The Queen And The Cock Ch. 01

Queen Antonia was carefully laced up in a restrictive black corset first, slimming her stomach down to a brutal, suffocating thinness, while simultaneously pushing the top of her tits to nearly her chin. Translucent stockings and white, elbow-length gloves were pulled on by her handmaid's next, before Antonia chose a dress to wear. Never one for the softer shades, her room-sized, royal closet was lined with darker, fierce colored dresses, only a rare few of the garments standing out with their lighter-hues; the Queen picked out a scarlet, ankle length dress, which her servants hurriedly applied to her voluptuous, making sure everything was tied, fitted, and done up in proper order.

Lastly, and probably the part that Antonia enjoyed the most, was choosing the jewelry that would adorn her royal figure. Every morning she did a mental count of her most prized pieces, making sure none had been stolen by the poor that slaved away for her; there'd been one boy, long ago, who had pocketed a diamond earring of hers, but had been caught shortly after. He now longer possessed the hands needed for theft! She lined her ears with every manner of precious gem, slipped on several shining, metallic rings that were just too bulky for her thin fingers, and lastly, adorned her head with the piece she never went a day without wearing, the treasured heirloom of Potentia, as old as the Kingdom itself: a heavy, gold crown with five spikes jutting from its top, encrusted with a fist-size ruby at its center.

Once her flat-heeled black shoes were slid onto her small feet, she dismissed all of her handmaids - all except for Elsbeth.

"Close the door Elsbeth, I want to have a private discussion with you."

"Y-Yes, my Queen," Elsbeth did as she was told, her fingers quivering as they gripped the door knob, "what d-did you want to talk about?"

She turned to face her Mistress - former Mistress - her head down-turned, her hands clasped together at her front.

"You know what I want to discuss, Elsbeth," Antonia's plump lips lifted into a cruel grin, her straight white teeth bared at the young woman in front of her, "we still have to discuss your punishment."

"O-Of course, my Queen. I will d-do whatever you want me to. I deserve it."

Her voice cracked.

"That you do, and I have considered the many forms your punishment can take. Exile, time spent in the dungeon, a sentencing of hard labor in the southern mines-"

That last threat forced a cry from the Twinned, her resolve breaking - being sent to the southern mines was practically a death sentence!

"But, I am feeling kind - kinder than the likes of you deserve. So I've decided on a less severe disciplinary action."

"T-Thank you, Your Highness, your charity knows no b-bounds!"

"That's right, and you better not ever forget that."

Antonia cleared her throat.

"So you are being demoted, in a manner of speaking. You will still be granted living quarters in the palace, and nothing will be done to your family, but you will no longer be counted amongst my handmaids - amongst other things."

Elsbeth gasped in relief, her shoulders falling and her neck craning to look straight at Antonia.

"Y-You are so gracious, my Queen, I cannot tha-"

"But that does not mean you are getting off lightly!" There was a growl emanating from Antonia's throat as she spoke, clearly not happy with her subject's visible display of relief, "From this day forward, you will work in the kitchen, or scrubbing the floors - I don't really care which. As soon as you leave my chambers, you will report to the Head Servant, and he will assign you your new duties."

It was the lightest sentencing Elsbeth could think of - could have hoped to receive from the Monarch.

"Thank you my Queen!" She gushed, curtsying and bowing her head in submission once again, "Thank you so much. You have my eternal gratitude! I am indebted to you. This Kingdom does not deserve such a charitable Queen!"

"Yes, and let me remind you of something: if I hear one word of your former position spoken by those who were not already privy to such information, you will be chained up and executed, publicly, for spreading lies about your Queen. Understand?"

"Yes! Of course! I-I will never tell a soul of, um, of-"

"Good. Now you may leave, I have more pressing matters to attend to. And send the rest of the handmaids in."

"Yes, of course. Um, I shall take my leave, my Queen."

"You shall."

...

The day proceeded in its typical manner.

Antonia ate her breakfast of fresh fruits and rich, imported cocoa-butter smeared breads, alone in her private meal-chamber, washing it down with her usual imbibement of wine. She called on her seemingly infinite number of servants to fetch her this and that as she wandered through the palace's marbled halls, even when the task would have been deemed unnecessary by anyone else's standards, the royal relishing in lording her power over those below her standing. When Clara was at its highest point in the cloudless sky, her daily meeting with nobles and the higher-ups of the Kingdom commenced.

Taking her throne in the Great Hall, Queen Antonia sat straight up against the red-velvet cushion at the back of it - the same kind that softened all of the seats that were for her use only - and waited for the throngs of those who awaited her attention to settle. The throne was made of the purest gold, sparkling from Clara's rays that beamed down from the circular, glass-ceiling of the room, etched with imagery of the celestial bodies that surrounded Divisus. High-armed, the opulent chair was situated in a raised position above the rest of the room, a small set of stairs leading up to its grandiose design.

The Great Hall, like its ceiling would suggest, was a rounded room located directly in the center of the palace. Several doorways led in and out of it, the main set of sky-reaching double-doors leading to the hallway to the front of the building. Pillars of white marble lined the walls, perfectly unweathered, excessively bleached from the constant sunlight bearing down on them; between the pillars were a series of wooden chairs, ones in which those in attendance would wait in before it was their turn with the Queen. Armed, armored guards stood still and silently in pairs at the entrances, while several others crowded the seating-arrangements.

This was the most dreadful, excruciatingly tedious part of her regular schedule. Sitting there in a throne that felt smaller and tighter around her heavy backside with each passing day, trying not to appear as bored as she felt, listening to some village representative or upper-class peon prattle on about taxes or lack of food or whatever they chose to complain about this time around; the people presenting themselves to her were varied, from commanders of her army to diplomats of foreign nations, all of which sought her ear. Well, her ear along with other things. While many looked to gain or use her bottomless riches for themselves, there were just as many others who wanted her specifically.

Oh there was no shortage of men looking to marry her! Whether they came themselves or sent an envoy, the proposals of matrimony were as numerous as they were pointless. She was well known for being cold-hearted towards those who sought her betrothal, but that didn't stop the males of Divisus from trying; she had realized ages ago that though they all thought they were different, that they'd be the one to succeed where others had failed. They weren't. Every single one was the same, and Antonia knew without a doubt that none of her potential-suitors could provide her the only thing she truly desired, the thing she had now lost.

Luckily, that was not the kind of thing she was listening to at that moment.

"If you will not meet with the Amazonian's diplomats and come to some kind of agreement, I am in need of more troops post-haste!"

Unluckily it was concerning the current conflict her Kingdom was involved in.

"How many times are you planning to request further reinforcements, Lord Sharpsteel? It appears that you are here instead of on the battlefield more often than not! To me, it seems as though the chain of command is the issue, not the amount of soldiers I give you to throw at those barbarians!"

"My Queen," The armored-man spoke, a darkened scar marring the tanned skin across his nose, his red-feathered helmet held respectfully under one of his arms, "the Amazonesses are relentless. We are only able to hold them back due to proper strategy, and using the mountainous terrain that provides a perfect chokepoint to our advantage. But none of that matters if I don't have the necessary troops to defend our borders with!"

He held back a sigh, having explained this to Antonia many times before.

"All I request is a fresh battalion, possibly two, if you can spare it."

Antonia did sigh, her patience growing thin. Lord Gregory Sharpsteel had been the commander of Potentia's forces since before she'd taken power, nary another in the entire kingdom as battle-experienced or in possession of the same hardened intuition as he was. It had been because of his leadership that Potenita had never fallen to invasion - not that Antonia had ever given him so much credit! He was something of a genius in martial matters, and one of the few people she actually listened to during these kinds of meetings as well.

She studied him as she contemplated his request. Lord Sharpsteel was a mountain of man, standing many hands taller than Antonia herself, his gray-steel, red-trimmed armor custom-made to fit his immense brawn; she had always wondered if he was part Ogre or something of the sort, but had never bothered to ask. His massive chest pushed out his insignia-crested breastplate - the image one of Clara's yellowed form, split down the middle by a red spear, the backdrop painted black - and his gigantic arms were bent at his sides, his gauntlet-clad fists pushed into his hips.

Meeting his blue eyes under their covering of messy blonde hair, a silent battle played out between them that neither were willing to concede. The Queen knew he was right - they needed to reinforce the southern border against the Amazonian tribes as much as possible, but that didn't mean she liked that fact! Some months ago a new mine had been discovered in the hills around the border, and it was laden with some of the most valuable resources in Divisus, namely the Occul Crystals used in every form of magic imaginable practiced on the continent. Upon discovering what the mines contained themselves, the Amazonesses had launched an attack - the first of many - and luckily Sharpsteel had stationed one of Potentia's armies there in anticipation that the likely event would occur.

There was no question to the validity of his demands, it was the answer that brought issue. When the jungle-nation first invaded, the Queen had immediately ordered as many of the Kingdom's forces to defend the mines as possible; and when those were worn and depleted, she signed into law a Draft. Of-age men and women both were forced into the military, but now it seemed as though even they weren't enough to maintain their defenses - at least not if Sharpsteel was to be believed. So where in the Countless Underworlds was she supposed to pull more troops from!?

This was the question she presented to Lord Sharpsteel.

"Where, perchance, do you expect me to produce more soldiers for you, Lord Sharpsteel? I cannot simply conjure warriors from thin air!"

"From one of the other borders, M'Lady," He confidently replied back to her, his visage maintaining its same unwavering, stern appearance, "from one of the borders that are experiencing peace."

Antonia scoffed.

"Oh I did not realize it was so easy! How gracious of you to bestow some of your infinite wisdom onto us mere mortals, Commander!"

A frown touched his lips.

"And which border would that be!?" Antonia leaned forward in her seat, her heavy breasts resting on her lap, a gloved-hand outstretched towards the giant of a man, "Should we move our troops from the west, where those damned half-breeds lie in wait to plunder our riches? Or perhaps we stop defending the Northern Corridor, and allow the clans of the Orcish Collective t-"

"My plan was to move our forces away from the eastern border, Your Highness," Gregory Sharpsteel cut her off, his face scarlet with frustration, "from our border with Cagria. We have not had a single military issue with them since long before I was born, I'll remind you! There is no reason to have so many of our people stationed there."

"Cagria..." Antonia mulled over his words, her features mirroring the Commanders, "and what makes you think they won't take that as a sign of weakness. To use it as an opportunity to launch an invasion of their own!?"

"My Queen, be reasonable. Cagria scarcely has a standing army of their own, and what forces they do possess are engaged in skirmishes with the Dominion of Death. They have less than a single battalion to spare! Besides, we have always shared a prosperous relationship with them, have we not? I highly doubt they would go back on generations of peace without any sort of provocation."

The Queen fumed at Sharpsteel's logic.

"Your... your words make sense, Lord Shapsteel." She finally gave in, both to reason and for wanting this discussion to be over and done with, "Fine. I will allow you two battalions from the eastern province - at most. And I expect to not see you back in my Court for many moons unless you bring good news. Do you understand?"

Lord Sharpsteel grit his teeth but forced a smile nonetheless.

"I understand, M'Lady. I will make good use of the reinforcements. You have my thanks."

"See to it that you do, because those may be the last battalions you get for some time."

Her words were met with a solemn nod.

"Now!" Antonia stood up from her throne and cast a scowl around the Great Hall, "The rest of you are dismissed! I will grant you audience at another time, I have a more pressing matter to attend to!"

There were several dissatisfied murmurs and huffs from the awaiting nobles and dignitaries.

"But Queen Antonia," an envoy from some kingdom or another bolted up from his chair and raised a hand in protest, "you have not even listen-"

"And I will not if you speak out of turn again! I said you are all to LEAVE my presence!"

A flurry of movement followed her outburst, the disgruntled patrons of Potentia's palace getting up from their seats and making their way to the towering, double-doors that awaited their exit, knowing what awaited them if they continued to disobey Her Highness. The guards opened it from either side as the crowd of men and women made their departure, Lord Sharpsteel giving his Queen a last bow before turning and marching away himself. Antonia continued to stand firm, glaring at the masses, her thin fingers splayed over the rounded, golden ends of her throne's arms. Once the Great Hall was clear of everyone except for her and her guards, Antonia fell back into her throne with a groan and a sigh.

Rubbing at her forehead with a gloved-hand, Antonia took several deep breaths, enjoying the silence that had fallen over her throne room. There was only so much one woman could take! Falling deeper into the gaudy, high-back throne, she clasped her thighs together, performing the action with all the grace befitting her position, the movement imperceptible under her long dress; by the Countless Underworlds she was horny! Having grown so accustomed to having her needs taken care of at the drop of a hat, the fact that she hadn't had an orgasm in over a week was akin to torture for the aging Queen!

She bit her lower lip as she fought back against her libido, her fingers gripping the arms of her throne until her knuckles went white under their gloved coverings. Closing her eyes, she continued to breathe in deeply, using the calming techniques she'd been taught by her etiquette tutors in her childhood; they weren't meant for this kind of relaxation, but they still got the job done regardless! After several minutes of this quiet meditation, she unclenched her eyes and legs, and turned in her throne, looking to one of her personal guards, ready to command that he fetch the one person she actually wanted to see at that moment.

Before she could utter a word, the door that led deeper into the palace creaked open, a short figure hobbling into view.

Hunched back and enshrouded in a floor-length black robe, the person meandering into the Great Hall was the recipient of at-attention salutes by all of the guards in his vicinity, the armor-clad men and women banging their greave-clad hands against their breastplates with a series of metallic clangs. He paid them no mind, his feet mutedly plodding against the chiseled, stone ground as he made a snail-line for the Queen. Supporting his twisted form with a long wooden staff, its bottom clattering onto the granite surface in front of his legs, the top ornamented with a crystalline-ball - made of the same inherently-mystical gem that Potentia was currently at war over - he moved carefully across the throne room.

The walking-aid was hewn from a mysterious source, its gnarled, branching shape possessing a deep, emerald hue, greener than the leaves that may have once sprouted from its source. It never seemed to chip or crack despite its obvious age, maintaining its otherworldly form perfectly; it also never left the hands of its owner, not a single person in the entire Kingdom having ever seen him without it. Currently more glass-like in its appearance, the orb embedded at the wooden support's highest point was translucent in its clarity - though this wasn't always the case. Many had seen it occasionally sparkle or flash a bright glare, though none knew what caused this to occur.

Much like the stave itself, the person holding it was just as peculiar. If one lived in or patronized the palace regularly, they knew of him. He was the Queen's closest advisor, after all! As he had been the previous Monarch's, and the one before that, and the one before that, and so on and so forth since time immemorial; he had seemingly existed for as long as Potentia itself had! And he was always present when Antonia needed him, whether she actually called on him or not - a part of her wondered if he could read her mind, but she had never had the nerve to question him. Why would she?

Horavus had never steered her wrong.

"Ah Horavus, there you are!" Antonia exclaimed, sitting upright in her throne, a genuine smile creeping onto her normally terse expression, "Just the man I was hoping to see."

"Greeting, Queen Antonia Ignitas," he rumbled once he managed to find his way to the steps leading up to the throne, his voice deep and raspy like he'd spent a lifetime of gargling shards of glass, "how may this humble servant be of aid to you today?"

"You know you can drop the formalities, my trusted advisor. Would you like anything? A chair to rest your weary body on? Wine? Lords Below I know I could use some at this moment! I can have a servant fetch whatever you need."