Ah Lydia. Lydia stalking away, her back trembling with rage. How many times have I seen this sight? A thousand? More? Lydia of the ashen hair but still flaming temper; she of a thousand grudges and irritations. Eyes of simmering coals, black yet glistening with ire. I see her neck muscles twitching like fresh bled intestines, cords dashing in and out of her smooth cream skin, flexing with each indignant shudder. Her fingers grip her own blade sharp elbows, nail beds white with tension. She turns slightly to flash a snarl of pure disgust at me. I smile indulgently. My pretty spoiled pet. My hopelessly frustrated ornament, too impetuous to enjoy the luxuries she has; too stupid to change her lot. A frivolous fool, whose body I lap each night as though she were a tasty morsel spread on a platter for my delectation alone. She sees my laughter and attempts to rebuff my charms; insulted by my lack of remorse she stalks away. She will crawl back later, sulking done, to demand more delights.
I turn and beckon a slave to oil my breasts, massaging my womanly nipples with gentle strokes. Pleasant but not sexual. My sex is in the chase; the blow of their final capitulation. Their defeat sends me into paroxysms of joy.
Soon I will have to dispose of Lydia. She has entertained me longer than most -- her selfish spirit means she has not yet relinquished her demanding self. Even so, I tire of her childishness; her lack of conversation. I shall seek a new companion.
I waft away the eager man. These slaves tire me so -- always vying for attention. Their constant display of effort is wearing. They know that one day soon I must choose a husband from them but they do not comprehend how my flesh down to my nails and tongue balks and shudders at the notion of their trying touch. Attractive they may be, but their souls are empty, swallowed by being centred around my whim. They have no original thought; no genuine desire. Bred only to please. They bore me. They disgust me. I dream of slitting their desperate throats. Of running into the Outer City and beyond. To find perhaps an outlaw, or a Wildman. To fight and fuck and feel all that we animals should feel. To understand what it is to be pinned down or hurt; to be defeated and yield to a greater power. To master myself and prove my worth; to be as equal with another and see our glory reflected in each other's eyes.
Dagil enters, disturbing my fantasy. His face is lined and set in perfect constant seriousness. I may be Queen but Dagil is my jailer. He has raised me from an orphan child; taught me to manage an Empire; shown me propriety and bearing and all the other wretched rules that trap me in the palace. He has built for me a dungeon of excessive physical bliss. He has perfected my body and allowed me indulgence, yet he has caged my educated mind and kept me from my true desires.
Today Dagil carries another sheaf of documents for me to read and sign. I suppose I could disagree or refuse but what would be the point? My opinions may differ from his but the army follows his orders; the civil forces are directed by him. My face is on the coinage but he controls the banks. Besides, he has not been unkind to me. Where many other guardians would have slain me in my crib and taken the Empire for themselves, Dagil fed me, played with me, send me abroad for the finest education. For a while, he was my lover, but that changed after my son was born. We could not legally wed and no Queen may give birth out of wedlock and so my married brother took him. To this day, he knows me as Aunt. Dagil feared more issue and so I turned my attention to feminine wiles and the allure of soft curvatures, whilst Dagil became as a teacher and friend. A friend who nevertheless maintains his own position and power at my expense.
"Hapmorn, Majesty."
He bows stiffly and dismisses the slaves so that we are alone.
"Dagil. I have not seen you all week. How was your trip to the Crumdojji Peninsular?"
He leans forwards and plants a friendly kiss upon my lips. I hide my shudder in a smile. I cannot say why but there are times he disgusts me, when all I can feel is dirty and all I can see are his greying pores and leathery skin.
"It went well, Madder. The rebels have dissipated and the Prince has begun to open a very beneficial trade route. How have you fared in my absence?"
"You know"
I shrug deeply.
