The Queen of Lushland knew she needed an heir, so she needed a stud. Would it be the exotic stallion with strength and experience, the worldly mustang with hedonistic temptations, or the trainable colt with devotion and aspirations? Would her heart, mind, and body agree on the choice to be made?

A testament or supposition,
With embellishment or some omission,
And best intent, with your permission
Here I present my rendition.

The queen always thought of her people first. Tall and strong like her father, she was known far and wide as a capable ruler. Lushland was named appropriately, as it occupied a broad, fertile plain between the mountains and the river. Her kingdom, or queendom as it had been since her father died, was prosperous and peaceful, thanks to good relations with the neighboring countries.

A problem that simmered in the back of her mind was: What would happen when she was gone? Jeena was about to reach her thirtieth birthday with no suitable husband. More than a few kings and princes had made their interest known, but she had found none to her liking. A husband was desirable, but an heir was essential. Perhaps compromises must be made.

All knew of the tragedy of Old Paleoland, a neighboring kingdom that fell into generations of chaos when it was left without a clear line of succession. Her father had helped it recover, and relations with New Paleoland were good.

Her satisfied subjects had planned a celebration for her birthday. Some new and past suitors were making appearances. There were three days of parades, feasting, and dancing.

The last afternoon, there was an odd moment as a long line of subjects brought gifts to bestow. Some wealthy merchants lavished gold and jewels. Some artisans proffered hand-crafted items. A child gave a portrait of the queen she had painted.

Jeena accepted them all graciously. The end of the line brought an old woman before her. Dressed plainly rather than for a party, she bowed respectfully before she spoke. Most in the room were already whispering about the next event and paid no attention to one such as her.

“Dear Queen,” her voice was old but strong and her eyes were bright, fixing Jeena’s attention. “My humble gift can help soothe the irritations that may afflict you.”

She removed something from its burlap wrapping and held it up. Some who were still paying attention gasped; others laughed. It looked to be made of wood; whether carved or natural, Jeena could not immediately tell. It resembled nothing so much as a human forearm and hand bones. A stick about that long ended with a few finger-like extensions.

To demonstrate its utility, the old woman mimed scratching her back with it, before laying it carefully at the queen’s feet.

A page reached for it, but Jeena stopped him, standing and bending to pick up this last gift ceremoniously. “I thank you, one and all,” her voice silenced the room, “for your many thoughtful and generous gifts. I must retire to prepare for the ball.”

Noticing the face of the woman, joyful to see the queen holding her gift, Jeena held onto it as she made her exit. Inspecting it more closely as she walked to her quarters made it no less peculiar. She idly set it on her nightstand as her attendants bustled about, getting her ready for the big ball.

That night, she danced with many princes and narrowed her choices down to three. Ricardo was ten years older, strong, handsome, and well able to rule a kingdom. Geoffrey was her age, dashing, cute and funny. Jason, almost a decade younger, was well-mannered and well-educated.

Without letting the others know, she approached each of the three and suggested he stay on after the celebration. She would arrange a day in the coming week to spend alone with him.

It was well after midnight before she could leave the festivities and head back to her bedroom. Her ladies-in-waiting helped free her from the elaborate gown and jewelry. When they had left, Jeena stretched out in her bed, her feet aching from the evening’s exertions.

As she tried to find sleep, an itch on the sole of her left foot nagged at her. Scratching it with the big toe of her right foot brought a moment of relief, but it returned. The more she scratched, the more it seemed to itch, and the more she tried to put it out of her mind, the more it demanded attention. She was reaching for the bell to call an attendant to come to rub her feet when her hand found the old woman’s gift.

How fortuitous, she thought, to have the solution arrive before the problem.

Eyeing the oddly-shaped implement skeptically, she pointed it toward her foot. Uncertain of its durability, she first drew the fingers along the itching sole lightly. The feeling was strange, more like real fingers than the bony projections, with a touch so light it tickled. Pressing more firmly, she was sure she felt a hand on her foot and she pulled it away in surprise. Unable to resist trying again, she soon concluded that it was no illusion.

This device must be enchanted! she thought. I must remember to find out who that old woman is.

As she used it more boldly, Jeena could feel a second hand join the first, giving her feet a massage as good as the best of her attendants. It was so soothing and relaxing, she was asleep before she knew it.

In the morning, she awoke refreshed and had forgotten the whole episode until she saw the scratcher, as she now thought of it, on her nightstand. She picked it up and gingerly touched it to her foot, but it just felt like a stick against her skin. Confused, Jeena thought perhaps she had dreamt it all, but her feet did feel wonderful, which was surprising given the hours of dancing last night.

With the birthday celebration behind her, she needed to move on to considering her three suitors. Today she would have lunch with Prince Ricardo of Latinia in the North Tower, the highest point of the castle.

His dark hair and eyes, bronze skin, and exotic accent from the far south had caused many a maiden to swoon. The third oldest son of a king, he knew he would not inherit that throne, so he sought another. Skilled as an ambassador as well as a general, he might well make a worthy husband.

The secret meeting, known only to the most trusted and tight-lipped, would allow them to meet casually, without all the pomp. After several days of large and heavy gowns, jewelry and shoes, Jeena felt light in her simple frock and slippers. Ricardo, too, wore a comfortable shirt and pants without medals or epaulets.

Over lunch, they discussed the affairs of the kingdom. From the tower, they could see as far as the mountains of New Paleoland. In the other direction, the wide river was both the boundary and the means of commerce with the domains to the west and beyond. The queen well noted the interest and insights that Ricardo offered.

When the dishes had been removed and the two were left alone, they adjourned to a comfortable couch. The queen broached the subject of his bachelorhood at his age.

“Certainly you understand that I have been available if my father needed to seal an alliance,” he said. “There have been many women who have willingly served my needs in the meantime.”

“Yes,” Jeena nodded, “sex, love, and marriage are often separately decided among our kind.”

“My father has other sons, now more suitable than I for such marriages,” he laughed. “So I must find my own path.”

They had been moving toward each other on the couch, eyes seeking eyes. Ricardo abruptly closed the remaining inches, placing his hand behind the queen’s head and pressing his warm lips to hers.

Face to face, he whispered seductively, “When I sense agreement, I move quickly to conclude negotiations.”

The contact sent a thrill through her body, and she reached to pull herself against him. Indeed, he seemed to have known her attraction to him before she admitted it to herself. His shoulders and arms were firm and strong and she felt her will bending to his. His fingers found her buttons in the back; hers found his in the front; together they loosened their garments.

Her full breasts found cool air but warm flesh as they pressed against his chest. Hands massaged skin eager for touch as their breathing grew hotter.

Ricardo stood and stepped out of his pants. The queen eyed his tall, muscular form, with the shape and hue of a bronze statue. What dangled between his legs would have been too lewd for public display. Its length and girth exceeded Jeena’s experience. By the angle, she judged it had yet more to attain.

Mesmerized by the organ, she allowed him to lift her legs and tug the dress off of her. It was his turn to feast his eyes on her body. Her breasts, large but not pendulous, were well suited to her frame, which tapered to her waist before swelling to sturdy hips. The dark triangle of her nether fur topped long legs that did not deserve to be hidden by layers of skirts.

She raised her arms to welcome him on top of her. One foot on the floor, one knee on the couch, he bent over her. Her hands, behind his neck, pulled their mouths together.

He shifted lower, his mouth seeking her breasts as his hand probed between her legs. His tongue wet her nipples as her pussy wet his fingers. She followed his lead as he lifted her leg to get better access to her opening. As unsure as she was that she could fully accommodate that massive cock, so was she sure that she wanted to try.

Stirring her flesh with it, he received and spread her lubricant with the round head. She inhaled sharply when she felt it indent her opening. Ricardo pressed his lips against hers, giving her a moment to relax before he pushed into her.

When he paused with just the head past the threshold, the queen sighed a long, “Yes.”  Although stretched, she felt she could handle this dimension of him.

Skillfully, he drove inward, slowly, by inches, in, then out, then in farther. He seemed to know when it was all she could take—for now. His retreats and forays grew longer as he set a rhythm.

Unlike her usually active lovemaking, all Jeena could do was respond to him. All she could do was focus on how he slid in and out of her cunt, filling her so completely, then creating such a vacuum that needed to be refilled. All she could do was stare up into the dark depths of his eyes as he stared down into hers.

As Jeena’s moans showed her readiness, he accelerated his movements. Losing control of her passion, she raced to the brink of ecstasy. Her body responded, and she heard herself groan as Ricardo’s pounding drove her ass into the couch, the impacts causing her breasts to jiggle madly. It was just a matter of time, and not much at that, before the lightning struck. The flash of heat was followed by an echoing roar of pleasure that contorted her body.

He kept thrusting as Jeena gasped and moaned, his fierce expression replaced with a smile of satisfaction.

“I love watching a woman’s face when she climaxes,” his gentle voice belied the intensity that they both felt. Jeena was still flushed from her orgasm, but his words, in that accent of his, generated new heat.

“You are a rare woman,” he continued, and she relished every word. “I think you are big and strong enough to take me fully.”

Jeena was not in a state of mind to grasp what he said, but she offered no resistance. So far, he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. He withdrew from her and stood up, directing her with strong hands to roll over onto her knees on the couch. Ricardo took her ass and moved her to the height he wanted, her legs spread wide to reach it.

Standing behind her, her channel still flowing with liquid and stretched wider by her position, his cock easily sank into her depths. Jeena had no idea how much he had withheld the first time but she was ready to take it all.

Grabbing her hips, he proved his claim, driving deeper and harder. With the freedom of movement, Ricardo’s passion and his organ seemed to grow, larger and hotter. Jeena could only surrender to him; the tight slippery friction overwhelmed her, driving her not to a peak but to a continuous, crashing waterfall of pleasure.

As he had predicted, she was handling all of him and he showed no further restraint. He reached to grab her hair, pulling her head up off the couch, arching her back, making her meet his every thrust. For Jeena, there seemed no ending possible; every nerve in her body was in flames. Her head jerked by his grasp of her hair, she closed her eyes. She could only wait for Ricardo, and he seemed to be in no hurry.

His voice was a rumble as he approached his culmination. Only the sound of his grunts gave her notice that he was spurting deep inside her. The pummeling from his cock masked any more delicate sensation.

When he stopped, releasing her hair, leaning his sweaty chest against her sweaty back, Jeena felt her own burning subside. Whether she had endured one long orgasm or many, or been kept interminably on the verge, she didn’t know. She was loath to move and risk losing the warm fullness between her legs.

As her senses slowly returned, she thought she knew for the first time how the mare feels about the stallion, and guessed that Ricardo well knew how the stallion feels.

To maintain the secrecy of the rendezvous, the queen had to leave, her dearest lady-in-waiting seeming to know when to arrive with a dressing gown. There were no more words to exchange. Donning the gown, she embraced the naked prince, mopping the sweat from his back with her sleeve, making a mental note not to have it washed too soon. With a passionate kiss, they returned to their formal lives, the decision not yet made.

That night, Jeena again had trouble falling asleep, despite being worn out from the afternoon activity. Her neck was sore from the unaccustomed strain, as was her groin. After an hour of fitful tossing and turning, she again thought to ring for an attendant but remembered the scratcher. She held it tentatively and pointed it at her neck.

As she had hoped, the odd wand spread warmth to her neck and upper back. The initial gentle touch of a single hand grew firmer and seemed to become a pair as she stroked her shoulders and neck. It eased the tension throughout her body. As before, she woke in the morning feeling wonderful, but with no memory of finishing the massage and returning the device to the nightstand.

Again, she touched it to herself, but in the light of day, with no ill to remedy, it was just a stick.