Queen Meve was lounging about in her bathtub. Back when she was starting out in her long career of campaigns and struggle, deep down she never thought she would see this day. It had been a long uphill battle to gain the respect and prestige she deserved. But she had made it. And now as she lay back, with nary a concern on her mind, it was all worth it.

Especially now. Her tub was filled up to the brim and she was free to relax. She was not concerned with ruling her kingdom or slaying her foes at this time. Instead, she had left Count Caldwell to act as regent to help her son Villem with running her nation. That left her to do whatever she wished.

In this case, she wanted to do herself. The warm waters that had been drawn up in her bath felt so good on her naked skin. Looking down on herself, she realized she had much to be proud of beyond simply running her kingdom. Her heaving breasts, her flat stomach and her long lovely legs. Even with the warrior’s life she had led, she took pride in her beauty. The only real lasting blemish on her body had been the scar which marred her face. It had not stopped her from attaining so many devoted followers, both to her cause and wanting her in particular.

It fed the flame inside of her. She looked down. Far from having a flat muscular chest like so many warrior women like her, her breasts were more ample than most would expect. While Meve made her notoriety by deviating from the norm, she took no small amount of pride in having such a developed rack that most men would crave to do so many things with and so many women wish they could be blessed with. That warm fire began to spread throughout and fill her up more than the hot water she was submerged in.

She started feeling a little naughty. She began playing with her breasts. She would often do this sort of thing to ease her nerves before a fight, whenever she was facing the weasels of the court or the iron on the battlefield. But it had been too long that she was allowed to indulge in her pleasures as she saw fit.

Meve was surprised at how her nipples were already stiff. She smiled when she touched them, they were harder than she expected them to be. Taking each of them into her hands, she gently fondled her caps. She was no in rush to climax just yet. She only wanted to enjoy herself.

But for all that, the need to go further began to overwhelm her. Testing herself, she began pinching her nipples, then releasing them before it became uncomfortable. While she was doing that, she also began kneading her breasts too. She sighed to herself as a wave of coziness spread throughout her whole chest. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

As she amused herself, the lust growing in her vagina got more intense. Unable to, and not wanting to ignore it any longer, she slipped one of her hands down there. She was already turned on from playing with herself, but she was still surprised by how tight she had become. Nor had she expected her fingers going inside herself to feel so good.

Soon she lost all want to simply enjoy herself. She grabbed her breast more vigorously and darted her fingers deeper into her twat. In the privacy of her tub, she threw her head back and began moaning in wanton joy.

Meve needed more. Everytime she stabbed her fingers inside of her vagina, she rubbed her thumb on her clit. The nub had already poked out of the hood and she pressed into it deeply, eager to satisfy herself. She was very close to an orgasm.

But just as she was about to cum, she heard a commotion outside her door. She tried to ignore, but then there was a rapping at it. Irritated beyond all reckoning, she stopped and hissed, “What?” in a rare display of emotion. Known for being frosty in the worst situations and stoic as a sovereign, in this intimate moment of self-pleasure, she felt her anger expanding beyond her normal ability to keep it in check.

“Your Majesty, it is Count Caldwell and your son,” said the messenger.

That announcement only deepened her foul mood. She had hoped to sneak some extra time so that she could properly finish herself off. But now she knew there would be no time.

The moment was lost. She growled in irritation, but was already calming herself. In all things, her duty came first and foremost. She sighed and said, “Fine. Allow me to ready myself.”

Meve heard the servant walking away. She had a mind to return to indulging herself. But even if she did manage to get herself off, she knew it wouldn’t feel as good as she wanted it to. That blissful relaxation was spoiled, and there was nothing she could do about it now.

That did not mean however that she would grant her visitors any dignity. Rising out of the tub, she quickly dried herself off as fast as possible and only put on her robes. She would hear what they had to say and then return here to her private sanctuary.

Hopefully then she would find that same peace and contentment as before.

When she arrived in the grand hall, she found Caldwell and Villem waiting for her. His face broadened with a smile as he gazed upon her. Meve had given no thought to it, but the robe she had put on was rather thin, allowing him to see her perfect and sculpted body underneath the fabric. She had known that and thought nothing of it as she put on the robe to meet both of her visitors. She had been through far worse situations.

For all her natural beauty too, even the dumbest of her many admirers would think twice of ever acting on their wants with a woman like her. Her martial talents were belied only by her steely demeanor, and there was no question of what would happen if they tried anything. She knew the meaning behind Caldwell’s smile. An act of supplication to be sure, but also a sign of his wants. He could have that if he wanted to. It would not temper her attitude the slightest around him.

The count bowed and then looked up at her. “Your Majesty, it is an honor...”

“Save it,” she snapped, not in the mood for pleasantries. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, count?”

“Well, it concerns the ruling of Lyria and Rivia.”

She smiled thinly at him. Then she looked over at Villem. “Yes, I figured it had something to do with that. I would never blame my son for any failures on his part.” She looked back at Caldwell, that same harsh glare fixed upon him, made so much more terrible and cold by her austere beauty. “But you, you’re supposed to guide him. Which makes me wonder ... why did you bring him here with you?”

“Pardon, Your Majesty?”

The small smile on her face vanished. “Did you wish to seem responsible before me, by not leaving him on his own to the various other vultures in the court? Or did you merely wish to save face, so that it could be looking like you were honestly trying to learn something when in reality you were begging me for mercy?”

Caldwell’s smile did not diminish. Queen Meve had been an unconventional figure throughout the realms, inspiring so much fear and awe in many. But for all of that, despite being chewed out like that so thoroughly moments earlier, he was still greatly pleased. The sight of such a beautiful woman was always a wonder. But to behold Meve’s wondrous figure barely hidden from his eyes in those robes was a feast for the eyes very few men would ever have the privilege of knowing.

And for whatever norms Meve had defied, she was still a woman. The count was strictly a politician now, but in his youth he had bedded many members of the fairer sex. Some of them were willing from the start and others were a bit more of a challenge. But none of them had ever been like this one. This meeting had been a political liaison from the start. Far from being scared of his liege, now he was feeling like something from the old days. A wicked curiosity was welling up in him on how this meeting would turn out.

He had forgotten about the situation he was in. He did not feel the sting of Meve’s words. He no longer cared about his regency to the young Villem. Indeed, his spirit soared with such energy that if any outsiders were to come and witness this meeting, any of the queen’s messengers or her guards, they could not fail to believe that the count was possessed of an exuberance well beyond his age. And he intended to prove it.

It had only been a few seconds after Meve reprimanded him that Caldwell only bowed before her again. “You are correct in your assessment, my queen. I have erred in your presence.”

That wasn’t an answer to any of her questions and he knew it. But he intended to do far more than just dodge her inquiry. Moving himself back up, he pulled a bottle of wine from his fine coat. He had not failed to anticipate that his queen would tear him to pieces after he gave his report, as she had now. That was why he brought a bottle of her favorite wine to save face with her.

“Allow me to present an offering.” He set it upon the table. The bottle was made of the finest glass and the pink wine inside of it seemed to glow, that’s how pure and fine it was.

Meve’s face softened only slightly. For a woman of her beauty, it had the effect of marking her fury that much more upon her visage. But just so, that slight improvement in her mood was also that much more noticeable. She took it into her hands.

“Thank you,” she said, rather dryly, still not forgiving him for visiting her in disappointment, and her resentment for him interrupting her bit of self-pleasure had yet to cool down. “You should know this changes nothing. There is nothing I hate more than beggars. Choose your next words carefully. Or by the time I’m through with you, you will not even have a funeral or a public execution as the peoples’ last impression of you. What remains of Count Caldwell will not be his legacy or even a corpse.” Her smile darkened and she looked at the wine in her hands. “No, instead it will only be this. They will come to call this offering the last drops of your blood.”

Villem looked away. On the other hand, Caldwell did not back down. He knew that no matter what he said next, there was much on her mind she had yet to say.

But she would not get that chance. Now with far more ulterior motives in mind, he had another angle he was going to play. “I do not wish to impose,” he said. “But business can get rather boring, and I think it would help if we could all relax together.”

“Relax?”

“Yes, I’ll say it now Your Majesty. Your tongue is as vicious a thing as ever. And still, I hope to regain my standing with you.”

“That is not so easily a thing done. Perhaps you could have done more than simply come here on your knees and hoping that wagging your tail like a good dog would earn my favor. The only boy I care for is my son. And even at your greatest and he at his lowest, I will always look upon him more fondly.”

“But I don’t think it would do for a son to see his mother like this. And if I’m going to die today, then at least let me have the honor of having some measure of happiness, no? If you were to treat me like any of your other enemies, death would be a mercy. This way, you can have the satisfaction of having my last joy.”

Meve’s smile seemed to lighten up a bit. Nothing less severe than it already was, but there was still some good humor in it. “If that’s how you want it.”

He let out a low laugh, like the meaning of it was something private for him alone. There was something else in his fine coat he had to show her. It was a deck of cards for gwent. He set it upon the table.

“This is how you wanted to relax?” Meve said. The tone in her voice, there was no anger in it. It just sounded like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“It’s not a problem, is it?” said Caldwell. “The only other way to relax would involve you having my head. There is still I have much to say. And I always believed that your ruthlessness was tempered by wisdom.”

“Very well. You may speak as we play. In the meantime, we will sup deeply of your blood,” she said, getting up and fetching herself some wine glasses.

Caldwell was not bothered by that notion. He knew this vintage was a favorite of the queen’s. But he was fortunate that he had gone the extra mile to procure it. It was an extra strong variant, custom ordered by him from the finest breweries in the empire. He had originally intended it merely as a means to supplicate himself before her, a true offering simply to placate her rage so he could scurry off without suffering her wrath. Now he had other ideas in mind.

She popped open the cork and poured herself a glass and then returned to the table. At that point he had already set two decks of cards before them. She set the wine glass before him.

“So,” she said, drinking first. “What is your excuse for your failure?”

He had to fight the urge to laugh. Taking that much in, she wouldn’t be able to remain sober for long. He didn’t have to think of an extended answer to satisfy her in fear of death. Just something to hold her over. And once the festivities truly begun, he would pounce on her.

“I suppose it’s pressure. Dealing with the Nilfgaard Empire is not an easy task. If it were, we could all rely on you to clean up our problems.”

“Watch the words that look to escape your lips count. I don’t suffer fools, but the one thing that makes my sword arm twitch are clever men who use their wits solely to scheme and plot around me.”

“Then perhaps you should have my head cut off? That way it will speak on it’s own. And of course, once it’s told you everything I know, you can mount it on your wall as a trophy. I will be more than happy to speak to all those who ask how I died that I did indeed perish in the noblest way that a man possibly can.”

Before she could silence him, he threw his head back and laughed deeply.

“Why cut off your head, count?” she said, interrupting his laughter. “Even without a spine, you are apt to lying. Be grateful we are not in Nilfgaard. They would have sensed the deceit in you from the beginning and cut your tongue out. For even without a body, you would find ways to stir up trouble there. Whether it’s tricking the slaves there into revolting against a force they could never possibly defeat, or it’s whispering honeyed words to the warriors who should know better, you would always be a thorn in their side.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose it is good that we are not in Nilfgaard. If we were, you would have cut my tongue out already. Unlike my head, it can tell no lies. And once it’s said all that I know, you could always keep it for other uses. Private purposes if you take my meaning.”

Caldwell was laughing again. Then he smiled at her, baring his teeth, he was no longer a young man and This time Meve couldn’t think of a retort. Her face tightened up a bit but she blushed deeply.

Villem was surprised to hear Caldwell being so bold. But there was something else he noticed. His mother look away. Only wearing her robes, he watched her twitch a little bit. He was unaware that she had been touching herself before he had arrived with the count. Was still totally in the dark about how much she needed it now. Let alone what Caldwell was planning for her.

“But you are correct,” he said. “Working in your service my queen is far preferable to the vultures in the empire.”

“So that’s your excuse? Serving me is keeping you at night?”

Caldwell hadn’t failed to notice the double meaning there. Bit of mockery too. “For more than one reason,” he said, totally unflinching. He dealt her another card. “If you would, Your Majesty...”

“Right,” she said, a little more curtly. “Villem, it’s your turn.”

Villem dealt another card without saying a word. The game proceeded along. He knew he had to say something. His mother being in a mood was never a pleasant thing. But as much as he had appreciated Caldwell’s help in running as regent, the count’s reputation for duplicity was well known. As green as he was, he knew something was up.

“Mother, I...”

“Do not worry young Villem,” said Caldwell, shooting the young man a look. “It’s not you who bears the fault. If anything is to happen tonight, I alone will bear responsibility.”

“But...”

“You agree with that, don’t you Your Majesty?”

“Of course count. And I will see to it that if you try anything,” she said, opening her robe up a little more, enough so that both parties there could see her cleavage and something of her flat midriff, “that you are punished severely.”

Meve was daring him to look at her. For all of her valor in the battlefield, she was as beautiful a woman as ever, the mark on her face not marring it but only making her look more distinctive. But her body was as beautiful as any man would crave, as many woman would envy, not the thing of a warrior. Perfect and unblemished.

Caldwell chuckled. “Punishment is not something most men would suffer willingly. Not from the blade and not from a woman. But...” Meve and Villem watched in shock as he deliberately reached over and took one of her long naked legs and put it on his lap, “if I am to die today, then I can ask for no better end.”

Meve’s eyes zeroed in on him. He was being bolder than usual. While the count himself hadn’t aged as well as the other nobles of the court, there was something about his attitude that was making her hotter than she wanted to. She remembered all too well how his arrival had prevented her from reaching her climax.

And she had a mind to find some measure of satisfaction with him, in one way or another.

Just as she was beginning to search for words to put him in his place, he began rubbing her bare feet. They locked eyes again, and his lips lit up in a smile that was too wide to be genuine. It didn’t keep him from massaging the soles of her feet, of touching her toes, in a way that was both forceful and yet tender enough to be pleasing.

Villem was still watching them. They were staring at each other hard, not enough paying attention to their decks of cards. He did not notice Caldwell become bolder, moving her foot ever farther so that it reached his crotch.

He was hard underneath and his clothes and she felt it on the sole of her foot. She made to pull back but he held fast onto her ankle. His grip wasn’t tight or painful, and she was easily strong enough to yank it away from him at full force. But he was still massaging his skin and there was a boyish humor in his eyes so unlike his usual demeanor that kept her warrior’s instincts at bay. This time she had to turn away with a flush on her face. She reckoned she was fortunate that he didn’t see the moistness growing in her pussy.

“Let’s make this game one to remember,” Caldwell said, still looking at her. “If I win this one, then I get a kiss from Your Majesty.”

“A kiss of death,” she said.

“Many men would wish they could only have such a punishment. If I’m to go out, I would prefer it to be a beautiful death. Is there anything better? People talk of a warrior’s death on the battlefield, but no matter how hard a man has been made by his trials and circumstances, deep down I think they’re all more romantic than women could ever hope to know.” He brushed his thick fingers in between her toes, holding onto her foot as if he was clasping her hand in a romantic grasp while still rubbing it up on the growing lump in his pants.

“And if I win?”

“If you take off your robe right now, you will have a year’s worth of profits from my estates.”

That wasn’t an answer and they both knew it. It didn’t have to be. He drew another card.

“A merry attitude to have,” she said in a tone as hard as the wind of the battlefield. She had earned that nickname several times over, and her voice alone proved that she still had it today. “This is the second round. I intend to finish this one off soon. And when I do, you will know firsthand how merry is the wrath of the queen, count.” She said the last word a little harder than usual and ground her foot especially hard up on his crotch, his member by now fully erect against it. Caldwell was still fondling it, but he broke a little bit of a sweat.

Getting desperate, he looked at his deck again. It wasn’t the best lineup and there was a good chance that he would lose. But he knew a trick. It was deceitful, treacherous, but with his life on the line he would take not try his luck. And he was well versed enough in the game that he could mask it as legitimate play.

When they all set their cards on the table, Meve was scowling at him. Caldwell’s smile only deepened and lifting up her foot, he began tickling the sole. To his advantage, she had not seen the trick. Villem had, but he didn’t begin to think his mother would play into the count’s trick no matter what.

“I win Meve,” he said, casually using her name with no emphasis. He softly stroked her foot, fondling her toes and still tickling the sole. “You’ve spoken gravely of me. But I hope at least for all those words earlier, that when it comes to action, you are a woman of honor.” He slowly ran one finger up the sole, while staring deep into her eyes. That was getting him harder than her foot being ground on the manhood desperately wishing to be free from his pants.

Villem watched the scene wordlessly. Saw his mother’s quiet fury, saw the count’s naked smugness. He knew he shouldn’t have felt any sense of danger, it wasn’t his life at stake. But his heart was racing at what would come next.

It was only going to get worse. His skin felt cold when he saw his mother rise and proceed a few steps to where Caldwell was sitting. The count greeted her standing over him with a proud smile on his face. Anyone else coming into this room would never think the previous exchange had happened.

For what would come next as well. Meve undid her robe, baring her jawdropping body to both the eyes of her son as well as this duplicitous count. jumped on his lap with the speed of a hunter, pulling him by his shoulders into a forceful kiss. Caldwell was shocked, both by how fast things had accelerated as well as how passionate she was being. Her tongue had invaded his mouth and she was pulling him hard by the frilly white collar on his finery. Indeed he did feel like a limp animal in the jaws of a predator.

But that was fine. No longer a young man in his prime, the count had a mind for cunning and manipulation. If this night was to be his last, then this kiss of death would be the sweetest. And he wanted to see what lengths Meve would degrade herself in this power play.

It wasn’t long before they were both openly sucking face, a display of passion and ferocity. Caldwell knew he was at her mercy but he didn’t act it, reaching up and feeling all over her fine body. Soft and muscular in all the right places. To have a woman as gorgeous as this one was a delicacy he would never tire of, yet what intrigued him more was her spirit. How far would her judgment carry her he wondered.

His hands found her breasts. At first he kneaded them, enjoying the pliant texture, how easily they unfolded onto his palms. But in his current position he was not in the mood to simply plot from afar as he was often wont to do. He was pulling down her bra underneath her robe, exposing her bare hooters to her touches.

Meve moaned louder than she had intended during that kiss. More encouraged than ever, Caldwell openly groped her nipples, slipping out from under the bra. Hard and pointy from her satisfaction being delayed earlier in the tub as well as all the earlier teasing that had gone on during that game of gwent, he eagerly fondled them with his grubby fingers. She was every bit a warrior as any man, and yet they were creamy and voluptuous as the most expensive of courtesans that the Emperor of Nilfgaard would have willingly abandoned whole campaigns just to have a night with. Meve’s mouth was open now, her tongue flicking on his too busy to speak any words. And still, for all her haughtiness, she wondered how much bolder he would become.

She pulled back from him, holding him firmly in place by his shoulders. The count felt a slight bit of dread for what might happen next. But he needn’t have worried.

“Congratulations on winning the game, count.”

“Oh really?” he said, licking his lips, reflecting on her taste and thinking of things other than gwent.

“Indeed,” she said, smiling thinly at him, her eyes bold with malice. But she was still on his lap, and had made no effort to cover up her breasts half hanging out of her bra. The both of them looking deep into each other’s eyes, Meve moved her hands to her buxom chest. The cunning count did not fear to act as any hungry man would at that time, staring at her great hooters. Watched her pull down the front of her bra, finally exposing the full mounds of her tits to his eyes. They were spilling out, sitting on top of her bra now wedged underneath her massive breasts.

“If only you were as talented a leader as playing a deck of cards, eh count?” she said.

He wasn’t put off. What he might do next might seal his fate, fail a hidden test set by her. But he would not resist the bait set before him.

He knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting one of her whole breasts into his mouth. But it was so big and juicy, and needless to say the challenge was part of the fun. As he was wolfing it down, he moved his head this way and that to try and better get the volume of her breast into his mouth. He knew Meve was a woman of valor and beauty, and still he was surprised by how big her hooters were.

Caldwell realized he wouldn’t be able to devour the whole thing like he wanted. But her creamy flesh in his mouth was exactly what he wanted. He could taste the heat of her desire in her body, the hardness of her nipple in his mouth spoke how much she was enjoying it, and no matter what she intended to do with him for him being so bold, he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon. He would drive her crazy before it was over.

He looked up at her face. There was a pronounced blush on her cheeks now, and yet that same ferocious glare was present as always. Not the reaction he was hoping for, he knew she was wanting it. But he didn’t want to end being used up and then torn apart like a delicious piece of meat in the eyes of the hunter.

He was adept at sucking up when he needed to. “I must apologize, my queen. I know I have done a poor job as regent. Allow me to make up for it.”

Before she could respond he took the other teat into his mouth, wolfing it down as he had the other one. The breast that was just in his mouth didn’t go unattended to either, he took the aroused nipple into his hand and taking it in between his fingers, slowly stroked and fondled it before he would suddenly pinch it hard, only to go back to caressing it softly. This sort of suckup act, this submission, was the best kind. The sort that allowed him to pretend to be prey while acting like a predator.

Meve was going crazy. The first wail that she uttered prompted Caldwell to push the one nipple deep into her areola as hard as possible while he grazed his teeth on the other one hard. Most other women would have found it painful, but a warrior queen like Meve who had been through far worse only found it exhilarating. She caught herself, biting her lip to keep anymore embarrassing sounds from leaking through, and yet he knew the truth now.

Nor did it keep her from whimpering all the same. She wanted to cry out so badly, but her pride would not allow that. She tapped Caldwell’s head to get his attention, to get him to stop. But when the older man looked up at her with a smug grin on his face, it only made her so much hornier.

Before she knew it, she was kissing him freely. The count chuckled through it, their tongues whipping up against each other as they held each other close. He continued molesting her breasts with his hands, feeling their wonderful texture while still flicking and pinching her nipples. The more he did it, the more her body quaked on top of him.

Villem couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His mother had been stern often, but loving when she needed to be. However opposite her moods were he would never think to see her being so frivolous in public. He was green when it came to statecraft but in his gut resented the count, fearing every honeyed word he spoke into his ear was self-serving deceit. And yet here she was getting fresh with this snake of a man.

Things would get worse. She pushed the count back again and then feeling her son watching them, looked at him. Villem hoped she had come to her senses but instead she leaned closer to the count and whispered something into his ear, too low for Villem to hear. Caldwell kissed her again, and then lifting up under her ass, threw her down onto the table.

Lying on her back, the count took the wine bottle. “You say you want my blood, Meve? If this is to be my last night amongst the living, then take as much of it as you like!” He poured the rest of it over her naked body, her bountiful breasts, her flat chiseled stomach, and then hungrily cleaned it off with his mouth. Meve could only stretch out in deep ecstasy having her body worshipped like that.

He trailed a series of kisses down her stomach before his mouth was at her cunt. The taste of her skin had been sweet and seasoned with the wine, even better. But the promise of her pussy would prove to be greater by far. The heat, the smell, he wasted no time in eating her out.