Queen's disGrace Bk. 01 Ch. 04

Marguerite stared into his eyes, mesmerized by the soft, low voice and the images it conjured. A shiver moistened her sex further at the thought. His voice— Suddenly, his lips pressed against hers, and she yielded to his tongue, drowning the thought. Lorenzo wrapped his arms around Marguerite, embracing her as their tongues danced.

Lorenzo's hands stroked down Marguerite's back and continued to cup her round bottom, pulling the Queen tighter against his body. His tongue continued to twist around the Queen's while he crushed her breasts against his chest. The heat of his body washed over her as one hand slightly bunched the fabric of her dress in his fist while the other massaged her tits.

"Mmm!" Marguerite moaned softly into the embrace as she gripped Lorenzo's biceps tightly. She kissed him for several more moments before she started to get hold of herself. What am I doing? We can't do this! She pulled away, panting for breath. Her nipples poked through her dress, and she felt Lorenzo's eyes devouring them. "That is quite enough, Lorenzo," she said, wetting her lips with her tongue.

"If you command it, Your Majesty. It was a great pleasure for me," he reached out and took her hands, "one that I hope we can repeat in the future."

The banker's confident smile made Marguerite melt again, so she quickly dismissed him before her resolve weakened. Marguerite's belly grumbled as Lorenzo left her solar. Thankfully Lady Evelyn entered carrying a tray of food for lunch. The Lady-In-Waiting placed the tray in front of the Queen on a small dining table, then curtsied and stepped back against the wall in case she was needed. The Queen looked at the tray, her brow crinkling in confusion at the large covered beer stein and the small rolled-up scroll. Dread began to fill her as she recognized the style of note used by the blackmailer, and she quickly unfurled and read the missive.

The stein is filled with the semen of multiple servants from the palace. Don't worry; they did not know who they were donating to. You will dab some on your body like perfume and drink whatever is left at the end of lunch. You may not wash your mouth or body until after the sun sets. As you go through the rest of your day, consider who can smell the seed on you. With every breath you take and every word you say, you'll exhale the scent to whomever you're talking. Enjoy!

The Queen stared at the note in shock, her heart in her throat. She looked from the scroll to Evelyn and then back again, unable to speak from the surprising demand. Her eyes drifted to the mug while her heart relaxed and beat faster at the thought of what it contained: commoner semen. He wants me to drink it, to wear it! Around the palace, in Court, with the Lord Mayor. What if Rathoway smells it? What if he recognizes it for what it is?

"Is everything well, Your Majesty?" Evelyn asked, seeing the concern on Marguerite's face.

"Ah... where did this stein and note come from?" Marguerite inquired, struggling to get the words out.

A look of panic crossed Evelyn's face as she hurried over, reaching for the tankard. "Is it not right? Normally Lady Jacqueline carries your meals. I assumed it was supposed to be there!"

Marguerite quickly grabbed Evelyn's hands in alarm to stop her from taking the stein. "No! It's fine; really, I was curious." Idiot woman, you really just served something to your Queen without knowing what it was? "Do you know who put this note here?"

"I received everything on the tray from the head cook, Your Highness. It was all arranged as so when I picked it up from the kitchens."

"I see. Thank you, you're dismissed until after lunch." I'll have to interview the cook, or maybe I can send Jacqueline to do it, she thought, that might raise less suspicion. Once Evelyn left, Marguerite turned her attention to the mug. She wrapped her fingers around it, wondering if she could feel the heat of the semen through the pewter. Staring at her food, Marguerite found her appetite quickly diminished at the prospect of finishing the meal with her servants' seed.

She only picked at her lunch, trying to force herself to eat something, but ended up leaving most of it on the plate by the time her meeting with Lord Rathoway drew near. Am I really going to do this? She asked herself, knowing very well what the answer was.

Her hands shook as they grabbed for the stein and depressed the lever to open it. The smell of the trapped semen was immediately apparent and overwhelming. She had scarcely brought it to her face before she was choking on the thick, heady scent. Another tremor ran through her as she contemplated drinking it before she slipped two fingers into the mug. To her relief, the stein wasn't anywhere close to being filled. Marguerite had to reach deep into it before finding the sticky goo.

Marguerite brought her fingers out, and her gaze was enraptured with the glistening cum decorating her fingertips. With a soft groan, she applied it to her neck, just below her jaw, and smeared it over her fair, delicate skin. Oh! By the One God, I did it!

Her free hand drifted between her legs and rubbed her pussy through her dress as she reached for another scoop. She dabbed it on the other side of her neck and once more wiped it in. The Queen couldn't tell if the musky odor was from her perfume or the stein, but either way, she couldn't escape it. Marguerite collected more of the semen to dab on the inside of her wrist and then looked at her sticky fingers.

Her heart pounded, and the digits were still shaking as she guided them to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the soiled fingers, before licking them clean. The salty, musky taste sent another shudder through her as she worked her tongue between the fingers and over the sticky area. Whose seed was that, she wondered, the cook's? A footman's?

She let go of her pussy and gathered more cum which she applied to her other wrist. Then she cleaned off her hand, though this time, the taste of the cum was mixed with her crotch. Tasting a woman's sex lingered in her mind until her thoughts were drawn back to the stein. I dabbed it on like perfume; all that's left is to drink the rest. Her chest heaved as her trembling fingers lifted the mug bringing the rim to her lips. It lingered there as she worked up the courage before finally she tilted her head back and poured the filthy semen directly into her mouth.

The thick globs landed on her tongue, traveling down the whole length and imprinting the taste before being swallowed down her throat. The salty yet slightly minty aftertaste lingering in her mouth was inescapable after she finished her drink. By the One God, why am I so turned on? She massaged her breast with one hand while the other went between her legs again. No, I don't have time to take care of this right now; I have to see Rathoway. She grabbed the note, burned it over a candle, smoothed the fabric of her dress and left for the Lord Mayor's office.

The office of the Lord Mayor was only a short distance from the palace but not within the royal complex itself. Ordinarily, she would have summoned Lord Rathoway to her chambers, but she was trying to get out of the palace more, both for the exercise and to be among the people, to see and be seen. Now she was regretting that decision as she walked along the boulevard.

At least people are clearing out of the way, she thought, as a phantom itch aggravated the sides of her neck and wrists. Marguerite was half convinced the phalanx of footmen clearing the way could smell the semen and had probably provided it. I will drive myself insane by dwelling on it. Perversely the idea aroused her, but she fought to suppress the feelings. One God, protect me from the demons inflicting this lust upon me. I must focus on the serious business at hand.

I need to figure out where the Lord Mayor got the blackmailer's note yesterday. Did he send it? Is he working for him? Or is he a catspaw? She still had trouble believing it possible, but after her faith in the Archbishop was shaken, she didn't know who she could trust other than Jacqueline. I know she's not the blackmailer, she thought with a chuckle.

Lord Rathoway, the Lord Mayor of Parce, was waiting outside the administrative building along with his clerks and staff to welcome the Queen as she arrived. He greeted Marguerite with a warm smile and a bow. "Your Majesty, welcome to the Tower of the Lord Mayor. How may we be of service today?"

"Lord Rathoway! It is always a pleasure to see you. Thank you for your vociferous support in Court earlier this week in the trial of the Duke of Buiscard. I want you to know your loyalty was noted." Marguerite returned the smile and gestured for the staff to rise. "Is there somewhere more private we can adjourn to? I have a delicate matter to discuss with you today."

"Of course, Your Majesty! Right this way." Rathoway took the Queen's hand and kissed the back of it, sending a shiver down her spine. He led the Queen into the Tower, and with every step, Marguerite grew more alarmed at the idea the Lord Mayor couldn't have helped but smell the cum that had been applied to her wrist.

When they arrived at his private office, her footmen stayed outside while Marguerite and Rathoway entered to discuss the purpose of her visit. "Lord Rathoway, yesterday you delivered a note to the palace addressed to me. Were you aware of its contents?" Marguerite scrutinized Rathoway's reaction as she asked the pointed question.

The Lord Mayor seemed nonplussed at the question, "Certainly not, Your Majesty! I wouldn't read a letter meant for you. Why, was there something wrong with it?"

As Marguerite watched him intently, he seemed to get a little nervous, but that might be normal for someone who fears they may have erred before the Queen, she thought. "Not at all," she reassured the Lord Mayor, "rather, it claimed to have sensitive intelligence. I am trying to determine the veracity of the information and the reliability of its source." There, that should sound plausible. She again looked searchingly at Rathoway's face, seeking for any hint of a reaction. Marguerite moistened her lips nervously, then quivered as she realized she was spreading semen over them.

Again Rathoway seemed bewildered, with no hint of deception in his demeanor. "I believe a commoner, some kind of laborer in the city, delivered it. Probably given a few pfennigs to walk in and drop it off." Rathoway sighed regretfully, "I'm afraid whoever sent it knew what they were doing. The man has disappeared into the city by now, with no way of identifying and finding him."

Marguerite hit her fist into the flat of her palm, "Well, that's unfortunate, Lord Rathoway. In the future, if another such message comes in, do everything in your power to identify the courier."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I won't give you cause to regret my appointment here," the Lord Mayor responded. In others, it might have sounded bombastic, but Marguerite knew better.

"Never, Lord Rathoway. You were the first supporter of my claim. You had no reason to help me other than it was the right thing to do. I could never have overthrown my uncle and the Regency Council without your delivering the city to me from the villains who sought to supplant me." Marguerite smiled again and touched his arm, feeling guilty for her doubt. "You've earned the position of Lord Mayor for yourself and your son."

Rathoway was stupefied by the declaration. "The title has never been hereditary! You... you... honor us, My Queen," the Lord Mayor stuttered as he fell to his knee, bowing to Marguerite.

"Rise, Lord Rathoway. As long as I am Queen, your family will have positions in my Court." Marguerite smiled in satisfaction at the joy and pride evident on the Lord Mayor's face. He cannot be the blackmailer; it's simply not possible. No one could lie like this. Rathoway's loyalty almost made her flinch. Not that I deserve it; I'm sitting here soaking my gown with the juices of my sex from drinking the seed of unknown servants and wearing it like perfume.

"Thank you, Your Majesty, and may the One God bless your reign." Rathoway continued to beam for a moment before he continued, "In that vein, Archbishop Richaud approached me with a suggestion for the Feast of Saint Elsebet, the Maiden of Anjoux."

"What did the Archbishop have in mind that it needs to be brought to my attention?" Marguerite asked, intrigued. It wasn't like the Archbishop to not come to her directly, but she also couldn't imagine him having any nefarious purpose.

Rathoway flushed as he tried to find the right words. "The Archbishop wants to commission a statue of the Maiden...modeled on you, your Majesty."

Marguerite blinked in surprise. That certainly isn't what I was thinking. "I'm flattered, but is that proper? It feels vainglorious and prideful to me."

The Lord Mayor laughed congenially. "If you commissioned it, yes. But if the Church does it? I think it will be fine. The Archbishop thought you might feel that way and said something about how humility can be pride; well, I didn't really understand it, but I'm sure he can explain better the next time you see him."

"I will have to speak with him about it then."

"With respect, Your Majesty, the sooner, the better, as it will take the sculptor time to make it. The Feast is in a little over a month, and work must begin soon. But you can see this is perfect, yes? St. Elsebet symbolizes the indomitable purity of the Faithful in the face of the heathen hordes. Naturally, her statue should be modeled on our pure Queen.

Alright, at first, I was worried about the sin of vanity, but now I'm concerned about sacrilege. I can't possibly allow my likeness to be used like that; I'm one of the least pure women in the Kingdom. I literally have the semen of unknown commoners coating my tongue. "That is kind of you to say. I'll speak with the Archbishop about this." And find some way to ensure it doesn't happen.

****

Jacqueline groaned as she sat on the bed next to Marguerite, swishing the golden fabric of her skirt beneath her. "I don't think I've ridden so much since coming to the city. We need to get out for exercise more often, Marguerite."

"You may be right. Perhaps when all this is over, we can ride to the baths at LeRou, relax, and get some exercise." Marguerite smiled at the thought before continuing hesitantly, "How did it go at the Duke's estate?"

"It went well," Jacqueline replied, blushing at the memory of the lewd and depraved acts at the manor. "I spoke at length with the Duke and some of his people, including Lord Henri." Jacqueline vacillated on bringing up the Lord's demand. "He's prepared to assist our efforts in LaHavra, but he wants a position at Court in exchange so that their faction has more influence on the direction of the Kingdom."

Marguerite bristled at the thought of bargaining with her own vassals for their support but conceded to the political realities of the situation. "What sort of position did he have in mind?"

"He wants Lord Malcolm to be the Crown Prosecutor," Jacqueline replied.

"So he can shield men like the Duke of Buiscard from being punished for abusing their serfs?" Marguerite bristled again, starting to flush.

"Probably, but that isn't the reason they gave. The Duke and his cohorts want to reduce the influence of the Church by investigating reports of abuse and corruption at the Monastery at Navaire."

Marguerite furrowed her brow in thought. "The Monastery at Navaire? I haven't heard any stories about it. I won't allow them to baselessly accuse the Church to score political points."

"As Queen, you'll still decide all judgements, Marguerite. There is no dispute about that. If you find them innocent, that will be the end." Marguerite needs their support, Jacqueline thought as she steeled her resolve. "If they are guilty, shouldn't they be investigated and punished? Churchmen are not above the law. On the contrary, men of the One God must be held accountable to the highest standards."

"I suppose." Marguerite mulled the thought over. "I don't like the idea of one of Busicard's people at Court, but we need to strengthen our ties with his faction, especially if we're facing a potential war with the Hoehns. Will this be enough, do you think? You said Lord Henri will facilitate our operations in LaHavra, but will it get the Duke and the rest of his faction to provide troops to fight Prince Gailen? I mean, King Victor." The Queen blushed slightly at her slip of the tongue.

Jacqueline shook her head regretfully. "No, this deal is only for Lord Henri's support in LaHavra. But it will show you're willing to work with them and be a first step in getting their support in the bigger, more important war."

Marguerite sighed in frustration. "If a position at Court is the opening sweetener, I don't want to imagine what they'll ask for more substantive support." The Queen reached over and clasped Jacqueline's hand. "You've been spending time with them and know them best. What do you think I should do?"

"Appoint him," Jacqueline answered quickly, committing herself to getting the support of the Duke's faction and her desires. "We have to address our problems one at a time. First this campaign against Tinnis, then the Hoehns, then we can worry about whatever the Duke has planned."

"You're right, of course; one thing at a time." Marguerite smiled at Jacqueline, "Very well, I'll appoint him to Crown Prosecutor first thing in the morning. Do you have any idea what they'll want next?"

I can't tell her that they want to use me to influence her decisions, Jacqueline thought, even if it is for her own good. "Their goals are to increase the strength and power of the noble houses while decreasing the authority of the Church and removing foreign influences from the Kingdom. Right now, they are on the outside, so they'll want something else to gain sway over policy. Maybe ask for another Court position, or find another way to get close to you."

"But what will it take to flip them to completely supporting me militarily? Or rather, what is the minimum they'll accept?" Marguerite turned to face Jacqueline, brushing their knees together.

"I don't think it will take that much, at least, materially speaking. They don't want the Hoehns influencing LaRend either. They need to be seen and heard, to know they can impact the direction of the Kingdom."

Marguerite sighed, "They're going to love this then; Prince Gailen proposed marriage to me as a way to settle our conflict."

'What! Oh, that unscrupulous blackguard! Trying to blackmail you into marriage under threat of war! I hope you sent him packing!"

Slowly Marguerite shook her head. "No, I gave him permission to court me while a betrothal is negotiated." The Queen squeezed Jacqueline's hand tighter. "I have to play for time, you see, to give our forces a chance to finish the campaign and for the Patriarch to weigh in on our side. This prolongs the issue and keeps them from moving too soon. But now, it sounds as if the Duke's factions aren't going to like the appearance of a foreign suitor." Marguerite sighed again, "So I'll have another thing to placate them over."

"I'll think of something, Marguerite. Dare I ask if anything else happened today?" Jacqueline frowned in concern as Marguerite suddenly blushed. "Oh no, something did, didn't it?? What was it?"

"I got another note from the blackmailer right before lunch. He, well, somehow, he arranged to have a stein filled with the palace servants' semen delivered with my meal, along with instructions to dab it on like perfume, drink it all and continue the rest of the day with it on my breath!" The words gushed out of Marguerite as she flushed deeper, confessing the humiliation quickly to get it done or out of fear that she wouldn't be able to complete it if she stopped.