Queendom 13: Pt. B

Author's note: This is a direct continuation of 'Chapter 13: Dreamstone' as it is currently published. I'm publishing this seperately because, editing an existing work takes a lot longer in Literotica to get published. This way the eager amongst you get to read this sooner. When the original Chapter 13 gets updated with the complete version in a few weeks, I'll be removing this chapter.

⚠️ Disclaimer: Some may find a particular fetish explored in here a bit off-putting. Check the story tags if you don't mind spoilers. And if it's not your cup of tea, just skip past a couple paragraphs. There's still plenty spicy vanilla content in there for all to enjoy. ⚠️

Price of Mishandling

"I get a bad feeling about this."

Jokshun whispered to Tabitha, whose eyes reflected similar concerns. The last time he had stepped into this room, he nearly feared of never seeing daylight again. It was the day when he was promoted to the position of Handler, alongside three others. A position he hadn't even heard of till then, which entailed responsibilities that would sound preposterous even as a joke. Now here there again, assembled in that same dimly lit underground chamber, with long pillars extending to the eternal void.

"Tabitha, don't you feel it?"

"I wish it was just the crypt giving you creeps, Jokshun. But from what I heard.."

"What? What did you hear..?"

The coachman leaned in, eyeing the other two sitting across. Jezeb lacking his usual cool, and Hoyt staring into the dark wall, as if awaiting the executioner. Tabitha sighed.

"I'm not sure if I should tell. Without knowing the whole truth anyhow, and.. I'd rather not gossip on this one."

"Come on, Tabitha. Give me something."

CREAK..!!

The four Handlers looked up, hearing the crypt door open from upstairs, followed by the loud echoing footsteps coming down the stairs. Lady Agrafena is here. They remembered the evening not so long ago, when they all were summoned down to this very room, to be assigned as Handlers for the Royal Decoy. They remembered the anxiety and confusion from back then being nothing compared to the fire in their bellies now. Jokshun tried desperately.

"Tabitha please. Don't make me face it blind."

"All I know is that something went wrong with the Handler Program. Hence we've been ordered to stay put, for the last few weeks. My money is on Jezeb, but seeing Hoyt now.. I think he's in the wrong as well."

"Wrong.? As in.."

"As in horribly wrong! I heard the girl got exposed. Injured even.."

"Like an accident? But them both had gone along with the Queen's convoy all around Wolkenshire. You saying that was the decoy instead?! And this story about riding accident.. You buy any of it?"

"I don't know. I mean.. I think those are unrelated. Something else went bad with the decoy in Hillsdale. I'm talking disastrous, Jokshun. I don't think we'll be seeing Demura anymore."

As the doors swung open, in walked the Head of Households, Bellatrix of Agrafena, followed by four handmaidens. Tabitha immediately recognized them. The Mutes. A special servant-class meant for menial tasks in secretive meetings. Consisting entirely of hearing and speech-impaired, mostly natural born, but there have been cases of being made mute. Partial severe deafness, as in they could hear only high pitch. The form-fitting robes their wore, with long netted sleeves and grey coif covering both ears, and those binders.. The thin-framed circular spectacles blocking the peripheral vision.. Those did not help reduce the sense of dread.

Bellatrix didn't even give a formal good-evening as she headed straight for her chair on the other end of the long table. The four maidens stood by directly behind the seated Handlers. Sitting down, Bella produced a small bell, and rang it once. And the four 'Mutes' looked her way instantly. High-pitched sounds, Tabitha smiled remembering. Now comes the real test.

The Horse-whisperer, still ignoring the standing Handlers, raised her right hand, and made a few quick gestures. But this time handmaidens looked at each other, visibly puzzled. Bella nearly used both hands clumsily in her attempted sign-language, mouthing 'CLOSE the DOOOOR', before turning to Tabitha.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you?"

"A bit. Apologies, Lady Households." The Head-maiden muffled a chuckle.

Glancing askance at the rest, Bella signaled them to sit down, saying.

"Tabitha, would you please tell the ladies to close that damn door, and distribute the files."

Having trained in various modes of communication as part of her spy-side, Tabitha did it with little effort, smiling reverentially at her superior. That failed attempt didn't make her feel any less of the Horse Whisperer, for Tabitha had seen up-close her development so far. The signs for door and book are a bit tricky to differentiate, something the experienced handmaidens could have easily picked on, so it could very well be the four pulling her leg. Even the mutes, she supposed, were immune to having some inside jokes.

"Now, we take a detailed audit of the Handler activity so far. And Tabitha.." Bellatrix looked at her the Mute standing behind placed a folder before the experienced head-maid. "For now you take down the reports. Only you and Hoyt are educated in reading and writing. And I don't trust Hoyt now, like I used to."

For the next thirty odd minutes, Lady Agrafena went over with each of them, in great scrutiny, every instance a Handler had used his authority. Jezeb had used it the most, unsuccessful each time in fishing out the decoy. Even getting himself punished once with overtime. For some reason Bellatrix didn't go into the details of Hoyt's mess, but it was evident from her tone that things were far from resolved.

The night at the Order of Sword still remained Tabitha's only successful outing with Demura. Unsurprisingly, Jokshun hadn't even made an effort so far, making the Horse Whisperer wonder whether to ditch him alongside Hoyt. Well, the decision is up to the Queen. Who knows how she'd rule, based on what rationale. Once Tabitha signaled that she had written down everything on the report, Bella nodded and spoke.

"Honestly, I had never expected a smashing success, given the nature of the program, but this.. And I'm not even taking into account the disaster Hoyt nearly caused. I know beyond a doubt that Demura had been deployed as decoy in at least a dozen public functions in the last two months. And you mean to tell me, that she had played the part perfectly, in all those instances..?! Or was it just you lot slacking off, ignoring the seriousness of the role bestowed upon you.??"

Hoyt kept his gaze low, as the rest of the three exchanged glances, unsure about responding.

"Speak up..!" Bellatrix demanded.

"Lady Households, if I may.." Jezeb raised his hand a bit. "How can we be so sure, that the decoy isn't playing with us.? She is supposed to answer truthfully when confronted, but.. You know she's a crafty one. Isn't it possible at least occasionally, for her to play us for fools? To pose like the actual Queen, by simply ignoring us."

"You are forgetting, Jezeb, that she can't lie on the records." Bella shifted in her seat, feeling a bit bad inside, for in reality these four were being played for fools for the most part, to the mood-swings of Her Majesty. "I have here the official records, of all the days Demura was assigned the job. With you yourself standing guard some days. But unfortunately, on the days you chose to walk up to her, to use your authority as a Handler.. You just messed up, and asked the real Queen."

"So it is a job well done then.?!" Jezeb had a sigh of relief. "I mean, she did her job well, so I couldn't spot her. And I had remained watchful still."

"Oh, for God's sake, Jezeb.. You and your watchful eye."

As all four looked at him, Jezeb felt like the only one out of loop.

"What? I don't understand.."

"Please.." Bella waved her hand at the rest scoffingly. "Aren't you the Handlers?! Handle your colleague first, would you.?"

"Your stare, Jezeb." Hoyt said, remembering the times he had stopped Jezeb from acting out his suspicions. "She meant the way you stare. Like I'd warned you a million times."

"Stare..?!" Jokshun spoke up as well. "I think the right word is ogling. And right at the royal bosoms, if you can believe it. Jezeb you make it way too obvious."

"How dare you two lecture me?! You, with your pathetic worship of the Queen. How are you to spot a fake, Jokshun, if you never ever meet her eye?! And you.." Jezeb shifted towards Hoyt, sounding truly annoyed. "Yes, my eyes may have lingered on her bosoms. Because I know the way the decoy's cleavage jiggles. I think we had established it the last time. And for you to warn me, Hoyt.. After the mess you alone made..?! That's rich!"

"Your conduct matters, Jezeb." Tabitha interjected. "You are too damn focused on smoking out the decoy that you forget at times, to be discrete. The way you stare at Her Highness, what kind of precedence do you think it sets?"

"Hey, at the very least I made an effort. My methods may be flawed, but I did try. That's more of an achievement than what you managed Tabitha, expect for the one time you knew upfront, the girl was a decoy. Point fingers at me all day. But, can any one of you confidently say, they can tell the Queen apart from the decoy."

"Of course they don't!"

All three men looked at Tabitha, but she just stared back at them puzzled. It was a feminine voice, so the four shifted their gaze to Bella, even though the cadence was all different. Bellatrix slowly got up from her chair, and bowed gently at the shadow behind Tabitha.

"You can't even tell when your Queen is in the room. How could any of you be expected of spotting a fake?!" Walking up from behind, one of the four Mutes said as she gently pulled of the coif, letting the thick auburn mane unfurl. As she sat down in the chair left vacant by the Head of Households, all the handlers sat there staring, confused. All three, except for Jokshun, who had already stood up and was now bowing in reverence. Once she removed the large blinder-like goggles, the rest of the three as well stood up startled, realizing who this was.

Their Queen, the Great Chaste herself.

"Sit down. There's no time for deference, I have a meeting in thirty minutes. And before I leave this room, the fate of this program will be decided. So.."

Bellatrix placed a small sand timer atop the table, and stepped beside the seated Queen as Elanor reached for the small bell. Ringing it once to get the Mutes attention, Her Highness went effortlessly through a series of quick gestures, signing with her hands even too quick for Tabitha to follow. The Mutes bowed in affirmative and placed on the table the folders they have been holding, one for each handler. Soon they were provided with quills and ink.

Elanor continued. "When I was first informed of such a novel concept, despite my doubts, I wanted this to succeed. But seeing the results now.. I'm ashamed of you. Of all five, including you, Bellatrix..! Are these the bright minds you had entrusted with safeguarding my likeness.? The Royal Likeness of Wolkenshire.??! Pathetic. Utterly pathetic."

The Queen stopped for a moment, and observed the faces before. Hoyt clearly hadn't escaped the guilt. Jezeb is masking his annoyance with silence, like a good misogynist, never too happy being lectured by a woman, and Jokshun.. He kept his gaze down, and listened to every word. Tabitha had that practiced non-expression, very much suiting a Domestic Espionage agent. No, it wasn't just that. There was a hint of that masking smile, typical of female agents when blamed for the mess ups of their male counterparts. Then again, it wasn't like Tabitha had performed remarkably well on her own.

"It was a mistake on your part, Bella, to give these amateurs something like the Cross of Absheil. Had I known in advance, I sure would have warned. How can you expect such country bums to wield an artifact of such power. It's a miracle they hadn't destroyed anything of significance so far. Again, pathetic. And who among you is.. Hoyt.?!" The Queen asked, pretending to look at the file in her hand.

"Highness.."

Hoyt stood up, and bowed, keeping his gaze to the floor. The Queen gave him a condescending look, though the Horse Whisperer found the hamminess of her performance a bit obvious.

"Remind me again, Bella. Why is he here, and not eighteen feet under in a dungeon?"

"Highness the decoy girl had insisted repeatedly that what happened in Hillsdale was her repeatedly. That this man, Hoyt, though obnoxious at first, had tried his best later on to salvage the situation."

"A situation which was his making, right?"

"Correct, Highness." Bella sounded meek.

"By abusing the authority of the 'Cross of Absheil'. Tell me again, Bella. Why hasn't he been locked up yet?"

Because you said me not to, Nora. Bellatrix looked back at the Queen, irritated at how much her taunting tone resembled Adriana. That skanky showgirl has become such a bad influence. Bella cleared her throat. "Um.. Highness, though he had clearly abused the Cross, to gain access to Fort Sanctum, within the bounds of a Handler, I believe he had clear strategies in place, in protecting the decoy. We have multiple sources corroborating, that it was the girl's actions that resulted in the mess."

"Hmm.. And this girl, Demira.. She's..?"

"Recovering still, Highness. Demura isn't an easy find. With how significantly we are already invested in perfecting her Royal likeness.. She realizes her mistake now."

Bella said, as she nodded reassuringly at Hoyt.

"If you say so. Either way, this idiot has proved himself untrustworthy with such power. In fact, it's an overkill, giving the Cross to these many people. I understand the spirit of the program, but at best I may allow one Cross of Absheil, for the entire Handlers. It will be the responsibility of the team leader from here on. One of you four, the one who has proven their worth. All that, if I'm convinced enough to give this program a second chance, before the sand runs out."

Elanor pointed at the hour glass, as she nodded to Bella.

"The folders before each of you contains three tests. Two simple questions on each test, multiple-choice questions. Answer as you please, but wisely. Once you are done with Test 1, do not proceed to Test 2. Instead just close the folder and raise it above. The nearby Mute will pick it up, and take it to Her Highness. The Queen will leave her remarks, and keeping it in mind, you may proceed to Test 2, and so on. Any questions?"

The rules weren't much different from the tests most of them have taken for any job beyond the entry levels, so all four Handlers were on the same page. The Queen reminded.

"This is your one chance to save the program. If any one of you shows promise, that understand the assignment well.. That you can balance near-perfectly, both discretion and vigilance.. That you can be responsible with the Cross of Absheil, then maybe the Handler's Program stands a chance. For now, I'm leaning towards dismissal. You have less than twenty five minutes to change my mind. START..!"

Tabitha was the first to reach for the folder. She wasted no time examining the beautiful leather sheath, nor the royal insignia in gold, but went straight for the test, with her right wrist already swirling the inkwell with her quill. It wasn't like she particularly enjoyed the role of a Handler, but she just couldn't admit defeat. She wasn't going to be demoted, for the fault of others, and besides.. She simply wasn't going to let go a chance, at taming that Demura girl. Especially since knowing the tricks her tongue alone could do. Suppressing a giggle form the memory, Tabitha scanned the first page.

TEST 1

1. One of the four must be made team-leader. Who are you picking?

☐ Hoyt

☐ Jezeb

☐ Jokshun

☐ Tabitha

2. One of the four must be let go. Who are you picking?

☐ Hoyt

☐ Jezeb

☐ Jokshun

☐ Tabitha

That's it.?! Tabitha was genuinely confused. She had expected some complex hypothetical question exploring the moral greys of the Handler powers, but this is.. May be it's a trick question. Or may be, how we answer this is going to inform the future questions, like a psychological test. We'll if I am to lead, then I must project confidence, so..

Tabitha drew a tick in the box next to her name, as it was obvious to her, with the years of experience as an agent, that she was more than qualified to lead, compared to the other three morons. Now who should I kick out.?

Tabitha wasn't going to let Jokshun go, for one she had known him the longest, had shared a few drinks and jokes on occasion. And more importantly he is a simpleton. No one comes handy like a simpleton, when things go south and you are in need of a scapegoat. Obviously I'd never find myself in a mess like that pompous Hoyt, but.. Better safe than sorry, and Jokshun.. You'd be the best safety nest.

She decided to let go of Jezeb. He's a wild card, unpredictable. And I don't want to be held accountable for that lecherous leer. Also, it'd be easier to keep Hoyt leashed, given the guilt he already carries. And it'd reflect better on me, second chances and all. Haha...

Swish..!

Hardly a minute had passed when Tabitha raised the folded folder up in the air, for the Mutes to see. With the basic reading comprehension it wasn't odd that the others took longer to answer, except for Hoyt. Tabitha kept her gaze down, but she could hear Her highness scribbling something quickly in her folder.

As the head-maid lost herself for a moment in daydreams, with the Queen praising her professionalism, her leadership qualities, and presenting her alone with the mighty 'Cross of Absheil', along with a leash.. On the other end of which was a kneeling replica of the Great Chaste, the decadent Demura herself. As the Queen signed with her hands something indecipherable, the pet replica sprung to life, pushing her delicate palms against Tabitha's thighs. Spreading them apart, as her face descended, with such hunger in those eyes, and the glistening tongue-tip, ready to worm up the Head-maid's loose cooch.

THUD..!

Tabitha was startled by the sound of the folder landing on the table. The Mute had returned it, for her next test. Oh, yes.. There were three separate tests. Eager to know the Queen's remarks, she flipped it open, and her confidence was instantly halved. In the most eye-pleasing handwriting she had seen to date, it was written on the Test 1, below the questions, what the True-ruling Monarch felt about her choices.

Do better.

Simple and precise.

Feeling deflated, yet wanting to prove her worth, Tabitha flipped the page, eager for the next test. And as her eyes scanned, her jaw slightly dropped. What the fuck?!

TEST 2

1. One of the four must be made team-leader. Who are you picking?

☐ Hoyt

☐ Jezeb

☐ Jokshun

☐ Tabitha

2. One of the four must be let go. Who are you picking?

☐ Hoyt

☐ Jezeb

☐ Jokshun

☐ Tabitha

Flicking back to the first test, and reading both multiple times to make sure there was no error, Tabitha dropped the quill, and slouched against the back-rest, now truly confused.

What the fuck?!

**

*

** Fifty minutes later**

"And finally, let me remind the Fostroms again, the decade old ruling by the Honorable Justiciar Faulkner. War-torn territory isn't war-claimed territory. And the Greens of Yevelshka and surrounding forests must be held sacred and untouched, despite conflicts of the day..."

Brehon Tupee had never sounded more confident, and a bit pompous, in any of his recent appearances. For a young lawyer, he was supremely pumped to have the Tribunal, the main regulatory agency of Wolkenshire, as his new client. The renowned Brehon representing the Fostroms, Brehon Shourn Bloensky, had been on a rough patch recently, with his last two cases for the same client faring poorly.

Rubbing his forehead, Archminister Grinwald kept following the line of argument, while taking brief glances at his Queen. Something is off. Her Highness is looking oddly intense and aloof. She doesn't seem over-worked, nor under-slept. No dark circles, nor signs for fatigue, though the breathing seems a bit controlled. Not exactly the state you'd want to judge such a complex case.

The Fostrom case, in itself wasn't anything special. But what made it special, is how the ruling could set a precedence for the many pending disputes. And Elanor had been following it carefully, since Grinwald had approached her about the effects it had on the ongoing war.

Closing his arguments, Tupee bowed and say back down, as the opposing lawyer stood up and walked to the center. AS he started making the case, the Queen seemed to be following it with great care, but Grinwald quickly recognized the odd thing. She was using the stage-eye.

It's a basic technique taught to young introverts interested in public office, to manage their fear of facing the crowds. The technique was to looking at the crowd when public speaking, without actually looking at them. Ignoring the crowd as a whole, the speaker should normally speak to each person, bouncing from one face to another, with the flow in in words. But for people who are prone to social anxiety, there is an additional trick. To face each person without facing them. To look at someone's, but focus on the chin or torso, of the one standing right behind. So in effect, you feel shielded from the one you are focusing on, by the one who your eyes are actually directed at. It's largely a psychological trick, one that Grinwald himself hadn't found much useful, but to each his own.

Why would the Great Chaste be using the 'stage-eye', that too in her own court? That made no sense. And she hadn't looked my way once, not even with the 'stage-eye'. Not to mention how late she came in. With a subject so close to her stated politics.. Something is definitely off with her today.

In short, Lord Fostrom had been pursuing Royal exclusive licenses for large scale mining of a recently discovered mineral deposit, which the Aestrikan forces happened upon while making marching roads through the Orcan grounds. There were many concerns, from humanitarian concerns of taking large work-forces deep into the jungle where half of them are likely to perish from malnutrition and disease.. To environmental concerns of uprooting many acres of forest, since such deposits are often sprawling.

But the Queen was mostly disturbed by the precedence such a license would set. For she saw it as an outgrowth of war-profiting. If such conflicts were proven to be hugely profitable, with more abundant resources being discovered, large money will be funneled in to courts across kingdoms, lobbying for the financial interests of the merchant-class. The last thing Elanor wanted was seeing the hell that took away her beloved, mutating into a well-oiled machinery, fuelled by blood and greed. At the same time, she didn't want to come down with a dictatorial hammer on the merchant-class, who are the financial backbone of any thriving kingdom.

Given her invested, the Queen's current coldness made no sense. As Grinwald thought this through, the opposing lawyer was nearing conclusion.

"And let me re-iterate Her Highness.. My clients, the Fostroms, are citizens in good standing, providing every term to the Royal Treasury, a fortune in taxes without seeking any subsidy. They also donate more profit-share than any of their contemporaries, to the restoration works of the Holy Church, all across Wolkenshire."

Oh, that's got no bearing on the case. Such a tasteless tactic. The Archminister made a face, unimpressed. What bothered Grinwald the most was the uncharacteristic silence of the Queen. Sure, the True-ruling Monarch was supposed to listen as the both sides made their cases before weighing in, but there was something off about her bearing. She avoided even eye-contact, or the usual knowing smile of agreement, when she finds a particular argument far-fetched. She looked preoccupied. The forced stoicism on her face, which could crinkle at any moment, the overtly focused respiration like she's in the middle of some breathing exercise, and her oddly tight lips. Those puffy cheeks, the subtly reddening skin. And the qualia that could only be sensed, the one that Grinwald could find no words for.

Something about her whole bearing screamed discomfort, ever so slightly. Is she not feeling well? Should I check with her?

The Archminister nearly rose from his chair to approach the throne, when the Queen finally spoke.

"I'm not impressed Brehon Shourn."

The first remark from Her Highness in over a long twenty minutes surely made Brehon Tupee smile. Commanding the maid to stay, Elanor continued.

"My stance on the issue is no secret, but this is a fair hearing. Why do I feel like you are pulling the punches. Or has something else been bothering you?"

"Her Highness, I.." Shourn looked at the others present, before continuing. "I don't think it is an appropriate time for a disclosure."

Pointing at both the legal experts, the Queen said.

"Approach. Archminister, you too."

Soon all three were standing a couple feet from the royal throne. Elanor asked.

"Tell me Shourn, what's the accusation this time?"

"Highness, the Tribunal has purposefully delayed the proceedings, sending the legal notice on the very last minute. Though it's technically in the right, it doesn't take a genius to spot these unfair tactics."

"How late are we talking?" Elanor enquired.

"It's honestly preposterous, Highness. The notice was delivered to my office literally a minute before closing time, on the Day of Holy Rite when most employees take the afternoon leave. It was a weekend as well, so by the time we learned of the notice, we were already behind by three days."

Quickly glancing at the other two, Elanor noticed that Grinwald hadn't the usual poker face, but Brehon Tupee, the novice, was having a hard time masking duper's delight. Shourn continued.

"Highness, the case is already complex. And it is interlinked with two previous disputes. Although you didn't make the ruling then, Highness, it was your court that had ruled against us then as well. So all I'm asking for is a little lenience."

Elanor looked at Tupee reprimandingly once, and at the Archminister for his input. Grinwald signalled that he had no objections. The Queen returned to Shourn.

"We resume the hearing three days from now. Would that be enough time to prepare?"

"Highness, I strongly object."

"On what grounds, Tupee.." Elanor interjected without losing her temper. "The Tribunal should be held responsible for such lazy delay tactics. If anything, I'd say Brehon Shourn is going easy on you lot."

"Highness I.." Tupee stopped himself for a moment, before saying. "I take full responsibility for any mistakes that reflects poorly on the Tribunal. There were no tactics involved. I'll surely look into what went wrong."

With an odd grin, Brehon Shourn sighed. "Please Highness.. Don't go harsh on my account. I understand Tupee here completely. I was once as well, young and ambitious. No grave errors had been committed yet, so.. However, I'd like this to be reflected on the record, Highness. The reason for postponing the case."

Oh oh.. Grinwald knew that look. His Queen's eyes hid well, that brief familiar spark.

"Is that necessary, Brehon?" Elanor asked, her fingers toying with the edges of the chalice, as the maid stood by obediently. "I just granted you the lost time, in fact, given your preparation for today, three more days is more than fair. And as you said, you understand the missteps of the young and ambitious. Should we really drag his name into the court records now?"

"I'm afraid we must, Highness. Nothing against Sir Tupee here. It's the Tribunal that has gone after as with such tactics for far too long. As was the pattern in the previous cases."

"Hmm... What's more likely to follow a drizzle?" Elanor spoke almost like in reverie, as her eyes wandered on the faces before.

"Pardon, Highness.?!" Shourn said, as Grinwald's face lit up briefly. Elanor continued.

"Right after the Defence Summit is a slow week. If your client is up to it, Brehon Shourn, I'm giving you the opportunity to re-litigate."

"The Fostrom case.?!"

"All three cases. The ones you accuse the Tribunal of playing dirty with. To eliminate bias, Justiciar Rolensky shall preside in my stead. Since you had represented the other two cases as well, I'm sure you can handle it. Both sides will get equal time to prepare. The ruling hence made will be final and binding. What you say.?"

Shourn replied as Tupee struggled to suppress his displeasure. "Oh Highness.. That's.. That's too generous. i wouldn't dream of burdening the royal court with a wish so preposterous." Oddly, Brehon Shourn himself didn't sound too excited by the proposal.

"Nonsense. Let the record show, that the Royal Court had granted the Fostrom's representative, the opportunity to re-litigate all three cases related to deep forest mining. The Brehon may take a day to respond. You have till tomorrow evening to inform the Court a decision."

"Much obliged, Highness." Bowing once again both Brehons returned to their position. Sipping from the chalice, Elanor glanced at Grinwald's half-smile and mouthed.

"Boltstorm."

Of course! She figured it out. The Archminister shook his head chuckling, as he sat back down. On his side-table was a folded piece of paper, the short-note he had planned on passing to the Queen, before she finally spoke. Written on it was a single word.

Boltstorm.

A complex litigation between Boltez Plantations and the Tribunal from nearly three decades ago. The case which was ruled in favor of Boltez. In the many legal discussions Grinwald had had with Her Highness over the months, the evil genius of Lord Boltez Storrum had been a topic more than a few times. So much that they dubbed anything remotely genius the 'Boltstorm'.

Boltez's strategy was an effective abusal of the Judicial Fairness Doctrine overseen by the Church. He had gone to the Church, sighting unfair bias in the repeated court rulings against him, and the Church had to appoint a Special Justiciar to oversee the future proceedings. And it worked in his favor, for often fairness is judged by the periphery. And depending on the political pressures at play, even the Royal Courts must work to appear impartial in consecutive rulings. Which had been fascinating for the Queen, knowing how perceptions alone can rival the throne's power at times.

Grinwald couldn't tell how the Queen managed to see through Shourn's ploy, for it took the experienced Archminister a while to spot it. Brehon Shourn knows that his case is weak. And his client had lost two similar previous cases already. Cases that had similar technical issues, which could be construed as delaying tactics by the Tribunal. If the Queen rules in favor of the Tribunal, for similar upcoming disputes, Brehon Shourn can approach the Church requesting oversight, stating there has been abuse of the Judicial Fairness Doctrine. The three consecutive rulings against his client, combined with the alleged delay tactics from the Tribunal, gives the Church enough grounds to appoint a Special Justiciar. Which in simple terms means, for complex cases where right and wrong remain muddled in the grey, for appearance of fairness the Court would be forced to rule in his favor, for one in every three cases from then on.

Which is where the genius lied in the Queen's sudden decision. By putting on record, her offering the chance to re-litigate, it damages Shourn's ability to seek oversight. Because re-litigation of prior Tribunal cases could be argued as direct evidence that she was more than fair towards the opposition. And if Shourn chose to re-litigate and eventually loses the case, that final verdict can be sighted by the Queen to form new laws, preventing such exploitative industrial applications of conflict-ridden territories.

Feeling proud of his Queen's growth from a naive placeholder to an effective administrator, Grinwald nearly teared up. There was no doubt in his mind, as evidenced by her appreciative smile now, the part he played in molding that bright mind so well. Archminister worried no further, what had been bothering him since the court adjourned. That odd stoic silence from his Queen, refusing to even look his way. Perhaps it's a good thing that he never got to ask, what had troubled the Great Chaste herself into sullen silence, before entering the court.

Why she was so late to begin with.

**

*

** Forty minutes earlier**

TEST 3

1. One of the four must be made team-leader. Who are you picking?

☐ Hoyt

☐ Jezeb

☐ Jokshun

☑ Tabitha

2. One of the four must be let go. Who are you picking?

☐ Hoyt

☐ Jezeb

☑ Jokshun

☐ Tabitha

The coachman found himself more confident finishing the third test. Whether it was right or wrong, whether he fared greatly or poorly, it didn't matter. Jokshun knew that he had won either way. That he was out either way. It took him three days to shake off the shock from realizing that the girl he had been intimate with in that shady bar shared the visage of the Queen he worshiped. The desire her sweet touch awoke in him once, now felt sacrilegious. For he wasn't meant to meet her gaze, even if it was mere semblance. He simply couldn't accept the fact for days, that the body, the presence that had colored his wet dreams for weeks after, shared much in common with his revered Queen. He applied for leave, he feigned illness, and the unavoidable situations were he had to be right next, he avoided looking his Queen's way, like his life depended on it. For his sanity sure did.

Which is why he could confidently stick to the answers, even after Her Highness repeating her remarks on the previous tests. To do better. For this was better. For he knew, he had no better answers than this. That Tabitha should lead. And that he doesn't deserve, to handle the royal likeness. And if it takes him stepping up and facing the Queen himself, to be let go, Jokshun was prepared for that as well.

"Okay, Tabitha. You may leave." Bellatrix said, as the head-maid bowed in farewell. "There is twenty minutes to go still, so take your time."

Twenty minutes, for this?! Jokshun glanced at his colleagues. Hoyt was already on Test 3, but he seemed to be scribbling something furiously. Jezeb just raised his hand, having completed Test two. For a fleeting moment, Jokshun saw the shape of his Queen by the corner of his vision, which made him instantly cower. No, I can't. I don't deserve to look at my Queen, after what I had done to her image, unwittingly as may..

Time seemed to move at a snail's pace as he kept peering deeper and deeper into the texture of the parchment, when Bellatrix called out again.

"That would be all Jezeb. You'll soon be informed of the decision."

"Highness."

As Jezeb bowed before leaving, the Queen suddenly spoke.

"Jezeb.."

"Yes, Highness.?" He sounded perplexed.

"Even with the precedence it set, I wouldn't have objected to your 'methods' so vehemently, had it been fruitful."

"Umm..?!" He continued the puzzled stare, as the Queen clarified.

"Your approach is odd and unusual. Outright bizarre at moments, but that's what makes you special. An occasional leering could have been tolerated, had you actually succeeded in spotting the decoy, even once. I'm not drawing a line in sand, for such methods. I'm just reminding you how important discretion is, for the role you are given. If we are to resume the program, I need to be able to count on your prudence."

"Absolutely Her Highness."

Jokshun was surprised by the uncharacteristic conviction in his colleague's voice. Like Jezeb really valued the role, despite repeated failings.

"Now you, Jokshun."

Jokshun perched up, suddenly realizing he was the only one left in the chamber. When did Hoyt get done?

"Do you plan on taking the full twenty minutes, Jokshun. You've clearly been done with the test for a while."

"Umm.. Apologies, Lady Households. I.."

Jokshun stood up fumbling, then sat back down remembering the rules, and raised the folder above his head.

Ring!

It was the small bell. Queen Elanor gestured something in sign-language, and all the Mutes suddenly bowed and left the chamber in unison, as Jokshun folder remained hovering.

"Do you know, Jokshun, that every time the Cross of Absheil is used, a report is made and send to the Royal Castle? Now it's for the formal records, and often takes a week or two to get filed, but every use of the Cross goes accounted. There is no hiding from the throne, the Queen will eventually find out."

"Umm.. Highness." Jokshun mumbled, still keeping his gaze low.

"When I came across the records by happenstance last week, three such reports stood out to me. Three usages of the Cross of Absheil. Now the Cross itself is a rare privilege, and frequent reports of a common sentry flashing it will gain unwanted attention. It was meant as a last resort, in situations, like preventing the decoy's discovery for instance, but.. But may be Bellatrix here should have spelt it out, explicitly. I digress.."

As the Queen paused, Bellatrix walked around and took the folder from his hands, taking a quick peek.

"Nothing special, Highness." She reported to the Queen, as Elanor smiled.

"Jokshun.."

"Highness."

"The reported usages. Two were from the evening, when Hoyt had happened upon the decoy, in Hillsdale. And the third one, strangely enough, was from the morning I had set off on my convoy." The morning Gertha had gone on convoy posing as the Queen, in actuality, as Elanor had headed for Hillsdale the previous night. Elanor continued.".. I believe you had taken a leave of absence for that week. And strangely, the Cross of Absheil used to gain entry to the Royal Chamber, was assigned to you. Which makes me wonder, what's your play..?"

"Answer the question, Jokshun!" Bella said firmly, starling the scared coachmen, who hadn't realized she had walked up to him. "What else have you done with the Cross?"

"I didn't.. I don't understand."

Bella leaned over the chair, her gaze peering into his soul. "The multiple break-ins into the Royal records.. Spying on the Queen's private chamber. You involved in any of those? You did it alone, or were there any accomplices? Spit it out.!"

"I'm.. I am innocent. I don't know anything about.."

"You denying you had used the Cross to gain access to the Royal Chamber?"

"That.. Yes, that I did. But it wasn't like.."

"Did you spy on Her Highness?"

"What.?!"

"Did you peep on our Queen..??"

"NO, I did not. I.. I'd never.." Feeling cornered, Jokshun verged on tears.

"You'd never what?! Drop the mask, Jokshun, we all know what a degenerate you really are. Highness is well aware of your activities in Desert Rose."

"Highness knows.?!" Jokshun's eyes bulged, and his throat looked like it had a lump, as deep devastating shame spread across his face. Like a wife accused of adultery, he covered his face with both hands, shaking his head in denial.

"I didn't. I didn't do.. I didn't mean to.."

"Mean to what?! To spy on you Queen, to defile her privacy?"

"I did NO such thing.." His voice broke towards the end, as the Queen interjected.

"That's enough, Bella. Give him a moment."

As Bella stepped back, Elanor gave her an admonishing stare. She knew Bella had been frustrated about the recent lapse in security, and that she had every reason to doubt Jokshun with him confirming his usage of the Cross. But the Queen knew in her heart, that it wasn't her faithful coachman who had spied on her. Although there was no way for to convince Bella her reasonings. For how can she seriously take, the lack of cashew paste flavor in the dried semen I had chewed on, as proof..? How am I to convince her, that I am familiar with his fresh loads, more than he himself is..?! Jokshun isn't the mystery peeper, that much the Queen knew. What puzzled her was him using the Cross, to gain access to the Royal Chamber.

"Jokshun. Be honest with us, and no harm shall come to you."

"I've.. I've never been dishonest with you, Her Highness. On my honor.."

"I believe you. I believe that you didn't spy on me. I know that you wouldn't."

"Never Highness." Jokshun kept panting, as he looked at his Queen through the periphery. His eyes brimming with respect, and regret.

"But you did try to see me, right? Since you took the leave, you weren't informed of my schedule. And you didn't know I had left, by the time you flashed the Cross, did you..?"

"I just.." Jokshun did a quick glance at Bellatrix, before saying. "I just wanted an audience with Her Highness. I had.. I had concerns about the Handler's Program."

"You could have come to me, Jokshun." Bella nearly yelled from behind, still not entirely convinced he wasn't the peeper. Jokshun closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said.

"I wanted to meet to Highness, without Lady Agrafena's presence. For she is my point of concern."

What the hell is this, with every one disrespecting my authority?! First Adriana, and now this idiot. As Bella's face fumed red, Elanor signalled her to calm down.

"You know I trust you with my life, right Jokshun? Every time I choose to let you take the reins, every time I take a nap, with you steering the carriage. You know that, right?"

"Yes Highness.." He sounded proud, to be granted such a responsibility.

"Then believe me when I say this. Lady Agrafena isn't just the Head of Households. She has many roles, many faces. But what matters to me the most, is that of a friend. She is my confidant, first and foremost. I trust her with my life. To distrust her, is to distrust me. Is that clear.?"

"Highness, I didn't mean to.."

"Relax Jokshun. That doesn't mean there is no room for difference of opinion. For healthy critique. Tell me. What are your concerns?"

"Highness, I.." As Jokshun wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, the Queen raised her hand.

"Wait. Bella, please.."

As the Queen gestured, Bellatrix reached for the pitcher next to the fruit bowl in the middle of the table, and gave it to Jokshun. He took no time in chugging nearly half the pitcher, spilling a bit on his robes as he struggled for breaths in-between. Having calmed himself down, Jokshun finally put it down, and looked his Queen's way.

"Highness, the Handler's Program is a mistake. For one, as you rightly pointed out, none of us are worthy of a privilege as such the Cross of Absheil. Till few weeks prior, if you have asked me for the best among sentry-men, I'd have pointed out Hoyt. Young, idealistic, God-fearing. Truly the best out of us four. And look how terribly he fared with such power. We are peasants by blood, Highness. Sharing your presence alone is a privilege too much, for most of us to handle. But that's just the aspect of power."

"Go on.."

"Highness, may be I fail to see the larger picture that Lady households does, but.. Belittling the Royal-likeness is a sin. No matter for what purpose. The effect of Jezeb's constant leering on the rest of the guardsmen is just an exaggerated example of the underlying problem. You can't cultivate the air of disrespect, even as a faint trace, at an image that is meant for reverence. I get the multitude of unsavory situations even the throne must subject itself to, time to time.. I get the necessity of preparing a decoy for surviving, fro thriving, despite such trials, but.. To perform such trainings out in public.?! That's a foolish path to pursue. I get the concept of forging in fire, but what Lady Households fails to recognize, is that it would just be a decoy that gets burned, if the fire proves unruly. It's the sacred image of Wolkenshire itself. That's too grave a risk to toy with, my Queen, in my humble opinion."

Woah! And I assumed he was incapable of thought. Bellatrix sighed deeply, feeling genuine respect for Jokshun for the first time. Elanor glanced at the hour glass. Fourteen minutes before the sands ran out.

"That will be all Bellatrix. You are dismissed."

Jokshun rose to his feet as Bella side-stepped, both bowing the Queen farewell.

"Just you, Lady Households. I'm not done with Jokshun here."

That took her by surprise, and Bellatrix looked at her Queen quizzically. What are you up to now, Nora?! It's her eyes that troubled Bella. It had the same glint that was evident after most training sessions with Lady Adriana. Elanor simply nodded in response.

"As you wish, Highness."

Bellatrix bowed once again, and slowly retreated, closing the door behind, leaving her Queen with her trusted coachman. Finding himself alone in front of the most powerful person in all lands of men, Jokshun suddenly felt an immense pressure on his shoulders. To kneel in subservience. Elanor simply gestured him, to move to the chair right opposite to hers on the other end. Right as he sat down, the first question came.

"You pull no punches judging, do you?"

"Pardon, Highness?"

"Your criticisms on Handler's Program.. It sure felt more judgemental than objective critique. Were you often this judgemental?"

"Highness, I didn't mean any offense.." Jokshun stood up as he saw the Queen raising from her seat.

"SIT DOWN!" Elanor said softly, but firmly. Resting her both palms against the table, leaning over gently, she continued. "Before joining the royal coachmen, you did briefly work for two other high profile clients, right? Sir Olderic of Obessa, the senior. And later Baron Philipe Fostrom, the famed mining magnate."

Feeling truly uncomfortable to be sitting when his Queen on her feet, Jokshun nodded in agreement.

"Yes Highness. For a period of six months, when I was awaiting approval from the Royal Castle."

"Do you feel this judgmental back than as well?" Elanor asked as she walked around slowly.

"I don't understand, Highness."

"Well, both of them are known philanderers. Sir Olderic has over a dozen mistresses, and Baron Fostrom.. Well, he went a step ahead and has invested a fortune in the Heavensworth Manor. Treating it like a personal harem. I'm sure you've driven him back and forth at least a dozen times per month. Knowing well that he wasn't engaging in humanitarian endeavor, far into the night. Both of them spoke highly of your loyalty and dedication to the job. So I'm guessing you hadn't been as judgemental back then. Correct?"

Still keeping his eyes to the ground, Jokshun replied.

"May be I spoke out of turn, Highness. Apologies. I'm a simple peasant. A mere coachman. Matters of nobility is beyond my judgement."

"Adultery and harlotry are considered nowadays a matter of nobility, huh?! Or do you get judgemental only when a woman does it?"

"Pardon, Highness?!" Jokshun had a hard time figuring where she was headed. Elanor scoffingly chuckled.

"You really aren't a fan of the program, are you? You really want out."

"Highness, I don't think risking the royal likeness is a good idea, and I.." The coachman took a moment to formulate his thoughts. "And I don't think I'm a good fit for the program."

As he replied, Elanor reached for the fruit bowl and grabbed a cluster of grapes, before giving the bowl a firm push. The copper bowl slid along the table and came to halt about feet from the edge, right before Jokshun.

"Have some." Elanor said, as she popped one grape into her mouth.

Jokshun wasn't in the mood for fruits, but when your Queen orders, you obey. So he reached out for an apple.

"Regium jus Proprietatis. You heard that phrase.?" Elanor asked, slowly walking along the table.

"The right of.. Property..?!" Jokshun uttered, pushing the limits of his knowledge.

"Close enough. It's the Royal Right to Property. One of the oldest royal privileges. The power vested in a King to turn anything he deems worthy for the greater good of the Kingdom into property. It can be used to confiscate industries, conscript men times of war.. Turning a thing, a place, a living being property, by a single royal nod. Enslave at whim. It was also used widely, till few decades ago, to add young virgins to the royal harem. Anything that awoke desire in the royal eye. Now, what do you think of that?"

"Highness, I don't understand.." Jokshun blurted out, while gulping down the chewed up fruit.

"Your moral judgement, Jokshun. What do you think, of a King keeping a harem? The practice had fallen out of fashion, but there's no shortage of unofficial private harems to this day. Surely even Prince Barthomius had some regulars before we met. I don't mind, for it's part of the royal life. But what does your heart tell? Is it okay for a King to keep a house of harlots?"

"Highness, I'm.. I'm a simple servant to the throne. These are matters of royalty. The norms of the land."

"So you wouldn't judge when it's a King doing."

"I'm in no place to judge, Highness."

"Nor are you, when a Queen behaves the same then? Or are you the kind who finds me just an adornment to the throne?!"

"Highness, I'd lay my life on the line for your sake any day."

"But lying dead you'd still judge, right.? Had she acted in line with your celebrated Kings and nobles.. It's written all over your face."

Jokshun felt cornered again, only this time by his preconceived moral norms. For such an act sure doesn't elevate a Queen in his mind. Do you still feel equally proud, Jokshun? Spoiling one's life for sake of slattern sovereign. It sure brimmed one with perverted pride, on the drunken nights joking around with pals, about all the women one had fooled around with.. It surely just another feather to the cap, every newly seized siren, to noble lads. A proof of their masculine lure, but..

Could you be so pridefully jovial, on such drunken night-outs with pals, telling tales on the Queen you serve.? Tales of her brave brazen conquests, through sweat-drenched linen. Tales, of the many men tending to her needs. Filling her voids, without waiting to be asked. Could you tell it with pride, without turning her, and yourself, the butt of a distasteful joke, that is.

"Speak freely, Jokshun." Elanor's voice startled him out of the silence.

"Honestly, Highness. To the Throne of Wolkenshire, my judgements shouldn't matter. Her wish is my command, regardless the gender. And my reverence, a given, regardless her vices. But I will say this.." Jokshun had a hard time controlling his shaky voice. Even with his eyes locked to the strange blotch on floor, knowing that his Queen had walked around, and now stood few feet from his chair was overwhelming enough.

"But what.?"

Is my Queen really asking my opinion on starting a royal harem? Is this another test? Or just another bizarre idea of entertainment for the elites.?! Enjoying my discomfort, like Sir Olderic used to to.. Making you stand guard with doors barely closed, while forcing pleas of pleasure out from women younger than his own daughters. After a deep sigh, Jokshun replied.

"Even the Kings and nobles Her Highness alluded to, had always been heavy on discretion. Particularly in their prime. Sure, there were the wild ones, but for the most part they weren't openly advertising it, you know.. As a point of pride. Such vices were often condemned by the Church, and.. Was considered to be something managed, constrained, and not elevated. People didn't love them for it, but despite. As you said, the best ones had always known, that the key is discretion."

"Isn't this discrete enough?" Elanor asked, sliding into the gap between Jokshun's chair and the table, before pushing herself up gently to seat along the edge. The sudden proximity adding to the poor coachman's anxiety.

"Huh? Pardon, Highness."

"This chamber. Us in here, with no one watching. Listening in. This is as discrete as it gets. Now why don't you look at my face, Jokshun. You haven't, all this while. You haven't, in many weeks."

For good reason, my Queen. For good reason. Jokshun kept fidgeting in his seat, his eyes avoiding the shape of her legs right before.

"Observation is key to the Handler's Program. I want to know that unlike the other three, what makes it so hard for you to observe."

Perhaps it's the practiced compliance that made his body respond, despite the inner conflict. Jokshun eased back into the seat, tilted his neck and looked up at his Queen, in all sense of the word, except for his eye-lids remaining shut. Elanor couldn't help but smile.

"You've faced orcan hordes. What's so tough with gazing up a woman?! This is my wish. Your command, Jokshun. Meet my eyes!"

And obey he did, hoping that one look of his revered Queen was enough to erase the stain on her image, a stain that was his making. As the eye-lids parted, Jokshun realized this was the first time he witnessing the divinity that is the visage of the Great Chaste. The Sovereign that had unified his kingdom in the depths of grief. The grace in those eyes, the kindness is he smile, enough of a salve for any moral confusion. Or so he wished.

Oh NO!

Dropping the half-eaten fruit and digging his face into both palms, Jokshun curled up in shame in an instant. What happened? Jokshun, speak to me.. Jokshun... He could hear the Queen of Wolkenshire, asking again and again with great care, why he couldn't bring himself to face her. Only there was no way in hell he could tell, what was behind such a reaction.

He had hoped one look at her face would do the trick, and wipe from his dreams and memories, all that was Demura. But what happened instead was much worse. One glimpse was enough for all the sensations from months before to flood in. From his last night in Desert Rose, that musty glory-hole booth. He remembered them lusty eyes glowing in dark, those sweet succulent lips polishing his pecker. And the slight twinge of the anal choke, as his left middle finger slipped up that rare rear hole. The encounter that forever colored his wet dreams from there after.

In a blink, he found all them dreams and memories getting re-written, for now all those debaucherous sirens shared the same face. The same damn voice. That of the Queen he worshiped beyond the All-father himself.

This is wrong. This is a disaster..!!

"Jokshun.."

The poor coachman was still struggling. Wait.. The night that my ring got lost, and magically found its way back to me.. It was laying on the floor where Her Highness was standing. It was slimy, like it had just slipped out from.. Oh no..! Does that mean I had driven around some decoy all those times. That I had taken the Royal-likeness to a seedy bar myself, so she may slut out for the deplorables. What about those trips to the Ormangrad Estate? Was that ever Her Highness in the carriage? What the hell does that even mean.?!

"JOKSHUN..!!"

It startled the coachman, but he nodded in response, still refusing to meet her eyes. The Queen hadn't yelled, but even her whispers proved enough now to shock him to the core.

"Jokshun, I understand your shock. May be Lady Households fails to get it. May be Jezeb and Tabitha finds it ridiculous, but hey.. We may not have spoken, but I've seen you long enough. I'd trust my safety to you, more than the best of my security detail. For no hands would lay upon me, with you still breathing. Which is why I need you as part of the Handlers."

"I'm sorry, Highness, but what I saw.. What I did.. It's just too hard.."

"Hey, hey.. We'll take it slow, okay? You are a simple peasant, so let's start like one. Where should a serf direct his eyes, in the presence of royalty?"

"At.. At the ground."

Just as he said it, Elanor raised her right foot, and Jokshun leaned further against the back-rest, clutching the armrests on either side. His thighs spread apart as the heel of her knee-high boot dug into the seat cushion. Smiling at his response, the Queen said.

"Close enough. At her feet."

"Yes.. Her feet."

Jokshun nodded while swallowing the lump in his throat, his widened eyes now locked on the boot-clad leg.

"Would you mind with the laces, Jokshun? My soles have been suffocating all day."

"Whuh.. What?!" Jokshun doubted for a moment if this was a fever dream.

"Obey, you simple serf." Elanor chuckled, as her left hand gently pulled the hem of her robe, letting it slide off, revealing the whole knee, and a bit of the milky thigh above.

The practiced compliance instilled from birth was enough for his fingers to respond, even as Jokshun's brain processed the command. In no time he had it undone and moved on to the next foot. The lilac fragrance mixed with pheromones wafting off her sweaty bare shin should have intoxicated him, if not for the baseline anxiety from the bizarreness of it all. As she shifted the foot, Jokshun felt his eyes nearly pop, watching the naked under-thighs from the odd angle for a blink.

Wait.. Is she not wearing any..?

His fingers got to work before he finished that thought, but the coachman was right. The Queen of Wolkenshire sitting right before wore no long skirt, nor stockings. Somewhere on her walk along the table-side, Elanor had loosened the string of her waist-line, letting it slip off a couple inches with each step. The long hem of the robe surely covered enough of the nakedness, but with the boots gone, it was far more apparent now.

"Aaahh..!! That feels so good."

Elanor let out an actual sigh of relief, as her toes stretched and curled a couple inches from Jokshun's confused nether.

"See, you did good! For a serf, dealing with the royal image.. Now let's see how you fare as an equal." Saying which Elanor dug her foot further into the chair, and pushed it back a couple feet along with Jokshun. The smooth tiles below made it easy to slide. Pulling the chair right next in-between, the Queen sat on it, leveling herself with the coachman.

"Stay!"

Her one command was enough, for Jokshun to suppress every instinct in him telling this was wrong. That he belonged on the floor kneeling, his lips kissing the floor till Her Highness walked away.

"Now that we have leveled.." Elanor stopped herself, as she noticed him holding breath, with his eyes stuck in one place. "Jokshun.."

"Uhhumm.."

"You may look at my eyes, or feet. Anything in between would be rude."

The poor coachman looked up at his Queen, suddenly become aware that he had been staring past her crossed shin all this while, at that pale purple triangle. The crotch-piece of the royal panties.

"Fur.. Forgive me, Highness.." His gaze shifted back to her feet, unable to handle the intensity in those eyes. What the hell is happening?! Why would Her Highness be sitting so close to me, dressed this carelessly.? An old bawdy song about a Viscountess hot for her ranch-hand came to his mind, but Jokshun was quick to shake off such impure thoughts.

This has to be another test. This got to be..

"You are getting it now, aren't you? Or doubting, at least.." Seated figure-four style Elanor taunted, reaching out her left hand to the right foot, massaging sensually her own sole and interlocking right digits with left toes, oddly showcasing the grip-strength of those foot fingers. She continued.

"How could the Great Chaste sit in such comfort before a serf, lacking her skirt at that..?! The one who does something so shameless, could she really be the True-ruling Monarch? Or is she more likely some Decoy with an itch to grind?!"

That would explain it.. The realization was a big relief to Jokshun. She must be Demura.

"Then again you wouldn't know, would you? For you had never seen her face. Not up-close, not nearly long enough to be able to tell them apart. Nor were you so keen, on telling them apart, if I heard right. The laziest Handler of them all. Do this, Jokshun. Sit tight, and keep your eyes to my feet. Remain so, until either you are comfortable enough to talk like an equal, meeting eye to eye. Or till you feel confidant somehow, that you can tell apart. A quean from a Queen.."

"Highness I.."

"SIT..!" Elanor said as her right foot suddenly sprung out, landing on his chest, as Jokshun was pushed further into the back-rest.

"Eyes on feet, I said." She spoke in strangely dulcet tones, but there was no mistaking. The serf knew, it was a command.

"Either this is your Queen, claiming property. Or the harlot, in her natural state. You wouldn't know which, unless you commit." Saying that, the Queen's foot slithered along his torso sultrily, till her heel dug into the seat cushion right where the thighs split, her sole hovering over his poor confused crotch. Noticing that his eyes remained on the foot, and never even once glanced up, the royal toes got to work.

Why is she doing this? Why the hell would someone choose for me such torture?! As Jokshun struggled to make heads or tails, his Queen was keen on testing out the new tricks taught by Adriana. Ten-tickles, she called it. Referring to turn the least used digits in the human body to nothing less than a tentacle. An overstatement, if you'd ask me. But poor Princess Nora never, in all the years dancing, had known her toes so intimately as in the past few days mastering it.

With his nails digging into the arm-rest, and spine against the cushion, Jokshun found his body becoming one with the furniture. Immobile, and near-breathless. He observed keenly still, the tricks of the royal toe, fidgeting over his pants, an inch from the buttoned-up fly. With the dexterity of a pick-pocket, the coin-sized wooden button swiveled in the pinch of her big and second toes, as the left toes pulled away the seam of the fly, with a firm pinch, stretching open the button-slit.

As the button slid out through the opening, the Queen let out a deep sigh, and saw in his face a similar smile of amazement and relief, even as his gaze remained on her feet.

"Congrats Jokshun! You are the first man to witness that trick. Hehe.. First of the many tricks, if you plan on remaining a vegetable. Now, we are short on time, so.." Taking a quick glance at the hour-glass, the Queen grabbed his remaining button with a firmer grip, and yanked swiftly with much force, ripping it right off, as Jokshun's jaw dropped wide, along with his fly, and the hairy snake bulging out.

"Oh oh.. Look who's waking up.."

The poor coachman pressured every muscle in his body, despite feeling petrified, in an attempt to shrink back his waking wood, but unfortunately the human penis didn't work like that. It had a will of it's own, and it was willing much more at the time, than a musty sleeping pod. For skin had spoken to skin, woman to man, and an agreement had been reached. Nothing short of full-mast, that much was decided, and no amount of his squirming was going to discourage now.

"Ahhh..." Biting through blush, Jokshun hated firstly how feminine that unaware moan sounded. He wished had it been more of a visceral grunt, hinting his discomfort, instead of this pained pleasure. But no man watching would have blamed, even though his predicament was surely a sight to laugh at. Her taunting voice came again, this time sounding deliciously sadistic.

"Every moment your gaze remains at my feet, you are admitting Jokshun, that I am in fact your Queen. You are endorsing the conduct before. Admitting it as something fitting the Great Chaste. Meet my eyes, and perhaps my feet would behave. Unless you want it not to.."

Jokshun strained his neck, effort-fully now. But something far powerful had captured his attention, and his body, his being refused to cooperate, despite the better part of his brain screaming.

"Ahhh.. Mmmmhhh..."

"At least your flesh is being honest." Elanor said unaware of her widening grin, as her left sole slide up the hardening shaft, her big and second toes massaging up the veiny ridge of the cock-stem, as fresh natural oozed from the crown tip. Her flexible left ankle swiveled, as the other foot dug deeper down the fly, as Jokshun slowly raised his buttocks from the cushion, easing the access. The soft firmness of her unblemished left sole was the most blissful sensation the peasant had felt around his ball-sack to date, including the original blowjob from Demura.

The Queen seemed to have planned out even her teases, as her left big toe tunneled further in, ignoring the hairy scrotum. Upon finding the target, it gently poked the flesh, studying the peasant's facial twitches all the while, even as his gaze remained on the other foot.

"Having second thoughts.?!"

Elanor chuckled within, as her loyal coachman squirmed, clearly from irritating pleasure, feeling the warmth of her big toe push up against his perineum. And the sudden stiffening of his semi-hard cock-base, as a direct result, along with the veins nearly doubling in thickness. God, how could a feet feel so.. Ahhh.. Oh no no.. Don't stop..

Jokshun nearly cried out in protest, feeling the pressure on his perineum decrease, as the royal foot slithered out, its original lilac fragrance getting lost in the musty ball-sweat.

Not so fast, soldier. Elanor laughed within. I'm not done teasing.

"Is it hard still, Jokshun? To meet my gaze.. Would it be easier, if I looked the other way?"

Elanor had planned on a simple tease. But the way his cock felt between the soles, her ten toes hugging it along the length, with the impressive volume of precum leaking down.. It felt good, it felt satisfying, stroking the erection of a commoner with one's bare feet. Sensations have that strange sense to persist, even after long done, especially the sinful kind. No.. There's nothing sinful in what's happening now. A strangely familiar voice whispered from her depths. And for some reason, it was comforting.

Oh.. That's good, so good. Ooh, oh uff.. NOOO..!!!

Not again you..

The loyal serf nearly yelled out an obscene expletive, as he felt the heels from heaven ruin his peak for the second time. But the threatening crush silenced him before his mouth opened. The cushioning of her left foot pressuring his balls against the seat-pad, as her big and second toes held in firm grip, his full-mast by the root. His thick pubic hair weaving into the gaps of her toes, like cobwebs merging her milky white with his sun-tanned red. Having ones fecundity at the mercy of a royal stomp oddly felt natural, even in so perverse a setting, but Jokshun's attention swiftly shifted to her right foot hypnotically hovering before. The foot that was still a moment ago, taking him up the heavenly ladder. Edging him on and on, simply to be kept waiting.

All that remained was his mushroom head, twitching frustratedly; the sole of her right foot raised to his eye level, with slimy dexterous toes wavering teasingly; and a single thick thread of pre-cum hanging in between, threatening to break at any moment. A sight to behold, even for the petrified peasant.

What absolutely doubled the erotic effect was the way his Queen remained dressed. The dark maroon robe with long flowy sleeves, and a frilly purple partlet around the neck, covering up to the chin in a snug-fit. The form-fitting in-built bodice which enhanced those shapely bosoms just enough, bordering on sensual tease up-close, yet maintaining pristine air of respectability. And the way she had kept that auburn lushness in a beautifully braided bun, making her look divine even without the crown. From waist up she was every bit the deeply revered True-ruling Monarch, the most powerful blue-blood in all lands of men. The Great Chaste for whom Jokshun would die any day.

But what she had become now waist down, more than desecrated the sanctity the people of Wolkenshire so cherished. Starting with the long slits on both sides of her robe, with the hem flying off to the side, and her not wearing even a stocking, more than framed in all it's naked glory, the most shapely legs he had ever seen. Those strong curvy glutes, succulent thick thighs, smooth spotless and slightly waxy kneecaps.. And the shins to die for, crafted right out of marble at first glance. Not to mention the frilly purple patch flashing between them sweat-shined adductors.

Jokshun had this odd thought, that the girl before had to be a weird hybrid. Half the Great Chaste, and half the Decoy. Queen Elanor from waist-up, and Demura down below. Like some fallen Pagan deity, a dethroned Fertility Goddess, equal parts nurturance and libido.

The primordial harmony of the sinful and the sanctified.

The sacred slut.

"Aaargh..!!"

The coachman squirmed, rolling his eyes, as the dominant diva simply curled her left toes, pulling with it his wild nether curls. As pain shot up his spine, turning those eyes teary, Elanor realized she had pinched a bit too hard. This was a fairly new routine, with a lot more kinks to iron out that she had expected. I should consult more on this, with Adriana. But for now.. Without breaking character, Elanor said.

"I warned you. My eyes are fine. So are my feet. But I don't appreciate your eyes wandering elsewhere, you silly serf."

Swiftly swiveling her right ankle, Elanor snapped the pre-cum thread, breaking it at the middle. Like an elastic band, one half got yanked towards the peasant, turning a shiny dark patch along the hem of his beige tunic, as the cock bobbing back and forth. The other half of the lubricant thread splashed across her right toes, mostly webbing between the digits. Something about that moment made Demura shift her seating.

Clutching the left arm-rest for support, Elanor leaned further forward, craning her neck, as her right hand reached out and gripped the right heel. With a naughty toothy grin, and the right leg now in an awkward four-figure, she pulled the feet closer, towards her own face.

Not enough power..! Commit Nora..

Ripping off the partlet on impulse, Nora reached back and loosened a few corset-strings, so her spine may bend freely. Letting go of the coachman's pubes, her left leg found footing towards the seat edge. With that better leverage and stability, the Queen grabbed her slimy right foot with both hands and pulled closer, this time successfully closing the distance. Ignoring the sounds of snagged stitch-work, and torn fabric, knowing that beautiful robe, while still functional, was no longer suited for public use, thanks to her contorted posture, Elanor stared at Jokshun. Having her loyal servant sitting breathless a few feet away, and inhaling the fresh pre-cum, wafting right off her own foot.. The Queen wondered why that moment felt so thrilling. For she couldn't tell anymore where the lines blurred, between Adriana's routine and her own improvisations. She was at the mercy of the flow now. And surfing along felt right. That strange voice from her depths murmured in agreement.

Feels right, doesn't it?

For some strange reason, it did.

Showing this side in front of Jokshun, knowing now, how deeply devoted he was. Locking eyes with the poor panting peasant, Elanor slowly slithered her tongue-tip, from the foot, along the arch, up to her stretching toes. Lapping up the plentiful pre-cum, that was is making, somehow salted just to her liking. Having the right foot blocking her face partially gave them both an excuse to further indulge. It provided Jokshun a mid-ground, for he technically remained staring at the royal foot, even as his eyes locked to hers time to time. The Queen spoke up.

"You've suffocated me enough Jokshun, with your idealistic notions of Queendom. Even the Queen is a woman. A human. She didn't drop from abode, she's a messy mischievous mixture not unlike yourself. Of flesh and blood. And needs of both. Beneath the surface, just another animal like the rest. Waiting to run amuck and rut to the hearts content. You refuse to recognize the reality right before. Still staying adamant, gazing upon just my feet. Well, what's you to do serf, when my face makes love, to what you worship. Would you join in that worship, and remain stuck in denial.?!"

Elanor didn't recognize the odd voice from within, that bled into her own so seamlessly. If not for the pent-up heat from weeks clouding half her good sense, which was entirely Adriana's doing, Elanor would have shut herself up way before. She couldn't tell anymore, if these taunts were aimed at Jokshun, or herself. Slouching forward, her pouting lips orally inhaled the shiny big toe, like some fish feeding, and began sucking and slurping, like she was servicing a short stubby willy. Loud popping sounds of suction filled the air as her mouth feasted upon the rest of the toes, salted with his precum. Blowing up spitty bubbles, the Queen gave him a look, which couldn't have been more soaked in lust.

I'm must look a terrible drooly mess now.

Or a real treat.!

"Peeking again, serf?"

Before she finished that question, he withdrew his gaze to the other foot. Further amused and aroused, the Queen let go of the foot, and began changing posture.

"How about the back of my head? I'm sure that's be an easy watch. Look up, Jokshun. Look up and be free." Saying this the Queen swiftly turned her upper-body around, twisting her spine as her both hands reached out for the arm-rests of the chair. And putting the weight on her hands, she quickly swiveled her bottom half, now sitting on the chair the other way around, her front facing the back-rest, knees digging into the seat cushion.

Her face. Her face. Look at her face.

Jokshun kept telling himself, but his eyes remained low, though not out of deference this time. The way the bottom half of her robe got folded along the arm-rest, sliding over the waistline and near-perfectly framing pudgy posterior. With her both soft heels digging up the haunches, and that lush royal nether thicket peeking out the purple panty. And those bright white rounds, the light bouncing back from the sweaty curves. The sight alone sustained his erection, but more over, for the first time since the ordeal began, the coachman found himself losing control. For had he not noticed his own trembling right hand reaching out, the Queen would have felt the peasant nails digging an ass-grab a lot sooner.

Hugging the back-rest for support, and scooting over to the very edge of the seat on her knees, Elanor looked back over the shoulder, to make sure she was close enough. Soon her both feet reached out, and held his hard-on in an oddly comforting grip. And started stroking gently, the arch of the left foot along the under-side, and the soft right foot-bridge on other side. Slow, sensual strokes again, enough to keep him edged and leaking. The way he kept lubricating, had she not known the unique taste of Jokshun's load, the Queen would have surely suspected him for the peeping incident.

He's resisting still, she could tell. Elanor thanked Adriana in her mind, for the strenuous and sore-inducing stretching exercises from the past few weeks, aimed at improving flexibility of her limbs and strengthening the tendons. Making her barely nimble enough to pull off this next trick. As her spine arched further, presenting the rear even more prominently, Jokshun saw her right foot retreat, her big toe curling outward as to form a hook, with the whole foot swiveling at the ankle, at an odd angle.

If he weren't so hypnotized by the ripe rotund twins, the coachman surely would have appreciated the supreme flexibility and muscle coordination on display right before. Her right shin arched back with the grace of a ballet dancer, those curled toe-tips hovering right next to the edge of her pale purple crotch-piece, wet spot on which was hard to miss. Pinched between the big and second toes, the right underside edge of the crotch-piece of gently pulled as her foot titled forward, pulling along one of the petals sticking to the soft fabric, before it snapped back into place with a subtle elastic jiggle unique to the finest of flesh. Jokshun's eyes widened as the plushy petals underneath slowly coming to view.

"I'm sure you haven't seen this side of your dear Queen so far, Jokshun. Rumor is that you've more than seen the same from Demura. Does it help tell then, I wonder? Can you be sure now.. If I'm the Queen or the poser? Or you need a closer look?"

Snap!

Jokshun's heart missed a beat, and nearly jumped out of his seat, as the loincloth suddenly came undone, revealing the most perfect pussy he had ever seen up-close. He didn't know that the Queen had been testing out Adriana's erotic-wears recently. The loincloth was designed with special mechanism, a guard-thread at the crotch-piece, which will snap with a pinching tug, with it's poorly stitched edges snapping in tandem.

"Keepsake."

The Queen said, as her right foot lazily tossed it on the coachman's lap, the sight of the slimey patch on it's center making him salivate for some odd reason. Elanor wasn't sure how long to keep toying.

You should dial, it back Nora. He is a simple serf. Loyal, and good-natured.

There's only so much you can push, before..

Before what? He snaps?!

What harm can he even do? He's toothless.

Besides, we aren't nearly done.

A mouthful, remember?

Yes, I remember. I'm not doing this for the thrill of it.

Well, not just..

Feeling the cold of his leakage on the other foot, Elanor chuckled.

"Your crown keeps weeping so profusely, peasant. Happy tears, hopefully. The kind that's yummy. But I must say, I'm disappointed.."

The words that came out next shocked the Queen as much as it did the coachman.

".. For a man worth his salt would have had bred me by now."

What did you just say, Nora?!

Relax. It's just taunting.

Playing with fire is what it is.

You want him to stop resisting or not.?!

Alright..

The insult did hurt, it showed on his face, but Jokshun remained emotionally distant. As distant as one could sporting an erection. The Queen curled up her toes again, reaching back to the moist cunt, and gently pinched her vulvic petals this times. Squeezing them painfully tight as the flesh bulged out, showing how soft and juicy a treat it is. A little jizz of her own making dripped along the arch of her sole, as the Queen let go, arching her back further to present a better view, knowing well that her pussy now had his full attention.

The tight pale pink slit, shiny wet and quivering. With fleshy vulvic petals flaring out on either sides, pushing apart the puffy outer lips. The slightly scrunched up darker parts, very reminiscent of the darker inner petal of a daffodil, with its frilly folds. Daughter of the Daffodils, indeed. But more than sniffing, the shape of it drove out of you an urge to savor orally. Dentally. For it was an ethereal chew-toy, if there ever were one. The mirroring flesh petals were joined underneath the pale white plump prepuce, a proper inch-long royal clitoral hood, with an engorged sweaty pinkness peeking out. Everything in Jokshun's being screamed out to dive right it, to spread apart the outer lips and feast upon the royal goodness within. For a man worth his salt needed no better invitation.

But something about his character, the brighter spots of his moral grey, wouldn't let himself go wild, in the presence of the royal likeness, even if it mere likeness. Jokshun closed his eyes, and let himself slide back into the hell he had prayed away from his nightmares, with great effort. Horrors flooded the void of his mind, horrors he had seen, felt, and at times done. Horrors he had lived through, in war. Blood-soaked grounds, bone-chilling cries from burning beasts of burden, decimated remains of brethren, alive and awaiting merciful death.. And the many, many rotting corpses he had stepped over on the way to proving his worth. One such memory would have sufficed, but feeling so close to losing his grip, Jokshun didn't want to take a chance.

Feeling the sudden significant deflation with arch of her left foot, Elanor felt annoyed, offended, and a bit proud for the simpleton. The man got resolve. Impressed! But so do I.

The next words out from her, it's scornful tone alone, would have angered the Gods from abode. The coachman was mere mortal.

"Aren't you so pathetic, you little needle-dick cretin? That little trinket on your hand, the oddly thick ring.. What was it called? Yeah, 'Knighthood of Valor'. Bellatrix told me you got awarded it at fifteen. That you had showed extreme bravery, saving a bunch of kids, and what.. Losing a finger in the process?! You weren't the same after, were you? Even with the praises, the Knighthood ring and all.. You lost a piece, and you know the little trinket will never fill that void."

That's cruel Nora. Enough!

Oh, shut up and watch him snap, will you?!

"May be it wasn't just a finger you lost. May be they cut off an inch as well, from down here. To deflate so fast, there's no better sign of inadequacy. Of unmanliness. May be that ring of yours was better left lost up my anus. For a real man would never let himself be taunted so.."

SLAP!

As a sudden warm sting spread through her buttocks, the Queen sighed in satisfaction.

Oh God.. Finally, he's up.!

The ossified callousness of a working man palm felt so refreshing compared to Lady Adriana's love-taps.

"You slut! You filthy slut..!!"

The mention of his ring up her rear was enough confirmation for Jokshun. This is Demura.! This has to be, for only she knew where I lost ring. Hell, even I didn't piece it all out, till moments ago. That it was the damn decoy, it had always been her in my carriage, on those nightly trips to Desert Rose.

SLAP! SLAP!

Jokshun rose to his feet, pushing aside her legs, and knocking over the fruit bowl in the process. The rage in his voice was truly concerning. For it seemed for a moment, he wasn't yelling at the unruly decoy, but all negative femininity he had known till then, combined. Elanor couldn't tell if it was denying his manliness, ridiculing past trauma, or disrespecting the ring, that did the trick. Perhaps it was the combination, in quick succession. Or simply the coldness in her voice, the timeless feminine scornfulness that never fails to trigger the masculine nerves. It was evident to her either way, from mere body heat, that the man standing behind was no longer the loyal harmless serf.

"Come 'ere, you wench!"

Sneered like a bull, he pulled her out from the chair by the hair, while his other hand undid the belt buckle. The loosened breeches still hung around his waist, thanks to the waist-chord. Forcing down the decoy's head at his hip-level Jokshun walked around the chair, as the girl struggled to trot alongside, because of the odd posture. Jokshun was fairly short, and even without her boots, the Queen was significantly taller, that the gesture of yanking her around by the auburn, with weak bending knees and a flaring nostrils inches away from his dangling semi-hardness still out the fly.. It was all enticing the oft-denied submissivity in her.

Stepping up to the edge of the table, Jokshun lost a step and nearly lost his balance, as one of his boots slipped off. Annoyed, he kicked off the other one, and pulled the decoy up to his eye level.

"You asked, Demura, what I thought of my old masters. Well, they taught me how to deal with insufferable sluts. Tricks for breaking-in fresh wenches. Sir Olderic taught me that too. Spit on it!"

What?! Elanor looked at him puzzled, and then at his other hand. At the two-inch wide double-buckled leather belt, with etched floral pattern, dangling from it.

"SPIT I SAY..!!!"

It sounded more like a bark, the kind that keeps cart-horses in line, than actual words. And his eyes looked threateningly feral. The Queen felt ashamed for how quickly it woke up in her subservience. She had spat at the wide brown strap reflexively, before he even finished. Repulsed by the thick white globule slithering along the floral etchings of the worn-out accessory, her face crinkled.

Ewwww..

Elanor felt a firm push around her nape before the disgust dissipated, and she fell palms first on to the table. Laying on her stomach over the wooden plank, as she tried getting up, the Queen felt a hand pressed against the small of her back, pinning her to the table.

"Stay!"

Elanor couldn't deny how arousing this sudden reversal of dynamics was, feeling her excited nipples rubbing against the fabric. She felt his right hand run up her spine and grab her braid again, before giving it a firm tug. As the Queen craned her neck, the peasant leaned in, still holding her head in place, a couple inches above the wooden table top. The crazy in his eyes hadn't waned yet, and she expected him to bark out another command, preferably something more humiliating.

No, not 'more' humiliating.

Shut up. you are enjoying this.

Jokshun spoke nothing, but instead spat, right on to the table. A thick tobacco-stenching globule landed an inch from her face. Elanor got a sense, that the loyal serf cared very little for the royal likeness now. His face turned much older and unrecognizable as he slammed hers against the wooden top.

Ewww.. Her face crinkled again, not from the pain, for he hadn't hurt her, but instead had smushed her right cheek, right into the thick warm spittle right next. Almost as if sticking her face in place with his special glue. She didn't understand his sudden obsession with spittle. May be it was the way he had watched Olderic deal with harlots. May be it's a peasant class thing, for the Queen had heard of social rituals among the dirt-poor, like spitting on their palms before a firm shake hands, as a symbol of binding their word with bodily commitment. Social-rituals are weird, regardless the class. The debasement was further emphasized when Elanor realized what laid on the table, a few feet away from her. The crown on Wolkenshire.

"Ahhh.." Her sigh sounded more like a moan.

"STAY I SAID..!!"

She chuckled within, at the hilarity of being on the receiving end of that command. As she tried lifting up, just to give her smushed bosoms a better breathing space, Elanor felt the hem of her long robe fly off, and..

CRAAACK..!!!

Of course.. He's a coachman.

CRAAACK..!!!

Ouch! How else can you expect him to discipline the disobedient.?!

The Queen let out some performative pained yelps, while keeping her both hands folded behind her back, without being asked like a good submissive should, as the coach man delivered four more resounding strikes. It hardly stung compared to the Whipper's mighty cracks from the Absolvement ceremony, but that didn't mean the coachman failed to leave an impression. In fact, impress he did, in varying tones of blues and reds along the curve of her white jutting butt. Floral imprints straight from his leather, polished by the decoy's own spittle and splattered cunt-juice.

He's done, right? This is it. or is he taking a rest?

Done?! Hope not. We barely got started.

Let's ask him, Nora.

No, don't.

"What are you, too much a pussy to fuck me proper?! Where's that missing inch, Joksh.. Aaahhh..!!"

CRAAAACKKK..!!!

That one did hurt, but mostly because it being Jokshun. Seeing such aggression from him, like he was making the most of an outlet to channel some much repressed darkness. He barked again.

"That enough, bitch?! Or you want more?"

"More? With that limp dick-let of yours..?! Haha..!"

Stop antagonizing him, Nora..

Antagonizing.?! He's finally getting warmed up.

Stop once. Before he does something irrever.. Oh no!

The hair on her nape stood up as a jolt ran up her spine, the source of which were her parting vulvic cushions. Not just the outer lips but the inner daffodil petals as well, and digging in further about an inch deep. It felt hard and soft at the same time, weirdly slippery, with the ridged textures tickling her inner walls ever so slightly. From experience with training dildos the Queen could tell, the diameter reached up to one and a half inches. And if he were to push any further it may reach as wide as two. For sake of her virginal integrity, nothing had ever been inserted in her pussy so far, beyond the former diameter. Which paled in comparison to the main shocking event.

Did he just put in me his penis?

For a moment, a mere blink, it shocked her. Not the notion of being deflowered by a commoner, nor the possibility of being impregnated. But the mere fact she felt an instant relief. She needn't worry about staying chaste anymore. She had fallen, really fallen. When you are fated to remain chained, wings aren't a blessing, but dead-weight. Shedding them would be the closest you'd get to feel again, the blissful weightlessness of flight.

But, that again would be a cruel joke of fate. The kind that I'm sadly too used to.

It would have felt right and proper, in an odd sense of closure, having Jokshun be the one to close this loop. For it was with him I had started this journey. My very first initiative, the trip to the Templeton. Of course, I'd have to kill him, and bury the truth alongside. Or come clean to the court, letting them maim him instead, and throw me in a Castle somewhere far from civilization, to live and die in solitary. Had the moment been different, had Wolkenshire needed me no more, that would have been preferable. Getting knocked up with Jokshun's kid, sure made for a fitting end. If only fate were so kind.

As the pressure up her nether emptied, and rushed in again, this time three inches deep, the Queen knew for sure what it wasn't. Jokshun was short, and already out of his boots. With the angle at which she stood, and the height of the table, unless he had a wooden box to step on, there was no way their hips lined up. This was not his penis.

Her flaring nostrils pieced out the rest. The distinct honey sweetness of the Merisscian plantain. Also known as the green spotted banana, a major export from the Province of Merissca. One of the many fruits in the bowl that got knocked over earlier. He was using the banana for a dildo. But the ridges?! Did he peel the skin off before stuffing me good? That's so weird. But feels good. Hmmm... Yes, that spot. Hit it again. Umphhh..

As the Queen felt her hips gyrate back in tandem with the push, with musical moans escaping her lips, she heard him dragging closer the chair with the other hand. Sitting down, Jokshun took a moment to appreciate the incredible luck that prevented him committing something treasonous. For he had in fact really rammed his cock up the hungry hole before, getting pissed by her taunts. But had this weird moment of clarity, some akin to déjà vu. A feeling of being similarly triggered, only in someone else's skin. What if this is exactly what happened with Hoyt? Getting sucked into a mess in the daze of heat. Despite the spirits of his long line of obscure predecessors screaming out from within, to not waste a chance to breed and be one with a specimen as such, my some miracle Jokshun managed a level head. And while plunging now her cunt with a skinned fruit, Jokshun realized his erection had waned, but the enjoyment only multiplied.

He is in control now. And for a simple coachman, control is a rare high.

Having broken the decoy's spell, now he may decide how to tease. How to please.

Feeling the pin-prick of his mustache, the Queen spread her legs wider, for the banana had been turning a slimy mess slowly from the constant in-and-outs, and she could really use some lick-job. Maintaining the practiced subservient stance with her arms crossed behind, Elanor closed her eyes, waiting for the fruit to be discarded. For her loyal serf to dine on it's remains.

Wait. No no no.. Ewww, Jokshun don't!

Her thoughts never turned to words, and her glutes clenched in protest, but him firm hand on the small of her back kept her in place, as the Queen heard again that strange sadistic voice from within.

Be glad that he hadn't bred instead. The boy got some nasty appetite, Queeny.

Learn to appreciate, would you.?!

In less than twenty seconds, Elanor's feet left the ground, toes curling unable to contain the churn in her core. His right hand hadn't stopped, the plantain kept tunneling on, the tip hitting her insides turning mush with each impact. The Queen had lost her grip, biting her drooly lower lip in an attempt to muffle the moan, for she could accept signalling how much it pleasured her very core. She hadn't stooped so low as to integrate such degeneracy, even when her loins had jumped on board without shame.

Suddenly her back arched, and the Queen lost all composure, unclasping the submissive hands and struggling to hold on as her body convulsed. Held together in place only by Jokshun's firm grip, a hand each hooked under her thighs. Her nails scratched the wood in desperation, as her head tilted up, neck craning. The open mouth gasping for air, with strands of Jokshun's spittle still linking her right red cheek to the table.

She couldn't come to terms with yet, that her most loyal servant's face now stayed buried between her buttocks, his rough raunchy tongue worming up her anal passage. Out the corner of her vision she spotted the hour glass, with plenty sand to be emptied out. And then things turned a blur.

She remembered his nails weaving deep into the the thick pubes. Making a tight fist, and yanking down mercilessly. She remembered pain shooting up her nerves, flavoring the pleasure already coursing up her spine. Waves of pleasure shot out her pussy, gushing past the slimey plantain, spraying outwards in a violent fruity squirt. Sucking in his tongue, her anal ring clamped shut. And her pelvic floor followed suit, clenching so tight that it crushed the piece of banana sticking out, the last inch or so dropping to the floor.

Losing herself to a blissful brief black-out, the Princess had one lingering notion, between through bated breaths.

I have felt this before.

**

*

The Finest Lubricant

Walking back into the Office of Households, Bella's eyes went straight to Ishikawa's note. Someone had put a paper-weight over it, probably the cleaning maid. It wasn't just the parchment, there was a new message. A green envelope, tucked between the weight and the parchment. Easing down to her chair, Bella reached for it. There was a short-code, HV56-DX3, embossed near its right-hand corner. As her eyes wondered at the lack of information regarding the sender, her fingers plucked apart the the red sealing-wax, and undid the tie. As the envelope unfolded, she immediately realized it was a dead-drop. Not only it lacked any information on the sender, if Bella was to respond, she must use the same envelope and forward it to the postal branch DX3. This was an old, yet reliable anonymous mailing service. Anyone may retrieve it, provided they have the correct short-code.

As all these went through her head, a peculiar sweet scent wafted off the envelope, and her gaze fell upon the message inside. It was two simple lines, with an emblem stamped to its right, both done using the same violet ink, which had a tinge of gold. Two lines, that would have made zero sense, if not for the emblem. An ornate circle, encasing a falcon-head. Drawn off-perspective to capture it's both eyes.

Hoyt, you cretin! If only it was all in your head.

The message was clear. And the sender, no longer a mystery.

The one who had dared to oppose the Whipper. The one who saw the unthinkable, alongside that feeble cleric. Now he has reached out.

It's time we talked.

Where and when?

Just as she read, the sweet scent faded off. And with it, the ink began to disappear. In a blink, Bella found herself staring at a blank envelope. Had she not read up on her free-time, about all that's required and all that's not, the simple effect should have freaked her out. Magic-ink, designed to write secret-notes. The kind that can't be read twice. If intimidation was what they were going for, all it elicited was an amused smile. As she reached for the quill, Lady Agrafena hadn't a clue where this would lead. What was there to express, other than gratitude, to the mystery man who had literally saved her Queen from that momentary madness, the true-confession as she called it.

This is getting out of hand. From Adriana knowing, to Jokshun possibly piecing it out, and now this.?! Still out of the three, this one would prove the hardest to suppress.

Bella hadn't yet informed her Queen, of this possible witness. She hadn't told her about Labiet either, or the agent who's spying on the cleric. Her job wasn't to complicate the life of the Great Chaste, and unless she had a solution, she wasn't going to bother her Queen with an issue that wasn't pressing. But with him reaching out, confirming our doubts, underlining his identity, shouldn't I..

NOPE. Not yet.

Elanor will learn when it's time. When I know for sure what his game is. Lacking an answer is one thing, but at least I should get clarity on the question. Till then, Nora will do better in the dark.

Besides, something in the wind whispers.. That all these months had been leading, in a way.. To the moment I am about to put in words. Before folding the envelope and sealing it back, Bella had written two simple lines. Enough of an answer, if he really wants to meet.

___

Five past Six, The Eve Before.

Sacellum, South-wing, Winter Palace.

___

**

*

Getting up from the table-top, having calmed herself, the Queen first looked at the hour-glass. Her eyes then jolted to the coach-man who was now resting on the chair, his eyes still wide in disbelief. Elanor felt conflicted. She didn't enjoy being so aroused that she lost control before the peasant, though she couldn't deny it was up there with her most satisfying sexual experiences so far. Perhaps it was the novelty. Or, the fundamental depravity involved.

"You do that often, Jokshun? Eating a girls ass out??"

"I don't." His eyes still had trouble meeting hers, but his voice had gained much confidence.

"You are my first, Demura. And final, might I say."

"Final?! That tongue was so excited." The Queen said, as her right hand wedged itself between the butt-cheeks with a napkin.

"Excitement and enjoyment aren't always the same. Fear is exciting, war brings excitement. I enjoy neither."

Elanor looked amused. It was certainly her first time hearing him be so verbose.

"Well, it was your idea. Why do it, if you hate it so much.?!"

"Well, clearly I didn't hate it. Just that.."

Tossing the napkin aside, the Queen walked over, reminding herself to use more of that girly voice, for she was 'Demura' now.

"I understand, my serf. But why do it at all? That a secret fantasy of yours, rimming the royal likeness? What?! Do you sniff up the royal ass impressions as well, in the carriage cushion.?"

"Don't..!" There's that madness in his eyes again. Only this time it was much controlled. Jokshun continued. "Please.. Do not even joke about our Great Chaste, in such manner."

Elanor smiled.

"I won't. Promise. So tell me.. Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Lick my ass so good, you dumb-ass.?!"

"Oh, that was all Tabitha.."

"Her again?!" The Queen did not like that detail.

"What do you mean, again?!"

"Nothing.. Tabitha told you to lick my.."

"Please stop saying that.."

Well, you did it. Ass-licker..!! Elanor chuckled within, enjoying how the details seem to disturb Jokshun as well. At least we have something in common.

"She kept torturing me with stories, on that first week.." The coachman explained, "Of what a slu.. What a sexual being the new decoy is.? She told me how keen you were, while eating her butt.."

"No, she didn't.!" In that genuine instance of protest, Elanor broke character. She sounded nothing like Demura, nor the Great Chaste. She had for a moment, became the bratty Princess from her teens.

"Well, she said you did a.." The shift in tone truly threw Jokshun off.

"I DID NOT.!! Ewwww.. Stop mentioning that. It didn't happen like that. There was so many coc.. I mean, it was so confusing, and I don't know how it happened, but I.. Ewww, Jokshun I did not do that on purpose. Who all did she say this to.?!"

"Just me.. I think. The others surely have no clue. I mean. Jezeb wouldn't have shut up had he known. I thought she was pulling my leg, but seeing how upset you get now.."

"Jokshun, don't ever mention it agai.."

"She called you the best in Wolkenshire!"

"What.?!" Elanor was so annoyed at how easily flattery worked on her. Especially when praising something vividly sexual.

"She said you were so into it.. Almost making love to her down there.. That it took her back fifteen years, the tricks your tongue did around her anus. That it was the greatest sensual stimulus she had experienced in her whole life. That you had a gift for.."

"Could you please stop mentioning that bitch?! Gift, my foot."

Being in her bratty irritated self, she walked up to his chair, and said down right on his lap, his right pant-less thigh to be precise, with her frowning face down, and arms crossed. Like a kid struggling with tantrum. The Queen herself didn't realise how closely the posture resembled her sitting on the lap of King Ribert as a young girl, seeking consolation, often after fighting with her sister and the maids. Only Jokshun was no King, nor father, and hadn't a clue how to pacify.

So they just say there, both half-naked, in awkward silence. Suddenly the Queen's face lit up.

"Hey, wait a moment. If my tongue is so gifted, then how come you felt compelled to poke yours up mine instead.?!"

Jokshun didn't really want to explain, but having her visage this close and eager, he couldn't shut up.

"Because she called it her greatest sensual stimulus. A bliss far more compelling than multiple orgasms. And I have known neither. My best sexual memory is still that wild night in Desert Rose. I had never missed my ring finger more, than when your ass cheek kept slipping out from my terrible grip. And I wanted to.. Reciprocate in kind, but.. That bloody bar fight broke out, and the scary lady barged in yelling.."

Scary lady?! Oh, Sonja would punch your lights out just for saying that. I wonder how she's been.. Elanor smiled as she listened on.

"And when I realized who you were.. What you were, with the decoy program and all.. I was so afraid, and ashamed that I did everything I could to stay away.. But all the while, a part of me ached for what was owed. I owed you an experience. The best I could provide. And here comes Tabitha telling, that eating out from under is better than cumming."

"Perverts.. You and Tabitha both." Elanor said mockingly while rubbing his scalp.

"Rimming, she called it. My drinking buddies harassed me for even suggesting it as a joke. For them, even eating pussy is so beneath a man. And here I come, teasing it's neighbor. They sounded so cocksure, given none of them hadn't the pleasure of a maiden without paying, but.. Tabitha knows stuff, you know. She's been.. Around, and for long. And if it is such a pleasure, licking up one's rear, then.. Honestly Demura, I'm not saying I had this planned, thought this through, but.. I couldn't think up a better way to repay, especially once I parted the cheeks. It looked so pristine. Clean shaven and bleached, like you were waiting for someone to dare himself in. Seeing it up close changes you. And I wanted to take you to bliss. That's all there to it. If that makes me a pervert, then I guess I am one."

"You definitely are now. So.."

"Did it?"

"What?!"

"Take you to heaven? Was it that good, my tongue?!"

Jokshun looked at her eagerly. The Queen smiled and straightened her spine, putting her weight on the left leg, as she tossed the other over the chair's back-rest, hooking her knee on the top-rail. When her left palm gently pressured his shoulder, Jokshun found himself slouching further down, till his face leveled with her pelvis. His eyes widened spotting the rest of the plantain bulging out from her pussy lips.

"What was your question, again?"

"Did my.. uhmm.. tongue.. Take you to heaven?"

"Well, if it did, then it should probably taste like heaven still. So, you tell me.."

A slight forward lean was enough. Jokshun understood the task, and resumed dining, this time from a better suited hole. And it had something actually edible.

Is this what rearing feels like, the Queen wondered. Feeding the weakling, right from your own body. For something about his need to quench gave her bosoms chilling goosebumps. Her both nipples budding out underneath the robe, the impressions of which weren't hard to spot now. It made no sense, but Elanor felt like her bosoms were brimming with milk.

Feed on me, Jokshun. Feed and feel good.

And feed he did. Licking of the oozing sweetness along her thighs, nibbling on the chew-toy of her juicy daffodil frills, those inner labial lips, and biting down small chunks as the length of the fruit lodged within descended from gravity. In fact, if not for the incredible suction of her wet inner walls, her calculated vulvic clenches, the banana would have slipped out long back, especially with the Queen standing. But those were tricks of the trade that th coachman had no business knowing. Perhaps she would compare notes with the professional, Lady Agrafena herself.

Or not, for it may give her ideas for the Eve-before. The performance is obscene enough already.

"What?" The Queen couldn't help but ask, as Jokshun looked her way eagerly. His eyes clearly lost in wonder. Taking a pause, he asked.

"How long have we known each other.?"

He resumed feasting, while his eyes waited on for a reply. Elanor understood his confusion. He is wondering how long had he truly been confusing this fictional decoy for his Queen. The one standing right before.. The one he drove to Desert Rose many times.. The one he happened upon in Ormangrad.. Which among those were actually his real Queen? Where else had he taken her to do something unqueenly, mistaking her for the Great Chaste of Wolkenshire.? Elanor closed her eyes, as a moan escaped her lips. He's got very gifted lips. Oh my..

"If you ever visit Templeton, Jokshun, stay clear of the local taverns for a while. Or any countryside shady establishments, for that matter."

Jokshun kept nibbling, wondering how it related to his question, as the Queen continued.

"There's a catchy song getting popular, I heard. I real bawdy one. Unfortunately, it tells the tale of my first ever outing. An accident, honestly.. But the lyrics make me sound so dirty.. My point is, it happened on the night of the Templeton fest. And you took me there Jokshun. You were there, when I came to be. I hope that answers your question. Now what about mine?"

What? The coachmen asked with his brows.

"How do l taste?"

You taste.. Eyes did the talking.

Like banana.?! The Queen chuckled within.

"Like pure heat." Jokshun's voice had never ringed so seductive. The Queen felt the last chunk of plantain slide out, simply from the increased lubrication.

Hmm.. Then eat.

Clutching his skull with both hands, the Queen pushed him closer, his high cheekbones digging deeper into her inner-thighs, feeling him breath in her sensual essence. Eat grinning like stupid, Jokshun. You are one to compare taste, you Sir Cashew-paste. The mere thought was enough to flood her mouth with saliva. Elanor craned her neck, and looked at the hour-glass.

Cutting a bit close. Up for a challenge, Nora?

Taking a breather, Jokshun said pantingly. "God Demura, Templeton?! You can't do such things. It's the Royal-likeness that you are risking."

Is he being a Handler, or a loyal concerned servant?! Elanor said scoffingly, with the girly modulation.

"You say that like I had much choice then. Like I have, now.."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, finish the lunch, you silly serf."

With delighted determined eyes Jokshun leaned tight against the royal vulva, making a thick air-tight O with his pouting lips, and with a single powerful suction, extracted out the slimey plantain remains. The Queen felt it, her inner walls getting pulled by the vacuum, or may be it was just her mind. But she felt in flesh, how tight-lipped her loyal serf could get. His full beard annoying her sensitive nether, as her pubic curls did the same up his nostrils, both refusing to back down.

"All done!"

Jokshun grinned wide, like a kid out from a candy shop.

"Good, my turn. Table. Now!"

Jokshun wondered how such a commanding presence could be taught, that too to a simple country girl in such short time, but standing half naked, dazed and sex-stenched, she had better presence than many Commanders he had known. Don't dwell on it, some people learn quick. Nothing odd with it, okay. This is Demura, the Royal Decoy, Jokshun kept telling himself while slipping off his breeches as directed. Then, why do I feel so compelled to submit. Like I had felt only with.. Fucking stop it, Jokshun..!

In no time obedient coachman found himself laying over the table, in a posture not too different from the decoy few minutes ago. Standing by the edge, with his legs spread apart in an inverted Y, his toetips barely touching the stone-floor, as the bulk of his weight, his belly, rested on the table top, with his ass hanging from the edge. Still dressed in her maroon robe, Elanor walked up behind and squatted down performatively, like the many times Adriana had made her do. Spotting the hour-glass over the curvature of his ass, with that final two inch of remaining sand, Elanor did some quick calculations, and got to work.

A good mouthful. Don't fail me, Jokshun.

Her mere breath was sufficient stimulant, for the edged and denied meat-pole to grow full-mast, and the Queen herself was over teasing. Still, wanting a proper load for reasons, she knew she should start with warming the balls. With her frothy oral pool.

Gosh... That was, mmmphh....

Jokshun clutched the air with both fists, as he felt his scrotum getting sucked right in with a single slurp, spittle splashing against his twins like waves, as the decoy's tongue-tip drew along the leathery sack, spells that would put cupids to shame. The Queen of Wolkenshire felt back in her element, as obscene as it sounds, feeling the balls of a servant bulging out her left cheek, as her right buccal flesh sunk deep with increased oral suction.

Oh mine.. What are you doing, Demura..

Clenching his glutes, Jokshun gasped for air. It was hard to belly-breath laying on your tummy, and the heat of her nosy exhales hitting his perineum sure didn't help.

Mahn, I missed this.

Shame was the last thing on her mind, as his musty musk filled up her lungs. No, don't you dare indulge. Focus on the task Nora.. The Queen reprimanded herself, as her right hand had snaked down and nearly teased her stiffened clit. No touching. You weren't supposed to even cum. Spraying shamelessly all over poor Jokshun earlier.. How dare you?! Take care of the poor thing, you slut!

That voice from within, the one she hardly recognized, the one that had near-perfectly blended in to her own heated tone, was now pushing the limits. For the Queen had never called herself a slut so far, nor considered it a point of pride. But her focus was elsewhere to notice the slip up. The change in her own inner voice. The grip of the unknown tightening.

His leaking pre-cum had been carefully collected all this while, by her left hollow palm. Taking a break to breath, Elanor joined her both palms into a cup, next to her chin. Frothy spittle poured out her lips and pooled up in her cupped hands, her natural lubricant to milk him good. Mouth-breathing loudly, Jokshun craned his neck and looked around, trying to take his mind away and prolong the bliss of being stroked dry, when he spotted it.

"Demu.. Demura the hour-glass.."

"Shut up, Jokshun." The Queen yelled, not wanting to be disturbed.

"Time, Demura.."

"Shut up, I know the time..! Just cum for me good.!" There was genuine anger in her voice, as her grip tightened with the downward stroke, alternating slimy fists which twisted as they pumped. I'm the fucking Queen, serf! Time can wait! Hmmm..

Leaning in for another lick at the bouncing ball-sack, Elanor found it hard to ignore anymore, what's right in front. In her many months of knowing men, in ways more intimate than most women ever would, the Queen had never dared such a close intentional look. But something in her compelled, something that was beyond her understanding. What surprised her further on first glance, was how nice it looked. No disgusting curls, unsightly blemishes, or signs of grossness. Compared to his hairy thighs, and decently groomed pubes, it looked clean-shaven.

You lying bastard.! You wanted this didn't you?

You had fantasized having me make love there, ever since that wicked maid put that idea on your head. You rationalized, you denied, but at the end of the day, you came prepared. Well-groomed, clean, and scented even. God, yes.. That is no musk, that's some costly scented oil on his ass. All so perversely thought out.

Well, tough luck buddy! Go find some cheap street-whore to lick your..

Oh, wait wait, Nora..!

Don't Nora me.. I'm not doing it.

There wasn't a thing that annoyed her more, that having to argue with oneself. But like most arguments, it was irresistible to snap back. Even knowing full well, there's no winning.

What's the harm, Princess?! Just a lick. Simple.

No can do.!

Why not? He didn't even hesitate with yours. Prude!

No.. Not listening. Blahlalalalalah...

Oh right? You only sub for dykey backdoors, huh?!

Laalaaleeeeelalaaaa.. Can't hear you..

Blableeehhblooouuuhh...

Stop it, you aren't thirteen.

Or are you afraid?

Falling short of the hype.. Failing to a man.

Bluueeeeblaaaaaaahh.... What.?!

I mean, he made you pee yourself.

He clearly has aced the techniques. It would be pathetic.!

Princess Nora upstaged by peasant tongue.

What? That's not what I..

You are right. Do not eat his ass.

Maintain the mystery, even if its a lie.

Strategic silence, right?!

Nice try. I'm not falling.

Right, my fearless Queen.

I'm.. I'm not afraid.

Well, you should be.

The tasks are only going to grow more demanding.

You'd want it demanding, for the only way is up. What else is there?

Abstinence?!

Oh, that worked out GREAT for the first six months.

Yeah, we're done.

Right we are. Hahaha..!

SHUTTUUPPPP..!!!

As much as it angered her, Elanor saw the point. Sooner or later, more will be asked of her. Blowjobs and handjobs would turn dull, stripping would loose it's thrill, even anal would prove too vanilla. Not for her, but for the increasingly wilder crowds these tasks tend to require. The first time was an accident, but next time, it would be a requirement. May be a week from now, a month.?! Absolutely in six. Do you want to look weak and plead then, to leave your tongue unmolested.? Do you really want it left, such a known dislike, to the mercy of the unknown?

But what am I to do?

How am I to warm up.?!

When my body rejects, when my throat clamps down..

Oh, your body never froze up that night, Nora.

The body knows deep, learns quick. It adapts, it survives.

Blabbering between Tabitha's spread cheeks.. It came alive, of all things.

It's the mind, that has trouble admitting.

And soul? That's a realm of it's own.

Huh.. That sounded so much like..

Oh God!

Elanor never understood why Bella had incorporated that pervert-sage Ishikawa into all this. She had a hard time digesting wisdom that seemed wicked, and never gave much thought to the long monologues the old man was insufferably good at. Yet right now her mind found it useful, one of the few words quotes of him that stuck to her, from the days of anal training. Ishikawa used to chant it, while playing the ancient eastern lute, pipa. Making a relaxing meditative space devoid of anxiety and rigidity, letting her increase incrementally, the size of the plug. She hated not getting the native pronunciation right, for so much of meaning was inseparable from the original tongue. But the clergyman had provided her his best translation.

Dōi wa saikō no junkatsu-zaida.

Consent is the finest lubricant.

If my body had already given, perhaps it's time my mind consented. My soul allowed itself, to look past the obvious debasement.. And brave myself, like my loyal serf did.

All those musings hardly took ten seconds, as the Queen of Wolkenshire finally smiled. Her hands had never resumed stroking, but the pace suddenly slowed. Her grip relaxed, shifting to an inverted clasp. A softer touch. For it was decided, that the peasant cums hands-free.

What was that?!

Jokshun's eyes widened as a jolt went up his resting spine, feeling the warmth wiggle in places that seemed too sinful. Is she.? Oh no, Highness.. I mean, Demura.. DON'T..!! The coachman screamed out loud, or he wanted to. But Jokshun was just a man, reduced from constant teasing and edging to a single thought. A need. To cum, at all costs.

His mind may have rebelled first, but his body had given in. Even his mind, he wasn't so sure of, for there's no hiding in dreams. And he sure had many, with the decoy's face buried between cheeks, just as she did now, ever since Tabitha told.

Warm, gentle, long consecutive licks. Starting at the base of scrotum, riding up the perineal line, and slithering along the curve of the rear-cleft. Just to familiarize with the salt of his sweat and sour of the scented oil. The sudden visible goosebumps spreading across the back-buns made her laugh. Oh, so I am getting to you.

Parting the rigid cheeks, the Queen nearly broke the spell laughing, as no hole came into view. Where is it? I mean, where is the opening.? And why is the buttock so sturdy?

Unlike Her Highness, having done no classical training in the anal arts, the coachman's bum maintained it's virginal quality. Having drilled to her mind through repeated sessions, the shape of her own excited rear, as seen through the mirror held by Ishikawa during plug-changes, the Queen had almost forgotten how little of the anal opening showed in ordinary behinds. Or how tight the regular ones are, for that matter.

More out of confusion than curiosity, her right hand reached over her back, and cupped her own right rear cheek. It felt like melted, with a firm fatty jiggle, a stark contrast to the coachman's rear, made rigid by time and gravity, from all the constant sitting. She was amazed in a long while, how sensually supple her buttocks felt, how invitingly it parted with the slightest pressure, the smooth skin letting the digits slide right in, needing no lubricants. Her fingertips traced along the soft sensitive ridges, the leathery creases, along her well-trained anal ring. A body part that hadn't a name to her knowledge, until the last few months. The territory wasn't just familiar to her touch, but welcoming. Unlike Jokshun's buttocks. Cheeks reluctantly parting, with the skin, the flesh, vanishing into a tight depression that could hardly fit one's pinky.

A challenge.?!

Oh, he'll more than consent, the loyal peasant.

My lips can get very persuasive.

You sure, Nora?

He will indulge.

Spread.

Beg.

Make him.

Licking is an innately calming grooming gesture, that's shamed out from an early age as part of civilizing. Animals does it all the time, to the young ones, to potential mates, to themselves. A blend of cleaning and comforting. And perhaps gauging the other, reading the pheromones, licking the loins. Underneath the veil of civility, we are all creatures of passion. It hardly took a dozen focused laps from the Queen for the serf to relax. For the royal tongue-tip to reach, and tease the curls that were far too deep for a shave.

Elanor knew better than to look, for there were only so much you can fool yourself into trying. And certain visuals were bound to invoke a visceral rejection, even though it had gone smoothly with regards to Tabitha. No, I don't want to risk anything that could traumatize me, or Jokshun, from ever attempting this again. With her eyes shut tight, the Queen proceeded relying solely on oral touch.

Her mouth braved further in, as her finger-nails torturously tickled the coachman's veiny dangling hard-on, careful not to over-stimulate and make him blow ther load. Jokshun had grown comfortable with the new posture, his little paunch smushed flat against the table-top, ass pushed out unmindfully, yet invitingly, with legs hanging down from the edges, toes barely touching the ground. His beige tunic had turned a darker shade at parts, from all the sweat.

"Ahhh..!!"

Jokshun moaned in a tone too effeminate, more in pain than pleasure, as Her Highness's sweaty grin widened with a sadistic arch. One of the longer anal curls seemingly teased back, and she might given it a mean tug, with those pearly teeth. Oh, relax.. I'm just toying with you. Choosing to not pluck the hair, Elanor let goof the bite, and licked the pained skin-pore pacifyingly.

There it is.. Come out, I won't bite. I promise.. Finally feeling the bump of his shy rear-ring peeking out, the Queen let go of the cock and grabbed both his cheeks, nails digging deep, and firmly pushed apart. The sensual call of her warm exhales hitting from the right angle alone was enough, for the lucky serf's bottom bud to bloom further. With her eyes still closed, the Queens lips pouted to make for the plushiest contact, and before doubts and judgements ruined the mood, she leapt. Towards her first real rear kiss, pout to anal-pout.

Consent is the finest lubricant. Consent is the finest lubricant. Her mind kept chanting, to block out the judging eyes she felt suddenly, all around in the void. I want this turning a memory cherished. Not one to recoil from. Not a fate forced down my throat, but a choice I braved into.

I love how he keeps pulsing at my tongue-tip. This is all me. My doing, my being, voiced her soul. As did her mind and flesh, in unison. Consent couldn't have been more absolute, for she sure had no trouble, lubricating. Squatting with her heels digging into the haunches, the royal pussy was turning a drooly mess.

"Demu.. r.. hhhhmmnnpphhh.."

The Queen giggled feeling his desperation, as his both clenching glutes smushed her cheeks further, which only made her suckle stronger. With quarter of an inch from the tip already sliding in and out, Elanor made sure to not violate, and instead further entice by tickling out the virgin anal ring. She tactfully pressured his perineum with her right thumb, massaging in circles, as her other hand tickles the most sensitive spots of his cock, the dangling mushroom head, with the very tip of her nails. Blooming out gently from the urethra, and scratching with a feather-touch along the ridges of the glans. Taking special care in tormenting the frenulum, even when multi-tasking blind.

Elanor had long stopped needing vision to read man. Man as in the fundamental masculine response. His pulsing heat, the bated breath, those guttural moans. It all told her more, than the man himself knew. And Jokshun was proved to be a leisurely read. He may not act as such,. but he wanted this. He needed this, as evidenced by the relaxing rim.

As her tongue slithered in further, with spread out spittle webbing her cheeks and chin to his buttocks, Elanor found the sounds and moist suction strangely arousing.

Crack..!

Taking a moment to breath, the Queen eased back, and slapped the protruding peasant ass playfully, while checking the state of his erection. He was there. Right there, painfully craving a release. She could milk him dry in two pumps if she wanted to, but she didn't. She wanted him cumming hands free. Or better.. That sadistic grin returned, as her right hand reached out and flicked his crown, right on the frenulum.

"Ahhh.. Highn.. Demura, please. Let me..."

"Cum.?!"

Yes. His harsh panting confirmed.

"In a moment Jokshun. Now quiet."

"The tym.."

"QUIET I SAY..!!"

She commanded, flicking the poor groin again, this time a dismissive back-hand slap, letting both the shaft and the gems dangle on like a pendulum. Was that too harsh?! Elanor felt bad, for a moment, when the voice backed her wickedness. The worm should have known better. You did right, Princess. Though a kick would have taught the virgin good.

Virgin?!

It was her Vankenbraum sensibilities making that point. For where she hailed from, anal innocence was equally considered part of virginity. Oh yes, Jokshun. Let this be the day, some slutty tongue robbed off yours. Hahaha..

Elanor was too caught up in the heat to notice again, that she had referred to herself as 'slutty'. It wasn't from her vernacular. Nor was it her true voice.

Nails dug into the flesh, and parting the peasant's subservient cheeks in a determined push, Demura dove in nose first. Her tongue dipping past the loosened anus, as far as one-fourth an inch. Flapping left to right to mislead, she tilted back by an inch, only to dive back in, this time pushing in one-third of an inch. Jokshun felt weightless, floating on the tabletop like a fish, as the Queenly visage bounced on his back-buns, tongue-fucking the little puckering hole with increasing enthusiasm. Her neck moved like a wood-pecker, drilling with her tongue repeatedly, stopping with a full pout pressed against the anus and slurping in the splattered drool with deep suction, ignoring the mess her face was turning, only to spit it back at the puckering hole and continue wood-pecking.

The Queen moved so mechanically, yet passionately that the lubricating drool was frothing up, and dripping down, drenching the neckline of her maroon robe. She could feel it winking in tandem, his rear flower blooming out and snugging in, massaging back her slimy wet tongue. With the buns cushioning the impact, the posture wasn't exactly ideal for deeper penetration, especially for a novice, but the Queen nearly managed in, a little more than an inch of her long flexible tongue, when she pulled the trick.

The same one Jokshun had tortured her with, the 'yanking pubes maneuver'. Only she couldn't risk him ejaculating. So the Queen went instead for the more agonizing alternative. She gave a swift yank to his pubic curls, the ones on his dangling ball-sack. It'd sting, she knew. But such pain was required to balance the bliss he was about to receive. Biting into his right palm, Jokshun screamed wordlessly, trying his best to keep it muffled as ordered, as his rear-ring clamped up. An expected bodily response to pain. And the Queen masterfully pushed in a bit more, enough of her tongue to curl inside, and tickle the inner walls. With her one hand pushing open his left butt-cheek, and other soothingly massaging the pained scrotum, Elanor couldn't have predicted the enormity of what just happened.

With half of the royal tongue successfully buried up the ass, the Queen did a tricky twirl with the tongue-tip, touching a part of the poor peasant's anal passage that was itching to be teased. And pushing his desperate erection over the edge. The Queen felt in her right grip, his balls clenching, and as she wished, the coachman shot his load straight down, helplessly hands free. And doing so squeezed his groin, aiding the erection pumping air, and clenching the rim around the meaty middle of her tongue in a firm grip. The Queen could have easily slithered out, but as the long-edged serf finally ejaculated, she was suddenly reminded from the odd oral sensation, something long-forgotten.

The Virgin-Hold.

That's what she remembered them calling it, on that odd instance she happened upon her sister, Princess Veramour of Vankenbraum, and Stella, her boycrazy Lady-in-waiting, amidst their routine pillow-talk. It was a stormy night, and the young Princess had dozed off in her sister's chamber. When the odd shuffling sounds of linen roused her deep into the night, drifting between sleep and semi-consciousness, the Princess thought for a while she had been dreaming. Vague whispers and sloshing sounds soon turned legible, but the dark of the night helped avoid spotting anything unsightly.

Laying three feet from her, below thick blankets were the other two. Shifting underneath slowly, careful not to wake the bed-mate, and from the shape of it, they could have very well been simply laying side-to-side. Platonic pillow talks are fun, especially when sleepless and snuggling. Despite the air of innocence, the way the blanket remained scrunched up along her waist-line, it did look odd. And the strange bobbing movement of the fabric, like.. No, not thinking about it.

But the words spoken, the impression it left, was hard to ignore. They were discussing boys, and girls. Kissing and cuddling. Touching and touching. Topics shifted to potential lovers in the nobility, raunchy dramas from the servant class, elders who are rumored to misbehave, the best way to eat out a pregnant.. Nope. Not dwelling on that, again.

It wasn't her intention to eavesdrop. But by the time she came to her senses, Nora was too engrossed in the exchange, to ashamed to come clean.. And was too sinfully wide awake to slip back to sleep, in both mind and body, that she could only lay there in pretense. If anything, the regret of passive participation left her feeling aurally violated. Which is why the Princess had blocked out most of what was discussed. For some odd reason this one word stuck to her.

Virgin-hold.

It stood for the natural virginal tightness of the pussy-grip as felt by a penetrating penis, right before losing the hymen. In other words, the maximum girth or spread a pussy can manage before showing blood. It's often measured in fingers.

According to Stella, it was a sure-fire way to fool around with boys, and fake virginal purity for when the time comes. In her theory, so long as you fucked dicks that are smaller than your virgin-hold, you can confidently go into wedding night, knowing even your blood will side with the lie.

Elanor could still recall her gravelly hushed chuckle as the wicked maid informed, that Princess Veramour had a virgin-hold three digits wide. The lapping sounds that followed was the hardest to block out. The Queen hadn't thought of it for a long while, until the first time she got intimate with Barthomius, when his fingers wet with her spit had slipped up her special place. He was the first one to ever touch her there, yet it didn't feel odd, or new. It felt like his fingers had always belonged there. When he remarked delighted, almost unconsciously, "two fingers tight..", Elanor wondered to this day, why the first words out her mouth was,

"Virgin-hold..?!"

The Queen would never forget the deep blushing shame, that made her crumble unto herself right there, nor his look of amazed puzzlement. Clearly wondering how a virgin so pure came across such a degenerate concept. For it wasn't a scholarly term, well researched and defined in the sacred carnal texts. It was a sexual slang, used by young philanderers, and boy-crazy bitches adept in faking innocence.

Fear filled the heart, as her eyes remained on his, peering for the slightest of signs of disapproval. Knowing she could never tell him, how such sinful knowledge formed part of her.

He didn't ask, he didn't judge. Bard could tell from her eyes, that she couldn't tell. Not in the thick of the embarrassing now. But she might, somewhere deep into their fifties. And it'd likely make for a hilarious revelation.

Bard, I miss you so.. So much..

My love.

You should have called me a slut, and ended it right then.

Or fucked me silly and ignored, like with many willing wenches before.. For then, my bad luck wouldn't have found it's way to you.

Why Gods of the Old, why..?

...

Jokshun was too spend to notice the sudden shift in mood behind. He surely felt the warmth dripping along his haunches, but how could he have known those weren't dripping sweat, but actual royal tears.. That the Great Queen of the Wolkenshire was now kneeling right behind, silently weeping, as his buttocks cushioned her forehead. That those gentle fingers weren't exactly fondling his scrotum, but performing a pacifying gesture instead.

The Queen was reminded again the difference, from learning on a scroll, and knowing in your bones. Having never even played with herself until recently, the 'virgin hold' had remained a concept at large, an experience exclusive to the masculine. And now, she got the felt-sense, if not the real thing, perhaps its closest replica. As the peasant taint tightened around the thick of her tongue, it dawned on her that the sensation couldn't have been much different from what she had safe-guarded for her beloved all life.

That he'll never got to feel her warm virginal grasp.

That first sacred embrace, nether to nether.

That he never will.

Ever.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggghh...!!!"

Squishing her face between the muscles in front, the Queen wailed out in rage and pain, cursing the heavens themselves, caring not muffle the cries, as her both fists clenched and shook with primal fury, like she was pulling out the eyeballs of God himself.

I was denied, so you could laugh!

Denied what was mine.

Taken. Stolen.

Defiled...!!!

"Highness, mer.. mercy.."

The Queen had forgotten about the sensitive scrotum in her hands as the anger washed over, squeezing out not just all leaking seed, but life itself out from his groin. Pain worse than parturition bridged the gap between his brain, heart and seed-sack, as the coachman clenched his jaws. His right hand literally tapping out, as the muffled cry finally made it out.

"Please.."

It never registered in her addled mind, but for some luck the Queen relaxed her grips in a few seconds, instead hugging on to his hairy thighs now, for emotional support. Her nails had left deep impressions along the veiny limpness, a hair short from drawing blood.

All she could think of at the moment was the sense of deep loss, and the gravely whisper of the chambermaid echoing within.

Virgin-hold.

Who cares for the virgin-hold, Princess.? Your Gods.?!

Then let's spit right in their faces.

Yes.

The sudden supporting voice from within couldn't have sounded more re-assuring.

Fuck the Gods!

Fuck Fate herself!

Damn them all to the burn-pits of hell.!!

Yes, yes..

Flame and flail you cursed CUNT!

Fuck, yes?

Fuck, yes!

So who are we fucking? Jezeb? Vlazid?

Jokshun is clearly done.

...

What?

Right, let's make it grander. Undeniably desecrative.

I'm thinking Grinwald.. Or High Priest, the benevolent Benedictus himself.

Separation of Church and Crown,

One Holy-fuck that'd be!

..

That's not what I..?

Or what are we? In mood for an orgy?!

Are we truly going for a bastard now, Queenie?

To breed an actual bastard,

Blacking out in the hedonistic haze, the very face of it's father?!

In here? Or back in our chamber?

shut up.

Shut up.

SHUT UP..!!!

..

.

The voice never stopped. It only intensified.

Oh God! This..

This isn't me.

With the fog of lust subsiding, the Queen quickly realized the enormity of what she nearly did. Gambling not just her position and good name, but the trust that was bestowed upon her alongside the crown. That she wasn't a Princess, nor a Queen, to drink and drown oneself in a pool of hedon's milk, like many her peers were prone to. Like a malady of abundance. No, she must remain beyond such excuses, for she was the True-ruling monarch. And the bringer of the heir apparent.

A privilege above even that of being throned, as said in the Holy Writ.

And here I was enticing wantingly, a mere coachman, to unburden me of its weight.

Forcing him to have his way with me. To breed, and leave me despoiled.

God, what have I...?! NO.

No, it wasn't me. But it did sound a lot like.. What am I saying?!

A lesser mind would have been quick to blame.

But the Queen knew better. Even if she didn't understand it yet, she knew who had been pulling strings. The culprit was within.

It wasn't me. But it did sound a lot like me.. That wretched voice..

Only, it was wrong. It was all false, far from right. It didn't feel right then, and it doesn't still.

It felt good, real good. But..

Oh, bullshit!

What?! Oh no..

Here we go again, arguing with oneself.

There's nothing to argue. We saw it all.

Your crooning, and creaming and claiming.

It felt so right that you nearly dreamt up raising his child.

Stop fooling yourself, Princess.

You know it was all you.

Nora realized now, her grave mistake.

Confusing right with good.

We do this for the curative aspect of sex.

The re-creative element, not the pro-creative.

Breeding was never on the table.

...

Oh, shut it.

Sex is all-encompassing.

It's my freedom to be, to control my destiny.

To express my muliebrity.

Freedom to control?

The Hypocrisy of that statement, hahaha...

Then again, aren't you such a funny mess of contradictions.

To have the audacity to whore oneself at night,

And sit atop the sacred throne, the next morning.?!

That's..

You are oversimplifying.

Am I.?!

It's either unadulterated sexual expression.

Or absolute sluthood, the ultimate unwinding.

Blurring lines between the ripe and the rotting.

Slaving to the basest of instincts.

You didn't seem a slave, but may be I misread.

Queendom, or slutdom.

You tell me?

I don't owe you any explanation.

I've thought this through, my reasons are clear.

For the sake of Wolkenshire..

...

Wolkenshire..?!

Wasting away your youth, your fecundity!

For an ingrateful throne, that had only ever caused you misery,

while draining out your life-blood. Shattered the dreams that were your very being,

For sake of a war that you have no part in.

....

Those words did hurt.

Knowing the truth in it, hurt her a lot more.

...

And the subjects you so adore.

You think even for a second, they'd accept what you have become.

Forgets the simpletons, what of your prospects.

The opportunists lining up to take your hand. Who sees Queen Elanor

As synonymous with the Wolkenshire throne, and nothing more?!

You think any of them would share your changed views on chastity?

To placate, perhaps. To pervert along, may be.

To taunt and shame, and cultivate a union so toxic? That's more likely.

Enough.!

...

.

enough.

Do you seriously think Nora, that a man worth his soul would ever see in you..

The flesh and blood and soul that is you..

Anything of worth now?!

Marital dynamics..

Elanor could feel the confidence draining out quick, for she was about to suggest a dynamic that she had once so despised.

Royals are notorious for strange marital dynamics.

Oh, don't you dare!

Judging all life your own mother's shameless liaisons,

And hating the guts of the sole sibling, taking right after her. Swearing to oneself,

On the celebratory sweet-sixteenth, to forever remain with one man.

Till death do us part. That was you, the Great Chaste..!

Seems laughable now, doesn't it.?!

That your point.? That I've turned what I despised the most?!

We sound a lot alike, and you talk as if you know me,

But you don't. Clearly.

And he does? Your new fuck-boy, Jokshun.?!

Or the dear departed Barthomius, for than matter.

Falling for the dreamy eyes of a life-long fuck-boy..

Even a man-whore like him, do you really think..

Would ever accept with all his heart, what you have become.?

The Late Great Barthomius, the short-lived,

And his wet wanton widow!

What a match made in hell.?!

Don't you dare bring up his name! Or Jokshun for that matter.

You don't no what a real man is.

Princess, you didn't even knew yourself,

Until that deep depression gave me some free reign.

So please..

What you said.. What you did..

Stop painting me as something I'm not.

That's just so wrong.

No, it isn't. This was you, a lot more you, than me.

You speak as if we aren't the same.

Anyway, my contention wasn't about the deed.

I meant the metaphor.

Metaphor?!

Yes, painting you as such, you said. It's not painting.

Sculpting is more accurate a metaphor.

What?

I'm just sculpting you, Nora.

Carving off the lying shame, and shaping up the beauty beneath.

Revealing, might I say.

..

Huh?

All that was acted out, was you. If it wasn't, it surely has become.

And soon more will be. You become what you do.

Deeds define thee, they say.

..

You.. You aren't me.

Of course, I'm not you.

Dear, I am what you are about to be.

What you crave to be, deep down. The ever-burning pit in your underbelly.

The potential unbridled. I'm the dream, the want in you.

The pure potential.

The better you.

You misheard, perhaps.

I said, you are NOT me.

You never were. You never could be.

Nor will you ever be.

How do you plan that happening? Ignoring my existence?

Discarding it as a delusion?

Denying me?!

No. I think I'll simply outgrow you.

How? You'll always crave a better high.

No, it's the peace afterwards tat I value.

The high is just something I must tolerate.

You say that, standing on the merciful sanity, fresh from the high..

Of an emotional outburst.! Don't be the proverbial snake eating it's tail.

Round and round, there's no doubt on spiraling.

Only on how damn deep.

We agree on the spiraling,

But I'm no snake.

Precisely my point.

You are better. We are better.

The Beast of twin tails, that's what we are.

I'm done listening.

Twin tails, Nora.

We're done.

"Oh hell! Holy hell..!"

It was then Elanor's bleary eyes spotted above the arch of his buttocks, the hour glass sitting on the other end. With an inch or so still remaining in the top bulb. Either time itself had frozen, or.. The damn clock malfunctioned..!

"Damn it. Hurry Nora..!"

Like a switch flipped, all personal pains faded in a blink, overwhelmed by the Queenly sense of duty.

She was late for the court. Fashionably late, or terribly? That she didn't know yet. Picking her boots, the Queen hurried towards where she had dropped the long-skirt. While picking it up, Elanor noticed the various corners of her beautiful maroon robe that got torn in the heat of the moment. And the obvious hormonal stench emanating from the same.

Oh God.. I don't have time for.. Oh! Her eyes nearly popped in elation.

"Bella! My beloved heaven-sent, you.."

Elanor sighed in deep relief, spotting the satchel hanging from the arm-rest of the chair, the one her Head of Households had thoughtfully left. The one where she always kept the spare clothes.

Ignoring the half-closed gaze of her trusted coachman, the Queen got naked, wiping herself clean with the same torn cloth dipped in water. This was no strip show, for the Queen now resembled more, an awkward teenager in the middle of a quick change. In between she gave the hour-glass a firm nudge, and the stuck sand resumed flowing.

"Almost forgot!" Standing half dressed up, Elanor suddenly remembered the point of her little misadventure, and rushed towards Jokshun. Her scanning eyes finally found the target, but getting down on her knees, the smile quickly dimmed.

"That.. That won't do."

Jokshun was half conscious when he heard the rustling behind, but he was far too drained to respond. He felt her gentle pat on the bum, and saw her walking around, reaching for a quill, and scribbling something. She smelled no longer of lilac. But better. He heard a distinct thud, like she had dropped something on the table. Did she just sniff it right before?! Her blurred shape slowly exited his vision, but soon Jokshun felt her presence, much closer. Right by his side, her soft palm caressing his nape, as her lips closed in on his right ear, and whispered with a wet pout.

"A gift. To my most loyal serf."

***

**

*

"This is highly unusual, Tabitha. An evening syllabub?! I've never heard the Great Chaste ask for something so peculiar."

"You know how the royals get, once they get a proper grip on the throne. It's been almost a year since, right..? With the mourning window done, let Her Highness indulge some, shan't we?" Tabitha replied, as Cedric, the Master of the Kitchen himself, arranged the specially ordered sweet puddings on to the serving tray.

"Wow..! That smells like spring, Sir Cedric.."

"It's the honeysuckle and rose petals. Her Highness used to love edible flowers. You know, before the incident. If the mourning is done with, I'm sure this will lift her spirits like nothing. You sure about the sweetness.?!"

Tabitha bobbed her head, without much expression. "A super sweet high, I think, was her exact words. So you better not disappoint. And Sir Cedric.. Please provide an extra chalice."

"Another chalice of syllabub?"

"No, just an empty chalice."

The Head Cook didn't understand why she needed one, but he had known Tabitha for a long time. Had even scored with her, some six years before, during the festive seasons. The Head Maid must have a legible reason, for after all, she knows the royals the best. As Tabitha leaned in through the service hatch however, Cedric stepped back with the tray, puzzled.

"You are serving it, Tabitha? Isn't this a task for the lowly maids?"

"I like remembering the roots, Cedric, every once in a while. It helps quell the egos of fellow maids, and.. It's the Great Chaste I'm serving. Nothing lowly about that.."

The ornate silver tray contained one chalice of sweet frothy pudding, one empty chalice, a bowl of ice with ice-tongs, and two dessert spoons. Tabitha smiled at the Head Cook again, and left the Great Kitchen, the serving-tray safe in her hands. As she walked with her sweet pace along the corridors, the lowly maids walking by stopped and bowed, in equal part surprise and confusion. Confused by watching the superior who generally barked up orders upon orders, perform such a menial task. And surprised, by the infamous bawdy song she whistled on, with an unusual grin on her face. It wasn't the practiced smile of servitude. Whatever she was up to, she looked genuinely happy doing it.

Turning the corner, Tabitha pushed past the side door of a less frequented corridor, a shortcut to the Royal Court. As expected along the dimly lit corridor, there was no sentry-man every twenty feet. Since the court was in session, there were hardly two people coming from the other end. Probably senior staff from the ministry, the way they were dressed. Tabitha lowered the volume of her whistling, since the passage had a terrible echo, and kept walking.

As they passed by, she gently nodded, but the pair ignored her and walked past. With them gone, the Head-maid resumed whistling, adding a slight bounce to her steps. It was a three minute walk to the other end, especially with the food tray, so the maid kept whistling on until she saw the shadow at the other end. Someone else had just turned the corner, and was walking towards. From the gait, it was clearly a man. Her whistling stopped abruptly.

But to her surprise, the man on the other end was clearly in a good mood, and resumed where she had stopped. Which made her smile, and she joined in as well, playfully tooting while walking towards each other. When he got closer, Tabitha realized to her surprise, it was another fellow Handler. Hoyt stopped seeing the face of his whistling partner, and did a dramatic bow.

"Greetings, Head Handlers. On duty, I suppose?"

"Head Handler.?! Oh come on, Hoyt. Who knows if there's even going to be a program anymore? Let's wait for word from Lady Households."

"Doesn't matter. Just wanted you to know. That you got my vote."

Hoyt said smiling, as he passed the maid, to which Tabitha faked a smile of gratitude.

"Oh, thank you Hoyt. That's so kind of you.." You unruly imbecile.! You alone got the program nearly axed. Look at you play polite now. Fucking loser.

"Got a good feeling, Tabitha. That the program is not done with."

"Well.. Fingers crossed." The Head-maid smiled smugly as they parted ways. What the fuck was that about?! Seeing Hoyt was really infuriating, for there was nothing more insufferable to her, that being dragged down by her male counterparts. Something that was a routine in her early days as an agent. Having lost the mood to whistle, she walked speedily towards the Royal Court.

What did he mean, 'good feeling'.?! Tabitha couldn't tell why her brief encounter with Hoyt felt so bizarre. The corner he turned from.. That leads to the Office of Households. Did Lady Agrafena give him some heads up? Why would she be lenient to him, of all people. It's not like she hadn't enough reasons to hate that idiot already.

Turning the corner to the Royal Court, Tabitha could still make out the echoing whistle, from Hoyt on the other end. Ignoring which, she walked straight towards the corner of the Court entrance, for the service door.

"On schedule?!" She enquired to the familiar guard standing by the service door.

"Late by a few minutes. The court is in session now."

"Late?! That must have pissed of Her Highness."

"Oh, that's the funny thing. It was Her Highness this time, who came in late. Like late late. The court waited for her, and started with the formal introductions and such.. You know, Her Highness is here mainly for the Fostrom case. So they finished the rest of the formalities while waiting for her. It's so unlike Her Highness. Is she still in recovery?"

Ignoring the question, Tabitha asked. "How late are we talking?"

"Oh, she came in just five minutes ago."

That's so off her brand.

"Then I must go in. She hates it when her syllabub has lost it's cold."

"You better hurry."

As the guard opened the service door, Tabitha stepped in, and slowly walked along the wooden blinders separating the court hall from the service-passage. Through the decorative gaps she could see the proceedings, hear the arguments. Brehon Shourn was struggling with his presentation, as Tupee sat there, hardly masking his grin. Archminister was as involved as ever, keenly listening in, but Her Highness Elanor looked like she was suppressing an urge to sneeze. She was dressed differently than from thirty minutes ago.

Tabitha looked down on the tray, on the fresh frothy pudding, and the ice bowl. It's been a while since she did something so menial, and the weight was surely discomforting. So the Head-maid leaned against the side-wall, resting an edge of the tray along the rocky window sill, and reached for a spoon. With her ears focusing on the door behind, her eyes shifted to the presiding chair. To the Queen of Wolkenshire sitting atop, her royal visage turning another shade of pink with each breath.

Hmmm.. This is so addictively sweet.

Tabitha smiled as her tongue swirled a spoonful of syllabub.

And the pudding ain't bad either.

God, I love my job!

***

**

*

"A gift. To my most loyal serf."

That warm whisper that kept ringing like a mystical lullaby, long after the coachman had crashed from exhaustion. A brief, deep, relaxing nap. Even as his eyes blinked back to wakefulness, her angelic voice still echoed.

A gift, she said.

The first thing that he saw was the hour-glass, with one half completely emptied. God, it feels dizzy.. How long was I out?! Pushing up his heavy head off the table, Jokshun let out a satisfying yawn, when his squinting eyes noticed it. Few feet from where he had laid, with the fruit bowl for paper weight, there was a piece of parchment. With something round and shiny atop.

Another test.?!

No, it was a message.

-

___

Jokshun,

Hopefully that helped ease your discomforts with handling the Royal Image.

The Throne takes a great toll on the Queen, so imagine what it does to a simple country girl like Demura. Decoys go mad when they fail to integrate the role in proper pace. Delineating and preserving who you once where, is key to it.

For better or for worse, Demura is what she is.

After long weeks of the throne weighing her down too heavily.. On that odd night, when it'd be sinful not to spread one's wings, she'll need someone of faultless loyalty easing the burden. A Handler who can read her eyes.

Who will take me to Desert Rose without even asking.

Counting on you,

D

_

P. S. Clean up the obvious mess, and burn the files before you leave.

___

-

Picking up the engraved silver ring with great respect, Jokshun read the note a couple times, his resolve solidifying further each time.

May be there's a place for me among the trusted. The Handlers. May be I am precisely what my Queen requires, to keep her image in check.

May be this privilege.. The Cross of Absheil.. It came back to me for a reason.

Jokshun took a moment, truly taking in the beauty of the old ring. It was chunky, and had too big a hole for his fit. Perhaps I should turn it a pendent. Pocketing the decoy's gesture of faith, his eyes lingered on that hastily written message. Hastily, yet gracefully.

Wow.. They really put her through a rigorous training, didn't they? From the few public declarations I've seen, personally scribed by Her Highness, Demura has near-perfectly mimicked the elegance of royal quill-work. For a girl probably plucked from some obscure countryside, and groomed in ways of the decoy, it was truly impressive. Her poise, her gait, her voice modulation when she ditches that quaint girlishness. She looks a bit thinner compared to the Great Chaste he remembered. Little frail, less muscular. Then again, having failed at learning the quill many times and knowing how steep a learning curve it takes, Jokshun found it a hard sell, that this girl mastered it in such short notice. But I saw her write it, myself. Wait.. That was Demura, right?! I mean, she had to be that?

Shaking his head irritated, Jokshun let out a long exhale.

No! Not doing this again.

That was Demura, clear and simple. Now..

What was that about burning files?

Jokshun quickly spotted his target, a stack of folders at the other corner of the table. Thick, dark, and leather-bound. With a single grimy black boot right next. Of course, the tests. Wait, isn't that my boot?!

Ouch..!!

Walking around the table, Jokshun nearly tipped over the other shoe lying on the floor.

There's the other one! Slipping one foot in, he awkwardly limped over to the other side. The slimy tang of plantain lingered in his mouth, along with the intoxicating stench of royal juice, and although feeling parched, Jokshun didn't want it washing off of his system so quickly. Even with no one in the chamber, he kept his act together, staying ten feet away from the Royal Chair as one normally would, instead of crashing on to it. Using the table for support, he slipped in the other boot that was left on the table. He vaguely remembered the shape of Demura before he blacked out, tossing the boot on to the table. She seemed to be.. I don't know.. Sniffing it or something. Who knows.?! That girl is weird. In ways more delicious than one could dream up.

Eww..

Ignoring the irritating sticky sweatiness on his sole, made worse pressed against leather insole, the coachman went for the files. Wait.. I know I passed the test, because Her Highness.. I mean Demura told me, but.. What about the rest.? Jokshun had always been the curious kind, and having the files on hand, it felt irresistible. One peek. There's no harm done. I'm to burn these anyhow.

Skipping his own file, Jokshun flipped through the second one, Jezeb's test, curious more about the answers. On all three tests, for both questions, Jezeb had a different pick. In the second one he had the nerve to suggest himself as leader. How ridiculous.?!

The royal remarks said the same.

Do better.

Hoyt's answers were consistent. He had suggested Tabitha lead them each time, and himself to be removed. Except for the second test, probably confused by the Queen's remarks. There he suggested they remove Jokshun instead. The coachman understood his sentiment. Even if he messed up, Hoyt hadn't committed the gravest sin. Inaction. But on the last test, he returned to the original picks, and even wrote a short apology underneath, addressed to Demura. He was careful with words, keeping the details vague, but he essentially took responsibility of the whole disaster. Whatever it was. Jokshun felt a little jealous. Not about his character, but his hand-writing. Though nowhere close to the Queen, Hoyt had a unique way of writing, and phrasing things.

Someday I too shall, learn the ways of the learned. And either way, he too had failed, clearly.

For the remarks said the same. Do better. The same was written across the first page in Tabitha's folder.

Eww..

What the hell?! Jokshun put his weight onto the other leg, as the sweaty sticky sensation on his right foot became more annoying. His robes had soaked up as well, more sweat than it can handle. I really need a bath.

The faint satisfaction in him however, knowing they all had equally failed, faded when he reached the second page. The Queen's remarks was quite wordy compared to the usual 'do better, but what caught his eye was the way Tabitha had answered the Test 2. If you can call it an answer, that is. If this was even a test anymore.

Tabitha hadn't marked any of the options, instead she had with the dark ink, redacted all of the text, both the questions and the options. All, but for the first, which now read as..

1. One of the four must be made team-leader. Who are you picking?

If he weren't so stunned, Jokshun would have laughed to himself. Classic Tabitha.!

Ignoring the questions, and posing one instead. A simple, precise one.

WHO ARE YOU?

Tabitha knew?! She figured it out.? How.?! Jokshun continued to read, noticing the sudden lack of confidence evident in the strokes, of her handwritten response underneath.

This is Demura, The Imperial Decoy.

Property of Wolkenshire.

Slave to the Throne, and plaything to her Handlers.

He nearly tore the paper trying to get to the next page, where Tabitha hadn't even bothered to cross the text. She had instead written a simple task, for the now compliant decoy.

___

Demura,

You shan't leave this chamber until you turn at least pale reflection of the pet I remember. Collect orally that which you truly crave, and preserve it till I come find you. It better be a proper mouthful- White, thick, and teeming with life.

You will not spit. You will not swallow. You will not speak.

Not till I bless.

___

-

The nerves in his body suddenly relaxed, ridding all the tension from doubts regarding the real identiy, of the woman he had spend an amorous time with. Thank goodness for the confirmation. She was, in fact, the decoy. And why would she not be, you paranoid imbecile.?!

My boot..!

Jokshun remembered the first time his right boot slipped off, while belting the decoy. He remembered the sudden rush, and kicking off the other one. He blocked out the rest of the afternoon, for fear of waking his over-abused manhood. But he vaguely remembered standing by the table, with his legs spread out wide in an inverted V, his leaky dick dangling freely. He got this strange sense, that his right boot must have been laying directly beneath. Right under the cock being milked dry, while the softest tongue on all lands of men, wormed it way up his anus.

And he recalled seeing, right before losing to fatigue. Demura walking around the table, with his boot on one hand. She held it tilted. Her lips flashed that rare smile, the one she had worn many times onstage, back in Desert Rose. A rare mixture of pride and mischief.

She wasn't sniffing my boot, was she?

She was drinking right from it.

**

*

Yes! That's it.

Watching from afar the poor decoy struggle to maintain face in the Royal Court, with a mouthful of cum at that, Tabitha suddenly realized why it felt so bizarre, her brief encounter with Hoyt. It was his smile. His confident strides, and that overall relaxed bearing. A stark contrast to the man she remembered from the underground chamber, wracked with guilt. His eyes looked relieved now, and he no longer slouched like in the past few weeks.

Did Lady Agrafena actually forgive him, after all that?! I don't see any other reason for acting so jovial. The bastard even kept whistling all the way. Tabitha felt like throwing the silver tray against the wall in anger. Another incompetent imbecile gets a free-pass, probably because he's a man. He probably sucked up to some ministers, and pulled the usual strings. Fuck! I so wanted him rotting in a dungeon for at least a few months.

Looking at the decoy, Tabitha felt her annoyance dissipate. That face, those eyes.

Her anguish was evident if you knew how to spot the signs. The painfully stretched eye-brows that turns a wiggly worm every now and then, the quivering, weirdly constricting eye-lids, the prominent jaw-line, as if she's grinding the teeth in frustration underneath, and the beading sweat on her forehead. The members of the court may have missed it. But Tabitha could read it all, like only a woman could another.

Yes, the Decoy Queen is clearly under pressure. So deliciously anxious. Hmmm..

Only, it wasn't all that troubled the Great Chaste at the moment. In fact, a cum-coated sealed mouth was the least of her worries, for what she found most troubling was sitting still without calling much attention, let alone maintaining the regal posture. For what had seeped into her gums pales in comparison to what oozed out from her loins, in glacial pace. The remnants of the yucky slimy banana that had gotten too deep and stayed stuck along her inner walls had been sliding out over time. Staining the under-side of her skirt and seeping into the seat-cushion, since she had no loin-cloth on. Most of her bare inner thighs, covered by the long robes and skirt, still had Jokshun's handprints, spelling of sweet plantain, and although it never bothered in the heat of the moment, it was turning a bane now. Having to face the court, and sitting with both the thighs rubbing against each other, the icky sensation turning nightmarish with each touch. And then there were ants.

The Goddamn ANTS..!!

The number could be as little as four, and as large as a dozen. It was hard to say when multiple cretins creeping along the curves of the quadriceps, right on the sensitive sticky skin, stopping occasionally to nibble on the sugary sweat-stains, and giving a stingy bite or two at times. Elanor couldn't tell whether they had gotten on her skirt when it was discarded on floor, or had already hid in her pubes when Jokshun was eating her out, but it made no difference now. The ants were here, and crawling. Along her legs, through the pubic curls, around the vulvic wetness, some even daring down her perineum, which was the only time the Queen visibly shifted her seating, as subtly as she could. But thanks to the fruity stench they largely hung around the sticky thighs. The Queen found it truly testing, focusing on her breathing to alleviate the sensory overload, and listening in half-consciously at the Brehon's arguments, all the while steeling herself to not give in to a visceral over-reaction, in case the cretins bit too hard, at a place most terrible.

I'm firing the idiot in charge of pest-control, first thing tomorrow.

And why am I so wet, at such a time.?!

The Queen wasn't aware yet, of the silent sadist eating up her torment.

Tabitha considered whether keep the false-queen struggling a bit further. Her face had stopped turning more red, like she had made peace with it, and if Tabitha were to assess the decoy's performance as a responsible Handler, she'd rate it seven on ten. Surely the girl did her best, to act like she's listening in and meeting the eyes of both Brehons, without actually looking right at them. What was most hilarious was how she avoided looking at the Archminister, who kept glancing her way every now and then.

The Head-maid licked clean the one used spoon, and placed it next to the other. Not wanting a terrible sugar-high, she hadn't taken more than two spoons of the delicious pudding specially prepared by the Master of the Kitchen. The ice cubes in the bowl had mostly melted down, so perhaps it was enough playtime. Tabitha certainly didn't want to push it, and repeat the same mistakes as Hoyt.

Walking along the service passage towards the Queen, Tabitha replayed again in her mind how she had envisioned this going. How she planned for this to top her prior memory, of Demura suckling deep between her butt cheeks.

Her first clue was the complexion. The skin that became visible as the sleeve slid down, when Her Highness had raised her elbow to do the hand-signs, back in the chamber. Tabitha had noticed the mostly even tan, from her hand to the wrist, to the forearms. Her Highness had been on her convoy, where she stayed in carriages or manors. Indoors, in short. And to have such a nice even tan, the kind that long bright sunny days, like the ones in Hillsdale this time of the year. And she looked rather thin, especially in that form-fitting robe. Her Highness had been consistently wearing puffy, flowy outfits recently, which matched with news of her being in recovery. Recovery always adds a few pounds in the most unflattering ways, and fashion was a tool for masking such insecurities. This girl looked too fit to be in recovery. Tabitha was starting Test 2 when her mind pieced it together.

She was hesitant, wisely so. She didn't want to become the next Hoyt. But the Handler Program was likely over, making this her last shot. With trembling hands, she posed the question. WHO ARE YOU? The rest happened like clockwork. There were many ways to handle a decoy, but Lady Agrafena had been clear about the lack of discretion on the others part. Perhaps that's the real test. Tasking her right in front of the others, in complete discretion.

If I word it, just right..

Hoho.. This would prove so much fun.

Tabitha immensely enjoyed the illusion of choice. Like telling a visiting Baron the choices in the menu, knowing well before, that he'll eat what she'd feed. How about some roasted duck for dinner, Sir? Ohh.. You prefer lamb, His Excellency? That's available. Speaking of lambs, there were reports of rinderpest spreading through flocks, yesterday. Terrible sickness, so much wasted cattle. But our stock if from last week, stored in ice so.. Oh, what? No goats?! Okay, pork then? Hmm.. Excellent pick! Cook Claren is renowned for his roasted pork. So spicy that it'd make you breath fire. Oh..?! You don't like spice. Well, he's something of an artist so, we can't tell him how to cook now..

I guess we are back to the duck-roast then. Shall I?

From dresses nobility chose, to make-up countesses wore, to bath timings of visiting virginal ladies.. Tabitha had always enjoyed making choices for the powerful, without them knowing. The moment the task was written, she knew Demura would go for Jokshun. Jezeb is a wildcard, and Hoyt had done enough. And apparently she has history with Jokshun. Still, Tabitha survived this long by being cautious. Running intro Jezeb right afterwards, she got confirmation. Jokshun was the last remaining one.

Then there's the task itself.

You will not spit. You will not swallow. You will not speak.

From her unusual silence, clearly the decoy had complied. The wardrobe change was a surprise, making her doubt whether this was the real Queen, but no.. The real Elanor would have intervened long before Brehon Shourn got this far with such weak argumentation. This is Demura. My favorite pet so far. Watching her squirm in silence, sounds of ravenous suckling filled her memories, as her anal bud pucker in need.

Oh rear mine, behave.. We'll feed the pet. We got all the time.

Then there's the next trap in her wordings. A mouthful of cum, it said. Not a spoonful, which a loser like Jokshun can manage at best. Nor a cheekful. But an actual mouthful. It was worded such, for Tabitha was setting her up to fail. Demura was a victim in the others eyes. That wasn't the dynamic Tabitha wanted to establish with the decoy.

The next time they met, she expected Demura's eyes to plead. That she did her best, her absolute best. But there's a limit to what can be milked out from a beta like Jokshun. And beta or not, for a proven cumslut, semen is irresistible. Half the torture would suppressing her slutty urge, to simply chew and ingest. Like the many loads she had shamelessly downed from filthy lowlifes for the Order of Sword.

Yeah, that will surely test her resolve.

I want her eyes to beg, while pretending to be the most powerful one in all lands of men, to let her pass this time. To admit without uttering a word, how terribly she had failed the task. And to plead for my mercy. My benevolence!

That's how you handle a slutty decoy.

That's why I get to lead.

Even the fan-wavers standing on both sides had a puzzled look watching their insufferable superior, the Head-maid herself, walk up the platform with the service tray, like a lowly maid. Standing three feet from the Queen, who seemed unaware of her approaching, Tabitha bowed at her waist and said, presenting the confections.

"Highness, your evening refreshments."

The Royal eyes took a quick peek, and froze instantly recognizing it was Tabitha, the Handler. The Head-maid's grin widened watching subservience bleed into the visage of the Great Chaste.

What I would give to have the real one, kneel right before, even once.

To have her lick up my.. Focus Tabitha..!!

The decoy simply wormed her brows, asking what to do now. Tabitha's eyes darted to the empty chalice, as she lowered the tray further. Seeing the puzzled expression persist on the royal visage, Tabitha bobbed her head in confirmation.

Make it quick, bitch. The damn tray isn't so light.

"And let me re-iterate Her Highness.. That my clients, the Fostroms, are citizens in good standing, providing every term to the Royal Treasury, a fortune in taxes without.." Brehon Shourn went on and on about the qualifications of his clients, that clearly held no bearing for the case, as Demura reached for the empty chalice. She proceeded to pour out into the chalice all that was orally stored, in full view of the whole court, while pretending to be drinking. Which would be over in a blink, Tabitha knew, for the contents of her mouth would make a spoonful at best.

Given how long ago the decoy had taken the cum, adding factors like evaporation, spillage and accidental gulps, she would be lucky to have anything to show. Of course doing something so humiliating while struggling to maintain an air of elegance, that blink would feel to her like an eternity. And knowing that she had failed, her anxiety will do the rest. Tabitha felt ecstatic.

I so can't wait to watch those puppy eyes plead.

Clank!

The sound of Demura inelegantly placing the chalice back on the tray scattered away all of Tabitha's daydreams. That was so rude. I don't appreciate it. Let's make the bitch wait on me further.

The task said to remain silent, until she blessed. And Tabitha hadn't said yes yet, so technically Demura was still obliged to remain tight-lipped. Unless..

"I'm not impressed Brehon Shourn."

Demura spoke at last, as the Head-maid's face turned red. Still in disbelief, Tabitha got a glimpse of the unruly decoy who landed Hoyt in trouble. Bowing frustratedly, she started stepping away, as her mind screamed. The bitch disobeyed me?! How dare she.?! Unless.. Unless, she interpreted my final nod as me giving 'okay'. As my blessing.

But I didn't. She knows it. She should know better.

"Maid, stay."

The Queen ordered casually, as she continued speaking to the Brehon, like Tabitha wasn't even standing there, still holding the tray. How dare she..?! Tabitha saw the fan-wavers standing behind looking at each other, one of them hiding her face behind the fan, for she had a hard time suppressing the laugh. Meeting the Head-maid's bewildered eyes, they suddenly looked elsewhere, the mockful grin yet failing to fade. They saw it, heard it. A mere decoy talking down to me like some lowly scullery maid. This is humiliating, this is.. Unforgivable. Tabitha kept glaring at the Queen, waiting for the next chance to meet her eyes, but the decoy proceeded with the court as if she is the ruling Queen.

Having seen many royal-body doubles in action, Tabitha understood the limits of their privileges, and knew well that whatever the decoy was declaring out to the court had been scripted, and perhaps rehearsed in private. And if not for the blatant disrespect, she would even have been a bit impressed by how well she mimicked the real Queen. But all Tabitha could see now, fuming with disgraced anger, was an unruly decoy in dire need of disciplining.

"Nonsense." Demura said, to Brehon Shourn, as her hand kept toying with the chalice, putting in on the tray and taking it back, as her hands moved animatedly, much to the Head-maid's annoyance. She continued.

"Let the record show, that the Royal Court had granted the Fostrom's representative, the opportunity to re-litigate all three cases related to deep forest mining. The Brehon may take a day to respond. You have till tomorrow evening to inform the Court a decision."

As she excused the three men, Tabitha saw her mouth something inaudible to the Archminister, to which he creepily smiled back, somewhat confirming her suspicious. Tabitha had tried seducing Grinwald, in more than one occasion as directed by the Domestic Espionage in her early days. She hadn't come in strong, she maintained class, yet somehow the old man always gave her a pass. It annoyed her so much that she even doubted him for gay. But now, seeing the glint in his eyes, Tabitha finally had her answer. Perhaps I was too old for his tastes. Like many old creeps, perhaps he preferred them young and slutty. Like the decoy here, she got to be younger than her Highness for sure. SLUT! No wonder Lady Households cuts her so much slack.

"I understand that this isn't an ideal output for anyone." The Queen spoke, as both Brehons and the Archminister got back to their seats. "Some may say it, gives an unfair advantage to Brehon Shourn, some may argue the case lacked sufficient merit to begin with, and yes, the court will have to work overtime, to accommodate such a significant re-litigation. It asks more out of each of us, so I would like to remind everyone present why we do this to begin with. Shourn may represent the Fostroms and Tupee, the Tribunal, but they are just the clients. What's set in law as a result, it's impact far exceeds the narrow aims of an individual case. Which is why I firmly believe, that alongside me and the Ministers of the court, ultimately there's only one, whom both the Brehons serve. The Greater Wolkenshire! Her subjects, her sanctity."

Reaching out for the chalice with the actual pudding, the Queen continued as the maid stood by.

"That is what each of us should aspire, to lay our life in service of. From a lowly scullery maid, to the revered Archminister. Each in their own way, tilting the fate of Wolkenshire to the greater justice. That's on all of us. Hmm.. That's so.. sweeet..!! Is that syllabub?!"

"Yes, Highness." Tabitha uttered faintly, her fuming eyes still frustrated at the casual disrespect.

"Wow! Celdric has outdone himself. Truly the Master of the Kitchen..!! Order these for everyone present. Good nobles of the Court, I hereby invite you all, to enjoy the evening delicacies before you take leave. I highly recommend the syllabub, but be warned, it's pure sugar. Hmmmmmphh.. Too sweet! What's your name, maid?"

What the fuck? Tabitha stood up straight, and looked at the decoy, equal parts annoyed and puzzled.

"This silly thing. Maid, I asked your name."

"Tabitha.." Her voice barely made sense with a parched throat. What the hell is she up to?!

"Tabitha?! Tabitha, what?"

Oh shit. Remembering that to everyone one else this was the real Queen, the Head-maid quickly corrected herself, even as her jaw clenched. "Tabitha, Her Highness.."

"Oh, you silly thing. I meant, your actual name. The complete name, Tabithaa..?"

"Koshka, Her Highness. Tabitha Yulia Koshka."

"Wow, that's a nice name. Real commanding, resounding.. You like ordering people around?!"

"Pardon, Highness?!" What the fuck is this now, bitch?

"I see you usually in charge, Tabitha. I'm asking do you enjoy your job?"

"Yes, Highness."

"Very much so?!"

"Very much, yes."

"A bit too much?! What do you think?" The Queen took another sip, and asked this time to one of the fan-wavers. The poor thing was too overwhelmed being addressed by the True-ruling Monarch directly, that she barely managed a response.

"See, Tabitha. She thinks you work too much. But it takes much effort, right? To run a tight-ship as you do? Still, don't over work, okay. Just do what's asked. What's told. Understood."

"Yes, Highness." Fucking bitch. And you too, fanning fool. I'll give you both plenty, soon.

"Subjects and Servants! Meet Tabitha, the Royal Head-maid. Many of you know her so well, I'm sure. Even if old, she has aged like fine wine. Surely, an eyeful a decade ago."

Did she just call me old and bearable? In view of the whole damn court?!

"How long have you been serving the Royal Castle?"

"About a decade and half, Highness."

"Every day?"

"Every single day."

"Hear that, Good noblemen.?! That's the dedication I'm talking about. In serving the throne, slaving for her Queen. Turning work to worship and bowing before the Greater Wolkenshire. Before such tireless service, one can't help but be impressed! Such dedication mustn't go uncelebrated. Here. Have some!"

As the Head-maid looked around first, and then at her Queen confused, Elanor stood up and raised both chalices from the tray she was holding. Cradling one on her right hand elegantly, the Queen extended the other towards the maid. The thoughtful fan-waver acted wisely and helped take the tray, so Tabitha may receive the honor properly. It confused her while holding the tray, why the Head-maid kept throwing daggers her way with those crazy eyes. The Queen raised the chalice and spoke.

"Gentlemen of the court, let's appreciate for a moment, the many years of relentless service. And the many more to come. Tabitha Yulia Koshka.!"

You bitch. You conniving controlling wench! Tabitha wanted to slap right across, and put the decoy in her place, but in the eyes of the court this was the Queen. And she must act accordingly. Feeling the weight of the chalice, she realized the pudding in there wouldn't be sweet by any definition. As the whole court clapped in appreciation, as the silver rim of the chalice neared her quivering infuriated lips, her burning eyes spoke in silence.

I'll show you, bitch.

The Queen smiled, lapping up the sweet syllabub, while her eyes said.

We'll see, bitch.

Tabitha's stomach rumbled at the thought of ingesting cum, in full view of the court. It wasn't the sexual fluid, nor it happening before an audience that irked the most. For this would be a non-event in her illustrious career that is equal parts hospitality, debauchery and deception. What made her blood boil, was being made a target of sexual humiliation. A shame that she had sworn to not endure since the horrible night of her deflowering. And secondly, having to do anything with the stale ejaculate of an absolute beta like Jokshun. Despite her best efforts, Tabitha could taste now the belched up bile from revulsion. Now that too, she must swallow.

Ewww, gross..

But at least, it'd be over quick. It'd be a miracle if that loser managed a spoonful..

Titling the tip, the maid failed to notice her Queen's grin widen substantially. Closing her eyes and hoping to get it over in a single gulp, Tabitha froze up midway, for a moment doubting, had the decoy given her the actual pudding instead. For it wasn't the watery spoonful she had expected, but an actual mouthful. Thick, musky slime, tasting like citrus flavored cashew paste. A disgusting frothy mess. Diluted with spittle in good measure, but the amount of actual semen present had been remarkable. Almost as if the decoy had gone out of her way to meet the demands of the task.

A proper mouthful, as demanded. Thick, white and teeming with life.

Watching the maid's visceral, repulsed facial twitches, and animated movements, the court laughed, thinking she was simply being averse to the sugar-high. It isn't odd for the uninitiated, to find extremes distasteful, be it sour or sweet. Some even laughed at her odd lack of etiquette for a well-trained maid, going bottoms up when she should have used a spoon, or taken slow sips. Even the Queen found it hilarious, but reasons unrelated.

Rules shall dictate, but shan't ever turn dictatorial.

When sticking to principle, you may disagree with a rule. When compelled by moral dilemma, you may disobey. But do so respectfully.

Rules are rules, Tabitha.

And you forgot the unstated principle.

One shan't ever disrespect the rules.

The Queen couldn't put to words how infuriated such behavior made her.

You knew the limits and the responsibilities of the Handler Program. You just had an example of in Hoyt, of abusing the rules. Your task directly caused delays to the court proceedings, you over-estimated the scope, that's mistake one. You purposefully came in late to relieve me, that's indulgent and abusive application of the privilege. Mistake two. Both of which I'd have taken in the spirit, had you not gotten cocky at the last moment.

You threw me an impossible task, and I made it happen. I wanted your approval, I needed your smiling nod, for the job well done. That rich mouthful of semen swimming down your throat.. I made that happen, risking things far beyond the grasp of your pea-brain.

I aced the test you set me up to fail. And you didn't even care. Had you been a good sport, and so much as even hinted a smile. Had you even taken a quick peek at my chalice, at least.. But no, you had to be the bitch.

So be it, bitch!

Ouch..!

Damn stupid ants.

Hiding her face with the chalice, masking the annoyance as ants crawled deep into her pubic garden, Elanor's gaze swept across the court. She noticed the one calm stare that clearly wasn't buying this 'appreciation-drama'. Archminister Grinwald, with his ever-diplomatic smile and skeptical eyes. The wisest of them all, of course he saw through it. He could tell, this was a classic clash of feminine egos. He was wise enough to let it be.

The abundance of primal emotions washing over the defeated maid's face ranged from rage, to disgust, the disapproval. Still the tinge of wonder in her eyes was unmistakable. A stare of genuine confusion and curiosity.

How?! Tabitha kept wondering, as her hand went for the watery ice bowl, to wash down quickly the cum-stench.

Elanor smiled, while wafting in the sweet flowery flavor of the syllabub.

Keep wondering, Handler.

How could a low-energy specimen like Jokshun produce such a load?

You know I didn't cheat, for if there's one person in Wolkenshire more versed in sperm than me, that'd be you Tabitha. You could tell, from the scent, the grime, the texture. It is as asked, my Handler.

An unadulterated mouthful.

Elanor sat back down, slurping in another cheekful of the sweet white syrup, as the Head-maid kept downing the salty variant.

Then there's the timings.. There is no possible way one could wake up the coachman's super spend limpness to milk another load. Even if you did so, it'd hardly dribble. And I would still be down there stroking. For it is Jokshun, and we both could tell his limits.

How else then, you ask..?

Telling you would be too simple.

How the decoy completes her task, is not the Handler's business.

And how a Queen manages to upholds the rule,

Meet the impossible demands..

It's nobody's business.