The silvery moon, barely a tenth full, was high above the baron’s castle when they arrived. Allura was grateful for the relative darkness to cover her unseemly entrance into the midst of his household. These were, after all, the servants over whom she would soon hold sway as their mistress. Seeing her arrival on the man’s horse as disheveled and flushed as she was would have been an uncompromising blow to her authority. She wondered if this was part of the baron’s reasoning for riding them so hard in one day.
‘Well done,’ he murmured to the steed, feeding it a carrot as soon as they dismounted. Allura was starving, but she wasn’t about to beg him for food.
‘Seeing as how you care so much more for your horse than you do for me, I should like to be shown to my chambers,’ she said icily. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’
He continued to pat the muscled neck of the horse as he addressed her. ‘You will have no chambers, only temporary guest quarters until we are married.’
For the moment Allura had not will with which to argue. ‘I am concerned only with tonight, baron. I am very tired.’
‘Rodolfo will show you the way,’ he said.
‘I will require my belongings as well,’ she said haughtily. ‘And my slave.’
‘Your slave is occupied at the moment. I shall have her sent presently.’
Allura bristled. ‘Occupied, you say? Don’t you mean she’s being abused by your men?’
‘She seems to be enjoying it well enough,’ he shrugged. ‘At any rate, my hands were tied. A few of them made use of her on the way here and now they all want her, so naturally, in the interests of fairness, I have allowed it.’
‘Allowed it? But you have no right. She is mine; a lady’s slave, meant for a lady’s service.’
The baron arched an eyebrow. ‘Veeta has told me differently,’ he countered. ‘She indicated you frequently punish her by throwing her to packs of men. Guardsmen, prisoners, even. And that afterwards you thirst to know every intimate detail of the experience.’
Allura was crimson. Once again he was hinting at her fascination with female slavery. ‘I am as far above a slave, baron, as I am above you,’ she spat.
‘Rodolfo,’ he said, infuriatingly ignoring her comment, ‘take the future baroness to her room for the night.’
‘Room?’ she challenged, overlooking for the moment his attempt to demote her to baroness. ‘It had better be more than just one room.’
The baron had already turned his back, leading his horse by the reins to the stable where he would personally wash him down and tend to his feeding.
Allura clenched her fists, watching him walk away.
‘Princess, shall we go?’ Rodolfo drew her attention.
‘Did you fuck my slave as well?’ She whirled to face him. ‘Answer me, damn you.’
‘No, I did not,’ he stated indignantly, looking hurt by the accusation.
‘Good, keep it that way,’ she said, feeling a little guilty for turning her frustrations on the poor man. But Rodolfo said nothing in response.
A few minutes later he was opening the door to her room at the end of a long, red-carpeted hall lined with suits of armor, no doubt belonging to the baron’s pathetic ancestors. ‘Will you require anything further?’ he asked, preparing to take his leave.
‘No,’ she said, ‘you are dismissed.’
He bowed crisply and left, Allura closed the door behind him, but it was not long before Veeta arrived, her mistress confronting her at once.
‘You will tell me everything,’ she demanded of the cowering girl. ‘All that you did with those pigs.’
Veeta, bruised and bedraggled, fell to her knees. ‘Mistress, I did nothing. It was not my fault. They took me for their pleasure in the wagon. There was nothing I could do.’
Allura, shaking with anger, stormed up to the girl and smacked her cheek, the blow reverberated to her own wrist and for a split second she remembered that she, too, had been struck like this, not too long ago by the baron. ‘You lying little bitch,’ she hissed, covering her sudden discomfort. ‘Do you want me to cut out that slut tongue of yours?’
Veeta wept, putting her head to her mistress’ feet. ‘Please, mistress, I am scared and so uncertain here; do not be unhappy with me. I have no one else but you.’
Allura felt a lump in her throat – the unfamiliar feeling of guilt. ‘Stop your sniveling,’ she ordered, her anger abating somewhat. ‘Do I look like your mother – deserting cow that she was?’ It was a cruel dig, given that Saraveeta’s family had all been forced into exile following the disgrace of their daughter in court.
‘I am a bad girl, mistress,’ Veeta wailed. ‘Please punish me.’
‘I shall request a studded cane,’ Allura told her. ‘The kind used on male prisoners. I will draw blood, Saraveeta.’
The girl moaned to hear her old name. ‘I live to obey,’ she declared.
Allura put a foot down on the girl’s neck, her shoes soiled and dusty from the journey. ‘You don’t know a thing about pain,’ she said cryptically. ‘Or suffering.’ As if Allura were now an expert after a single beating. ‘This baron is our enemy.’ She pressed with the heel of her shoe. ‘Do you understand me? You must try for once in your life to resist.’
‘I will, mistress,’ she promised.
‘Whatever happens, you work for me, you belong to me, is that clear?’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘I’m the one who’s taken care of you, remember? Without me you’d be dead or whoring in some brothel, servicing ten cocks an hour, not a copper coin to show for it.’
‘I-I am grateful, mistress, I swear.’ The girl’s mouth sought the princess’ other shoe, to lick and kiss.
‘Do not ever cross me again, Veeta, or I will exercise my prime right of ownership. Do you know what that means?’
‘You may torture, maim or kill me as you wish.’
Allura removed her foot from the girl’s neck and nudged her side. ‘On your back, slave, and lift your hips.’
Veeta assumed the vulnerable position, but after just a few minutes like this, her bottom raised from the floor, she would be begging to rest back down. But Allura would not have to listen to her because Veeta was a slave and she was free. That was the natural order of things. Some were born to stand tall, others to grovel. She was of royal birth and therefore tallest of all.
‘You live to be fucked, don’t you?’ Allura mocked cruelly. ‘You have no other function. But remember that every cock that forces itself between your legs or between your lips is an extension of me. You will banish from your mind the thought of any man – the baron especially. When he is fucking you, you will think only of me and my dildo.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘It is possible to do this,’ said Allura to her slave. ‘To forget a man like Montreico.’
True enough words, thought Allura, but to whom was she addressing them – the slave girl or herself?
‘Soon I will be married, Veeta. Can you imagine that? Since we were little girls we awaited that moment when we would have husbands.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
Allura commanded her to squeeze her own nipples, multiplying her anguish. ‘But you will never have a husband, Veeta. Only masters. Men who need please you not at all.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
Allura felt the excitement between her thighs. She had a special treat for her slave tonight, although the first few times Veeta had been required to employ her tongue as a cock she had cried afterwards for hours, making prayers of supplication to the gods in forgiveness for such an immoral act.
‘Please me.’ Allura lowered herself to the slave’s face, lifting her skirts to her waist. She would not remove them in the presence of the slave lest the girl see how she’d been abused at the baron’s hands. ‘And I want to orgasm,’ she warned, ‘or the beatings you will receive later will only be even worse.’
The slave licked well, and Allura smiled with satisfaction. ‘When I am married to the baron things will change,’ she said. ‘He will no longer behave so arrogantly, and he will do as I say. For I am to be queen one day, and his life will be in my hands.’
Allura closed her eyes dreamily, and kneaded her breasts through her gown. Could it be right what the baron had said, that she behaved as a brat because she was trying to lure a strong man to come and put her in her place?
‘Oh yes, that’s it,’ she sighed. ‘There’s a good little slave.’ Allura ran her hands through the girl’s hair, reveling in her power. ‘Keep up the good work and we’ll find you a little treat to eat from your bowl. How would that be?’
‘Insolent bitch,’ thundered a voice, and she felt a hand in her hair, yanking it by the roots. She opened her eyes, crying out with shock and pain, and the next few moments were a blur as the baron dragged her across the room to a heavy wooden chair.
‘You are fortunate we have not yet sealed our bond, Allura, or this incident would mark your swift and final fall from grace.’
She was pushed over the back of the chair, her head to the cushion, her bottom displayed to full advantage. ‘Montreico, let go of me!’ she shrieked.
‘Come here, Veeta,’ he addressed the slave directly, ‘and observe the price of your mistress’ earlier disobedience.’
‘No,’ pleaded Allura, ‘do not let her see.’
There was to be no genteel lifting of skirts this time; grasping the back of her bodice the baron ripped apart her dress, tearing the velvet to shreds, and in a matter of violent seconds she was naked.
Veeta gasped to see the evidence of Allura’s beating.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ The baron ran a hand over the welts, making Allura whimper and squirm. ‘Such a seemingly effective punishment, and yet completely ineffective.’
‘Ow…’ cried Allura, the caresses reawakening the earlier agonies.
‘This is mine,’ the baron caressed Allura’s sex. ‘If you ever allow another to touch, fondle or fuck it, you will pay a price you cannot imagine. Is that clear?’
‘Yes…’ Allura sobbed. ‘Yes…’
‘Yes, husband,’ he amended. ‘The practice will do you good.’
‘Yes, husband.’ She tried to dampen the inevitable sarcasm.
‘Your body is pledged to me,’ he repeated. ‘I will share it with no other.’
She wriggled against his fingers, slick and aroused. ‘Yes, husband.’
‘You’d like to be fucked, wouldn’t you?’
‘N-no,’ she lied, afraid to demean herself in front of the slave.
The baron smacked her with his hand. ‘No wife of mine will be permitted to lie.’
Allura groaned, her cheek against the cushion, the blood rushing to her head. ‘Yes, I want it, oh, I need it.’
‘Well you shan’t have it.’ He used her hair once more as a handle, lifting her upright. ‘What you will have is a little lesson in humility. I want you to crawl to the bed and get on it, facing me, on all fours.’
Tears formed in Allura’s eyes, and not merely from the pain in her scalp; what he was about to make her do in front of her slave would mortify her.
‘Is there a problem?’ He cocked his arm, fully prepared to slap her.
‘No, there’s no problem.’ Allura simply could not fight anymore. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. The man was too big, too strong and too deviant, and he had far too much ability to make her body betray her. By his will he had reduced her to this, winning the battle of clothing, of posture, of obedience.
If only the little bitch did not have to be there to witness her submission. Allura looked down to the floor. The slave Veeta was, to all intents and purposes, her equal now. Both girls were naked; both were the same age, and both sex objects in the presence of a strong, lustful male. Which would he choose, she wondered, if he could have only one? The thought made her physically ill. The baron could go to the devil and take the little bitch with him.
Allura simpered as the marble pressed against her knees. It was so hard.
‘Do not make me wait,’ Montreico warned.
She went down the rest of the way, onto her palms, and quickly, anxious to get this over with, she began to crawl.
‘Are you a good slave, Veeta?’ asked Montreico, as Allura reached her place of shame on the bed.
‘I try, master.’
‘A good answer,’ he approved. ‘Come closer.’
Allura felt a sharp stab of jealousy as the dark-haired girl was allowed to take her place, standing directly in front of him, looking up into his eyes.
‘Do I frighten you?’
‘Yes, master.’
‘Why?’ he wanted to know, brushing back strands of hair from her brow.
‘Because master is strong and very strict.’
‘But why be afraid? If you are a good slave you will never fall afoul of me.’
‘No slave is perfect, master. There is reason enough for us all to take beatings.’
Montreico’s fingers were under her chin as he kissed her. It was full and soft and not harsh, and it made Allura burn inside that it was not her he was kissing like that.
Veeta stood passively, arms at her sides as he finished with her. ‘Have you ever been in love, Veeta?’ he asked.
‘Yes, master.’
Allura thought instantly of the young man Porfino they both so foolishly lusted for, the one over whom her jealousy had flared to unimaginable levels toward her best friend.
‘Not me, I have never loved,’ he confessed, brushing her nipples with the back of his hand.
The slave shuddered. ‘That is too bad, master,’ she sighed.
Impertinent slut, thought Allura. He would surely punish her for that, but instead he strayed a finger down to her sex.
‘Yes, it is. Tell me, Veeta, how did you become a slave? You were of high birth. You told me this much before.’
Allura tensed. Would Saraveeta use this opportunity to tell the truth, knowing how much the baron hated his fiancée already?
‘I was indiscrete,’ sighed the slave, parting her legs for him. ‘I allowed a boy… liberties.’
‘And now you pay the ultimate price for your natural passions. For the rest of your life.’
‘It is not so bad, master.’ Veeta was gripping handfuls of material on the man’s chest. She was a lusty young lady and he was about to find out just how much passion she could unleash.
‘Not so bad?’ He seemed surprised. ‘But a slave girl is beaten, abused and sold at the drop of a hat.’
‘But a slave gets attention, master, from men. I like men, master. I like them very much.’
‘You little slut!’ cried Allura, unable to restrain herself. ‘You worthless whore!’
‘That will be enough out of you,’ snapped Montreico. ‘Unless you’d like to be bound and gagged.’
Allura stung under the verbal chastisement, almost as if she’d been whipped. The man was treating her horribly, and yet his words were making her hot and wet, nearly as much as seeing him take full advantage of her slave in front of her eyes as if Veeta were his own.
As good as gagged, she watched as he put a hand to the girl’s shoulder, gently urging her down to her knees. With infinite grace and naturalness, and without being told, Veeta opened the man’s breeches and took out his erect penis. She began at once to lick it, showing him all the reverence of a god, and Allura hated the girl for paying homage to a man deserving of nothing but contempt.
‘Are you watching closely, Allura?’ the baron mocked. ‘This girl should give you a few lessons.’
‘When I am queen,’ she spat, forgetting his injunction, ‘I will have you flayed alive.’
The baron smiled forgivingly, entranced by the sweet mouth squeezed tight around his cock, the doe-like eyes looking up at him for approval, seeking permission to proceed. ‘Yes,’ he said throatily in response to Veeta’s unasked question, ‘take it deep.’
Allura felt the mounting heat between her thighs. She must have relief from this torment; she must have access to the slave’s body for herself.
Veeta was an excellent cock-sucker, as it would be so for any female whose life depended on her ability to please men sexually. The baron was large and thick, so wrapping one hand around the base she did her best to encompass the rest. Allura felt a burning weakness in her belly as she imagined that organ piercing her. Would he enforce his marriage rights over her? It was a possibility she hadn’t entertained. A man had absolute access to his woman’s body under the law, and denial on her part was considered a serious breech, regardless of circumstances.
But she was of royal blood. Theirs would be a unique contract, so she would insist on writing the words herself.
There would be no sex between them. No physical contact at all. If the man wanted to fuck, he could fuck his bond wenches. His and not hers, for she would get Veeta back in short order.
‘You are a magnificent creature,’ said the baron affectionately, running his hands through Veeta’s long, silky hair, black as a raven’s wing.
Allura made a mental note to cut it all off.
‘A master could easily be spoiled,’ he noted, positioning himself for what looked like his final release.
Allura was now beyond envy; she wanted them both.
‘Back,’ said the baron, easing her away gently but firmly. Veeta seemed surprised, but moved back on her haunches. Was he going to fuck her?
‘What do you know of men, Allura?’ Montreico faced his bride to be.
‘Am I allowed to speak now?’ she replied peevishly.
He was stroking his cock, legs apart, in a stance of arrogant power. ‘You will be mine.’ He ignored her sarcasm. ‘Does that frighten you?’
‘You can’t handle me,’ she bluffed. ‘It’s you who should be frightened.’
‘I will teach you your place,’ he predicted.
‘And I will teach you.’ It was hard to maintain defiance like this, naked, posed on all fours, her bottom still smarting from the beating at the man’s hands.
‘Do you know the difference between a wife and a slave, Allura?’
She tried, successfully for the moment, to keep her eyes off his penis. ‘No, but I’m quite sure you will inform me.’
‘A slave has the luxury of many masters and the hope of change should she not like her current one.’
‘You will never own me.’
The baron’s eyes flashed as he squeezed his cock tightly in his fist, and then he was erupting, Allura’s mouth open as she watched the viscous seed land on the marble, a deposit of creamy unguent, Montreico’s eyes fixed on her as he came.
And they were still on her as he snapped his fingers, his face expressionless just as it had been during his orgasm. ‘Clean,’ he ordered, using a standard command for female slaves.
Veeta fell at once to all fours and began to lap at the baron’s sperm, and she did not raise her head until it was all gone, and even then she continued licking the marble floor awaiting clearance to stop.
‘Look at me,’ the baron said to Allura, giving her no quarter to avoid the power of his gaze. ‘Can you do that with your slave?’
‘Is that what it all comes down to? Your penis?
Another snap of his fingers and Veeta was licking his cock clean, the girl’s eyes closed. She was devouring him with real passion, and it was obvious the man’s complete domination of her had left her deeply aroused. After a few moments the baron was once more semi-erect.
‘Master?’ whispered Veeta, her eyes imploring her own consensual violation.
‘To my chambers,’ he ordered, ‘at the end of the hall. You will wait at the foot of the bed, kneeling, head to the floor, ass facing the door. With your fingers you will hold wide your buttocks until I arrive.’
‘Yes, master.’ She smiled as though he had just offered her a month’s voyage to the pleasure islands at the end of the world.
‘You will crawl upon all fours.’
‘I obey, master.’
Allura wanted to tear out the eyes of the little bitch. A slave should be humble and broken, but Veeta looked so sensuous, so feminine and empowered as she crawled, moving her limbs just so as to inflame the baron’s desire. There was little doubt that he would fall upon her as soon as he got to his chambers.
‘I would get some sleep if I were you,’ the baron advised Allura. ‘Tomorrow is our wedding day.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Allura knelt up, alarmed by the suddenness of it all. ‘But there’s been no time to plan, to arrange the ceremony, the reception.’
‘These matters are not your concern,’ he said dismissively. ‘All that is required of you is your presence. Good night.’ The baron bowed smoothly from the waist and took his leave.
Allura fumed behind him, scrambling for the vase on the carved wooden table, and he had just closed the door when the glass shattered against it, sending shards and water flying everywhere.
It was a futile gesture, a sign of her complete defeat in yet another battle with the man. Exhausted, shaking all over, she collapsed onto the bed, hugging the pillow, curled like an infant, and thankfully sleep came, carrying her far from her real world troubles.
At some time during the night Allura entered into another existence, that of a dream. She was wearing a very long nightgown that fell to her ankles. Her feet were bare and she was completely naked underneath. She was carrying one of her dolls, the one she’d stripped naked to designate her as a slave. She felt like a child, but she was grown, with a woman’s body. Ahead of her, directly in front of her was the castle, much bigger and taller than she’d remembered.
She was about to cross the drawbridge, but she was afraid.
‘You must go,’ said the voice of a crow, hovering in front of her.
‘But I don’t know what I’ll find.’
‘You won’t find anything,’ said the crow, ‘except for what is already inside of you.’
Allura looked down at her ankle, which was encircled in iron. ‘Why am I shackled?’
‘Because you want to be,’ the crow replied, having turned into a bearded owl with the face of her father. Now Allura was more afraid to be outside than inside, and so she began to run across the drawbridge. Below her she could hear the snapping crocodiles, and they seemed to be whispering vague threats and criticisms.
‘Those are all the things you said that resulted in punishments for the slaves when you were little,’ said the owl, which was now nothing but a voice in her head. ‘And the crocodiles are the people after they were punished.’
As fast and hard as she ran she was not able to reach the other side. The bridge just seemed to keep on stretching, forever.
‘That’s because it’s a whip.’
‘Leave me alone!’ She clamped her hands over her ears, not liking how the voice could read her thoughts, and in doing so she dropped the doll, which made her stop, and when she looked down she saw molten fire.
‘It’s what you wanted for me,’ said the voice, and when she turned back there was the baron to remind her of all the times she’d cursed him to the hell of the demons.
‘I didn’t mean it,’ she desperately explained, but he was telling her it was too late, even as he pushed her over the edge.
The crow was there, trying to give her its beak to hold on to, but she was falling too fast. The air stank of sulfur and rotting bodies hung in the air. She saw pieces of soldiers she’d known who had died in battle, a jewel-covered hand that belonged to her mother, who had died at her birth, and the helmeted head of her father.
Once she actually did get hold of the crow’s beak, but it shook her off. ‘I can’t really help this far down,’ it said. ‘No one can.’
Twice she thought she hit bottom only to fall further, each time with greater intensity. Her nightgown kept getting burned off and replaced, and every time it turned to ash she could see her own skeleton.
Finally she hit bottom, which was soft and soupy.
‘Get up,’ said a horned demon with the head of a jackal, the bronzed chest of a man and the legs of a goat, ‘and suck me.’
‘I’m a virgin,’ she tried to tell him, but he struck her across the face with the end of his penis, which was a snake.
‘You don’t have a choice,’ he told her. ‘You’re my wife.’
Allura decided to make the best of it and offered a little kiss. Its eyes were darting and it was dry and scaly and alien. One little touch of her lips and it took advantage, jumping to the back of her mouth. She tried to scream as it went down her throat, filling her.
No sound emerged. Around them black rocks were forming a circle. The moist ground swirled gray like a swamp and more snakes sprouted like tall weeds. One or two pierced her feet like splinters.
‘You have to let them come out of your cunt,’ explained the horned demon with the jaundice yellow eyes and enormous hooped earrings, as though his words would somehow make sense of the situation.
Allura fell to her knees. ‘Have pity on me,’ she tried plead.
‘Lick my hooves,’ ordered the demon.
She put her head to the ground, the stench of the mud making her gag. The demon’s cloven hooves were hot to the touch and it pained her to lick them, but there were whips falling on her back now, whips made of snakes that were cutting and nipping at her skin, making her bleed in a thousand places. At last she succumbed, lapping more fiercely. The hooves were hotter now and her tongue sizzled. She tried to withdraw it and could not.
‘Ready for your horse cock?’ she heard her own voice, and felt something enter her from behind – not in her seething pussy, but in her ass.
‘Very dry,’ she was saying. ‘Let it be very dry.’
Allura did not understand how she could be talking as though she was outside herself, so the crow volunteered to help by flying up her pussy so he could speak to her more directly.
‘This is happening because of what you did to Saraveeta,’ the crow was able to tell her when it had crawled inside her head. ‘You have to be in her old body and hear yourself abusing her.’
‘Where is my brain,’ Allura wondered, ‘now that you’re in my head?’
The crow pecked at the back of her eyeball to make a hole to see through. ‘It was fed to all your victims. That’s the way it works.’
‘Take your horse dick like a good girl,’ her own self ordered, and the words sent Allura to a new place, under a table at a state dinner. She was wearing a collar and there was an artificial tail thrust into her ass. Every time she moved – she was on all fours – the tail made her come because it was connected to another in her pussy. Using her nose she smelled for her master, the baron, and putting her head against his boot, she whimpered.
The baron shook her off. ‘Make yourself useful, slut.’
Allura crawled from man to man, offering her services to suck them dry. The conversation continued as they mouth-fucked her one by one. They were talking about the kingdom and how to divide it up now that she was no longer a princess but only a pretty little bitch-slut. Her cheeks reddened with shame but she was very horny, too. She wanted the baron to fuck her. She would beg him later, but first she must service all his guests.
For some reason the last man was filled with an enormous amount of spunk, and as much as she kept swallowing there was more. If she didn’t swallow that would be enough reason for her to be put to death, so she really didn’t wish to fail. But she was going to explode if she didn’t stop.
‘I disagree,’ the man said, reaching down to clamp her nose so she couldn’t breathe. ‘Leniency on the peasants only breeds indolence. One must rule with iron not silk.’
Semen filled her belly. Semen filled her throat. Semen to drink, and coming out of her pussy. She tried to stem the flow with her hands, but it began to flood the room.
‘Disobedient cunt,’ called the baron, but soon they were all overcome by the swirling tide. The man gasped and choked as it went above their heads. She alone could breathe. It was like being under the sea and she felt such freedom and joy. A fish swam by and then another, colored ones with brilliant flashing lights like the jewels of her father’s scepter.
She was floating, at last in her element, splendidly free and naked. Putting her hands between the legs she laughed, the bubbles reflecting her joy. There was a push, a spasm, and then the form came out of her womb – a new kind of life, not entirely fish or human, but something in between.
‘You will be a mother,’ it told her, ‘to the world. But you will not be queen.’
Allura tried to enquire of her talking pink embryo but it was evolving before her eyes, sprouting wings and growing muscles and flesh, the sexual organs of the male and female both, and a brain stem twice as powerful as the old kind.
Kindly it reached forth and touched with its webbed hand, slender fingered. ‘Thank you,’ it said, its voice so melodiously sweet it made her want to cry.
‘No,’ it shook its head, ‘no questions.’
A hand slid over Allura’s eyes and she was gone from the sea of sperm, gone too from the brimstone world of demons. On her back, instead, she opened her eyes to a normal blue sky, like that of any day in the kingdom.
‘I love you,’ said Saraveeta, who was above her in the grass, stroking her cheek.
‘I love you, too,’ Allura heard herself say.
They were lying in the deep green grass and Allura’s lips were full and puffy from being kissed. Her chest was heaving and one of her breasts had been pulled from the skimpy protection of her peasant dress. The wet nipple tingled under a light breeze.
‘Why did you stop?’ she asked softly, wanting the other girl’s lips caressing her once more.
‘Because I wanted to stop,’ said Saraveeta. Allura’s old friend climbed astride her and pinned her hands over her head. She wasn’t wearing a peasant dress but breeches, boots and a man’s peasant shirt.
‘Are you…?’
‘A man?’ Saraveeta finished her thought. ‘What do you think?’
She didn’t seem like a man. She was lovely, her long dark hair sweeping her shoulders, her feminine chest rising with delicious arousal.
‘I think,’ Allura reasoned, ‘that we are lovers.’
Saraveeta, ever so much more confident, lovely and powerful without her yoke of servitude, eased her knee between Allura’s thighs, making her spread. ‘Wrong, Lurie. You’re my little slut, nothing more.’
‘L-Lurie?’ gasped Allura. ‘No one has called me that in years.’
Saraveeta ripped the front of the girl’s dress to expose her other breast. ‘It would make a good slave name for you, don’t you think?’
Allura tried to free herself, unsuccessfully.
Saraveeta, who had gotten much stronger all of a sudden, laughed at the princess’ anguish. ‘I’m only joking,’ she said, though she made no move to release her friend from her current state of bondage.
‘It’s not funny,’ said Allura. ‘I want to go home.’
‘Give me a good reason.’ Saraveeta took the fresh breast in her mouth, sucking the nipple to an agonizing point.
Allura moaned. ‘B-because I’m asking you.’
Saraveeta licked her lips devilishly. ‘Oh no, Lurie, you have to beg.’
‘P-please, Saraveeta, let me go?’
‘You have to satisfy me first. As a slut.’
‘Yes,’ she moaned, her helpless heat weighing on her heavily. ‘I will be your slut.’
‘You must satisfy my horse’s cock, my sweet.’
Allura trembled. ‘Yes, Saraveeta…’
‘Beg for it,’ she pressed, biting the girl’s nipple.
Allura cried out, ‘Please use me, Saraveeta. Fuck me hard.’
‘I intend to,’ replied Saraveeta, mounting her.
The cock was rigid and cold. Allura pictured the silver piercing her; like a sword, like a spear, like the weapon that killed her father. Saraveeta fell into a rhythm, like the beating of hooves and Allura saw him, at the head of his army, refusing the protection of his own bodyguards, riding to certain death.
But why?
Fate, whispered the wind. Fate, repeated the thrust of the cock. The pinned Allura began to spasm, coming all over the dildo. What was Saraveeta’s pleasure in this? And why hadn’t her father kept his life when so much depended on it?
It had to do with the bloodlines, and a break that must come in order for the kingdom to grow in the future. This much she realized as the dream spilled over into a shadowy night.
Take this, Baron Montreico, she reveled in her female climax; take this and learn your real place in the world.
‘Mistress, are you awake?’
Allura opened her eyes. Veeta stood over her, her hair shiny, her eyes and cheeks aglow. She’d even been given a tiny sprig of flowers for her hair.
‘Of course I’m not fine,’ she snapped. ‘I’m being held prisoner by a beast. And why are you looking so cheerful?’
‘It is your wedding day, my mistress,’ she beamed. ‘Why would I not be cheerful?’
Allura sat up. ‘Who gave you those clothes?’
‘It is the baron’s orders. And I am to help prepare you.’
The slave Veeta was wearing a diaphanous gown of light blue, low-cut, revealing her cleavage. Someone had done her hair, as well.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Allura demanded of the gold collar around the girl’s throat.
‘All of the baron’s slaves are so collared.’ She touched it lightly, as though it were something to be proud of. ‘Is it not beautiful, mistress?’
‘Has everyone gone mad?’ demanded Allura. ‘Take that stupid dress off at once. Take it all off!’
Veeta stepped back, a distressed look on her face. ‘Mistress, forgive me, but I am under the baron’s orders.’
‘The baron? The baron?’ Allura flew at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. ‘Does the whole world revolve around this petty noble? I am crown princess. Do you know what that means?’
Veeta had no chance to defend herself before Allura ripped off her gown and tore at her hair. The girl was crying, begging, but the princess was beside herself with rage. ‘The collar,’ she screamed, trying to pull the welded gold circle from her neck. ‘Take off that collar.’
‘Mistress, it is forged on me!’
It was Rodolfo who pulled the princess off her. ‘Princess, have you gone insane?’
‘Unhand me, you cretin!’
He held her by the waist, her entire body lifted off the floor. She was twisting and arching her back, wanting a chance to claw him, and neither had intended for them to end up facing each other, her full breasts against his tunic. Nor had they intended for the full and lustful contact of their lips. The naked princess melted at once, all her earlier fury converting into an overwhelming desire to submit.
‘No, princess.’ He tried in vain to disengage himself, but Allura’s legs wrapped around his waist.
‘Take me out of here,’ she breathed hotly into his ear, ‘and I will marry you and make you the prince.’
Rodolfo hesitated for a moment, and sighing deeply he seemed ready to yield – or rather, to be plucked.
‘I’m a virgin…’ she purred, pressing her crotch against him, offering added incentive.
‘No, I cannot.’ He pushed her away and tossed her back on the bed.
Defeated and betrayed yet again, Allura turned on the slave. ‘You must kill her,’ she pointed to the kneeling girl. ‘The little bitch has seen our crime.’
Rodolfo dutifully drew his sword, putting it to the throat of the slave.
‘Master, please,’ Veeta begged softly, her neck angled back most deliciously. ‘Take me first; the slave begs to please the man who will kill her.’
‘Don’t listen to her,’ Allura warned. ‘It’s a trick.’
Rodolfo’s forehead beaded with sweat. He looked to the door, to the window and back to the door as though someone might burst in on them at any minute. ‘Do it, slut,’ he growled at last, pawing at his clothing. ‘But be quick about it.’
‘Master,’ moaned the slave girl, sitting back on her heels.
‘You fool!’ cried Allura. ‘You waste yourself on a filthy slut when I offer you the nectar of the future queen?’
‘I need time to think, princess, you must understand. What you ask me to do, it is the worst treason imaginable.’
‘Well you haven’t any time. The wedding happens today, you idiot!’
Rodolfo grunted, pushing himself to the back of Veeta’s mouth. He came immediately, and she drank him down all too happily.
‘Look at me,’ he demanded when she had finished licking his penis. He put the sword under her chin, drawing a drop of blood at the point. ‘If you ever breathe a word of this I will see to it you suffer the most brutal, agonizing death possible. On this you have my word as a huntsman.’
‘Yes, master,’ whispered the slave, her lips slick with saliva. Rodolfo frowned, but returned the sword to its scabbard, and at once the girl fell to her belly and kissed his feet.
‘I must go,’ said Rodolfo.
‘Good riddance,’ the princess hissed, and Veeta remained prostrate as the door closed. Allura despised her all the more for her easy subservience, and a wave of sadistic desire overcame her as she told the girl what they would say to the baron about her dress.
‘You will tell him you tried to escape, but I stopped you. You will ask him to torture you severely as punishment.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Come here so I can give you the appropriate bruises to fit our little story.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Did I say you could get up first?’ She stopped the girl from rising to her knees.
‘No, mistress.’
Allura watched her crawling on her front, and just had to slip her hand between her own thighs. ‘Go around the room a few times like that, I want to masturbate watching you.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Who owns you, Veeta?’
‘You do, mistress.’ She sounded broken, contrite.
‘Who will own you always?’
‘You, mistress.’
‘Good girl. Now come here and we will discuss how I intend to have you kill the baron.’
The wedding ceremony was to be held in the castle’s small chapel. The windows were made of colored glass, the designs depicting the story of creation and the exploits of the various gods and goddesses. The seats were of heavy cedar, imported from the great valley of the south. An altar occupied the front, directly beneath a huge mosaic showing the making of the earth from the hand of the sky god, Zuranos, its original form being that of a seed laid upon the fertile womb of the cosmic mother, Hechira.
The priest was the chaplain of the baron’s house, as well as the keeper of the shrines in the villages under the baron’s tutelage. He was a gaunt, white-bearded man with sunken cheeks and hollowed pockets for eyes. Life seemed to have gone on too long for him and become too tedious.
His fingers were long and gnarled, and he wore a long gray robe stitched with intricate designs of red and blue and gold, the colors of divine intercession. Ordinarily on such a happy occasion there would be flowers; white lilies arrayed about the place and rose petals on the floor, but for today there was only stark gray stone inset with gold candelabras, the equally stony faces of various saints looking down upon them from their rostrums.
The assemblage was equally stark. Representing the family of the bride was the hastily summoned regent, Grand Duke Fortragian, dressed for the occasion in purple velvet, with his gold medallion of office round his neck. On the other side, standing with the baron, was Rodolfo, who would serve as second witness and best man. Otherwise the chamber was empty of guests, having been carefully sealed by the baron’s soldiers.
As a virgin the princess wore a gown of white, and the fact that it had to be made so hastily, yet fit her so perfectly was astonishing, and perhaps another piece of evidence that this sham wedding had been planned for some time. Baron Montreico had set her up, she was sure of it.
Allura could not argue the dress’s beauty, though. Slung off the right shoulder, gathered tightly about her waist, it was both elegant and sensual. It was crafted from lace, silk and pressed flowers, interwoven to match a brocade in her hair, which was down, combed lustrously over her bare shoulders.
‘By the power of Hechira, Mother of the Gods,’ declared the priest, summoning first the bride and her escort, ‘we invoke the fertility of womanhood.’
The grand duke, stiff and silent, moved arm in arm down the specially carpeted aisle with Allura; not what he’d expected for his grand niece, not by a long shot.
The priest held out a hand, directing them to their place in front of him, slightly to the left, and a young acolyte, perhaps nineteen, wearing a black robe, spread the incense at Allura’s sandaled feet. The smell of jasmine and rosewood lifted sweetly to her nostrils, giving momentary hope that something redeeming might come from this travesty.
‘By the power of Zuranos, Father of the Gods, we invoke the spell of manhood.’
With this invitation the baron and his best man came forward from the rear of the temple. They wore tunics of black velvet, the baron’s decorated with a gold lion upon his chest, the insignia of his house. Silver swords hung at both men’s sides.
‘The Prayer of Uniting,’ called the priest, raising his gray-robed, bony arms when the two men had taken their positions to his left, just across from Allura and her uncle.
Allura heard nothing of the spoken formula, or the priest’s adlibbed words to follow. Her mind was essentially blank until she heard him call out that it was time for the consecration. The grand duke kissed her hand, offering a symbolic goodbye, while the best man knelt on one knee and bowed his head before her. Following these signs of homage both men retreated, taking up places well behind the bride and groom.
‘Do you,’ the priest said to Allura, dispensing with a few more formalities, ‘pledge today, yourself, body and soul, without reservation, grievance or hesitancy to this man?’
She looked at him, her mouth dry, the blood pounding in her head. ‘I do,’ pronounced her lips, quite without the authorization of her paralyzed brain.
‘And you,’ he turned to the proud and unflappable baron. ‘Do you pledge yourself, body and soul, without reservation, grievance or hesitancy to this woman?’
‘I do not,’ said the baron.
The priest acted as though he had not heard. ‘My son?’
‘I do not accept,’ he pronounced once more, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to change his mind with every passing breeze.
Had he not been the one to arrange this service? Had he not been the one to tell everyone he was going to marry Allura?
‘I do not understand,’ said the priest.
‘The matter is simple,’ the baron explained. ‘This woman comes to me by default of harlotry; she is compensation for a crime.’
‘But you agreed to overlook that crime by promising to wed her,’ the priest reminded, clearly anxious to return to the script.
‘And yet she has not confessed that crime to the gods – not here, at any rate, in the temple of our consecration. I demand that she be made to recount her sins.’
Allura heard the door open and close behind them. Someone else was entering. Out of the corner or her eye she saw Veeta, in a fresh garment of yellow, her hair styled even more prettily than before. She even wore footwear, golden slippers of a fine woven material.
‘I demand it,’ repeated the baron, his hand resting on his sword.
The priest did not miss the gesture. ‘Let it be done as the baron says. The bride will recount her sins, under questioning from the groom.’
Allura remained stone-faced. She would not give the baron or anyone else the glee of seeing her break down on her wedding day. As grossly unfair as this was, she would see the matter through. ‘I have nothing to hide,’ she said. ‘I was tricked by this man into kissing him.’
‘The law recognizes no such possibility,’ countered the baron. ‘Either you kissed me or you did not.’
‘I did; and it was the most ghastly experience of my life.’
‘You dishonored my house and yours,’ the baron replied, his face expressionless. ‘Remove your clothing, young lady.’
Allura laughed, giving the remark the contempt it deserved. ‘Are you mad as well as dastardly, Montreico? This is the house of the gods.’
The baron slid his sword from its scabbard. ‘That may be so, but I pay the cost of upkeep. Undress, princess, now.’
‘Your eminence,’ she said to the priest, ‘surely you cannot allow this?’
Montreico slashed the hem of the garment, baring Allura’s left thigh. ‘You will present your naked harlot’s body,’ he threatened, ‘or I will carry out the alternate sentence of death.’
Allura’s fingers trembled. ‘This is an outrage.’ The gown slid from her shoulders to the stone floor.
‘All of it, the shoes as well,’ he cruelly insisted, and soon Allura was naked, the cool air chilling her skin. ‘You will not cover yourself,’ commanded the baron, so she lowered her hands to her sides, giving him full visual access to her breasts. ‘Your nipples are tight.’ He touched one lightly.
‘It is the temperature,’ she recoiled, resisting the sudden tingle between her thighs.
‘Your scent is in the air. It is in your nature to be the seductress, the slut,’ the baron accused, and she struck him across the face.
He made no move to hit her back. ‘Apologize,’ he said simply.
Allura saw the hardness in his eyes, the predatory edge. Here was a man who would make her pay for her insolence, and she imagined the tortures upon her nakedness. ‘I… I’m sorry,’ she muttered.
‘The vows,’ said the baron, turning to the equally cowed priest, ‘you may proceed with them.’ So the priest prompted the baron, allowing him to repeat back the formula. It was time for the ritual lighting of candles, but Montreico had more in mind. ‘My bride has more to say,’ he announced.
Allura swallowed hard as he turned his attention upon her, full and withering. She wished she could kneel before him to better reflect the inequality between them.
‘I, Allura, crown princess of the realm, having disgraced myself and impugned the house and character of Baron Montreico, do accept the following consequences of my actions.’ Allura’s voice faltered. With each word came the deepening of her sexual need. The man was mastering her, truly.
‘Firstly, as the wife of the baron, I accept my subjugation to him in all things. I understand that I must obey him, though I cannot yet fully understand all this will entail. I understand also that I am subject to the baron’s discipline. He may spank or paddle my bare behind; he may whip or otherwise strike me with instruments appropriate for a naughty female. Likewise, he may strike my breasts, or any other part of my body so long as no permanent injury results.’ Allura’s breathing quickened with shameful excitement, but phrase by phrase, pausing for air, she repeated the words. ‘I further understand that my liberty may be restricted or curtailed in any way. Though a free woman, I grant to Baron Montreico the right to bind and chain me, to cage and confine me according to his whims. I also accept that my body is his personal property, forfeited not only as wife but as slut, on account of my indiscretions.’
Allura turned to the priest, pleading. ‘Eminence, is this not blasphemy to the ears of the holy ones? He wants me for a slave.’
‘The old man will not help you.’ The baron pressed his blade to her belly. ‘You must deal with me, with this sword of metal, or that other which is made of flesh.’
His cock. The bastard was telling her she must submit to his penis or die. ‘…I grant to Baron Montreico the right to bind or confine me,’ she continued.
‘Until death do us part,’ he concluded when she had caught up with the recitations, then to the priest he waved his hand. ‘Get on with it, if you please.’
The priest nodded hastily, the anguish clearly written on his face. ‘Let us pray, bow your heads,’ he said to the assembled, ‘and close your eyes.’
The baron seized her sex during the prayer, and forced on tiptoes she had to stifle her moans. The priest could hardly have missed what was going on, but he was not about to make a fuss, not with the baron in the mood he was.
‘Amen.’ He cleared his throat, clearly praying himself for the debacle to come to an end. ‘You may kiss one another as man and wife.’
Allura did so reluctantly, afraid of what another kiss would do to her already frazzled nerves, but the baron had something else in mind, and holding her shoulders to keep her back he pressed down. ‘You’ll be kissing elsewhere, wife.’
His cock. He wanted her to pay homage with her mouth, here, in front of witnesses.
‘My lord,’ said Rodolfo, ‘surely you don’t mean to—’
‘Do you question me?’ the baron snapped, suddenly enraged. ‘Do you wish to have your head severed from your body for insolence?’
Rodolfo lowered himself to one knee and bent his head in a show of obeisance. ‘I beg the pardon of my lord,’ he said.
Montreico growled, the sword poised to strike the exposed neck of his closest associate, but Allura, reacting instantly to save the man, pressed her lips to Montreico’s crotch. He was already semi-hard, a satisfied grunt escaping his throat, announcing the conclusion of the service. ‘Get out, all of you,’ he snarled, grabbing his bride’s hair. ‘Anyone entering this chamber in the next hour I will slay with my own hands.’
‘But baron,’ the priest spoke up at last, ‘you cannot desecrate the place of the holy gods.’
The baron’s eyes were wild with lust. ‘I offer virgin blood, old man, upon the ancient altar.’ He laughed darkly. ‘What more could you ask for?’
‘Come, your eminence.’ Rodolfo restrained the old man from rushing upon the baron. ‘Let us take our leave.’
‘And now, baroness,’ Montreico turned his attention to Allura when the others had left, ‘it is time you and I got better acquainted, don’t you think?’
Allura whimpered at his feet, under his total control, her hair balled in his fist. ‘Please, you’re hurting me.’
He tightened his grip and bowed her back. ‘I like to hurt you, remember? And you’re my wife now, so get used to it.’
‘W-what are you going to do to me?’ She looked up at him in awe.
‘Exactly what you expect, my princess of the blood, I am going to fuck you on the holy altar.’
‘But why not a bed?’ she asked, dismayed.
He reached down for a savage grab of her breast. ‘You’re soft enough. You’ll pad the stone slab for me.’
Her resistance was short-lived. ‘Very well, I will do as you say.’
‘Indeed you will, for now.’
Again she thought of what he’d said to her on the way to the castle, about how he both expected and wanted her to fight, so he could enjoy breaking her.
‘Beg me to fuck you, princess, on the altar.’
Submission hung in the air, mingled with her fast breathing and whimpers of pain. ‘Please,’ she gasped, ‘fuck me… on the altar.’
The baron shoved her back onto her bottom. ‘Get up and dance for me, slut. Give me a good reason to be bothered with you.’
Allura rose shakily to her feet, feeling it was not she; not her body but someone else; a young woman flush and ready and wicked in this room; a girl craving domination; a girl who would deny after the fact what was so abundantly clear in the moment.
She knew nothing of dancing, she’d never moved her body in such a way, but she had witnessed the dancing of slaves before. In the days of her father’s court, when he was not at war, he was famous for filling the castle with lovely captive wenches who would move beneath the lash, advertising their wares, hips swaying, buttocks and breasts pushed out, their writhing suggesting what else they were good for.
‘Show me your cunt,’ demanded the baron, his expression giving little away, and Allura opened her legs, gyrating her hips. Could he see the glistening juices coating her tight virginal opening? ‘Touch yourself, spread your lips.’ Allura obeyed, pinning back the wings of her labia as she swayed. ‘Hold your breasts, too.’ His commands were forthright and greedy, and she could tell instinctively what she was in for.
‘Do… do you think I’m pretty?’ she wanted to know, her voice resounding like heresy in the hall of the gods.
‘I think you have the body of a slut, Allura. You may pinch your nipples for speaking without permission.’
She did so hard, wanting to feel like a punished slave.
‘The pain makes you wetter,’ he observed smugly.
Allura moaned, caressing herself. She could not keep her eyes open, she could not keep her body still. ‘W-what is happening to me?’
‘You are preparing for me,’ he told her flatly. ‘Now get on the altar.’
She lifted herself onto the cold slab. ‘Will you be gentle?’ she asked, parting her legs, but the baron merely pulled off his tunic, bearing a hairy chest.
‘On the contrary,’ he mused, ‘I will savage you like an animal.’
She inhaled deeply, his threat like a sword stab to her pussy, as with absolute arrogance the baron opened his breeches. She shivered at the implications. ‘I am at your mercy,’ she offered her surrender. ‘I yield to you.’
He moved to her naked, his body like that of a statue, the thighs of a centaur, his stomach toned, and below it his rigid cock. ‘I require no yielding.’ He unfastened his raven-winged hair, unfurling it like the flag of some dark and foreboding country. ‘I will master you as I see fit.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she whispered, then bracing herself, palms on the slab beside her, Allura attempted to absorb him. Seizing her ankles he wrenched them wide apart, and she nearly orgasmed from this display of power alone, from being insolently exposed for penetration. ‘B-baron,’ she whispered, feeling foolish for using his title in such circumstances.
‘Speak again and I will beat you,’ he warned, and then his cock penetrated her with a single thrust of his hips, and Allura prayed her scream did not constitute a violation of his commandment. It was only part pain; the other elements being wonder and a deep, deep fulfillment. Struggling to obediently suppress her verbal responses she clung to him, his denial of her right to express herself making her feel that much more animal.
‘Don’t think it escapes me what you’re about,’ the baron growled, withdrawing to his tip and sinking into her again. ‘I know your kind; selfish, ungrateful, the perfect little bitch.’ With each invective he treated her to a new assault, making a mockery of her virginity, so long held for her wedding night. ‘I will tame you, Allura. You will eat from my hand. You will not merely fear or obey; you will succumb. I will be your god.’ She pushed herself against him. He was damning them both. They were fucking on an altar and he was calling himself divine, taking the part of the god of sky to her mother of creation. ‘Our children will rule this world, Allura. You will bear me sons. You will be my obedient little brood mare.’
She clawed his back. So that was it; he wanted the world. At last, something to use against him; this and his insecurity, his obvious need to impose upon her his own sense of superiority. These were all the weapons she needed, and the stupid slut Veeta, too. She mustn’t forget the slave who would be her dupe, her instrument of death.
‘You will never rule anything,’ she blurted, wanting to anger him, wanting him to push himself and her over the brink. ‘You are a second class noble and always will be.’
The baron roared with his orgasm, the veins on the side of his neck threatening to burst. He had Allura’s breasts squeezed so tight in his hands she shrieked with pain as she too reached her blissful climax.
‘You’ll take it in the ass now,’ he panted heavily, seizing control of her hair yet again. ‘But I’ll let you worship me again first.’ Withdrawing, he maneuvered her like a rag-doll to her knees, and Allura could only mumble around the still erect penis that sank into her mouth. He clamped her head with his hands. ‘You need to learn discipline. You need a man’s control.’
The princess sucked her husband’s cock, having little choice but to seek to meet his demands. Was this really happening? Was he really doing this to her in the temple, as part of her own wedding service?
‘This is a much better use for your mouth, don’t you think, than all that complaining and sarcasm that usually spouts from it?’ he sneered, but her only answer was a gurgle, a helpless acknowledgment of his supremacy. ‘This is the beauty of the female sex,’ he rationalized. ‘A woman can be allowed all sorts of freedoms and pretenses of equality, but as soon as the erotic element is added she falls once more into complete subjugation.’ The baron’s cock was thickening again and she began to wonder if he intended to ejaculate in her mouth.
‘During the act of sexual intercourse every female becomes a slave, Allura,’ he commented. ‘Remember that. It is just that some are allowed to be free afterwards, or at least to appear so.’ Allura closed her eyes, but was instantly ordered to open them again. ‘Hands behind your neck, interlace your fingers,’ he commanded, and she did so, bound now by his will.
‘You see?’ he noted the excitement in her eyes, ‘it is in the blood of the female to surrender, to belong to the male.’ He pulled his cock out, glistening and wet. ‘Brace yourself over the altar,’ he curtly ordered, and Allura did so as best she could, the ancient marble chafing her belly and breasts as the baron’s hands clamped her waist, holding her in place. ‘Now you will be completely mine…’
Allura winced as he pressed unceremoniously, invading her utterly. ‘Take it,’ he commanded. ‘Take it deep.’
Allura dissolved beneath the onslaught. He was working himself deeper, possessing her, like she was a part of his property, and as his cock sank deeper and his groin pressed against her buttocks she felt the pain of the welts, making her gasp. She clawed at the lifeless slab, like a gravestone marking the death of her innocence, the end of her freedom.
‘The ass is a superior conquest,’ he moved back into lecture mode. ‘Its penetration has no other value than the man’s will and pleasure; it is no reproductive valley, nor is it primarily pleasant for the female. The more enjoyable it is for the male, in fact, the more she is opened and put at his mercy. What about you, Allura? Do you enjoy being plowed?’
‘You,’ she moaned, the words barely forming in her tight throat, ‘and I… are damned.’
‘Damned?’ he laughed. ‘I don’t think so, my dear. The gods, if they have any existence outside our brains, respect power. Zuranos is nothing if not a tyrant who takes whatever women he wishes.’
‘W-will you come inside me?’ she asked, taking advantage of the apparent lifting of the ban on speech.
‘Will I fill your ass with my sperm, do you mean?’ he goaded. ‘More likely on it, then we can rub it in to your flesh, put your clothes back on and march right past my guards and officials waiting outside that door.’
‘Why do you hate me so much?’ she complained. ‘Did I really do you such evil?’
‘Personally, no. But consider me the collector for your debts to all the others you’ve wronged.’
‘But I’m just a girl,’ she pleaded, all pretense gone.
‘And that is how I am treating you. Your slut Veeta is much better at this, by the way.’
Allura tried to keep the images from her mind, of this man, now her husband, stuffing his insolent cock inside the little whore’s anus, using her, conquering her. ‘I… I need to come,’ the princess moaned. ‘I need you…’
The baron withdrew his cock. ‘You don’t deserve it. Kneel in front of me. Beg me to come on your face.’
Allura wept. ‘Please, sir… give me this small kindness.’
He delivered a punishing smack to her bottom. ‘You will learn to obey me,’ he threatened.
Allura sank to her knees, chastised, a lowly punished wife. ‘I beg you,’ she whispered, her breath ragged, ‘to come on my face.’
The baron seized hold of his throbbing cock. ‘Look at me.’
Her eyes lifted to his, the reality of her status driven home.
‘This,’ he grunted, viscous fountain spurting from the eye of his organ as he took malevolent aim, splattering his seed on her fair cheeks, her chin, the tip of her nose, ‘is only the beginning.’
That evening, alone in the baron’s bedroom chamber, Allura found some paper in his desk and composed a letter to her uncle, outlining her plan for assuming the crown for herself now that she was married. Confidentially, she alluded to him that the baron was controllable, and that he could be sure the kingdom’s interests would be safely in her hands.
She closed the letter using the baron’s wax and seal, because she did not have her own, and then spent some time pondering ways to smuggle the letter to her uncle. After this she thought of creative ways to kill the baron using one or both of her designated, unwitting agents, the slut Veeta and the dupe Rodolfo.
Still no baron returned, and by now she was quite hungry. The sun was long gone and the moon had taken its place, so knocking on the inside of the door to get the attention of whoever might be guarding the other side, she asked politely for something to eat. Hearing nothing, she asked less politely.
Finally, to silence her cursing, a guard called through the door that she must be quiet and that only the baron was free to release her. Furthermore, if she did not obey this order he would be obliged to come in and punish her himself, a task he did not relish.
The princess blushed crimson at the idea of one of the baron’s men laying a hand on her, but at the same time it was a scandalously sexy idea. ‘I will not be silenced by a mere servant,’ she insisted through the paneled door. ‘I am hungry and I want something to eat!’
The door suddenly unlocked and opened, and the guard entered. He was tall and muscular, and his coloring, blond like her, was quite rare among the baron’s men. ‘Princess, you must stop making such a noise,’ he said to her firmly.
Overcome by a strange, lustful fury she challenged, ‘Make me.’ The guard scowled. ‘Go on,’ she dared, ‘make me. You know you want to. Look at me. I’m beautiful. I’m royalty. Would you prefer to use your hand, or your belt? Are you man enough? Can you make me beg like any other female? Can you make me whimper for forgiveness?’
The man’s cock was visibly swollen beneath his uniform breeches, his fists clenched in restraint.
‘Go on,’ she taunted, knowing she was risking both their fates. ‘Show me there’s at least one man in this castle besides the baron.’
‘Princess, I will deal with you if you don’t be quiet,’ he said.
‘Will you beat me?’ she goaded, and with a swift movement he twisted her arm behind her back, making her squeal with shock and not a little trepidation that she’d perhaps gone too far.
‘You royals are all crazy,’ he muttered, pulling a length of leather twine from his belt, and Allura’s wrists were easily secured behind her back. ‘You’re his slut, not mine.’ The guard pushed her forward to the bed. ‘Let him deal with you, the gods help him.’
‘What will you do with me?’ she asked, a little timorously now.
‘Tie you up, princess, like the unruly filly you are.’
The princess felt a sudden wave of panic; it was bad enough being left alone hungry and thirsty, but to be in bondage at the same time would make that much worse. ‘Wait, please, I’m sorry for being such a bitch,’ she said, a little meek now. ‘It’s just that I haven’t eaten for so long.’
The guard gathered Allura’s bare ankles together, binding them with another leather strip.
‘H-have you a girl?’ she asked, finding his powerful presence increasingly attractive.
‘There is a wench in the village,’ he answered. ‘She lays for me when the mood suits me.’
‘She belongs to you?’ Allura asked.
‘She has a husband and children, but I’m the one who knows how to fuck her.’
‘And her husband doesn’t know?’
The guard laughed, the rough sound of a man used to having his own way. ‘Of course he knows, but he also knows to keep his mouth shut unless he wants trouble.’
‘You would hurt him?’
He pulled back her ankles rudely, connecting them with a quick tie to her wrists. ‘The penalty for defying the baron or his soldiers is death,’ he told her.
Allura’s heart pounded. She felt so deliciously vulnerable. ‘Is… is she pretty, this wench of yours?’
‘She has a good body, and she knows how to fuck,’ he said, shrugging dismissively.
‘As good a body as mine?’
‘No,’ he answered frankly, ‘you are one of the most beautiful females I’ve ever seen.’
‘So why not touch me?’
‘Because I like my head attached to my shoulders.’
‘But I won’t tell.’
‘You’re a female,’ he stated cynically. ‘Females always tell in the end.’
‘Do you beat her?’ Allura wanted to know.
‘Beat who?’
‘Your woman?’
‘If she annoys me, yes. Or sometimes for sport.’
‘What do you use?’
‘A leather whip,’ he stated, and then looked at her quizzically. ‘You have a lot of questions about being a lower class slut.’
‘Maybe I want to know what it feels like,’ she smoldered.
‘Then ask your husband, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to show you.’
‘My husband is a monster.’
‘Your husband is also my lord,’ he warned.
‘I meant no offense,’ she whispered, wishing she could push him just a little further, to the brink of losing his temper and beyond. ‘So tell me, where do you make love to your woman?’
‘In her husband’s barn, most often. I call for her and she makes ready, clearing out a space, closing the door and removing her clothes.’
‘She is aroused when you arrive, I’ll bet.’
‘Yes, I make her wait on all fours, the whip between her teeth. She crawls to me when I appear and lays it at my feet. She then kisses my boots and asks how she can please me.’
‘Does she cry out when you whip her?’ Allura pressed, breathless.
‘I use a gag, or put a bit in her mouth.’
‘Oh, yes… that sounds like a good idea…’ Allura clenched her thighs against the threat of an impending, embarrassing climax in front of the servant, without even being touched, induced by the bondage and their words. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Tesotoro, princess,’ he said. ‘Son of Milatoro.’
‘Tesotoro,’ she whispered.
‘And now you have calmed, and I have secured you for the night, I must leave you,’ he said. ‘I won’t gag you if you promise to keep quiet, with no more silly outbursts.’
‘Yes, Tesotoro, I promise.’ For some inexplicable reason Allura reveled in the sound of his voice on her lips, and for a split second she felt an intense flash of jealousy toward that woman of his.
‘Tesotoro?’
He was turning the handle of the door. ‘Yes, princess?’
‘Will you be out there all night?’ she asked.
‘Until the baron’s return, yes,’ he confirmed.
‘Oh.’ She closed her eyes and almost at once and fell asleep; the idea of the tall warrior being out there watching over her serving as a warming comfort.
When Allura awoke it was light outside. She pulled with her arms and legs and realized she was still tied as Tesotoro had left her. She strained to look around the room, and there was no sign of the baron. Had he been away the whole night? Weakly, she strained at her bonds, and it was then the hunger hit her, much worse than the night before.
‘Montreico…’ she attempted to call, though it came out a hoarse whisper, and then the door opened. It was him, his gait crooked, indicating he’d had too much to drink.
‘Rise and shine my lazy little bride.’ He kicked the side of the bed and guffawed, obviously enjoying his own humor at the expense of the helplessly bound girl. ‘Then again, I suppose you can’t very well rise, can you?’
‘Where have you been, Montreico?’ she demanded.
The baron frowned and took a swig from the ale flagon he was holding. ‘By the gods, woman, not even twenty-four hours married and already you’re nagging me.’ He roared with laughter again, the raucousness of which required him to support himself upon the nearest bedpost.
‘I am glad you are amused, husband,’ she snapped. ‘But I am starving and cramped and thirsty and I must go to the bathroom.’
Montreico slumped down beside her on the bed and slapped her nearest thigh. ‘Yes, sorry about that, I’m afraid we got a bit carried away in our celebrations last night.’
‘Celebrations? Of what?’ she asked.
‘Why, my marriage, of course. You should have been there, it was quite a feast.’
Allura clenched her fists. ‘Are you telling me while I lay up here alone, trussed up like a roasting pig, you were feasting and drinking?’
‘And whoring,’ he added with a deep sigh. ‘Don’t forget the whoring.’
Her predicament forgotten for the moment she said, ‘And you dare to tell me that my body will be your property and yet you give yourself to sluts?’
‘I’m a man,’ he said simplistically, clearly believing that to be justification enough. ‘Look, if you’re just going to nag me I’ll leave you to stew in your own juices a few more hours.’
‘Wait,’ she cried as he rose, ‘don’t leave me. Please, I can’t be left like this any longer.’
‘And I can no longer bear the company of a spoilt little bitch, Allura. Are you prepared to apologize?’
She was all set to voice her indignation, but she knew it would only lead to more pugnacious behavior on his part. ‘I… I apologize,’ said the once haughty princess.
‘For being a spoilt little bitch?’ he pressed.
‘Yes,’ she replied, tears in her eyes. ‘For being a… a spoilt little bitch.’ But how the words stuck in her throat. Was it being a spoilt little bitch to request such simple considerations?
‘And you are prepared to be a good little wife?’ he prodded, downing another swig from the flagon.
‘Yes,’ she shamed herself all the more deeply, ‘I am prepared to be a good wife.’
‘And to obey?’
‘Yes.’
He laughed. ‘As long as I have you over a barrel, at least.’
‘Wait, where are you going?’ she asked, as he staggered to his feet and weaved slightly towards the door.
‘I need a few things,’ he said, belching, ‘to continue your lessons.’
Allura shivered at the implications. She did not want lessons, she wanted to eat, drink, and the ablutions. He left the door open behind him and with every passing second her heart sank further and further. For so long she had tried to be strong, but the tears were welling up.
‘Montreico,’ she whimpered, sobbing slightly at his eventual return.
‘Miss me?’ he grinned, and she almost had, pathetic though that felt.
‘What is she doing here?’ Allura demanded, seeing the slave following him in.
‘Saraveeta has brought your breakfast,’ explained the baron.
Allura stared vehemently at the slave, her short silk tunic complimenting her curves. ‘That is not her name, Montreico,’ she said.
‘It is now. I’ve changed it back.’ The baron snapped his fingers and Saraveeta lowered to the floor the tray she was carrying. On it were two bowls, one containing water, the other filled with a gray, pasty substance.
‘That had better be hers,’ commented Allura.
‘These?’ The baron looked innocently at the dog feeding vessels. ‘No, Saraveeta has already dined. Haven’t you, my dear?’
The slave lowered her head; her cheeks blushed as Montreico rubbed his crotch suggestively.
‘I must use the toilet,’ said Allura, deciding to ignore his goading, for the moment.
‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘Saraveeta, fetch the chamber-pot.’
‘Put it there,’ he pointed as she presented it. ‘On the floor.’
Allura sputtered. ‘You can’t expect me to…’
The baron cut the binding straps on her wrists and ankles. ‘Unless you’d like to go on the floor?’
‘You will at least leave the room,’ Allura said indignantly.
‘No, why would I do that?’ he taunted, ordering Saraveeta to help her to the iron pot on the floor. ‘I will watch. It pleases me to do so.’
‘I will not squat for you like a bitch, Montreico,’ Allura vowed, feeling lightheaded from her lack of food or drink as she struggled to her feet. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she said petulantly as her former friend tried to assist her.
‘A wife hides nothing from her husband,’ he stated pompously. ‘You will piss in front of me or not at all.’
‘Fine, then I’ll wet your bed,’ she said petulantly.
Montreico wagged an unsteady finger. ‘That sort of childish display will earn you a stiff beating, my dear. One that will make it difficult for you to sit for the next week.’
‘What are you looking at?’ Allura snapped at the hovering Saraveeta, who seemed to have no reason to be present but to make trouble.
The girl dropped to her knees. ‘Nothing, mistress,’ she cowed before the princess’ outburst. ‘I meant no offense.’
‘Well you did offend me, you stupid whore.’
‘Allura, I will not permit you to speak so to my slaves.’
‘Your slaves?’ she gasped.
‘Yes, my slaves. Among whom is this one, Saraveeta, who is owed an apology by you.’
Instead of apologizing she struck the girl. ‘How’s that, Montreico?’
By way of an answer the baron spoke calmly, sounding suddenly sober. ‘Saraveeta, go to my closet. In it you will find instruments of discipline. You will bring me the leather whip.’
‘You’re bluffing,’ said Allura. ‘Even you wouldn’t dare use such an instrument on a princess of the blood.’
A few moments later he was wielding it, sleek and black like a venomous snake. When he cracked it, expertly, the blood drained from Allura’s face as she saw the determination in his expression; not only would he use the lethal implement, he would take delight in doing so.
‘Montreico, I see no cause for conflict here,’ she said quickly, backtracking. ‘Surely we can reach an arrangement.’
‘The only “arrangement” that interests me, princess,’ he snapped the tip of the dastardly device an inch from her face, ‘is to have you writhing on the floor, helpless to avoid your inevitable punishment.’
‘Baron,’ she put out her hands, ‘give me another chance. Let me please you.’
‘You will, Allura,’ he vowed confidently, ‘you will.’
The first blow struck her exposed stomach, searing the taut white flesh, and the princess cried out, looking down at the vicious red line.
‘Now that I have your attention, my dear, I’d like you kneeling before me, where you belong.’
Allura slid to her knees, humbling herself. ‘Please,’ she cowered, but he took a slice at her thigh.
‘Were you given permission to cover yourself?’ he demanded.
‘But the pain,’ she complained.
‘Pain?’ he scoffed. ‘What do you know of pain? I’m quite sure you give ten times this much to your slaves. To Saraveeta, for example.’
Allura sought to shuffle back out of range, her dignity quickly evaporating, but he easily lashed her ass, then another blow across her shoulders brought her down onto her front.
‘You have a lot to learn, my dear. Your every defiance brings you more suffering.’
The princess no longer attempted to move. She took the next two blows with whimpers, one to her upper thighs the other again across her shoulders, a fine sheen of sweat forming on her agonized flesh.
‘You look very fetching this way, Allura,’ he continued to mock her. ‘Shall I describe the marks to you?
She cringed, not knowing if she was expected to answer or endure in silence.
‘Crawl to me, wife,’ said the baron. ‘And don’t bother getting on your hands and knees; your belly will do fine.’
Allura slithered across the cold floor, well aware that her own slave was witnessing her disgrace.
‘You may kiss them,’ he said, when she reached his boots. She stiffened in silent rage, but dared not disobey.
‘You obey well,’ he mused, as she delivered tiny kisses with trembling red lips. ‘Perhaps I shall have you do this for all my men.’
He saw the shaking of her indignation and laughed. ‘Relax, princess, we do have to maintain your station. You’ll be my slut and no one else’s.’
Allura felt the seconds burn like hours. She was dizzy, and not only from hunger or thirst or shame.
As if sensing her simmering needs, he probed her verbally. ‘What are you prepared to do now, Allura?’
‘I will do what you say,’ she breathed between kisses, wanting him to push her hard. ‘I will obey.’
‘But you’ve already been given instructions, haven’t you? And you chose to ignore them.’
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged, ‘I failed to obey.’
‘What will you do to fix it?’
‘I will urinate,’ said the princess, on the verge of yet another shameful orgasm, ‘as I was told to, in the pot.’
‘And afterwards?’
‘I… I will do whatever I am told next.’
‘You will take your breakfast,’ he supplied. ‘You will crawl on all fours to the bowls I have so graciously set out and you will feed.’ He pushed her away with his boot.
‘How does this make you feel?’ the baron asked, some minutes later, choosing the most damnable time to ask.
‘I feel… humiliated,’ she replied, squatting over the chamber-pot, her urine tinkling into it. ‘It’s not fair to treat me like this.’
‘I decided what’s fair in your life from now on, Allura,’ he pointed out. ‘If you want to eat you will do as I’ve told you.’
The shame was overwhelming, being forced to perform such a private act in front of him, and worse, her slave, but eventually her bladder was empty and she could at last eat.
‘Saraveeta,’ the baron said, his tone mischievous, ‘does your mistress ever require you to behave like an animal?’
‘Yes, master,’ the slave answered honestly.
‘You feed from bowls?’
‘Or else she tosses me scraps on the floor, master.’
‘Your mistress is very cruel to you, is she not?’ he continued, like some judge in court.
‘I am a slave,’ she answered expeditiously. ‘Mine is not to judge.’
‘But you were once friends. Isn’t that so?’
The pretty slave squirmed, fearful she might incriminate herself. ‘Yes.’
‘And now your friend owns you. Quite a turn of events, wouldn’t you say?’
Saraveeta’s eyes darted nervously to her mistress, but Allura was in no position to interfere anymore. ‘It was a great turn, yes… but all was by law,’ she added quickly.
‘Yes, I’ve looked into the matter for myself,’ the baron mused. ‘You were accused of harlotry with a boy your own age at court. His name was Porfino.’
Saraveeta’s eyes lowered, and she made no comment.
‘Were you guilty?’ he asked the dreaded question. ‘Did you give yourself sexually to this boy?’
‘Yes, master,’ she replied.
The baron’s dreaded sword emerged, skillfully slicing the air. ‘The penalty for lying to one’s master is death,’ he reminded her. ‘And in your case, if you are not honest with me I shall cut you open from groin to breast. So once again I ask, were you guilty?’
Saraveeta fought back a sob. ‘N-no,’ she said, her voice barely audible.
‘Speak up, I can’t hear you.’
‘No, master, I was not guilty.’
‘But there were witnesses.’
‘Only one, master.’
‘Only one?’ The baron acted surprised. ‘And who might that be?’
‘The princess, master.’
He put a hand to his brow in mock surprise. ‘The princess?’
‘Yes, master,’ she replied, maintaining her level tone despite his sarcasm.
‘I am shocked,’ the baron sighed. ‘Allura, is this true? Never mind, you may take a drink. We’ll take this up later.’
Her pride shattered, Allura slurped gratefully and noisily at the bowl of cool water, gulping it down, quenching her intense thirst.
‘Slow down,’ he advised, ‘you’ll choke.’
When she looked up a few seconds later the water was gone.
‘Now you may feed,’ the baron allowed, and as disgusting as the gruel looked and tasted, she was way past being fussy and swallowed it down without bothering to waste time chewing.
‘So you were falsely accused,’ the baron mused, turning back to Saraveeta. ‘You never touched this Porfino?’
Saraveeta shook her head sorrowfully.
‘Didn’t you like him, then?’
‘I did. I loved him, master.’
‘But he did not love you?’
‘Begging your pardon, master, but he did.’
‘But he rejected you. He could have married you and spared you this slavery. Why did he not do that?’
‘Th-there was another,’ she said hesitantly.
‘Another?’
‘Yes, master. Porfino loved the princess. He went to her, throwing me aside with her encouragement.’
‘But she did not marry him.’
‘No.’ Saraveeta paused, as if she did not wish to say the rest. ‘She cast him aside.’
‘That must have been hard on him.’
‘Master, Porfino killed himself,’ said the slave with surprisingly little emotion. ‘Just a month afterward.’
Allura’s mouth froze in the bowl.
‘For love of our dear Allura,’ the baron offered dramatically, the sarcasm evident.
‘That is a lie,’ cried the princess, lifting her face, her mouth caked with gruel. ‘Porfino died in battle. He was a soldier.’
‘Is this true, Saraveeta?’
‘Yes, master, he was a soldier, and it was reported by his commander that he died in combat, but in truth he fell upon his own sword on the eve of battle. He did so out of grief, having just received word from the princess that she did not consider him worthy to marry her.’
‘But how could you, a mere slave, learn such a thing?’
‘A guard told me this, a veteran, who witnessed it all. He took pity on me one night as I was being used by his company.’
‘This usage being one of Allura’s punishments for you, I imagine.’
‘My mistress likes me to be abused by men as often as possible,’ she acknowledged. ‘And beaten.’
‘And would you like revenge?’
‘Master?’
‘It is possible, you know, if I allow it. In fact, I could command it. Allura,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘crawl over here and lie on your back, legs apart.’
The princess did as she was told, tearing herself away from the sustenance she needed so badly, and taking advantage of her vulnerability the baron inserted the heel of his left boot in her sex. She was warm and wet for him, and with just a little movement to and fro he had her moaning and writhing.
‘Why do you hate men?’ the baron asked his wife.
‘I… I don’t know,’ she said piteously. She’d meant to say she didn’t, only him, but it was becoming ever more difficult under the circumstances to form her thoughts.
‘Sure you do,’ he countered. ‘And it has nothing to do with your past lack of attention from your father, never knowing your mother or any such nonsense. You are the way you are because you have too much freedom. You despise all men because none has stepped forward to give you what you need. Control. Subjugation. Complete and absolute rule of your mind and body.
‘That is why you have taken Saraveeta into this lonely hell of yours. First you denied her true love, then you forced upon her the unspeakable frustrations of being owned by another female. But you also enjoy empathizing with her, and so you live through her, whenever you send her to be used by men.’
Allura rolled her head from side to side. He’d invaded her mind as perfectly and infuriatingly as he had her sex. ‘I don’t know,’ she gasped, ‘what you’re talking about.’
The baron pressed his boot, subjugating her cunt. ‘You do know and I am here to stop you from lying to yourself.’
She pushed her pelvis up against him. ‘Let me come,’ she pleaded; ready to take for herself this most disgraceful, humiliating orgasm.
‘No.’ He withdrew his boot and put it to her mouth to lick, and the taste of her juices mixed with leather made her swoon. If only she could use her hands on herself. If only he’d let her.
‘Orgasms have to be earned, Allura,’ he stated. ‘I will decide when you have them and when you don’t. Just as I will decide what happens to you every moment of your life. Get used to this,’ he advised. ‘It is how I intend to live. Outside this chamber people will see you a certain way. You will have your aura, your façade, but you will know always, every time you look in my eye, that behind these doors I can and will do anything to you I wish, just as if you were my bond slave.’
The freshly licked boot descended onto her belly. ‘You are beneath me,’ he declared, ‘but you have only scratched the surface of your submission. As I said before, I intend to break you very, very slowly. I apologize in advance for the inconvenience of the cruelty you will endure; unfortunately you have the misfortune to marry a man who is a bit of a sadist – physical and psychological.’
Allura tried to see beyond her need to orgasm. There was so much at stake and she could not afford to give in so easily at this juncture. But he had worked her to a fever and there was no turning back. ‘I need to come,’ she reiterated.
‘We all have needs, Allura. Seldom are they met.’
She blinked back tears, a wave of sentimentality and loneliness overcoming her. Was she really making up for something lost early in life, in spite of what he said?
‘Montreico, please,’ she pleaded, ‘let me be alone with you; make love to me, as your wife.’
His expression grew dark. ‘We consummated already, or have you forgotten?’
‘No, I have not, but there is more. I feel more. I need more.’
‘You need a good hard fuck like the little slut you are, Allura. I’ll arrange it for you, but you may not like the results.’
In a terrible gesture of vulnerability she lifted her arms. In front of Saraveeta, no less, she was ready to expose something she’d never known was there. It was not a long-term change, not an answer to anything, but it was in the now and she must rise to this occasion. ‘Montreico, fuck me, please.’
He beheld her, his face belying complex emotions. ‘No,’ he refused, ‘I leave that to Saraveeta.’
‘Master?’ asked the slave, voicing her lack of comprehension.
‘The horse dick, Saraveeta,’ he elaborated. ‘You will strap it on and use it to fuck your mistress. Give her all the orgasms she wishes, but make sure she takes them as a whore, without dignity, begging and humping like an animal.’
Saraveeta was shocked. ‘But master, I—’
‘Do you seek to disobey me?’ he interrupted.
She lowered her eyes. ‘No, master,’ she replied softly, and Allura noted the ease in their conversation with one another. Was there a bond forming between them?
‘Montreico,’ she shot back, retracting her foolish emotionalism of a moment before, ‘are you so little of a man that you leave a slave girl to do your duty? Fine, I’ll enjoy it more with her.’ she tormented him.
He smiled slyly, like he could not care less, and then surprised her by leaving the room.
‘Veeta, I command you to help me escape,’ said Allura, in a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control.
‘The master would not like that,’ Veeta said, shaking her head.
‘But how can you give loyalty to him? Who has known you all these years, since childhood? Who’s been the one to…’ Allura’s voice trailed off as she realized the foolishness and hypocrisy of what she was saying. They were silent for a few moments, and then Veeta spoke.
‘Are you quite finished?’ the slave wanted to know. ‘Because I think it’s high time we got started.’
‘Veeta, what are you going to do?’
‘It’s Saraveeta,’ she said, her tone taking on the same intensity of the baron’s. ‘And you know very well what I am going to do.’
Allura yielded to the stark reality. ‘Saraveeta, I beg you,’ she sobbed, ‘don’t do this to me. I’m so, so sorry for all of it. And I’ll make it up to you, I swear. But I’m a princess, you can’t hold me to the same standards.’
‘And what standards are those, Allura? The standards of honor and loyalty and friendship?’
‘You are my friend. You are.’
‘Go and get the shaft,’ said Saraveeta coldly, ‘before I become angry.’
The princess’ mind looked for angles, for some way to bargain. Could it really be true that she deserved this? ‘Saraveeta, I will free you if you let me go,’ she offered meekly.
‘Do you really think you still own me?’ the girl queried, and the princess glared in shock. The possibility that she’d already lost Veeta for good had truly not occurred to her. ‘The dildo in your trunk,’ Saraveeta reminded, ‘I am waiting for it.’
Allura fetched the dreaded silver horse cock and belt.
‘Put it on me,’ commanded her former slave.
Allura’s fingers trembled. It seemed ten times bigger now. ‘Saraveeta, I could pay you in gold and diamonds.’
‘Pay me?’ the former servant scoffed. Is this what our old friendship means to you? I think you had better shut your mouth before you dig an even bigger hole for yourself. Better still, get on your knees; let’s give you a little taste of what’s in store.
Allura sobbed, kneeling before the intimidating shaft, upturned and wicked, like a sword from the desert tribes, the forged balls permanently and brutally hard.
‘How is it?’ Saraveeta wanted to know, as Allura touched her tongue to the metal. ‘Is it cold? Just wait till it’s in your cunt and ass.’
‘M-my ass?’ Allura stammered.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed, ‘your ass.’
‘But it will rip me,’ Allura protested.
‘Not if you relax and think about what a little slut you are, and how you need it more than you’ll admit. Then it will penetrate with ease. Trust me, I know.’
Allura licked the shaft. Her pussy was on fire, but what she needed was the baron, not what was in front of her.
‘You look good that way, Allura,’ Veeta mocked. ‘I always thought you would. The baron’s probably right; you only act like such a bitch because you need someone to master you. All in all I could almost forgive you. Almost.’
The thinly veiled threat induced Allura to suck with more enthusiasm. If she could appease the girl now she might more easily be dealt with later.
‘Lubricate it well,’ Saraveeta threw her own words back in her face. ‘It’s going to be awful tight in your ass otherwise.’
The princess whimpered, taking as much of the dreaded phallus in her mouth as she could, desperate to get the ordeal over with.
‘You will thank me for the practice,’ Veeta teased. ‘The baron is also well endowed and rather exacting. You’ve gotten off easily so far. I’ve already taken a beating for sucking him not as he wished.’
Allura’s insides wrenched at the thought of the two of them together, but why should that specter upset her?
‘You have to learn not to gag,’ instructed Saraveeta. ‘Men will beat you for that. They will expect you to take it all the way to the back of your throat without complaint. Like this…’ She pressed on the back of Allura’s head, forcing the dildo deep.
‘Don’t panic,’ she coaxed, ‘you can take it… your mouth is made for sucking a cock.’ Allura sucked obediently. ‘Good girl,’ Saraveeta praised, stroking her head.
The princess cringed at the patronizing praise, and vowed, never would she sink to this level again.
‘You know, Allura,’ Saraveeta continued, idly stroking her hair, ‘I never did have a chance to tell you what happened to me after my arrest. The guards who took me into custody fucked me, of course, as did the jailor and his assistant. And why not? I was already a whore in the eyes of the law, but the ironic thing is that it was actually the first of the soldiers who took my virginity, and not Porfino as everyone assumed.
‘Yes, princess, my maidenhead bled upon the cold, dirty, stone floor of the dungeon. They beat me for my ignorance, my terror of taking a cock in my mouth and for the inaccessibility of my asshole. They’d expected me to be as good as an experienced whore and as loose. But it was my youth and beauty that saved me, or so I was told. Plucking such a flower, rare and highborn, was a great novelty for these men. I do not recall sleeping those first few nights. Mostly I remember the cocks, the endless parade of them and the feet, nudging my exhausted body back to consciousness, the men indifferently and callously ordering me into whatever position they wanted.
‘Can you imagine, Allura, barely eighteen and having them come for you again and again. And the whips. Always the whips. Whips if you’re too slow, whips if you’re too hasty, whips if you appear to eager, whips if you just lay there like a piece of meat. Whips, just because it makes them hard and gets them off.
‘For three days I was punished this way, princess. I was allowed to see no one, nor did I ever rise above my knees the whole time. They kept me naked, on the damp floor, a chain of heavy iron around my ankle. Mostly it was dark. I had to feel for the cocks, or else just brace myself as best I could. Lots of them enjoyed ejaculating on me, and lacking any way to clean myself I soon felt and smelled like a cesspool for male sperm.
‘This was supposed to help me understand who I was and what I had become. I was not allowed to see my family, until the fourth day. They made no effort to make me presentable. When my father saw me through the bars he howled in rage. My mother screamed and fainted, and my brother had to be restrained from attacking the guards. They were given no chance to speak to me, and I had no voice left for them. I cannot imagine a more horrible thing for them to see, nor will I ever understand how they found the strength to endure my eventual sentencing.
‘Some time later my parents spirited my brother from the country so he would not take revenge for you, thereby sealing his own death. They were not exiled, nor did they run away out of shame as the rumors reported. They simply could not bear to lose two children – the loss of one being hard enough. I am dead to them, as is the kingdom. Ours is no nation of sovereignty anymore. It is a place of shame. A harboring place for jackals; men too strong and devious to be controlled by your uncle, and the gods forbid a little monster like you ever sits on the throne.’
Saraveeta made Allura get up and go to the bed, and then ordering her onto all fours she pressed the artificial cock to the tightly puckered entrance to her bottom. ‘And now,’ she thrust with a deep sigh, ‘it is time to finish the story. We’re almost to the part where you come in as my gracious rescuer, buying me for a handful of silver coins, but first you shall hear about my last visit from Porfino and the events which led up to his suicide.’
Allura shivered almost as much at the mention of suicide as she did at the feel of the cock pushing into her vulnerable rear passage. Once again Saraveeta advised her to open herself as much as possible, and to listen carefully.
‘When I heard Porfino was coming to see me I was beside myself with joy,’ Veeta went on. ‘At last, I thought, was my chance to escape the terrible fate awaiting me. He looked to me more handsome than ever, his red hair brushed neatly over as he tried to assume the presence of a much older and more responsible man. He wore a green cloak and suit, with the emblem of his family. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of him, even with those unfamiliar worry lines etched into his beautiful young face – a result, I could only assume, of the scandal. Even as the offended party he still had a burden upon him, and there would always be those among the most conservative elements of society who would hold him guilty too, no matter what I had done.
‘When he asked to be allowed to come to my cell to speak to me alone, I was sure he intended to make things right with me. At the very least it spelled an opportunity for me to make my case, to plead with him to seal the union I know we both wanted so badly.
‘“You do not look well,” said I to him, though I must have looked a hundred times worse, barefoot, my ankles shackled, my hair a rat’s nest, my only garment a hastily provided tunic of rough, homespun material that hung barely to my thighs and cleaved deeply between my breasts.
‘“It has been difficult,” he replied curtly, and I became at this point very frightened that I had lost him.
‘“I have missed you so much,” I shared, pressing my body to his.
‘“Do not,” he pushed me away. “I cannot allow you to dishonor me further.” I asked what he could possibly mean. He of all people should know I had never touched him in any way, other than with my whispered confessions of love.
‘“I have spoken with the princess,” said he to me.’
Allura dropped her face to the bed, trying to absorb the impact of what she was hearing, reeling in anticipation of what she knew Saraveeta was going to reveal: her own lies coming home to roost.
‘I didn’t know what he meant at first, and I couldn’t imagine that you would do me anymore harm than you already had. And trust me, princess, in my imprisonment nothing caused me more anguish than trying to figure out what I had done to deserve your betrayal in the first place. But soon I realized you had only just begun your evil plans by denouncing me to the authorities. Your next move was to poison Porfino against me. How did you manage that, Allura? Did you weep in front of him, pretending it was hard to reveal such terrible things about me? He certainly bought your act, though, didn’t he? And your lies.
‘“You are a whore, Saraveeta,” he accused bitterly. “With everyone but me, it seems.” And so I was regaled with tales of men I had kissed, and how I had supposedly gone down on my knees to take one of the stable boys in my mouth. You even told him, as I recall, that I liked the game of horsy; being forced to all fours, naked, and subjected to a bridle and bit and saddle, then lathered down, my skin oily and sweat-soaked, I would let them whip me, forcing me to prance and perform. Quite a tale, don’t you think, princess? I often wondered where you got that from. Did you see such a thing or was it one of your own fantasies?’
Allura, now fully impaled by the artificial penis, was in no position to obfuscate or delay. Saraveeta could hurt her now, and hurt her badly. ‘Yes, I dreamed it,’ she said, ‘in my fantasies.’
‘Did it get you hot?’
‘Yes,’ Allura confessed, unwittingly pushing her bottom up for even deeper penetration. ‘I masturbated thinking of it.’
‘And of me, suffering, did that excite you too?’
‘Saraveeta,’ she moaned miserably, ‘you must believe me, I am sorry.’
‘It excited Porfino, that’s for sure,’ Saraveeta ignored the apology. ‘Much as he came to condemn me, he was horny as a satyr, too.
‘“Is it true?” he wanted to know, licking his lips, and I told him yes, I was just that kind of a whore. What did it matter anymore? I was already guilty, marked for abuse and punishment and sexual servitude for life.
‘“You wounded me,” Porfino confided, and suddenly he was willing to have my body close to his again. “I could never marry you now; my plans are all upset. Don’t you think you owe me something for that?”
‘His hands clasped my welted, bruised ass, and I cried out involuntarily as he worked the skimpy garment up to my waist. “You’ve been whipped,” he said, feeling with his hands. Just a few short days before he would have said such a thing with outrage and indignation. But now, thanks to my so-called crimes, he was sounding pleased, if not downright exuberant. I whined that he was wounding me in turn, but he was no longer listening.
‘“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about this moment?” he asked huskily. “And now it’s here I can do whatever I want to you.”
‘It seemed to elude him that I might have the right to grant or deny permission. All he saw was a semi-naked girl, locked in irons, on the verge of slavery, so having few cards to play with I went right for my ace.
‘“Porfino, if you marry me we can be together always, and I can serve you, humbly, till I die.” But again he ignored me, devouring my throat as he began to feel me roughly all over.
‘“You are so lovely, Saraveeta,” he panted. “You drive me mad. I want to make love to you.” I pointed out one could never make love in such a place, that I was a prisoner and he was intending to fuck me, nothing more, but I had no power to stop his hands roaming up under my short tunic to my exposed sex. His fingers found easy access to me and as he fumbled I began to moan and rock on them.
‘“I can’t wait,” Porfino croaked, and I found myself pushed to the wall, my knees parted by his hips. He rutted and humped, filling me with his seed in seconds, leaving me agonizingly on the brink.
‘“More,” I moaned. “More, please.” But Porfino was angry now and called me a slut. He made me kneel and clean his penis while he told me of his plans with you. You were going to marry him. You were going to make him king. Did you really say all that or was the poor boy deluded?’
‘I… I did say some of it,’ Allura confessed breathlessly. ‘But mostly I just made allusions and he jumped to conclusions.’
The princess winced as Saraveeta plugged her another inch or so. ‘You must have been so proud of yourself,’ she sneered.
‘I was young then… I was very young.’
Saraveeta laughed sarcastically. ‘It was last year, princess. How much changes in a year?’
‘Everything, for some people.’
‘As if you knew anything about that. For Porfino, yes, everything changed. He abused his true love in a prison cell; he wounded her heart fatally and lowered himself to the level of being just one more assailant, and the guilt punished him till he could bear to live no longer. I said before he received word that same night that you would not marry him, but you and I both know that was only the superficial cause. He was already dead, thanks to you, and he was finishing the job, just as you killed me when you separated us.’
‘I-I can’t be responsible for all that,’ Allura cried. ‘I can’t handle so much.’
‘I’m not surprised, my little pet. You haven’t the backbone or the will. Honestly, princess, you had better give some careful consideration as to what you will do with this crown you are working so hard to win. You may have your father’s blood, but not his mettle or his wisdom.’
‘Saraveeta,’ whispered the princess, unable to deny her passions, ‘will you fuck my pussy now?’
‘Only if you beg,’ Saraveeta provoked.
‘I do,’ Allura gasped. ‘I beg you.’
Saraveeta pulled out of her tight rear passage. ‘Make me.’ Allura reached back for the artificial cock, only to have her arm twisted up behind her back by the other girl. ‘You always were the weaker one,’ said Saraveeta.
‘We are all weak in comparison to men,’ Allura countered, then squealed as Saraveeta abruptly plunged the cock into her pussy, pinning her to the bed.
‘So you’re an expert now?’ she mocked.
‘It is true,’ Allura mumbled against the bedcovers, ‘the baron says every woman is a slave during sex. It is only that some are allowed to be free afterwards.’
‘A subtle but significant difference, don’t you think?’ She pumped in and out, establishing a rhythm. ‘When you send me to the guards I am used all night long and then must return to comb your hair or draw you a bath. And if I fail to please you on account of being utterly exhausted and aching from head to toe, you will have me sent to the dungeon to lie in darkness, naked and in chains.’
‘But we all dream of men,’ said Allura boldly. ‘We cannot live without their strength. That makes us sisters still.’
‘What do you know of my dreams?’ The dildo sank deep enough to make the princess whimper. ‘What right have you to speak for me?’
‘None, none,’ she pleaded. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
‘You royal bitches do that all the time. You use our feminine needs as an excuse to brutalize us.’
‘But we are of the same class. We grew up together; have you forgotten?’
‘No, it is you who has forgotten. And as far as that goes, you never knew in the first place. Did it even occur to you how it felt to always play second fiddle to you, and how it was for my family having to bow and scrape to your father?’
‘I knew that, I did. But I could do nothing. Once I asked my father why you could not ride with us in the state carriage to greet the visiting King of Fristia. Do you remember? We were six. He told me I had a good heart but I must learn the way of things. Life was about power. There are those who have it and those who don’t, and ultimately all must yield and be slaves to their betters. “Only kings and queens have no betters,” he said. “Only they are masters. Your little friend, beauty that she is, will one day have to know herself your slave.” Do you know how it hurt me to hear him say such things? I was never so disappointed.’
‘So your father was not the hero we thought,’ Saraveeta sneered. ‘Who is?’
‘But there’s more!’ Allura exclaimed. ‘I asked about the gods. Did the kings and queens not bow to them? He lifted me in his arms and asked if I could see him. Of course, I told him, what a silly question. He then asked if I thought he was strong and did I feel protected in his arms? Again I said yes. Satisfied, he carried me to the altar in the very chapel we were yesterday. “Here,” he turned me slowly in a circle so I could see the relics, “are your gods and goddesses. Would you like them to hold you, to care for you as I do?”
‘“But these are statues,” I said, “and pictures.” He nodded, pleased with my answer.
‘“And so would any wise person say,” he added. “A king is here and now and made of flesh and blood, a god is a story, a legend represented by objects.”‘
‘I have faith,’ said Saraveeta, ‘as must all who are oppressed. Without our unseen gods to appeal to, we would have nothing but the all too visible tyrants of this world.’
‘I do not wish to be a tyrant, Saraveeta.’
‘You are in no danger of that,’ Saraveeta assured her. ‘If anything, you are more likely to lose your freedom altogether.’
‘To the baron?’ Saraveeta allowed her to answer the question herself. ‘But he has taken me as his wife, not his slave.’
‘The baron has taken you, that’s it,’ Saraveeta corrected. ‘Haven’t you seen that?’
‘I will fight him. We will both fight him. You will help me.’
‘I take no orders from you anymore.’
‘Then do it as a friend.’
‘Let’s concentrate on the moment, princess. I want you to come for me, now.’
Allura’s body began to spasm, the words having their own secret enveloping power. ‘Yes,’ she hissed. ‘Oh, yes…’ and so she orgasmed, the dildo inside her, the future vastly uncertain, both in terms of her own fate and that of the kingdom.
I shall pray, she thought to herself. I shall rediscover these deities I have neglected so long on my father’s advice. And maybe I will recover something of my honor, and my family’s honor.