"Don't you just love a good slut," I said to Samuel.
"Indeed," he said reaching up to pinch the tattooed breasts of his personal fucktoy, slut and wife.
Samantha smiled knowingly in acknowledgement of how much pleasure she provided her husband and his friends. The twinkle in her eyes indicated she enjoyed being a slut as much as his look indicated he liked her being one. We, Jeffrey and I, began to thrust into her at once instead of alternately at that moment. The feel of three cocks entering two holes was as erotic as it was nasty. Jeff let loose with his cum a second ahead of Samuel and almost immediately Ziggy began to leak a copious amount of seminal fluid from each respective orifice.
Jeffrey pulled out as he wilted after releasing his cum leaving yours truly in a wet, wide, hole with zero friction. A few strokes for old time's sake I pulled out of the cavernous pussy and pushed my moist member in alongside Samuel's. It was obvious from Ziggy's movements that my latest intrusion was painful at first but she seemed to adjust rapidly to me as in no time she was thrusting back on me.
A glint from the side of the room, moving toward the crowd, indicated that Jeffrey had found my security system—a stainless steel baseball bat. He wasn't wielding it with intent unless you considered his lustful intentions. His hand went up and down the thick bat stroking it. It wasn't until he was closer that I realized he was lubing it up. And just where he intended to put it.
Ziggy was still spread wide as a result of our double penetration. She tried to close her legs a bit to hold the leaking juices in but I opened them again allowing Jeffrey to push the silver bat slowly into her. He grunted as the wide object caught temporarily on Ziggy's labial lips before sinking into her deeply.
I had to rearrange my position somewhat to allow for the handle of the bat. Taking the handle in my grip I used it like a butter churn and I was churning her hard. Sweat poured from all the bodies using Ziggy and she seemed to have reached her limits.
"All but Samuel's wife and I leave her be now," I said. A pop accompanied his leaving her ass as he carefully got out from underneath her. I then put him in charge of the bat and he worked her over.
"I bet she could fit this in her ass next," Samuel mused out loud.
I chuckled.
His friends began betting in response to his joke.
"Not like it hasn't been done before," Samantha quipped.
Samuel smiled broadly. Apparently he'd done that to his wife before—and she didn't seem to have any objection to it happening. "My slut is a size queen," he said, "that is why she is forever surrounded by the largest cocks and the most dominant men that they are attached to."
"Every man loves a submissive slut. Few, however, actually marry them. You must be something special indeed. I usually just keep them around for fun," I quipped.
"Actually, though I seem to dominate her, in reality she dominates me. She tells me she married me for my large cock, my flexible sexuality and the Italian sports car I drive," he replied, "Nothing gets women faster than nametags like Ferrari and Lamborghini." He smiled as he said both cars names because he had several of each.
Jeffrey, Turner and Jake were playing voyeurs currently and watching as we used both sluts. As Samuel handed the baseball bat to me he walked around to his wife and shut her up by placing his immense tool in her mouth.
I was now the only one fucking Ziggy and I let her hold the bat with her vaginal muscles as I leaned forward and took a nipple of hers between my sharp teeth and bit down. Drawing blood was not my intention so I stopped short of removing her nipple with my teeth but I did create the pain I knew she loved.
Moving myself out of her, the bat remaining for now, I went and got something to drink. "Please feel free to cum all over her while I am gone but nothing else," I said as I left the room. The three men had no trouble giving her a cum bath for I was gone less than 3 minutes and when I came back the preacher's daughter was covered in a sperm cocktail from head to foot.
The three voyeurs were called over to take our places as we needed a break. Together we sat down to watch the sluts be vigorously used while we reinforced ourselves with Viagra spiked drinks. As our spikes got harder we chatted a bit about the proper use of sluts and other things. We each agreed all should be used hard, well and often. We also agreed sluts should only speak when spoken to.
"So what did you mean," I said, "when you said you had a 'flexible sexuality'?"
"I am bisexual," he replied, "and my wife likes to dominate me even going so far as to have her boyfriends use me to clean their cocks and the cum from her pussy."
"So you are a submissive. Are you as slutty as your wife," I continued.
"Yes Sir," his instant reply.
"Good, then we shall show your wife just how slutty you can be," I said. Crooking my finger I told Samuel to follow me. When I stopped and fished out my cock I could tell he desired what came next as he swallowed me whole.
Thrusting forward I forced my large, thick, member to the back of his throat. A gulp of air, a sputtering cough and his throat opened wide to accept me all the way to the back of it. The rippling membrane in his throat massaged me in a way I rarely have had the pleasure of before. Surprise of surprises Samuel was a cocksucker extraordinaire!
The sounds of his oral expertise must have been sufficient for those in the other room to hear them but even if they were not how he looked when we entered would have confirmed what he'd been doing—my warm cum was slowly drying on his face. A sound escaped the orgy and it was attached to a slime covered visage as well—Samuel's wife's. Letting the two share a kiss seemed the only logical thing to do.
Each and every face not smothered by a wet pussy watched as husband and wife shared a sloppy kiss. Together their tongues entwined like two snakes as each attempted to lick the other clean. Samuel and Samantha slid around each other lapping up the sauces from the others face. A look of serenity, of pure bliss and absolute ecstasy crossed their faces with each greater consumption of cum.
For my part I pushed the men currently using Ziggy as a cum dump out of the way and placed myself as deep as could be in her. She was far too wet for much friction so I just let myself revel in the slipperiness of her cunt and worked to push as much of the cum in her out. Cum covered her head to toe and I was pushing more of it out of her.
Samuel took his time finishing up with cleaning his wife and the two went to work getting messy again this time by cleaning up Ziggy. For the first time Ziggy was able to be seen as Samantha leaned toward her breasts to clean them up. Ziggy was too exhausted to move but that didn't prevent her from cumming explosively when the husband and wife brought her off. The orgy continued until it ended due to natural causes—when no amount of drugs could keep us men up and the women was so exhausted from cumming that they were like limp dish rags and unable to move.
After all this Ziggy just smiled---and I knew I'd be trying to fuck her again soon enough limp cock and all.
The End.
Valentina's Day
"Hail Valentina, Maiden Goddess of War!"
What? I'm a goddess now? Me, the daughter of a common street whore in some no name village where the gods never deigned it smile at once? I guess with military victories come fancy titles. "Valentina, Maiden Goddess of War" is certainly far better than my old full name, "Valentina Whoraughter".
The biggest shock for myself is that I thought myself and my Elite Guard would attract no attention coming into the Royal City of Chrysanthemum just before Sunrise, but no such luck. Within minutes the whole street was crowded with well-wishers shouting "Hail, Valentina. Hail, Valentina!" But after initial embarrassment, I was beginning to enjoy myself, especially seeing that some of the well-wishers were of the highest classes.
With a flamboyance I felt I owed the crowd, I had my horse stand on its back feet as I raised my sword high, letting the rays of the sunrise make my golden armor shine. The crowd shrieked in delight at the sight. I hope some artist is in the throng and will paint the scene. It is not that I h
ave a huge ego (being the daughter of a whore weans that out of you), but I would love to see the spectacle from the onlooker's eye. Both the horse and the armor were gifts from my patron, King Ambrose IV, given to me in pieces after each victory. If meeting my patron for the first time goes as well as my initial entry to the city, today will be the first good memory I have of this day, the fourteenth day of Duodecimo, the Feast of Eros.
Bah, what a concept. The Feast of Eros, a day spent toasting the gods of romantic love. Take it from a whore's daughter, there is no such thing as romantic love. There is the love one gains from one's mother, and you could call certain friendships "love", but romantic love is a myth that skalds dream of, and refused to stop mentioning to us others.
My mother was a common street whore, and my father is unknown even unto the gods; just some random partaker of my mother's services one night where mother's usual safeguards to keep from being pregnant went awry. I have little doubt my existence within her womb cost her money she desperately needed, save that she did something none of the other street whores had ever imagined doing...using her mouth in place of her fleshy scabbard that all men wish to place their swords of flesh within. When I hit puberty mother taught me the trick, in case I would ever have need for it. After all, what future is there for a whore's daughter than to be a whore oneself?
Oh, that fateful day four years ago. King Ambrose's army had failed him again, and our village was being taken by looters from the conquering army. It was that day I last saw my mother alive, as she was violently raped before my eyes, sacrificing her own self in hopes the enemy soldiers would not find me. But alas they did. I was not going to allow them access to my pristine scabbard easily, and grabbed a spatha sword I found in a closet, hoping to harm at least one of them before they raped me and killed me like they did my mother. With a high-pitched whoop that my mother taught me was the sound of the banshee, I felled the first one, and then the second, and then the third, and then the fourth and last. I knelt in front of my mother. Seeing her bleed the rest of her life away, I took some of her blood and streaked it on my forehead and cheeks. I dashed out of our hovel and ran to find more enemy soldiers, endeavoring to kill as many as I could until one at last killed me, to take away the pain I felt from the blood of my fallen mother. As I saw each soldier I gave my battle shriek, terrifying them with my appearance as I took my spatha and thrust it wherever I saw an opening in their armor. From behind me I heard others shrieking, and saw the other youths of the village take the gladius dropped by my victims and followed my manner. Within the hour we had killed the last of the looters. After setting forth a burial pyre for the victims (including my mother, alas), the youths swore to be my band.
When you expect to die at any moment, and have little to live for, it makes you daring in battle. Soon my little band grew more and more. With guerrilla tactics we went against the enemy, with each victory gaining us increased members as the youths of each redeemed village wished to join us. It was not long before I drew the attention of Chrysanthemum, who began to sing my praises. It was two years ago that I gained the title of General. There were generals at the Royal City who hated me for it, but King Ambrose told them that, had they been half as good as I, it would be them getting the praise and not me. But I had nothing to worry from those generals, none would want to displease the King, and my initial band still remains my personal bodyguards. The only worries I had was during battle, where enemy officers would shout at me, saying they would ensure I was no longer a maiden general by piercing my fleshy scabbard with their sword of flesh, but fortunately the Fates denied them, and to this day no man's sword of the flesh has penetrated me. Having seen my mother defile herself with me who used and abused her, and hearing the various nightly screams of mother's fellow whore, I never wish to allow a man to do the same to me.
***
At last, I made my way to the royal castle. Sitting on the throne was King Ambrose IV himself. He was a widower, with the last queen dying in childbirth, taking the heir she gave birth to soon afterwards. The scuttlebutt was that both mother and stillborn child were weak, and for that reason both died. The shepherds say that the royals did too much inbreeding with one another, and like common animals they become weak if their lineage diverged little. Shepherds took care saying this, as nobles care not for being compared to animals. I never thought too hard upon this. Looking at King Ambrose, with his short brown beard and aqua-blue eyes, that here was a man who has seen much sorrow, but for some reason is rebounding. I hope I was the cause for this.
"HAIL, KING AMBROSE!!!" I shouted as I raised my sword high, standing proud, and seconds later kneeled in front of him, sword point touching the ground. "I, General Valentina of the Whispering Woods, have come as you requested."
"HAIL VALENTINA, MAIDEN CONQUEROR OF THE ALASTRIANS!!!", shouted King Ambrose, raising his scepter high, and then lowering it. The court followed suit, "HAIL VALENTINA, MAIDEN CONQUEROR OF THE ALASTRIANS!!!". I heard the city's population seconds afterward shouting the same praise. For a simple whore's daughter, this was heady stuff.
"You honor me greatly my liege."
"No more than you deserve. The Kingdom has no need to fear the Alastrians for a least a generation or two, and by then the tales of your heroism will inspire our future generations to turn them back as the curs they are."
"Thank you, milord."
"But, you have arrived at an early hour? Perchance you wish to beat the robin to its earthly meal?"
"I was hoping to arrive simply into the city, but I had no idea I would be so recognized."
"When a land thirsts for heroines, they with quickly slake from the juice of victory a heroine provides. Now come, let us dine together. The Royal Court...is dismissed. You know to return when the sun is at its zenith."
I followed him to a private chamber behind the throne. It was the prettiest room I have ever seen, yet masculine just the same. It reminded me of the simple one-room cottages I had seen in my journeys, but the items were far grander, as befitting royalty. The table was of fine mahogany, and the bed was plush. I would think a king would have a separate bedchamber. King Ambrose saw what I was gazing at.
"Yes, I keep a bed here as well as in my master bedchamber above. In times of war and other great stress, I like having a single room where I can perform all the duties of state quickly. Now come partake in breaking our nightly fast."
I had heard of this morning ritual, shortened by some as "breakfast". Growing up, we ate whenever we could, as food was sometimes hard to acquire, especially during the raids. It was a gorgeous feast, with sliced ham and fresh strawberries practically radiating their deliciousness. It was complimented with the oddest porridge I ever had, made not of oats but of some fine grain I had never seen before. Our beverage was grape juice spiced with what King Ambrose said was cinnamon, noting the curiosity upon my face.
"Thank you my liege, I have never had a finer meal." I meant it; the berries were delicious.
"You are welcome, Valentina. There are Royals who have larger breakfasts, but I will not be as wasteful. A few different foods, complimentary to each other, are enough."
"I live to serve you, my liege. Now that we've have broken our nightly fast, please tell me how I can next serve your kingdom. Give me the names of your enemies, and I will smite them with my spatha."
"I have already decided how best you may serve the kingdom, which I will inform you of in good time."
"Thank you, King Ambrose..."
"Please; when we are alone, you may simply call me Ambrose. Consider it another gift."
"Thank you... Ambrose. I am grateful to give the citizenry of Chrysanthemum a valid holiday, as opposed to the nonsense holiday typically celebrated today."
"We have no preordained holiday today in Chrysanthemum. Tell me, what is this holiday you speak of?"
"In the village I hailed from, today was the Feast of Eros, which celebrates a silly notion, that of romantic love. Such a silly notion."
"Why is such
a feast a silly notion?"
"In my experience, there is no such thing as romantic love. For the peasantry man and woman match up based on availability. Also, although you would know better than I, for the royalty the families choose the mates. All the rest is simply the lust of men, who took it from the whores of my village however they could, either by prepayment, or by rape. There is no thing as romantic love...true love. It is the myth perpetuated by the local skalds."
"The bards of Chrysanthemum sing the same stories of this 'myth', but I like to believe it is possible. Like you said, my first wife was chosen for me, but I would hope that a second would shave a romantic love with me."
"I am surprised that such a wise king is such an idealist."
"I was born under the stars of the dreamer, which I have always hoped would influence me to lead my people well." He paused. "I think it is time to discuss your future."
"I am prepared, milord."
"First, this will require you to be of the soundest body, as it will not be an easy task. First, take off your armor; there is no one left here to impress."
"Of course, milord." With that I took off my golden breastplate, now clad simply in my tunic adorned with the jewels Ambrose have sent me on the various occasions of my victories. As I flexed myself from the relief of removing my armor, Ambrose rang a bell. In a few seconds some female servants came within the chamber.
"Maza, Dionna, please take General Valentina to the bathing chamber. Once she is done, have her return here."
I followed the servants to the bathing chamber. I have only bathed in creekbeds, and that was seldom. Water came from wells, and a whore and her daughter would never be allowed enough time to draw enough water to bathe; we were lucky just to attain enough to drink. Maza helped me with my tunic as Dionna prepared the water. It was a novel experience, stepping into the warm water, as opposed to the cool water I found in the aforementioned creeks. I was surprised when Maza started washing me.
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