Date: Mon, 18 Nov 2002 15:28:10 -0800 (PST)
From: Selena Anders <selenaanders@yahoo.com>
Subject: Concubine

As one of the chief concubines of the Queen, my mother
is technically a slave, and so am I.  But we are a lot
better off than many free people.  Her Majesty even
let my mom have a man once, which is how I came to be.
 I have always done lots of cleaning around the
palace; everything from floors to fine glass cups, but
still it was a shock to receive a summons from the
Queen Herself.

I put on my best skirt, which still wasn't all that
fancy by palace standards, and entered the throne
room.  There were dozens of women there, all very
beautiful, for the Queen will have none other in Her
sight, all bare breasted as is the custom at court.
My mother stood proudly at the Queen's left hand,
ready to provide food or wine or whatever Her Majesty
might require.

I had not lived my whole 9 years in the palace without
learning what to do in such situations, so I walked
straight toward the Queen, and knelt at the foot of
the dais.  I bent to touch my forehead to the bottom
step, and waited for the Queen to notice me.  She
turned to my mother, "Your little one is well trained,
and really quite pretty.  This evening, would you
please find her something a little more delicate to
wear, perhaps in dark blue, then bring her to my
chambers?"

This request, made in public court, caused something
of a flutter among the other women.  Many of them had
older daughters who had been striving for the royal
notice for years.  My mother's status at court had
just gone up, but so had the jealousy of some women
she would have to work with.  The Queen made a motion
of dismissal, and my mother descended to take me by
the hand and out of the throne room.

My mother had always bathed me and washed my hair
every day, wanting to make me as beautiful as
possible, but would never let me dress well or use
perfume or kohl upon my eyes.  She was used to court
intrigue, and did not want to be seen pushing her
daughter before the Queen.  But she knew the palace
schedule, and made sure I was always the one scrubbing
the floor wherever Her Majesty went.  Other concubines
had daughters less willing to clean the royal
chamber-pot.

"Come, Dia," my mother said, "we must get you ready".
As we went, Mother began to remind me of my lessons.
Ever since I can remember, she had spent one or two
nights a week with the Queen, and when she got back
she would show me exactly what sexual subtleties
seemed to please Her Majesty best.  I spent endless
hours practicing licking her pussy and that of a few
of the other concubines who were my mother's best
friends.  One of them was a nice lady who Mom said had
a sex almost exactly like the Queen's, so my mom
encouraged me to practice on her a lot.  In the
daytime I studied poetry and philosophy, mathematics
and astrology, whenever my duties permitted.

Mom and I walked to the concubine's quarters, where we
share a single room that opens onto a courtyard with a
large bathing pool.  A few women and girls were
relaxing in the late-afternoon shade.  Almost all of
them were my friends, since my mother's political
enemies were mostly still in court.  My mother called
out, "Dia has been chosen to serve the Queen this
night!  Come help me prepare her!"  That is when it
hit me.  I was about to become not just a concubine's
daughter, but a Royal Concubine in my own right!  All
I had to do was be good enough tonight to be asked to
serve Her Majesty again.   The only thing worse in the
slave quarters than never being called to the Queen's
bed, was to be called once and never again.  Tonight
would be my test.

But for now, my friends were all over me, leading me
toward the bathing pool to make sure I was totally
purified.  They scented the pool by floating gardenias
in it, and a few of my special friends climbed into
the pool to receive me.  I was stripped and some of
the older concubines held my hands as I stepped down
into the pool and into the arms of the other young
girls.

They scrubbed me with sponges, paying special
attention to my hairless little slit.  The older women
sitting around the edge of the pool laughed at me as I
moaned in pleasure.  They each remembered their first
time with the Queen, and some even with the old Queen
before ours.  Preparing me was the duty of those who
had not yet had that honour, so most of the hands
sliding over my body were those of 7 or 8-year olds.
But one girl was my best friend, 12-year-old Pia, who
was cursed with a wine-colored blotch on her face, and
so had given up on ever being called to service the
Queen.  But it was her hands, soaping me with a
sureness of long practice that felt the best.

Again the older women helped me out of the bathing
pool, followed by the other girls who had not yet been
called.  The girls dried me with the softest towels
and dusted me with scented powders.

There was a small commotion, as many of the women from
court returned to the harem area.  Some, whose older
daughters had not yet been called, looked daggers at
me, as though it was my fault that their children had
been passed over.  My mother had been absent during my
bathing, but she returned soon enough with the most
wonderful skirt I ever saw.  She had been to visit the
royal costumer, and got on loan a skirt of dark blue
expensive cloth, far finer than anything I had ever
worn before.  It was almost completely see-through,
and there was a slit up the front all the way to the
little real gold belt buckle.  My mom put it on me and
then got out a necklace of gold and lapis lazuli, that
perfectly matched the skirt.  She put that on me and
went on to brush out my long brown hair.

Mom was really nervous, because she didn't want me to
shame her in the Queen's bed-chamber.  I had been
there lots of times before, but only to scrub things
clean, never as the honored concubine.  Mom repeated
my lessons about only using my fingers if Her Majesty
wanted food, since to approach the royal person with
anything dangerous like a fork was unthinkable.  She
fussed over me until the sun showed that it was
approaching the Queen's supper hour, then led me out
of our little room.  The eyes of every woman and girl
in the harem courtyard followed us as she led me away
toward the Queen's residential wing of the palace.

At the door of the Queen's outer chamber, my mother
stopped in front of the Amazon guards.  She gave my
hand a little squeeze so I looked up at her to see an
expression of pleading in her eyes.  I knew that she
was praying that I wouldn't embarrass her.  Then she
turned and walked away as one of the guards opened the
door and I walked through.

I had scrubbed every inch of this room lots of times,
but still I was met formally by the old chief
concubine.  She had to be more than 60 years old.  I
had long known what to expect, so I didn't flinch as
she ran her hands through my hair, then up my inner
thighs to my sex.  Finding no weapons anywhere, she
gave my clitty a quick flick with her fingertip before
withdrawing her hand from the slit in my skirt.  Then
she turned and opened the door to the inner chamber,
and I walked though.

My first thought as I entered, was that I had never
seen all the candles in there actually lit before.
Many times I had cleaned the candle holders, but that
had always been in the day when I could see by the
sunlight that came in through the high windows.  But
evening was coming on, so the flickering lights danced
in the faint warm draft of the room.  Quickly I paid
attention to the low platform where the Queen's bed
was raised, just like Her throne in the room of state.


Her Majesty lay there, quietly smiling at me, and she
absolutely glowed in Her simple gown of the finest
cotton from Egypt.  Sitting on the bed behind Her, for
it is a very large bed, was Shalia.  Shalia is really
nice, and she and my mom are always in a good-natured
competition for the Queen's choice of favorite
concubine.  She has no daughter, so she has sort of
adopted me to help me learn the lessons of love.  She
smiled at me too.  I decided to be bold, and walk
right up, dip my forehead to the lowest step of Her
bed platform, then rise without permission.  I looked
for the choicest of the fruits on the little tables
around the royal bed, and both my eyes and my nose
were drawn to a plate of lamb meat, cooked with a
whiff of tarragon.  I snatched up a small chunk and
brazenly mounted the steps to hold it within inches of
the Queen's lips.

The Queen turned lazily over to look at Shalia, "What
a deliciously impudent little girl we have here!"  She
turned back to me.  "Bring the food tables closer,
then kneel on the bed with us and feed us."  She took
the morsel of meat from me, and that was the first
time I ever felt the kiss of Her royal lips on my
fingers.  Eagerly I did Her bidding, choosing
raspberries and dipping them in sugar, or peeled
grapes, or wedges of sweet small oranges.  Her Majesty
offered no instructions, so I just offered Her what my
instincts told me she would most like next.

The Queen leaned back on a huge bolster pillow as I
fed first Her, then Shalia, and occasionally asked for
wine.  Often as I fed Her, she sucked my fingers into
Her mouth.  She asked me a few polite questions about
my studies, but seemed more interested  in exploring
my body by lightly brushing me all over with Her
fingertips.  "Move your knees a little wider, dear."
She said, and I did so, wide enough to slightly part
my sex lips for Her.  Then she told me to take the
plumpest grape I could find, hold it lightly between
my teeth, and deliver it mouth to mouth.

Shalia reached out and unhooked the neckace from
around my neck, for fear that it might scratch the
Royal person.  That was my first time kissing the
Queen.  She turned out to be an aggressive kisser, and
she put Her hand behind my neck to mash us harder
together.  Our tongues tossed that grape around until
it disintegrated in a sweet flow of juice.  My mother
had told me that the Queen liked to have Her
aggressiveness returned with enthusiasm, so I did my
best to drive my tongue past Hers to tickle Her
tonsils.

Then I felt Her delicate fingers begin to stroke my
slit.  She was very gentle about it, in contrast to
our meeting of mouths.  I felt Her finger slip up
inside my cunny hole, then glide up my slit until it
barely brushed my clit.  I gasped at the pleasure, and
our kiss was broken.  What if I were to faint?  It was
unthinkable to have an unconscious girl collapse on
top of the Queen.  Somehow I managed to keep myself
under control as She continued to play with my sex.
The Queen smiled as I wriggled against Her finger,
teasing me.

"Untie my robe." Her Majesty whispered.  I raised
myself so that I could reach the knot of the sash at
Her waist.  She raised the finger that had been
probing my slit to Her lips, and grinned at me as she
sucked it clean.  I was only a little surprised to
find that Shalia had already moved in between the
Queen's legs and parted the lower portion of Her robe.
 Shalia was licking her way up the Royal thighs toward
the thick bush of pubic hair that was legendary among
the concubines.  I pulled the bow free from Her
middle, and the robe fell away from Her chest.

Of course I had seen Her beautiful breasts before, as
She had led the practice of going bare-chested at
court.  The Queen had good reason to want to display
Her gorgeous body, and Her medium-large tits thrust
out proudly with prominent brownish-pink nipples.  As
Her gown fell away, I gazed at them more closely than
ever before.  She cupped Her breasts in Her hands,
moving them around a bit without ever hiding Her
nipples from my eyes.  "Please them.  Please me." She
purred.

Again my years of instruction by my mother and other
concubines told me what to do to please Her.  Again I
leaned over Her, this time with my mouth over Her
right breast, while my right hand moved to firmly
pinch Her left nipple.  My tongue started to trace
long wet streaks from the bottom of Her tits up to
linger fleetingly on Her nipple before repeating the
stroke from a different direction.  Each time I ended
with a quick swirl or dance on the tips of Her nipples
that had grown to be 3/4 inch long.  Meanwhile my hand
was just a bit rough with Her other nipple.  Mom had
told me about the soft-and-wet approach versus the
hard-and-dry method.  I used both.

The Queen leaned back, closed Her eyes, and started to
moan as I switched techniques from one nipple to the
other.  I couldn't tell whether that was because of
what I was doing to Her breasts, or because Shalia's
tongue was beginning to lap at the swollen outer lips
of the Queen's sex.  Suddenly the Queen sat straight
up, and said, "Thank you Shalia.  You have done very
well as always, but you know that I planned this night
to be with Dia.  You may retire, but I will call you
again soon."  With what seemed to me to be great
dignity, Shalia withdrew her arms from under the
Queen's thighs, and her mouth from that hairy pussy
that looked like a patch of dew-covered grass.  She
arose and stood for a moment at the foot of the royal
bed, bowed slightly, then turned to depart.  Just as
she was turned far enough away from Her Majesty,
Shalia flashed me a smile and a quick wink.

Once the door had shut silently behind the older
slave, the Queen said, "Now let's see if you can
finish what your elder has started.  Now between my
legs with you."

All the other concubines had told me that the Queen
likes a little bit of sauciness from Her lovers, so
instead of moving immediately, I replied, "May I place
that nice thick cushion under your hips?  I'm sure I
could do a much better job if you would allow it."
With a small smile, She simply raised Her hips up, so
I quickly snatched the pillow and slid it under the
base of Her spine.  So it was, that seconds later when
I dove between Her legs, the royal bottom was tilted
up for me to have easy access.

Taking a chance on handling the royal person, I place
my hands behind Her knees, then lift and part them so
She is in what we call the frog position, totally
exposed with Her knees reaching toward Her elbows.
There is a tiny rivulet of woman-juice, slowly oozing
out of Her sex and flowing thickly down toward Her bum
hole.  It is the same brownish pink as Her nipples.  I
gently blow on Her sex, but wait until Her flow
reaches that back crater before my tongue dives in,
forcing some of that slick juice back inside Her.  My
nose is buried in the Queen's love hole, and the scent
of Her woman-musk is overpowering, causing me to have
to discipline myself again not to faint.

I take several minutes to let Her Majesty enjoy the
way my tongue wriggles inside Her bum hole, and by the
time I withdraw she is clutching the bed sheets with
her perfectly manicured finger-nails.  She is ready
for orgasm, so I drag my tongue from Her back hole
upwards, collecting Her cream on the way.  I pass over
the entrance to Her vagina and deliver my load of Her
secretions directly on top of Her clitoris, flattening
my tongue against it.  "Aaaaaaggggghhhh!" the Queen
screams, and the stone walls of Her huge bed-chamber
echo the sound as She cums, squirting a jet of joy
juice against my chin, to run down my neck.

It has been a fairly simple matter to bring the Queen
to orgasm, but I have been instructed that She expects
much more than that.  She expects to be kept at that
peak of excitement for as long as possible, with wave
after wave of delight washing over Her constantly
until She can no longer stand any more pleasure.  It
is a kind of contest between Queen and concubine, to
find out who will last longer; the receiver or the
giver.

I realize that now is the time to dive into the well
of the Queen's woman fluid.  Her upturned vagina has
dilated almost as if She were about to give birth, so
I slip three fingers inside.  I have been instructed
about how to find Her glory-spot, and her reaction
tells me that my teachers told me truly.  Instantly
more thick fluid boils up from the depths of the royal
cunt, coating my fingers, so I move my face down to
suck at the entrance to that cave, and my slickery
fingers easily penetrate Her bum hole.

And so begins the long dance of fingers and tongue,
versus two holes, labia and clitoris.  I have been
warned that the Queen has a huge appetite for sexual
pleasure, and that I must satisfy Her at all costs.  I
frantically nibble and nip at her thick fleshy lips,
and must occasionally snatch a stray pubic hair from
between my teeth, but somewhere in the back of my mind
I can hear my mother's voice telling me to keep going,
keep going^Å

At last the Queen grasps my hair and forces my head
from between Her royal thighs.  "Heavens, child!  Do
you mean to assassinate me with pleasure?"

I look into Her sparkling eyes, and know that She is
not really displeased, but I still must answer humbly,
"No, I mean no, Your Majesty."

"That's good.  But I have only had a finger taste of
you.  Cum and sit on my face, and let me truly taste
you."  I obey, and soon discover that my Queen is as
expert at giving pleasure as She is at demanding it.
I am ashamed that when She brings me to my orgasm it
is only the trickle of a 9-year-old, rather than the
gush of a real woman.  But my Queen murmurs the words,
"Oh, so sweet.  Now cum into my arms little one, and
sleep."  She lay on her side with my back pressed into
her still-hard nipples until I fell asleep.  I dreamed
that I woke up with the candles all gone out, and I
was lying on my tummy with that same cushion under my
hips, while She did amazing things with her tongue in
my bum hole.  But of course that was a dream, for it
is not the course of nature that a Queen should kiss a
concubine's bum.

The next day I woke up with my mother shaking me.  I
was still in the royal bed, but Her Majesty was gone.
Mother said, "Hurry, little one.  We must get you
bathed and ready for court."  Mother practically
dragged me back to the concubines' rooms, and again
the youngsters bathed me, but making it quicker this
time.  They put a new skirt on me, even finer than the
one in which I had attended Her Majesty, and a gold
necklace.  Mother didn't even have time to comb out my
hair, which stayed in the wild jumble of a girl just
out of bed as we ran back to the throne room for
morning court.

The throne was still mostly empty as my mother took
her place, this time at the right hand side of the
throne.  There was a bowl of fruit just to the side at
the top of the dais, and I was told to sit by it, just
in case the Queen wanted some refreshment.  This day
it was Shalia who stood to the Queen's left.  As the
throne room filled with the usual sycophants, I could
tell they all noticed the new arrangement.  Then it
struck me.  Only the Queen and Her favored concubines
were allowed to be on the top step of the dais.  I was
accepted as a true Royal Concubine!

Then the Amazon herald announced the entry of Her
Majesty, and I watched my new lover approach Her
throne.