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Sugar Tits

Chapter 24

In the morning, just as she had dreaded, King Bastian summoned Evelyn to the veranda for tea.

The servants had dressed Evelyn in a soft green gown, tight-fitting and ballooning over thick bloomers. Her long white mane had been pulled at the back of her head in a matching chignon, which hung heavily down her neck as she sat at a round table with the king, primly sipping tea over the kerchief spread on her lap.

Over the railing of the veranda, vines snaked and flowers pressed. Enormous trees lined the courtyard, providing cool shade in the bright morning light. Evelyn could see the king's guests strolling arm in arm through the gardens, across the bright green lawn, along the promenade, under arches draped with flowered vines. Little birds sang and splashed in a nearby birdbath, and at a distant fountain, two lovers kissed. Evelyn smiled at those lovers, suddenly feeling content as the charm of that beautiful morning touched her like a kiss on the cheek. She sipped her tea and her lashes fluttered when she realized the king was watching her fondly.

King Bastion was dressed in a dark blue riding coat that almost perfectly matched his dark gray eyes. A white cravat blossomed under his chin, and rings glittered on his large fingers. His golden mane was loose and shimmered magnificently around his powerful shoulders. He was such a big male that it was almost comical to see him presiding over his tiny teacup. But he did so with a finesse and expertise that spoke of years of practice.

"Your majesty?" Evelyn said, coyly shifting her eyes to a distant spray of pink leaves.

"Claudine and Cyrus Crowle," the king answered.

Evelyn blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

The king's lips pulled into an easy smile. Looking at him, she thought it made him easygoing, boyish, and charming all at once. There was a quiet dignity about him as he reclined in his chair that quieted her. She blew on her tea and suddenly felt at ease.

"The couple you see kissing over there," the king elaborated. "They're newlyweds," he said, playfully rolling his eyes, and Evelyn laughed. "Can't keep their paws off each other. Sly smiles. Discreet tail tugging. I'd have them carted off if I didn't think it was so damned sweet."

Evelyn lifted her brows. "His majesty finds it sweet?"

His smiling eyes slid to her. "Yes. There is nothing so tender and precious as new love," he said seriously and regarded her a moment. She peered back at him, feeling her heart hammering in her ears, but he looked away. "I give it two weeks," he said and lifted his teacup with a sigh.

Evelyn laughed. "His majesty is horrible! Why ever for?"

He nodded at the couple over his tea. "He is a bounder who wants seven pups to fuel his precious legacy. She is a drunkard and would rather drown seven pups in a sack."

Evelyn stared at him.

"I know them," the king assured her. "Cyrus is a right prat.And a distant cousin. Shouldn't be a wonder he's related to me."

Evelyn studied him sympathetically. "His majesty is quite hard on himself."

"Am I?"

"Oh yes." Evelyn smiled mischievously. "His majesty is only half a prat."

The king laughed. Glancing up at his soft admiring eyes, she felt sixteen again. And any moment now, he would pinch her chin and kiss her passionately - and she would run away blushing, with flowers in her mane.

The king tuned his eyes away, though a sad smile was on his lips. "Ouch. Still flustered by that kiss? If it displeased the lady, I have now had several years practice. With both sorts of lips."

Evelyn blushed to her mane and her lashes fluttered. "Your m-majesty . . ." She cleared her throat.

"Stay here with me," he muttered under his breath.

Evelyn went very still. Oh god. She had dreaded this moment.

A crowd of nobles were hovering nearby, gossiping as they observed the king and his honored guest. Evelyn saw a few females in bonnets giggle behind their fans and knew she had gotten redder.

"Stop blushing," muttered the king in amusement. "You're giving us away . . . here . . ." He scooted her fan to her across the table with a discreet flick of his finger.

Evelyn felt her heart thrumming behind her breasts. It was the garden party all over again, the thrill of discovery, the anticipation that he would do something daring - like publically kiss her. But she couldn't let that happen. She thought of Lily somewhere with the queen and steeled herself.

"His majesty asks more than I can give," Evelyn whispered as she slapped the fan open. She fanned the heat from her face, effectively hiding everything from her eyes down.

"I ache," the king whispered back, "when you aren't near."

She glanced at him and saw the misery in his gaze. He wasn't looking at her, however, but at his tea. "Please, Evelyn," he said to the nearby cup of sugar. "I know you don't love Dick. You downright abhor him."

Evelyn sighed unhappily. "My feelings - or lack thereof -- toward Dick aside . . ."

"You don't care for him," the king said darkly. "What is keeping you from coming here? From me?"

Before Evelyn could answer, her heart stood still, and she stopped fanning abruptly as adrenaline sent a cut of pain through her chest. Queen Donica was making her way to them along the veranda, clad in a magnificent crimson gown, her matching parasol folded under her arm, her red mane in the usual high bun . . . and Lily's lead in her paw.

Evelyn gulped and snapped her fan shut. Lily was crawling along at a rapid pace behind the queen. The nobles milling about whispered excitedly and stared, and Evelyn couldn't blame them: Lily looked damn exquisite shuffling naked on her paws and knees. Her shapely little thighs flexed, her tail flashed, her breasts slapped as they swung down. The night before, her sex had been swollen with arousal, and when the queen came to a stop at their table, she spread her thighs in a squat, and Evelyn could see it was still swollen - in fact, her lips were ready to squeeze out the juices of her climax like the slices of an orange. Her red mane was loose, falling in her weary eyes and down her narrow back. But her hazel eyes brightened when they alighted on Evelyn. Her mouth dropped open, and Evelyn smiled under the silent praise and snapped her fan open to hide. She could feel herself blushing as Lily's admiring eyes traced over her. God. Lily had her flustered as a giggling girl. She silently admonished herself and set down her fan.

"Why if it isn't the Duchess Evelyn," the queen said sweetly, but her green eyes bit like snakes. She waited for the large Beauceron who had followed to pull out a chair for her. Evelyn almost jolted when she saw him: she had been so focused on Lily, she hadn't even noticed the slave was there.

Queen Donica sat graciously at Evelyn's side, and the huge Beauceron scooted her easily toward the table. Lily silently rose to her feet, and taking up the teapot with trembling breasts, she carefully poured a cup for the queen.

"Good morning, darling wife," the king said amiably. Evelyn noticed that when he smiled at her, it was sincere. It was always sincere. Evelyn knew that the king loved his wife completely . . . he just loved Evelyn more.

"Ah, my husband!" the queen said, feigning surprise. "I was so dazzled by our honored guest's radiance, I didn't even notice you were there! My, my." Her biting eyes raked Evelyn, and Evelyn knew she was looking for some fault in her attire - an unfastened button, a jutting pin - that she could twist into an insult. Finding Evelyn immaculate, she turned bitter eyes to her tea and stirred it. "What is that they gave you to wear, darling? One of my hand-me-downs?"

The court chuckled at the insult, masked in a voice of ringing sweetness as it was.

"Oh yes," Evelyn said pleasantly. "I do believe you wore it when you were twelve. It was the last time you could squeeze into such a size."

The queen stiffened as the insult hit her. The gossiping nobles not ten feet away whispered and nodded, impressed. But the queen recovered quickly. She continued stirring her tea and smiled. "That's marvelous. I am always happy if my guests are happy," she said just as pleasantly.

"Thank you, your grace," Evelyn said and inclined her head.

"But of course," said the queen, as if waving off her own kindness and generosity. "You are an honored guest. You deserve no less." She smiled a smile that bared her fangs. As she took a prim sip of her tea, she reached over and took Lily by the paw, drawing her near.

Evelyn stiffened. She could verbally spar with the queen any day of the week, but if the bitch did _anything_to Lily . . .

Lily kept her head down and her mane swept forward as the queen lightly pinched her pink nipple. Her lips formed a helpless cry but no sound came out.

"Isn't she remarkable?" the queen said, weighing one of Lily's high breasts in her slender paw. "Quite delicious," she said huskily. "Your husband sent her to me, a delightful little gift. Did you know?"

"Yes," Evelyn said carefully. She stirred her tea and avoided looking at what was happening: the queen was lifting Lily's arm above her head, so that her breast pulled up with it. The tender nipple was jutting hard. Evelyn saw several males draw nearer.

"Dick captured her on one of his hunts," Evelyn lied. "He thought you might appreciate her. You enjoy the hunt as well, do you not, your grace?"

The queen gave her a mocking smile. "And you don't, isn't that right? Oh poo. I've gone and stumbled onto a subject that makes your eyes just glitter rage. Such a delicate thing you are with your tender heart. If the discussion offends the duchess, by all means . . ."

"No, no," Evelyn insisted, though she did indeed feel the rage bubbling. The nobles were laughing at her and shaking her heads: anyone who protested the hunt was always an immediate laughingstock, and everyone there knew how Evelyn felt about the foxes.

"Well, look what I've done," the queen said, feigning regret as she shook open her kerchief. "How about some entertainment? Why should the morning be spoiled?"

Evelyn lifted her eyes and watched with heart hammering as the queen upturned the cup of sugar on Lily's front. Without hesitating, she splashed her with tea next. Lily gasped as her fur slickened at once to the curves of her jiggling breasts. The tea seeped down her slender belly to her sex, darkening her fur in one stroke. She knew better than to wipe herself clean and merely stood, arms slightly out, as she waited for whatever horrors came next.

"On the table, Primus," the queen said in a bored voice.

The Beauceron silently obeyed. He stepped forward, and after lifting Lily by the waist, easily flipped her on the table. The king withdrew his teacup just in time: Lily's head touched where it had been the moment before. She lay on her back, staring at the sky, resigned to whatever was about to happen. Her breasts were right under Evelyn's face, and her sex was under the queen's. She avoided looking at Evelyn, instead staring steadily at the clouds.

The queen waved an idle paw at Lily, and to Evelyn's horror, Primus leaned over her . . . and slowly sucked her wet nipple in his lips. Lily cried out. Her arms were above her head, and she twisted and gasped as the suckling continued . . . right in Evelyn's face. Evelyn could feel her cheeks growing hot as the queen's mocking eyes watched her. She looked at the king in silent appeal, but he wasn't even looking at her: he was watching Lily's nipple stretching in narrow-eyed fascination.

"Now lick them," the king commanded.

The apparent Primus did not hesitate to obey. His meaty paw clapped hard around Lily's small teat and squeezed until she cried out and the nipple jutted harder. He closed his eyes and licked her nipple with the full length of his tongue - long, hard strokes that made the nipple wobble.

Evelyn wanted to close her eyes, to look away, but she couldn't. She squeezed her thighs under the table, willing herself not to get wet.

All around, nobles were drawing near to watch the spectacle from under their translucent parasols, from behind fans, on the arms of their husbands and wives. Other Beauceron slaves strolled amongst them with platters of delicacies, hard buttocks flexing under their tails.

"Lick her to her pussy," the king softly commanded. "Then eat it."

The crowds murmured approval.

Evelyn wanted to look away, but as the queen was still watching her triumphantly, she feigned indifference and stirred her tea. But Lily moaned, and she looked again: Primus was dragging his tongue down her trembling belly to her sex. He didn't pause at the bulging lips but plunged his tongue right in, licking and gulping until Lily's breasts were heaving, until she was shrilling at the sky. She arched her back and her breasts trembled, her helpless hazel eyes fluttered.

"Mm . . . mm . . ." moaned Primus, eyes closed as he devoured the wet, warm sex that no doubt throbbed in ecstasy against his intruding tongue. Without warning, he pushed Lily's legs up and clutched her thighs, spreading them wide to get at her sex. As he held her legs aloft, her small feet twitched against the air the deeper his tongue sank. His grunts and moans were loud in the stillness as the court watched Lily gasp toward a climax.

"Stop," the king softly commanded.

Primus straightened up. Just like that. Below his waist, something else had straightened up.

Lily lay on the table, breathless and blushing, her thighs stained with her own juices. Her breasts were riding with her weak gasps. The nipples were so hard, Evelyn looked at them and wanted to lick them.

Lily tensed when the king's large paw carefully cradled her heaving breast. As he slowly closed his fingers on her, his eyes bore into Evelyn's. His gaze was almost accusatory. Evelyn went still: he was realizing. He was realizing . . . she liked females.

King Bastian suddenly closed his paw on Lily's breast so hard, she cried out. He reclined in his chair again, glaring at Evelyn as he whispered, "Fuck her."

Evelyn gasped. No! Anything but -

Primus leaned over Lily without a word, and putting her little leg on his shoulder, he plunged his dripping erection inside with a soft grunt. She twisted her head against the table and screamed to the sky as the intrusion of that enormous phallus jolted her. But she was enjoying it. She was shivering, sighing, moaning as her juices splashed beneath the force of his thrusts. Primus braced his paw on the table and humped her steady and hard, his eyes narrowed on her riding breasts. He glanced at the king as if for permission. The king was glaring steadily at Evelyn, but he dragged his eyes away to nod consent. Primus leaned down and sucked Lily's breasts as he rode her, and his thrusts were so hard, he shook the table.

Evelyn sat stiff in her chair, her throat going dry as she watched it happening. Under the table, she had wet her bloomers. Her cleavage was heaving. Her face was flushed. Her blues eyes zeroed in on Lily's sex and the taunt pink lips as they clenched to that throbbing erection. She could see her clitoris pulsing and wanted like hell to lick it, touch it, taste it.

"Are you quite alright?" the queen asked Evelyn mockingly. She offered her kerchief. "Here, darling. You've a bit of drool," she said, gesturing at her own mouth.

The court laughed.

"Ah . . . ah . . . ahhhh!" Lily shrilled as Primus rocked her, as her breasts flapped.

Moist, throbbing, and flustered, Evelyn snapped her fan open to hide her face as she shot from the table, muttering excuses that she was ill. As she fled, she saw the queen's smirk and the king's glare . . . and knew this was one game of court intrigue she had dismally lost.