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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CAPTIVE OF THE QUEEN

Chapter One

He did not love her, and she knew it. She held his eggs in his hand. She enjoyed feeling the vulnerability of them. Always with men she was able to find their weak spot; perhaps it was her beauty that allowed her to do this. He was 19, a handsome broad-shouldered fellow, the sort of man who stood a good chance of winning in the annual jousting feast. He had won twice in the junior division. Now, in the senior division, he presented the possibility of sweeping the contest again, this time against the most fearsome knights of the realm.

But at the moment the most delicate part of his brawny frame was in the palm of her hand. She squeezed him. He was full. He groaned as, with her other hand, she stroked his massive 12-inch rod. But he was paying no attention to her, despite the fulsome weakness of him that she held balanced in her palm, squeezing it gently, letting it overspill her hand and jut balloon-like through her grasping fingers. He was staring through the key hole of a door. He was gazing at a girl of nine, not at the beauty of 13 who held his family jewels. The girl on the other side of the door was naked. She had just come back from digging prawns and was just now casting off her summer dress, exposing her body innocently to the eye in the key hole.

Farallon didn't know what attracted him about this girl more, her youthful slender beauty, which was incredible, or the fact that she was second only to her brother to the throne. For unlike the girl who held his testicles in his hand, gently stroking him toward the orgasm which he knew must come, this girl on the other side of the door was no junior duchess. She was a princess, daughter of the king, and but for her brother, who was a year older than her, she was destined to be the kingdom's future queen. If anything should happen to her brother she would take his place. And Farallon was just on the other side of the door, scheming how he might marry this innocent girl and rule with her, or indeed for her, as King.

Kate watched the well-built man respond to her caresses. Each touch of her smooth delicate fingers brought his tool closer to release. She loved this sturdy young fellow, this "beast with a lance," as spectators nicknamed him in the jousting ring, but he did not love her. He used her, for his physical pleasure. He put her on display when he needed a beautiful young thing to accompany him out on the town, or to the dances. When he wasn't her he was using some other courtly beauty, or a peasant girl. She felt him pulse against her finger. She watched the big vein running down the upside of his tool as it delivered blood all along his stiff prong. He looked at the girl on the other side of the door as her nurse, a middle-aged fat woman, finished drawing a bath for the young girl. He gazed at the princess's swelling paps, at her smooth flat youthful belly, set off against her ribs, which stuck out farther than her indrawn tummy, but not as far as her newly growing breasts. He gasped with pleasure as his eyes ran along the 9-year-old's gently flaring hips, and spied the delicate rolled cunt lips between her slender, too-thin legs. The girl lifted her skinny arms and let loose her hair. She had ribbons in her hair and she untied these now, letting her wealth of gorgeous red hair overspill her narrow thin shoulders and run down her childishly thin back. She turned, lifted a foot to step into the bath. He saw her chubby bottom as she turned away from him. It was high and round and sweetly cleft, still child-thin yet with a pleasant swelling to it, as if it were adding adipose tissue at this very moment, just as her young breasts were, growing with her young energy into fine plump spheres.

"Now! Make me cum now!" Farallon gasped on the other side of the door, his eye pressed to the keyhole.

"But I want you to make love to me," Kate, holding his balls and stroking his big young cock, said poutingly.

"Another time," Farallon said. "Now do me, let me feel the pleasure of imagining myself to be in this girl, and sitting on her father's throne."

"If you insist," Kate said. She grasped the young man's bone-hard erection. He was too big for her to encompass completely with her fingers but she did her best. She jerked him with her fist. She jerked him again. She felt the fullness of his balls in her other hand. Just then the maid turned. Perhaps the hushed words and muffled groaning on the other side of the door had somehow caught her attention. But the door was thick; perhaps it was just her feminine intuition. For whatever reason, as young Princess Emily finished stepping into the bath, the middle-aged fat woman came walking swiftly to the door. Had he been in the jousting ring, his lance at the ready, Farallon would have been lightning-quick. He could have removed her head from her body three times over. But it was not his lance that he was now exposing, it was his penis, and he was caught in the throes of lust. Just as his seed welled forth, which he would have surreptitiously wiped up with a scarf Kate wore around her neck when he had cum, the maid opened the door. Instead of splattering himself noiselessly against the wood, biting his lip as he did so, he came open-mouthed right upon the fat maid's apron. She gazed at him with stunned anger; he with hopeless fear and humiliation. And beside him stood Duchess Kate, bringing about his release with her fingers.

They were banished from the kingdom, these two interlopers who had violated the privacy of the king's daughter. Instead of living amidst the luxury of the palace on Earth they were forced to live in the outlying lands, on Triton, circling Saturn. It was a rough-and-ready existence out there, amidst the miners digging up ores and sending them back to earth. But it proved fortuitous, in the long run, for when the Rebellion came these two royal outcasts were ideally placed to lead it.

Princess Emily sat at her lessons. A wizened old man, the court wizard, was instructing her in some tiresome subject. She pretended to listen but really she was gazing past him, out the window behind him, at her brother. He was young and handsome; the future king. She adored him. He was practising with his lance for the junior jousting tournament and she prayed his partner, a young boy his own age, didn't injure him. Just yesterday she had argued with him about the jousting match.

"Why must you put yourself through that?" she asked her brother, Marcus. "You are king; or will be, one day, when father dies. There is no reason for you to put yourself at risk jousting." He smirked at her.

"I want to," he said. "I don't care about being king." He looked at the tall strong trees growing in their play yard. "Yes, I guess I'll be king someday," he acknowledged, but I would rather be a miner."

"A miner?" Princess Emily had asked, shocked.

"Yeah, living out there in the Badlands, the outlying lands, working hard and getting rich, not being rich because my father is rich but earning it with my own hands. Going to the bar at night and drinking with the other guys. Playing cards, listening to the piano music. Falling in love maybe with the girl playing at the piano, not having a marriage arranged by my father for political reasons." He looked at his sister. "I would be free. Rich, but a face in the crowd, not so rich or powerful that I would attract attention. Just enough to attract the eye of the piano girl." She scowled at him.

"You've seen Raiders of the Lost Mine too many times," Princess Emily had said to him.

"You don't like the movie because Jim dies at the end," Prince Marcus teased her.

"I don't want you to die. I want you to be king!" she had said to him. And now there he was, out in their play yard, running amidst the trees, with his lance, his friend chasing him and trying to knock him down.

"So then after many centuries, during which mankind was ruled by monarchies, the age of the Great Democracies came," the white-haired wizard who was standing in front of the palatial window explained. "Yes, it was a time when there were no kings, sad to say. Many people thought that was the end of monarchy forever. But they were wrong. They did not realize man's need for order, for discipline. Democracy comes from a Greek word which means, literally, rule by the mob. Well, the mob eventually realized its incapacity, and that is when the new era of the kings began. First the great king, Peron, and then your grandfather, Emily, are you listening girl?" The white-haired wizard frowned. "You asked me to leave the curtains open but now you aren't paying attention to me. I must close them."

"No!" Emily cried. Her brother looked about to be hit in the back with a lance. But the wizard did not heed her cry, and he turned and flicked a switch which dimmed the windows to blackness. When the windows were completely dark, which only took a moment, he picked up a chalk stick, with a lighted tip. He turned and wrote on the darkened glass, "Age of Monarchies, II".

"Oh, my," Emily groaned, for she could no longer watch over her brother in the yard. The wizard beckoned to Emily.

"Come and write on the board the names of the kings in the Second Great Age of the Monarchs," he told her. Emily rose from her seat. She shuffled up to the black board. She took the chalk stick and tediously began to write out the names:

"Peron. Alfandia. Dreck. Pearl."

"Yes. Very good, Emily Pearl," the wizard said to the nine-year-old. She turned to him.

"You must always address me as Princess Pearl," she said to him.

"Of course. An oversight my highness," the wizard corrected himself. He cleared his throat. "I grew up with your father, and fought with him when he was a miner, before he regained the throne. Before you were born."

"Is that why my father is so old?" Princess Emily asked the wizard. The old man nodded.

"Yes, your father had other children, before you and your brother were born," the wizard told her. "But life was hard in those days. His family didn't survive."

"What was my sister like?" Emily asked, though she had heard the story many times before, had indeed asked these questions many times before, but she knew the wizard loved to tell it and she wished to listen to anything instead of his boring history lesson.

"She was beautiful, as you are, Emily," he said to her. "But the plague came. The airborne plague. Your father was able to get hold of a drug that gave him immunity. He gave me some; I got it to my family in time but he didn't reach his before the plague did. And so she died. He came home to find her swollen in her bed, drowned in her own vomit."

"Gross," Emily said, and made a face like she had made so many times before.

"Yes. She wasn't beautiful anymore," the wizard said. "And that is when your father resolved to re-impose order. Dreck's corporations were ruining everything. The earth's temperature was too high, the forests were dying, the Badlands were even more lawless than they are now. So together we recruited an army. It was hard at first, we only had a few followers. But gradually our numbers grew, your father's message was heard. Alfandia had his flaws, but he was a better king than Dreck." The wizard paused. He cleared his throat again. "But you are a clever little child, aren't you?" the wizard asked Emily. "You know that your lesson plan for today isn't about the Second Age of the Monarchs. We are to study the Great Democracies today. Have you done your homework? Are you ready to write out the major presidents of the United States and Europe?" Emily hung her head.

"No," she confessed. The wizard frowned.

"So all you can write out is the Second Monarchs?" he asked. Emily looked hopefully at the board.

"Perhaps I could write one or two presidents," she said.

"Good. We have done the easy part, the Second Monarchs. Now do the presidents," the wizard told her. Emily went to the board again, her chalk stick in hand.

"Naxonis," she wrote.

"Very good. The last president of the United States," the wizard nodded. Emily thought for a moment and wrote,

"Hopwellian."

"Yes. The last president of Europe," the wizard said. "Now what other names do you know?" Emily hung her head again.

"Not too many," she said.

"Who was the United States' greatest president?" the wizard asked. Emily frowned at her feet.

"Clapton?" she asked. The wizard scowled.

"That's the name of the janitor!" he said.

"Ferukkan," Emily said with conviction.

"That's the fellow who cleans your private swimming pool," the wizard said.

"Oh, I don't know!" Emily gasped. "It's all so long ago. Who cares about those tiresome old farts anyway?"

"Emily, Emily! You aren't doing your homework," the wizard admonished. "You've been watching too many movies in the royal theatre."

"I like watching the Princess of Perranna," Emily smiled, a faraway look coming into her eyes.

"Rubbish," the wizard said. "Pure tripe. You are a princess, Emily. You don't need to be wasting your time on such nonsense."

And so the day proceeded, in a tedious and long-winded fashion, Emily forced to learn the presidents of the United States and Europe, the wizard correcting her spelling as she learned the names. Meanwhile the banished Duchess and Farallon were at that very moment landing on Triton, against their will. But little did they know, at that moment, as they were hustled off the space ship by the king's guards, and surveyed the ruined landscape, scarred by the mines, that it would serve one day as their base of operations.

He took her again past the place where they had killed her father. It was a simple stone block. The blood had been cleaned up off the floor by the servants but, by the Queen's order, the stone was left unwashed. There Princess Pearl had seen her father's head cut off the night before. She had screamed in horror as it had fallen off the end of the block, no longer connected to his body, and had plopped with a sickening sound into the hay-lined basket at the block's base, in front of her mother, who was forced to stand there, watching, waiting for her turn.

Emily had screamed even louder when her mother was put to the block, her blood soon joining that of her father. Now Farallon made her gaze at their commingled blood again, then took her to the queen. He was still a step away from the throne; it had been necessary, in the final battle, to rally the troops behind the beautiful Kate. She sat in her bed chamber with an attendant, a female of great beauty like herself. Farallon brought in Princess Pearl, her hands unbound. There was no need to tie her, for she was only 13, a young slender girl. Behind came her brother, a strapping capable lad of 14. He had his hands bound behind him. And his mouth was gagged, because he had a way with words and the Queen feared he might say something to the servants to get them to change their allegiance.

Queen Kate nodded to Farallon.

"I will deal with the royal children," she said to the knight, who was now a grown man of 23, but still a beast, with or without his lance.

"We should kill them right away," he told the Queen. "You see how they escaped last night, when their parents were killed. Even in the shock of that moment they were not without resources. As the wizard was put to the block--"

The queen raised her hand.

"Enough. I was there. I was as surprised as you when the servants betrayed us and rebelled." Farallon made a half-hearted attempt to bow down on one knee.

"My queen. Your rule is newborn. Your tenure is uncertain," he said. But Queen Kate was still thinking of last night.

"I stabbed Grayskull the wizard myself," she said. Her eyes flicked to Emily. "If it hadn't been for him you would be dead by now, with or without the treachery of my servants." Emily spit on the ground. Her cheeks were flushed and hot. Her brother, standing beside her now, could not spit, owing to the gag in his mouth, but he made an attempt to indicate that he wanted to, peering briefly down at the floor. "You may leave," the queen said to Farallon.

"Madam I will carry out the death sentence myself, with my own sword," Farallon offered. He began to draw his blade from its sheath.

The queen's face grew red.

"Put that thing away!" she told the man. "Your work is finished here. Attend to your other duties. Emily and her brother are my cousins. You are not of our blood." Farallon realized that his time, at least for this hour, was up. He nodded briefly. He made no attempt to bow. He turned on his heel and left the queen's bedchamber, which had been a guest chamber until yesterday, but was now the royal resting place of the new monarch. When he had passed through the door leading out of the bedroom, taking the servants with him, the door closing behind him, the queen turned her attention to the two royal children standing in her presence.

"Hello, Emily," Kate addressed the young girl. Emily wished to spit on the ground again but her legs trembled with fear and her throat was dry. Kate smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Even before I was banished I had a certain reputation in your father's court," Kate told the girl. "And now that I am queen I intend to continue it. I have reconsidered my decision that I made last night, concerning you and your brother." Her eyes glanced at the young man standing beside Emily. "You are both quite attractive," she said. "The executioner's blade would be too good for you. Too swift, to easy. You were waiting for your turn on the block. But it was your decision to get my servants to rebel, and to escape. So now I have decided upon a different course for you. Yes," she said, her eyes glinting, a smile spreading across her lips, glancing briefly at the woman sitting beside her, who was without any covering upon her lovely white breasts. "I am going to use you both, sexually," she told the royal brother and sister. "I want to see you degraded, humiliated, before I kill you. In fact I am going to challenge you both with what I'm going to order up for you. Who knows? You may manage another rebellion. I want to see the hope in your eyes, as you try to survive, dreaming of escape. And meanwhile I'm going to enjoy what you both have to offer me, physically." She turned to the woman sitting on the edge of the bed, beside her. "Get up and undo the young man's pants," she told her companion. "This is the first rule you must learn," she said, addressing herself again to Emily and Marcus. "You must expose your most vulnerable parts to me at all times. Marcus, that means your cock, and your balls." Letting her eyes move to Emily, she added, "For you my dear that means your breasts. Always they will be naked in my presence, your sweet fine young nipples rising to attention for me, upon which I may hang clips or subject to whatever other abuse I desire." The queen's companion, who was named Savannah, undid Marcus' trousers. She pulled them down his legs, baring his thighs. Then she attacked his underpants. "Do not expect to feel any pleasure, no matter how naked I require you to be," the queen told the young man. To his horror his penis stood up proud and erect, when his underpants were pulled down. Despite the fact that this woman had killed his father and mother the night before, in front of his very eyes, his cock now stood forth pulsing with excitement. Savannah's naked breasts brushed his cock. She rose up, gently petting his rod with her hand when she was upright again. Marcus, behind his gag, gasped. Emily looked at her brother, as shocked and dismayed as he was that he would be so stiff and hard in front of these treacherous women. Wiggling her hips seductively, Savannah returned to the bed and sat again beside her queen. Kate looked at Emily.

"Now it is your turn, young lady," Kate said to Emily. She picked up a sheath lying beneath the folds of her dress. It was a knife sheath. She drew out the blade. "Don't make me cut off your brother's cock when I've not even enjoyed it yet. Take off your blouse and your dress, girl, and then your bra. I want to see your naked titties. Show me how they have grown since you were nine and I was caught with Marcus outside your door."

To her shock and humiliation, Emily obeyed. She undid her clothes, the queen and her companion watching her with interest as she exposed her body to them. It was a lovely figure; she had stood in the mirror admiring her newly grown form on the nights when she was still a princess and her father the king, in her bedroom, in front of her royal mirror. Now she took off her clothes, her fingers trembling, and showed herself to these interlopers who had taken her father's place. Her breasts sprang from her bra cups when she reached back and undid the clasp. She lowered the brassiere, watching as her young nipples stood up with frightful excitement at their newfound nudity. When she was reduced to panties, shivering beside her brother whose pants ringed his knees, the queen smiled.

"Very good. You have at least some modicum of obedience in you," she said. "Now we will see what other talents you possess. Kneel down on the floor. Put your mouth to your brother's cock." Emily blanched. But Kate brandished her knife. "Do as I say," she ordered. "Or it will be your brother's cock you see placed on the block, with your fat young titties following."

Emily got down on her knees. The carpet was soft under her. She felt her loose hair shiver against the sides of her face as she leaned forward, brushing her lips against her brother's cock. She kissed the head of him, right on his pee hole. To her surprise a droplet of precum oozed forth from his dick. She licked it off, so the queen would not see it. He tasted salty. He groaned in his gag at the touch of her tongue on his flesh.

"Milk him," the queen ordered Emily. But then another idea struck her. "No," she said. "Marcus, I want you to pee in your sister's face!"

It took the knife blade pressing against the root of his cock for Marcus to obey. With the queen standing on one side of him, Savannah on his other side holding his balls, pinching them with her sharp fingernails, he peed on the once-future queen. He pissed his royal urine in her face, and she let him, kneeling abjectly there before him, screaming as he did it to her but not stopping him, for the knife was right up against his cock. When he was finished she was required to put her drenched lips to him and suck him. His excitement grew until suddenly he spurted. She took this second emission, this one of his salty sperm, between her lips, sucking him that he might not embarrass himself by spilling his seed on the floor. It was difficult for her. She was a virgin and had never had a man's thing in her mouth before. She swallowed diligently as the queen laughed at her. Some of her brother escaped her lips despite her best efforts. His seed ran down over her chin and down her neck, droplets of him staining her naked breasts. When it was over she was allowed to stand.

"Take off your panties," the queen said to Emily. "I want to see the bottom Marcus was staring at when the maid found him at the door." Quietly Emily reached back to the cheeks of her ass. She pulled down the seat of her panties. "No, take them completely off," the queen said. Emily drew her hands down her thighs, taking the panties with her. Down past her knees they went as the queen gazed at her bared ass. It was a taut young behind, the flesh white and shivering slightly under the queen's gaze. Emily stepped out of her panties. "Give them to me," the queen ordered. Emily handed them over. She was completely naked now, her brother's piss staining her face, his sperm decorating her breasts and throat and cheeks. Kate let her gaze fall upon the girl's breasts, Marcus getting a view of his sister's bottom as she turned over her panties. "Open your mouth," the queen said to Emily. Seeing the knife in the queen's hand, the young girl obeyed. The queen stuffed Emily's panties into her mouth. But she did it with a certain gentleness, the princess noted, as if there was some hidden admiration that the queen felt for her. "Close your lips," the queen said. Emily obeyed. Her panties made her cheeks bulge. Her eyes were wide from the feeling of the cotton jammed into her mouth. The queen let her eyes fall to Emily's plump young breasts, wobbling helplessly on her chest, her hands down below her waist in an attempt to cover her pussy. "No. Take your hands away," the queen instructed Emily. The girl obeyed, putting her hands back behind herself onto her bottom, to her brother's relief, for the sight of her naked ass was making his penis rise again. "We will go downstairs," the queen said to Emily. "You were not aware of it, I'm sure, but your father shared some of my interests. My servants found a dungeon that he and your mother must have used to amuse themselves. Now I will entertain myself with it, enjoying the services of you and your brother. Let us see what games we can play together."

Much to her chagrin, Emily was forced to go downstairs to the place where the new interloper queen claimed her father used to play with her mother. The servants saw her as she went down, saw the tears running silently down her pee stained face, whistled at her naked young body and that of her brother, still gagged and with his hands tied, his cock sticking out in front of him as if to lead the way. The servants gazed upon Emily's cheeks full of her panties, looked at her staring, shamed eyes. When she reached the relative safety of the dungeon she sighed behind the cotton that was mashing her tongue. It was good to be in the semi-darkness of the dungeon, at least until Kate turned on the lights.

Emily screamed in her gag as she saw the things around her in the room. There was a cage, where she might be kept like an animal, forced to kneel behind its bars. There was a horse-like structure, but without a head and tail, with a seat so narrow it would surely invade Emily's cunt lips, like sitting on a ledge, but with the sides of the thing angling outward to support the weight of her legs. There were cocks galore, as if a hundred men had visited the block upstairs, leaving only their appendages behind, arrayed in stiff rows on shelves along the dungeon walls. There were hanging chains, from which Emily might be forced to dangle, just her toes touching the floor. There were whips and canes, lying on the floor next to the wall, some of them hung up on pegs like prized possessions.

30 excerpts below

Duchess Kate 13/17

Farallon 19/23

Princess Emily 9/13

Brother Marcus 10/14

Fat middle-aged maid

Wizened wizard teacher Grayskull

chalk stick

Savannah, queen's companion

30

----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------

This is FUN! I want MORE!

This is STUPID! I want LESS!

GET me back to the MAIN PAGE

HELP! I have to go to the BATHROOM