A Long Time Ago, And Far, Far Away…

The little girl skipped down the forest path, her mother following close behind. She crested a little rise, and stopped short. When her mother caught up to her, they looked out over a fenced field planted with row upon row of blooming cotton plants. The little girl’s attention was riveted on a group of tall, nearly naked Slave-men harvesting cotton. Two uniformed fieldwomen, shiny metal batons held casually in their hands, watched them from a short distance away.

The little girl looked up at her mother. “Who are those people, Mommy, and why are those ladies watching them?” Her mother knelt down to look her in the eye. “Those aren’t people, dear, those are Men – Slave-men, we call them… they work the fields.” The mother paused, letting the little girl absorb the meaning of the scene before them.

“Thousands of years ago Men were not the dumb creatures you see here today,” she continued.”In fact, they ruled Elysia just as Queen Morgana does today. But they were bad, and were always causing fighting and unhappiness. In the end they caused so much fighting with such terrible weapons almost everyone in the world died… and when the distant ancestor of Queen Morgana began to rebuild the world She realized Men were not fit to rule. In Her wisdom, She knew they were only fit for being beasts of labor, working at menial tasks that suit their strength and endurance. So She began a long process of breeding men to be the useful beasts they are today.”

 

“But be careful, they are strong and willful, and can be dangerous!”

* * *

Dawn was slowly flowing over the land of Elysia, and the light struck sparks from the golden roof of the high towers of Queen Morgana’s castle. On the highest balcony, the Queen stood looking out over her land. Below, she saw the women of the kitchen staff bustling about the courtyard, and her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of a Scullery Maid hurrying across the courtyard to the stables.

She looked out over the rooftops and saw the first of the slavemen being led out of the stables into the fields, their leadropes held firmly by the husky fieldwomen. The slavemen stumbled along, their blinders and shackles preventing them from taking full steps. Morgana’s attention was drawn back to the courtyard, as the Scullery Maid’s hourglass figure disappeared through a door into the Milking Room attached to the stables.

Morgana shifted uneasily as the sight of the Maid’s ample curves caused the first pangs of a familiar ache deep inside her… she felt the first slow flow of wetness start the maddening friction of her pussy lips and clitoral hood that kept her in a state of arousal through most of her waking hours.

She suddenly turned and strode from the balcony into her sumptuous quarters. She almost ran to the huge bed that dominated the room and ripped the covers off the sleeping form that was in it… the face of the very young serving girl thus exposed underwent a lightning change from annoyance at being so rudely woken to a sly, anticipating hunger as she saw Morgana towering over her. Her Queen, shrugging off her robe, straddled the girl’s angular body and began to rub her swelling pussy against the serving girl’s belly and budding breasts, while kissing her deeply. The serving girl’s hand darted between her own legs and slipped inside her haven to ready herself. Her eyes closed as she felt her head pulled roughly up by her hair, and her mouth was covered by her Queen’s now-sopping pussy.

Morgana rutted against the serving girl’s lips and tongue for a long moment, and then she reached for a tiny, chased silver and gold cup on the bedside table. She slipped off the tightly fitting cover, and a faint wisp of vapor wafted out.

The Queen pulled back from the serving girls face, and the serving girl laid back and pulled her knees high up to her chest, spreading her legs as wide as they would go.

Morgana dipped her finger into the cup and brought out a fingertip coated with the last drops of a shimmering, viscous fluid. The product of centuries of research and refinement by the by the Court Alchemists of generations of ruling Queens of Elysia, the precious liquid made her fingertip burn with its magic. Distilled from hundreds of carefully harvested orgasms of a few well-chosen slaveman stallions, the liquid held the power to (if only temporarily) satisfy the overwhelming lust that was burning between Morgana’s thighs.

Taking a deep breath, she carefully applied the fluid to her nubby, swollen little clit and her eyes, along with the serving girl’s, riveted to that small bud of flesh. The familiar shivering, electric vibration traveled from Morgana’s extremities up into her torso and concentrated into a ball of heat deep in her belly, and she gave a long drawn out wail as her clit began to swell, harden and extend itself. Like a slow-motion movie of a flower unfolding, her clit became a full, thick, seven-inch penis, crowned by a sharp-ridged deep red head that quivered with sexual power and lust.

The serving girl cried out, “Please, your Majesty, fuck me now, fuck me hard, fuck me please!!” and sensuously writhed her hips toward her Queen in invitation.

Morgana grasped one of the serving girl’s small hands in each of hers and pinned them to the bed. She positioned herself above the delicate pink lips of the offered pussy and roughly thrust her rock-hard cock/clit deep inside.

Morgana began a deep, slow grinding fucking that pushed her rigid flesh deep into the serving girl until she pressed against the limits of the young but experienced womanhood and then pulled out until the head, shinning with wetness, just cleared the puffy gaping lips, before stabbing deep again.

Queen Morgana continued this pounding rhythm like a machine, her eyes tightly closed and her face wearing a tight expression of complete concentration. Inwardly she was consumed by the sensation of penetrating the serving girl’s hot, tight slit over and over.

Morgana built to her climax, completely oblivious to the passionate moaning of the girl under her. She did not change her motion or rhythm as the serving girl angled her hips to press her own little clit against the shaft thrusting in and out of her, and she did not notice when the girl howled in pleasure as her pussy spasmed again and again in it’s climax.

Soon after, though, Morgana’s labored breathing suddenly stopped, and she pulled all the way out and shoved forward, releasing the girl’s hands. The Queen threw her head back and tensed every muscle, one hand wrapped around the shaft of her cock and the other thrusting several fingers deep inside her pussy.

Morgana grunted from deep inside herself as jet after jet of clear, thick cum burst from the tip of her cock and sprayed across the chest, throat and face of the nearly delirious serving girl, and copious dollops of pussy-juice ran past her fingers to flow down onto the girl’s smooth belly and shaven mound.

The girl, fucked almost insensible, feebly scooped the Queen’s cum up to her mouth and licked her fingers clean over and over, until she had to lean forward to suck and lick the last drops from the tip of Morgana’s still hard flesh.

Morgana grabbed a handful of the serving girl’s hair and thrust herself deep in the slack mouth, and then pulled out, wiping the cum and spittle onto the girl’s gratefully dazed face. The Queen dropped her back onto the bed, and in an unusual gesture, flung the blankets back over the thin girl’s body.

Morgana, still naked, strutted back out into the morning sun on her balcony, and breathed deeply as she watched her big cock slowly gather into itself and regain the familiar shape and texture of her beautiful clitoris.

She was deeply, fundamentally satisfied… but even then she felt the familiar tingle of renewing lust tickling at her senses. She looked down into the courtyard at the door to the Milking Room, where she knew the Scullery Maid, with all the skill and experience of her years of duty, was hard at work.

* * *

Behind the door of the Milking room, in a dimly lit stall, the Scullery Maid prepared her equipment with the casual precision of a craftswoman of long experience. She remembered how daunting all the preparations and equipment had seemed when an unexpected opening in the Milk Maid roster had given her the opportunity to be promoted from her menial Scullery Maid duties. In a bit of reverse pride, she allowed everyone to continue to call her Scullery Maid – maybe just to show she was unashamed of her humble beginnings.

She placed the sterilized tubing and collection cup on the table next to the minute vacuum pump, and checked the cross-ties and leather restraints, though she knew her tack was perfect in every way.