thrusting a shaft of ivory even thicker than the priest's cock deep inside her, but she knew that the hand holding the shaft belonged to a woman, and that knowledge was enough to tip her tortured mind into lust. She came even faster, and her mind broke down and was remolded as the Queen clapped her hands with delight. Wonderful! Most other servants had to be taught to lie with women, but she would have to be taught to lie with a man!