The Princess’s Court
by ArcSyn
The Princess’s Court
Part 1 of 5
(FM/Ff nc)
Jessica Aldryn McLangly, Lady of the Hierarchy of
the Moon, Daughter of Lord McLangly, was riding in the
meadow that lay to the south of her estate, when Lance
Corporal Roland came for her. She was by herself and
already in a bad mood when she saw him. She pulled her
mare to a stop and waited impatiently for him to come
close enough to explain his presence.
"Lady McLangly," He pulled up on the reins as he
came along side her. "I’ve come here on official
business from Princess Katherine Ryan’s Court. I’ve
been asked to secure your cooperation in an important
matter."
Jessica stared at the empty field, pointedly not
acknowledging him as anything more than a tool of his
mistress. It was a beautiful day. She looked across
the sea of high grass to the forest, a few hundred yards
away. It was a dark, tangled wood, interesting and
treacherous. She thought of various, rather caustic
replies she could make. Maybe, "Princess Katherine can
bite me. . ." or, "I’d love to cooperate with Princes
Katherine, but I’ve already promised to cat-sit for a
friend. . ." But that would be a mistake. No matter
what their history, Katherine was the Princess now and
antagonizing her was out of the question. "What
matter?" She asked, keeping her voice cold.
"She has asked, in order to take her
responsibilities seriously, that anyone with. . .
personal knowledge of. . ." He hesitated.
Still looking away, Jessica swallowed. No, she
thought. No, it couldn’t be. . . She glanced at the
soldier. He was young. Maybe a few years younger than
her twenty, but he held himself with a professional and
confidant bearing that she found attractive, despite
herself. Relax, she told herself. It’s something
else.
"Violations of the Great Contract come to the
court." He finished.
Shit. That bitch wouldn’t! Jessica felt the
sudden stab of fear in her chest. "What does this have
to do with me?"
His expression was almost apologetic. But it
wasn’t. "She has asked that you testify under Compelled
Oath about your knowledge of any such things. Her
Court will be holding hearings this night, and I have
been given a transportation spell to return us to her
palace. You’re to dress for a formal audience and come
with me immediately."
Oh, Mercy! Fear and fury rolled in Jessica’s
stomach. She knew that the paleness of her face and the
faint tremble of her hands would betray her, but she
couldn’t help it. Think. . . Katherine knew, or she
wouldn’t have risked Compelled Oath. And that meant the
questions would be pointed and direct. And intolerable.
"And if I am busy?"
Roland met her gaze. "This is a request of the
Princess, Lady. It wouldn’t be wise to deny it."
"Very well. Then let’s return to the house so
that I can change. This is an awful inconvenience."
The complaining came easy and felt natural. She was
certain that he might suspect but he did seem to relax
when she turned her steed about and rode back toward the
sprawling mansion.
What? Go inside and slip out the back? No. Too
risky. Loose him now, then. Ride like the devil and
make for the trails. He might follow her into the wood,
but he’d never find her in it. Of course, she’d be
unable to return. At least for awhile. But that might
give her a chance to bargain. Katherine, Princess
Katherine now, would love the idea of her as a miserable
fugitive. It didn’t matter. Anything was better than
the Court.
When the hill became steep and Roland fell back,
she moved. Jessica dug her heels in and leaned forward.
Her mare knew what to do, and she felt her gait become a
gallop.
"Lady Jessica!" He was further behind her, but
when she looked back, he was coming up fast. She didn’t
look back again.
"Please! This is foolish, Mi’Lady," He yelled.
Annoyed but also concerned. The chances of someone
getting seriously hurt in a situation like this were not
bad and although he wouldn’t be blamed he still,
clearly, felt responsible. Screw him, she thought.
The forest wasn’t far now. She kept her body low,
gripping the animal’s flanks with her knees. Don’t
think of the future, she told herself. Look ahead.
Just get away.
She heard him behind her. He was both a better
rider and had a faster horse, but he was unwilling to
simply ride up and take her. She was still a Lady. And
she might get hurt. But it was clear that she’d have to
be creative to loose him.
Seconds later they entered the forest. Her horse
knew the trail and his didn’t, but he was close enough
to stay on her. She heard him curse, as branches, bent
by her passing, whipped back at him. The forest was
dark with a deep-green tint to it, and confusing. She
would normally go straight, and come to a clearing, but
not today.
Jessica risked a look back, saw that he was,
despite everything, still close, and turned sharply.
The horse went but she didn’t. The world turned upside
down as she fell. She didn’t even feel like she had
hit something. She just felt numb and then scared.
When she opened her eyes, Roland was beside her,
kneeling in the tall grass.
She was laying, with her head resting on his
folded coat, looking up at him. They were still in the
woods, and she couldn’t make out the expression on his
face. "Do you hurt?" He asked.
Ache? Yes. Everywhere. Hurt? No. She tried to
sit up, but he didn’t let her. He directed her to move
her arms and legs and neck, and when everything seemed
to be in order then he helped her sit. Roland offered
her water from a skin on his horse.
"You’re lucky," He said.
She looked away. The thrill of being alive and
unhurt had faded quickly. She had been caught, and her
pathetic escape attempt was going to be damning.
Jessica realized that, for the first time in many years,
she felt like crying.
"I guess this means you’re guilty," He said as he
put away the water.
"It was nothing. Please! This is. . . this is a
settling of old scores. It’s just political. Please
let me leave, and I promise it won’t haunt you."
At first he didn’t look at her. Then he did.
Calmly. Matter-of-factly. She felt her hope dry up and
crumble. "I can’t."
"Just tell them I escaped! Please!" I can’t
believe I’m begging him, she thought. Oh, Mercy! This
was a nightmare, already.
His smile was very, very slight. "I’m afraid
they’d never believe me." He reached out and brushed
a strand of hair from her face. Then his hand lowered
and took hers. It was a very firm grip. "Come on, Mi’
Lady." She let him lead her back to their horses but
instead of mounting his steed, he took a coil of cord
from his saddle bag. "What did you do?" He asked.
Curious. Not even fascinated. Probably having a hard
time believing that someone like her could be guilty of
breaking the Great Contract.
"I. . . I’ve been involved with Human’s dreams."
He looked up. "Really?"
"It was. . ." She sighed, exasperated. "It was
nothing. Katherine did much worse when we were in
school together!"
"Princess Katherine," He corrected automatically.
Then, "Nothing? Would the Enforcers have thought it was
nothing if they’d caught you?"
No. Of course not. It was dangerous and selfish
and very, very bad. It was also incredible fun. She
looked away. "I wouldn’t have gotten caught."
"I can see you’re a master of escape. It sounds
like you deserve this. What makes you think you’re
being picked on?"
He was weaving a noose. He took her right hand
and then her left, and slipped them through the loop.
He pulled it tight, and she felt her captured flesh
press together. It was dark here, but she knew he could
still see the blush. "You. . . you’re going to take me
back to my house like this?" Her voice was very soft.
She was thinking of what the servants would think when
they saw their lady marched before them in disgrace.
Her chin trembled at the very idea.
"No, Mi’Lady. I’m going take you back to the
Court like this. I’m afraid I’m not letting you out of
my sight." Again, he was almost apologetic. Again, he
wasn’t quite. And, she thought she detected the
faintest trace of amusement in his manner.
Mercy. . . Oh, please. . . don’t cry! Whatever
you do, don’t cry. . . She swallowed and swallowed
again. He lead her, walking slowly, holding the cord
like a leash. "You can’t," She moaned, when she
couldn’t take it any more. "I can’t appear before them
like this! Not. . . oh, mercy. . ."
He stopped. "You shouldn’t have tried to run
away. Look, Mi’Lady, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make
things difficult for you. If you escape do you know
what they’ll do to me?"
She looked up.
"They have a post in the Palace Garden where the
Ladies of the Castle come to take tea. They’d tie me
there, and provide little whips and nettles so that the
women could make sport of me for a day or two. And
then, maybe, they’d find something else to punish me
with. I’m not going to risk that. You got yourself
into trouble, now you will have to deal with it."
He gave the cord a tug, and she followed him,
mutely out into the sunlight. The horses had followed
them. He sent hers home, and pulled his close. "The
spell takes a few minutes. Then we’ll be back."
She looked down at her boots and riding dress.
Her face, utterly devoid of makeup. No jewelry. She
felt ill with the idea that Lady Katherine would be so
pleased to see her so humble. And tied! She wondered
if the Princess had intentionally chosen a handsome
guard to collect her. Probably. Anything to make her
humiliation more poignant. She had to try again.
"I. . . I knew Katherine at Finishing School," She
said. "That’s what this is about."
"Oh." But he was interested. And he believed
her.
"She was popular. Everyone knew she’d be
something spectacular. I don’t think anyone really
thought she’d be a princess, but. . ." She shook her
head. "I was a bit of a rebel. She and her friends
could make my life miserable, but she couldn’t control
me. She always resented that." Jessica looked away.
Katherine had sent her an invitation to her coronation
some months ago when it had finally become official. It
had glittered and burned with a magical fire.
Jessica had torn it up.
"So that’s what this is about?" He asked.
She nodded.
"You’re in trouble, then."
A little more silence. "I know," She said.
"You’re not the first one they’ve tried. Did you
know Andrea Connor?"
Jessica looked over. "Andrea? Mercy. . . what
did they. . ."
"The same thing. Dream meddling."
Shit. Oh, shit. . . She gulped. Andrea had been
one of Katherine’s friends. But also a competitor.
Jessica had found her far less vile than her associates.
"What did they do to her?"
"They’re still doing it," He said. "She was tried
two days ago. Her sentence will last a year. For most
of it she’ll be doing domestic work around the palace as
a common servant but Katherine wanted her humiliated as
part of her punishment. . ."
"What?" She asked breathlessly. "Roland, what
did they do to Andrea?"
"You’ll see," He said. Then everything sparkled
and changed. They were in the court.
It was a round chamber with high walls and stained
glass windows. The floor was polished marble. The
supports, that ran up to the pointed ceiling, were
inlaid with gold leaf. Laid out like numbers on a
clock, the Thrones sat at 12. They were intricate and
magnificent beyond imagining. There was a worn rug for
supplicants to kneel on.
At three and nine, were the galleries, where the
Counts and Countesses and Dukes and Duchesses would sit
and observe. They were filled, and she had the
impression of flowing robes and imperial dresses, but
there was too much for her to take in for her to get the
details. Behind her (although she didn’t look), was the
entry way for people such as her, and the Great Hall.
It was flanked by armored guards. There would be no
more nonsense here.
The architecture was designed to make a visitor
feel very small, and it was remarkably effective. She
looked up at the dizzying heights and the stone and the
metal and the glass work, and she felt dwarfed. Under
normal circumstances, it would have been gut-wrenching,
but today, there was something that made it even worse.
Beside each throne, at about eleven o’clock and
one, there was an upright, wooden wrack in the shape of
an ‘X.’ They had shackles for the wrist and ankles.
The one on the King’s side was unoccupied, and Jessica
could see a short, smooth wooden dowel, protruding from
the center of the ‘X’ at slight angle.
On the Queen’s side, she saw Andrea. The girl was
naked and mercilessly exposed: her breasts, her sex,
everything! Jessica couldn’t imagine how long the girl
had been there, but clearly she hadn’t become inured to
the situation. She blushed down to her chest, and hid
her crimson face against her arm. She shook with sobs
of humiliation and wriggled ever so slightly because the
dowel was tormenting her constantly. It would be,
Jessica realized, inside her anus, causing an unending
sensation of urgency, fullness, and violation.
The Nixie, which is what they were, have their own
strengths and weaknesses. They are sensuous beings
whose senses are far more acute than humankind,
magnifying everything for them, including pleasure and
pain. They are also physically different. The females
have wings that fold into their shoulders or expand
until they are large enough to envelope them. The males
have a tail. In both cases these ‘extra’ organs are
sensitive, private, and erogenous in the extreme.
Finally, they Nixie betray their feelings. When
sufficiently aroused, the flesh that can receive sexual
pleasure glows faintly. It is usually covered by
clothing, and so hidden, but mistaken exposure could
make feelings be quite embarrassing. Andrea glowed.
Tied, as she was, there was no way she could hide the
light that seemed to come from under the skin of her
swollen nipples or through the soft fur of the mound of
her sex. Her body shown with sweat and Jessica could
see a fatigue upon her that came from hours of misery
and humiliation. But not from pain. Katherine knew
that too much physical discomfort would provide a
welcome distraction from the indignity of her position.
Ache and corporal punishment could always be applied
later.
Roland pulled her forward and hissed, in a
whisper, "Kneel, Mi’Lady. And hang your head. If you
don’t show proper respect it will be even worse!"
Jessica knelt on the rug and looked down, grateful
not to have the squirming image of Andrea before her
anymore. It was horrible, and fascinating at the same
time. How much would she have enjoyed such a sight if
she were here on different circumstances? It would have
been delightful. The Court was silent, waiting to hear
her.
"The words," Roland prompted.
She knew them. She found them somewhere in her
memory between which fork to use and what sort of gift
to bring the hostess of a formal party. "I, Jessica
Aldryn McLangly, thank Princess Katherine and the Court
for allowing me to serve them most humbly." She
swallowed. The words felt awful, as though she had to
choke to say them. "I beg that you accept my offer of
service and my eternal gratitude for your. . . gracious
leadership and. . ." She was miserable. She knew her
voice betrayed her distaste, and anger "magnanimous
judgment," she finished.
I will not cry. I will not beg. Oh, mercy. . .
She wiped at her nose. Her knees were already hurting"
the rug did not provide any protection from the cold,
hard, marble floor.
"Roland," The Princess’s voice was clear and
familiar and filled with good humor, "What is the
meaning of this? Bringing one of my dearest friends
from school before the court in. . . common clothing and
tied? Are you seeking a whipping, because I assure you,
if punishment is what you desire, you need only ask.
Unless your explanation is very good, you shan’t enjoy
what you’ll receive for this." It was the same old
Katherine. Mocking, playfully cruel and sure of her
authority. Intolerable.
"I beg the court’s forgiveness, and I throw myself
upon your mercy, My Princess," Roland said, the tone of
his voice making it clear he had nothing to be concerned
about. "When I asked Lady Jessica to come with me, she
felt she had more pressing business in the forest. I
was unable to convince her of the importance of her
testimony here, and so I must confess I forced her
obedience. I submit to whatever punishment the Court
feels appropriate."
There was a burst of conversation. Some laughter.
Some chatter. Jessica thought she recognized, perhaps a
dozen voices. It was like a Finishing School reunion,
she thought. Katherine let them talk for almost a
minute before she silenced them. "Jessica," She said,
and when addressed, Jessica looked up. It was required
that you face the speaker. She couldn’t bring herself to
meet Katherine’s eyes.
"My Princess?" Her voice sounded like a quiet
squeak in the vast chamber.
"Is this true? Surely not! Deny it, and I will
have this villain pilloried for a week and paddled
thrice a day for the entertainment of the Court!"
She thought of lying. The thought of Roland being
punished appealed to her greatly, but it was really only
a game. She stayed silent, trying to think of some way
out of this, but finding nothing. Throw herself at
Katherine’s feet, she decided. Beg. Supplicate
yourself! But surely Andrea had done that and more, and
it clearly hadn’t helped. Flee? Cry? She trembled.
She wanted to stand up or at least shift position so her
knees would stop hurting. But if this, this least of
all discomforts, was too much for her to bare for five
minutes, how would she bare being tied to a wrack such
as the one Andrea languished on? She tried to imagine
hours of such a fate, and couldn’t. It was unthinkable.
"Well?"
"I don’t deny it, Princess," She said softly.
There was another erruption of voices.
Exclamations of surprise. Titters of disapproval.
Excited speculation about what this might mean. Jessica
would have cried, and almost did, except she still
couldn’t bring herself to give them the pleasure. But
the pressure of the withheld tears settled in her
stomach and made her feel weak and sick. She bit her
lower lip and waited.
Again, at a motion from the Princess, the court
fell silent. "I am rather disappointed in you, Jessica.
I’m afraid that by disobeying Roland in his official
capacity, you have disobeyed me. You realize that this
leaves me no choice but to punish you?"
She wasn’t disappointed at all! She was ecstatic.
When she had imagined bringing her old enemy before her
she had probably never dreamed it would be this
dramatic. Jessica covered her face with her hands and
stifled a whimper. She wasn’t going to make it any more
enjoyable for them! She wasn’t! She would be stoic and
cool and. . . She felt her body shudder visibly with a
silent, wracking sob.
Snatches of conversation from the gallery reached
her, ‘oh, the poor thing. . .’ and, ‘she’ll be a very
sorry young lady. . .’ Their patronizing sympathy was
a mortifying torment.
‘She’s going to get it worse than Lady Connor,’
‘I’m sure proper punishment will improve her
greatly. . .’
She heard Roland’s voice in her ear, "You must,
Mi’Lady. The Princess is waiting." You must beg the
court for punishment, he meant. His tone made it clear
he knew how awful it was to be toyed with so, but he was
also reminding her that, if she didn’t submit, they
would do something even worse. She wished desperately
she had the courage to defy them, like she had in
school. But she didn’t. She was terrified of being
humiliated the way Andrea had been.
"I b-beg the. . . Court. . . discipline me for my.
. ." She searched for words that would please them,
"Disobedience," she finally said. It was the worst
way to put it she could think of and she hoped that
a display of humility might convince them to spare her.
"The Court is always glad to grant your wishes,"
Katherine purred. "Roland, please take Jessica to a
holding chamber. She’ll be testifying tonight, and I
want her rested." She addressed Jessica then, "The
Court will deliberate on your punishment. You may take
comfort in the promise that it will be extremely
educational for you, whatever we decide." She nodded
and dismissed them. Roland helped her up and lead her
away. She walked unsteadily, and her vision was blurred
with tears, but as she left, she met Andrea’s eyes and
shuddered.
The holding chamber was a jail cell with
comfortable furniture. It had a heavy wooden door with
a locking window on it so that the guards could look in.
There was a bed and a chamber pot, and a water pump.
The first thing she did was strip off her riding boots
and message her feet. She knew she should rest, but she
couldn’t. She also spent several minutes squatting
above the pot before she gave up. The idea that, at any
moment, someone might peek through the window was enough
to insure nothing would happen. That also inhibited her
from masturbating.
The casual exposure of Andrea’s arousal had made a
big impression on the Young Lady. She didn’t know if
the girl had been. . . touched. . . or somehow
stimulated (even the euphemisms gave her chills), but
she was certain that if they chose the same fate for
her, none of that would be necessary. Right now,
despite everything, her nipples throbbed and glowed in
the tight, protective confines of her riding bra. Her
panties were wet with sweat from her morning exercise,
but they were also stained with moisture from her sex.
The court would love that, she thought. She paced
the room, trying to think of something other than what
she had seen and what awaited her. Sometimes she
panicked, but without anything to do, the emotion just
subsided. She wished she was able to cry.
An eternity had passed and another eternity was
beginning when there came a knock at the door and Roland
opened it. She felt the blood leave her face, and her
throat dried so that her voice was a quiet rasp. "Is it
time?" She asked, tremulously.
"Soon, Mi’Lady. But not yet. I came to see if
you needed anything." He closed the door behind him and
sat on the bed. Reaching under his tunic, he produced a
metal flask. "It’s not very strong, but it tastes
better than water," He offered it to her.
Eyes wide and pathetically grateful for even this
small comfort she took it and sipped. Wine, she
thought. Wine from a metal flask. She drank again.
More like grape cider, really. He hadn’t been kidding
when he said it was weak. She sat on the bed and looked
down at the floor. "Thank you, Lance Corporal Roland."
"I don’t suppose you need me to tell you what kind
of trouble I could get in for this," He said softly.
She nodded. Then she looked at him.
"Then why take the chance? What makes you think I
won’t tell?"
"I don’t know if you’ll tell or not.
I wouldn’t do this if I felt it was immoral, and beyond
that, I don’t care if it’s against the rules. You
looked like you needed some comfort."
Oh, Mercy, I’m going to cry on his shoulder, she
thought. No. No, I won’t. I don’t care how good it
would feel. I don’t care if all this tension and worry
is going to make me nauseous . I’m not going to. . .
She sniffled, and she felt him put his arm around her
and draw her head against his chest. She pressed her
hands against her mouth to muffle the sounds and shook
with tears. She felt him pet her gently.
"How did you get messed up in this?" He asked some
minutes later when she was almost through. Actually,
she was through, but it felt so good to be held that way
that she remained there.
"We all started in school. Once they taught us
about the human realm and what sorts of things were
possible, some of the girls started experimenting."
"Experimenting?"
"Entering human dreams. You’d feel out for a
dream, and then ride into it."
"What kind of dreams?"
She blushed. "Any kind. I guess mostly. . ."
"Erotic ones?" He guessed correctly. She nodded.
Ashamed.
"That was what Lady Connor confessed to," He told
her. "But apparently Lady Connor was still doing it,
even recently. And not only entering dreams but
manipulating them." He sighed. "That would not be
forgiven, if she were caught. And she confessed to
using the spells to torment her sleepers. Giving them
dreams about punishment and submission. I don’t think
Princess Katherine would have been quite as harsh as she
was if that weren’t the case."
He waited in silence for her to respond. His hand
kept stroking her hair, and down her back, and he held
her tightly.
"Well?" He asked, finally.
"Well then I’m in trouble," She said. She spoke
into his shirt so her voice was muffled and he almost
couldn’t understand her.
"I can’t say I feel that sorry for you. No
offense, Mi’Lady." He didn’t let go of her though. He
didn’t push her away.
She looked up at him, "But I. . . I can’t bare
this. I couldn’t bare it if they put me up there."
"Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that the
point?"
"Andrea’s used to this kind of crap! She was one
of their. . . I don’t know. . . one of their little
soldiers. I was always too proud to play their stupid
games." She pulled away and moved to the edge of the
bed. She sat, her chin in her hands, her elbows on her
knees, and glared at the wall. "This isn’t fair!"
He didn’t answer. After a moment she was afraid
that she might have run him off, but when she glanced
quickly over, she saw that, while he wasn’t agreeing
with her, it still bothered him to see her miserable.
"If you had let me go, I could have dealt with this on
my own," She told him.
He stood up. "It’s almost time and I need to get
back to my post." He reached for his flask, "May I?"
She gave it to him without looking at him. She
felt him take it, and the urge to throw her self on him
and cry and beg that he spirit her out of here flared
within her. She was only barely able to control it.
But he didn’t leave. "I wanted to say that I know this
isn’t going to be pleasant for you, but I sincerely hope
that you learn something from it. Whatever that might
be. I. . . I believe you might need it. And, I promise
to help you in any way that’s proper and allowed."
Silence. He waited for any response, and when she
didn’t give one he turned and left, locking the door
behind him.
Alone then, she did cry, face down on the bed,
sobbing into the pillow. She reveled in the feelings of
misery and abandonment, and self pity. When a knock
came again, it was Roland, his face expressionless, the
kindness he had shown her before hidden behind his
professional facade. There were two armored guards with
him, and they escorted her out into the hall.
Thus, it was, with her face stained with tears,
her voice broken from hours of sobbing, and barefoot,
that she was marched before the Princess’s Court.
ArcSyn
The Princess’s Court
Part 2a of 5
(FM/Ff nc)
Lady Jessica could hear the babble of the Court as she approached.
They had walked her past a mirror and she knew how she looked. Young,
without makeup. She might be mistaken for a teenager! And utterly
without class or dignity. For riding by herself, she had chosen simple,
old clothes, and had spent the morning sweating in them. Her tumble in
the dirt hadn’t done much for her, either, but the worst was that it was
obvious she’d been crying.
If they wanted any evidence that she was intimidated by them, that
would be it. She kept her gaze downcast, and shuddered as her bare feet
slapped the polished stone floor. The air temperature was comfortable,
but the floor felt like it was freezing!
The only comfort she got from anywhere was Roland’s presence. But even
that was a double-edged sword. Being pitied by and disgraced before the
handsome, Nixie soldier was almost worse than being alone! Under normal
circumstances, he would be honored, even intimidated, by her presence.
Now he would always see her as a naughty, deserving child! He guided
her through one of the smaller arches that fed into the Great Hall, and
then into the Court, itself. It was filled, and she felt the weight of
the gaze of many, many people fall onto her. She had determined that
she would face them impassively, her face set and emotionless. That
was impossible when she saw the Princess.
Katherine was magnificent, dressed in a gown woven of clouds and
star-light, and wearing jewelry sculpted of amber and crystalline fire.
Jessica felt an almost elemental shock of awe at the sight of her old
classmate. Awe, and envy and shame.
For an instant, their eyes met and Katherine smiled and Jessica looked
away, shaken. The Princess enjoyed being admired, she thought.
Especially by an old enemy in a wretched state. Her Prince sat beside
her, his pressed uniform less spectacular, but with the force of
tradition behind it.
The room fell silent. She was lead up to the bar and for the second
time today, she knelt before her Princess. She could hear her own
ragged, edge-of-tears breathing, and she knew that they could as well.
In the quiet room the small sounds she made were amplified by the hard
floors and curved walls. She did not need to look up to know that
Andrea was still there, still suffering on the wrack at Katherine’s
side. If anything, the glow between her thighs had gotten stronger.
Maybe in anticipation of watching another share her fate.
Katherine let the silence draw on, undoubtedly aware that every moment
spent waiting wound her subject’s anxiety tighter. Jessica didn’t dare
look up or move. Beg them, part of her urged. So what if it’s what
they want! They’ll get what they want of you, anyway. . . But she
couldn’t do that. She couldn’t surrender what little she had left to
Katherine. And she was afraid. What if what they wanted was her to
kneel quietly and suffer their gaze and their pity? She could imagine
that. And then, at their own pace, they’d work up to the other things.
She shivered and Katherine motioned for the Court to begin session.
She remembered her Protocol classes vaguely, but from what she recalled,
there would be a reading of those in attendance. This was largely for
the pleasure of the nobles, who would enjoy hearing their name sounded,
but it might last half an hour. All the while, she was getting stiffer
and colder, and her knees were killing her. The Royal Announcer was in
the ‘K’s, reading out, "Lord Andrew Killiam," when she rocked forward to
try to distribute the weight somewhere else.
"Be still," Roland hissed. And it wasn’t an order. It was a warning.
She returned to the uncomfortable position, unable to think of anything
except how comfortable the thrones were. Even the benches the attendees
sat on were cushioned. I must sit still, she told herself. Head bowed,
back straight, knees apart. Just as a commoner would, if brought here.
I mustn’t shift or move, because they enjoy seeing me like this, and I
mustn’t deny them anything they might enjoy. Even if it means going out
of my mind!
But when they had read Lady Worthing McAlester, she felt another
instant of kneeling would do her in and she moved again. Just a little.
She had to.
"Jessica," Roland hissed, but it was too late.
The Princess held up a hand and the reading stopped. With the silence
came a feeling of dread. Oh, Mercy, she thought, why did I move? It
wasn’t that bad. . . She looked up pleadingly. The Princess smiled at
her but addressed Roland. "Lance Corporal, is the Supplicant
squirming?"
"Yes, Your Highness," He said.
"I see. Jessica?" Jessica had been holding her breath. Now, she
swallowed, exhaled, and gulped air.
"Your Highness?"
"You’ve already earned one punishment from the Court. I cannot imagine
you want two. And I know you were better in Protocol than that. What
do you have to say for yourself?"
Mercy, She thought. She remembered sitting in Protocol class with the
other girls enjoying the tribulations commoners were put through when
they visited their betters. Commoners or disgraced aristocrats. "I’m
sorry, Your Highness," She managed. "I t-tried. . ."
The Princess waved her excuse away, but spoke in a gentle,
understanding tone of voice. "You tried your best, didn’t you?"
"Yes, Your Highness. . ."
"But you’re not used to kneeling and it’s very uncomfortable, isn’t
it?"
Jessica sat perfectly still. She wanted to cry, ‘Yes! Oh, Mercy,
please! Oh, I beg you, cease toying with me!’ But she didn’t dare. The
Princess’s offer of leniency was something she couldn’t pass up, even if
she mistrusted it. Her voice quavering, adorably on the edge of tears,
she managed to say, "Yes, Your Highness,"
"Well," Katherine spoke to the Court, "I’m not sure what we should do."
She smiled. "I think we might ask an expert, such as she is, in proper
Court etiquette." She paused to consider and then turned to the girl at
her side. Every eye focused on Lady Andrea Conner and the effect was
immediate. Miserable enough when she wasn’t the center of attention,
being called upon in such a manner was merciless torment for the naked
young lady. Jessica felt her own breath catch as she looked at what lay
before her.
Andrea’s legs were opened uncomfortably wide, and she was raised so
that her groin was only inches from her Princess’s armrest. Her hips
were pushed forward by a wooden rod that disappeared between the soft
cheeks of her buttocks and into her anus. Not permitted a stitch of
clothes, she made a fetching display for the court. Mortified, she
blushed painfully, at being addressed, even after all these hours.
Jessica saw that she was clearly petrified of what this might bring.
She moaned and wiggled as much as she could.
"Well what do you think, Lady Connor? Should Jessica acquire another
punishment or should we spare the girl?"
There was some laughter and a murmur of approval. They found the whole
idea psychologically fascinating and more than entertaining. Andrea
looked away, utterly unable to meet the Princess’s eyes. Wherever she
looked, she found a patient, smiling face, waiting for a reply.
Whispers traveled back and forth, and finally Andrea looked at Jessica.
Jessica looked down miserable and furious. Of course the girl didn’t
have a choice. If she said anything other than ‘punish,’ she risked the
Princess’s displeasure. And the attention of the Court was agony for
her.
"Punish her, Your Highness," She managed, but her voice was all but
inaudible. Another murmur from the crowd. They were pleased! Very
good! The naughty young lady who couldn’t sit still was going to get
punished for it! Very proper! Andrea turned her head to face her arm
and whimpered pleadingly to Katherine. But Katherine wasn’t done with
her yet.
"And, tell me, Lady Connor, how should she be punished. I know you
favor very sever and humiliating punishments for bad little girls, but
let’s make sure the punishment fits the crime, shall we?"
Katherine was certainly entertaining the Court now! Jessica listened
to their excited discussions about what fate the mortified Lady might
choose for her. They were sure to appreciate the helpless fury she was
feeling. After all, playing one supplicant off against another was an
incredible game! And the line about ‘favoring sever punishments!’ Such
playful irony!
"Hmm?" Princess Katherine prompted. "Mustn’t take forever. . ."
Desperate to have this part of the game over, Andrea babbled something
out. "For the Court, Dear," The Queen told her. "Repeat."
"M-make her k-kneel on rice. . . And bind her wrists to her ankles. . .
"
Oh, Mercy! No! Oh, Andrea! She looked back pleadingly at Roland, but
he only stared ahead. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing
anyone could do. A servant boy no older than fifteen came out with a
bowl of rice, and she was allowed to stand, her head bent forward, while
he sifted it onto the rug. She was grateful for the momentary respite,
but she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to return to the floor.
A tear escaped down her cheek and she quickly wiped at it. Soon she
wouldn’t be able to.
"Kneel," Roland told her, not unkindly, but without sympathy. "It
could be much worse."
Owww. She whimpered herself when her knees touched the grains. Oh,
mercy. . . oh, this was terrible. . . She hung her head and sniffled,
while Roland tied her. He was quick about it, but she was basically
hog-tied. As when he had lead her in, the ropes were tight enough to
prevent escape but not so tight she would loose circulation. He was,
she reflected, very good at this.
"That’s much better, isn’t it, Jessica? Can we continue reading
without interruptions?"
"Yes, Your Highness," She said quickly, in a voice that was obviously
threatening to disintegrate into tears. Silence. Why weren’t they
reading? Didn’t they know this had to end immediately! She looked up
and realized what they were waiting on. It took all of her self control
to say, "T-thank. . . th-thank you, Lady Cuh-Connor for my punishment. .
."
"And the Court thanks Lady Conner as well," The Princess said. "Let
the record show that we have expressed our appreciation."
Jessica tried to look away, but couldn’t, while The Princess reached
out and slid her fingers between the furrow of Andrea’s sex. Andrea
closed her eyes and begged desperately for it to stop, while her body
squirmed with pleasure she couldn’t hide. It was all the more poignant
that she was almost powerless to pursue her own pleasure. She was
spread ever so much wider than was necessary and impaled, so that even
the most ardent thrust of her hips only gave her what her Princess
allowed. Her nipples and nether-lips glowed brightly, and Jessica
caught a glimpse of the young woman’s clitoris, shining like a bright
star in the hidden folds of her organ.
The room was full of mirthful comments about how embarrassing that must
be and how it was so obvious that she enjoyed it, and of course she
enjoyed it—she’s obviously needed it for quite awhile!
"That’s enough for right now," The Princess cajoled, pulling her hand
away, and when Andrea struggled earnestly, and implored with painfully
sincere whispers, the Princess laughed and said, "I know you’re quite
frustrated, Dear, but it would be so improper to let you spend in front
of all these people!" Satisfied that Andrea’s humiliation was complete
and Jessica’s punishment was just beginning, she let them return to the
reading.
It hadn’t been bad before, Jessica thought. It hadn’t been anything
before! Oh, how could she have been so stupid and weak! This was
murder! Agony! She cried silently because it was the only thing she
could do but it didn’t help. She knew they were remarking upon it
amongst themselves, and she heard, in half-understood voices, their pity
for her. The poor, sweet thing was learning her lesson, wasn’t she? A
little exercise in self control and submission! Two subjects she
obviously needed a refresher in. . .
And yet this was nothing compared to what Andrea had just endured!
Tears trailed down her cheeks and she shook and quivered and truly
suffered every second of the eight minutes it took to finish the list.
Then there were a few more things to do, and the Princess found this and
that to bring up, before she could get to the business at hand.
Jessica was, by this point, physically and emotionally exhausted, and
miserable, so that she was almost relieved when the Princess addressed
her directly.
"You know why you are here. I was merely going to inquire as to what
you knew, but given your behavior, I believe we have reason to accuse
you. As such, you may enter a plea. I believe you have been dream
meddling, Jessica. What do you say?"
So that was it. They wanted her to confess without having to Compel
her. Because if they were wrong they would loose considerable face for
compelling testimony. And maybe the Princess was just fishing. Maybe
she really didn’t know, and wasn’t going to use the oath at all. . .
but it went unspoken. To lie, would bring much greater retribution. It
might be her only way out, but if it failed. . .
She closed her eyes. If she were to show any meaningful defiance, this
was it. If they were to respect her at all, she would earn it now. The
Princess had taken a risk by doing this in public, and there was no
doubt that the Court knew it. And the payoff? If she was as cowed as
Katherine hoped, she would be forced to deliver herself into the
Princess’s full authority before them all. Knowing, as Katherine did,
how hateful that would be for her, it would make the morsel of her
surrender and subsequent misery even more succulent.
She glanced at Andrea and knew that she didn’t have a choice.
"I plead guilty, Your Highness," she said, her voice quavering.
There was flat silence, broken only by her own breaths. Not a murmur.
"Guilty? Are you sure? The punishment for such a thing is quite
severe, Jessica," Katherine teased. In this game of cat and mouse she
had the mouse right where she wanted her. Why not rub it in a little?
Sobbing, Jessica nodded. Someone pulled the rope and she was lifted to
her feet. Now, with the vast relief of being off her knees, she sagged,
and moaned. "Face the front," Roland said. "You must, Jessica.
Please." She did because he asked. Her vision was blurred and all she
could see was the great, bright blur of the Princess.
"Please sentence me," She gasped. "Please punish me as I deserve. . ."
She put a hand to her face and cried into it. Roland supported her.
When the Princess spoke, her voice was pleased, but oddly gentle and
lacking the cruelty of her earlier pronouncements. "Very well," She
said. "The Court will adjourn to consider Lady Jessica’s punishment. I
will assign. . ." She looked around the room, "Lord Sopwith to
determine a punishment for her attempt at flight earlier today Lord
Sopwith?"
A portly man with a dark blue jacket stood and mused, stroking his
chin. He spoke loudly so the court could hear his thoughts, "It should
be something. . . elegant. . . and I think she has apparently been
coddled more than is becoming, so I would like to see it toughen her.
And she is exceptionally beautiful when she cries so she should be
encouraged to cry all night. . . A rather. . . hmm. . . perplexing
combination." He studied her and she found some strength in the
loathing she felt for him. He smiled, "Ah. I have it. But I must
confess that it could be more humiliating, I felt that she should be
spared such," He nodded to the wrack, "public displays until the
sentencing for her, ahem, real crime."
He stood, almost at attention, and waited.
"And that would be?" The Princess asked.
"Yes, Well. . . I believe there is a balcony beyond your chambers, Your
Highness. I felt she might be tied there in some. . . revealing
position. And quite naked. Such bondage will help prepare her for the
more figurative servitude that will come with her sentence, and to help
her cry. . . well, I am sure that some magics can be applied that will
summons mosquitoes? But since we wouldn’t want her overly tormented, I
would like to protect all parts of her body from them except, let us
say, her buttocks and anus. Her sex. . . should definitely not be
spared. The insides of her thighs? No. Let them suffer as well. . .
and the soles of her feet." He nodded. "Such a night should prepare
her quite nicely for her appearance tomorrow." He smiled and moved to
return to his seat when the woman at his side whispered something to him
and he stood quickly, "If the Court would please, Your Highness, I
forgot to include, in the list of targets, her breasts. I cannot see
preventing the insects from sampling such delicacies."
Jessica was stunned. She trembled, and it was good that Roland held
her because had he not, she would have collapsed. Her mind reeled with
fear and anguish. That was. . . no. No, that couldn’t be allowed!
She turned and looked pleadingly at Roland. He didn’t look away this
time, but his gaze told her that she was in fact going to suffer this.
She felt panic swelling up inside her and she turned to the Princess.
"Don’t," Roland said. "Thank him and be done with it."
"I can’t," She stammered. Didn’t any of them realize what agony they
had consigned her to? She looked around the room, and found pity and
sympathy, but also interest and pleasure. That she couldn’t stand such
things as kneeling and being tied, made her a perfect plaything. They
were eager to see her suffer for them. And because of that they were
merciless. Because these are such minor punishments, she realized.
Nothing you can’t live through. Nothing that will harm you. And your
fear of them is a heady elixir! Just look at how Andrea glows at the
thought of it! And under their dresses and gowns and suits, they are all
bright as well!
"Jessica," The Princess said, "I think that was an excellent idea.
What troubles you? Do you feel you need something more severe?"
"P-please. . ." She trailed off. Katherine glared at her and she
shank back. This was not the time to plead. That was not what they
wanted from her. And she was taught that.
"Very well, then. Lance Corporal Roland, when you tie her, we
will provide a solution of sugared water that you are to apply to her
nipples but not the rest of her breasts, her clitoris, but not the rest
of her sex, and the opening of her anus. That way those areas will
suffer just a little worse and she will be quite satisfied and thankful
for her punishment, won’t you, Jessica."
"Yes, Ma’am," She whimpered, forgetting the proper from of
address, but using a less formal one that a student might use with a
teacher. Katherine seemed pleased and nodded for her to continue,
"T-thank you, Lord Sopwith. . . I. . ." she looked down and blushed
furiously.
More babble. Sounds of pleasure and approval. They found her
fate very appealing and appropriate, and they knew that, while she might
not be displayed before them, they would certainly look forward to
seeing her in the morning. All around, it had been a very entertaining
and productive evening.
"Take her back to her room, but stay with her," The Princess
told Roland. "Preparations will be made, and she will be ‘put to bed’
as soon as they are ready."
He nodded once, and took her arm to lead her away. "And,
Jessica," The Princess said. Jessica looked back. She was so relieved
to see a normal, almost friendly expression on the girl’s face. "I
shall be up to visit you once you are ‘tucked in,’ and we’ll talk."
Then she was taken away.
ArkSyn
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
The Princess's Court
Part 3 of 5
(FM/Ff nc)
There was no way to tell how long it had been.
Seconds? Years? Jessica looked up at the moon, and
listened to the terrifying hum of the insects all around
her. The spells that protected her only kept them from
biting her; they didn't lessen their interest! But even if
the buzz in her ears or the maddening tickle of wings at her
neck and ears and all across her naked flesh were all she
had been scheduled to suffer, it wouldn't have been
bearable.
This won't happen, she had told herself, even as the
cloud of insects had swirled into being. This can't! It's
more than awful! She imagined that the Princess would come
through the doors and have her removed, or that Roland would
appear and. . . yes! Oh, please! Didn't they realize that
this was frightening? That being tied helpless for the
night was punishment enough? That she was not some servant
wench, used to the whim of her mistress, but a delicate
lady?
But then, after the first few tests of her prostrate
body, she had realized that this was, in fact, going to
happen. That for her punishers, comfortable in their fine
beds, her plight was a pleasant thought, and that they found
a night of `discomfort' (for that's all they thought it was)
was a very appropriate penance for a young lady with a
penchant for running away. She had screamed to tell them
that it was already too much! That she was already so sorry
and so punished, and Mercy-Oh-Mercy, they must surely spare
her!
But the gag stifled her voice, and only quite moans
escaped.
Then she struggled again, feeling that she must
escape, or die trying. But the straps held her snug and
safe, and she neither escaped nor died.
Finally, her only act allowed was to look this way and
that, trying to follow individual monsters. When there were
a few, this was possible, but soon there were many.
Hundreds! And they flew close about her face and lips, and
the backs of her knees and there was no way she could follow
even one.
So it was that Lady Jessica had given up trying to
focus on the swarm. Instead, she stared with single-minded
attention at herself, looking between her breasts, past her
belly, to the swollen bulge of her sex. Light from it
filtered through the soft fur of her pubic hair,
silhouetting the parasites as they alighted and departed
her..
She watched, as one randomly swooped in. Punished as
she was, the most important thing in the world was the
question of what it might do. Would it fly past? Oh,
please! Or, no. . . her inner thigh, already freckled with
bites! Or maybe it would go down, past the horizon of her
vagina and torment her buttocks, or the cheeks of her anus.
Maybe it would even venture between those orbs, where a few
of it's brothers had already been, and add another star to
the constellation of discomfort she suffered in there!
Punished little girls, she reminded herself, using the
mocking tones she was sure they would, were supposed to keep
their minds on their punishments. This momentary event
certainly had her full attention!
Time seemed to stop as it landed softly upon her
nether lips, and she thought, `No! MERCY, no more THERE!
OH, PLEASE!' and she thrust and struggled as though if she
were bit there again, she would perish. But the creature
knew it was safe, and her movement didn't amount to much
anyway, and it fluttered lazily over to a damp, pink fold,
and drank it's fill, and all the while, she cried into the
gag and bucked and thrust in a manner that was sexual and
desperate.
And then, oh-did-it-itch! Oh. .. She would give
anything to scratch that one spot! Anything at all! How
could she suffer this and not go mad, and not die? None of
the itches went away. There were just more and more of
them. She learned that the longer the bite lasted, the
worse the itch. The more bites in the same place, the
worse the itch. These revelations made struggle of some
kind imperative!
And so it was. Such dramas were played every second.
And most times, there were many attackers. A cloud of smoke
around each breast. A dark, buzzing shadow, thick between
her thighs. Two small outposts, visiting her feet, and
keeping her dancing.
It was not lost on her, that this torment was designed
to keep her most erogenous skin continually stimulated.
The distress kept the entirety of her attention focused, for
every second, on her sexual regions. It was so successful,
that she felt dampness from her sex over-full sex slide
between her buttocks. The insects seemed to like her juices
as much as they appreciated the sugar-water, and they gave
her lesson after lesson in how sensitive and aware she could
be of the narrow space between her sex and her anus.
She was a slender girl, and her breasts were neither
too large nor too small for her body, but in the sizzling
attention of the mosquitoes, they felt huge. She watched
helplessly as they swarmed her, finding the undersides and
the nipples the best spots for their tickling, itching
assault. Her nipples already felt swollen tight, making
them even more vulnerable to the pin-prick stings of the
creatures. And all she could do was watch, fascinated and
horrified, as they took their time with her.
Her buttocks hadn't fared any better. If only Roland
were now here to swat at her pale jiggling orbs! It would
be worth it to spare them from the monsters! But as things
stood she deeply regretted having earned a spanking before
suffering this. Roland had tenderized her far more than he
knew, and the raw, punished skin reported every bite, ever
wing flutter, and every new, scintillating welt with
unfailing accuracy. She felt their spastic, idiot caress
as they knitted their punishment across her seat.
Even with so many things to worry about, she found
their torment of her anus especially frightening. They
ravished the outer cheeks, but seemed, perhaps, a little
unwilling to enter such a narrow world. They needn't have
feared: Roland knew her anus was to suffer, and he had tied
her so that it was open beyond her control. Still, when
they did venture inside to partake of her wetted, slippery
opening, the sensation of itching was so horrible and
intense that she was afraid she might loose control.
Loose control and. . . She tried not to think about
what merciless stimulation of her anus might lead to. At
least on her sex, they had many targets to enjoy, and the
small opening from which she peed had only been bitten once!
Tears streamed down the sides of her face, and saliva,
escaped from her gagged mouth, dripped down her cheek. More
small irritations that summed to the astronomical whole of
her misery!
Time passed.
Later (hours?) she was so exhausted, that despite the
incessant tickling of her feet she ceased to fight, and they
hung still. The moment she made this decision, she was
suffused with relief at not having to exercise anymore, and
she honestly intended to endure passively, whatever was
inflicted. They tormented her arches, wringing blubbering
sobs from her, but she did gain two, or maybe three seconds
of surrender before they discovered the soft webbing between
her toes! The ferocious itch was electrifying, making her
whole body spasm and twist, and somehow, from somewhere,
she found the energy to resume her rapid kicking. The
motion, maybe, discouraged a few of the attackers.
An instant had passed.
Eight insects, ignoring her feeble protests, enjoyed
the fleshy curve of her buttocks. Their bites reminded her
where Roland had most enjoyed spanking her. She was sure it
could not get worse but when she collapsed exhausted, dozens
of them, waiting for just such a calm descended on the
insides of her thighs like hundreds of lover's kisses.
A second passed.
Through tear-blurred vision, she watched mosquito
alighted on her left nipple. Her left nipple was already
ablaze with welts upon welts. She screamed into the gag and
begged with her eyes, please, oh, please! Anywhere else!
And she struggled, not with any hope of protecting herself,
but thinking that maybe she could convince the creature to
take another option. It landed, right where she was afraid
it would, and needled her for a long, deep drink that left a
welt which would torment her especially throughout the
night.
Seconds passed. Slowly, they became minutes. Finally
hours. When she guessed, deliriously, that sunrise must be
soon it was almost eleven thirty at night. Now she lay
still. The body had exhausted itself, fighting with all of
it's strength and all of her will and there was nothing
left. She had thought that, somehow, when this point was
reached, it might be bearable. She had imagined that maybe
she would reach an understanding and be able to make peace
with the punishment. But she learned the submission was
only what was required, and it spared her nothing. In fact,
when she lay calm, she discovered how awfully effective her
small protest had been.
Movement, even the small amount she had been allowed,
had spared her anus and the inner folds of her sex a most
devastating work out. It was not even midnight, when she
found herself opened to the `serious' portion of the
punishment and her suffering began in earnest. She could do
nothing. Even the most spectacular torment of her most
delicate sexual flesh couldn't stir her body to protect her.
She squirmed faintly, watching as the swarm descended
enmasse, covering the entire crescent of flesh from her
clitoris to her anus. As Lord Sopwith had hoped, cried.
On the first night of her punishment, Lady Jessica
cried all night.
Morning finally did come, long after she suffered
everything many times. With the first rays of the sun the
insects were gone, becoming ash, and drifting away in the
faint breeze. Although Jessica had imagined this moment as
a relief of epic proportions, she found that misery they
had left her with did not fade in the least. But there was
one mercy. Without the unending assault she could finally
surrender to he exhaustion and, after a manner, sleep.
She remembered a little about when they came for her.
Mainly that Roland was the first through the door, and that
he waited impatiently at her side while the handmaids and
servants and guards of the Palace came by to see how she had
faired. Each visitor and even passersby in the hall enjoyed
the devastatingly intimate view she presented. There was
much speculation about the light she gave off, and how badly
she needed relief from that kind of itch.
As for the bites, she recalled the loathsome
handmaid's game of offering to rub her, if only she would
describe, in great detail, where she most needed it. In
this facility, she knew she had been a great source of
entertainment for the help staff, who had ceased their cruel
teasing (she was never, once, touched, as per the Princess's
orders) only when other needs of hers proved more timely,
and she begged for a bedpan, that she might relieve the
pressures she had endured all night.
What before, she could not do in private, she did now
before an appreciative audience, who understood exactly how
demeaning it was. And, afterwards, it was Roland who took
her away. He untied her and carried her, cradling her in
his arms. She knew she was filthy, and disgusting, and
should be mortally ashamed of these things, but she so
needed to be held that she pressed her tear-wet face against
his neck and slipped back into sleep.
When she awoke, she knew some but not much time had
passed. She was laying on a tile floor, with her hands tied
to a post above her head, but she was otherwise freed. She
looked up at the whitewashed walls and to her left at a
great, oyster-shaped tub of marble, and she realized that
she was in the Princess's bath chamber.
She wasn't alone.
"Hush," Roland said, for she had whimpered. "The
Princess has demanded that you be brought to her as soon as
you awaken. If they discover I've not done so, I'll be
punished along with you." She looked at him wide eyed,
amazed at the simple way he described the risk he was
taking. When he knew she understood, he took a basin of
warm water and a pile of wash rags to the floor beside her.
"I'm going to clean you quickly.."
He held her left ankle, bending her knee up to her
chest, and she felt him place the warm cloth between her
legs and wash her as though she were an infant. He cleaned
her buttocks and her thighs, and the he placed a hand over
her mouth so that when he wiped her anus and sex, her moans
would not be heard. He pretended not to notice the way she
wiggled, or the noises she made, or the light that betrayed
the pleasure she felt. He was fast, but thorough, scrubbing
hard, in a way that both soothed the itch and was too rough
to allow her to spend. When he was done, the agony of the
bites had faded so that it was still a torment, but not so
much of one she couldn't bear it.
"That will be some comfort for you when the Princess
sends for you," He said. "I would clean your face, but they
wish you to appear in Court tonight, sullied by a night of
tears." He stroked her hair and offered her water from a
flask (no wine this time, but water was what she wanted).
"I can only risk another five minutes." He looked around.
"Here. Let me fold a towel for your pillow. . ."
"Why are you helping me?" She managed. He looked at
her as though she had uttered nonsense.
"If you want, I'll deliver the Princess now," He said,
archly.
She looked away so he wouldn't see the new tears, and
he gently brought her head back. "I'm sorry. I. . . I feel
bad for you, and I have no doubt that even with my help,
you'll get all the punishment you need."
"They can't mortify me publicly! Not like Andrea!
Oh, mercy. . . I could never stand it. . ." He held her, but
he did not agree.
"Do you think I deserve this?" She asked, and he
simply nodded. He was a disciplined, professional soldier,
she thought bitter and impressed. He would never find
himself asking the Court for punishment, as she had done.
She imagined how he must think of her. Spoiled. Arrogant.
Disgraceful. Oh, Mercy, some part of her that enjoyed
seeing her despair scolded, I don't deserve his kindness!
Would not he be pleased if I begged to be taken before the
Princess for the harshest punishment she could deliver?
But then he smiled. "But at least this way we've met
so that I like you. I'm sure if you were in your official
capacity, I'd find you an intolerable brat, and you'd ignore
me as beneath your station."
She blushed miserably. "What is there to like? That
I'm getting what I deserve? That the smallest torments they
devise for me are unbearable?"
He laughed, "There is that. And I would be lying if
I denied that your. . . vulnerability touches me, but
there's also your spirit. Anyone who made this much an
enemy of the Princess cannot be all a coward. And, you're
honest with yourself. You admit you've misbehaved." He
studied her, for a moment before he continued, "And, if
you'll forgive me, Mi'Lady, you're quite beautiful." She
closed her eyes, blushing.
"I. . ." She swallowed and tried to continue. She
still didn't dare look. "I feared you found me repulsive. .
." She broke into tears, and she felt him close to her.
"Nonsense!" He was appalled that she might feel that
way. "Why? How might that be possible?"
"What can you. . . mercy. . . what can you possibly
think of a Lady who wets herself so when she's punished?"
She sobbed with shame, and he kissed her lightly,
saying, "Only that she needs to be punished more
frequently."
His words froze her. She was looking up, into his
eyes, and she knew that her face reported her reaction as
faithfully as her nipples or sex. Oh, Mercy. . .
"I'm sure you agree that if you had a man in your
household. . . one who wouldn't hesitate to correct you most
severely, when you needed it, you wouldn't be here today."
How dare her body react that way to such a suggestion!
It was insulting to her dignity as a Lady, that this soldier
thought she needed a man to spank her when she was bad! And
how dare he torment her with such images? But naked as she
was, squirming in his arms, she didn't dare bluster or
scold, and she could only tell him the truth of what she
felt. She looked down, and said, "No such man would
tolerate me, Sir."
"Because you can be selfish and thoughtless and
willful?" His voice was very gentle, almost teasing, but
without malice.
She nodded.
"I think he would cherish you when you're giving,
remind you when you're thoughtless, and discipline you so
that your will works for you and not against you."
His face was very close to hers and all she could
think of was how beautiful he was and how strong and gentle,
and authoritative. He kissed her again, then.
"What. . . mercy, what was that for?"
"I wanted to," He said.
She tried to say something to him. Something
complicated and honest. She wanted to ask him for
something, but she didn't know the words. When she opened
her mouth to speak, he silenced her with a kiss. "Hush,
now. We'll talk later. The guards are coming." He lay
her back, and stood. Then, with one last, secret look at
her he went to hold the door for them.
Jessica realized that her sex ached and burned with a
tension wound so tight that she felt her gut would implode.
Shame radiated from her body casting reflections on the
polished tile. It means I need to be punished more, she
thought, and she almost smiled.
"It's so difficult," The Princess complained
laughingly. "I will please myself no matter what, but I
must consider the tastes of the Court as well. They need to
be entertained. And then there's you." She sat up in bed,
a tray laden with freshly cut strawberries and pancakes
dripping with honey and half melted butter. Sunlight
streamed through the window, onto her bed, making it's white
sheets appear supernaturally brilliant and clean and
comfortable. Her hair had been combed recently and her
fingernails painted and filed. She had a beautiful smile
and it was clear she was enjoying herself. She was talking
about Jessica's sentence.
"I can see that you are very. . . how should I put
this? Delicate? I'm afraid that you'll surrender all too
easily, and that would spoil everything. I have the added
burden of making sure that whatever I devise for you is so
humiliating that you have to fight it. That's where the
drama comes from. The internal struggle between the desire
to submit and the cost in pride." She sighed. "I'm sorry,
Honey, but you're so sensitive that I'll have to make sure
that cost is very, very dear." She smiled and plucked a
strawberry from the bowl, dipped it in whipped cream and
delicately ate it, being careful to keep it's red stain from
her pristine sheets.
"I'm sure you appreciate the difficulty."
Jessica stood in the center of the room, forbidden to
move. She was naked, her legs comfortably apart, and her
hands atop her head. The Princess had also ordered her to
spread her wings, and so they stretched from her shoulders
up to the ceiling, and out. They appeared as glittering
membranes, wet and suffused with the same warm light that
dripped from her sex and nipples. For a Nixie, such a
display was almost unbearably vulgar, as if she had been
ordered to spread her nether lips and expose everything. It
was horrible, and even though she knew that this was a
private humiliation, performed only before her Princess, it
was almost too much to bear. It was as though the Princess
was determined to rob her nudity of all dignity. The tear-
stained face, the ripe, sloppy condition of her sex, and
even the deep blush that never left her weren't enough. She
had to be exposed in the most degrading way possible.
The relief she had experienced when Roland washed her
had faded over time, and now the all but invisible rash of
bites that decorated her private body itched worse and
worse. It was more than she could do to keep her hips
still, and they moved constantly, and ever so slightly, in a
dance dictated by the discomfort. Would she squirm again,
and be punished for it? She was afraid she would.
But even worse than that, was the need that her ordeal
had awakened in her. She had the feeling of frustration
that one experiences when sex or masturbation (it had been a
long time since she had had sex) is interrupted before
climax. She had never imagined she could need it that
badly, and it terrified her. What if it could get worse?
Would she. . . ask for it? Beg? Oh, Mercy!
The Princess absentmindedly scratched at her arm.
"The mosquitoes were a wonderful idea. I shall have to ask
the magicians if we can arrange for a smoke pot under each
x-wrack, and a spell to insure that only the supplicant who
hangs there is tormented. Wouldn't that make it more
entertaining?"
Jessica gasped and the gasp turned into a sob, and she
trembled. She didn't lower her hands or fold he wings, but
she was wracked with misery she couldn't hide.
"You'll be pleased to know that I've arranged
transport for our entire class. Especially the girls who
could stand you." Katherine paused for another fruit.
"I've always said that being humiliated before your enemies
is bad, but being humiliated before your friends is worse.
I can only imagine how sorry you must be."
This is for School, Jessica thought. This is
punishment for not following her. For rebelling, I'm to
stand here naked, itching, with my wings spread and my
excitement creeping down the insides of my thighs, so that
she can mock and tease me to her heart's content! She
wants me frustrated to tears!
There was a knock at the door, and Katherine looked
up. "Come," she said.
The teenage handmaid entered. She glanced at Jessica,
but didn't stare. "The Wheels are prepared, Your Highness."
Katherine smiled. "Excellent." She looked at
Jessica, and then at the maid. "Do you think we should tell
her what is in store for her? So that she may worry and
fret while she marinates upon The Wheels?"
The handmaid nodded. Now she did study Lady Jessica,
her pleased smile never fading. She reveled in the Lady's
powerless animosity. "May I say it?"
"As a reward for your service, Meredith," Katherine
allowed.
Meredith the Handmaid approached Jessica, her eyes alight with cruel
pleasure. "Well, Mi'Lady, The Wheels are two brass wagon wheels more
than ten feet high, and they're. . . I'd say, two feet apart. You hang
on them, your left hand and ankle on the left wheel and the same on the
right." She paused so that Jessica could imagine this. "Then they turn
slowly and round you go. Now, between the wheels there's all manner of
things placed so that they stroke you right up the middle. Some are
feathers. Some are lashes. They've stinging nettles, and all manner of
wonderful surprises. And you never see what's coming because you're
arched so. They go just fast enough that the feathers tickle and the
lashes hurt."
The Princess nodded. "It's so. You see, Dear, there's enough pleasure
to make you spend at only once around the wheel, but just exactly enough
pain that you wont. And I'm afraid that for you, that's a rather large
amount of punishment. In one revolution, your sex will be raw and sore
and so sensitive that even the caress of feathers will be torment. It
would be punishment enough, but I'm afraid you'll turn on the wheel all
day."
Jessica sank to her knees, shaking her head, clasping
her hands in front of her. But the Princess had more to
say. "You see, you need to be ready for your sentence. You
need to be on the edge of spending all day so that when
you're brought before the Court, your humiliation will be
complete. I've decided that you'll serve on your hands and
knees for a year, like Andrea, but before you're allowed
that, you'll entertain us by having you most interesting,
private fantasies-the ones that you masturbate to, Dear-
magically extracted for everyone at Court to see. We need
the Wheels to get your imagination working."
Roland, Jessica thought dumbly. No. . . no, that
couldn't be allowed! Oh, Mercy, what would he think? He'd.
. . she'd. . . she tried to imagine what would happen if he
saw her serving him on her hands and knees. . . if he knew
that, during the awful night of punishment, her only
distraction had been the fantasy of him standing above her,
scolding her in a calm, even comforting voice and telling
her silly things, like that he cared for her, and found her
pretty, while he flogged her sex! He'd never understand!
He'd find her laughable! Pathetic!
"No! Oh, Mercy, Please!"
The Princess smiled. "Do you want to beg me?"
Jessica, her eyes huge, her lips trembling, her hands
fluttering nodded. Katherine smiled. She slid off the bed
and raised her nightgown. Her sex was shaven smooth, wet
and swollen with anticipation, and beautifully lit. "You may
appeal to your Princess, Jessie." She took her hairbrush
from the night table and gave it to Meredith. "Please
inspire the Lady," She asked sweetly. "If she fails to
finish me before she succumbs to your strokes, she shan't be
spared."
Jessica crawled, weeping desperately. She placed
herself on her hands and knees and even arched her back and
rolled her hips to make a pretty and easy target of her
buttocks for Meredith to torment. Then she lifted her face
and asked, "May I please you, Ma'am?"
"Is it. . . oh, Jessie, it's terribly, horribly
humiliating, isn't it?"
"Mercy, yes," Jessica sobbed, tears streaming down her
face. The Princess's sex glowed brightly and seemed to
swell with approval.
"Then you may, Jessie," The Princess said, softly.
"You may. . ."
Meredith waited until Jessica's lips touched the split
curve of the Princess's organ. Then she set about to
punishing the disgraced Lady. She swung slightly up, and
snapped her wrist at the last moment each time so that the
spanking would impart sharp, scalding pain to the
defenseless orbs.
Oh, Mercy, No! No! Not there! Please! Oh, I
mustn't move, or quit, or, oh! It wasn't fair! Jessica
tried to concentrate on her service to the Princess. She
had been with girls at school, but she had never used her
lips. Only her hands, and only rarely. Still, she knew what
she was supposed to do, and no matter how degrading, she
resolved to do it if it would spare her from being exposed
before Roland. She would do anything, she decided!
If she could. The handmaid knew how to spank, and was quick to realize
that her subject was delightfully tender. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! The
burn became unbearable! Jessica sobbed, muffling her cries by pressing
her face against the Princess's sex, ready to surrender when the next
spank fell, but it didn't.
In the moment of respite, Jessica willed herself to lick in
earnest. She didn't know what had spared her, but she knew it might not
last long.
It didn't. The moment she composed herself, the Handmaid spanked her
again, slowly, so that it took every bit of her to remain still and
submissive, and all she could do was sob pitifully into her Princess.
But just before she surrendered, the spanking stopped again.
Jessica moaned and tried again, her tears mixing with the Princess's
excitement on her cheeks. She felt Meredith pet her rear with the flat
of the brush.
"Are you going to toy with her all day," Katherine asked.
"If I may, Your Highness," The handmaid said contritely.
"You may," Katherine smiled. "But remember that every minute spent
humiliating her here is a minute she is spared having her sex and anus
flayed to the edge of orgasm on the Wheels."
The spanking began again, and it was horrible. Jessica screamed into
the quivering flesh. Her buttocks danced as she tried to be brave!
The thought of loosing Roland was enough to make her keep position, even
when the handmaid lay her chastisement on the same flesh again and
again. It was not enough. She could not bare the spanking, and the
Handmaid knew it. The Princess had her hands on her
hips, paying more attention to the Jessica's beautifully suffering
buttocks than the Lady's attentions to her sex.Jessica's hands flew back
to cover herself, and the game was over.
Oh mercy. . . MERCY! It. . please. . . "Please,"
She gasped. "Let me again! Oh, Mercy, I beg you!"
The Princess stroked her sticky, glistening face, and knelt, looking
into her eyes. "You tried very hard, Honey. I'm proud of you. But I'm
afraid you needed to do better. Don't worry. You'll have a year to
learn to take your spankings." She smiled and clapped. Two guards
stepped into the room.
"Take her to the Wheels, and make sure the feast is prepared for
tonight. There will be a great many guests."
Meredith grinned, pleased with the work she had done, but the
Princess's look was soft, and almost wistful as she watched Jessica be
taken away.
ArkSyn
The Princess’s Court
Part 4 of 5
(FM/Ff nc)
The Wheels were in the dungeon, which Jessica found to be a terrifying
place. It was full of vast arches and confusing tunnels, and everywhere
she turned, there were dramas of punishment and suffering. In one room,
delicate Nixie women wiggled with unending discomfort. They were
shackled to the wall, and their wings stretched and pinned, so they
appeared as butterflies on display. In another chamber a desperate
young man tied over a bench struggled to spare his penis and scrotum the
wax drippings from a candle wielded playfully by a female warden. She
heard his pleading echo through the halls. They moved her quickly and
she was sobbing desperately so that she could only glance at the wonders
that she passed. There were suits of armor with strategic plates
removed that held bodies desperate for motion in position, their
tenderest flesh exposed to the ravishes of whips and straps. There were
rows of spanking machines with oiled leather saddles and heavy straps.
Serving girls hung from their wrists in alcoves, the glow of their
exposed flesh used to light the long, dark corridors. From one chamber
that she dared not look into, there was hysterical laughter and
breathless cries for mercy.
The Wheels were at the end, and they were just what Meredith had
described. They were massive things, gleaming in the light of torches
the light that she gave off. She could see the soft bedl of feathers
and flower pedals, broken by leather-thonged whips and thin, flexible
canes. She broke into tears just looking at them, but the guards had
their orders and there was no mercy for her.
First her wrists, and then her ankles were strapped in. The feathers
ticked her back and buttocks. She was bent so that she looked up at the
ceiling. Her sex, already miserable with need felt swollen and achy, and
she suffered cramps of frustrated excitement. She begged the guards
shamelessly, but they ignored her and when she was helpless they stepped
away. One went to the wall, and drew a lever.
The Wheels began to turn.
Oh. . . something soft whispered up between her legs. It touched the
lips of her sex, caressed her opening, and as she rolled past it, it
stroked her anus. Oh, Mercy! It was felt wonderful and she was
terrified. Another caress. . . like the petals of flowers. . . the
stone arches of the dungeon rolled past her. She was facing the floor.
Moving faster, now.
Mercyyyyy! Oh, that felt good! But there wasn’t enough, and it didn’t
touch her clitoris! Oh, the frustration!
Jessica moaned. Her flesh was hyper sensitive. The contact was barely
enough to feel, and she focused on it with all her might. Maybe, if she
could just concentrate, she could spend! Oh, Mercy, please! Her nether
lips quivered and dripped and were wiped dry by the kiss of silk. Her
clitoris was already ice-hard and she felt that if it were not touched
she would die. She felt an aching emptiness and she imagined what it
might feel like to have it filled with Roland’s cock.
Swish. . .
More! Mercy more. . . please. . .
Swish. . .
She moaned. She imagined how she might caress herself if her hands
were free. She would open her lips, wider than they were, and
ever-so-lightly, touch her clit. . . and her fingers would slip inside
her. . . and it would be divine. . .
Swish. . .
She imagined that she was on display, on the wrack in Court. Oh, the
humiliation! They would mock and tease her, and to really devastate
her, they would make her beg . . . She’d beg to spend! Oh, that would
be perfect! She’d be so punished. . .
Swish. . .
Oh, that tickled! It barely touched her sex, but it felt like a
feather duster had been run through her anus. The welts that covered
her there, came alive, itching horribly, but also sensing. Feeling.
The world whirled past and she whimpered. The gentle touching was
building up slowly. So slowly that she wanted to cry with frustration,
but it was getting there. She felt release building in her stomach.
Swish. . .Swish. . .Swish. . .
Her swollen sex drank in the attentions of the machine and she let out
whimpering moan. Mercy. . . Mercy. . . oh, when it came, it would be
incredible. She would explode! Her hips began to move in anticipation
of the orgasm. If the wheel would only go a little faster she would be
there, but the machine was superhumanly patient. No living lover could
be this slow, or this sure! She strained as much as she could, trying
to make the next contact come a little quicker.
Swish, swish, swish. . .
M-E-R-C-Y! Her face was a mask of concentration, her eyes closed, her
teeth locked. But the next tick only brushed her thighs, leaving her
sex barren. Her moan was heartrending. And the one after that, she
barely felt, but it tickled the pink line between her lips. She gasped
with frustration. She could feel the power of the orgasm building,
like a storm, from far away. Her abdomen cramped painfully with need.
Swish, swish, swish.
Soft, wonderful things, like fairy’s wings and ghost’s lips passed
between her legs. Oh, Mercy, how could they do this to her? It seemed
like, at any moment, if she would just. . . just brush against. . .
SPLAT!
Jessica howled. Her thoughts scattered. The pain was incredible,
stinging, smarting, agony. The Wheels had wheels within them, and she
had passed, on her way down, a many tailed whip coming up. Oh, mercy,
no! Oh, impossible! She cried out again, this time as much in
frustration as in pain. Now, her sex throbbed with misery where the
whip had kissed it. She could feel lines of fire against her, and the
gentle caress of the feathers and flower petals only slowly began to
soothe her. She fell into broken sobs when, at last, the ache blended
with desperate, wire-thin need that tormented her.
And the pleasure started building again. Oh, mercy, she begged. Oh,
mercy, let me spend this time. Mercy, please. . .
A hundred turns, had passed. The room was the same. The speed of the
wheel was the same. Everything was the same, except for her. On each
turn, she was stroked and teased and pleasured and punished. Each turn
built within her, a tension born of sexual need on one hand and pain on
the other. Now, after a hundred strokes to her sex and anus, she was
horribly sore. The misery was constant, and the fear of the next lash
was agonizing. Would it come now? Or later? When? Every second was
spent in anticipation of lash.
And yet the soothing caress felt so good! If she could only ignore the
threat of punishment, she might spend and spend and then hang limply,
for after that release, there would be nothing left of her. And if she
didn’t spend, it seemed the need to would simply rip her apart! Her
taught, naked body writhed with pleasure promised but only punishment
delivered.
Her sex blazing and dripping, her face contorted by misery, frustration
and need, and her body trembling with it’s own rhythms, Jessica turned
slowly on the Wheels.
Katherine had stopped, right before she spent. She wanted to be ‘on
razor’s edge’ to enjoy the feast. She also knew that, just as
punishment deferred is punishment intensified, so it is with pleasure.
So she forced herself to be still and recover her wits before she
summonsed Meredith to dress her for the Sentencing and the Feast.
"Will the hall be full," She asked the serving girl, as she labored
with her Princess’s corset.
"Oh, yes, Your Highness! They are arriving even now. I had heard
that many of them had not heard of Lady Connor’s current. . . condition,
Miss, and that they saw her, and her them for the first time in ages, as
she wiggled on the wrack."
Katherine smiled and closed her eyes to let her mind fill with the
image! Oh, how humiliating! "And her. . . glow?" She asked, still
savoring it.
"Ever bright. She’s been kept in suspense all day."
Oh! Maybe, she thought, she should have finished herself. Surely she
would be ready to enjoy the festivities again, in minutes, if this
evening kept it’s delightful pace. Of course Andrea’s misery was just
an appetizer. The main course would be Jessica.
"And what of Lady Jessica, Meredith? How does she fair?"
Meredith looked down, and Katherine felt her face flush with alarm.
"She hasn’t spent, has she?" The Wheels should never allow that! But
clearly something was up.
The handmaid looked up, quickly, "Oh, Your Highness, no! But. . ."
Katherine put her hands on her hips. "Meredith, please tell me what’s
going on with Jessica."
Meredith swallowed. "I. . . She was to be taken off at sixty
revolutions. . . She was left on for over four hundred, Miss. . ."
She looked at the floor.
"Four hundred! Why, Meredith, she’ll be delirious!" She thought of it.
Four hundred near-but-not-quite-orgasms, four hundred sessions of
terrifying mechanical discipline. And after a sleepless night, as well.
She glared at the maid. "What is her state?"
Meredith looked up, hopefully, and Katherine realized that it wasn’t
that bad. "She’s aware miss. She cannot sit or close her legs, and
she is horribly swollen and wet, but she knows what she faces enough to
beg for your pardon. . ."
Katherine smiled. "Was this. . . disobedience intentional?"
Meredith nodded, but smiled. Like the Princess, she found the idea of
punishment for disobedience arousing, but she was far too careful and
tender to actually break a rule the Princess would discipline for. She
had come close this time. Katherine studied her. "Four hundred turns.
Can you imagine how she must suffer?"
"Oh, she’s in agony, Miss! Her sex smarts unbearably, itches, and begs
for friction that, if it were received, she couldn’t abide. She was
left untied, and couldn’t even stand to masturbate herself! And she
tried as we watched!"
Katherine felt herself impressed. She had thought sixty was a great
many, but she had secretly wished to roast Jessie for longer. The
Handmaid had realized this and had sought to please her. Masturbated
without care for an audience! Oh, she must need it! The Princess
considered what an amusing show that would make! Her sex throbbed in
her panties, and she, had a whim. Something relatively harmless to
amuse her in the background of her mind while she ran the court. She
studied the young Handmaid. She was a pretty girl, and used her own
fear of punishment to devise terrible trials for others. "I am sure you
knew I would be pleased with the outcome, if not your methods,"
Katherine told her. The Handmaid grinned shyly, but proud. "I am,
Dear. You have pleased your Princess. "But since that is what you
wish, let me describe another way you may please me."
"Anything, Your Highness," The girl said.
"Guard? Escort Meredith down to the Wheels. I wish to enjoy the
thought of her swallowing her own medicine." She smiled gently into the
Child’s terrified, wide-eyed expression. "Don’t worry, Dear. I don’t
mean for you to suffer extravagantly. You’ll only turn a few times. No
more than ten, and then I’ll be down to release you."
"But. . . but, please. . ." She was shaking her head. "Miss, please!
I couldn’t bare it!"
Katherine stroked her, comforting her. "You shall. Oh, I know how
tender you are, but it shan’t be for long. And I promise that you’ll be
able to make it up with Jessie. I’ll give her to you for a day to play
with when she’s a servant here. Okay? Your Princess will be very
pleased to know that you’ve suffered just a bit. But not too much. I
wouldn’t want the girls to feel that you had been punished for properly
caring for them."
Meredith swallowed her tears and tried to hide her fear and her anger.
She tried to be brave as she was lead away. Katherine sighed. It would
teach her a lesson, but it mustn’t go on too long. Still. "Guard," She
added softly, "Instead of setting it for a certain number of turns, let
it turn until I arrive. After all, if I am a little late, I don’t what
her getting bored." He nodded, and she listened to the teenager start
to sob angrily when she thought she was out of earshot. Don’t worry,
Child, she thought. I’ll be down right after the feast.
It was, she thought, going to be a wonderful party.
Jessica suffered a very special kind of agony. Raw pain, of course,
but mixed with so many other sensations that she could hardly identify
it. The pounding, throbbing need was the worst of it. She tried to
clear her mind of the things it brought to her but that was impossible.
So she merely suffered extravagantly. At least it was over, she told
herself. The time on the Wheels. But what came next would be her
undoing.
She replayed the morning with Roland as she had so many times today.
He had kissed her, and told her he liked her. And he had told her. . .
he had told her that a man who understood her would cherish her. It was
almost agony to consider what he would think of her when he saw her
private fantasies. Despair wracked her and she cried because of it as
well as everything else. She was still sobbing when he came to collect
her. She looked up at him and she could see in the concern of his face
how pathetic she was.
"Oh, Jessica. . ." He was speechless. He knelt. "Open your legs.
Let me see. . . Mercy. . ." He was shaking his head, looking at the
thoroughly attended region between her legs. He looked into her eyes.
"You. . . you turned on the wheel all day?" Disbelief. She nodded, and
he held her head tightly, rocking her back and forth. "Oh, baby," He
murmured to her. "Mercy, Jessie. . . poor baby. . ." When she moaned
he looked down. "What now?"
"Please. . . Oh, Sir, I beg you. . . you mustn’t attend the
Sentencing. Please! If you have any mercy at all!"
"I. . . Jessica, you know I have no choice." He studied her, not
understanding. "Why. . . why do you not want me there?" Had she hurt
him by telling him to go? Oh, this was horrible. But she couldn’t
tell him. She would explain as best she could.
"They’re. . . they’re going to humiliate me horribly! I. . . I
couldn’t bare for you to see that. . ." She looked up, into his eyes,
trying to make him understand the magnitude of her fear.
He nodded. "Of course they are going to humiliate you. And that’s why
I’m forced to be there. Humiliation is being naked. Being exposed,
without any of the protection society gives you. It’s to make you
ridiculous. It’s as important in punishment as the pain. More so. And
they know I. . . that I care about you. And they know. . ." He sighed.
"It is not an option."
"Roland!" He stood, to motion the guards to bring in their package.
She grabbed his sleeve, crying, "Please! You don’t understand!" But
then she was struck speechless, because it was the X-wrack an a wheeled
cart. The dowel had been greased so that it gleamed sinisterly in the
fire-light of the small chamber. She cried out, but he ignored her.
First her arms were secured. Then, with one guard holding each leg, he
guided her hips back toward the wooden rod. She struggled because she
couldn’t not struggle. He shook his head, and then held his palm above
her sex, while the guards, supporting her weight, held her immobile.
"Do you want me to spank your sex?" He asked mildly.
"Roland! N-no. . . oh, mercy, no!"
There was a devastatingly wet smack as he slapped the swollen organ.
Jessica screamed and kicked and writhed. It was horrible! And
terrifying. She looked into his eyes, shaking her head. No. . .no. . .
she said nothing.
He nodded. "Then will you submit?"
She nodded again.
His hand remained, threatening a threat she couldn’t bear. Unable to
look at it, she turned away. Wrong.
SPLAT!
She howled at the top of her lungs, and her body spasmed. He had her
full attention. "Say it," He ordered. "No more nonsense from you.
Yes, I do care for you. Yes, I do feel. . . that some things are amiss.
But I also believe that you deserve to be very thoroughly punished, and
I will gladly carry out that order. Now tell me you will submit to me."
"I su-hu-hub-mit, Sir," She blubbered out. "Please. . . mercy,
please,"
"You’ll have to trust me, Jessica."
She nodded.
He rolled her hips and she gasped. Then she moaned. There was
pressure against her raw, smarting anus, and she couldn’t bear it. Then
the pressure got worse and she felt her sphincter began to surrender.
No! Her body rebelled as best it could, but she felt herself opening.
Oh, it was huge! It felt so. . . authoritative back there. She
stretched and widened to allow it passage. She felt it enter the warm,
tight confines of her body. It was. . . oh, mercy, it was inside her,
and she could feel every inch of it! He slowly lowered her onto the
greased pole.
Then it was in. Many of the punishments they so enjoyed administering
generated an embarrassing physical need of great intensity that the
subject was not able to satisfy. Thus the hunger of her sex demanded
that she masturbate to relieve it. The itch that still bedeviled her
nipples would encourage her to rub herself, there, improperly, had she
been able. The rod generated, within her, the sensation of being full
and needing with impossible urgency and desperation to empty herself.
She squirmed as much as she could, but there was no escaping it.
Roland nodded. "Take her before the Court," He commanded, and they
began their journey.
"Silence, please," Cried the announcer. "The Court invites you to look
to the main doors as Lady Jessica McLangly is presented for sentencing."
They stood, and looked with great interest. They had no idea what to
expect, so her state of utter disgrace would be a surprise. She heard
the squeak of the wheels of her cart as she was rolled through the door.
Oh, Mercy!
She had thought she would cry, but this was a humiliation beyond tears.
In the moment that the dozens and dozens of Lords and Ladies looked upon
her, she realized that she would always be remembered this way. And
that they could enjoy her misery guiltlessly because she deserved it and
because she glowed.
She hung her head and whimpered. Her hips moved because they could not
be still. If the smarting sting in her raw sex didn’t compel her, the
rod that spread her buttocks so much would have. But those discomforts
were even unnecessary. She needed to spend so bad she couldn’t wait to
be allowed to ask for it. Maybe, she thought with great shame, if I
mortify myself, I’ll be ‘rewarded’ the way Andrea was. At least it
would be something. . .
Katherine stood, and looked down from the dais at her. "Welcome to the
Court, Jessica. Oh my! Oh, my! We have been naughty, haven’t we?"
Laughter. The Princess’s simpering tone was perfect mockery and the
Court appreciated it. "Clearly you are very. . . ready. . . for your
sentence." She spoke to the gathered crowd. "This young lady’s passion
has gotten her here. I felt it would educational for the Court to see
exactly what sort of imaginings could lead a girl so astray. With the
help of a spell prepared by the Court Magician, her thoughts will be
made public. If she can. . . resist. . . thinking of such things, she
may disappoint us, but I believe that will not be the case. Do you have
anything to say, Jessica?"
She looked up. She had to try! Maybe, just maybe if she were utterly
sincere and held nothing back! She cried desperately, her face raised
to Katherine and begged, "Please, Princess! I beg you and the Court
don’t reveal me so! I beg some other humiliation!"
Katherine just smiled and Jessica, lifted a narrow wand, with a flick
of her wrist, set Jessica’s mind free. She held it as long as she
could, and though the magic was strong, her desperate fear of loosing
Roland was stronger. For a moment, nothing happened. She looked at
him, terror streaming down her cheeks, and he shook his head. "Tell
them, Jessica," He whispered.
Oh, Mercy, she thought.
And she did.
They were the most arousing things she could think of. Being walked on
a leash. Being punished in public. Made to serve and obey. Being
displayed naked in public, and performing all manner of sex in private.
She imagined being used mercilessly, his cock, which she imagined to be
huge, sliding in and out of her, without regard for her pleasure. She
imagined humiliating scenes in which she was treated as a bad little
girl. Being forbidden or compelled to masturbate. She imagined all
this, but, almost worse, were her teddy-bear-sweet, story-book-romantic
endings, in which he forgave and loved her. Respected her, even,
although it seemed ludicrous. Held her and pressed his lips against
her, soothing her tears. She was a tough, proud girl, and her secrets
mortified her. The crowd sat in awe.
In the silence that followed, she heard a voice. It was his.
Roland’s. It was loud and clear. "May I address the Court?"
There were some whispers. A few. Mainly exclamations of respect for
his bravery and willing to draw their attention to him and away from the
supplicant at a time like this. If his reasons were not. . .
impeccable? And maybe even if they were, he would still risk the
Princess’s sever displeasure.
"Of course you may, Roland. I presume you wish to. . . comment?
Comment on Lady McLangly’s rather interesting ponderances of you." She
smiled sweetly, and the Court nodded and babbled softly in agreement.
That was it! He meant to make some joke or declaration at the poor
Lady’s expense and heighten her misery! In the moment between her
assent and his reply, they all agreed that it was a very shrewd move,
and would like advance him within his rank.
With a misery like the weight of oceans, Jessica felt herself sink.
Her face burned with the shame of what she had showed them, and she
waited, her breath held, for him to lower the axe.
"I wish to speak of my observations of Lady Jessica McLangly," He said.
"Proceed, Lance Corporal." She studied him impatiently. Yes, since he
had featured rather prominently in her fantasies, he was entitled to his
moment of fame. But drawing it out was unwise. Especially since she
had some wonderful, witty and amusing things to tease poor, sobbing,
humiliated Jessica with. Hurry! she willed him.
"I believe the Court will agree that, whatever her other faults. . .
and they may be. . ." He glanced at her and sighed. "many. . .
clearly dishonesty is not one of them." He waited.
She looked at his eyes, trying to guess where he might be going with
this, but his eyes were blank. Soldier’s eyes, she thought. Dismiss
him, then. Tell him that he may make speeches on his own time. But
that blank stare of his was, in some subtle way a challenge, and to
dismiss him would be to back down from it. While she considered, the
men and women in the Galleries, speaking amongst themselves in soft
whispers had agreed that she was an honest girl. She had pled guilty,
hadn’t she? And had admitted everything now, before everyone!
"She has been honest, Lance Corporal." She looked at him. "If you’ve
something to say, then say it. And in any event, I wish to see you when
Court is adjourned."
That should have buckled his knees. It didn’t phase him.
"Only this, Your Highness. When I collected her, she fled at first,
but then came with me. We discussed her crimes and she told me that she
was guilty and deserved the fine punishment that she has received." He
stopped, and walked forward, his footsteps echoing in the great chamber.
He came to stand before the Princess and the Prince. "She mentioned
then, that she had not sinned alone. That many of the girls in her
class were guilty of such things." He looked up, his eyes meeting the
Princess’s. "I realize, Your Highness, that these Courts and
punishments are not for crimes committed long ago, but only for those
who have continued, in their adulthood, to indulge in forbidden
pleasures. I have given some thought as to how she might have been
caught. Her and Lady Connor. And, I confess that I have very few
ideas. But it is clear that they both have a passionate imagination and
a taste for extreme sensations." He stood a moment. "I feel that it is
my duty, as a sworn defender of the Great Contract to express these
observations and to ask, Your Highness, were there any other girls who
shared these traits and were known to dream meddle?"
Princess Katherine opened her lips to speak and then closed them.
"What are you implying, Soldier?" She said. She said it coldly.
"That there may be some who deserve to be punished, who have, so far,
escaped justice." He did not look away.
She laughed. "Commendable, Lance Corporal. If it were your duty to
investigate these things, you would be a tribute to your uniform. As it
stands, I can only assure you that these matters are." She leaned
forward, giving him one last chance, "well in hand. Now, you have
interrupted us enough, and stolen some of Lady McLangly’s well earned
fame, so please await my audience in a side chamber."
He didn’t move. He studied her, and then he nodded. "Your Highness, I
feel that there is enough evidence in Lady McLangly’s statements and
your demeanor to implicate. . . you."
Nobody breathed and nobody moved. Jessica looked at him, standing
alone, and she wanted to beg that he cease. That he not condemn himself
any further, but it was obviously already too late.
"Get this sniveling, heretical peon out of my sight," The Princess
said. She said it to the guards. Her voice was normal. Outraged, but
hardly afraid. When the guards moved, his hand went, ever so subtly to
his sword and they stopped.
"I will surrender myself to your will, Your Highness, as soon as you
have addressed my concern."
She glared at him. "I will do no such thing. And you will be
tormented day and night in the public square for this. You’ll. . ."
"Did you ever dream meddle?" He asked, interrupting her.
She opened her mouth. And then closed it. There were, of course, many
people here who knew. She could not simply deny it. The Prince looked
at her and she felt color and a faint heat in her cheeks. "I. . . In
school. . ." She laughed, but it was a funny, almost pitched laugh that
sounded the slightest bit hysterical in the quiet of the Court. "It was
years ago." She stared at her husband. "Richard, everyone did it.
This is. . . This is not the place." She mustered her dignity and
brandished her authority and turned back. "Guards, I have spoken.
Remove this man immediately. He has insulted his Princess, and he will
pay."
"Have you dream meddled since school, Your Highness?"
She looked at him, thinking that she must not let anyone see the fear
that threatened to explode from her chest. She must not, for a moment
let them think that she was anything less than utterly unconcerned. She
gripped the arms of her throne to keep her hands from trembling. Oh,
mercy, why didn’t he flee? How could he stand to challenge her? She
was. . . she was terrible.
Because, she saw, when she looked into his eyes, he was sure.
And his certainty allowed anything. She felt her lips tremble.
"Never," She said. "Never since." She swallowed, thinking
hysterically, that she must speak louder if they were to believe her.
"I. . ."
"Would you say so under Compelled Oath, Your Highness?" he asked
blandly.
"No!" She looked around. "I. . ." She turned to the Prince. "Why do
you allow this? Richard, this. . . this man. . . and the guards. . .
and all the servants who have not removed him must be. . ."
He studied her intensely and seconds passed in which he neither moved
nor spoke. Then it was clear from his manner that he reached some
conclusion. But he said nothing.
There was a single, soft footfall as Roland approached the dais. She
shrank back into the plush chair, he eyes wide as she looked into his.
Oh, Mercy. . . mercy, no. . . please. . . she shook her head and her
lips whispered, ". . . anything you desire! Please. . . oh, mercy. . ."
"Sire," Roland said, "I am no magician, but I believe I can compel the
truth from your wife by more traditional means. If I may?"
The Prince glanced mildly around the crowded room. He shrugged. "You
are a Soldier. Do your duty,"
Katherine moaned.
The Lance Corporal smiled.
ArkSyn
The Princess’s Court
Part 5 of 5
(FM/FF nc)
This couldn’t be happening! Princess Katherine looked wildly around
from the faces of her guards to the faces of the aristocrats in the
Galleries. They, by the looks of shock she saw, couldn’t believe it was
happening either. Lance Corporal Roland took her by the wrist and
pulled her from her throne. Then he brought her around, and she found
herself face to face with her reflection on the polished floor.
She was over his knee.
She was a Princess, arrayed in her finest dress, before the whole
Court. . . the Court she would have to face every day for the rest of
her life, and she was over his knee! And she had been very bad. No, she
told herself. I must fight! I. . . I can’t confess. . . not after what
I’ve done! She struggled, and he captured her hand. In one motion her
dress was raised, exposing the white curve of her panties.
"It has clearly been a long time since you’ve had a spanking, Your
Highness. I think I’ll allow you your panties." She felt his fingers
caress the thin silk strip that covered her bulging sex. He stroked the
dark furrow between her nether lips, and she flushed knowing that he
found her hot and wet.
POW!
Ugh! Mercy! That stung. . . it hurt!
POW!
"This will stop," he said calmly, "When you confess and give proof.
It’s up to you how long it lasts."
He began to spank with a rhythm. She was as unused to punishment as
any of the Ladies, but unlike some, she had witnessed dozens and she
knew how ridiculous it looked to squirm over your punisher’s lap. She
felt horrible shocks of humiliation rip through her, and it was even
worse than the pain. He stripped her of self control and dignity, one
spank at a time, knowing that the time of tears and confessions would
inevitably come. And so he was in no hurry.
Oh Mercy! Oh, that hurt! She mustn’t make a noise! Can’t cry! Oh,
all the people! The sounds echoed sharply in the hall and sounded like
fire works! When she did squeal, she realized how quiet the room was,
except for her and him.
POW! POW! POW!
The situation under her panties was getting unbearable. She tried to
remind herself of what would happen if she confessed, but it didn’t seem
to matter. Her struggles were becoming more frantic now, and little by
little, noises were escaping from her. This was horrible! She looked
back, trying to determine if his intention, and he smiled back at her,
not at all impatient.
"Owww!" She shrieked, and struggled without any care for how she
looked. The spanking had to stop now! She couldn’t bear another second
of it! "Stop! I order you! Oh! OH! Please!"
He chuckled. "I think you know how to stop this."
Over his knee she was helpless. He had her buttocks at a perfect
height and position. He punished them carefully, and methodically. He
was, she realized, with something like terror, doing what she had done
so many times. He was taking her through the stages of a spanking,
letting her suffer each one along the way before moving forward. She
had been in the reversed position many times, and had enjoyed the
hopeless resistance the supplicant presented. Through her mind flashed
all of the pridefull girls she had broken over her lap, and she began to
weep.
"Please! Not in public! Please!"
"Yes, Princess. In public, before everyone. And with full knowledge
that when you do, it will be even worse. If you need comfort, take it
in the fact that you will get what you deserve."
He went faster now, the preliminaries over, and her body responded
beautifully. He had brought her to an intimate place, where he
controlled all pleasure and pain, and gave her what she knew she
deserved. The terrifying intimacy of her situation broke her and she
sobbed out her confession.
"My Diary," She cried. "It’s all there. Oh, mercy, Sir! Please!"
No body moved. The Prince spoke. "This is true the, Katherine?"
She nodded, crying so hard that she was almost breathless and shook
with her sobs. She pressed her face into her hands, unable to bear the
sight of those around her.
The Prince nodded. "Then there shall be justice." He nodded to
Roland. "Disrobe her. It is unfitting that she should enjoy the
dignity of clothing. She may retain her corset and the boots, for the
Court will find it amusing that she not be utterly naked. But
everything else must go."
"As you wish, Sire," Roland said. He stood her before him and without
any preamble began to remove her clothes. She enjoyed being undressed
sensuously, and often instructed her handmaids to assist her in such a
manner. Then, she would admire her body, and if there were others
around, she would know that they found her beautiful, and she would
revel in their awe.
The Soldier just stripped her and it was horrible. There was no awe.
They enjoyed her beauty, but her terror and tears inspired more
amusement and pity than reverence. She stood in her corset, her silken
panties and her boots of white leather, and trembled. Her fine dress
lay on the side. Her face, carefully made up, was now streaked with
tears. She squirmed in place as he prepared to remove the last of her
dignity.
"Sir, no. . . you can’t. . ." She struggled for words that would
make him understand. He had to understand! "I am a Princess, Sir. . .
I cannot be shamed so. . ."
He nodded. "Because as a Princess, you will feel it so much more
deeply? Because if you are disgraced, you will be revealed to be
unworthy of your authority? And because once they have acquired a taste
for your humiliation and submission, it will be expected?"
Oh, mercy! He understood. She nodded, sobbing. Oh. . . Oh, he would
spare her. . . march her away, and she would suffer in private.
Roland shook his head. "You should feel it deeply, you are unworthy of
your authority, and I suspect it will be a long time before the Court
tires of you." He slit her panties at the waist with a pocket knife,
and drew them away. She felt them slide away, and she was exposed. The
Princess shrieked and folded to her knees, her hands trying to hide the
light that poured out of her. She heard the room reverberate with
laughter and applause.
The Prince held up a hand. During the silence, he studied the scene
before him. His wife shook and sobbed. The soldier awaited
instruction. "You did not know. You only suspected. You are lucky you
were right," He said.
Roland nodded once.
"Since you were right, and because of the risk you took, I wish to
reward you. Name it."
He didn’t hesitate. "Lady McLangly has a year of service to fulfill."
He looked back at her, and she looked up at him from the wrack she hung
on. On the floor, at his feet, Katherine realized what was happening,
and how her plans had failed. Even backfired. She moaned, deeply.
"I have need for an assistant and if you will grant me a boon, I would
like the service of Lady Jessica McLangly."
Jessica stared at him, trembling. She didn’t know what to feel, or
what to think. She felt the eyes of the assembly upon her but for the
first time she didn’t care.
The Prince laughed. "If I had figured so prominently in her. . .
desires, I might wish her as an assistant also. But there are some
matters that remain to be clarified. Her year is to be one of hardship.
Would you be strict with her?"
"I promise, Sire, that she shall, at times, wish she were under
Katherine’s hand. She shall be held to the highest expectations, and
corrected in a most thorough and meticulous manner when she does not
meet them."
The Prince nodded. "And more importantly, will you care for her? You
may treat her as a toy at times, but you must never forget that she is
not one."
He looked back again, appearing to assess her. He turned back to the
dais. "Sire, I cannot help but care for her. It is not an issue."
The Court broke into scattered, excited conversation. Whispered
suppositions. From sounds and tones and half heard words she realized
that they approved. She looked up, and found the Prince’s gaze upon
her.
"What do you think of this?" He asked, "Not that you have a say, but I
wish to know. You have been rather. . . revealed to him. Does not the
idea of his knowing your secret dreams intimidate you?"
"Terribly, Sire," She managed.
"And how do you feel about being punished by him?"
"He is. . ." She looked down, blushing again, "merciless with me. I
cannot bear it."
"Then do you wish to spend your year serving him, knowing that you
shall be spared nothing?"
She looked up and bit her lower lip and nodded. More than anything,
she thought.
"Then it is granted." He turned to Roland. "She is yours. See to it
that you are worthy of the honor."
Roland stepped past the Princess and as the Court watched in silence,
he crossed the floor to where she hung. He took her gently, and held
her while he brought his lips to hers. He kissed her then, and she
heard the roar of the crowd thunder in her ears.
Prince Richard nodded the Court. "Let the festivities begin."
Jessica, still mounted upon her wrack, had been moved to the dais,
where Roland stood by the Prince while they watched the Court floor fill
with feasters and dancers. Tables had been brought in, and there were
roast pigs basted in pineapple juice and sweet potatoes and steaming
pies and great flasks of wine and ale. The decision of how Princess
Katherine was to enjoy the occasion had been answered when it appeared
that one of the serving girls (one of her handmaids, apparently) could
not be found, and so it had been requested that she take the girl’s
place.
The Princess made a horrible servant, Roland thought, but she was
learning.
Lady Isabel, a strong, exotic beauty from their past had just corrected
her on her attitude. "You must be grateful to serve, Kathy," She said
with a smile. "Come here." The Princess came forward slowly, but
Isabel, seated on one of the long benches patted her lap. "Over me,
Honey. Right there. Good. Now spread your ankles wide. When I have a
new serving girl with a bad attitude, I always like to spank down upon
the buttocks and up upon the sex. It makes things much more personal and
effective."
Several of the other Ladies agreed and positioned themselves to enjoy
the spectacle. One asked, "Would you care that she’s already very sore
and tender ?"
"Mercy, no!" Isabel laughed. "I wouldn’t give it a thought. In
matters of attitude correction, I think it’s best to punish just as hard
as she were pristine." Again, there was much good-natured laughter and
agreement. They scolded the Princess playfully, telling her to keep
herself exposed that the punishment could be applied to the most
sensitive parts of the flesh, and offering suggestions of awful torments
she might endure if she dared close her legs. They had her in tears
before the spanking even began.
Isabel had been one of Jessica’s friends, and an outcast as well, in
school. Now, the Ladies (many of them from Katherine’s crowd) seemed to
feel that they had misjudged her and watched with rapt attention to see
how she would deal with the Princess.
"Just as I would any naughty servant girl," She explained. "I would
give her exactly what she needs."
The spanking began with one on the left, one on the right, and then an
upswing to lay a stroke on the tender curve of the Princess’s sex. The
sound was wet and loud. When the Princess screamed for mercy, she was
gently admonished that she was expected to show her appreciation for
being so well disciplined. The sound of her thanks rang out though the
room.
When, at last, Isabel was done, she consoled the sobbing girl, holding
her and telling her she would learn eventually. She showed the
Katherine the hand that had been used to chastise her and explained that
it was rather soiled with the wetness of Kathy’s sex, and that Kathy was
expected to clean it. She praised the girl’s humility as Princess
Katherine licked her clean.
But then there was a spill in the kitchen, and one of the girls,
smiling sweetly appeared in the doorway to summons the new serving girl
to come and clean it. She held a wooden spoon, and suggested that her
Princess come fast, or she would use it upon her. The Princess came as
fast as she could but it wasn’t enough and they all enjoyed the loud
scolding with emphasis delivered by the spoon, before Katherine
disappeared inside.
This had been going on all night, and would continue until the revelers
were through.
The Prince sighed. "I shall have to arrange for some very imaginative
trials for her. After all, she must be seen to suffer worse since her
station is higher."
Roland nodded. "I am sure there are many who would offer suggestions."
The Prince turned to his side. Jessica was exhausted. She had, during
the party, drifted off to sleep many times, despite her torment. When
she was awake, she was always dreamily happy that Roland was at her
side. He hadn’t left her, even when he had been asked to come down and
join in with the dancing and feasting. He had only left once to bring
her some wine and a plate of food that he fed to her and she devoured.
"I presume that she would be one of them." He made her look at him
"Lady Jessica, if it were your sentence to name, how would Princess
Katherine be cared for?
She glanced at Roland. "Be extravagant," He told her with a slight
smile. "We know you’re capable of it."
Jessica blushed, and began to consider.
Morning came and she realized that she was in the Soldier’s Quarters.
He had a private room and a cot, and a mat for her to sleep on. She was
covered with a blanket that was warm, but itchy and uncomfortable. Oh,
Mercy! The events of the night came flooding back to her, and she
stifled a whimper of passion and confusion. It seemed impossible, but
it was true. She looked up, afraid that some reality might break the
spell, and saw him sleeping easily upon his cot.
She drew the blanket closer around her and shivered, not from cold,
from the intensity of what she had experienced. When the revelers had
gone, he had lifted her, cleaned, and carried her here. She had been
mercifully exhausted and sore, and it had felt wonderful. Now concerns
like hunger and needing to use the chamber pot were allowed to be felt,
but those could be delayed. She was his. She played with the idea and
found it terrifying and wonderful at the same time. It was only for a
year but. . . but what then? And what might he do with her?
Why, anything, of course! The Princess had seen to that! He knew what
she imagined, and so he would not hesitate. If she needed to be
punished, he would use her own ideas and needs and fears against her,
and it would be unbearable! Awful! She shuddered and smiled, and
couldn’t take it anymore. She let her hand test her flesh.
Oh! Owww. . . still raw and sore from her hours on the Wheels. . . but
if she were careful. . . oh, the release would be. . . She looked up.
He was asleep? His breathing was regular and soft. Good. She explored
herself again, testing the sensitivity of the wet, pink flesh between
her lips. It was still slightly stitched with the bites of the insects,
and still swollen with kiss of the floggers and canes upon the wheel,
but it felt magnificent to touch it. Only the lightest, most
frustrating contact was allowed, but she felt that with a good half-hour
she might be able to relieve herself.
Jessica began to masturbate, letting her mind wander, and letting her
fingers search out what pleasure they could find. She closed her eyes
and she imagined she was in the Court, displayed, humiliated, and he
stood before her. He was naked and powerfully hard, and he meant to
match the dowel in her rear with his cock in her front. And she was so
raw and sore, and he was so big! She imagined that she begged him
(horrified) not to take her so, for she could not bear it, but he would!
Oh, he would be harsh and merciless, and she would. . .
He took her wrist and lifted it away from her and she moaned. Oh
mercy. . . Ohhhhhhhh. . . it was an agonizing, physical pain, and she
flopped, like a fish, beached, until she could master herself. Blushing
furiously, she dared glance up to meet his eye. He was smiling.
"Are Ladies allowed to do that?" He asked.
She shook her head.
"What about ladies who have been naughty?"
She shook her head again, looking down. She whimpered.
"And what should we do?"
"Punish me, Sir," She said, her voice very quiet. Oh, Mercy, this was
embarrassing! How was it that, after all she had been through, she
could still be mortified?
Roland pulled her, effortlessly lifting her atop him, and then he
rolled her over so that he was laying on her, looking down. She felt
the weight of his body. "I think," He told her, "That you have a good
many bad habits that we will need to break you of. This is one of them.
But perhaps the best way to begin is to show you how much better it
would be if it were done properly."
She felt pressure against her nether lips, and she moaned, and he slid
inside her. She ached and stretched, and cried out, pressing her lips
against his chest, and bucking up against him. Had he allowed it, she
would have spent instantly, but he didn’t. He moved slowly at first,
awakening rhythms deep inside her that built like a tide. Like a tidal
wave. She struggled to hasten the process, but he knew what he was
doing, and there was no hope of that. Finally, she just let him, and
she felt herself come apart. From outside, the servants passing in the
hall could see flashes, like strobe lights coming from the crack under
the door, and they heard her moaning. He must be punishing her
horribly, they thought, and hurried on.
The pillory in the courtyard compelled it’s occupant to kneel and it
included cuffs for the ankles to insure that the flesh between the legs
would be visible. It was on a circular platform no more than a few
inches off the ground, that turned so that the Lords and Ladies and
servants and soldiers could enjoy the view from their windows. Often a
naughty maid, or a misbehaving young private occupied the pillory, but
today it was the Princess.
She heard passing soldiers joke about how she turned like a lighthouse,
and maids giggled near the walls over discussion on the state of her
buttocks and thighs. When she thought of how she had been humiliated
during the night, she cried, and wished miserably that they had allowed
her some privacy. They hadn’t even taken her to the bath chamber! The
moment she had awakened, she had been brought here!
At least someone would bring her food soon. She was starving. In all
the punishments given at the court, from the towers to the dungeons,
guards would see to it that the subject received food and water,
otherwise, no relief. She had often enjoyed assigning long stays in
such bondage because she knew that it magnified even the smallest
discomforts to heroic proportions. Now, with not even an hour passed,
she was beginning to understand how cruel she’d been. She wiggled
uncomfortably and tried to find some measure of peace. Footsteps. Oh.
. . someone. She looked up and was glad to see two figures carrying
bowls that would be her breakfast, but then she gasped.
"Good morning, Kathy," Jessica said. She nodded, surveying the young
woman’s body. Very appropriate, she thought, smiling. Very severe. "I
brought you some oatmeal, but before you’re allowed to eat it, I’m to
give you four tablespoons of castor oil." She sat down beside the
Princess’s head, and lifted some of the girl’s hair out of her face.
Andrea moved around behind her, out of view.
"I. . . please, Jessie, I can’t.. . . I’m to be out here all day,"
Katherine said softly.
"Then you’ll want your breakfast," Jessica told her. She began to
measure a soon of the dark liquid.
"They. . . please. They won’t let me out. Not even to. . ." She
sucked in air that became a sob. "I’m out in public, Jessie! Everyone
can see me. . ." Jessica stroked her cheek, feeling the tension in her.
Fear of humiliation. Fear, Jessica thought, of humiliation that would
come to pass. "Spare me this, I. . . oh, Jessie, I’m begging you!"
‘Shhh. . ." Jessica gently parted the Princess’s lips, and fed her the
spoonful. She smiled at the Princess’s face. Just like a child! "Just
three more," She coaxed.
Sobbing, furious at the unfairness of it, but afraid of what they would
do if she disobeyed, the Princess took her medicine. Jessica’s
soothing, mocking comments about what a good girl she was being made it
infinitely worse! Oh, she hated the girl! Oh, this was torture! It
tasted terrible, and it made her stomach feel heavy and full, and she
knew where that would lead. . .
"Do you want to feed her while I apply the soap?" Andrea asked.
"Soap?" She asked. What were they talking about?
"It’s a rather severe, pasty soap," Jessica explained. "It needs to be
washed off quickly, or the itch is just horrible. You can’t imagine.
Andrea’s going to clean your anus and sex, but we haven’t brought any
water. I’m sure someone will come along and rinse you. And soon I
hope. I’m told it’s just maddening. . ." She shook her head.
The Princess’s expression was wonderful, "No! Please, not. . ." She
shook her head.
Andrea giggled. "They didn’t even gag her. Do you suppose she’ll beg
passing stable boys to come and clean her? Maybe order them to?" The
idea was awful, and even though it was hopeless, Katherine struggled.
Andrea watched her for a time, and then, to end it, spanked her once.
The Princess cried out and then whimpered. She was that tender.
"You’re to stay still, Kathy," Andrea said. "Do you understand?"
They wanted her to say it. They wanted her to talk, and she realized
miserably that she had no choice. "I understand," She said quietly, and
as though it were a great effort.
SLAP! Katherine cried out, and just as she was finished, Andrea
spanked her again. "I understand," She said, desperately and with great
conviction, "I do! I shall be still! Ow! OWW! Please! PLEASE!"
Jessica laughed delightedly. "Why Kathy, she’s hardly even spanking
you! Are you that tender?"
Behind her, Andrea playfully swatted at the defenseless target. She
was amazed at how quickly she could render the Princess squealing and
begging, and wished to explore this state. She also watched the girl’s
frustration level rise. Being held in place and spanked was galling!
"How are you to address Jessie and I, Katherine?" She asked, making sure
she kept the girl nearly hysterical to make answering more difficult.
"Miss. . . I mean, Ma’am! I understand, Ma’am! Pleaaseee!"
"And you’ll be good?" She was glad to see that Jessica was entertained
greatly by this. Let’s see if I can entertain her more, Andrea thought.
"I’ll be good, Ma’am! I promise! I’ll be good! Please! Oh, please,
stop! I can’t bear it! Oh. . . OH!"
"Then beg me to soap you. Be specific and loud," She had to raise her
own voice to be heard over Katherine’s cries, "enough to make everyone
knows what you need."
Surely, Jessica thought, this is too much! Surely she won’t submit to
that, and she’ll have to be thrashed thoroughly! She expected some
resistance, but the Princess’s swollen buttocks were beyond bearing
anything and she cried out, desperate to please her tormentors.
"Soap me! Please soap me terribly! Oh, my. . . oh, my sex." SLAP!
"My Sex!" She cried so that Jessica blushed, thinking about who was
watching this and how it must look. Poor Katherine! "And my anus!
Please! Please punish me terribly! Oh! Oh!"
"There, there, Princess," Jessica said. The spanking was over, but
Katherine was still struggling to compose herself. They gave her a time
to think about her situation and bring her trembling body under control.
Then Jessica began to feed her, spooning oatmeal into her mouth, while
Andrea smeared some of her most delicate skin. She felt soaped fingers
slide in and out of her, leaving her gasping for breath. She was even
still when Andrea, finding her clitoris sensitive, rubbed it harshly,
so that the discomfort was incredible.
Finally they were done, and Jessica stood. "I think you’ll have plenty
of time to learn to take your spankings, Kathy." She knelt and kissed
her tenderly and Katherine watched them leave. Her hand twitched in the
pillory lock. Somewhere, between her thighs, she felt the irritation
begin. "Jessie, Andrea! Please! Oh, please! Oh, mercy, don’t leave
me like this! Oh, it’s terrible! Oh. Oh, I shall perish!"
Andrea giggled. "Do you think she realizes it’s not even began yet?"
She asked Jessica. Jessica looked back and then up at the clear morning
sky.
"If she doesn’t, she will." She said with a smile.
When she next appeared in Court, some days had passed and some
preparations had been made. Jessica looked different, too. She was
dressed simply, for travel, with an ankle length brown skirt and a
forest green blouse. Her hair was tied back. It was clean and
straight. Roland allowed her no makeup and no styling. He had also had
her fitted for anklets, bracelets, and a collar of soft leather. They
were almost imperceptible, but she felt like they were terribly obvious.
Not obvious, but more of a problem, was the leather belt she wore under
her dress. She had confessed, over his knee, to masturbating often, and
this would prevent that. It also meant she had to ask to relieve
herself in other ways, and that she would receive no privacy at any
time, but she had not been asked her opinion of the matter.
She stood behind him, her neck bent, and she endured comments about how
she looked like his contrite kid sister from the onlookers with a faint
blush. It could, she realized, be much, much worse.
The Princess’s throne was gone. In it’s place was a great wooden chair
of ancient manufacture. It was intricately designed, with gargoyles
staring down from it’s back, and hand rests carved like swans. It was,
in it’s way, more impressive and imposing than even the Prince’s chair,
but that was okay. It had a purpose, and it served it’s purpose to draw
attention to itself.
Princess Katherine sat in it, her wrists and forearms strapped to its
arms, he ankles and calves tied along it’s legs, spreading them wide.
The ties were snug but comfortable: it had been decided that she would
still sit in Court, and thus would, on some weeks, sit all day, every
day. But her buttocks did not rest on it’s seat, rather they hovered
above it, her weight supported by straps that held her body in place.
She was immobile and naked.
The seat of the Princess’s Throne was carved as a face, in relief on
the dark wood, and this was magic. It smiled up at her with wooden eyes
and wooden lips, and with it’s soft, warm wooden tongue, it licked. It
had started licking her the moment she was seated, and it only stopped
when she was about to spend. The chair waited then, for its mistress to
calm down so it might begin again.
At first, it took some time to bring her to the edge. It would spend
its effort between the lips of her sex and the tight, narrow opening of
her anus. As one hour became two though, the time that she stayed in
that heightened, dangerous state, where she might spend with the
slightest pleasure was longer, and so was the time that she went with no
stimulation at all.
She could beg, though. She was tied and gagged, but she could beg with
her hips and eyes, and she did. She saw them come and with a wild,
hysterical expression, she moaned into the gag and tried to thrust her
hips forward, inviting them to relieve her. Jessica saw tears on her
cheeks, and watched her blush. She knew exactly how this looked,
exactly how awful it was, and she did it anyway. She needed the
friction. She needed to be filled. It would not happen. Not for a
year.
Jessica smiled up at her, and she looked away, unable to bare the
girl’s pity.
Roland addressed the Prince. "I wish to leave, Sire. I have. . . I
think I am tired of the Court."
"Where will you go?" The Prince asked.
"To some of the New Lands, or perhaps the Dusk Valley. No place
impossibly far or dangerous, but somewhere there’s adventure to be had."
He shrugged. "Wherever the road goes."
"And Jessica will accompany you?"
"She must. And I dislike traveling alone."
The Prince nodded. "I grant you leave then. Go out and learn new
things and tell us all of your adventures when you return." He looked
at Jessica. "Obey him, and learn from him, and take care of him."
"Yes, Sire," She nodded.
They were on the road that wound down from the Palace to the rolling
foothills. They both rode his horse, her sitting in front of him, so
that she rested against his chest and as he held the reigns, he held
her. She was thinking ahead to when they might stop for the night, and
maybe she could convince him (after dinner of course) to allow her a
bath in one of the warm streams near here. And then, when they were in
the water together, she might swim up to him and. . . She smiled,
glanced back, and noticed an odd, puzzled expression on his face.
"Sir?"
He shook his head. "Just wondering. The Throne is a terrible
punishment, but I had thought you’d have her put on the Wheel. . ." He
looked at her. "You didn’t think of it?"
"Oh I did," She smiled. "I even went to look at it again." She sighed,
with a little laugh. "It was. . . occupied."
-- THE END --
ArkSyn
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