Year of the Inner Goddess

June 2024 – Audio Version

The young Queen sank into the shallow witch hazel bath, too tired and sore to wait for the tub to fill to optimal level. Grateful, her muscles eased in the hot embrace. Here and there, sharp stings protested the additional heat, causing the Queen to inspect her marred body. Crimson lines ran the length of each thigh, her nipples burned an unnatural red, and she knew the dark flowers, evidence of the harsher treatment, would eventually make their way to further tattletale of her liaison. Abandoning her examination, the Queen rested her head on the tub’s rim, closed her eyes, and sighed in profound satisfaction. 

Only a few hours early…

The Queen’s brow furrowed with a fine line of concern as she made her way down the passage. Her eyes flickered with a hint of worry, a reflection of the internal struggle she was wrestling with. The decision to go against one’s desires, even for the betterment of another, was a daunting task. The Queen found herself mentally rearranging her thoughts, trying to find the perfect words that would convey her deep care without seeming uninterested. 

Lost in her thoughts, the young Queen was startled when she nearly collided with the burly Captain of the Royal Guard, a man she had known for years. He swiftly caught her, his hands encircling her waist. More than a foot shorter, she had to tilt her chit to meet his eyes, evidence of the trust they shared. The weariness she had suspected was indeed present in his mesmerizing crystal eyes, a testament to the many battles waged on distant fields.

The grizzled knight bent his lips to her rosebud mouth; his arms lifted her lithe form until she balanced precariously on tiptoe. The knight deepened their kiss, becoming rough until she melted into his carnal embrace. Her carefully practiced oration started to drift away. No! What she had to say to him was too important. Mental fingers fought to retain the strings of thought. But…but…one insistent hand was now clutching the back of her neck, his tongue in her mouth. Her mind welcomed the fog of bliss, willing to forgo any confrontation and remain in his stout arms. 

Partially releasing the Queen, his lips brushing the wisping curls over her ear, the Knight rumbled in an octave meant only for her ears, “You should take me to your bedroom.”

In the face of her unexpected transformation, the Queen was determined to regain her composure. She had transitioned from a well-spoken monarch with a scrupulously prepared speech to a blushing milkmaid, her weak knees barely able to sustain her weight. She blinked dazedly for a few seconds before reforming her words, gathering her wits about her…ish. 

“I was going to give you an out…the long day…(a kiss landed on her jaw, the hollow of her cheek, the corner of her lip) maybe another night…the humidity…(a vigorous kiss silenced her words. The Queen shook her head at him) you can’t kiss me like that! Gods, now she sounded like a tittering milkmaid! 

The Captain of the Royal Guard stole another kiss before growling, “Are you kicking me out?”

“NO!!” The words flew from her swelling lips, too loud for even her ears. Her cheeks turned scarlet at her overly boisterous refutation. Nevertheless, her elfin fingers twisted around his broad ones as she guided him to her chambers. Maybe there she could redeem herself. 

Once in the privacy of her sanctuary, the Queen contemplated the Knight’s body as he undressed. Mournfully, it was a quick affair. The day’s heat meant sparring had been an informal affair requiring only a loose tunic and short britches. In his brusk movements, the Queen’s attentive eyes noted the invisible weight of the world on his shoulders, evidence of the gravity of his responsibilities, illness, and loneliness in his methodical movements. 

Nibbingly her bottom lip, she continued to worry about the wisdom of pursuing their liaison. Perhaps cuddling on the sofa or having an intimate massage would be more apropos for the evening. Lost in her observation, the Queen had only managed to slide the sparse fabric straps from her shoulders. The top of her gown mindlessly hung limp about her ample hips, leaving her naked breasts utterly exposed for his inspection. 

Looking up, the Knight caught sight of the tattooed lace of her vulnerable orbs. The Queen was almost afraid of the smile that engulfed his face and the demon fire blazing in his eyes…almost. All anxious notions evaporated in the heat of his lecherous regard. 

The Knight was in front of her in a single bound, hands under her arms, hoisting and then throwing her to bounce on the bed in a fit of surprised giggles. Arms planted like goalposts on either side of her, the viral Knight whisked another kiss away from the panting Queen. Expert fingers sidled between her garment’s flimsy fabric and her pristine flesh. The Knight whisked them down her legs and off her toes in a single swoop. There was a reason this Knight was the Captain of the Royal Guard, for even in this one endeavor, he was thoroughly competent, managing to whisk away not just her gown but the sparse triangle of silk protecting her wanton slit. 

Surrounded by her wealth of pillows, the Monarch lay on her bed before him. Her long hair cascaded around her, glinting in the pale light like a sapphire crown. The various ornate tattoos latticing her body were the recumbent Queen’s only attire. She felt resplendent and alluring in the light of the single torch flickering in its sconce. She savored her flourishing youth and the exquisite sensuality of her skin against the silken sheets. The Queen felt abundant pride in her body, a body that had withstood the crucible of life and yet managed to seduce a knight of the realm.

But what if she wasn’t? It was disheartening how quickly Doubt could creep his oily fingers into her mind, stealing away her self-worth. Surveying the Knight as he kissed the length of one arm caressing her palm, the Queen blanched a little, feeling inferior. The Knight was immense in comparison on every level, at least eight stones heavier than her. He was an imposing specimen of masculinity, with his sculpted shoulders built for commanding armies. Every muscle had been studiously honed for war and stood at sharp attention, a stark contrast to her own softness. His bronze flesh was drawn tight over every inch of his body; not a single cell of adipose tissue dared to appear on his body.

As her eyes greedily roamed, the Queen found no flaw in his unyielding physique, not even in the salt and pepper vellus hair that adorned his sharp pectorals and flowed down to his staunch naval. She silently vowed to intensify her workout routine. Nevertheless, her insecurity clung to her like an unwelcome parasite. Among all the maids, duchesses, and royal queens, why had he chosen her? The Queen pondered this, knowing she would not have blamed him if he had turned on his heels and bid her farewell. 

But no…the Knight parted her knees, flatly placing her feet on the opulent mattress. His veteran fingers traced the silken outline of each regal leg, starting from her narrow ankles up to her pointed hipbone. A tiny moan escaped the Queen’s ruby lips as her long lashes sealed her eyes. Encouraged, the Knight repeated the process. His tune was no longer aggressive but loving and curious. His fingertips glided from her shapely calves to work their way to the velvet of her inner thighs, masterfully avoiding her anxious slit.

The Queen’s breath caught as his lips murmured above her sensitive skin, her hips arched in an entreaty the Knight resolutely ignored. Feathery kisses flitted here and there when trails of unexpected fire erupted across her thighs. Nails were furrowing her fair skin with agonizing indifference. The Queen writhed, shoulders teetering back and forth, hips rollicking at the delicious, inciting torture. The Knight nipped her flesh in punishment. She squeaked at the abrupt additional pain, but her body continued to beseech him for his oral adoration. 

The Knight acquiesced, but not until he was satisfied that the Queen was fully submissive to his dominance. The act began with an intimate overtone. First, just a breath viril with a resonating growl, simultaneously heating and cooling the glistening curtains of her slit. He placed a kiss on the outer lip, followed by a gentle nip, pulling the fabric of her curtain ever so slightly between his teeth. A flick of the Knight’s pointed tongue teased her pulsing pearl, but the stimulation ended as briefly as it had begun. The Knight withdrew his face, surveying her sopping weakness with a roguish smile before dipping his head and employing the flat of his tongue to take a single prolonged swipe. The moist member extended from her South to her North before finally allowing the tip to drag about her pearl.

As the Knight repeated his technique, she arched and wriggled against his grizzled face, attempting to force his worship of her pearl. In these instances, the Knight’s face would retreat until the Queen poutingly settled, her body quivering with unspent energy. The Queen thought she would go mad from the perpetual teasing, and she huffed her keen annoyance. A sharp nip on her inner thigh reminded her just who was ultimately in control. The restless Queen lay reluctantly compliant, fingers clutching the linens around her in hopefulness. 

Gods, it was worth the wait. Forming an “O,” the Knight placed his upper lip just above her pearl, his bottom situated just below the opening of her slit, effectively sealing her throbbing curtains in his mouth. His tongue swirled the circumference of the Queen’s pearl. Her mewling cry signaled her readiness to the Knight. His acknowledging chuckle rumbled over her sensitive skin like thunder. Varying the pressure, his tongue once more roamed the length of her curtains, up and down and around the pearl again. Each successive journey increased in speed and intensity. 

However, it was the Knight’s intense sucking her pearl that finally freed the Queen from her mortal bonds. Twisting and jolting, the Queen exploded, her cries threatening to bring her handmaidens running to her aid! The Knight buried his face deeper, slithering his tongue into the recesses of her slit and exacerbating the climax. Thick fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, leaving a semi-permanent impression on her fair skin. It mattered little to the Queen as she succumbed to her culminating pleasure, grinding herself across the Knight’s entire face as he engaged his whiskered chin and aquiline nose with deliberate dedication.

Oh, but the astute Knight was far from finished with the Queen. Keeping his upper lip and tongue focused on her swollen pearl, the Knight beveled his chin away, enabling two key fingers to penetrate the sovereign’s precious sanctuary. His tongue never missed a beat, doting on her pearl as his fingers glided back and forth, wetting themselves on her nectar before curling up to stimulate the Queen’s inner jewel. 

The wailing Queen’s orgasm possessed mind and body. Every muscle and vein straining under the judicious encouragement. Bucking at the cresting climax, the Queen unintentionally broke the connection with the Knight’s tongue. Taking advantage of the interruption, the Knight climbed onto the bed and knelt at the fracturing Queen’s side, carefully maintaining his rhythm steady within her. The Queen was no “come hither” girl. Her elfin form demanded the raw jackhammering vigor of the Knight’s full capability, and his adjustment gave the Knight access to his mighty arm’s full power. 

Straightaway, her nectar gushed, flecking his chest and soaking the linens beneath her. The Queen continued to convulse under the new form of climax, but the Knight showed no mercy. Her bottom lip quivered as the echoes of her release reverberated around the walls of her secluded boudoir. Her larynx grew inflamed from her screams, and her muscles ached from supporting her through the force of her climax. 

When the Knight withdrew his hand, his fingers dripped with her glittering nectar. Recovering, the Queen’s bosom heaved as she battled to regulate her breathing. The Knight waited patiently, hands resting on his thighs. Between his oak thighs hung his erect granite, the veins bulging the length of his distended shaft. Lifting her head, the Queen licked her lips as she wrapped her willowy fingers around the base of his rotund glory, her tongue reacquainting itself with his bulbous crown. It was the Knight’s turn to groan. Animated by his reaction, the Queen shifted her glistening form to modify her approach, swallowing all but the last two inches down her lusty throat. The Regent prided herself on her oral accomplishments. Nevertheless, like the rest of his anatomy, the Captain of the Guard boasted an impressive hulking member. 

The Queen held sway, respecting her kingdom, yet at that moment, the Knight reigned with absolute authority. Disengaging from her mouth sooner than the Queen would have cared for, the soldier moved off the bed and crossed to the far side, retrieving his haversack and digging in its depths. As she recuperated, the Queen wondered if the Knight would retrieve some type of implement intended for her discipline. A paddle, perhaps? Maybe the flogger! Every nerve and axon sparked to alert attention. The Queen’s breathing quicked in anticipation. A flogging might be just the thing to palliate the ever-intensifying stress of her position.

But, no. The Knight extracted a small silver square, tore it open, and set it on a neighboring bureau. Flipping the top off a miniature vial of golden oil, he drizzled a fine stream from his eager tip to the rotund base of his glory. Ignorant of the exhibition he was flaunting, the Knight began to stroke himself, slathering his bobbing glory in the lubricant. The Queen lay slackjawed, watching him. Gods, she could have gaped at him doing that the rest of the night. The Knight stood with his hulking thighs spread, head bent, and shoulders slightly curled forward, intent as his massive hand twisted and skated the expanse of his glory. Back and forth, back and forth ranged the Knight’s hand, the protuberant crown bursting from his fist darkened a shocking aubergine with every intentional stroke. 

Closing her eyes, she replayed the scene she had just witnessed, imagining the giant head stroking her inner sanctuary, rubbing over and over her inner jewel. Gods, she needed that! The Queen remembered herself just in time and closed her mouth as the Knight stretched the translucent protection down until it covered his girth completely. 

With heavy footfalls, the Knight advanced on the Queen. Scooting back on the bed, the monarch spread her legs, beckoning the prowling Knight. Settling himself atop her with feline grace, the Queen was grateful for the Knight’s moderate proceeding as he pressed his advantage. While she adored the sometimes caustic attacks, she was captivated by the heft’s slow approach, cultivating her pleasure with agonizing sluggishness. Knowing she only had moments before the familiar offensive onslaught, the Queen’s body hastened to acclimate to the Knight’s wanton girth.

As anticipated, the Knight’s stout hips retreated, dragging his ridge past her reactive inner jewel, causing the Queen to let out a pitiful whimper. Clinging to him like some bitty marsupial, the Queen was ready for anything the Knight could dispatch. Or, so she thought.   

Plunging, ramming thrusts calculated for her supreme gratification assaulted her slender frame. Crazed orgasms raced through her body, keen servants to the masterful Knight demanding their obedience. Graceful legs and sylphlike arms grappled to maintain their hold on the Knight. Despite her best efforts not to, claw marks reddened the Knight’s chiseled back and prominent biceps. Dauntless, the Knight drove deeper, every penetrating drive calculated and executed with expert precision. 

Unclasping her legs from his waist, the Knight positioned her calves to rest on his vast shoulders. Below him, the Queen heaved, sucking in a precious breath as she straightened her clenched fingers. Her mind reeled from the experience while fortifying her body for the next assault. The Knight cocked an eyebrow in query. The Queen returned his mute check-in with a devilish look of her own, challenging the Knight to do his worst. 

This was not one of the Queen’s wiser moments. From youth, the Knight had been drilled to follow orders and trained to scrutinize and unravel the hidden meanings behind idioms and demeanors. These were just a few skills that made the Knight a competent lover. Drawing on his disciplines and the wisdom of his years, the Knight plunged with deliberate fury and speed, sending the Queen off the precipice of reality and into oblivion. 

Only once, during a slight interlude, was the Queen able to lift her head and witness her destruction. Violaceous and exacting, the envious rod slammed into her time and time again. Finally, her head falling back into the plump pillow, she screamed at the wondrous annihilation of her senses and swelling curtained slit. Incited by her response, the governing Knight redoubled his efforts, assailing her with a savage vengeance. Her nails sank into his flesh, her only hope of maintaining a tether to the mortal world as her body shook with uncontrollable orgasms.

Warning bells rang within the Queen’s head. The handmaidens were long forgotten; the signal was spawning from elsewhere, cautioning her mind. Alarm bells pealed from her lower back. With her legs on his extensive shoulders and his Herculean brawn bearing upon her, the Queen’s body feared her spine would snap in half. It was not the worst way to go, she half mused yet the Queen craved far more from the limitless Knight. Relaxing a few clenched fingers, she urgently tapped his shoulder, the established method for gaining the Knight’s attention.

“I want to ride you,” she shrieked as the millionth orgasm threatened to swallow her.

A boyish grin lit the Knight’s handsome face. “As you wish.”

Sitting on his heels, he swatted her legs away. The action was not unkind but imperious. There was no time for flowery gestures; there was a Queen to deflower in another position. Motivated, she attempted to rise, her head woozy and lightheaded, before being able to permit the Knight to recline in her vacated place. 

Scrambling atop him, the Queen began to ride him with uncensored abandon. The Knight recruited every tool and tactic in his considerable warehouse of knowledge to rile her climaxes. Drawing her forward, his brutal hands bruised her exquisite breasts as the Knight suckled one alert nipple, the other, and then both together. The passionate Knight absorbed them, sucking and elongating the breasts and nipples. Stubbornly, he refused to release the Queen until sharp needles of pain began shooting outward from each rosy areola. Panicking at the pricking stings, the Queen scuffled to free herself from his cruel treatment. Nonetheless, resounding orgasms dominated her body. Somehow, some part of her yearned for the grievous pain.

Content with his abuse of her tender bosom, the Knight commissioned another technique. Arching his hips up and forward, his pervasive glory strove to destroy the Queen writhing on his hips. Rivers of nectar ran down his body and soaked the bed. Unflinching, the Knight recklessly thrust his hips against her. The fierce clamping spasms evicted him time and again until he was forced to clamp a hand on each shoulder to keep the fragmenting Queen in her place. 

At last, pausing to catch her breath, the dwindling Queen leaned backward and rested her palms on the breadth of the Knight’s thighs. Her breathing was rough and ragged. The Knight raised both hands, encasing them around her fragile throat and tightened. The Queen froze. She knew that with just one flick of his wrists, the grizzled Knight, the Captain of the Royal Guard, could end her life. The Queen of the Realm was one snap from knowing what every clergy, priest, and holy shaman claimed to know in the deepest recesses of their mind. One fracture away. 

As her breath became more and more constricted, something about that dark, somber thought released a tidal wave within the Queen. Accepting her fate, she delivered her life into the Knight’s faithful hands, her soul easing as it quietly prepared to slip away. There would be no more worries. No more responsibilities. 

A profound sensation, ever an intrinsic part of her, mushroomed within the Queen. Still a captive prisoner, she set about warily rolling her hips, grinding herself on the Knight’s rounded hips. The roaring orgasm took flight until the raw force evicted the monolith from her cocoon. The Queen’s triumphant screams were silenced by her human collar. 

“Are you still sending me away?” The impervious Knight snapped, liberating her crimsoning throat. 

The Queen shook her head definitively as her dainty fingertips soothed her aching neck. She had cared about his well-being and the evident exhaustion from his healing body that had radiated from his frame. Wishing to discontinue their evening had never been her intention.  

“Good,” the Knight practically snarled, throwing her from his body. 

Before she could sit up and protest, the Knight crudely flipped the young Queen onto all fours, ramming his hips against her rounded buttocks. The position obscured the dazed Queen’s grin. Gods, the relief of being controlled by executive orders and no longer accountable for a single dependent soul virtually brought tears springing to her eyes. For the briefest space of time, the Queen tasted true freedom. 

The presiding Knight put the waning Queen through all the paces. He bombarded her velvety cocoon with a garish battery until she screamed to the invisible Olympians high atop their mountain. In the face of the attack, the Queen struggled to maintain her position; her elbows and wobbly knees sunk deeper into the plush mattress. She would not give the Knight the satisfaction of seeing her weary body collapsing. 

Just as the Queen was reaching the pinnacle of a particularly overwhelming orgasm, the Knight slowed his pace, nearly withdrawing his entire pole from her aching passage. The Queen wailed in abject frustration! What had the Knight done?! Had he realized how close she was to once more touching heaven?! Peering over her shoulder, the Queen rebuked the Knight for his carelessness. Her reproach faltered before she could quite utter them to their fullest chastisement. The Knight held a murderous glint in his eyes. Nothing he did was negligent or shoddy. The Knight knew precisely what he was about, choosing to meticulously deny the Queen at the apex of her release. 

She bowed her head in subservience. She had done it now. As if reading her thoughts, the Knight raised his palm and delivered leaden blow after leaden blow on her porcelain derriere. The Knight was not a cruel man, but he would not tolerate insolence. The slaps rained over and over with resounding cracks. However, no strike struck the same place twice in a row. The Knight showed only this mercy before plunging to the hilt, driving his crown to obliterate the Queen’s inner gate as his hands viciously gripped her sapphire curls. Head and throat exposed to an unnatural extension, she screamed.

It was all too much! Forced prone, the Queen cried her climax, her nectar once more coating the linens beneath her. The power had propelled her forward, the last of her spasming orgasm, expelling the Knight from her sanctuary as she spasmed, gasping for precious air, her eyes seeing nothing. The handmaids would undoubtedly have something to gossip about. 

“Now, who is quitting?” the knight challenged. He yanked her hair back, voguing her full attention.

The Queen whimpered, unable to move or think. 

Impervious to her desecration, the stoic Knight stepped off the bed and walked away as he removed the protection from his pulsing girth. Except for the gasping of her body, the Queen lay inert, prone on her abdomen. The Knight surveyed her wan form with smug self-congratulations. 

“Rollover.” There was no request in his baritone.

Dutifully, the Queen heeded the command. Silently, the Knight straddled her face. It was an odd and unfamiliar position. They had rarely utilized the 69 position, and the Queen’s rapidly bruising slit whimpered at the thought of prolonged annihilation, even from his lips! Mutely, she prepared her throat for his ravishing penetration. The Knight’s heavy jewels rested over her prim nose, and rounded buttocks hovered over her forehead. Below him, the Knight’s masculine pheromones intoxicated the Queen’s senses. He had recently washed but their exhausted efforts raised their essence, and she could detect her own perfume variegated with his. Above her, the Knight’s imposing form refused to bend to her anxious slit. Rather, he remained resolute, rising tall like the Eiffel Tower, the wrought iron menacing in its solidity. 

A rough hand reached down and mawed a still smarting breast. Blind to his expression, the Queen could only listen to the squelching sounds as the Knight began to work his swelling glory with the fervor of a madman. Oh! This was what the Knight was about. Not her continuing pleasure but his own. 

Despite the peculiar orientation, she was eager to aid. The Queen’s tongue flicked, swathing his contracting jewels in the warmth of her mouth. The Knight’s muscle grew ridge, his thighs on either side of her cheeks turning to solid granite. A smile perked the corner of her lips. She gathered her bruised breasts, thumbs swirling the tender nubs, teasing the Knight. Milky strands shot from the tip of the Knight’s staggering glory. From her narrowed point of view between his legs and the valley of her breasts, the Queen watched as the ropes coated her breasts. 

It was the Knight’s turn to collapse onto the rumpled linens with a last shuttering groan. Oddly rejuvenated by his demise, the Queen rose in all her naked splendor, whisking away the remnants of his release from her bosom and breastbone. The Knight lay unmoving, his skin coated in a fine sheet from his exertion. Her heart leapt with joy. Kneeling over him, the radiant Queen compressed her lips to emulate a flute embouchure. Soft, soothing breath wafted over his exhausted skin. The Knight gave a faint moan, eyelids shut and body at last slack. The Queen allowed her feathery breath to drift over his arm and down his chest, causing the curling salt and pepper hairs of his chest to dance. Traveling down his taut abdomen, the breeze conveyed cooling relief over his slumbering glory. The Knight murmured his appreciation through barely parted lips. Up and down, up and down, the triumphant Queen’s breath fluttered over his skin. 

Ultimately, the two rose from the bed, refreshed themselves, and exited to the outer chambers of the Queen’s residence. In a last gruff gesture, the Knight’s hand circled the Queen’s waist as he drew her lithe body into his. A fierce kiss further bruised her willing mouth. He bit her bottom lip, a parting reminder of his dominance, and then he was gone. 

The Queen took a moment to gather her senses before casting about for her abandoned speaking device. She could scarcely wait to relay every salacious detail to her Consort. Absent from her court, she knew he was dying to relive every indelicate deed enacted on her royal form. Her grin deepened at the memories and the assumed responses from her Consort. A devilish light twinkled in her eyes; he was in for quite the tale!

After acquiring the gadget, she settled on the damp sheets, resting her back on the immovable bedframe. First, the retelling, and then a bath…definitely a bath. 

Until next time, XO. Elsie