Queendom 09: A Night Still Young

A thick hairy hand, emerging from the shadows, clutched her curly orange hair, right at the root, making sure she confronted the fear in her own eyes. The beautiful irises that looked absolutely serene, above the thick clear tears welling up fresh. A masterful detailing that impressed Elanor the most. As much as it confused her, that strange seductive mixture of terror and pleasure, dancing in those eyes. How could it be?! Knowing what she knew, what she saw.

Elanor looked again, in disbelief, at the object that elicited such response, not just in her, but in the unfortunate subject of the artwork. Hanging barely an inch above the small of her back, gripped by another hairy muscular hand, a lot leaner one, ready to plunge in any moment. Glowing white hot, with hints of yellow and red, along the hilt, it was an actual branding iron. Like the kind that was used to brand cattle. It had a blooming rose, with two swords crossing from each side.

The symbol of the Order..!

That couldn't possibly be real. Even with all that she saw first-hand, none of the girls had been abused, not were left with something permanent, barring the injury to their self-esteem. Which she highly doubted, they had in the first place. Elanor said to herself.

"Well, that has to be a fantasy. There's no way someone consents.."

Smirking at the silly girl, Madelene stopped herself from answering, noting that she was still astonished by the mural.

"What's the matter, Princess? Caught up in the horror still..?!"

"The whites.."

Elanor stepped up, truly intrigued, straining her neck looking at the image.

"The whites in her iris. The highlights of her drapes.. That detailing of her skin.. It's almost like, an early Greccon. A truly impressive counterfeit, the artist must have been a fan. But the dates..? Makes no sense."

Now Madelene was intrigued. How does this lass know so much about art? And what about the dates.?!

"What about the dates..?"

"Well it's... uhmmm.. It's dated almost a year before Sir Greccon had the exhibition, revealing to the art world his new style, changing murals forever. The first of the Renaissance works that holds up to this date.. But this one here.."

"How do you know so much about art, and Greccon? Used to pose nude or something??"

Oh.. Was I thinking out loud again?!

Elanor suddenly remembered she was to be a simple working-girl for the night.

"I.. umm.. Lady Madelene, its my Father.. His master used to be an enthusiast painter. A fan and collector. He could never shut up about Greccon's techniques.."

Half-way through the thought, she leaned in again, studying the painting.

"That signature, intricate brush work.. How could it be plagiarized, before he made it public..?!"

"Maybe because, this is an original Greccon.."

The confusion in her eyes made Madelene chuckle. Forgetting her shameful state, and the purpose of the night, engrossed by the revelation, looking closed at the depiction, Elanor asked in disbelief.

"Haha.. Yes. You mean, the Great artist, who don't have time for the royal portraits, spends days on end crafting such vulgarities? Please..?!"

"Artists are weird creatures, child. Led astray, at the mercy of the muse, for the most part. It's not like he wants to dwell in the obscene.. I believe it's more like, he cant help, but dwell. At least that's the impression I got. Although with Lord Greccon, it was probably him perverting the muse, than the other way around."

What? Greccon's with the Order..?!

The great artist Greccon, the divine-hand himself, just another misogynistic miscreant?! The man who breathed new life to the Holy Writ, through his astounding fresco in the Grand Cathedral. I worshiped him, adored him. Dreamed of being captured by his blessed vision..

To be made eternal, in his canvas.

And now..

The instant disheartening was evident in her countenance. Something that Madelene recognized immediately. Did I ruin something she held sacred? She wasn't sure. But she felt like defending her favorite artist. The only commonality between the two women. Madelene said.

"Don't mix him up with these miscreants, okay? Greccon was a great lover of women. Not like the typical artist, the ones that can't get over the female form nonesense. But a true worshiper of the insatiable feminine spirit. He respected the ones who dared to find pleasure in the absolute shame. Besides, that right there is the best the kind of art, according to him. He used to paint us a lot, derived most of his style exploring our nudes. Mixing colors in not just oil, but sweat and sex, for hours and hours. The days of true bliss, oh mine.. For he wasn't merely re-capturing, but outright re-living as he painted it. He was obsessed with capturing the truth of an emotion. He could differentiate the degree of lust, from the shade of your blush. I remember it, just like yesterday.."

That only made it worse.. At least these men chose to dilute their depravity in drinks, and condense it to a single night. Greccon instead funnelled it through his gifted hands, and in effect immortalized the decadence of it all. If anything, he's perverting all that is good about himself.

That's just.. Sad.

Elanor couldn't help but ask.

"You remember?! As in.."

Madelene stepped up closer, right before the Queen, making final adjustments. Making Elanor hug her back, so she didn't loss balance.

"I whispered into his ears, dear, as he sketched out the scene. Every single detail that impressed upon me, including the smell of one's burnt flesh."

"You mean.."

Oh dear God, it's her!!

Time hadn't been too kind, with the wrinkles, and the plenty additional pounds. Both sagging and swelling in all the right, and wrong places. But that puffy double-chin, and what had managed to remain in the shine of her almond eyes.. Elanor had no doubt, that was her. Greccon's 'Writhing Queen', the Andrietta of the old.! Well, her royal imposter, to be precise.

Wait.. Does that mean..?

The elderly woman's smirk woke her up, as Elanor realized her left hand had caressed around the woman's waist on it's own, out of some morbid curiosity. As her digits traced the scar shaped like a rose, she had no more doubts. It was all real, and the living proof, right before her. Something in her suddenly turned docile, as Madelene's fingers dug into her right cowl muscle, calmly pressuring her down and closer at the same time.

"Sir Greccon hadn't attended these meetings for over five years. It's the age, you see. He prefers staying home, especially with this cold. Which is why he sends his best students to capture the highlights, that weirdly-attired court painters from the Great Hall, I meant. Well, they are all weirdly dressed, but you get the picture.. This isn't just art or business. He wants these moments commemorated. Not just for his sake, but for.. Posterity, I guess."

For a proud and willing submissive, Madelene glanced down at the Queen like a seasoned domme. It was her preying eyes, that made it evident, the sudden shift in tone. Of her own sudden subservience. This was a woman who hadn't just tamed her pleasures, but her burning pain. Who hadn't just confronted, but mastered agony. Who got intoxicated by her own tears. A concept that never occurred to the Great Chaste to that very moment. And before such power, her knees went weak, without asking. Madelene whispered.

"You know, it's been so long since a girl caressed my brand, that I almost forgot how supple such innocence was. And know this, I'm no dyke. But cravings are a different thing. I would hate for you to leave without a true taste of the rugged old me."

Elanor had no delusions, of what was expected from her. To taste, to eat to her heart's content. Madelene never pushed further. She enjoyed toying with the easily corruptible, especially edging them right to the unthinkable. Something that had rubbed onto her, from countless sadistic masters over the years.

The preservation of innocence, in veneer. Simply for sake of toying.

She knew, just as Elanor realized by then, a slightest increase in pressure would make her knees crumble for good. And the girl would kneel without resistance, lift the maid's skirt, and munch up the old smelly snatch. Fighting through every fiber of her being, of the deep displeasure at submitting to a fellow woman, in the most sinful way. Glimpses from her intoxicated experience with Volgen, late into the night of the retirement party, flashed in her mind. Elanor remembered the conflict even back then. Of her body giving in, but her pride fighting off to the very end. She remembered failing to the pleasure.

Was it pleasure? Or the sheer shame?

Was it her mind tipping over, from all the erotic humiliations so far? Right from being objectified in front of her mere servants earlier tonight, within the confines of her own palace, no less. Being made to prance around a lecherous crowd, of men who truly wished for the fall of her Queendom?

Or was it the fear, of not knowing what is to be expected for the night, in any discernible detail? That tantalizing anticipation of the unknown.. She couldn't tell. But right now, as her voice refused to co-operate, her eyes pleaded in desperation.

Please. ... Don't.

"Oh, look at those puppy eyes. The Great Chaste is shy all of a sudden.?! Worry not, lass. I haven't the time now to indulge you either. Although.."

Elanor felt the grip tighten, and her body pulled into an embrace suddenly. Before she realized, her lips locked with the full pair of Madelene, before she had time to seal her mouth shut. A thick textured tongue forced its way through, slimily, as the grip shifted from her back to nape. As the Queen gave into the kiss, Madelene's hands massaged her back, finally resting on her ass, the fingers digging into the buns. This was her first time being aroused by another female. On her own, free of any intoxicants.. And it wasn't the shame that aroused her.

Was it the maid's sudden dominance? Or was she just that good a kisser, despite being a passable old cow.? Elanor couldn't tell. But her lips reciprocated, quite enthusiastically, playing the sub. She wasn't ashamed at all, until she heard the sudden giggles from all around.

"Nice trick, Queenie! No wonder you managed staying chaste all this while.." Someone shouted.

"The young ones always pick up quick, don't they.." As passing maid remarked to Madelene, as they both chuckled, noting the girl turn a couple shades of pink.

"Show it out there, and you'll have no shortage of tips, dear.."

As the maid passed, their gaze locked again. Elanor was determined this time, to not give in to the woman's aura, unsure why she behaved so in the first place. Madelene said, like she had read the mind.

"No, it isn't the kiss. Nor is it your first night dyking out, though it remains a sour pill. Interesting.. Yet, you seem a bit off. If not the kiss, what got to you..? The fact that I'm older.? No, you are a daddy's girl, this isn't my doing. Was it the thing about Greccon?? No, wait.."

Madelene took a moment, analyzing the girls face.

"The BRAND! Of course, it scares you, right? You didn't expect something like that could actually happen, out in public, even within the Order.. Hoho..! Don't worry, the new ones aren't too keen to own. They settle for teasing.. Even the old ones won't go for it, unless you give the signals. The gentle man's code, you know.. Consent and all. We aren't savages.."

That's true.. Elanor realized. What truly got to her, scared her to the core, was the moment when it turned real, when she touched the branding scar on the maid's back. The thought of pain, and permanence.. God no!

Madelene smirked.

"Thirty years, and my instincts are as sharp as ever.! Tell you what, Queenie.. If they float the idea, 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't tell if its the taboo, or certainty of ownership, that call you to it. But, 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.."

There was something magical in the way she spoke, that it convinced Her Highness of its validity, for a brief moment.

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

That knowing smile returned to Madelene's face.

Oh look at this poor thing. So unmindfully at the brink.

If only I could crush and mold, with my own hands.. No! Master's orders. I shan't hunt tonight. My turn will come. I am to be obedient, and Master shall provide. I am but his pet.

Clearing her throat, she continued.

"You are no natural submissive. But someone trained you good, bitch. I can tell."

The Queen's face paled, at the sobering statement. Am I always this transparent?

"Brief, but good. right? Maybe he truly took his time. Or maybe, you had always been too eager to please.. Daddy and mommy's good little angel, were you?! Maybe there was an uncle or two, always pushing, always hard to please. And one day he lets you in, on the secrets to please anyone. Is that how it went, prissy? Or were you the one, reaching out?"

She's wrong, yet right. And too close.

The calligrapher, the pianist, the art lessons. Whether she excelled or barely passed, there was no tutor who said she made a bad student. That smile of approval, it was crucial to her.

With Papa. With Master Davieth. Even Uncle Belkin.

Was I driven by that impulse to please, at times at least.? Have I turned so much of a rhyme, that even a flabby old harlot could read through.?

"Hey, is that for the Black-Rose.? Let me check."

Madelene called out, as the servant-girl walked past, carrying a large jug. Dipping her pinky in the jug, her eyes squinted in anticipation, as she tasted.

"Ummmhh.. Why is it so low on concentration?"

This must be the aphrodisiac mixture, meant for the Black-Rose. Elanor thought, as the new servant answered.

"Lord Tarquin wants her lasting all-night. Besides I heard it's an actual virgin this time."

"A proper virgin blue-blood? At this day and age?! What, everyone is going for chastity now? Haha.. I wonder what they have on the poor thing.? Wait.."

"Madelene?! That's double the normal.."

The other maid looked perplexed, at her colleague carelessly increasing the dosage. Without batting an eye, Madelene reached into her pocket and retrieved a small potion, emptying it to the jug. The maid smelled the bottle just to confirm her doubts.

"Crushed yellow poppy seeds.? Isn't that a.. It's cruel Madelene.. She's not like us.. She's.."

"Oh, what?! Too innocent? Like the Great Chaste right here, haha..!"

The elder woman smacked the Queen's rear mockingly, as she ate the shame. Madelene continued.

"Even so.. Imagine what's the nature of compramat must be, for her to end up here, way before losing maidenhead. Besides she's probably some pampered stuck-up brat, a truly tough nut. Normal doses wont crack her overnight. Add a pinch of paprika, I want that prissy little pumpkin squirming as her gut burns. Haha.."

Her laughter stopped as it became evident that the colleague found it the least amusing. What's with her now? May be this will convince. Madelene said.

"Lord Zephin has a bet. He can't have her striving past midnight. He'll split the winnings with me, and you can have half my share. Just be discrete, and mix it well.."

The incentive certainly helped ease her conscience. The maiden asked.

"Is that even fair? I thought the custom required the girl giving up on her own."

Madelene smirked.

"Oh, I don't think anything done to her is fair. Yet my loins stir, knowing what's being done. I asked Lord Zephin, and you know what the silver-tounged devil said. That the custom requires the girl giving in on her own volition, because the Order believes the corrupting-lust is in the very nature of feminine. And it's call, something no Queen could resist. Yet, we don't mind aiding it with aphrodisiacs. So he says, the same way, the call of one's feminine nature.. Can be arguably interpreted as.."

"A call of nature.. As in nature's call.. Oh that's cruel, Madelene, even for you.."

Elanor remembered suddenly. Yellow poppy-seed..?! Isn't that a laxative? I take it back. She knew now for sure, she'd rather spent the night getting tossed around slimy hands. She did not wish to be at the feeding end of that tube.

"Don't worry, this is just one more reason for her, to give in sooner. There are limits to their indulgences.. They just want to watch her beg her way out of the cage, before her body betrays what remains of it's dignity. They certainly don't want someone stinking up the whole mood. They have limits. In public, at least.."

As the servant walked away with the new mixture, Madelene turned to Elanor.

"Simple rules, since it's your first time here. Men are waiting to dine and drink, and the buzz tells me they are particularly famished. A lot of variety in the menu. A lot of new ones try and scam, staying around the kitchen corridor, pretending to pass the trays. Shy to wet their feet. Not on my watch though."

Shifting her tone to serious, the she continued.

"Go serve the men, and be warned. If you ever as much glance this way, I'll give you plenty to dine on. Enough to make you switch sides for good. And believe me, there are plenty closet dykes back here, dying for a snack. And unlike the men, I sate myself by sharing. By morning you'll learn to drool at the sight of old chewy cunts.."

Those sinister eyes told the Queen, that she meant every word. Nora grew up fighting sharks, her ferocious cousins, not to mention her competitive sister. But never had she witnessed pure predatory gaze in a woman's eyes. She exited, counting at least four other maids, all aging and voluminous, all ogling at her bouncing behind. The heat from their stare made all of Volgen's advances seem like a lover's caress.

Regardless how tough it gets, I'm not returning to this kitchen.

Not for a second.

**

*

"Your words ooze a certain class. The kind that doesn't belong in the lips of a harem girl."

Tarquin smiled, almost impressed. Bellatrix was surprised how natural the role of a spy came to her. Sure, had she paused to ruminate over the consequences she may fall apart, her thumping heartbeat and shivering extremities taking over in no time. But something about riding at the very edge of danger, knowing a wrong glance, a lapse in confidence could be it, kept her saddled tight, as she said lie after lie to his queries. What she never saw coming, was the General getting increasingly amused by her voice.

Her faux-identity was Deminica, the 'Overseer of Harlots', the one who had brought the 'Queens' for the night. It shouldn't be surprising perhaphs, that the head-chauvinist took up an interest in the supplier of party-whores. Maybe I should discourage him sooner. Bellatrix corrected.

"Oh, I'm but the keeper of the girls, sire. I shepherd them, I don't graze myself."

"Sure, sure. I appreciate you taking the initiative, to glean my liking, to serve with quality experiences. But, you fail to see the insights of sole research failing you.."

The research..?! Oh yes.. In the initial panic she may have blabbered about her fake work-history. How she prided herself in providing the best experiences for her clients. By researching their kinks and likes, and sending girls that complemented the particularities. I can't believe he bought all that.. Glancing at the rare collections on the library shelf to her right, Bella retorted.