She saw a rivulet of sweat drop from Gavin’s head to the cement. Even though his expression hadn’t changed a bit—he was still just as arrogant as he had been in her courtroom when the guards took him away—Elizabeth knew that watching her sex show in the upstairs window was driving him crazy. She bet that his cock was fully, beautifully engorged. And although a part of her wanted to rush down the stairs to unzip his pants and start fucking him while he was locked up and at her mercy, unable to do anything but give in to what she wanted, she refused to give him the satisfaction.
She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the ground, standing only in her wispy bra and thong before the window. She slipped her fingers past the rim of her panties, into her hot, wet flesh. Her lips were plump and incredibly sensitive to every stroke of her cold fingers. She undid the front clasp of her bra with her free hand and her large breasts sprang free from their lace bindings. She ground her breasts into the window, reveling in the ice-cold glass against her hot, hard nipples.
Reluctantly removing her fingers from her sopping pussy, she pulled her thong down her thighs, wriggling slightly, letting it fall down to her ankles. She stepped out of them and propped one of her high-heeled legs up on the eighteen-inch high windowsill. Her labia stretched open to Gavin’s gaze and she pressed her fingers into her vagina while rolling her nipples in her other hand.
Elizabeth couldn’t remember the last time she had been so excited. She knew that she was on the verge of a very powerful orgasm. Just knowing that her prisoner was watching her show, just knowing that he was likely about to burst in his jeans from watching her stroke and fondle herself, made her want to scream out in ecstasy.
Training her blue gaze on his piercing green eyes, she swirled her clit. She rubbed herself slowly, wanting to prolong her prisoner’s torture. But she was so excited by her own performance, so excited by Gavin’s searing gaze, the delicious sensations built up quickly to a fever pitch. She couldn’t hold on much longer.
Staring deeply into Gavin’s eyes, imagining that his tongue was lapping greedily between her legs and impossibly, wonderfully, roughly sucking her breasts at the same time, she pressed her fingers into her clit and spun them hard and fast into herself. Her fingers were wet and slippery with her juices as she came in an explosive burst of pleasure, her inner muscles convulsing so strongly that she was nearly rocked off her feet by the force of her orgasm.
Throughout it all, she held Gavin’s gaze, not allowing herself to close her eyes or throw her head back in rapture. She came for what felt like an eternity and she thought that she saw her prisoner smile as the force of her orgasm pounded her breasts rhythmically against the window.
But later, after she had stepped away from the window to dress and get back to the business of running a country, Elizabeth couldn’t shake the very disturbing feeling that perhaps she had not been the one in control at all. That, odd as it seemed, she had been powerless to fight the pull Gavin had over her body. That everything she had done in the window had been to his specific request.
That he was inexplicably, inexorably in charge.
Not her.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth took a quick shower, intent on washing Gavin’s gaze from her body. But instead of succeeding in cleansing herself of him, as she ran the soft, soapy cloth over her tender breasts she couldn’t help but imagine that he was sucking them, teasing her tits with the tip of his tongue, nipping at the fleshy mounds with his even, white teeth. And when she ran the cloth between her legs, she could almost believe that his beard was scraping against her swollen labia as his lips and tongue worked her clit, urging her to come.
Cursing her prisoner, cursing her need for his touch, she aimed her specially designed water nozzle at her pussy and rocked her hips into it as she came again with a moan.
Drying off with a large, plush towel minutes later, her vagina still throbbing in the aftermath of her two violent orgasms, she thought back to the beginning of her sexual games. She had been a twenty–year-old virgin—having been cloistered in the castle her whole life, leaving only to meet with the rulers of other countries—she had never had so much as a date. Her ancient professors had taught her Latin, physics, and chemistry, but no one had thought to include sex education into her tutoring. She had never touched herself for any other purpose than cleansing. She didn’t know what she was missing out on, she just knew that sometimes she felt a pent-up energy rocketing through her body, begging for sweet release.
That was the year she had received several written threats against her life. She discounted them as nothing more than the rantings of a self-pitying fool, but her counselor and staff disagreed. Given that there were no other heirs to the throne, if she were killed, her country would be left without a ruler, at least temporarily, which could be utterly disastrous for its citizens. Unwilling to risk such chaos, two bodyguards were assigned to her. One to watch over her during the day, one to watch over her in the evening.
Elizabeth hated the thought of being followed around every minute by two big men who clearly didn’t have a brain between them. She went out of her way to hide from them, to confuse them with her whereabouts.
It was a perfect spring day and Elizabeth was certain that she had lost her bodyguard in the winding paths of the forest. Hot and sticky and feeling more than a little reckless now that she was free, she stripped out of her clothes and dove into the cool waters of Lake Almadine. She swam for several minutes, enjoying the feel of the fresh spring water sliding over her skin. When she had surfaced for air, she looked up into the angry face of her bodyguard, standing on the banks of the lake with her clothes held between two of his fingers.
“Queen Elizabeth,” he said in a rough voice. “You must come back with me at once.”
Elizabeth couldn’t believe he actually thought that he could tell her, his Queen, what to do. And yet she knew he was right. She had to return to the castle before her staff sent a whole team of men after her.
“Fine,” she said, making sure that the man knew her displeasure at his command. “Turn around and leave my clothes on that rock.”
Her bodyguard shook his head. “No. I will not turn my back on you. You will run away.”
Elizabeth couldn’t believe one of her subjects had just disobeyed a direct order. “I will see that you are fired and sent away if you do not do as I say.”
The man’s expression changed not at all. “You can fire me as soon as I return you to the castle.”
Elizabeth knew she was caught. Chewing on her lower lip, she realized she had no choice but to let her guard see her unclothed. Tentatively rising up out of the lake, she felt ashamed of her nakedness—no one but her nanny had ever seen the golden curls between her legs, or the dusky tips of her full breasts before, and she had been told time and time again that she must never let anyone see her unless she was dressed to the nines—she planned to hurry over to the bodyguard to take her clothes from his big, meaty hands, intent on not meeting his gaze. Once this whole fiasco was over, she would fire him, he would be gone, and she would never have to think on it again.
But as she emerged from the lake, her nipples hard and pointy from the cold water and the light spring wind, she couldn’t help but feel as if her skin was suddenly on fire. Looking at her bodyguard with alarm, she saw that he was staring at her breasts with a great hunger, as if he wanted to devour them. Her clothes had dropped from his fingers and she could see a bulge beginning to appear between his legs.
Was she actually causing this reaction?
Suddenly, Elizabeth was filled with a greater sense of power than she had ever known before. Unbelievably, it seemed that the mere sight of her unbound breasts was enough to inflame her bodyguard. Testing her newfound knowledge, she instinctively cupped her breasts, letting the nipples overflow from her hands, testing their weight. Her skin felt tight and hot as she touched herself in such a forbidden way. She risked another glance at her guard and saw, with great satisfaction, that the bulge in hi
s pants had grown larger. Much larger.
Licking her lips, she rose up further out of the water, until the vee of her legs met the glassy surface. She could see her body mirrored in the water, her face flushed with excitement, her hands cupping her large breasts, her legs spread, the blue sky behind her. Elizabeth had never felt so wonderful in all her life. So powerful. So whole. This was what she had been looking for, waiting for, dreaming of.
She felt a throbbing between her legs—hot, insistent, wet—and marveled at the sensation. Wanting more of something she couldn’t even name, she slowly ran one of her hands down her flat belly, through her curls, and between the folds of her pussy. She was met with a slick warmth. She tentatively stroked her forbidden flesh, and learned with a shock of surprise just how sensitive and swollen her skin had become.
Her bodyguard groaned loudly and she looked back at him, pleased by his response to her body. “Come here. Now,” she said to him, her heart pounding in anticipation.
He broke out of his trance and came over to her, like a dog obeying its master.
“Take off your clothes,” she demanded, half-expecting him to argue with her, to tell her that they needed to get back to the castle. Instead he stripped his shirt and pants off with record speed.
When his huge shaft sprang free from his pants, Elizabeth blanched slightly. She had seen barnyard animals rut, so she wasn’t completely naïve to sexual acts, but she couldn’t imagine taking his huge penis into her.
None of this, however, stopped her from reaching out to touch it. It was so big and red and velvety, she thought it was the most scrumptious, wonderful thing she had ever seen.
This is a penis, she thought, marveling at its proud shape, at the veins that shot up the length of it to the large, smooth head. A drop of come appeared on the tip of his penis and she bent forward to taste it. Her guard moaned loudly, his skin hot with barely contained lust.
Not wanting him to think she didn’t know what she was doing, she said, in a firm, even voice, “Touch me how you touch your girlfriends.” She saw the man hesitate and worried that he was going to come to his senses and change his mind. Desperate for the pleasure that she was sure was waiting for her at his hands, from his huge cock, from his mouth, she egged him on by moving her hands back up to her breasts and squeezing them together, pinching her nipples with her well-manicured fingers.
“Don’t you want to lick me?” she asked. “Don’t you want to touch me?”
He came towards her then, falling to his knees in the shallow water, his face pressed between her breasts like a newborn calf suckling its mother, depending on her milk in order to stay alive.
Oh god, never before had such wondrous sensations coursed through her body. She arched into his mouth, and he pressed his meaty hands against her tight ass, pushing her pussy into his chest. An impossible pressure was building up between her legs and she was desperate for something, some kind of release.
His fingers found her clit, slid down her slick folds, and he roughly pressed one finger into her tight passage. Greedily, she ground her hips against his hand, loving how his finger stretched her vagina, wanting more. As if he heard her unspoken request, he slid another finger into her pussy, and Elizabeth gasped at his onslaught as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Her pleasure was so intense, it was nearly painful, and Elizabeth felt incoherent with joy.
This is what I’ve been waiting for my whole life, she thought as the heaviness between her legs grew nearly unbearable. Her guard found her clit again with his thumb. As his fingers plunged in and out of her pussy, as he swirled her distended nub, as he suckled her breasts, Elizabeth learned that there was indeed a power greater than any Queen.
Giving in to the glorious supremacy of being fucked, she rocked her pelvis into his hand, rubbed her breasts against the prickly stubble on his cheek, and fell into the abyss of her first amazing, incredible orgasm, screaming out her pleasure, wanting the contractions to go on forever.
Her body a mass of tremors, her guard pressed the thick head of his cock against her and thrust all the way in without pretense. She screamed again at his onslaught, as the pain of his sudden ambush pierced her orgasmic daze, but within seconds she was sliding up and down on his penis, all thoughts of pain gone, focused only on her next orgasm, which she instinctively knew was mere moments away.
She felt his cock swell up even bigger inside her, stretching her tight, small passage to fit its impossibly huge width. As his mouth latched onto her nipple again, he pounded into her, hard enough to bruise her tender flesh, and she came again, each contraction milking the come out of her bodyguard’s perfect penis.
Coming back into the present, Elizabeth realized she was sitting in her dressing room with her hand between her legs. Glancing at the wall clock she accepted that she had to leave right away to greet the King and Queen of Italy. But tonight, she would play another game with her men.
Sex was the only way she could release her tensions, her anxieties, and whatever pent up emotions she had within her.
And she wouldn’t trade fucking for anything in the world.
Chapter Four
Gavin stood outside the Queen’s bedroom door with great anticipation. He could hardly believe what the royal bitch had done to him during the past twelve hours. Now, she was going to pay for her misdeeds, and pay royally.
Gavin smiled at his pun. After he was through with her, Queen Elizabitch was going to regret having given him the past eight hours to do little else but plot her fate. Although Gavin had never had much of a taste for revenge in the past, he was starting to see that there were distinct advantages.
No one fucked with Gavin Court and walked away smiling. Not even a Queen.
He had only been locked into the stockade for an hour—a long, hot, sweaty hour during which he silently cursed her up and down—when his body had started to buzz. He had wondered if he was suffering from dehydration, but he had been in far hotter climes in far worse circumstance and knew he wouldn’t be fading under the sun after a mere hour. No, the buzzing was indicating something else entirely.
The stockade was in what looked to be an abandoned part of the castle, which made sense given that such a ridiculous punishment had to have gone out of fashion at least a hundred years ago. Probably, he figured, until today they had only used the stockade for show-and-tell with the local schoolchildren. They’d certainly get an eyeful if they arrived on a field trip today.
Locked into the wooden contraption, he faced the east wing of the castle. A handful of windows looked down upon the stockade, and Gavin stared at the windows directly in front of him, seeing no one.
The buzzing had moved from his chest to his head, and his ears were now ringing. During his time as an undercover agent Gavin had learned never to discount his sixth sense, so he turned his head up to a somewhat unnatural angle just in time to see a wonderful sight. His nemesis, the Queen of Magonia, was standing in the window, watching him, and she had just slipped her hand inside her bra to play with her nipples.
Gavin had worked to keep his expression blank, but he didn’t look away from what she so blatantly offered. Regardless of his situation, regardless of the fact that the woman in the upstairs window had sentenced him to this indignity, and would pay when he was set free, Gavin couldn’t deny that she was a seriously hot piece of ass. Legs that seemed to go on for days, a tight round ass, and breasts that threatened to put Dolly’s to shame.
He had heard her called the Ice Queen and it was rumored that she never showed any emotion whatsoever. Watching her now as she fondled herself in the upstairs window, he wondered how she had ever come by such a false reputation.
Had he met her under more favorable circumstances—say in a local bar on a Friday night, as opposed to a courtroom where she was the judge and jury—he would have had her fuckable body jammed between him and a back room wall, with his cock ramming into her cunt and her juicy tits between his lips, in five minutes flat. He had no doubt that she would have thanked
him handsomely for the pleasure.
As it was, even in such an awkward position, locked between thick wood planks, blood had rushed into his penis, engorging it, getting it ready to sink into a hot, wet vagina. Gavin had been pleased to see the Queen start slightly, her blue sorceress eyes growing big with the knowledge that her prisoner had caught her touching herself. He knew with 100% certainty—just as he had known in the courtroom—that she wanted to rake her long, red fingernails down his chest to wrap them around his cock. He was certain that she would give her last breath to lie crushed beneath the weight of his body, her slim legs spread wide as she stretched to take his enormous cock. In the courtroom she had been so arrogant, so sure of her allure, he had derived great pleasure from taunting her with his disinterest, even though it had gotten him nothing more than a day in a stockade.
Then again, it suddenly seemed that he was about to get a great deal more.
Gavin had gotten the sense that she thought she could torture him further with her body, and he was glad for her misconception as she moved close to the window and pressed her huge globes up against the glass. Damn glad.
Go on, he urged her silently. Show me what you’ve got. I dare you.
Her Highness must have gotten his telepathic message, because she began a striptease that Gavin knew he’d never forget. He began to sweat, but not from the heat, as she stripped off her clothes and her breasts bounced and shook against the window, her nipples sharpening into hard points. Moments later, she stood proudly before the window in a truly slutty set of lingerie—sheer red lace that barely covered more than an inch or two of skin at most.
Who would have thought that the Queen would wear lingerie that was clearly made for only one thing?
For endless down and dirty fucking.
He watched her slip her hand down into her panties and saw her mouth open in a gasp of pleasure. Another minute later, she was naked, her full breasts ground into the window—he could only imagine how good the cool, smooth surface must feel against her taut nipples—and then she propped one long and slender leg up onto the windowsill, exposing a hairless, slick, pink pussy to his hungry gaze.
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