Such Stuff

Part 18

The Guard Salutes

Such a lot seemed to have happened yesterday and now, today, there was more excitement. Lizzie was to be properly fitted as Captain of the Guard ready for her men to greet the Marchioness. Before she was even out of bed and dressed Lizzie was worrying whether all would be well, whether she would let the Guard down—she did not want to do that—it was certainly a responsi­bility. It was not until she walked into the Yellow Morning Room still thinking of what she had to do and saw Conrad sitting there in his complacent, rather smug, manner that she remembered she was a prisoner here. Lizzie looked around at all the friendly faces looking at her, puzzled at herself for forgetting.

"A big day today, Lizzie—we have responsibilities and duties here and the Chevalier tells me you have taken on the Captaincy of the Guard. Your pub­lic spiritness is commendable—though certainly no surprise to me."

It could have been taken as a compliment had Conrad not been gently tap­ping his book as he spoke. Lizzie's lips tightened. So even her taking over the captaincy was—or he implied it was—ordained in the book he was writing. Questions flowed through her mind—she really needed to read more. Should she just ask him? No. How far ahead had he written? If she knew what was written could she do something different and spoil his writing?

Despite her renewed irritation with Conrad, Lizzie did not intend to let the Guard down in the slightest, and was soon on her way to their turret but was halted by the sight of Mr. Qui'ver hurrying towards her clutching a brown case.

"I am here as promised, oh yes, all is ready for the fitting. Please," he mo­tioned into an adjoining doorway, "this chamber here and remove your clothes."

He seemed as keen as yesterday to have her naked but it was certainly nec­essary if she was to be equipped.

Mr. Qui'ver opened his case, "See I have worked long into the night, oh yes, but all is ready. Please lie back so I can..." He lifted out of his case a rather strangely shaped black rubber item. "So I can mate you with your penis, oh yes. Now first I must apply this ointment. It acts as a sort of glue. It is easily soluble in hot water—the attachment is not permanent. That would not really do, oh no. First, I must ensure you are lubricated."

Lizzie was glad to hear the attachment was not permanent, though she had hardly thought it would be, and surprised to find his fingers once more in her most intimate areas. Surely there was no need: but it became clear there was indeed a need because not only did the base of the artificial penis closely mould her pubis but also it continued on underneath her to rise up in a horn to fit right inside her—a horn she could feel, as Mr. Qui'ver made the insertion, was a 8 1/2 - 7 with a middling bend.

The penis was attached and its operation explained. It was not simply a strap on dildo—Lizzie had heard of such things but of course never seen—it was not permanently erect for, by a cunning arrangement of tubes, it could be inflated to the tumescent state and further, again by an ingenious arrange­ment of tubes and a reservoir contained in the rubber scrotum, it could be made to ejaculate.

With nimble fingers Mr. Qui'ver encircled Lizzie's waist with the silver chain and positioned the beautifully made silver cage and its pendant heart shaped padlock in position.

Lizzie looked at herself in a mirror. The reflection was most bizarre of a half man—half woman. The shape was very much female, the breasts and head female but the great black penis hanging between her thighs was impres­sively male. She turned her body to admire her profile. Never had she seen her­self like this. She giggled—what would Lotte think? What would the Green Maiden think? Lizzie blushed - she remained slightly surprised at her amorous thoughts about the Green Maiden and now, of what she might do to her with her new appendage.

"Wonderful, marvellous, oh yes, you look every inch the Captain." Mr. Qui'ver seemed quite beside himself. "May I just check..." He busied himself, his fingers checking the fitting, running around the edges of the rubber penis, feeling where the insertion had been made. It was very obvious he enjoyed his work, particularly the intimate fitting of young ladies. "Is it to your satisfac­tion?" He looked at Lizzie quizzically. "Is the fit right? Is it to your liking?"

"Certainly Mr. Qui'ver, excellent work indeed, yes comfortable and certain­ly what I need," replied Lizzie. And she really was pleased, even the silver chains and paraphernalia looked just right to her. Glancing at Mr. Qui'ver it was clear there was something else he wanted. She remembered his request of the day before—the request for a further 'suckage.' Lizzie did not like to disap­point or appear ungrateful. As Lizzie extracted his cock she found, as expected, it was hard and ready. Her nimble fingers stroked the small penis. Mr. Qui'ver closed his eyes.

"Oh yes."

Lizzie blew on the end, just where the little slit was, her soft lips formed an 'O' and she pushed them over the first half of the shiny helmet shaped head. Her tongue tickled the bell end in her mouth. Lizzie was learning what men liked, how to please them. What she had not allowed for was the hair trig­ger of Mr. Qui'ver's orgasm.

"Oh yes," he said almost inevitably and the warm spurting began.

Lizzie had not even really sucked on it once, just placed her lips over the penis and already it was filling her mouth with warm, viscous cream. Lizzie's tongue tickled and the cream flowed.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Qui'ver for a third time and then, as the spurting ended, "I really am much obliged, oh yes."

On Lizzie reaching the turret, the Guard were impressed with how their captain had been fitted out and said so, but they also commented on the incon­gruity of her pale creamy skin and the blackness of the penis. Would Lizzie mind if they standardised the colour to match?

The prospect of 'blacking up' seemed odd and had anachronistic and slightly disturbing overtones to Lizzie — a throw back to Minstrelsy - but she saw no reason to other than accede to the request and certainly not when it meant six very male pairs of hands rubbing all of her skin very carefully to apply the colour. She was gratified at see the effect the work had on her men—a very prominent effect. She was also intrigued to see a very different Lizzie in the mirror — the colour match to her men was just right. And the colouring was not the end of the sensuous experience for then her six erect comrades oiled her so she shone.

By now, Lizzie was as sexually charged as the Guard though she did not show it in the same obvious, proud way. She needed to, though, the Captain had to lead her men. She grasped her right ball and began to pump. In slight jerky movements, just like the real thing, Lizzie began to rise until she was as prominent as the rest of them. The sight was even odder in the mirror. There she was with a great black penis rising from her thighs and behind her in the mirror she could see her Guard watching her, also sporting erections. What would her friend, Lotte, have thought? Would she have loved the image or not? Would she have loved to be there? How much did she think of sex?

It was time to parade and she marched her men out. Lizzie glanced to­wards the Gatehouse. There was sound; was the Marchioness approaching; was that cheering? Lizzie marched her troop into position—she had been very fine in her timing. It could have been a disaster but now they were ready and in position.

Lizzie was surprised to see the Marchioness fully dressed in a fine blue rid­ing suit of matching leather jacket and culottes—she was not riding side sad­dle. Lizzie had expected to see her in some ridiculous sexual get up of Conrad's prurient imagination but it looked as respectable as could be. Really rather a pretty outfit with a frilly white blouse under the blue jacket and sensible rid­ing boots poking out from beneath the culottes. Lizzie really admired the cos­tume.

The horse was held and the Marchioness stood up in her stirrups before descending. To Lizzie's surprise she could see what looked like a second pom­mel behind the first, shining wetly in the sunlight. As she looked, Lizzie re­alised it was not a pommel at all but a leather dildo forming an integral part of the Marchioness' saddle, a saddle she had been able, no doubt, to sit upon by virtue of a necessary slit between the legs of the culottes. Certainly not a sad­dle for a man—it was a woman's saddle. Lizzie thought it must be dangerous to have such a thing inside you as you rode but this was not the real world, nothing was quite normal here. All seemed tainted by Conrad's mind. Not that all was unpleasant by any means: quite the contrary there was an awful lot to like and people to like too. It was just, well, so warped.

Conrad was greeting the Marchioness and then it would be Lizzie's turn or, rather, the turn of the Guard to welcome the visitor, to present arms and fire a welcoming salute. Her eyes turned to the right and checked the Guard again. They were ramrod straight, arms down their sides, chins up, backs taut and of course their magnificent long penises rigid. The Guard looked marvel­lously turned out. Lizzie had personally oiled every part of them that morning to ensure they shone in the bright sunlight. The Marchioness would not find fault. The silver of the ornamentals gleamed.

The Marchioness turned in the direction of the Guard and smiled - it was obvious she was already impressed even before the Guard presented. She walked along the line inspecting.

"Well oiled weapons," her voice sweet and melodious, her hands ready to touch and verify her statement, her thin fingers sliding up one after another of the long cocks, her hand weighing the heavy wrinkled shot bags. When she came to the Captain she smiled as her fingers slipped up Lizzie's rubber cock. "A little different here, but so well turned out." Her fingers brushed Lizzie's nipples, black nipples hard with sexual excitement. "Very good Captain—carry on."

She stepped away as Lizzie began her carefully rehearsed manoeuvre.

"Troop—make ready."

Hands busied themselves stimulating cocks. Lizzie waited watchful for the last hand to stop moving and release.

"Troop—present a-rms."

Hands flew back to cocks and held them exactly at 45 degrees from the horizontal. There was no deviation, Lizzie held her own ready, but lower down than the men—she needed to be ready to squeeze a ball hard.

"Troop—make ready to fire the salute." Hands moved.

"Ready!"

"Take aim."

"Fire!"

In fairness to the Guard, it has to be said that only Lizzie was a bit behind in the firing. Six jets of silver shot from the magnificent penises, followed frac­tionally later by Lizzie's own shot. It was, after all, her first ejaculation.

The Marchioness clapped her hands in pure delight as further spurts came from the cocks. Lizzie, her eyes looking sideways, squeezed her ball in unison with the spurts from the men and was impressed how realistic her own cock's performance was proving. It almost shot as far as the men. The Guard's shared ejaculation was long and prolific but the rolling volley could not be sus­tained for long. The excitement over, rigidity could not be held and before any drooping could spoil the picture of martial discipline, Lizzie gave the order to "Stand at ease," as she released the pressure in her own cock allowing it to de­flate.

"Right turn—march." Lizzie followed her troop, pleased at the perfor­mance, their duty done. She could hear the Marchioness saying, "Really Worri­ty, no one comes close to matching your Guard in drill, turnout, timing, disci­pline, the display. Who is your new Captain?" The voice became inaudible.

Lizzie stood the Guard back from the further welcoming ceremony, stand­ing at ease but still impressive. She watched the further introductions and then the welcoming entertainment of gymnastics. Never had Lizzie seen the like. The first, a remarkable, arguably artistic, certainly energetic, undoubtedly skilful sexual coupling on the trampoline. Up they went separately; down they came together, up in the air as one. All quite something to see. It must have taken a lot of practice.

The work on the horse, parallel bars and beam were equally impressive. Lizzie had to admit that she did prefer seeing gymnasts naked. The sight of strong athletic bodies, both male and female, fully exposed enabled one to ap­preciate the musculature as it worked and strained. She liked to see the penis­es of the male gymnasts even when flopping around soft. This added to her ap­preciation. She particularly admired one young man with an unusually large, and therefore remarkably pendulant, scrotum. At work, it flew about beneath (or above him depending on the exercise). A fine sight indeed. She was delight­ed to see him later fully erect performing on the horse. She could not quite work out the requirements but it seemed for some exercises the men were re­quired to retain rigidity throughout.

It was not just the men she appreciated and could easily understand why men like to see a pair of bouncing breasts. There was plenty of opportunity in the gymnastics—and, of course, on the trampoline. The girls who could do 'the splits' at school had always impressed Lizzie and she had watched gymnastics performances at the Olympics but she had never seen what she saw now. A dildo was placed on the ground, positioned to be pointing upwards. Then the naked gymnasts took it in turns to go down on it so that it disappeared, sliding up into them, their legs at right angles to their bodies—at 180 degrees to each other. It was the fluid way it was done repeatedly as part of the exercise. Again it must have taken hours of practice. It was clear the Marchioness was very im­pressed indeed.

The welcome over, the Marchioness, with much waving and blowing of kisses, entered the house. Lizzie sighed and turned back to the Guard feeling as sexually excited as she had when the Guard had blacked and oiled her that morning. The gymnastics had done nothing to ease her wet need. She thought of trying to find the male gymnast with the impressive scrotum but she stopped herself. She was too easily falling into the seductive trap of the place, the sexual hedonism, the easy gratification and following of desire and—in any case—there were her duties to the Guard to complete. The troop was standing where she had left them. She marched them off back to their quar­ters. The ornamentals jingled.

Lizzie felt in need of a bath or shower, the morning had been hot and, of course, she needed to soften the glue and remove her penis - she did not think she needed that for any further purpose. Indeed it would impede what she would most like to do and that was to be fucked rather than fuck. In any case she needed to wash off her changed colour if she could. To her delight she dis­covered the Guard had their own bathroom. A manly affair. A tap was turned and hot steamy water began to cascade into a giant white tiled bath. It was im­mediately obvious to a Lizzie that she was going to have the pleasure of bathing with six men. There was room for all to bathe. She hoped they could play the game of 'find the soap.'

It was like being in the changing room at an old fashioned rugby or foot­ball club before the introduction of showers when the post match bath was communal. It was as if she had stumbled into the wrong changing room, naked, sweaty and grubby perhaps after a girl's hockey match and finding her­self in the male changing room at bath time. There were not fifteen or eleven men there, that would have been greedy, only six, but what men! Men who were, self evidently, pleased she had joined them. Perhaps now, their duty done, they would actually fuck her, serve her in a different way. She hoped so.

Intercourse, though, was not possible until she had divested herself of her male appendage; Mr. Qui'ver's device was certainly stuck fast. Simply pulling at it did no good. All it did was pull at the shaved skin of her pubis, pulling it away from her pubic bone and making her more conscious of its other end that rose and filled her. She wanted filling by her men, she wanted each in turn to stuff her.

Lizzie wondered at herself. This was hardly the girl she had known weeks before. Not that then she had been uninterested, had been without sexual feel­ings, erotic desires; her fingers could testify a very different story as many a night in bed her mind had been filled with naughty images and thoughts as her fingers had stirred. But to actually be seeking sex—if any of this was real—with a man, no six men—was quite another matter. She was finding she was revelling in the sex, enjoying it—perhaps too much. She pulled again at her rubber cock. It needed to come off.

The Guard waited for Lizzie to step into the water first. It was hot, steamy and smelling faintly of carbolic—so masculine, like her men. She really did feel weak at the knees just looking at them as though their masculinity was sapping her strength, making it impossible to resist their advances, their de­mands — as if she would want to resist! No chance of that. Her need for sex was strong. Was it the peculiar world she was in, was it the effect of the Guard or was it really Lizzie herself that caused this need, this strong repeated desire for sexual satisfaction?

The Guard stepped as one into the water. The sudden closeness of the men did cause a weakening of Lizzie's knees; she sank down to kneel, her face at cock level. The coffee coloured plums of their cockheads were at her eye level. Her mouth opened without thought, she wanted to suck, suck those love­ly penises, hold them full, warm and smooth in her mouth.

Oral sex should not be rushed. It should be slow and deliberate, a teasing and understanding, a preliminary or foreplay to the coitus to follow. With six penises to sample, six penises to try, six penises to pleasure, Lizzie had a long time on her knees. It was not a chore, not a duty, it was a pleasure taken in a daze of sexual anticipation. Her body was not left untouched whilst she sucked. Her breasts were attended to, her nipples were pulled, her bottom was stroked—a finger was inserted—but of course her pudenda was left alone and slowly the absence of touch to her sex brought her from her trance.

Lizzie wanted desperately to be fucked but the black rubber penis would not come off, she pulled and pulled but it was stuck fast to her pubis, held in addition by the dildo within. The pulling moved the dildo and made her frus­tration worse. It was such a pale imitation, a poor substitute for the real thing—and there were six of the best real things she was ever likely to see in front of her madingly unable to even attempt entrance. Her frustration at her inability to remove her penis was obvious.

Hands held her, hands lowered her into the hot water, hands caressed, hands stroked, hands tugged. The special glue of Mr. Qui'ver slowly came away, as he had said it would, in the hot water. Lizzie was woman again.

"Please, please just fuck me now."

The Guard obliged one after another, the water churning and slopping around the bath as first one, then another cock penetrated Lizzie and worked until it released. Lizzie did not match the six orgasms of her men but she came close as she lost herself in endless wet, splashing intercourse. A feeling of being permanently and energetically filled, and the delicious awareness of spurting, after spurting — it was an experience of sexual gratification on an or­giastic scale.

Lizzie, washed most royally by her Guard until not a hint of her 'blacking up' remained, returned to her chamber and flopped on the bed. What a day, what excitement and how well her troop had performed - both publicly and pri­vately. She smiled with pleasure at the memory and then frowned. This strange place was dangerously seductive, it was drawing her in, letting her enjoy its pleasures, making her feel wanted and useful—trying to make her want to stay. But she did not want to stay—she wanted to go home.