FREE USE in a Fantasy World

From her place behind the stage, dressed in the turquoise garments of a handmaiden of the Queen of Dawn, Ava watched the performance heat up.

She could just make out the distant royal box looking over the crowd, the king and queen settled at a distance behind the rim. Ava had counted a dozen guards.

But she’d also counted hundreds in the audience.

It was only on looking at the sea of faces that Ava understood the true terror of Marilyn’s tale. That Iago’s scheme could have worked. Would have worked.

She watched as the crowd sighed and wept. Trembled and swayed. Lost to the song. The performance.

The endless cascade of emotions pouring onto them like waves. They were fairly frothing for more.

For the climax, for another sight, another sound from the Queen of Dawn.

And they had it.

The curtains fell away, and Marilyn sat upon a foam rock, magic washing waves of colour about her, her clothes little more than sheerest silk, her figure shadows beneath it.

Her crown shone with its inner light, the necklace around her throat dark, the enchantment dead, but no one needed to know that. Not yet.

Marilyn lifted her head, and sang her song. A mournful thing of loss and love. Of betrayal. Of crowns and swords.

Ava felt her own heart ache with pain at the siren’s song, but when her que came, she stepped out and onto the stage.

Ava draped herself against the rock, looking up at the sitting Queen of Dawn.

The beauty of the siren stunned Ava, but when Marilyn looked at her, she felt the words rise to her lips.

"What news, my handmaiden?" Marilyn said.

"My Queen!" Ava said. "The prince has come to see you."

"Let him come, my dear. For I have news for him as well."

Ava nodded and turned. The music from the orchestra rose as Iago stepped onto stage.

Ava had to admit, the man couldn’t have looked more kingly if he shoved a royal sceptre up his ass.

His crown shone and his satin robe fell about his shoulders, his outfit sparkling with medals and tassels.

"My lady," Iago said, flashing a smile. "You summoned me?"

"I did, beloved," the Queen of Dawn sighed. "I have news for thee, and for all."

"What is it?" Iago said, stepping nearer. "Is it that you bear our child? Hath our love filled your womb with a son? An heir? A different prince who might one day return to claim the crown of New Larrin from the usurper?"

The audience leaned in, drawn as the Queen of Dawn raised her head, tears glittering like diamonds in her eyes.

Marilyn slowly rose, and Ava did too, compelled to her feet. She felt the tension of the audience fill the room. Nerves strung taut. Eyes burning. Intense. Drawn.

"Speak!" Iago cried, gesturing to her. "Speak, my Queen, and tell all what it is? Tell them of the true heir of New Larrin!"

"My Prince!" Marilyn cried. "I do not carry any child!"

Iago stood, triumphant.

Then he registered her words.

"What?" he said.

"My prince, there is no heir of woman born, for my love is for women!"

Iago’s smile was a rictus of shock and uncertainty. "I... you..."

"’Tis true, your majesty," said Ava, grasping dramatically at the sheer silk of the gown of the Queen of Dawn. "The Queen has given her heart to me and I to her! Our love is true!"

Marilyn stroked Ava’s cheek and gave her an adoring look. Iago, red faced with anger, found himself sputtering and unable to come up with a proper improvisation.

His loss for words allowed Marilyn the opportunity she needed to turn to the seats and launch into her new song.

The shocked crowd fell silent and Iago stared in wide-eyed confusion.

The lyrics were simple, carefully composed to reach the audience – including Iago – before the playwright could think to stop them.

This was the mocking song of a woman freed of her marital vows to a false and impotent king.

Her celebration of liberation and the cuckolding of the one who would chain her. This was the song that Ava and Marilyn had composed together. They called it "The Handmaiden’s Sword."

Marilyn’s voice soared as she reclined upon the rock and drew up the silk of her gown, baring her creamy thighs and bare cunt to the audience.

No one spoke a word, but there were excited gasps from the wide-eyed crowd.

Iago fought to take a step towards Marilyn, but her siren’s song rooted him to his spot. Only Ava could move.

The beautiful elf stood before the Queen of Dawn and yanked open the buttons holding the front of her costume in place.

Another gasp as the crowd saw the straps that cradled Ava’s otherwise bare breasts, circled her slender hips, and provided the harness for the long, ornately carved dildo strapped over her mound.

Ava rocked her hips in time to the song, wagging the polished phallus at Iago and blowing him a kiss.

The crowd laughed. Iago, burning with humiliation, was compelled to reach for his own trousers.

"The tiny cock of the false king / shall never make me want to sing / like the handmaiden and her lovely sword!"

Marilyn’s performance was like none before it. Her heart and soul poured into the mocking words as they passed her lovely lips.

Her body arched upon the rock and her thighs trembled.

She ran her hands over her heaving breasts, following the contours of her body to the naked beauty of her cunt. She touched herself and spread her netherlips.

Her lovely eyes seemed to alight upon every man and every woman in the audience and their desire soared with her.

Some fell from their chairs and tried to climb into the orchestra pit.

Iago stared, frozen in his place on the stage, his trousers dropped to his ankles and his tiny cock grasped by his finger and thumb.

He stroked in rhythm to the music and whimpered helplessly to the cruel insults of the song.

The crowd moaned with desire when Marilyn called out with lust. They laughed when she insulted Iago.

Ava alone was not bewitched as she moved between Marilyn’s luscious thighs.

The siren’s cunt glistened with her dew. Her body arched upon the rock as she offered herself to the handmaiden’s sword.

Their eyes met as Marilyn continued to sing, though a smile quirked the corners of her mouth. Her full power had been unleashed and the crowd was completely under her sway.

"No," whimpered Iago, unable to look away, pumping his finger and thumb on his little cock. "No! I am... I am the king. You can’t... my bride! My crown!"

Ava pressed the head of the phallus to Marilyn’s soft cunt.

She waited for the right moment, the space for a single breath between stanzas, and she thrust into the glistening passage. Marilyn’s song reached a new peak as she was filled with the expertly carved dildo.

It was taken from Ava’s very own collection.

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