Every few years the queen came back, just to let all the little fuckers know she was still around and still queen.

Tough shit for them.

All her courtiers were with her in a darkened room lit only with torches. So profound was her distrust of the natives that she only allowed them to serve her naked. That was the only way to assure herself they weren’t armed. The local politicians who were who food tasters made sure the dishes weren’t poisoned.

One of them pissed her off almost immediately.

"Strap her to the wall," the queen commanded.

Heavy-set guards tied the unfortunate young woman to the wall, as she was, completely naked.

It was my turn next. I came in to serve her a glass of wine on a silver tray. I was completely naked as well.

I felt the eye of every terrified face on me as I came in.

I lost my cool just a little. My hands started to shake, just a little.

As I approached her the wine in the cup began to shake like my hand. I spilled a drop. She looked under the platter at my naked body, then over the platter at my face, her displeasure clearly showing.

She barked to the guards, “Him too.”

Before I could do anything, run, shout, throw the tray, they were on me.

One of them shoved a pistol up against my solar plexus.

The others grabbed my hands and feet and tied them in leather harnesses. They stretched me out, pushed me to the wall, and strapped me there completely defenseless beside the now quivering young woman.

It was cold. I began to shiver, too.

The grisly banquet continued until the queen was served and satisfied. She stood up. The rest of those at the table didn’t dare to move.

She nodded toward us.

“Eat them too,” she commanded.

No one knew what that meant except the guards. They loosed us from the wall, but not from the bonds, took both of us to the table, scraped away all plates and almost all untensils, and stretched the two of us out on top of it.

We were completely elongated, strapped down before these terrified people who didn’t know us or our country.

I strained my neck, looking up to see what they would do to the young woman. They did nothing.

The queen commanded again.

“Eat them.”

Her guards now pressed their guns to the back of the neck of one of the people at the table.

“Eat,” he shouted.

The man did nothing.

The guard fired.

O my god, I sighed to myself.

He came up behind a woman sitting near the tied hostage’s breasts, pointing the still smoking barrel of his pistol at the nape of the guest's neck.

“Eat,” he commanded.

“What do you mean,” she asked, terrified.

“Cut off some meat and eat.”

She was horrified, froze in place. The guard put his hand on the top of her head and physically turned her toward the dead body of the man he’d just killed.

“I don’t want to have to shoot again,” he warned. “Just cut something off and eat it.”

The woman broke down in sobs, as did the young woman on the table. The guard pulled a carving knife off the table, gripped the bound woman's breast tightly in one hand.

She let out a small cry of pain.

Then he sliced off her right nipple.

When she began to scream hysterically, he stiffed a gag into her mouth and stifled her cries.

Then he turned his attention to me. He came up behind a young woman sitting even with my genitals.

“Eat,” the queen shouted from across the room.

The young woman was terrified.

“Eat,” the guard demanded, pointing a pistol at someone who must have been this young woman’s mother.

The woman picked up the knife in her left hand. The queen came near at this point. She pointed directly at my genitals.

“That,” she commanded.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sobbed as she reached out with the left toward my genitals.

She took them in her right hand.

“Let him have some pleasure first,” the queen commanded.

The young woman began to masturbate me in front of all those people.

I was stretched out naked on a table in front of them, shivering in the cold of the room. I felt the dinner table messes on my back: Crumbs of food, puddles of sauce and water.

The queen took a bottle of oil from her pocket, leaned over the young woman now playing with my cock, and poured the oil all over her hand and my genitals.

I started to get very hard, despite the utter humiliation, the danget, the inevitability.

The young woman began stroking and tickling my cock. I got harder and harder. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure, terror, and humiliation together, as she nimbly stroked and fingered me.

I couldn’t help it.

I felt myself coming from the depths.

God.

I blew jism all over the woman’s hand and my stomach.

She continued stroking until every last drop was out, then stopped, as exhausted as I was.

“Good,” the queen said. “You’ve got sauce to go with your main course.

“Eat.”

©2008, www.GradyFaust.com

All Rights Reserved