“Nonsense. We shall make it fit,” she said confidently. She increased the pressure, but his sphincter resisted. The thing was simply too big. “I don’t think—” he started to repeat.
She tickled his scrotum. Caught completely by surprise, he laughed. His rectum flung out with the heaving of his stomach, and was half impaled on the bulb. “Excellent,” she said. “Now bear down.”
He bore down on the firmly held target, and slowly his anus yielded until the bulb navigated the tight sphincter. It was like passing a giant turd, in reverse. She slid it on into him until she judged it was deep enough, requiring him to clench on the shaft. He felt full, as if he needed urgently to defecate, but rose to the challenge and closed in it. He could feel the pressure against his prostate, stimulating it to urgency. He was urgently ready.
“Now it is in you,” she said. “My sex toy.”
“I am your sex toy,” he agreed. He was more than happy to go along with the protocol, knowing it was leading to phenomenal sex with a phenomenal woman. The kind who would never look at him in real life, let alone allow him into her.
She laid him on his back on the mat on the bed of coins, and came down on top of him. She guided his member into her orifice and squeezed, as she had around the dildo. “Show me your power,” she murmured, kissing him passionately.
He erupted. This was if anything even more powerful than the first one with the Queen of Clubs. For one thing the bulb was pressing against his prostate, urging it to empty itself completely, and his sphincter was clenching rhythmically against the shaft. He felt as if his semen would jet up ten feet if not confined by her vagina. This was a new kind of sex, and he was discovering he liked it.
She kissed him as he finally relaxed and slid out of her. “Clubs was right. You are potent. It is a pleasure to interview you.”
“Interview? It feels like sex.”
“That is the nature of the interview.”
“But why? Why not just, well, let me have it without the other?” But as he spoke he remembered: she had to avoid cheating on the King, and this was the way to pretend she wasn’t. He questioned it at his own risk of losing what she offered. He couldn’t risk that.
“It is not simply the rationale,” she said seriously as she stroked his buttocks with a delicate yet experienced touch. “It is that the Queen of Hearts is, shall we say, special. We need to be sure you can handle her.”
“She will want to put something in herself, and then in me,” he said. “I think I can handle that, now that I have learned from you and Clubs.”
“Well spoken, Jack! I’m proud of you.” She kissed him again.
He had just climaxed, but her assorted stimulations were already arousing him again. When she put her mouth on his flaccid penis and licked off the remaining ejaculate, it responded, lengthening. When she took it into her mouth and gently sucked, it thickened. Oh, yes, she knew what she was doing.
Soon she had him almost fully turgid again. But that wasn’t the same as being able to get another orgasm. “I’m not sure I—”
“Give yourself more credit, Jack,” she said. “I’m sure you can do it.”
“I’ll—I’ll try,” he said bravely.
She swallowed his member, putting suction all around it, making it swell further. Then, as some faint urgency began to stir within him, she put her hand on the handle of the dildo, which remained fully embedded, and began working it. It pushed and stroked against his prostate, alternately squeezing it and letting it rebound, at least by the feel of it. “You are rising to the occasion,” she murmured around his penis, then sucked harder.
He came. His semen commenced a long slow journey along the channel, pumped by the bulb of the dildo that expertly massaged it. He felt the fluid coursing along inside his member and finally spouting out into her mouth and down her throat. The sensation was less intense than before, but more pervasive. She had forced a different kind of pleasure from him.
“Oh God!” he gasped, collapsing.
She lifted her face from his groin. “Actually God is not into this sort of thing,” she said. “This is pleasure for pleasure’s sake, with no procreation pending.”
“Whatever it is, it’s great!” he said. “Oh, Diamonds, you’re even better than Clubs!”
“Why thank you, Knave,” she said appreciatively. “But I have to say that Hearts is likely to be the best of all, if you can handle her ways.”
“Why shouldn’t I be able to?”
She shook her head. “That is not for me to say. But you do show considerable promise. Maybe you will be the Knave she keeps.”
“I hope so,” he said. He was by now hopelessly smitten with all four of them, though he had as yet encountered only two. If the other two were even more sexy than these…
“We hope so too,” she said. “Now I think you’re done, and we must remove my toy.”
That was a job, but he was learning relaxation, and it slowly slid out like the huge bolus it was.
The rest of the day he helped her count assorted coins, as the King required an exact accounting. Then they had a wonderful banquet and a session in her diamond-studded hot tub. This time she produced a long string of a dozen rounded diamond beads the size of marbles, separated from each other on the cord by about an inch, with a gap of about nine inches in the center. They were all colors of translucent, very pretty and surely worth a king’s ransom. “We’ll share these; I think that counts.”
Jack eyed them dubiously. “I don’t think all those would fit in either one of us.”
“That’s why we’ll share. I’ll show you.”
And she showed him. She fitted half the beads into her own rectum, one at a time, lubricated by soap. Then half into his rectum, similarly. It was a leisurely and pleasant process, partly because he knew it was leading up to another good sexual episode. When the last bead was in the two of them, they were close together, connected by the string between them as they half floated in the bubbling water. It was sexy as hell. It seemed these Queens had a strong anal interest, but he was coming to appreciate and enjoy it.
“Now come into me,” she said.
He was eagerly ready. He aligned his stiff member, cautiously because the pull of the cord prevented him from separating any distance from her, and slid inside her. And was surprised. “I feel the beads!”
“Yes, that’s part of it, for both of us. The colon is adjacent to the vagina, and to the urethra, and they can interact. The beads stroke your member, and they stroke me when you move them. It adds to the effect.”
It certainly did. He exploded, jettisoning into her, surely knocking beads violently about. He was afraid it might hurt her, but she thrust against him joyfully, clenching in time to his spurts, milking him of everything he had to offer. What an experience!
“Oh, that was spectacular,” she breathed. “You are becoming quite a lover, Jack.”
“Thanks to you,” he said gallantly. But it was true: these women were guiding him, giving him an education he know he could not have obtained elsewhere.
Then it was time to remove the beads. They took turns. First she raised her bottom and he pulled them out one by one, watching her anus iris open to emit one, and close after it, leaving just the string. When it came to the last one, he put the prior one in his mouth and pulled on the string with his teeth, kissing her rectum as the bead emerged, then running his tongue into it. He just loved her magnificent ass.
“Ah, you are learning,” she said.
Then he raised his rear, and she did the same with him. He felt each bead as it pulled out, and felt her lips on his sphincter, her tongue exploring. He had never dreamed of sex like this, yet it seemed completely natural.
“I believe you will do,” she said. “You seem to have a natural affinity for the necessary.”
“But I still may have trouble with the Queen of Hearts?”
“You still may. It depends how tolerant you are.”
“I can’t imagine anything farther out or more e
njoyable than what we have been doing.”
She kissed him on the mouth. “You’re so sweet. But I can’t keep you. I have a Knave of my own, not to mention the King.”
He joined her in her huge bed. But he couldn’t find a pillow. “It’s not that I’m a fussy man,” he said. “But I can’t sleep without a pillow.”
“Oh, I forgot! We have no pillows. We don’t need them.”
“But—”
“I’ll show you.” She turned around and put her legs up by the head of the bed. “Here are your pillows.” She patted her buttocks.
Oh. “If you don’t mind…”
“Mind? This is the way the King always sleeps. He says I’m better than any dead cushion. Try it.”
Somewhat dubiously he laid his head on her plush rear. It was indeed a marvelous pillow. But her cleft was right there by his nose. “What if I—stray, in the night?” he asked.
She laughed. “You can kiss my ass. I love it. Go ahead, put your face in there. Lick it, if you are inclined.”
He was inclined. He had been admiring that butt all day. He nudged his face between her buttocks until his mouth found her cleft. It felt great. He licked it. “I could do this all night,” he said, half embarrassed.
“Welcome.” She slid her head down beside his groin, and licked his penis. “So could I.”
So they settled down, with his cheek against her buttock, his mouth against her cleft. His penis was comfortable in her slowly sucking mouth. Neither of them were ready for another orgasm; it was merely a mildly pleasurable aftermath on the way to sleep. This was another completely new and exhilarating experience. The last thing he remembered was kissing the warm wetness of her ass.
He woke in a riot of flowers as dawn was breaking. He was naked but not cold; he seemed to be in a warm greenhouse.
His bladder was full. He got to his feet and looked for a bathroom, but there were only plants: potted, shelved, grounded, climbing trellises, flourishing everywhere.
“Hello, Knave,” a dulcet voice said behind him.
Jack turned to see the Queen of Spades, in a black robe with a black crown binding her black hair. She was regal and beautiful, of course.
He bowed his head, belatedly trying to remember his manners with royalty. “Hello, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, don’t bother with that,” she said, slipping off her robe to be splendidly naked. She had the best breasts he had seen so far, full and erect and perfectly shaped. “We have other business.”
He tore his eyes from her chest. “Uh, yes, I guess. But I need to—” He didn’t know how to express it in this company.
“To pee,” she said helpfully.
“Yes. Is there a bathroom?”
“Don’t bother with that either. This is my garden; my plants all love nitrogen fertilizer. Here, honor my royal poinciana.” She indicated a lovely small flowering tree.
With her watching? “But—”
“Here.” She took him firmly by the penis and drew him toward the tree. “On the ground beside, not on the foliage.”
Of course the touch and her nudity instantly stiffened his member. “I can’t.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I complicate things? How thoughtless of me.” She squeezed his penis, which she still held. Thoughtless? She had done it on purpose, the conniving wench.
“Maybe if I could have some time alone,” he suggested.
“No need. It just needs softening.” She angled her head, glancing obliquely at him. “You do comprehend the protocol?”
“I’d really rather just—urinate—first.”
She went to a vegetable plot and pulled up a small turnip. “This should do.” She rinsed it off under a tap that projected from a rising pipe.
“But my bladder is sort of full,” Jack protested. “I don’t think--”
She sat on a park bench, leaned back, spread her legs, and applied the turnip to her opening cleft. “So is mine. We’ll both relieve ourselves soon.” She pressed on the turnip, but it balked, being too big and dry. “Help me, Jack; I need to get it in.”
He realized that further protest was useless. She had her agenda, and his best course was to facilitate it so as to hasten the moment when he could finally pee. He knelt down before her, his face close to her belly and divine breasts, and put his hands to the vegetable. It was hanging up on the lips of her vagina, trying to pull them in with it. It needed lubrication.
She had put him in this position for a reason. He got on with it. He withdrew the turnip, put his face to her cleft, and licked it, spreading saliva copiously. Her own juices flowed now, responding to the stimulation. Then he licked the turnip, and brought it back to the hole. “Hold it open, please,” he said.
She put her hands down on either side and drew the labia wide apart. He applied the turnip, pressing it firmly in. Slowly it entered, wedging the hole wide, until finally it was inside except for the stem and leaves. “Now close,” he said.
She released the labia and squeezed her vagina tight around the stem. “That does it,” she said. “Now it is in me. Thank you, Jack.” She leaned down forward, those breasts dangling evocatively, and kissed him.
“You’re welcome,” he said. Of course his penis was almost painfully turgid. He had never had such contact with female genitalia prior to his encounters with the Queens, and the novelty still seriously excited him. As well she knew.
She took hold of the stem and gently worked the turnip out. It was now slickly lubricated with her fluid. “Your turn.”
What could he do? He got down on hands and knees and let her lubricate his anus with more of her juice and press in the turnip. It was too tight to fit. Then she leaned over him, her breasts touching his back tantalizingly, held a herb before his nose, and its acrid odor put him into a paroxysm of coughing. By the time he finished, his eyes were watering, and the turnip was lodged well within his colon, only the foliage projecting behind like a tail. She had known what she was doing, again. But the pressure of the vegetable intensified the imperative of his bladder. There was too much in him. “Now it is in you.”
It certainly was. No further words were necessary. She took his place on the turf, on hands and knees, then lowered her shoulders so that only her bottom was projecting up. He dropped to his knees behind her and jammed his swollen member in, jetting before he even achieved full depth. He continued thrusting, pumping madly, feeling the passage of the discharge as it surged past the pressure of the turnip. It was uncomfortable, in respects, but also wildly satisfying.
Then he was spent, and withdraw, again aware of his bladder. He lurched to the poinciana tree and aimed his detumescent member at the ground. Nothing happened.
“Relax,” the Queen said. She put her hand on the stem of the turnip that dangled between his legs and pulled.
Oh. He relaxed his sphincter, and slowly the vegetable emerged. It had filled his colon so thoroughly that it prevented the urine from flowing.
He let go, but it took a moment for the flow to start; he still hadn’t shrunk enough.
“Like this,” the Queen said with a naughty smile. She squatted beside him and jetted copiously into the ground. She was right: she had had as full a bladder as he. She must have liked having sex that way, maybe for the novelty.
Finally he got it started, and peed. It was an enormous relief.
“You are an excellent sport,” she said as he finished.
“I must be,” he agreed, bemused. She had put him through the wringer, in her fashion, forcing him into actions he would never normally have done. Jamming a turnip in his ass? Peeing before a Queen?
She stepped into him close, pressing her fine breasts against him, and kissed him. “There is a reason,” she murmured. “One day you will understand.”
“So you’re not just strangely turned on by sex toys?” For of course the turnip was such a toy.
She laughed. “That, too.”
“You know, all I did was answer an ad. I thought it was a job.”
“It i
s a role. If you care to fill it, it will be quite rewarding.”
“To have sex with the lovely Queen of Hearts? Why wouldn’t I care to do that?”
“She has her little ways.”
“As Clubs, Diamonds, and you do? Things in you, then in me? It’s weird, but I guess I can handle it. The sex is great.”
“Thank you. Now let’s do some gardening.”
They gardened. There were myriad plants to water and fertilize, and a number to transplant. She was expert with a spade, by no coincidence. Each plant had its name and nature, and the Queen was happy to describe them all. Jack would have lost interest, being no gardener, were it not for the way her full breasts moved as she talked. He wished he could stroke and kiss them.
“You’re looking,” she said.
He blushed furiously. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I love having you fascinated by my assets. It is time for another round.”
“But I don’t think I can—get stiff yet,” he said. He had had a lot of sex in the past two days, and his body was getting slower to respond.
“No problem. Taste this.” She proffered a leaf.
He put it in his mouth and chewed on it. Suddenly blood surged to his penis, lifting it high. Oh—it was a herbal stimulant.
She squatted by the garden and pulled up a sizable carrot. She washed it off, then fitted it into her vagina, which remained slick from their prior effort. He was surprised that she was able to get the whole of it in. Then she inserted it into his anus while he stood facing her. When he clenched involuntarily, barring the way, she gently bit his penis. The sheer surprise caused him to relax, and she slid the carrot in past the resistance. It was not as big across as the turnip, but was longer, and he felt its rigidity deep within him. But at last he was able to close his sphincter around its stem.
She lay on the turf, spread her legs, and drew him down to her. His turgid member spewed desperately into her.
“Very good,” she murmured.
Then he realized that she had not climaxed herself, either time. “You—you aren’t with me,” he said.