Queendom 09: A Night Still Young

The stablemen on the other hand was brimming with a tribal pride. To have, even not real, the liking ruling monarch who they despised, acting like a bitch in heat, or worse. It was better than their wildest fantasies. "Hail General Tarquin.." They said, again and again.

"Okay, you ain't that bad.." Fred said, as Elanor felt his fingers dig into her hair. Before she could breath even, he pushed her head back and forth, making sure at least six inches of him always remained in her mouth, violently face fucking her. The Queen flailed like a rag doll as she said "Gluch.gluchh..gluck" over and over. On the twelfth 'Gluch' he pushed her head all the way back, his dick completely outside and shimmering in saliva. What she whispered came out as an embarrassing shriek, but she didn't care now. Elanor stared transfixed the the magnificence that was just hitting her throat, as beads of spit still clung on to her lower lips, and dripped down her neck in excess. She didn't waste time, and inhaled a lung full.

"Don't suck further, just stroke. I want to see my load on your tongue."

It didn't take long. He was quite thick, like unusually thick, and a bit grainy even, spread across her taste-buds. The implication wasn't lost on her calling it unusual, like she had a thorough understanding of the properties of the average male ejaculate. His long satisfying breaths reassured her, that he wouldn't be needing the branding iron tonight. He had marked her, after all, with his own juice. Fred shook his head, saying.

"I want it remaining in your tongue, Highness, till I permit you to spit. Now the verdict. Well, clap on fellow herdsman, she was excellent.! She's going to make a great harem slut. Maxim, pass me the brand."

That's so great. Wait what? But you said..

She didn't see Fred wink at his brothers, signalling them to play along. Billet scratched his head. Why is this kid always so weird.?! Just get a blowjob and relax, will ye.? The Queen looked up confused. Where's he going with this.?

"Don't give me that look. We Rachetties don't take words lightly, slut. Yeah, we are brutish, and ill-tempered, but our words. We mean it. I'd have spared, had you done a good job. Just good, decent. But you had to put on a show, huh? Getting all involved, doing too good a job. A great job! You don't waste such lips on kiss, or such throat on songs. I know Lord Liam set the rules. She shan't be marked and all, but.. Those lips are worth the risk, dear. Even the General's ire, I'd say. MAXIM..!!"

I thought this was just a wilder side, of boys being boys. Was it though?! The Queen was getting seriously concerned. Her only hope was the indifference in Billet's face, at his cousin's jester-like posturing. It's Fred , the wild-card himself, that worried her. That grin of his, and the glint of madness in his eyes. Like he had always planned on branding her.

It's not the pain of the burn that bothered her. Elanor's skin is symbolic. It isn't even up to her to mark it permanently with any symbols, regional or foreign. It would defeat the purpose of her being a body beyond all affiliations, working for the whole of her subjects. For the stable men it was a crude joke. For her, its the pride of her Kingdom.

As Maxim raised the glowing red iron, Fred had already made the crowd buy into the play. The men began chanting, half-drunk and half-ecstatic. "Brand her! Brand her!!"

When Fred walked around to her back, Elanor realized her body had begun shaking. The words of Madelene ringed in her ears.

It scares you, right? Being branded for life. The thought of pain, and permanence..

Tell you what, Queenie.. Just give in, okay? I can see it in your eyes. You are the kind to relish in.. not the pain, but the knowledge of irrevocable ownership...

I can see the longing in your eyes. You want to belong, don't you..

In as absolute a surrender as dreamable. The eyes tell it all..

Trust me, girl. When the time comes, just give in..

The crowd kept cheering as Frederich struck the glowing end loudly on the metal pillar, the sound of which shocking Elanor to the core. Like it enhanced the reality of her circumstance. Billet raised his hand to warn his cousin, to not go overboard. Fred nodded in compliance, but winked at the younger Maxim to the side, confusing them both. Elanor was preoccupied to notice this exchange. Voices in her mind drowned out the noises from around.

It's natural to learn your place. It's okay to admit defeat. Queen's are meant to do so, after all. In times of great turmoil, with the war lost, with enemy at the gates. Subjects take priority, survival takes precedence. Over ego, over shame. But over honor.?

Did Madelene sense something in my very nature, for her words to ring so true with my fears within.? Am I desperate to be be bound by belonging? Is that what I'm attempting, binding me by all these rules. Or am I just scared of the pain, not to mention my Queenly vanity?

May be you don't measure up, Nora, in the final analysis. May be you ideals were laughably unrealistic. Hold yourself to the standards of a Queen, not that of the divine.

"HUHH!!"

Elanor felt her spine stretch back feeling the ice-cold iron on her left buttocks. She could have cried out, but her voice seemed lost in all the fear. He wasn't kidding. The bastard wasn't.. wait.. The men laughed at her reaction, as Fred cackled loudly.

He was testing waters. He had simply poked her rear, with the cold end of the iron rod. He twirled th hot iron carelessly, laughing at her fear, and said.

"Oh look at that? I used the other end, how silly of me.. Now now, did you just about cry? Heha.. Would you request me nicely then?"

It was an embodied response. Her head nodded on its own, anxious and afraid. Her lips never stopped quivering, her breath quickened from the shock. No, he didn't. Thank God, he didn't.

"Please don't brand.."

"Wait, wait. Fellow herdsmen, you've heard the Great Chaste cries easy.."

Don't go there, you cretin. Do not.. Elanor clenched her teeth.

"Have you seen her beg easy.? Do it proper Queen. Prostate!"

Elanor closed her eyes, to quiet the mind. And a part of her whispered. The part that made her clit twitch, when her eyes locked on to the 'Writhing Royal' earlier. The part that realized as her throat lumped, tracing the outline of Madelene's wrinkled brand, the novelty of creaming oneself scared. A part, clearly beyond reason.

It's okay to fail. It's only fear, Nora.

Just give in.

And if he brands me still.?!

Maybe that's for the better. You cower so easy at the thought of a mere blemish, then may be a brand suits your rear better. Not a throne.

What if Madelen's right? It's an out. Aren't you looking for an out?

Who knows, maybe they'll treat you good. Just give in.

You'll learn to live with. Love it, even.

Give in.

Frederich bend forward for a better view of her ass. He praised the one who popularized the prostrating posture. What a humiliating position? And what a flexible physique?! The way her spine bowed almost parallel to the ground, like a trained Princess bowing before the All-father. The full breasts squished against the stone floor. That pelvic tilt, just enough to accentuate those bare shining buttocks, waiting to be oiled up and canned.

Man, that ass though!

Fred nearly drooled. He loved the goosebumps of fear peppering her rear. He loved it when they play into the prey-role. Though her actual fear, that puckering anal bud right before, was even more intoxicating. Way too tempting a lass, an ass. If only one of these idiots pushed me from behind, and I dropped the hot iron, right on her back. Or maybe I should just brand her straight up, now. What's done is done, after all. The General.. Well, its not like he'll have shortage of whores. This one.. This one is yearning to be broken. To be taken.

Even Frederich didn't realize that he had twirled the Branding iron so now the red-hot edge faced her back.

"Would you like another try, Highness?"

Elanor embraced her submission and spoke, trying her best to stay legible with a tongue coated in snotty sperm.

"Sp.. Spare my skin from being branded. I'll.. I will be good all night."

Huh..!

As her throat died, the Queen felt the heat. An inch away from her left buttocks, the same spot as before. Looking ahead she saw Billet get up from his seat. Like he feared, his cousin seemed to be toying with idiocy. Elanor felt it in her gut. He's going to do it anyway, isn't he?

Fred spoke again, his voice determined this time.

"You forgot to say 'please'. Beg again, as fitting a weepy wanton widow.!"

In her audible inhale, the Queen saw red. You did not just say that!

"You filthy vermin!"

"What did you say slut?"

Frederich asked, dumbfounded. Did she just? Billet began walking up slowly. Oh, no! You did not just insult Fred. Why does it have to be Fred? Always! He pushed past the crowd.

"Move, move.."

Elanor looked back, over her shoulder. And as their eyes locked, he saw. That same burning stare, though it seemed much calmer. Smoldering now instead. She spat out the sickening seed, as if to his face, and looked the other way. Like he was too insignificant to hold her attention.

"Stop staring at my ass pervert, and walk upfront.! If you find it so bright an idea, disregarding the rules, branding the likeness of your ruling monarch as property.. I dare you to not hide it on my rear. Be a man, boy. Do it facing me.!"

As men scuttled back to avoid getting burned from the twirling hot iron rod, Frederich walked around to face her, baffled, yet trying desperately to look cool. Where did this command come from? He wondered. And why was it hidden, in the first place? Elanor laughed.

"I mean, if a meek mere vermin like you got the balls, why not do it upfront, where the whole world could see. My rosy right cheek for instance..!!"

Oohh..!!

The crowd was now hooked. All eyes shifted to Fred. His eyes were fuming as well, fingers beginning to get fidgety. Which concerned Billet as he stepped forward. How am I to pull him out now, without losing face? Frederich knew it all well, and the risks of the alternative. Only, reason didn't seem to be his driving principle at the moment. The crowd-pressure certainly didn't help. He growled.

"Bitch, I'm not playing?!!"

"You wouldn't dare boy! You haven't got the stones.."

Elanor snapped back, almost indifferent to the outcome.

"Wench, you wish to get burned?!"

"Burned or not, I'm no pony. Nor are you man enough to tame me!"

"Frederich, get a grip. Shut your hole you lady! Maxim, take the iron!" Billet held Fred's shoulder from behind, pulling him back.

"Maxim, stay the fuck out! If the slut's asking for it, why not give one good..??"

As Fred growled, Billet tried consoling him, pulling him further.

"Fred, that's enough.. Cool down."

And the Queen just scoffed.

"What, your brother's got you leashed now?"

That snapped him, and Fred charged, pushing away his cousin.

"You've done it cunt!"

"Burn me, you spineless.."

The Queen roared through fear, her lips quivering, her spine stretched against the wooden beam. Maxim ran up screaming.

"Hey hey, Frederich! FRED!!"

Time slowed for Elanor, as all clouds of confusion vanished. It'd hurt like hell, no doubt. Deface her irrevocably even. But she'll know for sure, that she feared no more. Not the burn, not the brand, nor the thought of ever being owned. There was no rationality, none of it had any.

Rationale had stopped being helpful for months now.

The last thing the Queen saw was the glint of the glowing brand rushing to her cheek. Her eyes closed involuntarily, as her core braced for the inevitable. And blood drained from her face, rendering it cold. Even the impetus to breath evaporated.

You were wrong Madelene. What I long for isn't submission.

I don't give in, for I am your Queen.

Why did it have to be the right cheek though?

**

*

My first kiss.

And it's the Prince of Wolkenshire!

Princess Nora felt butterflies in her tummy. Any moment now, it will come.

Under the Vankenbraum stars, right by the fountain, like in her dream. Being naive she waited with her eyes closed. Awaiting the moment that will stay so fresh, so present in her for a lifetime. As her belly knot tightened, and face paled, her cheek waited in anticipation. To feel the lips of the handsome mischief she met in that magical night of mirth. The same right cheek, that will wait for ages, only to blush, as the blood rushed to her lips instead.

Of course, the lips. He kissed my lips instead.

Our lips are locked! Oh, please don't faint.. I don't want this to end.

Why did I expect, him to stay shy, be naive like me.? I found in him love, and he shall take it from my lips. What are we, kids, to peck on one's cheeks?! A peck would be sweet, but lips are so much better! Sorry my rosy red right cheek, for you won't be landing my first kiss.

But may be there lies something ahead,

For yours to be, truly the first.

**

*

Oh, Poor Rosy Right Cheek,

Why are you spared when desired,

And claimed when not?

She kept waiting, for the pain to hit. Maybe it's the adrenaline, but contrasting her thumping heart against numbing perceptions was certainly addictive. The men shuddered with sudden gasps, and a deafening silence of awe that followed.

There it was, that faint scent of burned flesh.

And the unmistakable sound, of red hot kissing the ice cold.

Ssssssszzzzzcchhh...

Elanor didn't feel pain. Moreover..

She was beyond fear.