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Queen Sylene felt the tip of Red Horn’s monstrous cock press against the back of her throat, and the most humiliating thing about it was the surge of disgusting, traitorous *pride* she felt at suppressing her gag reflex and avoiding the urge to retch. She had worked hard to learn to take the Beastman’s hard black cock all the way down her throat, and making her mouth a more suitable dick-sleeve for Red Horn’s nine-inch penis was honestly the most challenging thing she had succeeded in for nearly two months.

It was just as well she didn’t gag. She couldn’t have gotten the Beastman’s cock out of her mouth if she had wanted to. Red Horn worn a thick leather belt – a device he called the “bitch holder” – and Sylene was connected to it by short metal chains that ran from the belt to the collar around her neck. Her mouth was trapped against the Beastman’s dark, hairless balls, and the chains weren’t long enough for her to fully withdraw her mouth from his phallus. 

Sylene’s collar was of thick red beastman leather – red being, of course, the colour of Red Horn – and its shape was something of a cross between an elven royal diadem, and the dog collars the beastman gave to their hunting hounds. Its catch had been welded shut behind Sylene’s neck, and Red Horn had told her to the collar would never come off so long as she lived. Metal D-rings were set into the collar at regular spacings – two of which were connected to the chains that held her face tightly against the beastman’s groin – and the front D-ring also support a small nametag, as one might give to a pet. The text on it was in the beastfolk language, which no elf would condescend to learn, but the queen knew that it read “Syluin” – a corruption of her name that in beast-speech meant “Bimbo Queen”. 

There was further text etched into the collar itself, which read “Stupid Elven Cunt”. 

As if that was not enough, Red Horn also wore leather straps around his thighs, just above his knees – and each of these was connected by a short chain to a painful clamp on one of Sylene’s nipples. Sylene’s breasts were bare – as they always were these days, in what was supposed to be a concession to the clothes-free fashion of the beastfolk, but which Sylene knew was mostly just intended to humiliate her. She had almost died of shame the first time she had sat her throne with her tits exposed, before the entire Elven Court, but she had become used to it over the last few weeks, and now only felt a consciousness that she was a disgusting slut for her showing off her breasts rather than an all-consuming guilt.

Red Horn had been sitting on Sylene’s bed, with Sylene kneeling between his legs, as he read the daily reports on the kingdom. But now he rose, to walk to the royal desk and consult the financial ledgers. Sylene awkwardly scrambled to move backwards on her knees to keep up with him as he walked. Her hands were no help – Red Horn had cuffed them behind her back for the morning. Red Horn did not care about her comfort, and he had previously demonstrated he could literally lift her whole body via the cock in her mouth if she didn’t move of her own accord. With every step, his legs yanked agonisingly on her tits.

Red Horn had explained that this was what passed for clothing among the beastmen in their homeland. If you were a beastfolk male, and wealthy enough to afford a bitch, you would, on occasion, wear that bitch as an outfit. Sylene was currently forming one half of what Red Horn called a “bitch kilt”, and had told her that in future he planned to draft one of Sylene’s daughters to form the reverse half – her face pressed into the beastman’s buttocks, her tongue in his anus, and her tits chained to the same straps as Sylene’s own.

Despite the humiliating nature of the position, Sylene’s body was flushed with arousal. The taste of beastman sperm sent her cunt wild, no matter how much she objectively hated her treatment, and when Red Horn’s cock was in her mouth, the tip was always leaking a small, steady flow of the delicious drug. 

She wished she could masturbate – but of course, her hands were trapped, and even if they weren’t, her cunt was no longer under her control. Red Horn had replaced the pussy clamp she had become accustomed to during her breeding years with a replacement of beastfolk design. This hateful contraption squeezed her cunt lips together, preventing her from touching her fuckhole or clitoris, and it locked in place. Only Red Horn had the key, which meant that if Sylene wanted to pleasure her cunt, she had to ask her beastman master for permission. Currently he would only agree to remove the clamp while she was seated in public on her throne. Thus far Sylene had resisted the implied suggestion that she should masturbate in front of the Elven Court, but as her mind became more clouded and humiliated every day, she knew it was only a matter of time before she couldn’t help herself.

As Red Horn stood at the desk, studying the information on the Royal Treasury, Sylene eagerly pleasured his cock with her tongue. If she was pleasing enough, he might remember she was here, shackled to his cock, and be more gentle when he next began to walk. Or at least give her some words of praise, or tell her that she was a good bitch. 

The Elven Court did not yet know that she served as a cum-toilet to Red Horn. They knew she was giving the beastfolk unusual deference – but they also knew that the beastfolk were responsible for solving the nation’s fertility problem, and also that the fertility drugs were addictive. No elf was yet ready to risk interrupting the supply of the drugs, for fear of every elven woman becoming barren and going into withdrawal.

They could also see that Sylene was behaving more sluttishly with each day – with exposing her breasts to the court being the most egregious example so far – but then, the King had married Sylene because she was breedable. The court assumed Sylene had always been a slut, and there was talk that she needed a new man to control her whorish ways now that the King had passed.

The Court did not know, of course, that the fertility drugs were nothing but beastman semen, or that Sylene had effectively turned over control of the kingdom to Red Horn to avoid the world learning that she had fed addictive beastman cum to elven women for decades. 

Sylene had passed new laws, at the insistence of Red Horn – and as recommended by the Reconciliation Council, which seemed to have her daughter Lira in its thrall. It was now legal for the beastfolk to use all their horrible, misogynistic terms and phrases, and illegal for elves to complain about them. Beastfolk routinely referred to elven women as “bitches”, and it had become so common that Sylene had even heard some of the men at court adopting the custom. Red Horn was already pushing Sylene to make elven women use the terms too. Already, Sylene had been forced to tell her daughters to stop referring to her as their “mother” and instead use the beastfolk term “the cunt that I came from”.

It was also the law that elven women had to call beastmen “sir”. This had caused more resistance from her elven subjects than anything else. Elves held nothing but contempt for beastmen, and the requirement to show deference grated deeply against their deep cultural pride (or what Red Horn would call their “elven arrogance”). Most women had refused to comply with the new law.

That non-compliance turned out to be on Red Horn’s mind that morning. He sighed, put down the papers he was reading, turned, and walked towards the bedroom window. Sylene squealed around her mouthful of beast-cock, and did her best to waddle on her knees at Red Horn’s pace – but after a few steps, she lost the battle, and Red Horn dragged her the rest of the way to the window by her tits and her face. She felt her weight supported on the beastman’s cock, as if she were a fish on a hook, and felt her cunt pulse traitorously at the feeling of powerlessness and objectification.

Red Horn reached the window, and slammed Sylene’s body against the low wall beneath it. She was trapped with her head and back pressed against the bricks, as Red Horn peered down into the castle courtyard.

“Your daughter Daksya is training in swordplay,” murmured Red Horn – the first time he had acknowledged Sylene’s existence since he had jammed his cock in her mouth that morning. 

Sylene’s eldest daughter was named Dastiya (meaning “hope”), not Daksya – but as was his custom, Red Horn had corrupted her name into something from his beastfolk language. Daksya meant, literally, “the sword sheath”. It could be used to refer to a literal weapon sheath, or as an insult to a weak fighter – in the sense of “I will sheath my sword in your body” – but when applied to a woman, it more often meant, simply, “cocksleeve”. 

It was incredibly offensive – which was why Red Horn made Sylene use the name too, to the point where she had found herself calling her daughter “Daksya” even within her own thoughts.

Sylene could hear the clangs and yells from the courtyard herself. Daksya was a skilled swordmistress, able to defeat any three regular combatants single-handed. In the event of war, she would command Tylia’s armies in the field, and someday she would inherit the throne from her mother (“the cunt that she came from”) and become a warrior queen.

“She will look better with her udders out,” continued Red Horn, possibly just speaking to himself now. Then, without warning, he pressed forward with his groin. Sylene’s head was pushed hard against the bricks, and the beastman’s cock pressed further down her throat, its tip tickling deep within her. Sylene’s nose was crushed against the dark skin of Red Horn’s belly, and she began to struggle as she realised she couldn’t breathe.

Red Horn didn’t care. He began to vigorously fuck the elf queen’s face. Each thrust banged Sylene’s head against the bricks – lightly, but enough to hurt. He deliberately widened his stance, so as to pull each of her tits in different painful directions via the clamps on her nipples. Through it all, he didn’t even bother to look down – he may as well have been fucking an object.

Sylene felt her vision dimming as she struggled for oxygen. She was blacking out. Was Red Horn literally going to fuck her to death? Would she go down in history as the first elven ruler to die while chained to a beastman’s dick? 

At least the history books wouldn’t know that her pussy had been wet as it had happened – so wet she could barely think of anything else.

And then suddenly, blessedly, Red Horn grunted, and ejaculated down Sylene’s throat. As he did, he pulled back, and although Sylene still couldn’t get his cock out of her mouth, she could at least breathe through her nose. She swallowed his cum convulsively, coughed twice, and then – knowing what was expected of her – she went back to suckling passively on his dick.

“Good bitch,” said Red Horn quietly, and reached down to stroke her hair, in the way that one might pet a well-behaved animal.

Sylene couldn’t help it. – she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and pleasure. Not only was Red Horn acknowledging her existence, he was actually praising her. It was the happiest she had been all day.

But Red Horn’s mind had moved on. “The disrespect of the elven women angers me,” he said. He was speaking to the air, his gaze still fixed on the courtyard below, but Sylene knew these words were directed to her. “They refuse to call beastmen ‘sir’. They sneer, and show contempt and disgust. This racism will not be tolerated.”

Sylene was silent as she listened and sucked.

“My mercy has run out,” Red Horn declared. “You are the queen. You will see that the laws are enforced. If a woman refuses to call a beastman ‘sir’, she will be slapped across the face, and have an item of her clothing ripped from her body. If she still refuses, she will be arrested, and given to my fellow beastfolk here in Tylia to make a proper apology using her body.”

Sylene had no doubt what “a proper apology using her body” would involve. These women would be raped.

She wanted to say something – to plead for mercy, for a lighter punishment for elven women, or even to argue that these laws were unjust and oppressive to start with.

But her mouth was full of Red Horn’s cock, and she could make no intelligible sound, only animalistic gargling. 

“Lick my cock if you will agree to enforce these laws as I have asked,” said Red Horn.

Sylene had little choice. She paused – and then ran her tongue up and down the length of Red Horn’s monstrous phallus.

“Good bitch,” said Red Horn again, and once again patted her head. Sylene’s traitorous cunt throbbed, and despite herself, she wanted more opportunities to win the beastman’s praise.

“Oh, and Syluin,” said Red Horn – using her beastfolk name, meaning “Bimbo Queen” – “you will have your daughter Daksya take responsibility for enforcing these laws. She will use the army to bring about compliance. Tell her if she refuses, you will remove her from command of your soldiers.”

Sylene moaned around Red Horn’s dick. Daksya would hate this. She would complain, and yell. She may very well say racist things about beastfolk – and it was Sylene who would be punished for those insults.

But Sylene also knew that Red Horn had assessed her daughter’s personality with accuracy. Daksya took immense pride in her abilities as a warrior, and in her position of leadership within the army. If she had to choose between betraying her fellow elven women, or the humiliation of being dismissed from her command position… Sylene thought she would not hesitate to slap and strip the women of Tylia, and deliver them to beastman rape. She would rationalise it, she would tell herself it was the women’s own fault – but she would do as she was told.

Red Horn chuckled, as he watched Daksya train, unaware of the responsibility that would soon fall upon her.

“Don’t worry, Syluin,” he said. “When your elven bitches refuse to show proper deference to *me*, I will let you assist me in their discipline. In fact, I will even let you take the lead. Your subjects will appreciate that it is appropriate for their own queen to rape the defiance out of them. After all, this will be your law, and your decree. They should know who to thank for this new era of cooperation between elves and beasts, do you not think?”

Sylene moaned again, and closed her eyes, wanting to shut out the whole nightmarish world.

And yet, as her pussy throbbed, she couldn’t help but wonder – if she raped an elven woman while Red Horn watched, would Red Horn at least let her use that woman to cum?

She thought he might. And as much as she hated it, part of her – the only part that really mattered – couldn’t wait for that day to arrive.

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