by Sebastian.

They say that tyranny is bad. I wouldn't know about that, but it's
good to be the Queen.


This one was going to be good, I could feel it. He'd chopped through a
company of my better guards already, with really quite impressive
efficiency. And he was getting close to the throne room now; I could
hear the yelling in the great hall outside. So I shooed away the pretty
little slave who was sucking my toes---no sense in her getting in the
way---and summoned my chancellor from his seat at the side of the room.
He drew his sword and placed himself before the throne, to defend me.
It was sweet, really---he's not much of a fighter, but so loyal and

My throne room was long and narrow and quite simple, as such things go.
The high ceiling was of carven oaken beams, and lush red velvet draped
the walls. My throne sat on a raised dais at one end of the room, with
five wide steps down to the marble floor. There were only two other
chairs, hard wooden ones, for my privileged ministers. I liked to make
my supplicants kneel on bare marble---it discouraged them from wasting
my time.

I adjusted my gowns, making sure I was displaying a sufficiency of
cleavage, and checked that my weapons were properly at hand. Fingering
my most elegant wand (a lovely blond ashwood inlaid with jet and
silver), I laid back on my throne in the decadently languorous style
my subjects expect of me.

And . . . CUE!


The tall, narrow oaken doors to the throne room were flung open by the
Captain of the Guard. "Mistress! The barbarian is come!" he cried,
whirling to close the doors behind him.

He was just a moment too slow. A great kick slammed the doors open
again, and the barbarian hero burst into the room. His glowering
blue eyes burned at the sight of her, and his golden locks were wet
with the exertion of having come this far.

Grimly, he pressed the attack on the guard captain, his magickal sword
gleaming like water. The captain was very good, even superb, but the
invader was simply better. He forced the captain to give ground, again
and again, step by painful step. Soon the captain's clothing was stained
carmine in half a dozen places, and then his attacker beat his block
aside once again, and the captain's wounded arm had not the strength
to pull back in time. A thrust through the heart finished it.

The chancellor exclaimed, "No! Flee, my mistress!" He charged forward
bravely to defend his Queen.

Almost contemptuously the invader brushed the chancellor's sword aside,
and on the return stroke hacked deeply into the chancellor's neck. He
crumpled, and was finished with a stab to the torso before he hit the
ground. He heart's-blood began to pump out voluminously onto the
polished marble floor.

"So, you stay to face me, witch? I had not thought you had the courage.
But do not think it will temper my wrath! You face a just vengeance, and
your tyranny dies here!" He began to stalk towards the throne, his
broad thighs and muscular shoulders tensely corded. A peasant girl,
rather strikingly pretty, darted into the chamber behind him.

The Queen rose gracefully from her throne.

"Fool!" she cried. "You dare to challenge the Sorceress Queen of
Deskan in her own palace!" With a trivial flick of her wand, a
shimmering transparent curtain of flame sprang up in front of the
warrior, dividing the chamber entirely in two. With another flick,
a similar curtain appeared in the doorway, blocking any retreat.

"And I see you brought your slutty sister, too. Lovely. You are
trapped, and you will both pay for your insolence."

The Queen grinned venomously.

"Wrong, bitch." The barbarian grunted, and slashed with his enchanted
blade at the flamewall. It sliced through effortlessly, and with a few
further quick sweeps, the wall evaporated like mist on a hot day.

The Queen dropped her wand in astonishment as the invader again stalked
forward. Abruptly a knife, concealed in her sleeve, dropped into her
hand and she flung it at his eye.

Casually he batted the blade out of the air. It clattered onto the
marble, and he continued his advance.

A trace of fear flashed across her face as she yanked her sword from
hiding under the throne. A smile of triumph spread across his.

Their swords clashed and rang like bells. She was quick and dextrous
and expertly skilled, and his was not the only magickal blade in the
room. Still, he outmassed her by more than double; his arms were like
tree trunks and his swings drove her back until she was pinned against
the rear wall behind the throne, her back against the rich tapestries.
He caught her sword wrist with his free hand. With viselike strength
he bent her wrist backwards until her grip went limp and her sword
clattered to the floor. Then he threw her from the throne dais.
She stumbled down the shallow steps and landed heavily on the
hard marble floor, on her back. Her full bosoms heaved under her
revealing gown as she gasped for breath, sprawled at his mercy.

He had none.

As he began the mighty stroke that would end her accursed life . . .
suddenly she smiled broadly.


Ooh, I just love their manly little grunts when they think they're
winning. I think I like them before almost as much as I like playing
with them after.

But nonetheless, it's about time to end this particular part of the

"Enough," and with a flick of my fingers I paralysed him in mid-chop.

The look on his face was so comical.

I took my time getting to my feet and readjusting my gown. One of my
tits had popped out again, so I had to reseat the darling. I didn't rush
about it; I let my hero have a nice long look at my tingly stiff nipple.
I'm quite proud of my breasts, two high, round cantaloupes with tight
dusky nipples. They're quite perfect. After all, I shaped them myself.

I stretched, and took a regal look around my throne room. "Tsk, what
a mess." The girl was cowering on her knees in the middle of the room.
I let her be. I waved shut the big doors at the far end of the hall,
and with another gesture stopped my ex-captain and ex-chancellor from
bleeding any more on my floor. Then I turned to my hero.

"You should be careful with these things." I removed the sword from his
hand, and tossed it in the corner. "Someone could get hurt.

"Ah, my boy. You've publically declared yourself my mortal enemy.
You've assaulted my palace. You've killed some of my best men. AND
you have dared to lay hands on my person. What do you imagine is the
penalty for these things?"

I reached up and caressed his immobile jawline. I love this teasing. My
luscious cunt was getting all squishy, and I'd barely gotten started.

"And yet, you are so very handsome, in a dirty, battle-scarred kind of
way. I bet you have a heroic chest." I slipped under his frozen arm to
stand behind him, and with a conjured dagger I neatly sliced his armour
open. It fell with a clatter around his ankles.

I slipped my hands around his waist and up under his shirt. His powerful
muscles were taut and corded. I ran my fingers over their sexy ridges,
and tweaked his hard little man-nipples. Mmm.

"You've earned death several times over, my boy. And yet, I can be
merciful. Tell me, what do you think I should do?"

I released him on that straight line.


He spun on me and grabbed my neck with a big meaty paw and lifted me off
my feet. I'm just a little slip of a girl, barely 5'6", and of
course I have no excess fat, so I weigh maybe 105 lbs. It was so easy
for him as he slammed me to the ground and dropped with his knees to pin
my arms and drove his powerful thumbs under my jaw to choke the life
from me. I wriggled vainly, succeeding only in dragging the cherrypit
nubs of my nipples against the backs of his straining thighs.

I let him just begin to wonder why I wasn't dying. Then I flung him
off me. I was on my feet and over him before his silly puny normal
brain could register what was happening. I seized him by his throat
and lifted him bodily from the ground, holding his neck rigidly bent
backwards so his scrabbling feet couldn't find purchase to support him.
The contrast was exquisite: his massive musculature, no doubt the
pride of his existence, utterly helpless under my slender fingers and
elegantly muscled outstretched feminine arm. I took a moment to enjoy
the sheer eroticism of my strength.

"No," I said. "I don't think I will."

I tossed him against the wall. He hit about five feet up and crashed to
the floor. I darted across the hall and grabbed him again as he hit.
I pirouetted and flung him skittering across the floor. He hit the
far wall head-first with a crack, and ceased to move.

Oops. They're so fragile, my toys. It was very pleasant to exert
myself a bit, but I didn't really want to break this one just yet.

I touched his mind, and was pleased that all his parts were still in
order. He was just out for a couple minutes.

I strolled over and flipped him onto his back. Ooh, nasty bump, my
boy. That one's going to hurt. I ripped off his shirt, flexing
sensuously as I shredded the stiff fabric, and then fondled his hard
pecs. His heartbeat was strengthening.

I leaned against the wall over him and stroked my breasts while I
waited for him to come to. The darlings had popped out again. I
suppose that wouldn't happen so often if I didn't wear such scandalous
clothing, but then what would that do for my image? Besides, the dears
do so like to be free. I slid two fingers between my lips, then ever
so lightly painted my saliva around my crinkly areola. My fingers
trail down around the swollen globes of my tits, teasing the sensitive
undersides. That sent sparks right to my crotch, so I stopped. I had
a more interesting game to play tonight, and my hero was waking up.

I let him blink his eyes, and remember where he was. He started to
surge to his feet, but I stepped on his chest and kept him where he was.
Strangely enough, *this* time he couldn't budge cute little me even a
hairsbreadth. Stupid bastard didn't seem to understand that I could
stamp my foot right through his rib cage at any moment I chose, though,
or else he did and didn't care, because he kept on struggling. Annoyed,
I paralysed him again to make him sit still.

"You still don't get it, do you? You don't have a chance. You *never*
had a chance."

Well and all. So he was slow. That was disappointing, but I could
always use brawn as well as brains, and brawn my hero had in excess.

I settled down to straddle his torso, pulling my gown aside so that my
creaming nether lips could press against his skin. More sparks. I
caught my breath ever so delicately, and let my breasts sway in his

"You see, I am not your Queen. I am your Goddess, and you cannot fight
a Goddess.

"I am indescribably stronger than you.

"I am absurdly faster than you.

"You could never *imagine* beating me in a remotely fair fight.

"*Our* fight, mind you, was not remotely fair.

"You see, you were using a sword. And blades? Well, you see . . ." I
picked up my knife and sliced it across my palm. My flesh was laid open,
though no blood welled out. The lips of the wound promptly sealed
themselves back together, and in a second there was no sign that my skin
had ever been other than flawless. There was pain, of course, but only
the pleasantly spicy kind.

I stood, leaving a cooling oval of my wetness matting down his furry
chest. My scent would be in his nose now, invading his brain.

"And then, of course, I could do *this* to you whenever I wanted. Why
don't you get up?" I smiled nastily. "Oh, that's right, you can't.
Once you entered my presence, your will and your body were mine.

"No, you were never my enemy. You were my *entertainment*. I *let*
you come here, for surely you cannot imagine that the guards in a
Goddess' palace are anything but *decorations*. You are live theatre
fit for a Queen. You have performed magnificently so far, but the play
is far from over.

"Get up." He got to his feet, stiffly, fighting his own body.

"Face me." He did.

"Prostrate yourself." He sprawled out flat, nose to the floor. I stooped
and with a few quick strokes of my knife, peeled off his remaining

"You are naked and humbled before your Goddess, hero, and yet I sense you
still have something to say. Speak."

His words were mumbled, since his nose was still squashed to the marble,
but his tone was wonderfully defiant. "Harlot, you may have taken my
body, but you will never have my soul. You can only kill me---never will
I give you pleasure."

I had to laugh. "But my hero, you have already given me so much
pleasure. And yet, I will have your body *and* your soul. I have let
you kill my captain and my chancellor, and so the least you can do is
supply me a replacement. For the captain, I should think---his job
seems more within your abilities.

"But you seem so reluctant, and I cannot understand why. Surely what
I ask is only my due as your Goddess."

He grunted.

"Such animosity! Whyever for? Surely it is not because I had your
mother raped and your father castrated. And it couldn't be because
they died screaming when I had them burned alive." I doodled idly with
my fingernail on his tight ass.

"Wait, I know! Perhaps it is because I had your slut sister enslaved
and brought here to be used as a palace whore, night after night.

"Stand, hero, and look at her. Does it anger you to know she served my
entertainment for two years, that I watched in this very room as she
fucked squads of guardsmen and stableboys and, when their come was
still dripping down her legs, went on to fuck their dogs and horses?"
The girl on the floor, who still hadn't moved, moaned softly. "So that
when she escaped and told you what had happened and that she knew a
secret way in, you went mad and swore vengeance upon me?"

My hero hissed between his teeth, involuntarily.

"Oh yes, hero, I knew that. You cannot have secrets from me. And
besides, don't you think your sister did a wonderful job of persuading
you for me?"

He gasped again, looking gut-punched.

I let him stare at her for a long moment. "You were set up, hero, set
up and betrayed by your own slut sister.

I turned to the girl. "Slave, who is your Mistress?"

"You are, my Queen," she replied, still looking down, her forehead pressed
to the marble.

"You have done well, slave. You may strip and claim your reward."

"Oh, *thank-you*, my Mistress."

She shimmied out of her shapeless peasant blouse and skirt, revealing
that soft, ripe body that had amused me so many nights. She crawled
eagerly to me, head still low and eyes averted, dragging her lovely
big tits across the cold marble.

I let my gown drop to the floor, baring my flawless body entirely. The
girl reached me, and began frantically licking my feet in months-delayed

"Turn and look at me, hero. Watch your sister claim the reward she

Languourously I laid back on the carpeted steps of the dais and spread
my legs, giving my hero a long slow look at my black-furred sex. It
seems too large for my body, with meaty slick lips that emerge grasping
when I am needy; my cunt is a wild animal so I am always needy.

The girl slid up my legs, rubbing her wide pale nipples against my
thighs, her ass in the air flaunting her pussy in my hero's face.
She reached her goal and stroked her tongue up my distended cuntlips,
one long wet lick bottom to top.

She seized and twitched and came instantly.

But this slave had been well trained. Her orgasm made the barest of
pauses in her service of my sex, and she was talented. Her tongue was
everywhere, and was many instruments at once. It lightly teased my
outer lips, and plunged wriggling to stimulate my core. It scooped out
my cream, shovel-like, and smeared about my thighs. It warmed my
clit with soft strokes and buzzed it with quick ones. When at last she
clamped her lush lips on my long nub, I came with a rush. My juice
squirted her and she drank greedily.

I let the girl continue licking softly, happily.

"You see how talented your sister is, hero? Her show has made you so
needy, I can see your cock straining for her hole. Truly, you are
impressively hung, my hero, your sister didn't lie. Oh yes, she told
me of you, of how much she has wanted you ever since I showed her what
it is to be a woman."

She moaned, and flexed her butt invitingly. My hero's eyes were locked
on her sex. I could see him fighting his lust, but he didn't realise
he still had no chance. The scent of my musk filled the room, and was
anointed on his chest, and no man can resist the command of his
Goddess' cunt.

"Your sister is a depraved little slut, hero, and she needs you. Fuck
her, hero. Do your vile deed on her ass, ram your mighty raping pole
up your own sister's cunt, hero, and know you act of your own free will."

He was twitching, hesitating, his near foot-long cock iron-hard and
demanding. His stare was ravishing her dripping pussy already, but
still he fought me with every will he had left.

"Oh please oh please do me oh please," the girl began to murmur into my
sex. "I need it I need it fuck me oh please..."

Abruptly my hero could stand it no longer. With two long steps forward
he fell to his knees and sank his tremendous prong into her cunt in one
sharp thrust. She gasped, and locked her lips around my throbbingly
erect clit.

My hero's hips were a blur as he pounded his sister's hole. His hands
squeezed and fondled her luscious ass, desperately, roughly. She
bucked and grunted and shoved her hips back to meet each driving

She was such a well-trained and talented slave slut. Yet, I could not
let my hero come yet, and plainly he would not last long in his sister's
sopping embrace.

I closed my powerful thighs around her head and twisted once, sharply.
There was a wet crack, and her body went limp.

Almost a shame to waste her, really.

My hero stopped his fucking and stared at me, the first time, I think,
he had actually seen me since the slut opened her cunt in his face.
I yanked her off his dick and effortlessly tossed her corpse into the

There was a look of utter bafflement on his face, warring with insane
hatred. He didn't know whether to attack me or fuck me or to just flee
for his life.

"Running would be the wise thing, hero. In fact, if you can run now,
right this minute, I'll let you go. Completely free."

I gestured, and the doors to the great hall swung open. I stepped
forward, advancing on him like a hunting panther. "If you can leave
now, you're free. I won't stop you."

I reached him and pushed into him, my firm full tits against his chest,
his raging erection pressed against my belly. I dipped a finger in my
cunt and then wiped its oil under his nose. He was immobile like a
statue, but this time not of physical compulsion.

"You can't leave. You need to come. You need to come in *me*. You
need *me*, your sworn enemy, your hated captor, your Goddess. You need
me to fuck you.

"I have conquered your body, and now I will take it."

I shoved him backward. He toppled over and landed on his ass; I leapt
on him and pushed him flat on his back with one hand and I grabbed his
cock with the other and my hand could barely close around it and stuffed
it in my cunt and began to fuck. It filled me so full I pistoned up and
down on it I could feel the ridge of the head dragging against my walls
my cunt spasmed and rippled and sucked and squeezed my hero lay bolt-
stiff eyes wide shocked by the electric charge of my thrusting sucking
squeezing slamming coming coming coming Goddess cunt. His cock swelled
and burst and filled my insides with hot spew.

I arched my back and seized and came. My orgasm went on and on. My
nipples ached like diamonds and my calves shook and my fingernails
carved into the marble floor.

When my cunt finally stopped twitching, I lay still for a while, just
appreciating the impressive fullness inside me. Then I pulled off my
hero with a wet pop. I stood and went back to my throne.

My hero groggily got to his feet.

"Come here." He did, and not because I made him.

"Look at me." His stare was sullen and hostile, bearing a hatred he
had no energy to act on.

"Look into my eyes." He did, and his eyes widened like saucers and
he fell to his knees and whimpered.

For I *am* a goddess, and as mortal man cannot look upon me without
desiring me, neither can he gaze into my eyes without loving me with
all his heart and soul.

His punishment will be to know that he did not love me when I granted
him my body, and that I will never again favour him this way. And
he will serve me fiercely and loyally for all his remaining days,
hopelessly awaiting forgiveness that I will never offer.


Is it not a lovely thing to be the Queen?