"Fuck me! Fuck my sopping wet cunt!"
The queen bucked her hips hard against the knight as his long, thick cock thrust in and out of her. She felt the orgasm approaching, and she didn't want the knight, whose organ pistoned in and out of her with verve and expert skill, to stop until she had come.
"That's right, you queenfucker!" she cried. "Do your duty and fuck your queen!"
The knight's body was hard and lean and youthful, but the queen saw fear in his eyes. She knew that he dreaded displeasing her.
As pleasurable as his fast, constant thrusts were, the queen sighed with discontent. It was always thus. No matter how strong and brave and well-endowed they were, all the men she brought to her bed looked at her the same way -- with lust, but with fear as well. All men knew she had the ultimate power to end their lives if they displeased her. The queen liked having that power -- she insisted on it, in fact -- but part of her wanted a man who took her and fucked her with abandon and a total disregard for consequences. She wanted a man to dominate her even though she knew no man dared do so.
After a few minutes, the Queen came, and wetness flowed from her pussy, over the knight's cock and onto the bed.
The Queen pulled her pussy off and away from the knight, and she handed him a glass.
"Come in this," she commanded. She spread her legs open and with one hand opened her pink, royal cunt to his view to make his job easier. The knight came a minute later, after stroking his penis, and he dumped a load of semen into the cup, until it was half full.
"Well done," said the Queen, and she noticed the relief in his face at having pleased her. "You may go now."
The knight started dressing.
"Do that elsewhere," the queen said. "Go."
"Yes, Majesty." The knight gathered his clothes in a bunch and skittered out of the room, naked.
The queen picked up the glass, upended it, and drank the knight's cum. She loved the taste of a man's semen. She smacked her lips with satisfaction, and then she rose from her vast royal bed and strode toward the mirror on the wall. She enjoyed the warm feeling of a satisfied, well-fucked pussy.
She admired the sight of her body in the mirror, framed in gold.
She was no longer young, now nearing middle age. But she was still beautiful, with dark, flowing hair and a trim but womanly body. Firm breasts sprang away from her torso, and the sweet cleft of her pussy graced the apex of long, lean thighs. The queen smiled at the thought of her subjects fantasizing about her.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," she said. "Who is the greatest fuck of all?"
The image in the mirror swirled, and the vague shape of a green face appeared in it.
"In the land of Wantonia, my Queen, it's true:
"No greater fuck lives and breathes than you."
The queen smiled. The mirror answered the same way it had as long as she had been asking it. She reveled not only in her absolute power over her country, but in knowing she was the hottest and best fuck of any woman, anywhere.
And yet, the queen was not wholly content. She was not worried about her grip on power; it was secure. Her nemesis was age. She was not young anymore, and though she had taken great pains, including the use of magic spells, to preserve her youthful appearance, she feared that at any time some hint of her progressing years--a gray hair, a sudden wrinkle--might mar her perfection. And she knew, in her heart, that she had a challenger. That challenger was far younger than the queen, and she was nearby. The queen could not permit a challenge. She knew that something would have to be done.
* * * *
Meanwhile, nearby, in the courtyard of the castle, the source of the queen's anxiety, her young stepdaughter, Snow White, danced and sang in the castle gardens. Snow White was the daughter of King Abylard and of his first wife, who had died long ago, when Snow White was young. The King had remarried, to Ezebel, the beautiful daughter of the wizard Ezrah, but the King died not long after their marriage, leaving the queen to rule the kingdom. Snow White had celebrated her 18
th
birthday only the day before. As the only child of a beloved king, Snow White was beloved throughout the country, except by one person -- the queen, who was jealous of Snow White's popularity and beauty. The queen kept Snow White sequestered most of the time on the castle grounds, and rarely let her get out, lest she become more popular than the queen and challenge the queen's authority. But Snow White was innocent and guileless, and thought only good things about other people, and she was unaware of the queen's jealousy and bad intentions.
She skipped and danced and sang in the garden, and when she held out her hand a sparrow flew to it and alit on her outstretched finger.
Snow White was dressed in a chiffon dress of blue and cream. Her skin was pale white, her hair was ebony, and her lips were the hue of a rich, red rose.
When she was done singing, she sat at the edge of a fountain and watched the many fish swim in the water below. The fish gathered near her. Birds, animals, and fish loved Snow White as much as the people of her country did.
Snow White put her hand in the water and waved it back and forth, watching the ripples.
"Hello, my friends," she said to the fish.
An unfamiliar feeling came to her. She knitted her brow. It was a nice feeling, but a confusing one. It came from between her legs. Snow White pulled her dress up, until the place between her legs could be seen. Snow White didn't know what to call it, because no one had told her what to call it. Between her legs lay a pretty cleft, with a small sparse tuft of black hair above it. The cleft was framed by thin rosy lips. She pulled the lips back with her fingers, revealing a pink pearl.
The funny feeling came from that pearl.
"How strange!" she said out loud, to no one but herself. A tingly feeling emanated from that little pink button between her legs. She touched it with her finger, sending a shiver throughout her body.
"It feels so queer," she said aloud again. "But so nice, too. I don't know what that feeling is."
She began moving her fingertip over the pink button -- her clitoris, though she did not know that word -- and the delicious sensation brought a moan to her lips.
"I must keep doing this," she said, out loud, not knowing what to call what she was touching. "It feels so wonderful."
Soon Snow White writhed and moaned in the garden while she rubbed herself.
Her body tingled all over and she had a sudden urge to feel the sun's warmth on it, so she pulled her dress off and laid it gently next to her. She resumed touching herself.
She was entranced by the sight of her fingers over the flesh between her legs. She had never touched herself this way before, in all her years, and never felt this strange sensation coming from between her legs. It seemed funny to her that no one had ever told her what to call it, but as she looked at it, with the lips peeled back, revealing bright pink flesh, it seemed to her like a flower. So, she decided to call it her flower.
Her moans were lifted by a light breeze, into the air, over the garden, and beyond its walls, where they were heard by a young and handsome man. He was Prince Geoffrey, from the neighboring Kingdom of Speerbergen. Geoffrey had heard rumors of the beauty of the young princess. Impatient to confirm the rumors himself, he took off on his horse, unaccompanied, to the queen's castle.
The kingdoms of Wantonia and Speerbergen had friendly relations, but Prince Geoffrey knew that the queen was not someone to trifle with, and he had heard rumors that she was not fond of her stepdaughter. So, he came to the Wantonia castle with the ostensible purpose of conducting important state business with the queen. In reality, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the young maiden about whom he'd heard so many tantalizing tales. He'd heard that she was even more beautiful than the queen, although no one would ever dare say such a thing to the queen's face.
He had arrived an hour earlier with the usual collection of ambassadors and his personal guard. The queen, they had been told, was not yet ready to see them. So, he asked to be allowed to wander the castle gardens, alone. As he walked, he was struck by their beauty. They were a labyrinth of high stone walls and sculptures, and the variety of splendor of the flowers was astonishing. He had never seen anything like it. It was early May, and the flowers burst with unnatural color, scent, and size, as though an unseen power was at work on them.
It just so happened that he was walking next to one of the garden walls when he heard Snow White's moans on the other side.
Prince Geoffrey was intrigued by the sound coming from the other side of the garden wall. Geoffrey was no stranger to the nature of that sound. He was young, and tall, and extremely handsome, and, being a prince, he had his pick of the many lovely lasses that populated Speerbergen. He had sampled many of them, but he had yet to find the maiden for whom he knew he was destined.
The prince looked up at the high, stone wall. A metal trellis festooned with orange flowers snaked up the wall's surface. Throwing caution to the wind, Prince Geoffrey took hold of the trellis and climbed.
As he got close to the top of the wall, the sounds coming from inside the garden grew louder. At last, he reached the highest point of the wall, grabbed tightly to the trellis, and peeked his head over the top.
Not forty feet away from him, seated on the edge of a fountain, legs spread wide open, and fingers rubbing vigorously over her exposed and obviously wet pussy, was the most beautiful vision of a woman the prince had ever beheld. She was naked, too. He stopped breathing; she was so lovely. He shook his head. Was it possible for such a gorgeous vision -- busily working over her exposed womanhood -- to be real?
The short, sharp whimpers coming from her open mouth while her fingers went to work between her pale legs suggested she was, after all, real.
"Amazing," the prince whispered to himself. He said nothing further. He didn't want to startle her. She was looking in a different direction, and mostly down, between her legs, so she obviously had not seen him.
The lovely vision mashed her fingers over her clitoris, and it seemed to the prince that the lovely vision, while eager, was unskilled at the art of self-pleasure.
Skilled or not, she made herself come at last--there was no mistaking the cause of the cry she let out, or the way her body spasmed after she pulled her hand away. The prince watched, entranced, as she sat on the edge of the fountain, legs spread wide, breasts bouncing as her chest heaved. No woman had ever looked so lovely or exciting to him, and he'd had many. He thought she must be one of the princess's ladies in waiting, she was so lovely.
The prince jumped down off the wall, and his feet hit the stone path with a loud clap.
The lovely woman looked up at him, with a surprised look on her face. But she did not cover herself.
"You surprised me," she said. "Who are you?"
She didn't cover herself. She stood up from the fountain and faced him, naked, hands at her side, with a look of wonder, but not fear, on her face.
The prince was astonished. He had never seen a woman act in such a way. Who was she?
"I'm Prince Geoffrey, of the Kingdom of Speerbergen. I am here on business to see the queen."
"Oh, I think I have heard of you!" she said. "I am sure she will want to see you. You are very handsome."
She said it in a cheerful, sincere, but not flirtatious way. The prince knew he was handsome. He was 28, tall, strong, skilled in battle, and he had a chiseled face that might be considered hard unless one looked deeply into his gray eyes, which revealed kindness and wisdom. But the prince was not above the enjoyment of the game of seduction. It was a game he'd played many times, and he intended to play it now, before he must see the queen.
He offered a hand to hers.
"You are one of the fairest maidens I've ever beheld," he said. "May I?"
