The Magic Fart (12 page)

NOT THAT WAY, IDIOT,
it gouted, jetting a jot of goo on the resistive
pucker.
I MUST POINT OUTWARD.

Oh. Of course. He reversed the implement. But now he had another problem: its substantial base was far too wide to pass the sphincter. But then the Spire shrank to much smaller size, and he was able to slide it in. Once there, he felt it expanding again, shaping itself to his rectum so that it was firmly anchored, with the tip just shy of the anus. It was oddly comfortable.
NOW I WILL SALUTE THE STINKER.
Prior bent over so that his posterior faced the statue. The Spire emitted a whistling peal of gas that formed a small cloud and drifted up to puff into the statue’s face.

The effect was immediate. The face came to life. “The Spire!” the Stinker said. “What an honor.”
NOW TALK TO HIM.
Prior pulled up his pants, turned around, and spoke. “Uh, hello. I’m

Prior Gross. I need to go to Fartingale to rescue my ideal woman.” “And the Spire farts for you,” the Stinker said. “Of course you may pass.” He eyed Prior. “But waste no time in getting appropriate clothing. The natives don’t much like strangers unless they come bearing gold, sex slaves, or superlative farts.” “Thank you. I will do my best.” The statue solidified. Prior walked by it. This time it let him pass. He had made it to Fartingale.

Chapter 10—Interviews

It was the fourth day of her confinement, and Veil was not optimistic about her fate. She was unable to tell whether the fourth qualifying candidate, a man of middle age, was intellectual, as the contest did not test that quality.

But perhaps she could find out. She would interview the first four quali fiers, and discover whether any of them were remotely acceptable. She hoped for one she would be able to tolerate, as a fall-back choice in case the three qualifiers to come turned out to be even worse.

She tackled them in turn. The first was a rather brutish looking man with a huge gut capable of generating formidable gas, as she had seen in the playback video. She did not ask his name; she thought of him as Gut. He was admitted to the residential intestine with the understanding that the interview was under the control of the Maiden, and any untoward move could disqualify him.

“May the farts be with you,” he said jovially, letting a moderately loud one out.

“And with you,” she agreed politely. She doubted she would ever be entirely easy with this social convention, but it was necessary to honor the local forms. She forced herself, and managed to emit a ladylike break of wind.

“You’re a great looking dame,” he remarked. “Good boobs, good buns, great ass.” “Thank you.” He was truly meaning to compliment her. “I’ll fart with you anytime.” It was time to get to business. “As you know,” she said delicately, “I am the anonymous Maiden in the Tower. I must choose one of seven to be my sex master for the coming year. I wish to know more about you, to determine whether we might be compatible.”

“Compatible, shmatible,” he said derisively, blowing out another solid fart. “I got a cock, you got a cunt, we both got assholes. What’s to compat? My pecker’ll fit, even if your pussy is small; I just have to jam it in hard enough.”

This did not seem promising. But she was determined to conceal her private reactions. “True, and I’m sure the fit will be adequate to satisfy you. But there are other things in a relationship than sex and intestinal gas.” His jaw dropped. “There are?” “I believe so. What do you propose to do after you have satisfied your

lust on my limp body?” “What’ll I do? What kind of fucking question is that? I’ll sleep, of

course, then fuck you again.” “Would you wish me to reciprocate?” “Huh?” “To have enjoyment of the act too.” He was baffled. “Why would I want that?” “It is thought that a man’s pleasure is greater if the woman shares it.” He pondered. “Yeah, maybe worth trying, once, just for the feel. You could sit on my cock and jack yourself off, and your clenching would make me come. Might be fun.” “It might indeed,” she agreed, and terminated the interview. The second man was halfway handsome and certainly manly. He understood the meaning of the word ‘compatibility’ but felt there would be no problem. “I don’t need or want your interest,” he said. “Merely your acquiescence. You obviously have the body. I would have no trouble getting off with you. But mainly it’s your prospective appeal to other men that I want. I could make some handsome money farming you out, especially considering your notoriety as a Tower Maiden.” She was appalled. “You wish to prostitute me?” “Yes. I figure you could take on maybe a dozen men in a day, each of them paying well. Of course you would have to satisfy them, or I would revoke the deal.” “But what of the risk of venereal disease?” “What of it? If you got it, I would not let you tell the clients, though I would have to stop patronizing you myself. It’s a calculated risk; chances are I would have had enough of you by then anyway.” He farted indifferently.

Somehow she was not any more eager to go with this man than the first. “Thank you for clarifying that. May the farce be with you.” She couldn’t bring herself to say it properly. Fortunately she got away with it; he heard what he expected to hear. Perhaps her accompanying flatulence masked the word.

The third candidate was the woman Normal. “No, actually I’m not lesbian,” she said, after they had exchanged greeting farts. “I have an apt husband.” Veil was surprised, but not yet relieved. “Then why do you want a sex

slave?” “It’s like this: he’s manly and gentle, the perfect lover, and he takes good care of me. But just straight sex doesn’t turn me on. He likes a turned-on woman, so I’m not very good for him. But he has excellent qualities, and I want to keep him. When I caught him seducing one of the maids I had a revelation.” “That he was unfaithful,” Veil agreed. “That, too. But it didn’t really bother me, because I knew I wasn’t giving him what he needed. That servant girl was only sixteen, and not really well endowed, and frankly rather homely of feature, but she put a lot of enthusiasm into it. It was obvious that she really liked sex. She just couldn’t get enough of his penis. In fact he just lay there, and she played with it, sucked it, and finally impaled her hole on it just before he spurted. She wrapped her legs around him and kept kissing him, even after he had spent. And do you know what?” “It must have given you some excellent ideas for your own performance.” “Yes, but not in the way you might think. I was horribly turned on, watching it. So much so that I sent the maid to her room and addressed him myself. He was amazed, and it took about fifteen minutes to work him up, because he had expended his semen. But I was so avid that he recovered, and then we had a great mutual climax. The time it took was just enough for me to achieve my own orgasm, and he loved having it with me.”

Veil nodded. “Normally it’s the man who gets turned on by watching his wife have sex with another man, but it can work either way. That seems to have solved your problem.”

“Yes and no,” Normal said candidly. “I had to fire the maid, because I can’t have my husband sexing around promiscuously; he might decide to leave me for a more turned-on woman. Yet I also need him to do it in my presence with another woman, for the stimulation it provides me, and for the time it enables me to have him. He is unable to do it in a minute when he has just spent, enabling me to address him in leisurely manner. So I need a woman with no ambitions of that nature, who is aesthetic, and under my control. Thus my interest in you.”

Now this was an interesting prospect. “Would you wish me to have sex with any other man?”

“Heavens no! You must be only for my husband, and only when I am present. You would be required to rebuff him if he wished to have sex any other time. The rest of the time you could do whatever you wished, being fully cared for, provided you kept yourself clean, comely, and mannered. No servant duties. For the year. Thereafter if I wished to maintain the arrangement, I would have to pay you a standard mistress wage.” This seemed to be a prospect. But Veil was not keen on playing such a

role if she could avoid it. “Thank you,” she said, concluding the interview. The fourth candidate was a man of about her own age, muscular, healthy, and well spoken. “Compatibility hardly matters,” he said after their social farts cleared. “I will provide you with your own suite and servants. Your baby will be well attended. I do not wish to socialize with you. I need you only for sex.” “With you alone?” she inquired cautiously. He considered. “Well, I suppose if you wished to have a boyfriend on

the side, that would be satisfactory, provided he did not intrude on my time.” “I mean, you would not expect me to prostitute myself to make money

for you.” “Horrors, no! I have no need of money. I am wealthy. I merely will

need you to be sexually available to me at all times, day and night.” “This is my understanding of sex slavery.” “Perhaps. Here is the constraint: I am highly sexed. I have worn out two wives, because they could not keep up. I dislike using prostitutes; they can be uncouth or unclean. I need a constant woman.” “Just how often were you thinking of?” “Normally, four times a day and once at night. It is difficult for me to go more than six hours without sex, and shorter periods are preferable. Thus it would be morning, noon, afternoon, evening, and midnight. Sometimes more often, as anything can set me off. My second wife departed after I required sex of her three times within a ten minute span while we were watching an erotic play. That’s why you would need to be steadily on hand. There may be only a minute’s notice; you must be ready at all times.”

“But when not with you, I could do what I want, provided I remain close enough to join you immediately?”

“Correct. If you wish entertainment, I can’t allow you to depart the house unless it is in my company—and there will no foolishness about refusing sex in a coach or a concert booth or even standing in an open field if that is where the call comes. The entertainment will be brought to you, and perhaps I will share it with you if it interests me. You will not be denied anything. Neither will you be bound; if you have genuine need to travel, such as to attend an ill relative, you will merely so acquaint me, and I will accompany you there. I mean you no discomfort. I merely must know that your sexual favor is never denied me.”

Veil happened to know something about sexual precocity. There were indeed highly sexed men, but normally their urges abated somewhat when reliably and competently accommodated. Frequent repetitions occurred when the sexual episodes were less than satisfactory. She could make them satisfactory. This might be as good a way to spend the year as any. She saw that the man’s pantaloons were bulging; the mere discussion of sex had stimulated him, as was the case with many men. That gave her a notion.

“I am minded to give you a try,” she said. “Without as yet making any commitment, as three candidates remain to be selected. Do you wish sex at this moment?” “I do.” As if there could be any other response. “Then join me now on the bed.” She had learned from the announcer that this too was permitted; it was considered an optional part of the interviewing process. She stepped out of her farthingale, baring her nether region, blew out accumulated gas, and lay supine on the bed.

He joined her immediately, his penis springing erect from his panta loons. She was relieved to see that it was an ordinary member, not oversized or misshapen. He got down on her and guided it to her vulva, then plunged it into her vagina. She felt his emission on the first thrust.

Then he withdrew and stood again, putting his spent member away. “Much appreciation,” he said.

It had been so fast she had hardly gotten her bearings. It had been like a hypodermic injection, in, discharge, and out. She quickly mopped herself and donned the skirt again, returning to perch on the farthingale stool. “This is your normal mode?” “Yes. I do not waste time.” “Let me know when your desire rises again.” “Thank you. I will. It is kind of you to accommodate me.” He issued a

gratified fart. She wanted to discover whether he slowed, after relieving himself, and whether he truly recovered swiftly. She needed to know whether his four or five times a day would ease off to once or twice, once the edge was off. She questioned him on details of his household.

Then, barely five minutes along, he expressed his renewed interest. “By all means,” she agreed, removing the skirt again. This time she did not take the couch, but stood waiting for him, to see how he would handle it. He had after all mentioned doing it standing in a field.

He didn’t hesitate. He bent his knees, produced his erect penis, and wedged it up into her moist cleft. He penetrated her with a single trust, jetting as he did. And withdrew immediately.

She mopped herself again; there had indeed been an emission. This time she left her skirt off, and sat on the couch, crossing her bare legs. He looked. “If you would be so kind—” That was only about one minute. Was he bluffing? “By all means.” She

stood. He was into her again, and jetting, and withdrawing. Intrigued, she continued to question him, while quietly assuming provocative poses. They were effective. They had sex three more times in fifteen minutes. The last one was slower: it required two thrusts, and the emission was only a token. But it had definitely occurred.

“I must say, you are very understanding,” he said. “You are a most attractive and accommodating woman. I would like very much to have you with me for the year.”

“How did you make it past the demoness? I watched the video, and you did not seem to spurt prematurely then.”