I’d expected a poor level of hygiene (for the Dyriel are predominantly a primitive, nomadic people who subsist on the fruits of their savage raids), one that carried with it an odorous stench. To my surprise, the queen didn’t just smell passable; her aura was an almost palpable veil of femininity, a mix of grapefruits and mint and apples.
Even so, the archers flanking the throne had had to train their weapons on me in a silent threat before I came to my senses and dropped to my knees before her spreadeagled form. The impulses of the masculine are inherently powerful, and I couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of arousal as I let my eyes rove over her. All thoughts of the raid, of the strangeness of my predicament, of my puzzlement as to why the Dyriel would risk their revered, almost deified queen by putting her in such peril, evaporated.
She was lithe, with the long legs and flat stomach of a formidable runner. Of a predator. Her arms, shoulders, chest, and legs were sun-stained a deep olive that was not quite as dark as the wavy brown hair spill on the throne around her head. A few locks of silver hair (whether dyed or natural I knew not) sprouted on the right side of her head, where they gleamed like a serpent twined with the brown. Her breasts, though of modest size thanks to a lifetime of chasing prey, were ample enough fill a lover’s hands as he massaged and squeezed them, letting his thumbs brush over a pair of dark nipples already stiff with arousal. They were pale from a lack of sun, along with the area between her legs, a fact that almost made me moan in anticipatory pleasure, for the pale flesh may as well have said, *I am private, usually covered, only for a chosen few to see*.
Her hazel eyes caught mine just before I fell forward like a starved animal, no longer motivated by the bows trained on me or the fear of death, just by the burning flame of lust. My tongue found the channel between her slit and her left thigh, and I let it writhe up and down, first darting left, then right, approaching the glistening wetness but never touching, feeling her body tense under my touch. I moved to the right side, ignoring the slight sway of her hips as she tried to align her pussy, not the inside of her thigh, with my mouth. I let my tongue probe the side of her slip, pushing the fleshy lip at the top, then the bottom, letting the sweet, intoxicating scent of her fill my nostrils.
And then, finally, I let my tongue settle lower, more centrally, burrowing into the cleft of her slit, pushing forward and up in a rigid, lengthy shape. I then let it widen and licked up from the hole of her pussy, carrying it across her in a swathe until I felt the nub of her clitoris. She gasped aloud. I was vaguely aware of the archers stiffening in alarm, flinching visibly before settling back into their impassive stances.
My tongue retreated and I started sucking gently. Pulling her clit into my mouth. Using my lips as though her flesh was a scoop of sweet cream, something to be sucked and savored, not licked. My left hand slide up her statuesque figure, feeling her nipples and stomach before settling below her bellybutton and applying a firm but gentle pressure. The fingers of my right hand pushed inside her, curving up and back and finding that spongy, ridged flesh within.
The queen gasped again, and suddenly her muscles tightened, her fingers twined in my hair, and her hips lifted off the throne, but I didn’t stop, I only kept sucking and caressing and moving my fingers within her, and her shudders turned to spastic twitches, her gasps to loud moans. The muscles inside her pussy were contracting with the orgasm, her nipples stood straight and tall, her mouth was open in ecstasy…
…and then I felt her thigh drag against my face as her leg rose. Her ankle found my cheek, and then her foot was pressed against the side of my face. She drove her leg forward, and the kick sent me sprawling.
The archers swept forward. One kept his weapon trained on me, and the other sunk his fist into my stomach. When the muslin sack dropped over my head, I caught a glimpse of the queen watching me interestedly, watching the fabric cover my still-glistening face.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5z4kst/mf_second_excerpt_from_the_journal_of_adrian
[Link to first excerpt.](https://www.reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5xt1tr/mf_first_excerpt_from_the_journal_of_adrian/)