Kingdoms: Amazonia 7
Lyndsy Fonesca, Marcia Cross, Charisma Carpenter, Alexis Vega, Michelle Trachtenberg, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Brittany Daniels, Alexis Bledel, Cybil Shepard, Amber Benson, Amy Acker, Kate Beckinsdale, Amanda Bynes, Kristine Sutherland
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.
“Why do I have to be the one
to break the news?” Lyndsy Cross, nee Fonesca, sighed at her wife.
Marcia Cross tried to look sternly at her, but failed, it was a unpleasant task that Lyndsy had got and Marcia didn’t envy her it. Anna Barr, nee Popplewell, had seemed so much in love with her wife Roseanne after a tricky start. Now Roseanne was rotting in a grave down South, her skull cleaved in by bandits. Marcia sighed, “You’re her best friend, it will be best coming from you the Queen and I decided.”
It was a little white lie. The Queen had said no such thing, Amanda Bynes had bowed her head in grief when she heard and asked that Marcia make sure Anna was told, then she had settled down to trying to sort out the castle accounts and see where she could make savings.
Lyndsy sighed again”If the Queen orders…” she moved her hands in a gesture of submission before reaching for her cloak. She wrapped it round her, there was a chill wind outside and coaches were draughty enough, “What will happen to Lady Anna?”
That was a hard question to answer, it depended so much on the Queen’s will. Marcia briefly looked out the window, the leaves on the trees were turning golden and falling so quickly that the gardeners weren’t able to keep up with them. She turned back to her wife, “Lady Roseanne has no children, nor sisters. Her land will go to the Queen who will keep a some for herself and provide the rest to the Church. Lady Anna will become the Queen’s ward until such time as the Queen sees fit to grant her to someone as a wife. Depending on the Queen, she may be gracious and grant some of Lady Roseanne’s land token of her esteem and to act as dowry for whoever the Queen gives to her marriage.”
Lyndsy nodded. Marcia was sure that she had already known the answer, but she wanted reassurance that Anna would not be cast out as beggar. It was always possible, Marcia thought, it was what Queen Teri would have done, unable to resist gobbling up a large estate for herself. But Queen Amanda was different. Anyway, Lady Anna Barr, no Lady Anna Popplewell, was attractive and young, even if no longer a virgin. She would make an attractive offer to someone, buying extra loyalty for the Queen in the byzantine politics of the court.
“You best be off,” Marcia continued. Lyndsy nodded and walked down to her carriage.
Marcia waited until she heard the coach clatter off, before reaching for her own cloak. There were things she had to do, and she would rather Lyndsy didn’t know. Marcia loved her young wife dearly, but she sometimes had a tendency to gossip and Marcia didn’t want her mission spread amongst all and sundry. She strode across the courtyard to the stables. There was a cool chill in the air and the breath of both the horses and stable-girls steamed.
The head groom bowed at Marcia, “Your horse is saddled as ordered.”
Marcia nodded and the woman clicked her finger. Seconds later one of the more junior stable-girls led out her horse. Marcia mounted and rode out of her courtyard. It was a fifteen minute ride to a trusted stable, which could be guaranteed to look after her horse. She could have walked the distance, but by riding she hoped to persaude the servants who had seen her go that she was heading somewhere further than downtown. She dropped a few coins into the stable owner’s outstretched hand and headed out.
Unlike the wealthy end of town, no-one bothered to clear the beggars from the streets and the houses were so ramshackle it seemed only the fact they were packed together kept them from falling down. Marcia shivered; not from the cold, but from childhood memories – this was where she had come from and she hated going back. Still at least she knew the streets, other aristorcrats given this task would have become hopelessly lost. She turned into a small alley and climbed up some stairs, a perilous wooden walkway stretched over the street. Marcia strode over it, if it did snap it would do so whether she tiptoed or not.
She rapped her knuckles on a door that looked like it had last been painted when Queen Teri’s grandmother had been on the throne. There was a brief pause and Charisma Carpenter opened it, “Lady Marcia,” the bukkakke bitch squawked in surprise.
“Can I come in?” Marcia didn’t wait for a reply, but stepped inside.
The interior, if not luxurious, was at least more comfortable than the outside. The furniture was second hand, but looked like high quality second hand. That was sensible, no matter how much money Charisma put in the outside the benefit would go to the landlord, good furniture could be moved. And if Charisma was going to be as succesful as Marcia suspected she would be the young woman would be moving up to a more expensive part of the city.
“It’s a honour to have you here,” Charisma said.
Marcia cross sat down on one of the seats and motioned to the younger woman to sit. She waited until Charisma was sat and comfortable before she spoke, choosing her words carefully, “I have a proposition for you. It’ll pay well.”
As expected Charisma’s eyes lit up and she smiled, “Please – go on, a private party perhaps…”
Marcia nodded, “A very private party…” she said and paused, “however before I go on I need to know I can count on your discretion.”
“Of course,” Charisma replied.
Marcia nodded, she suspected she had chosen well. Charisma had been a hooker at one of the more expensive bordello’s – a lot of its customers would value secrecy. Still it was best to make absolutely sure, “Because if this gets out it’ll be treason and you’ll hang.”
It handed to be handed to the young woman in that her smile didn’t falter, though her faced paled momentarily. She quickly recovered, “I won’t say a word.”
“Good,” Marcia leant back on the chair, it squeaked slightly, “The Party is for the Queen…”
“The Queen!” Charisma gasped.
Marcia ignored the interruption, it wasn’t unexpected, few women of Charisma’s station in life would meet Amanda Bynes, never mind in an intimate situation, “The Queen wishes to… improve her technique before marriage. You will let her… use you to your best advantage. In return for your services and continued secrecy I will pay five sovereigns.”
Charisma did some quick mental arthemetic in her head, it was five times what she had been paid for her first performance as a Bukkake Bitch. She smiled at Marcia, “It’s a deal.”
Marcia stood up, “I will make the arrangements with the Queen and come back to you shortly.”
Alexa Vega lifted up her dress to above her waist and waggled her naked bottom at her cousins. Sarah and Michelle were lying face forward on top of the guest bed, while they had bathed the maids had made the bed, but hadn’t yet put out their dresses as a result the two teen sisters were still wearing their skimpy night wear. Michelle whistled appreciatively, “I do like your tattoo.”
From halfway up Alexa’s back to the crack of her ass cheeks was a sword, a dragon, breathing fire was entwined round it. Alexa kept her dress high so that her cousins could continue to admire it, but turned her head so she could talk to them, “Lady Shepard’s crest,” she explained, “It’s all the rage in St Stow for young bottom’s to have them tattooed on as a wedding present. Mama said I could have it done as a present.”
“It’s so lifelike,” said Sarah, “I could almost swear it’s real.”
The door opened and Mum Vega walked in. She smiled at her daughter and at her nieces, “Showing of your tattoo I see. Have you shown the girls the strap-on?”
Sarah answered for her, “She has auntie – it’s massive,” adding wistfully, “She’s very lucky.”
Mum Vega nodded and patted her daughter’s bare behind affectionately, “She is. However, my sister sent you to me as she felt we could find a better wife for the two of you than in the provinces, myself and Lady Vega certainly have some potential matches in mind. If the two of you deport yourselves well and make sure you show a bit of flesh we’ll have you married in no time. By the way, put your dress down now dear, you’ll catch a chill.”
Alexa dropped her dress back down and sat on the bed, her two cousins shifted to make room for her. Mum Vega smiled again and took a seat, “We received a message from Lady Shepard, she’ll be here tomorrow and would like to invite her wife to be and family to a small party she is holding in her town house for a few friends. We have, off course, accepted.”
Sarah and Michelle exchanged looks, slutty dresses would be needed for that party, they both decided. Mum Vega smiled, she had been young once and could see what they were thinking, “I’ll get the maids to make sure they put out some garments which show your charms in their best light.”
“Thanks Auntie,” said Sarah, who was wondering if some single, attractive swordswoman would be there.
Mum Vega smiled, “No problem girls. Now tonight Lady Vega and I are off out to dinner with some merchants who want to introduce her to some new farming technique for her lands. It’ll be deathly boring, but there’s no need for you three to come. Instead I’ve got you some front row seats for the Squirt Bukkake at the Royal tonight. It’s an up and coming newcomer, Charisma Carpenter; Lady Vega and I saw her last week – she’s very good.”
“Thank you Auntie,” gushed Michelle. They had Squirt Bukkake in the provinces, but there were very seldom more than six squirters and very few of the top Bukkake Bitches ever deigned to leave St Stow or the other big cities.
“Think nothing off it,” Mum Vega smiled and stood up, “If you can catch her juice it’s good luck remember.”
There was the most exquisite necklace in the Jewellers quarter. One glance at it had led Brittany Daniels to realise it would look divine round her throat. A few months ago she would have thought nothing about breaking in and helping herself to it. But things were different now, the Kitten wasn’t keen on any of her people going freelance, and that counted double for her bottom. Brittany smiled to herself as she opened the door into Alexis’s office – there were other means to get what she wanted.
Alexis Bledel looked up, her mouth open to say something. She paused and her mouth slammed shut. Brittany wasn’t sure whether it was because Alexis had seen it was her, not some random interloper wanting to regale the crime boss with their problems or because Brittany was wearing a transparent blue dress that left nothing to the imagination.
“Hello lover,” drawled Brittany. She didn’t so much walk across the room as saunter, swinging her hips so much she almost swivelled.
Putting down her quill, Alexis smiled, “I thought you had gone to the market.”
She pushed back her chair, leaving plenty of room between it and the desk. Brittany sat down on her lap, put her arms round the Kitten’s neck and moved her chest forward so that her nipples were touching Alexis and the teen would be able to feel their hardness through her shirt. She could pleasure her lover first and then mention the necklace, but if there was one thing she’d noticed whilst being Alexis’s favourite bottom was that the Kitten appreciated honesty. Brittany ran her hand over Alexis’s cheek, “I saw this delightful necklace today. It would look perfect on me.”
Alexis’s eyebrows raised and a faint smile played on her lips, “How perfect?” she asked.
Brittany leant even closer, her lips traced a pattern over Alexis chin and lips, “Any position you like perfect.”
Alexis could already have her in any position she liked and frequently did. The Kitten knew this, but Brittany thought that Alexis cared for her and the words weren’t meant to be taken literally, but a promise of continued fucking to come.
“How much?” Alexis’s hand reached up and she cupped a tit through the thin material.
“Five sovereigns and four shillings,” Brittany giggled as Alexis squeezed at her breast.
“That’s a lot of positions, I may have to take some on account,” purred Alexis. She gripped harder, squashing the flesh beneath her hand. Brittany smiled, she had reeled in her lover, though the fact that her tittie was enjoying the attention didn’t hurt either.
“Let me give you a taster,” murmured Brittany so quietly that if she hadn’t been next to the Kitten Alexis wouldn’t have heard her.
Brittany’s hands rolled down Alexis’s side as the bottom gracefully slid off her lap and onto her hands and knees in front of her. Alexis opened her legs and Brittany moved between them. Her hands reached up for the buttons, they cam apart easily, gradually revealing the smooth slit of her lover. Sensually Brittany pulled them down to Alexis’s ankles, so that they rested on the fine boots the woman wore. Alexis gave breathed slowly, anticipation written on her face, “For five sovereigns I’m sure I don’t need to suggest it better be good.”
Brittany looked at her with a pained expression, “Five sovereigns and four shillings…” She grinned wickedly, lifting up Alexis’s legs and letting them drop either side of her so she was caught in the middle, “It will be, let me know if you have any complaints.”
If Alexis had been planning any reply it was replaced by a passionate groan as Brittany’s lips touched the flesh of her crotch. The young bottom kissed gently at the flaps, touching the tip of her tongue against the velvet flesh. She had quickly learned not to go into to the kill too fast, Alexis enjoyed the build up to pleasure. More suprisingly Brittany enjoyed building up and giving that pleasure; it had been a quirk of fate that she had been a top and one part of her mind wondered whether it had always been her destiny to be the bottom. Slowly her tongue came out and she slowly licked at the outside of the pussy. Above her Alexis groaned, “Yes, work your magic, earn those sovereigns.”
The tongue dipped into the twat. It was already damp with juice. Brittany loved the taste of it, another reason why she had begun to enjoy being the bottom. She swirled her tongue around the inside, dabbing at the warm, soft flesh and letting the cum permeate her tongue. Alexis hands rested on her shoulders, holding her in place. As Alexis gripped tighter Brittany moved further into the cunt, until she hit the clit. There was a gasp of pleasure from Alexis, her hands clawed at Brittany’s blades, “Yessss, yessss, pleasure me, pleasure me” she shrieked.
The time for teasing was passed. Brittany started slamming at the bud hard and fast Each touch of it sent more cum into her mouth, encouraging her to speed lick, until all that could be heard was her frenzied slurping and Alexis’s squeals. The teen suddenly gripped Brittany so hard that the young woman feared the Kitten would break her shoulders. Alexis squealed, her entired body tensing as she shuddered. She gave a final whimper and relaxed, her hands dropping to her sides. Brittany looked up, Alexis smiled down and rubbed a hand through her hair, “Five sovereigns and four shillings.”
Brittany nodded and licked her lover’s cum from her lips.
Alexis reached into her drawer and pulled out a purse, “Here’s the money – on one condition?”
Despite herself Brittany pulled a face, after that near perfect munch she hadn’t been expecting further conditions. She quickly rearranged her face into a more neutral expression. “What?”
“I’ll be the one to slip it round your neck the first time you wear it,” Alexis smiled and leaning forward tenderly kissed the top of Brittany’s head.
A day’s ride from St Stow was a poxy little tavern, it smelt, the food was terrible, the wine was weaker than water and tasted like horse’s piss. Still it was dry and warmer than outside. Lady Cybil Shepard, Warden of the Firth of Wolves glanced up at the buxom serving girl coming her way; it also had other attractions.
The girl bent down to pick up the dirty plates in front of Cybil and her closest women at arms. Her fingers had barely touched them when Cybil’s arm swept out grabbed the girls waist and pulled her so that she was sitting on the aristocrats knee. The serving wench gave an outraged howl, but Cybil’s other hand reached out and shook her money bag, there was the clank of coinage. The girl relaxed and smiled at Cybil. The aristocrat gave her a squeeze and the young woman giggled, she was up for it. Cybil grinned, “What’s your name?”
“Amber Benson,” the serving wench said, before cheekily adding, “What’s yours?”
Cybil smiled at the girl’s affrontery, other aristocrats might have been so insulted they’d have had her whipped. Not Cybil, she wasn’t going to waste a choice fuck like this by reducing her back to bloody rags; “Cybil,” she didn’t elaborate. The girl was for banging not friendship.
Amber nodded as if she had known all along. Her eyes darted to the money bag for a second, “You feeling lonely?”
“No,” said Cybil. The young woman’s face registered confusion, followed swiftly by dissapointment. She started to get off Cybil’s knee, but the older woman pulled her back down, “But I could do with a fuck.”
She smiled as Amber put on an innocent expression, “I don’t just sleep with anyone,” she said.
“Three shillings says you do,” replied Cybil. It was a generous offer and Amber’s smile got warmer. She nodded.
Cybil let go off her waist. Amber nodded to the bartender and took Cybil’s hand. Cybil snatched up her money bag and led the young woman to the room she had rented. It was colder than what she was used to, the small fire barely heating it. The sheets were poor quality and faded, the wooden furniture cheap and probably second hand. She kicked the door shut and counted three coins out, laying them on the wooden shelf next to the door. Amber was already slipping out of her dress.
Licking her lips Cybil watched as the cheap garment dropped to the floor. Amber’s tits were large and round, her pussy smooth with a tattoo of a flower growing from within it. Another set of tattoos, a constellation of stars, circled her belly button, “Sweet,” murmured Cybil, “Let’s see your ass.”
Obediently Amber turned round and pulled apart her cheeks. She wasn’t a virgin that was for sure. Not that Cybil minded, she wasn’t planning to marry her, just fuck that delectable ass. She quickly undressed and pulled on her strap-on, “Get on the bed,” she said curtly.
Amber did so, lying back she spread her legs. The pussy opened; it looked nice, but Cybil didn’t want that hole, “On your front,” she ordered.
Without protest Amber turned over. She spread her legs again and moved her hands to pull apart her cheeks, widening the hole. Cybil climbed on the bed and took her toy in one hand. Without ado she psuhed it in. Amber groaned as the cock eased its way up her back passage. Cybil pushed in until she was lying on top of the wench, her tits pushing into the others back. She placed a hand either side of Amber and began to rise, before falling with a grunt.
Amber squealed in pleasure and moved her body in time with Cybil’s thrusts. The young woman gasped and moaned, “Yesss, baby, fuck me, baby, do my ass.”
Cybil slammed in again and again. Sweat dripped onto Amber’s naked back, little rivulets, like molten metal, slid down into the folds as she serving girl arched and stretched. Cybil hammered in harder, grinding her into the bed. Every push sent Amber into a series of moaning, grunts, “Fuck me, fuck me.”
Cybil’s breath came in rags as she thrusted harder and deeper, until suddenly Amber screamed in orgasm. Her back arched and she shuddered. Cybil pushed her back, the clip of the strap-on was rubbing against her own clit and she was close to cumming, she didn’t want to pause. She slammed down again and again, until the explosion within her. She gave a long drawn out cry. Pulling the cock out, she fell on her back. For a few seconds Tara lay there. She got up and pulled on her dress. Cybil watched as she slid the three coins of the shelf and left.
Cybil smiled. In a few days she’d be married, but it was good to get a little practice in for the wedding night.
Across the ford the twinkle of lights could be seen in the dark, small farms, hamlets, even, just beyond the trees a small border castle. On the parapet the few guards would be tramping, cursing that they were the ones outside and not in the warm interior with a buxom serving wench in their arms. Amy Acker shivered, not from the bitter wind, though the Autumn night was decidely chilly she was well wrapped in a warm cloak. But however much she wore she couldn’t stop the cold that seemed to seep from her companion in the same way human warmth comes from a lover cozied up to in bed.
Her horse seemed to feel the same way as it let out a neigh. Amy leant over and patted its ear, murmuring shushing noises. When she looked up Kate Beckinsdale was no longer looking into the distance, but directly at her. Her face seemed paler than normal in the moonlight, but more visible as her hood was pulled down, letting her long black hair slide down her back. She nodded, “We’ll head back to camp.”
She turned her horse, Amy paused just long enough so that she could follow rather than ride side by side. It was a fifteen minute trot back to the camp, through a wooded path and into a small valley. Even at this late hour the camp was busy, hundreds of soldiers clustered round camp fires singing songs and telling tall tales, there numbers were magnified by the camp followers; victuallers, armourers, grooms, servants and whores – some doing two or more of the roles.
The two women got off their horses by a particually expensive looking tent. A couple of grooms were hurrying over and leading the horses away within seconds, it was best not to be slow or inefficient when Kate was around. Kate thrust opened the tent flap and walked in, Amy followed her.
The first thing which she noticed was the warmth; the heat from a well stocked brazier hit her like a glove slapped in the face. The next thing was Senator Deveraux, in the Republic of Lesbos pecking order second only to Senator Kimme. The Senator was groping the tit of a well endowed teenager, another lay naked on top of a fur dressed bed. The senator looked up in annoyance until she saw who the intruders were, a smile split her face. It was false, no-one was ever pleased to see Kate Beckinsdale, but you didn’t become as powerful as Deveraux without being able to put on an act, “Kate, how went the ride?”
The Senator ignored Amy. The young woman bowed anyway, in the Republic all women were equal, but some were more equal than others. Kate didn’t move a muscle of her face, apart from her eyes which swept around the tent like she was looking for a hornet, before finally settling on the naked hooker in Deveraux’s arm. The Senator could take a hint, “Out you go my lovelies,” she gave a playful slap of the teenager’s bottom. The girl squealed and helped her friend up, picking up dresses they ran out giggling into the cool night air.
Deveraux indicated a goblet, “Drink?”
“No,” Kate never went in for social chitchat.
Devereux wavered for a second her hand over the cup, obviously surprised by Kate’s inability to mix business and pleasure. Eventually she sighed and withdrew her hand, “The messenger has crossed the border, with luck she should be with the deviants by the weekend,” Amy couldn’t help but smile, though she quickly stifled it, not quickly enough as Deveraux seemed to notice her for the first time, “Something amusing you?”
Amy quickly shook her head and looked at her feet, it was sometimes best not to be noticed by someone who had quelled a riot by heaving the rioter’s daughters into a dock with rocks round their ankles. However, Kate answered for her, “I think she found you reference to Amazonia as deviants amusing – they call you the same thing.”
“Pah,” Deveraux almost spat, “they are twisted peverts, sick things fit only for…” she couldn’t think of anything and instead made a movement with her hand which could have suggested either decapitation or spanking.
Kate smiled; it was thin and without humour, “Yet, to an outsider, you seem much the same. The only thing that differs is that you choose bottoms at birth; they make their own decision on which to be,” she paused, “No matter. I am not here to discuss cultural differences.”
Deveraux nodded, a smile quickly afixed to her face, though Amy saw in her eyes she was seething. But she didn’t dare moved against Kate, “And when you are in charge of Amazonia you can mold it as you see fit.”
“As my mistress sees fit,” corrected Kate, it was a subtle reminder that she had allies more powerful than the Republic.
“Of course,” replied Deveraux, taking the hint. There was a hint of irritation in her next comment “We know this is just a sideshow to you.”
There was no response from Kate, she just looked into Deveraux’s eyes her gaze remaining as emotionless as ever. Deveraux coughed and broke eye contact. A faint smile was Kate’s reaction to her victory. She waited until she was sure Deveraux was as uncomfortable as she could be before speaking again, “The Queen will refuse our offer?”
“The Firth of Wolves,” Deveraux snorted, “Even Queen Teri wouldn’t give up that much land. Queen Amanda certainly won’t.”
“So it will be war,” for the first time since Amy had met Kate she was surprised, there had been a faint, hardly noticeable, trace of sadness in Kate Beckinsdale’s statement.
“Yes,” replied Deveraux. She didn’t seem to have noticed Kate’s wistfulness and certainly had none of her own, “More soldiers are marching even as we speak. Soon we will cross the border – Amazonia will fall.”
It was well after midnight; most of the upper class citizens of St Stow were asleep. Most, but not all. Marcia Cross reigned her horse in and dismounted. Beside her Queen Amanda Bynes did the same. Both women were wearing dark cloaks which merged with the blackness. The castle was heavily guarded – mainly to stop people getting in, but the Queen didn’t want anyone to see her nocturnal movements; her guards and ladies would have insisted n coming with her and this visit had to be secret.
She passed the reigns to Marcia, “Any last words?” she asked.
Marcia’s white teeth flashed in the darkness, “Have fun.”
Amanda nodded and ascended the stairs. Across the narrow street was a bridge, it looked decrepit and Amanda wondered how she would explain her injuries if she feel through. She almost turned to go, but she knew that was just delaying the inevitable. She had to loose her viriginity sometime. She squared her shoulders and marched across – the bridge wobbled, but didn’t break. In front of her was a door, paint peeling. This was the one. Amanda rapped the knocker; in the quiet of the night it sounded like a thousands twigs being snapped at once.
“Come in,” called Charisma Carpenter.
Amanda opened the door and stepped in. It was more homely than she had expected, a warm fire burning in the hearth and a semi-expensive rug beneath her feet. Charisma Carpenter, stepped forward and curtsied, “Your Majesty.”
She was wearing nothing except a small slip of black material which covered her belly and went up under her tits. Amanda forced a smile, “Lady Marcia explained why I am… visiting?”
Charisma giggled and walked into the bedroom. She stopped at the door, turning round to beckon Amanda, “Yes,” she replied.
Amanda followed the her into the bedroom. It was well lit, oil lamps burning brightly on the shelves and dresser. Charisma seductively sauntered to a drawer and opened it. When she turned she was holding a strap-on, which she held out to Amanda, “In case you didn’t bring one your Majesty.”
Amanda began to undress as Charisma positioned herself on the bed. The bukkake bitch lay back and spread her legs. A slow, sexy smile flitted across her face as her hand moved down to seductively touch her slit. Amanda pulled up the strap-on Charisma had provided, a little clip at the end slid into her own pussy, brushing against the clit. Amanda felt a tiny surge of pleasure. She looked at the brunette lying naked in front of her, Charisma looked damn sexy. She got on the bed.
“Take me,” mumured Charisma, the hand which was rubbing her pussy eased apart the lips. With the other she guided the toy in. Amanda followed it, feeling her body touch the other woman’s. Cordelia’s legs wrapped round her back, stopping the Queen from escaping, even if she wanted to. Amanda began to thrust the toy in.
At first she was slow and hesitant, but Charisma’s heels dug into her back encouraging her to go faster. Amanda began to speed up, the harder she went in the more the clip rubbed her own G-spot. She moved faster and faster, slamming down hard. Her juice mixed with that of Charisma. The bukkake bitch squealed in pleasure and arched her back as the toy drove deep within her.
“Aaarrrghh,” she screamed, “I’m cumming.”
A jet of cum splurged from her pussy, soaking Amanda’s cunt. Cum dripped from the toy as Amanda rammed it in, grunting with exhaustion. She could feel her own feelings rise, until she was screaming in pleasure as the orgasm rushed through her.
She pulled out the cock and dropped exhausted to the bed. She wiped a bead of sweat from her head, that had been easier than she thought it would be.
“My daughter, Alexa,” Lady Cybil Shepard Warden of the Firth of Wolves looked at the young woman Lady Vega had just introduced her to. Whilst she was smaller than Cybil had imagined in every other way the portrait she had been sent didn’t do her fiancee justice. Her long hair curled round her neck, framing a sexy pixieish face. Her smile was warm and charming, but her eyes spoke of mischief and an alluring sexuality. None of this was ruined by the blue dress she was wearing, the straps barely keeping it above her nipples.
“My lady,” curtsied Alexa.
Cybil took her hand and kissed it lightly, “Charmed,” she replied, keeping hold long enough to sensitively rub her fingers over the back of it and make Alexa give a simpering giggle.
“My nieces, Sarah Michelle Gellar and Michelle Trachtenberg,” Lady Vega introduced the other two teenagers who were standing by her niece. Both girls curtsied as Cybil apprised them. Attractiveness was obviously a family trait, whilst Michelle was bigger bosomed than her half-sister both were beauties, petite frames with flowing hair and fuck me smiles. Cybil gave a brief bow; it was a shame she was getting married – it would have been enjoyable to ride either one of them.
“Come through,” Cybil slid her arm through her fiancee’s and led her down the corridor to the main hall.
The musicians were already playing a jaunty air as maids scurried around with plates piled high with food and jugs dripping wine. A couple of naked dancers, hired for the evening gyrated round a couple of poles. The guests, expensively clothed as befitted the cream of the aristocrac, gossiped politely. They stopped as Cybil entered the room and clapped to gain their attention, “Friends, Ladies; let me introduce my fiancee Alexa Vega and her cousins, Sarah Michelle Gellar and Michelle Trachtenberg.”
There was a polite ripple of applause. Lyndsy Cross, nee Fonesca, turned to her wife Lady Marcia Cross, “They’re very attractive aren’t they,” she whisphered.
“Not as attractive as you dear,” replied Marcia. Despite the ambience of the party she was distracted, an ambassador of the Republic of Lesbos had arrived to see the Queen. Whenever those deviants arrived, Marcia, thought nothing good could be happening, especially if the rumours of an army build-up were true. Lyndsy didn’t seem to notice the distraction as she just cuddled her head closer onto Marcia’s arm.
“Lady Cross,” the excited voice so close to hand made Marcia jump. She turned to see Alex Kingston standing beside her, wearing a dress so low cut that her tits almost bounced out”and your delightful wife,” the merchant continued.
“Miss Kingston,” Marcia let go off her wife and gave a small bow, “I didn’t know that you knew Lady Shepard.”
Alex chortled, “I actually own this house,” her arm swept out to show the magnificence, “Lady Shepard rents it from me for when she’s in town. I also have other business dealings with her.”
Marcia nodded politely, but any other conversation was forestalled by Lyndsy suddenly tugging on her arm. Before Marcia could speak Lyndsy had bedazzled Alex with a smile, “Excuse us,” she said, “but I promised Marcia a dance to this tune.”
“Of course,” Alex bowed again, “perhaps I will see you later in the evening.”
“Perhaps,” Lyndsy curtsied and gripping Marcia’s arm she pulled her towards the dance floor.
“What was that about?” asked Marcia, her tone was resigned, she already knew the answer.
“I can’t stand that woman,” hissed Lyndsy, “Really Lady Shepard shouldn’t have invited her.”
Marcia shrugged; she had other things on her mind and she couldn’t be bothered getting into an argument.
The guilded carriage stopped outside the mansion. Even before it had fully halted one of the footwomen had jumped off the box at the back, opening the door as soon as the wheels finished turning. Queen Amanda Bynes stepped out, two maids following immediately after. The nearest one stepped forward to pick up the hem of the dress to stop it trailing in the courtyards mud.
“I can carry it,” scolded Amanda, pulling it up so the bottom hovered a couple of inches across the floor.
“As you wish your majesty,” the maid curtsied, not at all put out by the rebuke.
“Come on then,” Amanda said. It was more sharp than she intended, she almost apologised, until she remembered she was Queen Amanda II, Favoured of the Goddess, Protector of Amazonia, and with those titles came a belief from her people that she should be infalliable. Amanda walked towards the front door, already one of the footwomen was running towards it, to warn the occupants. The Queen sighed, she couldn’t even pay a surprise visit anymore without a coterie of lackeys who would alert everyone to her arrival.
As Amanda mounted the steps she could see the door open, a quick conversation between the footwoman and the houses main, followed by a muffled shriek and the clattering of feet running down the hall. Her bodyguard bounded up the stairs in front of the Queen – it seemed impossible to enter a building without them flanking her. That they’d die for her was all very well, thought Amanda, she just wished they’d leave her some space.
The music, which had been playing in the background, suddenly stopped and from down the hallway rushed Lady Shepard, half dragging Alexa Vega with her. Behind them a crowd of wellwishers had appeared, all staring at the Queen. Amanda suddenly remembered why she’d worn a dress, she might be more comfy in slacks and shirt, but it wouldn’t do for the gawpers to see her dressed down – it might damage the majesty of regality.
“Your Majesty…” Lady Shepard bowed so deeply that her chin almost touched the floor.
Alexa’s mouth was open in suprise and it took a brief nudge from her fiancee to waken her from her stunned silence. She immediately gave a deep curtsey, “Your Majesty…”
Amanda gave the briefest of bows. Even that small gesture of respect was enough she could almost feel her maids and bodyguards shudder in horror. The Queen ignored them, “Lady Shepard. I hope you don’t mind me intruding, I understand that you are holding a party for your lovely fiancee…”
“Your Majesty never intrudes,” said Lady Cybil tactfully, as her fiancee blushed at the Queen’s compliment, “Please, join the celebrations, we have food and wine and, if Your Majesty so desires, music and dancing.”
“Please, carry on as before,” Amanda gave a little wave of her hand. It was another problem with becoming Queen no-one ever invited her to parties, if she wanted one she had to hold it herself and the Royal Finances were too slender for her to waste much of frivolity.
The music restarted as she entered the main room. Beautiful young bottoms took the arms of their partners and gracefully slid across the floor. Attractive tops held their loves tight as they guided their sensual movements. Amanda smiled at the dancers, trying to withold her jealousy – she had never been a great dancer, but now she realised she missed it. Everytime she danced with a woman the rumour mill went into overdrive and the poor girl she had squired couldn’t even look at another woman, without tuts of dissaproval that she was cheating on the Queen.
She gave another sigh and sat down, one of the serving maids almost suffering a fatal heart attack such was the speed she brought a goblet of wine. Amanda sipped at it, expensive and fruity, Lady Shepard’s finances were obviously in better shape than the Queen’s.
“Would you like anything else,your Majesty?” Lady Shepard the attentive host.
“Is it tomorrow the wedding?” asked Amanda, answering a question with a question.
“Tomorrow is the day,” confirmed Lady Shepard, she squeezed Alexa tight. The young teen giggled and gave her fiancee an adoring look. Amanda briefly closed her eyes; it didn’t stop the guilt she suddenly felt, but it at least dampened it.
“Yes, I’m a very lucky woman,” Lady Shepard continued, she gave Alexa a brief kiss.
Amanda knew that was a lie, but now wasn’t the time, “You should take her onto the dance floor let her have the one dance she’s so obviously craving,” she said.
“Of course your Majesty,” Lady Shepard treated the suggestion like an order, she hooked her arm through Alexa’s and led her towards the whirling masses. The teen turned and gave a grateful smile at the Queen.
Amanda nodded in acknowledgement before turning to her messngers, standing dutifully a few feet away, “Find Ladies Cross and Sutherland, as soon as I stand up, tell them to join me in the library.”
The two messnegers scurried away, leaving Amanda alone apart from six bodyguards. She sipped at her wine. If there was a mercy in all this, it was that she was Queen and not her Aunt. Teri would have ignored the problem until the deviants were clambering over the gate. Amanda was made off sterner stuff, she just hoped it was stern enough.
Across the room a young brunette was talking to a slightly older blonde. The brunette turned and for a second her eyes met Amanda. The Queen smiled, blushed and looked away as the brunette did the same thing
The dance finished and Lady Cybil Shepard returned to the Queen. Amanda waited until she was in front of her before standing up, “Who are they?” she pointed at the blonde and the brunette.
Cybil followed her finger, “Lady Sarah Michelle Gellar and her half-sister Lady Michelle Trachtenberg, my fiancee’s cousins.”
Amanda thought about asking to be formally introduced, but that would be just putting of what she had come for, “Join me in the library.”
“Your Majesty,” Lady Shepard let go off her fiancee, realising that this wasn’t a conversation for Alexa’s ears. From the corner of her eye Amanda could see her maids leaning over and whispering to Ladies Sutherland and Cross.
Lady Shepard led the Queen and her guards to the library, a bemused looking Lady Kristine Sutherland and a worried looking Lady Marcia Cross following them. The guards took position outside the room as Amanda closed the door.
She looked at the three peers, all dressed up in their best clothes. She closed her eyes, this time it didn’t even dampen the guilt, instead an image of the three of them came up, bloodied and hacked, lifeless orbs staring into their own, as worms crawled out of rotten flesh. Amanda opened her eyes and gave a deep breath, “An Ambassador from the Republic of Lesbos brought a message today.”
The three women exchanged glances. It was Marcia who voiced their shared question, “What did the bitch want?”
“The Firth of Wolves,” despite herself Amanda laughed, there was plenty of tension and no humour in it.
If the others dissaproved they didn’t mention it, instead Marcia and Kristine looked at Cybil as if by unspoken agreement it had been decided that she speak next. Lady Shepard cleared her throat, “And if we don’t give it them?”
“What do you expect?” Amanda asked rhetorically, “War. They’ll take it by force.”
There were nods from the three peers, it would have been a surprise if anything else was on offer, “So what now?” asked Marcia.
There was a pause, as if Amanda was thinking up the options. In reality she already knew them and had made her decision, she just didn’t want to put it into action. The silence lasted perhaps five seconds, before she turned to Marcia, “Lady Cross, how quickly can we gather an army.”
Marcia briefly calculated, “Eight weeks by the time we get messengers out and gather everyone. If we go for the nearer peers, they can gather their women in a couple of weeks, say three before we can march.”
“Do it,” replied Amanda, “Lady Sutherland – the Navy?”
Lady Sutherland’s earlier bemused expression had been replaced by steel. She was a sea dog, from a long line of sea dogs, when duty called it had never found the Sutherlands hiding under the bed, “Ignoring those in for long term refits, I can replenish and get thirty cogs and hundred smaller ships out in three weeks. If I call in those from the Highlands, I can get another dozen cogs and forty support, but it’ll take two weeks longer.”
“Prepare the main fleet, but call in the Highlands fleet as well, they can follow but we can’t wait for them,” Amanda responded decisively. She turned to Lady Shepard, “You’ll need to hold the border until we can bring reinforcements.”
Lady Shepard nodded, “Yes, your Majesty,” there was no reluctance in her voice, even though against the armies of Lesbos her small forces would stand little chance.
Amanda turned and looked at the map of Amazonia pinned on the wall. It was there for decoration, not strategy, its garish colours looked out of pace when you were talking of matters of such importance. She smiled briefly at the incongruity, before pointing first at one place and then another, “I’ll have parchments drawn with orders to Ladies Campbell and McClean, see both Ladies on your way and tell them to head to the Firth with all speed. Goddess willing they should be able to join you before Lesbos strikes.”
“As you wish my Lady, when will the parchments be ready?” asked Lady Shepard.
Amanda allowed herself a brief moment of softness, “After your wedding night,” she smiled.
Cybil gave a smile of relief, before her face, like the others, became businesslike as they sorted out the final details.
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