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Initiation
🕑 Added 2019-12-02 05:14:37 +0000 UTCWith the rift between her and her darling Savage healed, Clea takes her and her new pet Marigold to a royal banquet celebrating her success. Things go well, and a unique invitation is offered by a group of the country's most powerful women.
-o-o-o-
“Clea, Darling!” The Queen cried, grinning broadly as Clea stepped into the banquet hall, Savage on one arm, Marigold on the other. Clea laughed as The Queen embraced her, kissing her cheeks before admiring the girls at her sides. “My… aren’t you a sweet little thing!” she beamed, pinching Marigold’s cheek. “And Savage… You look simply magnificent!”
“Thank you, yer Majesty.” Savage blushed, curling some fiery hair around her finger. Marigold was still too busy giggling to herself to respond. Clea tutted and pinched each of their rears to bring them back under control.
“You look wonderful, Your Majesty.” She purred smoothly, bowing her head a little. “And this ball is magnificent. Though… I was expecting an intimate dinner.”
“Dearest, this is intimate.” The Queen chuckled, “Only my favourites have been invited. Come in, come in, you’ll catch a cold standing in the doorway.” Clea smiled and allowed herself to be led down a small flight of stairs and around the banquet table to a place just beside an ornate throne, clearly the Queen’s. “Who is your newest acquisition, darling?”
“Ah, this is Marigold.” Clea smiled, “Marigold say hello to Her Majesty.” She took Marigold’s shoulders and guided her up towards the queen, brushing some curly blonde hair out of her face.
“P… pleased to meet you.” Marigold said in a small voice.
“Well aren’t you precious.” The Queen purred, touching Marigold’s chin with a finger. Her eyes flashed downwards and a hungry glint flashed in her eyes. Marigold blushed and pushed her hips forwards a little. “And so big for a little thing, I might have to steal you away later.”
“She’s a touch inexperienced.” Clea warned.
“Oh, I’m sure she more than makes up for it with spirit.” The Queen chuckled, “In any case, that is a conversation for later. For now, do take your seats.” She smiled and swept away to greet her other guests, leaving Clea to sink heavily into her seat. Plump, soft cushions had been placed beside her chair, and Savage was grateful for the padding on her knees as she dropped down. Kneeling with her back straight, she could rest her chin on the table and see all of the Queen’s other guests. Marigold was not so fortunate, having no way to see over the table and resigning herself to staring at everyone’s knees for the evening.
“They’ve even given you your own bowls.” Clea smiled, looking down at the small metal dog-bowls resting by the cushions. She reached down and ran her fingers through Savage’s mane, her smile widening as Savage sighed and rested against her thigh. “Excited for royal dining, Marigold?”
“Yes mistress.” Marigold nodded eagerly, a small gurgling sound echoing from her belly. “Miss Allian never fed me more than scraps, and last night’s meal was so delicious. I can’t imagine how nice royal food will be!”
Clea laughed quietly and patted her head, sighing and shifting in her seat. One of the children kicked and she growled. “You nuisances are welcome to come out whenever you please.” She muttered, pressing a palm to her belly. “Stop complaining.”
“Mistress?” Savage asked, concern evident on her pretty young face. Clea rolled her eyes and stroked her.
“Just a kick, my darling.” She sighed. “The little brats are restless.”
“Not enough to come out though.” Savage smiled, resting her forehead against Clea’s stomach. “Any day now.”
“Hmmmf.” Clea sniffed. “And then begins the long, dull days of restoring myself to some semblance of elegance.”
“I think ye look radiant, mistress.” Savage blushed.
“Radiant?” Clea chuckled. “Now who was it that taught you that word?”
“I was… readin.” Savage admitted. “Ye left one of yer novels by the bed last week and I thought… now that Annie taught me how, I ought to read it.”
“Reading now, are we? Which novel? Did you enjoy it?”
Savage seemed surprised at her enthusiasm and flushed, toying with her thumbs. “It was… The Maiden’s Queen, mistress.”
“Ooh!” Clea grinned. “One of my favourites! What did you think?”
“I didn’t understand why the Amazon Queen let Luna stay in the palace.” Savage said thoughtfully. “She didn’t seem to like outsiders very much. But she let Luna stay right by her room and treated her like a friend right away.”
“Well she did find her quite enticing.” Clea purred.
Savage pursed her lips. “It seemed like the author just wanted to write them having sex but didn’t know how to make them come together properly.”
“Pah.” Clea said, waving a hand dismissively. “Love has blossomed under far more dubious circumstances. Besides, the romance between them was simply wonderful, wasn’t it?”
“I liked it.” Savage nodded. “But… well…”
Clea raised a brow. “What?”
“It seemed a bit like… you and me. But opposite.” Savage winced. “Is that why ye like it? Or… or did I misunderstand?”
“What do you mean it was like you and I?” Clea frowned. “The Amazon queen is nothing like me, she’s a warrior with a gentle heart. She’d do anything for Luna if she asked. I’m nowhere near so soft! And Luna? Luna’s so confident and utterly convinced she’s in control even as the queen makes her a pet! She services her like a slave every day, but she’s convinced that she’s somehow holding the reigns. It’s laughable! They’re not like… either of us.” She trailed of and scowled into the middle distance for a moment before turning back down to Savage, who was wearing an exceptionally nervous smile.
“M… maybe I misunderstood.” She said quietly.
“Hmm.”
There was an uncomfortable silence in their little corner of the great table for a while, all three women watching the queen and her guests mingling and drift to their seats. There were many faces Clea recognised, but none she counted amongst her friends. Ambrose was nowhere to be seen. Her seat was empty, and there was no cushion beside it. Clea sighed finally and hefted herself up, looking between her pets before sighing. “I am going to make introductions.” She declared. “Be good.”
“Yes mistress.” Marigold nodded.
“Of course mistress.” Savage smiled weakly.
Clea made her way around the table, letting out a low sigh of discomfort as she went. Marigold peered over the chair to Savage, who sighed and glanced over. “Yes?”
“You meant like you were the queen and mistress was Luna, right?” Marigold asked quietly.
“That’s what I thought.” Savage sighed, pouting. “Maybe I missed something.”
“Or maybe mistress didn’t realise why she liked it so much!” Marigold beamed. “Because it reminded her of you!” Savage snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Nonsense.”
“Oh, you were thinking the same!” Marigold giggled. “It makes perfect sense! Miss Allian always said you had conquered Mistress. And mistress really is just like that character! She thinks she’s in charge but really she wants you to take care of her! She wants to be yours!”
“Hush!” Savage hissed, cheeks burning. “Even if that were true… which it’s not, Mistress wouldn’t want everyone knowing! It would embarrass her!”
Marigold sighed and folded her arms. “You’ve no sense of romance.”
“It’s not my place to be romantic, it’s my place to be obedient.” Savage sniffed. “If mistress ever wanted me to… conquer her, I would happily oblige, but she won’t. So there.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
Savage looked across the hall to where Clea was, standing and charming a group of curvaceous blondes who all had waifish young pets like Marigold on the edge of their leashes. She sighed dreamily and admired her mistress, the effortless beauty and grace she possessed even a full nine months pregnant. Her cock stirred as she remembered the night she’d put those babies into Clea, breeding her in a bout of lovemaking so passionate and intense Clea had been left bowlegged for days afterwards. The scowls Clara had shot her after having to scrub down the insides of the carriage, bathroom, library and bedroom had not been particularly fond, but Savage hadn’t minded, too delighted by the day-long session of breeding with her beloved mistress.
She suddenly realised that none of the girls present belonged to the Queen. Beast, or Christine, was nowhere to be seen, hadn’t the point of this dinner been to show her off? And where were the Queen’s other pets? Guinevere and Morgana were nowhere in the crowd, or any of the others Savage had seen over the past few weeks.
She pursed her lips and shuffled on her cushion, paying closer attention to the people Clea was speaking to.
-o-o-o-
Clea sighed and patted herself affectionately, watching as the cute little woman she’d been charming pattered away to talk to someone else. She was out of practice, but it was nice to be back in the public eye, spreading her special brand of salacious gossip and mischief. She turned to return to her pets, only to come face to face with the queen, who was grinning broadly.
"Clea, darling, you simply must meet Ophelia!" The Queen sang, taking her arm and dragging her towards a tall, tanned woman in a tight, dark blue gown. She had a fan in one hand and the leashes of two brunettes that must have been twins in the other.
Clea's lips pursed immediately. She had a rule of never interacting with anyone with a larger ego than herself, and this tall, infuriatingly gorgeous person had an eerily familiar self-satisfied smile on her face.
"Clea, this is Madame Ophelia Garneau. The ambassador to France." The Queen purred, "One of my dearest friends, she's just returned from Versailles."
"Ah, lady Lamont! Une tel plaisir !" The Ambassador beamed, taking Clea's hand and kissing it. "I ave' eard’ so much from er' majesty!" Clea eyed the Frenchwoman with suspicion, struggling to maintain her disapproval as she drank in the woman’s generous curves and sculpted features. Her eyes were big and bright, a soft, pale brown in colour. Her hair was a rich chestnut and was elegantly coiffed to one side of her head. Her lips were full and soft, painted dark to match the shining obsidian necklace draped around her dainty throat. Her lace-gloved fingers were constantly moving, twisting her fan or rolling the leashes of her pets over one another.
Clea smiled thinly and bowed her head. "I dread to think."
The Ambassador threw her head back and let out a high, clear laugh. "Oh! Such wit!" She turned to the Queen, fanning herself vigorously. "I see why she delights you so."
"Calm yourself Ophelia, the party's not yet begun." The Queen smiled. Clea frowned and looked between them.
"It hasn't?" She asked, "What is this, mere prelude?"
"Quoi!?" The Ambassador gasped, fanning herself all the more. "You are a newcomer!? You're in for such an experience!"
"Ophie! Hush!" The Queen hissed, taking Clea's arm and smiling. "I shall explain in time darling; I promise. Enjoy the dinner in the meanwhile, please!"
"I will speak to you soon ma chere!" The Ambassador called as she was led firmly away. "Save a dance for me!"
Clea stood, watching with bemusement as the pair swept away, before turning and stepping back to her seat, sinking gratefully into it and sighing. Savage’s lips found her hand as she sat and she smiled, allowing her faithful redhead to pepper each of her knuckles with meek little kisses.
“Yer not… angry with me, are ye?” she asked softly, earning a fond sigh and a gentle caress.
“Of course not, love.” She smiled, “You just… surprised me, that’s all. I hadn’t thought that… perhaps… you may want to take a more dominant role in our little relationship.”
“I… I don’t.” Savage frowned. “I thought… ye wanted that.”
“Nonsense.” Clea snorted, blushing slightly. Savage’s frown deepened but she sighed and surrendered.
“Who was that lady the Queen introduced ye to?”
“That…” Clea sighed, pursing her lips, “is the ambassador to France. Apparently, she’s friends with her majesty.”
“She’s pretty.” Marigold smiled.
“And yet ye don’t seem to like her.” Savage said, suppressing the urge to smile as well as Clea’s eyes narrowed.
“She’s French.” Clea sniffed, “Of course I don’t like her. She’s smug and smarmy and too good looking for her own good. I don’t trust her. That smile is hiding something sinister.”
Savage grinned down at her lap before resting her head against Clea’s side, sighing contentedly. “I love ye, mistress.”
“I love you to, my darling.” Clea murmured as the Queen returned to her throne at last and raised a glass.
“Friends! You have my most heartfelt thanks for being here!” she began, admiring the group gathered around the table. “It has been entirely too long since we all gathered, and tonight we will make up for all that time.”
She turned to Clea and grinned. “We have many things to celebrate, but first and foremost! I have acquired a new plaything, and it will be my most immense pleasure to debut her here today. She is a magnificent specimen, and I must thank Lady Clea Lamont in particular for her, as no one else in my great empire could have broken her as quickly and professionally.”
Clea preened, of course, and bowed her head, making a decent show of modesty. The Queen snapped her fingers. “So, without further delay, let the banquet begin.”
Two doors on either side of the hall opened and a dozen girls quickly pattered through, carrying the guest’s meals on polished silver platters. Each of them was squeezed into gorgeous lingerie in a crisp, snowy white. Legs slipped into stockings hooked into garter belts, arms covered up to elbow in slim, transparent gloves. Corsets accentuated their hips and busts, the latter tastefully hidden by sleek brassieres. About each of their throats was a lace choker in place of their usual collars.
Clea couldn’t help but salivate as the beautiful creatures scampered up to the table, smiling prettily as they presented the guests their meals. She noticed a few familiar faces from about the palace, but it took a moment to properly recognise them thanks to the expertly applied make-up, giving each girl smouldering eyes and plush pink lips. Their faces were not the only thing that had been groomed and made presentable, their cocks were all standing proudly to attention, almost shining with all the care that had gone into cleaning them. Neat silver rings were fixed around their bases, nestled in the neatly trimmed patches of curls that crowned their rods.
Beast, or rather Christine, was easy to see, a good head taller than any of the other girls, and considerably more buxom. She padded, blushing, to the queen and bent over to set down her platter, biting her lip as the queen caressed her rump.
“Yer meal, milady.” A soft Irish voice said, breathy and delicate. Clea tore her eyes away from Christine and smiled at the petite ginger who had brought her meal to the table. The girl blushed under her gaze and averted her eyes.
“Thank you, dear.” Clea said, tapping her chin with a finger.
The girl beamed at the attention and bowed her head, scurrying back a few paces and crossing her hands behind her back.
“May I present Christine, my new pet.” The Queen purred, tangling her fingers in the thick black curls of Christine’s hair and grinned, patting her hip. Christine’s cheeks darkened as she straightened her back, flexing her impressive muscles to a low chorus of coos from the assembled noblewomen.
The food was delicious, even outstripping the meals Clea had been treated to in her time at the palace. Savage clearly felt so, quickly polishing her bowl off while struggling to remain composed, Marigold didn’t even try, burying her face in her bowl and devouring everything she could reach. She was only brought away when Clea delivered a sharp smack to her rear, tutting and wiping the girl’s face with a napkin. “Really, sweet, did Allian teach you nothing?”
“S… sorry mistress.” Marigold mumbled.
“At lest you were under the table.” Clea sighed, straightening up suddenly as the heavy wooden doors to the hall opened.
“Ah!” The Queen exclaimed excitedly, raising her glass again. “Lady Marron! I was worried you wouldn’t come!”
Clea’s eyes narrowed as Ambrose stepped down the short flight of stairs to the table, cheeks flushed as all eyes fell onto her. She looked stunning, slipped into a tight, black dress that showed her subtle curves with a string of pearls around her throat. She saw Clea and smiled, only for that smile to falter as she saw her scowl.
“Lady Marron is the other of my esteemed guests this evening!” The Queen purred, “She worked closely with Clea here to break in my dear Christine.”
“Sorry I’m late, Your Majesty.” Ambrose murmured, “I hadn’t a thing to wear.”
“Now Ambrose, you should I know I don’t put much stock in fashion.” The queen tutted, “I’m much more interested in what lies under your pretty dress.”
Ambrose was bright red in an instant, spluttering as The Queen stood and raised her goblet one last time. “Ladies, now that we are assembled, I believe it is time to call this meeting of the Scarlet Women to session!” Clea blinked, surprised, and looked about the hall. Everyone looked to be in on whatever was happening, except for Ambrose who was looking faint. “Welcome!”
Clea cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Forgive me, your majesty, but… what exactly is happening? And who are The Scarlet Women?”
“We are the Scarlet Women my dear.” The Queen laughed. “The women in this room are the most powerful in the kingdom, and they, like me, have rejected the notion that women of our standing should be constricted by modesty and piety, that we should be ashamed of our sexuality and restrict how we enjoy ourselves. We are women who enjoy the finest things in life, good food, good wine, good sex!”
“Ah…” Clea nodded slowly. “A secret order.”
“Which would dearly like to count you among it’s members!” The queen nodded brightly. “Come, it’s ever so much fun! And there are benefits beyond these lovely creatures!” She waved her hand at the assembled women, all of whom, mistress and slave alike, were waiting for her answer.
She cleared her throat, for once wishing she wasn’t the centre of attention. “Your Majesty… I am honoured.”
“Then you’ll accept?”
“It seems we share our outlook on life.” Clea smiled, “Why live a half-life in society’s constraints, when it’s so much more fun to be free?”
“Marvellous!” The Queen clapped, “And you, Ambrose?”
Ambrose was pale, and despite Clea’s anger at being snubbed by the slender beauty, she felt a sharp pang of pity. Ambrose’s eyes darted around the room before fixing down at her lap, she opened her mouth and choked, steeling herself before trying again.
“I…”
“Sadly Rosie wants no place in this group.” Clea said loudly. “She’s a delicate soul. Why, she couldn’t look Christine in the eye all the time we were breaking her. No, no Rosie wants a gentle husband and a long life of matrimony, not the hedonism of this sordid gathering.”
The queen’s smile faltered. “Perhaps.” She said slowly. “But I would hear it from Lady Marron herself, if you don’t mind.” She turned back to Ambrose who was watching Clea with a small smile on her flushed face.
“Clea is… wrong.” She said quietly. “I would very much like to accept your invitation, your majesty.”
“Are you sure, my dear? Know we shall not think any less of you if you refuse.”
“I have a secret, your majesty.” Ambrose smiled. “One Clea is attempting to keep. She is a true friend. But… I would like to join your order anyway. I’m tired of hiding away in my manor, I want friends, I want fun… I want to experience the kind of life you all enjoy!”
“Then it is my pleasure to accept you both into the Scarlet Women!” The queen cried, a cheer going out from the assembled women. “Now let’s go fuck!”
-o-o-o-
“Thank you, Clea.” Ambrose breathed, catching her arm as the women made their way from the banquet hall. Clea smiled thinly and nodded.
“Think nothing of it, Lady Marron.”
“I… I came by the house last night, but you were busy.” Ambrose said quietly. “I wanted to… apologise for what I said.”
Clea paused, Marigold walked into her and squeaked in surprise. “You came to the house? When?”
“It was quite late.” Ambrose admitted, “It took a while to steel my nerves. One of your staff told me you were not to be disturbed… but that’s not important. I… I was wrong, and I was awful to you. You’ve been such a friend to me these past weeks, more than I ever thought. I was just so scared you see, scared that if we were to be seen to be close I would be discovered! But I realised that doesn’t matter. What point is there to life if I refuse to live it for fear of discovery?” She paused for breath, blushing, and smiled. “I’m sorry.”
Clea eyed her before sighing, “You are… tremendously frustrating, my love.” She reached out and took her hand, squeezing. “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you, Clea.” Ambrose whispered before her eyes widened. “oh… my.”
They had stepped into the order’s playroom, an immense circular chamber richly carpeted and filled with soft, inviting pillows. A number of small alcoves lined the walls, each with a bed and curtains that could be drawn to cut them off. As they watched, the women of the order stripped themselves with well-practiced grace, standing naked without a hint of shame.
The queen turned, plump breasts jiggling as she threw her arms out. “Have fun my loves! Be free!”
Clea’s mouth watered as she saw the women begin, grabbing one another and their girls, anyone close and tugging them into passionate embraces. Lips met, hands fondled breasts, thighs parted, cocks throbbed. Women bent over, lay back, climbed one another, and soon the stink of sex was filling the air.
“Ma chere.” A soft French voice purred from behind Clea. She let out a sharp squeak as a pair of hands found her rear and squeezed. “You promised a dance pour moi.”
“Ophelia you harlot.” The queen tutted, sashaying close and resting her hands-on Ambrose’s shoulders. “Ask our dear new friends first.”
“Of course.” The Ambassador sighed reluctantly, stepping around and flashing a dazzling smile. “Lady Lamont, would you do me the onour’ of being my ore’ tonight?”
Clea’s mouth opened to shoot back a snide response but fell silent as the Ambassador caressed the one thing Clea has least expected to find between her legs. Her cock pulsed hungrily between her thighs, pampered and powdered and perfectly groomed, eagerly anticipating sinking deep into Clea’s twat. “Ah, you like?” The Ambassador cooed, “You see that thanks to the order, I may live as mistress and not slave! I am powerful and sexual, and I would dearly like to feel you around me this night, ma chere.”
“Clea, may I please borrow this little darling?” The Queen asked, rolling her eyes as The Ambassador stroked herself. She drew Marigold close and pressed the girl’s head between her heaving udders. Marigold whined and found a nipple, suckling and kissing at it delightedly, her cock hot and hard between her legs.
“Be my guest.” Clea sighed, fixing the Ambassador with a hard stare. “And you, Ambassador, are welcome to try and conquer me. But I will warn you now that you will fail.”
“Ah… a challenge. Merveilleuse!” The Ambassador purred, baring her teeth in a hungry grin. “Shall we?” she extended her arm and Clea took it, holding her ground for a moment to turn to Ambrose.
“Rosie, take Savage.” She smiled, cupping her cheek. “She will take good care of you, and she is perfectly discrete I promise.”
Ambrose blushed and looked to Savage who bowed her head. “Alright… Let’s go find a bed. I’d like some privacy, if that’s alright.”
“My place is to serve.” Savage smiled coldly, following her away as the women split, finding their spots for the evening and getting down to the business of fucking one another’s brains out.
-o-o-o-
“Oh Marigold.” The queen sighed, voice dripping with desire as the tiny girl mounted her, “So eager to make me your whore.” She bit her lip and moaned as Marigold’s hands took her hips and pushed herself fully inside.
“Y… yes your majesty.” Marigold groaned, panting with delight as the older woman’s tunnel caressed her cock. She squeaked as Christine took her shoulders, looking terrified, but melting immediately as the fierce woman pushed a passionate kiss onto her lips. She blinked stupidly as Christine pulled back, earning a small smile from the dark-haired amazon.
“You… are small.” She said softly, “It’s nice.”
“You’re… really beautiful.” Marigold managed to splutter, utterly in awe of the terrifying, beautiful slave.
The queen rolled her eyes and jerked her hips backwards, making Marigold moan suddenly and turn her attention back to her. “Christine you magnificent beast, stop distracting my new favourite and come let me suck that fat cock.” Christine’s cheeks darkened immediately and she shuffled around, whimpering as the Queen greedily inhaled her cock.
Marigold’s hips were moving almost on their own, her body desperate to sink her cock into the Queen’s warm wet cunt. The older woman’s walls were delightfully hot, squeezing and milking her rod, her wetness soaking the patch of straw-coloured curls crowning Marigold’s rod. The queen’s doughy cheeks rippled beneath her palms as she moaned and bucked against them. Her moans were soft and muffled, cheeks sucking concave as she bobbed back and forth on Christine’s pole.
As Marigold watched the Queen surfaced for air, tongue lolling as she panted for breath. A long, thin strand of spit was still connecting her to Christine’s meat, her eyes were almost glowing with hungry light. “You’re doing… wonderful work back there… darling.” She crooned, turning and blowing her a kiss.
“Y… you feel… so amazing.” Marigold whimpered.
“Hmmm.” The Queen giggled, tweaking one of Christine’s nipples before straightening her back. Her fingers slipped through the soft golden curls of Marigold’s hair and pulled her tight against her shoulder, releasing a happy coo as the girl blushed and kissed her skin. “I’ve aged like a fine wine.”
“Ah!” Marigold squeaked as the Queen moved. Suddenly finding herself sitting with the Queen nestled in her lap, her cock pulsed and she bit her lip, trying her best to hold back her orgasm. Somehow, the queen knew this, and turned her head to smile at her.
“Don’t be afraid to cum inside me, precious. I’m a little old to have any more children.” She laughed, “Blow as many loads into me as you can! And you!” she turned sharply back to Christine who winced, nervously shuffling closer on her knees as the Queen curled a finger. “You need to stand up so I can keep playing with this magnificent pole.” A finger pushed down on Christine’s cock and then let her go, sending the fat, throbbing rod bouncing back up.
Marigold had nothing to do but lie back and squeak with delight as the Queen hefted herself up and came slapping back down onto her rod, bouncing herself with remarkable energy, slurping at Christine’s cock with feral delight. The little blonde whimpered as she came, the Queen not slowing for a moment as a thick, creamy load of sperm was shot into her.
Allian had been vicious when she had enjoyed her, Clea was gentle, but demanding. The Queen was desperate and unrelenting, she fucked like it was all that kept her alive, like it was all that mattered in the world. She moaned and groaned and giggled like a schoolgirl. Her body rippled and rolled and undulated like a trained dancer. Marigold wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to react, lying helpless and watching as the Queen greedily slurped at Christine’s sack, pressing her nose against the underside of her shaft and spreading her spit over as much of her new pet’s skin as she could.
“H… hah… mistress… I’m close!” Christine whined, blushing down at the queen as she neatly engulfed the entirety of her cock into her gullet. The queen gurgled softly and pulled back, licking her lips before looking back at Marigold.
“Come here.” She growled lustfully, grabbing Christine by the cock and tugging her close to Marigold. “And you, up, up!”
Marigold squeaked as she was yanked upwards, finding herself staring straight down the barrel of Christine’s mighty rod. She swallowed and looked nervously up at the Queen, blushing head to toe as the queen moved Christine closer until her cock was pressing against the blonde’s cheek, smearing hot, wet precum over her skin.
“Now you are going to take every last drop of my Christine’s cum.” The Queen purred, lips brushing Marigold’s ear, “And you’re going to hold it in your mouth, alright? No swallowing.”
“I… I’ve never…”
“It’s alright.” The queen whispered, “It’ll be easy. Just don’t swallow.”
Marigold whimpered but obediently opened her mouth. The sensation of having a cock in her mouth was new, but not unpleasant. It was a distinctly savoury taste, and the fat, pulsing head was soft as it pressed down on her tongue. Cautiously, she began to explore the plump pink cock, her tongue poking and stroking over it. she smiled shyly up at the blushing amazon, and then squeaked as a jet of steaming-hot spunk blasted her tonsils.
She choked and spluttered, desperately trying to keep as much of the cum in her cheeks as she could even as she spasmed and sent tiny rivers of white oozing from her nostrils.
She blinked and saw Christine kneeling in front of her, looking up at the queen for instructions. “Clean up your mess, fucktoy.”
Christine’s cheeks darkened and she bowed her head, cupping Marigold’s cheeks and gently drawing her into a soft kiss. Marigold’s heart fluttered as the dark-haired beauty cleaned out the inside of her mouth with her tongue, sperm and spit mixing as the kiss went on. She let out a soft gasp as Christine’s tongue dragged over her face, leaving her wet and sticky, but less cum-spattered.
Marigold let out a quiet, adoring mew and blushed up at the older women, her cock standing happily to attention and nuzzling tight against Christine’s massive member. “Wh… What now, ma’am?”
-o-o-o-
Clea’s breath hitched as the Ambassador’s fingers skilfully unlaced her dress, baring her breasts and purring with approval. “I ave’ always adored the pregnant figure.” She smiled, “I keep my menagerie pleasingly plump at all times.”
“Glad… you approve.” Clea grunted impatiently, shifting against the pillows. “But can we get on with it?”
“Absolument, ma chere.” The ambassador chuckled, bringing her hands stroking down over her bust and corseted belly to her cock. “Ow’ am I to resist such a beauty?” Her grin widened as Clea moaned beneath her, the hot wet mess of her sex squeezing tight around her rod as she pushed inside. Her hands moved to spread Clea’s thighs wide and then placed a palm against her belly.
“Rumour as’ it you were bred by that lovely redhead.” She purred, enjoying Clea’s angry scowl and soft, reluctant groans of delight. “Such a scandal!”
“H… hardly…” Clea hissed through her teeth, fingers clenching. “People have more… salacious… things to talk about. Like how… the French Ambassador… is sleeping with the Queen.”
Much to Clea’s annoyance, the Ambassador’s grin only widened. “My, such fire you ave’!” she giggled, stroking her hands up over her belly to her breasts, pinching her gently. “I admire it, truly! And I promise you ave’ nothing to fear from me. To be onest’ zis is a welcome break from the gossip of ome’. Versailles is abuzz with Queen Angelique’s new mistress, it is nice to come ere’ where things are simple.”
Clea grunted vaguely and bit her lip, struggling to hold back a moan of pleasure and instead letting slip a tiny mew that sounded positively kitten-like. The Ambassador was tittering immediately. “Ah, Lady Lamont! You are warming up to me!” she grinned and leaned down, lips pressing against her feverish skin and moving closer and closer towards her lips. Clea would have made a witty retort, or even slapped her away as the Ambassador pushed a surprisingly tender kiss onto her, but her cock was infuriating magnificent and it wall all she could do to hold herself back from orgasm even after such a short time.
Not for the first time, she cursed how sensitive pregnancy had made her, once upon a time she could have ridden Savage for hours, now she became a sopping mess after mere minutes! “Myah… You… French… whore.” She spat as the kiss broke, shooting an impotent scowl at the ambassador as she straightened her back and set to work thrusting into her.
“Oui, I am French.” The Ambassador grinned toothily. “But I am wondering, what are you?”
“I’m… English… proudly.”
“Ah, but Lamont is a Scotch name, no?” Clea went quiet. The Ambassador noticed. “If I am not mistaken, your ancestors came from ze north just as these lovely pets you own do. Perhaps this is where your spirit comes from? Or perhaps your affection for them?”
“Shut up and fuck me you cunt.” Clea muttered, earning a victorious giggle from the Ambassador and a sharp, sudden orgasm as the Frenchwoman jerked her hips. She whimpered and fell into a sullen silence as the Ambassador smugly set to work, treating Clea to a long, hard fucking. The final injustice came as the Ambassador deliberately pulled herself from Clea’s tunnel, shooting her thick, pearly sperm over Clea’s breasts before sauntering away to find another playmate.
-o-o-o
“Oh… S… Savage.” Ambrose cooed as strong hands slid her dress down her back and tossed it aside, leaving her trembling in only her underthings, pulsing with anticipation. Savage growled softly as she turned, blushing as the girl’s eyes drank in her little breasts and slim belly, before landing on the excitedly bulge in her panties.
“Hmmf.” Savage scowled, before moving close again and stripping Ambrose of her underwear. Ambrose quivered, Savage’s breath hot against her skin, she was unreasonably hard for not having been touched once that evening. Savage’s fingers slipped through her waistband and Ambrose mewed, her cock springing free as her panties were slid down her legs.
“What do you think?” She whispered, taking Savage’s hands and keeping her close, feeling the girl’s muscular body rub against her thin frame.
“I think ye have a cock.” Savage muttered.
“But… do you like it?”
“Of course, ma’am.” Savage replied, wearing a transparently false smile. “I think it’s wonderful.”
Ambrose shifted uncomfortably and sat on the bed. “Savage… I’d like you to take me now. As hard as you please.” Savage sniffed and stretched for a moment before pouncing. Ambrose squeaked with surprise as she was pushed onto her back, legs tugged apart by Savage. She whined and then let out a low, dull grunt as Savage’s rod met her pucker. “Oh… g… god.”
“Ha!” Savage barked, gripping Ambrose’s thighs hard enough to bruise and forcing the first two inches of her mighty cock into to helpless noble’s asshole. Ambrose trembled and panted for a moment, cooing as the pain turned to pleasure. Her hands reached out to grab Savage, yanking her down into a desperate, passionate kiss.
“S… Savage.” Ambrose gasped as the kiss broke, holding Savage at bay with her palms pressed against the girl’s chest. She groaned and felt herself twitch with delight, Savage’s mighty cock stretching her rear more than it had been in years. “Savage, please… I need… to say… something.” She was still breathless and weak, cheeks bright red from the force of the kiss, the passion of the situation and the fat cock in her arse.
Savage’s scowl didn’t lessen, Ambrose sighed and moved her hands around to her ribs. “I… I’ve come to care for Clea deeply these past few weeks. I would like to be closer to her.” she admitted quietly, cheeks burning just as much from embarrassment as from the cock sheathed in her arse. “I’ve never had much luck in love… I push people away, but Clea knows my secret and she… she thinks I’m marvellous anyway.” She smiled and slowly craned her neck, her lips brushing against Savage’s cheek in a gentle kiss.
“She’ll always love you.” She whispered. “But I could love you too, the two of us could be your mistresses together, we could both take care of you and little Marigold.”
“Why do ye care what I think?” Savage growled finally, rolling her hips and making Ambrose whimper, her cute little cock standing straight up, desperate for attention. “If Mistress wants ye she’ll have ye, I won’t have a say.”
“But I care what you think.” Ambrose groaned, biting her lip, fingers lacing over her heaving chest. “Y… You’re Clea’s family. I don’t want to upset you, or make you feel like I’m trying to steal her away from you.”
Savage sighed, really wishing for the first time that evening that she could just get down to fucking rather than talk about her feelings. “Mistress is my Mistress; she does what she wants to do. But… I will not complain if she accepts ye.”
Ambrose smiled; it would have to do. She lay back and moaned as Savage began to thrust into her in earnest, making her cock bob back and forth and making her small, elegant breasts ripple with every impact. “Oh Savage… oh yes… just like that.”
Savage allowed herself a small smile at seeing Ambrose blush and mew beneath her, and gently took her behind her knees, pushing her legs up towards her body and holding them there. Ambrose’s rod was maybe half the size of Savage’s, and it was practically vibrating with excitement as its owner was slowly fucked.
“You’re so big.” Ambrose groaned. “I’ve… I’ve never taken something so l… large!”
“Hmm, I bet ye shove things inside yer arse every day, don’t ye?” Savage growled. “Ye play at bein’ civilised, but yer just a whore like any other.”
“Oh… oh y… yes.” Ambrose whimpered, nodding emphatically as Savage gritted her teeth and pushed deeper. “I… I love cocks in my… my arse!”
Savage grinned to herself, a dominant spark lit inside her. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to practice being in charge, just in case Clea ever did want to experiment? She lowered herself over Ambrose and growled, “Such a filthy whore ye are. And ye have the nerve to play at being a mistress? As if ye could ever resist being put in yer proper place by someone like me.”
“Hah!” Ambrose squeaked as Savage hooked her legs over her shoulders, freeing her hands to explore the soft, slim flesh of her body. “S… Savage! What are you…d…dooooing?”
“Shut up and beg me to touch ye.” Savage growled, a strong, heavy hand landing over one of Ambrose’s tiny breasts and kneading it slowly, drawing a breathless croak from Ambrose’s lips. “Beg me to treat ye like ye crave. Ye know ye want to be a slut for someone like me, admit it!”
“I doooo.” Ambrose whined, eyes rolling back in her head as she shook. “I want… I just want someone to make love to me! I want someone to take care of me and f… fuck me and make me theirs!” Savage grinned, glowing with satisfaction and hissing as she forced the last inch of her rod into Ambrose’s rear.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Savage pulled herself back and then slammed her hips back forwards. The slap of flesh was drowned out by a howl of ecstasy from Ambrose, as was the soft, wet splattering sound of Ambrose’s cum raining onto her belly. “S… Savage! More!”
Savage obliged, Ambrose howling and moaning and sobbing with delight as she was fucked harder than she had been all her life. Her own cum cooled against her skin as she was rocked, tears of pain sparkled in her eyes as she was stretched. She panted for breath as Savage paused, the first of many loads resting heavy inside her, only to let out a sharp squeak as Savage grabbed and spun her onto her front.
“Savage!” she whimpered, rear stuck up in the air, cock oozing cum down onto the soft covers of their little bed. “Savage… please.”
“Please what?” Savage asked, hands resting on her hips, her rod thrumming with excitement between her cheeks.
“More.” Ambrose whimpered, wiggling her rear. Savage sniffed and patted her gently.
She slid back inside Ambrose’s eager pucker, making the noble woman’s eyes roll back in her head. Ambrose whimpered, biting her lip and settling down into the next round of anal. She could hear the delighted moans and cries of the women beyond the curtain, and wondered if Clea was having fun.
-o-o-o-
“Here, let me help.” Savage said quietly, taking Ambrose’s arm and quickly straightening the straps of her dress. A soft noise that might have been a ‘thank you’ came from the trembling woman, and they stepped out of their little alcove into the rest of the party.
Things were quietening down, some of the guests even falling asleep as a distant clock struck two. Ambrose groaned and tried to walk on her own, stumbled, and fell back against Savage. She saw Clea resting in a warm armchair near a roaring fire, and patted Savage’s arm. Her silver-blonde hair was shimmering like platinum in the flickering light, the young Irish girl that had brought her meal suckling at her teat.
She glanced up as they approached and flashed a weary smile. “Rosie, Rosie, Rosie. What a mess my darling has made of you.” The ginger suckling her stirred and tried to pull away, only for Clea to place a hand on her head. “Mm, no… no don’t stop dear.”
“Wh… where’s the Ambassador?” Ambrose asked, dropping heavily into a chair opposite and sighing as Savage slipped an arm around her waist.
“Elsewhere.” Clea smiled, “I wore her out. But this lovely little thing was kind enough to clean me up… and now she’s taking some much-needed pressure off my chest, so to speak.”
“I… I’m not going to ask.” Ambrose decided. “Savage… Savage was wonderful.”
“She always is.” Clea hummed sleepily, fingers raking through the soft copper locks of the girl at her breast.
“This… this was good.” Ambrose said after a while. “I’ve not had so much fun in years. And… it’s so nice to be able to let my hair down with people I can trust.”
“I’ll have you out here with the rest of these degenerates by the years end.” Clea laughed, eyes closed. “If that bitch ambassador can waltz about with her cock out and it stay a secret, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Maybe.” Ambrose mumbled shyly, eyeing the soft, sleepy sex begin to die down. “I hope so.”
The queen crawled up to them on all fours and lay herself down with a low groan. Her body was licked with sweat and sperm, her steely hair a matted mess. Christine fell heavily to the floor beside her and let out a quiet sigh of relief that she could rest. Marigold padded up to Clea, rubbing her eyes and curled up by her feet, immediately falling fast asleep against her shins and snoring sweetly.
“I think… we should retire.” Clea smiled. “This little darling needs her bed.”
“Your… rooms in the palace are available.” The Queen mumbled. “Or… my carriage drivers will take you wherever you like.”
“I… think we should go home.” Clea hummed, gently drawing the girl away from her and kissing her forehead. “Thank you, your majesty. If you need anything from me, you only have to ask.”
“I know love, I know.” The queen sighed, resting her head on her arms. “Take care.”
Clea stood and tugged Ambrose to her feet, letting out a soft ‘oh’ as she fell heavily against her. Cheeks flushed, she carefully wrapped an arm around the thin woman’s waist and gestured for Savage to take Marigold.
All four of them piled into a carriage and took the ride to the house in sleepy silence. Ambrose rested against Clea’s shoulder, fighting to stay awake. Marigold lay curled in Savage’s lap, sound asleep and smiling.
Clara and Annie helped them inside and helped clean them up as they stumbled upstairs into Clea’s room. The moment they touched the bed they were asleep, heaped in an undignified but very cosy pile, bodies all tangled together in a four-way cuddle.
Annie smiled to Clara and sent her to bed, carefully tucking in her mistress and her guests. It was nice to see her mistress happy, and as she lay there with the others, she looked truly content.
