“You realize these have not been used in over one hundred years,” Pimin Tal said. The older man winced at the lecturing tone of his voice. As the Master of Armor, he was used to giving orders and instructing his novices. He had spent the last four years teaching his adepts how to maintain the exquisite custom armor of King Zarn. The old King had lost interest in being on the front lines of war and Pimin took that lack of interest as the start of his semi retirement.
“I know that,” Queen Erishella said. “That is why I must wear it.”
Pimin nodded in obedience. The Queen stood before him in the nude. They were alone in the Royal Armory chamber, the secrets of the Queen’s armament was too much of a state secret to even allow for slaves to attend her. Pimin was having a hard time not staring at the Queen’s impressive breasts or the long black hair that she braided in coils around her shoulders. He was an old man, but even he felt the stirrings of desire in his pants when he looked at her.
“I just want you to know that this is new territory for me,” Pimin said. “Your father, King Zarn and your grandfather, King Fong, never had a need for this kind of armor. When you requested it, I wasn’t even sure if it really existed.”
The Queen played with one of her braids. “Of course it existed. There is a giant mural of great-grandmother, Queen Jahoris, in the mail hall. She’s wearing the armor as the planet of Corta burns. By the Skull Throne, there’s a picture of her wearing it on the one thousand credit bill!”
“Well, just because we have pictures of it, doesn’t mean it exists,” Pimin said. His lecturing tone had come back. “These images are often apocryphal. Why, King Fong once required a codpiece that was far larger than his anatomy required. For that matter, Kin-“
Pimin’s words died in his throat. The Queen taken a step forward and her breasts were inches from his face. As distracting as they were, it was her fingernails gripping his throat that had his attention.
“But you found them,” she said. “And now you will put them on me. If I am going to keep my army inspired and my enemies shitting themselves, I need to invoke the past glory of the Skull Throne. Since I will not be wearing Father’s codpiece, that means I will need great-grandmother’s armor. Put it on me, now!”
She released his chin and Pimin bowed his head. “Yes, your Majesty.”
He reached into the box. He took out a jar and strange crystal wand. He opened the jar and looked at the Queen. Pimin felt the urge to explain, but he didn’t trust himself to not lecture her.
“Where is the armor?” Queen Erishella demanded.
“Uh, it’s here,” Pimin said. “Please understand that there are no instructions. All that is in the box is this jar and this wand. The jar appears to contain a gold colored liquid. I have a theory, but I will not know till I test it.”
The Queen stared at him. Her royal head barely nodded. “Test your theory.”
Pimin passed the wand over the top of the jar. The gold liquid rose out of the jar is if it was being pulled. It wrapped itself around the tip of the wand, leaving a glittery trail back to the jar. Pimin bright to wand to the Queen’s skin and pressed it to the curve of her breast. The gold liquid slid onto her flesh, spreading like water over her breast but not a single drop fell from her globe.
The Queen hissed. “It feels strange,” she said in a whisper.
The Master of Armor froze. He pictured a rather graphic death at the hands of the Queen’s Whips. “How so?” he asked.
“A tingling,” Queen Erishella said. “Like a dozen tongues licking at my flesh.”
“Interesting,” Pimin said. “I imagine it is a side effect of the armor anchoring to your skin. The molecular adhesion could be playing havoc with your sensation receptors.”
The Queen snapped her fingers. “Less lecturing, and more application.”
Pimin nodded in obedience. He passed the wand over the rest of her breast. The mysterious liquid was like paint but it was immune to effects of gravity. It only went where Pimin directed the wand. To imitate the style of the murals of Queen Jahoris, Pimin had to trace the great swell of Erishella’s breast. His wand moved over every expansive inch; trailing gold metal in its wake.
He hesitated when it came to her nipple. Pimin was glad his theory was working, but the Queen was groaning nonstop as he worked. It just felt impertinent to touch the royal nipple.
“Do it,” Erishella growled. Her eyes glared royal anger but also something else. There was desire in her eyes.
He moved the wand over her nipple. As the gold metal covered her erect nub, the Queen trembled and a lusty moan escaped her lips. Pimin looked in wonder as her breast jiggled and the metal shell jiggled with it. It was becoming a second skin.
“The other breast,” Queen Erishella moaned. “Do it now!”
There was no arguing with the Queen’s tone. Pimin turned to her other breast and began applying the armor there. This time he tried a little bit of artistry, attempting a half cup design that more closely resembled the murals. The liquid metal obeyed perfectly. Thoughts of designs came to mind and Pimin realized with a little practice, he could wind a snake of armor around her body, or perhaps a great bird stretching its wings across the Queen’s breasts. Future generations would marvel and wonder at Pimin’s skill when they see the murals that will be made of Queen Erishella.
Pimin’s dreams of grandeur were interrupted by the moans and shivers of the Queen. She clenched and unclenched her fists as Pimin moved his wand. He worried that the Queen would have him executed for being the instrument of such obviously decadent sensations. He worried more that she might have him executed for not doing it right.
“There,” Pimin said when the breasts were covered in gold armor. “We have enough to test the effectiveness of the armor. The legends say Queen Jadoris could survive a direct laser rifle shot with this armor, but I suggest we just try a knife’s edge.”
Queen Erishella glared at him. “You are not remotely finished.” She pointed at the black bush that covered her majestic sex. “Apply it there. Now!”
Pimin knew better than to argue. His years of experience in creating battle armor had not prepared him for a moment like this. He also wasn’t sure what the armor would do with the pubic hair. What would be the Queen’s rage if he inadvertently gave her a bikini wax?
The gold flowed over her hair and gently pressed it down. The Queen’s hands gripped Pimin’s shoulders like a vise as she shook. He didn’t hesitate. He kept applying the exotic armor to her sex, covering the lips as well as the delicate clit of her sex with firm even strokes. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but he could swear the gold was sparkling as it adhered to her most intimate regions.
“Keep . . .going . . .” Queen Erishella said. Her breathing was ragged and Pimin noticed with professional interest that the armor on her breasts were moving naturally with her breathing.
Since he was essentially done covering her sex, but still ordered to proceed, Pimin allowed himself creative license. He directed the gold to flow in a pattern that resembled the Skull Throne in shape. While the Queen moaned and trembled, Pimin passed the wand over her sex as he sought perfection.
“Yes!” the Queen shouted. Pimin knew her cry was not out of appreciation for his realistic rendering.
“You may stop know,” she said. Pimin obeyed.
She produced a deadly stiletto out her hair that Pimin had no idea was there. Before he could stop her, she slammed the pointed blade into her breast with startling force. When the blade shattered on the gold metal, Pimin almost pissed himself in relief.
“Very good,” Queen Erishella said. “How does it come off?”
Pimin activated the second button on the wand. He pressed it against her breast and the metal leapt off her skin and onto the wand. Pimin was relieved to see no irritation or side effects on her flesh.
“Hmm,” the Queen said. “I guess this means you will have to apply the armor personally when I choose to wear it.”
Pimin swallowed. “True, your majesty.” It was one thing to be personally responsible for a King or Queen’s personal armor and protection. It was another thing to be personally responsible for touching the intimate parts of a Queen when she needed to go to war.
The Master of Armor smiled. If the job had always been like this, he would have never thought of retiring.
2 Responses to “Fiction: The Curve of Her Breastplate”
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This has got to be my favourite erotica story in years. I’ve gone back and reread it five times already.
Xan- Thanks :) I’m glad you liked it.