Long time lurker here, with a new pen name for a story that I would probably drop dead from shame if people knew I wrote. I’m aware that all of you won’t like this, but to the one dude out there who does like this, you’re welcome… you filthy animal…
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No one ever believes me when I say that I am actually the forgotten queen of a forgotten land. My name is Nyrennaea, queen of the nymph people, heir to the lunar throne. I stopped introducing myself as such, a long time ago. That life is long behind me now. Even if the opportunity arose to return to it, I think I would have to refuse.
My stepfather, step-grandfather, husband, and former captor, King Zydrunas, was a cruel, evil man, who ruled the kingdom with an iron fist. He put himself above criticism, above the law, and above morality, and killed any who opposed him. My people stood up, and rejected the monarchy, choosing to govern themselves. However, within months, the humans conquered our petty kingdom, showering us with toxic, crude oil, poisoning our waters. Millions of nymph women were dragged from the ocean in vast nets, and forced into indentured servitude. The royal family didn’t escape this fate either; I myself was born into captivity. I’ve never had the desire to run a kingdom, and I don’t have the skills to do so. My entire life has been service to humans.
Master told me that I was a queen, in order to cause me existential pain every minute of every day, as I was put to my tasks. So, you see, I had to put those dreams away for good, so they could no longer hurt me. I have no hope to become a true queen. All I want in life is to please my master, for as long as he can use me. And I hope that when the day comes that he throws me away, I can serve someone else, and make them happy as well.
“Nyrennaea,” my master calls, every morning, to begin my day. Like this day. I sat up, and crawled towards the door, leaving the corner of warm tiles where I had been curled up, until my leash went taut, attached to the drain of the urinal. His robe was hanging open, and his cock was stiff with sleep and his juices. “Master needs relief,” he said, as he walked past me. He grabbed my leash, and dragged me along the tile with him; I didn’t resist his rough treatment, feeling the grimy, dirty bathroom floor leaving sticky layers on my thighs as I was dragged along.
I was wearing the dress that my mother was married in, and the queen mother before that. Rather, what was left of it, Years of constant use had stained the garment with dingy brown patches, and torn the dress at the thighs, exposing my legs. The remaining material on the torso would have been an insult to me if I cared about it; the dress hanged from one shoulder, like some kind of caveman garb, shredded, torn, and stretched out of shape. I only knew it was the wedding dress because it was the only piece of clothing I was allowed to wear. He pushed me face first into the urinal, which stretched all the way down to the floor, wide enough to fit my entire body within its porcelain.
“Is master not pleased with my mouth,” I asked, genuinely hurt.
“You’re filthy. It’s been a whole week, letting you indulge in your slimy mess,” he said to me. Us nymphs, like every aquatic creature, had a slime coat, which we needed to keep healthy. Normal soap, and treated freshwater stripped it off of us, with indescribable pain. To us, shower water feels like bathing in acid.
“Please, master. I’ll do anything. Just don’t wash me today…”
“I know you will.” He pressed my cheek against the wall of the urinal, and yanked the handle, sending fresh water down one half of my body. I screamed in pain, as my raw flesh was suddenly exposed to the air. The sensation concentrated around my left breast, which was pressed against the urinal as well. The flesh around and between my breasts always held extra slime, due to my natural curves, so here, the burning was twice as powerful. He never cleaned off all of it at one time. It wasn’t about being clean, for him. He just wanted to see me in pain, but he never wanted me to get sick and die. “Good princess.”
“Thank you, master,” I said, whimpering. Finally, he did what he came for. His warmth gushed down the center of my back first. It was pungent, clingy, and the feeling of my flesh drinking it in, to refresh my slime coat felt exquisite. “Thank you, so much.”
“You still enjoy this, after all these years?”
“Master’s piss is my sunrise, and my sunset,” I sang to him, a mantra which he taught me on my very first day, as his toilet princess.
Like saline eye drops on burning red eyes, the relief I felt was mindblowing. I arched my back, letting his golden juices ease down the center of my spine, curling around through my ass crack, until eventually dripping off of my already slobbering pussy lips. I reached down to masturbate myself, feeding my cunt with master’s disgustingly satisfying offering. My throbbing, thirsty asshole opened on its own a few times, taking gulps of the flow. The deluge stopped, and I sat down on my heels, as I licked my fingers clean. “Master, may I turn around,” I asked.
“Yes, princess. Turn around and take the rest.” I was allowed to be more pushy when he was feeding me his salty sweet piss. I knew his bladder was so full for me, that holding himself closed must have been a struggle. He didn’t mind me taking an active roll, if it meant that he would find his relief faster. I turned myself around, my leash getting tangled around my thighs, and tightening around my throat. He didn’t wait for me to figure it out, before his cock began to shower me again. He filled my mouth with foamy heat, which gathered on my lip, below my nose, giving me a bubble mustache for just a moment. He moved forward, dipping his own cock into my mouth, to fuck my throat. It’s probably no surprise to you that I no longer have a gag reflex, but just in case you were worried that he was abusing me, worry not. I absolutely adored being treated like this. My clit was as hard as scale, thumping against my fingers hotly, as I stroked it. My head was tilted straight back, and every thrust forced his piss out of my mouth, and down over my entire face, and into my hairline. The chain lurched suddenly, forcing me to sit back on my heels again.
“Why the hell do you let me do this to you, you worthless whore,” he asked. “How can one bitch possibly be this broken?” I couldn’t answer. He spat directly into my right eye, and I didn’t blink. I let it seep around my eyeball, as the rest dripped down into my ear.
The leash was choking me now, forcing my gills closed. He pulled out and began to moisturize my face, and hair. I was blinded as well, sensually overwhelmed. Plenty of it ran down my chin, as he missed my lips, but most of it did land in my mouth. Again, he redoubled, and forced his length down my throat. I was unable to swallow, and the sharp, offensive flavor forced me to gag. Of course, with no breath, and a constricted throat, my anatomy failed me. His piss rushed into my lungs, which is manageable, if you can breathe underwater. Golden liquid and mucus spurted from my gills, and out of my nostrils, as my head jerked back, into the urinal.
His piss stream joined the gushing flow of my nostrils as they showered my breasts and my belly. “Disgusting,” he said, as he finished. He spat on my face, and turned to the bathtub. I laid on my back, letting my long, teal hair simmer in his steaming, hot, stinking puddle. I spread open my legs and began to masturbate for him, more furiously. He was busy setting up the bath for me; I know this because he was filling the water with chemicals needed to make sure I was clean, and that my slime coat would be fine.
I stripped out of my filthy rags, leaving them in a squishy pile in the urinal, and crawled over into the bathtub. A dark cloud of grime surrounded me as I slipped into the water, face first. Just a few laps in the massive tub, more like a small pool, was all I needed to refresh my body and my mind. Master stood by the side of the tub, where a step acted as his seat, and snapped his fingers; I swam over to him immediately, throwing myself at his feet underwater. “Bathe me,” he commanded, taking a seat.
I quickly licked my way over his feet, and thighs, knowing exactly what it was he really wanted. He laid down on his lower back, opening his legs for me, presenting his dark, hairy pucker. He kept himself very clean; the hair, he kept for intimidation. Still though, this was my 10th year as his toilet princess, so I wasn’t bothered for a moment. Some of the newer servants cried when they were made to do it the first time, and I think I did too. I don’t remember, really. He likes to see their faces as they break.
I speared his tight, virgin asshole with my tongue over and over again. I say he was tight, but all these years of my hard work had loosened him enough to take my tongue and a couple of my very tiny fingers without challenge. First, my kisses were shallow, passionately burrowing my tongue and lips just inside the rim, nuzzling the cleft of his ballsack on the bridge of my nose. Then, I got in there as deep as my tongue would allow, manually turning myself in a spiral underwater, literally drilling his ass with my tongue. I noticed him stroking himself as I slowed my drilling to a stop. Milky white clouds appeared in the water just above my head, and when I surfaced, I found myself with a web of sticky, wet cum on my face. I rubbed it in, for my skin to drink, falling back into the water with euphoria humming in the back of my brain.
Every morning was like this, for the most part; always a party. Always satisfying. So this is why I always tell my supporters back home in the kingdom the same thing: I don’t want to go back to the kingdom. I’ve found a better purpose in life. I suggest to them that they should all get masters too. And then if they refuse, I tell master where they are hiding, so they can join me. They don’t last very long, usually, and they get sold off to the real labor camps. Sad day for them. They’d rather have “dignity” and “pride” instead of the sweet taste of total submission.
Master forced my face down against the squeaking floor of the tub, with my ass up in the air. He sealed his lips over my asshole, and sucked on me until I felt my anus turning inside out. I felt the water filling my digestive tract, swiftly, like a siphon, and before long, I felt the viscous bathwater rushing out of my ass, in a jet. He plugged my ass, immediately, using the bathwater as natural lube, and began to mercilessly fuck my well used ass. He never fucked my cunt once, not wanting to chance giving me some kind of royal bastard child. I found that to be honorable, in my opinion. I loved it when he fucked my ass, pulverizing my guts with his rock solid member. He would always stroke my clit while he did so, with rapid, unforgiving movements. Sometimes, he even let me play with a toy in my cunt, though most of the time I didn’t need it.
That morning, he made my asshole blossom for him, with juicy, reddened petals, as his cock made my canal invert. I screamed about a hundred bubbles from underwater as the very distinctive pain of prolapse took me. My gaped, ruined asshole drooled bathwater down over my orgasming cunt, drinking my own corrupted juices.
“Good princess,” he said. “Now, wait here for me. We finally hunted down your father, last night, and his trial, and execution will be today.” I turned myself around, looking up at him, wide eyed. “What is it?”
“Does he know…?” I leaned against his chest, as he stroked my back.
“What his daughter has been doing all this time? No. Do you want him to know, before he dies?”
“…Yes.”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5wdmm4/nymph_queen