The rain beats in steady sheets against the leaded glass of the windows. Brilliant flashes of lightning chase the many shadows around the ancient stone walls of the queen's bedchamber. A hearty blaze in the huge fireplace battles the autumn chill seeping through every unguarded chink and crack in the large room.
From behind the heavy, iron clad door come the sounds of a struggle and angry male voices. The door swings wide to admit two large guards and their reluctant prisoner. They half drag, half carry the man across the room and securely fasten his wrists to the well-used leather straps hanging from the weathered ceiling beams. One guard takes a long, sharp dagger from his belt and holds the gleaming tip firmly against the prisoner's throat.
"You had better hope the queen finds you suitable. If she does, you might survive the night. If she doesn't, .... well, you'll wish you had died with the rest of your sorry rebels."
The guard's laugh is nasty as he nudges the other guard. They leave, closing the door with a solid thud.
Testing the unyielding straps that bind him, the prisoner groans in frustration. To have the rebellion against the bitch queen fail was disastrous enough. To be taken as one of her 'toys' was worse.
Beautiful, spoiled and ruthless, the queen had hammered the people she ruled into slaves to her twisted whims. The untimely death of her beloved king had twisted her into a creature of dark passions and even darker desires. Stories of the unfortunate men that fell prey to her was the subject of legend in every tavern in the land and several such tales whispered in the mind of the man now bound helpless in her chambers.
Minutes creep slowly by. The leather straps dig into his wrists and the muscles in his arms begin to ache. Suddenly, there is the faint sound of silk rustling and, in the flickering torch light, he sees a figure stretch sinuously on the bed. The gauzelike curtain draped around the bed prevents him from seeing her clearly but as she sits up, her ebony hair flows over the white satin covering her shoulders and curls around her full breasts. He can feel rather than see her deep green eyes gazing calmly at him.
She rises from the massive bed and stands before the blazing hearth, well aware of the light passing through the thin material of her gown. Reaching up, she removes something from the mantle and, holding it between her full ripe breasts, she walks slowly towards the man. As she nears he can see she holds the bejewelled hilt of a thin, sharp dagger in her hands.
He watches entranced, as she raises the slim knife and lays the cold steel against his cheek. A small smile barely touches her full, red lips as she speaks in a soft, sultry voice.
"So this is the daring idealist that thought he could overthrow the nasty queen. Wanted to try being a king, did you? Or did you have plans to become Emperor too? I know, you just want to save me from myself." The knife flicks from his cheek to the centre of his chest. "I hope you had a back-up plan because now, you are mine."
The blade slices smoothly through the fragile material of his shirt, barely missing his skin. In a few deft movements, it is nothing but rags around his feet. Sliding her fingers under the waistband of his trousers, she continues to cut down each leg until he stands naked before her.
After replacing the knife on the mantle, she returns to stand in front of him, her hands on her hips. He shifts his weight, uncomfortable under her appraising gaze. "You'll do." is all she says.
With one long, ruby tinted nail she traces a long thin line over his chest, stopping only long enough to tease each nipple. Leaning forward, she takes each nipple into her warm mouth and flicks them lightly with her tongue. As they become wet and tense, she blows softly on them to chill his flesh. She looks up at him and smiles.
Raising her hands to his head, she pulls his mouth down to hers. He resists the touch of her lips on his, but with her fingers entwined in his hair, he has little choice. Her kiss is warm and seductive and with her scent washing over him he can feel his body start to respond. The silk gown brushes over his chest and groin as she moves against him, pressing her slim form to his.
Letting her hands glide over the tanned skin of his shoulders, she relishes the smoothness of his flesh and the hard muscles of a labourer underneath. Following her hands, she steps behind him to feel the taut muscles in his back, his waist and ass. She kisses the centre of his back, feeling him flinch. Running her hands around his waist and down, she lightly brushes her fingertips over the fine hair of his groin.
