Once a Princess....

by LesLuv

CHAPTER ONE: A ROYAL BREAKFAST

�Mother, how did you have me?� The question was, as usual with the young princess, demanding and haughty.

The Queen's smile was grim. �How do you think? It wasn't by parthenogenesis, and the spirit of the Lord did not descend onto this unsuspecting virgin.�

�Hmm.� She didn't know what that big word meant, but she was not going to give her mother the satisfaction of knowing that. And she knew all about descending spirits. The Queen's gin bottle was replenished daily. �So you used AI?�

It was the Queen's turn to be perplexed. She'd heard of artificial intelligence, and she surely had not used that, ever. It was hard enough using her own. But AI? �Of course not.� She did know how it had happened, but was not going to give her daughter the trauma of knowing those facts. Not yet, anyway. When she was fifteen would be soon enough. But at eleven, all kinds of nasty thoughts could sully her innocent mind if she spelled it out.

�So that leaves a man.� The princess did not hide her disgust. �You let a male stick his cock inside you, pump in and out, ejaculate, and go on his way. You are so disgusting, mother.�

The Queen was pretty tolerant of her daughter's superior ways, but this was going too far. �You listen to me, Ephemerone, you might think that's bad, but going about with your head up your cunt is going to lead you into all kinds of trouble. You know nothing. You have everything except understanding. And you wouldn't be here if I hadn't got myself fucked.� This last was said in a crashing fortissimo. �And,� she bellowed, �you will have to do the same if you want children. So stick that up your fanny and play with it!�

The Princess went white. She'd overheard her other mother, Sveda the Svelte, talking to the resident wizard about conception, and being the curious young woman she was, had crept closer to find out if there was something else she should know. Strange feelings had been brewing in her breast, little tickles in her tummy, and her beautiful, pure white cunt had begun to grow hair, and she knew, she just knew that things were going to change. The wizard said that spells could help get the sperm to the egg, and that that was the goal, after all. But a man? For conception? She wanted to cry. This was not how things were meant to be.

Brunhilda, her mother, affectionately known as 'Boom-Boom', saw her distress and held out her arms to her child. �Come, come, Ephie,� she crooned, �I'm sorry for losing it. You don't have to have children, not if it doesn't appeal. But it is what you have to do if you decide to conceive. And the young men will soon be around you like bees on a flower, looking for nectar. You'll begin your periods soon, your breasts are getting that lovely put-in-the-mouth-and-suck look, and your pheromones are already laying a scented trail. And your clitoris is so developed � well, mine took years longer to get to that size. You cannot change your development. Talking of which, I need a refill.�

The Princess smiled. Her mother needed refills on an hourly basis, and she herself didn't mind how often she gave one. Neither did her long time partner, Sveda, who appeared from nowhere and worked her fist inside the juciest cunt in the land as she began almost chewing on a clitoris big enough to put a strawberry to shame.

She walked to the couch, dropping her long blue silk gown to the floor as she did so. She lay down, the small of her back at the end of the brocaded seat, raised her legs and parted them. She loved the feeling this position gave her; her cunt in the air, her anus ready for anything, her hands free to play with her breasts. Brunnie dropped to her knees and lowered her mouth to the waiting honeypot.

The odour coming from her daughter's cunt was as intoxicating as ever, and the small outgrowth of blond hairs creeping up her apex were a new, added attraction. �Ah,� she breathed as her mouth descended.

�Ah!� breathed her daughter in return, as she felt the wondrous tongue plunge into her and begin to lap.

A small hand began to pull on one of her pink nipples. She looked up and saw the green eyes of six-year-old Emerald looking down at her. �Hi,� she said, �you look lovely this morning. Ready to give me my breakfast?�

The small girl nodded. She was the youngest of Pheromone's ladies in waiting, having been selected during a visit to the local primary school just two months ago. It was considered an honour to be chosen by the Princess for this role, as it not only gave the recipient a home, food, shelter and warmth, but loving, instruction, and the opportunity to become part of the Queen's entourage. This could lead to training in how to fight dragons, and warring amazons from across the oceans, and have other really exciting adventures.

It was so thrilling to live with a beautiful Princess, get sucked off at least once a day, have the other girls show her how the toys worked, how the games were played, and not have to put up with boys. That was the best part of it. No more brothers trying to catch her on the toilet, in the bath, or asleep. Girls, she had always known, were much nicer. And this girl, royal as she was, was so much fun.

She undid the cord of her pale pink dressing gown � no one was allowed to walk around naked inside or outside the palace, it was just not decent, a ruling by the Queen herself � and let it slip to the floor. That was another thing she liked, the feel of soft, smooth silk on her body, the way it slithered around, how light it was, so unlike the heavy, rough fabrics she had worn before. This was luxury. And what the Princess did was so, so good. She knew the others at school were jealous, but so what? She'd been properly schooled in the art of cunnilingus, the mixing of perfumes, the application of oils and makeup, the sensual areas, arousal techniques, and all the other things that a good school taught. Yes, it had been difficult, starting aged four, but she had relished the teaching, had obtained her certificate in orgasms six months after starting, had done her homework, had practiced on her little sisters, knew all her courtesies. Anyway, she would probably never see them again.

In one fluid motion Emerald was sitting right over the Princess' mouth, her legs wide, her hands supporting her. She felt the tongue lick, then worm its way inside her; she felt the fingers play with her tiny clitoris, felt the lovely tingling begin at the bottom of her tummy and spread right up her chest into her face, felt herself get warm then hot, and as a finger entered her bum hole she got the same wonderful jolt of electricity in her brain. �Ahhhh,� She cried, �Ahh...�

She was facing Brunhilda Boom-Boom, Queen of the kingdom of Orga, watching her head as it bobbed in and out of her daughter's thighs, wishing it were herself getting the tonguing, for it was rumoured that the queen's tongue was the longest and strongest in the land. It could flick a clitoris 120 times a minute, it was said, and it was this ability that had got her the nickname � �in the first sixty seconds of that tonguing your head went boom, and another 30 and there was another loud bang in the brain, and any more made the senses do a calypso � for the rest of the day.

The Princess loved this new girl; she was not only beautiful, she had allowed herself to be gang-tongued by the other maidens, was prepared to demonstrate the latest techniques taught at school, including bouncing up and down while holding onto a heavy spring, set in the roof, while the others tried to keep their digits in the vagina; using a large partly filled gas balloon to lie on so participants were alternately engulfed, projected upwards, buried once more while trying to keep their tongues and fingers in the right places, which was an absolute hoot - as well as the latest in technology, such as the electric double-ended dildo that did it all by itself, the solar powered hairbrush for use outside, and the electronic vibrating penis that could sense internal pressure and at the crucial time squirt into the waiting vagina a preset amount of thick, creamy protein that absorbed cunt juice, so that the lucky partner could have her cream and eat it too. This was so exciting that she'd got Sveda to order another ten. Wonderful for all her maidens, and a couple for gifts to visiting dignitaries.

Above all, Ephemerone loved the taste of her new girl. The Gods alone knew what food she had been raised on, but never in all her supping had she tasted anything as exquisite. It was a fruit salad of young hormones, a cornucopia of blessed delights, and she had quickly got to the point of ordering her for breakfast every day. Emerald also seemed to like being breakfast and the Princess knew she would have to be careful if she were not to alienate the other maidens. Coping with the six of them took a bit of technique, a lot of pique, and a smattering of bribery, but they were all good girls, looked after her interests above their own � as all the Princess's maidens were sworn to do � and had loved the new arrival from day one. Eight to fifteen years old, they knew the ropes and were not afraid to climb them. Or occasionally use them.

Brunhilda let out a roar, the roar of a lioness well-pleased with her mate, and began spasming as her daughter began to shudder and shake as her secretions flowed into her mother's mouth. A final bellow of 'F...U...C...K' and she opened her eyes. Being Queen of a kingdom that had, on occasion, come under sudden attack from misguided men, youths, and the occasional dragon had alerted her to the need to be fully alert within seconds of an orgasm, (except when they were multiple, a common occurrence, and which sometimes left her in fairyland for a day), so she immediately saw her daughter's latest young companion sitting astride and about to join the Princess in the morning feast of 'you cum, I'll cum and we'll all go cum together', the children's roundelay common through out the land.

'This child', thought the Queen, 'is something special. Perfect skin, silken pale hair down to her waist, the gluteus maximus of an angel, a winsome smile and lustful green eyes. She might be in my bed before long. Hmmm...'

And she watched with a glint in her eye as the child let out a cry, shuddered, and dripped breakfast into the mouth of the waiting royal.

Ephie waited until the last tiny drop descended, then licked the cavern clean. She didn't need a big breakfast, not when you got one like this. It contained everything she needed, was fat free and full of complex proteins, and her carbohydrates could be eaten anytime afterwards.

�Thank you,� she said from between the thighs, �my wonderful, precious Emerald.'

The jewel slid down so she could kiss the supping lips. �I love feeding you, Princess, you milk me so well. Can I taste, please?�

The Princess smiled and dribbled the last of her gleanings into the waiting, open mouth.

�Ah,� said the recipient as she swallowed, �magic.� She slid a bit further down the royal body and took one of the red engorged nipples in her mouth and sucked. A minute or two of that, and she looked up, grinning her best lascivious smile. �I'm in heaven.�

CHAPTER TWO: LIFE IN ORGA

Sveda the Svelte was the guardian of girls, head of the household, purveyor of potions and empress of entertainment. Tall and slim, as her name suggests, she was the antithesis of her co-crowned Queen, but shared her aims of maintaining a kingdom of female liberation, sexual freedom, prosperity and safety. She didn't have Brunhilda's breasts, she didn't have her powerful tongue or insatiable appetite, but she had one thing her partner could never have: Beauty. Boom Boom was not bad, not a witch, but her features had somehow been culled from the scrap basket. A wall-eye, bent nose, a chin that went on and on, and a mouth that resembled a tilde, she was unique. Not that she cared, for being Queen (joint) made her immune to criticism � well, she never heard any, because the guillotine was right outside her window � and features aside, she was really jolly, with a wicked sense of humour, a way of keeping the wizard on his/her toes, and once you got used to the face the rest was just what one needed. Provided you didn't giggle.

When she was just thirteen Brunnie had spotted Sveda at a beauty pageant. The older girl was so stunning that Brunnie's heart was struck, smitten, and sundered. She had to have her. She was not yet Queen, a fact that rankled, because the stupid parliament, then run by men, had decreed that she was too young. No matter that her mother had expressly stated that her only daughter was to follow her as ruler. She had just failed to stipulate 'immediately upon my death'. So she waited and plotted. Most of the old fuddy-duddies were scared to death of her, so she at least got most of what she wanted, but this conquest, she thought, would be something she could do herself. She had her 'companions', the euphemism currently in use for the co-opted girls who were really slaves, but they were hardly capable of taking her clothes off, let alone get her excited. Whereas this one � well, this one was hers.

She was waiting in the wings when her catch came off stage to the roars of the men and the tight lips of the other contestants, and put a hand on the arm that was about to pass unheeding. �Hello,� she said in her best little girl voice � not that she'd ever really had one of those � �what's your name? Mine's Brunhilda.�

�Why, hello, Princess, fancy meeting you here.�

�Oh. You know me?�

�Seen your picture, same as everyone else. Never thought I'd get to meet you, though. What do you think of the contest so far?�

�Hmph!� She snorted. �No contest. You've got it in a condom. Your ears are perfect, your nose the best I've ever seen, and as for your height, well no one, but no one will come near you.(1) You are just the best girl there. I was going past, saw you onstage, and had to come and talk to you. You see, I'm looking for someone like you to come and help me rule this place, just as soon as I can work out how to make them make me queen. That's what my mother decreed, but those men. You know?�

The girl nodded slowly. The men in her life, father, brothers, teachers were all OK, but one never contradicted a Princess. Life was too short as it was. �I see.� What the hell did one say to a Princess who 'wants' you to do something. Not 'another time, thanks', or 'can't you find someone else?'

�Of course, Princess I...�

�Call me Brunnie.� A command.

�...Brunnie, of course I'd love to help you, but there might be a problem.�

The eyes of steel cooled. �What.�

Oh, shit, she'd treasoned. �Well, you see, I'm gay. A lesbian. A seller of flowers. A lover of girls. And that may not suit.�

The steel melted, turned to rose petals, and brought forth a smile, transforming the ugly into the horrible. �I knew you were. I wouldn't have asked otherwise. I want you to help me turn this godforsaken dump into a lesbian paradise. Start academies. Throw the men out of power, put the women in. Get the better of those Amazon Dykes, make the age of consent three. Get what I mean?�

A slow smile appeared, putting the Venus de Milo to shame. 'You mean, um, you're yourself um, are a les...�

�Of Course I am.� The laugh was the one Aphrodite herself might have used. Delicious, bizarre out of those lips, but making the laugher instantly likeable. No more distorted features, just a lovely maiden you'd take home to meet mother. �Anyway, what's your name?�

�Why, Sveda, your Royal Highness.�

And thus was born one of history's great love affairs. Even though the dissembling Princess had not had a clue as to her new companion's leanings, and that it was many years before she could be weaned from claiming everything as her own, love flourished. Lovers can't pretend to be superior, not in the long term.

The very first thing Sveda did was to seduce the prime minister. This wasn't hard, as avowed celibates are always the first to succumb to�the charms of a chaste, innocent young woman seeking to strengthen the moral fabric of society. Especially when she has just won this year's beauty pageant.

Before he knew it, she was sitting on his cock, bouncing up and down, giving him the biggest thrill of his life as he ejaculated inside a woman for the very first time. This was such an epiphany that he promised her anything if she would do it even once more. Her first demand was, of course, that Brunhilda be made Queen forthwith. But, a politician to the last, he would not agree to that unless his new love could rule as equal, and that she would fuck his brains out every day. A moment's contemplation, and she agreed.

The second thing she did was to tell him that a meeting of the nobles, the government, the and heads of every department should be called for the following morning. Six a.m., in the great hall, so he could confirm the arrangements. A very edgy refusal was overcome with the offer of a second fuck.

�And every day?� He was whining by now.

�Of course, my precious,� replied the sixteen-year-old. � I promise,� she added as she climbed back on.

Things went quickly. Brunhilda was delighted with the arrangements, was quite ready to not only share her crown but her bed, provided she didn't have to bear the brunt of making all those hard decisions her mother had kept on about. If her ideas of liberal liberation were shown to be working through the supply of worshipful nubiles and a good press, she was content. And she soon realised that Sveda was the very model of a modern major manipulator, getting things organised, keeping the population content with game shows and talkback for their thrills and bread and fast food for their sustenance. The tourist trade blossomed, the pageants became world-wide events, and any wrong doing was dealt with swiftly and finally by the keeper of the peace. This was a lady who had rescued Brunnie from the bowels of the royal toilet after a night of too many drinks and too many sauces. She was foreign, and her surname, though unpronounceable, translated to 'don't fuck with me', which Queen no.1 abbreviated to 'Donfu', perfectly reasonable and meaningless. Donna Donfu's first job was to 'control' the first minister. She didn't need Sveda's wiles. She just threatened to cut off his balls. She left him in place to pass any laws either Queen decided they'd like, the first being the annual lesbian gala festival to be held on Midsummer's Day. He was finally expelled by the speaker of the house, a formidable lady of the old lesbian school, who did not hold with men masturbating during debate on a tax bill. No forwarding address.

Sveda and Brunhilda, joint rulers of the land of Orga, seemed, at first glance, an odd couple. Tall, gracious and beautiful, matched with large, ugly and bejeweled, their looks belied the rapport that existed between them. Not any old rapport, either. Theirs was the essence of Lesbos, a female Yin/Yin of completion, where the word 'joint' got its full complement of meanings.

And they both loved Ephemerone, although only one had done the actual birthing. Sveda was never going to make mother, but her orgasmic techniques were supreme. Her breasts were so firm, her nipples so protruding, that she could stick one between the legs of a nun and get her to climax in no time at all. She'd learnt to play the oboe, so her lungs and lips were like bellows and pincers of steel. If a ten-year-old had not yet developed breasts, a session with Queen no. 2 advanced the years by three. Sans hair, of course.

It was her relationship with her half-daughter, however, that was the pivot around which everything in Orga ran. Ephemerone had found her just right for the guidance she craved, the development that was inevitable, and the education that she would have not otherwise received. Brunhilda was brave, bold, and brassy. Her daughter craved culture, class and counseling.

�Sveda,� she remarked one evening after the afternoon orgy, �the Queen says that if I want children I'll have to get fucked by a man. I'm kind of like looking at babies and feeling all warm, but I can't bear the idea of having some prick in me. I've got my girls, I've got you, and I've now got Emerald. Do I have to have a man?�

Sveda bent down to kiss her semi-daughter. �Have a suck on my cunt while I think,� she murmured. After approaching the edge a few times, but pushing herself back from the drop into heaven, she said, �Well my sweet, delightful daughter, we're off to see the wizard.�

(1) 'Condom' is a local term for 'in the bag' and more descriptive; the three parameters for beauty contests back then were perfection of nose; shape, size and colour of ears; and height. The second item, the ears, could be doctored fairly easily; the nose was more expensive to alter, while the height was nearly impossible to change. Bare feet were essential during the contest, and anyone found cheating was forced to become a Wizard's assistant, a fate possibly worse than fellatio.)