Message-ID: <30097asstr$988740604@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <200105011223.FAA04650@mail15.bigmailbox.com> From: "Deja User" Subject: {ASSM} "Alphabet Game: Royalty" {Dancer} (MF) Date: Tue, 1 May 2001 14:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, kelly ------------------------------------------------------------ <1st attachment, "Royalty.txt" begin> SUBJECT LINE: {ASSM}"Alphabet Game: Royalty"{Dancer}(MF) ------- Admonition: This story contains explicit descriptions of people engaging in careless and unprotected sexual activity. PLEASE do not emulate these people since they are fictional characters existing in a fantasy world where sexually transmitted disease and unwanted pregnancy don't happen. You don't live in such a world, so "let's be careful out there." Oh, and minors shouldn't be reading this stuff - if you can't place the quote I just made in the last paragraph, you probably aren't old enough to be flipping through ASS*. Bugger off and watch 'TV Land' instead, so you can bone up for little age-testing quizzes like this! :) Copyright notice: Dancer, the author of this smutty little opus, holds all rights of reproduction. Private copies for personal perusal and archives for NON-commercial distribution are permitted by her. Plea for attention: The only reward ASS* authors can expect is the joy of sharing their creation with the rest of humanity. But wait - how does that author KNOW if people are reading and enjoying his story? Yep; if you like a story posted to alt.sex.stories.*, the fair thing to do is email the author and tell them so. I promise that it'll make YOU feel good to send them kudos, after all, Mark Twain said, "The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer someone else up." As always you may contact me (and my wife Dancer) through my 'legacy' Deja News email account: (Wow, I'm not just an author, now I'm an AGENT, too! ;) Editor's Note: Here it is - part eighteen of Dancer's 'Alphabet Game'; twenty-six hot, little vignettes she whipped out in something like a week or two - Lord Malinov eat your heart out with that semi-annual 'story-a-day' run I remember *way* back in the 20th century! ;) (Is he still around?) And relax - these stories are all self-contained - you don't HAVE to read them in order, or read any of the ones that might squick you... ============= The Alphabet Game (18/26) Royalty Copyright Dancer 2001 Dru rounded the brick building and raced down the alley. She had to get over the chain-linked fence or they would have her. She scrambled up the fence and threw a leg over the top when they struck. "NOOOO!" Dru screamed as she felt a hand circle her ankle, then drag her to the concrete. Her brother's men, five in all, stood above her as she lay on the pavement crying. "I can't marry him! He's my brother!" SMACK! Runt Caltrone slapped her viscously across the face. "Shuddap, bitch," Runt growled. The other heavies hoisted her struggling form and carried her bodily out of the alley. She squirmed and yelled for help at the people gaping at them but no one came to her rescue. Nobody wanted to be on the bad side of Rick Cunningham unless they wanted to get a pair of cement shoes. Dru looked up at Al Falchez. "Al, you know this is wrong! Help me, please!" "I'm real sorry, Dru, but I gotta think of Darla and the kids," Al rumbled. She shut her eyes, understanding his concern for his family. "Hey, what are guys doing?" Runt drew his gun and fired at the stranger. "Keep your nose outta this." Dru kicked at her captors and jerked at Al's strong grip. Al stared at her, then let her go. She dodged between parked cars toward the stranger and dove through the open window of his car. "Drive! Drive!" she screamed at the man. He put the pedal to the metal and burned rubber all the way down Lexington Boulevarde. "Lady, what the fuck?" "Those men were kidnapping me so my brother could get his slimy hands on the Royal Jewels." "You got that backwards, right?" "No," Dru explained. "I'm Princess Drucilla, heir to the throne of Kriegstan. Rick Cunningham is my father's by- blow. When I marry, my husband gains the secret of unlocking the Royal Jewels." "Sure, Princess, and I'm Prince Charming." "If my memory of American cars is accurate, this -is- a white Dodge Charger." "Touche," he murmured. "Where to?" "The courthouse. We're late for a wedding." Her words cut through his thoughts. "No way, lady. Uh-un. I'm not going to marry you." "Then I'll just get out now." She reached for the door handle. "NO!" He wrenched her hand away. "Jesus Christ! We're doing fifty clicks! Are you nuts?!" "I can give you money, jewels, whatever you wish if you'll wed me today." "Whatever I wish, huh?" Dru nodded. "Craziness must be catching. I'll do it. My wish is to not have to put the toilet seat down when I'm done taking a leak, savvy?" "Savvy." He drove to the courthouse where they were wed in a quick civil ceremony. The newlyweds exited the public building and headed over to the nearest motel for their honeymoon. He swept Dru off her feet and carried her over the threshold of the bridal suite. "So, how does it feel to be Prince Ted, Royal Consort?" Ted shrugged. "Eh, it's not as bad a King Ralph. I can make the transition." A group of eight women entered the room. "Who are they?" "They're my ladies-in-waiting, here to confirm the consummation of the marriage." Dru touched her husband's arm. "It's the only time, I swear. They need to see the stain of my virginity on the sheets." She removed her clothes and lay back onto the bed, waiting. Ted shook his head in disbelief and undressed as well, then climbed between his wife's thighs. He took her quickly, withdrew and wiped Dru and himself clean. "There's the stain. Now get out." The ladies twittered as, one-by-one, each viewed the small, pink smear, then quit the room. As the door closed behind the last lady, Ted lowered his mouth to Dru's mons and licked his tongue along her swollen labia. "I was afraid you would do nothing more," Dru whispered. "Sorry, sweetie, but I hate performing before an audience." He eased her lips apart and lapped circles around the nubbin at their apex. "This little pearl is the only jewel I need right now." Ted tongued her slick channel and rubbed the tip of his nose against her clit, feeling her spasm at his handiwork. End part 18 ============= Editor's Postscript: Right - I think Dancer began running out of ideas for names at this point; 'Rick Cunningham' - now, REALLY! :) (Oh, and if that name means nothing to you - you're too young to be reading this - I said SCRAM! :) I know it seems a little rushed and 'busy', but Dancer tends to compress a lot of action into a small space; it's a far better foible than rambling on and on and on with unnecessary detail like someone else I could mention. :) And one last note that you might find funny - my spellchecker doesn't have "Drucilla" in its dictionary; the closest match it could find was "Dracula"! Hmmm, maybe this is an idea for a surprisingly different part two? ;) <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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