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The Elegance Network: Browsing Rachel Paine - Summer Queen
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Rachel Paine
Rachel Paine - Summer Queen

In the far distant days of Celtic myth, each season was ruled over by different gods and spirits, by the Kings and Queens of the great cycle of the year. The warmth, time of plenty, was ruled over by the Queen of Summer whose reign began with the crowning of the May Queen and ended as the harvest was taken in. The Queen of Summer's consort was the King of the Harvest, ritually married at May. The King's end was not so gentle as the Summer Queen's gentle fading into falling leaves- his blood was shed over the harvested fields to ensure the fertility of the crops for the next year.

But this year things were different in the spirit world. The Queen, sitting in state on her bed of flowers, was shocked when the King of the Harvest burst into her throne room, red spear dripping gore in his right hand, magical shield seized from the sleeping Queen of Winter in his left.

"This year, I will NOT fall at harvest time! This year, there will be no falling leaves! For I have the power of winter, against which you must give way!"

The Queen of Summer was gripped by a great fear, and turned to flee from the dreadful spectre of her ritual husband defiling the ground with spilt blood and wielding forbidden magics.

The force of winter picked her up and threw her back upon her bower, and bonds of white, ropes of ice, began to freeze around her wrists...

The magical ropes twist and turn, their icy grasp stinging her skin. She is forced and pulled back down onto her bower. The flowers begin to move and at first she is relieved- surely her flowers will help her, twist with the strength of roots splitting rocks, break the bonds, set her free. But the stems just wind tighter about her wrists and ankles, joining the bonds of winter and holding her tighter still. The King's spells have even turned the blossoms against her.

The King and his men seize the Queen's ladies-in-waiting and drag them off into dark corners. The Queen's horror turns to outrage as her handmaiden's shrieks quickly turn to moans and their pretended protests and struggles turn to gropes and lustful fondling. The King himself is ploughing the furrow of Brigit, Lady of Music. Brigit's golden tonsils are not producing their usual honeyed song- they are lavishing a honeyed caress on something quite different.

In the midst of the orgy, the Queen is quite alone. She fears what the King will do to her once he's finished showering his blessings all over her handmaidens. With a huge bellow, the King's ecstasy reaches a peak... and for a moment, his concentration slips. The spell is weakened, just for a second. The Orchid, the Queen's favourite, breaks free and slips its roots into the bonds. Ice crackles... and she can move. Hastily she tries to make good her escape, slip her bonds and gain freedom while her husband is still distracted.

Perched un-noticed on her throne above the heaving, sweating orgy below her, the Queen of Summer slips free of the ropes around her ankles. The she bites at the ropes around her wrists, pulls the rope clear. She is free!

But only for a mere moment. The King has switched positions and is now sounding the depths of Lady Brigit's roundly presented ass. He is fairly preoccupied with squeezing something very large into somewhere very tight. But Brigit is looking right at the Queen. When she sees that the Queen has got free, she shouts a warning. The King, not to be distracted at this fairly critical juncture, grabs hold of Brigit's hips and thrusts very deeply into a hole that really shouldn't be getting this sort of rough treatment. The King bellows a great roar as he deposits his seed deep into her; Brigit howls as she feels the huge volume of liquid shoot up inside her like a fountain; the Queen yelps and tries to make good her escape.

But it is too late. The King recovers from his climax very swiftly and immediately spots her, trying to slip away. He doesn't bother withdrawing from Brigit, just charges forward with her still impaled. He doesn't even bother to hold her up; with his huge member still deep inside her she's not going to fall off.

He catches hold of the Queen's arm, twists it, forces her to the ground.

"And where do you think you're going? We haven't finished with you yet!"

"Let me GO! You can't hold back the seasons forever! You'll get yours when Autumn comes!"

He wrestles her back to the throne

"Maybe I can't hold back the seasons forever, but I damn well have a bit more fun before the leaves fall!"

He rips off her clothes and reties her, naked. With a wet squelch, he withdraws from Brigit and dumps her at the foot of the throne. She has a wicked look in her eyes.

"My liege, might your humble servants perchance be permitted to partake of the fruits of summer?" Brigit says, and licks her lips.

The Queen shudders.

The King laughs a huge, hearty laugh.

"And why not, indeed? So, you're her handmaiden, better get your hands working, hadn't you?"

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