Her Most Commanding Presence

"Constance, you still look a bit peeved. You do want to share your fantasy, don't you?" Lady Roberta queried.

Constance fluffed her billowy skirts and strove for a mild expression. "Forgive me. After hearing Leah read her letters and hearing the heartfelt emotion so eloquently expressed by her mysterious suitor--"

"I'd hardly call him a suitor," Leah commented, on the defensive. "I don't even know who he is."

"True, but at least you know he feels something, unlike the lout I'm promised to. He treats me no better than his walking cane and quite worse than his favorite horse."

"Oh, Constance..." Lady Roberta spoke in a tone Constance was positive her dear friend intended to be reassuring, yet it grated on her nerves, nevertheless. How she detested being the youngest in their circle.  "It can't be as bad as all that," Lady Roberta, the ringleader of their writing group, continued, "Personally, I think that Lord Redmond cuts a dashing figure."

"He certainly does," agreed Grace. "He attended services last Sunday. Mother insists he's quite handsome, and for once, she's right. He is dashing."

"You're both welcome to him." Constance rifled the crumpled sheets of vellum she'd just retrieved from her overstuffed reticule. "He can cut a dash elsewhere if he doesn't soon come up to snuff and show some serious interest in me. Or I may just steal some ideas from all of these wickedly delightful stories we've been writing and go entertain myself with someone else."

"You wouldn't!" exclaimed Grace.

Constance stared at her straightlaced friend. "Watch me. I've had quite enough of his lack of romantic attentions. And now, before I become so overset I lose the enjoyment of the day, let me share my story.  Unlike some of us...ahem," Constance couldn't resist the opportunity to send Leah a pointed look, "I focused on my most wicked fantasy, like we were supposed to."

"Very good," complimented Lady Roberta. "Let's hear it."

"I call it, Her Most Commanding Presence." Constance informed her rapt audience the name of her story as if she were announcing the queen mother.

"Oooo," breathed Grace. "Excellent title."

Constance acknowledged the praise with a gracious nod, weaving her way from the settee to stand behind the beautiful mahogany writing desk where each of them had stood and presented their innermost sexual fantasies. "Thank you. In this story, I am the magical Princess of the Land of Almack."

Lady Roberta laughed out loud. "Is Lady Jersey your maid?"

"No," Constance replied, getting into the spirit of her story. "She's the cook."

Leah smiled. "Well done."

"Thank you. I do have a special servant, though. A page, really. One that waits on me hand and foot and does my bidding, no matter what I desire. His name is Redmond."

Knowing giggles came from all three of her friends and their enthusiasm spurred her on. Unable to stand still, Constance walked regally amongst her captive listeners and began to read her tale.

Once upon a time, a princess lived a very droll, yet exalted existence. She was astonishingly beautiful, or so her dutiful subjects faithfully pronounced daily. Her lively, pleasant manner was remarked upon by everyone, but still the princess was very unhappy. And lonely. Her inflexible father decreed she must marry soon, but the princess was quite determined to have some fun first.

One day, she ordered all of the castle's available male servants to accompany her on a picnic. All seven of them.

When they arrived at the secluded field, the princess reclined upon a blanket, shooed away the buzzing flies, and commanded her servants to undress.  She wanted to gaze upon their manly attributes, as she had decided to choose one of them for some bed sport--or blanket sport, as the case may be.

When they didn't obey fast enough to suit the princess, she snapped her fingers and poof! All seven men stood before her, boldly naked.

Two of them were old and one of them was ugly. She snapped her other hand and poof, those three were banished to the castle, leaving behind their discarded clothes (to the amusement of the female servants back at the castle) and the four other men which the princess inspected quite thoroughly. One of them was slender and excessively hairy; not at all to her liking. Snap. Poof!

And then there were three.

The princess smiled at her good fortune, for these three men she found to her liking indeed. All were tall and muscled, with just the right amount of hair on their chests and legs. Two of them were dark and one was fair.

At the thought of touching their masculine forms, a resulting quiver formed in her stomach and shook her to her toes.

Rising to her feet, the princess commanded all three men to stand before her. She placed her hand upon the first one and savored the bulging muscles of his upper arm, and then ran her fingers through the hair on his chest. The prickly feeling caused her palm to tingle. Excellent.

Scrutinizing the second one, she touched his smooth shoulders and raked her nails across the firm flesh of his backside. The muscles rippled at her touch.

Ummm. Delightful.

She turned to the fair one and walked around him, inspecting his form from the top of his straight, messy hair, to the bottom of his solid, well-toed feet.

"Examinin' me like a horse, are ye, milady?" the impertinent man said, his audacious green eyes staring at her as if she were undressed. This one needed to be put in his place.

"Silence," she commanded. "When I want you to use your tongue, I'll instruct you."

The wretched man winked.

The princess placed her fingertip on the shaft of his long rod. It hung several inches past the juncture of his legs and the sight fascinated her. His male member was thicker than the other two men's, although not quite as long. For some reason, though, this was the one that intrigued her the most. His entire cock twitched when she touched its wide head.

She grew moist at the thought of taking him inside her body. Yes. This would be the one. Though not quite yet. She looked around and saw the blanket she'd been laying upon. No...it wouldn't do, not for what she had in mind.

Snap! Her large, canopied bed appeared in the meadow, the white gauze curtains reflecting the bright sunlight. Beyond the bed, a profusion of blooming yellow and white flowers blanketed the rich green field. The delicate stalks swayed in time to the gentle breeze, waving wispily over the land.

Snap! The princess instantly lounged in the middle of the giant bed, lying upon the multitude of pillows, unclothed. The golden hue of her naked body shone brightly upon the pale whiteness of the fresh sheets. The beaded tips of her breasts pointed toward the sheer canopy. The princess intentionally arranged her limbs in an inviting manner and admired the tempting picture she knew she made.

She looked at the three men and thought...  Decisions, decisions. What to do first? The thrilling conundrum had her hands running over her body in anticipation. The hot burn of arousal built in her quim.

"You two..."  She indicated the darker men. "Come to either side of me. Each of you must pay attention to one of my breasts. You may do anything you wish to pleasure my flesh, but do not stop until I give you permission."

One man walked into the field of flowers and bent to uproot several from their current moorings. The princess gazed appreciatively at the sight of his firm, rounded arse when he leaned over. His cock hung down, looking quite long indeed.

The other man came directly to her side.

"I live to serve you, my Princess," he said, bending to place his lips directly over her nipple without touching any other part of her. This one knew his place.

He tightened his lips, applying a subtle pressure to the tiny bud, then released her and blew his warm breath upon the mound of her breast. He straightened and gazed at her in adoration. Climbing onto the bed, he rested on his knees and bent over her again. This time, the tip of his tongue slipped out from his lips and flicked over her nipple.

She arched into his wet touch. "Yes. That is lovely. Continue."

His tongue circled the peaked flesh, making the bud tighten further. Liquid heat gathered between her thighs, dewing upon the golden curls guarding her secret place.

"Bite me gently," she commanded and his teeth closed around the flesh of her nipple. Exquisite.

The other dark haired man approached the bed. He took one flower from the posy in his hand and passed the bloom beneath her nose. She inhaled the sweet floral fragrance. Unhurriedly, he moved the petals over her lips and chin, down her neck and collarbone, and to her other breast where he circled the flower over the her flesh, keeping his touch light and slow.

"And what may I do?" the blonde man asked. He'd walked to the end of the mammoth bed and waited at the foot, his arms crossed in front of that damnably sexy chest, tempting her.

"Stand there and watch," she told him determinedly. "You are being punished for your impertinence. You must learn your place before-- Ooooo..." Her back arched off the bed, then crashed back down. The sensations in her breasts were too much. The princess closed her eyes and focused only on the delightful things being done to the skin of her off-ignored bosom.

The flowers circled around and around. Almost imperceptibly, the circles grew tighter and closer to her areola as the petals caressed her curved flesh. She couldn't wait for the bloom to reach her nipple, for the nectar to brush across the peak. For the flower's stamen to mate with her breast and leave its mark.

"Ummm." Her back arched again, pressing her other breast farther into the other man's mouth. He drew upon her flesh, sucking it deeply into the warm cavern where his tongue flicked an unheard melody upon her nipple, creating a symphony of sensations within her torso.

Eyes squeezed shut, she absorbed the new feelings, cherishing every one. Her feet slid toward her buttocks, and the act opened the lips of her labia. The dew of her desire pooled upon the folds between her legs and dripped down the crevice, toward her anus. She felt each drop and her desire increased at each new experience.

Her hips flexed and her vagina clenched, the muscles feeling more hollow than ever, craving a man's shaft. She twisted her chest, pushing each breast closer to the man showering it with attention.

Her nails scraped the bedsheets. A whimper escaped her lips.

A breeze blew across her exposed quim, warmer than she expected. Her muscles clenched again, and suddenly, the emptiness was filled.

Her eyes flew open and she looked between her spread legs. The blonde man leaned over her, a wicked smile curving his lips. Deliberately, he thrust a second finger inside her virgin tunnel. Her muscles clasped the thick digits and held tight when he started to remove them.

"Stay," she said, even though he was already doing exactly as he pleased. He was a wretched, wretched servant, but oh, how his fingers worked a magic spell upon her flesh.

Of its own accord, her pelvis lifted and angled, forcing his fingers deeper along the walls of her vagina.

"My only wish is to serve you," he said, placing his thumb against her entrance and working it between the delicate folds, searching out the tiny nub where the ache had intensified. His thumb rotated around the sensitive flesh, then danced away. The pattern was repeated and the princess moaned. She sank into the mattress, lost amid ecstasy.

The two attendants dancing attendance upon her breasts continued their teasing forays. The hand at her quim pressed into her with more force, reaching farther inside.

"Harder," she gasped, as the wind increased, blowing the sheer bed curtains into a frenzy. The gauzy fabric whipped over the bed, caressing every inch of her exposed form while all three men increased the pressure of their touch.

The lips around her breast became teeth around her nipple, biting gently, yet with a bit of a sting.

The petals over her breast became fingers that molded the flesh, applying rapturous pressure, carefully pinching the delicate skin, then releasing it to pay attention to another part of the sensitive mound.

Lightning flashed in the distance, bursting forth brighter than the sun that shone over them. The princess inhaled, taking it all in, reveling in the never-ending bites, licks, pinches, and finger-slaps to her breasts.

Between her legs, a storm of a different kind built. Fingers thrust and pumped, a thumb delved and discovered. An impudent servant took command and forced a response from her body. Her hips bucked wildly, reaching for more. The wind buffeted the bed, causing the frame to creak and moan.

She forgot to breathe. Nothing existed save for the maelstrom tightening her body, exploding between her thighs.

"Harder!" she screamed.

His fingers dove in her again and she burst forth, erupting on an exhale that seemed to last forever. On and on, she convulsed around his fingers, bucked against his thumb, arched into the pressure covering her breasts.

In a fury, the wind howled under the bed and over the canopy. The diaphanous curtains ripped free. The billowing fabric wound around the three men, capturing their cries of protests, and magically flew from meadow, taking the men away and disappearing over the trees.

Silence reigned.

The princess lay on the bed, her breasts and nipples flushed a deep pink, her quim vibrating from the inside, her breaths labored and deep. Her feet slid away, until her legs were straight. Her fists unfurled, releasing the sheet. Her body sung in release.

The princess looked at the crumpled flowers laying next to her and focused on the aftershocks quaking through her body. Then she thought of the blonde man and smiled.

Life in the land of Almack was good after all. Very, very good.

When she finished, the only sound in the room was the high-pitched chirping of a linnet on the windowsill. Constance walked over to her spot on the settee and sank down next to Leah, wishing she was alone so she could reach between her legs and assuage the insistent ache that was so strong after reading her story out loud.

Why did her betrothed, Lord Redmond, have to be such a stodgy stick? Why couldn't he be more like the blonde servant in--

"Oh. My. Word," Leah said quietly.

"Three?" squeaked Grace, fanning herself faster than Constance had ever seen her do.

"Bravo," Lady Roberta started clapping, a wide smile across her face. "Bravo, Constance! You've absolutely captured the spirit of our writing group with your story. Wicked fantasy indeed. I'm quite impressed."

"Thank you." Constance flushed under Lady Roberta's sincere regard.  She had hoped her story would be good enough. It was the first one she'd written by herself. "We did agree these would be our most sensually indulgent fantasies. That's what I wrote," she defended herself, noting the shocked looks still adorning both Grace's and Leah's countenance.

"It's absolutely wonderful," Lady Roberta said. "And now, I don't feel nearly as hesitant about sharing mine." She waved several sheets of rolled parchment in front of her.

"You mean it's worse?" asked Grace, looking as if she might keel over and need some of Mama's smelling salts at any moment. Constance saw Leah shoot a look at Grace who hastily corrected herself. "I didn't mean worse, but...ah, even more wicked?"

"That depends. There's only one man involved," Lady Roberta said, a secret smile hovering around her lips.

"That's a relief." Leah laughed a little self-consciously.

"Yes, only one, but..." Lady Roberta proceeded to tell them the subject of her wicked fantasy, to Constance's utter delight.

Grace looked like she might faint after all. "Oh, Lord."