Queen's disGrace Bk. 01 Ch. 01

Lorenzo nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. "From your lips to the One God's ear, Your Majesty." He leaned forward and gave Marguerite a conspiratorial smile. "If I may be so bold, it was confidence in Your Majesty that inspired me to invest in your Kingdom. The beautiful ruler who fought for her throne, throwing off the shackles they tried to place on you; who has ruled with grace, dignity, and wisdom. There is a great future being made here, and I wish to be part of it. Someday LaRend will count among the mightiest and most glorious Kingdoms."

"From your lips to the One God's ear," Marguerite repeated, lifting her cup in another toast. The flattery made her heart flutter, but she reminded herself wasn't here for pleasure. I'll have time for that later. "In that vein, LaRend would seek a letter of credit from your bank to further some of our more ambitious projects."

"It would please me greatly to service you in this matter, Your Majesty. To what limit do you wish to draw upon our bank?"

The look Lorenzo gave made her question what kind of service he had in mind, and with a hint of amusement, she decided to put him on the back foot or a change. "10,000 crowns."

The number made Lorenzo pause, but to his credit he didn't splutter or choke on the wine. "A significant sum, Your Majesty."

"It is. I intend to build a grand cathedral for the glory of the One God."

"An expensive undertaking that will cost far more than 10,000 Crowns." Lorenzo sipped his wine thoughtfully. "What term do you seek for the credit?"

"The term would be five years."

"Five years." Lorenzo stated. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I must inquire how you intend to settle your accounts in five years. With respect, the finances of LaRend would find it difficult to support that debt in ordinary times, let alone with the cost of a cathedral, and, if I may, the potential cost of a war." Lorenzo watched Marguerite with his dark, shrewd eyes.

Does everyone see war with King Victor on the horizon? "I would also like options to extend or renew as needed. LaRend's incomes have been improving yearly, and with fresh credit from your bank infused into the realm, the pace of that growth will only improve."

"Extend or renew." Lorenzo echoed and looked at Marguerite more appraisingly now. "I should like to see those numbers and growth projections in greater detail before agreeing. When do you think you'll be prepared to share them?"

The Queen narrowed her eyes at the banker. "The Crown of LaRend must prove its solvency to a bank?"

Lorenzo smiled ingratiatingly and shrugged. "If it were just the bank? Of course not. But you would be borrowing from the Holy Tithes. Even the mightiest of Kings or Queens," Lorenzo conceded, gesturing to Marguerite, "must account themselves before the One God and the Patriarch selected to watch over us."

"Tomorrow, then, we can reconvene and go over accounts. I'm sure you'll find them most satisfactory." I hope, anyway. At least I'll have until then to find another means of persuasion. Marguerite felt like one of those festival performers able to juggle half a dozen balls at the same time. If she made just one wrong move, everything would come crashing down.

"Excellent. We can also discuss what surety you have to offer." Lorenzo held up his hands apologetically. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but as I said, these are the Holy Tithes." Lorenzo smiled again, though now the congenial grin was replaced with one far more predatory. "But I am sure we can come to an arrangement. A sovereign as beautiful and talented as yourself has much to offer."

Marguerite stiffened as she recalled the many warnings about the DoCastas. The lecherous look on Lorenzo's face was quite suggestive of how she could pay her debts. Already being in a receptive mood, she grew warmer at the thought. A blush suffused her cheeks, and she began to moisten again. "No doubt. I've heard your bank can be quite accommodating and 'liberal' in your agreements."

Lorenzo chuckled softly. "My family's way of doing business has proven to be quite successful and profitable for all involved, as I trust you'll find."

"I look forward to a long and prosperous partnership, Master DoCasta. I hope you enjoy your time in my lands."

"I'm certain I will. I've already learned Parce is not so different than Floreze, with many of the same 'attractions.' Truly, the city and your people have been very indulgent thus far. I think I shall be very happy here." The banker smiled again and bowed to take his leave. "Until tomorrow, Your Majesty. I look forward to it already."

"As do I, Master DoCasta, as do I." When the banker had left, Marguerite sighed, and her shoulders sagged. "Have all the arrangements for this evening been made, Jacqueline? Today has been exhausting, and I find myself in need of release."

"Everything is ready and waiting for you, Marguerite. You can leave as soon as you 'retire' for the evening."

Marguerite smiled in satisfaction. It was going to be a fun night.

****

Marguerite wrapped the maroon velvet cloak tightly around her body as she made her way through a dark tunnel, keeping one hand on the wall to help guide her. I don't think this is what my ancestors were planning when they built this passage, she thought. The secret escape tunnel had been built into the palace generations ago, but Marguerite put it to more sordid use in pursuit of her dark 'hobby.' No, it's not a hobby, she tried to reassure herself, it's a need. And it's not my fault.

Shortly after overthrowing her uncle and the Regency Council and ascending to the throne Marguerite found something in herself wanting. Something buried deep inside her craved the abuse she had suffered, or at least parts of it. As much as it galled and humiliated her, the Queen found she couldn't achieve true sexual satisfaction without physical punishment. So, working through Lady Jacqueline, she had arranged for a room at an upscale brothel where such passions were indulged and where she could anonymously get the relief she craved.

The passage ended at what appeared to be a small drainage gate hidden behind a row of hedges. It allowed her to slip out of the castle unseen and into the back streets of Parce. This part of the journey was always the most dangerous; walking unescorted through the city at night. The laws she enacted had made things relatively safe for women by harshly punishing rapists while loosening the restrictions on prostitutes, pimps, and brothels. It was one of the sticking points with the Church, but she was able to articulate that protecting the virtue of the innocent outweighed inflicting temporal punishment on the wicked. "The One God will see to them," she had said. "Let us protect the innocent from being forced into sin."

Her arguments had won the day, though she suspected the other concessions she had offered the Archbishop had proven more persuasive and Richaud was merely humoring her whim. As a result, the streets of Parce were safer for women than most. Prostitutes, whose numbers seemed to have increased due to royal protection, were easily identified by the black stripe on the left sleeve of their dresses, and innocent maidens were left unharassed.

Marguerite made it to the Silver Belle without issue and quickly ascended the back steps to the room she kept on retainer. Jacqueline paid for it yearly, even though Marguerite only used it once or twice a month. It's worth the expense, she thought, and really, it's not all that much in the grand scheme of things. Marguerite stepped through the back door and locked it behind her after ensuring the room was empty. Once safely ensconced inside, a great sigh left her and she finally relaxed.

The room was just as she had left it a month ago, except for having been cleaned in preparation for her arrival, though she couldn't help but notice that the lilies decorating the room had been left to wilt. Unlike most rooms in a brothel, this one had no bed or cot. Instead it was dominated by a large wooden frame shaped like an upside down U, from which dangled silk ropes used to bind oneself.

The Queen removed her cloak, hung it, and quickly stripped her simple linen dress. Her royal raiment had been left at the palace, but she still wore garb suitable for a noblewoman. That is who they think is renting the room, after all. A tremor of excitement ran through her as she lifted the hem of her white shift and slid it over her head, leaving her naked except for her silk stockings and slippers.

Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she brushed her fingers over her breasts, briefly teasing her erect nipples before sliding down to her inner thighs. Marguerite caressed upwards and rubbed her labia gently. The tip of her finger pressed lightly inside to find her pussy already wet and her clit engorged. I really needed this tonight. What Buiscard did to the DuClare girl...

Marguerite walked to the nearby table and found a black linen hood, which would conceal her identity from whoever joined her tonight. All the patrons had a vested interest in anonymity, and the rules were clear: nothing could be done without mutual consent. She had been propositioned many times in the years she'd used the club, but no one had ever breached that compact. She glanced down to look at the other items on the table: a flogger, a riding crop, and a large, thick candle, before walking across the room to tug the rope, ringing a bell downstairs to alert the staff she was ready. Marguerite quickly donned the hood, which was loose enough to allow her to breathe, even in the throes of passion. Then she slipped her hands through the looped silk ropes hanging from the upside down U shaped wooden frame, and settled in for her night of fun.

The Queen didn't have to wait long. Heavy steps resounded down the hall, accompanied by a creak in the floorboards that sent a panicked shudder through her from the ghosts of her youth. Her visitor lingered outside the door for a long moment before the hinges squeaked open as tonight's partner stepped into the room. Marguerite's heart leapt into her throat as she tensed in anticipation. Silence hung heavily in the air, punctuated only by her guest's slow, steady breathing.

Finally, a soft but deep chuckle cut the tension, and the floor shifted as the leaden steps resumed. Marguerite wet her lips in anticipation and squirmed in her bindings, trying to twist in place to follow the sound of the stranger circling her around the wooden frame. Her heart began to beat faster, and the Queen's face flushed a deeper red inside the mask as she felt his eyes devouring her naked, exposed flesh. He can see me, she thought, look at me; look at all the things no one is allowed to see.

Despite her excitement, the silence disturbed her. Usually, when Marguerite played this game, her guests were eager to compliment the beauty of her form or the sensuousness of her submission. Some were confident, some were awkward, but none had been so silent. Never had she felt such a dominant presence without him saying a word.

"Ah!" Marguerite quivered as rough fingertips brushed over her hard nipples as the man passed in front of her. Another chuckle rolled through the room as he watched her reaction. A moment later those fingers were stroking her cheek through the hood, but the soft touch was quickly arrested as he snatched the mask and her hair in his fist and yanked sharply backwards. His other hand slapped the outside of her thigh and pulled her back into his body.

"Mmmph," Marguerite squealed and melted against him, pushing her round ass into his groin. The hard bulge sent another rush of excitement through her, and she briefly thought she might give herself to him if he propositioned her as so many had before. Instead, his hand roughly smacked her breast from behind and groped it harshly.

"Not yet, little slut," the low, gravelly voice taunted her. Strong fingers kneaded her tit, then slapped it again. His other hand wrapped around to abuse her other breast, fondling them both roughly as he made her squirm in his arms.

"Nnng!" Another groan escaped as he pinched her nipples and pulled them away from her body. Her luscious breasts bounced as he suddenly released them and stepped away, leaving her twisting and thrashing on the wooden frame. Her hands twisted around the silk ropes, making them even tighter on her hands as she mewled in need. By the One God, I needed this; it's been too long.

Marguerite arched her back and thrust her ass back towards him, shaking it enticingly to try and attract his hand. The move was instinctive, as she had no real experience seducing a man. Every motion was primal as her mind surrendered to the arousal and her body took over. It had never been like when she'd been here. It was more formal before, she thought, like we were each playing our parts. It was safe; not like this.

"What should we play with today?" The deep voice interrupted her reverie. "The candle?"

"UmmMmm." Marguerite shook her head.

"No?" The man snickered softly. "The crop, then?"

Before Marguerite could protest, the leather swiped through the air and snapped at her buttocks, leaving a deep red welt.

"Aaaah!" Marguerite jumped a little in the frame as her body stiffened. She felt a dull throbbing in her vulva as pleasure quaked through, and stood on the tips of her toes bracing for the next hit.

"I think you like that, little slut," the crop swiped once more and bit the other side of her ass, leaving a matching welt on her fair skin. "Don't you? Tell me you like it." He swiped the whip again and then again, leaving two more red marks on the backs of her thighs.

"Nnng!" Marguerite didn't care that she wouldn't be able to sit on her throne tomorrow; too enraptured with what she was feeling now. "Mmm!" Her hands tightened around the silk ropes coiled around her wrists, and her hot breath washed against the cloth hood. She turned slightly, looking behind her to try and see if she could make out her tormentor's features through the mask, but the black linen was thick enough to make that impossible.

Thwack! Thwack! Two more hits right at the top of each ass cheek set her bottom aflame and sent another delicious tremble of pleasure through her body.

"Answer me!"

"Yes! I like it," she cried, panting heavily now and making her breasts heave.

Sweat started to bead on her forehead beneath the hood, dampening her hair and making it cling messily to her head. Her ass throbbed and ached, and her whole body cried out to fulfill the pleasurable promise of climax.

"Good girl," that gravelly voice purred as he stepped around her again, circling the dangling Queen slowly as he reveled in the sight of her naked flesh.

Marguerite jumped as the stiff leather of the crop brushed lightly up her inner thigh and rolled along the joint between her thigh, hip, and mons. The whip collected the mixture of sweat and juices from her aroused pussy as he gently sawed it back and forth against her flesh.

"By the One God!" Marguerite cried out again as the stranger's fingers stroked her outer labia, then spread the lips apart to expose her inner folds. Her clit pulsed with need as it became exposed to the cool air and the oh-so-closeness of the unknown man's touch. "Ah! Aaaah!" The Queen cried out shrilly as, instead of his fingers, the man tapped the head of the crop against her clit.

"Enjoy it, pet. Bask in it, revel in it," the man teased as he changed the motion from a soft tap to a gentle flick from side to side, bringing her right to the edge of climax.

Marguerite danced in place as she thrust her hips forward, lewdly trying to grind against the rod. The man held it back and kept the space between flicks just long enough to deny her the release she craved. She whimpered and squealed in need as the visitor stopped teasing her clit and pressed the shaft between her labia. The Queen rocked her hips, sliding herself up and down the shaft, quivering in excitement at the temporary relief. However, the stroking of her sensitive pussy lips was nothing compared to the previous ministrations to her clit and she found herself coming down from the edge of climax.

"Not yet, my greedy little pet" the man with the gravelly voice chuckled and pulled the crop from between Marguerite's legs, making her whine again. "Open up."

The guest pressed the shaft of the crop against her lips through the linen mask. The Queen complied, parting her lips to catch the crop in her mouth, holding it in place. The juices from her pussy soaked through the fabric, spreading the taste of her sex to her tongue. The flavor sent a little shiver of excitement and humiliation through her. No one has ever made me taste myself before. She didn't know if it was lust or something more innate, but Marguerite found she adored the flavor. She suckled on it greedily through the cloth hood while the man retrieved his next tool.

A moment later the tendrils of a flogger caressed Marguerite's inner thigh. She inhaled sharply and opened her thighs, better exposing the soft flesh to the whip's tender caress. The flagellum drifted upwards, tickling her slick pussy before suddenly pulling away, then crashing into her inner thighs, from one to the other, back and forth. The strands quickly made her legs burn red as long thin welts spread down her thighs.

"Aaah! Mmmph!"

"Don't drop your treat, my little puppy," he said, amusement dripping from his tongue. He brushed the leather toy along her slit one more time before striking it down over her breast. Marguerite almost dropped the crop, but her frenzied nursing kept it in her mouth as her right breast stung and throbbed in pain.

The man struck her left breast again and sent another tremor through her. The thin red welts spread across her tits, looking like the marks of fingers gripping her breast too tightly. Her nipples throbbed with arousal as blood rushed to her mammaries. Marguerite arched her back, thrusting her chest out towards the unknown man who slapped them back and forth with the flogger.

My whole body feels like it's on fire! How will I go to court tomorrow? I won't be able to put on clothes, let alone sit all day. Worrying about tomorrow proved a momentary distraction from her arousal, but she couldn't avoid it for long as her guest stroked her cheek softly with the flogger. He wouldn't mark my face, would he? Panic shot through her at the thought, and she involuntarily flinched.

"Do you want more, pet? Where should I strike you next? Your succulent tits?" The man pinched her nipple with his free hand to emphasize the question. "Or how about that luscious ass of yours? Thighs? Or maybe you'd like me to mark your elegant back like a naughty servant?"

Marguerite nodded at the last in spite of herself. The image of the DuClare girl being whipped by Buiscard flashed through her mind, and the thought of being similarly marked made her quiver in excitement. She whimpered and signaled her approval, eliciting another low chuckle from the man.

"Is that what you want, pet? To be treated like a servant? To have all your pretensions washed away, to be a powerless, obedient girl, following the orders of your betters?" The unknown man walked behind her and ran his free hand up and down her smooth, bare back. "Are you a bad servant who needs to be whipped?"

She nodded again, grunting in need. Her whole body felt like it was on fire inside and out. The blistering pleasure roaring inside her clashed with the hot stinging pain of her burning red skin. Sweat poured down her face from the heat trapped in her hood as first her body and now her mind started to surrender to her unknown partner.