The Queen Transformed Ch. 02

Gladia's mouth gaped open, and she came immediately. That was only the first of many orgasms to come. Whatever failings the man in front of her might have as a human being, he was no stranger to the art of fucking. She guessed that he had tried out all his merchandise before, and so he knew his way around a woman's body better than anyone she had lain with. In her time in the castle, Gladia'd had her fair share of lovers, but this man was on a totally different level entirely. He knew just where to touch to elicit the greatest response, how deep to dig his fingers into her tunnel, and with just how much force to kiss her. Within minutes she was a quivering, panting mess.

She tried to mount a feeble defense, but he was too strong for her. Again, and again his rod plundered her depths, ripping climax after climax from her overdeveloped body. It was her breasts once again that were her undoing—they were just so big and sensitive that the slaver had to do little more than bury his hands in their voluminous depths before she came continuously. Any resistance was futile. She tried to push back against him, to gain some modicum of control over the ravaging of her body, but he would have none of it, manhandling her roughly and delightfully until finally she succumbed to pleasure, spreading her legs as wide as they would go and moaning in utter surrender. If she was to be the reward for service rendered, then let it not be said that she didn't deliver!

The slaver fucked her to a few more intense orgasms, but after a few minutes, he too was near his peak. She felt the telltale tightening of his muscles and cock that signaled his imminent release, and Gladia squeezed herself around her lover more tightly than ever, trying to pre-empt his orgasm. In her carnal escapades, she found that one of the things she liked best was the delicious sensation of how a man's cock would swell up almost to bursting just before it spurted into her tight tunnel—how it would grow tighter, harder and hotter, like a molten rod inside of her. How her partners would strain and grunt and try to delay the inevitable, until finally they succumbed to pleasure and flooded her insides with warm cum. It was further proof that no one could resist her considerable charms or voluptuous body.

The slaver was no different. As he tightened inside and around her, Gladia responded by clenching her inner muscles as much as she could around his thick rod and mashing her giant, pierced tits against his muscled chest, until with a loud grunt, he delivered a load inside her. She moaned and stretched as she felt her lover pulse deep into her depths, completely and utterly satisfied. Then the slaver pulled out, leaving her to bask in the afterglow, and exited the room.

In a few minutes, Gladia had sufficiently recovered from her post-coital haze to be able to get to her feet and look around. Someone had thoughtfully provided a tub in which to wash, and a fresh set of clothes to wear. It wouldn't do to continue her meeting naked and reeking of sex, no matter that they had arranged for it.

The thorough usage she had experienced at the hands of the slaver had cleared her head, and it was a calmer, more composed Gladia who walked back into the main hall that she had vacated not two hours ago. She fancied that she had regained some of her regal air, though the clinking of her nipple rings as they rattled on her giant breasts reminded her that at least for now, she was still in the body of a slave.

The hooded figure was waiting for her in the main hall, but this time before it could speak, the queen spoke first. She had enough of the resistance dictating terms and conditions to her. If they were to do business, then she would at least need to know one simple fact.

"Do you have a name?"

The figure paused, as if considering. Then it nodded its head.

"Yes, your Highness, as a matter of fact, I do. My name is Tyzhe. And I am afraid that that is all I can reveal to you at this moment."

Gladia wasn't entirely surprised—the resistance did seem to love its cloak and daggers. But a name was better than nothing, and to her it was a sign that they had begun to treat her, if not as an equal, as someone who was worthy of their time.

The queen then asked the next question that was on her mind. "What would you have me do?"

"Simply wait, for now. We will do our best to inform you about any recent developments, and of course, we will let you know the moment we know anything concerning your children. We are not currently able to reverse the spell on you, but since that was caused by a potion and not by Rampillion's magic, that might take more time than we anticipated."

Gladia didn't even think to ask how they knew about the potion. The resistance seemed to know a lot more than they let on.

"Are you sure there isn't something else you would require my assistance with?" She asked half in jest, both dreading and anticipating the answer.

"Now that you mention it, your Highness, there is. We are in the process of recruiting several mercenary companies for an eventual coup that we plan to stage. However, their services do not come cheap, and we cannot pay them just in coin. Furthermore, our spies and the slavers that have joined our cause also need some...compensation for their services. If you could assist in this regard, we would be most appreciative."

She knew it. She was going to be made to service MORE slaves. Well, it made sense—she had to keep her identity secret, and there was little else she had to offer now but her ridiculously overdeveloped body. At least the waiting would be pleasurable. And, if she was going to be completely honest with herself, a steadily growing part of her looked forwards to being able to have wild, unrestrained sex with as many men as possible. She was aching to try out her rings further. They had already given her so much pleasure, and she wanted to know what other delights might be in store for her. Whether these thoughts were really hers or created by the alchemist's potion, Gladia had long since given up trying to answer. And, did it really matter anymore?

She nodded once again, the contract sealed. Then, she was led off to the barracks. It was going to be a long two weeks.

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