Queen Under the Mountain

Chapter 2: Servant

Author's note:

Chances are, you will be quite confused if you haven't already read Queen Under The Mountain. This story is not just set in the same universe, it is a direct sequel, from the next day, and there is a lot of quite pivotal set-up contained in number one.

Although I hadn't originally planned it like this, there will be a string of these.

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The mountain, the Wymhalt rose from the plain with not even a low hill to challenge it's dominance of the skyline and the sky. It was tall and conical, and there were rumours in the lands around that it had not always been there, and that a Queen (surely an ancestor of the current ruler, it couldn't be her, herself) had raised it from the floodplain to be her fortress and her castle.

The Queen sat on her throne at the very centre of the mountain. She could feel the flow of life like blood within the Wymhalt, sense all that was going on, every emotion being experienced by anybody within its walls blending into a background flux like the murmur of all their voices at once, the occasional spike of pleasure or pain or rage or jealousy coming through strong, as exquisite as a sip of finest brandy. When she closed her eyes she could see it as well, silver sparks all around her, and her at the centre of her web.

Several levels down, in the barracks, Enda sucked noisily and appreciatively on the cock of an off-duty guardsman as another pumped steadily into her from behind, and the rest of the company lay about drinking, laughing and waiting their turn.

Seven levels above the throne room, the second of the new servants, Clare by name, had caught the eye of a priest and was attending him during a rest from astrologic observations, crying out in passion with her legs held under her arms as, sweating and breathing hard, he pumped into her cunt for the second time that day.

Close to her there were the sparks that were her guards, and personal servants, and moving down the corridor towards her...

Ah, yes, at last! Now she could find out what value this new servant would be!

Through the doors at the end of the throne room, into the flickering light of the torches ranged around the walls and the braziers ranked across the floor, walked Valda.

She was dressed in soft sandals to prevent the skin of her feet from hardening into leather, and her clean, hairless skin was gleaming from beneath bangles at her wrists and elbows, an intricately worked and jewel-studded metal collar, a chain-link necklace that dropped between her firm breasts and a belt of metal links that hung over her hips and dropped low in front and behind.

Apart from shoes and worked metal, the new servant was naked, and looked quite happy with that fact.

She walked across the floor and stopped in front of the throne as the Queen admired her, letting her wait with eyes respectfully downcast but posture perfect.

"Come here," The Queen said softly, her voice lacking none of its power and potency now that she was not using it for spelling.

Obediently, Valda walked forwards until she was standing right at her Queen's feet.

While she waited, poised and still, the Queen examined her, face lingering halfway between amused intrigue and thoughtful consideration.

The moment dragged on, with no sign of discomfort or wandering attention from Valda, until the Queen crossed one long leg over the other and leaned forwards a little.

"Welcome to my service, Valda," she said in her honey-slick voice. "Have you any idea why I have ordered you to attend me here, today?"

"No, my Queen," Valda replied with the hard strength of her former character subdued but not entirely hidden.

"You intrigue me, Valda. For how long have you desired the flesh of women, not men?"

There was the slightest of hesitations, a sign of a sought-for memory not an attempt to dissemble, before Valda replied "For as long as I can remember, my Queen."

"Is that so?" the Queen replied, almost a breath, as she leaned forwards, allowing herself the pleasure of gently circling one of the girl's proudly naked nipples with one languid fingertip, teasing it erect.

The Queen could taste the small spark of pleasure that her finger had given to Valda, could feel it in her mind like a sip of brandy on her tongue. She could feel it's honesty, the way that the pleasure was not simply responding to commands she had given to the hind-brain, not simply there because that was what a servant of the Queen felt, but was a deep flesh-response from right within every cell of Valda's body. It was oh so sweet and oh so intoxicating.

The Queen nearly closed her eyes to savour it, nearly dug her fingers into the swollen mound before her hand to drink deep of this richest of vintages, but discipline and the pleasure of pleasure deferred restrained her and she sat slowly back, taking in the form of this intriguing new creature.

Valda's skin was young, soft and supple, even her hands not needing too much treatment to be appropriate for a maid in the Queen's service. Her flesh was ripe and firm, her body lean with a young lifetime of unstinting labour, but bewitching and round with the full flush of womanhood upon her and the heritage of wide-hipped, large-breasted peasant women behind her. Her hair was a tawny red that would turn slowly black out of the sun, and her skin had tanned and toughened but not suffered under that same light.

The Queen let her gaze linger long upon every feature of her long-limbed and fresh young servant, and felt the delicious thrill of acquisition that she had not felt for a long time now. She came to a sudden, gloatingly selfish decision - she could not let this new treasure become just any servant!

"I will make you my hand-maiden," she told the submissively waiting Valda with relish she did not attempt to conceal from her voice. "You will attend upon me in the morning when I rise, and at night when I go to bed, and at any other time that I decide. You will answer only to me. No other girls in all my staff, aside from my personal attendants, are allowed to refuse an order for service from any man here, but you will answer only to me."

Valda knew, with the unthinking deep certainty of all knowledge that the Queen required in her servants, what that truly meant, and her face reflected her deep pleasure at being able to serve her mistress so personally.

The Queen leaned forwards, used one finger to tilt Valda's chin upwards so that she could look deeply into her smoky green eyes, and said "In time, my succulent young thing, you may even graduate to become a woman, and serve me by your will, not my desire."

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The Queen's chambers were deep in the middle of the mountain, above her throne room and with only the thickness of the stone, that vaulted over the vastness of the one and smoothly floored the other, between them.

They were formed from a network of smooth-walled, organically rounded rooms connected by round openings and lit by natural phosphorescence in the rock, augmented by smokeless lanterns.

The bath chamber, where Valda had unhesitatingly and unthinkingly gone upon her arrival in her new home and workplace, was wide and deep and fed by a natural thermal spring whose waters crusted the rock with salts.

Her jewellery, the metal that served for garments, had been taken off her by the Queen's minor handmaidens, who would now also serve her, and placed on woven clothes on the edge of the deep bowl in the rock that served as the bath.

She was standing in the middle of the bath, the slow trickle of the water through the bowl causing soft currents past her thighs as the maidens washed her.

They shaved her legs, her sex and under her arms with small, curved, steel blades that gleamed like moonlight.

They rubbed her down with crushed leaves that left froth and a lingering scent of citrus upon her skin, and worked with fingers and soft sea sponges upon every part of her skin until it glistened pinkly with a flush of blood, the folds of her sex tingled with warm and turgid feelings of expectant pleasure, and her nipples stood out with a pleasant burn.

She stood quiescent among the three women, feeling a slow roll of pleasure inside as their hands pressed and rubbed and massaged her body, restrained from trying anything more by the knowledge, inside her, that she was not to do so until the Queen gave her permission.

Then they led her to the edge of the pool, and held her hands as she stepped carefully up the steps cut into the rock and onto the long, sloping shelf where animal skins were laid in a thick pile underfoot.

She was guided gently to lie upon the skins with her feet towards the water.

Two of the handmaids lay down beside her, sliding their bodies next to hers, their hands beginning to stroke her wet flanks with more than caring intent.

Valda lay her head back upon the skins, grateful to the Queen for what was to come, and spread her legs wide for the third maiden, who lay down between them.

The two by her sides each trapped one of her legs between theirs, their thighs scissoring down upon hers, as the maiden between her legs bent down and planted a soft kiss upon her lips.

Valda closed her eyes as the first sweet swell of pleasure rose within her and was joined by tingling joy from her breasts as soft, experienced fingers began to caress those soft mounds.

She had craved these feelings long and bitterly while living in the grubby, muddy village she had been forced to call home, longed for them in shameful secret ever since she had identified what it was that made her different from the other girls and their incomprehensible obsession with young men.

But she had never found them, had never found pleasure at all save with her own fingers, until that incredible moment in the ceremony when the Queen had graced them with Her presence and shown them their new lives and duties, and a priestess with a ceremonial staff had opened her eyes to what pleasure could be.

That fierce joy, necessary to break open the old shackles of her mind, was completely unlike what she was now feeling as two sets of soft hands began to caress her suddenly heavier breasts, and two pairs of lips began to nuzzle at her neck. She had no comparison as one soft, tender hand on each spread thigh kept her weakly helpless as one wet tongue sliding slowly along her lips taught her what women should feel.

Her eyes drifted closed as, under the Queen's compulsion and the skilled, dedicated attentions of the other three maids, her sexuality awoke, uncurling and stretching and fitting into her skin like a cat waking up and stepping into the sunlight.

Pleasure began to pool within her breasts and her belly, with sharp points of ecstasy like serpent's teeth at her nipples and the small nub between her nether lips. The tongue which was painting heat deep between her legs, began to focus on her entrance and on that small, burning nub, and she felt the two bodies beside her shift and their heads rise up, press against her tumid breasts and take one nipple each into their mouths.

She tried to arch her back to simultaneously push her breasts and her hips up against the hungry mouths attached to them, but her legs failed her, too weak under the erotic attentions to move as her breasts rolled across her chest, pulling her nipples in the mouths sucking upon them.

The extra sensation, on top of the gentle, insistent, pressure upon her sensitive flesh, caused a spike of pure ecstasy to shoot through her, her back arching further.

Beneath them, through the rock, the Queen, keeping part of her attention at all times upon her new servant, in the hopes of finding something new, something exciting to enliven her centuries, smiled a little internally and the maids, obediently, closed their teeth.

Valda's eyes flew open and she groaned despairingly, arms, pinned by the handmaids, scrabbling weakly at the furs and the stone, legs weak, trapped and helpless and her womanhood spread wide for the mouth lovingly filling it with now searing pleasure.

The handmaidens began to use their fingernails as well as their teeth, painting sharp and burning lines into Valda's flesh and making her nipples scream. She was as helpless as if she had been strapped down, no longer constrained merely by the Queen's will but now also by the turmoil in her own head. She was no longer sure if she wished to flee the pleasure that was being remorselessly fed to her, or throw herself at it.

Unable to speak, she moaned and whimpered and whined voicelessly for release.

Then the handmaiden lying between her legs delicately, gently, pinched the hard pearl between her thighs between two fingernails and her cries of release echoed around the stone bath chamber and around the delighted mind of the Queen on her throne.

Ah, this new one, what a treasure she was! How lovely already, but with what depths to plumb!