Lady Lovecome's Diaries: 01

Queen Charlotte grasped Belle's hips. "Please."

Belle curled two fingers inside herself, shuddered, offered them. Queen Charlotte gobbled Belle's wet fingers like a dog at a sausage.

"Have you considered introducing me to the King, Ma'am?"

Belle placed her hands on her hips. The queen lunged, suckered her mouth to Belle's bits. Something hot and hard, yet infinitely tender, probed her most private place. Belle gulped. She'd never been licked by a woman, let alone a woman of the queen's experience. It felt... too good. She reigned herself in.

"If you introduce me... to His Majesty, Ma'am. Show me what you do for him... I could be your... right hand..."

Belle's clitoris seemed drawn into a hot, irresistible whirlpool. She moaned, nudged at the queen's beautiful mouth. She reached down to open herself wide and hoped she was dripping.

"God." Queen Charlotte gawped up at her maid's cunt. "And I thought your eyes were irresistible."

Belle chuckled. "I'm sorry Ma'am. But I need to come on you."

"God." The queen burrowed up into her. "Please."

Belle rocked, stroked the queen's silky hair. "Shall we see the king after this, then?" She pulled the woman harder to her cunt. "So I can help you?"

"Thank you," said her queen. "Thank—Ymmm."

#

Ten minutes later, Belle's legs were still trembling. Dressed but still damp from the bath, in more ways than one, the queen led them through a mirrored-lined dressing room linking the royal bathrooms to the royal wardrobe. In the kaleidoscopic multitude of reflections Belle was shocked by her crimson cheeks. She hadn't climaxed, but had pretended to please the queen. This wasn't because she couldn't, Queen Charlotte's tongue was extraordinary, but if Belle's orgasm was to be on display, she'd rather display it to the more stupid of the two, where it might earn her more. So she pretended to come when Queen Charlotte orgasmed, Belle grinding on her mouth while the woman finger-fucked herself with not two, but three fingers.

The queen was so grateful after their "shared" bliss, she said from now on Belle should call her Charlotte when they were alone. As they dressed, the queen was giggly and conspiratorial. "Let's never wear knickers, and only you and I shall know!" She clasped Belle's hands like they were best friends. "My husband will have no clue how I will use you to control him." She kissed Belle's fingers. "I wish I wasn't going on my frightful tour. I want to eat you all day. Will you eat me too, Belle? Say you will?"

"My mouth's watering, Ma'am— Charlotte." Belle curtseyed. But instead of rising again she opened Charlotte's robe and planted a kiss to the woman's still-flushed sex. Goodness, she was hornier than she thought. Especially now, with the intimate kiss reflected from every angle all around her. What fun she'd have in this room.

But as ever, Belle's instincts served her well. That surprise kiss sealed their relationship. When Belle rose, there were tears in Charlotte's eyes.

The queen knocked on her husband's bathroom door, then immediately marched in.

"Ah ha!" The king bellowed. "I was just thinking about you!"

"So I see."

Belle entered to find the king naked in his bath, or half out of it—he was massive—with his massive erect phallus gripped in his massive fist. The room was heady with an earthy, sandalwood scent.

"Good lord!" He didn't cover himself. "Is it my birthday?"

Charlotte laughed. "Your Royal Highness, I'd like to present my hand-maiden. Belle."

Belle curtseyed. King John was a storybook king, large of frame and manner, but what looked like fat when he was clothed, at least according to his portraits, was in fact all muscle. Even his belly sported the dips and knots of a working man. He was like a heroic statue of Samson or Hercules come to life. He was handsome too, a Marlon Brando for the queen's Monroe. This might not be so bad. Though she wished she asked Charlotte what the king's preferences were. She didn't relish doing anything... bottomy.

She also wished her cheeks didn't blaze so.

King John laughed as if reading her mind. "Hello Belle. You are astonishing. Is this your new friend dear?"

Charlotte kissed her king. Not on the cheek, but on the head of his cock. He smiled and leant back. She gestured to a couple of velvet-topped stools set beside the bath, adjacent to the king's hips, and knelt on one of them. That this was an occurrence common enough to warrant two stools gave Belle a pang of doubt. Perhaps she wasn't as clever as she thought.

Still, Belle knelt beside the royal erection.

King John peered at her, idly stroking his veiny rod like a falcon.

"Darling I'm going away as you know." Queen Charlotte addressed his cock. They all eyed it in fact, like it ruled the room. "And I know I promised you our special treat before I left, but I've had a better idea. In fact..." She stroked Belle's cheek. "It was my sweet girl's idea. She finds you very handsome"—she winked at Belle—"and wants to perform my duties for me while I'm gone. Well. One of them."

"I see. Does she know what to do?"

"She will. Take a hold, girl." Charlotte slapped her husband's hand away so Belle could grip his firm meat. It was hot as a poker, and so wide she couldn't close her fist around it.

"Two hands," he rumbled. "And—"

Charlotte held up a finger. He shut up.

Belle gripped him in two hands, and stroked up and down. She'd wanked many penises, there was little else to do in a poor, unemployed village. An orgasm was the only happiness they could freely give each other. She'd even sucked a few dicks, if they were polite, handsome and clean. This one felt so thick and hard, and so rumblingly appreciative, she wished she'd climaxed earlier. With each pull, and each bulging reveal of his great bell in her fist, she felt an echoing pull inside her. She wondered how much cum could spurt from a beast like this, from balls like those. She couldn't wait to—

"Too quick, darling." Charlotte settled a hand on hers. "You're not milking him. Now. Watch." Charlotte stooped to kiss him from his bulb down his shaft. In a practiced dance, he heaved his hips from the water and tucked his feet under his bottom so she could bury her face in his balls. Queen Charlotte's lips were very full and plump, and she used them sensually, slowly pressing them to his manhood. When it was Belle's turn, she was worried she couldn't compete with how soft Charlotte must feel. She tried her best, opening her mouth a little and softening her lips as much as she could. God, she wanted this inside her so—

"Slowly," the royals said.

Belle's heartbeat pummelled her ribcage, then Charlotte squeezed her buttock, digging her claws in like a needy cat, and Belle's heart threatened to burst out and splash into the bath. She tried to go slow, but felt too... hungry.

While she lingered kisses around the king's balls, Charlotte curled out a flat tongue and slid it around her husband's end, while, with practiced boldness, she reached under Belle's bottom. Belle copied her queen, lapping at the king's scrotum, swirling a figure of eight to encompass each testicle. The king shuddered against them and made a noise like an earthquake building deep underground.

Charlotte settled back to watch Belle repeat her licking around the king's end, up and down his staff. Belle wanted to suck this man. Wanted the head of the head of state lodged in her mouth. She wanted to wrap her lips around that power, have it pulsing against—

"Calm down." Charlotte had the nerve to say this, even as the woman's fingers stirred at Belle's tingling cunt!

Belle's breath was ragged as the queen joined her, licking the king's lucky loins—more like a tree limb wrapped in satin than a body part. The king chuckled, and locked his hands behind his head as two beautiful woman adored him. Then his wife dipped her head over his end and, urging Belle to watch, nodded up and down, twisting her head, her tongue curling out like a cow collecting grass. The Queen nudged Belle's hands and she jumped back to work, rubbing the king into his wife's mouth.

Charlotte released her husband and nodded at the glossy phallus. "Your turn."

Belle gobbled. She could only just get him in. The king groaned. Charlotte laughed. "Easy tiger!" And the woman's thumb slid into her hole. Belle shuddered and moaned loudly over the king's erection. It came out of his mouth deepened and amplified. He wouldn't know Belle's appreciative sounds were for his wife.

Belle took deep, calming breaths. She focussed on matching the queen's technique, curling her tongue out as she sucked. A salty taste thrilled her. The king's precum. She had the greatest power in the land melting in her mouth. She rubbed faster. She wanted more. They all did, because no one stopped her now. She spread her knees wide to the queen and devoured the king.

"Lord almighty," he blustered. "Good lord."

Charlotte purred.

Belle's hips shook. A warm fizzing rolled in her abdomen. She might come before the king and guessed that wouldn't be allowed.

Perhaps sensing Belle's tension, Charlotte's cheek nudged her off her husband and took him, much deeper, into her own mouth. The king rested his hands on his wife's head, and his cock kicked in Belle's joggling palms. A jolt ran up his torso, popping every vein and muscle on him. He arched from the water. Charlotte hummed, still suckered and sucking, her thumb stiffening in Belle. Belle rubbed the king furiously into Charlotte while squirming on a hand that ground to a halt in her hole.

The king tapped the top of his wife's head three times and she gasped off his cock. He roared so loud the windows rattled. A jet of cum shot a foot into the air, then another, and another, landing in white ropes along his belly and chest.

Now Belle milked him. She milked the king as he writhed and thrust and soaked their clothes with bath water.

Charlotte sat back, grinning, her fingers resuming their play between Belle's legs. Belle tipped her hips back at the lovely intrusion, her interior tingles frothing up at the sight of the king's thick fountain.

He calmed, and smiled at his wife, but it was polite, almost strained. His wife had made this king feel like a man, but there was only one way to make a man feel like a king.

In a kind of fever, and surprising herself as ever, Belle leant over the king's spilling bulb and gently licked it clean. He juddered against her, and silenced. Charlotte's fingers faltered inside her, then picked up an urgent pace. Belle took this as encouragement. She ran her tongue along the cum-guttering grooves of the king's belly, up his chest, lapping his warm semen with a flat tongue. She'd never done this before. Like the queen, she preferred to watch the fountain rather than drink from it. The salty slime was oddly irresistible, like a primal delicacy, and even though she debased herself cleaning this man, to take his lifeblood into her was also to claim him. Her dirtiness thrilled her, but she sensed it thrilled the king even more. Each messy lick and gulp lit Belle up but, glancing up at him with contrived innocence while she worked, it set his hooded gaze smouldering. This gaze didn't make her feel small, it made her gigantic.

The royals were silent. The only sound were Belle's hums and the distant sticky noises of Charlotte tickling her clit while her finger wriggled in her slot. Belle moaned, and licked on. Her hips bloomed. She squeezed a pearl of cum to the king's tip, even as her body spasmed like a cracked whip. She whimpered and sucked him in, dropping her hips to swallow the queen's digit deep into her other end. How she loved that filthy word. Swallow. She'd swallow them both whole, swallow the kingdom, swallow every—

Lightning shot through her, mouth to cunt, dancing between the queen's thumb and the kings cock. She screamed into the king, ground on the queen, caught between them, gushing diamonds in all directions.

She came down from her high with sparkles lingering in her vision, the king stuffed in her mouth, the queen stuffed in her cunt. Someone was cackling insanely.

Oh. That was her.

#

The king seemed excited about Belle looking after him while Charlotte was away. A fact that relieved the queen rather than made her jealous. She even suggested, as they left her dazed husband sagged in his bath, that she might delegate her "morning duties" from now on. "I'll be honest with you sweet Belle," she whispered. "I love my husband, but I do wish he was a woman. HIs manhood is just so... bothersome."

"In which case, Your Majesty." Belle sucked yet another royal splash from the back of her wrist. "Perhaps I need a bed closer to you and the king?"

Queen Charlotte patted her bottom. "We don't deserve you, darling."

That's how Belle ended up with her own chamber, albeit the royal dressing room, nestled between their private bathrooms. Her bed was a pile of fur coats, and she had a little window with a view of the village. However, Mme Couteau's pride in giving the queen such a beloved gift soured when the housekeeper was asked to fit a private bell for her pot girl.

When Mme Couteau left with the carpenter who'd installed a re-purposed doorbell into the royal wardrobe, she deliberately, slowly stepped on Belle's foot. "Do not get too comfortable, girl." She grasped her pendulous bunch of keys and hefted them like a man displaying his cock and balls. "This is the real royal power. And it belongs to me."

Belle smiled, pretending not to notice the cruel foot. As far as she could see, the only evil in the castle surrounded the royal couple. The king and queen were surprisingly gentle, guileless even, not the maniacal despots Belle expected. They were adult children, utterly unaware of the real world, as much to blame for how they were raised as Belle was responsible for her big eyes and rosebud lips.

Belle wondered what treasure chests those keys opened. She vowed to find out.

After draining the king in his bath that morning, Belle was so sure she wouldn't be required for a while that when the bell rang three times in the middle of the night she was fast asleep, naked as a babe wrapped in her furs.

Her first thought was, "Already?" quickly followed by a surge of pride. Her performance that morning had set out her stall for this man—showed him what she was prepared to do. No, what she liked to do. That he couldn't wait wasn't just an ego-trip, it was kind of a turn-on.

It rang again. Belle hopped up and darted into the king's bathroom. Finding it empty, she carried on through into his bed chamber.

The room was big as a train station, and the king's bed set between two triple-height windows, both open to the night and a moon that seemed twice the size of a commoner's moon. Silver light sliced across the bed and the swathed the king's naked torso, but left his face dark.

He was so silent, she wondered if she'd dreamt the bell and he'd wake to find her rudely stood naked in his bedchamber watching him sleep. Then she adjusted to the dim and found the glint in his eye. His erection flexed as if to beckon her. She approached his bedside and stroked him from chest down to hips. He was warm and smelled still of his sandalwood bath, but also of smoke, leather and musk. She grasped his thick rod. He made a sound like boulders in a bag and she couldn't tell if this was a growl or a chuckle.

Trying to recall the queen's advice, she stroked him slowly with two hands but needy hips pushed back quicker. She kissed his tip and found it wet already. It seemed like he'd done half her job for her. She plucked her lips over his hot cock and balls, then followed with her lapping tongue. No complaints about moving too quick now. A draught from the window chilled a wet patch her between her legs. Something about this relative stranger and his proud phallus got to her. Having her mouth pressed to the very epicentre of the kingdom made her feel woozy, but there was also a physical scale and power to him that pulled her insides. Even his silence was magnetic.

She licked him and tugged his length quickly. His breathing hitched. She took what she could of his shaft into her mouth, and the profound plug of him already seemed familiar, almost comforting. She'd treated this man just a few hours ago, but still found herself relishing the chance to do so again.

She hummed. No, moaned. It wasn't even contrived, it just came out of her. Like the arousal treacling down her inner thigh. The primal bluntness of walking into a room and wordlessly sucking a man off, the kingdom's most powerful man, turned her liquid. Or maybe it was the anticipation. She'd always fantasised pleasing a man so thoroughly it left him empty but infatuated and irrepressibly hard, but she'd never had the nerve to try. Yes. she intended to leave this man very pleased indeed. Then she might please herself with him.

She nodded on his cock and rubbed him into her, trying to express eagerness with every dip and tug. Large hands rested on her head. She tensed, thinking he might force her down, but his pressure was light, almost adoring. Sure enough, he stroked her like a favoured pet, down her hair, her back, over her bottom. She planted her feet wider, encouraging his caresses between her legs. Her knees trembled.

She sucked and rubbed briskly but was unprepared for what happened when the king discovered the slickness of her inner thighs. His cock quivered on her tongue and stiffened. He made a strangled grunt and tapped her head three times, just as he had for Charlotte. He arched. Tapped again, almost desperately.

Belle giggled, sucked on.

A stifled roar, and thick, hot jets filled her mouth so frantically she couldn't swallow quickly enough. So she let him spill—men loved that anyway. She angled into the moonbeam so he might see, caught his eye, and blinked with all the dirty innocence she could muster. He glowed, all-powerful, but with each jerk and each pump of his essence, with each salty, silky gulp of it, she felt his power move from him, into her. How much would he crave her now? And more importantly, what would he give for it? She laughed again, drunk on him—no, drunk on herself. Her hips warmed, her clit tingled.

The king spasmed under her like a dying pigeon in the jaws of a cat. She sucked him past his over-sensitised twitching, until he flagged, then didn't stop until he swelled against her palate once more. It was actually happening. She was sucking his spent cock hard again. Having her deepest fantasy manifested, especially with such a fantasy man, made her feel lost in a dream. Still, the very second he moaned and rocked needily at her mouth, she reigned herself in. She kissed his taut bulb and, even as her hole clamoured for satisfaction, turned to leave.

He grabbed her hand. "Thank you, Belle."

She curtseyed.

He still had her hand. "You're very wet."

She sucked cum off her bottom lip and relished the flick of his eye, watching her. She shrugged. "I love my job."

The boulders-in-a-bag-noise. So that was a laugh, then. "None of my staff ever say that."

"Then you have the wrong staff."

No response. She'd gone too far. She cleared her throat, still thick with his taste. "And I can't help it, Your Majesty is very sexy. I'm only human."

His phallus bobbed graciously at the compliment. "Is there... something else I might do for you?"

She might have thought this a dismissal, but the king squeezed her hand. His gaze latched to her hips, his cock bucked. The rumours about this man were true. He was insatiable. She'd push her luck again, see where it led.

Belle stepped close to where his movie-star head lay on the pillow, as if his gaze reeled her sex toward him, when it was the reverse. She'd use her dripping cunt to lure and net this glamorous leviathan.