by Adrian Amos
The hundreds of eyes focused on me are no longer sympathetic―if there were any to begin with―but are now leering with a lust hungry for more. I shout, “No, stop! This is embarrassing. If this is what you want, it should be done in your chambers.”
“Don't tell me what to do,” the Queen shoots back, “You're a little fucking slut. I'm going to fuck you in front of everyone here. Let the world see the whore in you.”
She grabs the back of my neck and forces her mouth on mine. I struggle and moan, trying to break free, but the handmaidens have me locked down. The Queen tweaks my nipple with her left hand, releasing a wave of unexpected pleasure, stopped short as the Queen slaps my pussy with her right hand. The sudden impact shocks me, even more so when I feel a slight splash between my legs.
“Look at that,” the Queen says, “The princess is wet.”
As much as it is embarrassing, it feels more so that I can't recall what made me wet in the first place. Was it imagining the King inside me? Or was it the touch of the Queen? Or was it the men circling around, building heat as they close in and emanate excitement? I can see erections all around; some men trying to conceal them, others making no effort whatsoever.
The Queen moves her hand back down and runs her fingers over the cloth of my panties. The slickness lets her fingers glide smoothly between my folds. My clit tingles as her fingers cross over it. Her lips let mine go and she bends down to engulf a nipple in her mouth.
My body aches, building something strong down below. I want to speak up and cry out, but I can barely focus. Pleasure strikes me from both my pussy and my nipple, and the hands circling and holding my wrists make me tingle. I think to resist, but a part of me is glad I can't.
I had never been treated or touched this way. My King was too quick to war, and we had sex only a couple of times. His intent was to impregnate me before he left, so anything beyond penetration was not given much thought.
But the Queen's touch is meticulous, rough but tender. Her tongue circles my nipple, and her teeth pull it gently. Her mouth comes off my nipple and bites into my outstretched neck. She sucks and runs her tongue over me, seemingly enjoying the taste of me as she grunts and moans, vibrating the tendons in my neck.
I feel a calloused hand reach out and grab my breast, pinching the nipple. It makes me moan even louder, until I hear the Queen shout, “Hands off, you dog. She's mine!”
I look over. The crowd has circled us so tightly that one of the men had grown adventurous and reached in to grab a hold of me.
But at the Queen's command he backs off, and the crowd seems to inch back slightly as well, but it is so dense and closely packed that the nearest onlookers can barely move away from the scene.
I am being dominated by a woman, and all the men around are itching to fuck me. I feel a pulse between my legs, imagining what would happen if the Queen turned me loose. I would be ravished by the mob. I could not count the number of dicks that would use me and fill me. I feel ashamed. I do not know what is worse: that I almost want it to happen, or that I am grateful that I belong to the Queen.
The Queen snaps her fingers at the two free handmaidens and points downward, then grabs the back of my neck again and bites in. I moan, but still notice two sets of tiny hands pull at the band of my panties, yanking them straight to the ground. My pussy is exposed, eliciting grunts and shouts of approval from the crowd. I shake, trapped between penetrating eyes and wanting the Queen to touch me down below again.
The Queen is unfazed by her audience, slipping her fingers roughly back into my slit. The straight contact onto my pussy is like electricity, causing me to squirm and pull my legs up. She does not relent, vigorously massaging my clit and dancing between the folds.
And when it all starts to feel like too much, she pushes two fingers into my pussy. She syncs her actions for a while, biting into me, tweaking my nipple, and thrusting her fingers all at once.
The Queen pulls back away from me. I breathe and pant heavily as the two handmaidens let my arms ago. I am too tired to move, but the girls undo the ties to my corset and fling it to the ground, leaving me completely naked.
The Queen turns back and shouts at the King, “I'm going to turn this little princess into a real slut. I bet you I can get her begging for more.”
The crowd cheers. I notice the King for the first time, still sitting in his throne, a smile turning his lips.
I can't admit I am enjoying it. I can't let her have the satisfaction, give in to her will. “You are sick, an animal. You do not deserve to rule. You can't wield power and treat me like this.”
“Again, telling me what to do,” she says, shaking her head, “It is not about deserve. It is about what I'm allowed to do. And with you, I'm allowed to do whatever I want. That is true power.”
I notice the other two girls fixing something to the Queen, tying it together around her waist.
It is a massive, fake dick, strapped to her by belts and loops, thick in girth and length.
“Turn her around. Let me see that young little pussy.”
The two girls grab me again, turn me around, drop me to my knees, and plant my face into the ground as my ass sticks into the air. It is as if I feel a breeze in the hall, which makes me shiver as goosebumps prickle on my ass and down my thighs.
I feel small hands―definitely not the Queen's―on both sides of me, grabbing between my ass cheeks and pulling me apart. Something feels so wrong at the moment, I struggle at this, trying to shake them off.
“Slap her!” commands the Queen.
The two girls take turns striking me in the ass with the palms of their hands. I hear whistling from the crowd as the stings land. The hands redden my ass, the stings bristling me, making me take notice of the ultimate humiliation I am feeling.
“You bitch!” I shout.
The Queen laughs, “Now that's the fight I like to hear.”
The girls quit slapping and spread me apart again. I feel a body shift behind me, and then something sliding up and down my slit. The huge dick! The pressure is tremendous as the dick slides into me. Even as big as it looked, the dick moves in easily, guided by my soaked pussy. The thickness is overwhelming. I can't stifle my moans of pleasure or the pulsation of my pussy. The further it pushes in, the stronger and more sensitive the feeling.
The girls let go, letting the dick spread me apart. As the Queen pushes all the way in, she grabs a hold of my ass, squeezing it with lust. She digs her nails in as she slowly eases the dick in and out. She starts thrusting harder, driving every inch in, making me squirm from the intensity.
I am lost in my own world of pleasure. I know this because the crowd sounds muffled and distant. I can't focus on anything but the dick pounding me from behind.
The Queen must have noticed my dazed state, because she leans over and says, “Are you listening to this, princess? Listen to what your countrymen are saying.”
As I pick my head up slightly, I begin to hear calls from the crowd.
“Fuck that bitch!”
“Fuck her good!”
“She's such a slut!”
I start to feel a twang in my stomach, but a build up in my pussy. I am ashamed at what I am hearing, by the people that were my subjects, but turned on incredibly by the force and aggression in the air. I feel like the whole crowd is fucking me; I want the Queen to ram me as hard as she can.
Then I hear something that knots my stomach even more.
“Put it in her ass!”
“Yeah, fuck her till she can't walk!”
The Queen pulls the dick out, and yells to the audience, “Now I wouldn't be a good and gracious Queen if I didn't listen to my subjects!” She turns back to me, “And that's what good Queen's do, don't they, little princess?”
Those two sets of little hands grab me and spread my ass apart again. This time I struggle as hard as I can. “No, it won't fit in there. Stop!” I get up, nearly to my feet, but am subdued by all four handmaidens. The two at my ass push me back down to my knees an
d spread me apart. The two at my arms hold me aloft, so my stomach and chest are parallel with the floor, lifting my arms over my head and suspending me like a marionette.
As I hang there, I feel pressure on my backside. The Queen is pushing at the door, but I am tensing to keep her out. I squeeze tight and her dick meets complete resistance.
She slaps me hard on the ass and says, “You better relax, little girl, or it's going to hurt a lot more.”
I keep tensing, unwilling to let go.
After a moment, as if by signal from the Queen, each of the handmaidens begin to rub their free hands over my body. Lightly, tenderly, nails and fingertips brushing my skin. The two up front run their fingers down my arms and across my back. The two in back run their fingers from my lower back, over my ass, and down my thighs. They caress me all over, massaging me and tickling my skin softly. They run their hands along my neck and between my thighs, even grazing my pussy on occasion. I immediately seize up, the sensation so powerful that I simultaneously relax and tense. My pussy squeezes as the hands hit sensitive locations, like under my ribs, my lower back, and the back and inside of my thighs around my pussy. Even my ass puckers, squeezing and relaxing as the tiny little hands massage my delicate skin, scraping their nails across my bare ass.
As I begin to soften, the Queen continues her push. I am unable to resist, the wandering hands relaxing me, loosening my muscles and resolve. My ass spreads almost readily, and I begin to moan loudly from the pressure and pain.
From the audience, I hear a man call out, “Yeah, she loves it in the ass!”
It makes me quiver and my ass seems to pull the cock in when I do. The Queen slowly thrusts in and out, and it does not take long for the pain to give way to pleasure. The long cock glides in and pushes me forward, swinging me back and forth as the girls hold my arms up. The girls spreading my ass back away, letting my cheeks come together and engulf the Queen's cock.
I feel both so full and powerless.
But that does not stop the girls from slowly letting my arms go. I drop forward, placing my hands on the ground to hold me up.
As I am bent over, the Queen continues to thrust into my ass. I begin to grind back on her, assisting with each movement. In and out, the cock slams into me, building up my pleasure. And all I want is more.
I hear whistling from the crowd again. “She's fucking herself!”
I look up and back to see that the Queen has stop thrusting, and I am slamming my ass back onto her cock. It's humiliating, but I can't stop. All I want to do is hit that buildup.
The Queen slams into me, grabbing and pulling my waist-long blonde hair. I let out a long moan as she holds me in place, keeping the dick in my ass as far as it will go. I can't move as she restrains me by my hair.
“You want me to keep fucking you, don't you, little girl?”
I'm breathing hard; my hands claw at the ground from the intensity, making sure I don't fall over; I don't know how to respond. I'm so out of it I can barely think.
She pulls back and slams her dick into me, eliciting another grunt from me.
“Answer me!”
“Yes!” I shout, only able to think the most basic thoughts. If I was more cognizant, I would have probably resisted. But I just want her to take me.
“Yes, what?” she says.
“I want you to keep fucking me.”
“Say please, and tell me where,” I could hear the smile in her voice.
I pause and swallow. “Please,” I say, “Keep fucking me in the ass.”
“I told you I'd get you to fucking beg, bitch.”
And she thrusts, hard, plowing into me with a vengeance, pulling my hair and lighting my ass up.
I don't need handmaidens to hold me anymore; I couldn't be kept from this ass fucking.
The Queen lifts me by my hair, picking me up from my hands, pressing my back against her body. As she continues to thrust into me, she wraps her hand around my throat, choking me slightly. Her other hand glides over my tight, stretched stomach, which makes me convulse, as it's a pleasure as intense as any other.
“Who do you serve?” she asks.
“You,” I say.
“Tell me I am your Queen,” she says, thrusting hard, building me back up again.
“You are my Queen! I serve you!” I shout.
The audience erupts, excited at my submission. My countrymen watch me beg, as if they've always wanted this. With my back arched and my tits pressed forward, I feel like I'm presenting my self for examination. My nipples are hard and pimpled from nothing more than prying eyes. Something about the Queen's hand on my throat, the other caressing my stomach, and her dick in my ass, that makes me feel owned and possessed. It also helps that I can feel her hot breath on my neck and in my ear.
“Good, now cum for me, little princess.”
She hooks her arms around me, grabbing my breasts and squeezing them for leverage as she drives into me.
I reach my arms back. Something inside me wants to touch her, to feel her. I grab her hips as she slams into me, but all I feel is the hard leather of her clothing.
It makes me realize for the first time that I am the only one that is naked in the room filled with hundreds of people. Even the woman fucking me has the dignity of her clothes.
I am vulnerable.
Weak.
Only fit to be ruled.
And yet, as exposed as I am to all these men, my Queen makes me feel safe and protected.
So I cum. I cum for her. I orgasm for the first time in my life, exploding with pleasure as my body vibrates with the spasms of my muscles. I scream and moan as the Queen squeezes my breasts and sticks me in the ass one more time.
The Queen pulls out and I fall forward, lying on the ground, unable to feel or see or hear my surroundings. Only the aftershocks. Only the pleasure.
After that, all I feel are tiny hands gathering me up and carrying me away from the crowd.
* * *
I fiddle with the gold choker around my neck. On it are emblazoned the words “Little Princess.” A gift from the Queen. A special memento of our time together.
I kneel beside my Queen's throne. Not uncomfortable; she gave me the cushiest kneeling pillow she could find. Another gift, which I need, especially since I am tasked to kneel and watch her conquer queens and princesses and highborn posers.
I am topless, as I always am during these events. The Queen would have it no other way. But I am not embarrassed. Everyone is too focused on the poor little girl being ravished by the Queen in the middle of the throne room.
The Queen pushes her cock into the little girl's asshole, thrusting with a passion I know only from the Queen. She never tires of it, only looking to find her next conquest.
But I know the girl means nothing. She's just a girl, part of a prestigious family of a small village. A girl who needs to know her place, a place of unimportance. She means nothing; she never was much of anything to begin with.
I, on the other hand, hold a special place in my lady's heart. I was the Queen before her; I was her first conquest; I still am her most important subject. I hold a special place at her side, the place I kneel now. Occasionally, I may help my Queen subdue her subjects, but she tends to have me watch instead. I've watched every conquest, over two dozen women―not even the King has seen them all―and I alone kneel at her side.
The horn sounds. It signals that a new battle is already won. I stand up, waiting for my lady to dismount her new subject. A sigh of relief and ecstasy escapes the conquered woman as the giant cock is removed from her begging, pulsating ass. The Queen would normally make her new subject grovel for more, but instead she walks off toward her chambers, face aglow with her new victory, but surely caught up in the thought of a new prisoner arriving soon. A tight little smirk crosses her face as she exits the hall.
I rush over to the young girl and put my hand on her back. At this, her ass quivers, her hole pulsates, grabbing at something, anything, to fill her back up.
Poor girl. The Queen is done with her, interrupted by a new conquest. The young girl barely got to experience her new servitude. I hope the Queen pities her and chooses to ravish her again, although I know this girl will never have much of a place.
The girl, realizing the ceremony is over, looks back at me. "What's going on?"
"Stand. I will get you cleaned up and find you some new clothing."
As she stands up, she yanks her hand away from me. "Who are you?" she says, indignantly.
I reach out, snap up her wrist, and pull her toward me. "Respect me," I say, smiling, "For I am queen of the harem. You are its newest resident, and it is my job to make sure you live up to the Queen's expectations."
I smile again. The look on her face is delicious. The pronouncement of my title always draws the same reaction from my new charges. The word harem sends a shock through their bodies, fear at the thought of being a concubine, a whore at the whim of royalty. But it doesn't take long for that shock to give way to a spark of excitement.
It is a realization, a shimmering hope.
She might just get a second chance with the Queen yet.
- - -
Conquered by my Therapist
My heart is racing.
I don't know why. I don't think it's my anxiety. It feels like I'm caught up in something, like I'm nervous, apprehensive about... I don't know what.
It almost feels like I have butterflies in my stomach.
This is the third time I've felt this feeling. Each time it happens, I'm in the middle of driving to my appointment with Megan. What does it mean? Am I nervous about talking to her?
But that can't be it. I've been going to her for a year now, we've had dozens of meetings. She knows about my mom, about my ex-fiance, about my sister's illness. What would I be nervous about?
Something is off, though. I need to talk to her about it.
As I pull into the parking lot and enter her office building, my heart seizes once more. I just feel so goddamned nervous, it's killing me. I stop for a moment, regulate my breathing, and continue on to her office on the third floor.
