King XVI
Chapter 16: Getting Back to Business

This novel include graphic sex scenes, some involving minors, rape and forced sex. It is purely a fantasy
and is not depicting real people or events. It is intended as a satire and is meant to be both funny and
stimulating. I hope you enjoy it. New chapters will be published as they are finished.

When I returned to the United States, I was exquisitely tired and decided to take a few
weeks off from my business and what Creech called my dabbling.

It was fun to watch the first few weeks of the Obama Administration unfold, though the
carping from Republicans never ceased. Obama was blamed for everything bad that
happened in the economy and politics and given no credit when things seemed to perk up a
bit in the mid-to-late spring. I was reminded about my relatives watching Roosevelt’s first
inauguration in Washington years ago and hoping against hope the country finally had
turned a corner. They could not have known what was ahead for them.

I hoped our meddling in the election and in politics in Saudi Arabia would not have long-term
repercussions but I was not optimistic. We were told by the FBI that despite our effort to
save the holiest of Muslim icons, we had in the process desecrated it and somehow had
become the subject of death threats, though no one could identify who we were.
Supposedly, death squads had been dispatched to the United States to discover who the
Americans seen in Mecca really were. Jeez, get a little poop on a holy shrine and you never
hear the end of it.

It probably was a good time to lay low. Patrice and Carmel found me vacationing in
Portaban. They hardly recognized me from my heavy growth of beard and approached
warily.

“Pardon me, Mr. Cocksure, but is that you hiding behind that fake beard?” Patrice said.
I looked up from the book I was reading. I pardoned myself for not knowing who these two
fine-looking black women were.

“No problem, there’s no way you would know us,” Patrice said. “except we are new dancers
at your Jamaican club and we’ve seen your picture in the news and in the company
newsletters.”

“Yes,” Carmel said. “And we’ve heard you were missing, so when we saw you over here
reading, we though maybe that was you, except for the beard.”

“Well, the beard is not fake, girls,” I said. “It really is me.”

“And it looks great on you, but you got a lot of people looking for you, Mr. Cocksure.”
Patrice laughed.

“The people who need to know my whereabouts have all the knowledge they need about
me,” I said. ”I have just been vacationing. If governors can ‘disappear’, then so can I.”
“Oh, we’re sorry then,” Carmel said, trying to pull her delicate hand from my meaty extended
hand. “We should not have bothered you.”

“No, I need to be bothered,” I said. “I need to get back into the world.”

The two girls where wearing what appeared to be exactly similar bikinis, except that Patrice
was in radiant pink and Carmel was in brilliant gold. The short, compact girls had delicate
bodies that looked sculpted from the most sinuous curved shiny black wood imaginable.

“Since we work for you, we wanted to come over and say hello,” Patrice said.

“And I appreciate that,” I said. “You work in my Jamaican club? Neither of you look old
enough.”

“I am 17 and Patrice is 18,” Carmel said. “You can be a little younger down here and still
not get carded for dancing in clubs or drinking.”

“Tell me, what have you learned as dancers?” I probed.

Carmel look at her friend as if puzzled. At last, Patrice responded with a seductive smile.
“We learned to give nude lap dances in the VIP Room.” she said.

“Tell me about those dances,” I inquired.

“Well, we rub our butts all over guys and they play with us,” Patrice laughed.
“And sometimes we do other things,” Carmel said, now getting into the spirit of the moment.

“And what would that be?” I asked staring at these feloniously young girls.
“Sometimes I take my lips and run them all over the guys’ dick and I get it all sloppy wet,”
Carmel said.

“Then I come and lick the slobber and lick the cum off,” Patrice said.

“Perhaps we can go back to my room and you could demonstrate,” I said.
Patrice and Carmel looked at each other for a moment. At last Patrice said, “That would be
nice.”

Ten minutes later, we were in my room and they were backing their fine booties back
toward my tent-pole inflated khaki shorts. I spread their cheeks with my fingers and poked
my thumbs and fore fingers into their moist, slippery holes. They cooed like contented
doves as they balanced themselves in the space between my forefingers and thumbs.

My hand acted like a fulcrum to guide my thumbs simultaneously up their beautiful anal
cavities. I’d already lubricated them with copious amounts of saliva so their tight brown
puckers glistened from the sunlight streaming in through the hotel windows.

“God that feels great,” Carmel said. She and her friend were completely naked stretching
their slim carved calves and thighs while standing on sweet toes topped by red-painted nails
digging deeply into the luxurious carpeting. Each had wide-set but slim hips that made their
butts look more pronounced but to be honest, they had been denied the heavy, powerful
legs and buttocks that many black women possess.

They still had the tightness of their teenage years and were delectable. I pulled my thumbs
out and gave them a taste.

“My boyfriend doesn’t like to do that back there,” Carmel said.

“A lot of black men don’t like to suck round back there,” Patrice added, somewhat
defensively.

“Obama does,” Carmel giggled. “I bet he’s great at it, too.”

“Yes, I’ll bet he is,” I acknowledged. “Have you ever met him?”

“No,” Patrice screamed. “Do you know him?”

I returned my thumbs to the holsters from which I’d just withdrawn them. “Do you?,” Carmel
insisted, her question dissolving into a puddle of goo as I sunk deeper into her ass.

“Yes, I met him during the election and shook his hand at the inaugural.”

“You mean those thumbs up our butts shook Obama’s hand,” Patrice said. “Those thumbs
touched him?”

Before I could answer, Carmel warned me that I better never consider taking my thumb out
of her rubbery o-ring or my fingers out of her wet, musky vagina.

“Them Obama digits feel too good to replace,” she said. “Unless you want to stick your
tongue up in there again.”

I complied with her wish, sticking my tongue in the gape between my thumb and the anal
lining of her butt, rimming her around the circumference of my thumb.

“Oh, my god,” she murmured, her legs shaking as if by a force beyond her control. Then
she bucked uncontrollably up and down with a guttural cough that literally forced wet fluids
from her pussy and dropped her to her knees.

My “Obama” digits were ripped so furiously from her moist holes, I’m surprised I didn’t lose
any. She lay panting on the floor.

“Jesus, I never nutted before from anyone doing that,” she coughed. “That was incredible.”
Suddenly, Patrice on the other “Obama” digits was doing the same crazy gyrations, only
more vocally. “Jeeeezuz, Fuuuucking, Chris….”, she wailed.

“O my my mother fucking god.” Soon, she too, collapsed in a heap on the floor. Both girls
were drenched in sweat and a mixture of other fluids I could not determine, though I believe
Carmel came so hard she peed.

I reached down to kiss their pretty, sweaty faces and heads. They reached up to pull me
closer and probe my mouth with their wet, swirling tongues. “Come on,” Patrice begged. “I
want you in me.” “Me, too,” Carmel said.

A long night of screwing ensued, and at every break in proceedings, the girls insisted we
return to the oral and manual manipulations with which we’d begun. I’d created a new set of
monsters having introduced them to a new and different type of stimulus package.


Creech was surprised to see me back at the offices in the now officially broke city of L.A
“Hey stranger,” she said, grinning ear to ear.

“You look happy to see me,” I said.

“I don’t have to tell every floozy in creation I don’t know where you are.”

I kissed her hard on the lips.

“I missed you, too.” I said. She stumbled backward, still smiling.

“What in the hell got into you?” she said.

“I met two young girls who showed me the meaning of life,” I said.

“Too bad they didn’t teach you the meaning of wife,” she gasped, wiping her lips clean.

“Creech, we have more than a marriage,” I said. “We’re closer than any husband and wife.”
“Yeah, that’s why I cover for you with other women while you’re out screwing some little
chippies,” she complained as she slipped behind her desk.

“So who and where are they?”

“Two little dancers from the Jamaican club and they are back at the house swimming.”

“Well, you better get ready for some visits this morning,” Creech said. “As soon as word
gets out you are back in town, your women will show up in herds.”

She was right. Claire, the lithe, tall Russian beauty who’d been staying in Los Angeles as a
precaution, was the first to make an appearance. “Brad,” she said, “I have been so worried
about you. Ever since we heard that you were in Saudi Arabia, I’ve been wondering if they
got to you.”

“I’m fine,” I laughed, “though I’m not sure your almost-husband would agree. He would have
liked to see me dead.”

“I am so thankful I came back to the United States and didn’t marry that bastard, though he
was devilishly handsome,” she said.

“Buckner might actually be the devil, Claire.” I said. “I wouldn’t harbor any illusions about
him.”

“I don’t,” she sighed. “It’s just that I feel so naïve for falling for him.”

“Get over it. How have you been keeping yourself busy while I was out of town. Maybe you
need to get out for some fun.”

“Yes, that’s just what Mandy, Devin, Piglet and I were hoping,” Claire jumped for joy.
“Where are you taking us?”

Piglet popped in the door wearing one of the strangest costumes I’ve ever seen.

“Mr. Surecock, you better wait until I can get out of this damn overdone garbage bag before
you try to take me any place,” she cried.

“What are you supposed to be, Piglet?” I asked incredulously. She was wearing a pink
blimp-like structure with blood and veins painted around it.

“I’m a vulva,” she said. “I’m in Gloria’s new epic movie they are filming downstairs.”

“A vulva?”

“Yes, and a bloody one at that,” she said. “I represent man’s rape-obsessed culture and in
the movie, I play a battered and bruised pussy that’s been taken advantage of by a bicycle
gang of rapists…at least that’s the story from Glory.”

“Brother, who does Denali think she is…allegory in a porn movie?” I said, shaking my head.

“Alligators?” Piglet said. “I may look like hell but I didn’t get attacked by alligators.”

“No, nothing about alligators,” I said. “Allegory. Look it up.”

“We’re all in Glory’s new vampire movie,” Claire explained. “I play the leader of a vampire
clan who preys on young men, sinking our canine’s into throbbing vein-covered penis. It's
like an XXX-Rated True Blood.”

“Only Glory doesn’t make Claire wear her costume all the time to get her into her role.” Piglet
said.

“Piglet,” Claire laughed. “Glory feels I am a natural actress while you, well, you need some
big-time help.”

“Not as much as you’re gonna need when I sit on your face you freakazoid Russian bitch.”
Piglet mocked.

“That sounds like fun you short little anus-obsessed dago cunt licker,” Claire teased.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I said. “You girls get out of here and let me get some work
done and I’ll be happy to take you out tonight for dinner.”

“Then can the dinner be a like on the island,” Piglet said. “where everyone eats everybody
else. It’s been awhile since you stretched me open back there, Mr. Surecock.”

“Yes, Piglet, I’d hate to pass that invitation,” I said.

“Okay, we’ll be downstairs with some other guys’ dicks in our asses,” Claire said, smiling
and nudging Piglet toward the door.

“Make sure you’re still tight when you are done else I’ll find someone else to take to dinner.”

“Oh, Mr. Surecock,” said Piglet, “the mopes they’ve got in this movie are puny little whiffle
bats compare to your mighty oak.”

“She said oak, not joke,” Claire giggled.

“Alright, enough bad puns,” I said. “Out of here. Or no dinner or snacking.”

“Devin and Mandy can come, too, right?” Claire begged.

“Yes, bring along whoever you want,” I said. “except for Denali”

I was looking forward to spending the night with Claire and particularly my California golden
girl, Devin, who I’d not seen in weeks. But Gloria was a full time project I was not yet ready
to undertake.

I stepped into my inner office and began sorting through the mail Creech had so
scrupulously placed in my in box. I hadn’t gotten very far when the phone rang. It was
Yana Daniels calling me from Studio B where she was obviously filming one of her dungeon
fetish videos with her sister, Lexi.

“Brad, you back in town to stay,” she said crisply.

“Yes, back for awhile anyway,” I answered.

“Good, we need to talk. Can you come down here?

“What’s the problem?”

“Come down. I’ll tell you.”

I wasn’t accustomed to being summoned so briskly by Yana, so I knew something big had to
be afoot. I was in Studio B within 15 minutes.

“Okay, what’s the problem?” I said.

Yana and Lexi were standing apart with scowls on their faces, their short hair and dazzling
purple-tinted eyes glared at one another angrily. Each held a riding crop clutched closely
against their chests. Four hog tied naked women swung suspended from the ceiling of the
dungeon set while a crew of mopes poked mildly at the women’s oral cavities. They looked
as though they were suspended in time, awaiting instructions from Yana and/or Lexi.

“Brad, I can no longer work with this irritating bitch,” Lexi shouted, slapping her riding crop
hard on the ass of one of the suspended women.

“Oh, my god,” the struck woman complained. “Criminee, that stings like a mother.”

‘What is the problem,” I asked.

“Lactation pumps,” Yana answered.


“What?”

“She wants to combine our dungeon humiliation genre with our milk maid videos,” Lexi said.

“That’s it,” Yana responded. “I just suggested we need more in this video than whips and
chains and I noticed that one of the women who’s just had a baby was lactating heavily
through her blouse. So I stupidly suggested we get a little lactating momma in this picture.”

“Everybody knows the humiliation crowd and the lactation crowd are two different animals,”
Lexi shouted. “You show a milk-splattered titty bitch with a sperm-splattered face wearing a
spiked black collar in the same scene and you’ll drive away both audiences.”

Yana and Lexi frequently had creative differences but rarely were they this animated. I
suggested a truce.

“Can’t you release two versions of the same movie, one with the milk-tit broad, and the
other with the hanging whores,” I said, trying to be funny.

“You ever try to shoot around a milk splattered movie set to avoid showing the titty cream in
the dick cream video,” Lexi said. “It’s impossible.”

“I have had it,” Yana responded. “Nothing but criticism from this bitch lately. I don’t believe
we shared the same womb.”

“I can’t believe we still share the same room, much less womb,” Lexi hissed.

“My mother is not the same as yours,” Yana cried.

Lexi slapped Yana hard across the face.

“Feels good, you whore,” Yana said. “Now take this.”

She kicked Lexi in the crotch with spiked heels that ripped a bloody gash. Lexi fell back,
yanking out matted tufts of Yana’s hair. I’d seen the two fight before, but usually in private.
The cast and crew stood frozen. They were accustomed to the “violence” in Yana’s and
Lexi’s videos but this was a whole new level of craziness. Obviously, things had gotten out
of hand in my absence.

“Okay, that does it,” I shouted, grabbing both women by the back of their hair and pulling
them to their knees. Both were tiny and weighed hardly anything, but they had to feel some
pain being lifted so unceremoniously. I pushed their faces into my pants crotch and
ordered them to start sucking. At first Yana fought, trying to dig her deadly nails into where
she thought she saw my balls. I yanked her head from side to side violently and had her
pull out my “oak.”

“Suck it,” I ordered again.

Soon, both women were licking and slurping on my cock with a vigor that actually was a little
painful to me. Drool dripped in thick, clear streams from my cock and their mouths.
“That’s great,” I said. “Keep working…together.”

Lexi tried to reach up to touch it.

“No hands,” I cautioned, shaking her head. Her legs were longer than Yana’s and she was
actually kneeling on the floor while Yana was suspended.

I looked up to see one of the mopes in the cast smirking at Lexi’s and Yana’s plight. His
dick still rested snugly in the mouth of one of the female cast members hanging from the
ceiling.

“What’s your problem, smiley?” I said. “You call that skull fucking?”

I dropped Lexi and Lana and pushed the mope aside, replacing his dick in the suspended
girl’s mouth with my own. I started jerking her head back and forth on my cock frantically
until she was gasping and choking, saliva splattering the surround area. “This is skull
fucking,” I told the mope.

I moved to one of the other suspended women and stuck two fingers in her exposed
asshole to coat it with spit. Then I stuck my cock in where my fingers had been. She
gasped with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“And this,” I said, emphatically, “is ass fucking, the way it should be done.”

I moved around the room, stopping the orifices of the four naked suspended women to poke
and probe however and wherever I wished. I did it with a passion that seemed to be pure
anger, but actually was all show. Behind me, I heard other employees from other sets
gathering to watch, drawn by the commotion and by word of mouth.

“This what a piss whore deserves,” I said, and I cut loose with a stream of urine that
splashed the faces of the suspended women and caused them to wince in surprise. The
males in the cast stepped back. Although they were in no danger from me, I think some of
them thought I might not stop at the female bare asses in the room.

I saved some of the piss for Lexi and Yana and was not surprised to find them more
subdued and compliant, slurping up what I offered them. Both had a kinky side that knew
no bounds and once in the mood, they were pure submissives.

Piss dripped from their face and hair and from all of the women hanging from the ceiling of the dungeon set.
The key to management is knowing when to pick your pissing matches and this clearly was
no split decision, despite me splitting a few hairs, beavers and assholes in the process
.
“Do you think we can all get back to work now?” I said.

“God, Jimmy, did you get that on video?” Yana said to one of her cameramen.
“We never stopped shooting,” Jimmy said.

“Great,” Yana said, wiping her face. “We can use this in our video.”

“What?” Lexi objected. “And mix S&M humiliation, lactation, pissation and ass reaming in
the same video. Our audience isn’t ready for this.”

“Lexi,” I said. “Get over it.”

“Yes sir,” she said sheepishly.

I looked up to see Piglet, Claire, Mandy and Devin staring intently at me amid the crowd of
employees that had gathered. “God, Mr. Surecock,” Piglet said. “You ain’t lost anything
since the island, have you?”

“I have more than enough for you four girls tonight,” I said.

“Well, I am wearing my galoshes,” Piglet said. “I hate stepping in pee in bare feet.”

“Well, Mr. Cocksure better offer us more than just the water,” Claire said with a carnal smile.
“I want the whole pipe.”

“Yes, and my ass has been waiting for months for the pummeling it took when we were all
on the island,” said Devin. “No one else has come close.”

Racquel stepped out of the crowd that had assembled in Studio “B”.

“Ya’ll hear this now,” she announced to the crowd. “The boss is back in town and he’s takin’
names and kickin’ butt. I jus’ hope he’ll kind of take it easy on my butt tonight.”

“Still no anal whore, eh?” I said to the tall black beauty with the Tina Turner legs.

“Let’s just say, I’m waiting for you to enlighten me,” she said.

We walked out of the studio together, leaving Yana and Lexi to finish their project together.

“Tonight I want to introduce you all to Patrice and Carmel,” I said. “While I was gone, we
were able to teach each other some new things that should enlighten you all.”

“Who else have you invited to this little party tonight?” Devin sighed. “Doesn’t sound like
you’re going to have time to work us all into your busy schedule.”

“I’ll always have time to work my way in into all of you,” I said, as I dropped back just a bit so
I could admire the five asses just a step or two ahead of me.

I was always amazed by the diversity of women’s derrieres. Claire has the smooth opaque
skin and reed thin legs with an ample set of buttocks. Piglet was short, stocky and cute with
a plump, apple-shaped butt. Devin had those long tan, curvaceous legs and golden good
looks that epitomizes every California girl worthy of the name. Mandy was tiny and slim,
almost boyish in her frame but she had that teenage innocent’s look that makes most men’s
mouths water. Racquel, on the other hand, had that large, high-set rump atop a set of
solid, muscular calves and thighs that Byonce might envy.

If anyone looked like she could handle booty bumping, it was Racquel, and yet how
different her frame was from the tiny, almost elfin bodies of Patrice and Carmel. And those
barely legal girls were anal connoisseurs. On the island, Raquel was loath to indulge in anal
antics.

“Viva la differences,” I thought to myself as I turned to head back to my office, leaving the
girls to return to their work. Tonight seemed an eternity away. But later, I would wish I
were not so impatient.