Ambrosia Slave Queen

Laertes Oresteson did not waste a moment's sleep on the men he speared on his pike, or the ones that crumpled to his feet at the swing of his blade. Weaker men than him had tried to pillage their way to this land rumoured to have women made of milk and honey, led by a feeble king and a Queen even fairer still.

Ambrosia Marcella Leviticus had watched the battalions ride off to war. She had seen countless rows of brothers, fathers, sons and cousins riding off to slaughter, rampage or die. Although she watched their figures become dots in the distance and then smoke in the distant sky, Ambrosia had never feared for their return. It had never even occurred to her that they would not return.

So, when the masses of troops wearing the wrong uniform rode in on the sunset of the next fortnight, Queen Ambrosia was gathered with the rest of the ladies to await their fate.

"Do you know who I am?" Said a gruff voice, that deeply vibrated in my core.

I had seen him take lead, assigning the other men to their tasks - stripping the walls of their tapestries, hanging new ones, finding and pooling all the goods that could be seen - I could tell that this man of dark russet complexion was the leader of the party.

He directed his question at me, black orbs assessing me savouring every ounce of control. The man quite literally dominated the room, making my home, my court almost as alien as the horde of colossal men that had gathered in it.

"I do not."

This was true, it was not like men to involve women in their business. Up until this point, I knew what I needed to know; there was a war to be fought, a threat to be vanquished, and it would not take long.

The war had raged on for more days than either I or the other women could count. Children kept us busy for most of the time with their constant needs and when there was nothing, there was the smoke dwindling on the edges in the distance.

My answer had amused him. A slow sneer sliced across his face. "But I assume you know what situation you have found yourself in?"

I looked from the defined veins that coursed past his thick neck, through chiselled arms, all the way down to his calves and sandals strapped on his feet.

"Yes."

I could not help the unsteady gulp as I took in his face too. Beneath the layers of grime, it was clear that his tresses were sandy, his nose was hooked and defined, his eyes cat-like, and his mouth plump promising a disarming sweetness.

"And that is?"

I could feel the shivering of the women and young girls around me. It was long past evening, and we were gathered in the marketplace, paraded to by the foreign men, who dragged us through mud that stained our faces and burrowed under our fingernails. We stood, forced to watch them slaughter our children and elderly.

It was miles too cold for us to be wearing the weightless fabric of our summer tunics in the chill of this night.

Naturally, we cowered together, huddling for warmth. And there I was at the front, forced to face off the mountain of the man with my nipples clawing for attention through my dress.

I was a woman, with no name and no title now.

"I am to be a slave."

A thick purple, wine-stained tongue leisurely wet the man's dry lips. "Laertes. You should know the name of your new master and husband."

My eyes widened unconsciously; I had expected to be a prize. Spoils of war were not wed, and if so not unless the man was bewitched by the slave's acts in bed.

"I would know these breasts anywhere." Laertes guffawed, grappling a handful of my right breast with a large paw and squeezing. "Tales have spread far and wide about your bountiful chest. We sang many a chant on our journey about the Legendary tits of Queen Ambrosia of the soon-to-be conquered city of Milkara."

Heat rushed to my face at his crudeness, and I could not help but drop his eyes. I had never felt conscious of my body. It was no secret that my breast ducts were overrun with milk. Nor was it uncommon in our community it was the most desirable trait of our women, promising fertility and divine womanhood. I caught lingering stares on my lascivious curves and ample bust, and once upon a time, I had even egged that on with my attire and languid gestures. Though ever so subtly, of course. But those days were long behind me, I had been a modest Queen, and it had been a while since I was the centre of a spectacle like this.

Tears prickled my eyes and blurred my vision as his fist gripped the roots of my hair, forcing my body flush against his front, now facing his allies and the women of my court. A hard bulge poked my back, sparking tingles down my spine. "Meekness will do no good for you here in my court, bitch. I will marry you, that much is certain, but I will reward my men a show of your honour."

Laertes laughed as I squirmed in his tight grip, forced to face the crowd of leering faces, covered in blood, sweat and dirt.

"You would think with these great jugs on your chest you would be used to all the attention." He growled, close enough to my ear that I could feel the warmth of the stale wine on his breath. Laertes' second hand slithered up like a snake, roughly massaging and moulding my malleable flesh.

"Don't tell me that your subjects hide their salivation that well? Or are you really that oblivious? Do you really believe that they do not whisper and watch these tremendous tits hustle and bustle as you move?"

I shook my head to the best of my ability in his unrelenting grip, tears flowing freely now.

"They don't- We are a family! I won't have this! I-"

"Shall we test that, my Queen?" He purred, licking from the side of my neck straight up to my ear.

"I-"

My sentence was apprehended by the sudden rush of air to my bosom.

Then there was free movement of my head, before two large hands cupped my large hanging breasts, rubbing them in an overtly showy and intimate manner that made me feel pink from head to toe.

"Mmmh," He groaned into my neck, waking every goosebump on my skin. "What a heavy burden you carry here. So ripe."

It was all I could do not to groan back when I felt the first drop of milk trickle out of my right nipple. The overwhelming release was enough for me to throw my head back onto his strong chest, ignoring the gasps and ripples of remarks thrown at me by the consenting and captive audience as I shut my eyes off from them. Now all I felt was the heat radiating off his muscular form, his booming heartbeat and rugged searching palms.

"I don't want you docile and accepting. I want you desperate and pleading." My core pulsed between my legs as they were then kicked apart. The rush of cold wind to my most sacred area was overshadowed by my captor's hand dragging mine down to cup my wet heat over my garments. "We. Want. A. Show."

A show. The term transported me back to my time as a girl, much younger and much more impatient. I would go to the heart of the fields surrounding my parent's land in the broad daylight feet bare and dance, first on my legs, then with fingers between them. I was adventuring my hidden flesh when I was found by the late King who had been visiting as a friend of my father's, so it made sense that this too would be my first act in ensnaring my second proposal.

I thought of the warm midday Sun on my skin to lift the cold. Replaced the piercing eyes with the freedom of solitude. I made the calloused hands of a captor into the homecoming embrace of a lover, all as my fingers danced between my legs performing circles on the swollen bud of nerves. I could feel the budding embers of desire throughout my limbs, the contracting in the pit of my stomach, I could feel it coming, the rush that I was chasing.

"What a lewd display to introduce yourself to your new subjects," Laertes said, cutting off my flow and access to myself by grabbing my wrist, all whilst torturing my swollen teats. "But I think you have more in you. I want more."