The Throne of course...

You contemplate Beatrice's question for a moment... and you smile as you finally reach your answer. You walk up to pile of Azar's clothes and pick up the belt that held the straps of material she called a dress.... Then you turn to Beatrice and walk up to her.

“Preferably, I would prefer to have both – a throne and you....” you put your hand on her cheek and start caressing it – making her purr with delight. You walk behind her. “But if I had to choose...” you kiss her neck and trace your hands from her shoulders downwards. “I would tie you....”

She gasps as you suddenly grab her hands and pull behind her back. You quickly tie them with Azar's belt and slowly, almost tenderly, trace your hands up her waist.

“Then I would drag you to a platform on the city's central square....”

“Ah!” Beatrice yelps as you grab her hair and push her forwards the window. Her breath visible in the cold air.

“For all of the people to see.” You can see she starts shaking as she imagines the situation. You kiss her neck again and start circling your hands next to her breasts – but not touching them... which actually frustrated her a little.

“Then, when you face the crowd, bound and helpless, I would shame you” with a swift movement you pull her dress down to her waist, revealing her big, heavy breasts to the cold air. Her nipple immediately harden, whether it's due to the cold or excitement, you don't know. You put your hands under her breasts and lift them a little. “I would present these to the crowd, like trophies.” you smile as you hear her heavy breathing.

“Then I would place your head on the block, so you could look straight at the commoners, their disgusted and lustful faces.” You bend her forward, lying her head on the windowsill. Then you hike up her dress revealing her buttock.

“Then I would rip your underwear.” with a swift movement you rip of her panties and you idly notice that her pussy juices are flowing down her thighs. You smirk at the sight, then you take her panties to your face and sniff them loudly – they smelled sweet. “then I would throw them into the crowd.”

You throw them out of the window.

“So that when someone, a mere peasant, would catch them... he would sniff them then scream into rest of the crowd – 'Look'” You modulate your voice. “'the slut is wet!' And then the crowd would laugh at you.” Beatrice actually moans as she imagines just that situation. Your hand runs down to grip her ass cheek.

“Then...” You raise your hand and strongly slap her ass-cheek. Beatrice yelps lustfully, surprised by your action. A thin stream of her pussy juices leaking onto the floor. You smile broadly, realizing that she actually had a little climax. “I would slap you so hard that you climax in front of the crowd.” The moan that escapes your aunt's mouth is filled with shame.

“Then... in front of all of this people” You undo you trousers as you lean forward so your lips are right next to her ear. She quickens her breathing as she feels your hot breath on side of her neck. “I would fuck you....” She freezes, awaiting your next – rather obvious – action. You position yourself...

“But” You penetrate her ass with swift movement. “not your pussy....” You grab her under her chin and bend her backwards, so you can see her face. You are not surprised to see that her eyes are rolled into back of her head, small trail of saliva is leaking down her mouth while her nipples look painfully hard - as her body shakes with another orgasm.

You wait a moment for her afterglow to pass. When her eye refocused on you you smirked.

“The crowd would laugh at you for climaxing just from having your ass penetrated, joking that you should have worked as a whore. I would smile at these comments while playing with you.” Beatrice groans as you pinch her nipple then inhales sharply when you slap her breast. “Then I would **** you to face the crowd” You push her forward, so her head lies again on windowsill “so that you can look at their laughing faces as they ridicule you and-” With that you push your cock deeper into her.

“Ahhhh!” She moans loudly and her body arches, but you hold her still, facing forward.

“-and your ridiculous face that you are making while having your ass fucked.” you can tell that Beatrice is imagining the scene right now.

“Aaaah- Ah! A! A! A!” your aunt's lustful groan was interrupted by quick short moans as you started pounding her ass.

You smirk and slap her ass causing the interruption of short lustful moans with even more lustful yelp. As Beatrice's flesh convulsed around your shaft, you bit your lip to hold a moan of pleasure that was about to escape your throat.

“Come on, tighten up!” You slap her ass again. She does tighten up. It takes you few more thrusts but you grunt loudly as you shoot your hot load into her.

You sigh with pleasure and slowly remove your shaft from Beatrice – she's quite sensitive right now so you carefully grab her clit and slip your fingers into her pussy. You slowly move your fingers, carefully building her orgasm.

“Then... when your face is twisted in ecstasy...” you pause and bring her as close to the peak as you can without bringing her over the edge, then you continue “I would order executioner to cut your head off.” with those words you drive her over the edge of her release, her pussy tightening around your fingers.

“Ohhh!” Beatrice groans loudly as she basks in afterglow of another orgasm. You wait patiently for her to recover, “Then I would grab your head” you grab her hair and **** her to stand straight, on tip of her shoes. “and present it to the crowd, to show them what is the price of the treason.”

You turn her head and look straight into her eyes.

“Does that answer your question?”

She swallows.

“Yes.” she breaths in and smiles at you as you untie her “and I'm so proud of you my prince....”

Her words taking you by surprise, you reply in shock, “What?”

“If you don't have a guts to choose the throne over me, you certainly wouldn't have the guts to face your sisters... and you wouldn't stand a chance in the fight that is about to come.” seeing your confusion she continues “This happens every time a ruler dies – his family fights for the throne. In the end only one ruler remains – the rest either submit or die... or the country dissolves into smaller kingdoms. It's a tradition. It was the same when your father took over.”

“What? My father didn't have to worry about his family.”

“Of course he was worried about them – he wasn't first in the line of succession, barely third. But his two elder brothers killed each other in battle, so he started worrying. Just like Freya, his mother was a woman of ambition. But he loved her passionately... so after one of their passionate encounters..." Smiling widely she giggles as she adds, "...after she was fucked stupid... she suddenly died.”

“Weak heart?” You ask.

“No... an untraceable poison.... She had a peaceful ****, more than the rest of her clan could ask for when their turn came - your father never liked them. His brother, fourth in line of succession to the throne, died in a brothel.”

“Poison?” you ask.

“No his heart.... He fell in love with one of girls there..." Smiling as she runs her finger across your cheek, "ah to be in love...." Giggling she adds, "During one of their encounters in the brothel the building went up in smoke with both of them still inside.... At least they died young and in each others arms. What a pity that Frederick was smart enough to submit....”

You are shocked to think that your father orchestrated this...

“So you worked with my father?”

“Oh no – at the beginning I worked with one of his sisters... seventh in line of succession to the throne. What a woman she was... hot, beautiful, passionate... mmmm and the things she could do with her tongue..."

She looks away dreamily before you nudge her, "You were saying..."

Snapping out of it she says, "Sorry... my mind can wander.... but she was too focused on one thing to notice a wider perspective... and finally she lost her head.”

“Figuratively?”

“Oh yes... well at first at least. She ordered an **** on a very well defended fortress. She was too suborn to let it go... which made her actually lose her head... I delivered it to your father and he accepted me into his service.”

“You killed her?”

“Oh no. It was your father's eldest sister who killed her, I would never betray her – I would die for her. But the bitch had to raid her camp when the main **** was assaulting the fortress... the eldest sister actually survived the succession conflict – poor thing.” Your aunt didn't sound sorry... not at all.

“How was it a bad thing that she survived?”

“She 'found' herself in the hands of goblins, who used her as a breeder. Her mind broken after first month, her body died after fiver years of constant births... come to think of it, you might have quite a number of goblin cousins – and isn't that a trivia?” You could live without that knowledge. Beatrice smirks than continues “Anyway, I've got to go. Don't want to miss Azar's last moment and-” she pointed at Azar's belt. “using her belt was a good move, by the gods that got me excited.”

You sigh at how bloodthirsty your aunt is.

“Enjoy yourself... just make sure of two things..." Pouring yourself some wine you add, "First that Azar doesn't survive... because I really don't want to deal with her.... and possibly Ivette, in the future. Second, start stirring things up in the Sultan's harem. Point one wife against the children of others. Deliver proof of the Sultan's favorite being a traitor. Make contact with the heirs and offer to supply them with weapons and gold – in Frederick's or Freya's names. Things like that – I want them to hate each other, to the point when sultan dies, a full civil war will start... or at least a strong internal division that weakens the country.”

“Oh, such a bloodthirsty nephew I have - didn't finish one war and already planning the other?” Beatrice actually purred at the prospect of bloodshed.

“A series of wars. That slaver nation is barely one of few who will fall to us. When I'm finished, I intend to have this continent united.”

Your aunt looked at you with disbelief then started chuckling, soon her chuckle changed into full blown laugh.

“I look forward to it....” She fixes her dress and starts walking to the door. She stops and in a completely serious voice she says, “Your father would be proud of you.” With that parting words she's gone.

But the words stay with you. They lift your spirit. Affirm your resolve.

You smile and go to sleep, your next move already in your mind.