Author’s note: This is a more serious sequel to my previous story “The Queen”.
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It is still relatively early on a Saturday evening, but you yawn.
“I’m too tired today to play, but you may give me a massage before I go to sleep.”
While I would have loved a session and give you Several orgasms, I also have a request to make, and reply obediently.
“Thank you, ma’am, it will be my pleasure.”
You send me to the bathroom to retrieve the massage oil while you undress. When I return you are already naked and face-down on the bed. I start to apply the oil and gently rub your back, as you leave out a happy sight.
“Yes, like that. That feels so good. Do you enjoy being allowed to touch my naked body?”
“Yes, ma’am, very much. Thank you for allowing me to help you relax.”
I continue the mass towards the lower back, your buttocks, down your legs and finish with your feet.
“That will do for today. You can return the oil to the bathroom.”
“Right away, ma’am.”
You use the time I am away to put on your PJs, taking care that I don’t catch even the tiniest glimpse of your breasts, knowing how much I would love to see them. When I return you are already getting under the covers.
“Um, ma’am. I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“Remember when you made me roleplay as an ogre, and you were the queen?”
“Yes, of course. That was fun.”
“It was… an experience, yes. But you also said you would let me have an orgasm this month if I participated, and it’s almost the end of the month…”
“As I recall it, I said I would *consider* letting you have an orgasm this month. I considered, and decided against it.”
“But…”
“No ‘but’. Remember that *you* wanted me to be in complete control of your orgasms, and it is my decision if and when you get to come. Just for asking I should make you wait another month.”
“No, please not another month. PLEASE. I am sorry for asking; I must have misunderstood. But please let me come next month. I’ll do anything!”
“Anything?”
“Yes, ma’am. Anything you want. I can be the ogre again, and I’ll let you hurt my balls again.”
“… let me? I could do that anyway, if I wanted to. But I will consider your request. But now let me sleep.”
“Thank you, ma’am. And have a good night.”
The next week comes and goes, and another month starts, in which I hope you’d be so generous as to let me get some long-awaited release. You make no reference to our conversation as you have me lick and suck on your gorgeous boobs twice during the week, while your favorite vibrator provides you with several orgasms. Throughout all this, you also ignore my poor, throbbing penis, leaving me highly frustrated and desperate. Just when I thought you might have forgotten our conversation, you call me into the bedroom around 4pm on a Saturday two weeks later.
“Guess what? You are in luck: I had an idea to see how serious you were about doing ‘anything’ to (maybe) earn your orgasm this month.”
Even though this sounds foreboding, my desperation is so high that I am more than eager to find out.
“Thank you, ma’am. What may I do for you?”
“Serve the queen, of course. For the remainder of the day, you will address me as ‘y grace’, and do exactly what I tell you to do. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“… YOUR GRACE.”
“I’m sorry, ma… your grace. I am honored to serve you.”
“Yes, you are. Now, you will, of course, need the outfit to match your role.”
You go to the dresser and retrieve several items, laying them out on the bed: Tight panties, a lacy corset, stockings, and a long, heavy dress that looks like it’d be right at home at a renaissance fair.
“Undress and put this on.”
I hesitate as I take a look at the array on the bed.
“NOW. Or there will be consequences.”
“Yes, your grace.”
I remove my own clothes, and put on the costume you picked out for me. You end up ‘helping’ me with the corset, to ensure that it is tight enough for your liking. Once I put on the dress, you marvel at your work.
“Comfortable?”
“Not really.”
When I see you raise your eyesbrows I add “… your grace. It’s pretty tight, and the dress is quite heavy, too.”
“Good. I want you to suffer. Just one more thing…”
You lift the dress, and put cuffs on my ankles, tying them together with a short rope.
“Now see if you can walk.”
Hobbled, I take a few, very short, steps. Getting around is going to be a pain.
“Excellent. This is going to be fun. Now go and grab me something to drink, and bring a branch of the grabs from the fridge on a small plate. And drink some water, who knows when you will get something again.”
“Yes, your grace. What would you like to drink?”
“Just some juice, for now. Now go.”
Slowly, and carefully, I make my way to the kitchen with the tiny steps my restraints allow, as you watch laughing. Once there, I open the fridge to get the juice and grabs, and drink a whole glass of water. The corset is on tight, making every movement much harder, and slower. With the plate of grabs in one hand and your juice in the other, I slowly make my way back to the bedroom, where you have taken to lounging on the bad with your phone in hand. I place the juice and grabs on your bedside table.
“Here you go, your grace.”
“Took you long enough. Next time I’ll time you, and there’ll be punishment if you are too slow again.”
“I’m sorry, your grace. My movement is too constricted.”
“I don’t want to hear your complaints.”
You take a sip of the juice.
“Mhm, that’s good. Now, let me check what’s new on social media. You may knee next to the bed in the meantime.”
I manage to knee down in my restraints with great difficulty.
“I can already see that we’ll have to practice this more often, soyou can get faster. Now, where are the grabs?”
“On the bedside table, your grace.”
“And I’m just supposed to grab them myself or what?”
An understanding of my task dawns on me. I grab the plate with my left hand, and use my right to pick off one of the grabs and feed it to you. You munch on it as you peruse your phone. A minute later you lift your finger, which I take to mean that you want another one. As you scroll away on your phone, I periodically feed you grabs one by one. My knees are getting sore from the uncomfortable position I am in, but I dare not move or even complain. After seemingly forever, you manage to turn your attention away from the phone screen.
“I think I’ve had enough grapes for now.”
You drink the rest of the juice.
“Ah, and that’s empty too. Get me some more, and take away that plate. You may also drink some more water; I’m sure you’re getting hot in that dress, and we wouldn’t want you to get dehydrated.”
“Yes, yourgrace.”
Kneeling down was hard enough, and getting up with my now-aching legs is even more difficult.
“It’s already been 75 seconds, and you haven’t even left my side yet…”
Best as I can, I hurry off with my tiny steps. I can hear you chuckle as you watch me scuttle away stiffly. I put the plate away, and refill your juice. As you suggested, I also drink another glass of water. As quickly as my restraints allow without spilling anything, I return to the bedroom.
“Three minutes, 25 seconds. That’s almost one and a half minutes too much. I will have to administrator 15 strikes with the crop later as punishment. Don’t let me forget.”
“Yes, your grace.”
I put the refilled juice glass on the bedside table.
“I’m going to watch a show. Since there are no more grapes, I have no use for you right now. Go stand in the corner until I need you.”
“Yes, your grace.”
I slowly walk to the corner, watching you with interest, to see what you are going to do to me next, but it seems like you were serious. You fetch your tablet, and start tapping the screen, before you catch my eyes.
“A good service always has their eyes on the floor, and does not stare at the queen. Apparently you can’t do that, so turn around and face the corner.”
My head sinks as I do as ordered.
“Very good. Now be quiet, and wait.”
As I stand quietly in the corner, I have time to ponder my situation. The corset is quite tight and uncomfortable, and the dress weights heavily on my shoulders. I think about how my suffering delights you, and can almost feel my penis getting hard, but the panties are too restrictive, and do not allow for much of an erection. This, in turn, makes me even hornier. Just as I think about how long it has been since the last time you let me come, and the many times I was allowed to give you an orgasm in that time, I can hear your voice.
“My juice is empty. Bring me a beer, and have some more water.”
“Yes, your grace.”
I turn around to get the glass, taking care to keep my gaze low, and anxious off into the kitchen. I pour your beer into the proper glass, while I quench my own thirst with yet more water. In record time I return and place your beer on the bedside table.
“Two minutes, 15 seconds. That’s another 15 strikes for your punishment.”
“Thank you, your grace.”
“Now back into your corner.”
I return to my thoughts about serving you. Rationally, this experience is quite unpleasant and demeaning, and yet it excites me in ways I do not fully understand. Interrupted by your occasional laughter (you must be watching something funny, but since you are wearing headphones, my only entertainment are my thoughts), I try to analyze what Makes serving you like this pleasure for me. Might it just be the promise of a (potential, as I have to remind myself) orgasm after so many weeks of denial? As I let my mind wander, a more familiar feeling creeps up and interrupts my reflection. Almost automatically, I set out towards the bathroom door.
“And where do you think you are going?”
Not expecting you to watch, I am started.
“I need to use the restroom, your grace.”
“And what if I need you in the meantime? You may not go.”
“But…”
“Corner. NOW.”
“Yes, your grace.”
I Should have known that your repeated reminders to drink water were not purely for my benefit. Maybe it is my imagination, but you seem to be more amused by your show now. Or maybe you are just enjoying watching me squirm in my disappoint. And of course you did not have any further requests for me over the course of what I estimated to be about half an hour or so. Only then do you call me back to serve you more.
“I’m done with my beer. Bring me some water. And don’t forget to drink some yourself…”
I anxious off to the kitchen as fast as my restraints allow, and come back with a water for you. Although my better judgement, I also had a few sips myself, as I was getting parched. I place the water on your bedside table, and, as sweetly as I can muster, say
“Here is your water your grace. Now that you are freshly served, may I please be excused to the restroom?”
You look at me, as I am practically jumping from one leg to the other.
“Very well. But be quick about it. For every minute you take, it will be five more strikes with the crop.”
I manage a grateful “Thank you, your grace.” before I rush off to the bathroom. Getting my business done is another challenge entirely, with the long dress and tight corset restricting my movement, and making access to my penis quite difficult. I manage, however, with some struggle, and am soon washing my hands and returning to your service.
“Five minutes, three seconds. So that’s 30 more strikes with the crop. Looks like your ass will be quite sore tonight.”
You may just have made up the three seconds, but I know that it is pointless to argue, and I return back to my corner without even needing to be told. As I stand, ready for any further requests you may have, I cannot help but marvel at how quickly you managed to train me to stand there at your service. Part of me is long for it to end, maybe be able to play some video games, or be allowed to watch something myself. However, I am also deeply aroused by being allowed to serve you so completely. Not physically, of course, as my erections are still very constrained, but in my mind I am deep in blissful subservice. Just as my awe of your total control over me in this session reaches a new peak, you reveal the next part of the night.
“Now go and cook me dinner. Chicken and vegetables, one portion only.”
One portion only? I briefly wonder what your plans are for me, but let go of these Worries to focus on your order.
“Yes, your grace. Right away.”
I am getting better at hobbling around, and reach the kitchen faster than before. Cooking in this outfitis an interesting experience, as I am used to being at least somewhat more flexible and mobile, but overall I do not require great dexterity to prepare the meal, and am done pretty quickly.
“You dinner is served, your grace.”
“Under 30 minutes. I am impressed.”
You sit down at the table.
“Bring me another beer.”
“Yes, your grace.”
I serve the beer in a glass, and put it on the table.
“Now you may stand there and keep your gaze down.”
You point to the side of the table. From the corner of my eyes, I can see you cutting off pieces of the chicken, and eating it with delight.
“Mhm, this is delicious. Very good work.”
“Thank you, your grace. I am glad you enjoy it.”
You continue eating for a While, before you rise from the table.
“I will go and take a short nap. Clean the kitchen and do the dishes in the meanwhile, and when you are done, you can eat my leftovers and a slice of bread. But only once everything else is clean. And drink some water.”
Since I was starting to worry that you would not let me eat anything, I am actually rather happy about this offer.
“Rest well, your grace.”
“And when I wake up from my nap you better stand there in the corner, ready for my instructions.”
“Yes, your grace. I will make sure to be quick with the kitchen.”
While you rest comfortable in the bed, I clean the kitchen and do the dishes. By the time I am done, the food is rather cold, but still delicious. You even left me a small piece of chicken to enjoy. While not a generous meal, with the bread it is enough to satisfy my hunger. I make sure to also clean this last plate, and drink some water, although I am trying to avoid another bathroom plea like before. With the kitchen in order, I return to my Now-customary position in the bedroom. You are on the bed, with your eyes closed, but I am a bit skeptical that you are actually sleep. However, once I am facing the corner, I can no longersee what you might be doing in the bed. Ten or fifteen minutes must have passed when you let out a small chuckle. And shortly after another one. I am guessing that you are catching up with your phone again, but I wouldn’t know for sure. More time passes, until I hear you put down the device on the bedside table.
“Now, this has all been rather fun, but I am not feeling very clean.”
You rise from the bed and approach me from behind.
“Stretch out your hands.”
I do so, and you start undressing and putting your clothes in my hands. Throughout this process, you make sure to stay outside my field of view.
“I am going to shower. Put these in the laundry in the meantime.”
Before I can even utter my “yes, your grace”, you are already in the bathroom, and I can hear the water turn on. Not sure what I am supposed to do while you shower, I assume my position in the corner again, which does not escape your attention when you return.
“Very good, you know your place.”
You walk around a bit more, opening and closing the closet, returning to the bathroom, all where I can’t see you, before you request my attention again.
“Come here, I have a task for you for this next part.”
I turn around and see you already in bed, with a blanket over your body, and only your naked shoulders peaking out.
“All of this has been very exciting. Having you serve me and suffer this disappoint has been quite hot, and has made me very horny.”
“It has made me very horny, too, your grace.”
“That is not relevant. This is about my pleasure, not yours. Only queens deserve orgasms.”
“Yes, your grace. May I please give you an orgasm?”
“I like your eagerness to please me, but today I will use my friend here.”
You wave your usual wand vibrator around.
“You may, however, mass my feet and suck on my toes while I pleasure myself.”
“Thank you, your grace.”
“Go ahead, on your knees at the foot of the bed.”
You scoot down until your feet emerge from below the blanket at the edge of the bed, and I once again perform the seemingly impossible feat of kneeing down in my restraints. I take your left foot into my hands, as you move the wand below the blanket and turn it on. My hands skillfully rub over your soles, as you moan softly. My penis strains against the tight panties even more than before, but is kept restrained. I try to clear my mind and focus on your feet. While my hands move over to your right foot, I eagerly start licking the left one with my tongue, and sucking on your toes. The vibrator is doing its work as well, and soon you are writing in blissful, orgasmic pleasure. Seeing you so close to a climax further encourages me and I double my efforts of worshipping your feet with my hands and mouth. You start shaking uncontrollably as an orgasm hits you, making you moan out long and hard. In your convulsions, the blanket shifts slightly, allowing me a better look at your cleavage, even if your magnificent breasts stay hidden from my view. As you catch your breath, you also notice me staring at your upper body.
“Hmm, someone’s getting nosy. I thought we were clear that the queen’s body is not for you to look at, no matter how hot you find it. Put on a blindfold. NOW.”
In my current position, it seems easier to move to the bedside table on my knees, and fetch a blindfold. I return to your feet before I put it on, when I hear you turning on the vibrator again.
“Now that you are all set, I can remove this blanket, too.”
I feel a draft of wind as you throw back the blanket, and try to imagine what I would see if not for the blindfold, with your grogeous body spread out before me. You seem to have read my mind.
“Wouldn’t you love to see me like this? Naked, with the vibrator on my vulva, my perfect breasts towering above you. Go ahead, you may touch my legs.”
Eagerly, I start rubbing your legs, from your shins, over your knees to the thighs, as far as I can reach. I strain a bit, and am almost about to reach your hips, as I keep caressing you. You gently move your foot towards my face, which I take as a sign to start licking it again, and suck on your toes. With the vibrator buzzing, I can hear your breathing get more ragged, and you are soon enjoying another orgasm, stronger and longer than the first one. When it subsides, you turn off the vibrator and breathe heavily, while I continue caressing your legs.
“That was so good. Keep rubbing my legs.”
I continue rubbing you for several more minutes as you calm down.
“Now, get up. There is one more thing we need to take care of.”
With difficulty, I stand up again. “Lean over the bed, and remind me how many punishment strikes you have accumulated.”
I bend over, standing next to the bed, with my face and torso planted firmly on it.
“It was 15 plus 15 plus 30, your grace. So 60 in total.”
Still blindfolded, I can hear youwalk behind me, and lift the dress, pulling it over my back, and then pulling down the panties, leaving my butt all exposed.
“We will do 30 on each chef, then. Make sure to count them.”
“OW”
The first strike comes unexpected, directly in the center of my left butt chef, but I prepare myself for the next, and it is not nearly as bad. You hit me three more times before you say anything.
“You aren’t counting?”
“I am counting, your grace. That was five so far.”
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