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They were on all fours, all in a row. Twelve of them chosen from a host of potentials. None of them were wearing a stitch as per the newly crowned Queen Naphtalie’s orders. She stalked the mosaic floor behind them, watching. Observing. Her heavily embroidered gown swished, grazing their feet. They did not move. Her mouth was set. There were thoughts running through her head and they knew it. Her power was tangible.
‘You,’ she growled, prodding the bare testicles of the seventh submissive male with her riding crop. ‘Turn around and let me see you. Stand. And don’t take all day.’
The submissive stood, awkward with nerves, not knowing what might be expected. Queen Naphtalie eyed him, not intimidated in the slightest.
‘Come,’ she said, summoning her ladies in waiting.
They scurried over. And with her riding crop and her servants help they examined him.
‘He appears of average size Your Highness in terms of penis,’ chimed a little blonde handmaiden. She was kneeling at his feet and pulling back his skin to peer at what lay beneath.
‘Lick it,’ the Queen commanded.
The handmaiden did. Number seven’s cock lurched.
‘Again!’ demanded the Queen.
The wide eyed handmaiden dragged her tongue obediently along his shaft, snagging a trail of precum along the way. She seemed confused as to what to do with it. It hung from her lips till it met her chin.
‘Swallow it girl.’ said the Queen.
The maid called Penelope did so. With wide eyes and a hidden wet cunt.
‘Well? What flavour is he? Do you like him well?’ enquired the Queen.
‘I do your Majesty. He tastes like honeyed mead. Syrupy sweet.’
‘Does he indeed. I need proof.’
The handmaiden and number seven looked uneasy. A sort of agreement passed between the two and Penelope scooped up a little of his oozing on her forefinger and approached the Queen. She had no idea if it was what the Queen expected. But she dropped to one knee and held her finger aloft.
‘I offer this tribute from the cock of number seven. I only hope it is to her Majesty’s liking with all my heart. You have my loyalty always, Mistress.’
Queen Naphtalie took in the scene. Savoured the moment. Number seven’s beautiful ass, his precum gleaming on Penelope’s forefinger. His subservience. And she could not help but be aroused. She was half tempted to have her handmaiden insert it into her quim while it was still warm. But she needed to know his flavour.
‘Feed it to me Pen. Feed it to your Queen so that I may know.’
Naturally she did as she was commanded, wet oozing from her cleft all the time.
The Queen engulfed her finger, sampling number seven’s goey tribute.
‘His flavour is indeed rather delightful. And such comely genitals. Put him in the breeding stables. I want him on the appropriate diet. He needs to be fit and strong.’
‘Yes Ma’am,’ said Penelope, face turned towards the floor.
Queen Naphatalie eyed number seven’s increasingly angry looking erection and swiped his ass mercilessly with her riding crop.
‘Cage him too. We will have none of this blatant unauthorised arousal. When his cock is required to harden for his Mistress and Queen it may – but not before. Now take him away.’
Penelope helped him from his prone position. He was indeed a strong man, but kneeling for so long on the stone floor had locked his joints. Cock still jutting, she handed him over to the Queen’s human equerry.
‘Who have we here?’ murmured Naphtalie, approaching an extremely young male, one with a lithe physique and short cropped blonde hair.
He knew better than to turn around.
‘Julius, your Majesty.’
She stalked around him. His cheeks were conspicuously flushed.
‘Penelope. Spread his cheeks so that I may see.’
‘Yes, Ma lady.’
Penelope dropped to her knees behind Julius and pulled his ass cheeks apart as ordered. The young man’s face grew redder still.
‘Such beautiful innocence,’ muttered the Queen. And then she leaned forward and spat hard upon his puckered hole.
Julius flinched visibly and his cock dripped it’s anticipation in a glistening trail that was attempting to reach the ground.
‘I will take this one too,’ she informed the Vice Equerry.
Julius was led away, leaving the other men numbering ten.
She took a deep breath and thought of her needs. Of what she required. Yes, she needed an heir to the throne. But for the most part it was about satisfaction. Pleasure. Power and fucking. Of the ten left there was one that stood out in particular. She knew exactly who he was. Ryleigh. She’d grown up with him in the small town of Valdonia before she had become a Princess. She had watched him change from a mischievous boy to a tall strong accomplished man. In the darkness of her chambers, she had often stroked her centre over thoughts of his chiselled form. She imagined often how he might feel as he breached her heated holes. And here he was now in the flesh, naked. Hers for the taking.
So she ignored him.
‘Verity. Bring me number five,’ she said.
Her handmaiden helped number five to his feet and Naphtalie noted Ryleighs back stiffen.
‘I want to see the extent of his stamina, Verity. His body pleases me. But I can see his sac is taut already. I do not want brevity.’
Verity licked her lips. Number five was indeed handsome and the girl seemed quite affected.
‘What would you have me do, your Majesty?’
Queen Naphtalie produced an ornate fan and fanned her ample bosom.
‘I desire that you mount him and see how long it takes. In front of me, here right now.’
For a split second Verity looked unsure. But that look was soon wiped off her face when she remembered the importance of her service and loyalty. The vice Equerry laid some straw on the ground and number five settled himself upon it. His chest heaved, his eyes flickered here and there, wanting to settle upon the Queen but not daring. His heart was a maddening drum in his chest, his entire body a volcano on the brink. Lifting her skirts, Verity sank down and warned him…
‘If you cum too soon, your chance will be lost.’
He groaned and tried to hold it. He writhed, sweat soaked and desperate. The scene was killing him. It was too much. Too much carnality. Too much wantonness. Women watching. The Queen. Her wanting him in her bed. Fucking her. Filling her. And now this maid, so beautiful, so fair riding his cock to please her Mistress. It was more than he could take. His noises filled the room even though it was cavernous. Each and every single one of the naked males prostrating themselves shuddered at the sound of him cumming so viscerally. He gripped Verity’s waist and shoved himself up inside her, all the while fixing his burning gaze on the Queen. Finally when his pulsations had stopped, the handmaid dismounted and stood obediently to the side.
‘That was a poor performance,’ said the monarch.
‘However, you did well, Verity.’
‘Compensate number five as agreed. Send him on his way.’
‘Yes, my Queen,’ said Verity, curtseying and dripping man fluid from her quim.