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Sol is the ruler of a mighty kingdom and has many worries about the world falling down around her. Thankfully, her seamstress, Abagail is well versed at handling her worries in a more constructive manner.

That manner involving copious BDSM sex.

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Fetishes: Femdomming, Bondage, Hard Oral, Degradation, Sensory Deprivation, Light Orgasm Denial

Pre-Read by my lovely wife, Dawn.

Cover art uses the following photograph.

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Thread drove through pricy fabric, piercing the material over and over again, binding together two separate pieces and unifying them into one. There were few in this domain who had the means to wear such pristine products and even fewer still who had the privilege of working on them.

It was an honour to be one such craftswoman and Abagail was very much aware of this.

This was lion’s fur, a fine silky fabric that came from lands that were just upon the edge of this realm’s diplomatic world. Though it was also a material that didn’t seem to bear any resemblance to the creature it was supposedly borne from. Still, it was an amazing material: light, flowing, and radiant in the light.

“How is my design coming along, Abagail,” a voice finer than this material asked.

Abagail looked up from her soft brown hands and towards the source of this voice. It was a beautiful but powerful looking woman who was staring at the seamstress in front of her. She bore a half smile, the most mirth she seemed able to afford at times. One of her chocolate hands ran through her charcoal hair, playing with one of the many gorgeous curls that nature had seen fit to bestow her with.

She wore something far more casual than the bountiful dress that Abagail was crafting. Though it was still an outfit of a royal caliber. It would seem that even her casual wear was afforded such luxurious treatment.

“It is coming along nicely, Your Highness,” Abagail replied.

The Princess clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Still boring yourself with pomp and circumstance?”

“There are protocols we are taught to follow that are hard to unlearn,” Abagail stated, winking at her. “Plus, I know how much it gets under your skin, Sol.”

Sol snorted. “I should have you executed, you brat.”

“Then you would not see this dress finished,” Abagail rebutted, unphased by such threats. “And that would really be a shame, don’t you think?”

She finished with some stitch work, so expertly woven that it barely showed upon the lightly coloured garb. This pile of semi-finished fabrics would one day become a beautiful work of art though it would still be many sessions until such a goal was achieved.

Though Abagail’s gaze once more returned to the Princess, watching the way she looked out the window and upon the countryside beyond. It seemed like she had something upon her mind, something festering away as her brow tented.

It wasn’t uncommon for such things to plague their encounters. After all, the work of a monarch was never an easy labour. The wants and worries of a Kingdom were upon her shoulders, a weight that no other man nor woman could claim to bear.

“How have you been, Sol?” Abagail asked.

Sol smiled though her expression was still strained, practiced, hiding something and poorly at that. “Stressed… though I am sure you are able to pick up on that easily enough.”

“You are not the hardest woman in the world to read,” Abagail conceded. “Is there something that I can assist you with.”

“No, there are few who can help me,” Sol replied, biting her lip. “Sorry, that was a horrible unproductive answer.” She sighed and shook her head. “I am required to attend a social function that I would rather avoid.”

“Anybody that I know?” Abagail asked.

Sol glanced towards her, suddenly looking quite sad. “Baron Trembly of Applewood.”

Abagail hissed. “That is… a rather awkward situation to be in.”

“It’s a fucking nightmare is what it is,” Sol grumbled, reaching up and massaging her brow between a forefinger and thumb. “I should’ve just locked that bastard up for what he did to his servants but…”

“He won over the courts and you’d be seen as a tyrant if you overruled them,” Abagail offered, turning her attention towards Sol. “It wasn’t a winnable situation to be in.”

“Not in the slightest,” Sol grumbled.

Abagail pushed needle through fabric again and again. “But that doesn’t mean that you need to be happy about it.”

“No, I don’t,” Sol agreed.

She shook her head and leaned back into her chair, closing her eyes. Her brow tented and it was obvious that some more unkind, unproductive, and labourious thoughts were coming forward to fill her thoughts with fresh torments.

Abagail had worked with this woman for years and knew her as well as she knew the fabrics she worked with and the stitches that she made. Which meant that every little twitch was a tell that she could pick up on with intimate familiarity.

The way her brow cocked now spoke to a deep anxiety, possibly about public perception or her own honour.

“Can I just bestow you with my crown?” Sol asked.

Abagail snorted. “Absolutely not, this is your mess and I have no interest in inheriting it from you.”

“Bitch,” Sol jeered though there was no legitimate anger behind her words, only exhaustion and fatigue.

“Call me such things again and I might need to remind you of our informal dynamic,” Abagail warned, looking up from her work.

Sol smirked and cracked open an eye. “Are you threatening me with a good time, seamstress?”

“Good is subjective,” Abagail replied.

“Oh, so you are threatening me with a good time!” Sol beam, an excited edge entering her voice. “Very well, please remind me of this dynamic that you think we have.”

Abagail couldn’t help but notice the shit eating grin that Her Majesty now bore.

Sol got to her feet and made her way over, ensuring that she put a little extra swing into her step as she approached. Her presence was enticing and it was hard for Abagail to return her attention to her work, keeping her gaze locked upon the Princess’ face.

“Maybe I desire to continue with my work,” Abagail teased, cocking a brow. “Did you ever think of that, Your Majesty.”

Though she knew that such words were futile. There was nothing that could sway Her Majesty when there was something that she wanted. And judging by her body language, she very clearly had a rather crude objective in mind.

Abagail briefly glanced towards a mirror on the table, taking a moment to straighten her wild blue hair. She hoped that she looked fit for royal consumption, praying that the bags under her eyes were not off-putting.

“You do know that I cherish our time together,” Sol stated.

She was now at the desk, bracing her hands upon it. There was a predator’s smile upon her lips as she slowly licked them, pushing out her chest and trying to look as enticing as possible. Not that she really needed to try very hard. At the very least, it seemed that her worries had fled quite quickly, leaving her mind rejuvenated.

Abagail tilted her head to the side. “I couldn’t tell.” She then smirked. “You only call upon my company on a biweekly basis like clockwork after all.”

She reached out and carefully placed a hand upon the Princess’ arm, carefully stroking her flesh.

“What are you in the mood for this afternoon?” Abagail asked.

Sol hummed and turned away, instead resting her rump upon the edge of Abagail’s desk. “I would very much like to be put in a position where I don’t have to worry about the world ending or court intrigue or any petty bullshit or public perception or...”

She motioned vaguely in a huff, letting the silence answer for her. Obviously, there were many worries and now Abagail was tasked with taming them.

“We do hate petty bullshit,” Abagail quipped.

She stood up from her seat and made her way around the desk, taking up position in front of Sol.

Sol didn’t seem perturbed by her presence, merely maintaining her contented smile and playful little demeanour.

Abagail reached out and brushed Sol’s hair out of her eyes before leaning forward and kissing her upon the cheek.

“How rough would you like me to be?” she asked.

Sol hummed. “I do have quite a few social functions this week.”

“And knowing you, you’d love the tabloids to gossip about them,” Abagail quipped, offering an evil smile. “I do admit that I love it when they try to figure out who your mysterious suitor is.”

“They always pick the most boring men imaginable,” Sol teased as she let out a heavy note of disappointment.

Abagail nodded. “Could you imagine if you actually had an affair with Count Agincourt?”

“I would rather die than allow that man to touch me,” Sol grumbled. “He has such cold and clammy hands. Now if it was the Duke of Warwick maybe I’d have a more positive reaction.”

Abagail rolled her eyes.

“What? He’s a total hunk,” Sol teased.

She then reached up and placed her hand overtop of Abagail’s own, interlacing their fingers together. There was an energy to her touch, a euphoria from the mere act of coming into contact with her. It was incredible that something so simple could feel so good.

Yet, when it came to Her Majesty, there was no such thing as simple.

“I love you,” Abagail whispered.

Sol smirked. “And I tolerate you.”

Abagail glared at her.

“Kidding kidding,” Sol chided. “I am just… bad at expressing myself.”

“Then I suppose, I will have to teach you to get better about such things,” Abagail whispered.

She dipped forwards and pressed her lips against Sol’s neck, planting a kiss upon her tender flesh. Though the kiss wasn’t left tender for long before she suckled quite roughly upon Her Majesty’s neck. She even dug her teeth into it, surely leaving a beautifully pronounced blemish behind.

Sol gasped and reached up, digging her fingers into Abagail’s hair. She shivered under her lover’s lips as a faint moan escaped her.

“You brute!” Sol growled.

Abagail chuckled. “And you love me for it.”

Her other hand came up and gripped Sol’s chin, using it to hold her head steady and leave her neck exposed. She then took immediate advantage of the Princess’ vulnerability as she planted a couple more kisses upon her flesh. Most of them were gentle and tender though ever so often she would dip forwards and leave something a bit more animalistic behind. Her teeth were a tool, after all, and she used them quite liberally.

When she finished with a couple purple welts, she drew away, grinning at her work. She knew it would take all the makeup in the kingdom to hide these ravenous love bites. Still, she knew that the Princess was shameless and she expected to see these welts sported at a future social function.

“Wonder who they’ll blame for these,” Abagail teased.

She continued to examine her work, proud of all the little marks she’d left behind. They formed a collar of sorts, a string of lovely purples that would look so radiant when contrasted with Sol’s newest dress.

Her thumb ran across the Princess’ cheek and she couldn’t help but smirk as she saw the wonderful blush that Sol wore. She seemed at a loss for words, a rarity this early into their sinful affairs. Though Abagail was more than pleased to have accomplished such a feat.

“Are you alright?” Abagail asked.

Sol nodded.

Abagail smirked. “Then shall we continue with our afternoon?”

Sol once more conceded and nodded her head. Not that she really needed to do such a thing. Abagail could feel the desire to continue in the very energy of the room. They both knew that there was no stopping the inevitable at this point but it was still polite to ask.

Abagail slid her hand away from Sol’s cheek and instead placed two fingers against her companion’s lips.

Sol flushed and opened her mouth, allowing Abagail to push them inside. She suckled upon them without reservation, swirling her tongue around and around as if these were a phallus and not two mere digits.

These fingers ventured deep, all the way to the knuckle. They were long enough that Abagail could feel her beloved’s uvula, tickling it carefully.

Sol let out a sputtering gag as these fingers lingered just a little too deep for a little too long.

Abagail drew them away quickly though ensured that they still remained in Sol’s mouth. She basked in the glare that her lover shot in her direction, chuckling at it even.

“You haven’t been practicing like you promised,” she chastised. “Or at least you haven’t been practicing well enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Sol murmured around the fingers, the words barely coherent but still understandable.

Abagail smirked. “I’m sure that you are but I’ll ensure that you’re even more sorry when I’m through with you.”

Carefully she started to piston her fingers back and forth, back and forth, enjoying the act of fingerbanging Sol’s mouth. There was something so pleasurable about debasing someone of regal birth, of toying with them in such a humiliating manner.

Every sputter and gag made her heart soar, filling it with a sadistic glee.

The act sent a pulse of warmth towards Abagail’s loins. She could feel her pride starting to harden, straining against the confines of her panties. Still, she continued with her fingering, refusing to let it fade in the slightest.

Oh, how nice it felt to lord over a queen.

“Would you like to enjoy something a little more real?” Abagail asked.

Sol nodded; her face so wonderfully red.

Abagail obliged and pulled her fingers free, instead wiping them off upon Sol’s cheek, smearing it with saliva.

Sol winced at the action though stood strong, keeping quiet.

Abagail then took a step back, giving her beloved a little bit of room to fall to her knees. An offer that was quickly accepted as Sol obediently settled upon the ground in front of her. She was like a trained dog, instilled with a reflex to kneel before her betters.

Sol looked up with such a wonderfully dopey look in her eyes. It was strange to see such a regal figure debased in such a manner. Even after more than a year of consistent affairs, it was hard not to feel something strange about such things.

This was the ruler of a nation, the queen of a people, a leader, semi-divine in nature. Yet, right now, she looked like she was hungry for cock, depraved with lust. It was a beautiful sight to behold, one that made Abagail feel powerful.

What was a monarch to a Mistress?

Abagail reached for her pants and undid them, inching them downwards slowly at a tantalizing pace. As they settled around her plush thighs, they exposed a pair of panties that lingered underneath. There was a damp spot upon the front of them and a very distinctive bulge just under that.

Sol whimpered at the sight and made a move to dip forwards. Abagail allowed it, pleased to see her beloved bury her nose within them, drawing in a deep and pleasured breath. The heat in the Princess’ cheeks became more intense and it was obvious that her lust was growing in tandem.

“You are depraved, getting high off of my scent,” Abagail chastised. “What are you? Some kind of animal?”

And much like an animal, Sol started to make little pleading noises, like a semi-feral mutt. They weren’t words in the traditional sense but they still got a message across, one of lustful desperation and a desire for sin.

Abagail reached down and ran a hand through her beloved’s hair, stroking and scritching her behind the ear. Her eyes were dopey, lustful, bearing an intense amount of depraved pleasure.

“I wonder how much longer I should tease you for,” she whispered. “You seem desperate for this.”

Sol nodded and made some more unintelligible noises.

“Would you like me to fuck your mouth?” Abagail asked.

Sol didn’t need to speak nor nod as the answer was present in her eyes. This was a woman who wanted her throat swabbed. This was a lowly creature who wanted to choke on her Mistress’ cock and engage in all of the depravities that came with that.

This fact only made Abagail smile.

“Well then I suppose I shouldn’t be keeping the royal whore waiting a moment longer,” she chided. She reached for her boxers and pulled them down, exposing her pride.

Her cock sprung forth now that it was no longer restrained. A bead of something crude blossomed at the tip and started to drain downwards, along her shaft. She was sizeable by a lady’s standards being slightly above average in both girth and length.

Sol dipped forwards through Abagail drew back, wanting to taunt her some more.

“Aww do you really think I’m going to give it to you that easily?” Abagail asked.

She wrapped her hand around her shaft and started to slowly stroke it, more for show than actual stimuli. Her hand glided all the way up from the base to the tip where she collected her ration of pre before drawing it back down again. Then she repeated the process again and again, growing a little faster with each cycle.

All the while Sol just sat there and stared. It would seem that she was beyond words, beyond thoughts, just a horny little bundle of nerves that needed to be dealt with.

“Please…” Sol whispered.

Abagail smirked. “Please what?”

“Please let me have a taste,” Sol replied.

Abagail hummed and drew her hand away from her erection, instead holding two fingers just in front of her beloved’s face. They were slick and coated in her pre with a strand of nearly translucent arousal just lingering there.

“Then taste,” Abagail dictated.

Sol inched forwards and took the fingers between her lips again without reservation, suckling upon them quite fiercely. The taste seemed to garner some sort of reaction as she let out a pleasured little moan from the back of her throat.

Abagail snorted. “You really are such a depraved little creature. It’s a wonder that you were ever allowed to rule on your own.”

She pulled the fingers free and instead snapped them. “Might as well give you the real thing before you degrade yourself any further.” She snorted. “It’s actually starting to get a little sad how desperate you are for my cock.”

Sol leaned forwards and took the erection back between her lips, suckling upon it. She rolled her tongue around it in a couple of desperation motions, bobbing back and forth with a steady but shallow rhythm.

Abagail didn’t complain, knowing that she would find her stride soon enough as she always had.

And just to prove Abagail completely right, Sol threw herself into her performance with a growing determination. Soon, she was bobbing back and forth swiftly, gliding along with such incredible vigour. She suckled with a fury, slurping lewdly as she moved ahead like a woman possessed by some sort of truly lustful spirit.

Abagail bit her lip and couldn’t help but moan. Her Majesty was skilled in her art and loved to prove as much.

“You really were in the mood, weren’t you?” she teased.

Sol took a moment to nod before gliding down all the way to the base of Abagail’s erection. She buried her nose into her thin pubic bush and lingered there for a moment. It took a few seconds for her to gag but she still remained there. This was a goddess of lust and she would prove as much.

Though even a goddess had limitations as she drew back and rasped for breath, taking a proper moment to recover. Her performance had been impressive, earth shattering, and brash. It was difficult to find a fault in it, next to impossible to think of a single error.

Yet…

The Princess did not like praise, she craved a firmer hand and a crass personality.

So, Abagail reached out and gripped Sol’s hair, using it to yank her back and force her to look up. She sneered at Her Majesty and spat, splattering a glob of spit right upon her cheek.

“Is that really the best that you can manage, you stupid whore?” Abagail hissed.

She slapped Her Highness across the face with her erection, smearing all sorts of depraved fluids upon her cheek.

It was amusing to see Sol flinch, grimacing at the uncomfortable textures left behind by her blowjob. Though she still endured it because of course she would. She would endure plenty if it scratched those nasty little itches that so dominated her psyche.

“You’re adorable,” Abagail whispered. “But I’ll expect far more out of you if you really want to get me off.”

She guided Sol back down to her erection and used her leverage to start bobbing her along. Her pace was initially gentle as she glided her back and forth at a tame pace. Though it didn’t take long before she succumbed to her desires and started to get a little more forceful, pounding her back and forth with none of her prior kindness.

This was okay though; she knew that Sol could handle it. Or at least, she better handle it.

Soon, a series of sputtering gags erupted from Sol as her throat was prodded again and again, more and more forceful with every passing motion. It was adorable to see the Princess treated like this and Abagail knew for a fact she must’ve been soaking her panties.

“Fuck,” Abagail hissed.

She could feel that there was a fire taking root inside of her, kindling away with a fresh vigour. It was warm, pleasant, and lustful. This was an omnipresent reality at this point as she felt herself starting to succumb to the treatment.

Still, she continued to glide Sol along, not letting up no matter how much her partner gagged and sputtered against her pride. The Princess seemed to be in a sorry state, choking upon her cock with tears glistening in her eyes but she didn’t resist in the slightest.

Though Abagail couldn’t help but savour this state, loving the debasement. There was just something so powerful about the sounds and sensations of Sol’s misery as she got more and more desperate with her tongue work.

Oh, how divine she would’ve looked with a layer of cheap mascara mixed into her tears. Though not every engagement could be quite that perfect.

“Cheap whore,” Abagail growled. “Only good for sucking my cock and being a pair of warm holes to bury myself into at the end of the day. It’s a shame that people look to you for guidance when all you’re suited for is being a toy to do with as I please.”

The words landed and Abagail couldn’t help but smile as she saw the wonderful shade of red that had come to dominate Sol’s cheeks. It was so nice to see her in the grasp of lust, shivering before her on the floor. She struggled to look up, her gaze falling away from Abagail’s face and dropping down to her belly where it lingered.

As Sol continued with her routine, there was little that Abagail could do at this point to halt the impending pleasure. Her core was already taxed and it didn’t seem like she would be keeping up her vigour for much longer.

“I’m getting close,” Abagail whispered.

The mounting pleasure had snuck up on her as she was now teetering on the brink, mere moments away from plunging into such pleasurable waters.

Sol continued back and forth, back and forth, seeming to not care about such warnings. This was a slut on a mission. Her actions only added to Abagail’s pleasure as it rose to more and more of a fevered pitch.

Then, as the Princess slammed back down to the base of Abagail’s cock, she couldn’t hope to deny herself a moment longer. Her voice rose and she cried out, gasping as her form became a nexus for such intense pleasure.

And just like that, she tumbled over the edge and plunged into bliss, shivering as her body rode through the motions. Her cock twitched between Sol’s lips and she could feel that a strand of potent cum erupted from the tip and coated the inside of her beloved’s mouth.

Sadly, hormones were not a kind companion in this regard, ensuring that only a single spurt came forth to end this encounter.

She drew back and rustled Sol’s hair, offering a kind smile. “See, I knew you could do better.”

Sol gasped for breath, hiccupping as she tried to blink through the shroud of sex in her eyes. She simply nodded as her gaze settled upon the floor.

“Thank you,” Sol whispered. “I’m glad that I can please my Mistress.”

Abagail allowed her cock to linger there as it was now covered in a sheen of all sorts of perverse fluids. A droplet of something fat and white fell from the tip and landed upon the floor below.

“Well, are you going to leave me filthy, you dumb bitch?” Abagail asked, sounding quite terse.

Sol turned out to possess enough intelligence to understand that it was a bad idea to leave her Mistress in such a state. She leaned forwards and took Abagail’s limp cock between her lips, rolling her tongue around it and suckling it clean. It took only a couple dutiful seconds before she drew back once more, revealing a phallus that was practically sparkling clean.

“A passable performance,” Abagail grumbled.

She reached down and ran a hand through Sol’s hair, scratching her behind the ear.

“You loved it,” Sol teased, grinning at her.

Abagail hummed. “Is that so?”

“You only ever praise me if I’ve done a really good job,” Sol replied, sticking out her tongue. “And ‘passable performance’ seems oddly close to an actual compliment.”

Abagail snorted but couldn’t deny that this was the truth. The performance had been amongst Sol’s best and she was growing dangerously good at ushering forth her orgasm.

Sol drew in a breath and tried to compose herself, running a pair of hands down her face to try and return to whatever status quo she’d been in. It was adorable to see how quickly she could go from a cock hungry animal to something approaching a sentient being.

“So is Her Highness destressed enough to continue with her day’s work or does she need more of my expert care to whisk away her worries?” Abagail asked.

Though she already knew the answer as she moved away from her beloved and started to shed her attire, doing away with her pants and expensive blouse. She had a full-bodied figure with plenty of cushion in all of the right places. It was also a body which seemed to captivate her companion who couldn’t help but stare at her in awe.

“How am I this lucky?” Sol whispered.

Abagail smirked. “Shouldn’t a monarch only have the best?”

“I mean sure but it’s hard to…” Sol giggled and shook her head. “It’s bold of me to assume that I’m entitled to something as divine in nature as yourself.”

Abagail couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. “D-dork.”

“Your beauty alone is enough to turn me into a poet,” Sol teased.

Abagail lingered in the middle of the room for a moment, surveying her surroundings. She knew the tools she had at her disposal and it was now time to put them together into some sort of routine to really help Sol with her not-so-little worries.

Sol watched her, cocking her head to the side and bearing a coy little smile. They’d been together long enough that she was very much aware of their games and obviously knew that it was best just to wait patiently for them to unfold.

Abagail decided to walk over the chamber’s little living space and grab one of the ornate chairs that surrounded an equally ornate coffee table. She dragged it over to the centre of the room. It was a sturdy piece of furniture made of an impressive wood. The chair was cushioned and comfortable, but most importantly, had two sturdy armrests that wouldn’t budge under any kind of duress.

Sol smirked but continued to sit there, being a good little pet and waiting to be called upon when needed. She did however start to remove her clothes, doing away with the elegant garb she’d been wearing.

Her body was more slender than Abagail’s own, though not quite venturing into the realm of thin. She had soft skin, impossibly blemish free. This was really a member of nobility, a caste that had no room for even the smallest of imperfections, not so much as a pimple or a scar.

It was eerie in a way though Abagail did not voice this.

“Sit,” Abagail dictated.

Sol obeyed, getting to her feet and making her way over. She settled into the seat as if it were a throne, striking quite the domineer posture. It was clear that her royal dignity had fully recovered from the blowjob. Though this was no big deal as it just meant that there would be a fresh opportunity to shatter her persona once again.

Abagail knew this royal suite well as she moved over to a brick wall with a few ancient light fixtures upon it. She tugged on one and suddenly a section of wall pulled away, revealing what had once been an escape tunnel. Though it now acted as a storage locker of sorts, protecting a few modern looking boxes.

She opened one and saw Her Majesty’s collection of depraved trinkets and toys.

“How do you acquire these?” Abagail asked.

Sol smirked. “The same way that everyone does; by ordering them from the internet.”

“You willingly link your name to these?” Abagail whispered, cocking a brow.

“No of course not, I have them forwarded to a discrete post office box that’s under an alias and have a trusted chambermaid pick them up. She hides this secret and in exchange I allow her to use the same box for her own discretionary habits,” Sol explained, winking at Abagail. “Did you know that you can order hard drugs from the internet these days.”

“Bullshit,” Abagail whispered.

“It’s true!” Sol beamed. “I just googled ‘buy shrooms online’ and I got like five websites right off the bat.”

“There’s no way those are legit,” Abagail grumbled.

Sol shrugged. “Open the box buried at the very back then.”

Abagail noticed such a box tucked away, hidden even more amongst the stuff that was already contained inside a secret chamber. It wasn’t very large and was made of a high-quality cardboard that was coated in a shiny paper. She flipped it open and whistled, knowing that Her Majesty had not been lying.

“All this from the internet?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Sol nodded. “Maybe I’ll let you partake if you do well tonight.”

Abagail looked away and rolled her eyes. She didn’t need an incentive to do her job well.

Instead, she started to gather together the supplies that she would need for this afternoon’s affairs. They weren’t the most daunting of tools, mostly consisting of various lengths of hemp rope. Though she also grabbed a couple pieces of leather and latex. Along with a Hitachi Magic Wand that would get the Princess off nicely.

“Are you ready?” Abagail asked.

---

“I am,” Sol replied, offering a smile.

Her Majesty enjoyed the mystique that went into her beloved’s performances. There was something so tantalizing about being left in the dark, utterly clueless about what was going to unfold. After all, there was no fun in engaging with a narrative if you knew how it was going to end.

No one likes spoilers…

Abagail ensured that she came out with a cardboard box in her hands, further obscuring her collection of toys and tools.

A certain energy started to collect within Sol’s core, an intrigue that took on the form of pleasure. Her mind started to lay out scenarios, plans, philosophies, wondering which of them would be correct. She daydreamed about being beaten, being choked, being tormented in all sorts of strange and unique ways.

She bit her lip as these scenarios started to play out within her mind, each more tantalizing and depraved than the last.

Her mind was good at wandering, one of the many reasons that it was often occupied with such evil little thoughts that made it hard to endure her day-to-day life. This was a mind that could lay out so many sexual scenarios but was also seasoned at fretting over how diplomacy and politics would fall apart around her. It was a brain geared towards both creativity and anxiety.

Though before her mind could switch from the creative side to the anxious side, Abagail saved her by plopping down the box at her feet. The sound of it thudding upon the ground was enough to make Sol stiffen, sending a tingling warmth crawling up her spine.

She did so love the depraved, even more so when it was from someone this skilled at the helm.

“Your mind was starting to wander,” Abagail chastised.

There was a look in her eye that was mischievous and daring, tantalizing in its designs.

“It was,” Sol admitted. “Hard not to let it wander when there are so many fun little scenarios for us to engage in. You have a way of… keeping things fresh which makes it fun to fantasize about.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “Would you like to hear about the fantasy currently occupying my thoughts?”

She wasn’t surprised when she felt a smooth hemp fibre against her wrist, looping casually around it again and again. It wasn’t tight, yet, but she knew that it would be soon enough.

“Sure,” Abagail said.

Sol nodded, drawing in a breath as the bondage was finally tightened, pinning her arm firmly to the sturdy wood of the chair. It wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard she tried to rid herself of it.

“I’m thinking about you pulling a bag over my head,” she declared, humming. “You know that I am a total freak when it comes to breathplay.”

“As you’ve made me abundantly aware,” Abagail teased.

Sol opened an eye and watched her beloved move over to the other arm, using more hemp rope to firmly bind her to the chair. This was the point where she knew she had lost control and where she became completely dependent on her lover’s touch.

“And then you allow me to suffocate as you eat me out,” Sol declared, winking at her. “Maybe push it just a smidge too far and delve into the world of somnophilia.”

“Ah yes, regicide via erotic asphyxiation, I’m sure that would go over smashingly with the general populace,” Abagail teased before shaking her head. “Sorry, I’m being a brat and denying you a chance to properly articulate your completely deranged fetishes.”

Sol smirked and let out a faux sigh of dismay. “I’m used to it by now.” She then cleared her throat. “Anyways while I’m unconscious, I would then expect a video to be taken of me being defiled by yourself and an assortment of guards and servants.”

“You are a very demanding submissive,” Abagail chided.

She started to coil another strand of rope around Sol’s midsection, tying a series of loose knots around her stomach and torso, binding both of them to the chair. They weren’t tight but they got the job done, ensuring that she would have no choice but to stay put as requested.

“You have to admit that my fantasies are appealing,” Sol said. “Right?”

Abagail nodded. “They do have a certain enticing quality to them, I’ll admit. Though they do require me to exceed my comfort zone and also require me to find several palace staff who would be willing to fuck you while you’re unconscious.” She snorted. “Which I don’t think I really need to explain how poorly that would go over.”

“That would be…” Sol sighed. “A rather difficult barrier to cross.”

“Practically impossible,” Abagail corrected.

She now knelt before the Princess and started to bind her legs to those of the chair. Like with her arms these binds were tight and restrictive, ensuring that it would be rather difficult to slip free without assistance.

And as that final knot was finally secured in place, Sol couldn’t help but feel another pleasant tingle start to crawl up her spine. She shivered and bit her lips, unable to stop her mind from falling into the gutter. In this position she felt helpless, as weak as a baby.

A situation that Abagail was clearly well aware of as she drew away, having the smile and demeanour of a predator who was about to toy with its prey.

“Thankfully, I do have something in mind for you that I promise you’ll enjoy,” she said.

Abagail stood up and reached out, placing a hand upon Sol’s cheek. She offered a tender smile and then dipped forwards, kissing her upon the forehead.

Sol’s cheeks warmed at the gesture. It was strange but the tender moments were just as euphoric and passionate as the intensity of their lovemaking. It wasn’t a dynamic she was used to in the slightest, not a comfort she had grown familiar with, no matter how often they made love.

“Are you ready?” Abagail asked.

Sol nodded.

Abagail reached into her box and grabbed a shiny black blindfold. With care, she pulled it over her beloved’s eyes, denying her even a hint of light as she secured it in place with some buckles and straps in the back.

Sol couldn’t see anything as her vision turned into nothing more than a raw blackness.

Still, she could hear Abagail move, heading back towards her little box of trinkets and tools. She drew something else out and moved to Sol’s side. Soon, she could feel something metal placed underneath her hand.

It was a baton.

“Your safeword,” Abagail explained. “Drop that and I’ll free you as quickly as I can.”

Sol nodded and drew in a breath. “Will I not be able to speak?”

The answer came soon enough as she felt a bar of silicon pressed against her lips. She didn’t need to be told otherwise as she opened her mouth. It tasted sterile and clean, being just wide enough to keep her mouth open. Abagail tightened it in the back and it wasn’t long before drool started to seep forth.

Sol must’ve been quite the sight to behold: bound, blinded, and now gagged, looking like the pathetic little creature that she knew she was.

“Not too tight? Not too painful?” Abagail asked.

Sol shook her head and tried to make an affirmative noise though it came out as nothing more than an incoherent syllable from around her gag.

Abagail snorted. “God, you really are such a pathetic creature.” She reached out, collecting a nice dollop of saliva upon her fingers and rubbing it into Sol’s complexion. “Imagine what all of those useless nobles would think if they saw you like this.”

She withdrew her hand but for only a moment before she slapped Sol right across the face. The blow wasn’t sharp but the action alone was humiliating in its own right. And that humiliation was the pain, burning with a shame that just felt…

Well, it felt kind of nice actually.

It was hard to explain the specific cocktail of chemicals that toyed with Sol’s mind. Still, it was nice to be put into such a submissive position. A queen had many worries but what worries did a mere toy have to contend with. All a toy had to worry about is if it was useful to the person using it. A toy just needed to be warm and clean.

A toy was such a carefree thing to be and, in that moment, Sol thought of herself as merely a toy.

Abagail then ducked away, returning to her box. She lingered there for only a moment before coming back up and using her hand to brush Sol’s hair out of the way, exposing her ears.

What was this…

She felt two solid objects clamp down upon the side of her head. They were sturdy and most importantly seemed to rob her of all surrounding sound. Sol couldn’t hear a thing besides for the beating of her own heart. Though a moment later, a soft melody was played over a pair of speakers built into the object. It was a soft song, happy in its melody.

Still the song denied her another sense. Now with both vision and hearing gone, Sol was adrift, reliant upon so few remaining senses. Her taste was dominated by the silicon bit, her scent occupied by the same material, meaning that both were equally unreliable.

Touch was maybe the last sensation she could focus on with some degree of reliability. It wasn’t perfect as the fibre of the rope was the main thing she felt. Still, she could sense movement as Abagail moved around her. Though the woman weaved back and forth, seemingly at random, making it rather difficult to accurately focus in upon her location.

Until finally, even this failed her when she thought Abagail was to her left only for her to prod her from the right, touching one of her more ticklish spots and causing her to snicker against the gag.

The loss of senses was enticing in its own right, tantalizing even. It made her feel even more disconnected from the world at large, further adrift in a dark sea of strange vibes.

Her world was disconnected, hard to piece together as she desperately tried to sense her lover. It was isolating as she tried her best to grasp onto anything outside of her immediate surroundings.

Still, there was no hope at trusting touch any longer. Her only option was to succumb to the darkness and become one with it, surrendering her psyche to this lack of external sensations.

Sol soon felt something press against her lower lips. A moment later, it started to vibrate against them. It was a tame sort of pleasure, manageable though she could feel herself moaning against the gag, spittle flying from the bar crammed between her teeth.

Her body grew tense as the pleasure started to ebb throughout it. Now her world abandoned the darkness and she started to focus in upon this sensation alone. It was intense and powerful, singular in a world without sight or sound. It was hot and passionate, feeding into the lust that was nestled within her core.

Sol’s hips rocked forward against it and the wand seemed to gauge her desire, growing more intense in its pleasure.

One of Abagail’s hands soon rested upon her shoulder, kneading into it gently. She massaged her beloved queen for a moment before allowing her fingers to trail down, moving along her collarbone and towards her breasts. Her final destination was one of Sol’s puffy little nipples as she gave it a rough squeeze, causing Sol to gasp and jerk forwards, only restrained by her bondage.

Even without hearing it she knew that Abagail was chuckling, reveling in her torment. This woman was apt at the art of discomfort and seemed to take pleasure in the power that her sinful little post bestowed.

The wand pressed harder against Sol’s pussy and grew even more intense, bordering on that dangerous realm of overstimulation. Though thankfully this was stayed for just a moment, allowing Sol to revel in the utmost form of pleasure available to her.

Good little slut…

Those words may not have been spoken but she knew them well, knowing that she must’ve been quite the sight to behold. A princess bound to a chair with lovebites upon her body and rocking forwards against a wand like she was some kind of desperate whore.

The mental image was enticing, filling her with even more lust.

Sol was approaching the edge, stumbling towards that fabled little point on the horizon where the final pleasure resided. It wouldn’t be much longer now. The vibrations were too intense in their relentless treatment. This was the inevitable conclusion and there was nothing that could deny her.

Though apparently, she really should’ve knocked on a wood. The wand drew away, the torment expertly performed as she was brought right to the brink, allowed to dance upon it before the ceaseless pleasure was robbed from her.

Sol whined softly, feeling drool pooling within her mouth. She groaned and knew that she was making such pathetic noises against the bit currently jammed between her teeth.

Once more, she swore she could hear a phantom voice chuckling.

Soon, Abagail’s hands were upon her body, caressing and fondling. She squeezed at all the right places, groped at her breasts, and played with her nipples. Her mouth joined in upon the fray as she planted kisses upon every inch of exposed flesh: stomach, breasts, neck, and shoulder; none were safe from her treatment.

Though these kisses soon took on a more sinister angle as teeth became involved as well. Sol gasped as Abagail nipped at her flesh, gently at first, allowing those sharp canines to be felt across her body. They were a warning and soon followed up on as Abagail sank her teeth firmly into Sol’s plush thigh.

The pain was bearable but still drew forth a sharp gasp from the Princess as she struggled against her restraints. She whimpered and could actually feel the rumble of laughter as Abagail shook gently against her thigh.

Sol wished for the wand but got something else as she felt a tongue lap away at her folds, dragging slowly between them. It teased her tender lips but soon parted them as she pushed inside. She gasped as Abagail started to swirl it around, moving with a practiced and seasoned ease. It seemed like nothing could slow it as it moved with such vigour and shameless power.

Abagail was a woman who knew her well. As such, she had no issue with finding all of the little places that garnered the most excitable of reactions. Sol’s pleasure mounted with every passing moment and she soon realized that a more tactical response was far more effective than any magic wand could ever hope to be.

Her back arched and she once more felt herself heading towards the edge. She braced herself for disappointment, knowing that it would be just upon the horizon as Abagail had proven. There was no way she’d be allowed to climax, no reality where she’d experience pleasure without an asterisk attached to it.

Yet, with every passing moment and with every movement of Abagail’s tongue, Sol grew closer and closer to the brink. She knew that her moans were relentless, hearing them even over the low beat of music.

There was a fire that was kindling inside of her core and it seemed to heighten with every passing moment, growing more and more dire.

When would the shoe drop, when would this all come to its regrettable end?

Surely, this could not continue forever, this could not be the end? Would Abagail truly be kind and allow her to climax without hindrance?

Then it happened, one final lick as the tongue formed a tight little circle inside of her. A thumb reached up and brushed against Sol’s clit, tickling it slightly. The twin strokes of pleasure were a powerful combination and knocked Her Majesty over the edge.

Her whole body grew tense and strained against the ceaseless bondage. She shuddered violently and knew that she was panting viciously against the gag, feeling spittle break free and fly forth. The pleasure ebbed throughout her and she felt her juices gush out and splatter against Abagail’s face, surely overwhelming her.

Sol’s orgasm was long and ceaseless, as she rocked her hips feebly forwards with what little motion she still retained. Surely, there was no way that Abagail could ever hope to enjoy such a large ration of lust. Surely, she would’ve drowned if she attempted it.

Yet, Abagail remained in place, still licking and lapping, trying to make this last as long as possible. She showed no hint of discomfort, no sense of slowing. Her actions made the orgasm grow even longer and longer, seemingly endless.

It took many moments before it finally slowed. And only then did Abagail finally draw back, smacking her lips together.

Sol breathed heavily against the gag, wheezing for air as she tried to bring some semblance of order to her lust-ridden mind.

Slowly, Abagail stood up and moved around to the back and the chair. Her first action was to remove the headset, carefully placing it aside.

Sol could now hear herself breathing. It sounded wet and desperate from around the gag, feeble and weak, pathetic even. She revelled in such things, loving how overwhelmed she sounded.

Next, Abagail removed the bit, giving Sol a chance to rest her jaw. She hadn’t realized the discomfort that had built up until the silicon was gone. There was now a prevalent dull throb in her muscles that didn’t seem like it would be abating any time soon.

“How was that?” Abagail asked.

Sol drew in a breath. “That was…” She shook her head. “That was intense and absolutely divine, my love.”

“I could tell,” Abagail teased. “I don’t think I have ever seen an orgasm last that long before. You were… you were quite the sight to behold. I almost wish I would’ve brought a camera along so I could take some pictures.”

The thought of pictures excited Sol, especially when her lewd little mind thought about how those pictures could be used against her. Blackmail was a dark subject but unfortunately her mind had an apt bias towards loving things that weren’t strictly ethical.

“You can always take one on your phone if you’d like,” Sol whispered.

Abagail snorted. “Oh, I did but… sadly my resolution doesn’t do justice in showing off your true beauty.”

Sol shivered as she felt Abagail touch her shoulders, massaging into them tenderly. The woman who had put her through the wringer was now caressing her flesh, stroking at her soft skin. It was a strange but pleasant juxtaposition, knowing that both brutality and kindness could come from the same woman.

“You know, I do so enjoy getting to play with my little slut,” Abagail teased.

Sol flushed. “I-I’m glad that I meet your standards, Mistress.”

“I’m proud of my little girl,” Abagail quipped. “I remember when we first started out with our sessions together. You were so new to things and it felt like I had to be so careful with you lest you break. But seeing how you’ve grown and how depraved you’ve become it’s…” She ran a careful hand down Sol’s cheek. “It’s nice.”

She finally reached up and removed the blinders, placing them aside and allowing Sol to see once again.

The first thing Sol did was look down at herself, flushing as she saw the way that her essence had soaked into the pricy material of her chair. Next, she felt an intense pleasure blossom as she noticed that various marks that had been left behind upon her flesh with little lovebites and teeth marks coating her entire body.

“My gods…” Sol whispered.

Abagail snickered. “Don’t worry, most of them will be covered by your dress. Though a few might require some clever use of makeup in order to hide.”

She reached out and gripped Sol’s hair, yanking back upon it. The Princess gasped as she was snapped back in such a brutish fashion, her poor locks straining under the abuse. Her eyes were wide and frantic, filled with quite a lustful quality.

Abagail leaned forward and drew close to Sol’s ear, whispering into it. “Though you and I will know about all those pesky little bruises that are lingering just under your attire. It can be our fun little secret.”

“Y-yes Mistress,” Sol whispered.

Abagail didn’t release her hair and instead bit down upon her ear, sharply digging her teeth into it. Sol gasped and quivered, quaking against the abuse. Her breath came out in terse little puffs, desperate for the pain to let up.

“Gods… I love being a stone-cold bitch with you,” Abagail teased as she finally drew away. “I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Sol whispered, unable to stop herself from letting out a nervous string of strained laughter.

Abagail let go of her hair and knelt behind the chair, starting to work on the various knots that clung to Sol’s body. She worked through them slowly but efficiently, pulling them free one after another until they were all undone.

Once Sol was freed, Abagail moved around to the front of the chair and offered her hand.

Sol looked at it and smirked as she took it and carefully got to her feet. Her legs wobbled underneath her but she managed to stay up right, fighting through the fatigue of lovemaking.

“I hope your royal urges have been sated,” Abagail said.

Sol nodded. “They are very much sated. Thank you for the assistance in occupying my mind.”

Though at the mention of occupying her mind, she suddenly felt the tendrils of her prior anxieties starting to seep back in.

Abagail glanced at her and seemed to pick up on this as well as she placed a hand gently upon Sol’s cheek. “Maybe some cuddling will continue to occupy your thoughts for a little while longer?”

She then leaned forwards and planted a tender kiss upon Sol’s lips. The kiss worked wonders at taking all of those pesky little worries and pushing them away from her brain, even if the siege was only temporarily lifted.

“Maybe it would,” Sol agreed, offering a thin smile. “And I certainly see no harm in trying.”

Together they moved towards Sol’s bed.

“I uh…” Sol bit her lip. “I hope that these distractions are not taking away from your design or slowing your progress.”

“They are slowing it a little,” Abagail quipped. “But I only see that as a net benefit as it gives me more of an excuse to spend some time with you.”

Sol giggled. “That uh… that is a benefit, yes.”

They reached the bed and Sol flopped upon it, sighing in relief as the soft material of her bedding embraced her body. Experiencing such softness after being put through the wringer only made it more obvious how intense things had been.

At the rate they were going, it was going to be hard to one up something like tonight’s performance.

Abagail settled down beside her and rolled to face her, placing a hand upon her cheek. “You look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you,” Sol whispered, feeling some red enter her complexion.

“I always wonder how a mere mortal like myself got so lucky to have a muse of your calibre,” Abagail whispered. She leaned forwards and planted yet another tender kiss upon her cheek before trailing down along her neck. Her hand reached out and caressed at her side. “Why did you pick me?”

“You are skilled at your craft,” Sol replied. “And you also have a personality that dwarfs any of your competitors.” She smirked. “They curtsy and pledge their honours and follow every protocol ever written but to spend hours and days with a person like that…” She shook her head. “I wish to feel like a normal person sometimes and you do a good job of accomplishing that.”

“I’m glad that you think so,” Abagail whispered.

Sol rolled over and allowed her lover’s hands to wrap around her body, holding her close. She was warm, comforting, an island in the ocean, an oasis in the desert.

Abagail kissed her on the back of the neck. “I am worried though.”

“About?” Sol asked.

“You have such an appetite for the depraved and I worry that I am rapidly running out of fresh material to entertain you with,” Abagail chided. “I worry that at the rate we’re going, you won’t be sated until I’ve committed actual regicide.”

Sol snorted. “I think you might be over exaggerating. I am not nearly that depraved.”

“You were asking me to pull a plastic bag over your head not even twenty minutes ago,” Abagail replied, kissing the back of her neck. “Or did I mishear that?”

“Alright… alright… I might be slightly depraved,” Sol chided, giggling to herself. “But it’s most unkind of you to point that out.” She shook her head. “I promise you that I am nowhere close to tiring of your performances. They are… they are most excellent.”

“Most excellent,” Abagail parroted. “Then you’ve helped settle my own anxieties.”

“Though…” Sol bit her lip.

Abagail cocked a brow. “Hmm?”

“If you were to pull a plastic bag over my head…” Sol started.

Abagail groaned and buried her face into the crock of Sol’s neck.

“Kidding, kidding,” Sol replied, giggling to herself. “I have some self-restraint even if I am bad at showing it.”

“That is yet to be seen,” Abagail grumbled.

Sol smirked. “I love you, Abagail.”

“I love you too, Sol,” Abagail replied.

For a moment, it seemed like there would be a calm, that her duties were absent from her life for once. For a brief moment, it seemed like domestic bliss might be something that was actually achievable if only for a short duration.

Then there was a firm knock at the chamber door.

Sol groaned and Abagail peeled herself away from her.

“Your Majesty,” a courtier bellowed. “I have a dispatch that you must attend to.”

“Can I execute him,” Sol grumbled.

Abagail snorted. “I have no interest in bedding a tyrant.”

“Fine!” Sol exclaimed before standing up and addressing the door. “Give me five minutes! The royal seamstress is still taking my measurements!”

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