His Queen

by Sally Laces

  A shiver burbles in my stomach when I feel his hand touch my panties, squeezing my feminine rear and teasing at my garters. His hand slips underneath my panties, drawing them down to my ankles, where I spread my legs slightly to help them downward.

  "After all," he murmurs, words slipping along the nape of my neck to my ear, "you only want to please me, right?"

  "Always," I breathe back, chest swelling with anticipation when his finger slides between my cheeks. "Only you, my King."

  I've practiced for him. I know what it feels like to have a finger or a (very discreetly purchased) plug up my royal ass. His touch never pushes inside of me, and I stand in helpless lust wondering what it will feel like to have a real man inside of me. For now he cruelly stimulates my horny thoughts by pressing against my pucker and sliding his hands beneath my leg to tease me from behind.

  "Fuck," I rasp out, wriggling against the grip of his arm around my waist.

  "Please," I beg, without a clue as to how many stories we've made it up this seemingly endless tower, or how long I can last.

  "Please what," he replies, clearly enjoying my futile struggle.

  When the door opens my husband miscalculates how much space he has and ends up moving a step backward. With the new space I wiggle out of his grip and round on him, letting my skirt fall back to my ankles, planting righteous footfalls in my wedding heels. We stand in the spacious tower chamber, staring each other down, him with amusement and pent-up vigor, me with my mind a puddle of want.

  "Please," I repeat, in a voice clearer than I previously managed. "Please fuck me, my King."

  He steps toward me. I brush off the shoulders of my dress, chest falling bare but for my bra. He gets his hands on my waist and helps me wiggle out of the rest, the skirt pooling to the floor. The underwear I chose for him on our wedding day is an elaborate lace set of pure white with thin straps and sheer stockings with a garter belt. His eyes rove down my body just long enough to remember forever what I looked like when he took me.

  He pushes me backward onto the bed. I bring my feet up toward the ceiling and let him slide the heels off to toss away my panties. I roll my head to the side on the pillow, shutting my eyes at the moment I'm so fully exposed to him. My firm cock and tight balls rest on my abdomen, and my cherry waits for him to claim me.

  "You are so fucking beautiful, my Queen."

  I moan in response, then cry out when I feel him penetrating me.

  "So. Fucking. Beautiful."

  That isn't a finger. My King shows me a Queen's duty the only way a man can - with his cock, slipping deeper inside me like I dreamed, the slick royal scepter pushing against my walls and my button as my boy-clit twitches and spasms on my abdomen. I grip the thick bedsheets tight between my manicured nails and clench my toes, feeling the final moment when he feels me stretch my tightness to a level of ecstasy.

  "Holy shit," I rasp. There's nothing Queenly about the way I start jerking myself far faster than he moves through my virginity. When Toras grips my wrist with his dominating hand I stop and gaze up wide-eyed as he takes my cock in his grip.

  "When I tell you," he demands, standing tall and regal on the scarlet rug while I lay petrified on the feather mattress. "Come when I tell you."

  With a slow swallow and a gracious nod, I work through my feelings of absolute orgasmic bliss. He's fucking me while he strokes me, methodical and perfect while I'm a quivering mess on the bed, biting at my knuckles and shutting my eyes tight. I know I can feel his climax growing ever closer. His cock twitches inside me, his breathing grows more labored, and a bead of sweat falls on my chest between my two bra cups. His moves faster as he approaches, his strokes one beat behind his thrusts, leaving me to feel either wave of pleasure at each motion. It's a feeling few royals experience in their lives; knowing this man who takes me is my true King, and that we're fucking in the only royal building that is certifiably soundproof. I can scream and beg and moan as much as I want.

  I can tell him I love him, if I could will my mind to speak.

  All I can do is show him - by holding out until the last possible moment.

  "Come for me," he finally rasps, his own thrusts slowing as his grip only increases. "Now."

  I know better. I wait a few more moments with every inch of my will focused on milking him. The moment I feel his heat spill over into mine I'm utterly spent, losing myself in an orgasm I've never come close to feeling until now. My jet of ecstasy reaches my bra, splashing against my chest to glue the loose strands of blonde hair against my pale chest. My legs fall against the mattress with a thump, my entire body solely focused on the ceaseless orgasm rollicking my body.

  And then he's beside me, lying on the bed we'll share - a King-size, of course - until tomorrow morning. When he'll whisk me away to Dominar Castle to live forever as his Queen.

  For now, I'm just a messy slut covered in and out with cum.

  What a contrast.

  What a lifestyle.

  "What a fucking Queen," he growls, pulling me into his arms. The moment our skin touches, I feel reborn, sliding my arms underneath his neck and around his broad chest to let his love envelope me.

  Epilogue

  Toras

  "Almost there, old chum."

  King Olar is nearly panting by this point, his parched tongue hanging out of his open mouth.

  "Water?" I ask, turning my back slightly toward him, offering the bottle attached to the side of my hiking bag. His dry eyes glance down at the label.

  "Is it sparkling?" He asks.

  "Sorry, dear King. We're not much for the stuff here in Dominar."

  A dying man takes what sustenance he can get, carbonated or not. King Olar's not dying, of course; he just asks like a two-mile hike in the sand dunes is the closest thing to death.

  "Thank you, King Toras," he rasps, jerking the bottle out of my bag to pour it into his mouth. More of it falls onto the golden sand than into his lips. "Oh, my," he adds, brushing it off the front of his shirt.

  "Not to worry. There's fresh water at the well."

  "The well? Is that some sort of pub?"

  "Something like that," I reply, cresting the final dune before the slip face down to the oasis. My white lie encourages King Olar to hurry up behind me, putting his new hiking boots to work. I point down at the oasis, where a few solid palm trees cast broad shadows along the perimeter of an azure lake.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" I remove my hat and sunglasses, squinting down at the vacation spot used in secret by the past four centuries of Dominari royals.

  "Quite. Although I don't see..." He lifts his palm above his eyes, not quite touching his sunburned forehead.

  "What?"

  "The pub, your grace?"

  I smile quietly and point down at the actual well, a brick structure built into the groundwater by my great-grandfather.

  "You mean..." King Olar puts his hands on his hips. "It's an actual well?!"

  "We're a bit far with the capital, aren't we?" No modern Femnosi amenities out here. King Olar turns to look back at the stretching sands we've crossed from the nearest local village. The traditional brick houses and newly-built heliport are far back in the haze.

  "Well then," he sighs. "Wait for the women to arrive and then go down?"

  I tilt my chin at the water. "Actually, your highness, I'm relatively sure they're already down there."

  —————————

  Anya

  "Oh this is marvelous, just marvelous!"

  Petra emerges from the water's depth clutching a handful of mud. The contrast between her perfect skin and the black ooze between her royal fingers would scandalize any tabloid. Luckily, this far into the Dominari Desert, prying eyes at the least of one's concern.

  "Sister, look!" She slaps the muddy mass against her forearm, then begins to rub it in. "I can already tell the mineral qualities are beyond what the healer told us!"

  "That's wonderful, your grace," I reply, making my way over to her in the middle of the
pond. I tread water alongside my sister-in-law, watching her work the mud against her skin. "Although I don't think she was a healer...”

  The women we met in town were mostly young locals who'd grown up in the deserts, with their own culture and customs maintained for centuries. That didn't stop them from offering the finest feast in their village's history when we four arrived. A minor scandal nearly came to a head when they offered me the head of the table rather than my husband, the actual King. Yet he insisted I take the place given to me, reminding me I'm no less a Dominari royal now than he is.

  3 months into our marriage, and he still knows how to touch me in my very soul. I've never felt so loved by a people, a country, and a man who could have anyone he wants.

  Yet he chose me.

  And only me.

  "Perhaps I'll try it as well," I propose. Our trip through the Dominari countryside has been wonderful, a chance for me to see my realm up close. It's also meant my pale skin has become a copper tan, the color brought out by day after day in the desert sun. Typically, I'll make sure to keep covered up however in nothing but a white polka dot bikini that matches Queen Petra's I may be prone to burn. "I'm sure it makes an excellent sunscreen."

  "Indeed! Oh, you really should consider marketing this! I know it'd draw a fortune on the Femnosi markets."

  I kick up a bit in the water to get my head further above the surface, gazing down the path we traveled to spot my husband nearly carrying my brother down the rise of dune.

  "I don't know," I reply to my sister-in-law. "A fortune is nice, but I've got everything I want right here."

  We swim out to the edge of the pond just as the men arrive in their hiking gear. Ours sits discarded by a near palm tree, our packs still open from when we changed into our bikinis. Toras crouches down to help me out of the water. I fall forward into him for a hug and a chance to spread my cool wetness against his overheated frame.

  "Ugh, you're so sweaty," I tease.

  "Want me to toss you back in?" He replies, hands gripping my hips while his fingers threaten to dig into my butt.

  "Heavens no! We have to start dinner. Your highness!"

  "Oh, allow me!" After a peck on her husband's cheek Queen Petra rushes over to her backpack, the largest any of us had carried. "I've brought all the ingredients needed for a Dominar Barbecue! Honey, come look!"

  "With pleasure," my brother moans, finding the last of his energy to rush over and help his wife remove all the ingredients beside the barbecue pit. My husband I glance at each other with a smile.

  Since we've married, so much has changed. We expected the reinvigorated interest in Dominar's royal family from the press, as well as the constant calls and requests from nations worldwide. There were unexpected differences to boot, not least of which was the change in my brother's relationship with his wife. They remained in Femnos Castle after the wedding, and somewhere along the way learned to find each other again. My brother has stopped his drinking, and looks healthier for it, even though exercise remains low on his favored activities. Queen Petra has only reacquainted her love of fitness, becoming an icon of health & nutrition in Femnos, earning the kind of fame she's desired.

  She also really seems to love having a sister now. I can't say I mind the family support. Our lives are busy, hectic, and full of noble drama. Being able to get away for a week to hide in the desert together isn't just a vacation - it's a necessity toward dealing with this wild life.

  And a great chance to wear a bikini without having the press rate your style.

  "How long do we have before we have to make it back, dear brother?" Queen Petra stands back to let her husband pile the coals into the barbecue pit. I've never seen my brother light a grill before, and I watch carefully to see he doesn't burn his eyebrows off. Toras watches as well, though he turns his attention toward his sister-in-law when he speaks.

  "We can call the helicopter whenever you're ready."

  "Oooh. They'll come pick us up?"

  "Of course," he replies. "My wife is the Queen, after all."

  I roll my eyes and squeeze his hand. "Right. I'm the 'Isanni of the Desert, remember?"

  "Oh, yes, I heard that word at dinner last night. What does it mean?"

  "Typically when we translate Dominari to English," my husband explains, "we'll remove much of the connotation behind a word. A dictionary will tell you that it means 'Queen' or even 'Ceremonial Matriarch.' That's a bit literal. In historical context, especially in the traditional deserts, it's closer to 'Cherished' or 'Most Desired.'"

  Despite being in the shade I can feel the heat on my skin. It's not the sun beating down against my shoulders; it's my embarrassment at the truth of his words. When he puts his hand on my exposed upper back and gently guides me toward him like I'm his to show off, I stave off the urge to lean my cheek against his chest.

  -----

  Dinner along the sand turns into a night-time viewing of the stars over the desert. I sit in his lap with my head against the nape of his neck, stretched out in my favorite pair of Dominari pajamas. The night is temperate yet a soft wind blows along the long sleeve fabric of my sheer pants and top. When I received my first pair upon moving to the castle, I thought they'd given me a harem girl outfit. Yet the castle tailors and designers assured me this was how the women dressed.

  All I know is that he likes me in the sequined silk. Anything that keeps his hands on me is Queen-approved.

  Queen Petra wears the same sort of outfit, hers embroidered with the royal blue of her Kingdom versus my Dominari Purple. She also has a bit more room in the bust, her natural C's filling out the top a bit more than my perkier, newer B's. I hope the woman enjoys the outfit; Lady Armitage offered to make me as many as I wanted for any and all of my friends and assistants. Perhaps I should send Ellory one; I hear she's decided to move to Femnos with some boy.

  Petra sits beside my brother, hand-in-hand. It's' a less-animated show of affection than my husband and I, although I suppose we're still newlyweds after only six months.

  "Look."

  He squeezes my hand and jostle my hips, breaking me out of my drawn-away thoughts and back into the present. We're just in-time to see an arcing comet leave a green-blue glow against the cobalt sky.

  "Oh! Cool!"

  "Make a wish, Isanni."

  My chest tingles when he whispers that word right in my ear, lips grazing against my lobe in a denying kiss.

  I shut my eyes and breathe deep of the warm desert air. Queens and Princesses are supposed to wish on shooting stars, right? The desire comes to them the moment they spot the blemish in the sky, probably while they're crying in a tower or locked in a witch's dungeon.

  I don't need to wish for my prince. He's already here. Relations between our two countries have never been stronger.

  There's only one thing to wish for, then. I draw in a breath and shut my eyes, focusing for a few moments on my desires.

  When I open them again, I look up into the probing gaze of my Kingly husband.

  "Well?"

  I shake my head, smiling.

  "If I tell you, it won't come true."

  "Those are Femnosi rules. Come one Isanni, I'm curious."

  "They're my rules," I remind him, with a brush of a kiss on the cheek. "And I'm the Queen, remember?"

  Teasing him like this is my privilege and my privilege alone. I'm the only one who knows how to do it right - and besides, he loves it. I can tell through the seat of his pants, on which I currently sit, nursing his desire for when we get back to his Castle.

  In our bedroom, in our city, and in our castle, he can rule me like a King. Out here where we only have the sand to see, I'm forever his Queen, dutiful and independent.

  But that's not why I don't tell him my wish. Whoever makes the rules, one thing is clear: King Toras wants the same thing I want. It's there in his eyes, his touch, and his careful look over the horizon back toward his Kingdom.

  We both wish only that this never ends.

  And as long as
I'm his loving Queen, I know all our wishes will come true.

  THE END

  Author's Note

  Thanks so much for reading. All the reviews and messages I get from my readers mean so much to me as an author of these fun feminization romances. If you have any comments or questions, feel free to email me at sallylaces@gmail.com, or send a message on Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/sallylaces.

  Also, if you sign up for my email list, I’ll send you TWO FREE STORIES instantly! You’ll also get occasional emails regarding new, free, and discounted novels & novellas. Press the link pretty please! http://eepurl.com/cm5qhb

  I’ve included the first chapter of my most recent work, Protect Her, on the next page. If you enjoy, be sure to follow the link to Amazon to get the whole book. Free in Kindle Unlimited!

  Be back soon lovelies!

  Sally

  Protect Her

  A Feminization Novella

  Chapter 1

  Sinn

  Somebody’s kicking my VIP room door down with a steel toed built, and for once, I feel alive.

  It takes me a moment to recognize that the pounding in my ears isn’t coming from my headache or the baseline of the EDM track out on the dance floor. The vicious sound, a harsh and thicker boom, beats against the VIP room door at a louder and stronger pace until the gilded hinges fly off and the plush leather door falls in.

  I am well and truly fucked.

  There’s an instinct inside me to get up and protect myself, along with a lesser yet potent drive to just curl up on the velvet floor and give up. I make the decision to at least sit up on my ass so I look slightly more dignified for the mobster coming to do me in.

  Alcohol in my veins makes my vision, dropping me down to the floor in a heap. Now I’m face to face with a vodka stain some other party goer spilled there when they fled the room minutes ago. They were probably in on this, I think to myself, getting onto my feet just as the intruder draws near.

  The club must have known. The bouncer who took my bribe, the girls who came to join me in VIP, the guys who acted like my friends just to meet the girls. The feckless freeloaders all bailed before my past came back to kill me.