Her Majesty Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of her other realms and territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith flopped into a finely appointed chaise lounge and kicked off her ivory heels.

“Phillip? Phillip? One is absolutely fucked, one has been on one’s bloody feet all day and now one needs some attention.”

“Bloody hell woman!” Prince Phillip answered exasperated, “I gave you attention this morning. And last night. There is only so much one man can do for the crown.”

“Fine then you bugger off to the ambassador's dinner on your own, one can't be arsed anymore.”

“Honestly, I would prefer it, at least on one's own, one's arse might remain unmolested!” Prince Philip stormed from the gold leafed room in a huff.

The Queen sighed. It was 1966, the middle of the swinging 60’s, she had just turned 40 and every other person in London, or so it seemed, was shagging and enjoying themselves.

The battle of Shropshire wasn't won with a single charge she thought to herself.

She rang the small bell on the Edwardian side table. In no time at all, a tall, thin young man, with a startling straight posture appeared at her side.

“Granville, one needs one’s special time.”

“As you wish ma’am. Will we require the use of the cabinet today ma’am?” Granville answered stiffly. He referred to the Queen's collection of antique toys and marital aids.

“No, Granville, one just requires your special attention.”

“As you wish ma’am,” he answered primly, as he dropped to his knees before her.

She kicked one leg over his shoulder, then the other, hooking her long skirt up and under her royal behind, revealing to Granville her uncovered, unashamed hairy growler.

“I pronounce you sir Granville of cunnilingus.” She laughed at her well worn joke, as she dabbed one leg first on one shoulder, then the other, the same as if she had her sword, and was pronouncing a new knight of the realm.

“Proceed sir Granville,” she declared, adjusting her hips to provide best access.

Granville put a hand on each of her inner thighs and pushed her legs apart. He dipped his head forward and ran his tongue from the bottom of her royal slit, upwards, parting her labia, as he swept upward in one greedy lick, up to the soft pink button of her clitoris. He repeated the motion, two, three times until her majesty put her hand on the back of his head forcing his attention on her swollen clit. She moaned regally as his attention brought forth the first stirrings of what she sought.

“Would Her Majesty enjoy a finger?” Enquired the wet faced butler.

“ Mmm yes Granville, make it two.”

He obeyed, parting her warm snatch with his first two fingers, pushing against her tightness until they were fully inserted. The Queen's moans became louder as he worked them noisily in and out of her, all the while keeping his tongue swirling around her royal love nub.

“Does Her Majesty expect a visit through the servants quarters?” Granville asked, employing the Queens favoured code.

“Yes Granville, a visit would be most appreciated”

He let his middle finger fall free from her slick pussy and gently rubbed it against her arse hole, circling softly, letting the wetness of her cunt lubricate the most secure entrance in England, pushing slightly harder each time, opening her up to forbidden pleasure.

With each thrust he entered both her holes and still his mouth worked its duty on her sensitive clit. He started feeling her hips roll rhythmically in time with him, then he knew she was close. He knew well how to finish her.

He maintained his penetration, moving her closer and closer to the edge. “Whose a right dirty bitch” he said roughly.

“Me!” cried the Queen.

“ Whose a slutty little whore?” He demanded again “who fucking loves being finger fucked in her pretty little arse?”

The Queen couldn't answer, her teeth were gritted and her head was thrown backwards in a massive gathering of orgasmic force that was about to break her. Her stiffness broke, and she convulsed in ecstacy. She howled as she came. Granville felt her wetness spill from her as she came on his fingers.

He continued his motions, making sure every royal sinew was spent.

The Queen fell back on the chaise lounge again, panting.

“Thank you Granville, that will be all, “ she sighed breathlessly.