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That left nine.
None of them moved a muscle barring Ryleigh. Like a stallion thwarted he shuffled, rolled his head and blew air down his nose.
Still Naphatalie ignored him.
‘I still need three,’ she announced imperiously. ‘Three more men to copulate with the Queen on a daily basis.’
‘Seed is of the utmost importance in this matter and as such you will show the quantity and consistency of your jism. Each of you will draw forth his load onto the breasts of my chosen handmaiden and I will inspect your offering.’
‘Is that clear?’
‘Yes your Majesty!’ came the swift, loud reply. Ryleigh however looked troubled.
‘Is there a problem here?’ whispered the Queen menacingly beside his ear.
‘No Ma am. It’s just that I’d rather it be your breasts not someone elses.’
‘You have to earn that right. You cannot just claim it. Now, work that handsome dick for me and let me see how much you want inside my regal pussy.’
He said nothing else. His hand went straight to his semi erect rod and in no time at all he was hard as rock. The handmaid kneeling in front of him with her dress pulled down and breasts bare, teased him by pulling on her nipples and groaning. She slipped one finger inside herself, squelching and roaming her interior. But his gaze was set fast on the Queen. It was her cunt he visualized slurping at his dick, her muscles heightening his length. To his mind, it was not his precum whetting him. It was Queen Naphtalie’s desire, coating him in her approval. He tortured himself for far longer than the other men who had already spent. Everyone in the room silently urged him on. His face was utterly anguished as he tugged and beat himself raw, tendons showing in his neck and sweat dripping off his brow.
‘Ahh…ahhh…AHHH…’ he cried as his precious load shot out onto the nameless handmaid’s breasts.
It was quite the scene, nine men spent and withered and nine handmaidens subservient and doused as ordered. Her Royal Highness of Centineium approached the lineup and tried to focus on anything other than tasting Ryleighs cum.
But it was nigh on impossible.
If ever a man’s release looked legendary this was it. Elouise or whatever her name was, breasts were glazed in a pearlescent white. The flamed light of the torches lining the walls made the dripping sperm look opalescent. There were colours of the rainbow in it. The girl looked breathless. Her pupils were dilated as if drugged. No doubt it was warm as wax melted and she was probably wishing it splashed in a very different place, thought The Queen tetchilly.
Vexed once more, she disregarded them both and turned her attention to the others.
They all looked tired barring one. Number two. He looked more than ready to go again.
‘Get out and clean yourself,’ said Naphtalie, dismissing the girl in front of him.
She fled hurriedly pulling her dress up and the Queen smirked at her receding form.
‘So,’ she said, gripping him by the hair and pulling him to his feet. ‘Was this spurting on my behalf or someone elses? For hers perhaps? Did you like her?’
She had him trapped. She was smart enough to smell any lies and cold enough to dissect the truth to its deepest level.
Although naked, limp cocked and wet, he stood at ease.
‘My ejaculant left my body for you my Queen. I am here to serve, if you will only let me.’
Even in such a condition, head bent, naked, shrunken balls, he carried himself well. He would not be easy to break. And the thought crossed her mind that she might not want him to be.
Squatting with her silk gown spread round her, she took him into her mouth and tasted his delights. There was not much of it as most had been deposited over the maiden’s chest but it was enough to draw a conclusion, as was the scent of him and the feel.
‘This one will be mine as well,’ she told the Equerry, who had returned.
‘As you wish your Highness.’
He turned to attend to his duties but Naphtalie struck the wall behind her with the riding crop.
‘You have not yet been dismissed!’
‘Apologies my Lady. I am at your service.’
‘Yes you are. You really, really are. I have chosen my last two seed sowers. I choose this one,’ she said, whipping Ryleighs strapping thigh.
‘And the last one Ma Lady?’
The Queen slowly turned full circle and stared him straight in the face.
‘Well that would be you Jared. You are to be my fifth.’
It was a strange situation that Jared was in, his job as Equerry now taken over by Callum, the Vice Equerry. As for himself, he was now housed in the stables along with the other ‘stallions’ or ‘seed bearers’ as Her Majesty liked to call them. He couldn’t work out if this was a demotion or promotion since his clothes had been taken away, his freedoms were totally curtailed and he was exercised rigorously three times a day to improve his condition. As far as he knew, none of the other ‘seed bearers’ had been taken to service the Queen and it had been five days since the ‘choosing.’
Maybe her appetites were not as legendary as rumour had it. Or maybe she was priming her prey before she swooped in for the kill. The latter thought should have worried Jared. But somehow it had him hardening.
‘I hope you are not planning on wanking that cock,’ said a voice.
Jared looked up in shock, hand poised to touch himself.
The Queen was observing him through the wooden bars of his pen.
How long had she been there?
‘I apologise my Queen. It is just that thoughts of you have roused me and I have not shed my seed these last five days. It grows heavy within me. I ache.’
‘Thoughts of me?’ she said casually, opening the door to his stable.
She stepped inside, her elegant gold and black boots exposed as she lifted her skirts to avoid the straw bedding.
Jared swallowed hard. Naphtalie had her luxuriant chestnut hair twisted and braided in the most decadent and ornate ways upon her head. At her pale white earlobes, silver drop earrings with jet black stones swayed. Her dress was blood red. Not fresh blood. No. The kind that came from a deep wound and spilled out briskly on the floor. It encased her curvaceous body above the waist, forcing her breasts to be seen like two pale white peaches of prodigious size. As she breathed they pressed together all the more and fought a fine battle to free themselves from the squared neckline of her puce coloured dress.
Those delectable peaches had him hardening and since he was naked, there was no hiding it.
He stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands or where to look.
The Queen looked highly amused by his plight and eyed his male accoutrements wryly. For a while she said nothing. She just let him marinate in his own humiliation and discomfort and enjoyed the splendor of his work honed form. Just when he appeared to relax slightly, she informed him of her plans.
‘You will be brought to my chambers this evening along with number seven – your Queen requires some fucking.’
His eyebrows shot up and his dick spasmed.
‘That is not all that will occur. You will be toyed with and tested too. So no exercise for you today and no wanking. Just food and rest. Understood?’
‘Yes my lady. It will be…an honour.’
‘You always were such an excellent servant my dear,’ she said, moving forward to gently cup his balls. After a light squeeze she left his stall, leaving only her enigmatic perfume and a befuddled ex Equerry in her wake.
Later that night, Jared found himself being trailed by a lead rein fastened to a leather collar up through the palace and to the monarch’s chambers.
He knew exactly where he was going. To his Mistress. He knew exactly what was required. Possibly. However number seven was going to be joining them and that part was shrouded in mystery.
He quashed the questions that filled his mind. He focused only on the steady throb of his dick. Where it wanted to go. What it wanted to fill. What would she be wearing? Would she be wearing anything? He had never seen her naked before but he had imagined it often. Probably many men had. But he and number seven were to be the lucky ones tonight. They would get to see her. Be with her. Quite possibly fuck her. Or she might very well fuck them.