The great tournament of Ardesant, held at the apex of Spring every year, was universally held to be the best of all the surrounding lands. Every year all the great contests were held – the joust, the melee, as well as shooting and wrestling for the commons. And the prizes were enough to entice men from hundreds of miles away to try their luck and test their hands against others.
“I see in you knights the finest flower of chivalry this kingdom has yet seen. Your deeds of honor and glory redound into history, as all the acts of our predecessors have come to us in song and poem. Rise up to the promise of the day! Raise your arms and spirits up high, salute the sun, and prepare your hearts for the contests!”
The speech brought the assembled crowd of contestants and spectators to a roar. Not only for its content, but mostly for the one saying it. Queen Bellona, ruler of Ardesant, was a shining beacon to the world. Her golden hair, short and braided to loop below the nape of her neck, was so often used in poems praising her beauty that even mentioning the color gold was enough for the audience to know what you spoke of. Her blue eyes held an intensity that pierced all deception. Many a criminal protesting his innocence had given up and told all the truth under her gaze.
Such was Queen Bellona’s high nobility, the greater aspirations that she encouraged all around her to focus on, that even her more earthly beauty was not sullied by mere eroticism. Men who had never seen her made bawdy jests about her bounteous breasts that could feed the whole capital, or her thighs that could engulf a man’s head, and laughed about the noble knights that followed her, hoping to lay with her. But when these jesters and skeptics saw her, the jokes died on their lips. Bellona was beautiful that way – she had grown up with fine features, and her body was one that any matriarch would envy. But there was more to her than that.
For Queen Bellona seemed to inhabit a realm apart from all others, a higher, monarchical space. In another ruler, it would have bred a hateful tyranny as the resentment of others, unable to enter that space, built up. But Bellona never looked down on her people. She worked hard to ensure that everyone who was her subject could rise as high as they could. Some said it was because she had never married that this was possible, that by maintaining her virginity she allowed all men to imagine they could attain the happiness that marriage with her must surely mean.
So when she convened the 15th tournament of her reign, everyone felt their spirits higher, their limbs stronger, their hearts so full of courage they might burst. Under Queen Bellona’s gaze, doubts faded, and fear fled like shadows before the sun. But although Queen Bellona was getting older, no one thought that just because they won the tournaments they would become her consort. She was above such petty ways of choosing her husband, everyone was assured.
The first day of the tournament was a great spectacle, as always. The archery contest was won by a man in red hose and tunic, who kissed Queen Bellona’s foot when she gave him his prize of a golden arrow. The second day, Bellona had two dozen victories in the wrestling matches dedicated to her honor. She looked on it all in graceful patience, the slightest smile on her face egging those who saw it further, certain it was for them alone.
The third day was the first day of the jousts, and it was here that those who were close to the Queen noticed something different than usual. She fidgeted. She seemed to stare down at the contestants and their steeds with clouded eyes. But when they asked if she was uncomfortable, she said no, very firmly.
That night, before the feast being thrown by the centaur ambassador (who had lost his joust fairly, but with good humor), Queen Bellona disappeared from her tent.
“Ahh,” her paladins thought, “she must be going through the crowds incognito, to learn what the common people think. Truly an inspiration to us all.”
Wrapped in a thick cloak, hiding her body and face from sight, Bellona wandered through the crowds. She saw all manner of person, of all classes and origins. Jugglers and fortune-tellers took coins from princes and landless adventurers, while the inns were full of stories about all the great heroes of the past and present.
Bellona passed by all this, heading to a special place on the outskirts of the city. An old royal manse, left mostly unused until Bellona had had it remodeled after repelling the great raid of the Southerners. She had only two servants there, but they were her closest confidantes. It was important mostly for its thick walls.
Coming in, the maid Atalante bowed to Bellona. She was about ten years younger than Bellona, but had served her faithfully even from her youth. Now her long brown hair was elaborately styled around her head, and her black maid dress hugged her heavy chest tightly. “Your Highness, good evening. May I take your cloak?” she asked, even as Bellona shrugged it off and handed it to her. “We were not expecting you. Would you like a bath drawn?”
The question was innocuous enough, but there was something more going on below it. Atalante was usually perfectly dressed, but her clothing was sloppily put on, and her hair was sticky with something yellowish. The womanly smell coming from her legs was strong enough for Bellona to smell. Bellona panted, her body covered in a thin layer of sweat. It had been a warm day, but not enough for that. “Yes, please do, with the brushes. And Hengroen…?”
“He’s waiting for you, your Highness. The main room, as usual.” Atalante smiled as Bellona hurried away from the entrance, deeper down the stone corridor, her heels clicking and clacking on the flagstones. She moved with an energy found more often in a young maiden than a woman her age and maturity.
Bellona had been coming here since the Southerner’s defeat, for here was one of the great treasures of her realm, though vanishingly few knew of it. For in the battle that had seen the foe run to their burning ships, only to be cut down almost to the last, Bellona’s constant companion Hengroen had been hurt badly by an ax cut to the leg. Unable to fight anymore, the queen had been gracious, letting him live on a royal salary with her own maids assisting him.
“Ahhh, haaaahhh, it’s breaking me! Your cock is breaking me...! My asscunt is breaking, master!” came a voice echoing on the stones.
“Hengroen?” Bellona asked as she turned the corner and passed through the arch into the main room. A fire was burning in the fireplace on the far side, gently warming the space. In the middle of the room, on a huge pile of fine pillows and furnishings, mostly war booty taken from the Southerners, lay Hengroen. The other maid, Rita, squatted and moved her hips up and down something hidden by Hengroen’s back, the noises she made disgusting and inhuman. He turned his head to see Bellona, and whinnied.
Hengroen was Bellona’s first warhorse, and her dearest friend. In him she had confided all the worries and fears that she had been unable to tell anyone else for fear of breaking the spell her reign had built up. He was a huge beast, 20 hands tall, and when Bellona had worn her shining armor on him she could be seen across the entire battlefield. His coat was a deep brown, and his eyes surrounded by white spots. Without him supporting her, Bellona knew that she would have been much less effective as a ruler.
Since Hengroen had come to live in the manse, Bellona had come at times to help take care of him. To brush him as she had used to, and ride him gently in the courtyard, or in sedate official parades. No more could he plow into the serried ranks of the foe, but it was still time she cherished. As did Hengroen, she could tell.
But recently, he’d become… hedonistic. She came to see him, to find Atalante feeding him grapes while nude, his long tongue switching between the bunches dangling in the air and the maid’s fat nipples. Or she saw Rita licking his balls with a fervor that she’d rarely seen before. Each time it happened, Bellona felt awkward at best. She’d tried to get them to stop, but even if it seemed to work for a few days, the next time she came she would see the maids sloppy with horse jizz.
Seeing Rita raise her leg up high, Bellona could imagine the horse cock she was sliding into her asshole. She’d seen it enough times that the image was burned into her memory now. Years of being together, how couldn’t she have seen it? But when they were campaigning together, it had been a purely physical thing, hardly relevant to her thinking. But now, seeing how these two smart, loyal maids of hers had been… morphed, over time?
It was hard not to see it take on more meaning now. It wasn’t just a way to rid the body of waste. It wasn’t just for mares. When Bellona saw horse cocks now, like she had seen at the joust that day, she now thought of Hengroen and his human mares, mares that she had given to him.
“Hnnnggghhh! It’s soooo big, master! I can’t… I can’t get it all inside meeee!” Rita squealed, her lithe body squirming against Hengroen’s reposing belly.
“I’m here to… to wash you, Hengroen. Are you busy?” Bellona asked, as if ignoring Rita could put her out of her mind. But even the mere sound of Rita’s asshole slurping on the fat horsecock made her rub her thighs as her pussy itched.
Hengroen stood up quickly at Bellona’s invitation, his cock pulling out of Rita’s ass in a moment. “Nghoooohhhh!” Rita let out a pathetic orgasmic sound, her body falling limp on the pile of pillows as she came, twitching. Hengroen’s cock, dripping juices and more, bounced as the huge beast approached Bellona. He lowered his head for her to hug him as she usually did.
The queen couldn’t not greet him properly, and her arms encircled his imposing face, her hands running over his face between his eyes and then up through his mane. But the moment of camaraderie was sullied, as she felt his breath from his nostrils pouring down into her bodysuit through her cleavage. It felt like he was grabbing her back, his breath was so thick and substantial, clinging to her skin. She wanted to stay like that for a little longer, as her heart beat faster.
“Is this what it feels like to have a man embrace you?” she wondered. Questions concerning love had been coming to her mind more and more as she matured more. Unable to have the carefree youth others had, she’d been unable to play the silly love games that taught men and women how to care for each other in the normal course of events. Seeing maids in her court have children was beginning to make her feel like she needed to move quickly herself. But to move too quickly would be disastrous…
“Nhhii!” the queen let out an unusual sound from her throat and jumped back. She’d felt Hengroen’s tongue slide down into her bodysuit, to lick at her fat tits. “That’s… that’s not appropriate, Hengroen!” she protested as she always did when he did so, but she felt the cooling slickness of his spit on her skin, and felt like her body was getting hotter and hotter. “Come, let’s get you outside…” she said.
Outside in the inner courtyard, the cloying smell of the stable that filled the interior was at least momentarily dispelled by the soft spring winds, bringing hints of the bonfires and feasts going on all around the capital. But Bellona could hardly notice the songs in the air. Hengroen stood solid, towering over even her.
“Of course he’s taller than me, he’s a horse!” she told herself, but her heart still beat faster. She saw in his bearing now something new. Where she had seen military pride in his carriage before, pride in being the one to take his Queen into the fiercest part of battle safely, now she saw a different pride in him – a distinctly male pride.
When he looked at Atalante as she left, leaving the accoutrements needed for his care, he looked at her as a mare, a sexual beast for his use. He couldn’t lead the charge of the vanguard anymore, but he could turn a woman as devout as Rita into a sodomy-loving horse-whore. Was that not an accomplishment to be proud of? his gaze asked Bellona. She found herself unable to answer it.
As Bellona took the brush and started scrubbing along his flank, she felt her mind drifting. She had made a mistake in letting things get this far, she knew. But if she let it go further, and someone found out what was happening, wouldn’t the result be even worse? All the glory of her reputation, turned sour.
She had so much to live up to. She had to produce an heir for the kingdom, but she couldn’t marry a family that was too powerful, lest they become over-mighty in the future. A family that was too weak and the throne would be embroiled in petty disputes for decades. Too foreign and no one would trust the King consort.
The smell of Hengroen wrapped around Bellona. It made her feel, for a moment, safe. She was a woman with a task to do, so she did it. She ran the brush through Hengroen’s mane hair, and smiled when she caught his eye. Yes, she’d made a mistake with Rita and Atalante, and even Hengroen here. She shouldn’t have left them so idle. Of course they would resort to erotic play to pass the time!
And honestly, with a beast as manly as Hengroen… her thoughts drifted into a wordless swamp, where there were only vague intimations and suggestions. But before when that happened, Bellona would shy away from the swamp, unwilling to face it. Next to Hengroen, letting his scent wrap around her, Bellona let her imagination go a little bit farther.
She was a Queen, yes, but she was a woman before that. Underneath the layers of Honor, Chivalry, Glory, and more, there was a flesh and blood woman. Hengroen lowered his head to nip at the grass of the inner court, and Bellona leaned in right behind his ear and smelled the distinctive scent he gave off. It slipped into her nostrils, and she found herself leaning in a little more, and a little more, until her nose was buried in a tuft of hair there.
She was a woman, but no one saw her like that. They saw the Queen. Even the lustiest of them were purified by her example. But what about her? What if she wanted the bawdiness, the lewdness?
“Hengroen…” she whispered into his ear, “I’m a woman, aren’t I?” Heat poured out from between her legs.
His reply was to force his tongue into her mouth. “Anngghhh~” she moaned around his wriggling organ, filling her mouth and worming down to her throat. Her hands grabbed at his mane for support, as her legs threatened to buckle.
It was an astonishing feeling, having him force his kiss on her. Bellona had never felt anything like it before. Suddenly all the songs she’d heard made sense, how someone could travel a thousand miles for a single kiss became clear to her. Hengroen was kissing her, not as a Queen, but as a woman. And something clicked in Bellona’s head. Hengroen had been her confidant for years, why couldn’t he still be one, just in a different way?
The two kept kissing, Bellona sucking on Hengroen’s long tongue with an eagerness that would have shamed the whores of the capital. His spit spilled down his tongue and down into her throat, and when she couldn’t swallow it all, it dribbled over her lips and down her chin to patter onto her breasts, sliding into her cleavage.
Yes! This is what I need! I need someone I can be a woman with! Bellona told herself. Her pussy oozed juices, the crotch of her bodysuit so darkened with her need it was nearly black. “Hengroen,” she panted, “you’ll keep it secret, right? Like everything else?”
Hengroen’s tongue dripped spit onto her cheek. The snort that came out of his nostrils could have been yes, but it wasn’t strong. “Please, Hengroen! I… I can’t take it anymore!”
But Hengroen wasn’t going to let the Queen have what she wanted so easy, or at least not in the way she expected. He turned around, and his tail flicked left and right a few times, sending his musk out into the air to fill her lungs. But she saw what she needed to see.
Nestled below his tail, lay Hengroen’s fat anus. It was bigger than Bellona’s mouth, muscular and puffy, and on it she could see the faint traces of Atalante’s lipstick. She understood his meaning. “I already have women who do much… can you match them?”
Bellona pushed up the black tail to expose the beast’s asshole. Coming close to it, she felt the heat radiating out from it. As a Queen, she couldn’t do this. It was unthinkable. It was so contrary to everything that she stood for that the very idea of it would be considered utterly impossible by her subjects. Not only impossible, even, but a blasphemy against the icon of Chivalry they saw her as.
But she wasn’t just that Queen. She inched her face closer and closer, until the heat from inside Hengroen’s body tickled her lips, and the scent of his musk filled her nostrils with every breath. Then she kissed it. She kissed it without skill, without experience. How could she, when she had just had her first kiss mere moments before?
What Bellona the woman lacked in skill though, she made up for in desperation. She licked at the fat anus like a dog, with long, fast strokes that left the muscles shiny with her spit. She kissed the pucker, letting the salty taste of his sweat mingle with the taste of his asshole on her tongue. Her free hand dove between her legs to rub at her pussy through her suit awkwardly.
Luckily for her, Hengroen wasn’t so inured to pleasure that her energy was wasted. He whinnied and neighed, throwing his mane around back and forth, stamping his front hoofs heavily. If anything, he was surprised at the sheer desperation Bellona was showing. He hadn’t quite expected this. Atalante and Rita had taken much more time to turn into ass-huffing sluts, led into it by licking his sheath and balls first. That Bellona, his beloved Bellona, was kissing it with the same fervor she’d just taken his tongue in her mouth shocked him.
In a good way.
Bellona felt the blood moving in Hengroen’s body, felt his heartbeat in his sphincter, and shoved her tongue into the hole as best she could. The strong muscles clamped down on it, but she wriggled and wormed it further, until she pressed it through and got the strong taste of Hengroen’s asshole on her tongue. She didn’t hate it. In fact, it made her whole body ache with need for more of Hengroen.
Bellona wanted to stay here, drown in the pleasure she was getting.
But then, over the walls, came a soft song with the sound of a lute, carried by the wind.
“Oh shining Queen, never dirtied,
a glorious star, never sullied.
Always the victor, drinking wine
from beaten foes, so divine!”
Bellona’s eyes shot open when she heard it, and she pulled away from Hengroen’s asshole with a wet SCHLURP. Thick strands of spittle connected her lips to his wet anus.
“Oh Gods, what am I doing?!” Bellona moaned, before she ran off. Hengroen neighed, calling her back, but she was gone.
Bellona ran through the tent city away from the manse, her cloak rippling with her speed. In her temporary tent for the tournament, she buried herself in her bed, and fought the urge to cry. That wasn’t who she was! She was the Queen! It was a temporary weakness, she told herself. She needed to separate those three, forcibly if necessary. Hengroen would need to live in the royal stud farm, far away from her.
But when she thought about him mounting mare after mare, she realized her hands were between her legs, playing at her pussy. Her whole body shook as she tried to suppress her desires. It was hard.
The next day, the jousts were interrupted by racing. Bellona watched the horses speed around the course, but all she could think of seeing their sweat flecked manes was Hengroen’s own, her leaning on his neck.
She wrote the order telling Atalante to vacate the manse as soon as possible, but she couldn’t bring herself to sign it. Her hand trembled over the parchment, unable to press her signet on the wax. When it solidified, un-pressed and void of her official seal, Bellona tore it up and wrote a different message.
“Can you bring this to Atalante at the Four Oaks residence?” she asked a messenger boy. “You may have to wait some time after knocking on the door, but be patient, as long as it takes.”
That night Bellona couldn’t sleep. She tried to think of what to say, and how to say it. She wanted to tell them that she’d made a mistake, and she was sorry. But what if they didn’t blame her? How would she respond to that?
The Southerners had threatened her with a lifetime of rape and sexual slavery had she fallen alive into their hands, and it hadn’t scared Bellona anywhere near as much as her kissing Hengroen’s asshole had. The one was a punishment from outside that could be resisted with an iron will. The other was the very destruction of the concept of resistance from the inside out.
What if she was already too sullied to be Queen? She left her tent to bows and salutes from all who saw her, but she knew they were mocking her. They could smell Hengroen still on her lips, her every word betraying her true, fundamental nature.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. No! That wasn’t true. She’d made a misstep. No ruler had ever been perfect. She had tried, tried as hard as it was possible to try for a human being, to be the perfect ideal. With Hengroen it had seemed possible to do so, but without him…?
Bellona couldn’t send him away. She couldn’t betray their relationship like that, no matter how low he’d fallen in boredom. She would make an attempt to bring him out of it, one last time.
The next morning, Hengroen arrived at Bellona’s tent, along with his barding. “What do you say, we try one last time?” she asked him, hefting a jousting lance.
Hengroen’s eyes narrowed, but then he threw his head back in noisy agreement. Bellona’s heart skipped a beat. It felt like old times again as she suited up in armor, and prepared Hengroen. Fully prepared, they were both clothed in armor of staggering brilliance in the morning sun, and from Hengroen’s flanks hung rich tapestried cloth that showed images of famous victories Bellona had won with him.
The Queen’s entry into the lists was a sensational piece of news, and the tournament was even more packed than usual by people who wanted to see. She had last entered over a decade before. The crowd was full of questions. Why? Who was she facing? Was she riding Hengroen? Wasn’t Hengroen lame?
Coming out onto the field, Bellona hefted the light lance in her hand. Hengroen felt different than she remembered, but maybe it was just him not exercising as much as he had before. Too many grapes from Atalante! Surely feeling the urge of competition would help raise him from the swamps of hedonism, she tried to convince herself.
Her opponent was Sir Griswald of Lancet, a well-liked jouster with plenty of wins under his belt. His gray stallion had plenty of energy in him.
“Just like before...” Bellona whispered into Hengroen’s ear.
The trumpets rang out, and Bellona found her attention narrowing on the joust itself. She blotted out the crowd, the spectators, everything she could forget about, until it was just her and Hengroen, their bodies intimately connected. This was what she needed, not sexual play!
Flags fell down, and Hengroen leaped forward. Bellona raised her lance, aiming for the eagle decoration on top of Sir Griswald’s helmet. It was necessary, she told herself – Hengroen would be slower than her opponent’s horse, so she needed to use technique to win, rather than pure force. As they two thundered closer and closer together, Bellona’s eyes closed in on the golden eagle, its wings spread out.
She was about to win, she knew it.
Then Hengroen’s hurt leg gave way, and Bellona found the world spinning around her. She heard wood splinter against metal and horses scream, then her back hit the ground and all thought disappeared.
When she awoke, it was near midnight. Calamity had been averted by chance. Her lance, rather than piercing into Griswald’s helmet’s eyeslit, had scraped along the side of his helmet when she’d gone flying off Hengroen. Griswald’s lance had snapped against the ground rather than against Hengroen’s flank. It was a miracle that neither horse nor rider had been maimed or killed.
Bellona was relieved to hear that Hengroen was not permanently lamed from the fall, but she knew she had to see him as soon as possible. In a small stable that she’d rented for herself alone, Bellona found Hengroen, anger and frustration hanging over him like a cloud. When she came into view, he looked at her with anger and betrayal in his eyes.
“Hengroen… I didn’t think…” she said, coming closer to him.
Hengroen’s eyes narrowed. Of COURSE she didn’t think, those eyes accused her. She didn’t think because she was too blinded by her own image of what she was supposed to be!
“I thought it would help you!” she said, her heart breaking.
Hengroen stepped forward angrily, limping slightly. Suddenly Bellona felt the physical difference between the two of them, how much stronger he was than her. She backed up one step, then another.
How was the joust going to help him? Did she think that humiliating him would cow him into submission?
“No! No that’s not true! I thought you needed the old pride…”
Hengroen stamped hard on the ground, and Bellona felt her back press against the wooden wall of the stable. Hengroen had enough military pride for a lifetime, his eyes told her. No, the pride he was interested in cultivating now hung between his legs.
“I… I can’t be… I’m a woman… not a mare…” Bellona stammered, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t know whether she was scared or aroused, or if both were the same feeling at root. Hengroen reared, and his hoof smashed into the wood next to Bellona, making her fall to the hay-strewn ground.
“Haahhh, haahh,” Bellona panted as Hengroen took a space above her, boxing her in. Staring at her face directly was Hengroen’s sheath. A mass of flesh that seemed to vaguely resemble a closed telescope, it hung close to Hengroen’s belly, the promise of his manhood inside of it, only the tip in view to Bellona. It was mottled in color, darker brown than his coat here, almost black there. And it was filthy.
Covering the glans and buried in the folds of the sheath was a landscape of smegma mixed with old caked semen and the dried juices of Atalante and Rita, that Bellona could hear was already attracting flies. And poking out of his pisshole, Bellona could see a little pebble of solid smegma, stuck in it.
“I’ll… I’ll clean you…” she said, hoping to calm him. “I know I was remiss in not taking care of this for you.” Never before had a man had her at his mercy like this, and yet it made her heart race. She crawled forward on all fours, until she was a mere foot away from the stud’s organ. She reached forward, her hand trembling, until her fingers rested on the leathery sheath. For a few moments she merely massaged it, stretching the sides, seeing the thinnest patches of smegma crackle and flake.
Bellona began using a finger to scrape at the waxy, greasy foulness. Her hands that had blessed hundreds of knights, now the instruments of stable cleaning at its basest. Not knowing where to wipe her hands, Bellona had to settle on wiping it on her suit, feeling the wetness seep through onto her skin, making her pant.
“You’re right, Hengroen, there’s no way Atalante would know how to clean you properly here. I’m… I’m glad you made me see that only I could do this for you,” she said, as if to reassure herself that this was still something normal, that at least in some way she could reconcile this with her duty as Hengroen’s rider to take care of him.
An impatient snort blasted down from above, and Bellona found the sheath slammed against her face, almost bowling her over. “Mmffhh!” she mumbled as the flesh, wet with sweat and musk, piss and precum, slurped against her face. Her eyes rolled upwards as the smell forced its way deep into her lungs. Her nipples poked out from the top of her bodysuit, and she came from huffing the filthy, male stench of Hengroen.
She didn’t even notice she was cumming until a minute or two passed. But it was long enough for the smell to penetrate into her brain. Bellona, like everyone, knew that smell was intimately connected to memory. Now she would forever remember this stench, this vile reek of unwashed sex and hedonism, as being the source of an incredible orgasm.
The greasy wetness pressed against Bellona’s face began to seep out from the pressure Hengroen was putting on her. It soaked against her skin, stung at her eyes, seeped between her lips to force her tongue to taste the oily tang. From the seal around her face the liquid was pressed out, to stain her hair and flow like sweat down her cheeks to drip and patter onto her huge breasts.
Bellona only dimly felt these sensations. The taste and smell were overwhelming her, the heat surrounding her face almost burning her. That iron core in her that everyone knew held up the kingdom was being eaten away more and more by this sensation Hengroen was forcing upon her. This sensation of being a woman was destroying her ability to be a Queen. She knew it in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t stop it. Not when she couldn’t stop her mouth from slurping on the glans pressed against her lips, as her nose scraped up smegma that clogged her nostrils.
The wet, messy slurping sounds continued, loud enough for Hengroen to hear even as he felt the amazing waves of pleasure coming from his sheath as his rider serviced him with her mouth. The stallion neighed happily as his huge balls twitched. This was more like what he deserved, he knew. To have the woman he’d served so long and so well reward him with her own body was only fitting for a creature such as himself.
Bellona’s tongue licked and played among the folds of Hengroen’s sheath, collecting thick gobs of smegma-mixture before taking it back into her mouth. She had to chew it, and each time her teeth bit into the waxy stuff it spurted out more tangy juice. She had to work her jaw with every mouthful until she could swallow the mashed-up stuff.
Bellona’s tongue kept returning again and again to Hengroen’s pisshole. Much of it was blocked by a hard bean of smegma, and already precum flowed out around it, like water from a hose with a kink in it. Bellona took it in her mouth, bit at the bean with her teeth, and pulled. Her teeth sank into the hard exterior of the obstruction, and her instincts told her that if she bit too hard she would merely bite off a chunk. Instead she nursed on it, sucking on it with her mouth. Each load of warm spit mixed with melting smegma to coat the insides of Bellona’s mouth, seeping in between her teeth and into her gums.
After agonizing minutes of pleasure for the both of them, the bean began to shift inside Hengroen’s urethra. The sheath-cleaning queen suckled hard, and with a muffled plup, the bean came out of Hengroen’s hole and into Bellona’s waiting mouth. It was enough for Hengroen, and he could not restrain his erection anymore. His organ, filling with blood, pressed at Bellona’s face stronger and stronger. For a moment the seal of his sheath around Bellona’s face held, until it finally came free with a wet, syrupy SCHLOP.
Bellona herself, magnificent queen, paragon of chastity, was almost unrecognizable. Her eyes were clouded and unfocused, her mouth open in a dumb slack expression, her tongue hanging out loosely. Her whole face was utterly pathetic, caked in grime and beaded wetness. The feel of relatively fresh air on her face revived her mind for a moment. “Wha…? What am I…?” Her head moved sluggishly, like it was a heavy weight she could only barely hold up.
Above her, Hengroen panted, catching his own breath. Neither of the maids had ever assaulted his sheath with anything close to the dedication Bellona just had. It had taken all of his concentration to not succumb to an erection and thus ruin the whole scene. But now his manly pride slapped against his belly, harder than steel, wider and longer than a child’s arm. The very tip flared in and out in a long, irregular rhythm.
“Cleaning… that’s right… Hengroen…” Bellona mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. Some voice of hers told her she needed to escape, and put Hengroen down without a second thought. It was a regal voice, mighty and inspiring. She liked the sound of it, but she couldn’t just run away. He’d just run her down, wouldn’t he? He was so much bigger and faster than her, there was no way she could escape without a plan. And with his huge erection right in front of her face, it was obvious what he wanted.
I know, I’ll make him cum. If he cums, he won’t notice me sneak out, she thought, compromising with the other voice. If Hengroen came, clearly he’d be too tired to run after her!
Bellona reached behind the sheath, and felt the leathery sacs of Hengroen’s balls. They were nearly as big as melons, and when her wet palms touched the musky skin, she could feel the power and virility inside. There was potent magic in semen, so the sorcerers and witches said, and males who guarded their strength were well-rewarded. Clearly Hengroen had marshaled his strength well over the years.
As she massaged the balls, Bellona pressed her lips against the glans of Hengroen’s cock, kissing the now-open urethra, making out with the leaking hole. She savored the slickness and slightly sweet taste of the precum, mixed with a little hint of sour piss in the back.
“Hengroen, I see why Rita and Atalante like you so much now” Bellona purred, the noise coming from the back of her throat. It was a voice she had never used before, but had heard it in the army tents and back-alley brothels. But it felt natural to use with him. She could hardly imagine the shock if anyone else heard her use it. “You’re so strong… you’re so manly…”
With one hand massaging Hengroen’s testicles, the other moved back and forth along the length of his cock. She stroked the veiny organ, feeling his heartbeat pulse under her palms before she felt it against her face. Her grip couldn’t reach around the girth, leaving a few inches between her fingers and thumb.
Here was the real danger. Everything she’d been worried about facing with Hengroen. For the male principle here, the thrusting, vigorous, seeding force was so strongly instantiated, she had to fight to prevent herself from being overwhelmed by it. The womanly nature inside of her that she’d spent so long ignoring cried out to be filled with it.
It would be so easy to give in and become, like the two maids, a slave to Hengroen’s cock. She’d be the lowliest of them all, the most abjectly subjugated to Hengroen. As she sloppily kissed his cock, she knew that if she gave in, there would be no limit to the depths she would fall. As high as her name was held now, she would willingly throw it lower than anything to be Hengroen’s mare. That was, if she gave in.
The steed himself knew nothing of these internal struggles in Bellona’s heart. He merely felt the queen’s long tongue slurping at his cock-head, running along the flared tip, her spit mixing with his precum to splatter down in a pool beneath the two, joining the slipperiness of Bellona’s own grool that had been spurting onto the ground every time she came.
If I put this in my mouth, it might break me, she thought to herself between moaning kisses. But he’ll like it, won’t he? It was enough for Bellona, and she stretched her mouth as wide as she could, slipping the tip between her lips in between flares. It hurt as her jaw was stretched further than it had ever gone before. When Hengroen whinnied, and his tip flared, Bellona heard something pop behind her ear, and she came again, only held up from falling over by the cock in her mouth.
Bellona hung there, her head swimming as stars popped in and out of existence in front of her eyes. Pain she had experienced before. Her body had been in enough battles to feel the sharp impacts of arrows shattering on her breastplate, spear shafts striking her legs, swords and axes ringing against the metal lining of her shield to make her arm shiver. But this pain was entirely different. Those other wounds had made her steel herself for further fighting. But this, it made her think that defying the maleness of Hengroen was useless. Without trying, he could smash her apart.
No! the other voice rang out. You are stronger than that!
Coughing around the cock smashing her tongue down, precum that she couldn’t swallow overflowing her lips, Bellona pushed her head forward an inch, then a second one. Hengroen’s flared tip scraped against the top and bottom of her mouth, and she retched when he pushed forward himself, slapping his cock-tip against the back of her throat.
See your strategy to the end! the regal Bellona commanded herself, then escape this beast and never think of it again!
It was enough to keep Bellona going. If she could just make him cum, she could get out. She could do that. She didn’t know any of Hengroen’s weak points, but she had desperation on her side. Her tongue raked along the bottom of his cock, as her throat massaged the spongy tip. Her throat bulged as the cock slid down, until she looked like a snake trying to eat something bigger than itself. Her hands moved without her thinking, her instincts as a woman urging her to acts she had only known of intellectually.
Hengroen, his balls being fingered by Bellona, their weight in her hands as she lifted them, played with them, measured them, stamped his feet. It felt too good to be true. Neither Atalante nor Rita had ever before dared to try and deepthroat his cock. Already he could feel his anger begin to dissolve, replaced by something else. He had wanted to punish Bellona for her humiliation of him, but now he was just enjoying the new sensations she was giving him. No one had ever tongue-fucked his sheath like she just had. Now he was feeling more amorous than angry. And with that, what he wanted from her changed.
The woman currently with his cock in his throat did not notice this change. She coughed as her throat was filled with precum. But she was still unready for when Hengroen neighed loudly, and began to cum. She felt the ejaculation approach, the balls in her hand twitching, the shaft pulsing, and the flaring tip in her throat opening the pisshole as wide as possible. But when the first blast of hot horse seed spilled into Bellona’s throat, it was like she’d been punched.
She came, her eyes tearing up as they rolled up again. She couldn’t swallow it all, couldn’t breathe. Hot ropes of horse jizz filled her throat in an instant, then her sinuses, a muffled cough making her snort out two long, slimy strands of off-white cum. As more backed up her mouth, she tasted it for the first time, the bitterness like a strange sauce on her tongue. Then the slime spilled out from the seal of her lips on Hengroen’s cock.
For two long minutes, Hengroen spilled his seed into Bellona. The queen felt her stomach fill with the heavy, hot liquid. It was so much more than a human could put out, that she knew. But even for a horse, Hengroen’s output had to be remarkable. She couldn’t drink it all, and the puddle on the ground below them grew more and more cloudy as it seeped further, soaking into the hay. Bellona’s suit was ruined, utterly soaked in the jizz that had spilled out onto and then down her tits, with smegma wiped into the weave of the fabric here and there.
And for those two minutes, Bellona was ready to surrender. The regal voice was distant, and didn’t sound like her voice. No, she purred around Hengroen’s cock, a cum-muffled moan of womanly satisfaction. She hadn’t even had to touch her pussy to cum. She felt the abyss looming below her, and knew she’d only need to take a little step forward to fall into it, never coming back out. She could be Hengroen’s sheath-cleaning slut, and she would cum over and over again just from the taste of his smegma, soaked into her tongue.
She was saved by one of her knights. A knock at the stable door pulled her out of the utterly incoherent mindspace she’d been thrust into. She was Queen Bellona! She couldn’t give into Hengroen’s virility!
“Your Highness, is everything alright?” the soldier asked. All he saw was Hengroen standing at the far end of the stable behind a wooden wall. He began walking forward.
Hearing his footsteps, Bellona remembered her plan. She could feel Hengroen above her luxuriating in one of the best orgasms he’d ever had himself. Yes, he was virile, but he was still a man, and needed a moment to recover. As quickly and quietly as she could, she tried to pull Hengroen’s half-hard cock out of her throat. She pulled it out with a wet and quiet “haawwwkkhh” from her throat.
“Everything’s fine!” she rasped, her throat feeling like it had been beaten apart. Which it somewhat had been. “I’m just communing with Hengroen. His wound hadn’t healed the way I thought it had.”
The soldier stopped. “Would you like me to call the doctor?”
“No!” she squeaked, her voice higher than anyone had ever heard it before. “No, this is my duty. Thank you, but please go,” she said, mentally trying to force him out of there as quickly as possible so she could follow suit. “And please empty out the inn, Hengroen is feeling embarrassed due to my actions. I do not wish to burden him further.”
The soldier tapped the butt of his spear against the ground. “Of course, Your Highness!” He had heard the strange note in the Queen’s voice, but it was so unusual, so strange, that he preferred to think he was mistaken. There was no way the Golden Lady would squeak like a maiden. He marched out at double time, leaving Bellona alone.
Alone with Hengroen, that was. Bellona, let out a sigh of relief. Her heart was pounding at the thought of being seen like this, with her hair dripping with smegma juice, her mouth and tits drenched in frothy cum and spit, and her pussy so hot and wet it was steaming in the cool air. She looked up at Hengroen, and started crawling away.
She looked at the door, and saw what was on the other side of it – the order banishing Hengroen forever from the kingdom, and Rita and Atalante sent to separate countries, far far away. She would write it out in a frenzy, spilling ink, her seal misaligned with the wax. It would be the first tyrannical act of her reign, and she knew it would not be the last. She had lost the centered stability that had maintained the peace for so long. The iron rule of herself had begun melting away as she had huffed the smell of Hengroen’s asshole before. Even if she stopped everything here, she would never be quite the same.
The steed himself shook his mane and his neck around to clear his head. He wanted the Queen even more now. Noticing her not under him, he saw her crawling away. Her ass was in the air, shaking left and right with every movement.
Hengroen had never been an evil beast. He’d never raped the maids. But there had been nothing to do in that manse! What else were the three of them supposed to do except explore each others’ bodies? Of course they’d been ashamed of it at first, but later they took the shame as a secret sign of their own uniqueness, holding themselves above others. Of course they were going to flaunt something like that to the Queen when she came to visit! Hengroen wanted to show her that he was no broken-backed weakling, that he was still strong and worthy of being close to her.
But seeing the crotch of her leotard, utterly drenched in slimy grool, and smelling the need pouring off of her matronly body, he instantly became hard again. There was never going to be a better chance to make her understand his feelings, to convince her to never try and throw him away again.
A few steps and he was on her. “No…!” Bellona cried out in a fear she’d never felt before, a fear of sexual violence. Diving his face between her legs, his teeth grabbed at her leotard, and tore the crotch out in one smooth motion. Before she could turn around or do anything, he was over her.
Hengroen’s cock pressed between her legs, the fat tip touching her eager, desperate pussy lips directly, and she felt it push her hips up, raising her knees from the floor. “Hengroen, please, no! You’ll tear me apart! I’m still a virgin!” She had no idea how her tight hole could possibly take in Hengroen’s stallion rod.
Hengroen’s nostrils flared at the tone of her voice. It was not the voice of the one who’d ridden him anymore. She had never pleaded like this. It made him feel stronger, even with his weak leg. Bellona clutched his legs like they were the pillars of the earth. Her mouth moved in a litany of denial, but her body knew what it needed, what it had needed for years.
The stallion pushed, and Bellona let out a cry of terror and almost fulfilled need. The head was too big for her hole! It wouldn’t fit! He was going to kill her! But Bellona’s body, without experience, still had the ancient instincts. Her muscles relaxed, her hole gasped open, and as she let out a strained, half-human groan, Hengroen’s cock slipped into her.
It was the greatest pain she’d ever felt. Even the cock in her throat had been nothing compared to this. Hengroen’s cock didn’t even touch her hymen before it was pulled apart by his cock spreading open her tunnel from the inside. Bellona didn’t even feel it, her mind and heart too occupied on the manhood battering her inner tunnel. Her arms held onto Hengroen as her lower half was lifted off the floor entirely, hanging from his cock.
The queen’s mouth lay open, a dumb sound falling out of her lips as she stared forward like a trapped animal. “Haaahhhhh…” was all she could make. And what could she say to this anyway? Hengroen was fucking her. Fucking her in such a way that she somehow knew Rita and Atalante had never tried. What could she do? There was nothing she could do, except enjoy it.
That was when Hengroen started thrusting in and out of her. Bellona fell forward, her face on the ground as Hengroen slammed his cock in and out of her hole. With all the juices she’d secreted, his cock was well-lubed, and soon he was pounding from Bellona’s tight entrance to the mouth of her womb.
The noise that escaped Bellona’s mouth wasn’t anything like human words. It was an animal lowing, from her diaphragm, interrupted by heavy grunts and moans as Hengroen rearranged her innards with his cock. She could feel it happen, her stomach pushed up against the bottom of her chest when he punched his dick into her, making it impossible to breath in anything like a regular rhythm.
“Ggguuuhhh! Kggaaahhh! Agggkkk!”
But she was orgasming. It wasn’t one, discrete event, but like a heavy storm surge battering a shoreline. Sometimes the waves of her orgasms would threaten to drown her, sending her into unconsciousness for a short time before she came back up. But every orgasmic jolt that fired from her body sank into her brain. Just like her body, she could feel it being molded by Hengroen.
Her tunnel was being shaped into a vessel that could only accommodate Hengroen’s horse cock, and her heart was responding by feeling a surge of something that was so strong that Bellona could only call it love. And that love sank into her mind, an emotion so foreign to her for so long that she had no defenses against it welling up inside of her. Like a castle with a treasonous guard, Bellona was overthrown from the inside.
You mustn’t! You’re the queen! Think of your reputation! The regal self spoke to Bellona. But the voice was nothing like Bellona. The woman demonstrated it by gritting her teeth in a maniac smile, and yowling.
“Nngggaaaahhhh! Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou! Fuck me! Break me! Hhhhggggggnnnnggggghhh! Hengrohhhhhhnnnnn…! Ruiiihhhhhn meeeee!”
Bellona’s voice melted the regal image. That wasn’t who she was, not anymore. Maybe she had never been that beautiful, shining queen. Maybe she had always been this mare-slut, underneath the golden lies.
“I can feel everyyyttthhhhiiiing! You’re hitting my wooooomb!” Bellona’s arms covered her face and head as if she was trying to hide herself, but she couldn’t hide from herself. Not anymore.
With her complete acceptance, her body went into overdrive. Her womb sent signals to her ovaries, and soon eggs were dispatched down her tubes.
Feeling Bellona’s body milk his cock, wanting his cum inside her womb, Hengroen couldn’t last long against that kind of attack. Battering his cock as deep into her as he could go, knocking the breath out of her again, he began spurting his potent jizz into her deepest places. The heat was unbearable, scorching her cervix and her womb as the semen seeped in. Hengroen couldn’t unleash his full amount in her, but that was for another time. This was more than enough, anyway.
Twitching and cumming, her orgasmic face making her drool onto the ground, wet with her tears and spit and snot, Bellona was stuck on Hengroen’s cock for a few minutes, her hips in the air and her legs dangling uselessly, her feet scraping on the ground. “Aii luuhhvv yuuuu… hhhaaaaiiiii lluuuuvvv yuuuuu…” she drawled into the ground, hay stuck to her cheeks. Only when Hengroen’s cock softened did her heavy hips fall down into the pile of cum and juices below her with a heavy splut. The stallion’s cock continued to leak jizz onto her back, as the overflow of her pussy spilled out in a thick river.
Deep inside of her, Hengroen’s sperm raced further and further, until they found Bellona’s egg. Defenseless, it was battered by more and more inhuman attackers until, finally, one broke the shell, and fertilized it.
There was no going back from this.
No one really noticed the little changes in Queen Bellona at first. Or if they did notice, they preferred to believe in the image and reputation of the Queen rather than what they suspected they’d sensed. So when she smelled of the stable, with her face sweaty and grimy, no one could have seen the truth. She had just been taking care of Hengroen, who had returned to the inner keep, in his own apartment with Rita and Atalante.
When people heard a woman’s voice braying like an animal in the night, they thought that there was still depravity, even in the Shining Queen’s kingdom. But it had never been so brazen before. When the people realized the noises were coming from Bellona’s chambers, their hearts were heavy with nameless worry.
The Queen began making more and more extreme decisions. She shared her rooms with Hengroen, she spent more and more time in her private rooms, forbidding anyone inside except the two maids. They became the gatekeepers for the Queen, and their influence could not be bought, though many tried. People began to mutter that things were going strange.
When Bellona announced she was pregnant, the worry became dread. Something had broken the peace of the world. The Shining Virgin Queen, not only pregnant, but with a bastard? Many harps were broken that day, and voices stilled, never to sing again for pain of that betrayal.
But Bellona could force something through. Gathering her lords, she demanded of them to make an oath – to serve her child as her heir, completely and utterly. Those who agreed did it with heavy hearts. Those who refused were sent away, and clouds drew over Ardesant as people muttered of civil war.
Bellona didn’t care though. In her apartments, she let her body run naked and free, like her master Hengroen. “Darling, you’re tickling me!” she giggled as he licked at her hugely pregnant belly. Her bed was now low to the ground, perfect for laying with Hengroen. She embraced his neck, before he kissed her strongly.
No more did Bellona care for her reputation. In the castle, they called her the horse-slut. In the streets, “brood-mare bitch.” All the love her people had shown for her had curdled into something more disgusted than hate. When they saw her huge, milk-leaking tits, and her ravaged cunt barely hidden by her leotard, they felt pity for her.
The brood-mare queen didn’t know what her child was. But it was big, and strong, and she felt hard kicks often now. As Hengroen slipped his cock into her pussy, training her birth canal as it were, she came instantly. She was so excited to meet her royal child.
And if he had four hooves and a tail? The Prince that Ardesant so needed, the heir to the kingdom, a handsome stallion? Then he’d grow up as strong a king as his daddy.
Bellona couldn’t wait to meet him.