Queendom 10: A Night Too Long

It was the first time in this whole while, of their eyes finally meeting, in any meaningful sense. Elanor felt beholden to the mighty brute standing before, his fingers still toying with her sensitive nipples. But there was something beyond the physical seduction that was going on. And it made no sense, a lowly clan-head managing to elicit it out of the Great Queen. A totally, magically different phenomenon.

Something beyond reason, utterly laughable, unless experienced first-hand. For in theory, the Lords upstairs where richer, stronger, and immensely capable. And the leader of them all, Lord Tarquin, should have such a presence, considering the massive power he wields, in that very room of entitled overgrown brats. Yet the reality was so, so vastly different. For it was alliances, and radicals that truly wielded any semblance of power in the high-structure. Each lord had at least two countering him, in wealth and influence, regardless age or standing. The power just balanced out, no one getting an upper-hand of any significance. And Tarquin himself have the vibe, of someone barely keeping it afloat, amidst all the internal politics.

In stark contrast, Ransford seemed to have spend a lot of time, at the absolute edges, long enough to call it home even. The aura he oozed, that strangely humbling animalistic dominance. It almost seemed each of his underling could not just kill, but die for him. And strangely, more out of fear than fealty. Them being related must have helped. The infamous Rachetty Brothers, after all. Still the chasm between the rest and the alpha was stupendous.

Well, you aren't so bad yourself, Nora. Standing your ground. That earlier foolhardy outburst was something she still couldn't make complete sense out of. What the hell where you thinking.?! It was undeniably unwise. Yet, somehow she felt proud, of how true she managed to stay Queenly.. Stripped off of all signs, of royalty, even decency. The dread she felt creeping up, ever since kissing that reckless maid inside.. Madelene, or whatever her name was. No, that wasn't foolhardiness.. That was Elanor coming head to head, with all the fears the night invoked in her, coming to fruition. As close as it got to, anyways.. Not only did she stand up, but fate herself sided with her. Is that a sign?!

May be I could endure it all. May be I could weather the storm. This pain, and strain and shame..

It all fades before what truly keeps me awake. But I must be cautious with each step, for this pain had a way of blurring all else.. Into a hazy bliss of unmatched depths. Her jaw clenched on as Ransford rubbed his fingers, the royal nipples turning red with all the twist. Yet she never let out a sound.

"Good.! You are a tough one. But there's one problem. You seem to be enjoying a little too much. This is supposed to be punishing, so.."

As he said, he softly caressed jawline of the rare beauty before, thinking. Her cheek feels too rigid, it needs be soft, like dough. And.. She lacks a certain.. What's the word I'm looking for.. Both could be cured, like this.

Slap!

That was loud. It was more of a playful tap, with regards to pain, but Elanor was absolutely blindsided regardless. Did he just..? That moment all pretense were lost, as she glared back at him, much like with Fred.

That's the word I was looking for.. Defiance.

"See, that burning stare. Defiance! Give her a good one, every once in a while, Billet. To keep it lit. Hoho! That really hurt, didn't it? Not your skin, your pride. A prideful harlot, what an absurd cliche! Here, since your eyes asked for it."

Slap!!

That one hurt, he had no doubt. That was no a love-tap, or a hickey, for you to fondly caress the next day. Nothing intimate. But resoundingly loud and public! Watching her visibly shake with anger and bafflement, the Chieftain said.

"That's the point of the slap. It won't leave much of a mark, than a mean sting. It won't ring your ears, but you'll remember it's ring. And so will, all around you. That's that womanly sense of shame kicking in, worried not of the pain. But worrying who else may have heard you getting slapped around. Pathetic creatures of vanity, you lot. That's why it stings, that sense is wired into you. Even a slut like you. So every now and then with you lost to slutting out, my boys will step in, and give you a good loud dose. Just so you don't forget, that this is still a punishment. Got it? Now open up that suck-hole!"

Elanor didn't understand why even with such rage, she complied without a delay. He ordered again.

"Stretch out that talented tongue. Show how long it actually is."

The Queen of Wolkenshire now resembled an eager puppy, with her teary eyes bulging, jaw outstretched and tongue hanging out. A strange thirst awoke in her, as she realized what was coming. Ransford grinned, as spit flew across. The oral refuse that informed on the depths of the royal unmaking. For a moment it felt, had he not intervened, at least her pride would have remained intact, even with a branded face. Now she was saved, without being asked.

Yet she had been reduced, beyond belief. Unmade.

Spittle, as little as a spoonful.. Yet, enough to seal his disrespect, for good. The Queen couldn't for the life figure, why a part of her seemed welcoming. Why she never closed her mouth, or outright spat back, as it driveled through her taste-buds. There was no taste, but a visceral sense of abhorrence. A palpable dip in self-respect. Why would he treat me as such? I have been so good. He was the savior, after all. The manliest musk of them all. The alpha. Is that why, my jaws still stay stretched.? Awaiting a peck that never came.

Am I aching to taste his tongue? How dare he deny me that.?!!

As Billet dragged her away towards the Manor-square, where the men had all gathered for the special treat, Ransford saw in her glaring eyes, what might have rubbed Fred the wrong way.

"Such a fine spirited breed. I wish I hadn't interfered. May be I was harsh on Freddie-boy. That's one rare slut worth losing a hand over.."

The resilience of this one..! I'll remember her for a while, maybe more. And I don't need a name, to find a domesticated good. Herdsmen have many ways to locate livestock.

The code beneath her sweet sagging tit, for one.

::XIVLNR0601::

**

*

Bellatrix noticed the attitude of door-boys and guards changing suddenly when they noticed her lapel pin. General Tarquin told her to wear it, when she asked to be excused. He said the lapel would ward off preying gazes, that it will signal she was off-limits. It was his family insignia, the fact that he was indirectly asserting his claim wasn't lost on her. Yet, it still felt strange, how respectful he had remained, with the whole party around devolving slowly into the debauchery.

Now, where did they take you to, Highness?

Walking past the stable, she did some torn clothing scattered along the way, probably what Highness was wearing at the time. But she couldn't find a soul there, apart from a dying bonfire, a few parked carriages, and some horses feeding. She almost tripped over what seemed to be a branding iron, when she recognized the unmistakable stench of semen. Congrats Bella! You'd be the first virgin to tell semen from just smell. Just like your Queen..

Picking up pace she noticed murmurs coming from a closed shed. Light was peaking out through the gap in the wooden wall, and she took a peek. The Queen wasn't in there. There were a handful of men sitting in a circle, around what seemed like a rough map. No it wasn't a map, more like a plan. With placeholders, like a bare-bones war-gaming miniature. It was hard to read from the distance, but she could make out a river, from the repeated SSSS drawn on the sand, may be a bridge over it. And three sets of target. Well, it could be targets or units, there's only so much one can guess. What they used for targets almost made her laugh. Three white pebbles, three ordinary horse-shoes, and one small orange. What are they up to.?

Hearing approaching footsteps, Bellatrix proceeded towards the other end. In the hurry, she misheard where it was coming from as she nearly bumped into the man turning just the corner.

"Oh God! Excuse me.. Lord Beechum.?!"

"Oh Lady... Weren't you the one with Tarquin."

I'm not, with Tarquin.

"Apologies His Lordship. I was just looking for one of my girls.. She was send.."

"The one that got Liam all riled up? Hehe.. Right this way. Twenty steps to the left from that wall.. Hey, would you mind.."

"Thank you His Lordship.." Bella trotted away quickly, ignoring the drunk nobleman. She heard him knock, and the shed door open. And she heard him say to the man inside, clearly.

"How's the plan coming along, Ransford.??"

Ransford.. Where did I remember that name from? Remembering the files on the Order, Bellatrix picked up her pace.

Where have they taken you, my Queen??

**

*

Ding ding!

"Step aside gents, keep it moving. We got more dicks to shine..."

It took him sometime to set the ground rules, but Billet felt it was worth the effort. Especially since the girl ending up his responsibility, thanks to his idiot cousin. The new location was an open courtyard right next to the stable grounds. Surrounded on three sides by the Manor, with an occasional Lord or few coming to observe ensuring the crowd will stay relatively well-behaved. In the middle of the courtyard was a pillar, the remnant of what was once a spectacular installation. There was an uneven queue of about twenty men circling the pillar, with more joining in, as the Billet sat at a bench fifteen feet from it. He had a small gong, which he would sound signalling the men to move on. Fred and Maxim were there as well to help with the crowd, if things got messy. And of course at the very center was the infamous decoy-queen, their entertainment for the night, with her pelvic cage chained to the pillar. Looking like a sweaty Goddess of lust, wearing the thigh-high boots, the piss-stained crown, and the rest of her nudity like a ballgown.

"Hey dimwit! I said keep the pants up. Don't make me whip that skinny ass of yours."

Billet shouted, making the scrawny man yank his pants back up.

Oh don't scare him off, you idiot. He's too little already.. Elanor bobbed her head, as her fingers tried hard to bring back his erection. With the trial and error nearly done, the Queen was nicely settling in to her new duties for the night. It's just like the usual Thursdays at Desert Rose. My job is done when I smell cum. A lot more close contact than my usual comfort but.. When you think of it, its not that different. The prospect of a blowbang wasn't entirely new to Her Highness. Ishikawa had explained it to her at great lengths, in their last session.

With ropes of cum spraying on to her chest, and limping dicks slipping out from her either hands, Elanor's jaw truly dropped meeting the next cock. An absolute beast of a nine-incher, uniquely top-heavy, and he was just semi-hard. Is that an Alpha? Or a more dominant Omega, I wonder?

Ishikawa's voice echoed again, in her studious mind.

"Understanding the Alpha is your best chance at understanding the group dynamics. A blowbang particularly in the lower-rungs, gets out of hand into absolute chaos the moment you loose sight of the hierarchical thread. The animalistic code of conduct, for the naturally discarded. As I said before, Alpha sets the tone, which the Omegas strictly abide to, even with the occasional lustful bursts. And the crowd would self-correct so long as there's at least an Omega present. These are the garden variety rejects after all, for them a glance from a fair-maiden itself is a bliss, not to mention those lips wrapping the rarely polished manhood."

The Queen found herself ignoring all the shouting men around, dedicating her both hands to the beast before, clutching her soft hands around and milking him good, hoping he'll get hard and spray upfront. As much as her itching throat wanted him in, she wasn't sure of stretching herself orally too loose. Better pace myself, so I don't get worn out too quick. Else, these cretins will be playing me like a rag-doll in no time. All well thought-out and rational, until her body slipped to the craving, and her lips sucked in his pulsing tip. God, Nora! Have you no shame.?! Ishikawa's lessons flashed again.

"Be extremely careful with signaling. In your smile, your tact, in the level of confidence you project. You want them to stay playfully engaged, not intimidated. If your confidence intimidates them, at best they'll just sit back and enjoy the show. But it risks signalling, that you want reciprocal intimidation as well.. And that's the kind of behavior you don't want spiraling out. Look out for the wannabes, the immature and over-exited ones, the Pseudo-Omegas. For they can truly ride the wave right down the wrong way. The worst thing you can do is offending such a hot-headed wannabe."

Sloshing the copious pre-cum into a frothing lubricant, and clenching her jaws rhythmically to spice-up the esophageal massage, Elanor smiled hearing the slightest shrill, at the end of his exhale, a part of her feeling proud, at the job well progressing. Her roaming eyes locked on to the hot-head from before. The one that almost marked her for good. Wait.. Is he just a Pseudo-Omega? Could he be cumming already.? How disappointing..

Suddenly it dawned on her that she was way past her comfort zone. This Alpha Rachetty seemed to be testing her limits, for she was sure now, he had been purposefully delaying ejaculation. Having taken an adequate lungful, feeling confident after her last training session, the Queen had thought of making him spray before she needed the next fill. But the temptation to exhale was taking form of a cough, yet she didn't want to pull him out' losing all the progress till then, so that she could breathe.

A part of her toyed with edging on to the extreme till blacking out, but thankfully her sensible self got the upper-hand. There was no saying what would unfold, had she blacked-out among such a crowd, with no Mistress looking out. She didn't doubt the Alpha's authority, not one bit, to keep the men leashed. But it's not like Alphas are immune to mischief.

Frederich was enjoying the show, from the other side.

Look at her go, slutting on and on, shamelessly. "I bet her husband has no clue.."

"You got to stop this, Fred.."

Frederich looked beside, startled. He didn't realize that the last part got said out loud. Nor did he hear Billet approach, with his eyes locked on the fellating Queen. Billet asked.

"What are you.. Still stuck on Delfine??"

"You seriously asking that.?? That wench slept around behind my back, like a wretched bitch in heat.. Then snuggled up to me for warmth night after night, as I dreamed of raising kids with her."

Billet couldn't control the dark impulse to laugh out loud, at the mental image.

"Really? Didn't you notice the surprise hickeys, and the strange stench? Hahaa.."

Fred shot his way a sudden glare, but joined in the hilarity, smirking.

"Hehe.. Well, I was piss-drunk most of the time, and the stains.. Eh.. I thought it was all mine."

"Hahahaaa.."

"Don't laugh at my misery.."

"Oh, shut it you fool. Misery would have been you finding it all, after marrying the whore. You lucky simpleton.. Quit moping around, will ya?"

Billet told, shaking his head, and Frederich listened on.

"Is that why you lashed out earlier? With the brand??"

"What? Didn't you see the bitch getting on my nerves..?"

"Still.."

Fred knew his friend wasn't going to let that slide. Well, he had a point. Billet pushed.

"You can't keep punishing every other harlot for what happened, mate.."

"I don't..! Well, sort of. The way that bitch snapped back, she sounded.. Just like Delfine that night.. That rightful indignation of a borne-whore. I just wanted to.."

"To what? Ruin the poor girl's future?!"

"Nope! No.."

Frederich had never properly thought through any of these outbursts, so looking into its implications was quite uncomfortable. Yet, he had enough sense to know things were getting out of hand. That slap from Chieftain himself.. I can't afford to repeat such a humiliation. Billet continued questioning.

"You were this close to burning her face man? Do you realize that? We've all been putting up with your shenanigans since Delfine. Even Cline and Dash, after their threesome with her."

"Cline and Dash slept with her as well?"

"They all did.! Half the town did, and without much effort at that. Don't act a fool! I'd have done too, if not for sheer luck. Stop putting her upon some pedestal, and get a grip on your life. I can't afford any loose cannons. Can I count on you for that??"

Fred was having a hard time. He knew Billet was trying to help, but honestly he didn't have a sufficient answer.

"I.. I'll try."

"Not good enough, Fred. I'll give you free reign tonight, go wild and fly your freak-flag.. We can get more drinks and girls, if that's.."

"Not more girls.. She will do. Just her.."

Not her. Chieftain and His Lordship trusted her with me.. Billet pushed back.

"The Queen again.?! She's property man, you know I can't let you.."

"I'm not going to brand her."

Frankly, even Fred couldn't understand why she mattered so much suddenly. Billet asked.

"Okay, tell me freely. What would you like to 'happen' to her?"

"I.. I don't know.."

"Forget the Queen. Imagine it's Delfine right there. What would you like to..?"

Fred was finding it increasingly difficult to sit through these queries, and he only tolerated for sake of his well-meaning friend. But nothing came to his mind now. The sounds of constant slurping and sloshing got louder, and weirder.

Stop now, Nora! Take it out, you need air.

The one stuffed down her throat was particularly top heavy, its girth reducing towards the base, and having a natural curve that almost seemed tailor-made for blowjobs. But the girthy parts were proving to be a real choking hazard. She had stopped bobbing for a while now, coaxing his edging erection solely through throat convulsions and tonguing. So the sudden pressure behind her skull was extremely apparent, the moment she tried easing back. It wasn't someone grabbing her hair, or nails digging into her scalp. Both feelings she had learned to associate with arousal by now. No, this was an absolute feather-touch. At the sensitive spot of her occipital bone, right where her hairdo split. The tip of a rough index finger, a full stop, to all her hopes of an exhale.

She was impressed by the level of ease it took a mere clansman to command her at will. Was it truly his merit, or just a sign of how far she had fallen over the course of the night. No grunts, shouts, nor overtly grand gestures, but a simple touch. The touch of an Alpha, she recognized. His wish, for hers to comply. He wants her savoring him, before tasting fresh air. No, it wasn't his wish, nor whim. You aren't Princess Nora, and don't even call the other honorifics. You are a mere decoy now Demura!

Nor is it his touch. It's your command.

Elanor didn't notice but the men around had stopped shouting to rush things, and now simply stood watching. The guy had gestured his men, his brothers, to shush and simply observe, as he looked down impressed at the girl. The men could see, she was struggling. Her belly convulsing wildly in a desperate attempt at some breathing exercise, the tummy shrinking soi deep that at times her torso is reduced to just a skinny rib-cage. A fruitless endeavor, for even if she were to exhale through her nose, she needed him cleared out of that skilled throat.