The Princess’s Court
Part 2b of 5
(FM/fF nc)
"Awaken, Mi’Lady," She heard the voice in her ear, and for a
moment she didn’t know where she was, but it was wonderful to wake up in
the arms of a handsome, strong man. Then she remembered and it wasn’t
wonderful anymore. Or rather, it was still wonderful, but bad for other
reasons. She looked at him, her wide eyes shining like full moons in
the dim light of the chamber.
"Have they come for me?"
"Very nearly. A boy came to say the preparations have been
made." She had slept almost immediately when they had returned, and he
had held her the whole time. Now, newly awake, she felt disoriented.
She clung to him desperately.
"You haven’t much time," He said. "You must go to the bathroom
now. It’s the last chance you’ll get for some time, and you don’t want
to. . . make a mess while you’re tied for punishment. They’ll be very
cruel if you do."
She shook her head. "I can’t," She hissed. "Not with you
here."
"Try," He told her, "Because if you are modest about such
things, you best get over it. Do you think they let Andrea down to
pee?"
The image she got was devastating, frightening and arousing at
the same time. She swallowed and shook her head. "I can’t do it like
this."
"Lady McLangly," He said, but she grabbed him.
"I. . . please. . . it would be too embarrassing."
"As you will, but I fear it will only be worse later. Then
stretch. I know there’s not much room here, but do the best you can."
She looked down. The enormity of what she was facing hung over her so
that she could take little pleasure in the honest, heartfelt concern the
soldier showed for her. Under less trying circumstances, this would be
wonderful. As an enlisted man, he was below her station, but not so far
that such a quick romance would be impossible. And he was handsome and
strong. . .
Which, of course made what he was going to see when they
removed her clothes even worse. What would he think of her glow? He
would pity her and maybe be relieved that she found some. . . interest
in this. The idea of being so exposed to him was mortifying even to
think of. When the time came, she would never be able to endure it!
That was one of the reasons she didn’t dare disrobe now, and knowing
that she would soon be forced didn’t make it any easier. Maybe they
would send him away. . . but that would be even worse! She cried again,
and he held her until there were footsteps in the hall.
"Will you leave me?" She asked him, suddenly.
"Only if I must," He said as he stood to open the door. "And I
shan’t go far."
The guards returned and this time they took her up to a winding
stair that climbed into the Palace tower. From small windows she
passed, she could see the lands around it. Magical lands. Lands of
wonders. Roland helped her along, and they finally came to a door that
opened into the carpeted, wood-paneled recesses of the Princess’s
private quarters. Here, the air smelt of strange, expensive perfumes.
She saw masks with odd, frightening and erotic designs and pedestals
with ancient artwork upon them. She could feel the magic, like an
electric charge in the air. The balcony was past the Princess’s
quarters, accessible through a large double door. The air outside was
warm, and there was no breeze. She hesitated when she saw the rigging
they had set up for her.
It would be like a swing. She would lay on her back, strapped
to a leather dolly, facing the sky. There were two short cords with
soft leather cuffs on them for her ankles, and they were very far apart.
Anyone opening the doors would be looking directly into her most private
recesses. She didn’t immediately see what would be done with her arms,
but she was sure they wouldn’t be available to cover herself.
Directly beneath her was an ornate bowl filled with powdered
herbs. A young woman; a servant not yet out of her teens, was
inspecting the apparatus. She turned, studied Jessica, and then spoke
to Roland. "It’s quite ready for her. The Princess is having her bath
and will be finished shortly. She’s to be in position by then."
He nodded. "How so?"
"On her back, legs up and apart," The girl said. After a
little consideration she suggested "Tie her hands behind her back."
"Why not up?" It would be more comfortable, she realized.
"To expose her breasts more," The girl explained, cheerfully.
"If they were up she might thrash about and find some way to protect
them."
He nodded finally. Then he turned to her. "We haven’t much
time. Let’s go. If you don’t do it yourself, I’ll have to do it for
you."
She stared at him and trembled. "I. . . can I please. . ."
"No. No, whatever it is," He told her firmly, his voice slightly
irritated, "You cannot. Take your clothes off or I shall. . ." He
sighed. "No. Never mind. Stand still, or I shall spank you." He
stepped forward and took her shirt, lifting it in one move over her
head. In that moment, she was close enough to smell him. He smelled of
horses and the oil that soldiers put on their swords and the dust of the
road. He also smelled her, she realized. Sweat. Tears. Unlady-like
aromas. She felt his hands undo her bra, and they stopped. For a
moment, nothing happened.
"Oh, mercy," The girl said, her voice almost a laugh. "I think
I’d better go tell the Princess about this."
"Why’s that?" Roland asked, irritated. Worried. Astonished by
what had been revealed.
"Well you’re supposed to rub her in. . . those places." The
girl did laugh then. This was, Jessica realized, quite hilarious, "and
the way she’s glowing, the Princess might not consider that punishment."
"Well go tell her then," He said, clearly happy to be rid of
her. Jessica heard the girl’s footsteps as she left.
"Part your legs a bit, Mi’Lady. I’m going to pull down your
pants."
". . . oh, mercy, Roland. . . please. . . please don’t make me.
. ."
Her legs were spread. He was rough, but no rougher than he had
to be. In an agonizing instant, her pants were down around her knees.
Her panties, too. And her mind reminded her mercilessly of what he must
smell now. Still holding her, he sat down in a chair by the railing
and in the same motion she found herself across his lap. She felt the
rough fabric of his trousers against her thighs and belly. Against the
curve of her sex.
Now she panicked and struggled, but he held her effortlessly,
turning her here and raising her there. This couldn’t be happening!
This was. . . no. . . oh mercy! Mercy! She looked back over her
shoulder and his eyes met hers. She was, at that moment, all blushing
mortification and wide-eyed vulnerability. Her soft mouth begged
voicelessly for him to spare her, and he gave her a moment to fret and
plead because it was adorable and he couldn’t help it. But it didn’t
sway him.
The first spank was shockingly painful and made an sharp crack
that carried into the valley. She cried out, and he slapped her again.
His palm was hard and callused, and her buttocks were smooth and soft.
She was defenseless, she realized, against even the most mild spanking
she might receive.
"You’re not to beg me," He said, letting his hand fall with the
cadence of the words. "Or to resist me," She was bucking under his
hand, and he punished her expertly, letting his hand fall as her
struggles raised her hips. "Or to ask to be let out of punishments you
know you deserve."
"Please," She sobbed, "Please, Sir! Please!"
"Do you understand?" His voice was calm, but the spanking hadn’t slowed.
"Yes!" She screamed it, because he wanted her to. He wanted
everyone to hear her. And he let her naked thighs kick and spasm as
they would because it gained her nothing, and it made a fascinating,
obscene display of her light pink (it wasn’t even red yet) ass and damp,
glowing sex. Because, she thought bitterly, it entertained them and
made the lesson that much more effective for her. "Yes, Sir, Yes! I
understand, Sir!"
"So you’ll obey me?" He asked. Now, though, just a little bit
of amusement crept into his voice. He couldn’t have failed to notice
the desperate increase in the light between her thighs. Or the heavy,
musky odor coming from the slick, damp spot on his uniform slacks.
"Owww!" She cried, nodding and then, "Yes! Sir, please! I’ll
obey! I’ll obey!" If only you’ll stop! Oh, mercy, please stop! There
was a fire back there, and each slap stoked it higher. She was bawling
and wailing so that she was sure everyone heard her everywhere. It
didn’t matter. It matter how humiliatingly submissive she was, because
she would do anything to stop the spanking.
"Even if I tell you to squat and pee in the corner?" He asked.
She opened her mouth in protest. Being teased by him now, while she was
utterly defenseless was intolerable. Her pride demanded that she deny
him. Demanded it! But she couldn’t because that would mean the
spanking would continue, and no matter what the loss of face, no matter
how her sniveling pleading might torment her later, she had to submit.
So the castle heard Lady McLangly cry, "Yes! Ow! Yes, I’ll pee
in the corner, Sir! Please!" He chuckled, but stood her and said
softly, "Quickly, then. Do it before they get here," and she almost
did, but he was a little bit too late.
"I don’t think that’s a very good idea," The Princess said.
Roland froze momentarily, and then turned to salute her.
"Your Highness," He began, by way of explanation, but she waved
him aside. She focused on Jessica. Jessica felt her throat tighten,
and she shied away.
The Princess walked up to her. "On your knees," She said
gently. "Or, if you prefer, you may squat. But no peeing." She
giggled.
The Princess was wearing a white robe that tied at the middle.
Washed and cleaned, with her hair tied back, she looked much younger and
less imperious than she had at Court, but her presence was still
stunning.
Jessica squatted at her feet, her smarting, stinging buttocks
inches over her heels.
"Chin up, Jessie," The Princess said. "Let me look at you."
She looked up at her Princess. She felt strangely calm, while Katherine
wiped at her cheeks and smoothed her hair back. "She’s very tender,
isn’t she, Roland," The Princess said
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And. . . responsive?"
"It appears so," he agreed. The topic of the state of her body
made him uncomfortable.
"I always thought so. It’s unfortunate for her," She said and
then laughed. "She’s in for a rough time, I’m afraid."
"I’m sure," Roland said, "She would agree she deserves it."
The Princess looked down. "Is that true? Do you deserve it?"
Jessica closed her eyes and tried to answer, but she couldn’t
talk. She nodded her head miserably.
"I like it when you call me Ma’am," The Princess said.
"Especially in public. While you’re being punished you’ll refer to me
that way, Okay?"
"Yes, Ma’am?" She managed.
The Princess turned to Roland. "Tie her and wet her. I don’t believe I
need to remind you that she’s not to spend."
"No, Your Highness,"
"Oh yes. Gag her. I don’t wish to be disturbed by her cries."
He nodded and got to work.
She did nothing as he strapped her in. He was very thorough and
careful. She wouldn’t escape, and she wouldn’t fall. When he was done
she was helpless. There was something awful, she realized, about not
being able to close her legs. It was. . . improper. Ever since she had
been a little girl, she had been taught how to sit and how not to, and
what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Laying back, with her ankles
raised and unbearably far apart was wrong. Even though she had no
choice, a merciless voice that sounded just like her Governess scolded
her, telling her how what a tramp she appeared! Making her aware of how
devastating the loss of privacy was. The light from her sex didn’t
help. In the darkness, it was a constant reminder of her shameful
reaction.
"Now your hands," He said. He had left them for last. He
folded her elbows, so that her forearms were comfortably together, as
though she were crossing her arms, but behind her instead of in front of
her. Two straps buckled them tightly together, under the swing so none
of her weight was on them. Just as he finished her nose itched and she
moaned through the gag.
"Shh," He told her. "Quiet, now. It’s Okay."
No, she thought, pleading with her eyes. No, it’s not Okay. My nose
itches. I’m naked. . . I’m so humiliated I can’t think. I need to pee.
I need to masturbate! You can’t leave me like this! I’m not able to
handle it!
He watched her writhe as panic overtook her, and then when she
was done and it had gained her nothing, he sat beside her. "I’m going
to wet you now. I. . . I can see how you’re. . ." he looked away, and
his awkwardness was devastating for her. It confirmed her fear that far
from taking her arousal in stride, he found it odd. Interesting. And
obviously, shameful in the extreme. She was deeply embarrassed, and
knew the Princess would be pleased. "I’m going to try not to make it
worse," He explained.
She couldn’t have been more self conscious if she’d been
painted red and marched through the center of town! He sat between her
open thighs and began to wet the skin indicated. Her nipples were
first. He reached across and touched one lightly with sticky, moist
finger tips and she moaned. His hand pulled back. Then he touched her
again. His carefulness and gentleness made his caress teasing and
almost tickling. She was so aroused that it was so overwhelming it was
almost uncomfortable. She jerked violently and squirmed, but there was
nowhere to go.
Then he did the other nipple. When she moaned and he
apologized, she wanted to die. When he sat, watching the throbbing glow
in her vulva, she knew he was aware how close to an orgasm she was.
Touch me, she thought. Please! Please, I need it! She tried to push
her hips toward him but she was helpless. He waited until the aching
glow subsided before he started again.
Roland was quick and mercifully professional about her anus.
His fingers invaded her, leaving the sticky goo in their wake and they
were gone. The stimulation reminded her she had to do more than just
pee, but she couldn’t even worry about that now. She waited for him to
touch her sex, but he didn’t.
My clitoris, she thought helplessly angry at being denied the
friction she expected. Oh, Mercy that I’m gagged or I’d beg you! She
thought of Andrea being ‘rewarded’ before the court and whimpered. Why
wouldn’t he touch her! Because his quick brush with her anus had
aroused her again, she realized with horror. Because he was waiting for
the near orgasm throb of desperation to subside. ‘What must he think of
you?’ she scolded herself. ‘A Lady who gets so aroused she nearly
spends from having her anus humiliated? What little respect or care he
might have had for you will be gone now! And he’ll enjoy your misery
along with all the others!’
She sobbed forlornly. Finally, she was calm enough to finish.
With the gentlest touch imaginable, he spread the lips of her sex and
unveiled her clitoris. It lit the palm of his hand and shown through
his fingertip. She lay there, on the edge of somewhere else as he wet
it with the stick goo. Then he was done.
He stood over her, looking down at her face. "I have to go,"
He told her. "I’ll be near." He stroked her face, trying, with a look,
to tell her that, no matter how bad it seemed, tomorrow would come, and
she would be alive and everything, in the big picture, anyway, would be
OK. Then he bent forward and kissed her cheek. It was reassuring and
wonderful and frightening all at the same time. He stepped away and she
began to cry uncontrollably into the gag and struggle with all of her
might. She heard him kneel and strike a match, setting the contents of
the bowl burning.
The bowl, when lit, would produce mosquitoes. Swarms of them,
Princess Katherine thought. She smiled at the image. Jessica might be
able to rock back and forth a small amount, but that would be the only
rebellion she was allowed. And the night was early. She had ordered
the girl gagged so that her cries wouldn’t upset the household, but she
found herself wondering if that was a bad idea. Maybe the young woman’s
moans would a gentle sound to sleep by. . .
She went out on her private balcony, and looked across at the
one where the punishment was just starting to take place. She could
make out the dark shape of Jessica, her arms crossed behind her, her
head tilted back, so that the curve of her neck was visible. The scene
was only lit by the glow of embers in the bowl, the light-house peaks of
the girl’s nipples and the reddish luminance of her sex. That was an
unexpected pleasure, the Princess thought. Wouldn’t the court be
pleased to see it! They had so enjoyed mocking Andrea and Jessie was
even more modest.
Roland had just left, and the darkness rising out of the bowl
was not smoke, but a tangle of living creatures. The Princess watched
the figure start to squirm. On a moment of thought, when one of the
dark shapes wandered toward her, she rolled up her left sleeve extended
her forearm to it, palm up. The insect hummed audibly, a music she was
sure would entertain Jessica through the night, and felt like the
tickling, caress of the lightest paint-brush against the smooth flesh of
her arm. An extremely irritating and unpleasant tickling, she thought.
It took every bit of self control she had not to pull away. But then
there was a momentary needle-like sting she could not tolerate, and she
shooed it off.
Katherine looked at the spot. It’s bite had left a tiny,
skin-colored welt no bigger than an eighth of an inch across. Almost
invisible, she thought, and she was disappointed. Then it started
itching. She walked back, savoring the sensation, until she reached the
door of her room and quickly slipped inside. The itch had become
intolerable. She glared at it. I won’t scratch it, she thought. Let’s
see. No. No I won’t.
It seemed to boil under the surface, getting worse and worse.
The skin, after the initial welt, never changed, but she felt it seem to
cry out with the need for attention. She closed her eyes and tried to
think of something else. Anything, except the irritation, but soon her
whole world was that one, tiny patch of skin that she would do anything
to scratch.
So Princess Katherine smiled and scratched it. She slipped
into bed. Her husband would be up with paperwork for another few hours
but that was OK. She wanted to think these thoughts alone for a time.
The welt was itching again, as badly as it had been the first time, and
she caressed it scratching it lightly. She thought of the areas
unprotected. Such sensitive skin! She opened her legs and caressed
herself. Her thighs. Her buttocks. Flesh so meant for the most
delicate pleasures, so defenseless against even the most minor
discomforts! Like an insect bite! She grinned to herself thinking that
she was awful! So wicked, she thought dreamily. So unbearable. Her
hand slipped between her thighs and she began to prepare for sleep.
ArkSyn
