Naughty Fairy Tales: The Complete 6 Story Collection

What the Queen Wills-4

This is actually happening! Eliot grinned wildly as he realized how close he was to getting everything he’d ever dreamt of. He undressed and slid his length into the codpiece. It fit so perfectly it felt like a second skin. Even as he took off the rest of his clothes and adjusted the codpiece and mask, he still hesitated.

“Is this really happening? It feels so impossible,” he said, looking into her blue eyes for any sign of doubt.

The perfect curve in her lip held enough confidence for both of them. “Oh, it’s possible."

Queen Cassandra dodged out of the way of a gyrating a*s and reminded herself—for the fifth time since the Gathering started—to feel proud of rather than bored with what she’d accomplished. The main play room was packed without feeling crowded. Colored bracelets had been fully adopted as an unspoken code helping to pair strangers together based on their preferences: submissive or dominant, top or bottom, seeking male, female, or either. Consent still needed to be spoken, but the shorthand helped compatible pairs find each other quickly. With the Gathering now open to anyone with the required skills, the pairings were spreading across the social classes, breaking down the privileged hierarchies. Floating around the rainbow-hued crowd were the few couples wearing the gold bracelets marking them as lovers-for-life. These committed pairings or groups came to the Gatherings to watch and learn from others, enjoying their public discourse only with each other.

Cassandra had so much to appreciate, and yet…

Why does it always feel like more of the same?

A woman in a horse costume was happily mounting another woman dressed as a provocative fox, while a man and woman next to them in total-body leather moved together in what looked like a pre-coordinated dance of twisting limbs. A man manacled to the wall groaned while a woman wearing narrow straps of fabric straddled him and pleasured him with a toothbrush.

They get more creative every year. At least that Cassandra felt unmitigated pride about.

The room’s energy swelled with the live band: alternating slow grinding tunes and fast thumping beats had everyone in the room moving to their rhythm. The lead guitarist and singer had adapted a classic folk tune about a mysterious unnamed woman who exchanged the promise of first-born children for the skill of teaching hapless virgin farmer lads how to spin their limp “straws” into hard gold. The lyrics were appropriately lewd for the setting and Cassandra added a gold coin into the band’s overflowing tip jar in appreciation. Cassandra made a mental note to also blow the drummer later; he was doing a masterful job keeping the song moving, and the bulge in his tights hinted he was worthy of royal attention.

Cassandra made the rounds of the room slowly, nodding to those who caught her eye, but moving on before the nod could be interpreted as an invitation. The sounds of s*x permeated the walls, building to a thumping, grinding crescendo as the hours continued.

She was halfway across the main playroom when a ripple of energy spread throughout the Gathering. Everyone in the room seemed to up their game all at once; the groans getting louder and the slapping of flesh against flesh becoming more passionate.

It was hard to pinpoint where the new energy started, but years of evaluating the mood of a room drew Cassandra to an alcove near the Gathering’s entrance. She stepped around a n***d woman riding a man wearing crisscrossed lotion-filled pockets, and a fully n***d couple so engrossed in their mutual blow jobs they didn’t notice the queen’s gold and black-crowned stiletto heel inches from their thrusting hips.

The signs of a half-torn curtain falling off the entrance showed the newcomer must have been immediately identified as high potential and dragged into the side room the second he walked in the door.

The screams of pleasure emanating from the man and woman f*****g hard in the alcove were so intoxicating they energized all of the couples within earshot. Cassandra followed the sounds until she found the source: a masked couple in a small alcove near the front of the hall. She leaned against the doorframe, running a hand slowly up and down her own exposed flesh, completely entranced by what she saw.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra could see the party gradually migrating closer to the front alcove, every couple in the room inexplicably drawn to the incredible s****l energy pouring out from this f*****g couple. Even the band at the other end of the room was playing better, their music jiving in an inexplicable new cohesiveness. The drummer deserved a good three-way at this point.

Cassandra didn’t know the man in the black mask, but she recognized the woman immediately: Lola, one of her inner circle of guards. Lola lay on her back, her legs wrapped high around the strange man’s shoulders so her ankles crisscrossed behind his neck and her hips gyrated high in the air. Her mass of black braids pillowed her head, and her violet eyes were wide and luminous. Her mouth was already a wide “o” and Cassandra recognized the signs Lola was about to c*m, and c*m hard.

The strange man must have recognized the signs too and as Cassandra watched, he picked up the pace, grabbing Lola’s hips and thrusting in with long, hard strokes. His enormous d**k was nearly out of Lola’s sheath before he slammed it back into her.

Nice. Cassandra licked her lips. The man’s simple black mask covered most of his face, but didn’t disguise his full, red lips or the strong line of his cheekbones. He was n***d except for an enormous black leather codpiece barely holding onto a strap around his thigh, as if Lola had nearly torn it off to get at his enormous member.

Good work, Lola, Cassandra thought, nudging the impressive codpiece with the tip of her shoe. It was clearly custom-made work specifically designed for his impressive size. She took a look at the impression from his d**k on the inside. Whoa.

Whoever the well-hung man was, he was masterful in the sack as well. In all her years hosting the Gathering, Cassandra had never seen such a blend of sensitivity to a lover’s moods, and pure f*****g masculinity.

And she wasn’t the only one to notice. A line of women stood leaning against the wall, rubbing their and their neighbor’s clits as they watched and gasped in time to Lola’s panting. One couple positioned themselves next to Lola and the stranger on the floor, trying to mimic their movements, but looking like a poor imitation in comparison.

Lola was seconds from o****m, but the stranger was still going strong. Cassandra walked around the circumference of the room until she stood behind Lola’s head and could see the stranger’s face. Through his mask, she could see his bright blue eyes.

His rhythm hiccupped for a second as their eyes met, a brief hesitation in his thrust. Then he thrust harder. His eyes never left Cassandra’s face, his eyes locked on hers, but he somehow found the strength to bang Lola even deeper, once, twice, until Lola’s head fell back in a scream of utmost pleasure.

Cassandra waited for him to complete, but he pulled out, his member enormous and purple, glistening with c*m. He stood up and his codpiece slid off his thigh so he was n***d except for the black mask. Four women from around the room moved toward him, but his eyes never strayed from Cassandra’s face.

“Lady,” he said, his voice low and smoky, “If you want me, I am yours.”

Cassandra stepped forward and took his hand.

“Stranger, you are coming with me.”

His hand felt satisfyingly enormous in Cassandra’s palm. His firm grip impressed her; too many of her lovers either tried to squeeze too hard to prove they weren’t intimidated by her, or made their hand limp to show they knew their subordinate position. From the way this stranger’s eyes passed over the small crown pattern in her shoes without a hitch, it was almost as if he had no idea who she was at all.

And isn’t that the most exciting thing of all? Cassandra felt an authentic smile of pleasure growing across her face.

“If you’re taking Mr. Hung away, I get the drummer,” panted Lola from the floor. She was still laying on her back, her legs splayed out under her and arms outspread, so thoroughly pleasured she looked like she was never going to move again.

Cassandra felt her grin widening to show teeth. “It’s the Gathering, my friend. You’re welcome to anyone who consents.”

Lola twisted on the floor so she could look directly into Cassandra’s brown eyes. Lola’s purple irises flashed and her mouth twisted into a sarcastic, Yeah, right.

Cassandra couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Yes, of course you’re correct. I promise not to be competition for the drummer. We won’t make the poor dear choose between…” the queen and a lowly guard, she thought as she glanced at the big-c****d stranger who—to all appearances—had no idea who she was. “The two of us,” she finished.

Lola nodded, satisfied, and promptly fell asleep, snoring lightly. Cassandra looked at her masked stranger, her meticulously-plucked eyebrow rising past the level of “mildly impressed,” and up to the high arc of “hot damn.”

“You screwed Lola into unconsciousness?” Cassandra said, her voice an octave higher than normal. “Lola once banged the entire squad in one night when she got the itch, and was still up doing yoga at dawn. You exhausted her in under an hour?”

The man grinned a little under his mask and shrugged. “Lady, if my skills tonight have caused you pleasure, then I'm happy I came.”

Cassandra patted his arm and tightened her grip on his hand. “Darling, you haven’t c*m nearly enough yet.”

She ignored the stares following them through the main room. Pairs stopped in the middle of the action to watch her, some openly beckoning her to join them, others simply staring at her with longing. A man in a tight unitard bunny costume about to be speared from behind by a woman wearing a strap-on and a unicorn outfit was so startled to see the queen he fell over and face-planted straight into the a*s c***k of the man next to him. The neighbor was so happily lapping at the p***y of the joyfully full-bodied woman beneath him, he didn’t even break rhythm.

“Does that happen often?” the masked stranger asked.

Cassandra nodded toward the unicorn busily rearranging her arrant bunny so his bare a*s was once more ready for her penetration. The unicorn-woman nodded back and rammed him so hard the man’s bellow of “Yes, f**k!” rattled the chandelier.

“Accidents happen sometimes, of course—it’s bound to with so many revelers in such a small place.” Cassandra gestured to two couples making love so close together they had to alternate the directions of their thrusts in order to not ram into each other. “But everyone who received an invitation here was vetted based on their skills, and—except in rare occasions—have years of experience at similar Gatherings among the lower nobility ranks. They know how to handle themselves, and there is security to take care of those who get too enthusiastic.” She nodded to the pair of guards standing at attention by the wall.

The guard on the left, Tom, was an enormous dark-skinned brute covered in tattoos with a fantastic gift for poetry. As one of her personal guards, he was often invited to the Gathering when he wasn't signed up for guard duty or helping to train the new recruits. With the smallest flick of a finger, he indicated the alcove opposite as the safest for Cassandra to take her playmate.