danhager
05-29-2010, 10:28 AM
The Queen’s Footstool (Part 1)
Niobi, newly-crowned Queen of the Amazons, sat on her throne, her feet resting on a slave’s chest. Her long, red hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Lost in thought, she played absent-mindedly with the signet ring on her finger. Her green eyes shone. At the moment, she was barefoot, and the slave’s skin, lightly oiled, was warm beneath the soles of her elegant, high-arched feet. She could feel his heart beating through her heel.
The slave was a muscular man, of about thirty. He had been the official royal footstool of Niobi’s aunt, Narissa, the previous Queen - who had been killed in battle three weeks before. Although the battle had been an Amazon victory, yielding booting and slaves from the defeated Thracian army, the loss of Narissa had been a great blow to the Amazon nation. The grieving people now placed their hopes in Niobi, strong, beautiful and young. There was a great burden of responsibility on her nineteen-year-old shoulders, and she felt it.
By tradition, the Queen’s footstool was also her body servant and lover. It was also customary that, shortly after her accession, the Queen should choose a new male to fulfil this highly-important role. Of course, the footstool, in a way, represented all the men of Amazonia. By lying, daily, beneath the Queen’s feet, and in public, he provided the perfect symbol of the structure Amazonian society. He gave men a constant reminder of their servile status, which even the densest could hardly fail to grasp. On the other hand, he provided women with a visual affirmation of their privileged role.
Which was not to say it was such a bad life. Far from it. Compared to the average lot of an Amazonian male, the role of royal footstool was an enviable one. To lie all day beneath a woman’s feet, after all, was hardly so bad – especially when one was well fed and well clothed. Digging, lifting, labouring in the fields under some girl’s searing whip: these tasks, the typical lot of men in the community, would not feature in the footstool’s life. He would serve as the Queen’s sex slave and body servant. And, should the Queen eventually tire of him, he would generally be sold off to one of the noble houses of the Amazon nation, to be given some easy job in the great hall or in the kitchens.
Not surprisingly, when the downtrodden, whip-scarred men of the city passed through the main square, and glanced at the well-nourished man beneath their Queen’s feet, their principal feeling was always one of envy.
Niobi moved in her throne, and moved her feet – so that her right sole was now resting on the slave’s face. Immediately, he began to lick her foot. Not slobbering over it, but skilfully massaging it with his tongue, as he had been trained to do. Although she’d had her feet licked by males all her life, Niobi sighed with pleasure. She appreciated the man’s skill.
Indeed, there was nothing wrong with this footstool. He was handsome, dark and muscular – a type which Niobi preferred. She’d already taken him sexually several times: him, chained to her bed with ceremonial silken ropes, and she on top, of course. Each time, he had performed his ‘duty’ well. When Niobi walked all over him, the traditional Amazonian version of foreplay, his body had been firm and comfortable under her feet. So, part of her would be sorry to see him go. She would sell him to one of her cousins in a leading noble house, and she would give orders for him to be well treated.
For the fact remained that he was not really *her* slave. In his heart, she could tell that he was still the property of her aunt, the late Queen. She could read his grief for her in his sad, handsome face. When she placed her feet on him, when she walked on him, when she put her booted foot on his neck, he was still – in his mind’s eye – still beneath the feet of his previous owner.
So, Niobi decided that she would honour tradition, and a choose a new footstool of her very own. He would be handsome and strong. He would be a sensitive and skilful lover. And most of all, he would belong beneath the feet of Niobi – and no other woman. But would she, among all the males of Amazonia, be able to find a slave to satisfy her longing.
To be continued ...
Niobi, newly-crowned Queen of the Amazons, sat on her throne, her feet resting on a slave’s chest. Her long, red hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Lost in thought, she played absent-mindedly with the signet ring on her finger. Her green eyes shone. At the moment, she was barefoot, and the slave’s skin, lightly oiled, was warm beneath the soles of her elegant, high-arched feet. She could feel his heart beating through her heel.
The slave was a muscular man, of about thirty. He had been the official royal footstool of Niobi’s aunt, Narissa, the previous Queen - who had been killed in battle three weeks before. Although the battle had been an Amazon victory, yielding booting and slaves from the defeated Thracian army, the loss of Narissa had been a great blow to the Amazon nation. The grieving people now placed their hopes in Niobi, strong, beautiful and young. There was a great burden of responsibility on her nineteen-year-old shoulders, and she felt it.
By tradition, the Queen’s footstool was also her body servant and lover. It was also customary that, shortly after her accession, the Queen should choose a new male to fulfil this highly-important role. Of course, the footstool, in a way, represented all the men of Amazonia. By lying, daily, beneath the Queen’s feet, and in public, he provided the perfect symbol of the structure Amazonian society. He gave men a constant reminder of their servile status, which even the densest could hardly fail to grasp. On the other hand, he provided women with a visual affirmation of their privileged role.
Which was not to say it was such a bad life. Far from it. Compared to the average lot of an Amazonian male, the role of royal footstool was an enviable one. To lie all day beneath a woman’s feet, after all, was hardly so bad – especially when one was well fed and well clothed. Digging, lifting, labouring in the fields under some girl’s searing whip: these tasks, the typical lot of men in the community, would not feature in the footstool’s life. He would serve as the Queen’s sex slave and body servant. And, should the Queen eventually tire of him, he would generally be sold off to one of the noble houses of the Amazon nation, to be given some easy job in the great hall or in the kitchens.
Not surprisingly, when the downtrodden, whip-scarred men of the city passed through the main square, and glanced at the well-nourished man beneath their Queen’s feet, their principal feeling was always one of envy.
Niobi moved in her throne, and moved her feet – so that her right sole was now resting on the slave’s face. Immediately, he began to lick her foot. Not slobbering over it, but skilfully massaging it with his tongue, as he had been trained to do. Although she’d had her feet licked by males all her life, Niobi sighed with pleasure. She appreciated the man’s skill.
Indeed, there was nothing wrong with this footstool. He was handsome, dark and muscular – a type which Niobi preferred. She’d already taken him sexually several times: him, chained to her bed with ceremonial silken ropes, and she on top, of course. Each time, he had performed his ‘duty’ well. When Niobi walked all over him, the traditional Amazonian version of foreplay, his body had been firm and comfortable under her feet. So, part of her would be sorry to see him go. She would sell him to one of her cousins in a leading noble house, and she would give orders for him to be well treated.
For the fact remained that he was not really *her* slave. In his heart, she could tell that he was still the property of her aunt, the late Queen. She could read his grief for her in his sad, handsome face. When she placed her feet on him, when she walked on him, when she put her booted foot on his neck, he was still – in his mind’s eye – still beneath the feet of his previous owner.
So, Niobi decided that she would honour tradition, and a choose a new footstool of her very own. He would be handsome and strong. He would be a sensitive and skilful lover. And most of all, he would belong beneath the feet of Niobi – and no other woman. But would she, among all the males of Amazonia, be able to find a slave to satisfy her longing.
To be continued ...