I wrote this story by request on a subject I am not really interested about, just to see if I could do...

Raging Bull

by Valeska

The night didn’t bring much cooling after another hot and humid summer day. Born and raised in the south, Carrie still didn’t seem to accustom to the climate. A shimmer of sweat was glistening on the porcelain skin of her face, and the corset underneath her elaborate dress didn’t make breathing more comfortable for her either. She received many compliments for her red dress from her guests that just had left, how it matched the red of her lips, and well contrasted the blond of her long hair and the hazel of her eyes.

Many suitors came to visit since her father had passed away from the fever a month before, to express their condolences at her father’s death, and to advertise themselves as the new lord of the estate, if only Carrie would select them as her husband. Knowing that good business depended on good relations, she charmed every one of them, despite being disgusted at their hypocrisy and the trivial nature of their chatter.

What Carrie really concerned where the growing tensions with north. She feared it might escalate into a conflict that would threaten everything, their way of life, everything her father and his forefathers had built here and was now left in Carrie’s hands to be protected. Carrie stepped out to the balcony and looked over the plantation. The light of a full moon enabled her to see almost all of the lands she now ruled.

Paula stepped out on the balcony too, offering Carrie her cup. Tea with a shot of rum it usually was, but knowing Carrie had an exhausting day Paula had changed it in favor of rum with a shot of tea. Carrie smiled when she sipped of the cup.

They knew each other so well. Both women were of the same age, 24 years by now, and had known each other almost their whole lives. Paula had been a gift to Carrie by her father for her eighth birthday. He believed it was time for her to learn responsibility, and owning a personal slave would prepare her better for her future life than owning a dog ever could.

Paula wore a plain white maiden’s dress which contrasted her skin. She was not as dark as most of the other slaves, possibly that was why a different fate was chosen for her. Carrie noticed that there was no sign of sweat on her, her heritage must have prepared her much better for this climate. For the blink of an eye Carrie envied Paula.

“Should I prepare your bedroom now, my lady?”

In the 16 years of being her slave, Paula only called Carrie once by her name, on that day of her eighth birthday. And on the same day both experienced the whip for the first time, with Paula suffering and Carrie watching.

Carrie looked down on her estate once more. 

“No, I want to have a look at the stables. Inform the overseer and prepare me some clothes.”

She wanted to reassure herself everything was still in its place. If you want to defend what is yours, it always needs to be in the best condition possible, there is no excuse for anything less.

Paula nodded und hushed away. After Carrie had finished her cup of tea she went to her dressing room, where she found Paula waiting with more casual clothing already prepared. Paula began to untie the laces on the back of carries dress, and after the dress feel to the ground repeated the action with the laces of the corset. Carrie felt liberated at every bit of the corset being untied, allowing her to breath freely. When the corset fell it left Carrie in white stockings and underwear. She felt no shyness in front of Paula, why should she have? Paula helped her into her dresses every morning, did her hair and aided her bath, she knew every inch of Carrie’s body.

Now it would be trousers, blouse, jacket and riding boots for Carrie, all in earthy colors and all not suitable for a lady, but more practical for a plantation owner than a bell shaped dress. She put on most of it herself, only the riding boots needed a helping hand by Paula. As her last accessory she chose a riding crop, matching to her boots.

As they walked downstairs they were met by the overseer, a tall Irish man with a dark hair and a beard slowly turning grey.  

“Is there anything wrong, my lady?”

“I hope not. I just want to do a quick inspection.”

The quarter master often was quite frustrated by the erratic nature of his new employer. He was one of the few who didn’t need to fear that crop she was holding in her hand, but he wouldn’t like to be fired because she were unsatisfied with the way he run things on the plantation.

The three of them marched through the cotton fields outside the mansion. Paula hated that she had to join them. She hated being in the stables, because it reminded her of where she came from. She knew she wasn’t better as any of the slaves in there, but she knew her life was better, and she was ashamed to look into the eyes of the other slaves.

They arrived at the stable for female slaves first. Male and female slaves were kept separate to avoid uncontrolled mating. It was key to the success of a plantation that the slaves would only produce the best offspring, as it would increase the value of the slaves and reduce the need to buy new slaves from the market.

The quartermaster announced the presence of the owner and light all the lamps in the stable. The stable was made of only one long hall with small compartments patted with hay at each side. It was inhabited with about 50 women of all ages, and a few boys that were still too young to be separated from their mothers. All got up hastily in front of the mistress, none of them wanted to draw any special attention to themselves. They were clothed in the plainest of dresses, only to cover what would draw the male slaves’ attention from their work. Carrie walked through the lines, carefully inspecting every one of them, making them move by a motion of her crop. All of them looked healthy and athletic. She didn’t look at them as humans, to her they were animals like her horses, or like the cattle on the ranch of her uncle in the west. She nodded in satisfaction at the overseer.

“Good. Let’s move on.”

The stable for the male slaves was of identical design, but of about double size. Again Carrie made every slave stand up in front of her, bow, bend and turn at a wink of her crop. Only their reaction seemed a little different to her this time. It was like it took them more effort to obey her commands. Maybe they felt the last bit of pride stinging in the back of their heads, or maybe it was the sight of Carrie parading through a hall of male black slaves that never in their lives had been allowed to touch a white woman. Carrie enjoyed the feeling of power. All slaves were dressed only in plain trousers, and a few times she motioned for a slave to drop them to conduct a more thorough with her crop.

“Satisfied, my lady?”

“Not quite, overseer. How successful are we in the breeding process?”

“Everything is fine there too. We have always produced fine offspring.”

“If everything is so fine you can surely demonstrate me?”

“Oh… well I’m sure that’s nothing a lady like you should bother yourself with.”

Carrie smiled at the quartermaster.

“Thank you for considering my wellbeing, but I’ll decide with what I will bother myself with or not. Have an insemination set up in half an hour.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I’d like to see these two bulls.”

She pointed at two young black men standing next to each other still with their trousers down.

“Of course, my lady. Would you like to go back to the other stable to select a mare?”

Carrie took a moment to decide.

“Hm… I don’t think that will be necessary. We can take this one right here.”

A shock run through Paula’s body has she saw Carrie’s crop pointing at her.

“But… please… Carrie…”

The smile on Carrie’s face immediately disappeared and her amused voice turned into a vicious hiss. “One more word and you’ll stay here. Do you understand me?”

“Yes… yes, my lady.” Paula sunk her head, hardly concealing her tears.

“Good. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Carrie left the stables and waited outside a cotton field. She pulled a small bottle of rum from her jacket and took a quick sip. Enjoying the clear summer night she watched as the overseer rushed back and forth hurdling slaves between the stables and the little hut in between them where the insemination would take place. When the overseer finished his set-up, he signaled for his employer to enter the hut.

The hut consisted of only one small room, light by a single lamp at the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a wooden rack, Paula was tied over it, facing down, naked , her hands and feet each tied to a leg of the rack, leaving her helpless and open to all that was to come. A hood was pulled over her head and her muffled noises suggested she was gagged.

At the side of the room two male slaves sat on a bench, naked too and with a hood over their head, but only chained at one of their feet.

Carrie turned to the quartermaster: “Why the hood?”

“It is important they don’t recognize each other. We don’t want any family attachments in here, that would only make things more difficult. It’s a safety precaution. We gag them with cotton balls too so they can’t speak.”

Paula could not speak, but she could hear. She knew all too well what it meant. She never knew who her father was, and imagined her mother being tied to the very same rack 25 years ago. She hoped this humiliation would soon be over, but she knew it was going to be worse before it became better.

Carrie let her hands glide over Paula’s exposed body. She closed her eyes and wondered about how peculiar it was that black skin didn’t feel any different from white skin. She let her hand wonder over Paula’s slit, feeling her lips and parting them. Despite all the shame and humiliation in Paula’s mind, her body started to react to the touch of her mistress. Carrie started to feel the moisture. She slipped a finger inside her passage and noticed with amusement that her personal slave had saved her virginity up to this moment. With a sudden thrust Carrie decided to take it herself before one of the bulls would do. A cry could be heard from Paula, although nobody could have told if it was a cry of pain or of pleasure.

“I think she is ready now. Bring a bull.”

The overseer led one of the bulls from the bench to the rack. His chains rattled on the wooden floor.

“Thank you, overseer. I think I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You can wait outside. I’ll call when I need you again.”

Reluctantly the quartermaster left. The nameless bull was now standing right behind the mare, formally known as Paula. Carrie was fascinated by the size of his cock. She reached out for it and started to prepare him too, stroking his cock up and down, feeling it grow larger than she could cover with both of her hands.

When she was satisfied with them both, she opened Paula’s lips with one of her hands and guided the bull’s cock into her with the other. Again a cry was heard from Paula, much louder this time as the enormous cock pushed all the way into her. From there on no guidance was needed, the bull started to fuck Paula fast and forcefully, with Carrie watching in amusement but also growing arousal. Every thrust of the bull was accompanied with a muffled cry by Paula, to Carrie it seemed almost like he was pumping the air out of her lungs. It was the strangest sight, two naked bodies with hoods over their head, almost like puppets in motion, and Carrie conducting the play.

It only took the bull minutes to cum, followed by the loud applause of Carrie.

She led the bull back to his bench. His exhaustion was visible by the hood over his head moving with his hard breathing. Carrie let her fingers run again over Paula’s body, this time it was glistening with sweat, she must not have been used to the climate in this hut. Carrie slowly started to untie her slave, first her feet and hands, than loosening the hood and allowing her to spit the cotton from her mouth, but leaving her head still covered.

Carrie leaned over Paula, holding her down she whispered:

“Do you hate me now?”

“No, my lady.” It was a bold lie, and Carrie didn’t bother to believe it.

“You can stand up now, and take the hood off.”

As Paula got up she felt all her bones aching, and the wooden bar of the rack had left a bruise all along her chest. As she slowly took of the hood she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Carrie was standing in front of her, perfectly naked from head to toe. Slowly she leaned over the rack into the same position that she had just freed her slave of.

Looking at Paula her mouth silently formed the words:

“Bring me a bull.”

So Paula obeyed, and this time it was hers to watch in amazement the strange spectacle that was unfolding in front of her. Her white owner being taken by a black slave. And obviously enjoying every second of it.

Carrie reached her own climax the moment the bull came inside of her. She bit into her first to avoid crying out. When she got up from the rack she could feel his cum dripping from between her legs.

Smiling at Paula she walked up to her and whispered in her ear:

“Now I know why our father liked to spend so much time here.”

This is based on a true story and contains some fantasy elements... but I am not going to tell you where the report ends and the fantasy starts... ;)

Rag doll

by Valeska

In the 10^th grade we made a school trip to Tuscany. It was the last year of middle school, and we were just a few month away from our graduation. Most of my classmates were 16 like me, few a year or two older, depending on their previous success in school.

We stayed at a little hotel near the beach, not much more comfortable than a youth hostel, but the beach and a place to sleep were all we needed. I shared a room with 5 other girls and I was lucky enough to get one of the upper bunk beds. Most of the rooms looked the same.

Every day we would make a trip to one of the historic sites, which interested me more than most of the others. And every evening we would party on the hotel terrace, get drunk on red wine that we were not used to.

One night the party got relocated from outside to one of the boys rooms. Like every night a teacher would come to end the party:

“Now everybody out of here who doesn’t belong in here! Go to bed!”

Reluctantly people started to leave the room, but on one of the lower bunk beds, very comfortable and very tipsy, I decided that tonight I would like a special invitation just for myself before I gave up my place. But I must have been out of the our teacher’s site, so after everybody except me left he slammed the door shut, not without yelling:

“Now I don’t want to see anybody on the hallway anymore!”

To my surprise I was suddenly left in the room with the six boys that occupied it, and we all burst out in laughter at our new situation.

We continued the party, just a little quieter to not attract any more attention by the teachers. So we drank more red wine, chatted, joked and laughed, but like every party it was slowly but surely leaning towards its end.

That confronted us with a new problem though, if nobody was allowed on the hallway, I must stay in the room, and if I stayed, how would we all get ready for bed? And in which bed would I sleep?

The first boy decided to go to the bathroom change into his pajama shorts, very much to the immature laughter of all the rest of the boys.

The second boy chose to get changed in the room with his back to me, telling me I could watch and I would like what I see. And I did. I liked his ass and after a bottle of red wine I wasn’t shy in telling him.

All six of them were regular teen boys, none of them I particularly favored or disliked, but that night they all looked good to me. I suppose besides the alcohol I was flattered to be center of their attention for once. I suppose I was an average girl myself, pretty but never the prettiest, smart but never the smartest, funny but never the funniest. The attention usually focused on others, but that night it was all about me.

I suppose the boys tried to challenge each other, so the third got changed facing me, giving me a short glimpse of his cock. Again much to my approval.

That must have inspired the forth not to bother to change at all, but to just pull down his pants and ask me if I liked his cock more.

“Boys, I can’t see them very well from back here. You’ll have to come closer.”

Sassy me. I’m usually not like that.

Both boys came forward to show me their best part in detail, and soon the others felt brave enough to join, so that I suddenly found myself circled by six cocks.

The sight of a cock was not unknown to me, I wasn’t a virgin anymore, but it still was something new and exciting to me, and six of them all lined up for me made my eyes widen in fascination. I stared at them, wondering about the different shapes and sizes.

“Now which do you like best?”

I heard the words, and it actually surprised me that there was somebody talking who was attached to that cock. I didn’t answer. I just instinctively reached out for a cock and took it into my hand. It grew rock hard in an instant, to the roar of the other boys. Of course everybody wanted me to touch it now. And I did.

As every one of them got hard in my hands my own reaction started to change too. I seemed to instantly sober up, but all the energy of my body seemed to be sucked down into my lower belly, creating a powerful feeling of arousal.  

Only one boy didn’t get hard in my hands, the one who had changed in the bathroom before. His face turned red in embracement, and some of the other boys started to giggle. Maybe I took pity in him too. Maybe I was annoyed my hand didn’t make him hard. Or maybe I just wanted it. But I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around his cock. It grew hard in a second.

The other boys didn’t laugh anymore, they just silently watched me suck. The felling in belly just grew stronger as I felt their eyes on me. I teased the tip of his cock with my tongue and garbed his balls with my hands. It took him less than a minute to cum. He filled my mouth and I swallowed everything down, spilling not a single drop.

The taste of cum was not new to me either, but it confirmed my experience that every guy has a slightly unique taste to him.

“I think I like this one the best.”

I hardly finished that sentence before five cocks pointed straight to my mouth to be the next one to be sucked. Soon it felt like a dozen hands on my body, pulling, tugging and ripping my clothes, buttons flying away. Every inch of revealed skin was instantly explored by another hand, touching me all over. Fingers started to rub my slit, not that it wasn’t already flowing with moisture, but the boys wanted to check for themselves before they entered me.

The boys took turns at my mouth and at my pussy, with their young energy fucking me like rabbits, shooting their loads inside of me or over me whenever they came.

My mind was far beyond any ration, it was overwhelming to me to be the center of all that sexual energy.

Animal instinct. That’s what it was. Not only for me but for the boys too. These regular teen boys turned into a pack of wolves and they turned me into their prey.

When the first guy entered my ass I wasn’t asked anymore, instead he asked one of the others to hold my arms secure. He wasn’t gentle anymore, he just forced into me. It was painful. And I would have screamed if not a cock was pushing into my throat at the very same moment.

If I had asked them to stop they wouldn’t have. You could have called it gang rape. But I loved every second of it.

They took turns on me over and over and over again. I lost count on how many loads were shot into my pussy, my ass, my mouth or on my face. After a while I just noticed it becoming less cum, I supposed they were wearing themselves out.

And suddenly it stopped. Just like that. I got kicked onto the floor as every of their guys took their own bed. They switched of the light and went to sleep.

I remember thinking about what just had happened as I lay down on the floor, but it was too much for my mind to process. In the end I was just exhausted, and it didn’t take me long to fall asleep.

In the night I woke several times to one of the guys having another fuck or shooting his load into my face. I don’t know how often, I wasn’t sure if it was dream or reality and I didn’t care.

I woke up again at the first sunbeam. As I stood up I could see myself in a mirror. Naked, my face and hair plastered with dried cum, bruises all over my body. I collected my clothes, tried to get some of them on but all were shred to pieces. Carefully I checked the hallway. It was empty and I hushed naked across it to my own room. I could feel my sore pussy and ass at every step I made, and cum was still oozing from them.

I silently entered the room, all the other girls were sleeping and I hushed into the bathroom. I took a shower and dressed in a bathrobe. Nobody even noticed that I was gone for the night. That happens when you are not the center of attention.

This is pretty much what happened too, word by word...

Featherweight

by Valeska

There was a big family gathering. I think it was my father’s birthday party. We have a large family, both my parents have a got a lot siblings so the room was filled with uncles and aunts. Most of them hadn’t seen me in a while so I got a lot of these annoying sentences like “look how or little girl has grown”, or the even more annoying pinches in the cheek. I was 11 years by the time, and I wondered if ever a child at any age would have liked that.

One of my uncles I liked very much though. He was my mother’s older brother. He wasn’t married or had children of his own, which was very unusual in our family. I supposed he saw something like his substitute child in me, and he treated me accordingly.

My uncle lifted me up to hug me.

“My god you are still light as a feather. Are your parents giving you anything to eat at all?”

He was just teasing of course, my mother is a wonderful cook, but the energetic child that I was burned every calorie that was stuffed into her.

“I do weigh 56 lbs already.”

I said it kind of with pride, as this were the days when 11 year old were not already anorexic.

“Can’t be, when have you last weighed yourself?”

“Uhm... last week.”

“Then go cheek again... I’ll bet you a candy bar that you don’t weigh more than 55 lbs now.“

“OK.”

With a smile I went upstairs, in best hopes to win the bet. The scales were in the bathroom, it was an old model with a dial moving as you stepped on it. For fun I would jump on it hard to try to get it to hit the maximum of 240 lbs. Standing still it would show much less that day, but enough to win me a candy bar.

Satisfied I announced the result to my uncle: “57 lbs.”

“Really? Can’t be! Did you get on that scale wearing those shoes and that pretty dress of yours?”

“Uhm... sure. Why?”

“Because they weigh at least 4 lbs, so you are only 54 lbs, you lose.”

“No! I’ll prove it to you.”

I heard my uncle laughing loud as he had managed to upset me again and I run off back to the bathroom. I couldn’t deny a certain logic in his words though, my clothes must way something, the question was only how much.

So back in the bathroom I took off my shoes and my socks, took off my dress, and my panties. Completely nude I nervously got back on the scale, and waited with big eyes for the new result.

Excited by the result I run back downstairs and triumphantly exclaimed:

“56 lbs. Even nude!”

To prove my point I didn’t redress. So at 11 years of age, but without any signs of womanhood, I am standing completely naked in a room with about 30 of my parents friends and relatives.

The noisy room that was filled with chatter and laughter turned dead silent within the blink of an eye. Everyone was staring at me. But still blessed with childish innocence, I didn’t think anything about it.

My uncle was the first one to regain his voice.

“That’s great dear. You win.”

Joyfully I left and walked back up the stairs to get dressed again.

As I returned nobody talked to me about what had happened. Looking back I guess they had no other topic though when I had left the room. What weird child my parents must have raised.

My uncle gave me a candy bar, and we talked a little more.

“You know, if you like you could spend the summer holidays at my farm.”

I really liked my uncle.

This is basically a true story...

Thank you for the flowers

by Valeska

I think I was about 8 years old. It must have been a Saturday afternoon, my parents were at home, so were I and my 3 year old sister.

My mother gave me some money, just a few coins but a fortune for a child my age, and she told me to go down to the shop and buy something nice for myself and my sister. Not too long ago I would have spent the whole money on myself, but in Sunday school we had just learned about the virtue of sharing, and I actually was excited to have an opportunity to try it in real life.

So I took my little sister by the hand and went down to the shop, a little supermarket at the corner of our street.  I spent quite a lot of time there thinking about what I would buy, this was a serious investment for a little girl like me and the possibilities in that little corner shop seemed endless. In the end I bought a little comic book for myself and one of those things to make soap bubbles for my sister.

Still having some of the money left I decided to buy my mom some flowers to thank her for her kind and selfless gift. The money only lasted for one flower though, which became a single red rose.

With my comic book and the rose for my mom in one hand, and my little sister blowing soap bubbles all along the way in my other hand, I walked back home to our house, which to my surprise seemed to be empty.

Where did mommy and daddy go?

I investigated the house, the car was still parked outside, keys and shoes were still in the wardrobe, the TV was switched off. At that age I often would be scared alone, but in that moment I was more curious than afraid. I began to investigate every room of the house, quite systematically. I took the rose with me as I wanted to give it to my mom when I had found her.

As I went upstairs I began to hear strange noises coming from my parents bedroom. They were just noises to me, and I didn’t think more of them than just a clue to where my parents would be.

I opened the bedroom door like I would open any door. My parents were both on the bed and naked, my mom on all fours and my dad kneeling behind her butt. He held her hips with his hands and both where rocking back and forth, making a slapping sound as the bumped together. My mother was a voluptuous woman at the time, when they bumped together you could see the impact running through her body, and her large breasts bouncing somewhat against their rhythm. Whatever they were doing it seemed to be exhausting, as both were sweating and breathing hard.

It took them a moment to notice me. Both stopped their strange actions, but made no attempt to cover their nudity.

“Hello my dear, we didn’t expect you home so soon.” My mom spoke perfectly calm and kind, not in the tone that was familiar to me when I did something wrong.

“Uhm… I went to the shop and bought something for both of us like you said. I even bought you a flower.” I threw the rose on the bed and it landed right beneath my mom’s breasts.

“Thank you my dear, that’s very kind of you. Now go and watch some TV with your sister, we’ll be right with you.”

“Uhm…OK.”

I closed the door, went downstairs, jumped on the sofa and switched on some cartoons. When my parents came a few minutes later, fully dressed, everything was like any other Saturday afternoon again. We never talked about what has happened.

Thinking back at the day when I caught my parents during fucking, two things make me smile.

First of all my own blissful innocence. Being totally unaware of anything sexual. I suspected they might be doing something that was only for adults. I didn’t want to disturb them, but actually I couldn’t have cared less too. If they wanted to bump against each other on the bed nude, why should I care? They could do that as long as they wanted as long as I could watch cartoons in the meantime.

But what cracks me up even more today is the way my mother talked to me. Actually it was a very adult reaction to talk to me as calmly as that, instead of hiding under a blanket and screaming at me as you probably would expect. Still it amuses me that she kindly thanked me for the flower while my father’s cock was inside of her pussy, or her ass.

This is a little story based on a role play I did a while ago... and one of my more extreme fantasies, so beware! :D

As I have a rather cinematic mind this is my image of the title character:

Queen’s court

 by Valeska

The young peasant girl placed a kiss on each of the queen’s slippers. Standing back into position, she humbly lowered her eyes. She was not supposed to look at the queen, but she could see her residing on her throne in a reflection on the perfectly polished marble floor.

Slowly the queen stepped down from her throne, circling the peasant girl, with her elaborate royal gown swinging softly like a bell at every of her steps, carefully examining her newest property. She let her fingers strive of the peasant girl’s neck, down to her bust. The peasant girl’s simple dress felt almost like an insult to the queen’s eyes and touch.

“Remove that rug.” The queen spoke in a commanding, yet almost bored tone.

The frightened girl opened her dress and let it slip to the ground, while the queen continued to slowly circle her, observe her and occasionally let her fingers run over different parts of her body.

The girl still looked to the ground. She couldn’t help but start to shiver, because of the cold air of the court hall, and because of all the stories she had heard about the things happening here. She didn’t know if the legends were true. There was no way to know because no girl to be brought in front of the queen ever returned home.

“How old are you, my dear?”

“22, my lady.”

The voice of the peasant girl was shaking in fear. She was a beautiful girl, the prettiest of her village. Her face was of soft features, with hazel eyes and long dark hair. Her body was of curvy shapes, and the skin the queen continued to touch was of alabaster tone.

“You are well in shape.”

“I’m glad that I please you, my lady.”

“You do, my dear.”

The queen felt her side with her full hand, gripping her more firmly, before letting her hand wonder up again to cup the girl’s breasts.

The touch of the queen sent a thrill through the girl’s body, revealed by a soft gasp.

“You like the touch of a woman’s hand?” A notion of despise could be heard in the queen’s voice.

The peasant girl didn’t dare to answer.

“Look at me.”

The queen lifted the peasant girl’s chin with her finger.

“You have pretty eyes.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

The eyes of the queen were ice blue, sending a shiver through anybody who ever dared to look at them. Her elegant face was framed by red hair flowing in soft curls. She could be considered beautiful, but she didn’t allow to be regarded this way. She needed to be the queen, not the woman. When in doubt, it is better to be feared than loved. Instead of the comfort that this simple peasant girl would have known if she had been allowed to continue her life in the village, the queen warmed herself on all the beauties and pleasures the palace had to offer.

The queen slowly stepped out of her slippers, showing no emotion as she stood with her bare feet on the cold marble floor, looking at the shivering girl in front of her.

“Do you only kiss slippers?”

Ashamed by her hesitation the peasant girl quickly feel to her knees, kissing each foot lovingly and licking between and over each toe. The queen was pleased with her skill.

“You have been well educated. Where do you come from?”

“The eastern province, my lady.” The peasant girl looked up as she kneeled by the queens feet.

“You are a long way from home. Do you know that our customs here are very different from those of the outer provinces?”

“I have heard so. But I don't know all the differences yet or how best to avoid offense.”

“Well, since you are not of noble blood you are bound to serve me. In every way I may desire. So the only offense of yours would be to disobey me.”

“Never, my lady.”

“Do you know what I could possibly ask of you?”

“Anything, your majesty.”

“Your body, as I have said, is of very good shape. I might ask you to give it to me for the royal banquet.”

“Of course, your majesty, I am yours.”

The peasant girl heard herself say those words before she realized the nature of the queen’s request. She began to feel hot and cold all at once as she envisioned the cruelty that the queen spoke out so calmly.

But the queen smiled approvingly at the obedient slave to her feet.

“Lift your bottom up, as high as you can, with your face to the floor.”

The peasant girl obeyed at once, her hamstrings straining as she tried to straighten her legs as far as possible, trying to convince the queen of her usefulness beyond a dinner plate by her absolute obedience.

“Good my dear, just like that.”

The queen felt the girl’s legs with her hand, further inspecting her bottom and her inner thighs, covered by a warm and soft skin.

Excitement started to rise in the peasant girl as the queen continued to explore her. She bit her lips to silence a moan as the queen parted the folds of her sex. As the queen entered her with two fingers she couldn’t suppress a gasp anymore, which echoed in the marble court hall.

“I feel you like it, don’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“You should.”

The queen pulled her fingers out of the peasant slit, holding them under the nose of the girl. As she breathed in deeply she could smell her musky sweet scent on the queen’s fingers, and without a conscious thought she took one of the queen’s fingers in her mouth, sucking the thick juice from it, much to the queen’s surprise.

The queen looked down with amusement on this strange little animal in heat. As she withdraw her fingers she smelled them herself, then licked them, first the finger with the peasant girls saliva, then the other finger still holding the girl’s intimate juices. The queen smiled. She knew her aroma would fill up the hall nicely.

“Now, what shall I do with you? Your body tells me you would make a perfect roast for a royal banquet. Yet your behavior tells me you would make a perfect slave for the royal bedroom.”

The peasant girl listened to the always calm but commanding voice of the queen with a blend of hope and panic, as she watched her slowly walking up to her throne again. Taking her rightful place the queen looked down on the girl. Still undecided about her fate she lifted her royal gown just the smallest bit.

The girl understood what was asked of her, and that this command may be her last chance for survival, so she instantly crawled beneath the queen’s gown, kissing her toes, ankles, knees and thighs before thrusting her tongue between the queen’s folds, feverishly trying to please the royal clit.

The queen dutifully kept her composure as she felt the pleasure rising up from below her corset, biting her finger to stop herself from moaning.

“You’re doing well, my dear.” The queens voice turned husky as her breathing increased.

The girl flicked her tongue enthusiastically while she buried her nose inside the queen’s sex, massaging the queen’s clit.

Trying the hardest to keep her composure as she felt the pleasure rolling through her body, the queen enclosed her legs around the girl and pulled her in deeper. Unable to breathe the girl pushed and thrusted desperately with her tongue inside the queen’s passage, hoping to accelerate her satisfaction.

It wasn't long until the queen reached her climax, and she let the girl know by flooding her face with all her juices. The queen almost fainted from the restraint of her corset, and her attempt not to show emotion. She bit her finger until it bled.

She sunk down on her throne, exhausted and sweating, but still holding the girls face tight in her sex with her legs, flooded with juices but deprived of air.

Soon the girl started to struggle for oxygen, but that only made the pleasure build up in the queen again, as the doomed girl involuntarily pleased her with her desperation.

The queen held the girl’s head in place with her legs as forcefully as she could, even as the girl in her desperate fight for survival was clawing her nails into the queen’s thighs.

The queen enjoyed the heat of the struggle beneath her gown. She licked her lips at the sight of the girl’s trembling legs, the only visible evidence of what was happening. The legs that will soon be served at her table on the royal banquet.

The girl coughed and choked against her crotch, her fighting became less as her muscles tensed up.

As she felt the struggle to become weaker, the queen’s pleasure grew greater. When she reached another climax she let out an inhuman cry that could be heard in the whole palace and beyond.

Savoring the moment the queen watched the girl’s legs stop twitching. She let her grip go, and the purple faced peasant girl feel lifeless on the marble floor, with blank eyes staring up.

After she regained her composure the queen rose from her throne. Slowly circling the now dead body she examined her work. With her naked toes she carefully wiped her juices off the girl’s blue lips. The queen smiled at the pretty picture she had drawn today.

“Call for the cook.”

This is a little scene based on something I once wrote when somebody asked me how my day was...

Office Morning

by Valeska

I am not a secretary, although everybody thinks I am. I have given up explaining the differences and the importance of my job, because in the end nobody really cares. And it is true that I do many things you would expect from a secretary, typing, filing, answering the phone, and many other little tasks my boss gives to me.

This morning has not been special, in no way. I spent my time drinking coffee, doing what I do, and waiting for the time to my lunch break to pass.

The boss calls me into his office.

“Good morning Jenna, would you please make me a cup of coffee?”

“Certainly Sir.”

“Thank you. Oh, and Jenna, when you come back could you please give me a blowjob?”

“Of course Sir.”

I nod and leave his office on the way to the kitchen.

To be honest I dislike that he calls me by my first name while I still have to call him Sir. To some degree I think it’s disrespectful, it makes me feel like I’m little schoolgirl and he is my teacher.

In the kitchen I start to make coffee. My boss needs me to do it because coffee machines are not what they used to be and he can’t handle them anymore. I like the sound of the pouring coffee, its smell, it makes me relaxed. Two pieces of sugar, no milk, that’s how he likes it.

I carry the cup of coffee back into his office, and place it on his desk.

“Thank you Jenna.” My boss nods and smiles friendly.

I go down to my knees, and crawl underneath his desk. I place my hand on his crouch and massage it a little, it feels warm, yet still soft. I unbuckle his belt, open up the top button of his trousers, and slowly pull his zipper down with my teeth. My hand slide beneath his pants, and carefully I unravel his cock and balls. I kiss my way down his shaft, and as I reach the tip I take his cock all in my mouth. As I caress his cock with my tongue, I feel it grow and harden in my mouth. Soon I have to push it hard into my throat to take it all in.

So I work his cock, sucking it, licking it, kissing it. I cannot see my boss above the desk, but I hear him sipping his coffee, and writing a few lines on his computer.

Suddenly I notice the typing stops, and his breathing gets harder. I massage his balls with my hand, and place my mouth over the tip of his cock. Without further notification his cum fills my mouth, warm and sticky. I take it all in and lick up every drop before I carefully place his cleaned cock back into his pants, zip his trousers back up and buckle his belt.

I straighten my hair as I crawl up from beneath the desk. I notice my boss has finished his cup of coffee, and take it from his desk.

“Thank you Jenna, that will be all for now.” The boss gives me and appreciating smile and turns back to his work.

Back in the kitchen I clean the cup along with some other dishes, I do it by hand, the machine never does it properly. There is a small mirror in the kitchen in which I check my hair again.

As I return to my desk I resume my work, doing what I do, typing, filing, answering the phone, waiting for my lunch break.

I swallow his cum and wonder about the funny feeling it leaves on my teeth.