Queendom 10: A Night Too Long

Billet shook his head. Oh Chief, you should've seen her earlier.

"Well, she seems quite docile." Ransford said, reading his thoughts.

"They are all docile before you, Chieftain. Shall I send the girl up?"

"What you mean, Billie-boy. His Lordship send her down here to be punished."

"But.. But I thought you said.."

"FRED!"

Frederich came running by, like a dog too eager to please. His face resembled an eight-year old post tantrum waterworks. Ransford instructed.

"Gather the men, the core nine. We must go over the plans. Tell the rest to go to the Manor-square. That includes the gardeners, the help, and any Manor-staff that ain't working. Tell them dear Queenie here is aching to serve them personally. That she prefers it rough.. MAX.!!"

As Fred ran away gleefully, Maxim stepped in, still a bit shaken.

"Maxim, go fetch my satchel. And the track-boots too."

As the Queen tried to make sense of the ask, a sudden thud got her attention. The Chieftain had just tossed his left boot, as his fingers undid the other slowly. Without paying her much heed, he said.

"SHINE!"

Billet didn't understand what he meant, bandaging the chief's hand, but then again he was no pet. 'Shine' wasn't an actual command either, but the Queen had no doubt what was expected, from a domesticated pet like Demura. Or shall I say Crimson?

God, why do I still remember these things? And why..

Can't I stop myself..? Why can't I think..

Before complying.

As her knees nudged forward, she was glad to find the boot relatively clean. Especially from a lowly herdsmen. Well, it just needs a proper shine. Now what exactly does he mean..

Elanor was truly at a hard spot. For one, a pet shan't use her hands. For the pet has no hands, only paws. Two, a pet shan't meet the gaze of her Master. Or in this case, her savior, the Chieftain before. But how can she glean how he likes it shined, without even looking at his face. And no, I'm not licking clean someone's footwear. What to do, Nora..? What to.. Wait, are you?

She was.

How shameful! How the hell can you be aroused still? Elanor fumed within, realizing the irritating slither alongside her under-thigh, is her own leaking juices. Spotting how her nipples were poking out proudly, erased all her doubts. Oh, god! It's true, I'm soaking wet. But why? Is this still the scare from earlier? Or from watching Ransford single-handedly keep them all in line?

But she had no time for such thoughts. She had been ordered. And she must obey. Maybe use this to your advantage, Nora.. You know, instead of pointlessly shaming oneself.

Billet almost bit his tongue, at what the slut beside proceeded to do, as Ransford watched with a faint smile. Standing on her knees right over the bulky boot, Elanor slowly lowered her pelvis, her hands still crossed behind the back. The unique mixture of sweat and slimy juices alongside both her thighs proved enough of a polish, as she began to slowly gyrate upon the vamp of the boot. With impressive muscle control, she lowered her caged clit just enough to hover over the boot, her core doing most of the heavy-lifting of stabilization, as her hip bucked at an even pace. This was very similar to her favorite routine from the nights at Desert Rose of humping air. Only then, her fingertips would be masterfully untying the panty-knots from both sides, prolonging the reveal to the fullest, as her well-trained hound-nose sensed arousal in the air. My hound-nose?? God, was I training to be a better pet, all along?!

With her spine snaking to aid the motion, her hips occasionally rising to rub up the entire length of the boot, she bit her lips to control herself, as the cold hooks and rough laces kept enticing the peeking pussy lips. And down she went again, giving the Rachetty clan-head's left boot the best lap-dance in town. Billet's jaw simply dropped.

"You listening, Bilie-boy??"

"Oh, yes.. Forgive me, Chieftain."

Giving a mild chuckle to his reddened face, Ransford continued.

"The core team leaves at daybreak, with me leading. You and Fred stay back, Lord Bircham insisted his men coming along. You catch up to the camp with them, by night. Any question?"

"No Chieftain." The young man had a hard time focusing.

"They'll reach here only by morning, which means Billet.. I leave you in charge here, meaning Max, Frederich, and the Rachetty young-ones, and of course, the girl. She's your responsibility from now on. You aren't to let her leave till all men had a shot. This isn't just about staying in the General's grace. Its about reminding the rest of these underlings, who is in charge. More importantly, who can be reliably in charge. Watch over her.."

"Master, I'll see to it that no one lays a hand.."

Ransford looked at him with a hint of perplexion.

"Oh shut up boy.. Did Fred's idiocy got rubbed on to you?! I said keep watch, not go easy. Be rough, but just enough. Make a spectacle out of her. Not a scene. We are moving up the ladder, and I don't want the some horny lowlife getting way over his head and hurting her. Got it?"

"Chieftain.. may I?"

"This about Freddie-boy?"

Both men stayed silent to the faint buzz of the party going full-steam, the crackling of the bonfire, and of course the squeaking from the boot-cleanser Queen. Her eyes now stayed closed, her entire being reduced to the simple function she was deemed worthy for the moment. That mysterious half-smile peeked out the curves of her lips. The questionable bliss was interrupted by the next command.

"CLEAN.."

Elanor's eyes bulged at what was hovering couple inches from her face. The rigid, dirty, weathered right sole of the Rachetty clan-head. His foot extended to match the height of her head, as he remained comfortably sitting, every bit as indifferent as before. There was no way out, this time. He means for me to clean. Lick clean, that is.

While her pelvis continued polishing the boot beneath, her hands reached out to provide ample support to his foot. Making sure to not grab his shin with fingers, but keeping it clutched and merely helping him rest his foot, keeping with the theme of the pet having paws, and not hands. As expected his foot did emit an awful stench, of accumulated sweat on unwashed skin for days. His toes were uniquely hairy, with uneven nails sticking out. There was plenty room for disgust, but at the same time, a part of her felt indebted. To obey his every whim. For the moment at least. For what he did, to save her face, literally.

Why are you lying to yourself, Nora..? As if it's simple gratitude.. You know well, its deeper.

What kind of a man could afford, to have right before in submission, the finest incarnation of feminine beauty in all of Wolkenshire, and pay no heed. What kind of impotence must he be cursed with? Or was it, as she feared, she sensed and maybe hoped, super-potency that's plaguing him. Is he truly such an alpha, the manliest of them all, to let such fine meat go to waste, just because he could. Nora.. Did you just call yourself 'meat'?

Elanor peered into his soul for answers, the lack of response adding to her desperation. The man himself, forming much of the mystery. And the forbidden manhood, cut from the same cloth. She took a quick-glance at his pecker, semi-hard and slightly tenting, yet his composure remained so collected, breath-rate so calm, and emotional spillage, near-indifferent. He continued talking to Billet, his focus not straying from the topic, not by a beat. He was going through the details of some plan, probably something she should keep an ear out for. Only Elanor couldn't. She was too preoccupied with the moves.

Besides, from what little she heard, they were talking in code, or some heavy-slang. She felt pity for the few underlings, standing all around. Fighting every urge to give in, and peek at the naked beauty before, doing oral gymnastics for the manliest of them all. It wasn't like the Great Rachetty Clan chief had matured beyond the pleasures of flesh, nor under-appreciated the skilled tongue that made Fred act out so rashly. If anything, his enjoyment of her talents could stand a class apart from the clowns so far, who saw in her nothing but an outlet. This slow, savoring approach, even aroused her tremendously.

It strangely reminded her of Papa, in his evening chats with confidants, going into detailed discussions of art and poetry, all the while savoring the thick cigar between his digits, a rare import from aboard. It seemed Ransford was treating her like a cigar, something to be enjoyed, as ambience. Her dignity, her subservience, her humbling humiliation, were to form a serviceable ambience for this burly beast of a man. The tranquil recurring inflation of his belly, and the unwavering depth of his voice, made clear what was apparent from the moment he had walked in.

This here, is an alpha.

Ransford Rachetty. The man who saved unbeknownst, the very face of the monarchy he had sworn to tarnish. In the most literal sense.

The size of his member, from the impressions of it straining against the cloth alone, on par with the massive working-class manhood she adored grinding up against, in her lap dance training sessions with Lady Adriana. God, I miss those sessions. Performing for the audience of one, to the tunes of her tutor, as his wild musk filled her nostrils. She preferred the working-class musk. Though she had no doubt, the workman was no match to the intimidating presence of my Chieftain. My chieftain.?!

The alpha, for whom her crevices craved, that very moment. And a part of her fumed, cursing the moment she locked up her nether.

Wait.. No, Nora. You don't crave him.

It's just tricks. Tricks of body, of unsound mind. Momentary lapse in sense.

Get a grip.!

Regardless.. It's only wise to recognize the hierarchy, if I'm to make it through what's to come. After all, it wasn't like Elanor hadn't been trained for this specific scenario. And amidst the distracting thoughts, like slurping on his bulbing penis-crown like a hard-candy, Elanor remembered gratefully the perverse lessons from the Ishikawa. On her second, less-strenuous training day, he had gone through in-depth, about the 'Art of Blowbang', while training her gag-reflex, with dildos of increasing sizes. The student in her couldn't help but recant the lecture he gave, with great pride and conviction.

"Listen Poppet! The blowjob game may not be new to you, but I must warn. A blowbang is something entirely different, capable of breaking even experienced sluts, if blindsided. They may act willing, and laugh afterwards, but if you aren't careful, it could truly, irrevocably break your spirit, particularly the wilder varieties. It all starts with spotting the alpha. If you are lucky, he'll make himself known sooner."

Oh, he did that, spectacularly! The Queen felt a hint of shame as her eyes locked with the Chieftain, for a quick moment. Shame, knowing he had glimpsed unbridled lust in her very eyes. Making her conscious suddenly. Conscious of things that had become beyond denial.

Elanor couldn't deny any longer the strange twitch in her nether lips, against the cold of the metal cage, as her pelvis churned along. May be its the remaining high of her foolhardiness from before, maybe its his irreverence towards the very likeness of his Queen, or maybe it's this sweaty dirty musk, coming from his hairy belly, that edged her close to intoxication by the moment.

Or may be it's the way she understood, without ever being told, that this moment, her pleasure lies in pleasing this alpha. Regardless the shame of her state, or ache of her throat, regardless the strangely neglectful objectification wrought upon by his indifference. She knew loud and clear, something in her did at least.. What mattered at the moment, is him creaming in that very same pants. A certain itch that could only be scratched, only by the mild musk of man-batter, spray after spray. For he was, at the moment, my Chieftain. The alpha of the pack.

And me, his pet. His bitch. Okay, Nora.. Too far.

The predicament had its weirdities. Elanor had never felt so valued and de-valued at the same time. The fact that the Alpha remained seated, with Billet gawking at her beside, careful, fearful not to stray his eyes at her nakedness, making her unattainable to the rest for the moment. She yearned for any signs of recognition, even as feeble as a satisfied grunt from his part, as her tongue now drew circles along his sole. He kept deliberating on some strategy with his underling, something getting 'satsuma' by the temple, about camping an earshot from the Postrum Bridge, asking for weak-spots and alternatives, but none of it registered to the Queen. What am I here on, some surveillance mission?! No.! She was here on treatment, and her treat for the night, this moment, demanded undivided attention on the Alpha before. Understanding him is her best chance at surviving the night.

Wasn't that the task? Survive the night.

God, it feels good, rubbing his calloused sole against my soft cheeks.

With her rational part lost in thoughts, her body took the task with utmost seriousness. Without even realizing she had moved on to the next foot. The mouth kept salivating as her tongue traced alongside his calloused crevices. Digging into the gaps of toes, trying her best to tickle out a response from him, nibbling along the dead tissues like some wild mantis, and of course.. Every now and then resting, calming herself by sucking the thumb, much like she used to do in the early days. Only, it was his big toe this time. The size of which colored her dreams with fantasies of his pulsing crown, spraying the roof of her mouth, as her suction intensified, only to finally slip it off of her lips, in an embarrassingly loud pop.

The men around chuckled, and although he didn't join in, Ransford was very amused. The pop was hilarious, her flinching embarrassment every time it happened, adding to the fun. He was starting to like the girl, to appreciate her skill-set. And to witness the likeness of the much despised Queen, polishing your dirty stubby toe, desperately trying to pull the finger with suction alone.. That sure made for an entertaining watch. And as far as suction goes, she was pretty impressive. No wonder she managed to get the men all worked-up.

"Chieftain! Here."

That was Maxim, back with the satchel and work-boots, as asked. Dropping the boots to the side, Ransford said, mockingly.

"Shame on you, Billet, for letting her run around naked, dick to dick. How dare you treat this one, like a common whore?! Don't you know who this is?"

"The Great Chaste.. Queen Elanor.." Billet imitated the mocking tone of his Chief.

"That's Slut-Queen, boyo.. Show respect. I expect her to remain clothed, under your watch. The standard work-boots would do. It's thigh-high, black, and sturdy enough.. To protect from all that kneeling. And of course.. The crown!"

Before she saw it, the tiara slide into a fine fit, around her skull. It had a familiar stench, that was worrisome. The Chieftain said.

"A gift from Clergyman Lupsink! He said no Queen should be denied her tiara."

That explains the stench. It was Queen's Crown, complete with the Insignia of the Queen consort, the winged horse. The same one she remembered from earlier in the night. Only then, it was submerged in a pool of yellow mess, within a clogged piss-pot. Lupsink, you fallen priest! Why does that idiot turn things worse for me, every time??

As Ransford extended his hands, she knew what was expected. She owed it to him. And maybe, doing it voluntarily somehow hurt her shame more. Hurt, in a way she was beginning to like. Elanor leaned in, and eagerly licked clean both his hands. Ridding it off of any trace urine, but also taking the opportunity as before, to impress him with her oral dexterity. Hinting the pleasures he's missing, by not throating her then and there. Pleasures a part of her felt she owed, for the great save his timely interruption did, a little earlier. In the name of the Mighty All-father, Nora.. A brand to the face.?! What were you trying to prove??

Ignoring the bait, Ransford continued.

"I was a bit too rough, wasn't I?"

Billet knew that he was talking about hitting Fred.

"I don't think it was the smack, Chieftain. But being humbled in front of the rest.. He had been low, since how Delfine turned out.."

"Yeah, what's with that boy.? Cursed with harlots or something.?! Shouldn't he inquire better, before falling for a girl. You know you can't blame a slut. It's in her nature. Look at this bitch, for instance. That idiot kid.. Well, cut him some slack alright. I may have vented off more than necessary. Let him have some fun.."

Billet looked at the girl, confused.

"But Chief, I thought she was not to be marked.."

"No, the rule was no permanent marking.. You get my drift, boy?!"

"I don't.. Oh.!" In a brief pause, his eyes lit up. "Oh..! Master that'd be .. Oh, he'd be so thrilled, in that case.."

Elanor looked up, at a rare instance of breaking the character, her eyes bulging with true concern. Ransford said, ignoring her.

"Don't tell him yet. Let's see if the hot-head gets there on his own.. How you find, is half the thrill.. Then again, he ain't exactly the brightest, eh?? Drop some hints. See if he picks up."

Rubbing his cleaned hands on her skin, Ransford signaled her to stand up. Why don't he acknowledge my presence?! Even in a glance.. Elanor was starting to doubt if her performance so far hadn't been satisfactory.

"You think she can handle the pressure, Billie-boy??"

Ransford asked out loud, obviously aimed at the girl. Elanor bobbed her head, like a spring doll. Billet answered on her behave. He had learned not to trust her tongue.

"You'd be surprised, Chief."

"Really.?!!"

As he said that with mock-amusement, Ransford grabbed her by the throat and pulled up to his eye-level, still looking past her at his underling. Elanor knew already he was strong enough to stop the raging hot-head, single-handedly, but she wasn't expecting to sample it first-hand. With a sadistic twinkle in his gaze, Ransford asked.

"You are confident, eh, Billet? That she could handle my pressure.??"

His pressure only increased around the Queen's throat, cutting off oxygen to her brain, as she struggled to cough up. Her toes barely touching the ground, her body going limp, with her cheeks turning shades of blue. He was impressed by the restraint on her part, to not flail around wagging her limbs against him, in a hapless display. He had seen enough of life to know how rare it is, for someone to handle a choke-hold with grace. Even rarer among women.

"What about pain, Billet? You think she can handle some pain?"

As his grip released, Elanor felt blood rush to her head, air fill up her lungs. But the joy was too short-lived as pain shot up from her core. Billet replied, suppressing a chuckle.

"Oh, I believe she'd love some. Seemed all too eager to get branded, didn't you?"

When Ransford released his choke-hold, his other hand had already gripped on to the pelvic-belt of her chastity cage. Which meant most of her weight now hung from a cold smooth metallic wedgie riding right through her ass cheeks, not to mention, her soft nether lips.

Dear Lord, let my hymen stay unharmed..

"You sure about the pain, Billet? She's making faces.."

"Funny faces, I presume?"

"Is there another kind, for a bitch in heat?!"

Elanor clenched her jaw, still barely tip-toeing. All this while spend, craving his undivided attention, but now that she had a taste, Elanor was hoping he'd stop soon. Still, even with her eyes welling up, as he pinched her left nipple tightly, she never let out a cry. Impressive indeed, Ransford nodded releasing the poor thing.