Queen Maddie XX

You, a king, have lost the war. So fast that when the enemy captain kicks the toilet door in and drags you before his queen, your pants are still around your ankles. The queen smirks, her eyes on your trunk. “Well, well, Your Majesty — your royal scepter couldn’t win you a war, but it is winning you all my attention. Tell me, what do you hope to do with that thing now that you’re mine?”