Queen Yavara Ch. 11

"Oh, that was creepy." I laughed, "But I don't think I'll frame my foreign policy around the prophecy of a drug-addled convict. Now, where were we? Ah, that's right," I reached into my bag, and watched Mother's eyes widen when I revealed what I'd grabbed, "I was just torturing you."

Mother was screaming again, the sound so shrill that it was nearly demonic. She was in a contraption called 'the bowman.' Two cruel metal clamps bit into her nipples, connected by a chain between her breasts that was drawn like a bowstring, pulled downward by a second chain that clamped to her clitoris; the 'arrow' as it were. Using the lever that pulled on her shackled wrists, I systematically drew back the bowman's bow by making Mother straighten. Her breasts were stretched to conical points aimed at the floor, her nipples reaching the end of their elasticity, and her clit pointing upward like a miniature cock, blood-red with pressure.

"You're doing so well, just a little bit more!" I encouraged, and cranked the lever once more. Mother sobbed, her thighs rubbing desperately, clear fluid running freely between then. Her head was forced between her outstretched arms as her wrists were pulled higher, her hands coming together at the apex of her extended form. I worried that her shoulders might be rendered from their sockets, but no; the lever stopped at its final position, and Mother's breath caught her throat. There she was, frozen in a paralysis of immeasurable tension, simultaneously being pulled apart and together. I stared in awe of her, walking carefully around her, daring not to disturb my masterpiece. Her breasts stretched grotesquely, her clit extended perversely, and her face was a portrait of tears smearing her makeup, spit stringing from her chin, and cheeks flushed with agony and ecstasy alike.

"Amazing." I whispered, circling her, "It's like every part of you is on the precipice, and just the lightest touch might send you over." I reached out, and grazed my fingernails down her tense dorsal muscles. Mother whimpered, a sound so full of masochistic delight that it nearly took me, but I restrained my urges. "I could play you like a harp," I said, stopping before her, staring into her bloodshot, dilated eyes. I hooked one finger under her chain, and plucked it. Mother cried out, her voice rich with ecstasy, her body trembling with it. I plucked it again, only this time I didn't release right away, but held the chain in my hooked finger, drawing out her torture until she was panting between her screams. I loosed the chain, and her breasts bounced against her chest, her entire body recoiling slightly. Her voiced sputtered back to its sobbing moans, but she didn't look away from me. She stared at me with big pleading eyes, biting her lip and knitting her brow in a show of complete vulnerability. 'More?' The look seemed to say, 'Will you give me more, please?' But she wouldn't give voice to it, not yet. I grinned, and reached into my bag.

The next toy looked like a leather belt, only instead of a buckle, it had six metal close pins. Mother growled and hissed as I took one of her feminine petals and hooked delicate triangles of flesh into the pins. Wrapping the belt around her waist, I stretched one side of her open, causing her to squeal like a stuck sow. She flowed freely from the hole I'd opened, her nectar tinged purple with the poison that was slowly taking her. When I hooked her other lip to the belt, she was trembling from foot to head, her spread pussy was red with desire. A reached forward, and with the lightest of touches, I ran my finger through her open slit. Mother sucked in air, her body going rigid, every part of her focusing on the tip of my finger.

"Oh, you want me to touch you, don't you?" I whispered, nearly drunk with my power over her.

Mother just stared at me, tense breaths coming from her gaping lips.

"You need to feel flesh on flesh." I said, never touching her with more than a graze. I lowered my face to her breast, and extended my tongue from my mouth. I flicked her nipple with it, and she purred, her eyes closing in hedonistic splendor. "Tell me you want it," I breathed on her breast, "and I'll nurse from you like I did so long ago."

Mother sucked her lips into her mouth, whining against the words her body wanted her to say. I prodded her clamped nipple back and forth, wetting the tip of it with my spit. Her breasts were in such a state of high tension that her whole chest jiggled with the barest motion of my tongue. Mother's face became red, then purple. She shook her head this way and that, then with a moan of dismay, her lips tore open, and she screamed, "I WANT IT!"

"Convince me." I grinned open-mouthed, my tongue still teasing.

"I want my daughter to suck my tits!" Mother sobbed, "I'm a depraved slut who gets off to being chained and tortured by her child, now please!"

"No." I whispered, and stepped back. The look of despair that crossed Mother's face burned into my mind. If I could've, I would've brought an artist with me to paint that moment so that I could cherish it forever. "You didn't convince me, Mother, I'm sorry." I said, reaching once again into my bag, "While I believe you want your breasts stimulated, I don't think you want me to do it." I pulled out my next instrument. "In your state of mind, I suspect anyone would do. I need you to want me, your daughter, the woman who fucked your husband, who stole your crown, who condemned you to death. I need you to... love me." I brought the pear-shaped object into view, and twisted the knob at the end of it. The smooth pear opened into six petals, its bloom widening with the twist of my finger. I looked up at Mother. "Maybe this will make you love me."

It was immediately apparent that Mother had never put anything in her ass. When I spread her supple cheeks, I found the tightest pink little button I'd ever seen. She shook with fear and desire as I wetted the pear with her free-flowing juices, then trailed its tip down her taint, and rested it against her puckered center.

"N-n-n-not there!" She managed to stutter.

"Why not?" I asked with a sardonic smile, applying pressure.

"Because... because..." Her thoughts waned from her as I began to twist against her virgin hole.

"Because it's from where you shit?" I finished for her, "But I thought the proud and benevolent Trenaria Tiadoa's shit didn't stink?" I took a deep whiff of her, "That's clearly not the case, though between the two of us, Mother, I think you smell delicious."

"Leveria... please..." Her voice was small and weak.

"There's no need to be Queen Tiadoa here, Mother." I spit onto her tailbone, and watched the glob traverse her crack, and center about the pear's tip. She shivered in arousal from the degradation. "Say you want your baby-girl to fuck your virgin ass, and I'll do it. Say you don't want it, and I'll leave you alone."

I twisted the pear idly against her anus, watching as her puckered exit twitched hungrily around its tip. Mother's back shadowed with tension, her legs began to tremble, an escalating whine sounded from her gritted teeth before she finally cried, "I want my baby-girl to fuck my virgin ass!"

I giggled, and pushed in. Her sphincter uncoiled into a taut circle, then enveloped the pear entirely, greedily sucking the girthy end of it into her vile depths and closing about the knob at the bottom. She cried out, her anus pulsing a hair's breadth from my fingertips as they clutched the knob. But I would not touch her, as tantalizing as her lewd parts were. Not yet. Mother's breathing was rapt as she waited in torturous anticipation for me to begin. I did. Every degree I cranked the knob, her cries became a little higher, a little shriller. At first, it was all pleasure, but as the petals began to expand, and the elasticity of her rectum reached its limits, I began to hear the pain. I twisted the knob through it all, watching in fascination as her pelvic floor bulged with pressure, as her rectum became a white-rimmed oval glistening against the metallic pear that crowned like a birthing child from her revolting hole. And even as her shrieks of pain became desperate and manic, her pleasure grew, making her scream 'more!' as she passed her limits. I obliged, and when the knob would turn no more, Mother reared back her head, and pissed a golden arc onto the floor before her. I gawked at the display, marveling at the intensity of the sensations that would compel her to wallow in such lows. For upon Mother's face was an expression so rapturous it was like I'd shown in her heaven. Or hell. She was somewhere on the precipice, but I hadn't quite pushed her over. And as the sensations waned, the simmering desire began to take her once more, the unfulfilled need coming to a boil.

"I'll do anything," Mother whimpered, "anything you want, if you just let me come! I'll be your whore, your toy!"

"Love me, Mother." I sighed, twisting the opened pear inside her, "Love me as Father loves me, and I will love you in turn."

"I can't!" Mother sobbed, rubbing her thighs together. There was such despair in that voice, such longing and regret. Oh, it was sweet. She had been brought to such lows, but I realized that she would need a sacrifice from me to go lower.

"Then I must love you." I muttered, walking around her body. She was strung like a bow in the tension of her binds, but it paled to the tension beneath her flesh, the desire that wound ever tighter the longer she endured without release. I stepped into the puddle of piss she'd made, and before Mother's disbelieving eyes, I knelt in it. "This is who I am, Mother." I said softly, my lips lowering to her splayed pussy, "Yes, I enjoy the pageantry and dignity of royalty as you do, but in secret, I long to wallow in the filth." My hands gently framed her opened petals, my fingers brushing the pins that bit into her flesh, "I will show you my love. I've never tasted a woman before." I looked up at her, "Please be patient with me while I learn."

I pressed my mouth to the hole I'd come from, and dipped my tongue inside. I felt Mother relax around me, soothed by the intimacy of skin on skin, the exploring tongue of her own daughter. I slid my hands behind her, and gently squeezed her ass, feeling the suppleness of a woman in my palms, my own mother, moaning for me as I pulled her pelvis forward to kiss her lower lips. And how I kissed them. I formed my mouth around her hole, and circled it with my tongue, listening intently to the pitch of her moans, feeling the shift of her hips. When I found the spot within her, she cried out hoarsely, a sound like a mourn but for the joyous inflection.

"Right there, baby-girl." Mother whispered above me, "Kiss your mommy right there." And by the covetousness of her voice, by the sheer desire in it, I knew she'd fallen. For there was no doubt that the she was getting off to me, her daughter, her destroyer; not just the feeling of a tongue in her cunt, but the knowledge of whose it was. "Play with Mommy's slutty little asshole." She requested through a moan, "Make Mommy hurt while you eat her used pussy."

I acquiesced, twisting the knob protruding from her anus, feeling the effects of it on my tongue. She whimpered her thanks, rocking her hips as best she could in her binds, her toes curling. My lips smacked as I rotated my kiss, my eyes staring heatedly upward, my nose pressing into the bottom of her stretched clit. She was looking down at me, her beautiful face framed with her nearly white hair, a look of abject adoration on her face. Almost there. Almost. I parted from her pussy with a peck on her clit, strings of her nectar snapping from my chin, her delicious aftertaste in my mouth. She watched me expectantly as I walked to the wall, reached between the bars, and struck the lever.

Mother collapsed in a heap, her breasts and clitoris retracting from their stretched positions, her body quivering in relief. I took the keyring from my bag, and undid the shackles on her wrists and ankles. The flesh beneath was raw and weeping, but she paid it no heed. She just knelt in her own urine, looking up at me with that expression of adoration, slowly turning to something more.

"I love you." She hissed, tears running from her eyes, "I hate how much I love you."

"That's the only kind of love I give." I smiled down at her, running my hand through her hair, "Will we love each other tonight?"

"Yes." Mother whispered, dropping her forehead against my pelvis, breathing on my slit, "I will love you as I have loved no other."

I lowered myself with her, and soon we were rolling in her waste, our faces in each other's crotches, our hair matted to our heads. Mother showed me that I hadn't been her first woman, for her tongue moved expertly within my nethers, and her lips sucked with a sensuality only a mother could bring to her child. I moaned atop her, my body draped in a hedonistic sprawl, sticky with the dried fluids that covered us both.

"How does your daughter's pussy taste?" I asked as I slowly pulled the pear from her anus.

"It's the most delicious thing I've ever eaten." Mother muttered, and pressed her face deeper, the bridge of her nose rubbing against my filthy button. I groaned, watching Mother's pelvic floor stretch to a tortuous cone about the exiting plug, feeling her heated kiss become more impassioned until the device plopped out of her, and she screamed her gratitude into my depths. Her asshole was gaping and exhausted, contracting to a loose hole that seemed to steam with her desire. I couldn't resist. I licked down her slit, wrapped my lips around her uncoiled shithole, and sucked. Mother danced beneath me, moaning into my pussy, then returning the favor. I felt Mommy's lips pucker around my tight little asshole, and suck. Oh, it was good, made only better by the knowledge of who was doing it. I pushed my tongue between my drawling lips, and she did the same, and we each tasted the decadent filth of the other, ravenous in our debasement, gluttonous in our lust.

Then we were face to face, and I was riding her, rubbing my clit against her stretched and engorged member, driving the twin-ended dildo between our slits. Our foreheads connected above our panting lips, our eyes staring our love, our passion, our hatred. Her fingers were in my anus, and mine were in hers, and we placed them in each other's mouths when we needed to wet them. She was prying me open with three digits from each hand, and I was doing the same, and we were grinning at each other because we both knew how wrong this whole thing was, and we both knew that was why it was so good. The toy between us was soaked with our juices, our clits were red and throbbing, our hearts were fluttering.

"Kiss me." I whispered on her lips, and she did so without trepidation, giving me her lips and tongue with all the tender love a mother could, sharing the flavor of each other's holes in our mouths. We rolled in her in piss like animals, and we shared a thing so primal that it couldn't be put into words. And then, we came. We were screaming when it happened, our bodies driving together in a possessed joining, rivulets of sweat and waste streaming down our faces. Our complexions were flushed, our eyes were locked, our breath was the other's. We exploded inside each other, the ecstasy coursing like electricity throughout our bodies, compelling us to shake and convulse; hip to hip, thigh to thigh, cunt to cunt, mouth to mouth. And while my climax dwindled, Mother's only intensified, brought about by an hour of torture, of chemically-induced euphoria that was too great to be held by our species. Her eyes filmed, her voice sputtered out, her body went rigid, and she lost her mind. She just stared vacantly at the ceiling, her body twitching, her pussy spurting. I leaned over her, brushing matted hair from her forehead as she convulsed in sexual seizures.

"Tomorrow, you are going to stand before the citizens of Bentius." I said softly as she descended back to reality, "You are going to bear the jeers and scorn with all the dignity you can muster. And when you get to the noose, you will see me waiting on the platform. I'll be with you, dearest mother, when you confess everything I've accused you of. I want you to beg for my forgiveness and mercy before all the attendants."

"Yes." Mother said, staring vacantly through me, "Will you forgive me? Will you give me mercy?"

I smiled into her eyes. "You know, I think I will." I laughed to myself, quite surprised with my decision, "You'll live down here, of course, but I will visit."

Mother smiled broadly, her vacant eyes glistening. "I would like that. Such a good daughter you are, Leveria. Such a wonderful girl."

"Yes," I mused, clinically grabbing her nipple, and injecting her once more, "I suppose I am."

The next morning, Mother walked into the square. The hateful mob roared as one entity, merciless and vengeful, wanting nothing less than death. To them, the woman that had once been the beloved matriarch of their nation was now a traitor and a whore, not fit to sleep in the outhouse of the seediest Bentius brothel. They never questioned what they were told, or why they were told it. In truth, they didn't care. They just wanted to see a royal brought to their level. Though Mother was flanked on both sides by guards taller than she, her dress was covered in thrown filth by the time she made it to the scaffolding. I was there, my hands held solemnly before me, my princess's tiara adorning my head for the last time. When she ascended the steps, she made eye contact with me, and a subtle smile creased her lips. I returned it with an imperceptible nod. The magistrate held up his hand for silence, and the crowd hushed. Then, before the mob in the square, before the nobles in their balconies, and before the king in his tower, Mother confessed to my lie. She did so with glassy eyes, staring vacantly into the distance as if she wasn't even there. I doubted anyone else noticed the violet tinge to her sclera, nor the way her thighs rubbed together beneath her bulky skirt. When she was finished, she bowed her head, awaiting the magistrate's judgement. My magistrate, as it were. "Death." He said. And for one last time, I got to see the look of utter surprise and horror cross my mother's face. Then they put the black bag over her head, and the noose after it, and without any ceremony, they dropped her. The rope went taut with a snap, and Trenaria Ternias Tiadoa swung limply and dead before the roaring crowd. In their frenzy, I doubt anyone noticed the silver plug shoot out of Mother's skirts, and bounce into the shadows below the scaffolding.

I sat upon the throne. Glendian unenthusiastically read the scriptures, father pridefully placed the golden crown on my head, and the crowd cheered. I smiled, and raised my hand for silence. I've never been a great orator, so I elected for a brief speech instead. Father had advised me to play to my strengths and conceal my weaknesses, so my first address was simply a by-the-numbers proclamation of the strength of the Highlands, how we would overcome the threats, we would come out of this greater than ever, yadda, yadda, yadda.

My first action as queen was to make Glendian burn his journal. After the last physical piece of my lie died, I selected my war council. Field Marshal Droughtius would begin amassing the army, while Head-ranger Adarian would keep Yavara from amassing hers. I already had an extensive web of spies and diplomats, and so I assumed control of the espionage program. What I knew already, I would act upon immediately. Brock Terdini was in the Great Forest with Zander Fredeon. I could cripple my sister with one well-placed arrow.