Chapter 14

My darling Katherine, I have a bone to pick with you. Late last night I came stumbling home from the semi-annual Reigning Monarchs’ Conference. As usual, I was shot to shit, having taken flak from all of my colleagues there. And it was truly awful! But what did I find when I returned? Did you mop my fevered brow? Did you sympathize with the awful travel conditions I had to endure? (After all, now that spring has arrived, all the roads are seas of mud.) Did you do any of those things? My Katherine? Naah! After stumbling into the palace, am I greeted by my body slave at the gate? No. At the door of the palace? No.

Grabbing a crust of slightly-stale bread left over from dinner hours earlier, I managed to get to our apartment. Am I greeted by you there? No. All I saw was a bit of light coming from our bedroom. And what do I find there? The two women I love the most, bedecked with spring flowers. Now I ask you — Was it truly necessary to weave the most fragrant of the tiny flowers into you cunt hair? Was it necessary to have your magnificent auburn hair cascading over the pillow? Was it really necessary to have rouged your nipples and your cunt lips? But the final straw? Drops of your love juices dripping from your bare pussy!

Then after tearing off my clothes — and destroying my favorite riding habit in the process — I instantly bring you to orgasm and keep you there for at least twenty minutes. Collapsing in the bed beside you, am I left alone? Hah! How many times did you awaken me last night? I ask you, how many? But the last straw? Sometime last night, after again flooding your love box with my cum, I’m about to collapse, more dead than alive by this time, when Julia whispers, “Daddy, my cunt is particularly sweet tonight. You don’t want my sweet juices to go to waste, do you? Or would you rather I call Bill... ? It is rather late, you know...” So I had to eat out a teenage virgin cunt, too!

But then this morning, I stumble out of bed and find my way to the Great Hall. By this time I’m utterly starving to death. What do I find? You sitting in your chair waiting for me wearing — or almost wearing — the most sheer pale green gown that masks, but does not conceal, your luscious pink nipples. Damn it, Katherine, it’s just not fair!

And the final insult? Princess Julia appears, looking as fresh and sweet as you do, kisses me softly — melting me to my chair with the power of her love — and asks me brightly, “Did you sleep well, Daddy?”

Now I mean ... Really! With her sleeping on my left and you on my right — to the extent either of you slept at all — with your nipples poking holes in my chest the whole night, she has the nerve to ask me if I slept well!

But back to the conference. As usual, there were a number of experts from the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard. This time they brought with them several very sophisticated new taxing concepts they had pilot-tested in the Kingdom of Slobovia. The King of Slobovia was the toast of the conference, having raised his kingdom’s total tax rate to 71 percent!

Katherine, what are you doing to me? I was a pariah at the conference. Our rates were only 2.5 percent, and — believe it or not — it was only there that I learned that you’ve cut them again, to 2 percent. A hell of a Chancellor of the Exchequer you are! If we weren’t being buried under all the money pouring down on us, I would be forced to take drastic action. Now what do you have to say for yourself?

Master, I thought you would never ask. But first, darling master, my name is Kate. It is not Katherine, it’s Kate. Now that is short, simple, and easy to pronounce, even for you. It is the name given me by my beloved lord and master, so I do wish you would use it once in a while. After all, you know I have preferred it from the very first day. Why do you insist on calling me Katherine?

But with respect to Slobovia, while you were partying with your friends, I was entertaining guests also. One of them was Queen Matilda of Slobovia. By now, poor King Gustav will have had an earful from her, I’m sure. My darling, it’s really a damned shame that neither you nor any of your regal colleagues can count! Dear heart, you spend money, not percentages. I heard all about Slobovia’s 70-plus percent tax rate. Guess what? Our revenues are ten times theirs.

But that wasn’t what really interested Matilda. Believe it or not, darling, I am the envy of every queen on the continent. She — and almost all of the other queens — have seen you at some time or other. Wearing your customary Spandex hose, they almost drool at the sight of the equipment bulging from your crotch. Of course I didn’t help matters a great deal when I told her that you regularly keep me in orgasm for thirty minutes at a time, at least three times a day, every day.

I told her how our kingdom works. Your magnificent cock, regularly inserted into my dripping pussy, provides me with my driving force. My darling, I then take your force, modulate it, and re-transmit it back to you, to our darling Julia, and to the people of our kingdom. Moreover, I admitted to her — and to myself, yet again — that you maintain control of me by fucking my ass off — with very pleasing regularity, I’m utterly delighted to say. My only interest is constantly wondering which of my terribly ravaged openings will be my master’s next choice to impale.