Little King (6)

‘I'm getting so tired of this father,’ pouted a bored looking young woman inside a closed carriage, as it rattled along the cobbled streets of Evenguard. She leaned against the crosshatched reeds that formed a window in the wooden receptacle, her bare elbow pressed against the frame. Her milky white skin was freshly washed and scented, unblemished down to her nails, painted a demure shade of pink. Her dress was similarly plain, a sky blue design with minimal frills, sleeves down to the middle of her forearms and a neckline that was as high as she could manage without seeming a prude.

And yet, despite her best efforts, the bland frock and sparing makeup failed to detract from her natural beauty. A charming face with high cheekbones and soft, inviting lips was bordered by the cascading locks of wavy hair that was almost pink in its tinged blondness. A full, round bust shrank to a narrow waist beneath her dress. She cursed that her father had insisted that she wear a dress without a frame. While most 18-year-old girls would have been worried about appearing to have too narrow hips, Christine feared quite the opposite.

‘Why am I to whore myself out to these lowly peasants when I am to marry the crown prince?’ she demanded, wishing that her ass was a little smaller so as not to be so clearly round beneath her skirt.

‘Christine, you will do as you are told,’ her father, Cedric, replied, making the mistake of meeting her eyes. The young blonde met the gaze of the Master of Coin with such a fiery defiance that he muttered an apology, ‘Besides, you need contingencies in case …’

‘In case of what, father?’ Christine demanded, ‘In case the Prince suddenly rejects his favourite courtesan?’

‘In case it is not to him that I give your hand in marriage,’ Cedric continued, ‘And Lord Peter’s son is not a peasant. He is a noble man of good stock.’

‘Jonathan is a blubbering boy! I can’t believe you would take me to meet him in such a manner!’ Christine fumed as she turned away from Cedric. The man sighed, hoping that his daughter wouldn’t embarrass him with Lord Peter by insulting his boy. The truth was, Cedric didn’t have the same certainty that his daughter possessed, when it came to the matter of Prince Etienne. In fact, it was Christine’s temper that most frightened him, as he was certain that her prospective husbands would be far less patient with her tongue than he. Even the patient, composed, Prince Etienne would surely grow tired of her wilful arrogance, and then where would she be? Pinning one’s hopes on a single match was stupidity, no matter how rich the reward could be. Cedric simply wanted to ensure that he married his daughter to someone of means, and they certainly had the upper hand as far as bargaining was concerned.

The fact that Christine was the only daughter of the Master of Coin was enough to secure her a promising match, but she had the added benefit of being pleasing to the eyes … albeit not so to the ears. She hardly resembled her now overweight father, certainly taking her beautiful hair and alluring facial features from her mother.

‘Just give him a chance,’ Cedric pleaded, ‘For me?’

All he got was a grunt from Christine, but that was better than he had hoped for. The continued the rest of the way to Lord Peter’s townhouse in silence.

***

Rhancar gasped as he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He spluttered uselessly under the water as his lungs filled with water, his eyes watering as his body was ripped along the giantess’s skin. He had been under for almost eight minutes, as the Queen viciously rubbed him against her legs. He had been slowly worked down the long slender longs, and now reached the second worst part of the regular ordeal.

Through the miles of water, Rhancar could swear that he heard Elenor chuckles as she pushed him towards her feet. The water had mercifully softened her skin, but Rhancar still felt the rough surface of the Queen’s enormous soles tear at his flesh as she pummelled him into her flesh. She twisted him so that his face was pushed directly into her, and savoured the panicked struggles as she drowned and smothered him all at once.

His puny body was rubbed like a scrubber, forced to grind the dead skin and filth off of the Queen’s feet. Lost in the soapy water, Rhancar felt his whole body move up and down and left and right, cleaning the dirty soles of the woman who had tormented him his entire life, being used as nothing more than a tool for her hygiene. Still, this was not the worst part.

He thought this, gasping in more and more water into his lungs as he felt himself fading out of consciousness. As if feeling his alertness ebbing away, the giantess’s hadn’t violently shot up, ripping him out of the water and crushing him in her vice-like grip. The pathetic little creature emptied its contents much like a sponge, the water pumped out of his body as the grip loosened just enough for him to breathe. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. But even as Rhancar looked up at her sinister, grinning face, his body convulsed as he sucked in air to replenish his body’s deficit of oxygen. He brought himself back from the brink of merciful sleep, just as Elenor plunged him back under the water to service her other foot. After all, it was no good using him if he wasn’t enduring the punishment.

One of the maids turned away at the horrific display of cruelty, and while the Queen didn’t look at her, the blonde giantess made a mental note to punish the girl as well. She took her time massaging the bottom of her foot until she felt that her prey might pass out, so she rescued him again, getting ready for the task that she knew he hated most. She had once saved this torment for last, but she now was far too impatient. Besides, it lent itself to even more fun in between as a result, so Elenor was more than ready to put him to use.

Rhancar knew what was coming. He wished that he didn’t, that he could somehow forget, and at least not relive the hundreds of times that he had already endured this humiliation, but he couldn’t. He felt the shift as the Queen tilted her hips to one side and he descended towards the water.

The tiny, dark-skinned boy was dunked into the water and in an instant, the stinging of the soap on his wide open eyes faded to the back of his mind. He was cruising down past a humungous wall of divine, pale skin. The perfectly smooth surface was gently curved, owing to the sheer size of the sphere compared to his insignificant form. Elenor’s ass cheek was the size of a castle for her little pet, and even as he recalled where he was about to go, he couldn’t help but become a little aroused at the goddess’s voluptuous figure.

With a gleeful grunt, the hand that held him shot forwards, opening so that his body was pushed on by the pad of gigantic finger against his back. He was ripping through the water, right for the dark ravine between the Queen’s enormous round butt cheeks.

The soapy water lubricated his passage as he struck the soft, vast flesh of her booty, and the finger pushed him easily into the tight crevice. His body slid along the smooth skin until he crashed face-first into a much harder structure. The bumpy ring of skin and muscle was like a metal grate and his cheeks stung from the impact. But the worst thing was the smell. Rhancar hadn’t thought that he could smell underwater, but the water that flooded into his nose carried the distinct aroma of the Queen’s shit, and he retched as his face was massaged into her puckering asshole.

The Queen gasped, beaming as she always did when she forced the little insect to clean her filthy anus. He didn’t even care how long he would be conscious for this one, simply relishing the fact that no matter how long he held out, he would fall into unconsciousness with the feeling of kissing her royal ass, every time. It was only fitting after all, that the son of whore should worship her pucker. She was so far above him that he should be thankful for the mere chance to serve her and to be so close to her shit, which itself was more noble than he would ever be. With a slight rumble in her stomach, Elenor thought about tossing the worthless little boy into the privy and emptying her bowels over him. She thought about how helpless he would feel as he drowned in her excrement, but then he would be free of her, and she couldn’t have that. Perhaps she would try it, then get one of her maids to climb into the privy to retrieve him, but that would have to wait of another day.

Meanwhile, she started the feel the struggles of the tiny boy fading, and she redoubled her force as she smothered him against the dirty skin of her butthole, using him to clean every little dimple in her ass before finally fishing his lifeless body out. He didn’t have to smell him to know that he reeked, but she would soon see to that. She snapped her fingers and the maid who had turned away, Hannah, appeared beside the bath with a bucket of boiling hot water in her arms. There was a little soap inside, but the heat was the main thing that Elenor cared about. Without a second thought, she tossed the little man’s body into the bucket, and watched it splash into the still bubbling pool.

Rhancar awoke form his slumber as he felt unbearable agony clawing at his entire body, he screamed as he found himself immersed in a hellish vat of boiling water. He trashed about in panic until his broke through the surface, feeling like his skin was going to peel off, but finding it barely red. Despite his appearance, he felt as though he was being burned alive and it only continued as he paddled around in the huge bucket, helplessly trying to escape the burning water.

Elenor chuckled as she watched him squirm, his pain like a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. She let him continue for a full two minutes, until his limbs started to look weak and he risked giving up. At the final moment before he made peace with his hellish environment, the Queen nodded, and the maid plucked him out of the water and tossed him back into the bath. The lukewarm water felt ice cold and Rhancar screamed again, shivering uncontrollably. The maid too grimaced, but didn’t dare make a sound as her fingertips burned. She backed away from the tub as the Queen happily watched the tiny boy suffer, preparing herself to continue her bath.