Off With His Head

By Mistress CT

Joanna looked into the dark cell, holding her torchlight up slightly so she could see the face of the former king. “Don’t feel all that powerful now do you King Louis?” It was more of a snarl and statement than the question that spat out of her mouth.

He looked up, chains holding his legs and arms to the wall behind him. “So now that France is lost, what will you people do to me?”

“Lost? Lost you say?” She smiled and circled around outside the Iron Gate. “No, no, no. France is not lost. France is saved from the likes of you. But you’ll get yours. Yes,” she wagged her finger at him. “You’ll see what happens to those who betray the people.” She pushed one hand through her dirty, black hair.

The King noted for a few moments that if this woman, this peasant woman, in front of him was cleaned up, and she would almost make a passable wench for one of his parties. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive; it was just the lighting, the room, and the dirt that lined her face. He found it a total turn off for a King.

Joanna must have noticed him looking. She must have sensed, as most women can and do, that will a little coaxing, this man would be hers should she want him. She smiled, all for France. Slowly she reached up and undid the top button on her worn shirt. “Like what you are seeing?” She smiled openly at him. “Maybe you’d like a little taste on the night before you lose your head.

‘That’s it,’ he thought to himself. ‘These stupid peasants are going to behead me to ensure the throne is theirs’. He looked up to her again. “Filth such as you doesn’t need to grace my organs. I have been serviced by the finest women France has to offer.”

She smiled. “Not like me.” By now her shirt was completely undone and she allowed her breast to fall fully into the night air of the prison. Reaching into the folds of her skirt, she produced a key. “I think you’ll have one peasant girl’s pleasure tonight…dear little king.”

Within moments he found her on her knees. He now stood, preparing to be defiant, but held in place by the chains. She wasn’t stupid, she remained just outside his reach as she undone the buttons to his trousers. The royal purple fell away to revel his royal rod. She noticed that it only stood half hard. Slowly she took it into her mouth and began to suck. She looked up at him and smiled behind her eyes as her control began to take over him. He swayed and moved, but just as she was certain he was about to lose the royal load, she pulled back, slapped the end of his cock hard with her palm and brought her other hand up swiftly into the royal balls. He yelped and dropped, defeated to his knees.

Joanna locked the door behind him and re-buttoned her shirt. “That was for France. What I’ll do to that cock head in the morning will be for France and me. Then the rest of your life will be nothing but torture.

He looked up and mouthed out a question between the pains, but she was gone. The door was securely locked again, and he was left with his bruised cock-hanging limp out of his trousers. He looked down and cried.

The next morning King Louis was lead out into the courtyard. A crowd was chanting, yelling and spitting out him. “Off with his head,” came the familiar words as they assaulted Louis’ ears. He was lead up the scaffold to the guillotine.

To the left was a hooded executioner. He raised his hood to where only Louis could see. Shock ran across his mind as he recognized the peasant from the night before. She smiled. “You didn’t think you had seen the last of me, did you? See, last night I headed you, today I behead you, and this afternoon I take my slave to a little cottage in the woods.” She leaned close, “Once there, I’ll make sure those royal balls of yours stay full. But” she smiled and reached to unbutton his trousers again. “They will just stay full all the time because there won’t be much of a head to relieve them.”

He started to resist, started to move back, and very quickly decided that having his top head taken at this time was much better than the ‘Royal Cock’. It was no use; two strong guards forced him to sit down as Joanna pulled his cock out. She placed it carefully into the slot of the guillotine and smiled. Then, to Louis’ horror, she started stroking it. Once he had reached full mass, she pulled him tight to the machine that would end his reign and his manhood.

By now the crowd was in a frenzy yelling ‘Off with his head’. Joanna leaned forward to Louis’ ear. “It’s ashamed to see such a fine royal cock go to waste. But don’t worry, France will record that your had this head,” she tapped him on top of his head. “Taken off instead of this one.” With that, Louis heard the horror of the guillotine’s blade come swooshing down. He screamed and lost all consciences.

A few days later, he came out of the drug-induced sleep to find himself in a little two-room cottage. He was certain he was still somewhere in France, but he wasn’t sure where. He stumbled, naked out of his room and into the main area.

Joanna looked up from the chair where she was reading. She was now clean, her hair was fixed into a fantastic braided style, and her gowns were the finest that he had ever seen. Instantly he felt a stirring in his balls. The fluid seemed to fill them.

“Ah, good you are awake,” she stood up and he could see that her breast were pushed firmly upward for his attention inside the dress. “As you can see, even a peasant girl can clean up.” She paused and pointed toward the door. “There are two guards here at all times, all of our food and supplies are delivered and I have a coach…one of your old ones if I am not mistaken. If you try to escape, then your remaining head will leave your body just as your other one did.”

He stumbled into the room, “I am the King,” he managed the growing mixture of lust and pain in his crotch. “Why are you….”?

“Shut-up!” She almost screamed it, but kept it low to avoid the guards rushing in. “I grew up poor and hungry under your reign. Now, I am taken care of as a Queen.” She smiled, “Speaking of that, since France no longer has a King or Queen, you may now address me as ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘My Queen’. Anything else, and” she picked up a hot iron for the fire and waved it slightly. “Let’s just say that anything else will displease me. Now, as the Queen, I require service. You’ve been asleep too long.”

His eyes widened in horror as he watched Joanna, his new Queen, lean back on plush couch and raise her skirt. She wore no undergarments and he could see that her privates had been neatly shaved. He felt more stirring in his groin and noticed that despite the stirring, there was no hardness. He began to feel the frustration of being half a man. Just then she pointed down into her black, lower hair and said, “Service me now.”

The King became known as ‘Doggy Louis’ to all the guards posted at the little cottage over the years. ‘Queen Joanna’ lived a long and fruitful life as one of France’s most, well-serviced, unknown hero’s of the revolution. Her name and Louis true fate were never recorded. But after all, when you go from hungry peasant to Queen of your own little world, why worry about what’s written after you leave?

End

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