Eleven-and-a-half: A Fantasy Of Great Length by Ray Wilder

Chapter 58: Flashback

This is a work of fiction. All the characters, events and locations
portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons,
events or locations is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 1996. All rights, implicit or implied, except for
distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual downloading
the file, are reserved. Inquiries regarding publishing rights for this book
should be directed to: raywild@aol.com

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	Darkness.
	The faint beating of a drum. Deep and throbbing.  It becomes louder
until it is the heartbeat. In rhythm with it is the heaving cries of two
people thrusting against each other. The volume of their voices climbs
until it matches that of the percussion. They move quickly towards climax,
ending with simultaneous screams of unbridled ecstasy. Lights come on,
revealing the figure of a muscular young man, his back arched as he drives
his pelvis towards the spread legs of an equally well-developed woman, on
her back, spread-eagled on a raised platform, her body forcing itself
toward the man, consuming his final lunge.
	The yell and drumbeats end abruptly and the young man staggers
backward, away from the woman.  He turns, revealing a huge erection and a
visage of horror on his face, wavers for a moment, then collapses on the
floor, motionless.
	The Queen sits up and casts a look of loathing upon him, shakes her
head and then claps her hands twice. Two guards ascend the stairs at the
rear of the platform. They are clothed only in leather loincloths,
revealing finely honed musculature above and below and prominent bulges
within.  They lift the limp body from the floor, drape the arms over their
shoulders and wait for instructions.
	"Take him down to the pits and put him to work.  He'll be of little
use up here for quite some time."
	"Yes, Your Highness."
	"And get someone to suck him off. We can't have him running around
like that.  It'll give others the wrong idea."
	"Very well, Your Highness." The look on their faces tells of a
fight to see which one of them will perform the Queen's command. They
descend behind, dragging the lifeless man with them.
	The Queen rises up on her knees, wraps her hands around her breasts
and presses them together, the two small fingers flicking back and forth
across the hard, erect nipples. One hand then drifts down across her
abdomen, lingering for a moment on the hard, rippling surface. It then
continues, finding its way to her crotch, where she begins to manipulate
her clitoris in an effort to relieve some need that was not appeased by her
recent encounter. Her body arches against her own hand, the look of effort
on her face reveals her desperation. Her body writhes; hard, bulging
muscles swelling ever more as she throws herself toward her goal. Moans
that lie across the border between pain and ecstasy escape her lips,
increasing in pitch and frenzy until she finally is consumed with a release
which seems at once shattering and unfulfilling.
	She collapses forward onto the platform, her full breasts pressed
hard into the surface. She shifts her body back and forth in an effort to
further stimulate them. It is apparent that even her latest orgasm was not
enough to satisfy her. Her eyes flick back and forth, as if seeking some
source of satisfaction within the room. She is alone. Unconsciously, her
hand finds its way between her legs and begins to stimulate her again. She
suddenly realizes what she is doing and jumps off the platform, disgusted
and frustrated.
	"This is ridiculous. I have used every talent of magic I have, but
I find no satisfaction. Why can I not fashion a creation which is able to
meet my needs?"
	The air is filled with an otherworldly laugh, something between a
crow's caw and the death-rattling cough of an old person dying. The Queen
freezes in horror at the sound, then, quickly donning a sheer robe which
does nothing to hide her naked body, she heads down the stairs at the rear
of her chambers.
	The lights shift and the main area of the stage comes into
view. Directly under her chambers, there is a door, formidable in its
purpose. Two guards, bare-chested and huge, are caretakers of the
prison. As they see the Queen approach, one of them releases a key ring
from his belt and unlocks the door, swinging it open in time for her to
step through. The section of the stage which is her chambers and this door
rotates, revealing a dungeonous space with rings and chains attached to the
walls and various pieces of equipment whose nefarious purpose can easily be
determined.
	The guards close the door behind the Queen as she enters the
space. Chained to the far wall is a lump of rags containing a body which
does not move in response to the Queen's entrance. The Queen regards the
person with disdain, insulted that her arrival should go unnoticed. She
waits as long as she can, her patience quickly waning. Her necessity
finally wins over her ego and she rouses the person with a kick. She is
rewarded with the same crackling laughter. The rags fall away, revealing a
woman, perhaps, old as old, the very life sucked from her being. The hate
in her eyes is the only sign of a reason for life. The hate is for the
Queen.
	"Well, aren't we looking frustrated. Having a hard time finding
something?" Again the old woman laughs, but her joy is interrupted by a
thick coughing spasm which rattles her body.
	"Shut up, you old carp. You know very well what's wrong. Now tell
me what I need to know, or I'll put you through so much pain, you'll beg me
for death."
	"You waste your time and mine. I have begged you for death so
often, I have given up hope of such kindness. You have taken my power, my
castle, my life; I have nothing else to give."
	"You have knowledge. You must tell me why I can not create a man
who can meet my needs."
	"That I will tell you, because the knowing of it will be far more
painful than what you are going through already." The old woman falls to
coughing once again and the Queen waits, growing more irritated by the
moment. Finally, the old woman regains control. "You have taken my beauty
and power and turned it against me. Because of that, there is no longer a
tie between these things and the magic. It is no longer powerful enough to
create something that potent. The thing you seek is more powerful than the
magic you stole. It must be from without you."
	"Does such a person exist?"
	"Oh, yes. Very much so. But I will tell you this: As your magic
Ñ my magic Ñ can not create something more powerful than itself, the
magic you seek will be beyond your control."
	"I'll worry about that when the time comes. Tell me where to find
this person."
	"You need not worry about that. Fate has already dealt that
hand. Time will move toward that end. Time will. . ." Again, she is wracked
with a coughing fit.
	"Great! And what do I do until then?"
	With a supreme effort, the old woman regains control long enough to
utter, "The same as you've been doing so far. Go fuck yourself." Her
uproarious laughter triggers another coughing spasm which incapacitates
her.
	The Queen can stand her insolence no longer. She hauls off and
kicks the woman brutally, sending her colliding into the wall. Although
there is obvious pain, the pile of rags continues to laugh in a semblance
of triumph. The Queen turns in frustrated impotence and calls to the guards
to open the door. She bolts through as door opens, pushing the guard out of
her path. As he closes the door behind him, the cawing and coughing of the
old woman echoes through the halls of the castle once more.
	The set revolves to reveal the front of the dungeon again. The
Queen is moving away from the door, but turns back to the two guards. As
she walks up to one of them they stiffen in apprehension.
	"Remove your uniform."
	The guard quickly complies, but his speed is obviously due to fear
rather than arousal. His belt and loincloth drop away, revealing a thick
cock hanging loosely between two egg-sized balls.
	The Queen turns to the other guard. "Suck him hard."
	The second man drops to his knees and immediately takes the man
into his mouth and proceeds to stimulate his cock until it becomes
rigid. When it is hard, he stands and backs away. The Queen moves towards
him, her demeanor quickly changing from haughty overlord to sexually
stimulated female. Her eyes are locked on the man's swollen organ and she
lets the ineffectual robe drop from her shoulders to the ground.
	Contrary to the Queen's attitude, the guard is growing more
fearful. He is like a mouse caught in the hypnotizing gaze of a poisonous
snake, just before it strikes. His fear is deathful, but he can not
move. His companion is also frozen, his body tense, as if he is trying to
do something to save his friend, but unable to react.
	The Queen flexes her body, the muscles bulging large and hard. She
thrusts her pelvis towards the guards hard penis, brushing the tip of it. A
shock jumps through the man's body and he is driven against her by some
unseen force. The Queen wraps one leg around his waist, pulls him to her,
grabs his cock and drives it deep within her. As the contact is made, the
guard is transformed. Every fiber of his huge body swells with tension and
he becomes a vibrating, driving machine. He pounds his cock hard against
her, and she soon finds herself pressed to the dungeon door. He is lifting
her off the ground, his hands grabbing her hard, firm ass. For a moment,
the Queen is transported by his vigor. She begins to call out, her voice
filled with desperation and longing. Her cries signal an approaching
climax, her pleas beg for him to continue. Both their bodies strain, their
huge muscles bulge. Their hands are everywhere, clawing, digging,
squeezing, pressing. The guard begins to cry out and his hips thrust even
harder. The Queen's eyes open wide as she seems to see the end of some
long, frustrating tunnel. She forces herself harder against the man, which
increases his own passion. Just as she is moving upwards to a higher plane,
the guard lets loose with a holler and, with two deep, shattering thrusts,
unleashes his torrent within her. She cries out in agony as he drops her to
her feet and, with the same look of horror as the man in her chamber, he
collapses on the floor, his thick cock still erect and dribbling the last
vestiges of his orgasm.
	The Queen is left standing, her back against the door. She stares
murderously at the fallen man, then turns her eyes to his partner. With
fear in his eyes and a desperate "No, no, no!" on his lips, he runs off
through the arch at the center of the back wall of the space. She watches
him go, then shakes her head in amused defeat. Her gaze returns to the body
before her, the still erect cock throbbing. She moves as if to take it,
perhaps to straddle the body and use the hard organ to push her over the
edge, but in the end it seems like too much trouble.
	She returns to her chambers, the lights shifting focus to her new
location, and goes to a table. On it is a bowl, a large book supported on a
stand, and several vials of potions and jars containing ingredients of
magic. The various items attract her attention as she considers their use,
but she turns away, as if resigning herself to her fate. She sits on the
edge of the platform and then lays back. Her hand moves, once again, to her
crotch and she begins to toy with her clitoris in an attempt to relieve
herself. After several moments of this, she sits back up, her anger
overcoming her need.
	"This is insufferable. I have mastered the most powerful magic in
the world. There is no reason why I should not be able to find
satisfaction. I always was able to before. I must be able to."
	She returns to the table and, occasionally glancing at the book,
measures several of the ingredients into the bowl. As each item is added,
she mutters an incantation. Wifts of smoke begin to rise from the bowl,
becoming thicker as the potion reaches its completion.
	"Fire. Steel. Hard and strong.
	Long of thrust. Slow to cum.
	Deep and firm. Soul of iron.
	Bring fulfillment to my desiring.
	Match my strength with power and need.
	Give my hunger a place to feed.
	A man to last. A man to fuck.
	Big arms, big chest, big legs, big cock."
	With the final ingredients combined, the smoke from the bowl
becomes dark and ominous. She places it on the center of the raised
platform and moves away. The space darkens except for the area around the
bowl, which emits bright shafts of light, flashes of color which give the
smoke the appearance of life. The cloud thickens and begins to take on a
form from within. Shadows of arms and legs, torso and head can be
seen. Color catches on a bicep, a pec, a thigh, a flat, rigid abdomen. And
a cock. Long and loose, hanging between two powerful legs. A sudden flash
of lightening backlights the huge body and triggers a wind storm, blowing
the smoke away. When it clears and the light returns to normal, a man is
standing on the platform, naked, oiled, pumped, hung. His eyes scan his
surroundings seeing everything for the first time. He discovers his own
body. Slowly he flexes and stretches, testing the strength and feel of
it. Each muscle expands with his efforts and he runs his hands over the
swelling muscle, sensing its mass, enjoying its power. His huge cock,
measuring nine inches in length, swings back and forth as he turns to work
his various body parts. The thick shaft and heavy head beat against the
full load of his scrotum.
	The Queen stands to one side, watching her creation. She has seen
this behavior before, with each creature she has made. There is an
eagerness, an excitement, a flood of lust and desire which is taking over
her thoughts. She steps before the man and faces him, tensing her own
magnificent body.
	"You are my creation. You have been made to satisfy my need. I seem
to be getting the hang of this stuff."
	The man turns his attentions to the Queen, seeing her for the first
time. His cock immediately begins to thicken, his hands move to it and
massage the hardening shaft of flesh.
	"You gave me this body?"
	"Yes."
	"You gave me this life?"
	"Yes."
	"You gave me this cock?"
	"Yes."
	"What am I here for?"
	"I told you. To satisfy me."
	"What needs do you have?"
	"Sexual fulfillment."
	"Why are you not fulfilled?"
	"The magic I use increases my power, but also my need. I seek to
create something that can surpass that need."
	"But if your need is as strong as your power, how is that
possible?"
	"I reach further. Each time I create, I bring more power into the
creation."
	"That is why I am here?"
	"Yes."
	"I will attempt to fill your need."
	The Queen grabs the thick shaft of his manflesh, pulling down on it
until the man is forced to kneel before her.
	"I am not interested in attempts," she spits vehemently. "You were
created to serve me. You will satisfy me."
	Although the man is in pain, his continually growing erection
signals his arousal at being treated as he is. The Queen's face is inches
from his own, their eyes locked as tightly on each other's as her hand is
locked on his hard, aching cock. He throws his arm around her neck, pulls
her mouth to his and presses his lips against hers in a brutal kiss. They
hold this for a moment and then the Queen pulls the man's cock toward her
until he is forced to step off the platform. She pulls the length of flesh
towards her crotch and he arches his back as she guides his huge shaft into
her. Every muscle on each of their body's tenses upon contact and he
thrusts his hips forward until he is completely inside her and then
continues to push until he has lifted her off the ground, suspended only by
the contact between his rigid, aching cock and her cunt. He grabs her ass
and raises her up until only the head of his massive organ is within
her. He holds her there for a few seconds, his biceps bulging with the
effort, and then releases her. A shriek of pleasure/pain erupts from her
throat as she hits bottom, the man's cock again buried deep within her. He
lifts and drops her again with the same shattering results. The third time
he lifts, he holds her aloft until she is squirming, crying, trying to
force her way down onto his swollen prick. His mouth begins to work the
nipples that adorn her breasts, nipping and biting them into erection. She
pushes herself against his attack to increase the pressure. When her hips
begin to heave themselves against his chest, he drops her one final time,
eliciting a shattering sob and unleashing a fury of movement. The Queen
throws her hips against him with blinding speed.
	He moves to the platform and lowers the Queen's body until she is
sitting on the edge. She lays back, throws her legs around his waist and
pulls him to her. His thrusts are brutal, shattering. She cries out with
each heaving onslaught as his huge organ rushes, time and again, into her
cunt. Her voice becomes strained, her cries become anguished, as she moves
closer to her orgasm. The creation, himself, is fighting to reach his own
completion and the urgency of his actions tells his desperation. He cries
out that he is cumming.
	"Oh, God, not yet. Not yet," she yells. "Don't
stop. Don't. . . Stop. . . I'm. . . Not. . . Not. . ."
	His thrusts double in speed, he cries out ferociously and unleashes
his torrent inside her. Within seconds he is finished, exhausted,
depleted. He falls back to the ground, his huge cock quickly deflating. The
Queen is both furious and frantic. Her hand dives for her vagina as she
screams at the lifeless form below her.
	"You worm. You piece of trash. How dare you leave me like this. Who
said you could cum? Who told you to finish before me? Get up and finish
me. Get up."
	Her demands fall on deaf ears. He is passed out. She jumps off the
platform, drops to her knees over him and takes the huge, flaccid penis
into her mouth, sucking it back to erection. When it is semi-tumescent she
stands over it and lowers herself onto the shaft. She then begins to raise
and lower herself, using the hard, thick shaft to make herself cum. Within
seconds she is back where she was just before he came. She screams, moans,
curses, cries her way to an orgasm that strains through her body, her huge
muscles bulging, flexing, pumping herself to her final pleasure.
	When the last vibrations of her climax finish wracking her body,
she stands and looks at the body lying at her feet. The huge, muscular man
is still out cold, but he now has an enormous, aching erection which looks
like it could explode any second with torrents of cum. She slaps his face
several times to bring him around. He sits up, shaking his head, his hands
immediately going to his aching hard-on. She grabs his wrists and pulls him
to his feet.
	"Oh, no you don't. You don't cum again until you find me someone
who can last as long as I want him to. I want a cock I can fuck until I say
I'm done. You understand me?"
	"I am sorry I was not able to satisfy you. Your need is too
great. Perhaps the power you seek must come from some other source."
	"That's what the old crone said."
	"If your power cannot create what you need, then perhaps there is
no one."
	"There is. I know it. Just once I want to fuck someone who can do
me by himself. This orgasm by committee sucks. I want a cock and a body
that will give me what I need and then still need more. And until I get it,
you had better get used to having blue balls."
	"What do you mean?"
	"You will not cum until I get my cock. I want to see yours aching
and dripping until I find my man. In fact, no one here may find release
until my needs are met. I want to see nothing but hard nipples, aching
cunts, stiff cocks and swollen balls around here"
	"Yes, Your Highness."
	"I will hold you personally responsible. Spread the word. I offer
one thousand pieces of gold to the person who brings me what I
need. Somewhere out there is a man with the power to meet mine."
	"I will leave at once."
	"No. You will stay here. I need a good, stiff cock around to keep
me occupied."
	"But if I can not cum. . ."
	"Then you had better be as optimistic about this as I am, because I
plan on making those gorgeous balls of your ache. Real good."
	The Queen moves closer to him and drops to her knees before his
hard, throbbing cock. She opens her mouth and draws the thick shaft inside
her. Deeper and deeper it goes until her face is pressed against the wiry
pubic hair. The man throws his head back, trying to abandon himself to the
pleasure, but it quickly turns to agony as he finds he can not cum. The
Queen slowly draws her head back, slowly releasing his cock from her
mouth. As she does, a low, wailing moan pours from the man's throat,
increasing in volume until his cock is completely free. When the contact is
broken, the moan becomes an agonizing yell. With his body bent backwards in
tortured distress, he grabs his cock, squeezing it as hard as he can. The
stage is plunged into blackness as the yell echoes and reverberates,
seeming to go on forever, as will his agony.
	The set revolves until the Queens chamber is out of sight. There is
now a window in what appears to be a shack. In front of the window is a
bed; a sleeping body moves under the covers. The light through the window
becomes a sunrise and the covers are thrown back revealing a waking, naked
Woman. The outline of her body shows it to be hard and thick with
muscles. Her firm, cone-shaped breasts ride high on her chest as she
stretches. The nipples are erect. She sees something outside the window and
waves.
	In a moment another person, a Man, comes into the shack through a
door to the right of the bed. His large body is draped in a rough blanket
with a slit for his head to stick through. It hangs down to his knees and
is fastened around his waist with a leather strap. He moves to the end of
the bed, his form also silhouetted. As he looks at the Woman, the front of
the fabric, below the leather strap, begins to rise, indicating an enormous
erection. His cock grows until it is sticking straight out, holding the
blanket up.
	The Woman leans towards him and reaches under the front of his
garment, taking the huge erection in her hand. As she grasps his cock he
moans loudly and his huge body shudders in anticipation of ecstasy. She
pulls him by his cock and he crawls up on the bed, pressing into her. As he
moves his body over her, his enormous but unseen cock moving within her,
she cries out passionately. Before he has completed his first thrust she is
vibrating, moaning, overwhelmed by the pressure within her. Pulling and
raking at his back, her muscular arms bulge as they strain to join her body
to his. He now covers her with his own massive frame and begins to draw
himself back for the next thrust. She cries out and shivers, her body
tensing with inflamed pleasure.
	The distance his hips travel is lengthy. At the furthest point from
her, he gives his hips some short, rapid thrusts. She sighs loudly, and,
wrapping her arms around his neck, lifts herself off the bed, swinging
herself against him, driving herself down on his cock. He shouts in
surprise and throws himself into her with purpose. Within seconds they are
moaning, crying out, reaching for the their common goal.
	The light has increased enough during their activities to allow
their faces to be seen as well as the details of their bodies. The huge Man
holds himself above the Woman and drives against her with long, powerful
thrusts which she absorbs. She heaves her body towards him as only someone
familiar with her lover's moves could do. Every now and then one of them
makes a little change in their rhythm or movement and the other reacts with
surprise but immediately matches the effort and they are soon back in sync,
their pleasure heightened by the other's spontaneity.
	Just as they are about to reach their peak, as their bodies move
headlong towards what appears to be a massive release of energy, a group of
men burst into the shack and grab the Man by his shoulders, pulling him off
the Woman. They are dressed in identical loincloths, some sort of
uniform. Their bodies are covered with large, bulging muscles. Two of them
hold knives at the Man's throat while two others quickly fit him with a
large yoke, almost too heavy for the two of them to handle, to which they
manacle his hands at the extreme ends. At first he tries to fight his way
free, but the sharp blades pointed at him are persuasive; resistance is
futile. Once the yoke is secured, the other two men also draw knives and
place them near the captive Man's throat.
	Two other men have grabbed the Woman by her arms and laid her
across the top of a table. They slip loops of rope around the table legs
nearest her arms and then wrap the other ends around her wrists, tightening
them so she can't escape. The naked Woman and her lover are still breathing
hard from their activities and the Man's erection has yet to subside. It
still forces the front of his blanket to rise far out before him. The six
men, obviously waiting for the arrival of someone else, begin to comment on
the Man's condition and his physical attributes.
	It can be seen that the captive Man's arms are heavily muscled. His
shoulders are wide, his waist narrow. He bears the heavy yoke with greater
ease than the two who placed it on him. Bare legs below the blanket are
thick and strong and the other men talk about what a fine catch he is.
	The Woman struggles against her bonds, but one of the men guarding
her wields his knife close to her throat. She freezes, her eyes locked on
the object. The captor slowly strokes the point of his knife down her
throat to her breast, the tip barely making contact with her skin. When he
reaches her nipple he holds the knife directly over it and flicks it
gently. Though she is scared, she is still aroused. Her hips jump. He
flicks the knife again and she responds the same. Her assailant flashes his
partner a look and is about to take some other action when a seventh man
enters.
	He is obviously the other men's leader. This can be told by his
dress and the way the others behave upon his entry. His chest is bare, his
pectorals large and round. His abdominals ripple with strength. The
loincloth he wears is of fine leather and his waist is wrapped by a large
leather belt from which hangs a scabbard containing a short sword. His
upper arms are wrapped with leather straps worn at the division between his
deltoids and biceps. He surveys the occupants of the room, turning his
attention first to the Man. He walks around him, keeping his distance so as
to not be caught by surprise. He prods and pushes at the Man's body,
checking his size, his shape.
	"Well, men. Looks like we've got us a real money maker here. I'd
say we've hit the jackpot. Anybody take a measurement yet?"
	The man who had been toying with the Woman's nipple responds, "No,
Captain. We've only just gotten them restrained."
	"Ah, yes. Well we seem to have interrupted something. Seems to be
some unfinished business here, by the looks of it. And a lot of business,
at that." The Captain goes to the captive Man. "I see you have been
persuaded that resistance will get you nothing but a slit throat. It would
be a shame to waste such an amazing body just for one final taste of
freedom." The Captain now moves closer to the Man and wraps his hand around
the blanket-encased erection. As he squeezes his hand around the huge
member its dimensions become more obvious. The captive's knees weaken as he
cringes in agony. The Captain delights in his predicament and crushes the
huge cock in his grip. The Man falls to his knees, unable to withstand the
torture. The Captain releases the cock as the other Man falls. He lifts the
Man's chin, studying his face. "This certainly is our lucky day. Wish I
could say the same for him. And he's beautiful. My God, look at him. And
with the passion still burning in him, too. Get him back on his
feet. There'll be time for groveling later."
	He turns his attention to the Woman bound to the table top. Her
hard, firm body arches against her bondage. The thick chest narrows to a
hard, trim waist, leaving a gap between her lower back and the table. The
Captain moves to her side and runs his fingers lightly, teasingly across
her breasts. She struggles hard against the ropes, but her guard's knife,
brought quickly against her cheek, convinces her of the futility and danger
of her efforts. The Captain toys with the nipple of one breast then leans
down and flicks his tongue across it. She attempts to pull her breast out
of his range and the captive Man, who is just regaining his legs, lunges
toward The Captain.
	"Get him out of here. Tie him to the front of the wagon, he can
help the horses pull. He's certainly strong enough. I've got a little
business with this one." He runs his gaze and a light finger down the
length of her majestic body.
	The four men guarding the captive take him out the door. The
Captain signals to the sixth guard who moves to him and drops to his
knees. He pulls aside The Captain's loincloth, revealing a monstrously
thick cock hanging heavily between his legs. The kneeling guard takes it
into his mouth and begins to suck it to erection. The Captain throws his
head back and enjoys the ministrations of his minion, his hips thrusting as
he loses himself in the feeling for several moments. When he is fully erect
the guard pulls away. The cock which is revealed is awesome in its
thickness. The master grabs its length and begins to stroke it.
	"I'd hate to leave you in such a state. That big cock of his must
have had you going pretty good. Let's see if this will take care of you for
a while."
	He moves to the end of the table, grabbing the Woman's ankles. He
attempts to move into her, but she flails her legs to avoid his attack. His
muscles bulge as he holds on to her, keeping her from damaging him.
	"Yes. A fighter. Yes. Go ahead. Makes me harder. That's right. Put
up a good fight. Yes. She's strong. Look at her. So strong. Makes me leak
just to look at her. That's good. Make me ache. I'm going to split you
wide. You ever have anything this big? This thick? You two, come hold her
feet. I've got a real need to push. Hold her."
	The two guards stand on either side of The Captain and take her
feet. She struggles some more, but he moves towards her, pressing his huge
phallus inside her, slowly, inexorably, relentlessly. She cries out as the
thick shaft enters. Her back arches, her breasts thrust into the air. Her
hard abdomen contracts as if trying to expel the intruder. Her biceps and
pectorals thicken and bulge as she struggles and strains against the
straps.
	The Captain finally embeds his cock completely within her. He waits
for her to adjust to his size, enjoying the sensations of her struggle. The
two guards each display signs of arousal as their muscles bulge against the
strain of their efforts. The master reaches outward to them and grabs the
pectoral of each man which is closest to him. As he digs his fingers into
the solid mounds of flesh the two guards cry out in pleasure/agony. Each of
them rip off their loincloth with one hand, revealing hard, erect, aching,
blood-engorged cocks. The Captain grabs them and squeezes. As the men heave
their pelvises against his enclosing fists he thrusts his own against the
formidable, unwilling sex partner restrained before him.
	She cries out. He is big. She is angry. But he is big. Ultimately,
she is forced to submit to the massive sensations which the thickness of
his cock is generating within her, making her an unwilling participant. Her
breathing becomes regular, her motions purposeful. She meets his every
movement with a countering one as she moves closer to her impending climax.
	The Captain still grasps the guards' hard-ons, allowing them to
drive themselves against his grasp. The three men move in unison, their
efforts climbing to a common summit. As they approach their goal their
bodies become more driven by the energy of the union. Their muscles bulge,
their faces strain, their cries increase, their bodies are coated with
sweat which begins to run off them in rivers. Suddenly the Woman
screams. She jerks her legs away from the guards' grasp, wrapping them
around the waist of The Captain who mistakenly perceives this as a movement
of ardor. His huge arms bulge more as he bears down on the two guards
cocks, themselves only seconds from orgasm. As he throws himself into the
grasp of the Woman, she locks her legs tightly around his waist and,
lifting him, throws The Captain over her head. He does a flip and lands on
a pile of straw in the corner of the shack. She continues her movement,
performing a backward somersault off the end of the table, ending up on her
feet. She turns the table on end, slides the straps off the legs, then
heaves it toward the two befuddled, orgasming guards. Their cocks are
erupting with cum which shoots out in all directions making them unable to
control themselves. The Captain is winded by his fall and torn between
anger and desperation. There is a flash and a cloud of smoke consumes the
Woman. When it clears, she is gone.
	"After her. Don't let her escape. Get her back here."
	The two guards regain control and head out the door of the cottage.
	The Captain lies on the pile of straw, his muscular chest
heaving. He angrily grabs his aching, rigid cock and pumps his fist up and
down the thick, dark shaft. Within seconds he is transported to uninhibited
release and he is rewarded with a powerful climax, shooting thick wads of
cum across the room. Just as his cock erupts, one of the naked guards
returns to report, sees what is in progress and hurries to swallow what is
left of The Captain's orgasm, sucking the cock until it softens. The
Captain falls back into the straw, distracted by the moment. When his hips
stop thrusting and his cock softens enough to fall from the guard's mouth,
he sits up and pushes the man off him, sending him sprawling on the floor.
	"Where is she?"
	"We could not find her, sir. She seems to have vanished into thin
air. There's no place around she could hide."
	The Captain leaps upon the man, grabbing him by the throat; the
anger in him paralyzing his lackey. He rattles the subordinate's head as he
yells in rage, "I will not be treated this way. No one does that to me and
gets away. She'll pay for this, that is sure. I'll catch up with her one
day, and when I do, she'll be sold so deep into slavery, she won't remember
ever having been free. A body like that is good for the mines. And anything
else the right paying customer might have in mind."
	He releases the man's throat, letting his head drop to the floor.
	"That's okay. We've got her lover. Something tells me she isn't
going to let him go so easily. We'll make sure we leave a trail so she can
follow us. She won't be able to resist. She'll have a hard time giving up a
body, a face, and a cock like that."
	He looks down at the man who lies between his legs.
	"What are you waiting for? Get up, you worthless sack of shit. We
have to make it back to the castle before someone else shows up with a cock
that can please The Queen. Come on."
	The Captain leaves the shack as the guard climbs to his feet,
gathers up his own and his partner's loincloths and wraps himself, pressing
his hand against his semi-flaccid organ as he draws the fabric around
him. As he leaves, the lights fade and the set revolves back to the palace.
	The Queen's chamber is backlit, revealing the outline of the Queen
kneeling on the raised platform. Her back is arched, her head tossing from
side to side, her muscles bulging with tension. As the lights grow brighter
another woman can be seen kneeling before her, her mouth vigorously working
on the Queen's genitals. the Queen thrusts her hips repeatedly against the
other woman's ministrations, her cries increasing as her climax nears and
she grabs the woman's head, forcing it tightly against her. The woman wraps
her arms around the Queen's hard, flexing ass and pulls herself closer. The
Queen keens in exquisite agony, her body vibrates violently, her muscles
bulge and then she bends forward, pulling the other woman's mouth to hers
as they dive into a deep, pressing kiss. Their hands probe and dig at each
other's muscles, pressing hard. As the maid encircles the Queen's breasts
with her hands, the Queen forces the maid's mouth to one aching nipple and
then the other. After several moments, they part.
	"Yes. Oh my God, yes. That's good. So good. Now if I only had a
good cock to go in and finish the job."
	"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I wish I could oblige you."
	The Queen looks down at the kneeling woman, seeming to have
forgotten her. She laughs deeply, viciously. "Yes, my sweet. I'm sure you
do. But the fact of the matter is that there doesn't seem to be cock around
that can do the job."
	"I understand the Captain is arriving today. Perhaps he will have
something for you."
	"Doubtless the conniving worm will attempt to convince me of
that. So far, he has yet to supply me with what I want."
	"I hope, for all our sakes, he succeeds this time."
	"Yes. Things are getting far too tense around here. We're going to
have to stop running around here without any clothes on. The way most of
the men are looking, the dam could burst any moment."
	"Many of the women are starting to feel the strain, as well, Your
Highness."
	"Not the least of which is me. If I don't get some cock pretty soon
I'm going to explode." She looks down at the woman and sees the look of
hurt on her face. "Don't worry, my dear. You did just fine. It's just that
my needs are more demanding. It's not just a cock. It's more. The feeling
of a huge, muscular body moving over you, under you, inside you. A talent
for knowing when to push, when to pull, when to stop, when to go and go and
go."
	She sees the woman's hand move towards her own crotch and clears
her throat. The woman realizes what she was about to do and stops.
	"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I. . . didn't realize. It was
just. . . what you were talking about. I'm sorry."
	"That's all right. I'm even getting myself worked up. You certainly
did a fine job here. Would you like to get some release, yourself?"
	"Oh, yes, Your Highness. Being here with you, you're so beautiful,
and the way you talk. I think I might explode."
	"Stand up." The woman rises to her feet. The Queen steps off the
platform and trades places with the woman, sitting her on the edge. "I
could use a little diversion, myself. Lay back."
	"You mean. . .?"
	"Back."
	"Yes, Your Highness."
	The woman complies and the Queen dives for her crotch. Instantly
the woman's hips heave off the platform and she grabs her breasts,
squeezing and mashing them with her open palms, crushing her nipples and
pressing them together. Within seconds she is writhing in orgasmic agony as
the Queen drives her mouth hard against her. Then it is over as suddenly as
it began, but the Queen does not stop. She reaches up and takes the woman's
breasts, firm and large, and begins to work them, pinching the nipples,
pulling the nipples, pressing the nipples. The woman's hips begin to thrust
again and she flails about on the platform. Shortly, she is crying out
again. The Queen continues to lick and drink at her cunt and she is
rewarded with yet another orgasm. The woman's chest is heaving from the
exertion of the two orgasm but the Queen does not stop. Now she is pulling
the woman's vaginal lips apart, forcing herself deeper inside. The woman
screams, shouting that she can not stand it. The Queen ignores her pleas
and pulls herself against the prone woman's cunt. Again, the woman thunders
to a massive orgasm. Her back arches, her body lifts off the platform, her
voice sounds in a long, wailing cry, her body suddenly wracked with violent
convulsions. She then collapses.
	The Queen rolls her off the back of the platform and down the
stairs behind.
	"Can't have anyone running around here telling people I let her get
off.  Bad for morale."
	She claps her hands twice and most the recent creation appears up
the rear stairs, his thick, nine inch cock hanging loosely between his
legs. He walks slightly bull-legged to keep his heavy, swollen scrotum from
beating against his hard, muscular thighs. Every few seconds a drop of
pre-cum oozes from the tip of his cock and falls to the floor.
	"Get rid of the body."
	"Yes Your Highness."
	"Are the Searchers assembled in the Great Room?"
	"They have been arriving all morning, Your Highness. They await
your pleasure."
	"Any news on the quality of their wares?"
	"Very little has been seen, but it is said there is one slave
pulling a Searcher's cart along with the horses."
	"Poor brute will probably be wasted by the time he gets here. Never
mind. Deal with her and then tell them I'll be down shortly."
	"Yes, Your Highness."
	When she is alone again she sits on the end of the platform and
strokes her genitals with one hand while toying with the nipple of one of
her breasts with the other.
	"And if they have no one who will do the trick, then I'll have one
of their thick cocks do me, instead. Filthy, sweaty, thick, hard cock." She
drives her middle finger deep within her cunt, arches her back, her body
shuddering. "Yesssssssssss." The lights fade
	There is the sound of chains being dragged and the occasional
whip-crack. Lights come up on the main playing area as a line of men, each
with arms manacled and ankles fettered, enters through the central
arch. They all wear poor clothing, worn and tattered from travel and
mistreatment, but it is obvious they each possess well-developed
physiques. Each is lead by a Searcher and two guards, one of whom has a
whip. As one of the captives falters, a guard cracks his whip against the
man's back. The slave turns to the guard defiantly, but thinks better of
retaliating.
	The Queen's creation enters from the arch. He has put on a tunic
which just barely doesn't reach to conceal the huge head of his cock as it
hangs heavily. He exchanges greetings with The Seashores.  "Looks like a
pretty motley bunch."
	"They've just been on the road for a few days. They'll clean up
real nice."
	"I'm to tell you she is on her way down right now."
	He then turns to the captives to explain their situation.
	"As you know, you have been brought here for a very special
purpose. The mistress of this palace has found herself in a predicament. It
seems there is no one who can relieve her in the manner to which she wants
to become accustomed. You fine, young men will get the chance to prove
yourselves capable. And I will tell you that he who does, will find himself
with a much brighter future than just pushing heavy gristmills or rowing
sea-going galleys, which is what your highly developed muscles are truly
suited for. It would behoove each of you to put on the finest performance
you can. Not only will it greatly improve your lot, but it will bring great
credit to The Searcher who provides the Queen's relief."
	There is a fanfare of trumpets and the Queen enters, accompanied by
an entourage of scantily clothed guards and handmaidens. A throne is moved
into place by two bulging attendants who strain at the effort, their
muscles exploding. The Queen walks to her throne, runs her hands over the
torso of one of the attendants, her fingers lightly tracing the lower curve
of his pectoral. He shudders and rams his crotch against the side of the
throne. She sits.
 	One if the Searchers approaches the throne and bows low to the
Queen but never takes his eyes off her magnificent form.
	"Your Highness is looking especially aroused today. I hope it would
not seem out of place to tell you what a pleasure it is to see
you. . . right now."
	"As you can see, things are a bit tense around here. It is hoped
one of you will provide the source of our relief."
	"We have all traveled to the far reaches of the known world to
bring to you the finest quality in male flesh. As you will see, each of the
slaves we will present to you has premium physical qualities and, as I'm
sure you will want to be shown, the stamina and drive to put it to good
use."
	"Let me be the judge of that. Show us your wares."
	"I can assure you that each has been taken from the finest stock to
be found anywhere."
	"I have no interest in idle claims."
	"Truth is not idle, Your Highness. The poor condition of these men
is due only to their many day's travel."
	"Let's see what you have to offer."
	"Very well."
	The Queen's Creation moves to the first captive and directs his
Searcher to undo his manacles. A key is produced and the chains drop
heavily to the floor. He then signals to one of the guards to remove the
man's garments. The guard lifts the tattered clothing over the man's head,
revealing a body wrapped only in a poor, linen loincloth. His physique is
swollen with muscles, bulging and huge; the content of his loincloth
presses hard against the fabric. Sounds of approval murmur through the
Queen's entourage.
	The Creation signals to the next Searcher who removes his captives
manacles as well. The captive grabs the front of his own garment and tears
it open with a fierce tug. The ripping sounds of the material along with
the grunt of his efforts triggers a reaction in the onlookers. With his
clothing torn completely asunder, he drops them to the ground. His body is
as huge and swollen as the man next to him. The process is repeated as each
man's magnificent body is revealed down to the spare girdle covering each
of their straining cocks.
	Obviously affected by the sight before her, the Queen rises from
her throne and goes to the first Searcher. As she talks to him, her hands
wander over the surface of his muscular chest, pausing to tweak and worry
his nipples.
	"I hope that what remains to be revealed is as spectacular as what
has been shown already."
	The Searcher, quickly falling under the spell of the Queen's
manipulations, answers dreamily, "We have spared no effort in our duties,
your highness."
	The Queen looks about the room and notices someone missing. "Where
is the Captain of the Searchers?"
	"It seems he is having a problem with his captive. The insolent
fool did not take kindly to the fact that he was made to pull The Captains
wagon along with the horses."
	"He toys with my time. We shall not wait for him. If my source of
fulfillment is found among these men, he will know it was his foolishness
which defeated him." She returns to her throne and sits with a petulant
flop, her hand idly stroking the hard, rippling abdominals of the attendant
to her left. A quick nod to her Creation signals for him to begin.
	"You will now remove your loincloths."
	He claps his hands and the five captives each grab the sides of
their loincloths and pull them loose, dropping them to the floor. Moans are
heard throughout the room as five long, hard, achingly rigid, dark,
blood-engorged cocks are revealed. Each is accompanied by a full, heavy
scrotum filled with large, swollen balls. The five men begin to pose,
flexing and pumping their muscles up larger and larger, each trying to
outdo the others. Biceps and triceps, pectorals and deltoids, lats and
traps, calves and thighs and gluts swell. They are quickly covered with a
shiny coating of sweat which makes their skin gleam seductively. It is
obvious the proceedings are affecting the five men as much as the
observers; their movements become more lascivious, their intentions more
blatant, their hard, thick cocks sway and dance before them above the
retracted weight of their large testicles.
	The Queen allows this display to go on for a few moments, but
realizes she is about to lose control of both her subjects and herself.
	"Enough!" she shouts.
	The five men drop their poses and return to more neutral positions,
though they continue to keep all parts of their bodies hard and swollen.
	"I have chosen women to test the efforts of your men. But first, I
assume they have had little or no pleasure since their capture."
	"None, Your Highness." answers one of the Searchers.
	"Then I want each of them to make themselves cum before they are
put to the test. The first to achieve orgasm will get to choose his partner
from those here. The rest will be assigned a mate."
	"Very well, Your Highness. Shall they begin?"
	"Yes!" the Queen responds, a bit too eagerly. "Yes."
	The Creation turns to the five men. "You heard the Queen. The first
to cum gets to choose." The five men are glancing at each other, indicating
they had not expected this to happen. They are a bit uneasy, but the crack
of the whip convinces them to comply.
	A handmaiden, her hard, well-proportioned body clothed only in
short, filmy skirt, passes before the five men and spreads a quantity of
lotion along the length of each of their cocks and then into their
hands. Each trembles at her touch and one of them reaches out to her full
breasts and presses his palms into them. She responds by moving against
him, rubbing her thigh against his swollen shaft.
	"Get away from him, you fool. You'll ruin the contest."
	The maid bows to the Queen and finishes distributing the lotion.
	"Now men, begin."
	The five men each grab their own cocks and begin to work them, at
first tentatively, embarrassed at having to jerk off in front of
everyone. But as they become more aroused, their attacks become hard,
vigorous strokes. Their bodies tense as they quickly climb towards their
orgasms. Abdominals flex and pump as they drive their hips hard against
their gripping hands. Their cocks become even harder, the heads of their
penises become inflamed. Faces strain with effort, veins and muscles swell
under taut, tight skin. Biceps explode, thighs swell, balls retract, and
cocks grow darker. The head of each cock expands as it prepares to spew its
load. One by one, the men begin to cry out, signaling their imminent
release. Their actions grow more and more frantic as they lose their
inhibitions, driven by their desperate need.
	The Queen reaches out to the crotches of her two attendants and
begins to work her hands against their swollen condition. They, in turn,
each take one of her breasts and manipulate and worry the nipples until
they are painfully erect. Just as the actions of those around the throne
begin to move to a higher level the five men complete their mission, firing
thick shots of cum from their cocks. Some goes up, some cross the room,
some splatters on the bodies around them, triggering even more frantic
reactions from all.
	When the five are complete, they return to their neutral positions,
their massive chests heaving in huge gulps of air. The prisoner who had
involved himself with the maiden wears a triumphant grin. He is the winner.
	The Queen, somewhat dismayed that the contest is over so quickly,
forces herself to break away from her attendants. She approaches the winner
of the contest and regards him with a mixture of disdain and
admiration. She runs her hands over his huge muscles, across the tops of
his deltoids, down the length of his biceps. She stands behind him and
presses her hands into his full pectorals then drags her fingernails up
over his shoulders and down his back. He shudders violently and his cock
jerks, its head drooling. She clenches his hard, firm ass in her two hands
and squeezes the muscles, her own body tensing with the effort as she jams
her firm breasts against his back. She then reaches between his legs with
one hand and grabs his balls. Gently, she rolls and fondles the two swollen
organs in her hands. The man sways from side to side, on the verge of
passing out. She reaches further and runs her fingernails up the underside
of his persistently erect cock. The man moans painfully; his hips thrusting
back and forth, actuated by the Queen's inciting ministrations.
	A wicked laugh escapes the Queen's lips. She grasps the man's cock
and pulls it back between his legs. The man bends over at the waist to
lessen the pressure. The Queen pulls up harder on his cock, wedging it
between the cheeks of his ass. Not having any other escape from his agony,
the man leaps in the air and performs a forward flip. The Queen is forced
to release his cock as the chain between his ankles strikes her
arm. Several guards move in and grab the prisoner as he pivots around to
confront his torturer. His anger almost gets the better of him, but he
realizes he would not outlive his actions. His huge shoulders slump as he
surrenders to his better judgment. The Queen regards him with disdain, then
returns to her throne.
	"I had hoped there might be a little more spirit in him, but I can
see he has already given up. I doubt he would be able to fulfill
me. Coward. Give him his woman and let's see if any of these hulks have
what it takes."
	The Creation walks over to the prisoner and pushes him towards the
group assembled around the Queen.
	"You heard the Queen. Select your partner for the judging."
	He hesitates and then walks up to the foot of the throne.
	The Queen laughs. "Don't even think about it, fool. You've lost
your chance this go around. You've got plenty to prove before you get this
far."
	The prisoner looks around at the rest of the people and sees the
maid who distributed the lotion. He nods in her direction. The Queen
follows his glance and sees who he has chosen.
	"Very well. She shall be the decider of your fate. Don't be so sure
she will be sympathetic to your cause, however."
	The prisoner nods again in the maid's direction, confirming his
choice. The maid smiles and moves to his side.
	"Now, for the rest of you." she indicates the remaining
prisoners. "We have a selection of my hardest, firmest, toughest female
gladiators. Each of them, I can tell you, would just as soon cut your nuts
off as look at you. There'll be more to survive here than just a little
copulation." She claps her hands.
	Four enormously muscled women, each girded with a leather thong,
enter through the central arch. Their hard, firm breasts project proudly
from their pectorals and their thick, muscular thighs give little doubt to
their power. They are preceded by a male slave who carries five iron rods,
four feet in length. Each ends in a "T" handle a foot long. He inserts them
into holes in the floor spaced four feet apart. The four gladiators and the
maid move to the "T" bars and, standing several feet away, lean over and
grab onto the handles.
	"There is no object to this next contest. I will simply observe the
reactions of these women. If any of you are able to offer them
satisfaction, I will make note of it. Have them choose one."
	The Creation pushes the captives towards the women. They scuffle
across the floor, dragging their chains along. Each moves up behind one of
the women, their hot, hard cocks looking like they would jump right off
their bodies and plunge deep within the enticing depths looming before
them. The women point their asses at the men's cocks and weave back and
forth, as if hypnotizing them with their actions. One by one, the men
remove the minuscule garments of their intended and toss them aside. Now,
the sight of bare flesh, the deep crease between full, firm cheeks, the
full lips of each vagina pull the cocks towards the women as if by
magnetism. Each man grabs the length of his shaft with one hand and places
the other on the back of the woman before him. They all face the Queen and
await her command.
	Now the women become agitated as they await their opportunity to
have their cocks. They twitch and shake, using all their will-power to keep
from plunging themselves back against the waiting rods of manflesh. The
Queen holds her hand in the air, casually, almost forgotten as she enjoys
the torment to which she is subjecting them. She turns her eyes towards The
Creation and beckons him to her. She will not drop her hand until he joins
her.
	He knows that he will find release with the activities which are
about to take place. His huge cock presses firmly against his tunic. He
crosses to the Queen and stands before her. With one hand still suspended
in the air, she reaches with the other to the front of his garment, pulls
it off his body in one motion, revealing his hard, swollen member. She
drops her hand, signaling the group to begin, as she grabs the thick
monster before her and draws it towards her cunt.
	Her hips raise off the seat of the throne and thrust toward The
Creation's long, hard penis. Six distended cocks slowly slide deep inside
six moist, hot cunts. Twelve pairs of hips thrust toward each other and
twelve throats roar with the power of all their pent-up fury. When each
cunt has accommodated itself to its contents twelve bodies covered with
straining, bulging, swelling muscles begin to pound against each other,
racing toward a common goal as if their lives depended on it.
	The five prisoners are having varied, yet positive, effects on
their mates. Each has a different technique and is attempting to arouse the
woman before him to the highest peak. For the moment, the Queen is very
involved with the thick cock thrusting powerfully inside her. As The
Creation leans towards her, she grabs the back of his neck and pulls
herself to him. He lifts her, his biceps bulging, and begins to lift and
drop her off and on his cock. Within seconds the Queen is shuddering with
her first orgasm. Seconds later, The Creation screams as his cock fires its
hot load within her. the Queen does not want him to stop; she forces
herself against him and continues to fuck his cock. At first The Creation
thinks he will rest, but the Queen's actions soon have him thrusting hard
against her once more. He lowers her back into her seat, grabs the arms of
the throne and begins slamming his pelvis hard to her, eliciting short,
sharp staccatoed cries which straddle the line between anguish and
delectation.
	 Each of the five prisoners have been driven to achieve an orgasm a
piece, but their partners still are wanting for relief. With a sense of
desperation that seems to override any desire to elicit data for the
Queen's need, they each strain hard against their mates, expending great
amounts of energy to attain their goals. The men are uninspiring lovers,
their performance a hindrance rather than beneficial to their cause. The
women's efforts are Sisyphean, for the harder they push themselves, the
more aroused the men become, causing them to orgasm, which breaks the
rhythm and forces a period of recovery, and the long climb up the mountain
begins again.
	The activities of the twelve have an effect on the other members of
the group. People begin to partner off with who ever seems to be closest
and within minutes the whole room is a heaving mass of thick muscles, full
breasts, lunging hips and swollen cocks filling various orifices to various
depths. If The Creation has had another orgasm, he has given no sign of
it. The huge penis continues to drive forcefully inside the Queen, her
cries becoming more desperate with each succeeding orgasm. It is obvious
she is climbing towards some peak of experience which has been her goal all
along. The closer she gets, the higher she gets, the more frantic she
becomes.
	Pleas and cries now fill the air. Not only from the Queen but
everyone else, as well. The five captives are having moderate success with
their efforts and several of the women are giving signs of actual
enjoyment. A rhythm seems to overtake everyone and soon the thrusts of each
body lock together and the cries and grunts and moans and shrieks hit a
common pace. The tempo increases. The sound increases. The pitch
increases. The Queen seems close to her desired goal.
	Suddenly, the Creation breaks step and flies off at such a frenzied
pace that it is certain he is near his end. In desperation, the Queen yells
at him not to stop. He can't help himself. His hips begin to pound against
her so fast they can hardly be seen. A sound comes from deep in his throat,
grows in volume and pitch and then explodes from him as his hips jerk and
flail in one final, violent, orgasmic paroxysm which lasts for several
moments. The Queen tries to drive herself toward her goal in spite of his
loss of control, but before she realizes her own end, the Creation's body
stiffens, sways forward for a moment and then falls back to the floor. His
amazing, long cock quickly deflates, droops over his balls, and hangs
between his legs.
	The Queen is frozen for a moment, not able or willing to accept her
partner's abandonment. She suddenly screams like a banshee and leaps from
her throne onto the man's body. Her hips thrust against his helpless cock
as she swears oaths.
	"Get up, damn it. You can't stop. Not now. Finish me, God damn
it. Finish me or I'll finish you."
	She pounds her fists on his massive chest. She pounds her hips on
his massive cock. She shakes him and slaps him, but it is to no
avail. After a few minutes, she calms down, realizing everyone is looking
at her. They are all frozen in the act of various forms of copulation,
cunnilingus and fellatio. In a second wave of fury, she runs about the room
pulling partners apart.
	"Who told you to do that? Who gave you permission. No one. I mean
no one. No one gets it until I do. Worthless. Let go of her. Get away from
him. Spit that out. Now. Now. Now."
	Her anger drains from her as she finds her way back to her
throne. She stands between the legs of her fallen lover and shakes her head
in disappointment.
	"Too bad. You could have made us all very happy. Very happy."
	She reaches out with a foot and gives the Creation's cock a gentle
kick. His body trembles. She pulls her foot back as if to swing wildly at
his testicles, but at the last instant decides otherwise.
	"Get a bucket of water," she commands.
	Two guards disengage themselves from their partners and run off,
returning quickly with a wooden bucket.
	"Throw it on him."
	They comply. The Creation jerks back to consciousness, sitting bolt
upright, having no knowledge of his close brush with injury, He shakes his
head and looks up at the Queen. At first he grins with satisfaction, but
her expression of hate and disdain makes him realize his failure.
	The Queen turns to the group of Searchers who are, themselves,
entangled in various activities. She decides to vent her rage on them,
instead.
	"You call these men? I've whipped up better in a bowl of soup." She
indicates the soaking wet form of the man lying at her feet. "You have
wasted my time and my resources, and I am fed up with the lot of you. Not
one of these could make a gnat cum, much less myself. Get rid of them. Send
them to the caves and yourselves with them."
	Several of the Searchers move as if to protest, but the Queen
swells her body and dares one of them to defy her. In the end, the
Searchers exit with their guards and captives.
	The Queen casts her eye around the room. "Where is the Captain of
the Searchers? Has he not found a way to tame the beast he has brought me?"
No one responds. She turns to one of her throne attendants. "Go see what's
keeping him. If he has failed to bring me one who can satisfy me, at least
his fat cock will make for some interesting diversion."
	The attendant moves to obey, but there is suddenly a huge commotion
outside the center arch. Several voices are heard yelling, and then there
is the sound of a fight. It sounds as though several men are receiving the
brunt of someone's anger. In the end, the Captain's voice is heard ordering
others to "hold him down, but don't damage him." The scuffling subsides and
then the Captain enters through the arch.
	He approaches the throne and bows low before the Queen. She barely
acknowledges his presence. He notes the slight, but does not seem to take
offense.
	"Your highness."
	"Where have you been?"
	"As you might guess, I've had certain difficulties bringing you the
fruit of my search."
	"Perhaps I should have sent someone more suited to the task."
	"Your highness humbles me with her concern. But I would not have
expended so much time and energy if I were not sure you would be pleased
with the results."
	"Results? You talk about results? It is failure that you now
present me with. Is this how you show your respect for your Queen?"
	"I had hoped that the assemblage of muscularity which my men had
presented to you would have been sufficient enough to please you. I fear I
have misjudged your capacity."
	"Misjudged? Misjudged!? You dared to hold the measure of my needs
against those of the sexual worms your men have presented here? Perhaps a
quick bit of surgery would bring your ego back into line."
	"Your Highness. I have only tried to do my best. The fault is not
in my ego, but only in my understanding. We travel long and hard to bring
you the finest the outer territories have to offer. We are all road weary
and exhausted."
	The Queen's anger is diffused by his ingratiating manner. "But I
have yet to be fulfilled. Is there not a man in this world who can satisfy
me?"
	"Your Highness, as I said, I am guilty of having misjudged your
needs. There is one more offering I have. If you will allow me, I know you
will be, at the least, intrigued."
	"If the slaves your men have brought me can't even satisfy my
women, how can you hope to provide me with even an intriguing diversion?"
	"That, Your Highness, is all I can do. Hope. Will you allow me?"
	"What do you have?"
	"I'm afraid I know very little about him. He will not speak, is
actually rather defiant. I have had to keep him with the horses, day and
night, for fear he would cause trouble with the others."
	"He is the one seen drawing your cart?"
	"Yes, Your Highness. And at times it was difficult to tell who was
helping who. He is quite powerful."
	"Power is one thing. It is fulfillment I seek."
	"May I say that, all modesty aside, even my rather prodigious
assets pale in comparison."
	"You intrigue me, Captain. But all the power and glory in the world
is still not enough. There must be something more. Something deeper."
	"If Your Highness will allow me, I will show him to you and let you
be the judge."
	"Very well. But be mindful of my patience. It has been worn fairly
thin by insufficient goods and deeds. I will not tolerate more
disappointments."
	"Just take a few minutes to see for yourself. If you are still
uninterested, I shall depart without further adieu."
	The Queen turns to her throne and sits with a haughty plop. "Very
well. You have this one last chance to redeem yourself. If you fail, do not
be found within the boundaries of my land again, for it shall be the last
time we shall encounter each other. Of that you may be sure. And of that I
shall be sure."
	"Yes, Your Highness."
	The Captain claps his hands. There is a commotion from behind the
arch and four of The Captain's guards escort in the prisoner at knife- and
spearpoint. He is again wearing the yoke, his hands chained to the ends of
it. He is disheveled and filthy, but there is an energy which everyone
senses immediately. He stands in the arch and sweeps the room with his
gaze, taking the measure of each person, weighing them against himself,
determining his future against those around him.
	His bright, penetrating eyes, so at odds with the state of his
appearance, rest finally and firmly on the Queen. He knows this is where
his future will be decided. And it is against her that he judges
himself. In a flash, he sees there is no one present his equal. He has
already won.
	The Queen is fascinated, unquestionably. She is also insulted by
his attitude, though she does not realize the extent or source of it. His
body is as large as most of the men present. The shoulders that support the
yoke are wide and powerful. The arms that extend from within the fabric of
his simple tunic are thickly veined and muscled. His legs, hard and
massive, are only teasingly visible. His tunic hangs down almost to his
knees.
	She turns to The Captain and gives him a look, "This is fine. A
handsome specimen, to be sure. What makes you think that a pretty face and
a few large muscles will be able to fill my needs?"
	"Your Highness! Would I have wasted the valuable time of your
gracious self along with all those here in attendance, not to mention my
own, just to show you a lump of well-developed muscles? Certainly you can
see that here, every day, in your own collection of servants. No, Your
Highness. Not only have I captured for you a staggering assemblage of
highly developed musculature, but, contained within the meager garment this
man wears, I have provided for your perusal a specimen of manflesh which
will attempt to reach the deepest reaches of your desires."
	The Queen gets caught up in his words. She presses her crotch
against one of the Captain's thickly muscled thighs, sliding up and down
its thickness. Her hand tarries on his hard abdomen and wanders across the
front of his bulging loincloth.
	"Tell me, Captain. When you reveal this man to me, shall I see
anything which might compare to your own prodigious shaft?"
	"Your Highness flatters my unworthy self with your memories of
me. But as you know, it is my policy to let the merchandise speak for
itself. Surely you do not think I would compete against my own product?"
	"Let's put it this way, Captain. If I don't find what I want over
there, I may just have to go looking here instead." Her last words were
accented by a painful grasp of The Captain's crotch.
	"Your Highness honors me with her attentions." He gingerly pulls
her hand away from his cock and kisses a knuckle, stroking it fondly. "I
hope that, one way or another, you will not be disappointed."
	The Queen flashes him a look laced with too many emotions not to be
staggering. The Captain cringes as he reflects on the nature of her
feelings.
	"If Your Highness will permit me?"
	"You try me too much."
	"Please indulge me for one more minute. Then, I am at your
command."
	The Queen nods condescendingly. The Captain signals to his men. One
of them produces a key which releases the Man's hands from the yoke. It is
lifted off his shoulders and suddenly the weight of it is apparent as two
men struggle to support what the enslaved Man had borne with little
difficulty. He rubs his wrists to regain circulation and the motion makes
his pectorals and upper arms swell in size beneath the tunic. He shakes his
hands a few times and assumes a pose of restful readiness, his eyes still
fast on the Queen.
	The Captain signals again and two of his guards reach up and grab
the tunic at the neck hole. With a sudden jerk, they tear the material
away.
	The other prisoners had been pumped and bulging. Their veins
pressed against taut skin. They sweated and trembled as they held
themselves tense, attempting to impress their potential mistress.
	Here is none of that. This Man stands tall and proud, relaxed and
alert. But even in this state he is bigger. He is more powerful. He is
seething with power.
	And, hanging from his pelvis, where the others had been so hard, so
ready, so eager, is a rope of manflesh, thick, dark, perfect in every
proportion, loose and long. So very, very long. It's large head hangs just
inches from the top of his knee caps. Behind it, two massive testicles are
suspended in a loose, smooth scrotum that extends almost halfway down the
length of the gigantic cock.
	He does not move, except to breathe. His huge chest and abdomen
expand to fill with air and silently expel it. There is not a tense muscle
on his body, and yet he is still as big, as defined, as well-proportioned
in this state as any of the others were when at their tensest.
	The Queen approaches him. She reaches out to touch his left
pectoral, but something in his gaze stops her. She pulls her hand away and
then becomes angered for having let him affect her thus. She walks around
him, trying to judge him more critically, but with each passing moment she
becomes more taken by him. She is, finally, humbled.
	"There is, of course, the offer of Ñ wasn't it one thousand
pieces of gold, your highness"
	"That is correct." she responds hoarsely. She can not take her eyes
off the Man before her.
	"Perhaps I might sweeten the deal."
	"If that were possible."
	"There is a girl."
	For the first time the Man reacts. His eyes flicker momentarily
towards the Captain. It is quick, but they both notice it.
	"Go on."
	"When we captured this one, he was, how should one say,
involved. With a most exquisite creature whose talents I had the pleasure
of sampling. As you sense, there is something about this Man. It may be
said that birds of a feather. . . If you catch my drift."
	"And this Woman? Where is she?"
	"She escaped my guards. It seems she has some magic, for she
vanished before our eyes. I would suspect she has designs on rescuing her
lover. I have heard of bonds between such lovers. They hold great magic in
their union. Their downfall is that they cannot resist each other. Their
strength and power comes from their coupling. Can you imagine possessing
two such fine specimens? Quite a source of entertainment."
	"Very well, Captain. You have your reward. We shall keep an eye out
for the other half of the matched pair." She claps her hands. "Bring the
Captain his gold."
	A sack is brought and The Captain peers inside. Though not wanting
to anger the Queen by impugning her honesty, he does try to ascertain that
the contents are somewhat close to what was promised. Feigning satisfaction
despite his distrustful nature, he thanks the Queen and withdraws to join
the crowd, himself curious as to what will transpire.
	The Man gazes about indifferently at the people assembled, as
though their presence means nothing to him. He returns his gaze to the
Queen and continues to take her measure, as she does his.
	"What are you called?" she asks.
	He acts as though she had not spoken. She becomes angry at his
insolence. She slaps his face. "I asked you a question. What is your name?"
	Again he fails to respond, and his lack of concern for her reaction
angers her even more.
	"Perhaps you do not understand what has happened here. I own you."
	He finally speaks.
	"I am owned by no one."
	"You did not see me give The Captain one thousand pieces of gold
for you?"
	"You gave him gold. But you did not buy me."
	"I could have you killed."
	"Then you would have wasted your money and my time."
	"How dare you." She slaps his face again. "No one speaks to me that
way."
	"You are wrong."
	"I. . ." she sputters in anger. "He said you were difficult. But
better men than you have been brought to heel."
	"Then they were not men."
	"And you are?"
	"I am only myself. I need no measure to know my worth."
	"It is not you who should be concerned with your worth. You have
been brought here to please me. And it is my measure which will determine
the value of your life."
	"Then you have already lost your money."
	The Queen turns from him in anger and paces towards her throne. She
starts to sit, but is too agitated. She continues around the back of the
throne and towards the Man again.
	"I will not argue with you. I have only one thing I need from you,
and it is not your insolence. You are here to serve me. To satisfy my
needs. If you will not do it willingly, then we shall show you ways of
making you do it anyway."
	The Man has returned to silence. They stare at each other for a
time, he remaining cool, she becoming more riled by the second. She finally
breaks free of his gaze and calls to her guards.
	"Bring in the weight. There is little need to waste time on more
subtle measures."
	Two low platforms are wheeled in, each holding a large stack of
heavy metal plates. Out of the floor before the throne rise two tripods,
three meters apart, each two meters tall, capped by a pulley. The platforms
are placed on the outboard sides of the tripods and two guards each attach
a cable to the top of each stack of weights, then run it through the
pulley. The Man is shoved forward by the guards until he stands between the
tripods. As he walks, his long cock swings wildly, slapping against each
thigh as he steps. A short chain and shackle is attached to the floor
beside each of his feet and then secured around each of his ankles, holding
them apart enough that his long cock and pendulous balls swing free between
his legs. The guards fit special gloves over his hands, each having a metal
loop on the back of them. Two teams then pull the cables taut and attach
the clip on the free end of each cable to the loops on the gloves. When
they release their hold, the stacks of metal hang only a few inches off
their platforms.
	The Man now stands with his arms outstretched and, for the first
time, the massive size of his muscles can be seen. He tests the weight,
pulling the cables together, and his biceps and pectorals explode in
size. The weights move up a small distance and then he relaxes.
	The Queen approaches and walks triumphantly around him,
surreptitiously admiring the sight before her. She returns to her throne
and sits.
	"Perhaps you are not familiar with what we are doing here, so I
will tell you. By holding your arms outstretched we will, eventually, make
it very hard for you to breathe. The reason we put you on weights, instead
of just attaching you to stationary points, is so that we may watch you
struggle futily against your bonds, as you will do as breathing becomes
more difficult."
	The Man bends his arms and easily brings his hands together. He
extends them again, showing very little strain, though his muscles have
swelled to the bursting point.
	"So I see we need to add a bit more persuasive power. Thank you for
showing us our oversight."
	More weight is brought in and placed on the top of each stack.
	"We will continue to add weight until it either becomes too
difficult for you or you decide that you would rather perform your duties."
	Again he tests himself against the weight. It is more difficult,
but he still manages to touch his hands together. The Queen angrily
commands that twice as much weight be added as the last time. Four men
enter with plates and place them. The Man's body begins to strain, and he
flexes his muscles against the added burden. After taking a couple of deep
breaths, he closes his eyes and, with one slow, smooth motion, again pulls
his hands together. He extends his arms and looks at the Queen with
complete lack of concern.
	All this time his enormous cock is hanging loosely between his
legs, swing hypnotically back and forth, to and fro. It does not change
it's state, but there is no doubt as to the dimensions it would attain,
given the proper stimulus. Already many of the onlookers are beginning to
become affected by the sight before them. Men's loincloths are becoming
distended yet again, women are rubbing their thighs together. And all
around the room, there is not a single nipple which does not ache with
erectness.
	"One more plate on each arm ought to do it. Then we shall only have
to wait." She claps her hands and two more plates are brought. When they
are placed, the Man tests himself against the weight, but this time does
not bring his hands together. After straining against the mass, he relaxes
and a look of finality and resolve rests on his face.
	"I see we have discovered your limit. Good. I suspect it won't be
long now."
	He looks at her one final time, then closes his eyes. His breathing
becomes deeper and fuller. He draws in huge breaths through his nose and
exhales them through his mouth. With each breath his muscles swell larger
and larger until they appear to test the strength of his skin. Veins and
tendons and sinews press hard from within and his whole body seems to
double in size. With one final breath, he tightens the muscles in his arms
and across his chest, on his shoulders and down the sides of his torso,
across the expanse of his abdomen and down into his massive thighs. Almost
imperceptibly at first, he begins to draw his hands together. Centimeter by
centimeter they move towards each other. And with each passing measure, the
girth of his muscles grows more and more.
	At first the Queen thinks he is only straining to maintain, but it
soon becomes obvious that he is succeeding, once again, to bring his hands
together. She tries to be angry, but the incredible sight before her holds
her in awe. He is so large, so powerful, so sure. And so long. And getting
longer.
	"Oh my God! He's getting hard!"
	A murmur runs through the crowd of people and several of the
gathered can no longer control themselves. Though no one dares defy the
Queen again openly, they furtively press their hands against the various
parts of their bodies that are beginning to crave attention.
	His breathing is regular and deep. His abdomen expands and
contracts as the diaphragm draws precious oxygen in and expels the
waste. His huge cock, until recently a loose, dangling rope of flesh, is
slowly becoming stiff. It's girth increases with each breath he takes. It
swells quickly, becoming huge and dark, rising slowly, as though seeking
out some prey. His pectorals are now swollen to twice their relaxed state
and the nipples on the lower, outer curves are hard, long and erect. With
each passing moment he becomes more and more everything. His face, relaxed
and calm, holds a visage of beauty the dirt of the roads cannot hide. Sweat
begins to drip from his forehead, carrying away the grime that covers
him. Dark streaks run down his body, passing over huge mounds of
muscle. Soon he is covered with sweat and his body shines. His pecs
continue to swell as his hands come closer. This time, he does not bend his
elbows completely, but keeps his arms extended before him. This causes his
pecs to swell even more.
	His cock is now completely rigid. As he adjusts the position of his
body against the weight it sways back and forth like a batter warming up
before approaching the plate. The head is now almost twice the girth of the
shaft and is turning a deep, rich vermilion. His scrotum is tightening,
drawing his balls up against the base of the shaft.
	A small drop of moisture appears on the slit of the Man's cock. It
grows larger and then drops to the floor to mingle with the pools of
perspiration pouring off his body. Another drop appears immediately, grows
quickly and drips to the ground. And another, quicker, larger. Before too
long his cock is leaking fluid which tells of a great pressure building up
within. And, though it was thought his cock could get no larger, no harder,
no more potent, it now appears to be doing just that. As his biceps and
pecs swell under the strain of the effort, his cock becomes so erect that
it begins to rise towards his abdomen. Soon it is raised to a forty-five
degree angle; a smile fights at the edges of his lips. The Man's cock
begins to throb and bounce and the fluid now runs from the slit and down
the length of his cock in a steady stream. It flows down the front of his
scrotum and then drips to the floor beneath him.
	The Queen, as well as every one else in the room, is transfixed. No
one is making the slightest attempt to hide their desires. People are
pulling their clothes off left and right, revealing erect cocks, swollen
lips, aching balls and hard nipples. Some find relief by rubbing against
the nearest solid object. Others attend to themselves with their own
hands. Some merely stand and watch, even their own painful condition
forgotten as they watch the Man before them.
	The Man's hands are now closer together than the width of his
massive shoulders. His pecs are now two swollen melons of strength divided
by a deep ravine of straining sinew. His huge biceps bulge towards the
outer edges of his pectorals, their peaks beginning to brush the hard nubs
of flesh that hang from the lower curve of each. He now begins to bend his
arms at the elbows, bringing his hands closer together. The huge piles of
weights sway from the cables. The pulleys creak with the pressure of the
weight.
	The Queen gasps. His scrotum is beginning to churn ferociously. The
skin expands and contracts in waves as if massaging the huge balls
within. The base of his cock swells larger and his hips begin to thrust
back and forth. She tries to speak, but is mesmerized by the sight. Though
it didn't seem possible, his cock has expanded once again, filled with so
much blood it is almost standing straight up against his stomach. The tip
reaches to just below the curves of his pecs. His abdominals begin to flex
and writhe as his hips move faster. The steady stream of fluid from his
slit now starts to run like a faucet.
	Just as his hands near each other, the Queen shouts, "He's
cumming!"
	There is a loud clap as his hands meet. It is followed by a deep
roar that grows to a deafening level. At its loudest, his cock explodes
with huge torrents of cum that fly far across the room, some of them
hitting the Queen. It seems to go on forever, as his huge balls churn out
volley after volley of hot, sticky liquid. At the same time, every cock in
the room spews forth with a load and every cunt swells and runs with proof
of their own attainment.
	When the roar subsides and the flow of cum dwindles to a trickle,
his body shudders one last time, bringing up one final load of the pearly
juice.
	No one moves. They're not sure what just happened. The Man's cock
is still as hard as before. He slowly bends his arms until his elbows are
fully extended to his side, his hands against his pectorals. Then, with
great effort and biceps swelling, he extends his hands out fully, allowing
the weights to again hang almost to the floor. When he has completely
relaxed, he smiles. It is only then that his massive cock begins to soften.
	The Queen is the first to break the spell. She is livid.
	"You will not have sex with me, but you will shoot off into the
air? How dare you insult me. There will be no comfort from your labors. I
will have that cock in me or you will die, do you hear me?"
	She is again met with the calm, steady gaze which continues to
infuriate her. She marches over to him and steps right up to his face.
	"I will not have to ask you. You will soon be begging me for my
favors. Then we shall see who is the winner."
	With a slight shrug of the shoulders, the Man begins to draw his
hands together again. She stares in amazement for a moment, but his actions
only add fuel to her fire.
	"Enough! Lock him up until we decide the proper course of
action. Let me know if he has a change of mind."
	The Creation approaches her, making no attempt to hide his own
swollen member. "Yes, Your Highness. And if I may be permitted, perhaps I
might find some way of persuading him."
	"Do as you like, but don't damage him. Scarred or broken, he's of
no use to us."
	"Yes, Your Highness."
	The Queen scans the room and sees the Captain of the Searchers. She
signals for him to approach.
	"Yes, your highness."
	"For the time being, it seems our guest will not be as
accommodating as we had hoped. That leaves me somewhat. . . unfulfilled. I
have need of your thickness. You will accompany me."
	"Shouldn't her highness be resting up for her anticipated
encounter?"
	"Her Highness should be doing whatever she pleases. And right now
she pleases to have your fat cock and hard body. You will accompany me."
	She leaves the room, followed by her entourage and a slightly
anxious Captain of the Searchers. The Creation summons four guards who
release the Man from the apparatus, leaving the chains attached to his
ankles. His arms, swollen from his efforts, drop heavily to his side. His
pectorals are now filled with blood, the muscles pumped to their limit,
full and round and powerful. The guards escort him to the door beneath the
raised level of the Queen's chambers, followed by the Creation. As they
pass through the door, the lights fade.

Intermission