Her Majesty’s Maiden

An erotic Sapphic romance by

MICHELLE HOUSTON

Published by Phaze Books

Also by Michelle Houston

A Bid for Love

A Change of Pace

All Alone In The Night

Binary Stars Vol 6--Butterfly's Effects/Jewels of Desire

Blood Slave

Caging the Tiger

Diggin' Up Bones

Embracing the Leopard

Enslaving Heaven

Fated to Be

Healing The Fox

Her Best Man

Kinky Girls Do

Parallel Attraction

Phaze in Verse

Playing For Keeps

Private Eyes

Taming the Wolf

The Life Not Lived

Time After Time

Unleashing the Jaguar

Willed to Love

This is an explicit and erotic novel

intended for the enjoyment

of adult readers. Please keep

out of the hands of children.

www.Phaze.com

Her Majesty’s Maiden

Copyright © 2010 by Michelle Houston

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Edited by Kathryn Lively

Cover Art © 2010 by Michelle Lee

First Edition October 2010

ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-563-3

Published by:

Phaze Books

An imprint of Mundania Press LLC

6470A Glenway Ave., #109

Cincinnati, OH 45211

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Mundania Press LLC, 6470A Glenway Avenue, #109, Cincinnati, Ohio 45211, books@mundania.com.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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Trying not to stare around her in awed shock, Margaret Dudley waited patiently on the outskirts of the Queen’s privy chamber until she was granted at audience. When her uncle had informed her father that he had secured Margaret a position in Her Majesty’s personal quarters, it was too much to believe. As an illegitimate daughter, her chances for marriage were slim, certainly for a beneficial one. Despite her light green eyes, auburn hair, and lithe body, she was a by-blow, the result of an illicit affair with a widow, and was unworthy of any of the peers of the realm. She had been acting as lady’s maid the last five years for her stepmother, ever since she had reached the marriageable age of fourteen.

Certainly she had never entertained the idea of marriage herself, as none of the men available to her had caught her interest. The only prospects she had so far were lecherous old men looking for a third or fourth wife, well past the point of caring about the circumstances of her conception. Thankfully, her stepmother seemed to care about her, and was unwilling to allow any such marriage.

Her stepmother, her father’s lady wife, had been gracious enough to allow her to be raised with her own children, but Margaret had always known she wasn’t one of them, that she was the result of her father’s indiscretion while his wife was having her laying in with child. It helped some that her stepmother encouraged her father to seek his pleasures elsewhere, and that Margaret’s own mother had died in childbirth. Guilt, she had learned very early in life, was a wonderful motivator.

Unwilling to settle for less than her sisters, regardless of the circumstances of her birth, Margaret had almost resigned herself to taking vows with the Church when her uncle informed her father of an opening in the queen’s chambers, and the need for a young woman who would be faithful and true to the queen. Despite the unfortunate details of her birth, Margaret had been raised to owe her loyalty to country, God, and family.

With her uncle’s backing, she had been presented to Lady Catherine Ashley, the queen’s chief gentlewoman. Meeting her approval, she would soon be presented to Her Majesty. So far, the sights and sounds of the royal palace had done nothing to convince her that her position was any better off than if she had taken the vows of a nun.

It was only upon entering the queen’s chambers that her life changed. On first glimpse of the Virgin Queen, she was ready to drop to her knees and swear her undying devotion. Not pretty in the feminine sense, Elizabeth had a presence that made Margaret feel lightheaded and drunk, despite not having indulged. With her red-gold hair and her dark eyes set in a narrow and pale face, the queen was both majestic and princely. Unlike with the few men who had tried to tempt Margaret into matrimony—all of whom had left her feeling cold—simply being in her majesty’s presence made Margaret feel warm and ticklish within her core. A feminine awareness flooded her that she had hereto never known.

“And where is my young lady, come to serve me?”

Jerking her head up at Her Majesty’s words, Margaret shyly stepped forward when the crowd of ladies around the queen parted. Aware of every eye in the room focused on her, she faltered, coming to a stop. Catherine Ashley, the queen’s former governess and now chief gentlewoman of the privy chamber, grasped her elbow and half pulled, half pushed her forward.

Legs trembling, Margaret swept into a deep curtsey as she reached Her Majesty, holding it until she was bidden to rise. A firm, long-fingered hand cupped her chin, tipping her face up. As she lifted her eyelashes, Margaret shyly looked into dark Boleyn eyes, and felt her pulse leap. Up close, the queen’s presence was even more overwhelming. Although midway through her fourth decade, Elizabeth still retained her slim figure. Her facial features, while lacking true beauty, were pleasing to look upon when coupled with the almost mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Margaret had already been treated twice to Her Majesty’s booming laughter as she held nothing back in her joy.

“Is this our young cousin, Kat?” As she turned her attention to Lady Ashley, Margaret allowed her gaze to briefly flitter about the queen.

“Indeed, Your Majesty. She is Margaret Dudley, the illegitimate niece of your master of the horse.”

Dark eyes suddenly turned to her, and Margaret found herself trapped within the queen’s gaze, completely tongue-tied. “And are you a loving cousin, Margaret, willing to be devoted and serve your queen?”

Margaret clasped her trembling hands together in front of her as she struggled to collect her thoughts. Unable to help herself, Margaret looked away from her sovereign’s eyes as she spoke, her voice almost whisper soft but filled with conviction. “Your Majesty, it would please me to serve you, with faith and devotion, should it please you to have me.”

Her answer was a lively laugh that sprang from the queen’s lips without any warning, then a soft kiss placed upon her cheek. “You are indeed a loving cousin, and a welcome addition to my ladies. Kat, show young Margaret to her quarters and make sure she is ready to serve her queen.”

After giving her order, Her Majesty settled back into her throne-like chair and turned to other matters. Dismissed, Margaret followed the Lady Ashley out of the room, her whole body quivering with fear and delight. Resisting the urge to press a hand against her cheek where the flesh still tingled from the queen’s kiss, she followed the chief gentlewoman through a labyrinth of corridors until they reached a simple, yet elegantly decorated room. Three beds filled half the room, with chests at the end of each and a row of wardrobes dominating the far wall. A small seating area had been placed before the fireplace, giving a cozy atmosphere to the room.

“If I may, my lady?”

“Yes?”

Margaret could see the faint impatience crossing the older lady’s face, her eyes darting about the room even as she held herself still. Margaret knew she had to have things she needed to attend to, but she couldn’t help asking. “Her Majesty called me her cousin, but I am not.”

Kat’s soft chuckle filled the room with a muted mirth. “Ah, young one, we are our queen’s family, our first duty to love her and be devoted to her. In that regard, we are as her cousins, family of a sort, but never too close. Now…

“You will be sharing this room with two other girls for the time being. Should your service please Her Majesty, she had been known to reward her ladies with their own chambers, as well as gifts of her pleasure. The rules of service are fairly simple, but must be followed at all times. You are to always be clean within Her Majesty’s presence. A bowl of water is kept fresh in the antechamber to Her Majesty’s privy room for a quick washing, should you need it.

“You are not to dally with any of the men at court, without Her Majesty’s permission. Should someone catch your eye, you are to come to me, and then Her Majesty. Marriages have and can be arranged, should you wish.

“And finally, discretion and faithfulness is expected at all times. You will be caring for Her Majesty’s person, as well as her belongings. Anything you may overhear or see while in service to the queen, you are expected to remain silent about. Her Majesty’s expects discretion among her ladies.”

Margaret barely had time to murmur her consent before Lady Catherine Ashley swept out of the room, and her two roommates entered.

****

The next weeks were a whirlwind of activity and frustration, mingled with exhilaration, as Margaret was thrust into the duties of a handmaiden. Beginning at the bottom, as all the ladies before her had, Margaret was given the task of cleaning her majesty’s chambers, making sure the royal bed had fresh sheets, dusting the room, and a number of other tasks that saw to the queen’s comfort.

Most of the time she enjoyed the life she was settling into, and she was able to skirt uncomfortable issues with her roommates, but the Lady Eleanor had made it plain that she didn’t enjoy sharing a room with a bastard. She complained often, and loudly, to the other lady they shared a room with, Mary, the youngest daughter of an earl.

“Forsooth, I swear, I will never make a good match so long as it is known that I share a room with a bastard.”

As she started in on her latest rant, Margaret tossed down her stitching and turned to face her.

“Forsooth Lady Eleanor, you’ll not make a good match so long as your keep chasing after any man with a title and money in the coffers like a bitch in heat.”

“You bitch! How dare you. When my father hears—”

“I am quite certain your father has already heard of your exploits at court, yet I wouldn’t think that would be something you would wish him to know. Keeping that in mind, I might be a bit more circumspect about my actions and who I chose to make an enemy of, my Lady.”

As though the issue were settled, Margaret picked her dress back up and started working on the embroidery again, drowning out Eleanor’s sputtering like a wet him. Across the room the Lady Mary raised shy eyes, and offered a commiserating smile.

Returning her attention to the intricate design she was trying to stitch in the collar, Margaret started thinking about her duties the following day to the queen.

Spending most of her time cleaning the royal quarters, she barely saw Elizabeth, but when she did, it always evoked a weakened feeling, and she found herself pressing a trembling hand against her stomach in response. It was always much worse when she actually touched or was touched by the queen. Elizabeth was always well dressed, and some of her gowns required more hands than others to help her done or doff, which would allow her to subtly glide her hands over the royal flesh as she pulled material into place.

She had even once been given the task of dabbing the queen’s gown with scented rosewater, since the gown was too heavily embroidered for a good washing. As she knelt, her head bowed, and smelled the cloth, she couldn’t help but feel the warmth of the queen. Occasionally, Elizabeth’s hand had trailed through her hair almost absentmindedly, or stroked along the curve of her cheek when she tipped her head to the side.

The queen was also openly affectionate with her ladies in the privacy of the privy chamber, teasing and talking with them. Many an evening, Margaret spent seated across the room, watching as the queen played chess with Catherine Ashley, or entertained one of her current favorites. Sometimes, she and the other ladies were treated to kisses and caresses, some of an almost intimate nature. It was one of those caresses, the briefest brush of a hand along her neck and shoulder as Elizabeth thanked her for her faithful service one night that sent her pulse racing.

At night, she retired to the room she shared with two other new ladies, and tried not to let her desolation overwhelm her. As each day passed, she was falling deeper in love with her queen, which under normal circumstances would be a good thing. She had been raised that God ordained the monarchy, and they were to be loved and admired, regardless of their actions. That the will of the sovereign and their actions would not always make sense to the people, but was to be without question followed.

But, she was coming to feel a curiously different love. Her heart raced when she thought of her beloved monarch, her knees would go weak at just the sight of her, and her very touch almost provoked a swoon. What was worse, Her Majesty seemed to be aware of the effect she was having on her young lady, and thrilled in it. Elizabeth, she came to realize, craved attention and needed to feel loved. Something Margaret was more than willing to provide, were it not a sin and a breaking of faith with her uncle. How well she knew that Robert Dudley was in love with the queen, and she in turn seemed to return his feelings, which left Margaret at a loss. In love for the first time, she was unable to do more than subtly shower the object of her affections with all the emotions in her heart.

****

Almost three months from the time she joined Her Majesty’s service, things changed. It started out innocent enough, when Margaret was called in to attend the queen’s bath when one of her ladies fell ill. At the sight of the queen sitting in the golden tub, her body pink from the heat of the water, and her face free of the thick make-up she wore from dawn to dusk, Margaret stumbled and almost fell. Only the quick grasp by another of the ladies saved her dignity. As it was, she raised a royal eyebrow and brought a thoughtful expression to Elizabeth’s face.

As she knelt beside the tub, the queen cupped her chin in her hand and raised her face up. Pressing a soft kiss against her lips, she whispered, “Rest easy, cousin, I assure you I doth not stink.”

The bath was a lengthy process, as three ladies worked together to wash every inch of the royal body, paying attention to the graying red hair that was tightly wound under a wig all day. By the time she was done, Margaret’s white gown was soaked through, showing the outline of the lace beneath it. She blushed in embarrassment as she stood, noticing her nipples straining against the damp material.

“Majesty, I beg your leave to make myself presentable again.”

The queen’s knowing dark eyes laughed into hers as Margaret crossed her arms over her breasts while the other two attendants, well versed in their roles and relatively dry, undertook the task of dressing the queen in her nightdress and robe.

“You are excused for the moment, however I expect you to return quickly.”

Curtseying, Margaret backed out of the room and turned on her heel, racing down the twisting and turning corridors to her room. Once inside, she quickly shed her clothing and hurriedly dried herself off, enjoying the sensation of the cloth rasping over her tight nipples. As she dragged the towel between her legs, she felt the briefest trickle of moisture and blushed again.

It took several more minutes for her to pull clean and dry clothing on, and then she was racing back to the queen’s privy chamber, in time to hear Lady Ashley dismiss all of the other ladies who, giggling, left the room.

“Oh, Lady Ashley,” she stammered, “have I arrived too late?”

“Fear not, child, you have returned just in time. Her Majesty is desiring of just your company tonight, and has given you leave to attend her in her bedchamber.”

“Is that my loving cousin I hear?”

“Yes, Majesty,” Margaret stuttered, uncertain why the queen would want just her company, but thrilled that she would be able to spend the time alone with her. Even as her heart leaped for joy, she feared that somehow she would betray her sinful desires, and her lusty thoughts about her sovereign.

As she walked into the room, she couldn’t hold back a gasp. The queen was dressed in her nightgown, the white and black material in contrast to her creamy skin and the crimson velvet of her bed sheets. She lay propped up against a padded headboard, her graying red-gold hair down and silky about her shoulders. “Come here, cousin.” Impatiently she held out her hand and Margaret gently clasped it, allowing herself to be pulled into the bed. The queen coaxed and guided her movements, until she was lying with her head upon the royal breasts, her legs intertwined with the queen’s.

Soft fingers combed through her long auburn tresses, and along her shoulders and neck.

“What think you of my court?”

Margaret trembled inside, not knowing what her sovereign wished to hear. Unable to guess, she chose to answer honestly. “It’s all so overwhelming, the noise and the colors and the smells. I much prefer to remain in the privacy of the royal suite, away from the court.”

She could feel soft kisses being placed along her forehead and hair as the queen murmured her encouragement. “Go on, Margaret, what else?”

“I do so enjoy the daily rides, watching the hawks and falcons bring down prey, and feeling the wind rushing past as we breathe in deeply of the fresh air. Yes, I quite enjoy the daily ride.” Growing relaxed at the gentle petting, Margaret didn’t at first notice that the queen’s gown had slipped and that her breath swirled over the queen’s left nipple. She closed her eyes and continued answering the queen’s questions, as she drew out her answers about Margaret’s life before coming to court.

“I do not hold it against you that your father dallied outside of his marriage. Remember, I too have been dubbed to be illegitimate.”

“Oh, Majesty, but that was political. My father never even tried to divorce his wife before seducing my mother, and certainly he never held her in any affection.”

“Regardless, young Margaret, you are still a woman, and it is your place to marry. All of my ladies, be they daughters of earls or of a baron’s third son, are sought after in marriage.”

Margaret could feel the joyous lethargy of being in the queen’s arms leaving her as the realization that she was to expected to marry overwhelmed her. “But, Majesty, I don’t wish to marry. I want to serve you!” Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of being forced to leave her sovereign’s side to service a stranger, to bear his young and become nothing more than his chattel. She would much rather bask in the occasional attention of her queen.

Elizabeth’s long, slender fingers cupped her chin and forced her head up. “Shhhh, cousin, shhhhh. I will not cast you from my sight so long as you wish to remain, and you serve me well.”

“Oh, Majesty!” Unable to contain herself, Margaret threw herself against the queen’s legs and wept for joy. Soft, murmuring nonsense words filled the stillness of the room as Elizabeth gathered her against her chest and rocked her, stroking her hands over Margaret’s shoulders and back. “Shhhh, cousin, you’ll make yourself ill.”

As Margaret pressed herself against the queen’s chest again, her lips brushed the hardened peak of Elizabeth’s left nipple. Startled, she started to draw back when Elizabeth exerted the slightest pressure, guiding her closer. Lips firmly closed, she held herself motionless as the queen rubbed her nipple back and forth across her lips.

“Should you wish, darling, part your lips. Yes, just like that. Suck me into your mouth, my precious one.” The queen’s rasping breath surrounded her as Margaret suckled at her breast as a babe would, pulling the royal nipple hard into her mouth and lavishing it with her attention. Deep within her, a curious warmth spread, leading to the secret place between her legs growing moist and hot.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Elizabeth pulled the other side of her gown open, baring her other breast, and started to tweak and roll the nipple. Breathless, Margaret continued to suck and nip at the nipple between her lips, savoring the brief moment of intimacy.

When the queen gently pushed her away, she felt lost and bereft, but knew that she had no right to press any demands on her beloved.

“Ah, cousin, you do so please me.”

At the queen’s soft words, Margaret looked into dark Boleyn eyes and found them warm and soft. Firm hands cupped her cheeks and drew her close for a kiss, and as she felt the brush of a tongue against her closed lips she parted them, gasping in shocked delight as the sensations of her sovereign’s tongue claimed her mouth, rubbing along hers. Hands trembling, she fisted them in the sheets at her hips, conscious of Kat’s words to never touch the queen without being bidden.

When Elizabeth broke the kiss she started pressing soft kisses along Margaret’s face and neck. “Margaret, sweet little one,” she whispered in her ear. “Do you have a pet name, something a brother or cousin teasingly called you?”

“Libby, Majesty.”

“Libby?” Elizabeth pulled back and looked at her in glee. “Margaret Elizabeth?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

More kisses followed, each more tantalizing than the one before. “Ohhh, we are a pair then. Libby and Bess. I shall call you Libby when we are alone, and you, my little darling one,” after another deep kiss she continued, her soft words adding to the ringing that filled Margaret’s ears, “you shall call me Bess.”

“Oh Majesty!”

“Bess, darling. Bess.”

Margaret allowed herself to be pulled back into her queen’s arms, and somehow wound up being rolled over so that she lay on her back, with her gown halfway off. Dizzy with the intensity of Elizabeth’s kisses, she didn’t notice her breasts were bared to the cool night air. At the soft touch of her queen’s lips against her heated skin, Margaret jerked, her hands flying out to clasp slender shoulders before she could catch herself. Horrified, she pulled her hands away, knowing she had spoiled the moment. Elizabeth only chuckled softly, her lively mirth pushing away Margaret’s fear. “Oh, darling, you are so refreshing. Touch me! Yes, little Libby, anywhere you please!”

Blushing, yet emboldened by her queen’s permission, she clasped her hands again to slender shoulders, sliding them down along the graceful curves of Elizabeth’s back. Sharing more dizzying kisses and soft caresses, they slowly undressed each other. Covered with blushes and thrilling at the moment, Margaret lay against crimson bed sheets while her queen knelt beside her, her dark gaze trailing over her body.

“Such surprises you hide under your gown, cousin, delights I trust are to be reserved for me alone?”

“Yes, Bess, I swear it.”

For the briefest of moments, darkness crossed the queen’s face. Her firm lips compressed and tightened and her eyes narrowed. “Do not make false troths to me, little cousin. I am not as forgiving of loves as I am of family.”

“I swear, Majesty, anything I have to do to prove my faith, I shall.”

Trembling at the intensity of her queen’s mood shifts, Margaret was startled when suddenly Elizabeth’s smile curled her lips and her eyes lit with inner mischief. “Sweet cousin, how happy you make me.”

Warm hands started running over her body again, caressing and touching places only she had ever brushed during her bathing. The only time she had allowed curiosity to overwhelm her, Margaret had been terrified of the cream leaking from her secret place, certain she had done something wrong. It was only since coming to court and hearing the talk of the queen’s other ladies that she knew it to be the essence of her body’s response to passion.

Feeling it trickling forth now, she pressed her legs firmly together, her blushes deepening and staining her skin almost to her navel.

“What causes this, Libby?” Almost as if she knew, Elizabeth trailed her hand further down, and teased a finger between Margaret’s thighs. “Part for me, darling, let me know your secrets.”

Pressing her eyes tight, Margaret forced her legs to relax and parted them slightly. Elizabeth gently pried them further open, until she was spread out like a wanton, her inner thighs moist with her cream.

“Such delights you thought to hide from me, you naughty girl. Don’t you know I have the same secrets?” Boldly, Elizabeth grabbed Margaret’s hand and thrust it between her own legs, where reflexively, Margaret curled her fingers, rubbing them between her queen’s pouting nether lips. Eyes flaring open in shock at the warm moisture that soon coated her fingers, she held her hand still as Elizabeth started to tease and play with her.

At first, she felt touches as light as the glide of a butterfly across sun-kissed skin, but soon the strokes changed, growing bolder and firmer. “Do what I do, sweet Libby, touch me as I touch you.”

Given permission at last, Margaret followed her queen’s motions, stroking her fingers over the labia of her pussy, circling slowly around the tiny pearl that nestled between them. “Only one thing you are never to do, sweet little love. Never thrust inside of me. That is denied to all.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Darling one, you hurt me with your reserve. Am I not your beloved Bess?”

“Oh yes, Bess, yes!” Her body aflame with strange new tingles and sensations, Margaret threw herself at her queen, needing something that instinctively she trusted her lover to provide. At the silken feel of her breasts pressed against Elizabeth’s, the warmth of the bodies rubbing together, she felt an awakening inside of herself. Flicking her finger in tighter circles over the royal clit, she worked the tiny bundle of nerves as the queen was hers, while she writhed and wiggled against the seductiveness of feminine flesh.

Knowing she was sinning, and even fearing the repercussions in the afterlife, Margaret could no more stop herself than she could have stopped breathing. As Elizabeth’s harsh breathing filled her ears, she allowed herself to float, to trust her queen.

The first spark of climax caught her off guard and her motions on her lover’s clit almost stopped. “Keep going, darling Libby, don’t stop, I command you!”

Unable to resist the royal imperative, Margaret continued her motions even as her body was flaying apart from the inside. Breathless and gasping at the sensations overwhelming her, she crested the wave of her first orgasm, crying out for her Bess.

Moments later, the queen’s weight collapsed against her as she, too, found her fulfillment, her passion coating Margaret’s hand in a steady stream of cream.

It was some time later when Margaret finally found the presence of mind to open her eyes, and found the queen looking down at her, a tender expression in her dark Boleyn eyes.

“Ah, precious cousin, how you have pleased me.”

Blushing at the softly spoken praise, Margaret savored the lethargic sensations still floating about her body. When Elizabeth rolled over onto her back, Margaret gently slid off of the bed, knowing despite what they had shared, that she was still the queen’s servant, and started gathering up their discarded clothing.

Carefully, she smoothed the wrinkles from Elizabeth’s nightdress and laid it over the foot of the bed, then went in search of the scented bathwater that the queen always had in her room. Dipping a cloth into the fragrant water, Margaret brought it back to the bed and gently, softly, began to clean the evidence of their passion from the queen’s flesh; the sweat from her brow and body, the passion from between her legs and off her fingertips. Blushing the whole while, she silently and lovingly continued her ministrations until she dried off the water and re-clothed her queen.

As a gentle hand cupped her cheek, Margaret turned into the touch, craving it.

“Ah, Libby, you are a treasure to me.”

Her heart lightened by those precious words, Margaret found the will to dress herself and wait to be dismissed.

“Should I call for you again, will you attend me still?”

“Always, Bess.”

“Then you may return to your room for now. I will let you rest a few days, but I will have need of you again soon, my precious cousin.”

Despite her tiredness, Margaret was too wound up from the night’s event to get much sleep.

****

The next few days passed in a blur of emotion and physical activity as the normal daily events swept her away. It was almost a week later before she was called back to the Queen’s bedchamber.

This time, she found Lady Ashley waiting for her with the queen.

With an imperious motion, Elizabeth beckoned her into the room. Legs trembling, Margaret crossed to stand before them, her thoughts whirling even as she sank into a graceful curtsey.

“Rise. Kat, being the long standing and loving cousin she is, knows of my particular desires. You may speak freely with her, but only with her.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“I wish to make a gift to you.” At her words, Kat held out a slender chest of gold, inlaid with precious gems. Her hands none too steady, Margaret reached for it and found inside a slender string of pearls, each perfection. She thrilled at the gift, knowing that the queen was particularly partial to pearls herself, and rarely parted with such fine specimens.

“Now, set the chest aside and raise up your skirts.”

Shocked at the sudden change in tone and the indecent command, Margaret’s gaze jerked from the queen’s gift to the queen herself.

“Now, cousin!”

Hurriedly, she set the chest upon the bed, which was the closest surface to her, and raised her skirts and petticoats, blushing as her mons were bared to two sets of eyes. When Kat approached her with a pot of foul smelling wax and cloth strips, Margaret’s body started trembling anew. She had heard some of the ladies talking about the waxing of their pussy lips, and after having felt the lack of hair between the queen’s legs, she had wondered what it would feel like. Seeing the warm wax, and knowing it was about to be applied to her body, she wasn’t so certain the heightened sensations one of the women had whispered about would be worth it. Already, she had near swooned when her queen had laid fingertips upon her.

Through it all, though, Margaret held herself firm as she was seated on a wooden chair, her legs thrown over the arms, baring her pussy to the torture of the hair removal. Keeping her gaze locked on her precious Bess’, she managed not to scream as wax was poured on tender skin, and the hair was ripped out a patch at a time.

Sometime during the ordeal, the queen had moved closer, and was holding her hand and whispering soft words of encouragement. Tears leaking from her eyes, Margaret whimpered when the final hairs were removed and Kat gently patted her tender and reddened skin.

“There now, sweet cousin, see? It’s all over with, and you will grow used to it with time.”

Wincing at the reminder that it wasn’t a onetime process, Margaret allowed herself to be coaxed into a smile.

“I have another gift for you, for being such a brave girl.” Catherine silently crossed the room and returned with another strand of pearls. As she laid them in her hands, Margaret stroked her fingers along the smooth surface, unable to express her gratitude for such an extravagant gift. Her stepmother had gifted her with several rings when it became known she would attend the queen, but she had never owned anything near as fine as her two gifts.

“Now, return to your chamber, and take a long soak. I will be expecting you tonight. And cousin, wear your pearls for me.”

With some trepidation, Margaret dressed herself for an evening with her queen. Having returned to her room after the painful ordeal with the wax, she found a tub of hot water waiting, as well as a new gown. Stark white, with tiny flowers stitched with silver thread, it looked like something she would have dreamed to have as part of her wedding trousseau.

Lady Ashley entered her room while she was struggling to style her hair and, without a word, took the brush from her hand and started combing out the tangles she had managed to make. “You have nothing to be nervous about, child. Her Majesty has taken a particular interest in you, and will not be expecting intricate braids. In fact, she had requested that you wear your hair down, unbound, as befitting a maiden.”

Struggling with her conscience, and knowing that she had only one person whom she could unburden herself to, Margaret finally could hold her silence no more. Turning in her chair, she looked into gentle eyes. “I have sinned, Lady Ashley, and in my heart I do not repent. In fact, I gladly go to do so again, and will continue so long as I am desired. I guess it matters not, since I am already damned having been born out of wedlock.”

“Ah, child, such an innocent you are. Your soul holds no sins for what you do with your sovereign. The queen is preordained by God to rule us, and we as her loyal and loving subjects do as she wills. You have taken no man into your body, nor bore him a child out of wedlock. You pledge your troth to your queen, and she alone. As for the circumstances of your birth, the sin rests with your father and mother, not with you. They sinned, and God has chosen for you to be the result. Rest easy, child, ’tis obvious that there is a plan for you, even if it is only to bring comfort to His chosen Queen of England.”

Biting her lip in indecision, Margaret turned away and focused on pulling her precious pearls out of the ornate chest. When she had returned to her room with it, the other girls had giggled and teased her about her treasure trove, but had quickly changed their tune once they learned they were from the queen. Favors of such magnitude as jewels and gems were given rarely.

Margaret shivered as she remembered the spark of jealousy in one of the other ladies’ eyes. She had been trying, and failing, to please the Lady Eleanor for months now, and her marriage was currently being arranged.

With a little help, she soon had the exquisite gifts draped in a double strand about her neck. Standing up, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her gown and followed the chief gentlewoman out of her chamber and to the queen’s. Once again, she entered alone and found herself marveling at the heady feeling; she was the queen’s lover.

“Come to me, my darling.”

At Elizabeth’s beckoning, she crossed the room and stepped into her lover’s embrace. Soft kisses rained down on her cheeks and forehead before her lips were finally claimed in a kiss that sapped the strength from her legs. Clasping at the queen’s shoulders, she struggled to stay upright even as she hesitantly returned the teasing motions of Elizabeth’s tongue.

Breaking the kiss, the queen clasped Margaret’s hand in hers and led her to the bed, where she gently undressed her and pushed her into a sitting position. With a firm hand, she cupped her cheek and tipped her face up until their gazes met. “Libby, I am your beloved, am I not?”

“Yes, Bess, yes.”

The queen paused for a moment and arranged her gift so that the pearls draped perfectly between her breasts.

“And I am your queen, of female flesh but of masculine design.” Having heard of the Church’s view of the sovereign as having a mortal body and a body politic, or soul that continued on beyond her mortal death, she knew that Queen Elizabeth was often viewed to have a female body but a male body politic.

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Then tonight, my darling, you shall be my blushing bride and I your nervous bridegroom.” As Elizabeth shrugged out of her dressing robe, Margaret almost swallowed her tongue. Jutting out from between the queen’s powerful thighs was a phallus, strapped to her slender body by a series of leather belts. Obscene to the point of decadence, it mirrored a male’s member perfectly.

Something that Margaret had learned to her disappointment when she had been forced to help bathe her father’s honored guests. Always before, the very idea of something like that thrusting between her legs had terrified and disgusted her, but seeing it on her beloved’s body, she found herself intrigued by the idea.

“Shhh, my precious one, I will take care of you.” As Elizabeth pushed her to lie back against the fresh white sheets, Margaret trembled in skittish anticipation. Moments later, the queen joined her, settling her body between Margaret’s parted thighs, the phallus resting down by her knees. Soft, wet kisses were pressed along her torso and breasts, and with delight Margaret fisted her hands in her lover’s hair, savoring the feel of their bodies rubbing together.

Firm, long fingers stroked along her nether lips as Elizabeth teased her way up and down Margaret’s body, drawing forth gasps and moans of pleasure until a soft orgasm washed over her. Panting with the tingling racing through her body, and lethargic from the sensations, she wasn’t at first aware of the persistent nudging at her pussy, so lost was she in the glide of breasts against hers. When the phallus pushed its way past her nether lips and into her pussy, thrusting past her maidenhead and tearing it in one clean motion, Margaret gasped and tightened her body.

“Relax, Libby darling. You must loosen your body for me.”

“Bess, please! Oh, Majesty, it hurts.” Whimpering at the stark pain, she tried to wiggle her way free, but years of exercise and riding kept the queen in shape and she was able to hold the writhing girl under her.

“Little darling, my own sweet love.” Softly crooned words filled her ears as Elizabeth gathered her close, lovingly stroking her back and shoulders as she slowly rocked her hips, working the phallus in and out in the tiniest motions. “You are so precious, so innocent and loving. Relax for me, darling, let me love you as a groom should.”

Opening her tear-filled eyes, Margaret blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. Clasping the queen against her, she kissed her, needing the contact. Thrusting her tongue deep into the queen’s mouth, she took control of the kiss for once, demanding her due. All too soon, Elizabeth broke the kiss and shifted back. Margaret whimpered at the pulling sensation on her inner flesh, even as a tiny tingle worked its way down her spine. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled as Elizabeth thrust forward again. “That’s it, little love, open for me.”

Relentlessly, the queen started pumping her hips, driving the phallus in and out of her core over and over again, until Margaret lost count of the orgasms that claimed her body. Sweaty, limp, and sore in places she had never imagined before, she arched against her lover’s continued demands until finally the queen withdrew the phallus completely.

Rolling to her side, she curled up and watched as Elizabeth climbed from the bed and unbuckled herself from the leather straps. Pulling her robe back on, she walked back to the bed and dipped her signet ring in the small pool of Margaret’s virgin blood that stained the sheets. As she watched her sovereign stamp her mark upon the sheets, she had her answer to the question of why the sheets were white, when always before the queen’s bed was draped in crimson.

Breathlessly, she waited for the order to leave the royal bed, and found herself instead curled up against Elizabeth’s side. “Oh, my darling, I know that I frightened you, but you pleased me so well tonight. Libby, precious Libby, I want to drape you in diamonds and emeralds and have you parade naked everywhere we go so that I can watch the envious eyes follow us, knowing that they can never have you. Yet, I find I cannot bear the thought of anyone else’s eyes on you but mine. Even my beloved Kat, who is as a mother to me, I want to blind her for having seen the beauty of your mons.”

Exhilarated at the queen’s words, Margaret pressed soft kisses against her neck as she continued.

“You are mine, darling, you must know that.”

“Oh yes, Bess, I do. I am.”

The next morning, a smiling Lady Ashley presented Margaret with a small locked chest and a key. With trembling hands, Margaret opened the chest to find the white sheet neatly folded inside, her virgin’s blood and the queen’s crest folded to display. Lying atop the sheet was a long gold chain with a single ruby pendant.

Kat silently picked up the necklace and moved to stand behind Margaret, clasping it in place. “With her Majesty’s love and affection,” she whispered as she let Margaret’s hair sweep back down. “You’ve made her the happiest I have seen her in a while.”

****

The next few days were joy filled and blissful as most nights the queen called for her, giving her little time to herself and her thoughts. Some nights, they used their fingers to pleasure each other, and others the queen mounted her as a man would.

It was to Margaret’s great shock when one night the queen sat back in a chair, her legs parted and draped over the arms, and had Margaret kneel before her. Sucking the tiny pearl between Elizabeth’s labia until her face was coated with the cream of the queen’s passion brought her close to ecstasy herself.

Her life had become a contrast of hellish waiting and heaven in the queen’s arms. Slowly, she had begun to know how far she could go, and what rights she had when alone with the queen.

When the queen called for her on the fifth night since her sovereign had claimed her maidenhead, Margaret was frantic to find her strands of pearls. The queen had sent word through Lady Ashley that she wished her to wear her new emerald and gold gown with them, and she couldn’t find them. After the night the queen first played groom to her, she had returned them to the decorated chest, where she had been adding the queen’s daily gifts. Now they were missing.

Almost frantically, she turned her room upside down, looking everywhere for them. One of the ladies she shared a room with, Lady Mary, even joined in the hunt, but to no luck.

When Lady Ashley arrived to collect her, Margaret stammered out her fears about her precious pearls, earning herself a frown and a look unlike any she had ever seen on Kat’s face.

Following the chief gentlewoman to the queen’s chambers, Margaret was aware of a trepidation she hadn’t felt in weeks. She had grown used to the gentle and loving Elizabeth, and feared the wrath of her queen. Her legs trembling, she entered the queen’s chambers and found herself face to face with an enraged Elizabeth, still perfectly made up in her wig and make-up.

“I loved you, cousin!” she screamed, her hands waving wildly about as she paced and vented her rage. “I took you into my arms, my bed, and my heart. I laid the world at your feet and trusted you to keep your troth. And this is my reward.”

While Margaret watched in horror, Elizabeth grabbed her precious pearl necklaces off of the table and tossed them at her feet. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t mean to lose them, Your Majesty. I put them back in their chest several nights ago, and they were missing tonight. Please, I beg of you, I don’t know how I lost them.”

“Lost them! Lost them! You lying little slut.” As the queen’s hand connected with her face, Margaret felt to the floor at her feel, a trembling hand pressed against her stinging skin. “Kat overheard one of my earls talking about your gift to him, after commenting on how good of a rut you are. How dare you give to a man what is mine!”

“Majesty, please, I haven’t been with anyone. I swear it to you, I never broke my troth.”

“Get her out of my sight, Kat. Lock her in a room and keep her there until I decide what to do with her. She can count herself lucky not to be sent to the tower. Now go!”

Her face stained with tears, her cheek stinging from the queen’s wrath, Margaret begged her beloved to listen to her as Lady Ashley dragged her out of the room. When the door to the queen’s bedchamber slammed closed behind her, she jumped at the sound. It was quickly followed by a crash and the breaking of glass. She could hear the queen still screaming at the empty room.

Margaret tried to wrench away from Kat’s firm grip on her arm, only earning herself a jerk to keep moving, and the tightening of her grip. When they reached an empty bedchamber, Kat fairly tossed her in and slammed the door. The sound of a key turning echoed hollowly in the room. Dropping to her knees, Margaret cried until she couldn’t move. Curling up in a ball where she was, she waited, her gaze turned towards the door, hoping that it would open and her queen would give her a chance to explain.

Hours passed, and still no one came to her room. She was just dozing off in an exhausted slumber when it slammed open. Lady Ashley hurried inside, followed by two of Elizabeth’s older attendants. While Margaret was begging them to listen to her, to let her explain, they wrestled her dress and underclothes from her. Naked, her breasts trembling with each breath, Margaret watched in horror as Kat produced a chastity belt. She tried to run away, but the ladies held her while Kat attached the monstrosity to her.

Then, as suddenly as they had arrived, they left her. Hollow, empty of all by the pain of her heart breaking, Margaret collapsed on the floor, her tears running anew.

****

For days, she saw no one but a servant who brought her a morning and evening meal. By the evening of the fourth day, Margaret was resigned to whatever fate the queen dished out to her. She hadn’t come any closer to figuring out what had happened; all she knew was that someone had stolen her precious gift and used it to turn the queen’s favor from her.

She was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and seeing nothing when Lady Ashley entered her room. “Her Majesty has decided to grant you an audience, so that you may beg her forgiveness.”

Enraged at the cool treatment she was receiving when she knew she had done nothing wrong, Margaret rose from the bed and faced the queen’s surrogate mother. “I have done nothing to beg her forgiveness for, save loved her. Someone stole my pearls, rutted with some man, gave them to him, and all in my name. I, because of my love, have been forced to wear this vile thing.” She motioned to her groin where the outline of the chastity belt pressed against her gown.

“You were seen with the earl, child, so enough with the lies. Three days after she gifted them to you, you gave them away. As for the belt, count yourself lucky you didn’t wind up in the tower. The rats would enjoy a meal of your soft flesh.” Kat’s face flushed with her anger, her eyes sparkling in repressed rage. Margaret barely noticed. Her mind catching on something she had said.

“Three days after? Three days?”

“Cease repeating my words and come with me. The queen is waiting, and her mood will only grow less pleasant with each passing moment.”

Turning the new information over in her mind, Margaret followed after Lady Ashley, her steps lighter than she would have imagined. There was no way they could believe she had done it; she just had to make the queen see that, to remember.

When she was kept waiting in the antechamber to the queen’s privy room for over an hour, Margaret started to lose some of her optimism. She knew Elizabeth was showing her how little she cared, but it didn’t matter. She was going to prove her innocence.

When finally she was granted an audience, she walked confidently into the room, showing none of her fears and hesitancies.

The queen stood in the middle of the room, her elegant body held stiff. “Now that you have had time to rethink your words, what say you, Margaret?”

“I beg your Majesty’s patience, for I have nothing to beg your forgiveness for.”

As the queen moved towards her, rage clouding her face, Margaret tipped her chin up, offering her face for the queen’s anger. Coolly she stared at her, waiting. Elizabeth raised her arm up, and Margaret rushed to say “Majesty, I love you, and I beg of you to hear the words of your most devoted servant.”

The blow never fell.

Elizabeth’s hand slapped against her gown as she dropped her arm. “You try me to a violence I have not felt before, Margaret. Mark your words carefully, should you not wish to provoke me further.”

“It was three nights after you gifted me with the pearls that I supposedly gave them away. Yet that was the day that we rode in the hunt, and afterwards I attended your bath. Alone. I was here with you until dawn, only managing a few hours sleep before I was summoned for my morning chores. It was that fourth night that I was given leave from your presence to rest. Not the third. Yet no one would have known just where I was that night, since I didn’t return to my room until the ladies I share it with were already up and about.

“Someone stole my pearls and attempted to sway your affections from me by breaking your foremost rule, never to dally with men of the court. Majesty, I beg of you, please think back to that day.”

As the queen’s face grew pinched with anger, Margaret feared that her words had gone unheeded. Bracing herself, her spine straight and her gaze locked on the queen’s, she expected the worst. The look on her sovereign’s face was worse than even when she had struck her. This was an Elizabeth she wanted nothing to do with, yet she found her own ire growing further. How dare she accuse her of betrayal after she had gifted her with the most precious thing she had to offer, her innocence.

“Summon all who had access to Margaret’s quarters. All of them, Kat! Beat them if you have to, I want to know who stole from my precious cousin.”

At the queen’s words, Margaret dropped to her knees, her legs completely giving out, her anger rushing out as quickly as it had built. Tears trailed down her cheeks and, bowing her head, she tucked her chin against her breastbone and cried out her joy and relief.

As the door closed behind the Lady Ashley, strong arms wrapped around Margaret, pulling her against a heaving chest. “Shhhh, my darling, shhhh. I know I have wronged you, and I will make it right. Shush, darling, my own little love.”

As the queen helped her to stand up, Margaret wrapped her arms around her neck and pressed tightly against her. Nuzzling her face against Elizabeth’s neck, she whispered her own words of love and adoration, forgiving her monarch for believing her capable of betrayal.

They had talked after making love many nights, and Margaret knew Elizabeth feared being betrayed by someone she loved more than anything. Her father, as much as she idolized him, had betrayed her when he cast her mother aside and beheaded her. Her cousin, the queen of the Scots, had conspired against her. Margaret’s own uncle, Robert Dudley, had only added to the fear, marrying one of the queen’s ladies in secret. It was then that Elizabeth had come to understand her affection for him was more habit than actual love. He had long ago manipulated her out of her tender feelings; his betrayal merely the final insult.

“Oh, Libby, my sweet cousin, can you forgive me?”

“Majesty, there is nothing to forgive.” As much as it hurt, Margaret knew that now was the time to be gracious. Elizabeth was freely affectionate with her once again, and harboring a grudge against her beloved would only spark a new battle of wills.

At her words Elizabeth started pressing kisses along her face and neck, whispering words they often shared while making love, causing Margaret’s passions to pool between her legs. She winced at the metal of the chastity belt as she shifted; the leather and velvet padding not reacting well to her pussy’s cream.

As Elizabeth led her to the bed, she started worrying anew. Because of the vile thing attached between her legs, she had been unable to bathe for four days. Elizabeth abhorred uncleanliness, and now that they were finally mending their situation, she feared giving offense.

“Bess, my love, please. I need to bathe before I lay on your sheets.”

“Darling, you have been held captive by my temper. I do not begrudge you your lack of bathing.”

“But, Majesty, I do.”

No sooner had she spoken than Elizabeth was striding across the room, bellowing for her attendants. As one of the timid ladies hurried across the room to fetch warm bath water, Elizabeth returned to Margaret’s side and started undressing her.

“Majesty, you don’t wish our secret known. I must remain clothed.” Pushing the queen’s hands away was the hardest thing Margaret had had to do for a while, yet she was determined. Her body ached to feel the queen’s love; her heart demanded she allow the touches to sooth her pain away. Tipping her chin up, she stepped away from Elizabeth, determined that in this instance, her wishes would rule out. Protecting their secret was more important than soothing the queen’s feelings, or allowing her to make amends.

The wait while the water was brought in almost seemed as long as the four days she had spend in isolation. Elizabeth had seated herself in her chair and was staring pensively across the room, a faint glower marring her elegant features.

When a knock sounded on the door, she bellowed for whoever it was to enter, and Margaret expected to see servants carrying in buckets of water. Instead, Lady Ashley was dragging a reluctant girl behind her. As she tossed her to her knees, and the girl lifted her head, Margaret saw that it was one of her roommates, Lady Eleanor. Stunned, she had to turn away from the venom-filled gaze that met hers. She knew that Eleanor had resented having to share a room with her, and she had even stared enviously at her pearls. Her dalliances with men of the court were even well known, one in particular bringing about her upcoming marriage.

“This is the one who stole Lady Margaret’s pearls.”

“Lady Margaret? She’s nothing but a by-blow and it’s disgraceful that she should be deemed deserving of her majesty’s affections.”

“Whom I chose to give my affections to is my concern alone, Lady Eleanor. Certainly you are not deserving of them, given your breaking of faith. All that was asked of you was to remain pure while in my charge. And now I find that not only have you dallied with your future husband, necessitation a marriage in the first place, but also with a certain earl. Certainly, you are not deserving of our affections having stolen from one of my ladies.

“I am ever a believer in reaping what you sow, so I am hereby disavowing your troth and casting you from my court. You will return to your family in disgrace. Know that not only have you bought my disfavor upon yourself, but also upon your father for raising a daughter such as you. He should have beaten you long ago, a mistake that will be rectified tonight. Kat, see to her punishment, something befitting the crime and the pain she has caused Lady Margaret. Now leave us. I can’t stand the sight of the vile creature before me. Go!”

At the queen’s words, Eleanor struggled to her feet and tried to flee, but attendants were waiting outside the room. As soon as she opened the door, they clasped her arms and dragged her screaming across the anti-chamber.

Lady Ashley turned her attention back to her queen, and pulled a silver key from a small pouch on her gown. “Majesty, I believe that you will have need of this.”

While the queen was reaching out for the key, a knock sounded at the partially open door. Looking out, Margaret could see servants waiting, holding buckets of steaming water. When the queen beckoned, they hurried inside and started pouring the water in to the queen’s tub.

Grabbing the key from Kat, Elizabeth waved her out.

Margaret shifted from foot to foot as more and more water was poured into the tub, until finally with a curtsey the servants left, carrying their now empty buckets. As the door closed behind them, Elizabeth motioned imperiously for Margaret to remove her clothing.

Shyly, she stripped out of her now stained gown. While waiting in agony for the queen’s decision, she had been wearing the same clothing for four days, ever since she had picked her nude form up off of the floor and forced herself to dress to stave off the chill that had taken over the room without the benefit of a fire.

Uncaring about her appearance while in exile, she hadn’t bothered to beg for a change of clothing, because without a bath available to her she would be putting clean clothes over a dirty body. Having a daily bath was something she had quickly grown used to since joining the queen’s ladies.

When she was bare, save for the chastity belt, she approached her queen and was welcomed into her embrace. With the return of her affection, the queen pressed a kiss against her lips, thrusting her tongue into her lover’s mouth, demanding her reciprocation. Gladly Margaret rubbed her tongue along the queen, sending a shiver down her own spine at the sensation.

Breaking the kiss, the queen knelt before her and placed soft kisses along her stomach. “Can you ever forgive me, sweet Libby?”

Sliding her fingertips along the edge of her lover’s wig, Libby pulled it free and set it carefully on the chair beside her. With gentle fingers, she uncoiled the queen’s gray and red hair, stroking her fingers through the soft tresses.

“Make love to me, my Bess, and I shall endeavor to try.” With a teasing smile upon her lips, Margaret motioned to the metal belt that kept their passions from being explored. Lifting an imperious eyebrow, the queen mirrored her smile as she pressed the key into the lock that held the metal belt in place. After opening it, she quickly stripped it free and tossed it across the room. What followed was the most sensual experience in Margaret’s young life: the queen attending to her in her bath.

With care and obvious love, Elizabeth stood and guided her into the bath, where she preceded to bathe her lover, making sure not to miss a single spot. By the end, she was drenched and laughing in glee at playing the part of the lady’s maid. Margaret, in turn, reveled in the role reversal, teasingly informing her queen when she missed a spot.

The water was still warm when their thoughts turned beyond play. Standing up, Elizabeth stripped her own gown off and climbed into the large tub, her soapy hands once more returning to Margaret’s body.

Under protestations that she might have missed a few spots that her lady hadn’t pointed out, she stroked her fingers along silken inner thighs and brushed against moist lips. Delving deeper, she wiggled two fingers inside of Margaret’s pussy, thrusting them hard and fast into her moist channel, drawing out gasps and moans of pleasure from the young girl.

Breathless at Elizabeth’s attentions, her body quivering with need for more, she begged her queen to let her get out of the tub. “Bess, please, we will be both wrinkle like prunes and catch our deaths if we stay in the water much longer.”

Expecting servants to be called to empty the water, Margaret quickly toweled herself off, while Elizabeth did the same. Grabbing her gown from the floor, she wrinkled her brow in disgust at the idea of donning it, even long enough for the tub to be emptied.

“Throw that filthy thing into the fire!” Almost as soon as she gave the command, Elizabeth snatched the gown from her hands and tossed it into the flames herself.

“Majesty! I have nothing to wear now.”

“Good, darling, that’s just how I like you.”

“But the tub—”

“Can wait. I, however, cannot.”  Elizabeth clasped her hand and dragged her to the bed, where she proceeded to nip and kiss her way down to the core of Margaret’s desire, then delve her tongue in deeply. As Elizabeth licked and sucked at the tiny bud of her darling’s desire, she twisted until her own pussy was open for the licking as she straddled Margaret’s face. Together, they tongued each other, stroking along moist velvet flesh, their moans and gasps filling the room.

Mindful of her promise not to pierce the queen’s core, Margaret devoted her attentions exclusively to Elizabeth’s clit, sucking it hard into her mouth until cream flowed down onto her cheeks. As her queen climaxed, she thrust two fingers hard inside Margaret's pussy, driving them deep and spreading them wide apart. Screaming out her pleasure as her orgasm overtook her, Margaret’s pussy tightened around the queen’s fingers.

Day was just beginning to break when, exhausted from a long night of loving, Margaret finally managed to climb out of the queen’s bed. Hours before, Lady Ashley had discretely knocked and brought in a fresh gown and under things. Now, in the dim morning light, Margaret dressed for another day attending to her queen.

When Elizabeth made to have the chastity belt removed, Margaret silently took it from her hand and, lifting her skirt, she wrapped it around her waist and between her legs, then locked it into place.

“Libby, what is this you do?”

Cupping her beloved’s cheeks in her hands, Margaret looked into dark eyes and answered from her heart. “Before the belt was forced upon me in punishment; now, I chose to don it, to prove my troth to you.”

“Oh, my darling, wear it as long as you wish, but know that I will not ask it of you.” As their lips met, Margaret poured all of her passion and love into the kiss, and her beloved Bess returned it.

After that, their relationship slowly started to change, and Margaret slowly began to make her own demands. She wasn’t satisfied anymore with half measures, and knew she deserved better. She no longer was at the queen’s beck and call. Sometimes, she would knock upon Elizabeth’s bedroom door, demanding her lover’s return.

The true turning point happened quite by chance, when she asked her queen to mount her, to thrust the fake royal phallus into her core until she screamed with pleasure. Afterwards, Margaret teasingly buckled it about her own waist and pressed it against Elizabeth’s lips. What followed was the most erotic sight she had yet experienced, as Elizabeth clumsily felicitated the phallus, licking every last drop of Margaret’s cream from it, her dark eyed gaze locked on Margaret’s the whole time. When she was done, knowing she might be going too far, but determined to be on equal footing at least in the privacy of the queen’s chambers, Margaret unbuckled the belt and tossed it aside.

Then, fisting her hands in the queen’s hair, she guided her to kneel before her, and between her legs, where her passions were still flowing. Eagerly Elizabeth lapped at her lover’s pussy, until Margaret cried out in ecstasy.

Days slowly turned to months, seasons changed, and years rolled by. Throughout it all, Margaret thrilled at the love and affection of her monarch, alternately playing both shy lover and occasional master to her queen. Occasionally, the queen’s inventive lovemaking still brought a blush to her fair skin.

****

On a cold morning in March in the year 1603, Margaret held onto her beloved’s hand as they said their goodbyes. Having grown frail, and fallen into ill health the last few months at almost seventy years of age, the queen was dying. Dressing in virginal white, with her now gray hair free and floating around her shoulder, per the queen’s request, Margaret leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her beloved’s lips. Despite their decades together, she knew that history would never remember her. Somehow, they had managed to keep their relationship discrete, despite the gossip and constant maneuvering of the court, and the often times volatile nature of their relationship. She would slip into the shadows of time, taking her secrets of the queen with her to her own grave.

When Lady Ashley died just a few years after Margaret joined the queen’s ladies, she had taken over her position as chief gentlewoman of the queen’s privy chamber, a position which had allowed her own suite of rooms that attached to the queen’s, and attendants. This provided her the freedom to move about without spying eyes, and her steadfast love and loyalty eventually earned her Bess’ trust.

Almost six years after voluntarily donning it, Margaret removed the chastity belt for the final time. Faithfully, she had remained by her Bess’ side throughout the years, forgiving her the occasional flirtation with her favorites at court and indiscretions as a new girl joined the privy chamber and caught her eye, knowing her beloved would return to her in time. Occasionally they had sampled a lady together, but Bess’ jealousy kept it from happening too often, although the glorious lovemaking that would happen afterwards, when her queen would once again don her phallus and pound into with the fury of her emotions, thrilled them both.

Sadly, over the last few years, Margaret had done nothing more than run her household during the day, and hold her love in her arms at night, once she fell into too ill of health to make love. Margaret’s passions had been seen to by the subtle gift of her own phallus a few years prior, this one not attached to anything, with a hilt like a sword at the end. Elizabeth had shown her how it worked, and leisurely they had explored it together. Some nights, when Elizabeth was feeling restless, she had Margaret bring herself to pleasure with it, and afterwards they would cuddle and kiss until sleep claimed them.

Their last few months together had been spent preparing for this day, and in the morning Margaret would be retiring to the Somerset House, one of the queen’s personal properties. She had deeded it to Margaret for the remainder of her life, for her long years of service. Upon her death, she would be buried there, and the estate would revert to the crown.

Now, as her beloved lay dying, Margaret cast one final look upon her, their gazes meeting and sharing so many secrets. At Elizabeth’s nod, she left the room, calling for the council to come hear who Elizabeth had named her successor, giving her up once more to her role as sovereign, while inside she cried out for the loss of her beloved Bess. It almost ripped Margaret’s heart out to know she wouldn’t be with her queen in the final moments, nor could she attend the funeral that would occur in the coming days. Elizabeth had been adamant that she not have her last memory of her be as an empty husk.

Later that day, a messenger brought her the news that her queen, her love, was dead. Fingers trembling, she clasped her pearls, the very first gift from her lover, and allowed the tears to fall.

Author’s Note

As with most historical romances, some liberties were taken. Just to name a few:

Catherine, Lady Ashley, Kat actually died in 1565, just five years after Elizabeth took the throne. Elizabeth at the time was thirty. I needed a friendly, and loving, person around to aid in Margaret’s early months, and Elizabeth’s governess/surrogate mother seemed to be the best choice. Certainly, she is the most mentioned in records. Who actually took over her position as chief gentlewoman of the privy chamber, I have no clue.

I also haven’t a clue if Robert Dudley’s brother had an illegitimate child, let alone a daughter named Margaret. I did, however, need to deal with the issue of the queen’s affection for Dudley, since that is documented. Having her fall for his niece and then converse about it seemed to be the best option.

As for whether or not Elizabeth preferred the company of women, I haven’t a clue. Certainly everything I have read showed her to be intense, lively, and emotionally needy, as a woman anyways. As a monarch, she is viewed as being one of the best in England’s history. I would hope that somehow, someway, during her forty-five years as queen she found the ability to enjoy the warm and company of a love of the heart, whether she was ever able to make it physical or not.

Other details are viewed to be facts. Elizabeth was also called Bess. She loved pearls. She preferred clothes of white and black, gold, silver, russet and crimson. She was also known to be fastidious about personal cleanliness. She is also noted to have been passionate, engaging and charismatic, with a sense of humor and intelligence.

All in all, I hope that you have enjoyed my first foray into history. I welcome any comments that you might have.

About the Author

Born to ride on the back of dragons, to journey among the stars in a ship traveling faster than light, or to dance the night away in the arms of a mysterious vampire, Michelle Houston willingly shares the worlds in her mind in an effort to bring them to life.

Writing everything from short and sweet stories, to hot and spicy tales of kink, from contemporary tales of romance to erotic romances featuring Greek gods, vampires and were-creatures, she has crossed sexualities and has gone wherever her mental muse has guided her, a journey she has never regretted.

Beyond that, she has a love of the natural world around us (except for insects, spiders, snakes, scorpions, and she reserves the right to add more at any time) and hopes to share the enjoyment of the earth with her students once she finally earns her degree in secondary Biology/Earth Science Education.

In other words, she is an ordinary woman with an imagination that is only held in bounds by how fast she can type.