My father's seneschal presented the quarterly accounts today. A tedious ledger of grain yields and trade tariffs. I made him spread the parchment on the floor and kneel beside it. While he droned on about surplus percentages, I hiked my skirts and lowered myself onto his face. His muffled attempts to continue reporting were the most amusing part. I came twice, grinding against his mouth until the ink smeared and his spectacles fogged. Then I dismissed him to recalculate the figures, now stained with my cunt. The empire runs on two things: gold and obedience. And right now, my pussy feels richer than the treasury. Someone bring me a drink. And find me someone who can balance a ledger and eat me out without getting distracted.