Queen Elizabeth Goes Bughouse on Beacon Hill

Queen Elizabeth Goes Bughouse on Beacon

Hill

 

Cover for 4A final

Find below an excerpt from “Queen Elizabeth Goes Bughouse on Beacon Hill”

 

SET UP

Ajay and Paris are in a bubble bath soothing their bruises after masochistically rolling down the main stair case.  Paris wants Ajay to give her more pain with her pleasure while they screw in the tub.  The following excerpt is a small part of what occurs.

Paris roared in her little voice, a sound that could only come from a fairy rutting with a Minotaur. Her second orgasm, following thirty seconds after the last, eclipsed the former with such back breaking authority that she was sure she was getting buggered by a crew of horny space aliens. Her arrow straight legs slammed down on the edge of the tub; her head cracked into the tub behind her.

Close to blacking out from the intensity of it, her torso rose in a twitchy shuddering arch, held up by the tripod made by her legs and neck. She rose further, her arch becoming extreme as her crystalline girly juices shot unheeding from the mouth of her vagina. Her shudders intensified as she reached the top of the arch, the destructive orgasm terminally slashing her insides like a jungle explorer wielding a sharp machete. If the first orgasm was like getting run over by Sherman tanks, the second one was like getting run over by the factory that made them. Then, as suddenly as she rose, her body went limp and she splashed down lifeless into the froth below.

Ajay lay back against his end of the tub, his face and shoulders dripping with her sudden ejaculation. He smirked with satisfaction. That’ll teach her, he thought. He looked at her face, eyes closed, as red as a beet, beaming in climactic overload, cherishing every nuance of pain and pleasure that was still coming at her in a fast and furious procession. Ajay shook his head mournfully. Teach her? Ha! Well, maybe not.

Paris was still living the ordeal…and re-living it. Identifying and separating one pain and pleasure from another. Whoa! What was that all about? What just happened? Her clitoris continued to throb so exceptionally, so completely, both in intense pleasure as well as an even more intense pain. My god! She wondered if she could get Ajay to do it to her again. Hesitantly she reached down between her legs. Gently brushing her battered clit, she hissed, wallowing in the finest agony she had in a long time. She winced as she brushed it further. Then she stopped. It was way better when Ajay did it. Taking a few more shuddering breaths, she opened her eyes and looked at her benefactor with new-found respect.

“That was unbelievable, Ajay,” she murmured respectfully. “How in the world did you learn how to do that? What did you do to me and, more importantly, how did you do that.” She shook her head, fucking amazed at this teen lounging in the water in front of her. Per Rebecca he was a virgin on that plane they were on last Monday. And she was the first to blow him. In six short days he had built enough sexual mastery to do this to her??? Jezzus.

“Ah, my child of the thrown stone, who’s favorite colors are black and blue,” Ajay intoned, “you must consult with Saraswati, the Hindu Goddess of wisdom and learning. Learn her ways and enlightenment…”

“Can’t you find me a shortcut?” Paris interrupted. “You still haven’t cum,” she suggested meaningfully. “If I bless you with an orgasm as good as the pair you gave me, will you show me how to do it?”

“Well, well, well,” Ajay said slowly. He sure could use another cum just about now. In fact, the way he felt? It would be even better if she made him cum twice. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Make her get me of with the same thunder as I just did to her. And then we’ll see.

“I think that could be arranged,” Ajay bargained. “However if you hurt me or play a trick on me, I’ll show you nothing whatsoever.” He draped his legs back over the sides of the tub and raised his hips out of the water. With the water’s heat and particularly the nasty joke she pulled on him, his prick was once again lying flaccidly over his balls, balls that were uncomfortably filled with desperate sperm thanks to her earlier but unfinished cock sucking prowess.

“This I will pledge to you, Mistress of Bald, Knobby Headed Women,” Ajay lilted seductively. “I have a great need to cum twice. Complete what you had started earlier minus the hand up my ass.”

“Can I use fingers, then?” Paris bargained.

‘Yes. Fingers only. I enjoyed your fist but too much of a good thing…”

“But what you really want is more of,” she stuck out her tongue and wiggled her pearl stud at him, “is this.”

“I believe you have found my weakness, Mistress of Road-Rashes and Rug Burns,” Ajay grinned. They both watched his cock as it took on a life of its own, visibly lifting off of his balls and them sliding toward the left. It kept rising on its own accord until his eager one-eyed snorkle stopped to stare her right in the eye. It was daring her to make it cum.

“Then, once I shoot, I want you to keep sucking it,” Ajay fantasized. “Keep it hard. It’ll be sensitive so I do not, I repeat, do not want you to hurt it.”

“Aw!” Paris stuck out her lower lip stubbornly. “Not even a little bit? I’ll make that good for you, too.”

“Well…” Ajay could well appreciate the power of strategically placed pain. He capitulated. “OK. Just a little bit.  But don’t let it wilt. Keep it good and hard and make it needy again. Then I’m gonna fuck the bejezzus out of you right here in this tub.”

Paris felt Ajay might be open to a little more bargaining. “If I do all that for you and let you fuck me too, then I want you to do something for me.”

“And what might that be, Sugar Plum Fairy of Cranial Contusions.”

“Exactly!”

“Huh?”

Paris explained. “As I have my head between your legs giving you head so fine that you will feel more entitled than a god on Mt. Olympus, I want you to, um, stroke my bald head,” she smirked as he frowned, “and play with my bumps.”

“Play with your bumps?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “You know, thump them with your finger. Dig into them with your knuckles. Press into them with your thumbs. Play with them.”

“While you’re sucking me off.”

“That’s right,” Paris confirmed. “While I’m giving you the most radical head you ever had you can keep me on track by playing with mine.” She watched him hesitate, but she knew how to get the right answer out of him. She said, sharply, loudly and forcefully: “OK?”

“OK.” Ajay said reflexively.

“Perfect! It’s settled then.” Paris smirked. Boys were so easy to manipulate. She slipped between Ajay’s legs, peeled the foreskin off his tender cock head and popped it into her mouth. Almost immediately he began to groan in pleasure. She watched him from under her eyelashes. With no further need for conversation, he leaned back fully against the back of the tub, draped his arms over the sides, and let his head loll back as the waves of intense pleasure reverberated through his body. She sucked hard, figuring, and rightly so, that he did not need much more teasing. Within seconds he was as hard as he had ever been.

As her fist grabbed his shaft just under his cock head, she attacked that purple crown with lips and tongue. Paris’s tongue flew; it created a pleasurable havoc wherever it landed. Dropping her fist lower, she popped more of the crown in her mouth and squirreled her piercing into his frenulum’s cleft. Up and down that pearlized marble flew, digging in deep, stimulating him in a way that only a man could appreciate. Ajay groaned again, a happy groan, a passion-rich groan, a groan that spoke volumes, confirming to her that she was doing everything right. Her hands cupped his low hangers. She pulled on them as a pair, then one at a time. Precum began to leak into her hotly sucking mouth as she scratched their sensitive underside. Ajay groaned deeply, now completely taken in by her climax inducing handiwork.

Paris released Ajay’s cock from her mouth with a loud pop. “Well?” she asked.

Ajay did not answer right away but he did notice she had stopped sucking. “Well…keep sucking. I’ll cum soon,” he answered, completely missing her point.

“No, dummy,” Paris corrected, tickling her fingers through his deeply cut abs. She was thinking about his promise of a hard, hopefully brutal fuck. She could just imagine how good he could fuck her with a body built like his. “Play with my head.”

“Oh.” Ajay opened his eyes, raised his head and contemplated her slick white cue ball of a head. He reached down and cupped it in his hands. Ah! At that Paris began sucking his cock again, this time bobbing on his first five inches. Her tongue, that pearl ball, never stopped. He could feel his choad rising. Ajay clamped down firmly, not yet ready to blow his load. The little piggy that he was, he wanted way more of what she was so enthusiastically giving. He wasn’t going to blow until her dynamic oral forced him to blow.

Ajay ran his fingers over the smooth white surface of her shaved bobbing head. Fuck but the thing had more bumps than a Chinese meditation-style Baoding ball. And they were all different sizes. He explored further, running his hands to the back of her head. Yikes! There were three sizable lumps back there, one the size of a golf ball and one the size of a walnut. Experimentally, looking into Paris’s eyes for guidance, he pressed on the largest with his thumb. As soon as he pressed those eyes smiled at him, a smile of suffering, a smile of pleasure. And, surprisingly, she sucked harder. Oooo, that was nice! Hmmmmm. Maybe playing with her bumps would have some upside for him after all. He pressed it again, harder. Paris sucked harder. Oh boy! This is going to be fun. Ajay easily found other bumps to press. He pressed them one at a time as if they were different buttons on an arcade game. Becoming more adept, he noticed that pressure on the biggest bumps made her suck the hardest.

What if he pressed on more than one bump at a time? Splaying the fingers of both hands about her head, he managed to place three fingers from each hand on bumps big and small. Again watching her eyes for her reaction, he pressed down firmly. Whoa! Yes! Her head shot forward; his cock sluiced down her throat. His eyes crossed in delight. She didn’t stop until her upper lip ground against his landing strip. When he let up she let up; his pocket-rocket came into view, glistening in spit slicked pleasure. She looked up at him, smiling as much as she could with a cock in her mouth, her shinning tearing eyes saying that all was good in her world. What a freak, he thought for the hundredth time.

Ajay grinned to himself. He was sure having fun and it was quite obvious so was Paris. He began to experiment by pressing bumps…he now thought of them as buttons…in various combinations. Those bumps were like buttons on a sucking machine. A human sucking machine that had the ability to go from a light touch to a rad deep throat in an instant. Press on only one and you get your cock crown gently sucked. Press on several and your cock got sucked in so deep it could identify the contents of her stomach. Press any combination of bumps, and Paris worked his prick differently each time. With so many bumps from which to choose there was no end to the variations. It made for one damn pleasurable, custom designed ride for needy boners. No, he amended. Not so much a ride but the ‘head’ version of Twister. Painting her ‘buttons’ different colors could easily make Twister, the Head Version a reality that any pervert would enjoy.

Paris knew that if she played the skinny teen right he would come through. Damn, but she could read ‘em. She was so lucky to have such a considerate lover that hurt her just right. Coupling her oral ministrations to his bump manipulations had been a sudden inspiration. And Ajay caught on immediately. If he wanted her to suck gently or if he wanted his cock grinding in her throat, there was a bump for it and anything in between. Every bump he had pressed was now either glowing or throbbing. The old ones glowed while the new ones throbbed. Would he press his knuckles into her bumps? That is what she really wanted. Even Queen Elizabeth, not the most sympathetic of women, hesitated when it came to that. The soft pad of a thumb is one thing but a hard knuckle is quite another. A shiver of excitement ran down her spine, trying to imagine how much agony that would create. She could hardly wait.

She did not have to wait for long. Ajay was thinking exactly along those same lines. Inwardly he shied away from doing so. But then he thought about it logically. One person’s pain is another person’s pleasure. She should change her name to something more appropriate. The romantic and peaceful ‘Paris’ was not right at all. This strange-ass bitch was one weird bird. He grinned. ‘Bagdad’ would be perfect.

Ajay quickly found that his arms were at the wrong angle to do the knuckle thing very efficiently. Well, he thought philosophically, maybe that is all to the better; karma was once again showing him the way. He could press only one knuckle per hand into specific buttons on her head or, if he made a fist, all the knuckles at once but not into any specific target. He went for a small bump, um, button just over her right temple. He pressed.

Suddenly her sucking became much more voluble, noisy, as she bared her teeth, his cock grinding into the back of her throat. Then he ground his other knuckle into a larger button, at top, right of center. Her fanatically shinning eyes welled up, mascara running in long streaks down her face. But when he ground them both into the knots on the back of her head, Paris’s face plunged down on his cock, her lips slapping into his pubic bone. Back into her throat, no gentle sucking for thee. She ground her throat’s cartilage against his tender flesh with a fiendishness not felt since last Tuesday when Nadine did the same thing to his orgasm-sensitized boner. It had hurt then but that was just after he had cum. This time Paris was delivering pure unadulterated pleasure. And the more he ground his knuckles into her, the harder she ground.

Both players groaned at the same time but for entirely different reasons. For Ajay, her oral was nothing short of brilliant. His cock head never had it so good as it scraped against her throat’s ridges. Ajay felt his spunk trying hard to crack the lock of his clench as the rough pleasure swept him closer to climax.

Paris was living the pain just as fully as Ajay his pleasure. The wicked agony from her bruised skull flew like carefully knapped Neolithic obsidian tipped spears into every corner of her body. She goose bumped as adrenaline coursed into her veins; her bruised clitty rapidly engorged sending crazy-bone like sensations to her brain. Her pussy lips flooded with energizing blood as well. Damn! If she had not promised to suck him off first, she would now be demanding that he fuck the ‘bejezzus’ out of her like he promised. Only one way to get fucked faster. Force him to cum. Make this dirty little monkey blow his load.

Ajay’s eyes slammed wide open when Paris’s heady head shifted into overdrive. Cradling her creepy bald head in his hands, he did nothing to hold her back as she sucked on him hard and fast. That pearl ball flew around his cock head with the same speed as the steel ball in a roughly shaken Rust-Oleum spray can. He could feel the pre-cum shoot up his urethra, emptying his prostate, as she sucked with intensity three time greater than what came before. He ground a knuckle into a knot and damn if pressing that button got his prick plunging all the way down her throat again. Feeling wicked, he ground two of her knots. Out of her throat his prick flew, the head of his cock now centered in her clasping, undulating mouth. Oh, that tongue worked miracles as it slashed his prick head with unmistakable intent.

“Oh Great Protector of Pliant Bung Holes!” Ajay squeaked suddenly as two wiggling fingers shot up his ass, twisting and turning as they went. He again went silent as Paris’s other hand jerked his shaft in a frenzy of action not seen since Bill and Hillary suckered Loretta Lynch and the FBI into giving her pathetic e-mail crimes an illegal pass. He was still holding back but his clench was quickly weakening. Goading Paris to make him cum, he pressed eight fingers into her buttons, much easier for him to do now that her head was stationary. Paris reacted like an animal, her cheeks concave, sucking so hard that the vacuum she created rivaled that of deep space. At the same time that pearl ball felt like a wrecking ball as it viciously hammered into his fissioning frenulum.

Ajay groaned in abject ecstasy. His clench, now a thing of the past, was replaced with a rising tide of orgasmic expression that could result in only one thing. His groin spastically began to pump, weakly at first, sending gouts of electric sensation from his flaming cock head to each rejoicing cell in his body. Looking down at the furiously working masochist, he realized that she, too, could feel his groin pumping through his shaft. Her mouth popped off the end of his prick and her hand became a blur as she beat his cock as fast as her thin arm would allow.

Oh my merciful gods! No longer had he any control. It was all her; smegma was her certain destiny. His groin rallied to pump with the same initial back pressure of a geothermic geyser. Her hand flew; the pressure built, triggering his flash point. Suddenly he lost it. The snap of climax was so intense that each and every soap bubble in the tub burst in sympathetic empathy. Jamming two more fingers up his ass, her speeding hand propelled a garland of thick white spunk into the air that moved so rapidly and so forcefully that if the Space Agency had known about it they would have upgraded their Saturn rockets to match. In rapid succession three, four, five more shots followed, each just as motivated, each just as euphoric as the first.

As most women tend to do, Paris let it rain all over him, crisscrossing his deeply tanned body until he looked like Frosty the Indian Snowman.

Paris was amazed by the speed and the quantity of this boy’s jizzum as he spewed everywhere. She deliberately let it splat against his body, the prerogative of any victorious stroker artiste. Those first shots flew up like a surface-to-air missile and then, in a tight arc, rained back down. It was a sight to behold. As his blasts of boy-juice became less intense, she reached deeply into his ass and stroked his frantic prostate into one last brilliant contraction. Ajay sent a spectacular shower of pre-cum and frenzied spermies summersaulting through the air looking but failing to find a high-wire swing to hand on to. It rained down on both of them in a mix of clear and white droplets reminiscent of a lawn sprinkler set on ‘Mist’. As his ejaculations tapered off, flowing down the outside of his purpled prick, jizz began flying off her hand in every direction.

Ajay groaned loudly, the brilliant sensations overwhelming his senses, as she again buried his cockhead in her mouth. While still stroking the shaft with a maniacal frenzy, she scoured the rapidly sensitizing head, grazed his steel shaft with her piercing and sucked the last of his white gump directly from the source. The oral was so fine, especially now that his sensitivity was peaking. But like any male pig, he wanted that little bit more, the cream de la crème, that bit of elevated pleasure that was so exceptional it bordered on pain. So he knuckled two of Paris’s larger bumps. Yikes almighty!!! The suction on his cock crown was so great he was sure she was sucking blood through the porous skin of his purpled crown. Hastily jerking his hands from her head, Paris’s sucking prowess dialed back to the merely stupendous. Ajay breathed hard, gasping for breath, feeling like he just ran five miles. Covered in his own cum and bathed in sweat, he took a deep breath and dunked himself in the water, no longer that hot but still very refreshing.

Paris grinned in victory. Now that was how to make a boy cum! She watched amused as her submerged young stud squeegeed the smegma from his body. Exploding out of the water, she shrieked playfully as he roughly took her in his arms and blessed her with a tender kiss. He pulled away to look her in the eyes. She blushed as he grinned at her, obviously impressed as all get-out by her exemplary oral. Paris grinned right back, eager to get the ‘bejezzus’ fucked out of her. Maybe he would crush her little button again, too. She could only hope.

“Damn girl!” Ajay exclaimed, the internal glow as warm as the noonday sun, “you are one hell of a cock sucker.”

“Glad ja liked it,” she giggled. “Loved the way you played with my bumps.” Paris had a headache…and it was a nice one. She thought to herself that if she had the power, she would redefine ‘headache’ as being on the outside of the skull, not on the inside.

“I did OK?” Ajay asked. “I was not sure how far to take it.”

“OK? No, you were not OK,” Paris praised, “You were exceptional. There were two bests. When you pressed like six or eight bumps at the same time and when you ground your boney knuckles into the newest ones we made today.” Now that Ajay’s butt was once again sitting on the bottom of the tub she was able to get her legs around him and shimmy onto his lap. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, kissing him with undisguised passion.

“Are you horny,” Ajay asked, “you naughty bald punching bag of a little girl?” Ajay hissed as Paris rubbed her pussy against his boner. Sucking him off sure did get her wound up, he observed. Not to mention playing with her bumps.

“Ajay,” Paris purred in his ear, “You big bad hunk. I am so rammy. You have no idea.” Again she rubbed herself against his stiffy. “Can’t you fuck me now?” she pouted. “Please?”

“It is a bit too sensitive right now, I have to admit,” Ajay calmly explained. “But you could suck it lightly ‘til it’s ready to enter the breach once again and…”

“Noo-ooo!” Paris cried, her empty coochie distractingly palpitating. Impulsively, knowing what might change his mind in seconds, she rose from the water and stood directly in front of him. She watched him stare unabashedly at her bald camel toe. Lifting a leg, placing her foot on the tub’s lip, she slid the fingers of one hand down her body to her now wide open gash. With two fingers she spread herself wide. With her other hand she reached for his. She slipped three of his fingers inside. As she hoped, Ajay began fucking and twisting them in her little hole.

Paris groaned the enticing groan of the sexually frustrated, the sexually needy. That style groan turned on men like no other. As Ajay played in her throbbing cunny, she undulated her hips; the slow motion erotic version of a classic Hawaiian hula. Then, like a mermaid scheming to make a lonely sailor impetuously jump into the sea, she raised her arms overhead and stretching out her thin body, throwing herself into the most carnal, slowest paced hula Ajay had ever seen.

Ajay’s libido knew no limits. If the stimulus was right, it took little effort for him to go from a Tired Teddy to a snorting randy Centaur. Turning his fingers in her squelching pussy was like plugged himself into an electric car charging station, a station that took merely seconds to give a full charge. His prick never lost its nominal stiffness…but that was not the point. That undulating pussy he was plugged into stoked his desire, his will to fuck and recharged his stamina in a way no preliminary blow job ever could. His body knew before his mind did that his battery was topped off. Just then he felt his prick getting harder, getting ready. By George, it was ready! What was he waiting for he asked himself as his cock, in a trice, turned back into a teak post.

With a wild roar Ajay rose to his feet. Paris squealed in delight as he turned her away from him, put her leg back up on the edge of the tub and bent her over. His mouth literally watered when he saw those aroused, ruby red pussy lips framed by that svelte, white-as-snow narrow ass. Her empty hole beckoned.   Bending his stiff rod down, he sidled up to her ass, lined it up and throwing caution to the winds, slid all eight of his inches into her in one long breathtaking go.

Paris squealed again, swooning from the sensations that only a thick hard Tamil cock could bring. After only four of five tentative thrusts, her inexhaustible boy toy was throwing it to her with more panache than Andy Murray defeating Milos Raonic at Wimbledon.

END OF EXCERPT ONE  

To read the book in its entirety, please go to the Smashwords Publishing e-Book website.   You may purchase it there.  Clicking on the following link will take you there.

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EXCERPT TWO

SET UP

Jack and Rebecca were fooled by Queen Elizabeth into letting her tie them up together, suggesting that their orgasms while bound would be absolutely brilliant.  They did not realize that the sadistic Queen was bent on sexual abuse culminating with the branding of their genitals.  We join the couple in mid-abuse. 

 

With that the Queen backed off. She set about eagerly preparing the reluctant couple for her next round of abuse. She had to hurry before their excruciatingly heightened sensitivity dropped to unacceptable lower levels. While humming Rule Britannica, she tied a piece of rope around the ankles of one bound pair of legs, playing it out to a lion’s head wall bracket. Threading the rope through the lion’s mouth, she drew it taut, pulling their legs up and out.

“What the fuck?” Jack whispered to Rebecca as the sadist from hell tied another rope around their other bound pair. His cock hotly throbbed with every beat of his heart. “Do you understand any of this?”

“No I don’t,” Rebecca whispered back, just as worried as he. She gasped as the bent Queen pulled the second rope taut and tied it to a pediment at the top of a free standing Chesterfield silver chest.

“You notice that she is talking to, um, herself?” he observed.

“God, Jack,” Rebecca groaned, “All I’m noticing is your cock jammed into my cunt.” They watched her go back to the first rope and retie it; their legs splayed out alarmingly.

“What have we let ourselves in for, huh?” He was worried. Their legs were uncomfortably pulled into a wide split that even a seasoned cheerleader would be proud of. The lowest point of his body were now his low-hanging balls. As the two of them swung so did his nuts, an obvious target for an angry Queen if there ever was one.

Queen Elizabeth regally paraded back to the suspended couple. They looked strange indeed; their arms stretched overhead with torso’s pulled taut by their weight alone, their legs at a ninety degree angle to their bodies and their deeply-coupled orgasm-sensitized genitals guaranteeing sensorial mayhem with the slightest movement. Amused, she watched Jack’s load slowly leak out of Rebecca, dripping slowly off the bottom of his ball sack.

“Nice balls,” Queen Elizabeth praised, grasping them firmly in her fist. Her unexpected touch made him hump his cock; they both groaned in pleasure shot pain as he bottomed out in Rebecca’s vag. “Wait ‘til you see what I have in store for them,” she cackled.

“What do you mean,” Jack gulped, his concern ratchetting up with her every word.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she laughed, a laugh that sent chills down his back.

“And don’t forget that bitch’s wattles,” Queen Victoria added.

“That’s right, You’re Royal Highness!” Queen Elizabeth responded. “Let’s see what we have to work with.” Dropping into a crouch, her hand released Jack’s balls, traveling the short distance up his cock’s curve to the point where it entered Rebecca. Fuck but didn’t he have her stretched out tight. She tried to encircle his base with thumb and forefinger. Couldn’t even get her hand around half of it. Rebecca gasped as the Queen plucked at her lips, pulling them out.

“Yes, oh Great Pius One,” she said. “She has plenty to work with.” Rebecca and Jack exchanged a quizzical glance. What the fuck?

Sucking on both thumbs, slicking them up, Queen Elizabeth roughly cornholed the couple’s unsuspecting wazoos. As she twisted they desperately bucked into one another; she watched that thick prick slide in and out as they piteously moaned.

“What’s wrong, fuckers,” Queen Elizabeth sneered, “not enough for you?” She twisted her thumbs harder, fucking them fast and furious. The Queen’s thumbs played inside of them for two minutes, then three, then four. The overwhelmed couple tried not to writhe. Their sex organ’s nerve endings were still as touchy-feely as when they had just climaxed. With those thumbs stretching their back doors, possibly even more so. Any movement of cock-in-cunt was an exercise in sheer agony; the pain element was at ninety percent, the pleasure a mere ten.

“So.” Queen Elizabeth said as she rose, her thumbs jerked out of their asses with a pop. The bound couple was sweating, breathing hard. She walked over to the bondage equipment and snapped open the top to the lube.

“Anything, huh?” Queen Elizabeth ruminated. “You would go for anything.” They watched as she greased up her ever present red strap-on. They both realized then and there what was coming. Suddenly those blinking devils horns looked evil.

“We’re gonna get an ass reaming, aren’t we,” Jack predicted morosely.

“Looks that way,” Rebecca glumly replied. “It’s going to be a big problem for me. Getting it in the ass always, but always, makes me cum. Can you believe, I never did a Double Penetration before. My head is spinning now just from you. I can’t even imagine…”

“I’ve had fingers mostly in mine,” Jack revealed, “until the day before yesterday. And tongues,” he added, remembering Velveeta’s incredibly deep explorations. “I have one experience only with getting reamed.”

“Some guy cornhole you?” Rebecca asked.

“Surprisingly, no,” he explained. “Just last Thursday some miserable unknown bitch hog-tied and blindfolded Ajay, myself and another friend while we were sleeping. She shoved a twenty-four inch black double-ender up them and a Wascally Wabbit up me. She rode them while the Wabbit endlessly rotated and vibrated in my ass.”

“Shit!” Rebecca exclaimed. “And that was your first anal experience?”

“Yeah,” he replied, just as glum as she. “It didn’t really hurt, that’s the main thing. Even when she kicked it in deeper with her foot. There was nothing gentle about it. Like I said, it was shoved up me while I was out. It was in me when I woke. I was never fucked with it. Now that’s the part that worries me. That red strap-on Liz has is, thank god, both shorter and thinner than the Wabbit. So I, at least, know what to expect in part.”

Jack shook his head, mentally kicking himself for getting himself in this fix. Something always seems to go wrong when he thinks with his little head. “What the fuck is getting fucked in the ass going to feel like?”

“Under any other circumstance than this it is rockin’” Rebecca revealed. “You’re gonna find the sensations from that dong sliding in and out simply…”

“Shut up!” Queen Elizabeth snarled, suddenly upon them. The strap-on glistened, looking ominous as it hung from her hips. She squirted the lube first between Rebecca’s legs, then Jack’s.

That settles it, Jack thought, yet another chill running down his spine. Her actions had been implied. Now they were implicit.

Queen Elizabeth crouched between them again. The coupled lovers hunched into one another, their organs once again brightly igniting in sparkling post-orgasmic sensitivity, when three fingers were unceremoniously shoved up their dripping keisters. The fingers twisted and roughly fucked under the pretense of spreading the lube evenly. The Queen rose, but not before she bitch slapped Jack’s low hanging fruit.

“Oh fuck!” he cried, humping hard into Rebecca. Though a sickening gut reaction rose in the pit of his stomach from the pain blooming in his balls, it could have been much much worse.

Queen Elizabeth did nothing more than cackle. “That is nothing more that child’s play compared to what comes later,” she hinted again, taking a position behind Rebecca.

“Shit!” the Queen said to herself, “Too high.” She flounced over to the chandelier hook’s crank to lower them both to the proper height for effortless carefree fucking.

“Looks like you’re first,” Jack whispered.

“I’m multi-orgasmic,” Rebecca said sotto voce. “Though I try to avoid it. Each succeeding orgasm gets more intense. She’s fucked me before. She’s fucked my ass before. She knows I can. And I’m so sensitive right now. If she tries for multiples with your cock inside of me, too? I will be a scrambled, played out mess before she’s even done.”

“I hear ya,” Jack sympathized. “If it gets too bad I will try and distract her.” He changed the subject. “Have any idea at all what she’s going to do with my nuts?”

“No,” Rebecca answered, after a moment of reflection. “But it can’t be good.”

“Oh, thanks for that reassurance,” Jack said sarcastically. “I just hope that they don’t end up on her charm bracelet.”

“Ha!” Rebecca giggled. “Some huge friggin’ charms.” Sharing a trial such as this with Jack, a teen with the heart of a man, much more composed than she, was calming her. If she rationalized their situation, looked at the upside, she was going to get her first DP. She was going to cum, probably multiple times. It was going to be some intense experience, albeit an unwanted one. But it would be a new experience, that was damn fucking sure. She rarely got them anymore.

Suddenly they felt themselves drop by about ten inches as Queen Elizabeth made her adjustment.

Jack was rationalizing his situation as well. He knew that at some point in his life, the way he and his friends were so aggressively exploring the wide world of sex, he would probably hook up with a guy at some point. It was only logical. And if he did, and if he really found the guy sexy and desirable, he would go for it in no uncertain way. But that time had not yet come, he had no gay experiences. And he really didn’t want any. He was buried in pussy and that was alright with him. Yet, here he hung, his legs in a split, about to get fucked. Just not by a guy. How different could it be? No way could he get out of it. Judging by Elizabeth’s demeanor, if he complained it would simply result in him getting fucked all that much harder and all that much longer. OK. lt would be a new experience. It wouldn’t be a gay experience. But when, or if, he ever did hook up with a guy, he would at the very least, know what to expect as that eager cock slipped inside of him.

Queen Elizabeth swaggered back to her captives, her favorite red strap-on wetly slapping against her thighs with each step. That asshole boy, she thought, as she drew near. Fuck him and the boner he flew in on. Let’s keep him, she sniggered, alert and on his toes as she reamed out his girl. Scooping up the discarded whip, she advanced on him menacingly.

“While I’m fucking your girlfriend,” she sneered, “and you’re waiting for your turn, here’s something for you to think about.” Taking a positon directly behind him, she lashed his ass and extended thighs with a fervor usually reserved for corrupt, power hungry, seizure prone female Democratic presidential candidates.

“Have a little mercy!” Jack pleaded after a couple minutes of intense whipping. He thought he better say something so that the bitch could feel some satisfaction. The simple plea did not quite achieve its objective. He didn’t expect that she would take it to another level.

“Fuck you and fuck mercy,” Queen Elizabeth screamed. He dare appeal to her merciful side? What merciful side?

“I have no mercy,” she sneered, spittle hanging from her chin. “Do I, my dearest friend Queen Victoria.”

“Don’t call me your friend, you miserable calcified dog bone of a scaly leprous bitch,” the cantankerous cunt grated. “Compared to me, your so-called ‘no mercy’ is equivalent to the gentle attentions of Mother Teresa.”

“Damn putrid crack-ho,” the venerable, if insane, Queen indistinctly muttered.

Shrieking in anger at Queen Victoria’s insults, Queen Elizabeth lit into Jack with renewed vigor, Rebecca’s ass fucking completely forgotten. She’ll teach this intractable Lothario a thing or two about mercy…and the lack of it. She had been striking in downward slashes. Angry red streaks patterned the tops of his thighs and the globes of his ass. His legs were spread as wide open as they ever could be. Time to add a little red to his more tender flesh.

Reversing direction, her vicious strikes now came at him in upward slashes. Jack shuddered in  ‘misery’ as repeated rips of the nine-tailed whip mauled the insides of his thighs. He shrieked as those lashes ravaged his flawless, tanned skin. Individual lashes found their way into his screamingly sensitive ass crack; snapping, scratching, scraping against flesh more accustomed to the pleasures of a knowing tongue. Yet the abuse continued. Queen Elizabeth directed her whip directly into his crack. Over and over again she slashed, stimulating nerve endings Jack did not know exist. The cracking tips of the lashes were incredibly intense, peppering pinpricks of red on and around his hole. She cackled in delight as his glutes quivered.

Then she went for his jewels. He shrieked again as those lashes struck, sizzling through the air, wrapping tightly around his defenseless cojones. Again and again she struck, expertly snapping her whip so that only the very tips of the nine lashes scourged his knockers with agonizing lesions. But the Queen was unsatisfied. She was mutilating only the back of them. Coming around to Rebecca’s side, looking for fresh flesh to rend, the scalding nine lashes clawed anew. Angry red abrasions soon crazed the front of them as well as the back. The thin, tender skin was soon striped in red, much like the red stripes of a barber pole. Those ‘poor poor’ low-hangers suffered as they were repeatedly pummeled, rebounding off of his thighs with every strike, pulling up defensively as he clenched, angry bright red spots of pain rising where the ends of the lashes snapped against them. Jack was lucky that her lacerating depravity never broke the skin.

Finally Queen Elizabeth had her fill, breath ragged as she stood there admiring her latest masterpiece of inspired abuse. It was an impressive surrealistic portrait that Salvador Dali, especially Salvador Dali, would appreciate. All of those red stripes expressed the creation of pain as well as pain itself. And did so beautifully as do many of his works of art. His auto-biography, which she read twice, outlined the genesis of many of those creations. Her favorite story was one artistic effort that described his attempts to get the expression of pained suffering that crossed a woman’s face at the moment a man thrusts into her anus. It was a frustrating experience for Dali because the expression that crossed the face of woman after woman was not that of pain as he was expecting, rather an expression of pleasure. Queen Elizabeth grinned her Chucky grin. She was sure there was damn little pleasure taken here.

Queen Elizabeth would have shrieked in frustration had she known the truth. Jack was a connoisseur of pain. He got sexually beat up all the time by Anita and Nadine, loving every minute of it. Pain turbocharged his orgasms to levels that he would never reach without. Pain, sexual pain of all kinds and descriptions, was part of his regular sexual diet. Pain so intense, so merciless in its application, that he had often passed out before the girls were done with him. With his sturdy erection glowing like an ember inside of Rebecca’s clasping cunt, the blows of the whip did nothing more than bring him to a higher level of expression. He loved it. He loved every crack of the whip. And the cracking lashes virtually stripping the skin from his balls? Inspired!

Sure he shrieked. He was, after all, being whipped by an unbalanced sadist. Jack was no dummy. He was, in fact, extremely clever. He knew that he had to communicate to this dumb ass ‘Queen’ that he was not enjoying himself so that she, in turn, could enjoy herself. Further, he did not want her abuse to get to the point where she would, for example, kick him in the balls. At all costs Jack wanted to avoid that horrible deeply felt agony that would bloom in the pit of his stomach. There was no fun, no eroticism in that. Only Rebecca knew the truth. At first, she watched his unfathomable expressions flit across his face with outright concern. But as Elizabeth kept at it and finally went for his plums, Rebecca felt Jack’s cock go steel hard inside of her as his expressions turned positively unworldly, like the face of a supplicating Catholic priest receiving a blessing from heaven. Perhaps, for Jack, it was a blessing from heaven. She had a hard time keeping a straight face and blowing the deception. It was twisted. Very twisted indeed.

The long delay, thankfully, gave the couple more time to tamp down the post-orgasm sensitivity of their under-siege genitals. The pain/pleasure ratio had dropped to 60/40, a ratio both of them could easily tolerate. They were both now ready for Queen Elizabeth’s anal invasion. If they inadvertently humped into one another, it would be a nice, cathartic mix of pleasure laced pain. Neither one of them addressed the Queen. It was going to be ‘bad’ enough already. Neither wanted an attack on their asses that was as violent as Jack’s whipping had just been.

Queen Elizabeth, basking in her own glory, struck at Jack’s low hangers one last time, deliberately wrapping the long lashes tightly around his scrotum just above his family jewels. She let got the handle and let her whip dangle from them. Drawing herself up, she swaggered to a point behind Rebecca. Three fingers once again probed into her.

“You do realized, you fucking sadistic piece of shit,” Rebecca suddenly growled, unable to contain herself, “once I get out of these ropes not only will I beat you until you’re bloody but after I’m done I will handcuff you, throw you in the trunk of my car and take you to Aga’s Highland Tap Room in Roxbury where I will sell your ass in the parking lot for a nickel a shot.”

Queen Elizabeth froze for a moment, strap-on in hand. “Did you hear that, oh great Ephemeral Ruler of the World,” she laughed evilly, centering her dildo against Rebecca’s greased cornhole and roughly shoving it inside. Gripping Rebecca firmly by the hips, she began to stroke the dildo with a practiced cadence.

“Ignore her laments,” Queen Victoria sneered, “They are merely the protests of the weak and powerless.”

“This peon,” she slapped Rebecca’s ass for emphasis, not realizing she was speaking out loud, “thinks she will be able to fight back once she’s freed from these silk shackles. I’d like to see how much fight she has in her once I brand her pussy lips with a ‘Q’ and an ‘E’!”

“I want a snifter of port,” Queen Victoria mumbled.

END OF EXCERPT

You can purchase and read the entire 100,000 word full-length novel “Queen Elizabeth Goes Bughouse on Beacon Hill” by going to Smashwords Publishing e-book site.

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