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Found 1 result

  1. Pain

    female The Iron Queen

    This will either be an ongoing series or a standalone story depending on the kind of response I get for it. Though this part does not have much omorashi, it lays the groundwork for the rest of the story. I wish to dedicate this story to all my readers and friends who have supported me for so long. I hope you will like it. ******* Give me a copper coin and you’ll hear a golden tale! —A storyteller’s street cry in Godswick The Iron Queen The Great Hall of the King’s Fort was a lonely place for two to sit to supper. Deep shadows climbed the walls as the torches flickered in the wind. Charlotte ate her meal and sipped from the goblet of red wine. The vintage tasted thin and sour on her tongue, the taste of the grapes still growing on her senses. The Queen had ordered the cooks to make Iwan’s favored supper tonight, egg drop soup of wispy beaten eggs in boiled chicken broth, finely chopped scallions and added condiments of black and white pepper, and along with it was trout wrapped in bacon, salad of turnip greens and red fennel and sweetgrass, pease and onions and hot bread baked fresh from the ovens. She hoped he would like it. Her son was the King now, and it was her duty to see to his wants met. He sat at the head of the table, eating methodically from his plate. The crown suited the boy, Charlotte noted, though she doubted if his young shoulders would be able to bear the burden of the throne. Many men had come and gone but none could do justice to the King’s seat. The walls of the keep were thick, yet even so, they could hear the muffled sounds of celebrations from the yard outside. Sir Randel had brought a hundred casks up from the cellars, and the smallfolk were celebrating Iwan’s nameday by hoisting mugs of nut-brown ale. The Queen had ordered the merriment to be kept as minimal as it could be. She knew it was not the time for revelries. The Daltons were sure gone, but there were still many who eyed the throne. When they were done with the supper, Charlotte kissed her son on the cheek and wished him good sleep before walking out of the hall. She strode across the cold corridors of the castle towards the Mæjester’s chambers, her soft cheeks growing warmer from the flaming torches on the walls. Her last few years on the throne were tumultuous for the realm. Her treasury had run empty due to the Great War, her troops broken in battle. Thus, she had ordered the mints to produce coins of assorted shapes and sizes made of brass and copper. Coins those were as valuable as gold or silver ones. Though her scheme seemed to work for a while, it didn’t take long for everyone to realize what a colossal blunder it was. As Mæjester Nemesius had said, “the house of every goldsmith became a mint.” The Queen’s new coinage had ‘the words of the God’ inscribed on them instead of the royal seal, and lacking in the artistic precision of design and finish, they became easy to imitate. The entire market was flooded with the fake coins in no time and the small folk could not discern between the real and the forged ones. A great problem rose for the state treasury. In other parts of the realm, the people started to pay the revenue to the crown in brass and copper and used the same coins to purchase goods and horses. It took only a while for the treasury to fill up with forged pennies. The coins became as worthless as stones and the disrupted trade and commerce sent the capital into chaos. The Queen was forced to take back all the coins of brass and copper issued by the royal mints, giving back the old gold or silver coins in return. Thousands of people exchanged their copper coins with silver or gold ones and the state treasury faced a loss incomparable. A year later, she passed an order to shift the capital from Godswick to Longford. She believed that it would help her to establish control over the fertile lands of her ancestors and to create a more accessible capital, since she believed Godswick was too down south. All facilities were provided for those who were required to migrate to Longford, but the common folk of the capital were not in favor of leaving their home and shifting to a new place. This angered Her Highness, for she ordered all people of Godswick to proceed to Longford with their belongings. The force was applied without any leniency. This move brought ruin on Godswick which for over six hundred years had grown in peace and prosperity. And though the smallfolk migrated, they showed dissent. However, soon they started to fall short of food and water at Longford and Her Highness decided to shift the capital back to Godswick, allowing the smallfolk to return to their previous city. Though the shift only happened for a few months, Godswick suffered a downfall in its stature and trade and the life of its people was plunged to ruins. ‘The foolish Queen’ she was called from then on, the Queen who now many saw inept to sit on the throne. Her following years as the regent were no better. The ever-mounting debt of the crown loomed over her, and the expenses never seemed to settle. When Iwan came of age, Charlotte agreed to the council’s suggestion to let the boy take his rightful place on the throne, thus giving them an opportunity to win back the trust of the smallfolk, while also opening the gates for a chance of forging an alliance with one of the wealthiest families in the realm through his marriage. The rope that Charlotte intended to use to climb out of the pit of debt. The shadowy walls in the Mæjester’s office were lined with shelves of large glass jars filled with potions of different colors. The medicines too made an impressive display; dozens of pots sealed with wax, hundreds of vials, as many milkglass bottles, countless jars of dried herbs, each container neatly labeled in Mæjester Nemesius’ precise hand. The Mæjester, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, quickly stood up when he saw the Queen enter. He was a short and thin man, with silver hair and beard so long that they could be tucked into the belt of his robe of grey wool. He had long and skillful fingers and his eyes were grey, and quick, “Your Highness,” he greeted, keeping the beakers aside and closing the book of The Magical Drafts and Potions that he had been referring to. “My Lord” she smiled at the old man, “I hope you have found some relief from the pain in your knees.” “The only relief that old age grants is death, Your Highness” he answered with a dwindling laugh, “Tell me, my Queen, of what service can I be to you?” “My Lord, Iwan and I have decided to visit Lord Thames Gardener at Tantallon at this behest,” Charlotte said, “He wishes to marry his daughter, Lady Katherine to Iwan. They say she is a dove-eyed beauty and people have written many a song about her charm, I see there is no better match for my son than her.” “A wise decision, Your Highness” Mæjester Nemesius said, “The House of Gardener has always been a loyal support to the crown and I think Lady Katherine would be a suitable wife to our beloved King” the old man added. “Very well then,” she spoke, “Ask Lord Rickard to make necessary arrangements for our journey, we shall begin early on the morrow.” “As it please you, Your Highness” he bowed. Charlotte gave him a smile before she turned around and left. There was one last person she had to meet before she retired for the day. She entered the small chamber where Little Farlen lay in his bed wrapped in blankets. Tears flowed from his eyes as the muffled sounds of his cries filled the room. Farlen was Queen Charlotte’s ward, sent to the capital from Herstmonceux to be fostered at her express command. He had cried the day his Lord Father had sent him away and he was crying still. Maybe ten was too tender an age to be ripped away from one’s family, but Charlotte knew that boys went to war at this age. Mæjester Nemesius had said that the boy needed to spend more time with the other children, yet Charlotte knew that he needed affection and care more than anything else. “My Lord?” she teased him with a smile, “Are you still awake?” Charlotte took a seat next to him on the bed and was stunned to realize that it was wet. Though she was shocked, the Queen did not show it outwardly. She calmly took the boy out of the bed and bathed him before putting him in his dry clothes. It was the third time Little Farlen had wet his bed in a week and Charlotte wondered if the boy had always had this problem. “You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?” he asked, all gloomy. “I promise, I won’t” Charlotte replied with a smile, “But you must make a promise too..” “W-what promise?” the boy asked. “That you won’t be sad because of this, it is human nature dear, everyone needs to pee” she smiled at him. She knew that kind words could be short and easy to speak, but their echoes were truly endless. She hoped it would make him feel better but the sullen look on the boy’s face only grew deeper. “You wouldn’t know how it feels to have an accident” he cried out, “It feels horrible!” “I know, my sweet” she said. “No, you don’t!” Farlen argued, “You’d know if you wet yourself!” Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, his words reminded her of certain incidents of the past. Humiliating incidents that the Queen had kept hidden in the vault of her mind, but maybe it was time to let them out, “My Lord, I’m going to tell you a little secret, but you’d have to promise me that you won’t ever tell it to anyone, promise?” “A-a secret?” the boy repeated, of course he liked secrets, “I won’t tell anyone, I swear!” “Alright then” Charlotte said, hesitation overridden by the sense of goodwill, “T-the secret is that even I have wet myself, not once but twice and that too in front of people!” she hoped her confession would make him feel better or at least wipe away the gloomy look on his face, but believing that the mighty Queen could have an accident came to be a little hard for the boy, he thought for a moment and then said, “That’s not true! You’re saying this to make me feel better,” he felt desolate and maybe even worse than before to know the Queen would lie to him. “No, really I have, my sweet” she said, now fearing if she had made a mistake letting the boy into her secret, what if he went around and told this to everyone? But there was no going back now. “So, why didn’t you just go to the privy?” he asked innocently, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, beginning to believe her story and feeling a bit better to have someone he could share his embarrassment with. “I tried but I couldn’t get to one before it was too late,” she said, breaking the eye contact as humiliation filled her. “That must have been embarrassing,” Farlen said. “It was.” “You could have waited a little longer, adults are not supposed to wet themselves.” Charlotte fluttered her eyes and smiled faintly at the innocence of the boy, only if he knew how badly she had to go, how much her bladder was bursting, he would have never said such a thing. Waiting any longer had become impossible. She remembered the warmth on her trembling inner thighs and the sheer volume of urine during both her accidents, the boy’s embarrassment would have vanished in an instant had he seen her wetting herself on either of those fateful days. She knew that compared to her, Farlen’s embarrassment must be nothing. Yet she wanted to make the boy feel better. “Is there anything I can do for my little lord to wipe that gloomy look off his face?” Charlotte asked softly, hoping to get something from the boy. And when she saw him still sullen and desolate, she had a thought. She waited a few more seconds, as if deciding if she really wanted to say the next words out of her mouth, but then decided to say it anyway, “Well if you want, you could control when I get to go to the privy,” Charlotte couldn’t believe what she had just said. She was giving the little boy the control of how long she’d have to wait to empty her bladder. She wondered that maybe this was a brainless thought and if it would make any difference but she was willing to do anything to take the boy out of his misery. “I-I don’t get it” Farlen said confounded, unsure if what he understood by the Queen’s words was exactly what she meant to say. “Well, my sweet, if you’d really want, if you think it’d make a difference, I mean, you could control when…well, when I get to go to the privy. That way even if you still wet the bed at night, you can be in charge of when I get to piss, that’ll give you a sense of control” she explained it to him in a soft yet playful voice. “But you’ll have to promise to be nice to me,” she ended with a faint beam. Farlen nodded in agreement, with a heartfelt smile on his face for the first time in weeks. He knew this was going to be fun. The Queen smiled at the obvious improvement in the boy’s mood, “Good, now go to sleep, we have a long journey tomorrow.” She pulled up his sheets for him before giving him a peck on the forehead as she left the room. Late at night when the castle was asleep, the knock came at the Queen’s door, loud and unexpected. Charlotte stopped pouring the wine into the cup, frowning. “What is it?” Aldred’s voice came through the door. “My Queen, Mæjester Nemesius is without and begs urgent audience.” “You told him I had left orders not to be disturbed?” “Yes, my Queen. He insists.” “Alright, send him in.” Mæjester Nemesius was shown in before the door was closed behind him. He saw Her Highness standing near the table beside her bed, pouring her favorite red wine into the goblet. He could see her flowing silk brown hair running down her back, it looked as if her robes were open from the front. “My Queen,” he said to her, “pardon for disturbing your rest. There was a message.” “A message? At this hour of the night?” she turned and walked towards him. He saw her breasts, the nipples that were shades deeper of brown and the thick black bush at the juncture of her thighs, a coarse, untamed forest of hair six inches long. She was much hairier than any woman he had seen before. She tied her robes before she took the parchment from his hand and unrolled it. As her eyes slowly moved along the words a sigh escaped her throat. “What does it say?” Nemesius asked. “Lord Hadrian of Etonbury… he is no more….. a fever took him” she said, turning back around. She went to the table and lifted the goblet of wine to drink it down at once. “He was a good man, may the God grant him rest,” he said.