A Long Time Ago, And Far, Far Away…

The little girl skipped down the forest path, her mother following close behind. She crested a little rise, and stopped short. When her mother caught up to her, they looked out over a fenced field planted with row upon row of blooming cotton plants. The little girl’s attention was riveted on a group of tall, nearly naked Slave-men harvesting cotton. Two uniformed fieldwomen, shiny metal batons held casually in their hands, watched them from a short distance away.

The little girl looked up at her mother. “Who are those people, Mommy, and why are those ladies watching them?” Her mother knelt down to look her in the eye. “Those aren’t people, dear, those are Men – Slave-men, we call them… they work the fields.” The mother paused, letting the little girl absorb the meaning of the scene before them.

“Thousands of years ago Men were not the dumb creatures you see here today,” she continued.”In fact, they ruled Elysia just as Queen Morgana does today. But they were bad, and were always causing fighting and unhappiness. In the end they caused so much fighting with such terrible weapons almost everyone in the world died… and when the distant ancestor of Queen Morgana began to rebuild the world She realized Men were not fit to rule. In Her wisdom, She knew they were only fit for being beasts of labor, working at menial tasks that suit their strength and endurance. So She began a long process of breeding men to be the useful beasts they are today.”

 

“But be careful, they are strong and willful, and can be dangerous!”

* * *

Dawn was slowly flowing over the land of Elysia, and the light struck sparks from the golden roof of the high towers of Queen Morgana’s castle. On the highest balcony, the Queen stood looking out over her land. Below, she saw the women of the kitchen staff bustling about the courtyard, and her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of a Scullery Maid hurrying across the courtyard to the stables.

She looked out over the rooftops and saw the first of the slavemen being led out of the stables into the fields, their leadropes held firmly by the husky fieldwomen. The slavemen stumbled along, their blinders and shackles preventing them from taking full steps. Morgana’s attention was drawn back to the courtyard, as the Scullery Maid’s hourglass figure disappeared through a door into the Milking Room attached to the stables.

Morgana shifted uneasily as the sight of the Maid’s ample curves caused the first pangs of a familiar ache deep inside her… she felt the first slow flow of wetness start the maddening friction of her pussy lips and clitoral hood that kept her in a state of arousal through most of her waking hours.

She suddenly turned and strode from the balcony into her sumptuous quarters. She almost ran to the huge bed that dominated the room and ripped the covers off the sleeping form that was in it… the face of the very young serving girl thus exposed underwent a lightning change from annoyance at being so rudely woken to a sly, anticipating hunger as she saw Morgana towering over her. Her Queen, shrugging off her robe, straddled the girl’s angular body and began to rub her swelling pussy against the serving girl’s belly and budding breasts, while kissing her deeply. The serving girl’s hand darted between her own legs and slipped inside her haven to ready herself. Her eyes closed as she felt her head pulled roughly up by her hair, and her mouth was covered by her Queen’s now-sopping pussy.

Morgana rutted against the serving girl’s lips and tongue for a long moment, and then she reached for a tiny, chased silver and gold cup on the bedside table. She slipped off the tightly fitting cover, and a faint wisp of vapor wafted out.

The Queen pulled back from the serving girls face, and the serving girl laid back and pulled her knees high up to her chest, spreading her legs as wide as they would go.

Morgana dipped her finger into the cup and brought out a fingertip coated with the last drops of a shimmering, viscous fluid. The product of centuries of research and refinement by the by the Court Alchemists of generations of ruling Queens of Elysia, the precious liquid made her fingertip burn with its magic. Distilled from hundreds of carefully harvested orgasms of a few well-chosen slaveman stallions, the liquid held the power to (if only temporarily) satisfy the overwhelming lust that was burning between Morgana’s thighs.

Taking a deep breath, she carefully applied the fluid to her nubby, swollen little clit and her eyes, along with the serving girl’s, riveted to that small bud of flesh. The familiar shivering, electric vibration traveled from Morgana’s extremities up into her torso and concentrated into a ball of heat deep in her belly, and she gave a long drawn out wail as her clit began to swell, harden and extend itself. Like a slow-motion movie of a flower unfolding, her clit became a full, thick, seven-inch penis, crowned by a sharp-ridged deep red head that quivered with sexual power and lust.

The serving girl cried out, “Please, your Majesty, fuck me now, fuck me hard, fuck me please!!” and sensuously writhed her hips toward her Queen in invitation.

Morgana grasped one of the serving girl’s small hands in each of hers and pinned them to the bed. She positioned herself above the delicate pink lips of the offered pussy and roughly thrust her rock-hard cock/clit deep inside.

Morgana began a deep, slow grinding fucking that pushed her rigid flesh deep into the serving girl until she pressed against the limits of the young but experienced womanhood and then pulled out until the head, shinning with wetness, just cleared the puffy gaping lips, before stabbing deep again.

Queen Morgana continued this pounding rhythm like a machine, her eyes tightly closed and her face wearing a tight expression of complete concentration. Inwardly she was consumed by the sensation of penetrating the serving girl’s hot, tight slit over and over.

Morgana built to her climax, completely oblivious to the passionate moaning of the girl under her. She did not change her motion or rhythm as the serving girl angled her hips to press her own little clit against the shaft thrusting in and out of her, and she did not notice when the girl howled in pleasure as her pussy spasmed again and again in it’s climax.

Soon after, though, Morgana’s labored breathing suddenly stopped, and she pulled all the way out and shoved forward, releasing the girl’s hands. The Queen threw her head back and tensed every muscle, one hand wrapped around the shaft of her cock and the other thrusting several fingers deep inside her pussy.

Morgana grunted from deep inside herself as jet after jet of clear, thick cum burst from the tip of her cock and sprayed across the chest, throat and face of the nearly delirious serving girl, and copious dollops of pussy-juice ran past her fingers to flow down onto the girl’s smooth belly and shaven mound.

The girl, fucked almost insensible, feebly scooped the Queen’s cum up to her mouth and licked her fingers clean over and over, until she had to lean forward to suck and lick the last drops from the tip of Morgana’s still hard flesh.

Morgana grabbed a handful of the serving girl’s hair and thrust herself deep in the slack mouth, and then pulled out, wiping the cum and spittle onto the girl’s gratefully dazed face. The Queen dropped her back onto the bed, and in an unusual gesture, flung the blankets back over the thin girl’s body.

Morgana, still naked, strutted back out into the morning sun on her balcony, and breathed deeply as she watched her big cock slowly gather into itself and regain the familiar shape and texture of her beautiful clitoris.

She was deeply, fundamentally satisfied… but even then she felt the familiar tingle of renewing lust tickling at her senses. She looked down into the courtyard at the door to the Milking Room, where she knew the Scullery Maid, with all the skill and experience of her years of duty, was hard at work.

* * *

Behind the door of the Milking room, in a dimly lit stall, the Scullery Maid prepared her equipment with the casual precision of a craftswoman of long experience. She remembered how daunting all the preparations and equipment had seemed when an unexpected opening in the Milk Maid roster had given her the opportunity to be promoted from her menial Scullery Maid duties. In a bit of reverse pride, she allowed everyone to continue to call her Scullery Maid – maybe just to show she was unashamed of her humble beginnings.

She placed the sterilized tubing and collection cup on the table next to the minute vacuum pump, and checked the cross-ties and leather restraints, though she knew her tack was perfect in every way. After a last look that confirmed everything was laid out to her satisfaction, she straightened her skirt and blouse and went out into the corridor that led to the stable proper.

Walking past the stall that housed Prince, a strapping 20-year-old stallion with blond hair and bulging muscles that had been hardened by hard work in the fields, she allowed herself a small smile. She heard Megg, another Milk Maid, hissing frustrated curses at Prince as she tried to get him tacked up for milking. Apparently Prince was not feeling cooperative, and no wonder! Megg might have been the Scullery Maid’s primary competition for the annual Production Prize, but she just didn’t have the knack of dealing with these powerful, sensitive creatures on their own terms.

The Scullery Maid came up to a stall door that belonged to Thor, her absolute favorite stallion of the whole Royal stable, and smiled broadly as she heard him humming to himself behind the closed stall door. He was not a handsome specimen, and his conformation was not ever going to win him a Blue Ribbon at a stock show, but his winning personality and willing production has caused the Scullery Maid to bond with him in a way that was almost unnatural…

The Scullery Maid paused outside the stall door and looked at her reflection in the shiny steel casing of a water heater. Not young, but not yet old, her full figure filled her Maid’s uniform perfectly, and the powerful cattle prod hanging at her belt shined in the light. She was aware of the admiring glances she often received from the Princesses and Duchesses that surrounded the Queen, and many of the other household women that she worked with.

Her mouth turned down momentarily as that thought reminded her of her wife Synthia. A tall, slim woman with a bitter outlook on life, Synthia no longer seemed to find the Scullery Maid as attractive as she once did, and constantly ridiculed her for all and any small details of her looks and behavior.

“That’s the way it is with long-married couples,” the Scullery Maid thought, and shrugged off the negative thoughts as she tried to concentrate on her task at hand. Synthia even ridiculed her job as Milk Maid, and dismissed the possibility of the Scullery Maid winning the Production Prize as meaningless. Synthia often sniffed loudly when the Scullery Maid came home from a day’s work, and muttered comments about “the whole house smelling like the filthy livestock” until the Scullery Maid took a long shower. And then she had to listen to complaints about using too much hot water! Grrrr!

The Scullery Maid shook herself and put the sad details of her marriage aside, and focused on the job at hand. “Thor!” she called outside the door, and was rewarded by a clatter and a grunt or two as Thor leaped up off his cot and began to pace back and forth just inside the door.

The Scullery Maid stole a glance down the corridor and was secretly pleased to see Megg leading Prince out of his stall, tugging on his lead rope and twitching her whip at his legs. His shackles were tight and he was popping and dodging to beat the band – and Megg was getting angrier by the minute.

The Scullery Maid cautiously opened Thor’s stall door – even the best stallions could be a handful – and slid into the stall. Thor was obviously pleased to see her, in his dim way, and was humming away as he did when he was particularly happy or comfortable. Of course his tongue has been cropped at birth, and his early training had eliminated any possibility of coherent speech (it was hotly argued among the Milk Maid sisterhood whether even the brightest of these male animals had real “thoughts”, and the Scullery Maid came down firmly on the side of “Maybe”.) If slavemen had ever had any capability of normal thought, most Milk Maids agreed it had been long bred out of them in the thousands of years that the land of Elysia had recorded history.

Thor was a head taller than the Scullery Maid, but he obviously was aware of her dominance in the stall, keeping his distance as he bowed his head and stood calmly waiting for his tacking up and grooming. She followed traditional practice and slipped a halter with a choke collar over his head (he ducked right into it as he almost always did) and ran the slack out until he was safely secured to a pulley attached to the ceiling of the stall, with just enough slack to allow him to keep his feet on the floor. She did it remembering that another Milk Maid had neglected this elementary precaution a few weeks previously with a mean-eyed stallion named Diablo, and she was due to get out of the Infirmary “sometime soon”.

Thor, thou’, was as good as gold, holding out one hand at a time for the cross-ties that extended from the walls to a strap buckled around each wrist, securing his arms stretched up and out.

The Scullery Maid said, “Don’t go anywhere,” a little joke to herself she amused herself with most days at this point, and went out of the stall and down the passageway to the sink and pulled a bucket of hot water. Grabbing a bar of soap and a sponge and brush, she happily carried them back to Thor’s stall. She never tired of the small details of the Milk Maid’s job… she thought, unlike some, that the stallions deserved good care in return for the precious product they were there to produce.

Back in the stall, the Scullery Maid put the bucket down and proceeded to bathe and groom Thor with gentle care. She lathered him up and used her bare hands to wash him everywhere. Aware that today’s production was the last before the end of the cycle, and thus the last chance to cement her lead in the Production Prize race for this year, she was excited to see his little dangling cock begin to swell and grow as she washed his bum and dangling balls, and it positively hardened and stood up as she rubbed the soap onto the shaft and skinned back his foreskin to get the “tricky parts” as clean as the rest. Thor was not as dramatically endowed as, say, Prince was at rest, but once excited he had a respectable six-inch penis that stood out straight and hard…

She released his now-squeaky-clean penis and proceeded to shave his balls and belly and the upper part of his legs – not a necessary part of grooming but one that the Scullery Maid thought was a nice touch, and one that had made her proud the last time the Royal Alchemists came through the stables on one of their inspection tours. The old crone (who was obviously a Very Important Woman by the way all the other scientists deferred to her) had nodded in approval as she roughly flipped Thor’s penis and balls up and down and ran her hands over his smooth belly.

“Come to think of it,” the Scullery Maid said, half to the unwitting Thor and half to herself, “The Powers That Be have been paying special attention to you, old stud.” She had been told to take special care with sterile procedures and to make sure that his production, once measured, went into a special batch that was whisked off to the Alchemists Tower immediately.

“I don’t think your production is going into the “Baby Batter” with the rest, Thor,” she said, referring to the normal destination of the stallions’ efforts, which was to supply the necessary chromosomes for the careful genetic manipulation that resulted in each new generation of Elysian women. This procedure used the useful parts of the male genome for the in/vitro fertilization that allowed the scientists to produce each female baby without contaminating those perfect offspring with the traits that were preserved in the male children, useful only for fieldwork, and other simple undemanding tasks they could be trained for.

Not worrying about what she couldn’t control, she put the mystery of Thor’s popularity with the Alchemists out of her mind, and proceeded with Thor’s grooming, rinsing and drying him, and giving his long mane a good brushing. It was reddish tinted and curly, and was pleasant to touch and run her hands through, when it was clean and untangled. His craggy, unsymmetrical face had developed an animal charm that kept it from putting her off as it had when she first saw him, and his gentle and compliant nature was an added bonus.

All through these routine procedures, she often let her hands stray to the stallion’s belly, thighs and genitals, watching carefully as her ministrations caused a quick reaction, hardening his penis and tightening his ball sack without really causing him any other visible excitement. She enjoyed the skill with which she could control his involuntary responses, and knew the reason she was leading the Production Prize list was more due to her careful and knowledgeable treatment of her stallion than any real biological advantage he might have been born with…

Before she unhooked Thor’s cross-ties, she buckled a cuff around each of his ankles and connected them with a short chain that effectively limited his ability to walk quickly or run. She released his hands from the cross-ties one at a time and put his wrists in similar cuffs behind his back. Only then did she release the vertical tie to his halter, allowing him to put his full weight on his feet and follow her out the stall door, his calm and confident movements a marked contrast to the nervous, jumpy demeanor that Prince had shown a few minutes ago.

The Scullery Maid wished for a second that Meg had been in the corridor to see Thor moving gracefully down to his stall in the Milking room, but quashed the thought as unseemly pride. As it was, she could hear Meg muttering threats to Prince as she tried to get him to cooperate in his stall, and that was enough to reassure the Scullery Maid that – barring disaster – today’s production should allow her to keep her lead in the Production Prize.

The Scullery Maid led Thor into his Milking room stall and quickly and gently hooked him up to the clean, white cross-ties and vertical halter that she had prepared earlier. All the tack and surfaces in the Milking room stalls were practically sterile in their cleanliness, as required by the Alchemists. While she was tacking up, the Scullery Maid patted and caressed Thor, and crooned a little melody softly to him as he stood patiently waiting.

The Scullery Maid placed a large hourglass on the table, with the full end down. When she was done she stood back and surveyed her preparations. Thor was secured in the middle of the stall, his cross-ties limiting his ability to move in any direction. The front of his thighs were pressed against a low table just above his knees, and his penis and balls reflected in the shiny chrome surface.

The Scullery Maid turned the hourglass over and ducked under Thor’s cross-ties, standing close behind him. She reached around him and ran her hands over his cock and balls, pleased to feel an immediate swelling as she gently wrapped her fingers around the shaft. She slowly stroked the hardening penis and cupped her free hand under his balls. She alternated long, slow strokes with gentle rubbing at his most sensitive spots with her fingertips. She continued this treatment as his cock grew longer and harder and she felt his pulse quicken. She carefully monitored the state of his excitement, and soon his breath began to quicken and she felt the first pulses of his impending orgasm. She immediately stopped the stroking and held his shaft firmly at the base as his excitement cooled.

The Scullery Maid caressed Thor’s chest and arms with her free hand as she controlled his attempts to thrust against her motionless hand by pressing against his buttocks with her belly and thighs. She heard him sigh as he accepted the first denial of his orgasm and relaxed his muscles.

“Good boy, good boy,” she whispered to him affectionately. “You’ll be pouring out buckets when that hourglass runs down, won’t you, my big boy?” She rested her head against his hard muscled back and as always, tried to repress a guilty pleasure as the solid warmth of his back and the pulsing of the hard shaft in her hand combined to wake up her own sexual feelings.

She knew none of the other Milk Maids ever admitted to feeling any arousal with their charges, and she never mentioned her feelings to them. She was afraid it was a sick, twisted part of her mind, but she couldn’t help the heat and flowing lubrication she was feeling between her legs. She shrugged and, as was her nature, accepted what she couldn’t change as best she could.

“That’s my boy,” she whispered to Thor’s unheeding ears, “You’re getting me all wet, aren’t you, bad boy?” She reached under her skirt and dipped her fingers between her sopping pussy lips, bringing them up shiny with clear juices. Playfully she reached around and coated Thor’s lips with her lubrication, and giggled as he snorted and licked it all away.

The Scullery Maid walked around Thor and checked to make sure the stall door was securely closed, thankful for the privacy it allowed her. “I’m such a BAD girl aren’t I, Thor?” she asked him. She could faintly hear the normal sounds coming from across the corridor where Meg was working Prince, and the monotonous slapping sound as Meg furiously stroked Prince’s semi-hard cock reassured the Scullery Maid that her privacy was complete.

She pulled the hem of her skirt up to her waist and was pleased to see Thor’s eyes irresistibly drawn to the clean shaven mound below her smooth belly. She stood for a moment, battling in her mind between her guilt and her shameful desires. Then, with a shake of her head, she gave in as she so often did, and climbed onto the sturdy milking table. She stood in front of Thor, and pulling the front of her shirt open, she offered her nipple to his eager mouth. Her head fell back and her eyes closed as his lips and tongue instinctively sucked and licked at the whole of her generous breast, concentrating on her stiff pink nipple.

Breaking away from his mouth with an effort, she knelt on the table and abandoned all pretense of normalcy, taking Thor’s cock into her mouth, shivering at the delicious wickedness of allowing the animal heat and hardness to penetrate deep past her tongue to the back of her throat. Thor moaned and thrust in and out as deeply as the cross-ties and milking table would allow.

Even in the grip of her own wanton passions, the Scullery Maid was aware of her responsibilities, so when she felt Thor’s cock swelling against her lips she reached out and stilled his hips with a strong hand. “Whoa, boy, whoa,” she crooned to him, as she withdrew her mouth from his cockhead, licking off the glistening saliva she had left there.

“Easy, now,” she told him. “We have a long way to go before you’re ready for milking, old son!” She looked at the hourglass. Almost halfway gone! She sat in front of him on the table and crooned soothing sounds to him as he slowly calmed down.

As his cock lost some of the steely hardness of his near-orgasm, a large drop of clear pre-cum appeared at the tip, and the Scullery Maid quickly reached for the collection cup, trailing the clear tubing that connected it to the Milking pump. She placed the cup under the tip of Thor’s cock and squeezed the shaft firmly. The drop at the tip of Thor’s cock fell into the cup, followed by a long string of pre-cum that she expertly milked out of his cock. The pump hummed and the fluid whisked up the tubing and ran into the sterile bottle that hung where the tubing was attached to the Milking pump. “Good boy, ohhh, you’re a good boy,” she encouraged Thor, and shook the end of his cock to dislodge the last drop of pre-cum.

Carefully replacing the collection cup near to hand, the Scullery Maid reached her arms around Thor’s torso and hugged him close, her head against his chest and her lips pressed passively against his nipple. She knew he needed a minute or two to recover his control, and she put the hourglass on its side as his breathing slowed.

When she saw that Thor was not on the edge any more, the Scullery Maid lay back on the milking table and spread her legs, displaying herself to Thor, whose eyes drank in the sight of her swollen pussy lips. She slid across the table to him and put one leg on each side of his hips, and pulling his buttocks with her ankles, drew him in until his thighs were pressed against the table’s edge. Raising her hips, she allowed the tip of his slightly drooping penis to touch the wetness there. She felt a tremor go through his body and felt the pressure increase as his cock once again filled as hardened, increasing its length enough to just penetrate her. She clicked her tongue at him and he began a slight rocking motion that she matched, so his cock began to slide in and out of her by as much as an inch or two, over and over. She reached over and turned the hourglass upright, and the sand began to flow as she carefully controlled his excitement with the pressure of her feet on his hips and the angle of her torso. When she was sure he was safely in a rhythm that would not push him over the edge, she reached down and began to play with her clit as his cock head rubbed back and forth over her G-spot. Her breath began to hiss in and out and she soon trembled all over as the first of many orgasmic spasms clutched at Thor’s churning penis…

After a long while she felt that he was again reaching the point of no return, and so she reluctantly pulled back out of reach. Thor grumbled deep in his chest as his deep red, rigid cock fucked only air, and for a moment he struggled to make himself cum, but the Scullery Maid whispered reassuring words and stroked his belly as he calmed down. She picked up the collection cup, and waited for the expected drop of pre-cum to form, and when it did she drew an even bigger flow of fluid into the collection bottle, by milking the shaft and carefully massaging the area under Thor’s full dangling balls.

Thor was beginning to show signs of restlessness, shaking his head and groaning as her expert fingers drew the last drops of pre-cum out of his loins, and the Scullery Maid saw to her surprise that the hourglass had run out. “Are you more than ready, big boy?” she whispered, and gave his hard cock one last lingering kiss before she slid off the table and walked under his cross-ties and behind him once again.

She picked up the collection cup and fixed it into a little stand that left it propped right under the tip of Thor’s cock. She took a bottle off a shelf and poured a generous puddle of lubricant over her right palm and fingers, and cuddled up behind Thor, her belly and breasts pressed into his hip and side. She reached around with her lubricated hand and began to stroke his cock, with long, sure strokes that matched the pressure of his hips against the table. She reached between his legs from behind with the other hand, and gently massaged his balls, feeling them draw up into a solid mass as his eruption neared. His cock engorged as much as it possibly could, feeling like a hot bar of steel in her hand. She let her stroking hand extend out to envelop the head on each stroke, creating a perfect friction as the head slipped through her fingers. Thor began a panting wail, closing his eyes and throwing back his head as far as his restraints would allow, and the Scullery Maid knew the timing was perfect. She let her left hand wander forward until it reached the lubricant dripping off the base of his cock, and after her middle finger was liberally coated, she slipped it between Thor’s butt-cheeks and found his puckered bum-hole, straining with his need. She pressed firmly and felt the muscles relax, allowing her finger to penetrate his intimate recesses. She pressed in further ’til she felt the egg-shape of his straining prostate, and began a light circular massaging with her fingertip, and Thor went over the edge with a high, keening scream of released desire. The Scullery Maid’s right hand held his cock head in place as she felt the pulsing of each huge jet of creamy semen passing through the shaft on its way into the collection cup. His hips bucked as he pumped his cock into her tight fingers, and for a fleeting second she thought he was producing so much, so fast, that the collection cup would overflow before the pump could suck the precious fluid down the tube into the safety of the collection bottle!

Ten, eleven, twelve distinct spurts shot out of the cock in her hand, as the Scullery Maid looked on in wide eyed amazement. This was more that she had ever seen even the awesomely productive Thor shoot in one orgasm, and she glowed with pride as she slowed her stroking, lingering more around the head area, feeling the hard ridge begin to soften as he gasped for air. She just stroked on gently, enjoying the sensation in her hand, when Thor looked down at her, sighed deeply, and rolled his eyes up in his head, and she thought she felt him give a push inside, and one last long dripping string of thick cum followed the rest into the cup.

“What a GOOD boy you are Thor,” she smiled happily at him. “You’d think you were trying extra hard just to see me a shoo-in in the Production Prize, wouldn’t cha?” she laughed, hugging him hard.

She held up the collection cup up and made sure the last drops drained out of the tube into the collection bottle and sealed it tight. She didn’t have to see the measuring lines to know Thor had outdone any previous effort, and had surely clinched the Production Prize for her. She completed the fussy details of cleaning up and putting away all her equipment, and returned Thor, head down in his exhaustion, to his stall and a special pan full of his favorite feed. With a last fond look over his stall door, she left the Milking Room.

* * *

Much later that night, the Scullery Maid stood again at the door to Thor’s stall, her face a blackened mess of tear-stained makeup, misery and a fresh, red swelling around her eye, soon to be a deep blue bruise.

She slowly unlatched the stall door, murmuring “Oh Thor, oh you good boy” as she listened to his deep breathing. She sobbed quietly and rested her head against the cool, dark wood.

She well knew you never entered a stallion’s stall at night, not without a cattle prod and a club, but as the tears rolled down her face, she realized she just didn’t care…

* * *

Hours before, she had returned home from the Production Prize banquet, flushed with pride at the compliments and accolades that had been showered on her, and completely oblivious to the darkening expression on her wife Synthia’s face. She had felt the increasing coldness in Synthia’s manner as the evening went by, but excused it by telling herself Synthia must be very tired after such a long day.

But as soon as the door shut behind them, Synthia’s bad mood blossomed into full-scale rage, and she turned on the Scullery Maid like a snake striking.

“You fucking little glory-hound slut, you miserable useless womanhood!” Synthia shouted, grabbing the Scullery Maid by the front of her best evening dress. The collar ripped, and the Scullery Maid looked down at it dumbly, unprepared for the backhand that snapped her face up, spit flying from her shocked mouth.

“You think you’re something special in all Elysia, now, don’t you, Miss Production Prize snot?” Synthia hissed. “Well, I’ll show you what you’re worth, you little whore.” The Scullery Maid felt her world turn upside down as Synthia pulled her by her hair through the sitting room and flung her to the floor. “You think I didn’t see the way the Queen was staring at those gross tits of yours, you slut?” Synthia matched a sharp slap to the Scullery Maid face with each accusation. “You think I didn’t pick up on the way you smiled and smiled as she undressed you with her eyes?” Slap! “Why didn’t you just offer to lick her Royal womanhood right there at the throne?” Slap.

“I’ll tell you why. Because you’re such a worthless little worm the Queen would rather spit on you than let you touch her. That’s why you’re here with ME! I’m the only one who’ll put up with your useless ass!” Synthia pulled up the front of her skirt and dragged the Scullery Maid’s head in between her thighs. “Now lick my cunt and do a good job of it before I throw you out in the street!”

The Scullery Maid felt the familiar sensation of Synthia’s furry mound pressing against her nose and tried to do her best, licking and sucking on Synthia’s clit and pussy lips, until she felt Synthia bucking and groaning as she flooded the Scullery Maid’s mouth with her acid tasting juices. The Scullery Maid continued licking and nuzzling lovingly, only to have her head roughly yanked up and thrust away. She felt three quick kicks in succession as she curled up defensively on the floor. To her horror she heard Synthia hiss, “That was awful as always, you can’t even suck pussy right. Now get out of my sight!”

The Scullery Maid dragged herself to the door and stumbled to the only place she felt at home, and soon found herself at the door to Thor’s stall…

* * *

The Scullery Maid shuffled softly through the stall door, closing it behind her. Through a haze of tears, she dimly saw his sleeping form on his cot, and she sidled across the room and stood over him.

He was so big! He didn’t look so huge next to Prince in the courtyard, but here with her alone in the stall without even the most basic defensive tools, his dangerous muscled arms looked even stronger than they did during the day.

She had a moment of clarity, and her blood ran cold as she realized the danger she was in. She readied herself to softly step towards the door, when she saw his eyes snap open, and she knew it was too late.

In her hopeless daze she just stood frozen, and a new flood of tears flowed silently down her face. Again, realized: she just didn’t care what happened next…

But Thor sat up, and made the little grunting noise he so often made when things happened that he just didn’t understand, and he reached a hand out slowly to touch the tears on her cheek. “Oh, Thor, you good old boy,” she whispered, and she moved over and put her hands on his shoulders. She gently pushed him back down onto his bed and he obediently slid back against the wall when she motioned him to.

She lay down beside him and put her back to him, pulling his arm under her aching head for a pillow. She felt his other arm clumsily move around her and she pulled it close to her chest.

Her mind whirled at the madness, but she felt his warmth enclose her. All mysteries, fears and hurts faded from her mind, and she heard him begin his little contented humming sounds as she cried herself to sleep.

The End

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