Queendom 10: A Night Too Long

Adding to it, was his untameable dick.

Wait! That's it.

Nora, you dim-wit.! Have you forgotten about the malleability of human penis? If it's too hard to stuff down, then soften the bastard.

He isn't untameable. No human penis is.. Nor am I so toothless.

Elanor popped her neck back, forcefully spitting out the cock-head up in the air, as the men cheered on, including Gerome. Only to catch the floppy dick by her mouth, with the nimbleness of a circus animal. And the whole crowd went silent, even Gerome's voice got stuck midway. For it wasn't her lips catching it, but a shiny white pair of teeth. A sadistic grin flashed in her eyes, as Elanor took a pause, letting the situation sink in. She wasn't biting down, but merely holding the pulsing penis along its length, like a playful puppy with its twig, though her teeth was biting in a bit too deep for comfort. Gerome looked down, edging on both extremes. For one, the fear of being bitten was a uniquely masculine phobia, one every man gets blinded to, by the sheer sensory overload from witnessing feminine debasement. On the other hand, for a Rachetty, nothing came close to an aphrodisiac as certain danger.

Stroking his confusion further, the Queen slowly brushed her lips alongside his entire length, back and forth, keeping the pressure constant on her teeth the whole while, feeling his veiny member slither across, like a snail moving past the edge of a blade. This had a weird effect on him. Obviously his body froze, not wanting to move an inch, and risk injury, but his mind kept finding new dimensions of pleasure. He knew the girl wouldn't dare do something stupid, but then again.. It was a girl, and what did he know. His balls churned in excitement, but his dick went a little limp. Not it length, but in that untameable absolute rigidity, that the Queen was having a hard time with.

There, there.. Good boy.!

Wasting no time, Elanor drove it right in, as the pliable piss-pole had no trouble now bending to the arc of her stretched throat. The progress was striking, with nearly two-third of it finding its way in. But not so soon.. Elanor took right out, stopping by the crown, biting in softly in place, as her gaze locked with his.

Control your erection, and I may be able to swallow in full.

She bit on softly, carefully, as his sensitive bulb-head scrapped along her slimy teeth, and finally slipped out. Gerome have out a long manly moan, as she charged in for the second throating. This time, pushing in the semi-hard dick way more down her tonsils than before. A couple of thrusts, with a more focused thoracic-clenching, and his erection was back to its former hardness. Unfortunately a few inches of the base still remained unsucked. And Elanor sadly realized her true limits, as sweat beads popped up all over her forehead.

But it was going so well..

Her flaring nostrils picked up the scent of meat-soup, which meant the dwarf was back, probably with a steaming fresh fill to share. God, the way this one dick made me sweat. I could use another bowl.. Her pleading eyes locked on to his, as if saying.

The genie isn't going in the lamp. This is my limit. So..

Now would be the time for your magic.

He smiled down on her, as if reading her thoughts, and said.

"Ready for magic, sweet-cheeks?!"

Without waiting for a reply, he whistled at the naughty dwarf. With a grin he scuttled around, swaying his hot soup-kettle, and the queen felt her flesh burn, by the left rear cheek. Just a touch was all it took, for her haunches to launch forward, screeching at the top of lungs reflexively, and the final few inches slid in all too easy. As his fingers interlocked behind her skull, she realized the trap, all too late. It all happened so quick, that her body reacted quite viscerally.

As her spine convulsed, in an effort to break free and regain control, she belched up some of the soup. Which was a surprise Gerome couldn't have foreseen. Feeling the hot breath, and spicy slime drooled around his base, her tongue involuntarily slathering across the clenching ball-sack, getting him one step closer to coming.

No, no! He rebelled. The best part is choking them to passing out, and I'm not going to deny her the bliss of unconscious. Nor me, the pleasure of subjection. Must hold off longer, for it's not enough to get her mascara running. I want to feel her snot run down, along the slime, as her throat coughs up, those unholy thoracic vibrations thrumming against my sensitive meat pole.

I want to feel her body convulse, her diaphragm constrict, squeezing out the very last of her exhale. Leaving her at the brink of desperation, breathless.

No, I shan't cum, until I have had her throat molded to my liking. You dare taunt me with teeth. Now I want your neck, stretched to my length and girth, your jaw hanging loose, exhausted. You can flail around all day, but I cum when I want to. For I am the master of my magnificent dick.

His suffocating hold was getting to Elanor, As she found it hard to keep her hands clasped behind, the breeding-etiquette Ishikawa had taught her so well. The men cheered as Gerome held her in place, with little effort.

You ain't the first wench to try and tame my man-hood, and you'll stay a failure in my memory, right alongside those sluts. Rachetties ain't just gifted with endowment, we are known to last, really really long. I can do it. I'm this close, and so is the slut, to exhaustion. Evidenced by her loud throaty breaths, those feline roars, the feeble squeals of a hurt pride. There, yes.. yes.. Goddammit..!

NOOO...!!

Elanor felt as if the insides of her wind-pipe got hit with a tidal wave. It was the much awaited eruption of Gerome, hitting the walls in full force, and dripping down the pipe. Aww.. I never even got to taste him properly. Gerome didn't understand what pushed him over. That sudden warm shock on both his balls, over-riding all his control over ejaculation. Shins growing cold, and knees giving out, the very first time for him, as his greater weight nearly collapsed. Fingers digging painfully deep into the girl's hair for leverage, his left foot stepped back, a wider stance for balance.

The Queen's instant elation in beating Gerome, in his own game, was short-lived as she felt her head get yanked alongside his collapsing posture, thanks to his iron-clad grip. It was a testament to his physical agility, sexual stamina, and overall presence of mind, how gracefully he managed the fall. Pulling the kneeling princess alongside, to everyone's surprise. Like his personal fuck-hole, his shaft pumping load after load, from a whole week of abstinence, directly down her throat.

As the Queen braced herself, for her body to impact the rough cold floor, the men surrounding thankfully jumped in at the last moment, catching her body before touchdown. Her breasts however ended up bouncing on the cold floor, reminding her how obscenely her body had developed, particularly in its fat deposits.

The men laid her body to rest, and she felt a sudden relief, from all her weight being taken off of her tired knees. As her body stayed limp, Gerome remained frozen, his grip tighter than ever, as his cock continued to dribble out his remaining stock, in short thick recurring spurts. He didn't feel the need to assert himself, as he usually concluded, bucking his pelvis deeper and deeper down the broken harlot. He was too busy soothing himself with the pleasure coursing through the entire system, all courtesy to this one unrelenting bitch.

He felt in unnecessary to move his muscle an inch, when her mere warmth sufficed for all needs. His involuntary kegel contractions continued however, draining off the last of his seeds. And Elanor had learned enough by know, to know her duty didn't end with the man spurting his load. That her tongue must cajole and comfort his member, even as he shrinks down. Men appreciates the little things as such, though they are too log-headed to admit it. He hadn't cum this much in a long while, not to mention, a post-ejaculate bliss so serene, that it reminded of his very first time. Slowly pulling out his saliva-coated semi-hard prick, her loose lips continued clinging on to its skin. It was an obscene pout, with her eyes half-closed, only the whites visible, as if all the cum had clouded her vision. Elanor felt her cranial pressure recede, as he let go of her hair.

"Oh BOY!", he said.

"Oh boy! That was one of the best whores I've.. No, this is the best throat in the whole of Wolkenshire. Truly worthy of the throne, as they say."

As her soul smiled at the high praise, the Queen had to remind herself to breath finally, now that her wind-pipe was unobstructed. She felt a strange sense of pride, not just in the results of all the irritating breath-play, at the hands of that demented clergyman, but also at her own technique, and strategy.

Strategy, that no one saw. Or so she thought.

"Gerome, you simpleton! The bitch cheated. She forced your balls."

Maxim shouted in hilarity, as the others laughed on, nodding in agreement.

"Max, it's not cheating. Just good technique. Try her yourself, and you'll see."

"No Gerome, she used her hands.."

Elanor didn't understand why she felt very guilty all of a sudden, as if his genuine appreciation meant something to her. Or like there was some sort of implicit code of conduct, to being an oral-whore. Nora, stop calling yourself a whore, will yaa.??

"What do you mean?" Gerome asked, looking around, suddenly remembering the warm jolt that had pushed him over the edge. As her eyes played dumb, Max explained to his brother, in not so many words as gestures, what had actually happened. At how she went against the grain, in terms of expected behavior from throated whores. At how, instead of cupping his hips or bare ass cheeks, holding onto for dear life.. Instead of flailing around her hands aimlessly, how she slowly crept up her grip towards his ball-sack. And without overdoing, how she managed to push him over at a well-timed touch. A single simple finger-flick.

Gerome looked down, judgingly. As he peered into her, Elanor didn't know what came over. Without a care, she scooped up the semen dripping alongside her breast, with her two right fingers, and nibbled the cum off, like it was some candy. Tucking both digits under her upper-lip, she flicked the lip making a 'pop' sound, mimicking what she had done to his balls earlier, with the irreverence of a rebellious teen.

Her eyes unruly, asking. Yeah. What are you going to do about it?

She expected his glare, even craved for him to let loose at the mockery, not knowing why it excited her so much. This part of hers, turning less and less recognizable by the day. Her motives, her desires. Gerome simply smiled back, his body and soul, still relishing in the bliss of his finest sexual experience. He pushed away Max, saying.

"It's no cheating, dear. It's technique. And a reminder, maybe. To up my game. Till next time, ...?"

He wants my name.?!

"Demura..!"

She sounded proud. Moreover, her voice had a strange sense of ownership, like it was her actual name.

"Demura.. I'll remember it. Till next time, Demura. No holds barred." With that unwavering satiated smile, he vanished into the crowds, as more strange faces joined in.

"That's just some bull!" Fred scoffed at their strangely sweet moment.

As the Queen laid there panting, recovering quick from the grips of pleasure and fatigue, she felt as if snails were crawling along her skin. Looking up she saw about a dozen grins, lecherous leers waiting for her attention, a few of them massaging her muscles with their toes, like some eastern medicinal ritual. More than lust, its the variation in pressure, and the unpredictability of the massage pattern, that resulted in the odd soothing sensation. She would be tickled if not for those rough, calloused toes.

However, Elanor suddenly realized, the quicker she got back up the better. More and more were coming in, to simply watch, if not take part. And she didn't want to hint them at the erotic lure in stepping on the opposite sex. Is that even a fetish? An actual foot-massage? To be trampled, crushed to orgasm?! She wondered. As sore as her throat got, she'd rather feed the devil she knew, than the one beyond. Or be fed, to be precise.

As soon as she got back up, she noticed Fred was sitting on his haunches, right next. His eyes roaming over her state, truly impressed, though not enough lustful to jump in and take his share. He had plans, she saw. A bowl of dye on his left hand, and his darkened right index finger, as if freshly dipped in the dye.

"It's sad we can't brand you, Queenie. But there are lot of ways to mark a slut.! How many so far, Billet?"

"SEVENTEEN! Including Gerome.."

Billet shouted out from the other side.

What?! What is that? Oh Bella, it better wash-off quick. Elanor watched bewildered, as he drew on her skin, right below the left clavicle, four parallel lines.

IIII

The dark dye matched her thigh-high boots in providing contrast to her bare fair skin. He glimpsed her unsure eyes with a smug smile, as his finger smudged the lines across, completing the tally. Then went onto draw two more tallies underneath, before staring a new set above her clean right breast.

II

"There it is, seventeen dicks.. Wow slut! So much, in such a short time. Well, you better hurry. The word is getting around, and soon the slacking guards, and even kitchen staff would be joining. I better leave enough space, it's not like you got massive jugs to accommodate my whole penmanship.. Hehe.."

As soon as Fred stepped back, four others inched in. As her soft fingers stroked the two poking from behind, like second nature, her eyes danced between the near identical erections bobbing before. Both were average, one slightly longer, yet both equally enthusiastic. Which shall pass first? Dilemma of a Fellatrix, I guess.. But I'm a Just-Queen, aren't I..?!

"Together, gents?!"

She asked looking up, as her digits slid past the corner of her lips, pulling out wide from both ends. Her mouth open as wide as possible, her eyes unusually enthusiastic to meet the challenge. Well, it came in handy, dear Gerome stretching my jaws real good, eh..?

Is she serious? The taller guy looked at the other.

"Where do they find them sluts?! Lets give it then, huh? It's not like her lip could get any looser.."

It wasn't nearly the trouble she feared, as both dicks were average, and lacking in girth, and her right hand went back to stroking the third hard-on, while the left simply played with the balls of the other one. Quickly they got into the rhythm, with the five of them moving as a unit, even the royal pelvis bobbing to the beat. It surprised her that in no time the duo in her mouth figured a system, of pumping alternatively, such that both got to enjoy the warmth of the throat.

Elanor didn't even realize she had slipped into a curious mode, now experimenting with her limits of simultaneous partners. A part of her was truly enjoying the challenges in keeping the tongue twisted, lodged between the two peckers, massaging both at the same time, the enjoyment of it was evident by how quickly her mouth kept watering, foaming and bubbling up between the alternating dick-pumps.

She couldn't tell if it was as enjoyable in practice to the both gents, as it was in theory, but neither showed any signs of dissatisfaction. At least the novelty of it was enough to make them both continue. The other two watching it all from the back, with their erections being coddled at the royal hands, stood silent, mesmerized by the erotic experimentation. There was no doubt, that they'd want to try the same. Which was a matter of concern to the Queen, because the one on the right had an eight-incher, a real thick one. She chose to stroke instead of teasing his balls. Out the corner of her eyes she noticed, her audience was growing. Let's give a proper show them.

Elanor let out a much practiced moan, the hot exhale of which rushed through the gap between peckers stuffed in her mouth, with shrills of pleasure running down the men's spine.

That's right. The Queen just gave a loud fake moan, like a well-versed whore.

"Aaaaaaahhhgghhh...!!"

Two separate ropes of sperm shot from both sides, catching her off guard. Not the ones in her mouth, but the ones she had just begun stroking. That quick a load.?. Am I really that good.?!

Suddenly she was aware of strange giggles and whispers, unlike what one would expect from the commoners. Moving on to the next pair, Elanor scanned the scene. The noises were coming from the balcony. Some of the bored Lords and their companions had gathered up there, looking at the rare sight, even for the Order of Swords. An actual decoy queen slutting out to a common crowd.

The performer in her felt compelled, to up the game. The last thing she wished for was a disappointed audience. She could clear the laughs, and disparaging remarks, clearly from the other 'queens', mocking her fate as they pleased their Lords. They are probably concerned for themselves, Elanor thought. If I up my game, that won't reflect well on their performance. Expectations will rise. May be more of them will be asked to join the common crowd, if I become such a hit. Elanor also felt a surreal sense of judgement. As if all her predecessors were mocking her present state. The great Queens of the old, looking down from the heavens, as she reduced herself to a carnal plaything in muddy murk of sin.

No, don't let your focus stray. She remembered Ishikawa's words again.

"What you must keep in mind about blow-bangs is, there are two kind of crowds. The kind that revels in gang-bangs, and the kind that never gets laid. You must use the crowd against themselves, if you are to survive through. Do not deep-throat every simpleton with a dick. You don't want that throat too sore when the big ones reach."

"Do me, do me!" Shouted a man who made his way to the front with great difficulty.

"Haha, look at that! How cute!" Elanor said mockingly, with an unmistakable smugness. The others laughed and taunted, as she poked his semi hard member with the tip of her pinky, while continuing to stroke two decent peckers on either fist. The poor man felt horrible, as Elanor sniggered, winking at the men.

Honestly, it wasn't that small. Maybe half an inch short of what she remembered Bard's to be. Not that she ever were the sort, to compare and contrast. But something in her felt pleasure, even at the pointless humiliation of an insignificant soul. A part of her from long before, that bratty shadow she thought to have outgrown. She said, loud enough for all to hear.

"Sorry little fella, I suck cocks. I'd even clean uncut dicks. But that's a willy, and I don't engage with little fellas like you."

It was her look that did the most damage. That kind that puts every man on edge. Her lips smiled, as her eyes judged. Seeing through to your worthlessness. The man visibly squirmed, but he quickly yelled back.

"What? Bitch I have three daughters your age!"

"Really? You sure about that big boy.. Maybe you got lucky with once, but even I can tell, not all of three came from that worm you keep swinging.."

The man grew pale as his friends snickered. The Queen didn't know that it happened to be true. That his younger ones clearly were a better breed. His whole village knew it, though most chose to not rub it on his face. His shout sounded like a desperate cry.

"Shut up and suck it, bitch!!"

The Queen knew at some level she shouldn't say these things. But it felt good, talking down. She never got to talk down. Sure she commanded, and delegated, all the time spend in court. But talking down so crassly wasn't a part of Queenly conduct. She never got to do that. And after an evening of men looking down, talking down to her, this was a strange welcoming contrast. May be I do have a sadistic streak.