“It’s unassailable. The honour guard watches day and night, always heedful…”

“It’ll not be without risk, but she’s penetrable.”Le chevalier de Sémence1was cocksure.If anyone could pull off such a frontal thrust, it was surely him. “Mark my words. Soon Sémence will be on the lips of the Queen herself and she’ll tremble to know me.”

“Aye, so you’ve said. But what of the device? Are you a master locksmith now?”

Sémence rejected this objection out of hand, or perhaps out of mouth, with a dismissive, short bilabial fricative exhalation: pfff…

Not long after, the chevalier reiterated, “Iamgoing to mount up.” His resolve was admirable.

Monsieur Trompe la bite2could but shake his head. He had tried, as was his wont, but had failed to dissuade his countryman from his stated objective. Trompe la bite’s device was the one-eyed head of a snake crushed by a shield. Below was etched his sobriquet. He stood amongst those whose perverse natures dictate that if they can eat no pie, loath are they to see crumbs on another man’s beard.

The chevalier, for his part, was confident because he had a talent for exploiting certain weaknesses, to hit upon, in his unique twist of meaning, thefair auspiceswho fell before his charming ways.

An Elvish maiden had taken arrow after arrow until she was all a-quiver and Sémence was spent. She hadstressed—to employ a pun—that the alternating of extreme cold with heat would make leather crack and break. Having been joyously ploughed raw, she bade the raw powers of the elements to heed to the ribald rogue plougher’s whim one time, at the chevalier’s choosing, by means of a simple incantation.

Next, any number of the Queen’s matrons would have been only too happy to relive the glories of herhorsebackdays with the chevalier, in exchange for access to the royal bed chamber. In fact, the thick-waisted woman he had approached in the end—and quite literally in the end at one point—mounted up horseback style, then reverse horseback, and finished up with her quim all a-flutter atop the horseman’s labial and lingual loquaciousness.

The grateful matron was of the opinion that Sémence’s target was impregnable, but doubtful of the sowing, still hoped that he’d reap a French bastard. “The Queen wears a device to guard her chastity,” said she, “so even if you gain access to her chamber, you may still be denied access to her inner chamber, as it were. Have you the key?”

Sémencehad a well-used key that he’d once hoped to try in every lock in two kingdoms, but knew the matron referred to the type of key that you turned, not one that you simply inserted time and again, probing the depth of the lock.

If the lock is strong, the chevalier mused, in the style of a barrister’s rhyme that had once freed a murderous rogue3, attack the thong.

He held his own counsel though, a-feared that the extreme heat and cold of the spell might not be contained to just the leather, in which case he’d best not announce his plan to all and sundry. If he froze or burned the Queen’s fair skin, the only release he might expect would be as the gallows’ platform dropped away. And as far as tight squeezes went, he was much more accustomed to feel them around his exposed Lyon sausage than his exposed neck.

Prepared for the siege and ready to mount up, the chevalier crept into the royal bed chamber. It amused Sémence to think that so many youngsters, when addressing him asmonsieur, were unknowingly and quite literally honoring him with the titlemy sire.

The lock intact, the Queen’s chastity belt rang against the castle’s stone floor as Sémence tossed it aside. The Queen, it appeared, was all a-lather and the Frenchman wished he had the time to practice rolling his ‘R’s betwixt the Queen’s bilabials. The chevalier drew his sword. It would be little exaggeration to call it two-handed. The Queen’s eyes opened wide, as had her legs.

“Time is short, chevalier, but I see that you are not.”

“You have inspired me to greatness, your highness.”

The chevalier mounted and laid siege. The main gate was obscured by a thick forest but soon the chevalier’s engine was a-piston, opening a wide passage for his soon to be encroaching white warriors. Ere long, he’d catapulted hot pitch into the inner sanctum. The Queen, for her part, was a-tremble as the chevalier had foreseen.

“The seed deed is done. A bastard heir I’ve left down there.”

The Queen had another plan though, a Plan B4if you will. Something the apothecary had prepared for just such an eventuality. She would push out no French bastards.

She opened her bedside table, a wonder that the Swedish puzzle-maker carpenter Herr Ikea had prepared. Her best men had spent a day puzzling over the fiendishly unhelpful diagram before their failed assemblage finally gave way to a true erection. Inside were hundreds of keys, one of which she gave to Sémence.

“Next time, chevalier, please take a care not to ruin the leather. Victoria’s Secret is that she charges a Queen’s fortune for these devices, and even so, is quite ostensibly unable to pay her waif models enough to afford a proper meal.”

Fin (The end)

1Chevalieris a title that means horseman.Sémenceis French for seed. This French horseman then is more famous for his seed than his steed.

2Balzac’s criminal mastermind character was Vautrin, aka Trompe la morte, or cheat death. Trompe la bite is to cheat cock, or to block it as it were. So his sobriquet (nickname), then, means Mr. Cock Block.

3The murderous knave was a bit of a horseman himself, having famously tried to make good his escape riding a very fast Ford Bronco.

4Plan B is the morning-after birth control pill.

© 2016 Corbin A. Grace. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

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