As you all enjoyed the last excerpt so much (what is WRONG with you), I thought it might be time to revisit our favourite Erotic CYOA book. If you missed the first blog, you can read it here, although I personally wouldn’t advise it.
Since the last time I blogged about it, something absolutely dreadful has happened to me. Well, I mean, a lot of dreadful things have happened to me (I ACCIDENTALLY STOLE A PINT FROM A MAN WITH NO LEGS. For example), but I am referring to one thing in particular.
Basically, I went to Hay-on-Wye, and I found this:
OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.
I bought six.
So, for a chance to WIN your VERY OWN COPY of Alina Reyes’ Sexual Labyrinth, and experience its majesty for yourself in hardbook form, you should…. Umm…. I dunno. Let me think.
OK I KNOW. Comment underneath, and write your own pitch for a chapter that could belong in this book. One of the adventures that our sexually-bewildering protagonist might find herself in, if she opened the right door. If you’re feeling particularly ambitious, you can write out the whole short story, but just an idea will do. I will also accept ideas in comic or drawn form. We are all about the multimedia.
Anyway! Onto chapter 4. It’s a shorter chapter this time, entitled The King. As usual, I apologise in advance.
I took my place in the long queue of women waiting in front of the king’s throne. He was a fat man, decked out in pompous clothes. He struck me as both unpleasant and attractive at the same time.
Ok. Right. HOW IS THIS A THING THAT YOU COULD BE. I love how her plan for ‘getting readers into the mood’ is to immediately introduce a hot, fat git of a king.
His long penis rose vertically from his diamond-embroidered pants,
I do love a snappy dresser.
and at this very moment the first woman in line had just stuck it in her mouth; it only went part-way in. On each side of the throne were two giant hourglasses, which two valets in full livery turned over at the exact moment that the woman set to work.
She sucked the royal phallus with energy born of despair.
POSSIBLY THE BEST LINE WRITTEN IN ANYTHING EVER. The thing that I like best about this book is how relatable the scenarios are! We’ve all sucked a royal phallus with an energy born of despair before, am I right girls?
But when the sand had run out, she got up and left the room in tears. The following woman took her place immediately.
I am not really comfortable with this imagined land of female sexual debasement and fat patriachs. It reminds me too much of our actual land of female sexual debasement and fat patriarchs.
The king seemed impervious to everything that was done to him. He allowed himself to be manipulated without losing one jot of his majesty or his sang-froid.
Sang-froid: my new euphemism for spunk. “Oh, you got a jot of sang-froid on my blouse! Do be careful, dear”.
- me, in a hypothetical situation where I am for some reason some sort of WI member with a posh voice
I saw several women take their place at his member; some of them wanked him, some of them sucked him, some of them mounted him.
I’m avoiding the obvious “crown jewels” reference here. I do have some comedic standards.
But he preserved his equanimity and lost none of his substance
Or vigour and, when the sand stopped flowing, the women who had serviced him so passionately left in tears.
I asked the woman in front of me in the queue for an explanation.
Personally, I’d have done this before I watched all those girls suck off a king. But whatever; the author of this book and I are rarely of the same mind.
“He is the king of Time,” she said. “He has promised that the woman who makes him come will live for ever. But as you see, no one ever managed to get anything out of him. They cry because they have failed, like all the others. And yet, who wouldn’t give it a try?”
The answer to this question is “me”.
Soon her turn came and, in spite of her efforts, the king remained as stiff and cold as when I have first come into the room. She left in tears.
I approached the king, but stayed at a respectful distance. Even reaching out my hand I wouldn’t have been able to touch him. I remembered one of the most erotic moments I had experienced behind the doors of this little circus and I started to recount it to him, stressing certain details.
This book stresses certain of my details. And not in a good way.
NB: the “little circus” she is referring to is the “sexual labyrinth” itself, which is a series of doors you make your way through during the book. It’s basically like being trapped in a massive horror hotel, where every room turns out to be #101.
In my mind, the “erotic moment” she is describing to the king is our previous experience with the tiny little man. NAKED AS A WORM.
When the hourglass was two-thirds empty, I stopped talking.
“Well?” said the king after a moment.
“Well what, Sire?” I said ingenuously.
“Well, what happened next? How did it end?”
“Will you agree to come if I tell it to you? I promise you won’t be disappointed…”
“Very well. But get on with it…”
I continued my story, putting my heart into making it as arousing as possible. The king was panting. At the moment when I reached my conclusion
Presumably the tiny little man has just penetrated her with his entire body.
an abundant fountain of shiny white sperm shot of his member. There was a flurry of excitement in the audience. The sand finally ran out on each side of the throne.
NB. Every erotica writer ever: the word “sperm”? Not sexy.
“Will I live for ever, Sire?” I asked.
“Well… Come back tomorrow, tell me another story and we will give it some consideration.”
“But… you promised whoever…”
“You don’t argue with the king of Time,” he said in a sharp tone.
AHAHAHAHAHA. Every time I read this line, I decide to start using this phrase as a random interjection whenever anyone disagrees with me about anything. “But why don’t you want to come to the pub tonight?” “YOU DON’T ARGUE WITH THE KING OF TIME!!!”
I bowed and returned to the back of the room. “This king’s nothing but a fraud, I should have known,” I thought. And, with a shrug of the shoulders, I returned to the corridors where I opened another door.
I cannot wait to find out what’s behind the next door. My ladybits are positively drooling in anticipation.
Spoilers: what is behind the next door is a ghost. Yes, actually.