The Curse of Camelot Page 8
She was aware Vivien, Fleur, and Ragnell were staring at her. She was glad for that. She wanted them to witness the transformation.
She saw in the looking glass how her slender hips had curved and the hair at her sex had stripped away to reveal plump pussy lips. Seeing them, right there, between her legs, created an urgent need within her to reach down and touch them. The moment her fingers came in contact with her hardened clit, milk began to drip down her inner thigh.
Cunt milk. Not the slick of wetness a normal woman’s pussy produced but a full flow of magical cunt milk. The elixir that gave strength to the Knights of the Round Table.
She let go of the dresser’s edge and brought her hand up to one of her breasts. A single caress of her nipple caused a droplet of honey to bead onto her finger. A surge of emotion—happiness, power, authority—pulsed through her entire body.
She turned to Fleur and Ragnell, huddled together pathetically. Their gormless faces, with their open mouths and fearful eyes, brought her to laughter. “Why are you standing there like idiots? Queen Guinevere is dead. Long live Queen Elaine!”
“Why are you doing this?”
She barely understood Fleur’s words between her sobs. “What about us? What about your husband, Lancelot? Don’t you wish to be a proper wife to him?”
“Ha!” Elaine stroked her hands over her newly plumped breasts and ripened nipples, enjoying how it felt to stimulate them. “Is that meant to be a cruel joke? Everyone knows that Lancelot only married me because I bore him an heir. That man has only ever had eyes for one woman—Guinevere! That’s why I had to use my magic, when I still possessed it, to transform into her, so I could trick him into taking me to his bed.”
“That was a long time ago, Elaine,” Ragnell said. “He’s forgiven you and learned to love you.”
“Nonsense!” Elaine ran a hand through her longer, thicker locks. “He only says such things because he tries to be noble, but none of it is really true. I thought he would come to love me with time, but he is incapable, for he loves only Guinevere!” She breathed deeply, bringing her body to calm. When she spoke again, she forced herself to do so with a quieter voice. There was no need for her to get upset. Not anymore. “Now Guinevere is dead, he’ll wish he had loved me, for if he had, he wouldn’t have to share me with his fellow knights.”
Ragnell began to cry. “You traitorous witch!”
“Actually,” Elaine said, examining her nails. “I think you’ll find you are the traitorous ones, overthrowing Guinevere like that. Tut, tut, tut. Lucky for you, I’m kinder than my predecessor and won’t insist on having you punished for your crimes. At least, not this time.”
“Then what will you do?” Fleur asked, her puffy eyes little more than slits as she regarded Elaine.
“Well, I’ll fuck your husband and your husband.” She pointed to both of them. “So, take your leave at once and summon them. Tell them their new queen’s body is full of milk and honey for them to feast upon.”
“No!” Ragnell launched forward at Elaine, her fist ready to strike. Fleur held her back.
Elaine’s reflex reaction was to take a step back, but she quickly remembered the increased physical strength the pendant lent her and relaxed.
“Hurry along, now.” She waved a hand in the women’s direction. “My breasts are aching and my cunt is fit to burst. If you don’t summon them, they’ll be too weak to perform their knightly duties, and you know, as Knights of the Round Table, they won’t thank you for that.”
Vivien scuttled across the room toward the door.
“Sorceress!”
She halted and turned to Elaine.
“You may retire for the evening. You’ll need all the rest you can get, for tomorrow your quest to increase the power of the pendant begins. I want you to alter the spell, so it only ever works for me and cannot be used by another should anyone attempt to overthrow me.”
“Yes, My Queen.” Vivien, her face drained of all color, bowed before taking her leave.
“And you two…” Elaine turned to Fleur and Ragnell, their bodies trembling and embraced. “Go, summon your husbands.”
“I thought you were our friend,” Ragnell said.
“I enjoyed wetting your cunts and having you wet mine. But now I no longer need you for such merriment. Not now that I possess this.” She looked down at the pendant, enjoying the view of it resting aloft her newly swollen breasts.
Heads hung and shoulders rounded, Fleur and Ragnell took their leave, holding one another for support and choking with sobs. As the sound of their self-pity faded along with their footsteps, Elaine made herself comfortable on the royal bed. She ran her hands over the pendant and down her womanly form, from her full, aching breasts, over the slight round of her stomach, to the plump lips protecting her hard clitoris. She allowed her fingers to dwell there, stroking the sensitive folds and circling her aroused nub.
Moments later, she squirmed with pleasure under her own touch, reveling in the flow of milk her cunt created and the droplets of honey every squeeze of her breast resulted in. The sound of heavy, manly footsteps made her pause. It must be Gawain and Parceval heading to the chamber of their new queen, where they’d pleasure her in every way she demanded until she and they were sated and their strength fully restored.
It was her turn now. And about time too. She licked the syrupy sweet mixture of milk and honey from her finger and smiled. She was going to enjoy this.
About the Author
Gina Hollands was born and bred in Yorkshire, England. She has worked in public relations since graduating from Oxford University with a degree in modern languages. Gina now lives on the West Sussex coast with her husband and young son. When she's not writing Gina is likely to be participating in her other hobby—dancing, be it salsa, line dancing or lindy hop.
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Visit Gina at
http://www.ginahollands.com
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