Queen Of Sorrows Ch. 01

The procession marched up the long steps leading to the throne room. Sofia was winded when she reached the top of the staircase, and her dizziness had intensified. A traditional longhorn sounded inside the throne room and, as if on cue, the tall, heavy doors opened. The formation marched through the entryway without breaking stride. The horn fell silent.

"All rise in honor of Sofia the First, Queen of Osthollow, Protector of the Realm, Defender of Justice, Mother of the People," a voice boomed from the front of the room. Strange that Chrysanthis would use the words traditionally used by Osthollow heralds to honor our monarch. Am I being mocked?

Everyone in the room stood at attention. The throne room was packed with foreign dignitaries, wealthy merchants, and all the leaders of the Great Houses of Chrsyanthis. Black armored soldiers lined the perimeter of the room. The traditional throne was gone, and in its place was a long rectangular table stacked with documents. Behind the table stood Empress Kiera, her High Priest, and the man with the booming voice.

Captain Stanton's squadron led Sofia to the edge of the dais. The guards flowed to either side and disappeared into the sea of black armor lining the walls.

The Empress stepped out from behind the table, stopping at the front of the dais mere feet from the Queen. Kiera was resplendent in her blue silk gown. The front of the bodice contained a deep V that revealed more than a hint of breast. It cinched around her waist and flowed to the floor in two long panels that were separated by long slits on both sides. Every step displayed the entire length of Kiera's firm legs--from her ankles to her hips.

"Queen Sofia." The Empress offered a slight bow.

"Empress Kiera." Sofia responded with an even slighter bow.

"Today is a historic day for our people." Kiera spread her arms as she addressed the assembled dignitaries. "Today we end the hostilities between our nations. Today we declare our mutual desire for peace and unity. Today our two nations become one."

The crowd stood and applauded. Kiera took Sofia's hand and led her to end of the table. The Empress picked up a heavy gold pen, dipped it in a pot of ink, and handed it to Sofia. Kiera pointed to the first document and indicated where Sofia was to sign.

Sofia looked at the first document. The title read:

"Unconditional Surrender."

Tears gushed from Sofia's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She tried to read the rest of the paper, but her eyes were too wet. She stopped herself from sobbing, but she could not stop the flood of tears. Kiera put her hand on Sofia's hand guided it to the signature line.

"It's for the best," Kiera whispered. "You're saving millions of lives."

Sofia willed her hand to hold the pen long enough to complete her signature. When she was finished, Kiera led her to the next document.

"Annexation of Territory."

Sofia did not bother to read it. She added her signature where Kiera indicated. Kiera guided her to the next document.

"Merger of Nations."

By the time she reached the far end of the table Sofia had signed ten separate documents, nine of which she had no idea of the contents.

The Empress resumed her position behind the table.

"The High Priest will now invoke the Holy Blessings of the Tri-God," the man standing to the left of the Empress announced.

The High Priest stepped forward and removed a silver hammer and small brass pot on a chain from a pocket hidden in his deep purple robe. He removed the lid, placed a blue stone inside the pot, and crushed it with the hammer. He touched a candle to the crushed stone. Green flames and a cloud of thick smoke rose from the pot. The High Priest lifted the pot by the chain and waved it over the table. He recited an incantation in a language that Sofia did not understand. His voice started at a lower murmur, but after several minutes it started to rise. He continued chanting for a quarter hour, then was joined by all the Chrysanthins in the room. The chant continued for another quarter hour, until the flames died, and the cloud of smoke had risen to the ceiling.

Eight servants approached the dais and removed the table. They returned with a large device that resembled a heavy chair mounted on a small boat. Before Sofia knew what was happening, the High Priest and Captain Stanton grabbed her by the arms and led her to the device. A servant stepped out of the shadows and unfastened the button securing her gown. The servant removed the gown while the High Priest and Captain Stanton held her still. Sofia stood naked before the entire assembly of dignitaries for a brief second before the High Priest lowered her into the bottom of the device. Captain Stanton closed the upper panels, sealing Sofia inside.

Her head swimming--no doubt from the fermented juice she drank in the servant's quarters--Sofia found herself lying on her back, her arms pressed against her sides, and completely immobilized. The device fit her like a tight coffin, encasing her from the neck down. Curiously, her face was not covered, and she found herself staring up at the ceiling through a cloud of green smoke.

"The Queen will perform the Ritual of Submission," the voice boomed.

Kiera walked over to the device and kneeled. Her face inches from Sofia's, Kiera looked down and smiled.

"You will perform the ritual to my satisfaction," Kiera said in voice just loud enough for Sofia to hear, "or your people will suffer, and you will surely die."

Kiera bent over and gave Sofia a brief kiss on the mouth. Sofia was too stunned to react, even when the Empress extended her tongue and swiped it across Sofia's lips. Kiera stood up straight, turned her back to Sofia, lifted the back panel of her dress, and sat on the edge of the device.

From somewhere in the back of the room a trio of giant drums beat out a primitive rhythm. The entire assembly rose to their feet and clapped their hands in unison. The sound filled the immense throne room and pulsed throughout the palace.

It took Sofia a moment to realize what was happening. One second she was looking up at the ceiling through the smokey haze, and a second later the lights went out and she couldn't breathe. She squirmed against the sides of the device and gasped for breath. All at once she understood the gravity of her situation. I can't move! She's smothering me! Is this a ritual murder?

Sofia struggled against the solid walls confining her on all sides. No matter how much she fought against the device, her arms, legs and torso were completely immobilized. She could move her face a few degrees to either side, but no matter how much she twisted and turned, she still could not breath. She shook her head in a frantic attempt to free herself.

Panic overwhelmed Sofia. She tried to scream, but the soft flesh covering her mouth smothered any sound. She pushed with her feet and arms, but the rigid walls refused to yield. Sofia's exertions hastened her oxygen consummation. Her lungs burned, and she knew that she was seconds away from losing consciousness. In a final act of desperation, Sofia pursed her lips and sucked inward, praying that she could draw some air.

For a brief second, the weight on her face shifted. A tiny gap appeared, allowing Sofia to draw a single breath. Air filled her lungs, delaying her suffocation by another minute.

The gap closed just as quickly as it opened. The darkness returned, and so did the weight. Sofia pursed her lips and sucked a second time. She detected a mildly pungent sensation that reminded her of ... No! No! Not ... that! Gross! Hell no. I'd rather die.

Sofia continued to struggle, but she knew her efforts were futile. The air in her lungs was nearly depleted, and she did not expect to draw another breath. She thought of her husband and his brave sacrifice and reasoned that as Osthollow's first and only Queen she could give no less than Leopold had given as its last King. She mumbled a goodbye to her people, asked for their foregiveness, and prayed that some would survive the coming slaughter. She thought of her children and hoped that their lives would not be as difficult as Kiera promised.

No! I won't go out this way. If this is the sacrifice demanded of me, then so be it. If my degradation will save lives, then how can I refuse? I'm beyond shame.

In a final, desperate act, Sofia extended her tongue as far as it would reach, stretching it until she tasted the moisture oozing from Kiera's crotch. She pursed her lips and sucked, drinking Kiera's feminine nectar like a thirsty animal at a desert watering hole.

A small smile formed on Kiera's face, visible only to those nearest the dais. The Empress shifted her hips again, allowing Sofia a healthy gulp of life-sustaining air. Sofia reacted instantly, drawing as much oxygen into her lungs as she could in the fraction of a second Kiera allowed. When the opportunity expired, Sofia resumed alternately licking and sucking. She bathed Kiera's entire crotch with her tongue. She licked front to back and then side to side, tasting every inch of flesh her tongue could reach.

After a long two minutes of sustained licking from below, Kiera's smile widened. She rewarded Sofia with another opportunity to draw oxygen into her tortured lungs. Kiera lifted her hips and leaned forward, allowing a half inch gap to open between her crotch and Sofia's mouth. Sofia hungrily gulped air into her lungs before the gap closed again. Within seconds the darkness returned and with it the familiar weight pressing down on her mouth. Revitalized and refreshed, Sofia resumed licking.

The two women established a rhythm. Sofia licked until she felt on the verge of passing out, and then Kiera rolled her hips to one side or the other to allow a brief gulp of air. Sofia drank in all the air her lungs could capture before Kiera reseated herself and Sofia resumed licking her.

Twenty minutes later, Sofia felt a new problem emerging. Her jaw was beginning to ache. Holding her mouth open for prolonged periods and licking Kiera's slit was taking a toll on her facial muscles, which were not conditioned for such abuse. How much longer is this ritual going to continue? I don't know how much more I can endure. I have no doubt whatsoever that if I were to stop licking, she would allow me to suffocate. Have I not submitted already? How much more is expected of me? Wait...is that what she meant by "...performing the ritual to her satisfaction...?" The crazy bitch can't expect me to keep this up until she climaxes.

Sofia played back the conversation in her mind and realized that was exactly what Kiera intended. This is absurd--the fate of my people depends upon me licking her to orgasm. If I fail, thousands will die, including me. Is this any way to govern a nation? What kind of sick society invents rituals like this? Maybe I should let them slaughter us. At least I would be saving them from subjugation by a mad woman.

Sofia pushed that thought aside and recalled the times King Leopold had performed oral sex on her. She remembered the way she felt when she climaxed and concentrated on what her husband had been doing to get her to that point. Of course. I'm going about this all wrong. I have to forget about what I am enduring and concentrate on what she is experiencing. I have to focus my efforts so that I maximize her pleasure.

Ignoring the pain in her jaw, Sofia used the tip of her tongue to explore Kiera's vulva. She licked up and down the slippery folds of flesh, and then located the small nub hidden at their juncture. Sofia pursed her lips and sucked on it, eliciting an immediate gasp from Kiera. She sucked it again, and Kiera rewarded her with an extra opportunity to take a breath.

Kiera leaned forward and planted her hands on the edge of the device. She looked down at the floor and sucked in air with an audible hiss that even the High Priest heard over the booming drums.

Her strategy set, Sofia sucked Kiera's clit between her lips, and then flicked it with her tongue. Kiera's juices flowed into Sofia's mouth. She paused to swallow and then resumed her concentrated licking of Kiera's rigid nub. Sofia licked as though her life depended upon it, knowing full well that it in fact did.

Kiera rocked forward and then backward, pressing her crotch against the opening in the device. Using both hands, she slipped her fingers inside her gown and pinched her nipples. She rolled her head from side to side and moaned.

The assembled crowd gasped and cheered. The rhythmic clapping that had dissipated a few moments earlier returned. Propelled by the drums, it was louder and more intense than before. Panting like a bitch in heat, Kiera lifted her hips for a full five seconds, and then dropped herself once more onto Sofia's upturned face.

Fully cognizant of her task, Sofia licked and sucked with a renewed sense of purpose. Her tongue danced all over Kiera's clit, flicking it from side to side for several seconds and then changing direction so as to attack it front to back. Sofia varied her pace and intensity, but never once relented in her focus.

Kiera pinched her nipples so hard that she involuntarily cried out in pain. She pressed her crotch against Sofia's mouth and rocked back and forth. She didn't hear the sounds in the room. She felt, rather than heard, the drums beating and the crowd clapping in unison. She was oblivious to the hundreds of faces watching her. She ground her crotch against Sofia's mouth, aware of only one thing--the sensation rising from her cunt and traveling to her brain by way of her savaged nipples. Kiera was on the verge of climaxing.

Her lungs burning, Sofia realized that Kiera had broken from their rhythm. Through her lightheadedness she understood that Kiera was approaching her apex, but she also realized that she was mere seconds from passing out. The worst thing I could possibly do would be to lose consciousness and leave Kiera on the cusp of orgasm. I would probably never wake up. She would slit my throat to slake this crowd.

Sofia had no choice but to soldier on. She pushed aside thoughts of failure and intensified her assault on Kiera's clit. She ignored the pain in her jaw and flicked her tongue back and forth with increasing speed. She felt the pressure on her face becoming heavier, and the flow of Kiera's feminine nectar increasing. Sofia sucked and swallowed the juice to avoid drowning. Every muscle in her body burned. Tears leaked from her eyes, but still she persevered. Stars twinkled in front of her eyes and she knew she had only seconds left before she lost consciousness.

And then suddenly it was all over. The Empress was helped to her feet by two attendants. Sofia gulped enormous quantities of air while she tried to process her thoughts. She became aware of the crowd applauding, but she did not know if it was her success or failure that drove them. She noticed four soldiers hovering over her. Two of them bent over and opened the box. The other two lifted Sofia to her feet.

Captain L Anton and his unit flowed into formation around Sofia. The soldiers led her out of the throne room and down the grand stairway. Two columns of soldiers lined the hallways, one on either side. Sofia recognized the path they were following. She was being escorted back to the dungeon. I must have satisfied her. Otherwise, I'm sure I would be dead.

Sofia was surprised when the procession bypassed the entrance to the dungeon. Instead, it exited the palace and crossed the courtyard, stopping at the blacksmith's workshop.

"Be seated." Captain L Anton pointed toward a sturdy wooden chair situated between two anvils. He removed his helmet and flashed a toothy grin in Sofia's direction. Sofia shivered.

The smith brought over a wooden box containing an assortment of shackles and leg irons. He set the box on the floor and removed a hinged cuff with an iron loop attached to one side. He opened the cuff, placed it on left Sofia's wrist, and then closed it. He checked to make sure it was snug enough that Sofia's hand could not slip through, yet not so tight as to cut off circulation. Satisfied with the fit, the smith picked up a corresponding rivet and heated it in the forge. He returned a minute later and placed the rivet through the matching holes on the open side of the cuff. He set the cuff on the flat surface of the anvil, raised his hammer over his head, and looked Sofia directly in the eye.

"Turn your head," the smith said in brusque voice.

Sofia closed her eyes and grimaced.

"And don't move, unless you want to lose this hand."

Sofia took a deep breath and braced herself for the impact.

The smith's muscular arm swung downward. The head of his hammer struck the rivet, resulting in a thunderous sound and a cascade of sparks. A tiny piece of shrapnel flew up and burned Sofia's breast, but she bit her tongue and remained still. When she looked down she saw that both ends of the rivet were flattened against the cuff. Short of cutting off her hand, the cuff was permanently attached.

The smith repeated the process with her right wrist. He then made her lie on the floor with her legs in the air and her feet resting on the anvils. The smith attached iron cuffs to both of Sofia's ankles. When he was finished, the smith helped Sofia to her feet and turned to Captain L Anton.

"She's ready."

Captain L Anton fed a length of chain through the loops on each of Sofia's cuffs. He held both ends of the chain in one hand like a coach driver holding the reins on a team of horses.

"We're going to march back to the castle," he explained. "You'll have to walk with short steps so that you don't get your feet tangled in the chains. If you try to escape, one flick of my wrist will leave you face down on the floor. Your injuries will be substantial, as I'm afraid you won't be able to break your fall with your arms being tugged behind your back."

"Captain, I'm wearing nothing but shackles. I'm surrounded by a squadron of your finest men. Where, exactly, do you think I would be running to?"

"Silence, prisoner. I gave you that warning as a courtesy. It was not an invitation for insolence."

Sofia opened her mouth to voice a response but thought better of it and said nothing. Captain L Anton turned his head and smiled.

* * *

Minutes later, Sofia found herself in the servant's quarters of the palace. She was lying face up on a hard wooden bench. Her wrists and ankles were chained together beneath the worn plank. Captain L Anton and his men, as well as Overseer Willis, formed a circle around her. This must be where they're going to rape me before returning me to my cell. Is this going to be a daily ritual, or will it be reserved for special occasions like the complete and total surrender of Osthollow to Chrysanthis?

An old woman sat on a stool near Sofia's head. She used a damp cloth that smelled like alcohol to wash the make-up from Sofia's face. She leaned over and drew a pattern on Sofia's cheek with a small paintbrush. Now what are they doing? Am I being prepared for another ritual?

The old woman pulled out a slender stick with a needle sticking out of one end. With her other hand she grasped Sofia by the jaw and looked down at her.

"Don't move," she said. "This is going to hurt."

Sofia's eyes bulged. She struggled against her bonds even though she knew her situation was hopeless. The chains immobilized her body while the old woman's unexpectedly strong grip held her face still. Does it really matter? No one will see the number on my face in the darkness of the dungeon.

The old woman dipped the needle into a jar of ink and then tapped it against Sofia's cheek. At first the pain was just annoying, like the sting of a bee, but as the process wore on it became intolerable. Tears flowed from the corners of Sofia's eyes, wetting her hair and the bench. After two hours and thousands of taps of the needle against her tender skin, Sofia imagined blood running down her cheek and pooling on the floor beneath the bench. Her face felt as though it had been chewed by a vicious dog with an insatiable appetite for human flesh.