“Patience, Knave. I will get there in my own time and fashion.”
Mystified, he let it be. He would surely find out soon enough. He got up and worked out the carrot.
“What, no questions?” she asked.
He set the spent carrot aside. “I figure you’ll explain when you are ready to.”
She considered. “I like you, Jack. So let’s do it now.”
“You can’t mean sex. I couldn’t possibly—”
She held a flower to his face. “Smell this.”
He sniffed. The fumes instantly intoxicated him, transported him, empowered him, and in moments he found himself addressing her as she bent forward over a bench, only this time it was not her vagina into which he thrust. She had directed him to the other aperture and taken him eagerly in. And as he pumped, he felt her throbbing with her own orgasm, longer and stronger than his. It was like plunging into a waterfall, the surrounding turbulence swirling him into further effort.
They wound up on the turf, she prone, he lying on top of her, still embedded. “Oh, that was marvelous,” she gasped.
So that was her secret. She liked to climax anally. Well, he could hardly argue with that, considering how she had obliged him either way. He had discovered that both apertures had their sexual uses, along with the mouth.
They disengaged, got up, and showered together under an outdoor spray. Then he remembered what he had overlooked in the throes of his flower-stimulated passion. “The—in you, in me—we didn’t do it!”
“Are you sure?” she inquired, glancing at his groin.
Then he became aware of his tail. He reached down, grasped it, and slowly pulled out a fine black radish. He had been more zonked out that he had realized at the time.
As they resumed gardening, he inquired cautiously. “You—you don’t get your orgasm from normal sex?”
“Any mutually satisfying penetration is normal sex,” she said.
Oh. “Of course,” he agreed quickly.
“But it is true. I have nerves in my ass I lack in my cunt. The King understands. So does my Knave.”
“And so do I, now,” he agreed, taken aback by her particular words. He had somehow supposed that a Queen would not even know such terms. “I was just curious.”
“And you deserve honest answers,” she agreed. “It is all part of the process.”
The process of preparing him for the Queen of Hearts? “She—she likes it that way?”
“Not exactly.” And that was all she would say, to his dismay. What was there about the Queen of Hearts?
As the day declined, they cleaned up, dressed, and had a nice buffet dinner on a corner patio. This garden greenhouse seemed to be most of her world, and she was quite satisfied in it. “The only thing I really miss is the sex,” she confessed. “When the King is away on business. This time he took the Knave with him. After a while a diet of vegetables gets dull.” She glanced down at her crotch, so that he knew she meant sex and not food.
As night came, they settled down together on a bed of pungent moss. “Are you ready?” she inquired.
He remained depleted from the savage double session of the afternoon. “I’m not sure.”
“I proffer a trade: do me my way, and you can have all of these you want.” She stroked her own breasts.
He was tempted. So far he had had a lot of sex, but mostly of the genital variety. She had really nice breasts and he wanted to get closer to them, for a change of pace. Still, he was cautious. “I’d like to—to have them longer than the few minutes it takes me to climax.”
“No problem. Drink this.” She handed him a thimble sized cup of elixir, surely another aphrodisiac.
He shrugged and drank it. His penis stiffened, but did not seem ready to ejaculate. Maybe that aspect took longer.
The Queen produced a twisted vegetable and ran it into her vagina, then into his colon. It heated his gut pleasantly. “What is this?”
“Black-hot pepper,” she replied. “It will give you mild pleasure as long as you keep it in, to match the endurance the elixir provides. Now get in me, and reach around for my breasts.” She turned her back to him.
He did so, and discovered that while his member was metal-hard, stimulation was only mild. When he thrust, slowly, there was a surge of pleasure, but again mild. He could do this for a long time before reaching orgasm.
He held her breasts, squeezing them, running his fingers over the nipples, while his hard member massaged her colon. It was very nice. Soon he started kissing the back of her neck.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” she breathed, her breasts filling his hands pleasantly as she did so. Thus encouraged, he continued.
Her body reacted. Her sphincter squeezed on him, relaxed, and squeezed again, while her breathing quickened. Her bottom started pushing against his groin. She was working into her orgasm. This was interesting, now that he was clear-headed and aware of the details.
He thrust harder, liking the way it made her respond. She drew a little away from him, then pushed back firmly, so that his penis emerged part way then plunged deeper. His own pleasure increased.
Then her climax came. She gasped as her anus clenched powerfully on him when it pushed to the limit, taking him in as deeply as possible. This triggered his own orgasm, and he thrust as hard as he could, feeling the fluid surging through, the spurting like a geyser into a sealed cave, distending it. He knew his ejaculate amounted to only about a teaspoonful, but it felt like gallons.
“Beautiful!” she breathed.
“But now it’s over,” he said with regret.
“No it isn’t. Stay put.”
He discovered it was true. He had climaxed with her, but his member remained ramrod stiff and his colon still experienced warm radiation. Endurance and pleasure: the herbs had not finished.
He remained in her, resuming gentle thrusting. She moaned with continuing joy. They were starting over. He stroked and squeezed her breasts, delighting in their firm softness.
In time they worked up to a second mutual climax. “Oh, you are sheer delight!” she exclaimed, this time managing multiple orgasms as she braced against his continuing hardness.
That made him proud, though he knew it was really the herbs rather than any genuine prowess on his part.
“No it’s not,” she said, answering his thought. “The herbs do provide the means, but they have to have a willing partner. Not every man will allow a hot pepper up his ass, or stay lodged in a woman for hours. You are a dream come true. I envy Hearts.”
“Thanks,” he said, flattered. But he was tired and sleepy, and before the third climax he drifted off.
He woke at one point to discover himself still deep in her, still clasping her breasts. She was having another series of orgasms, evidently thrilled with the opportunity, but he fell back to sleep before he could join her. His member was on auto-pilot, and functioned with or without him. Or maybe it was having normal nocturnal erections, and these were setting her off. Regardless, he was glad to be of service, pun intended.
But in the morning he was alone in a bed in a room by himself. His penis was soft, and the pepper was gone from his colon. Spades might have loved his long caress, but she had not forgotten to pass him along to the next on schedule. He was almost disappointed.
He realized belatedly that the room was heart-shaped. That figured.
He got up and found the bathroom, determined not to get caught full again. He relieved himself, washed up, then searched for clothing, but there was none. That was of course no accident. He returned to the bedroom.
A nude red haired woman was on the bed, ravishingly lovely. That face, those breasts, those buttocks—she was the fairest of the fair. He recognized her. The Queen of Hearts.
“Join me, Jack,” she said. “We must talk.”
“Yes,” he agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed. The three other Queens had been outstandingly aesthetic, but Hearts put them all to shame. “I answered an ad.”
“You did indeed. You are
by far the most promising of the candidates, if you care to qualify. The other Queens speak very well of you.”
“That’s nice. But they said that for some reason I might not want to be with you. I don’t understand that. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and a Queen, while I’m just a homely nothing.”
She did not argue. “This is what we must discuss. Your face and rank do not matter. Your tolerance does. First I must tell you that I love the King, and want desperately to please him. But there is a problem.”
“A problem,” he agreed. Was she about to clarify the mystery of his summoning? If she loved the King, why would she mess with a Knave?
“I love sex, and crave a lot of it, but only with him,” she continued. “But he is largely impotent.”
She had a problem, all right. “I can’t help you there.”
“Ah, but you can, Jack. The King can be potent only in a very special situation. He needs to be with a man.”
“He’s gay!” Jack exclaimed.
“By no means,” she said severely. “We do not speak that word here.”
He had somehow blundered. “I apologize. I misunderstood.”
“Not entirely. You referred to men having sex with each other. Men who prefer to love men. That is not the case here. The King loves no man. He loves me. He merely is unable to be potent with me alone.”
Now he really did not understand. “He needs—a man to watch him?” He was sure that wasn’t it.
“He needs a sex toy to facilitate sex with me.”
Oh. “Then why not just use it? The other Queens use sex toys freely. In fact they even sometimes refer to me as a sex toy.”
“Exactly. A heterosexual toy. That’s the only kind that will do.”
“You need to put something in you, then in me? I can do that.”
“That is precisely what I need. I am glad you understand.”
“Okay,” he said uncertainly. “But I don’t quite see how this relates to the ad for a Knave.”
“It’s a special ad, crafted to appeal to a certain type of man. The ideal Knave.”
“A Knave,” he repeated. “But I still don’t see—”
“The proper Knave knows his place.”
“Uh, not to presume? Not to talk about things?”
“That too,” she agreed. “But there is a more literal place.”
He was thoroughly baffled. “A physical place? Where?”
“Come to me,” she said.
He got on the bed beside her. His member was rampant, but that no longer embarrassed him, after his experience with the other Queens.
“Mount me.” She lay on her back, legs parted.
Could it really be that simple? He straddled her, his penis stiff against her belly.
“Kiss me.”
He was glad to. He kissed her marvelous lips, and she kissed him back exactly as if she meant it. Her hands felt for his member, and placed it at her divine juncture, not yet entering. She brushed her fingers through her cleft, wetting them, and rubbed the moisture on his penis and on beyond it, smearing his rectum.
Then he remembered. “But you haven’t put something in you, then in me.”
“Then King’s royal member has been in me, though limp. It needs the sex toy to be firm.”
“Uh, yes, I guess,” he agreed.
“Now it begins,” she said. She wrapped her arms and legs about him, clasping him close, kissing him avidly. He couldn’t move, but didn’t want to. What a phenomenal creature!
Then he became aware of something behind him. It felt like a large man. He knew immediately that it was the King, who had caught them at it. He struggled to get up, but she held him with a vice-like strength, still kissing him. He couldn’t get away.
The King’s huge penis probed his rectum, knowing exactly where to go. He was trying to enter! Jack struggled again, but that only made his anus flex a little, facilitating the King’s urgency. That member felt the exact same size as Diamond’s diamond dildo. As Spade’s tumescent turnip.
Suddenly he caught on completely. The Queens had been measuring him for this! He was truly the sex toy!
The Queen still held him tightly in place. He was their dildo, entering and being entered. The King’s insistent member navigated his slippery rectum, forced wide his sphincter, and rammed victoriously on into his colon. The shove caused Jack’s stiff penis to plunge into the Queen’s vagina. He was having sex with her while the King was having sex with him.
Then they were in the full throes of it. The King’s member jammed against Jack’s prostate, causing it to respond by pumping out semen. Jack thrust hard into the Queen, echoing the King’s thrust into him. He felt the King’s jet of semen as his own pulsed into the Queen. It was as if the King were doing it to the Queen, only with something between. The live sex toy.
Now the Queen climaxed too. Her vagina squeezed his penis with the rhythm of her orgasm. Her lips parted and her tongue darted into his mouth to meet his own tongue. She moaned ecstatically, writhing so that her breasts stroked his chest.
They finished together, all three of them gasping. The Queen relaxed, letting her arms and legs fall back to the bed. Jack half collapsed on her, still much aware of her breasts beneath him. The King drew out his long, bulbous member, and suddenly he was gone. Jack had never even seen him.
He rolled off the Queen, his softening penis falling out. He lay beside her. “May I?” he asked, looking at her breasts and bottom. For they still appealed strongly to him. He had not thought of himself as a parts man, but he had never seen breasts or buttocks like these. He wanted something to remember this encounter by. Something to distract him from awareness of what had just happened to him.
“Welcome,” she said. She took hold of his head and brought it to her bosom, directing a nipple to his mouth. He sucked on it, delighted, as his hands took firm hold of her butt and his fingers slid into her hot cleft.
“Now you know,” she murmured.
“I do,” he agreed around her nipple.
“You are perfect, Jack. Will you stay?”
He was the Knave, a sex toy to enable the King to have sex with the Queen in his own special fashion. By penetrating a heterosexual man, so there could be no misunderstanding about homosexuality. No foolishness about same-sex love. That was their compromise.
“Where will I sleep?” he asked. It was a more relevant question than perhaps she realized.
“Here with me, in my bed, of course. Now that you have been blooded. In my embrace, if you wish. I’d like that. You may have anything you want of me, except—”
“Except sex,” he finished.
“Only with the King. In a manner. Penal penetration alone is reserved for his participation.”
“I can do this?” he asked, kissing her nipple.
“Yes.”
“Or this?” He kissed her mouth.
“Yes.”
“This?” He slid down to put his face at her cleft, tonguing her clitoris.
“Yes.”
“This?” He slid a slick finger into her anus.
“Yes. I like it all, and will do it to you too. I will be your object. Your sex toy. But I can’t climax without the King. I can’t derive passion, though I will fake it for you if you wish. You understand.”
He did, now. It seemed like a good deal. Obviously he would live like royalty, as the Royal Knave. With almost free access to the most desirable woman he could imagine. That would be sheer heaven.
Except for the King. That penetration—
Then he realized something that astonished him. He had liked it when the other Queens did it with their toys. The toys had enhanced his performance. And he liked it when the King had done the same. Like the Queen of Spades, Jack had nerves there. He might not care to admit it, any more than the King admitted to any gay desire, but it was something he would like to do again. To have his prostate massaged and bathed by hot juice while he jetted into the Queen. There was nothing else like that.
&n
bsp; The other prospective Knaves evidently had reacted with aversion or horror to the denouement and quickly departed. That was why the position was open. Why the other Queens had been so circumspect about that particular detail, while carefully preparing him for it. But he didn’t have to go. This could be a very nice situation for the right man. He was that man.
The Queen fathomed his decision as he made it. “Oh, Jack!” she cried, gladly kissing him.
Yes, a very nice situation.
Note: In my www.HiPiers.com Web Site I maintain on ongoing survey of electronic publishers and related services, for the benefit of aspiring writers who are looking for markets. I run anonymous feedback on the publishers, because some do go wrong, but will retaliate against any writer who tells. I was blacklisted for six years when I protested getting cheated by a traditional publisher in 1969, so I know about retaliation. The cheating publisher was praised by the media while the wronged writer was condemned. There is no guarantee of justice in this business. Now I have an ornery attitude and the will to help others who get caught in a similar situation. So there can be fireworks on occasion, but publishers have learned that I now have the means to fight back, and I do. One of the publishers I had contact with was Cobblestone, when I had a negative report, but it turned out that the complaint was about their strict editing, which I concluded was good editing, and that it was a good publisher. They asked me for a provocative story, and I wrote “Knave,” which they published in 2008. Sales have been small but steady. So that’s how this particular story came about.
Caution: this is a quartet of little stories centered on a thirteen-year-old girl who does a controversial thing.
10. Juliet Quartet
Juliet
It was a bad day. At lunch in the school cafeteria a damned juvenile boy had “accidentally” spilled milk down her front. Not a lot; just enough to soak her bra. He and his idiotic friends thought it was hilarious, claiming it might make her “boobies” grow, but she was hardly amused. She retreated hastily to the girl’s room and rinsed the bra out, but it remained too wet to wear, so she wadded it up in a damp ball and stuffed it in her plastic lunch bag. She managed to make it through the afternoon classes bra-less. Fortunately (?) she was as yet not well endowed, so did not attract attention.