Ch 04 The Royal Trade

Doe was summoned by a guard the very next afternoon, who escorted her down to the courtyard where Elinor was waiting for her. He gave her a modest looking cowl, which she reluctantly threw on.

"I bet that's not what my mother wears for this sort of thing," Doe muttered.

"She's the Queen. She has to look the part."

"But if she's going to... to... then... I just think I'd want something a little more comfortable."

"I think you'll find her more than accessible if things go well."

"Well then let's hope they don't."

Her head bowed, Elinor ushered her through the great wooden doors and into the grand landing of the palace. He led her straight across the velvet carpets and through the tall archway opposite, which Doe knew to be the throne room. A gallery lined the hall where spectators stood, often rallying, voting, or placing prayers or requests towards the white, marble throne at the far end.

Elinor directed her through the stone pillars of the gallery so they had a clear view of the throne. As they waited, more men and women, lords and ladies filled the court. Amongst them were the officiates, connoisseurs and wine experts, and the tradesmen, who had come to see what they might soon be able to supply. And then there were those of high society who had just come along to see the show. And at long last, when the space between all the pillars of the aging chamber had been filled, the Queen herself strode in.

She was tall, as tall as Doe one day hoped she might be, and impossibly slim. Even Doe, who was slight herself, didn't fancy the idea of slipping into the corset her mother sported. But it the fit was tight around the waist, it was nothing compared to the struggle going on around the chest. The restricting garment forced her breasts close against her body, and Doe was sure there was more spilling over the top than actually held within the cups. She felt sorry for the lace trying to hold the piece together.

Her robes were light, and purple, and flowed behind her as she walked, swaying in time with her hips like her very own slipstream. Round her neck she wore a jewelled choker, and a tiara say nestled within her golden, curling hair.

Queen Linette strode to the high-back marble throne, and rested her arms on one of the wings which had what looked like small handles cut into it. Doe didn't need to ask what they might be for. She smiled and waved at the audience before a spokesperson stepped forward, and the mumbling from the crowd quieted.

"We are here to greet Lord Eural Aubelier," he announced. "Deed-holder of the infamous Marissy Vineyard of Dorneaux, and ambassador of Fort Dongannon."

"Must we really do this now?" the Queen sighed. "I've already dealt with my husband twice this morning already." There were a few chuckles from the crowd. "Fine, send him in."

The grand doors were pulled open by two men in ceremonial armour, and the Lord Aubelier strode pompously up the aisle. He certainly seemed over-entitled. And he more-than seemed overweight. He reminded Doe of a plump little squirrel, with a broad, bushy moustache.

"Lord Aubelier," the Queen addressed him.

"Your Majesty," he bowed, showing the Queen his bald spot.

"I hope our fair city finds you well."

"I do hope you'll forgive me," Lord Aubelier said sharply. "I've come strictly on business, and the sooner I'm back, the better I'll be for it."

"It always starts like this," Elinor whispered beside Doe. "They all come determined to resist the Queen's... advances."

"Does it work?"

"Sometimes," he moved his hands like weighing scales. "Rarely."

"If you're in a rush, then let's get to it," the Queen said. "Tell me about the season's wine."

"The grapes this year have been remarkably good, Your Majesty," Aubelier said, making a great effort to look anywhere but at the Queen's bulging bosom. "And they'll keep, once corked, for just under twenty years. We deal with Marissy, but we've got partnerships with the Provin and Rossilon vineyards, too."

Queen Linette waited until Aubelier met her eyes, and she held him in her gaze. "You see, Eural, I'm quite a connoisseur myself. And there are many in this very court who are also. And we've heard that the Marissy wasn't all that special this season."

"But an average Marissy is a glorious Di'Vence, or even Sul-De-Mare."

"And of this average harvest, how many cases can you offer?"

"We forecast being able to afford you four thousand barrels for the-"

"Four thousand?" Dejection crossed Queen Linette's face.

"Our trade is wine, and it is in high demand at this time of year. I can offer Skerryvore four thousand barrels, to be shipped by the thousand every quarter."

"I'm afraid, Lord Aubelier, that simply will not do."

And now Doe saw the act begin. Her mother stepped behind the throne, and when she emerged on the other side, the knot of her corset was unfastened, revealing the line of her tightly-crammed cleavage.

"You are a small province, Your Majesty. That is fact, not sentiment. Castle Coe and Glenahull are much larger, and they can offer steel, or soldiers in return. Things that matter to the welfare of a nation."

"And what would you want from my nation?" Queen Linette said softly, and curiously, as she traced her under-breast with a long finger.

"I'm afraid gold is about the best resource you've got, and by the books it pales next to... Deepharbour, for example. We've got only so much wine to go around. I'm just being realistic in what you can afford."

"Oh, Eural, you know full well what I can offer you," the Queen smiled. "I came to this court hoping for twenty thousand barrels. I could've given you eight hundred each for them. Then you wouldn't have to worry about any other buyers."

"Twenty thousand?" Aubelier spluttered, his moustache contorting in astonishment. "Preposterous. Preposterous!"

"We can give more than gold. I can give you something no amount of money can buy. I can give you a look at these."

Using her upper arms, Queen Linette squeezed her breasts even closer together, so that surely all but the nipple brimmed over the cup of the fabric. Doe stifled a snigger as she saw something twitch in the trousers of the trader.

"I can do six," he blushed. "Six thousand. At a thousand Gold per barrel."

"That's more like it," Linette said silkily. "I do like it when you play ball."

She then pulled the ribs of the fabric apart, allowing the lace to loosen and unravel. Then she seized her breasts in her fists and hauled them out of the corset.

They were not as Doe had heard from rumours and folklore- folklore that, in Skerryvore, more often than not involved the Queen's explicit activity. They were not wrinkled, or sagging, with nipples overly large or small. They were as any queen's breasts would be imagined, how any fairytale might tell. Whilst Doe's were well on their way, she secretly- and begrudgingly- hoped there was a bit a life left in those, too, and that she might one day rival the chest before her. And there was a chuckling in the hall as the onlookers watched Lord Aubelier blush furiously, and shuffle his hands in his trouser pockets to keep something inside under control.

"Oh, it's quite alright, my Lord," the Queen said silkily. "I'd be offended if my breasts didn't elicit that reaction from my audience. It's only human nature, after all, there's nothing wrong with that. Now, I can't sit down on my throne just yet, but I think I can help you. Shall we say... eight thousand barrels?"

"What do you mean by help, Your Majesty?" Aubelier said with an admirable steadiness.

"Well, look at that. There appears to be something trying to escape from your trousers, My Lord. I think you'd be more comfortable if you let it out. I know I'd be very comfortable if you let it out."

"I'm fine," he said firmly.

"I know you're fine." Queen Linette left the side of her chair and descended upon her rival like a hawk upon a mouse. She placed one hand softly on one shoulder, the other she slid down his side. And tightly she pulled his back into her naked breasts before whispering in his ear. "But I could make you feel so much better."

And the hand that slid did not stop at his hip, but wound lower, over the hem of his shirt, over the pocket that still smuggled his fist, and eventually to his crotch. Linette let out a soft giggle.

"Oh, there it is," she whispered. "There's no need to hide it anymore."

She slowly hooked a thumb over the top of his breeches, and began to pull. Aubelier finally relented, and as the hand cleared his crotch, his erect member sprung up and out.

"Oh, wow. Your compatriots didn't tell me you were hiding that!" she said, stooping down to her knees and taking it in her hand. It hardened visibly in her grasp.

"She seriously thinks that's big?" Doe whispered. "She should see what I've got to put up with!"

"I'd be very surprised if she really thinks that's big," Elinor said, now careful to lean down to ensure the words wouldn't carry. "This is all part of the game."

"You Majesty, this is most inappropriate," Aubelier managed, looking down and blushing furiously.

"Why ever so? You have come here with your trade. If anything it's courtesy to provide you with trade of our own. Now, will this suffice," she said, making no effort to conceal her stroking motion, "or do you want to make me a better offer to do something more interesting whilst I'm down here?"

"I can do eight thousand barrels."

"But we already agreed on eight," she reminded him. "I'm already here," she placed her head against his plump stomach so her lips were inches from his shaft. "All you need to do is give me ten, and I'll give you something you won't forget."

Aubelier bristled. "Very well."

"Oh, I did hope you'd agree. Now I can do... this."

"Oh, she's not going to, is she?" Doe hissed.

The Queen shuffled around, making sure to brush the shaft with her exposed breasts, before running her mouth along the length. When she got to the end she extended her tongue and used it to guide the tip between her lips. Then, in one gulp, she pressed her mouth all the way down it.

Aubelier gasped and swore under his breath. "We're going to do this... here?"

The Queen removed herself from the shaft. "My Lord, I do ask you don't ask questions. It's very difficult to talk when I've got such a generous cock buried in my throat."

Without waiting for a response, the Queen shoved it back in her mouth and began bobbing her head up and down on it. Each time she thrust forward, her face became smothered by his flabby midriff, but if it bothered her, the Queen didn't let on a single bit.

Doe knew the noises a cock made when it hit the back of a throat. The gagging, the spluttering. She made them often. She knew how red a face got, how much saliva dribbled out, how her eyes would bulge as her windpipe was filled. And by the look of her mother, it was safe to say that Aubelier's cock was just as large as Doe's first assessment of it. As the Queen moved back and forth, she showed no sign of struggle, discomfort, or anything out of the ordinary. After all, Doe reminded herself, a cock in her mouth most likely was ordinary.

After not a moment or two, the Queen relinquished Lord Auberlier's member. What might have been a great relief for the red-faced tradesman a moment ago was now definite disappointment.

"Before we go any further, will you join me in a sample?"

"A... a sample?"

"The wine, Lord Aubelier. These things go down so much better with a glass of red."

"I'd... um... I'd better not," he said, holding his unbuttoned waistline in one hand, evidently unsure whether to keep it out or put it away. "I shouldn't be drinking on business."

"It's a good job there's no rule about fucking the Queen, then. I do love a good stickler for rules."

"Well then. Ten thousand barrels, at a thousand Gold apiece. I shall send word, and shipments shall begin shortly."

"Oh, eight hundred Gold, surely?" simpered the Queen. "I did so well."

"I didn't even finish!" the Lord squeaked, now quite forgetting his place before the hundred or so people watching.

"Don't you worry about that yet. We still have much to discuss. But before we do, you don't mind if I slip out of my formal wear, do you? It's most restricting."

Before the court the Queen removed her long, purple robes, revealing a decorated white thong and fishnets underneath. She turned, giving Aubelier the full view, before elegantly unfastening and removing her corset so that her entire top half was naked. Unsupported, her breasts were as firm and steady as when resting on the rim of fabric.

"Now, a Queen's proper place is on her throne," Linette said, striding over to it, and now Aubelier eagerly followed. "How many more barrels would you offer to watch me sit on it? I'll let you help me?"

The throne was bare marble, though carved and decorated as finely as the reliefs of any cathedral. But in a kingdom governed by sex, sitting on the throne meant something different entirely.

No cushion adorned the seat, but carved into it- or out of it- was a marble protrusion, round, and ridged, and bulbous. It was the Seat of Skerryness, a testament to the trade of she who, physically and metaphorically, sat upon it.

"This will not do," Aubelier said, wresting with two opposing trains of thought.

"We had an agreement."

"My Lord, you are going to help me. For I fear I am too small to place myself upon such a thing." She handed him a small vile of a yellow liquid. Placing both hands on the seat of the throne, she stuck her rear end towards the Lord. "Make me slippery, my Lord. Slippery and pliant."

Aubelier took a half-step towards her, and then stopped. But then, again, he relented. He unstoppered the oil and dribbled it down onto the base of her back. And he- along with the crowd- watched as it trickled down between her plump buttocks.

"Ooooh, it's running down," she gasped. Then she pulled her thong-chord aside and spread both buttocks, giving them all a view of her arsehole. "Get your hand right in there, my Lord. Lube up my anus, and we'll see what you can fit up me."

There was a second's hesitation, which made the Queen reach back and grab the hand of the Lord, jamming it right between her cheeks and not releasing him until he took the initiative and begun massaging her anus without her guidance.

"That's it," she crooned. "You're so gentle. You can be a bit rougher with me if you like. I'll even let you slip a finger into my royal asshole if you like. Two even. I can feel my... Oh!"

That was an offer Aubelier took no time in taking up, and he jammed a finger into the slippery hole.

"Has he never fingered an ass before?" Doe whispered to Elodin. "You don't just ram it in!"

"I think you've been spoilt with your teachers," he chuckled. "Not everyone is as practiced or considerate as them."

"You've not seen half of them in the bedroom!"

"My Lord, your fingers are so big. I think I'm nearly ready."

Queen Linette stood up, and Aubelier removed himself from her. As she stood, the thong slipped back into place.

"I think you've done a magnificent job. What's a queen if she can't sit on her own throne?"

She hovered over the seat, positioning her behind over the protruding limb of marblework, and Lord Auberlier looked on with eyes wide. She smiled at him as she squatted so that just the tip was touching the opening. She poured another vial of oil out over her hand, and stroked it up and down the member. She lathered it until the rock was fully reflective. And all the while Aubelier didn't take his eyes off her.

"Do you like watching me do this, Lord Aubelier? Do you want me to do this to you? It can easily be arranged. Or do you want to watch me sink my ripe royal asshole over this thick rock?" She slowly slipped the tip of it into her, letting out an exaggerated groan before lifting herself off again. "Really, I can take it all the way in. I just wish for you it was bigger, I want to show you how much I can really take. If I had it my way, you'd be watching it through my belly. Twelve thousand, and you can watch me take my well-deserved seat."

"Yes, yes. Get on with it," he spluttered.

"I'm so glad you came around. I was beginning to get tired. Now, have you got a good view?"

Slowly, the Queen eased herself down. She lifted a leg, allowing Aubelier- and all the crowd ahead of her- the view of her of her asshole being stretched wide as she sank it down over the appendage.

"Do we have to watch this?" Doe whispered. "I get the picture! Seeing her suck someone off is bearable, but watching her shove that in her... Urgh!"

"But this is the best bit," Elinor winked at her.

Every inch that disappeared moved muscles in her face, forming expressions of satisfaction, discomfort, determination as her rear end swallowed the plug on the throne. She got to the final bulge in the base before she began to grunt, and let out a low and dogged moan as she forced the last of it up her bum. Doe was secretly impressed, and thought it entirely plausible that those last few grunts had been genuine. She'd never sat herself over the Throne of Skerryness, but imagined it would give her a harder time than it had her mother.

Queen Linette sat there, panting for a while, and for someone entering the court it would've looked like she was sat upon a regular throne. Then she wiggled her ass, and let out a wicked grin.

"Do you enjoy watching me sodomise myself, Eural? You can do that to me, if you want. You can put it wherever you like. For fifteen thousand barrels."

"Fifteen, Your Majesty? I couldn't. Really."

"Oh, Eural, stop playing around, we both know how this ends. Now pick a hole. We'll get it wet, and then you can stuff it."

"In... in front of all these people?"

"Why certainly. They've all come to see their queen get fucked by a real man, not a chair. And it's not often they see her get fucked by someone as endowed as yourself."

Aubelier didn't justify the sentiment with a response, but again, eventually, resigned himself to the proceedings. The Queen lifted herself off the throne with a small pop as Auberlier began to most nervously and awkwardly manoeuvre her around. But the Queen was most obliging, and didn't let up smiling as she presented her ass to him, spreading her legs and giving him an uncensored view of... everything. Aubelier reached between her legs and stroked her, causing the Queen to let out a moan only he could perceive to be genuine.

"That's it, get me nice and wet. Then I'll cling to my throne whilst you have your way with me."

She put one knee on the stone seat, one leg out to the side and wrapped her arms around the backrest, flattening her breasts against the stone slab. Aubelier's cock was so stiff it was almost throbbing, and Doe could tell he'd be lucky to last a minute.

"Do we really have to watch this?" she implored Elodin.

"You've seen this much, you may as well stay for the ending. You've been treated to quite the show. You've seen the Queen take it up all three holes."

"I know how to take it up all three holes. You and your knights taught me that. I don't need my mother to show me."

But Elodin shushed her softly as the Queen lowered her waist to meet Aubelier's eager cock. He rubbed it against it once, positioned it at the opening, and waited for the Queen to lower herself down over it.

And now she did let out a moan that might have been real as she swallowed his cock in one smooth descent. And from there, Lord Aubelier actually took control. He gripped her around the hips and pulled her in close so that his belly smothered her lower back. He began thrusting, and once he had a rhythm going he reached up to seize one of her breasts, which we in danger of hitting the Queen in the face.

But for all the vigour and energy he put in, the foreplay had taken its toll, and it wasn't long at all before Aubelier passed the point of no return. His thrusts became stronger, and he gasped at the effort, and his whole body began to tense.