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Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Author recounts the sad consequences of her heroic rescue of the Lilliputians; At least Lemuel’s chief ambition in Lilliput is finally fulfilled!

Redriff,  Tuesday  the 11th  of September, 1703  
Mr. Lowsley jolting Mary, suspecting her infidelity.
Artist: Unknown
Tired, byt satisfied Lemuel, going back home.
Artist: Willy Pogány (1882-1955) 

The Empress is ready for Lemuel

Artist: Henri Matisse (1869-1954)

THE indignation! I feel so upset, I cannot sleep, though I am spent and exhausted from the latest events in Northampton and the wearying, two days coach ride back home. I must pour my heart on these sheets of paper. Perhaps it will ease the injuries of my lost pride.

      Where to start.


      I feel my whole being aching to scream against the injustices, which surround me. How dared he believe the gossip and not even once ask me, ME, what has happened?!


      Lowly Mr. Lowsley just turned his back on me and left.


      The outrage!


      Somehow he heard that I left at night with a stranger, riding a horse next to the stranger’s and returning to the Cock and Bull Inn, alone, late that night. Is that a reason to suddenly be so cold and haughty? To call the whole thing off?

      I am also sorry for Stella. My sister was so eager to strike a deal with a partner in Northamptonshire. And to think that I blundered it.


      With my ‘infidelity’!


      I could cry, if I had any tears left.

      About Mr. Lowsley I feel, I could not care less. I already had one jealous husband. I do not need another. If he would only have asked for my explanation! Not that I would have supplied any, of course I could not betray the trust of the Lilliputians, but if he had only asked, I would have come up with a convincing story, that would prove to him that he could trust me blindly.

      Oh, was I full of pride and happiness, riding back to the Cock and Bull Inn! Little did I think of what might happen, should my little escapade be known!

      In my worst fears I could not imagine that Mr. Lowsley would be the one to hear about it!

      Since I lost Lemuel at sea, I have never been so near to marital bliss, and now it is lost for me.




      My loyalty to one species proved to be the ruin of my good reputation with another.

      My only consolation is that I did the right thing by the standards of my eternal true love, my Lemuel. He is lost at sea, but alive in my heart, and memory. Forever.


HAVING extinguished the fire so diligently, Lemuel retired home, to his Freedom-Temple, well satisfied. He interpreted the silence that accompanied his departure as marks of Awe and Respect, and he nodded magnanimously to the multitude of awe-struck Lilliputians that followed his retreat.


      He was so excited by his feat, so sure he would find a way to save his Blefuscudian friends from his Lilliputian friends -- he felt that sleep would definitely elude him that night.

      He decided to take a walk and savour that precious moment.

      The Lilliputian nights have always been very inviting for Lemuel. Free of the fear of trampling on people, he could roam the fields and roads, lay fully stretched on his back, wherever and whenever he pleased. Lilliputian wild beasts, which forced all Lilliputians to seek shelter in their homes at night, were too small to pose any danger to him.


      Indeed, in Lilliput he felt invincible.

      As he lay on the field near his Temple, gazing at the stars (somehow they seemed larger and nearer in that part of the world) he suddenly heard a whisper at his left ear.

      “Do not stir, Gulliver” he heard a familiar female voice “I am right at your left side. And I am alone.”

      “The Empress ” Lemuel gasped “Your Highness. Is there new trouble? Can I assist you? How come you are outside your safe Palace, tonight of all nights?”

      “Ssh.” She whispered fiercely “Safe? After you have treated it so generously? Ha! The hubbub that followed your despicable act at least enabled me to get out, unnoticed. But I forbid you to speak. We must not be discovered. And I am naked.”

      Lemuel could not breathe.


      He heard his heartbeats so loud in his ears, he was sure the whole of Lilliput could hear them too. He felt the blood rushing through his veins, yet his body was frozen.

      “Do not dare to move” He heard the Empress’ sharp whisper and felt her warm breath on his left earlobe. It was pleasant.

      Lemuel felt the Empress’ tiny hands caress the folds of his ears and felt her warm body clinging to it, climbing on its folds. She clasped his beard and pulling herself onto his face, she sat with her legs spread on the tip of his nose and in the dim light of the stars above, he could clearly see her smiling.

      “Now is my last chance,” she said “and I am going to take it”

      Lemuel did not dare move, fearing she would drop off his nose. Crossed-eyes, he watched the Empress caressing her full breasts and playing with her nipples. He felt his Yard growing and he slowly, delicately, moved his arm to open his front flap.

      “Do not touch yourself” She whispered furiously. I want to see your hands. Now.” So Lemuel raised his hands carefully and placed them next to his cheeks.

      “That is much better.” She said. “I hear you are very good with your tongue.” And she bent forward, clasping his nose, prostrating her behind above his mouth.

      “I am going to pee on it.”

      Lemuel felt a shudder running down his spine. This was beyond his happiest dreams. He was laying on the field and felt that he never loved this land, this little Lilliput more than at that very instance, when he distinctly felt the warm, salty drops of Her Highness, the Empress, trickle on his tongue. The Empress breathed in deep satisfaction.

      “Delicious.” she said.

      “Ahh” groaned Gulliver softly, lovingly.

      “Quite, you!” Said the Empress harshly and then commanded in a livid whisper “Now, Lick me with this famous tongue of yours!”

      Thanking mutely all the gods he could think of, Lemuel stuck out his tongue and felt the wetness of the Empress at its tip.

      “Oh, they were right,” gasped the Empress “Move on, move on.”

      While Lemuel traveled with his tongue softly and dedicatedly over the Empress' behind, he felt her breasts, for which he longed for so long, pressing on both sides of his nose, her nipples brushing his eyelashes. She stretched her hands and clung to his eyebrows, breathing quickly.

      Lemuel felt his Yard swelling distressingly inside his pants and pained to touch and caress it, but, loving the Empress, craving, yet fearing her wrath, he only moved his tongue, faster and faster, while the Empress heaved and breathed, writhing her body, pressing and rubbing her soft breasts on the bridge of his nose, letting her nipples be caressed by his eyelashes. She was full of lust, her desires overwhelming her, moving so fast, pressing her wet Royal Seat harder and harder onto Lemuel’s tongue, and she suddenly lost her balance, slipped and fell into his open mouth.

      Lemuel jerked up, terrified lest he might swallow the Empress. He felt her body wriggling inside his wide-open mouth and he was afraid she might drown in his spit. As he brought his hands to his mouth he felt her clinging on to his teeth and finally, when he let her slide out of his mouth, all covered with his saliva, he was relieved to hear her laugh:

      “Oh, Gulliver,” She said “Now let me sample your prick.”

      Lemuel could not believe his good fortune. He leaned back on his left arm, and brought the Empress down to his crotch, safely scooped in the palm of his right hand. Caressing her wet long hair, he let her stay there, standing firm among the dark curls of his bush, watching amazedly Gulliver’s prick, as it was rising proudly again.

      The Empress did not wait for it to rise fully, she clung with her body, wet and slimy, due to Lemuel’s saliva, and clasped his raising shaft with both her hands, spreading her legs and rubbing her slit, adding her own wetness to his. Lemuel felt the Empress’ breasts on his prick, her body pressed and dancing all over it. She reached with her hands to the crown of his fully erect love-toy and pressed her fingers hard, down the hole. The sensation of those tiny, sharp squeezes was overwhelming. Lemuel wanted to prolong the moment forever and ever, but could not control it anymore. He felt his testicles squeezing, his prick heaving and the utter sweet joy when shooting his heavily scented life-liquid into the Lilliputian night air.


      The Empress was beyond herself. She collapsed on his bush, her legs still clasped around the base of his shrinking penis, rubbing her slit at it insatiably. Lemuel realized she had not reached her own peak, and was terrified of her wrath, but then he saw, amazedly, how the love juice just ejaculated out of his shaft, slowly descending, and then - ‘Puf’ - splashing right on top of the Empress’ breasts and belly. Rolling her eyes in delight, biting her lips, the Empress tossed and turned in Lemuel’s flowing life-juice, rubbing her hungry slit onto his bush, and finally, squealing softly her own ultimate pleasure.

      When she recovered, she ordered Lemuel to take her to the stream that flowed from the volcano, where she prepared her clothes beforehand. She washed herself, dressed up and was gone, as mysteriously as she had appeared.

Henri Matisse
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