It was the third day after leaving Cantleheath. MacKenna was surprised to see the Queen decided to wear a kilt, and more so that she had two sashes pinned to make an actual dress. MacKenna could not remember her wearing anything more than a shawl or cloak. The Queen had been mounted and waiting before the rest of them were, too. She normally walked until midmorning. The sergeant knew the Queen had not lain with anyone but her maid, so it was not that she could be with child. 'She does look awful flushed in de face, and she be sweatin' like she'd been in a sweat lodge. Maybe she be under tha weather?' Around midafternoon, MacKenna held back, waving Max and Anderson to ride on.
"Ya' feelin' a'ight, Majesty? Ye doona be looking right," she said, keeping her voice low.
The Queen smiled tightly, nodded too quickly. She squeaked, "Mmmhmm. I… I am… mmph… I am fine."
The sergeant gave the Queen the look she deserved.
The Queen looked up at the men riding ahead, and sighed. The sigh turned into a low moan that she cut off quickly. "Fine. I… It is no use hiding it. I am gooooinngg… to need Mmmm Max to help mmme when we stop…" The Queen shivered, her eyes closing. She raised her kilt up on one side, exposing all the way up to her hip. There were a few extra straps buckled on top of the Queen's saddle running underneath her, and another around her upper thigh.
MacKenna looked at the configuration in confusion, letting it show at she met the Queen's pained gaze. MacKenna was even more confused. The expression looked less like pain and more like the look of an orgasm. A good one at that. Something clicked in the sergeant's head, and her eyes went wide.
The Queen nodded, letting her kilt drop back down. "When Ingaaahh… and I were going through the papers, weeee… found designs for a sss…mmmm… special saddle … harness. That fits a 'woody'… Since… since I had not… nnn… needed to use the woody I bought… for Inga… I… thought it would… keep me… happy." She moaned loud enough for the men to look back. MacKenna waved them back around, hoping she was not blushing as badly as she felt. "So, ye' have bin ridin' all day," she said quietly, "getting rutted by ye' saddle?" The Queen nodded. "An' when we galloped?" The Queen shivered, nodding again. "How by the Divines are ye' staying in the saddle?"
The Queen had let her reins go slack, trusting her horse to follow. "Ssss.. Staying on the saddle is easy. I… ammmmm strapped on." MacKenna remembered the strap around the Queen's thigh. "Getting down will be… problem…" She lifted her kilt again. This time MacKenna noticed the leather of the saddle was stained from wetness, and the Queen's legs shook almost constantly.
"How many times have ye'… ye'… "
"I stopped remembering to count at fifteen… around midmorning."
MacKenna called as halt, waving the men to join them again. She could not tell if the Queen was blushing or in the middle of another crest. "Boyo's, 'er Majesty needs ya' assistance. Majesty, it would probably help if ye' took off ye' kilt."
The Queen nodded, unpinning her shoulders and unbuckling her belt. She tried to pull the kilt out from around her and moaned, not trying to hide her crest this time.
The men watched, confused. MacKenna helped pull the kilt away, taking the belt and cloak pins. She got her first real look at the same time the men did.
The straps she had seen were, in fact, a harness that kept the now visible woody tight against the saddle, kept the Queen mounted to the saddle on the woody, but allowed enough slack for the Queen to bounce, consequently rutting herself with every step of her horse. MacKenna let out a low whistle. Anderson looked at in interest.
Max laughed, dismounting. He walked over, carefully unbuckling the Queen's thighs, then lifting her free.
The Queen screamed, her body shuttering and shaking, the evidence of her pleasure squirting from her now that the plug had been removed from her sex. Max laughed again, cradling the still twitching and moaning Queen as he climbed back into his saddle.
MacKenna took the reins of the now riderless horse, looking between the men and the vacant saddle, biting her lip. She looked at Anderson, who was suppressing a grin.
He shrugged. "I will help, if you want."
"Max! Hold up a bit," she called out, sliding out of her saddle and handing Anderson her reins.
Max turned so the Queen could see what was happening. She laughed, which turned into a moan and another round of shakes.
"Do ye' mind, ye' Majesty?" the sergeant called out.
The Queen raised her hand, waving before curling against Max.
MacKenna looked up at the Queen's saddle. The woody was not shaped like a normal member. At about a hand and half long, it grew from the rounded tip to about four fingers wide around the middle, tapering down to about two fingers wide at the base. The Queen's scream when Max lifted her was making more sense.
With another look at a still grinning Anderson, she put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up, settling behind the woody while she got her other foot set in. She reached under her kilt as she stood, positioning she soaked and slick rod at her opening. MacKenna was surprised to feel her own excitement. She lowered herself down onto the shaft, her eyes closing. She had to work herself down a little at a time, moaning as she felt it stretch her open even as it went deeper. She almost gave up trying to get over the widest part, but once it was in, her body seemed to almost suck in the rest, sealing itself around the narrow base. By the time she was fully seated, her legs were shaking, every movement pulled another moan from her, and she knew she was close to her first crest. She had never felt anything like it, so full, so trapped.
She looked up at Anderson. His grin had turned darker, more like the look he gave her at night before they crawled into the blankets. He met her eyes and nodded. She waved him over, lifting her kilt. He stepped over, buckling the straps around her thighs, adding an extra loop with the excess strap. She gave him a dirty look. It would only add an extra few seconds to remove, but that was few seconds more that she would be unable to lift herself off of this damnable bulb. He chuckled and stepped around to the other side, repeating the process and binding her to the saddle.
Anderson leaned over, kissing her on the cheek and whispered, "Love you, Mac." He slapped the horse lightly, getting it moving with a jerk.
The sudden movement caused an immediate reaction, and MacKenna screamed her first crest of the afternoon. She felt the bulb try to stretch her again, pulling every time she rose off the seat, only to be rammed in again when she landed.
'Twenty days,' she managed to think through the haze of lust and passion. 'I do no' know how she kept quiet for the morning. Divines pray that the Queen and I survive…"
