Kingdoms: Amazonia 11

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Kingdoms: Amazonia 11


Kate Beckinsdale, Alexis Bledel, Brittany Daniel, Sarah Michelle Gellar,, Bridget Regan, Alyson Hannigan, Anna Popplewell, Amanda Bynes, Kristine Sutherland, Alexa Vega, Sarah Chalke, Alex Kingston, Kirsten Dunst, Marcia Cross


FF, anal, WS


This is a work of fiction, obviously there is no such place as Amazonia and the celebs doing nasty things in this story probably aren’t doing them in real life, though for all I know they may be having lots of lesbian sex with each other.


“That came as a

Alexis Bledel jolted awake at the voice. No one should be in here, apart from Brittany Daniel; this was her bedroom, locked and bolted and guarded outside by two beefy sentinels. She reached across for the dagger she kept on the bedside cabinet; the assassin wouldn’t find her easy to kill. It wasn’t there.

“Is this what you are looking for?” from out of the dark shadows stepped Kate Beckinsdale, she seemed to bring a further chill to the cold room. In her hand she held Alexis’s dagger it’s blade pointing towards the Kitten’s throat.

The young woman gulped, if Kate was going to kill her she hadn’t a hope. She just wished she knew why. The blade was inches away from her when Kate flicked it up so that it was the pommel pointing at Alexis and Kate was lightly holding the blade. There was a thin smile from Kate as she returned the dagger to its normal place. Alexis struggled to get her heartbeat back under control as Kate sat on the edge of the bed. Brittany murmured something and turned over under the blankets. Alexis put a hand on her arm, willing her not to wake up. It worked, there was a light smacking noise as Brittany’s lips moved, followed by heavy breathing as she returned to full sleep.

“What was a surprise?” now she realised that Kate wasn’t planning to kill her, at least not yet, Alexis wanted to know what the woman was doing here.

Kate’s smile neither faltered or reached her eyes, which remained as hard and dark as ever; “The Queen’s landing on the Firth of Wolves.”

“Did she win?” it was a question of curiosity rather than because Alexis cared; whether an Amazonian Queen or a Lesbosian Senator ruled St Stow mattered not to the Kitten – there would still be crime and she would still control it.

“She did, but it was too late. Even now her ships are heading back here; lighter than when they set out. But she was unlucky – she ran into a flank guard. If she landed ten miles up the coast it might have been different.”

Alexis nodded; “I’m guessing you didn’t like the surprise.”

“No,” Kate’s smiled faded to Alexis’s relief, “I don’t like surprises. And I’m going to do something about it.”

“You are?” Alexis wondered why she was being told about this; Kate did not play social calls.

“I am. Or rather you are;” Kate’s eyes flicked to the knife, a reminder to Alexis of who held the real power.

“What do you want me to do?” Alexis asked. Already she was regretting metaphorically getting into bed with the woman. Kate paid well, but every inch of her being screamed danger at the Kitten; there were some women even more dangerous than St Stow’s criminal overlord. Kate was one of them.

“I need information on the fleet. I don’t care how you get it,” Kate stood up and retreated into the dark shadow at the corner of the room.

“How do I contact you when I’ve got it?” Alexis asked.

There was no answer and she repeated the question louder. Again there was silence, apart from a murmur from Brittany. Alexis pulled back the bedding and picked up the dagger. Slowly she walked towards the shadow, but Kate was gone. Alexis gulped as icy fingers seemed to run down her spine as if an invisible Kate was behind her stroking her back.

In the bed Brittany groaned, “Something up?” she murmured sleepily.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” Alexis replied and returned to bed. It took a long while for sleep to come to her.


The weather had followed the Amazonian ships down the coast and St Stow was blanketed in its first snows of winter. Sarah Michelle Gellar stamped a foot to keep warm; as it sent a flurry of snow shooting up her leg it couldn’t be regarded as a successful move. Thwarted in that she made do with pulling her cloak even tighter around her – it made no noticeable difference to the temperature.

“If they don’t hurry we’ll die of cold,” Anna Popplewell moaned. The brunette’s breath misted in the cold and she shivered as brief burst of wind cut across the courtyard, bringing with it an even icier chill.

Sarah nodded, but before she could reply the trumpeters on the balcony above started to play a greeting. The castle gate swung open and the riders trotted in. A groom hurried forward, waiting patiently as Queen Amanda Bynes dismounted, before taking the horse to the stables. With the Queen off her horse other stable girls surged forward to take the mounts of her entourage. Amanda blew into her hands and walked across to her ladies in waiting; “Cold isn’t it?”

Sarah and Anna curtsied, “Yes, your Majesty,” they chorused.

Amanda smiled, “Well let’s go inside. I hope a fire is going.”

She climbed up the steps, Sarah and Anna following a couple of steps behind. Just before Sarah got to the door, she quickly twisted her head. Behind her she could see Bridget Regan handing her horses reins to a servant. Sarah felt a rush of relief that the young woman had returned unharmed.


Beds were creaking all over St Stow as aristocratic young bottoms greeted the return of their wives. Except for the Sutherlands. Alyson Sutherland, nee Hannigan, blew into her hands and looked at the fireplace. It remained stubbornly unlit. Alyson didn’t believe the Kitten couldn’t afford to light the fire in her waiting room; it must be a psychological ploy. It was working. She shivered and looked at the two guards, they both eyed her dispassionately. They had probably seen a lot of women go into that room, possibly a few less going out alive. Alyson hugged herself, not that she had anything to fear she told herself, she didn’t owe that much; anyway the Kitten wouldn’t be so stupid as to knife her in her own premises, not Kristine Sutherland’s wife. But the little nagging voice reminded her that a dagger could strike to the heart in the market or in her home – a burglary gone wrong or a footpad who panicked and sliced her victim.

The door opened, as if by magic, and the Kitten called out, “Come in Lady Sutherland.”

Alyson stood up and entered the office; it was large, decorated with expensive tapestries and with a large desk behind which sat Alexis Bledel. Alyson heard the tap as the teen pushed down on a pedal behind her desk and the door scraped close.

“You owe me money,” Alexis’s tone was conversational, but the threat was in the way she fingered a dagger sitting on her desk, “Five hundred sovereigns to be precise.”

Alyson looked at the chair sitting in front of the desk, wondering whether to sit down. She briefly moved towards it, but one look at the pale smile of Alexis Bledel convinced her she was better not trying to anger the teen by sitting without invitation. She tried to give a charming smile, to show that they were all friends, “I can pay.”

“Thank you,” Alexis held out her hand outstretched, before raising a quizzical eyebrow, “but there is no money bag in my hand.”

“I mean I can pay soon, ” Alyson’s smile had dropped and try as she might she couldn’t return it.

“Aaah,” Alexis pursed her fingers together, “Here we have a problem. Because paying soon is not the same as paying. Soon could be a year from now, or ten or when we’re old and grey. But you see… you owe me now.”

“I can… I can do other things…” Alyson’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“Yes, yes you can, but before we discuss those things I would like a down payment,” Alexis stood up from behind the desk. For the first time Alyson could see that apart from her boots and a strap-on Alexis was naked from the waist down.

Alyson knew what was expected. She reached up and pull apart the string holding her dress up. It sagged open, displaying her tits. Alexis licked her lips greedily as Alyson slowly pulled it off her shoulders. The dress dropped down to her ankles and a naked Alyson stepped out of the expensive garment.

Alexis prowled forward, like a jaguar waiting to strike. She moved behind Alyson and the redhead tensed as the teen slid a finger down one of her butt cheeks. There was a murmur of appreciation from Alexis, before Alyson gave a squeak as the teen shoved her middle finger up the twentysomething’s ass. It was only there for a couple of seconds before Alexis withdrew it “Nice, this should be worth a couple of shillings from what you owe me.”

“A couple of shillings,” wailed Alyson, “I’m a Sutherland, one of the most powerful families in Amazonia, I’m worth more than that.”

Alexis grabbed her shoulders and twisted her round roughly, shoving her face so close to Alyson that the redhead could almost taste her, “No you bitch, you’re a two-bit whore and I own you. Do you understand that? Or shall we talk to your wife about it and see if she can explain.”

The quiet sharpness of the way Alexis had spoke was more unnerving than if she’d screamed. Alyson nodded quickly; she was owned by this woman, she would do anything she said to stop Kristine finding out how she had frittered away so much money.

“Good, I am glad we understand each other,” Alexis’s voice was more gentle now and the back of her finger gently caressed the side of Alyson’s face. Even though she now knew the score Alyson still squirmed as the younger woman touched her. This seemed to amuse Alexis and she smiled, “On your hands and knees, slut. Get on the floor.”

Alyson did as instructed, at least the floor was carpeted. She could feel Alexis’s hands grabbing her butt cheeks, forcing them apart. There was the touch of the dildo against her back hole, Alexis teasingly rubbing it around without penetration. Alyson shivered, she didn’t want this, but the touch of the dildo against her also made her horny, leaving a small part of her body rebelling against her brain and shrieking inwardly for the strap-on to invade her ass. She closed her eyes, waiting.

“Let’s see how tight you are,” laughed Alexis and started to push the toy in. Alyson gasped, as it began to push apart her hole, slowly moving in. Alexis had let go off her cheeks and was roughly holding her waist, clamping her hands down painfully on the flesh as she eased in. Alyson gave another moan, the cock felt good within her, brushing against her ass’s erogenous zone. To her body it didn’t matter who was on the other end of the toy – it felt good whatever. Alexis was skilful, but rough. She slammed the cock in deep and fast, ignoring any obstacles in its way.

“Fuuuucccckkkk…” gasped Alyson. The toy battered her asshole as Alexis’s thighs thudded into her buttocks. The teen was pushing it in deep, as deep as it could go, stretching the redhead’s butt so fast and so far that Alyson felt she might burst. Not that she cared, the orgasmic feelings within her were exploding intensely, ripping out her heart and guts and replacing them with a whirring clockwork toy, “Fuuuuuuuccccckkkkk,” she screamed as the orgasm blasted her insides to a jellied mass of exploding nerve endings, “Fuuuuuuccccckkkk.”

There was a pop as Alexis pulled out the cock, “Now slut, get on your knees and clean it.”

It was humiliating for the young aristocrat to take the cock, which had just been up her ass, into her mouth. But she did as she was told, she now knew she had no choice. She sucked at the toy, looking up at Alexis to check that the Kitten looked pleased. The teen looked down and smirked, before pushing the strap-on deeper into Alyson’s mouth. Alyson almost choked as it hit the back of her throat, tears of rage and humiliation mixed with those caused by her gag reflex as Alexis throat fucked her. The teen smiled again, gripping the back of Alyson’s head so she could force her deeper, “You bitch,” there was a tone of mocking contempt in the crimelady’s voice, “You really are mine.”

Alyson doubled over, retching for breath as Alexis pulled out her cock. The teen snorted in derision, lightly kicking Alyson’s ass with the tip of her shoe before sitting back behind her desk. She dipped a quill in ink and opened a ledger, “Five hundred sovereigns, take away two shillings for your ass and shall we say two shillings for the deep-throat, oh go on as it was ass to mouth I’ll throw in an extra shilling,” she scribbled something in the ledger, “That makes it four hundred and ninety nine sovereigns and five shillings you owe.”

Alyson looked at her piteously, she’d have to endure this once a day for almost three years before she paid off the Kitten. And that was if the crimelady didn’t add interest. Alexis must have read the look, “Do you want to know how you can pay me off faster?”

Alyson nodded, a smile of relief crossing her face at the chink of hope that the Kitten was offering her.

“Information, a woman in my position cannot get too much of it. What is the fleet doing, where is it going, what state is it in. All very useful for… smuggling,” Alexis smiled and pursed her fingers together, “And as the wife of the Lady Admiral you can provide it, can’t you?”

Alyson nodded dumbly. Alexis smiled back and snapped shut the ledger, “Goodbye, I’m sure I shall see you soon.”

Alyson picked up her dress and started to get into it. Alexis frowned, pushing down on the pedal and opening the door, “Get dressed outside, it’s not like my guards haven’t seen naked trollops before.”

Alyson clutched her dress to her front and walked out. Alexis pushed down on the pedal, closing the door. That had been easier than she thought, and not only that she had got a good fuck into the bargain.

The side door opened and in sidled Brittany Daniel. Though it was way past noon the twentysomething was still wearing her night-dress, though, given how far it went down her thighs and the amount of cleavage on display, wearing might not have been the right word. She sidled over to Alexis, “Goddess, it makes me so hot watching you fuck that little bitch.”

“How hot?” asked Alexis, she reached out to rub her lover’s ass through the thin silk.

“Fucking hot,” Brittany sat on the desk, gently lowering herself down and spreading her legs, “Hot to fuck.”

“Well I have worked up an appetite,” Alexis stood up and took hold of her strap-on as her lover peeled apart her pussy lips. The teen sank it into the waiting hole, sending a groan from her partner. She began to pound at Brittany passionately, it was turning out to be a good day.


Goddess, thought Amanda, she needed this bath. It was two days since she’d returned to St Stow and she still felt as if she would never be warm again. She sank her head beneath the water, feeling the heat rush over her own body. Breaking surface she shook her hair, sending droplets of water onto the stone floor. There were a pair of squeals from Sarah Michelle Gellar and Anna Popplewell as the two teens dodged to avoid getting a soaking. Amanda smiled, “Sorry.”

The door opened and in came one of the yellow-clad messengers. She bowed before the Queen, “Lady Sutherland is outside. She says it is important.”

There was a sigh from Amanda. For a second she wondered if she could dip her head under the water and pretend she hadn’t heard, hoping the messenger would go away. But it didn’t work like that, the young girl would stand there until eternity waiting for a reply. And anyway Lady Sutherland was unlikely to say something was important if it wasn’t. Amanda stood up and stepped out of the bath, “Tell Lady Sutherland to come in, wait five minutes though; let me get dry.”

The Queen gestured at Anna Popplewell and the teen hurried forward with the towel. Amanda took it, with a grateful smile. Both Anna and Sarah had quickly realised the Queen was capable of drying herself; that was a vast improvement over her previous Ladies in Waiting. Amanda stepped away from the bath, to stand beside the roaring fire as she patted away the water.

Sarah had picked up a pitcher of wine, she poured it into two goblets and placed it on a table between two comfy chairs. Amanda wrapped the towel round herself and sat down, reaching over and picking up one of the Goblets.

The door opened and in walked Lady Sutherland, she looked tired, as if she had been up all night. She bowed to her Queen.

“Lady Sutherland,” Amanda gestured for her to sit down, “To what do I owe the pleasure? Please help yourself to some wine.”

Kristine Sutherland took the seat opposite the Queen. She picked up the goblet and drained it. Sarah rushed forward to refill. The High Admiral waited until her goblet was full before speaking, “Your Majesty. I have spent the last two days inventorying and inspecting your fleet,” she paused, “the news isn’t good.”

“It never is now days,” murmured Amanda quietly, before more loudly saying, “Go on.”

“Winter sailing isn’t good for ships… freezing salt water getting into the wood, warping and rotting the timbers… too many storms,” again there was a pause.

Amanda nodded. She remembered the storms, pitching and tossing the ships around like they were flotsam. At times she and all aboard had feared they wouldn’t make port again, it was a miracle from the Goddess that no ships had been lost. She smiled at her High Admiral, “Your seamanship and that off your crews got us back to port.”

Kristine acknowledged the compliment with a nod, “We got home, but at a cost your Majesty. The fleet is in dire need of repair; we can do it, but it will cost… around ten thousand sovereigns.”

Amanda almost gasped, but she kept it back. Regal dignity meant she should take bad news in her stride. She nodded, “And you will have it.”

Kristine did not need to bother about regal dignity, so her grunt of surprise was audible, “But your Majesty, the treasury is empty.”

Amanda knew that, so she just nodded in dismissal, “Thank you Lady Sutherland. You may go now.”

The older woman put down her goblet, stood up and gave a stiff bow. Amanda watched as the High Admiral closed the door behind her, before closing her eyes and muttering a heartfelt, “Fucking damnation.”

Lady Sutherland was right of course, the treasury was empty. Amazonia barely had two shillings to rub together, war was expensive and the coffers had not been overflowing before that. There were still riches around of course, wealthy merchants, and peers of the realm. Amanda wondered whether to call in her Chancellor, but she knew what the advice would be – taxes were as high as they could be; increase them and the Queen risked driving people into evasion or, even worse, outright rebellion.

A loan it would have to be. Amanda was reluctant about asking for one. Queen Teri had defaulted on too many and to make up their losses the merchants would charge high rates of interest, leaving Amazonia wallowing in debt. But it was either that or no fleet. Amanda sighed and turned to her messenger, “Ask the Chancellor for a list of the richest merchants who may be prepared to lend money.”

Hopefully she would find one who wouldn’t bankrupt the Kingdom.


Alexa Vega’s back hurt; she seemed to have been crouched on her hands and knees for hours. She sighed, who knew castle floors could be so dirty. She dipped her rag into the bucket of cold water and resumed scrubbing the stain.

It could have been worse, of course. When the woman, who she found out later was called Kate Beckinsdale, had rescued her she had been in the middle of being gang-raped. It had been happening all over the castle, not all the women had survived. Kate had taken her to a tent outside the castle and lain her in a warm bed. It hadn’t lasted, the next morning someone had come in and given the Alexa the choice between hanging as an aristocrat and living as a skivvy for the castle’s new owner. It hadn’t been a hard choice.

In theory that new owner was Senator Scarlett Pain. But in practice she seemed to give way to Amy Acker. Not that Alexa often saw either of them, they seldom came down to the corridors near the kitchen where Alexa cleaned and scrubbed. Off her rescuer Kate Beckinsdale, she had seen nothing, though once or twice she had heard the guards fearfully mention her name. Alexa wasn’t sure why, the woman had seemed kind. Kinder than Sarah Chalke anyway. Scarlett and Amy were both Lesbosian, their accents giving away their origin. Sarah Chalke was Amy’s lover and her accent was from the gutters of St Stow. An Amazonian with the Lesbosians was one reason Alexa despised her, the other was that Sarah Chalke took every opportunity to degrade the aristocrat.

She winced as she heard Sarah’s voice, “Come here little aristo.”

Alexa looked up. Sarah was standing a few feet away; a smile, best described as evil, on her pretty face. Alexa started to stand, but Sarah smirked and shook her head, “Crawl to me little aristo.”

Alexa blushed, but did as she was told. Sarah might be a traitor, but she also had the power of life and death; one word from her to Amy Acker and Alexa would be dangling from a rope. She crawled forward, stopping beside Sarah’s feet.

“This floor, you’ve missed a bit,” Sarah said strictly.

The floor was clean, nothing on it, “My Lady, I cannot s… see a… anything,” Alexa’s voice quavered.

“Well then you’re not looking hard enough,” Sarah stepped forward so Alexa’s head was under her dress. Alexa looked down, she still couldn’t see anything.

Suddenly she felt the warm patter of liquid on top of her head. It streaked down her face and enough trickled between her lips to confirm Alexa’s horrible feeling it was Sarah’s piss. The blonde cackled and stepped back, “Now can you see?”

“Yes, my lady,” the piss dropped from Alexa to form a puddle on the floor, “I’ll get my rag and clean it.”

“Why?” Alexa almost fell forward into it as Sarah pushed a dainty boot into her back, “You have a tongue – lick it up.”

Alexa closed her eyes and leant forward. The stone work beneath the puddle was cold and grated at her tongue, the piss itself warm and bitter. Reluctantly the teen lapped it up, until there was only a stain. Sarah took her foot off Alexa’s back and laughed, “Who needs a rag little aristo when they have a tongue?” she laughed and stalked off.

A tear trickled down Alexa’s cheek, she had never thought that her life would come to this.


Lady Sarah Michelle Gellar stood jealously in the Royal Park. All around serving girls, cooks and stable hands were shrieking with laughter as they pelted each other with snowballs. It had only been a few years since Sarah would have joined them, but now she was eighteen and an adult. Whilst it is acceptable for a child to consort with servants on rare occasions, it was not the same when you were grown up; especially if you were the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. It could lead to all sorts of complications, blurring the line between the Queen’s subjects and their betters. Sarah scowled at the dictates of behaviour that kept her from running into the snow and pelting the servants with snow; it looked like fun.

“Damnation and hellfire -we need some of that – but by the Goddess it is cold.”

Sarah turned. Behind her stood Bridget Regan, a wooden sledge towed behind her. Sarah didn’t know whether to smile at the attractive woman or ignore for her presumptuous uncouthness. Unsure what to do she moved from one foot to the other as Bridget came up to her. The young woman stopped beside the teen and looked at the servants skipping around joyfully. She blew it to her hands and said, “Looks like fun.”

“Yes… it does,” Sarah was forced to admit. Goddess, why was life so complicated. Bridget Regan was obviously a bad girl, who would take her fun and leave, leaving Sarah dishonoured and fit only to marry a merchant or a peasant or some other plebeian who had no idea of the proper way of doing things. But damn, Bridget was also so beautiful and every part of Sarah being lusted to be naked beneath her as the young woman filled her twat. Oh, Sarah knew, that women like Bridget couldn’t be tamed, but a small part of her felt that she, Sarah Michelle Gellar, might be the Bridget’s one true love, the one who she would walk up the aisle for. But, until that came true Bridget was not going to enter Sarah. She gave a sniff to show that she knew what Bridget was after and she wasn’t getting it.

Ignoring her Bridget put down the toboggan at the top of the slope. She looked up at Sarah, “Do you want a go?”

“No,” Sarah lied.

“Coward,” grinned Bridget, there was no malice in the accusation, but there was a challenge.

“I am not,” countered Sarah forcefully, “I just…” ‘don’t want to upset my dignity’ were going to be her next words, but she suddenly became aware of how dull that sounded. She paused and smiled; damn Bridget and her cocky grin, it was infectious, “I will have a go.”

She sat down on the front of the toboggan, shifting forward far enough that Bridget could take space behind her. Sarah was willing to break the dictates of convention far enough to sledge, but not far enough to do so without a top guiding her downhill. Bridget got down behind her, her woollen clad gloves hugged round Sarah to keep her in place.

“Please Lady Bridget,” Sarah looked down at the hands covering her tits, “move your hands lower.”

“I’m not a Lady,” corrected Bridget Regan.

“Well I am,” responded Sarah tartly and moved the hands down to a more suitable location.

There was a shrug from Bridget, “You can’t blame me for trying.” She kicked off and the sledge hurtled down the hill.

Sarah screamed in excitement and fear as it sped down the icy slope. The sledge began to slow down as it levelled off, just as Bridget directed it into a snowdrift.

Sarah came up from under the snow spluttering, “You did that deliber…”

The snowball from Bridget caught her right on the chest. She shrieked and smiled, reaching down to roll one herself and throw it back. Bridget easily ducked and her pelt was more accurate. Sarah shook the snow from her face and ran as fast as she could, which isn’t easy when floundering through snow. Every now and then she paused to briefly throw a snowball at Bridget and try, unsuccessfully to dodge the ones hurtling back. Even as she ran Bridget gained on her until Sarah slipped.

Bridget landed on top of her. The brunette’s warm, misty breath played over Sarah’s skin. Their eyes met, they were the most beautiful eyes that Sarah had ever seen, set in a smooth, flawless face. Bridget smiled, her lips close to Sarah, so close that Sarah couldn’t see her teeth, but she knew they were deep white and perfectly set. Sarah gulped, “I’m cold – I need a warm bath.”

For a second it seemed that Bridget was frozen in place, then she levered herself up and helped Sarah to her feet, “Can I join you?” she asked mischievously.

“No,” said Sarah more sharply than she intended, “however you can walk me to my room.”

She held out her arm and Bridget slid hers through it.


“Alex Kingston, your Majesty,” Anna Popplewell curtsied at Queen Amanda Bynes as the Merchant and ex-bukkake bitch strode in. She paused before bowing to the Queen. Amanda noticed that the older woman’s eyes had flicked to Anna Popplewell and the cleavage on display.

“Please Anna, you can leave us now,” Amanda stood up and politely gestured to Alex to take a seat opposite. As her guest sat Amanda poured her some wine and passed it across. She had thought about bringing Alex into the throne room, impressing the merchant with the full regality of the court and her finery. But after some consideration the Queen had come to the conclusion that a more intimate chat, as if they were friends was likely to impress the Merchant more – she could pretend that she was almost an equal.

“Your Majesty’s health,” Alex raised the goblet in a toast.

Amanda smiled, “And yours,” she sipped the wine. It was probably best to come straight to the point rather than waste time on social pleasantries, “I need a loan.”

If the Merchant was surprised by the request she hid it well, she took a small drink of wine, swilling it around her mouth, before swallowing, “How much?”

“Ten thousand sovereigns,” Amanda replied. Few people could afford that much, Alex was one of them, but even to her it would be a lot and not to be given out without a hefty interest payment.

Alex confirmed her fears, “It is rather a large amount,” she put her hands out helplessly, “whilst I would love to help that is a lot of capital; capital which could be put to other uses.”

“I would pay interest of course,” there had been a small chance that Alex would have given it her out of patriotic duty. Very, very small of course, you didn’t become rich by putting your country before profit. True to form Alex had not done so.

Alex shrugged, “It makes no difference. Can I be blunt your Majesty?”

“Please do,” replied Amanda neutrally, though if she hadn’t been the Queen she’d have grimaced painfully.

“From where I sit you are a big risk. Yes you may pay back the interest, but you may not. And if you don’t no court in the Kingdom will back my demands against the Queen. If I was going to provide the money I would need something a little more solid,” her eyes flicked to the door and her tongue briefly licked her lips.

Sitting back Amanda put her fingers together; she could be wrong but she suspected that Alex was hinting at a deal. She paused, her quick brain working out what it could be. It wasn’t a deal she would normally have made, but in desperate times moral qualms are less important than they are in times of peace. Leaning forward, she sipped at her wine, “To change the subject for the moment, you briefly met my Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Anna Popplewell. I would ask your advice on her.”

“I am honoured you would think of asking me, your Majesty,” Alex bowed her head, but her smile suggested to Amanda that her suspicion was correct.

“As well as being my Lady-in-Waiting, since the tragic death of her wife Lady Anna is my ward, together with her land. I don’t know if you noticed, but she has such a magnificent pair of tits, it would be a shame to let them waste in widowhood.”

Alex cocked her head, “I can’t say I noticed them, ” it was such an obvious lie that the Merchant smiled as she said it.

“Melinda,” Anna gestured to her messenger, “please ask Lady Anna to join us.”

The young girl left to get Anna. Amanda watched her go; she couldn’t say she felt good with herself. She wasn’t sure whether the offering was more like slavery or prostitution, but neither was something she had felt she would have to do before she became Queen.

The door opened and in came Anna Popplewell, she looked at Alex with curiosity as she curtsied in front of the Queen, “Your Majesty wanted me?”

“Yes,” replied Amanda. She forced herself to smile jovially, “I was just talking to Miss Kingston about you. Or rather your bosom; could you undo your dress and show them her.”

There was a brief pause from Anna Popplewell, before she smiled, “Of course, your Majesty.”

She reached up and undid the lace that kept her dress pinned together, before sliding the garment down to her belly. Her tits dropped free, as Amanda had said they were magnificent large and firm. The Queen turned back to Alex, “Perhaps you’d like to feel them.”

“If you insist,” replied Alex. She reached up and gripped the mammaries, twisting and fondling them until Anna gave a small groan. Alex smiled and dropped her hands back down, “I imagine she has a cute ass as well.”

“She does,” conceded Amanda, “Anna could you turn round and lift up your dress.”

The Lady-in-Waiting did as her Queen ordered, presenting Alex with a firm pair of buttocks. She turned to Amanda, “May I?”

“Please be my guest,” Amanda replied with an insouciance she didn’t feel. She watched as Alex grabbed the firm butt-cheeks, pulling them apart. There was a gasp of surprise from Anna as Alex inserted her middle finger into her ass and wiggled it.

Withdrawing it, Alex turned to Amanda, “She’s not a virgin up there I see.”

Amanda shrugged, “She was married, but think of it as her being experienced.”

“I see,” Alex sat back in her chair her eyes flicking between Amanda and the naked butt of Anna.

For a few seconds they sat in silence, the preliminary stages of the negotiation were over, the prize was on offer, now all that mattered was the bidding. It was Alex who spoke first, “I do think that Lady Anna should be married, but who too?”

So Alex was interested, thought Amanda. She would open the bidding low and see what she would get, “It would obviously need to be an aristocrat, we cannot have Lady Anna married to a commoner. But so many of my ladies are already married or fallen in battle. Perhaps I should raise a wealthy merchant to the peerage.”

There was silence for a moment as Alex leant back, considering the offer. Her eyes flicked to Anna’s butt and she licked her lips. But whilst she lusted over the teen Amanda wasn’t naive enough to think that would cloud Alex’s judgement; she wasn’t wrong. Alex leant forward and sipped at the wine, “Being a peer is expensive, so many things are needed for a Lady and her wife. And of course to be a real Lady one needs a country mansion and land to go with it.”

That was an easy one to counter, “I believe,” said Amanda slowly, “that if I found a suitable wife for Lady Anna I would be willing to put in much of Lady Roseanne’s old lands as a dowry.”

“And how much would those lands be worth?” Alex smiled.

Amanda gave a quick calculation; the land in the Firth of Wolves wasn’t worth anything with the Lesbosians there, but as well as her properties in St Stow those near Mournekeel and along the Victoria River would produce, “An income of ten thousand over eight years,” it was her final offer, she sat back in her chair and folded her arms.

“I believe that would be acceptable. In return I am sure that whoever your Majesty chooses to marry the delectable Lady Anna would be able to provide a gift of ten thousand sovereigns as proof of their loyalty,” she smiled and leant into the chair, the negotiations concluded.

Amanda smiled back, trying to ignore the sick feeling of disgust with herself she felt in her stomach.


“So what’s your name then?” asked Bridget Regan.

The young woman gave a light tinkling laugh as her tittie was pulled out from under her dress to be squeezed by Bridget; “It’s Kirsten, Kirsten Dunst.”

Bridget’s eyes gave a barely perceptible flicker. The bordello’s Madame had been in the business long enough to know what it meant. She got off her seat, stepping past the naked hookers sixty-inning on the stage and walked to Bridget. She leant down and murmured into Bridget’s ear; “She’s five sovereigns.”

There was a brief nod from Bridget to show she found the price acceptable, before she buried her face in Kirsten’s cleavage shaking it from side to side to make the hooker giggle. It was expensive, but this was a quality knocking shop. You paid for both sex and discretion. Most, if not all, aristocratic tops sometimes wanted a bit on the side – it was tolerated by their wives if kept discreet and without scandal. Brothels like the Blue Pygmy had a very important social function.

Bridget hoisted the young woman from her lap, “Shall we go upstairs?” though she asked the question, she knew the answer – she had paid for it after all.

Still it was nice that Kirsten nodded enthusiastically and took her by the hand to lead her to a room. It was sumptuously decorated with expensive silk cladding a bed made from the rarest oak, but impersonal. No one ever slept there, except by accident, so there were no portraits or miniature or half-read romances. Not that Bridget was interested in any of those things – she was here to get laid, nothing more, nothing less.

She twisted Kirsten down and pulled the dress roughly off the young woman’s shoulders. Grabbing the tits she sucked one hard, biting and chewing at the nipples, before switching to the other. There were a series of squeaks from Kirsten, culminating in a larger one as Bridge pushed her onto the bed.

“On all fours,” Bridget demanded as she pulled of her boots. Kirsten complied and Bridget hoisted the dress halfway up her back, creating a bulge of material as the top of it crushed against the bottom. Bridget’s hand slapped down on Kirsten’s ass, which wobbled under the blow. The hooker laughed playfully as Bridget gave her a second slap. The rogue grinned, “Nice, not too firm, not too fat. Just right.”

She unbuckled her trousers and draped them over a chair. Sitting on a sideboard were a collection of strap-ons. She ran her expert eye over them before pulling an eight incher from the rack and sliding it up her legs, “Here I come,” she said and Kirsten waggled her ass invitingly.

Bridget clambered onto the bed, pulling apart Kirsten’s cheeks to stuffed her tongue at the hooker’s back hole, licking and lubricating. Kirsten gave a purr of appreciation as the tongue rammed at the top of her hole. But Bridget wasn’t too interested in foreplay, just enough to get her money’s worth. She pulled back her head and replaced the tongue with the rubber dildo. Both women were experienced and it was ease itself to slide the cock in a way they were both comfortable with.

Bridget hammered away, soon sweat was pouring down her, plastering her shirt to her flesh as she whipped in and out of Kirsten’s ass. The young blonde screamed in pleasure as the toy went in deep, whacking at her anal G-spot and sending waves of joy rippling up her body. Bridget found her stride and fucked harder and deeper, “Fuck, fuck, Sarah, take it all, fuck.”

“Sarah…” gasped Kirsten, “you want me to call myself Sarah?”

“No damn it,” Bridget slammed deeper, her face reddening with embarrassment more than lust or exhaustion. Fuck, why did she suddenly have to think of that little pussy tease Sarah Michelle Gellar at a time like this. She shook her head – why did bottoms have to be so damn romantic, couldn’t Sarah just enjoy a no strings attached fuck, like Kirsten. She slammed deeper into the hooker’s ass, no longer caring whether the whore received enjoyment or not. Luckily either Kirsten was still enjoying or she was a fine actress – in her profession either could have been true. She gave a squeal as she came and gripped the bedding pulling it towards her.

Bridget pulled out the cock and got dressed without a word.

“Have I displeased you, Miss,” asked Kirsten, her voice quavering. It wasn’t good for hookers to make the punters unhappy.

Bridget shook her head, “No, just forget I said the name Sarah. She’s nobody.”

She slammed the door as she left, damn she needed a drink. Downstairs she clicked her finger at a waitress, the topless woman hurried over and Bridget ordered herself a large goblet of wine. She sank in a seat and nursed it, damn why did life have to be so complicated. Sarah Michelle Gellar was a good girl, one who would want marriage and children, leaving Bridget tied to her fit only to exchange gossips with brainless aristocrats or merchants or some other fool who had no idea of the proper fun to be had. But damn, Sarah was also beautiful and every part of Bridget lusted for to be naked on top of Sarah as she filled her twat. Oh, Bridget knew, that women like that were so conventional, but one part of her felt that she, Bridget Regan, would be the one to sweep her off her feet, and that she would be the one who wouldn’t be a stay at home moppet – her one true love.

She drank heavily at the wine and looked up. Anna Popplewell was just ascending the stairs. Bridget rubbed her eyes, the Queen’s Lady in Waiting in a brothel, even an expensive one. It was definitely Anna, she knocked at a door, which opened and she went in.

Bridget grinned mischievously. This she had to see; Anna Popplewell in a knocking shop. She slowly drained the wine and stood up. As she expected the door was locked. That didn’t matter, Bridget fished out a lockpick from her pocket. It was a work of a moment to masterfully pick the lock. She grinned and threw open the door, exclaiming “Hello Anna… oh fuck.”

The brunette was on her hands and knees, a large strap-on up her ass. Bridget had expected the top to be some minor brainless aristo or a good-looking servant. Instead staring at her was the most powerful woman in Amazonia apart the Queen. And Marcia Cross, even whilst naked, didn’t look very pleased at being interrupted.


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