The Black Queen Pt. 02: The Castle

The next stop was the kitchens, which were larger than Stefan would have believed possible. Scores of servants and scullery maids hurried about with laden baskets as cooking pots steamed and bubbled around them. Stefan was nearly overpowered by the pungent scents of spices and fragrant herbs.

The kitchen matron was a thick bodied, middle aged woman with graying hair and a pleasant face. She started him with the lowliest jobs, clearing the ash from fire pits and hauling away buckets of stinking offal as the butcher went about his bloody work. It was unpleasant and dirty, but not much different than what Stefan was used to.

After a hurried but welcome supper of bread, butter, and stew, he was dismissed and allowed a quick bath before being shown back to his room. There he met his other two bunk-mates; one a simple-minded young man who was as large and strong as an ox, the other an odd, sullen lad who spoke only when he showed Stefan the collection of spiders he kept in a wooden box underneath his bed. Talk was rather lacking, as the large boy seemed to speak only in grunts and the sullen boy spoke not at all unless the subject involved tiny, many-legged creatures. The sick boy was too busy lamenting his imminent death to add much in the way of conversation.

At length the candles were snuffed and Stefan lay down wearily, but sleep would not come. His mind raced with all the strange events that had occurred that day, wondering just what lay ahead of him. Even when he finally drowsed, the newness of his surroundings kept him jerking awake at every unfamiliar sound. There were the plaintive, forced coughs of the sick boy and the rattling snores of the lummox, beneath which could be heard the distant creaks and whispers of the castle itself. Stefan tossed and turned fitfully until at long last sleep finally came, and when it did his dreams were dark and troubling.

* * * * *

The Princess felt as if she were caught in a nightmare. For several nights she had been forced to run, with the Huntress calling away the wolves at the very last moment. But tonight was different. Instead of many wolves there was only one: a huge black she-wolf with eyes that shone like a demon's, and in them the Princess had seen a terrifying hunger.

She had run madly, sprinting like a deer along the circling garden path seven times before her strength began to flag. Just once she turned from the path with the desperate hope of climbing into a tree, but the unseen Huntress had sent an arrow thudding into the branch even as she reached for it, and a moment later the she-wolf seized the Princess by the leg and dragged her back to the trail, releasing her unhurt to run again.

Now she could run no longer. The Princess staggered and fell to her knees, feeling that her heart would surely explode. The wolf padded up to her and growled, but she met its hellish gaze evenly, exhausted beyond fear or caring. She closed her eyes as the beast pressed its muzzle to her throat, bracing against the agony of sharp teeth and ripping flesh that was sure to come. Instead she felt the soft rasping touch of its tongue as it began to lick her neck and shoulder, its caresses gentle, almost soothing.

The Princess endured quietly as it bathed her cheek, the long clean tongue flicking even over her parted lips as she panted to recover her breath. She made to turn her head away but the sound of a soft growl stilled her. She kept her eyes and mouth closed, breathing through her nose as the wolf covered her face with soft, slow licks, its warm breath blowing against her golden hair. The Princess whimpered as its teeth grazed the skin of her neck, biting as tenderly as a lover might. Then she began to tremble as the wolf licked down over her breasts, warming and moistening her flesh. A new fear took hold of her, one for which she had no name.

The beast's tongue curled around her nipple, causing a wild shiver to travel through the Princess' body. Another growl quickly halted her as she attempted to pull away, and so she sat motionless, shaking with dread and humiliation as the she-wolf laved her sensitive nipples with long sweeps of its tongue. It licked over her stomach, tickling her with its furry snout before suddenly nosing in between her thighs, the hot, strong tongue encountering her sex and licking her where none had ever licked before. The Princess flinched and squirmed away, freezing again as the she-wolf snarled and nipped at her thigh, fixing her with its glowing eyes before lowering its head to resume the firm caressing motions of its tongue.

The Princess lay back and gazed up at the night sky, weeping with shame as a terrible pleasure wracked her body. By degrees her quiet sobs turned to gasps as the licking grew softer, more agile, the furry grazing of the beast's muzzle replaced by the touch of smooth, silken flesh. The Princess looked down, her eyes widening with shock as she saw not a wolf but a naked, raven-haired woman between her legs, her pale blue eyes glittering icily in the dark as she mouthed the Princess's sex, her tongue probing the swollen, anxious nub that was the core of the girl's mounting pleasure.

Helpless, the Princess gave in, feeling as if she were being swept away on a rising tide. The urgent, dizzying sensations built up and up like the wave of a storm until at last it broke, drowning her in crashing waves of ecstasy. She was only vaguely aware that the soft, startled cries that rang out in the night were coming from her own lips.

At length the woman rose to her feet, her tall, statuesque form revealed for only a moment before the Huntress came and draped a silken robe about her pale shoulders. Only then did the Princess realize who she must be.

"The girl ran well tonight," the Huntress said gruffly.

"Yes. She is nearly ready for the Tournament." The Queen responded, her voice imperious and cold. 'Take her to the east tower and see that she is groomed and rested.'

Guards in black masks appeared and lifted the weary Princess to her feet. Her legs quivered beneath her like water but still she struggled, her efforts useless against the iron grip of the guardsmen as they carried her away.

The Tournament. She couldn't begin to guess what the Queen had planned for her, but she did not like the sound of it at all.