Peter Priper Ch 12

I finally dragged myself out of bed around 11:00, took a look at the sheets and frowned at the stains, resolved to strip the bed after breakfast, staggered into the kitchen, found a mug, considered pouring a cup of coffee, then grabbed the entire pot and carried it downstairs with me.

Millie and Violet were sitting on the couch outside, looking about as sluggish as me. Violet was lying down with her head in Millie's lap. When she saw me, she poked a finger at her coffee mug. I poured herself and me cups, then collapsed into a chair.

Trudy was holding up a newspaper with one hand, and with the other tapping on her phone. I honestly couldn't tell which one she was looking at, but at any rate she showed no awareness of anything in the actual physical world. Retta was on the lawn doing yoga, buck naked. Her yoga instructor had told her that yoga had to be done in the nude. I watched her for a few minutes, sipping my coffee. So many of her poses involved her either bending over or spreading her legs. If I ever meet this yoga instructor I'll have to thank him.

I yawned. "I can't seem to wake up this morning."

"It's probably the sleeping pills," said Millie offhandedly. She was sitting there in a t-shirt and nothing else. Her pussy peeked out from below the hem.

"I don't take sleeping pills," I said.

"Oh, Violet slipped them into your drink last night," said Millie, "so she and I could fuck you while you were unconscious."

"Excuse me?"

Violet gave me a shit-eating grin.

"That is not cool," I said.

"And yet," said Violet. "it was. Until you started snoring. Kinda ruined the mood."

"Why would you do that? It's not like I ever refuse to fuck you."

Violet shrugged. "Shits and giggles."

Retta came over and put her arms around me from behind. "I slept badly too. They said you were too heavy to carry into their room, so I had to sleep in their bed."

"You knew about this?"

She nodded, the look on her face completely innocent.

I sighed. "All right, girls. Ground rules. No drugging me."

"Only if you run upstairs and get me some cream and sugar," said Violet. "I don't like black coffee."

"You are not putting conditions on whether you're allowed to drug me."

"Jeez," said Millie. "Listen to Mr. Grouchy here."

"I'm tired too," said Violet. "I was up late last night. So the least you could do is run upstairs and grab me some cream and sugar."

"You were only up late because you were-" I put my head in my hands. "You know, I try complaining about you girls on Facebook. But everyone thinks I'm bragging."

"Violet will make it up to you," said Millie. "She needs to practice her blowjobs."

"And how are you going to make it up to me, Millie?" I asked.

"Violet will give you two blowjobs."

I rolled my eyes. On the one hand, it was a matter of consent, and whether I was safe and respected here. On the other hand... blowjobs. "If they're really good," I said, "I might forgive you."

"Might?" said Violet. "That sounds like a challenge." She smiled wickedly. "Though, you know, I give way better head after a cup of coffee. With cream and sugar. Which are upstairs." And when I didn't get up, she added, "Hint. Hint." And when I gave her the finger, she said, "Honestly. Some people."

"Mail's here!" came a voice. The mailman came through the gate and tossed the mail on the table. He gave Violet a hopeful look, but she ignored him. So he stood right next to Trudy, in a position where he probably had a great view down her half-unbuttoned shirt, and took out a sheaf of letters. "You girls are popular today. Bunch of stuff here from-a bank in Panama?"

Trudy stuck out her hand.

"A bill from some Japanese company."

"Trudy'll take that one too," said Millie.

Trudy managed to take the letter from the mailman and give Millie the finger at the same time with the same hand, while she was texting with the other. It took an impressive amount of dexterity.

"And this one's for Peter," said the mailman. He tossed me a large cream-white envelope.

My name and the girls' address were handwritten in elegant calligraphy. There was no return address, but the flap was sealed with red wax stamped with an image of a heart topped by a crown.

"Open it!" said Millie excitedly. "It's from the Queen."

"Why's the Queen sending me a letter?" I looked at Retta, who was the heir to the throne and would presumably know something about what the Queen was up to. She had a very dark look. Her eyes were narrowed and her jaw clenched.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," said Retta. She looked away. "Open your stupid letter."

So I did. Inside was a little card, like a wedding invitation, that read:

Her Majesty the Queen of Hearts

cordially commands your appearance

this afternoon at court

"Huh," I said. "What do you think she wants with me?"

Retta, to my surprise, didn't answer. She turned on her heel and stomped into the mushroom.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked.

Trudy sighed and followed after Retta.

"Is nobody going to explain anything to me?"

Millie poked Violet in the shoulder. "Now's a good time for you to get started on that blowjob practice."

Violet straightened up in her seat, saluted Millie, and then climbed under the table. A few seconds later her hands ran up my legs.

"Okay," I said. "What are you trying to distract me from finding out?"

But soon Violet's lips were on my cock. And Millie was wrong. She really didn't need practice. She absolutely did not need practice. Blowjobs are always sweet, and then there was this. This was the crème brulée of blowjobs.

I leaned my head back and smiled. I could hear raised voices coming from inside the mushroom, but you know-I was getting incredible head from a beautiful girl, and I really didn't give a damn what else was going on.

Famous last words.

*

The girls spent the next two hours running about dressing and brushing and washing and what have you. Clothes were thrown all over the toadstool. I shaved in the kitchen sink and wondered if I should put on a tie or something. Nah. I'd been nude now for six weeks and I didn't feel like breaking my streak.

Retta finally settled on a slinky dress made of a sort of grey mesh with a metallic sheen. It covered her reasonably well-her nipples showed a bit-but when she went outside, the sunlight shone right through the dress, leaving the silhouette of her naked body in every detail, right down to her pussy lips. It was somehow more revealing than if she'd just been naked. Needless to say, ten minutes later I had my tongue in her mouth and two fingers up her snatch.

"Oh, come on," came Millie's voice. "We're already late."

Retta pulled away from me. "We can't be late. We'll get in trouble."

She was wearing tight shorts with two strips of lace rising up from the belt, that tied around her neck and sort of covered her breasts. She had a pair of sewing scissors in a holster pinned to one of her belt loops.

Trudy was behind her, her purse in one hand and her phone in the other. She had on a mostly-see-through knit top and a miniskirt. She frowned at my penis. "You might want to grab a napkin and wipe off the precum. We're trying to make a good impression, you know."

"Violet!" yelled Millie. "Get your ass out here!"

"There are really a lot of people there," came Violet's plaintive voice from inside. "I don't think I can wear this in public."

"I told you," Millie yelled back, "if you complain one more time, I'm cutting another inch off that skirt!"

Violet came out in a white dress so short it barely covered her ass when she stood still. That wouldn't have been so bad, if it weren't also slit on the sides all the way up to her waist. On top it was tied to only one shoulder, and every time Violet moved her left arm one breast came into view. She stood there in front of us, beet red, and her skirt waved in the very slight breeze, and the bottom of her lips showed.

Millie held up the scissors. "You going to say you like it, or do I need to modify it?"

Violet swallowed. "I like it."

"Good. Because here's the final step." She took out a lipstick and knelt down in front of Violet. She pulled up the front of Violet's skirt and drew a heart right over top of her pussy.

"Why are you doing that?" asked Violet.

Millie grinned. "People are going to catch a glimpse of it, and they're going to wonder what it is, and they're going to stare at your crotch until they see it properly."

"Oh my God," said Violet.

"Still okay with your outfit?"

Violet nodded weakly.

"Buck up." Millie nuzzled noses with her. "It's humiliating and you love it."

Violet put her arms around Millie. "I might love it more if you reached up the skirt and fingered me."

"Actually," said Millie, "that will get us both thrown in the dungeon."

Trudy cleared her throat. "Do you two have any idea how late we are? Move it."

It was a hurried walk. I hung back behind the others, watching Violet and Retta's asses, and fantasizing about fucking Retta in that dress. My boner was rock-solid and pointing up at a thirty-degree angle.

The palace was a big green building with onion domes, of all things. When we reached the yard Trudy yelled, "Shit, they're about to start!" and the girls broke into a run. Violet ran through that yard with her skirt flying around and doing nothing to cover her, one breast completely exposed and the other nearly out-and the yard was filled with paparazzi taking photos. Her face was so red I thought her hair was going to catch fire.

"You're totally going to be on the front page of the paper!" Millie told her as we went up the steps. "Ex-Diamond Suffers Epic Wardrobe Malfunction. Aren't you excited?"

Violet tried to adjust her dress as we went down the hall to the throne room. She whispered something at Millie.

"What?" said Millie.

Violet whispered it again.

"WHAT?" said Millie. The people in the back of the throne room turned and stared. "You said your pill is set?"

Violet grinned uncomfortably. She pulled her dress over her left nipple, which kept it covered for almost a full two seconds.

"You have a willy pet?" asked Millie.

"Shut up," said Violet. "Everyone's staring."

"You said you're really Fred?"

"I said I'm really wet," Violet hissed, and cringed at all the staring faces. She turned to the boy standing next to her. "Hi," she said weakly.

Millie elbowed her, which made Violet's boob pop out of her dress again. "He's cute. When court is over you should fuck him."

Violet gave her, then the boy, horrified looks.

"What?" said Millie. She leaned over and said to the boy, "She'll totally do it. Biggest slut in the suit here."

"Stop it!" Violet cringed so hard her boob popped out of her dress again. "I'm only dressed like this because you made me do it." She turned to the boy. "She made me."

"So," said the boy, his brain obviously not functioning correctly, "that's just a dare or something?"

"Yes," said Violet, "just for fun ha ha."

Millie smirked. "You're showing off the goods so he knows what he's going to be plowing into later on."

Violet shuddered.

The throne room looked like a repurposed ballroom. There was a dais at the front, with a golden chaise longue on it. There were no other seats; a crowd of maybe a hundred people stood packed together on the floor. We were stuck in the very back. No one was exactly modestly dressed, though I think I was the only one who was completely naked. I saw another priper, though. He was wearing a dress shirt and chaps.

A girl in a green suit jacket and hot pants, with glitter spread on her chest, climbed onto the dais. She played a very random jazz solo on a trumpet, and when she was done, announced, "Here comes the Queen, y'all."

The Queen was tall and very beautiful. She wore a tight red gown slit up both sides to her waist, and with cleavage nearly to her belly button. Her hair was done in a topknot held by a heart-shaped crown.

I couldn't guess how old she was. She might have been a stunning beauty who was now a well-preserved forty, or she might have been a twenty-five-year-old with an aura of gravitas. Or anywhere in between. She looked like she knew what she was doing. I could imagine her taking me and doing things I'd never dreamed of.

I couldn't visualize them, for obvious reasons. But whatever they were, they were really fucking hot.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the guy in front of me, and I realized that my boner had shot up so fast it had smacked the poor man in the buttcheeks. I cringed and tried to cover myself with my hands. And I stared at the queen-her green eyes, her long auburn hair, her breasts, those legs. And I suddenly realized.

"God damn," I said. "That's that genie."

Trudy and Millie burst into laughter. "Did you seriously not know that?" said Trudy.

"No, because no one told me." I glared at Trudy first, then Retta. "Why didn't you tell me the genie was the queen?"

"Everyone knows that," said Retta. "Why would I tell you something everybody knows?"

"Here before you is your Queen," said the girl with the trumpet. "Eugenia of the House of Hearts, the First of Her Name."

"But you can call her Genie once you get to know her," said Millie, and cracked up again.

The Queen sat down on her chaise longue. "Bring in the prisoner," she said.

Two guards dragged in a tall, athletic man. He was wearing only a tiny red cloth around his waist, and his hands were bound in fuzzy pink handcuffs.

"Are you Walter Willanchuck?" asked the Queen.

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Owner of the walterwillanchuck Twitter account?"

The prisoner nodded.

"Guard," said the Queen, "read what walterwillanchuck tweeted last Tuesday at 9:14 pm."

The guard read off his phone. "realqueenofhearts is even a bigger bitch than usual today. Sure she dresses like a skank but shes a bossy cunt."

"Now if this is your Twitter account, Mr. Walter Willanchuck," said the Queen, "it would seem you called your monarch a bitch, a skank, and a bossy cunt."

"No, no!" said the prisoner. "My account was hacked. By, um, gremlins."

"Is that so?" asked the Queen. "Bring me the King of the Gremlins!"

A little scaly hand stuck up from the crowd. "Right here. Just a sec." The gremlin typed furiously on a Blackberry. "I had to fire General Flynn because he lied to the vice president and the FBI, blah blah blah, and post. Okay, what can I do you for, your Majesty?"

"Did any of your people hack Walter Willanchuck's Twitter account?"

"Walter who?" said the gremlin. "Of course not. Why bother?"

The Queen gave the prisoner a testicle-shriveling glare. "Any other preposterous excuses?"

The prisoner looked at the floor. "I meant those in the nicest possible way?"

"Off with his head!" said the Queen.

The guards grabbed the prisoner and started dragging him away. "Please!" he wailed. "I beg you! Spare my life!"

"Of course I'm going to spare your life," said the Queen.

"Thank you, thank you," said the prisoner.

"You're thinking of the wrong head."

"What? No!" The guards dragged him out but his screams still echoed through the hall. "Just execute me! Please!"

A door slammed. The court was silent for a moment. Then the Queen burst into laughter, followed by her attendants, and soon the whole room was laughing.

"Did you see the look on his face?" she said. She was shaking so hard one breast had come completely out of her gown.

"You were wearing the skankiest outfit that night," said the trumpeter.

"I know," said the Queen. "I'm going to put it back on when I go down to the dungeon and paddle his bare ass."

The trumpeter snorted. "Oh my God, you are such a bitch." And they both bent over laughing.

"I feel like they need to post some pictures of her in that outfit," I said to Retta. "So we can judge whether it is really the skankiest."

Retta didn't answer.

The Queen waved her hands, trying to stop laughing. Her other nipple was starting to peek out. "Wait. What time is it?"

"Two-twenty," said a guard.

"Everyone! Quiet!" The Queen composed herself and fixed her gown. "One of the guards is helping yesterday's prisoner escape through a tunnel. So, everyone, very quiet."

We waited in dead silence. There was a scrabbling noise coming from somewhere at the front of the room. It grew louder, and then a pair of hands came out from under the Queen's chaise longue. She opened her legs and a shaggy-headed man poked his head out.

He stared at the court, and then slowly turned and looked up at the Queen sitting above him. "Oh, shit," his voice squeaked.

Waves of laughter rolled through the room. The Queen fell over sideways. That same breast came out, and the front of her dress kept falling forward, and I kept getting glimpses of her bare pussy lips. I know it's juvenile. But it's such a fetish of mine. And I was already turned on from staring at Retta, and poor shrinking Violet.

I grabbed the end of my cock and squeezed - didn't even rub it - and I started gushing.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. I was blowing my load in the middle of a royal court. I put both hands over my cock to try to hold it. Some dripped through my fingers onto the floor.

Everyone around me was staring. Retta looked furious. She stared at me with daggers in her eyes.

The Queen sat up. The prisoner beneath her chair was doing his best to laugh along, though he was pretty clearly terrified. "Off with his hair!" shouted the Queen. "That's the worst haircut I've ever seen!"

A pair of guards reached under the chaise longue and pulled the poor man out. The Queen raised her legs and opened them wide so they could get to him. Oh my God, I thought. Please don't make me come again. My hands are already full.

"Off with his clothes!" shouted the Queen, and the guards yanked off the prisoner's loincloth. One of them grabbed the man's penis and wiggled it, to more laughter.

"Where's my new Two of Hearts?" asked the Queen.

"Violet, that's you!" Millie whispered. She grabbed Violet's hand and stuck it in the air. Violet's boob popped out of her dress again. "Here she is!"

Violet turned red, looked at Millie, then looked at the boy next to her and whispered, "I'll come find you after. Don't leave without me." Millie dragged her through the crowd, Violet trotting after her, her skirt coming up and showing off the bottom of her ass. She was breathing hard when she got to the front of the room.

"Violet," said the Queen, "if you're going to be in this suit, you need to obey me."

"Your wish is my command," said Violet.

"Take this poor man out and give him a blowjob. He's had a stressful day."

Violet saluted, then took the prisoner by the hand and started leading him to the side door.

"Nice dress, by the way," said the Queen. "Very skanky." She giggled.

Violet grinned with embarassment. Millie reached under her skirt and patted her ass.

The Queen adjusted her gown again. "Is there any more business? Retta, where's that new priper?"

I slumped down, praying I could hide in the crowd. The etiquette books probably don't say, "Don't greet the queen with your hands full of semen," but only because they fucking don't have to.

Retta, unfortunately, stuck up her hand. "He's right here." She didn't sound happy either. But she took me by one arm, and Trudy took the other, and they led me through the crowd to the throne. I still had my hands clasped together in front of me. Luckily my come had congealed enough that it didn't drip on anyone.

When I was in front of the podium the Queen looked down her nose at me. "You going to bow or what?"

I bowed a little, and glanced at my cock while I was doing it. Hanging from the tip was a drop of gummy semen about six inches long. It detached, finally, and spattered on the marble tiles.