The Queen

The Queen

FemdomFanboy85

At the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hall, his heart began to flutter. Quickly, he went on cleaning up the chamber, making sure it was bright, spotless, and pleasantly scented. The curtains were pulled back to bathe the room in light, every surface had been scrubbed and dusted, and he had taken the trouble of procuring a bottle of lavender perfume from the local herbalist, which he had carefully dispersed throughout the bedroom. Every time she would join him in private, he felt swept off his feet, and in time he had found himself with a burning desire to show his appreciation to her.

Her footsteps nearing the door, he finished his work, straightened out his clothing, and knelt in the middle of the floor. Calmly, he placed his wrists on his knees and turned his palms up. When she entered the room, he felt his breath leave his body. Her dark red gown was ornately decorated in gold, leaving no possibility of confusion about who she was. She reached back and untangled her hair as she looked down on him. Then her eyes drifted around the room, observing what he'd done.

"Slave," she called him. He began to wonder if he'd somehow displeased her.

In a previous life, he had a name. It had once commanded respect, but disgrace had fallen on him and his house many years ago. The fate of others in his position had been death, though he learned to adapt for the sake of survival. Starting all over from nothing had been difficult, to say the least, but he could not have imagined where he would be now. His new name, slave, rang from her lips like music to his ears.

"Yes, my Queen," he answered.

"Remove your clothing."

Obediently, he stood and unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off as she watched. Then came the pants. As he reached for his undergarment, the small cloth covering his privates, she stepped forward and grabbed his hand to stop him.

She moved into his space, her head against the side of his head, and ran her fingers down the bulge in the front of his underwear. He sighed and blinked twice. For a moment, she stared at him to see if he would stay still. He did. So she thrust her hand into the cloth and squeezed his cock.

Immediately, he stood up straight and groaned.

"Have you been playing with yourself, slave?" she asked.

"No, my Queen."

"You haven't been touching yourself?"

"No, my Queen."

"You haven't been touching my cock without permission?"

"No, my Queen."

"Have you not wanted to pleasure yourself?"

"I have, my Queen."

"Why haven't you pleasured yourself, my slave?"

"I've not had your permission, my Queen."

She pulled at the cloth until it came undone, letting it fall helplessly to the floor. He was fully erect, waiting patiently again for her touch. Instead, she stood back and looked him over with amusement.

"Bow," she commanded.

He went to his knees and bowed gracefully at her feet. The marble floor was cold and hard. He loved it when she toyed with him. But he especially loved the reminders that he belonged to her.

Queen Alice had been widowed at a young age and decided to break with custom by declining all of her suitors. While this had initially been the talk of the kingdom, it came to be less interesting as she proved herself to be a capable leader in her own right. The Queen had a reputation for her temper, but also for her compassion. In all truth, it had been both that had drawn him to her when he first came into her service.

"Have you cleaned my room like you were instructed to clean it?" she questioned him.

"Yes, my Queen."

"What were your instructions about the floor?"

Nervously, he swallowed. "The floor must be clean enough that one could eat off of it."

"Is it?"

"Yes, my Queen."

"Then put your tongue out."

Already facing the floor, he slowly did as he was told. He felt a heel on the back of his head. It pressed down on him until his tongue made contact with the floor's surface.

"Lick, slave," his Queen ordered him.

Obediently, he started licking the floor with her foot still resting on his head. She smiled at the sight, making sure he wouldn't quit prematurely. He continued until at last she gave the word for him to stop. There was not even a noise of frustration from him.

"Up," she instructed him, as he rose to meet her gaze. "Go wash your tongue."

He retrieved the water jug left in the adjoining room and did as told. She sat on the enormous bed and removed her shoes. When he returned, she patted the bed to the side of her and looked back in his direction. "Help me out of my dress, slave."

In a moment or two, she heard him crawl to her from the other side of the bed. His breathing was softer now, as though he needed to concentrate. She felt his fingers reach for the ribbons on the back of her dress. Gradually, he pulled them loose and helped her out of her long velvet gown, leaving her in a small cream-colored silk chemise and matching hose.

"Much better," she said with a teasing stretch. He sighed as she got off the bed.

His eyes followed her closely as she wandered casually to another part of the room. She opened a dark, sizable chest and pulled out what looked like a large belt. In actuality, it was not a belt for wearing, but a thick leather strap with which her slave was intimately familiar. As the Queen turned back to him, she was pleased to see he had already assumed the position, bent over the bed.

"Someone has taught you well," she snickered.

"Yes, my Queen. Thank you."

It was impossible to deny how right she had been. When the idea was first presented to him, it was not presented as an act of sadism, more as an act of discipline. Of course, he knew she enjoyed it, too. She had convinced him it would teach him obedience. It had indeed given him the motivation to obey, but the pleasure she got out of it seemed like it might have been an even more powerful incentive.

Her fingers traced the light outlines of bruises that were still healing on his skin. He closed his eyes and took a breath.

"Do you know how much it pleases me that you wear my marks?"

"Please tell me again, my Queen."

"It pleases me to see what you can take for me," she said, fondling his naked bottom harder. "To see these signs of my ownership of you. To know they make you wince with the reminder that your place is at my feet."

A deep moan vibrated out of his body. "Oh, yes, my Queen. Thank you."

The strap broke firmly against his bare ass, causing him to lean forward and dig his hands into the bed covers. Part of him would always marvel at the strong swing she had. No one could be on the receiving end of it and think too highly of themselves. It settled body and mind alike.

With another swipe across his cheeks, he buried his face in the covers and grunted.

"Shhh, keep it down," she tormented him. "You never know who might be coming to the Queen with their problems. Who might be listening outside the door even as we speak."

His cock stiffened against the side of the bed. The strap cracked against his ass a little louder now. Long, red marks were starting to appear. Unable to control himself, he let out a painful sound.

"Oh, what's that? What's she doing to him in there? It sounds like she's... Is she beating his bottom?! And it sounds like he likes it!"

The Queen chuckled to herself, using her free hand to inspect the work she'd just done. He flinched and gasped, but then relaxed. It always hurt to sit down for days afterward. Yet the pain had the odd effect of making him reminisce with fondness, to say nothing of how it made him anxious for the next time he was to be disciplined. She struck his behind again.

"Breathe, slave."

Next came a flurry of lashes, from the upper right, then the upper left, then the lower right, and the lower left. She swung at him like she was cutting through his defenses, chipping away at whatever unseen obstacles stood in her way. He clenched his fists in the covers, shut his eyes, and did his best to remain still. She watched his muscles tense in pain, admiring the nude body she was bathing in bruises. Queen Alice liked to imagine she was writing her name on him with every mark.

Finally, she stepped back to appreciate the tapestry of colorful strokes she had created on his ass. She set down the leather strap on the bedside table, satisfied with her work. Then she sat on the bed and called to him: "Come here."

Crawling over to her, he put his head in her lap, twitching as her hands found him. Her left hand brushed through his curly brown hair, while her right hand rubbed his back. Occasionally, she would slip down to his butt, caressing it just enough to feel him jump. But she held him tight and spoke softly to him until his nerves were calmed.

"Tell me," she whispered, "whose are you?"

"I-I'm yours, my Queen."

"My what?"

"Your slave, my Queen."

She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "My slave should please me, shouldn't he?"

"Of course, my Queen."

"You like to please your Queen, don't you?"

"Always, my Queen."

"Down, off the bed, then. On your knees."

Patiently but not too patiently, she waited for him to comply. The tone of her voice told him all he needed to know. As badly as he wanted to stay in her lap, he had meant what he said. If it would please her, he would find the strength somehow. She watched with amusement as he slumped down onto the floor. One of her long, shapely legs extended outward while she gently scooted herself to the edge of the bed.

His mouth began to water at the thought of getting to touch her. He pushed himself to focus, but his Queen was extremely careful about how often she allowed his hands to be on her. In the beginning, he had made the mistake of helping himself just once, and she had responded by slapping him hard across the face. He also quickly learned that nothing escaped her sight. Even now, she watched him closely, as if she was waiting for him to give her a reason.

"My hose is starting to itch," she informed him. "Take them off for me."

Slowly and playfully, she pulled up the end of her chemise to her thighs, where the straps that held up her stockings became visible. He moved near her, placing his fingers only on the top of her hose. She unhooked the straps and gently he rolled the hose down her left leg. Though their eyes did not meet, he could feel her eyes on him. When one leg was done, the other lifted up for his attention. Again, she undid the straps and he carefully removed her right stocking.

For a moment she sat there staring at him. Then she leaned toward him.

"Were you listening? I said the hose was making my legs itch. My legs still itch."

Thrusting her left leg at him, she nodded for him to take it. Excited but nervous, he cradled her leg in both hands.

"Don't just sit there," the Queen scolded him, "put your fucking tongue out and lick it clean. Make yourself useful."

As he lurched forward, tongue rapidly sliding down her leg, she fought back the impulse to laugh. This impulse did not come from a tickling sensation, however, but came from seeing him eagerly jump to attention. It delighted her to think she had him wound so tightly around her finger. Later, she might let him taste how much it really delighted her.

"Mmm, that's better. Don't stay in one spot. Keep moving."

Dutifully, he licked his way up past her knee, nearly to her thigh. Once he got too far, she put her hand on top of his head and redirected him. He circled her leg, traveled back down it, and cleaned around her ankle. After a minute, she noticed what he was avoiding.

"You're not afraid of your Queen's feet, are you?" she mocked him. "Perhaps I should make you my personal foot slave, then, and find another slave for all the fun things you like."

He cursed aloud and looked up at her with desire in his eyes. She returned his glance with a wicked grin, and instructed him to rub her feet. Repositioning her leg, he took her foot in both hands and began to massage it carefully.

"Come now, I know you're stronger than that. Put some effort into it."

"Yes, my Queen."

In fact, he was not into feet and he could tell that she knew this. Her feet were not just any feet, though. The way that she teased him and pushed him, still with some consideration, only made him want to please her more. So he followed her instruction obediently.

"Now the other foot," she said once he was done.

With both hands, he went to work again. Her occasional moans and sighs gave him inspiration as he continued. The longer he rubbed her feet, from the heel to the toe, the more he wanted permission to climb up her legs and worship her. The idea of giving her entire body a bath, until his tongue was too sore to move, became increasingly appealing.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door. She pushed him back lightly and rose up, pointing to the floor.

"Under the bed," she commanded. "Now."

For a few seconds, she watched to make sure he understood. He crawled under the large bed until he could no longer be seen. Then he saw the Queen's legs as she went to the door and cracked it open.

There was muffled conversation for a moment, too quiet for him to hear, but he hoped no one's suspicions had been aroused. Soon another pair of legs came into view, wearing pants and boots. The door closed and their voices became more audible.

"No one saw you?" the Queen asked the stranger.

"Please, Your Highness, relax. I'm sure I wasn't followed."

The second voice was deep like a man's voice. He sounded calm, confident. The Queen treated him as someone familiar to her.

"If word got out..." she started.

"It won't. Trust me. I understand your situation. I understand your discretion."

Quiet fell over the room, as the two sets of legs approached each other and intertwined. Witnessing this from under the bed, doing his best to be absolutely silent, the slave blushed when he realized this visitor was not unexpected. Clothes began to ruffle.

"I want you," she seduced the unknown man.

"I'm all yours."

"Don't think I don't know."

Kissing noises followed, then the stranger's pants descended to his feet. His shirt fell to the floor, as he clumsily tried to manage his pants and remove his boots. Queen Alice chuckled in response, her legs slowly dancing away from his, stopping at the foot of the bed. Her chemise dropped to the floor next to her.

Her slave felt a wave of jealous excitement move through him. She knew exactly what she was doing, and there could be no doubt as she raised one foot onto its toes and rocked it back and forth teasingly in full view of where he was under the bed.

Are you watching down there? she seemed to say.

Free of his clothes, the visitor rushed over to her and giggling turned to sounds of passion as they moved up onto the bed. The slave heard it creak above his head. There was grunting, gasping, and the Queen seemed to be enjoying it.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Fuck me. Harder!"

"God, you feel wonderful. Your Highness."

"Oh, say it again."

"Again? Does Her Highness like the way I fuck her?"

"Your Queen does. She likes your strong arms, your broad chest, your stupid handsome face... and your big, long, hard... cock."

Beneath the bed, her slave was also stiff as could be, his penis pressing uncomfortably into the cold marble floor. It surprised him how aroused he was, and how he felt no anger at being put into this predicament. As he listened to this other man fucking his Queen, he only felt embarrassment for hiding and the thrill of the pleasure he could hear her receiving.

"You like it, do you?"

"Faster," she growled. "You're not getting tired, are you?"

The bed began to rattle and shake above the Queen's slave. He wanted to whimper, but kept quiet. The Queen grew louder, first panting and then squeaking in ecstasy. It started to sound as if the bed could come apart and collapse on him at any minute. More kissing noises came next.

"Fuck!" groaned the stranger.

"That's it. Mmm, harder! I'm almost there..."

Her slave pictured trading places with the unknown man, being the one to satisfy all of his Queen's needs. At first, he thought how there was nothing more he'd ever wanted. Yet the stinging sensations lingering on his bare ass returned him to his place. What he really wanted most of all was for her to be satisfied. It was not for him to decide what would please her.

Beautiful sounds came out of his Queen suddenly, and the motion above died to a crawl before it finally ceased. The two were out of breath, gasping, and likely curled up in each other's arms. Under the bed, the slave breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Feeling better?" the man above asked.

"Shhhh," she teased. "You did well. You always perform your duties well... General."

"For Queen and country, my Queen."

They laughed quietly, before the laughter transitioned to kissing and other pleasant noises.

"And you?" the Queen inquired. "I take it you still enjoy our little arrangement."

The general paused in thought for a second. "Yes, Your Highness. I wish-- well, you know what I wish. But I know why you feel as you feel, too."

"You're a wonderful lover. A trusted friend."

"I thank you, my Lady. I really do. I just worry."

"I know you do," she told him with a kiss. "But I need your trust as well. You've seen who I am. You know I don't share power."

Below the bed, her slave listened with interest, taking care to make no noise.

"Yes," the general conceded. "It's unusual... but that would be one of the things I admire about you, Your Highness."

Up on the bed, she ran her fingers along his cock. He chuckled and embraced her.

"Don't tease me before you send me away," he asked of her.

The Queen smiled back and said, "I'll do whatever I damn well please."

"I certainly hope so."

"Besides, I like the thought of you hiding an erection while you're trying to be very serious before the council. Wondering if they're staring at your crotch..."

"I have a feeling arousal is a foreign concept to the council."

The Queen giggled. "Well, then you'll just have to keep your cock safely tucked away in your pants until I allow you to see me again."

He leaned in to kiss her once more.

"I'll be counting the hours."

A couple minutes later and the bed began to creak as the general reluctantly rolled off it. His feet touched the floor and headed to collect his clothes from where they'd been scattered. He dressed, returned to the bed to say goodbye, and then departed through the door. Beneath the bed, the slave waited patiently, unsure of what to make of the scene that had just transpired.

"Come out, slave," the Queen ordered him after a moment.

Obediently, he wormed his way out. He stood at the foot of the bed, nervously avoiding eye contact.

"Why so shy? Crawl over here."

Taking a deep breath, he went to her on the bed on his hands and knees. A devious grin came over her face. As he got closer, she spread her legs apart. Her skin was flushed and had a light shine of fresh sweat to it. Her pussy was red and appeared to still be quite wet.

"Put that tongue of yours to good use."

For whatever reason, this made something click for her slave. He was on clean up duty again. He would be tasting another man's cum inside her. But that other man was gone now. This was an opportunity, and it meant she was letting him stick around.

When he rushed between her legs and started furiously lapping her up, the Queen did not act surprised at all. She simply rested one hand on top of his head, as if to keep him in his place. Then she leaned her head back against the headboard as his tongue explored her. Slowly, her legs began to tighten around him.

"Did you enjoy your time under the bed, my slave?"