Queen Elizabeth the Lesbian Dominatrix

LESBIAN DOMINATRIX

Queen Elizabeth the Lesbian Dominatrix

from the novel

Queen Elizabeth Goes Bughouse on Beacon Hill

Oh yes.  If she does not take her meds, she goes positively bughouse.  Just ask Queen Victoria, a daft voice in her head.

Cover for 4A final

 

EXCERPT

SET UP

Jack and Rebecca were fooled by the lesbian dominatrix Queen Elizabeth (who had morphed from the ‘normal’ 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 with her custom made ‘Q’ and ‘E’ branding irons.  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

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