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You aren't sure how to react when you find the slip of paper inviting you to the Junker Queen’s party slipped under your door.
The anniversary of her win against King Howl and subsequent take-over of his throne was the cause of celebration this time of the year. You knew other townsfolk would consider you a fool (perhaps even a traitor) for rejecting the offer to attend. You’re honestly more surprised the Queen remembered to have one of her lackeys deliver the paper to you, meaning she specifically wrote down your name on a list and expected your arrival once the date rolled around. Hardly wanting to displease your leader, you spent the next couple weeks collecting enough scrap to sell for a new pair of boots, less-worn clothes, and a used bottle of perfume to make yourself as appealing as possible when you inevitably ran into her at the event.
You two hadn’t interacted with each other since the night in the alleyway but the encounter was far from lost in your head. Admittedly, you were anxious about stepping out of the bar to find her again every time you went there afterward. You didn’t know how well you’d take seeing her with anyone else either. You often found yourself daydreaming selfishly about those rough, calloused hands holding you by the bare skin of your hips and pulling you down into a powerful thrust that buried the thick, rigid shaft of your Queen firmly into your greedy core. You want to see the lust in the intense red of her eyes as she taunts you while you take the full length of her past your lips again, reminding you that she intended to use you solely for her pleasure, your own release a generous afterthought that she would consider addressing once you had fulfilled your duties to her. Even now, as you dress for the event, your sex aches to be filled and your skin marked, claimed by the strongest woman in the Wasteland for all to see.
You command these thoughts to the back of your mind as you head out for the night, weaving through crowds of townsfolk on your way to the Queen’s party. While the entire town celebrated, only those who received the special invitation to her event were allowed to see and mingle with her on this day. You feel honored to be one of these selected few and approach the side entry of the Scrapyard building with an air of confidence that you hardly get to indulge in. You present the paper to the guard stationed outside the doorway. After snatching it from your hand to peer at the writing, he steps out of the way to let you inside. You follow a long, cluttered hallway that you can tell is underneath the seating for the Scrapyard fights and finally step into a room full of other attendees, all drinking and talking among one another. A few greet you as you enter and hand you a couple of beers to get you integrated into the atmosphere. It’s not your favorite drink but the idea of refusing something offered under the Queen’s request would set you up for ridicule from other guests. You twist off the cap of one bottle and start to walk around, sipping the contents as you eye the other party-goers.
Evidently, you don’t know a single person here but you think you can judge their reasons for being invited. The largest, muscled-up individuals, some clad in scrappy armor and wielding outlandish weaponry, were probably favored by the Junker Queen for their accomplishments in battle. The ones in cleaner clothing and trailed by two to three guards of their own had to be a part of the trade pacts between Junkertown and other Wasteland settlements. The rest of the guests seemed similar to you. Inhabitants of the former omnium with nowhere safer to go than to live under the protection of a benevolent leader and create a purpose for themselves in the aftermath of the Omnic Crisis. You’ve thought about leaving the Wasteland once or twice before. But the freedom you had out here, the ability to live and work as you wanted despite the hardships you faced by staying, was far more appealing than what other places had to offer.
You finish your first beer and leave the bottle on a table. You’re busy unscrewing the next one when you bump into another party guest. She’s a commoner, that’s easy enough to tell, but taller than you with a body of inviting curves wrapped in the suggestion of a dress. She lets out an airy laugh, placing a hand on your shoulder that squeezes a little too hard as she apologizes.
“I didn’t even see you there! Careful ya’ don’t run into any of these mercenaries like that. Be a shame if a mug as good as yer’s got ruined!” she giggles, offering you a drunken smile before walking away to join another group at their table in a corner of the room. You can’t help but muse over what she said while you continue your stroll. Why exactly had you been invited to the Queen’s party? Something had to pique her interest in you besides just being a good lay. Perhaps it was your obedience to her, or your eagerness to service her desires the second she threw her arm around you those few months ago. The only obvious hint you can think of was when she called you ‘nice’. But what did that mean? Nice-looking? Nice to talk to? You two hardly had a conversation before she pulled you further into the darkness of the bar alleyway so you could suck her off and-
“Look who decided to show up!” came a familiar voice, booming over the chatter of the room. You immediately stop in your tracks, eyes darting up to look your leader in the eyes as she approaches you with arms extended. She closes the distance with long, thundering strides and there is little time to react as she envelopes you in a tight hug. You quickly put an arm around her side to return the gesture. Keenly aware of how short this contact would be, you rest your cheek against her chest firmly, inhaling the scent of sweat and iron that clung to her tanned skin. She laughs in response, the rumble vibrating her body against your own before she cranes her head down to murmur into your ear, “Miss me?”
“Just glad to be invited, your majesty.” you reply, your face warming at the inquiry, “I’m sorry I haven’t come by to see you again.”
“I’m a little disappointed ya’ ain’t done so too.” she says, pulling away from you to rest her hands on her hips. You notice now that she’s wearing a surprising amount of plated armor, a hand-crafted suit of old strap and omnic parts, adorned with shining gemstones and fur trimmings. It was humorously medieval but not something out of the ordinary for your leader. She liked exaggeration, whether in weapons, appearances, or her own mannerisms. As much as you want to reach out and run your fingers along the intricate details, your arm falls back to your side and your other hand holds your drink firmly in your grasp. You also realize that she is awaiting a response from you in regards to your lack of communication, a disgruntled look on her face as she stares down at you. You look away to observe nearby guests.
“Been having to spend more time looking for sellable scrap. Most nearby spots are picked clean so I have to go further out. Eats up a lot of my day…” you try explaining to her. The way her face remains unchanged makes you nervous. You take a drink from your beer to give yourself more time to think but she’s already speaking as the liquid hits your tongue.
“Nah, I got it. Yer’ busy, lots of folks are. Least you had time to come out to my party. I ‘spose.” she says as her hand swings up. Her index and thumb catch your chin, angling your head to force you to look at her, “I reckon we could find a way to make up the time.”
Your eyes light up as you brim with new desire. Other party-goers are starting to observe the pair of you now. They don’t seem willing to interrupt your interaction. You don't care. More of the Queen’s attention to hoard to yourself.
“I’d be more than happy to. I don’t have any other plans for the rest of the night if you don’t have anything either.” you hint, giving your leader a coy smile. She smirks back and takes a step inward to press you into her front.
“Yer’ smart not to waste my time.” she praises you before turning her head to look off somewhere. You follow her gaze to the entryway of a different hall than the one you entered through. You have no idea where it goes. But the Queen seems to have something planned for the two of you as she gestures her other hand towards the hallway, “Ya’ ever seen my throne room?”
Although you’ve seen it plenty of times, you suddenly find yourself unable to recall the memory in your mind. How peculiar!
“Can’t say I have.” you admit. The Queen’s smirk widens to an eager grin. She steps away from you to address one of the two burly guards that had been standing close by. You recognize one man as the guy she had assigned to watch the front of the alley during your past encounter. He wears much nicer clothes and armor this time and carries a long machete as opposed to a shotgun. You can only guess that his constant presence around your leader means that he is one of her most-trusted acquaintances. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the chatter of the other guests so you just stand awkwardly as people keep their attention on the two of you. You finish drinking the rest of your beer as she nods to the man and turns back to you.
“Follow me, we’re gonna’ take a walk.” she commands, roughly brushing past you toward the other side of the room where the hall awaited. You fall in line behind her, having to quicken the pace of your steps to keep up as she leads you through the crowd and out of the room. Just as you both pass the threshold, you look back in time to see the Queen’s guards stop and position themselves at the entrance, preventing any curious party-goers from following after.
The walk is mostly quiet save for the sound of your booted footsteps echoing throughout the hall. The Queen escorts you through another messy area lined with boxes, furniture, old appliances, and crushed litter. All you can focus on is how your body is alight with excitement. Your hands busy themselves by fidgeting together at your front as your mind races with thoughts of what intentions she has for you. You want so badly to please your Queen and thank every higher power you can think of for the opportunity to serve her once more. As the hall ends and you step into a much larger room, you halt in place next to your leader’s towering form. Her hands rest squarely on her hips, a smug expression forming as she lets you examine your surroundings.
You were in her throne room. You admit in your mind that it looks less regal without the usual collection of the Queen’s guests and guards. That thought will remain unspoken to keep your leader happy. Your eyes sweep across the rows of worn, mismatched furniture that line the walls of the room. The onlookers for court events would sit here to watch whatever reward or punishment the Queen would hand out to those seeking an audience with her. The Queen’s own throne, a chair upholstered with faded red velvet with a tall, elegantly-designed backrest, is positioned on an elevated platform that puts her over everyone else by design. Speakers jet out from the walls, their cords hanging from makeshift hooks placed around the room. As with many spaces in Junkertown, the ground is covered with discarded food containers, empty bottles, crushed cans, and old metal scrap from picked-over electronics. You only get a few more seconds to look around before you feel a large hand on the small of your back.
The Queen urges you forward towards her throne. You happily allow her to guide you, her fingers sliding down to dip just under the waistline of your pants to palm your backside. You feel warmth flood your cheeks and avoid eye contact until you two ascend the few steps that lead to the thone’s platform. To your disappointment, her hand is removed and she starts undoing the hook that keeps the cape around her shoulders. You realize now that the decorative armor she was wearing may take a while to strip off. Your thoughts prove true as the Queen holds out her arms towards you, the many leather buckles exposed.
“Yer' gonna’ have to work a lil’ more to get to the good part this time. Get these offa’ me.” she orders. You tend to the removal immediately, your hands shaky with visible excitement while you undo each strap you can see. You make sure to grab the metal places before unbuckling the last one so it doesn’t fall to the concrete floor. Once you have her arms uncovered, she instructs you to set the arm guards aside so you can work on her legs. You have to kneel behind her to access the armor straps. You take the opportunity to admire the taunt muscle of her thighs as you remove the large plates that protect them. Sweat had formed on the tan skin beneath the armor’s padding. The earthy smell drifting from her was wildly enticing and it took a great deal of restraint not to press your face against the inside of her leg to breathe it in. The mere thought made you flush. You notice now, to your embarrassment, that she’s angled her head to look down at you.
“Yer' welcome ta’ touch, jus’ don’t take all day.” she says, watching you with playful red eyes. With her permission granted, you slide a hand up the back of her leg to firmly knead the muscle beneath. Your eyes widen at the way the solid wall of flesh shifts under your palm as the Queen leans her weight on the leg. You are reminded of the way she relentlessly pounded you in the alleyway, the strength of her thrusts aided by such powerful limbs. This in turn causes you to finally acknowledge the growing ache between your legs. You reach down to rub at the front of your pants to give yourself some mild relief before standing to attend to the last section of armor wrapped around her torso. You have to undo a set of buckles on her side to take it off. She helps this time by grabbing the single plate at the front and sliding her arm out of the other side, folding the metal front and back together, and piling it with the rest. Now down to plain clothes, she stands to face you. Then, to your surprise, she removes her shirt, exposing her bare chest to you. Her breasts are just as wonderful as you had imagined them, large and muscular to fit the rest of her. Her toned abdomen is at the perfect height for you to run your hands over and, with the privilege given to you earlier, you timidly rest them flat against her. You take a second to glance up at her. She affirms the motion with a nod, her own hands coming up to grip your sides. You admire her body with a wandering touch, tracing the curves of muscle with your thumbs. Your leader lets out a pleased hum before she pulls you in.
She slips her arms under your own to lift you up into a kiss, pressing her mouth roughly into yours. You close your eyes to immerse yourself in the sensation of being firmly held against her strong body as she slides her tongue past your teeth. She sneaks her hands under your shirt, now running her rough palms up and down your hot skin. You shiver with delight. Your thighs rub together as you yearn for attention. You moan into the kiss, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. To your surprise, the Queen breaks the connection and moves her hands from your back to grab your ass. Her hips jerk forward to grind against you. You are happily aware of the bulge in her shorts that slides against your front as she does so.
“I’m so glad ya’ showed up tonight. I wasn’t lyin’ when I said ya’ were a great fuck.” she sighs, rutting into your stomach as she holds you in place. You brim with confidence with her statement. To be in the Queen’s thoughts after all this time was an honor, especially because it meant you had served her well enough to leave her wanting more. After another rough buck of her hips, she lets out a frustrated noise that quickly turns into an airy laugh. Then she steps away, unwrapping your arms from her neck to climb up to her elegant chair on its platform. She settles into it with a heavy motion, leaning into the back with her arms on the rests. She gestures to you with a grin, “Take yer' clothes off. Ya’ won’t need them.”
You don’t need to be told twice as you reach down to untie your boots. You pull them and your socks off with alarming speed. Undoing the button and zipper of your pants, you yank them down and kick them away along with your underwear. Your skin bristles as the wetness of your sex is exposed to the open air. The inside of your thighs is thoroughly coated with clear fluid. The way they glisten in the lighting of the throne room makes your leader aware of your arousal.
“Look at that. Just thinkin’ of me does it for ya’, huh? I could bend ya’ over and fuck ya’ silly right now. But that wouldn’t be no fun.” she muses, waving her hand at you again, “Keep goin’.”
You can’t help but laugh a little at the painful truth of the statement. You would have gladly let her do so too. You pull your shirt off your head in one quick motion, your bra following right after to throw them on top of your other clothes. Now naked, you suddenly find yourself a little drained of your previous confidence. You stand with your hands held behind your back, watching the Queen for instruction. She huffs with amusement before patting the armrest of her chair.
“Come’ere.” she instructs you. You take a step up onto the platform and pause before her. Using a foot, she slides her boot up the inside of your legs. It digs into one of your thighs to force you to adjust your stance to part them. Your dripping sex now exposed further, the Queen leans forward to slide her long fingers between your folds. You let out a shaky sigh as she draws idle circles around your entrance, just barely dipping the tip of her index into you before retreating to rub at your clit. You bite your lip to stifle another noise and inhale a deep breath, holding it while your mind focuses on the minuscule pleasure you get from the prodding.
The Queen swipes her fingers through you one more time before lifting the hand with her shining fingers to your face. You smell your arousal on them and watch as they close together before pulling apart, leaving clear strands tethered between them. Then she reaches her other hand up to grab your jaw, her thumb pressing down on your bottom lip, “Open.”
You obey without objection, parting your lips and waiting patiently. Then she presses the coated fingers into your mouth. She smiles at the noise you make, “Suck.”
Her thumb slides down your chin and you close your lips, swirling your tongue around and between the fingers to thoroughly clean them. The Queen watches you with a pleased expression. You see her own lips part, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out from behind her teeth. She seems intrigued at your eager reception. Her hand then pushes further, sliding the fingers deeper into your mouth. You brace yourself to keep your head still. Her other hand grasps at your neck. You loosen your jaw to allow her to reach as far in as possible. You can’t stop yourself from gagging as the fingers hit the back of your throat. She immediately pulls them out.
“Ya’ want more?” she asks you. You’ve got it figured out that this was her way of asking if you're okay with what she’s doing. After you’ve had a chance to take a few breaths, you smile and nod silently before opening your mouth for her once more. She dips her fingers in with renewed enthusiasm, sliding them to the back of your throat again. You hold your breath this time as she keeps them there, likely savoring the feeling of the warm, wet crevice. Then she begins to thrust in and out, never fully removing her hand from your mouth. You keep your own grasped together behind your back to resist the urge to grab onto her wrist. The Queen lets out a low growl as she continues. The obscene noise of spit being squished under your tongue, coupled with the struggling noises you made as she forces her fingers as far as they'll go, fills the quiet space of the throne room. She increases the pace for a few brief seconds to roughly pump into your gaping mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut as you wait out the motion. Finally, after you choke back another cough, she releases your throat and removes her hand. Strings of spit fall down your chin as you suck in a desperate gulp of air. You swallow whatever had gathered under your tongue as she palms your chest now, smearing your breasts with your own spit. The chill as the fluid cools on your skin causes your nipples to perk up, one of which she teases with a wet thumb. She sucks air in through her teeth.
“Fuckin’ hell, look at ya’...” she hisses in a low, delighted tone, taking her hand from your chest. She settles back against her chair and undoes the zipper of her shorts. Then she pulls them down to allow her shaft to spring forward, the girthy flesh slapping against her lower abdomen before she takes it in her hand. She uses the leftover fluid on her hand to coat the tip as she presents herself to you, “Get down here and suck your queen’s cock.”
You gaze at her with a newfound hunger before dropping to your knees. You gather some of the spit on your chin and use it to wet the rest of her shaft, pumping your hand from tip to base. She sighs at the new attention and lets her arms drape over the armrests as she relaxes into her throne. You then remember the order she gave you. You lift yourself a little higher to bring your face closer to her shaft and press a kiss on its side. With your lips still planted against the skin, you slide them up along her length until you reach the head. Your open to envelop the sensitive gland, swirling your tongue around it before sinking down further. As the shaft enters your mouth, the Queen lets out a pleased groan.
"That's it…" she murmurs as you begin to pull up off the shaft, letting your tongue drag along the underside of her as you ascend. You start up a steady rhythm, bobbing up and down. You feel a hand come to rest on the back of your head. It urges you to take a little more into your mouth each time with gentle pressure. The Queen's hips lift off her seat to meet you. Her girth pokes at the back of your throat before retreating to give you enough time to inhale through your nose. Soon enough you find yourself in the familiar position of having your head held still by both her fists gripping you by the hair so she can thrust herself into your mouth.
“Stay right there, jus’ like ya’ are-” the Queen orders as she leans forward again. She yanks you firmly into her pelvis to take the entirety of her shaft in your agape mouth. Your nose and chin bury into her skin as you close your eyes, trying to relax the muscles of your throat so you can hold her as long as she wants you to. Your hands come up to grip her legs, squeezing the muscle as a distraction. She jerks her hips into you with rough, rapid motions, grunting with the exertion. You hear her laugh happily before she pauses again, slowly grinding herself into your face. You can’t stop yourself from gagging this time and she takes this as a sign to pull you off her. You cough as air fills your lungs again. She keeps her hold on your hair, angling your head so you stare at each other. One of her hands lets go of you to swipe a thumb over your spit-covered chin and you can’t help but give her a small smile. She snickers back at you.
“Ya’ love my cock in yer’ mouth, huh? Ya’ got a great face for fuckin’.” she tells you. You feel emboldened by what you perceive as a compliment from your leader and reach up to wrap your hand around her shaft again. While you busy it by jerking her off, your other gently palm her scrotum, carefully kneading the sensitive mounds. She seems a little surprised you’ve taken initiative but doesn’t object. She lets go of your hair. You move in further to lap at the warm sac with your tongue, eventually taking each side into your mouth to suck on while pumping your hand up and down her length. The Queen emits a low moan, her eyes fixing on you with intensity as you work. She reaches down and around your arms to grab at your breast, squeezing the soft flesh and kneading the nipple between her the joints of two fingers. You let out a pleased hum against her sac, suckling the skin briefly with your lips before lifting your head, intending to take her into your mouth once more. But with a hand to your shoulder, she halts you in place, “Nah, enough’a that.”
She grasps the biceps of both your arms, pulling you to your feet in one quick effort. Then she releases you and slides her hips forward in the seat of her throne, her elbows on the armrests as she gestures for you to climb up.
“I know that lil’ cunt of yer’s is achin’ ta’ get fucked. Lemmie’ see ya’.” she says. You quickly plan out how to approach the setup before attempting to mount your leader. The seat is just wide enough that space remains between the armrests and her thighs. You put one foot up next to her on the chair and she extends her arms for you to grab onto so she can help you get your other foot situated. You’re standing over her now, wet sex in full display for the Queen to admire. She does so eagerly, slapping one of her palms down on your thigh to hold you in place while the fingers of her other hand part your folds. Your skin feels unbearably warm as you bask in her attention. You enjoy how much more she’s been touching you throughout this whole encounter. While her rough handling excelled at preparing you for later acts, you find yourself enamored by the way she’s taken to exploring your body. As much as you like to think it was because she possibly felt something akin to affection for you, the voice of reason in your head insists it's likely because you two had more time and were in a room with proper lighting. She takes your clit between the joints of her fingers and gently kneads it. A shiver runs down your spine as she plays with you. The hand in your thigh slides up to squeeze your ass before she finally grabs you by your hips and tugs down.
"Yer' gonna' be good and ride my cock, ain't ya'?" she asks you as you bend at the knees to position your entrance directly over her rigid shaft. You have to hold your leader by her broad shoulders for balance. The first thing you feel is the tip of her poke into you, the angle not quite right for her to penetrate you. Instead, it slides along your folds, the underside pressed flat against you as you meet her hips with your crotch. You know you should readjust yourself to try again but the temptation of rocking yourself back and forth against her overtakes you. She curses under her breath as you hump her, coating her length with your fluids as it slides between the wet flesh. At some point, the Queen decides she's had enough and manually lifts you to grab at her shaft. Aiming precisely this time, she yanks you down straight onto herself.
As the thick girth of the Queen slides effortlessly into you, you both give relieved sighs. It seems she was just as glad as you were to finally fill yourself with her. The veiny texture of her shaft is a welcome sensation as it rubs your interior. You close your eyes as your hips meet hers once more, mind cloudy from the full feeling that causes your legs to quiver and your skin to sweat. But you’re quickly reminded that you have a task to complete as your leader pushes her pelvis into you.
“Start fuckin’ me, whore.” she orders, her voice taking on a low tone. You diligently begin shifting yourself up and down, fingers tightening your hold on her shoulders. Your crotch slapping down to meet her makes a delightfully wet noise. You breathe heavily through your nose, teeth gritting as you bounce, craning your head down with a half-lidded gaze to watch the now glistening length as it penetrates your sex. The Queen makes an impatient noise as you work. Her hands reach around your thighs to grab your ass, “Faster!”
You quicken your pace as soon as the word leaves her mouth, thrusting yourself down onto her shaft with renewed effort. She aids you by placing both feet firmly on the ground and lifting her hips up to each descent you make, slamming herself into your needy core. Your chest heaves as you try to match her strokes. The chair you’re on creates a grating sound against the concrete platform, its frame groaning under the efforts of the Queen. You whine as her girth stretches you over and over again, using you to the full extent that she can. But it doesn’t seem like she’s satisfied still. She digs her nails deep into your skin.
“Come on! Move!” she hisses at you.
“I-I can’t-” you pant. You’re already hot and exhausted from your current efforts. As much as you want to obey, you can’t drive yourself onto her shaft at the speed that she desires. The Queen must realize this now as she sighs in frustration. There is little warning before she lets go of your backside to now hook her arms under your knees, threading her fingers together behind your back as she leans her body forward. You are now folded against her, her shaft buried in your sex up to the base, as she lifts you up and stands. She steps off the platform, stopping just at the edge of the small staircase leading to the open area of the room.
“I’ll do it then! Show ya’ how to properly fuck my cock-” she says. She then redoubles her thrusts, using her remarkable strength to spear you on the entirety of her length. Your body shivers as she slams you down onto her. You’re unable to stop the moans that escape your lips as she claims you. With the way she has you held, your body is akin to nothing more but a tight hole for her to sink herself in. You revel in the thought, your lips upturning into an open-mouth smile.
“Ah, fuck! That’s better…” the Queen exclaims with a breathless laugh. The slap of skin-on-skin echoes throughout the empty throneroom as she mutters, “Ya’ like bein’ my toy, don’t ya’? I bet you’d like all them other folks to be here, seein’ ya’ take my dick in yer’ lil’ gash!”
You can’t do much but whimper out a pitiful ‘yes’ as she yanks you into a particularly hard thrust.
“Yeah? You want’em to see ya’ get used? I’d fuck ya’, jus’ like this, in front’a all of’em.” she continues, “Yer’ such a good lil’ whore! So happy ta’ serve yer’ queen with yer’ hole, ain’t ya’?”
Another small but enthusiastic ‘yes’ and your leader growls, loud and thunderous, as she jerks her hips into your dripping sex. You groan, your limbs growing limp as you let her overtake you. You desperately wish you could touch yourself. Your climax is nearing, you can feel it, but the stimulation you need to reach it is unobtainable in this position. But you won’t complain at all. You know your Queen’s needs come first and it's going to involve her resolution coming before your own. After another minute or so of relentless pounding, you are finally stilled against her, filled up to her base once more with her thick, twitching shaft.
“Whose are ya’?” she breathes heavily, her lips pulled back into a snarl. Your gaze drifts up weakly to look into the red of her eyes.
“I’m yours…” you say. She shifts you up and down onto herself with a single quick, rough motion.
“Louder! Whose are ya’?” she demands again. Your body tingles with delight.
“I’m yours, your majesty.” you say with pride through your exhaustion. The Queen suddenly pivots, facing her throne again before she climbs back up onto the platform. She pulls herself from you and drops you, with some care, onto the chair with you still facing her. Grabbing the back of your knees and forcing them apart, she plunges herself back into your sore folds and begins a new pace of powerful, hard thrusts.
“That’s right! Yer’ mine!” she barks at you, bending low to overshadow you with her large frame. She grunts with her efforts, sinking her girth into your core with familiar haste. She was close to release. You reach your hands up to grasp at her sides, urging her into you with a pull she likely didn’t even feel at the moment. The Queen stares at you with hunger, “Yer’ mine ta’ fuck! All of ya’! Yer’ tight cunt was made for my fat cock!”
You can only nod in response this time. The slamming motions she delivered to you rock your smaller frame and fog your mind. You lull your head to the side, unable to form words any longer as she claimed you as hers. Your legs shake and your skin burns as you beg internally for her release. You want to feel her inside you, filling your greedy core to the brim. Your wish is soon granted as she slows her pace dramatically, a breath hitching in her throat as she groans.
“Fuck! That’s it, stay right there!” the Queen chokes out, pushing your legs back as far as they’ll go as she sinks herself deep into you, the weight of her body coming to rest on you. Warmth floods you internally as her shaft shifts inside you. Desperate to please her further, you flex around her girth, milking the sensation for as long as you could. Her body shudders as she grinds her hips into you. As she comes down from her climax, she loosens her hold on your legs, allowing you to uncurl from the awkward position. You wrap your arms around her torso as she drops to her knees, still bent over and buried in you. It feels surprisingly tender to you when she slides her arms under your body in response, hugging the two of you together. Even more unexpected is when she presses her open mouth to your own, kissing you deep and long. You melt at the action, moaning into her as she finally withdraws herself from you. The sensation of fluid dripping down your skin follows soon after. You’d give anything to see the aftermath of her release streaking down your swollen folds. For now, the mental image in your mind will have to do. Your leader breaks the kiss to press her face to your own, snickering quietly.
“Goddammit. Yer’ good.” she murmurs. Although your skin is already hot, you feel your face get even warmer at her musings. She plants another kiss on your cheeks, the metal of her lip piercing cool against you, “But we ain’t done yet, yeah? You still gotta’ come.”
“I can handle it myself if-” you try insisting before she cuts you off with a hush. Then she pulls away, sitting back on her knees before you as you lay on her throne. Wrapping her arms around your thighs, she leans in to press a sloppy kiss to your folds.
“Please, I could go for hours. This is nothin’. ‘Sides, obedient townsfolk deserve rewards. Ya’ serve me well so I think yer’s is due.” she says, giving you no time to respond before dipping her head between your legs again. She laps through the wet flesh of your sex, capturing the mixture of your fluid and her own on her tongue. She suckles the sensitive skin of your outer lips with noisy enthusiasm. A whine escapes your mouth as you lift your hips up to her, trying to guide her to the real source of your need. She smiles as the hint is well-received. Moving to your clit, she gives it a few slow, agonizing licks before her lips close around it. You sigh loudly, shifting yourself against her face to chase your climax. She rotates between sucking and prodding the bundle of nerves with rapid flicks of her tongue. The pleasure between your legs builds and you reach forward to grab your leader’s head, urging her motions as you rut into her face. Before long, your muscles tighten up. You screw your eyes shut as your own release takes over, causing you to emit a deep moan that develops into desperate whines. The Queen hums into your sex, sticking her tongue out so you can finish against its broad, fleshy surface.
Your body grows limp with exhaustion against the seat of the throne. But you’re glowing with happiness, content with the knowledge your leader’s needs have been satisfied. You relax into the chair as she stands up, her softened shaft still hanging out for you to see. Even when not hard, it was still thick and inviting. You feel honored to have the privilege of being able to service such a beautiful part of her. Even now, you sit up and eagerly reach your hand out, resting your palm against her abdomen with your thumb and index finger framing the base. You look to her for approval before moving forward. Although a little confused, your Queen says nothing and simply raises a brow. Tentatively, you lean in, lifting her to raise the tip to your lips. You take her into your mouth to clean whatever remnants of fluid remain on the surface. The knowledge of it being the result of intense, passionate sex makes the taste more appealing but you only linger long enough to swallow around her before pulling off. She laughs softly, placing a hand on your cheek as your own falls away.
“Careful, unless ya’ want another round.” she tells you. You wouldn’t object in the slightest, no matter how sore you felt. You are about to say something before you both hear footsteps coming down the hall to the throne room. You look down at yourself, quickly becoming aware of your bare nakedness. The Queen huffs and steps off the platform. She has time to grab your clothes and throw them your way before walking down the small staircase to cross over to the entrance. She tucks herself away and just gets to zipping up her shorts as the familiar guard appears.
“Are ya’ done yet, boss?” he grunts. You had just enough time to pull your pants on. Luckily the Queen’s own large frame blocks you from his view as you get the rest of your clothes on. It wouldn’t be all that embarrassing if he did see you regardless. He knows what you two were doing.
“Why? I’m done when I’m done.” she replies to him with a frown. The guard only frowns back and jerks a thumb towards the hall.
“I’m askin’ ‘cause unless ya’ want Ironside and the Shotgun Sons to fuck up yer’ party, ya’ better come back to puttem’ in place. They’re gettin’ cross with Red Ned ‘cause he can’t shut his stupid gob.” he told her. She threw up her hands in frustration.
“Fuck’s sake, I gotta’ quit invitin’ that dumb cunt to my parties. Fine, I’ll go back but I gotta’ get my armor back on. Keep’em from killin’ each other until I’m there.” she orders. The guard just grunts with affirmation before walking off into the hall again.
“Ya’ done gettin’ dressed?” your leader calls out to you. You reach the bottom of the stairs just as she walks back to you. You quickly go collect the pile of armor to bring to her once she reaches your spot. You set everything down save for the torso plates so you can start strapping them to her body. After sliding her arm through one side and adjusting it to fit properly, she stops you with a hand on your shoulder.
“Hey, I’m sorry I gotta’ end this little meetin’. Ya’ been real good ta’ me and I like that.” she says. You smile at her with pride.
“It’s alright. I can’t imagine it's easy to run this hellhole. I bet you hardly get time to spend how you want.” you reply, moving to start putting on her leg armor. She laughs as you continue, “I’m just glad I get to… you know, service you when you want.”
“I don’t know if ya’ got some agenda yer’ tryna’ meet or what but yer’ doin’ a great job of gettin’ on my good side.” she says, holding the metal plates to her leg as you do the straps, “But if ya’ ever need somethin’, like food, water, or ammo, I can get ya’ that. All ya’ gotta’ do is ask.”
“Honestly, the only personal agenda I have is getting fucked by you. That’s all the reward I need.” you reply coyly. You finish dressing her in the armor and then hand her the cape to put on. She was too tall for you to reach or you would have done it yourself. She smirks down at you.
“Ha! You really are somethin’. I’m invitin’ you to all my parties from now on. If we don’t see each other anywhere else, I want ya’ to come here even if it's just for a free drink. But I won’t say no to more sex if we got time.” the Queen insists before taking your hand in hers, “How’s about ya’ come watch me kick these dickheads outta’ my party? It’ll be fun!”
With another opportunity to spend more time with your leader laid before you, you squeeze her palm firmly in response, “Of course, your majesty, I’d love to.”