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Little King (7)
🕑 Added 2021-01-20 19:50:14 +0000 UTCElenor plucked Rhancar’s body out of the water, tightly gripping him in her slender fingers. The boy had already been through so much that morning, and yet, she was already thinking about what she could do to him after her bath. She wasn’t done with him yet, but this part was more a routine than anything more. Elenor enjoyed his suffering, but it didn’t really require much imagination on her part, after so many years of her play. Still, she felt no pity for the wretched little creature, nor his whore mother who had seduced her husband. Elenor hated him for thinking that some common whore was worth ruining their marriage, and she would never let the King forget his mistake. Nor would she ever let the pathetic seed of his mistake live it down. She had had his whore mother burned for her crime, but the little boy had been too young to truly understand what he had been forced to watch. Simply knowing that his mother was dead was not enough. Elenor was ready to make the inch-tall insect suffer for the rest of his miserable little life.
She smiled wickedly as she plunged him back under the lukewarm water. She rubbed his body against her soft abdomen, then down between her legs. Rhancar was blinded by the stinging, soapy water but he knew where he was as the giantess’s hand dragged him across her enormous body. He knew every inch of the Queen’s figure, from years of being smothered against it. He knew the scratch of her thick bush of pubic hair as his weak little arms flailed to get a grip on them. He felt his body rush past this forest as he was rubbed against her loins.
Elenor let out a little moan as her pet tickled her pussy, but she wasn’t quite in the mood to climax with him just yet. No, she knew that satisfying her sexual cravings in such a docile manner would only make her more gentle with him later on. Elenor decided to simply use him to clean the gunk and mucus from her vagina before rinsing him off in the water and squeezing the girt out of him for good measure. The goddess them dragged him back up her body to finish off.
The tiny boy felt himself slip along Elenor’s gorgeous body until he hit a wall of flesh. The cruel giantess shoved him roughly against the underside of her enormous left breast. The soft, heavy meat of her bosom was like a mountain for Rhancar, and if he had been any other smaller person, his neck would surely have snapped against the weight of the woman’s tit. But alas, his physical fortitude kept him alive, allowing him to be smothered against the monumental mammary of the maniacal mistress.
The goddess rubbed him along the underside of one breast, then the other, making sure to dislodge any grime that had collected there from the day before. She then tugged his body across her skin with one arm, raising the other gingerly over her head. Her armpit was the size of a cave for Rhancar, its large concavity almost twice as deep as he was tall. The slender goddess’s pit was covered by a thin layer of dark blonde hair, and it was into this patch that she thrust her little captive. She took great pleasure as she used Rhancar’s face to rub the dried sweat and filth from her armpits, only saddened that he wouldn’t be carrying her stench for longer. She finished washing herself and raised the boy out of the water, reaching over the edge of the tub for him to be collected.
Mercia took a step forwards, holding the Queen’s towel, but didn’t make it any further before Elenor released the boy. The emaciated maid watched as his little body plummeted down from the insanely high edge of the tub. He opened his mouth to scream as he felt himself accelerate. He swung his arms as he tried to position them to break his fall, but he knew that it was futile. He shut his eyes and awaited the inevitable collision.
Elenor smirked as she grabbed hold of the sides of the tub and stood, erupting from the bath and leaving a shower of droplets in her wake. The rapidly cooling water dripped off of every inch of her body, from her shoulders to the gently pointed nipples. She stepped over the side, glancing down to make sure that her foot was heading at the right target.
Rhancar opened his eyes. He hadn’t felt the pain of hitting the ground, and what he now saw, he couldn’t believe. He could see the cold stones of the floor, but they were about a hands breadth away from him. He looked down his nude body, and not a single part of him was touching the ground. How was he floating?
He didn’t get a chance to think any further about it. The moist, fleshy sole of Elenor’s foot struck him from behind and smashed him into the stone. Rhancar felt the unimaginable pressure of the blonde goddess’s full weight bearing down on him, his body crushed beneath her as she stepped out of the tub. She twisted her foot, grinding Rhancar into the stone as her servant girl wrapped her in a towel.
‘Girls, ready my clothes and bring them to me.’ Queen Elenor commanded, then turned to Mercia, ‘And you, wash this little bug and dry him. I will need a little distraction from court today, and I know that this little bug will be a good toy to do it.’
She raised her foot and giggled as the tiny, flattened body of the bastard boy fell off of her skin and onto the cold, stone floor.
***
‘Can I ask the servant’s to bring you anything?’ asked Johnathan, the son a minor Lord in Evenguard. He stood, hunched over with one shoulder a little higher than the other, occasionally scratching his arms where the new tunic made him itch. A gaunt, lanky boy with already thinning, brown hair, Johnathan was a simple looking individual, so it was no surprise that he was fawning over the other occupant in the study.
The radiant young blonde looked even more brilliant in the boring room, with the plain looking boy beside her. Strawberry blonde hair framed a beautiful face that looked alluring even in the plain blue frock. She sat on the lumpy chair, facing away from the fire, a look of utter ennui in her eyes. She had tried to stay in the main hall with the adults for as long as possible, but somehow the weasel of a human that was Johnathan had convinced her father to let them retire to the library, under some false pretence or other.
He had led her upstairs to this awful, dusty room, and now simply stood beside her as she sat, not saying a word. She still refused to play this game that her father was forcing her to, and she didn’t care one bit if her potential suitors were dwindling. She had eyes for one man only, and he was hers. She had no doubt in her mind that they would end up together, despite what any of the other girls in the court said, and yet she was the one being roped into this dance.
‘I can get you … the finest …’ Johnathan stammered.
‘I don’t want any of your drinks or treats,’ Christine said coldly, a flicker of rage sparkling in her eyes, ‘What else is there to do here?’
‘Well, we have a fine collection of book …’ he started.
‘Is that the best you’ve got?’ she rolled her eyes.
‘Well …’ he was struggling.
‘Is this all you do, all day?’ Christine asked.
‘Well, I sometimes play games with my cousin,’ Johnathan replied.
‘You have a cousin? And he didn’t come down to greet us?’ Christine demanded.
‘She’s not … like us,’ Johnathan explained, ‘Mother keeps her in here …’
Christine followed his eyes to the bookshelf, and almost kicked herself for not noticing the little box with what looked like windows cut out of it. The pathetic little hovel could almost have been mistaken for a home, albeit built for an insect. She stood up so rapidly that her bosom bounced, and Johnathan’s jaw dropped visibly as he eyes up the wobbling mounds. The beautiful young woman crossed the shabbily carpeted room to the bookshelf and reached out for the box.
‘Oh, please don’t touch …’ Johnathan started.
‘Be quiet, and sit down,’ Christine snapped, and the boy did as he was told, not able to resist the sudden interest that Christine was oozing. Her coppery-blonde hair was still shimmering behind her in the streaks of cold winter light that entered the library, and the boy gulped as he felt his loins tighten. She picked up the box gently, and peered into the open space.
The tiny human inside had fallen onto its back when the giantess had raised her home, but was now backing herself into a corner, hoping to escape the hungry eyes of the stunning face that looked down at her. Emilina was shaking as the enormous face of the pretty stranger loomed over her.
The tiny girl before Christine was surprisingly plump, probably from being fed more than her won body weight at meal times. The blonde scanned her little body, covered only by a piece of cloth with holes for her arms and tied around her little waist with a stitch. Her little black hair was messily draped over her quivering shoulders, as she stared up at the face of a goddess.
Emilina had been born shrunken, and had been taken in by Johnathan’s family when her won parents had perished in a tragic accident involving a horse. The 22-year-old had lived most of her life in this library, with meals and baths coming to her. But she had not encountered anyone outside of the household in years, and this new being carried an aura of cold, devious malice. Emilina gulped and carefully got to her feet.
‘Hello, my name is …’ the dark-haired girl tried to say, but as soon s she moved, the giantess’s hand shot into the box and her huge fingers coiled around her. Emilina gasped in surprise but soon found her whole body encased in the giantess’s palm and being lifted out of the box.
‘Please … be gentle with …’ Johnathan stammered.
‘Shut up,’ Christine silenced him with a flick of her wrist, not even looking at him. She raised the tiny creature to her grinning face, shifting her so that only her head poked out of her curled fingers.
Despite only just holding her, Emilina felt like the train-like fingers were crushing her thorax, stifling her breath in their embrace. She looked up, here eyes wide in panic as she was brought about a foot away from the titanic Christine’s terrifying lips.
‘Finally, some fun,’ the giantess declared, her breath washing over the helpless girl. Emilina tried to look over to her cousin, but the goddess’s body was between her and the frozen Johnathan. She looked up into the young woman’s mischievous sapphire eyes and could see the ideas flickering across them. Christine was calculating her options and she knew exactly how to get what she wanted from men, particularly pathetic, spineless wimps like Johnathan, who drooled over the ground she walked on.
She turned towards the boy, catching his eyes as they hurried darted up to meet hers from their previous position on her shapely ass. He was red in the face and tight in his pants, just how Christine wanted him. She smiled seductively at him, flicking her hair gently to the side as he squirmed in the chair. Without warning, the giantess dropped the box, and Emilina watched her home tumble to the wooden floor.
Johnathan looked down at the box, only a heartbeat before Christine brought her foot down upon it. The card snapped and bent as her slipper flattened it, and Emilina gasped as she thought of herself being in the very same box. Johnathan grunted as he too had the same vision and somehow, the thought of the gorgeous girl stepping on a helpless being turned him on to no end. The bulge in his pants grew as he slipped down into the chair, hip knees poking forwards as he sat, fully erect and gazing at the blonde goddess’s inviting body.
Christine smiled and Johnathan almost lost control of himself. She limberly stepped towards him, his puny cousin still in her hand, and a wickedly enjoyable plan in her head.
