Royal lust and divine debauchery Part 10.pdf
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Excellia could tell that diplomatic talks were getting heated after the Blackhoof Chieftain
slammed his fist against the table and began to bellow: “I’ll lop that smug head off your
shoulders, make a wine flagon out of your skull, and drink the nectar from your daughter’s
sodden
cunts
with it!”
The Centaur Chief of the Plains Confederation did not take kindly to that threat. His thick brow
tightened as the hazel hue of his irises darkened in anger. “I dare you to send those green,
prancing forest sprites you call war clansmen to try! Meet my warriors out on the open fields,
and then see if your words have any teeth to them!”
They both rose as one, their equine halves surging up from awkward sitting positions around the
long, speciallybuilt diplomatic table.The table was set low for their human halves to comfortably
recline against large cushions as they talked, so when they stood up they towered over it like
giants.
“Brothers.” Excellia spoke calmly, despite groaning inwardly at their masculine showmanship.
“This is getting us nowhere. We are in the middle of peace talks, not a gladiatorial arena. If
that
is what you want, the Romans are always looking for more exotic beasts to parade through their
Colosseum.”
To say that the two Centaur Chieftains had a difference of opinion was akin to calling the Queen
of the Minotaurs “a tad randy.” Sex (for once) was the last thing on Excellia’s mind as she
strained against the might of her guests’ rising aggression. They stood across from each other,
two wildly divergent examples of the Centaur people’s fractious society, sheltered as it was on
the Isle of Minos.
Gren Blackhoof’s people dwelled in the thick forests of Minos’ deep interior, and thus had
evolved a society of swift, relentless hunters. His body was thin and wiry, all the more agile for
rapid turns and sudden stops in the tangled thickets of his home. The Chieftain’s right arm was
made of solid knots of muscle, gained from a lifetime of drawing back a taut bowstring. His lower
half looked closer to a deer’s body than a horse’s, with thin, graceful legs and small, knobby
knees. He wore a beard as thick and matted as ancient moss; his long, unkempt fur and hair
colored a dark brownishgreen, blending well with the forest’s murky depths. Gren wore no tribal
markings, and his body remained utterly unblemished with ancillary trinkets or baubles.
Towering well over his adversary, Argius Megalos of the Plains Confederation could not have
looked more different. He stood at an imposing twelve feet, his body a packed mass of overt,
savage strength. The horse half of him was built like a warhorse, the human half a warrior and
bodybuilder. This was a Centaur who rode the open plains, who hunted with spear and axe, fist
and teeth. Argius’ body was a network of puncture scars and ceremonial war tattooes, weaving
a brutal tale of his people’s daily struggle to survive across his flesh. About his neck hung
leather fetishes arranged in the symbols of animal spirits; there was even one for the horned
Tau symbol the holy mark of Excellia. He kept his face bare and his hair shaved, save for a
small black square at the crown of the head a warrior’s hairstyle. His welltrimmed fur glinted
in the light, a warm bay roan. His body lightly jingled with gold jewelry that draped across him in
gleaming declaration of his grandeur.
They were two gorgeous archetypes of the Centaur people, but also stunning examples of the
wide gulf of differences that separated them. They were leaders of the two largest tribes on the
Island, and Excellia as Queen of Minos had to reconcile them. It was easier said than done.
“Do not call me ‘Brother’ in the same breath as this beast.” Gren snarled back at her. “His is a
race of butchers and bastards, unfit for ploughing fields like a common
farm animal
, much less
living amongst civilized Centaur.”
“As if
your
kind were the epitome of ‘culture.’” Argius bit back, “You’re cowards and knaves,
hiding amidst the trees, living off grubs and tree bark!”
“
Enough
!” Excellia roared, her voice filling all at once with the authority of her godhood. The
conference room was small, and the walls seemed to shudder at her ire. She became the stern
Queen with her subjects. “Both of you dishonor your people’s reputation with your actions at this
table. Are you Chieftains, or squabbling children that you have let the conflict reach this
dangerous point already?”
There was a long silence between the two adversaries. “I have come because you
asked
me to
be here, Goddess.” Argius spoke through a strained voice, “The Plains Confederation at least
remembers that you are divinity made flesh. That and
only
that is what keeps me from
throttling this Blackhoof mongrel here and now.”
“I did not come here to be threatened by a brute with twenty gods whose names he does not
know hung out across his chest.” Gren said by way of retort. “My people only seek the peace of
our forest. If that is too much for him to bear, then I see little reason to remain.”
“Sit down, Brothers.” Excellia said, extending her hands out firmly to indicate their cushions.
“The only way forward in this is through talk. And I am not done speaking yet.”
Reluctantly, after an extended staredown, the two Chieftains lowered themselves down ungainly
to the ground; the first barrier to progress had been hurdled.
Excellia had been prepared for petty politics, but nothing like this. Her extended sojourn to the
Nile had been more stressful to her subjects than she had thought; the lack of impartial
arbitration had given rise to old jealousies and anger, and the two tribes of Centaur stood
perilously close to the precipice of war. The Minotaur Queen was not about to let it come to that.
She’d dressed resplendently for the occasion: clad head to toe in queenly garb, in the traditional
Minotaur fashion. She dressed comfortably but minimally, with an open white toga and a circle
of ornate jewelry stacked across her horns. Her bust hung freely within the fabric, A small circlet
about her head served as her crown. A lone toe ring connected each strand of fabric up along
her leg. Her bronzed skin had been cleaned of all traces of the previous night’s dalliance, and
her rubyred tattoos shone with the delicate oils that had been rubbed across every nook and
cranny of her body. Cinched around her neck, resting in the deep folds of her cleavage: a tiny,
ornately designed cowbell sat like a badge of office, clinking lightly whenever Excellia turned to
look at one or both of them; she had come prepared.
She extended her hands outwards in a sweeping motion, the encompassing gesture beckoning
to them. “You come as the voices of two Tribes of
one people
who roam free in a world
where beasts are often made slaves by man. You, who are a breed of being no longer common
in the world,
cannot
let the ancient resentments of your oldest feud fester.”
The brutes listened, silent but dutiful in the wake of her honeyed voice. “Did you not once know
comradeship? Were your forefathers not once brothers at the teat; what happened between
those Bucks that made them hate each other so? I cannot answer these questions for you,
besides advising you to
let them go
.”
The Chieftains listened, though their brows both tightened at the last phrase.
Excellia’s cowbell clinked when she turned excitedly from one Centaur to another, “There is
plenty enough on this Island for both tribes to flourish! Your food stores have never been fuller,
your forests are full of game, your families are… ‘burgeoning!’”
“All this fighting will end up bringing is bloodshed and sorrow, to
everyone
involved. This is a
wonderful place that we live in; it would be a shame to let it fade away.”
Excellia let the silence ring out after her pronouncement, fully expecting fawning praise for her
masterful use of her voice to reach these savage men. Gren stared impassively at her, his long
face revealing nothing. When she turned to look at Argius, she thought she saw a change come
across his countenance. He rose smoothly from his seat, the full girth of him coming into view
from beneath his flanks. He was unsheathed, erect and staring straight at Excellia.
“That is a lovely statement, milady.” She could see his massive balls twitch from a distance, as
the stud’s shoulders rippled tensely. “but I think I’ll see your gorgeous mouth on my
cock
sooner than I’ll see this man anywhere else besides a battlefield!”
Excellia’s jaw dropped in shock at the insolence, her mouth biting back swift retort when he
heard a voice call from behind her at the entryway: “and how did the war with your brothers
last
go, I wonder?”
She moved with the confident grace of true royalty, her glossy black hair matching brilliantly with
her paperthin black dress. Farah stepped across the room in the manner of an owner in her
own home: completely, utterly in control. No jeweled bangles danced in her hair, no golden
necklaces adorned her skin; yet it was the utter lack of ornamentation that made her seem so
noble, so queenly. The air immediately became electrified, as if her presence had truly let loose
the wild passions of their conflicts.
“If I recall,” Farah continued, her bare footsteps silent punctuation marks across the floor, “The
Blackhoofs defeated you when you tried to burn down part of the forest. Something about…
water sprites?”
Argius’ face reddened, “Who is this human slut with the fat mouth and big tits? Is she your
harem girl?”
Farah laughed as though the insult were a bawdy joke. “Centaur men are too easily given away
by their lack of clothing,” She winked at Gren, “Others are better at hiding their urges... and their
faults.”
“This,” Excellia said, cutting off Argius’ retort, “Is QueenMother Farah of Egypt, my
guest
. She
volunteered to help with the negotiations.”
“And what will she provide?” Argius’ face clenched, “A cutting tongue and and empty mouth for
me to fuck?”
Farah giggled, dropping off into a low, moaning chuckle: “Oh, you might just get your wish, if
you promise to help me ‘iron out’ the details.”
Excellia did her best to ignore the warm feeling gathering within her lower extremities at the
sound of her lover’s first diplomatic gamble.
Argius bit back a laugh, “You stand in the presence of the Goddess of Beastial Sex, yet you
offer your queenly lips to me, stinking like a mare’s heat, hoping I’ll end my Tribe’s oldest rivalry
for the sake of your mandick knowhow?” He rose to his full height, his over twofoot long
length sliding out from his undercarriage. His balls hung heavily beneath him, sitting like a set of
soccer balls in a wrapping of black, bulging skin. His cock was the color of his skin up to where it
reached the ring about halfway down the shaft, at which point it melted with the roan of his
horsefur.
Excellia spoke: “This Queen is the most resilient mortal I have ever met.” She caught Farah’s
eye and smiled at her surprised look, “And her knowledge of the sexual arts are second to only
a very select few, myself included.”
“Gren.” Farah said, her voice soft and gentle. “You don't have to be quiet, and you don’t have to
steal glances. My breasts are a part of me, worshiping them with your eyes is merely paying me
a compliment. If you like them so much, you might have to meet them later, hmm?”
Gren blushed and turned his head away. Farah laughed. “It seems I’ve got at least Centaur
one
willing to listen to me.”
Excellia nodded, catching on now to Farah’s game. “Then I’ll take the other. Best of luck in
convincing him.”
Farah’s smile deepened, “I’m not too worried.”
Excellia turned to Argius, her eyes locking on him from across the table. With stately
magnificence she rose from her seat, the golden bell clinking softly as she circled the table,
leaving an open stretch of air between her and the agitated Chieftain. Farah slinked off to the
corner, moving to speak to the stillblushing Gren more privately. Excellia looked at her subject.
Argius was worked up, his muscles on both his human half and his horse half were clenching.
He moved on his forelegs with small jittery steps in the ground. His erect penis was unsheathed
and open, like his rippling chest. Argius’ eyes flashed with a wild, aggressive look far out of
proportion to the words that had been exchanged. He had not been expecting such a diplomatic
assault.
“Those Blackhoofs steal our cattle and kill our game!” He blustered, “They attack our foraging
parties and set beasts of the forest against us! We will not make peace with them!”
Excellia’s eyelids lowered a fraction of an inch, “Argius.” She said, “You have a handsome
name, little Chieftain. You make arguments that I know you don’t mean. You want something
else
from the Blackhoofs, don’t you?”
“No.” Argius said through clenched teeth. “We want justice.”
“You’re getting it now, wouldn’t you agree? You’re here, alone talking to me.” A smile grew on
the Minotaur Queen’s face, “So speak.”
His face looked as though it were contorted in pain, “I want…” His voice lowered, dropping in
pitch and in sound, so that only she could hear. “I want you to get down on your knees and suck
the spunk right out of my steaming cock. But I know you want this charade of a ‘peace
conference’ to go on a bit longer, so I’ll just let you just think about it for a while.”
A smile, part amused, part aroused grew on Excellia's face. "You defended me when Farah
came to you with her... 'unique' proposal. I love worshippers who can honestly accept their
desires," The Queen's eyes drooped further, "I know you came to this peace conference in rut,
hoping to mount me like one of your wives and
take
what you wanted."
Argius grunted, too inflamed to muster a denial. "I still will."
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Royal lust and divine debauchery 1-12.rar
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Royal lust and divine debauchery Part 10.pdf
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The Slutty Queen of Egypt - Act II.doc
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The Slutty Queen of Egypt - Act III.doc
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