The Mantis Queen: She Mates and She Kills, Part 2
By Elrohir, Elrohir57@gmail.com
A new role with new challenges and new conquests.


Princess Darya had just graduated from Preparatory School and was looking
forward to attending University, even though her father the King would not let
her leave their little nation to do so. A college fit for their subjects
should be fit for her, too, he argued. Darya was disappointed, but she loved
her father and did not want to disappoint him, so she acquiesced without
protest. Before she could leave to attend her first class, however, events
would completely change her life.

Both her brothers were away in military service at the border with a
neighboring small country, with which they were constantly at war, although it
was not a "hot" war: there were frequent border skirmishes owing to the
border's location being in dispute, often involving brief artillery exchanges,
but usually casualties were light. There was much more "cold" war activity,
with much spying by both sides, and even the occasional assassination. The
week after he attended Darya's graduation, the King went to the border to
visit his sons, and while there he treated them both to a visit to a local
brothel known to have the most beautiful harlots. Each of them had their pick,
and soon each was in a separate room rutting away at the woman he had
purchased, while the bodyguards waited outside.

All three women, indeed all the people working in that establishment, were
spies for the enemy neighbor. They had been eliciting information from their
customers (many of whom were in the military) for some time, quietly and
without anyone being the wiser. When the King and both Princes visited,
however, it was too tempting a target to forego: the brothel's cover would
likely be blown, but it would be worth it to accomplish such an important
objective.

As each man lost focus and became distracted when he reached the point of
orgasm, each woman produced a razor from under her pillow and slit her
respective client's throat, then locked her arms and legs around him and
pulled him into her bosom to muffle his dying cries. All three murderous
whores then cleaned up as quickly as possible, donned baggy garments and
slipped out the window, fading into the night.When the bodyguards finally
became concerned and checked on their charges only to find them horribly
murdered, the remaining brothel employees attacked them in hope of silencing
the bodyguards and making their own escape, but they were not successful;
those who were not killed outright were captured and later tortured for
information before being quietly executed.

The enemy, believing they had effectively decapitated their opponents'
leadership, attacked en masse at the border. They made some gains, but were
eventually repelled, and their General in Chief was captured in the process.
By way or reprisal, Darya's countrymen made sure he was killed in the most
gruesome and public way possible. Tensions remained dangerously high after
that, but eventually an uneasy peace was reached between the two countries.
The "cold" war, however, would continue.

Darya was heartbroken at the death of her father and brothers, but even in her
grief she was also very angry with them: If the stupid horny bastards had been
able to keep their cocks in their pants long enough to get married or at least
find someone "special" to service them, they would still be alive. She had
placed The King and her brothers on a pedestal, but she was devastated to find
that their base male proclivities had ruled them just as they ruled the
lowliest male peasants. To her mind, her family members had perished due to
their own stupid urges, and in throwing their lives away they also had
abandoned her. In the turmoil of the following days her anger went beyond
resentment, developing into actual rage. Unable to punish her father and
brothers beyond the grave, she would eventually direct her anger at almost all
men, especially those who represented the country responsible for her family's
demise.

There was little time to grieve, as a coronation had to be hastily arranged.
Darya became Queen of her little nation at the tender age of eighteen. Her
first days and nights as Queen Regent were filled with an extreme crash
education regarding her position and duties. Her head was about to explode
with all the knowledge she was forced to acquire in so little time, and the
stress of continual instruction and study began to tell on her. Her savior
turned out to be old Whelan, the head of the King's Secret Service: he was
ancient but wise, and he had been a trusted friend to Darya's father.

It was he who suggested she take a break regularly and pursue physical
activity as a release from the stress of her new life and intense instruction.
He persuaded her to take up hand-to-hand combat as both exercise and a
practical means of keeping herself safe from those who would mean her harm,
and he assured her there would be many of those. Always the athlete, Darya
excelled at her new hobby, taking to hand-to-hand like a duck takes to water,
as they say. After only a few months, she was soon besting the most skilled of
the Secret Service's instructors. Even the most formidable of them, whom they
called The Boxer, soon fell prey to her youthful power, agility, and speed.
She now managed to regularly beat him three rounds out of three. Her tutors
were now regularly getting schooled themselves. They all came to the
realization that she would always be better than them at vacations of which
they had believed they were the best, thus they resented Darya, and wished
there was a way to redeem themselves. Darya would unwittingly give a chance to
do just that ... .

Eventually, seeking to challenge herself, she took on three of her tutors at
once, including The Boxer, a tall, massively muscled man, but also one who was
lightning quick on his feet and with his fists, and he was proficient in
several other forms of fighting as well. He was dressed in boxing trunks, no
shirt, and light shoes. The second man was Johannsen, a grappler, rather squat
and brutish, dressed in his usual wrestling singlet, and the third was Rolf,
the youngest and cutest of three. Rolf was a practitioner of the recently
discovered ancient Asian martial art of Karate, and was dressed in the
traditional "Gi" outfit of that genre, proudly sporting his black belt. This
would be a bare-fisted, no rules, grudge match for them: they were determined
to regain some pride in the face of each having suffered ignominious defeat at
the hands of a mere girl, even if she was tall, fast, and strong.

She immediately went hard and fast after Wilhelm, The Boxer. It wasn't fair,
really, because she knew each man's fighting styles intimately, as they should
have known hers but in their arrogance did not, and by now she could almost
always predict their first moves. She went hard and fast at The Boxer, ducking
his attempt at a right cross and going low, launching a 1-2 combination into
his balls. "NNGH!" he grunted: he willed himself to keep from doubling over
and kept his hands up, but he devoted so much effort to it that he barely saw
her high kick to his chin, which nearly took his head off and sent him
crashing to the floor on his back, out cold.

She could now finish the other two at her leisure. The tried a coordinated
attack, but Darya moved between them, simultaneously kicking Rolf in the shin
while backfisting Johannsen in the nose. Surprised and in pain, they backed
away from her, separating themselves. Darya counted on this: She would quickly
attack one and then the other and dance away, absorbing a few shots in the
process but nothing she couldn't take, and she gave much better that she got,
jabbing Johannsen's eye shut and bloodying the Rolf's nose. They were
dangerous men in their 30's, but she was young, fast, and strong, at the top
of her game. She danced and feinted, then struck and danced away, toying with
them. She wore them down until they were so tired they could barely defend
themselves, much less pursue her. There was a moment of concern when Johannsen
attacked and got her in a rear bear hug, but she deftly head butted him and
broke the hold before Rolf could come to assist.

She finally put Johannsen down with a vicious swift kick to his knee, and
turned just in time to meet Rolf's attack. She fell back as he pressed
forward, blocking his punches and kicks as she went, but then she suddenly
closed with him, went inside his reach, grabbed the lapels of his gi and swept
out his legs, taking him down to the mat on his back. Darya pulled the lapels
of the gi in opposite directions, tightening the collar around his neck in a
front choke. Rolf windmilled his upper arms into her forearms like he had been
taught in order to break her hold, but it had no effect: her arms were like
iron. He was in awe of how tight her grip was, and he was mesmerized by how
her muscles flexed even while strangling him. Her biceps seemed to expand
incredibly when they contracted, and threatened to burst the sleeves of her
leotard.

He tried to twist his body, and Darya was forced to widen her stance slightly
to compensate; in his awkward position he could not manage much power, but he
kicked her in the crotch as hard as he could. Darya cried out in pain and
rage, disengaging from Rolf. He rolled over and tried to rise up on all fours,
but she pounced on his back and forced him down on his face. She grabbed his
right arm and twisted it up behind his back so fast and so hard that his
shoulder dislocated. He screamed in pain continually until she chopped his
neck with the knife edge of her hand, shocking the nerves there and
interrupting the flow of blood to his brain, instantly rendering him
unconscious.

Within a few minutes she had systematically reduced three dangerous men to one
writhing, moaning pile of bruised and bleeding manhood and two unconscious
ones. Her absolute victory thrilled her, making her feel like she could take
on the World. For the first time she felt that she really could be Queen, and
it was going to be AWESOME! Her newfound feeling of power and confidence
aroused her, intense heat rising up in her young loins for the first time
since before her father and brothers were killed.

She decided to celebrate her new self by enjoying her physical power over her
former tutors: She stood over Johannsen, the one she detested, who was lying
on his side with his legs pulled up, clutching his destroyed knee. Back in the
early days of her instruction when he could pin her easily, he had
embarrassingly felt her up more than once, his arousal plainly evident in the
crotch of his singlet. Now, however, he looked up at her with a look of terror
on his face. He tried to push himself across the mat with his good leg to get
away from her.

"N-No!" stammered Johannsen, "You won! Don't hurt me anymore, please!" He
continued to try to move away, but she snatched his good leg and pulled him
back, stretching him out and keeping him flat on his back. She drug him across
the mat away from the others, uselessly flailing his arms in a futile effort
to resist her.

"There's no question that I won," she laughed. "The question is, what am I
going to do with the spoils of my victory?" His eyes widened with fear as she
dragged him a little farther; he was unable to escape her with his injured
leg, and there was nothing on the gym mat for his hands to grab onto. He was
helpless and he knew it. He looked up at his tall, lithe blonde captor with
her fierce beauty, long muscular legs, wide hips, small waist, and wide
shoulders that held up burgeoning breasts, all dressed in a white, skin-tight
dance leotard, and her awesome power and complete control of him strangely
aroused him more than he would have ever thought possible. His manhood began
to grow involuntarily, causing a noticeable bulge in the crotch of his
wrestling singlet. Her eyes alone were enough to hold him still, but she also
had a secure hold on his foot. He knew he was utterly and completely beaten.

"Do with me what you will" he said, dejectedly, unable to turn his gaze away
from her.

"Oh, I will!" She said amusedly. She held his foot securely, and placed her
bare foot against the bulging crotch of his singlet. She pushed down firmly
with her foot and said "Come."

"UUUUGH! UUUUUGH! UGH!" bellowed Johannsen, instantly staining his singlet
with massive spewage that was quickly seeping through the fabric and wetting
the sole of Darya's foot.

"Eww," she said, and pulled her foot back. She cocked it and then
straight-kicked his balls up into his abdomen. Johannsen gasped as his body
jackknifed in agony, his head and torso rising, trying to double over, while
his foot was still held aloft. Darya grabbed his foot with both hands and
violently twisted it inward, stretching the ligaments almost to the point of
tearing. Johannsen yelped like a wounded dog and involuntarily turned his body
away from the pain. Darya rotated him over onto his stomach, still holding the
foot securely. She slowly wiped her foot off on his ass, then bent his leg
behind him and knelt, putting one knee in his back. He began vomiting from the
pain of the hold and the sickeningly vicious groin strike.

"You're fired" she said contemptuously. "When you can get up, go see if Whelan
has a job for you in the Service's stables. Don't ever let me see you again."
She let go of him and walked away. He groaned and curled up into a fetal
position, unmoving, his breathing ragged.

Darya walked over to Rolf, the youngest and cutest of the three. He was on his
back, his right arm useless, the shoulder having been dislocated due to the
hammerlock she'd used to immobilize him. He, too, tried to propel himself with
his feet, across the mat and away from her, but she pounced on him and put his
legs in a grapevine hold, making him do a split. "Aghhh!" he cried, his arm
and now both his legs hurting terribly. "Relax, silly!" she laughed sweetly,
releasing the hold. "I won't hurt you anymore after this." She got up on hands
and knees and gently took hold of his hurting arm. She planted a foot in his
armpit and quickly pulled the arm out straight, continuing to pull until there
was a slight pop as the ball of his humerus slipped back into its socket.

"AAAAIYEEEEE!" he screamed with the sudden, searing sharp pain, but
afterwards, though it still hurt, it was not nearly as bad as before. He
sighed audibly with the relief.

"There, that's better" she said softly. "You'll still need care to help the
ligaments heal, but it shouldn't be too bad. I only tore it as much as I had
to. Just rest there for a minute ... ."

Darya walked over to where The Boxer lay. He was beginning to come around a
bit, moaning and rolling his head from side to side as if trying to come to.
She bent down and yanked his trunks down around his ankles, then knelt beside
him and took his cock in her hand. It was rather disappointing that such an
impressively muscled man would have such a small penis, although that made it
easier to do what she wanted with it. She sucked the entire thing into her
mouth like a fat piece of spaghetti and applied intense suction, like the
penis pumps that impotent men used to make themselves hard, and normal men to
make their organs bigger. He moaned, unsure of what was happening to him, but
as his member was involuntarily inflated it began sending pleasure signals to
his addled brain, which in turn made it grow even more, until it was hard as
wood, if only a stubby branch.

She swirled the head with her tongue while pumping the shaft with her hand;
his moans became louder and more frequent. She soon tasted pre-cum, and
removed the angry little monster from her mouth but kept pumping it by hand,
skillfully aiming his diminutive weapon away from her. In almost no time, he
suddenly cried out as if he'd been stabbed, and his nubby appendage shotgunned
a spray of droplets through the air, pelting his abdomen, chest and face with
gooey spooge. After the initial explosion his flood became a trickle,
dribbling onto her hand. She took wiped the goo across his lips and pushed
some of it into his mouth; the rest she wiped off across his face and into his
hair.

She rose from her prostrate victim and walked back over to Rolf, who had
watched the spectacle while holding his shoulder with his other arm. In spite
of the pain in his shoulder, the sight of the beautiful, powerful Darya
forcibly jacking off the near-giant man she had just conquered, soon had Rolf
involuntarily tenting the pants of his karate gi. She reached down and grabbed
the hem of his pants legs and unceremoniously pulled them off, revealing a
massive member that was now standing hard and tall. Her scullery maid had
always told her that it was the long, lanky ones who were the most
well-endowed. "Your turn" she said matter-of-factly. She peeled off the
leotard to reveal that she was wearing nothing underneath. She looked down at
Rolf and licked her lips as if he was a juicy piece of meat. She laid out the
garment on the floor so its crotch, which was now quite moist, could air-dry.

"N-no, p-please!" whined Rolf, "I have a wife ... ."

"So? I won't tell if you don't." She laughed. "Your mouth says no, but another
part of you says otherwise. Ooh, it's been too long since I've had it last
this ... ." She slowly lowered herself onto his prodigious pole, and inch
after inch of turgid manflesh disappeared inside her. She shuddered with the
wonderful feeling of fullness, coming almost immediately, and she cried out a
bit as she did so. "Ohhh ... " she sighed, as her contractions subsided. Darya
continued to ride him slowly, keeping him hard while she rekindled her own
arousal. "Umm, that's sooo good" she hummed, and soon she began riding him
hard, eliciting strangled moans from Rolf as she rose up and down, plunging
him deep inside her; there were tears in his eyes.

"Oh Lord, what am I DOING?" he wailed ... . But soon his protestations became
simply "Oh! Oh! Oh God! Oh!" over and over, until he was gasping for breath,
about to come or die, or both.

"Yeah! Yeah, baby! Come with me, now!" she exclaimed, as she stared hotly into
his eyes. She threw up one of her hands and rode him even harder and faster,
much like when she had broken wild horses on her aunt's farm. The hand of his
good arm found her breast and tried to hang on as she bucked wildly on top of
him. She tightened her pussy grip on his shaft and wrung an orgasm out of him,
making him come in one long eruption.

"OOOOOOOOOOH!" he moaned as he expended himself and then collapsed under her.
Darya continued to ride him until his rod softened and turned back into a
large worm and slipped out of her. She put a finger inside her and scooped out
a little of his cum combined with her juices, and put it in her mouth.

"Mmm," she breathed. "We taste good together, Rolf! See for yourself." The
tunic part of his gi had fallen open, and she moved up along his bared chest,
smearing it with their fuck mixture as she went. She tried to avoid his
injured shoulder but failed; he cried out in pain just before she settled her
nether lips over his mouth. "Sorry, I need to finish" she said matter of
factly, and began thrusting her hips forward and back, riding his face with
the same intensity she'd just ridden his cock.

"MMPH!" He cried into her. "MMPH! MMPH! MUMPH!" She seemed not to notice his
muffled protestations as she thrusted faster and faster, until finally she
cried out herself, but with joy not pain, and shook with many glorious
contractions. She savored her climax for long moments until it faded,
eventually noticing that Rolf was not moving: he was unconscious, either from
the pain in his shoulder or the sexual smothering he'd received. She felt
sorry for him, but she couldn't feel TOO bad: It was perhaps the most intense
orgasm she'd had in her young life.

As she sighed with release, she was suddenly startled by two male voices
moaning simultaneously. She looked over to see that both Johannsen and The
Boxer had recovered their senses and, upon witnessing Darya raping Rolf, they
were so aroused that each one was wanking off for all he was worth. The sight
and sound of her coming over Rolf's prostrate form had driven them both over
the edge at the same moment, both men's eyes glazing over as the two
simultaneously soiled themselves with copious amounts of jism. When they came
back to awareness and realized that Darya was staring at them, both faces
turned bright red with embarrassment.

She couldn't help but laugh at their shame: The "little" girl had beaten them
silly, and yet they were still so aroused by her that they couldn't control
themselves. She had a power over them that had nothing to do with her being
the Queen, and it made them feel worthless and weak. At this moment Darya
could make them do anything she wanted, and by making them debase themselves
further she could completely break them, but she had no desire to do so. "I've
had enough fun for one day. You boys no longer entertain me. Go clean
yourselves up, and take Rolf with you: perhaps a shower will revive him. When
you finish, leave here and do not return. You are my tutors no more."

Wilhelm and Johannsen struggled to their feet and staggered over to where Rolf
lay. They each grabbed one of his feet and slowly drug him off to the locker
room. Darya felt exhilarated: She worked the heavy bag with devastating
punches and kicks for almost an hour before retiring to her suite to shower,
after which she lay in bed, replaying her victory in her mind. It aroused her,
and she pleasured herself to another climax, then slept peacefully for the
first night in a long while.