**Warning:** This story contains some elements you may not like. If you don’t enjoy dub-con, ‘mind break’, and light fantasy slurs, turn back now!
**The Gift of Diplomacy**
Starlight filters down into the most beautiful throne room in the world through a glass ceiling, the curving dome of the cut into a thousand facets to reflect the light and create a dazzling array of beauty. Illumination suffused the room despite the fact that not a single torch burned, nor did any lamp shine its light. It was as if the inhabitants were standing upon an open field on a well lit night, one whose moon and stars shone so brightly that they could see unheeded.
At least, most stood. One figure sat instead, poised with grace and elegance upon a throne of pure white. The seat was carved from wood of the last mallorn tree in its waning days, three thousand years ago, and it seemed alive itself, the gnarled branches of its armrests appearing to shift or move when at the edge of one’s vision…though it stood still as dead wood when their eyes focused upon it.
No less exotic was the woman who watched the throne room from her place of honor. She was a Queen, and had been a Queen since the days when the mallorn still grew thick about the world. Before time and entropy took their toll on her waning race, their lands encroached by new enemies – dwarfish delvers from the deep, savage orcs from the hills…and men. Men most of all. Crafty, ingenuitive, brilliant, cruel, greedy, heroic – the humans seemed to defy labels or reasons. They had been allies, and they had been enemies, but always they had been encroachers. So the Elven lands dwindled, until the Queen pulled back her people to a small, powerful stronghold and consolidated themselves. They still were a mighty power in the world – their magic was unmatched, and their warriors could stand before a dozen men, or dwarves, or orcs, and come out victorious…but the empire was a shadow of its former self, and no longer spanned the world.
The Queen’s beauty, however, did not decay with age; if anything, it had seemed to grow with each passing year. She was lithe, but far from frail. Long limbs that ended in elegant fingers whose every movement was precise and delicate, capable of weaving threads so thin no eye could perceive them. Her face was angular and this, as with most elves, but her skin had a shine and glow that seemed otherworldly, and her eyes were such a deep and radiant shade of green that you seemed to be looking down at a forest tended by the gods. Ruby red lips rested in a neutral look of polite interest, and golden hair flowed freely down her back, reaching all the way to the base of her spine. A small tiara of mithril was upon her head, brilliant gems studding it as it held her hair back and shone whenever the starlight touched it.
The curve of her neck led down to a beautiful green gown, its fabric trimmed with brilliant white, the neckline unafraid to hint at a body that was no less wondrous than her face. Indeed, when she stood it was easy to see that the way her dress clung to her left little doubt to her ability to inspire desire in any who beheld her…and many had gone mad, hoping to do so.
But in this moment she did not stand. She simply looked out, towards the small group of diplomats from Cascadia, a half dozen humans in what they surely considered “formal” attire, even if they seemed like peasants’ rags to the assembled elves. There was a high pitched, lovely sound as a flute played, announcing the visitors as if every eye had not turned towards them the minute they entered, and the herald spoke in the same haughty and ceremonial voice he had used a thousand times before.
“I present High Diplomat Marcus Potentius, of the Human Nation of Cascadia.” There was a pause, where the Diplomat should have bowed…but he did not. Instead, he turned an eye towards the herald and simply spoke one word.
“Empire.” A hush fell over the room at the breach of protocol. *Empire*. The word hung in the air for a moment, dark and ominous. Cascadia had declared itself such late in the spring, after conquering another human kingdom. It was the fourth to fall before their banners, and by all accounts they had done so with almost no bloodshed. To the Queen’s annoyance, neither her scouts nor her Divination Magisters had managed to discover *why.* The only common factor had been that the rules of each of these nations was a woman. And in every case they had seemed to concede without a fight, without any true resistance. Even the legendary warrior, Sigryn Shieldbreaker, who had wrested control of her nation from her uncle in a vicious civil war had seemed to simply…surrender.
The herald paused, and glanced at the Queen for a signal. She gave the smallest nod, one imperceptible to those who were not her closest servants, and the crier cleared his throat and spoke once more. “High Diplomat Marcus Potentius, of the Human *Empire* of Cascadia.” He spoke the title with emphasis, and the court tittered at the exchange. They would have their rumors, but there was a simple truth to this move in the diplomatic game – the Queen could not afford to be standoffish so early, when so much hung in the balance. Her curiosity to learn what was transpiring in the world was taking center stage.
She studied the diplomat for a moment, taking him in. Like all humans, he seemed large and overly masculine. A short-trimmed beard of dark hair covered much of his face, and the hair upon his head was the same sable, cut short and swept back. His eyes were pale, keen, and his lips were pursed together in the sort of expression that said nothing he didn’t want it to say. He was the tallest person in the room – elves were naturally shorter than humans, and he seemed tall, even among his kind. Not stocky and large like a warrior, but he had the sort of deft movements one would expect of a fencer or a duelist. He was not anything special, at least to her. Yet her gaze lingered on him for a moment, and the pale eyes turned towards her and locked with her own…and they seemed to be smiling as he watched her, until she broke the look with a start.
“I welcome you to my court, High Diplomat.” Her voice was sweet as honeyed wine, but there was a tiny tremble in it. So small that only those who knew her best would ever sense it, but the eyes of her most loyal widened in surprise. “I’m sure we have much to discuss with someone who speaks for the people of Cascadia,” she omitted using either title for his nation, opting for the middle ground, “but you must be weary from your journey. Supper will be prepared shortly.”
The necessary formalities were made, and the diplomats were led out of the room as the Queen fixed her gaze on the man…though she wasn’t really sure why. As he turned, going through the large doors of finely cut stone, he glanced back at her…and his eyes still smiled in a way only she could seem to see.
The dinner was surprisingly mundane. The Queen sat in her place of honor, attended by her loyal maids, her dutiful servants, and a half dozen other such hanger-ons. Other elves of note were around the table, and the diplomat was seated in a place of comfort part way down the table, befitting his station. She could only just hear his voice as he conversed with others, politely telling them of the wonders of his land – surely with great embellishment. Effortlessly he deflected questions about the military campaigns and conquests, turning the conversation from them time and again.
As the food waned and the supper came to its end, a smaller group remained in the dining hall – some of her own scribes and diplomats, a few guards, and the human. The tables were arranged so that they were all much closer now…he sat across from her, separated by a small table, closer than he had ever been. She watched him closely as the opening salvos of the negotiations began – use of a port here, access to some farmland there. Trade for mithril, a precious resource that the humans coveted and the elves held in monopoly, with the offer of much for it. But much, it seemed, was unsaid. Time and again his gaze returned to her, cool and direct, without a hint of shame or wonder to it. How long had it been since a human had looked at her with anything but awe? Had it ever happened?
She seemed to feel his presence in other ways. Almost a scent in the air, teasing at the edge of her senses – not unpleasant, but noticeable. As the negotiation drew on, she sat in silence, unmoving…but inside she was twitchy and filled with a nervous energy she was unused to. Something was…wrong. She didn’t know what it was, but something here was not as it seemed, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.
After a few hours and two bottles of fine wine, the evening’s negotiations drew to a stopping point. The diplomat was led away to his quarters, where the rest of his retinue had been preparing it – he had brought a few guards, a scribe, a porter, and a coachman. The Queen retired to her own chamber, the lush elegance of her bed swallowing her up once she was changed and cleaned. A bed without a companion, as was often the case. In millennia, she had never wed. Some elves did, but they were in the minority, and thought of as a bit strange. When you live forever, sharing your life with one person can be a burden that is hard to bear, and most were happy to have many lovers – jealousy was not common among them. Yet still, it had been some time since she had taken someone to her bed…perhaps she would do so again soon. And as those thoughts danced in her mind. sleep took her.
It did not last long. Elves only slept about half the time humans did, but she had only been at rest for an hour when she woke, a tiny sheen of sweat upon her forehead. Such nights of inconsistent rest were not unknown to her, and she stood up from her bed once it became clear that sleep would not return. Her throat felt dry, and her body warm…a strange sensation that she dismissed, sure it would flee her soon. On silent feet she walked out of her bedroom to fetch a servant to help her dress, but as her door closed behind her she stopped. There was a sound…a strange sound coming from nearby. Curiosity drew her down the hall, and she realized the sound was the hushed voice of one of her ladies-in-waiting – Elena, daughter of one of her most trusted nobles.
Elena’s words seemed strange, deliberately quieted but urgent…and another noise accompanied them. The rhythmic, repetitive sound of flesh upon flesh, bodies pressing together in bliss, urgent and powerful. The Queen’s eyes went wide with shock as she realized what was happening, and she stepped forward, ready to chastise Elena and her lover for their lewd behavior – elves were free with their partners, but their love was still something deeply private, not done in the halls of a royal palace.
But the Queen halted, because she heard the voice of the man as he thrust himself into the elf maid, speaking such guttural crudeness that she was frozen in place. His voice…it was no elf’s voice. The clipped tones of Cascadia were in his words, and the Queen’s face was flush with red as she understood what was happening.
“Aye, take my cock you knife-eared little slut. Nothing you love more than a human stretching out your tight elven cunt, is there?” There had been a brief moment where the Queen had thought, perhaps, that it was the Diplomat who was…was…fucking the girl. But that was not his voice. One of his guards perhaps. And such cruelty…such humiliating language. Once more she was prepared to step forward and stop this, before Elena’s answering words prevented her movement.
“A-ah! Y-yes, Sir, yes! I’m a slut f-for human cock, for your c-cock. Please, use me, use me, own me!” The last word was punctuated by a sharp cry that could only be Elena’s climax, her voice no longer hushed as her body took control. The man paid no mind to it, other than to slap her on the ass with a calloused hand, while he continued with all the same eagerness. And from the shadows, frozen, the Queen watched. One of her own ladies, bent over against the wall of her palace…face flushed, cumming on a human’s cock like it was the greatest feeling in the world. Sweet, innocent Elena…she had never heard the girl say a word out of turn, and here she was spewing this…filth.
To the Queen’s horror, what filled her wasn’t righteous anger. Nor matriarchal desire to enforce her will. As she sat in the shadows, watching…she was filled with a warmth, a feeling of desire that suffused her body, starting from between her legs and spreading outwards. Hidden like a common thief, she watched…and her hand slowly began to slide down her nightgown, across her stomach, trailing a delicate line along the fabric until it dipped below her navel towards the focus point of the burning desire.
The lover’s passion was growing even more urgent and wild as they fucked. Glimpses of the man’s cock were visible to the Queen as she watched, and the sheer size of it compared to any elf’s member she’d ever seen…they weren’t really even comparable. She felt lightheaded, drowsy, and incredibly needy for touch. A tiny gasp escaped her lips as her fingers pressed into her sex, rubbing against the the cloth that separated the two, feeling the dampness soak into her clothing and against her fingertips.
She was…a queen. For centuries she had never needed to pleasure herself; should she require a lover, she took one and they were overjoyed for the chance to please her. Not once had she been captured by fantasy or imagining in those days…but never, either, had she felt as hot and needy as she did in that moment. She rubbed faster, small circles against the front of her gown as the man grabbed Elena’s hair and began to thrust faster and faster, his other hand coming down to spank her every few seconds. And the words…hateful, domineering…they drove the Queen’s passions deeper and deeper.
“You want my cum, pointy-eared slut? Want me to get you with a half-breed, huh?” The Queen shook, gasping, as she heard Elena’s response – no words, but another mind shattering orgasm that came out in gasps and spasming muscles, followed by panting and moaning. “Ahh, can’t even talk anymore, can ya? Well, we ain’t supposed to cum in ya…not yet.” The Queen watched as the man, still grasping Elena’s hair, withdrew his cock from her body slowly, letting her hang in the air only by her hair as her legs seemed to give out.
The cock…in all its glory, the glimpses hadn’t done it justice. It seemed nigh as long as the Queen’s forearm, thick and veiny. Elena’s juices caused it to gleam in the low light, giving it an otherworldly sheen. The man dropped Elena down to her knees, turning her to face him. “Clean yerself off my cock, whore, and you’ll get the reward you elf sluts dream about.” There was no hesitation in the girl’s actions, leaping forward, wrapping her lips around the shaft and moving her hands up to caress his balls as if she’d done so a thousand times before. Some deep instinct in her took over, one of utter, submissive subservience.
And still the Queen stood in the shadows, rubbing her greedy cunt with abandon through the cloth of her nightgown, now sticky with her own lust. Her breathing was growing faster, and she knew that her own climax approached…she was desperate for it. In a way she never had been. Her eyes were fixed on Elena’s lips, as they moved along the shaft with passion and desire, delicate tongue flicking out to please him.
And then the man let out a groan. He grabbed Elena’ by the hair once more, pulling her back so that the tip of his cock pointed right at her face, and with a second sound he came. Thick, white, long ropes of cum, so much more than anything the Queen had seen before. A torrent of it, drawing lines across her lady’s face, paining her cheeks, her lips, one running between her eyes. The girl opened her mouth, eagerly taking some onto her tongue, a tongue which quickly darted out to lick up any that fell within reach.
And that moment, as the last shots of cum covered her, the Queen reached her limit. Her eyes rolled back as her head tilted towards the ceiling, her legs shaking wildly as she slowly fell to her knees, unable to support herself any longer. Gasps escaped her lips, urgent and fast, as the wave of pleasure rocked through her. It started at her sex and echoed outward, further and further, reaching every bit of her body before rocketing back to the core.
When, finally, she could think again, the queen looked back towards the two lovers. Elena’s lips were once more around the man’s cock, her cum stained face on display as she cleaned him and took in the last of his seed. And the man…the man glanced away from Elena towards the shadows where the Queen hid, looking right towards her for a fraction of a second before looking away. Had he seen? He didn’t show any sign of it. And yet…why had he looked here?
Once her strength was returned, the Queen silently slipped away, hurrying back towards her own bedroom. She could barely hear his voice as she retreated, echoing quietly down the hallway. “Clean yerself up, girl. Be a pity if the queen saw ya like this, eh?” And there was humor in his voice – a joke told only for himself…or for her?