Queen Gretchen and the British Envoy
Copyright© 2016 by harry lime
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - She was young, nubile and her needs were the same as any farmer's daughter. But a queen must be discriminating in the selection of a bed partner.
Gretchen was the oldest daughter of the King and she was more like a boy than any young lad scampering around the palace grounds. She could climb the castle walls, swim the slimy moat, and shoot a crossbow with the skill of a palace guard.
Of course, that was not what King Gustav wanted to hear from his chancellor before he even had his coffee in the morning. The fact that his beloved Valentina had given him only daughters was a matter of grave concern, but he was certain none of his greedy relatives had the nerve to usurp the throne from his appointed heir, Princess Gretchen.
The common folk of the kingdom were elated that Prince Charlie from the neighboring land was vying for Princess Gretchen’s hand even before she inherited the throne. He had every expectation of becoming the joint King of both countries, with a powerful army and wealth beyond the dreams of ordinary small country leaders.
Princess Gretchen was not completely sold on the idea, because she had heard many rumors of Prince Charlie’s fetish for “breaking in” the servant wenches the old fashioned way in the basement of his castle. He was infamous for his habit of dunking them in a barrel of water until they agreed to his terms of submissive behavior. It was said that one particularly obstinate young lady had actually expired by drowning in his chamber of horrors.
Then, there was the time that the much admired Prince Charlie had tied her to the whipping post as a “learning tool” for her anticipated union as his future spouse. She was not frightened, but angry instead and lashed out at his sneering face and balls with her feet and hands. He hadn’t actually whipped her, but showed her how it was done with the pretty young thing from the scullery as a demonstration in humiliation. She was close to spitting out her rage at her own treatment because, after all, she was a Princess in her own right and deserved respectful behavior, even in the castle of Prince Charlie.
The sight of the pretty young girl hanging from the chains and being struck from all sides with much laughter and derision horrified her sensitivities and she fell silent knowing it could easily have been her hanging from the chains in obscene degradation in front of strangers and evil-minded guards.
That experience was sufficient to make Princess Gretchen vow that she would never submit to Prince Charlie’s vile demands. She was adamant that her knees would never voluntarily spread open for his degrading tool of evil. Her only problem now was to find a male suitor with the attributes that appealed to her sense of royal propriety. There were plenty of masculine commoners with that level of appeal, but she knew instinctively that only a royal personage would satisfy her people’s sense pride and respect for the royal family.
She thought long and hard about her options for finding a suitable suitor.
Eventually, she had no choice to dismiss most, if not all, of the princely sons of the court, because they were self-centered, boring, or anchored to some vice or other that would bring her grief beyond description.
In her despair, she sought respite in the arms of the royal physician, Doctor Hemingway, a man of some knowledge of the ways of the world and politics, but far too gentle in bed for her liking. Doctor Hemingway always entered her slowly and constantly asked,
“Does that hurt, my dear?”
It was a source of amusement to her, but she was not particularly looking to be amused with her legs wrapped around a naked man’s trunk. The only thing in his favor was that he did not object when she toyed with his nipples or his hairy flanks. Sometimes, she was able to drive him into more vigorous pounding of her royal twat, when she diddled with his private areas, like some rambunctious swordsman showing a need for total control. In retrospect, she recognized it was a detriment for romantic involvement for her to constantly strive for control over her coupling partners. Even the middle-aged Doctor was turned off by her cavalier attitude and he soon parted ways by accepting an assignment in a far distant medical center. She was upset at first, because he was, at least, a ready and willing bed partner and knew how to keep his mouth shut about her lack of virginal character.
Princess Gretchen came to the conclusion that she would have to look for her husband-to be in the ranks of the foreign dignitaries that visited the court for reasons of political relationships. She had noticed that they seemed to be split evenly between the younger variety and the older men who were either widowed or were confirmed bachelors with little interest in feminine wiles.
It was obvious that the younger breed was her selection ground and she constantly scoured the visitors for likely candidates. Unfortunately, she found none, but took heart in the fact that the ranks of the foreign visitors changed often and she hoped one would be arriving any day.
There was much talk of a new British Envoy arriving before the end of the month. He was reputed to be nineteenth in line for the British Crown and had connections with royal personages in other countries. His name was Sir Alistair of Cornwall and he was reputed to be a former Major of Artillery in the King’s own regiment. He had apparently been involved in an unfortunate duel with a competing beau for the hand of the Lady Elaine of Hampton. He was banned from the royal court for a full year at the command of the king. It seemed a silly thing to be banning a gentleman for a duel of honor, but she knew the British were unamused at such matters inside the court for something as inconsequential as an affair of the heart.
She pinned her hopes to the possibility of the new British Envoy, but was wise enough to not anticipate victory, when she hadn’t even met the man face to face.
It seemed a good time for Princess Gretchen to take a short vacation away from the intrigues of the court and the rumors that seemed to follow her wherever she went. She had overheard two of the palace guards wagering about the number of lovers she had taken to her bed in the past year. She almost gasped, when one of them stated with unusual confidence,
“I bet it was at least a full dozen. She is an attractive wench for a high-born and you can see the sparks in her eyes, when she views the young lads in their tight breeches.”
The next morning, Princess Gretchen rode out with her pair of personal bodyguards, Igor and Oscar, staying away from the main roads to avoid any interference. Before they had even reached the wide river separating the farmlands from the forest, the snow started to fall with infinite grace and soon the ground was covered all in white.
It was early for snow, but Gretchen was not upset. She really liked the snow and it seemed to calm her insides that were all jittery because her lover, Doctor Hemingway, had been absent for almost a full month. After all, she was a young, nubile woman and she had her needs just like the common born wenches that jumped into any convenient haystack at the slightest suggestion. They crossed the river which was still not iced over yet on a ferry big enough for six passengers and horses or a small carriage and a team of four. On the other side, she allowed Igor to drape his heavy fur coat over her shoulders making her look like a bear riding a horse. The snow was falling heavily now and she raised her beautiful face up to the grey skies and licked the snowflakes as they fell from the heavens like little messengers from God to his creations below. She hoped God was not angry with her for her weakness in submitting to her basic instincts with the horny Doctor Hemingway. After all, he was just a temporary solution to her problem of finding a qualified mate for life and she had no emotional attachments to the silly old man with an uninspired cock.
Princess Gretchen knew that Igor and, of course, Oscar, knew about her sinful ways, but she was certain it was not a problem with them because they both still held to the old ways of fornicating whenever the opportunity arose just as a means of insuring their family line continued long after they were gone from the earth. That was not her motivation. In her case, it was the annoying itch between her legs that demanded periodic attention of the masculine kind. Hopefully, when she was safely married and bedded by her future husband, she would be satisfied with her choice of a spouse.
They were in the deep forest now, it was a place filled with wild animals and difficult terrain. Still, the road was passable and they made good time on the way to the winter palace near the coast. She knew it would be only a skeleton crew of servants but she liked it better that way knowing that she would have to tend to most of her own grooming and finding food and drink by herself. Igor and Oscar would, most likely, make the rounds of the female staff just to show them they were appreciated by the rulers in the capital. There was no such opportunity for Gretchen, but at least she could peek at them rutting in the servant’s quarters.
The road ahead was blocked by a splendidly appointed carriage marked with the colors of the British Monarchy. She had no doubt it was the overdue transport of the British Envoy and that he was likely to perish of the cold left to his own devices. She could hear his deep voice berating the driver for his lack of skill in avoiding the snow filled ditch. It was amusing to her because she had a feeling none of the stranded travelers were familiar with the correct way to handle such a situation.
She instructed Igor and Oscar to lay thick branches under the wheels and they whipped the horses to pull the carriage out of trouble.
“Thank you, young lord, for your assistance with your man-servants.”
Gretchen smiled behind her hand realizing the handsome British Envoy thought her to be a boy traveling to some unknown destination.
“It is of no consequence, your magnificence, I am happy to be of service.”
The Envoy’s bow was a wonderful display of grace and charm. It started Princess Gretchen’s female parts to moving in different directions confused by the sudden jumble in her tummy telling her something exciting was about to happen.
“You will not reach the river and ferry before dark. It is dangerous for you and your entourage to continue in this direction in such a heavy snowstorm. I would suggest that you accompany me to my relative’s winter home only a short ride to the north.”
The British Envoy was trying his best to ignore the fact that he and his assistant along with the driver were shivering from the falling snow and tired from their long journey. Finally, with a shrug of his sturdy shoulders, he accepted the young lad’s kind offer and his carriage followed the disguised Queen-to-be and her pair of bodyguards deeper into the forest to the high cliff above the pounding surf of the wide blue sea. It was a desolate place with only a reduced staff of servants. They bowed and scraped to the easily recognized Princess and it impressed the British Envoy that the young “man” received such prompt loyalty. Fortunately, he did not speak their language and her secret was safe.
Other than the servant’s quarters, which were perfectly fine for Igor and Oscar, along with the British Envoy’s two staff members, there was only the royal bedroom ready for use as a bedroom. The other rooms were all shut up for the winter, ice cold and uninviting.
With no other solution, Princess Gretchen invited the British Envoy to share her bedroom. She hoped her disguise would hold through the night because it would be terribly embarrassing to be discovered as being actually a girl instead of a boy.
Gretchen like the fact that she and the Envoy were able to converse as equals about almost any subject without wandering into the realm of sugary phrases of male/female banter and platitudes of sexual probing. She had her fill of such tripe at court with the simpering fools passing themselves off as men, but being something else entirely.
Everything was going just fine and they were swilling down the hot chocolate prepared by the girls in the scullery to help chase away the cold night air. The fire in their fireplace was burning bright and the British Envoy tended it with familiar skill. She thanked the stars in heaven that the oil in the lantern was burning low, because it was time to undress.
Gretchen watched the gentleman shed his outer garments and stand in front of her clad only in a nightshirt that did little to hide the presence of his formidable third leg. Now, it was her turn and she crossed herself in gratitude, when the lantern gave up the ghost and flickered out leaving them only the light of the stars and the sliver of moon thru the high opening on the far wall.
Quickly, she cast off her sword, jacket, and trousers and donned the simple nightshirt, hoping it was loose enough to shield her blossoming tits from sight. Her boyish figure was likely to pass as a young lad’s just as long as the unsuspecting Envoy did not actually touch her offending boobs that threatened to betray her subterfuge. She didn’t like the fact that he climbed into the side of the bed she preferred, but made no fuss because her heart was beating so fast, she feared she would give her identity away with her nervous shaking. He had faced away from her side of the bed, so she did her best to avoid the bumping of her flesh into his.
Then, he turned over and she felt the full length of him along her flanks, like a heated blanket of skin and flesh, warming her core to a degree that made her quiver with excitement.
“Pardon me, young lad, I am afraid my tool has been aroused by the touch of your soft posterior. You have a finely shaped backside, almost as nice as a virginal maid waiting for her first lover.”
All Gretchen could do was to minimize the damage and assure the Envoy that his touch was not offensive and that she had often slept in close quarters in her military training. Her brain was overwhelmed by the intrusion of his hardness between her buttocks, even if it was on the outside of her nightshirt.
She heard his breathing turn into a deeper sound of fast approaching sleep and relaxed her body enough to allow him further entry with his magnificent tool of creation. His great paw of an arm was now across her chest and she felt his palms resting like hot irons on her throbbing nipples.
When Gretchen was certain he was in a deep sleep, she reached under the cover and lifted her nightshirt to her waist giving his cock full access to her female parts knowing that instinct would take over her complete impalement on his sword of masculine domination. Her fast flowing juices acted as convenient lubrication to make the process certain.
Sir Alistair of Cornwall’s staff slipped up inside Queen-to-be Gretchen’s thirsty slit with little difficulty and after that it was all simply a matter of horizontal dancing as they both accelerated into mutual release with pulse-pounding tingles of sheer delight.
Gretchen felt the British Envoy slowly shrink inside her after that, but she made no move to shake him loose. In fact, she fell asleep with him still inside her and she hoped he might give her a second act before the night was over.