Lien the Fifth

                                 III

                         Delectable Delia

Lien immediately set about the task of finding a suitable replacement for Annabel. The lovely Lady Delia was the next most foolish Noblewoman to be found in the Kingdom. Like Annabel, she was short; some might even say she was a bit plump, but in a very pleasing way. Her hair was of a reddish hue that might be call a light burgundy and she had a smattering of freckles that contrasted very well with her uniquely pale flesh. She was sweetly curved and had a generous bottom offset by her even more abundant breasts but her most startling feature was her deep emerald eyes. Lien was infatuated.

It did seem she had not a dram of selfish ambition and truly wished only to please Lien. It might be possible she was exceptionally clever and thought if she could make him totally euphoric with her presence, he would come to believe he couldn't live without her. I, for one, felt her actions were without guile and were honestly inspired.

This wedding was unlike Annabel's in every particular save one. The wedding was small and private. A simple monk presided. No formal feast followed. Lady Delia's parents did, however, sob through the entire service.

Lady Delia meekly followed every whim of her husband. She seemed to revel in any and all torments he devised for her. She was exceptionally proud of herself when she managed to endure his various tortures without so much as a peep, let alone an objection. For his part, Lien was a man obsessed. Annabel's final performance was indelibly engraved in his memory and he desperately yearned for a way to reproduce the sensations generated by her terminal spasms. His new wife bore this quest without complaint.

He only made use of her bottom of course. He tried a number of methods to achieve those clutching contractions including partial asphyxiation and searing her flesh with hot irons whilst they coupled. That caused more screaming than clutching. He had Clive slash at her belly during their congress, which caused tremors of fear, but it just wasn't the same. The new Queen’s nipples were pierced and fitted with silver rings and when these were savagely twisted in the throes of passion, it certainly caused spasms of pain. Those spasms nearly duplicated Annabel's final grasping but still the sensation fell short.  When four months had passed and Lien had yet to make use of the entrance to her womb, Delia's fate was already sealed. In truth, Annabel had slain her as much as Lien would some eight month hence, but she really didn't seem to care. Her one goal was to please her Lord and she continued in that struggle without pause.

Eventually she convinced him to allow her to use what oral skills that she possessed. Whilst she had been a technical virgin when they met, (certainly no male flesh had passed betwixt her nether lips or the narrower adjacent passage) she was truthfully virginal only in the most Clintonian sense of the word. She did possess some skill and experience with her eager mouth as her parents’ gardener and the stable boy could attest to.

Lien was indeed amused when she shamelessly begged to kiss and lick him in that manner and for a brief while, allowed her to suckle upon his manhood. They were both content but for very different reasons. Eventually Lien returned to his anal obsession. Still, Delia had reintroduced Lien to the possibility of some variety in their passion and as the months passed, he became more and more likely to vary his assaults upon her most willing body. When there was but a month left before their fateful anniversary, Lien was at last coaxed into using her in a manner more befitting the relationship of a husband and wife. Delia was pleased and very proud, not because this was some form of moral victory, Lord knows it was far too late to save her from her fate. No, she was pleased because Lien had found her worthy to give him pleasure in this most common of manners.

In fact the two of them had carefully avoided talk of the coming anniversary.  Early on in their marriage, she had offered to undergo a duplication of Annabel's demise so Lien could once more experience that particular form of ecstasy he sought so diligently. Lien was overjoyed at the sentiment but wouldn't hear of it. He was only allowed to execute one Queen a year and he wanted each occasion to be uniquely memorable. He asked his beloved not to speak of it and to try to enjoy what time they had.

It should be noted at this point that Delia had a positive influence upon his governance as well. Lien was observed smiling upon occasion. Random and arbitrary executions dropped to a mere handful on any given week. Court judgements seemed to follow some logical progression from the written laws for the most part. Her most important contribution, however, was the fact that Lien was spending the bulk of his time with her, allowing other cooler heads to do the work of Governance. Alas, it could not last.

Lien seemed to be truly saddened when the fateful day arrived. He had brought Delia to the heart of the dungeon where his three friends awaited the loving couple. Lien paced the room, hands clasped behind his back as he tried to explain what must happen to his Delia.

"The rules are the rules, love, and since you've proven yourself to be barren, my dear, you need to make way for a woman that can bring forth a Royal heir for the sake of the Kingdom. I hope you understand."  He looked over at her lovingly; tears had begun to well up in her eyes.

"The truth of the matter is that since I can't have you for myself any more, I've decided to share you with all my friends."

Delia looked perplexed at first and then enlightenment seemed to dawn across her face. She tugged and tussled her way out of her gown tossing it to the side and once naked sank down onto her hands and knees on the cold dungeon floor.

"Who will be first M'lord?" she inquired.

Edward, Clive and William all looked upon the luscious nude in horror. Lien stared in disbelief for a few moments then burst into peals of laughter. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched his sides and tried to regain his composure. Delia became confused once more.

At last he regained his breath.

" Yes, yes she's right my good fellows. She deserves this and I insist. Clive, you get under her and fill her sweet cunt; Edward, her ass is yours and William, don't strangle her when you stuff her gullet."

Now it takes a special type of courage to cuckold a King even if he is directing the affair. The saddest aspect of this entire "Menage-a-Quatre is that it probably encompassed every true friend Lien possessed. It speaks volumes of the trust these three men placed in Lien's friendship that none suffered any performance anxiety as Lien directed the foursome, choreographing their actions down to the minutest detail. Edward came first followed rapidly by William and sweet Delia gagged and retched a bit as she tried to swallow it all down. Clive continued to pump away holding onto those Royal hips that straddled him until he climaxed with a groan.

The three men rose and sheepishly dressed while the nude queen lay collapsed in a puddle of sweat and semen. Lien was humming to himself, as an enormous grin spread across his face. 

When the men were ready, Lien extended his hand helping Delia to her feet. She was a bit sore and the men's ejaculate was seeping out of her various openings as she was led, still naked, up the stairway into the forecourt outside the castle kitchen.

The Head-chef and his Sous-chef were waiting by a long wooden table. Delia followed behind Lien and hopped up onto the table lying back when he directed her, his hand patting the tabletop. Lien stroked her between her parted thighs and it was such a marvelous feeling that Delia allowed herself to lay back and drift off. Only when her head lolled to the right did she noticed the trench filled with glowing coals. Slowly but with mounting dread their words began to penetrate her consciousness.

The Head-chef wanted her bled out, gutted, washed, spitted, stuffed and then basted up, before he'd even consider putting her on to roast. Lien wanted her alive when she went over the coals and hoped she could be kept alive long enough to feel herself begin to cook. Clive was trying to mediate between them, but the chef was very stubborn.

When the horror of her situation began to permeate her senses, Delia tried to bolt upright. Lien was still stroking her and he used his other hand to press her back down onto the table. He leaned forward kissed her fully on the lips and asked what was wrong.

Like any woman who was about to be gutted skewered and slowly roasted to death Delia had a few concerns but the one she choose to address first was…

"My hair! Lien, please don't let them burn my hair. I beg you darling, if you ever had feelings for me, save my hair please!"  

Lien was a man in love so he promised her that he would have Clive shave her head before she was put on to cook and that he would treasure her burgundy locks for as long as he lived. This seemed to calm her.

In the meantime Clive's discussion with the Head-chef was going nowhere. Finally the fat fellow threw up his hands and stomped back into the kitchen. The man was insufferable. Lien would have terminated the fat little bastard ages ago but good chefs are hard to find and worth their weight in caviar. 

Fortunately the Sous-chef was a much more reasonable chap. Clive explained the options to Lien. Delia could be bound to a grill and roasted whole. She'd live the longest this way, but would be inedible if (well, actually when) her intestines burst. She could be partially gutted bound to a grill and roasted. This would make for a better meal but she would only live for an hour over the coals, two hours tops if her mouth and nose were kept covered with a wet towel and she was roasted slowly over a low heat. That was the option Clive suspected would best serve Lien's purpose.

There was a third option, one that severely challenged Clive's skills but it was the very one he truly hoped he would be allowed to attempt. The kingdom had considerable experience with impaling and a number of victims had lived for hours after being completely run through. Certainly with his knowledge, skill, and some special equipment he happened to have lying about in the dungeon, the Queen could be spit roasted and live long enough to savor the burn.

Lien was intrigued.

A servant was sent to fetch Clive's medical bag and a specially constructed impaling stake. The upper quarter of this stake was a hollow tube and a number of small air holes perforated the stake along the hollow end. This, in theory, allowed the victim to continue breathing even though the stake protruded from her throat.

      

Clive's Mum had always hoped he'd become a doctor. From the earliest days of his childhood he was encouraged to explore how insects, birds and other small animals were put together. This of course involved taking them apart slowly and carefully. He would no doubt have made an excellent physician but for the small mindedness of the locals in his hometown. When a spat of disappearances involving young women began, suspicion was directed toward poor Clive. Just because the first three females to disappear were his bratty younger sister, her annoying best friend and then his own inattentive girlfriend was no reason to cast their suspicious eyes on him.

Really, a bit more sympathy might have been in order. Then he wouldn't have been compelled to kidnap the Mayor’s daughter and remove her plump belly, spleen, and half her liver before sewing her up and sending her home. In retrospect he probably should have killed her and disposed of the body like all the others, but as it turned out, he needed to flee into the night.

The medical schools would have nothing to do with him after that stunt, even though the Mayor's daughter lived (and was a good deal slimmer for the remainder of her life.) Clive found other uses for his skills, but he truly wished he could have made his Mum proud.

Lien had Delia stretch out face down on the table. Her hands and feet were bound to the table legs and Edward began to tenderize her flesh with a bamboo cane.  After twenty minutes, she was untied, rolled onto her back, and rebound so Edward could work over her breasts and belly. By the time he was finished, Clive's equipment had arrived.

Delia was unshackled and turned sideways across the tabletop. Her head hung off one edge of the table. Her view of the bed of coals was upside down and not ten feet away and she started to sweat from the heat. Edward held her shoulders steady while Clive shaved her head, gathering her long lustrous red hair into one of Delia's own silk purses. Once he had rendered her head clean and smooth he moved down to her other end to deal with the furry little patch between her legs.

Because she was lying across the width of the table now her bottom barely rested on the surface. Lien stood between her legs holding her steady while Clive scraped away the little patch of hair. When her mound was as smooth as a baby’s Lien actually bent to kiss his wife there, something she had never expected as long as she lived. She shivered as his tongue probed her depths and was panting with desire in no time. Naturally, Lien decided a bit too quickly that it was time for his pleasure. She groaned in frustration as she felt the first stirrings of her own orgasm beginning to slip away.  

Edward held her under the shoulders pulling her forward. Lien pushed himself into her well-lubricated opening. He grabbed hold of her thighs and leaned back. Delia was being stretched taut between the two men with Lien buried deep within her. Clive placed a leather strap in her mouth and told her to bite down hard. She blinked looking up and Clive was standing over her a razor sharp knife in his right hand.

"This is going to hurt like hell and she's going to want to jerk about so keep her stretched real tight."

She was aware of William now clutching her ankles and adding his weight to the strength of Lien’s grasp. Her eyes never left the knife as it descended toward her belly. The tip touched her rigid abdomen. She closed her eyes and bit down hard.

Clive slid the blade into her just below the sternum and tilted the blade upward as it slid down to her belly button. Clive was quick and he pulled the knife away before she could react. Delia desperately tried to sit up but the three men held her flat, stretching her across the table.  Clive had set the knife down and was also pressing her down onto the table. She'd bitten through the leather strap and now she screamed out to announce her agony to the world. Her body shook from side to side. Lien smirked and began thump out a steady rhythm, gliding in and out of her.

It wasn't that large a cut, but it was as much of an opening as Clive needed. He reached inside and began to sort through the contents of her abdominal cavity.  Her entire belly rippled with pain-filled contractions and Lien came like a bull. He discharged into her with a contented sigh and then withdrew.

Clive knew time was his enemy so he worked with quick efficiency. He pulled out the intestines letting them flop into a bucket below the table. Delia's stomach and gallbladder followed. Delia was still alive, a fact that she continued to demonstrate with her unending scream. Her kidneys, liver, uterus and bladder were all left in place so none of the major blood vessels were disturbed. The procedure was by no means bloodless, however, and Clive used clean cotton rags to mop away the excess blood.

Lien insisted that he be the one who pushed the impaling stake in.  Her bottom hadn't been prepared but in a rare pique of gentleness, he smeared some of his dribbling seminal fluid over the tip of the stake before forcing it into her dry, narrow opening. She screeched in pain and wailed even louder as the stake was forced past her sphincter muscles. Clive reached within her belly and guided the stake up toward her chest. Delia's struggles were lessening as she slipped into shock and Clive was able to introduce the tip of the stake into her esophagus and ease it upward toward her throat. Delia was gagging and turning purple while Edward tilted her head back, allowing the stake to slip forward out of her mouth and into the open air.   

A raspy whistling replaced Delia's gurgling sobs. The purple faded and a somewhat paler tone returned to her flushed face. Her chest was moving once more. Clive was justly proud, he had done it! She was still alive. If only his Mum could see him now.

The Sous-chef set a bucket of stuffing on the table. It was a chestnut and current concoction with breadcrumbs, freshly chopped celery and green onions. Clive helped pack her belly before stitching up her wound. The Sous-chef amused himself by packing her vagina. Delia seemed to respond to his manipulation even as her body shuddered on the skewering shaft. It seemed that she was trying to rock her hips for him as she pressed her mons upward.

   Tears were falling from her open eyes as she was rolled over onto her belly and her knees were bent forward, splayed wide against her breasts. Her ankles were crossed above the stake and bound in place.  Her wrists were pulled down past her spread knees and bound to her crossed ankles. Thus, her body weight was evenly distributed around the spit. Once more, she was rolled onto her back.

Lien ran his fingernails down her taut inner thighs and then across her firm rump. She responded well, shivering in place, The tempo of the whistling noise coming from the hollow end of the spit increased. The chef started to baste her body with a blend of drawn butter infused with thyme and lemon grass and mixed with balsamic vinager. The brush seemed to linger lovingly over her now erect nipples. Even secured as she was now, her body started to shake and her chest rapidly expanded and contracted as the basting brush glided between her legs. The chef reluctantly stepped back from the delectable Queen. Four servants lifted the pole and Delia was carried to the roasting pit.

   She was unquestionably alive when they began to slowly turn the spit. The chef continued to baste her skin as it turned from pale white to bright red. A half-hour later, her breathing had slowed but still, her chest was visibly moving as the spit slowly rotated over the coals. When the chef needed to puncture her breasts almost an hour into the roasting, her hands and feet twitched a bit, but that was the extent of Delia's reaction. Grease flowed through the holes the fork tines made and the fluid hissed and flared as it hit the glowing coals. Clive swore he could still see her eyelashes fluttering as her body slowly rotated round. By the time another half-hour passed, there was no question that Delia had passed beyond all pain. 

Some onlookers claim they saw a tear in Liens eye, but it was probably just from the onions that had been put on to roast along with his sweetheart. Delia continued to cook through the afternoon and a memorial banquet was held that evening.

Naturally Clive did the carving. She was served with carrots, onions, stuffing, potatoes (both jacketed and mashed), and a superb brown gravy with bits of ground heart, liver and kidney in a burgundy reduction.

Fresh fruit and a chocolate torte (the former Queen's favorite) were served for dessert

A number of the nobility raised some ethical concerns about the rather cannibalistic aspects of the feast, but the Bishop assured them that the meal was indeed a ceremonial ritual and not to be confused with the devouring of human flesh for nutritional sustenance. Wine flowed liberally, which helped steady the nerves of many. In any event, Lien was insistent upon the Nobility's universal participation and as usual, he got his way. When the meal was over and the roast picked clean, the King's dogs managed to scurry off with most of the bones and so, poor Delia was never properly interred.

Lien did allow a month of mourning for the passing of his sweet, young Queen Delia before he set about the quest to find yet another.