Dark Coronation

Princess Catherine was shown to her new state room. The death of her uncle, the King of Darlandia, meant that she was now about to assume the throne - the first woman to do so in over a thousand years. The last queen had been the tyrannical Milena, said to have been as beautiful as she was cruel. After leading her small country to victory after victory and amassing a significant empire, she was killed by holy knights who claimed she was a witch. Darlandia remained, but it’s lands slowly dwindled. Catherine was nothing like her ancestor though - she was young, only 23, sweet natured, kind and demure.

Her court attendant told Catherine that she should get comfortable in the regal gowns prepared for her coronation, sit in the throne and wield the sceptre of her family. In an antechamber, Catherine’s slim body was fastened into a tailored gown of the type expected by her people. Her maid placed the jewelled velvet crown atop her short blonde hair, and knelt before her proffering the ceremonial sceptre on a fringed cushion.

As she grasped the sceptre, Catherine’s nerves faded. It suddenly felt right to her… of course she should be queen! It was her birthright. She strode to her throne and turned to face the dozen courtiers gathered. They knelt, and their submission seemed to further bolster her confidence. Her heart started to beat faster, and beneath her ornate petticoats she began to feel her pussy become wet. She felt a twinge of concern. Did she get off on power? This was a new feeling.

Then the confidence and arousal was joined by another sensation… She was growing. Catherine felt her hips and thighs bulge, her slim belly gain a few pounds. Her face became rounder and her hair began falling about her shoulders, becoming brunette and twisting itself into a coiled plait. About the court her staff were struck with fear. Catherine was changing before their eyes!

As her hips and midriff pushed against the stiff gown, and her thick thighs squeezed her pussy, Catherine began to relish the feeling of transforming. She was aging, gaining a decade in a matter of moments as her pale skin darkened slightly. She was gorgeous, mature, healthy and haughty. The awe and horror in the faces of the court only fuelled a strange new superiority in her. “Yes… worship me, peons!” she cried in a husky tone. “Worship your queen! No! Worship your empress!”

Catherine’s humble breasts began to expand as she revelled in her new body. They pressed against the corset that framed her chest, bulging wildly as they swelled through big into huge. Her nipples crinkled and grew stiff, trying to push through the firm bones of the dress, failing but adding immeasurably to her arousal.

As she orgasmed, Catherine’s hopes were erased. She was overtaken by a lust for power, for land, for men and women to worship her body. To fuck the largest cocks, to have the most beautiful subjects lick her royal arsehole. To have more, more, MORE!

Empress Milena the Second sat on her throne. “Summon my generals. Darlandia moves on our neighbours tonight. And find me the servant with the biggest dick.”