No one recognised the Jester once he had changed his gaudily coloured garb for the sober dress of a manservant.  He joined the queue of servants all filing into the main hall and carried through the jug of wine that was handed to him.  Making his way to the end of the head table he served a couple of knights, left the jug on the table and dropped to the floor.

The jostling noise of humanity carried on unaware that he had slipped under the table and was making his way towards the Queen.  He received a few kicks and curses on his journey through the knights legs, they clearly thought him one of the many dogs that roamed beneath the tables scavenging scraps of food.

He reached the silken skirts of his Queen at the appointed time, a fanfare scrolled through the air and the court fell quiet.  Poets entered to begin the long odes to her glory.  As the last trumpet notes fell away the Jester kissed her feet, his sign he was ready to serve.  The golden slippers parted and he lifted the heavy brocade overskirt, peeling back the layers of fine linen he crept beneath the cage of her farthingale, the layers of fabric closing over him like a curtain.

The Queen was naked underneath her skirts her cunt ripe and oiled with the fragrance of roses, the scent of sex and flowers clinging to her curly bush.  The Jester licked his lips, murmured a prayer of thanks to God and praise to the Queen and kissed her sweet mound.

As his lips met her flesh he felt a hand on his head, pushing him hard to her.  His tongue began to work, there was a reason he had held this private priveledge for the years he had, expert as he was at nibbling her the nub of nerves above her slit and sliding his tongue through the wetness, pushing it deep into the royal cunt. On and on he went, licking, kissing, biting.  Ferocious in his assault on the Queen.  He felt her shift in her chair, sliding down in her seat, lifting her hips to him, pushing hard onto his face.

A second hand was placed on his head and he knew this was the sign, he opened his mouth wide and placed it over her slippery wet hole, lapping and poking as he could with his tongue.  Here it came, his reward, the rushing juice of his Queen’s orgasm pouring into his mouth, dripping over the sides of his lips and down his chin.  He gulped and swallowed greedily, ensuring that the skirts that shielded him weren’t spoiled.

As the spasms in his Queen’s body stilled he whispered praise and thanks to God again and gently kissed the tender folds before him, bowing low beneath the skirts he backed out, covered her and kissed the toes of the golden shoes again.

Crawling back through the maze of legs the Jester counts himself as the luckiest man alive and with a cock hard and full of seed he knows he’ll be rutting his way through the scullery maids long into the night.

Thanks for reading,

Ruby x

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