2 comments/ 13478 views/ 8 favorites Royalty Brought Low Pt. 01 By: succubi33 Panting with exertion the Prince stood before the ornately carved doors that led to the castles inner sanctum. At last the end of his quest was at hand, to vanquish the evil pretender to the throne and restore peace to his kingdom. Reaching to his belt he gripped his billhook and proceeded to hack at the ancient wood, watching with satisfaction as with each blow the splinters flew in all directions as he sought an opening. It had not been an easy journey, from the saddle sores riding hard through the dark forest chased by all manner of unnatural creatures, to his aching muscles where he had battled through the castles defences and guards. But just a little longer, then he could rest with the whole kingdom rejoicing and marry his betrothed. Finally sturdy wood yielded to the curved metal hook and the Prince stuck his arm through the jagged gap to release the crossbar on the other side. With barely a squeak the doors swung in on their hinges, to reveal not the elaborate and grandiose spectacle he was expecting. But a rather small and self-contained room, lit by glowing balls of light that hung mid air like spectres. At the far end across the black stone floor was a high backed throne on a raised dais. And lounging on the throne was the self-styled Queen who glanced up at the intrusion, and signalled to her guard that flanked either side of the dais. At her command her bodyguards ran towards the interloper, who expertly parried the first thrust, sidestepped and sliced open the first guards arm just below the chain mail, causing him to drop his sword. The Prince easily read the guards movements, anticipating and countering their blows until he forced an opening which allowed him to land two critical blows. With the two guards chocking and disembowelled, noisily but swiftly dying, the Prince focused his attention to the usurper, who had not moved throughout the entire fight, but was just sitting there with a confident and unconcerned air about her person. "And now your wicked reign will come to an end, evil Queen!" he declared and charged forward to deliver the fatal blow, failing to observe the floating lights glowing brighter with each stride he took. Once he was close enough to see the triumphant smile on her face, the Queen snapped her fingers, and out of the air a set of glowing green manacles appeared, immediately snapping round his wrists and boots. The Prince cried out at the sudden pain from the tightness of the supernatural restraints, the chains around his ankles shortened which forced him to regain his balance. At the same time the wrist manacles snapped together, causing his numbed fingers to drop his trusty sword. Within a matter of seconds he had been captured with consummate ease, so the rumours had been true! The Queen tutted and shook her head, as if admonishing a wayward child, "Foolish Prince, you never stood a chance. You're not the first knight sent to dispatch me, and I have safeguards in place known only to myself." Her eyes raked over his wavy blonde hair and chiselled features, though sweaty and dirt streaked from his many exertions, she seemed to like what she saw. "Though it has been rather dull around here of late, you will be a very delicious distraction." "I will never give in, vile witch!" his response was unthinking and automatic, all his life he had been told magic was evil and wrong, here was the final proof. "A witch I may be, but certainly not vile," she disputed and stood gracefully. For the first time since he had opened the doors, the Prince was able to focus on her attire. A simple gold crown sat perched on top of a mass of red hair the colour of blood, which cascaded onto pale bare shoulders. A form fitting bodice of black and red velvet emphasised her voluptuous figure, with a flowing black skirt that reached to the floor, which would have been demure if not for the slit up one side which exposed a tantalising glimpse of long legs encased in thigh high boots. The Prince couldn't help but make the contrast to his beloved, whilst she was slender and willowy, this creature was curvaceous and sensual, with her outfit designed to enhance her assets rather than conceal. It made the Prince feel acutely aware that his traveling clothes had become blood-spattered and torn from long nights riding and fighting. Then his eyes goggled as the Queen's hands ran sensuously up her bodice, his mouth going dry at the depth of her cleavage. Her smirk widened at his reaction as she continued to tease him, delicately scraping her black nails across the swell of her breasts, her other hand sliding down to pull aside the curtain of her skirt, exposing a milky white thigh encased in leather hide boot. The Prince became aware of a straining against his leather jerkin and cursed himself for falling for this creatures wiles, wrenching his gaze away. "Foul temptress, the pure of heart can withstand any petty seductions," he bluffed, masking his arousal with a veneer of righteous indignation. The Queen chuckled at his overly dramatic statements, and with one curved finger under his chin, dragged his gaze to hers once again. "I promise you this, my proud Prince, by the end of the week you will be singing a different tune. You will be begging me for a touch, for just one taste," she vowed, but in contrast to her captives arrogant boasts, her words were said like a simple stated fact, irrefutable. As his blue eyes met her green, all he could see in them were a complete confidence in her prediction coming true. It unnerved him. "You're delusional as well as mad, to think a noble such as I could ever desire a filthy enchantress such as you, except to eliminate your accursed existence," he denied once more. One of the Queens hands disappeared under her skirt, and the Prince thought the perverse display was going to continue, however she withdrew a short ceremonial knife, the blade glowing with inlaid enchantments. The Prince braced himself for the impact of feeling the sharp edge slicing through his skin as she swiped across his torso, and send a silent prayer asking his father to forgive his failure. But when no pain followed he glanced down to see his soiled shirt hanging in tatters across his arms, exposing his muscled shoulders and toned physique. The Queen nodded in approval, clearly pleased with her newest specimen. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you," she told him, and gesturing with her free hand to maneuver the manacles, she escorted the prisoner to her dungeons. Royalty Brought Low Pt. 02 The Prince stared around impassively at his new home, a dark, dank cell lit by one solitary floating orb. He had been aware of the existence of dungeons in his ancestral castle, but had never experienced one first hand. He hadn't known how the damp seemed to seep into his very bones, or how the stones seem to leech the warmth from his skin, but still radiated the same amount of cold back. The glowing green manacles had faded to black and were secured to the walls, with his hands held above his head. It was deathly quiet all around, there were no wails of despair echoing from the outside corridor to indicate any other prisoners. Innumerable plans had been devised, contemplated and discarded to while away the hours, none with any sound strategy against magic. But there was one thing he had to hold on to, he was still alive. And that gave him another chance to succeed and correct his failure. Surely the harlot would be down soon to check on her newest plaything, and he could wait for the opportune moment. Just as he was thinking this the cell door swung open, and the Queen entered, waving the door shut with an ominous creak. Instead of sitting back and calmly assessing the situation, he took one look at that insufferable smug grin on her face and saw red. "You evil witch!" he yelled, tugging at his restraints in a futile effort to wrap his hands around her throat, "My time here has only increased my desire to eliminate you!" The Queen waited patiently for his rants and anger to abate, and when he slumped back against the wall panting she continued as if there had been no interruption, "Now I have some free time in my schedule, its time I devoted my full attention to your torment." "Do your worst, pretender to the throne," he scoffed, but once again, with a subtle gesture she drew his attention towards her attire. This time the Queen was only wearing a loose fitting black cloak, which was open at the front leaving a long line of exposed flesh, framing the round swell of her breasts, dipping down to her navel, and revealing a small wisp of fabric that barely covered her sex. The Prince swallowed audibly before replying in a strained voice, "No torment can be greater then the knowledge that I have yet to destroy you." "I would conclude your imagination is sadly lacking," she jested, "Fortunately mine isn't." With that enigmatic statement she boldly removed her panties with a sudden snap of the gossamer fabric, bringing it up to her face and inhaled its scent. The unexpected display wiped the Princes mind blank, and his gaze immediately looked down as he stared at the fine red hair not quite disguising the shape of two lips pressed together. "Shameful harlot," he growled, but there was no bite to his words, as his twitching cock was an obvious reminder that his body held no objection. The Queen sauntered over and wafted the panties under his aristocratic nose, "Tell me what you smell. You see, all my pets smell something unique, something personal that they love." "It's..." The Princes asinine comment faltered as the scent hit his senses with the subtlety of a two handed broadsword. Not only was it more alluring then the most floral of perfumes, it conjured up scraps of his memories. There were swift dalliances in pantries and back corridors with the more attractive serving wenches and chambermaids, who were in awe of his status and handsome features. "It smells..." he tried again, expecting to say sinful, or decadent, but then another older memory surfaced and he forgot everything beforehand. That first time, in his chambers, with a skinful of ale in his blood and the noblewoman riding him like he was her prized stallion. And he, an inexperienced boy on the cusp of manhood, completely in her power. "...like surrender," he groaned, his eyes going wide as he realised exactly what he had let slip. The Queens expression turned predatory, like a cat discovering a much more fascinating prey. "Interesting," she purred, her emerald eyes gleaming, "I think you need to smell a little more...surrender." With that ominous proclamation, she backed away to the rooms very centre, with a brief finger snap and a flash of light a comfy red velvet chair was conjured for her to sink into. With no preamble, the Queen spread her shapely legs and with one hand began to stroke her pussy. "Gods!" the Prince exclaimed, the sudden turn of events sending a surge of blood shooting to his groin, which quickly transformed his half hard member to full erection. "Mmm..." the Queen moaned at the stimulation of her hand and the effect her antics were having on the Princes physique. As her arousal heightened and her fingers became coated in her juices, the sweet smell of her musk began to fill the dungeon air. It felt like that heady brew he had drank on his coming of age celebration... "No, stop it!" The Prince cried, a genuine note of panic injected in his voice, as it finally sank in that he was in serious trouble here. The Queen seemed to ignore his plea and pushed the cloak aside to reveal one full breast, which she began to tweak and squeeze the pink rosy nipple. "Please stop," he moaned, his head swimming, instead of the stone wall against his back he could feel the crisp sheets and soft yielding of a feather mattress, "I can't-." "You're in no position to make demands," the Queen interrupted harshly, "You will realise that you're helpless to do anything except surrender." With those words pounding in his ears, she slipped two fingers into her sex with a wet sucking sound. The imagery was too much for the Prince, as he recalled his first lovers snatch impaled on his shaft. "Oh yes, I am," he agreed in a whisper, a wet mark appeared on his tunic above his cock as reality and fantasy began to merge in his mind. The Queen read his lips and saw the change in his expression as he succumbed to his own desires. "Then say it!" she ordered, her fingers beginning to pick up speed, and her juices dripped down to stain her chair as the balance of power shifted in the room. "I'm helpless, ohhh, to do anything, yesss, except surrender," he repeated, his gaze mesmerised by the speed of her fingers buried in her soaking pussy as his mind replayed the feel of his cock engulfed and surrounded by hot wetness. "Again!" she demanded, her breathing came in short gasps as her hips rose up to meet the brutal pace of her hand. "I'm helpless," he cried, "To...must...surrender." His mind was unravelling quickly as his hips unconsciously kept pace with his tormentors. The fantasies merge became complete and now it was the Queen riding him, using him, dominating him. "Scream it for me!" she shrieked, teetering on the brink as she sank her nails into her breast hard enough to draw blood. That one savage act caused something primitive to be let loose in the Prince, he wanted to bite her, kiss her, promise anything as long as he could taste her. "I SURRENDER!" he screamed holding nothing back. The truth and sincerity in his words pushes the Queen over the edge and she climaxed hard, her body shaking and juddering in the grip of orgasm in full view of her captive. The Princes face softened into something resembling childlike wonder, "Oh, my Queen," he whispered reverently. As the Queen recovered, she just caught on the edge of her hearing his words, and gave him a smile that for her captive was like the sun shining after a great thunderstorm. After she recovered her composure, the enchantress gracefully walked towards him with her glistening fingers outstretched. "Now, normally when one of my pets pleases me, they get a reward," she told him, passing her fingers just under his nose, and was pleased to see him breathe deeply to inhale as much of her scent as possible. "However, since you're not yet wholly devoted to me, you will have to earn that reward," she concluded, and sucked her fingers clean. A genuine whimper of distress escaped the Princes full lips. As she vanished the soiled chair and turned to leave, her prisoner cried, "Please! I will do anything to taste you!" The Queen turned around, and gave him an appraising look, "Anything?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. This time when she removed the enchanted blade he held perfectly still, and with a couple of precise cuts his jerkin fell to the floor. The Prince hissed as the cold air hit his exposed member, that was still standing erect and proud. "Anything," he repeated, anticipation shining in his clear blue eyes. But instead of laying her hands on his naked form, the Queen gripped his chiselled jaw and stared deep into his eyes as if reading his very soul. "And would you renounce your kingdom? Or your beloved Princess?" she asked. "My...Princess?" he repeated confused. What Princess? Hadn't the Queen just taken his virginity? Now that her scent was dissipating in the room, his head felt clearer, as bits and pieces of the last half hour came drifting back into his memory. He visibly paled and flinched, the things he had said! This beguiling witch had exposed a black stain upon his valour, a weakness that she had ruthlessly exploited for her own ends. "Hmm I thought so," she mused, "I would have been surprised if you'd succumbed so quickly. Either you'd have been lying, which isn't very valorous, or you had a very weak will." The Prince gasped, it hadn't occurred to him to tell this seducer precisely what she wanted to hear. Maybe there was hope for him yet. But what the prisoner hadn't realised yet was he was inexperienced in the art of schooling his face to hide his thoughts. The Queen chuckled and began to stroke his flagging erection, "You could have attempted flattery, but you didn't." The Prince moaned at the feel of her expert hand pumping his cock, he had always enjoyed a woman attending to him. Maybe with a few choice words he could persuade her to take him into her mouth, and shift the balance of power between them in his favour. "How can my weak will ever compare against your expertise, against your all eclipsing magnificence, my Queen," he complemented, setting his face into a look of boyish charm. But whilst he had been concentrating on his honeyed words, he had failed to observe her other hand tracing strange symbols in the air. So when she stepped back he felt disoriented as her hand expertly ministered to his erection. Then she held up both hands and he finally comprehended, glazing down he couldn't see anything but could still feel her fingers ghosting along the shaft to tease its head. "It's so cute to see you try, but really you will never win," she grinned, "Now I have business elsewhere, so my spell will keep you entertained. Though you will find it extremely difficult to reach fulfilment without my help. When I return we shall see what you're prepared to do to achieve an orgasm." As she opened his cell door the full perversity of her spell began to dawn on him as the pressure in his cock wasn't building. "No! I beg you don't leave me like this! My Queen, my Queen!" he shouted as the door swung shut leaving him alone. Royalty Brought Low Pt. 03 Disclaimer: This takes a darker turn so if you're not into bondage or anal stimulation you have been warned. But the mind control will return in later chapters. * Time had ceased to mean anything to the Prince, trapped in the never ending torment he had been plunged into. He hadn't thought he could ever come to hate one particular part of his body, but that was before it had turned traitor and now danced to the witches tune. His cock protruded angry and red with the head engorged with so much blood it was royal purple, with the veins stood out counting the frantic pounding of his heart. His balls were so swollen even a slight shift in his body caused them to slap painfully against his thighs. Early on he had foolishly thought he could bring about his climax through sheer force of will, imagining his favourite fantasies about consummating his marriage with his beautiful bride. But after he had begun to run out of wank material, he reluctantly gave in and replaced his beloveds body with that of the Queen. When that had failed, he recollected the spectacular mindfuck he had endured here in this cell, certain that him consciously submitting to her was the answer to the spells end and would secure his release. But nothing had worked, that spectral hand continued to tease him without remorse, never ceasing, never tiring. As the pleasure shifted to agony, he frantically thought of the most unerotic imagery his mind could devise, anything to decrease the stiffness and give him some temporary relief. And though his stomach churned at the most gruesome sights of his young life, it did nothing to wilt his genitals. So now he hung suspended from his manacles as his legs had stopped supporting him long ago, his once vibrant hair plastered to his face with sweat that dripped down his nose, his breathing horse and ragged, broken and completely at his captors mercy. The cell door opened once more to admit the Queen into what had become his own personal torture room. He couldn't even focus on her appearance, all his attention was still centred on his agonised member. The best he could achieve was to pour all his desperation into his eyes, silently pleading for her to take pity on her helpless plaything. "Now answer me truthfully, what will you endure to achieve orgasm?" she asked him, her tone making it abundantly clear she would tolerate no more defiance. "Anything!" he responded immediately, "Anything you command! Anything for release." His voice broke on the last word with a sob, his eyes swam with unshed tears. He felt weak and pathetic in his need. "You learnt it's easy to say the right words. But I want to see by your actions the lengths you're willing to go," she said. As if waiting for his cue, a guard stepped into the cell and handed the Queen a bucket filled with sand and several yards of coiled rope, before leaving without a sound. The Prince stared uncomprehendingly at the items, his once fine mind reduced to shambles in his agony. With a snap of her fingers the manacles glowed bright green before vanishing, without his support the Prince slid bonelessly to the stone floor. Before his mind could fathom his change of circumstances, and before some feeling began to creep back into his numbed limbs, the Queen had used the coarse rope to bind his wrists together and then to extend the bondage to his ankles, so that if he were to kneel or sit his hands would remain bound firmly to the small of his back. Any attempt at escape would result in his dislocating a shoulder. Then he couldn't help moaning in both pleasure and pain as the rope was used to bind his cock and balls so it resembled a carefully wrapped package. The other end of the rope was securely tied to the bucket handle. Gazing down at her handiwork, the enchantress was pleased at the results, and as she proceeded to stand, her cloak fell in a pool around her feet. The Prince cried out as his cock twitched violently against its restraints as he beheld the Queen in all her naked glory. With out a scrap of clothing on she possessed more regal bearing then most of the nobles back in the royal courts. As she summoned her favourite chair at the far end of the cell, his eyes couldn't help but fasten unashamedly on the most perfect rounded ass he had ever seen as she strolled away, until she was seated with her longs legs crossed in front. "Now pay attention. The only way you will be allowed to climax is if you lick my sweet pussy. And for that you have to drag that bucket across the floor with your cock, despite the pain it will cause you," she explained, and uncrossed her legs to reveal her sex. "I will! Oh I will!" the Prince panted, and immediately began to make his way across the grime encrusted stone floor. At once his genitals flared in white hot agony as he felt the weight of the bucket he had to drag behind him, but it only caused him to hesitate briefly before setting off once more. But the weight and pain weren't his only obstacles, his bondage prevented him from traveling any other way then at a slow crawl. And with his hands bound, the nobleman had to resort to using his forehead as leverage. But every time his resolve started to waver, he looked up to behold the fountain from which dripped his salvation. No quest had he applied such dogged perseverance before, no task had he pledged wholeheartedly to see through to the bitter end. Not even his journey to this castle where he had met his fate could compare to this crucial moment. Slowly, excruciatingly, a pale foot appeared in his field of vision and he sobbed in relief as he marked each inch gained with a kiss to her translucent skin. "How much do you want to taste my nectar, my pet?" she asked as she watched her prisoner prostrate himself at her feet. "More...then...anything..." he punctuated each word with a kiss as he worked tenderly up her calf. "Then show me before I grow bored and leave," she warned with an impatient bite to her words, "Did I ask you for worship? No, I ordered you to lick my cunt." Hearing the displeasure in his Mistresses words, the Prince made one more valiant lunge forward. Despite the clear agony he was experiencing, as he felt his privates stretched viciously against the tension, and continuous whimpers escaped from his throat, he finally closed the distance. Wasting no more time he plunged his face between her legs and subjected her perfect glistening pussy to a tongue bathing of frantic enthusiasm. The throbbing of his manhood faded as the heady musk of her sex ensnared his senses, but her taste made his previous exertions worth every second, and he would gladly do so again without a moments hesitation. It was sweeter then the finest ambrosia and he couldn't get enough of it. "Mmm, we need to work on your technique pet, but for now what I want is your desperation," she moaned, and proceeded to grab his sweat soaked tresses and used the leverage to grind her pussy hard against his mouth. For a while nothing could make the Prince happier then to serve his Queen in this manner. But eventually it dawned on him that he still had not climaxed. With reluctance he stopped licking the addictive juices, and gazed up at his captor in askance. The Queen was breathing heavily, a slight sheen of perspiration gleamed on her breasts and a pretty flush glowed in her cheeks, but she read the question in his glazed eyes. "Oh yes, I neglected to mention my spell has a second half to it. You can come, but only through the stimulation of your prostate," she casually informed him. The Princes mouth dropped open in shock, that one taboo was enough to chase some of the fog from his brain. There was a word for the type of people who engaged in that sort of unclean activity, how dare she take him for one of them! He glared up at his tormentor with eyes full of anger and moved to rise, but the pain in his groin stopped all further movement. The Queen met his hateful gaze unflinchingly and delivered her ultimatum, "Just how badly do you want to cum?" That brief flare of rebellion died as quickly as it had begun. Her question didn't break him, he had already been broken. "Please my Queen, nothing is more important, I must cum!" he begged. "Good boy," she praised and murmured some foreign words. The Princes eyes bulged as he felt two slick fingers push past his sphincter and worming their way deep into his ass. In desperation to forget this new humiliation he all but dove back into her sweet sex to distract himself. But those fingers were insistent, relentlessly but gently stretching his virgin ass in perfect time to its partner stroking his abused cock. When they brushed against something that caused pleasure to spike through his body he almost passed out at all the over stimulation he had endured. But as it occurred with every thrust, he unconsciously rocked back and forth in time with the ghost hands rhythm. He was dimly aware of his Queens groans mingling once more with his own muffled sounds of pleasure, but he was too far gone, already too lost in depraved pleasures he could not imagine before, and now could not imagine without. He felt his Mistress climax first, her cream running down his chin and splattering his high cheekbones, and it was that, combined with the expert anal stimulation he was receiving which triggered the Prince's orgasm to finally overtake him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he felt his balls rise up as his cock emptied his seed all over the chair and pool upon the stone floor. The Prince slumped against the legs of his Mistress, and to his horror realised his cock was still straining against his bondage. As tears spilled down his sweaty, dirt encrusted cheeks, he felt his owner set him down on the floor and begin to cut at his bonds with her enchanted blade. As she freed his ankles she asked, "Who am I?" "You're my Queen, now and forever," he answered. Snip and his wrists were released, "And what are you?" "I'm your pet," he intoned, not moving. Snip and his bound member was released, "And will you devote yourself to my pleasure, my submissive pet?" "Forever, your will is my will," he sighed, meaning every word. "Then come for me, my defeated slut," she said, and with no other stimulation the Prince came for a second time, with no more fluid remaining he spasmed on the ground, moaning his thanks as his vision went black. Royalty Brought Low Pt. 04 Authors note - I took a risk in changing the category of the story to BDSM, and it doesn't look like it paid off. So I am returning to the mind control aspect of the story. If feedback is positive I will re write part 3. I hope you will all give my story a second chance, and please give constructive criticism in future to help me improve it for better enjoyment. ***** As consciousness returned, the Prince groaned as he felt every muscle in his body aching. All he wanted to do was return to blissful oblivion. But something nagged at the outer edges of his consciousness, something was different, so eventually, reluctantly he opened his bleary eyes. The cold stone walls of his prison no longer surrounded him, instead he had been moved to a richly furnished chamber, with one door leading to who knew where. He could feel the warm, soft rug against his naked flesh as it he felt it enveloping his body, projecting a feeling of safeness and security. Glancing around from the floor, he could see a comfortable looking divan laden with cushions, a very large armoire that took up all of one wall, and next to it a full length mirror. He wasn't aware of how long he had been unconscious, it could have been hours, or days. All he did know was the inside of his mouth was bone dry, and his wobbly limbs felt weak from lack of food and water. He couldn't recall having eaten or drank since being captured. Was his jailor going to forget him until he died of thirst or malnutrition? As if just realising, the Princes gaze focused on a smooth ceramic bowl that had been left by the edge of the rug. Clumsily, with none of the agile grace he exhibited naturally, the prince lurched over to see it filled with crystal clear liquid. All caution and rationality left his fragile and foggy mind, as he plunged forward and began lapping up the water with loud slurping noises that filled the silent room. No ale he had drank at lavish banquets, no mead he had downed at countless celebrations, had ever tasted as good as this. It didn't matter if this was poisoned, or spiked with an unknown potion. He couldn't stop stop himself and didn't until the bowl had been emptied. Refreshed, his head clear for the first time since regaining consciousness, the Prince crept to the mirror, his body protesting with every movement, he saw that his skin had been scrubbed free of dirt and his hair had been washed so it reflected the glowing orbs light. "Please say it was all a dream," he muttered fervently, but as his eyes took in the red raw rope burns around his wrists and winced as he gingerly felt his swollen bruised genitals, he knew in his heart it was all too real. The Prince's head swung in the direction of the door, expecting from experience his Mistress to appear, ('not Mistress, my Queen, no, the Queen' he thought furiously), and felt a strange mixture of disappointment and sadness when she didn't. It suddenly dawned on the Prince that he was no longer tied up, though admittedly this was not a reckless and dangerous risk as he could not move far in his condition. 'My Mistress must be trusting me,' he thought, as a smile lit up his face and his heart swelled with pride at being a good pet. But he caught his enamoured expression in the mirror, and realised that part of him now belonged to her. "You were never going to win," said the voice from behind. The Prince spun around and his Queen stood before him, looking magnificent in a purple silk sash that draped across one shoulder and breast, leaving one exposed and unadorned, and wrapped around her hips. The Prince sank to his knees with a moan, knowing he had not recovered enough from the previous encounter, but if she willed it he could not stop her. Instead the Queen sat on the soft inviting divan and dropped a cushion on the floor by her feet. Resigning himself, wincing from the slight stabbing pains shooting from his ass, he crawled over and sank gratefully onto the squishy pillow. As the Queen casually stroked his head she continued, "I knew you secretly wanted to be captured, because you came rushing in with no plan, no troupe of knights as support, and no defence against magic. Someone that reckless is practically begging to be dominated." "I could still escape," he blurted out, with part of him wanting to wake up from this never ending nightmare, whilst the other newer part hoped she would punish him further for his defiance. The Queen seemed to genuinely consider the possibility, her emerald eyes calmly assessing him as he shivered at the increased attention. "You could escape," she agreed, "Return to your normal life. Marry the Princess. Live happily ever after. Shall we see what would happen?" Uncertain as to what his Mistress meant, her prisoner was not prepared for the witches hands fasten around his head, holding it immobile. Just as he was summoning up his remaining strength to break free, The Prince felt those tendrils of power worming their way into his thoughts, burrowing into his mind. "That's right, let me in," the Queen coaxed, her brow furrowed in concentration. All thoughts of resisting were wiped clean as the room faded around him. With a gasp he woke up, unsure of where he was, his body coated in sweat as he looked wildly around. The room was bathed in moonlight that poured from a single window in the castle walls, illuminating the furniture that was familiar, as he recognised every piece that had adorned his room since he could remember, as welcome as an old childhood friend. He could smell the remnants of the charcoal in the fireplace long burnt out. The chill in the air indicated it was still in the early hours of the morning, combined with the perspiration on his skin, it reminded him of the clamminess of the dungeon cell where he had been held prisoner. "Bad dreams again my love?" a soft voice asked, radiating concern and tenderness for his wellbeing. The Prince smiled and turned to gaze at his wife, the moonlight reflecting off her cornflower hair giving it a silver sheen, her eyes still heavy with sleep. A delicate hand snaked under the heavy covers and rubbed his taught bicep, not effective in easing the tension, but it felt warm and reassuring and real, anchoring him to reality. "Just memories, which always fade in the presence of your beauty," he reassured her, lifting her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles with a chaste kiss. Comforted, her eyes closed and his wife was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Despite his pacifying words, and the cheerful bravado he displayed throughout the daytime, a part of him didn't believe he had escaped, that he was still trapped in the Queen's castle, enslaved to her will. And every time this doubt arose, he frantically checked his memories, clinging to them like a child with a favourite stuffed animal. One day his luck had changed, there had been a lapse in guard duty, and the noble had seized the opportunity. Overpowering the servants in the stables, finding his horse and riding back in nothing but a stolen blanket, those memories were all still present. The Prince had been welcomed back with fanfare and celebration, with the whole kingdom rejoicing at the return of the lost heir to the throne. The prince had insisted that both he and his betrothed were married that very day, having come so close to losing her. And his face broke into a wolfish grin at the best bit, giving his father valuable information about the false Queens' defences and magical abilities, knowing right this minute preparations were being made for the kingdoms armies to march upon the cursed stronghold and wipe its evil influence from the face of the earth. Satisfied, the heir to the throne snuggled back under the covers and waited for sleep to claim him once more, knowing this time he had nothing to fear. Just as he was drifting off, his leg twitched, as if responding to some subtle stimulus. He smiled as he recognised the feeling of delicate fingers tracing the curve of his outer thigh, and opened his eyes anticipating the sweet lovemaking he experienced as a married man. But became puzzled as he saw his wife sleeping soundly, her genteel snores slightly muffled by her face pressed into the feather pillows. So whose hand was on his leg? With a strangled cry, the Prince threw back the covers, causing goose bumps to raise on his exposed skin as he reacted to the rooms chill. There was nothing to see, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel. His hands slapped at the area where the ghostly hand was stroking, all that accomplished was to add some pain to the already oversensitive skin, heightening the sensations of those relentless fingers. Memory finally clicked into place, the Prince knew where he had encountered this trick before. But it was impossible. (italics) [i]You really didn't think I'd let you go so easily.[/i] The Prince only just stopped himself from crying out, as he heard that voice, the one he had hoped to never hear again as long as he lived. His ear tickled as if she was laying right next to him, whispering her honeyed words of seduction and the promise of pleasure. "You're not here," he hissed, his eyes frantically darting around the room, terrified to see her step out of the shadows, with that confident smile on her lips, and those commanding green eyes reaching deep inside him and reading his secret desires, his forbidden lusts. (italics) [i]I don't need to be present to cast a spell now I have your essence. I could be the other side of the world and still play with you. Observe.[/i] The Prince gasped as the second hand to its counterpart began to circle his left nipple, as the other slide up his inner thigh to trace the curve of his hip. His cock was already half hard from all the stimulation, responding naturally to his former owners caresses. "I could summon the guards, get help," he said, as the noble slide to the edge of the bed determined to find some clothing. (italics) [i]And what will happen if you come across one of the servants in your condition, aroused but unable to find release without some outside...stimulation.[/i] The Prince froze, as her words conjured up a new set of images in his mind, coming across an unassuming chamber maid, consumed with lust and need, with the enchantress urging him on, planting obscene suggestions in his mind which in his weakened state he acts upon. And the scandal that would inevitably erupt if he was caught. With a whimper, the Prince abandoned any thoughts of help, biting his lip to prevent any moans escaping and waking his wife, at the mercy of those relentless ghostly hands as they sought out every erogenous zone on his body. He thought he had escaped, but it was all happening again, it didn't matter where he fled to, he would forever be her prisoner. (italics) [i]That's right pet. And I'll tell you why it too late. You let me in, I'm already inside. And as much as you want to protest, you don't ever want me to leave.[/i] "No..." he groaned, whether he was denying what the witch said or agreeing with her, he did not know. Those wicked hands were pumping his hard dripping erection, as he writhed in thrall of her enchantment, his will gradually submitting to hers. (italics) [i]Yes, my puppet. I pull the strings and you obey.[/i] One of the ghostly hands glided down to caress his balls, and the Prince wantonly spread his legs wide, knowing what would come next, and yearning to feel that pleasure once more. He no longer cared if he was caught in this shameful position, as he felt the fingertips press lightly against his hole. The noble remembered why he had renounced all he knew, and had pledged his soul to her dark will. "My love, what are you doing?" The Prince's head rolled on the pillow to gaze at his wife, wide awake and frowning in confusion at her husbands behaviour. Then the Princess gasped in horror and paled at what she saw in the depths of his eyes. She made to move but the Prince was too fast for her, capturing her slender wrists in one hand and pinning her body under his weight. Her fear made his cock throb in anticipation, and with his free hand tore at her night dress, feeling the cotton fabric tear under his strength. Laughter rippled through his pleasure saturated mind. (italics) [i]Good pet. We will both enjoy this.[/i] "NO!" The Prince surged forward and crashed into the stone floor, as pain radiated through his jaw and right shoulder at the sudden impact. With his eyes watering, his blurry vision could just make out redness of the rug he had slept on, and the water bowl beside it. For the first time the Prince felt relieved he was in the Queen's castle rather then back in his own kingdom. He was still reeling from the potency of the vision, and felt the bile rise in his throat as he almost vomited at the thought of raping his beloved. Familiar yet strong hands gripped his shoulders and guided him back to the divan, the former nobles trembling body leaned gratefully against the support as his sweaty forehead was placed against one cool smooth leg. Gentle hands stroked his golden tresses, in mockery of the reassuring caresses he experienced from his wife in the hallucination. And yet they were comforting all the same. "How did you like your triumphant return home, my Prince?" the enchantress asked, her grip tightening in her prisoners hair as he flinched at her question. "Yes, that's just one of many possibilities, we haven't even scratched the surface of what I can do to you," she informed him, "I don't need to be anywhere near you to take over your body, your senses, your mind." "No..please no more," he whimpered. The Prince shuddered at what his Queen was implying. He would become her puppet, her spy, turned traitor and committed to sabotaging the kingdom from within. His eyes widened at the thought of prostituting himself to win other nobles over to the Queen's cause. Or assassinating any who suspected his change of allegiance, perhaps going so far as to murdering his own family! "Yes, I see you understand," she purred, watching his agonised expression, "And if you're not hung as a traitor to the state, then eventually you would return to me. Or be forever haunted, craving to sate your yearning for the pleasure you received at my hands." "You're right!" he sobbed, as the last bastion of his defences crumbled at the realisation. He had been irrevocably changed by his experiences in this cursed castle, introduced to perverse pleasures he could not have invented in his wildest fantasies. His Mistress had unearthed and pulled out a dark streak he hadn't known existed, she had awoken a hunger that he yearned to sate at her hands. No one who hadn't tasted the black witches forbidden fruit could ever understand. The Prince finally admitted to himself he didn't want to return home, he belonged here with his Mistress. The Queen watched the last spark of defiance die in her captives eyes, it showed in his open and vulnerable expression as fresh tears ran down his face. The change to his demeanour was instant, becoming more subservient, much more relaxed as the tension drained out of his posture. "You are much more interesting then I originally anticipated," she told her pet, "I thought once you were broken I would discard you, but perhaps you are just the tool I need to bring my long term plans to fruition." The prince smiled serenely at his owners praise, if he were a puppy his tail would have been wagging in earnest. "Now you are wholly mine, we can start your proper training," she informed him, wiping his tear tracts away with a brush of her thumb, "You will learn to anticipate my wishes, and prepare yourself for my arrival. Depending on how well you carry out my orders will depend on how well you are rewarded." The prince moaned at her words, his heart leaping at the chance to be taught some ability so he could gain access to those dizzying heights of sensuous pleasure. "Which is all too complicated for you to worry about pet," she said condescendingly, "You just need to remember this: the more you obey, the more pleasure you feel." "The more I obey, the more pleasure I feel," he intoned like a mantra, one so important he was prepared to burn it into his mind. "Very good pet, time for your reward." The enchantress leaned down to his upturned face and captured his lips with hers for a searing kiss. Their taste reminded him of the same nectar he had been allowed to lick from between her legs. Was there no part of this woman that didn't taste good? He ached to find out, if he was a good pet and obeyed. All too soon the Queen pulled back, and he caught the wicked glimmer in her eyes that meant she had withheld some vital bit of information. "This particular lipstick is a powerful hallucinogen, for a couple of hours your mind will be filled with fantasies involving you as my fuck toy," she informed him with glee, as his vision grew foggy. All the strength seemed to leech out of the prince's muscles as his body slumped to the floor. "But I'm not completely heartless, you have permission to climax as many times as you can endure," were the last words he heard before the fantasies started. The Prince's hand went to his stiffening member, as in his mind he watched his Mistress straddling his hips and roughly using her fuck toy, him tied to her bed helpless and powerless, as it should be. "Thank you my Queen," he whispered reverently as the first of his orgasms approached. Royalty Brought Low Pt. 05 Authors note: thank you for all the feedback, I have taken it into account and have made some slight alterations. Though these will be more evident in the next chapters, as this one was already mostly written at the time and to make too many changes would detract from the idea. As a warning this chapter is a little heavier, with strong domination submission themes. If that's not for you please wait for the next chapters. Enjoy! ***** Much later the Queen returned to find her pet still jerking his angry red cock at the last fantasy, his stomach already coated with drying semen that had dripped and pooled underneath his body. She noticed his rapt and ecstatic expression, wondering if this was the one which turned on the Prince the most. Curious, she touched his forehead to observe the erotic dream. *** Hands, so many hands were touching his skin, caressing every inch, for so long the sensations just rolled all into one long continuous stretch of sweet torture. The only identifiable notes in this unending melody of pleasure were from the hands that were sliding along his weeping erection and especially the dirty forbidden pleasure of slicked fingers buried in his ass. As he gazed around with heavy lidded eyes he saw so many different women surrounding him, blondes, brunettes, blue eyes, brown eyes, petite, athletic. Too many to notice but a fraction of their looks. But despite the erotic display he found his gaze drawn to emerald eyes that were always watching, that casually observed him teetering on the brink, helpless to do anything but submit to his tormentors insatiable appetites. He silently begged with his eyes for her permission, longing to here those words which would grant him his release. "Cum for me, my pet." *** The Queen retreated from his mind as her pets orgasm overtook him, with nothing left his cock just jerked violently as his body shook with the force, as the drying spunk threatened to slid off and join the rest of the pool gathered on the floor that the Prince was laying in. Hmm things are progressing nicely, she mused, tapping her lips with one long fingernail as she schemed how to use that information she scryed to her advantage. The Prince awoke after the last vision had faded away, feeling exhausted but at the same time sated. He could not recall them all, but despite the knots in his muscles, he felt good, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. No more heavy mantle of responsibility being heir to the throne, no more hiding away his secret desires because he had been told they were unnatural. He had an owner who would orchestrate his sexual gratification, no matter how depraved and base. "Up pet," he heard his dark Mistress order, and he immediately obeyed despite the soreness and discomfort of his cock, rolling onto his knees, and gazed up adoringly at his Queen. She was garbed all in brown leather, from the tight fitting bodice to the stiff short skirt that ended just below her crotch line. He found himself gazing at the polished high heeled boots and was consumed with the urge to kiss them, but he retrained himself as he had not been given permission. "You have made a mess of yourself pet," she admonished, "If you want to be granted access to my chamber you need more control. Or you will be punished." "Your will is absolute, my Queen," he replied, still slightly surprised at how easily and naturally the words rolled off his tongue, "I beg you to punish me if I displease you." From her hands swung a leather lead, ending in a spiked collar which his blue eyes followed as it oscillated back and forth like a pendulum. It reminded him of the hunting dogs he had grown up with, they had been allowed to roam free all over the castle. But somehow, as he watched the orbs light reflect off the spike tips as it swung back and forth, the thought of being restrained, being shackled and controlled by his owner felt...right. The Prince sighed as he felt the leather chocker slide against his well-muscled neck and heard the snap of the clasp as it symbolised what had already taken place in his heart. "This is a temporary collar, the proper one I will fit at the right time and place. Now you need cleaning up, I can't have my pets spending all day covered in their own spunk," his Mistress said, jolting him into action with a slight tug on the leash. As he was led naked on his hands and through the corridors, they passed servants rushing back and forth as they attended to their tasks in silence. The only sounds were the clicking of high heels echoing off the stone floor and the rhythmic squeak of the Queens leather skirt as her hips sashayed back and forth. The Prince knew deep down he should be paying attention and learning the layout of the castle, but his eyes were fastened squarely upon the witches perfectly round butt as it rocked from side to side with every step she took. One of his fantasies bubbled up from the depths of his mind, of being allowed to kiss and lick those round cheeks as another of the Queens servants was buried up to their eyes in between her legs. He felt almost giddy in anticipation as excitement writhed in his gut, so eager for his training to begin. The Prince was led into a bathing chamber, where a huge sunken bath in the middle of the floor was filled with hot steaming water, which swirled around the glowing orbs as it drifted lazily to the ceiling. A wooden chair already damp with the rooms excess moisture was seated at the edge of the pool. But his gaze was drawn to the four handmaidens standing like statues around the edges of the room. All four were different ages, sizes, different hair colour and nationalities. However they had one thing in common, they were all naked except for a gold chocker set with a single ruby in its centre. Now he knew that this would have been one of his favourite fantasies from the days before his ownership, but already he automatically looked up at the Queen waiting for her permission, for her orders as she unclipped his leash. "My girls will bath and wash you, but be warned, each time you give in and touch either them or yourself, sometime will be deducted from your training," she warned enigmatically, accompanied by a mischievous grin as she settled herself into the chair to observe the entertainment. As the Prince gingery lowered his aching limbs and crusty torso into the hot soapy water, he intended to make his Mistress proud and keep his hands to himself. And he had just spent several hours with his hand practically inseparable from his cock; the Prince wanted it to heal for when his owner wanted to make use of it. But the handmaidens were another story; two were in the water with him with their gentle touches washing away all filth and grime from his skin, their wet bodies reflecting the orbs light making them gleam tantalisingly. Strong hands behind were kneading the cramps out of his muscles, every time he shifted he felt the weight of their breasts brush against his bare back. If he was capable of thought at that moment, he would have reflected their owner liked to collect attractive pets. The Queen was set on a throne at the side of the bath, enjoying the show and remembering the many happy times she had been bathed in this room. But this for the Prince, like many of his Mistresses gifts, was a double edge sword. It was slow sweet torture to be so close to these women and not do anything. Especially since he'd figured out the handmaidens had resided in the castle longer, and had undergone more training; so by now they must be very skilled indeed. As the blonde was carefully rinsing his arm, her breast was almost in the palm of his hand, and with a groan of longing he reached out and felt it fit snugly into place. The girl reacted almost immediately, moaning and rubbing herself against his calloused fingers, but she didn't stop washing, not even when he twisted her large brown nipple and her eyes almost rolled back into her head. A throaty chuckle echoed around the room and the Queen called out, "Just couldn't help yourself, could you my naughty pet." Realising his mistake the Prince jerked his hand away as if it burnt, and bowed his head in shame at disobeying his Mistress. And his resolve and fear may have provided an adequate shield against further temptation, but he hadn't reckoned on the other girls self-control breaking. The blonde girl was still panting from all the stimulation, and without warning, grabbed the brunette next to her and began French kissing like her life depended on it. Both nymphs had abandoned their tasks and were proceeding to glide their soapy hands all over their wet bodies. The Prince felt his abused cock stiffen rapidly and he hissed as the bruised and tired muscles contracted. The two pairs of hands behind him were pawing his flesh more urgently and sensuously, with their nails leaving red trails across his freshly scrubbed skin, as their owners were caught up in the show just as he was. Groaning his surrender, his hand reached down into the water to pump his shaft, no matter how much it would hurt. "Bambie, Fawna, Helena, Giselle, enough!" came the thunderous command from the throne. Upon hearing their owners voice the handmaidens immediately ceased and stood still, their heaving chests and panting breaths the only indication they were still painfully aroused. The Prince looked up in rising dread as his Mistress rose from her seat and slowly stalked around the pool to her wayward pet. His terror made him tremble from head to foot and feel an overwhelming compulsion to throw himself at his Queen's feet to beg forgiveness. The former heir to the throne bowed his head in submission, so was shocked when a hand grabbed a fistful of his sodden locks and dragged his head up to find the Queen knelt down and her face mere inches from his. "You are a weak willed, undisciplined, horny little slut," she told him, in a voice that slithered across his skin and caused him to swallow painfully, "This is why you need an owner, and why you need training. Do you understand pet?" "Yes my dark Queen, I'm weak compared to your iron will, I will do anything you say!" he babbled, desperate to please her once more, anything to earn her praise. "Good," the witch gave a tight lipped smile and released his head, "Your training for today is learning to pleasure a woman with your tongue properly and achieve an orgasm worthy of her. Now since I expect my pets to have some skill when they attend me, you won't be given permission for that until I decide you're ready." The Prince felt crushing disappointment, as he was already craving that addictive nectar he had tasted when his Mistress had overwhelmed his resistance. He vowed to train as hard as he had when learning to wield a sword, harder if it meant he earnt that particular reward. "So you will practise on my handmaidens here," she said gesturing to the naked collared women, and her pet felt his spirits soar that he hadn't blown his chances. "However," and there was that one word spoken in that particular tone he had come to dread, "Because you yielded to temptation, you only have five minutes for each girl to make them climax. If you fail, you will be punished to regain more time, and you will try again." The Princes jaw dropped in abject horror, but he should have realised that his punishments would be sever. In a way it was oddly comforting, as a boy the only way he'd ever responded was to harsh discipline. His once overheard his tutors whispering, worried about how often they had to administer it, whether the heir enjoyed it too much. He was snapped back to the present by the blonde called Fawna, who was perched on the edge of the pool with her legs spread wide, revealing a hairless sex with dainty lips, waiting patiently as she obeyed her owners instructions. The Queen conjured an hour glass that hung suspended just out of his line of vision, as he glanced at it, the top bulb held far too little sand. "Begin," the enchantress ordered, as the sand began to trickle down, counting the precious seconds he had to complete her task. Acutely aware that time was of the essence, the Prince immediately dove in and began to enthusiastically lick the handmaidens pussy. But instead of the expected moans of pleasure, the blonde whimpered in distress and inched her pelvis away from his attentions. Frowning in puzzlement, the Prince struggled to comprehend what was wrong. Thinking she was just trying to sabotage his efforts, the noble held her hips firmly in place and resumed licking. The blondes whimpers increased to a continuous whine as her wriggling became more pronounced as her partner pressed hard against her clit. The Prince was confused why this wasn't working; he'd made his Mistress climax hadn't he? Why was it not working on this girl? Was she defective in some way? Yet she'd responded well enough when he'd caressed her breast. Remembering from earlier how his thumb had rubbed her large nipple, the noble swirled his tongue in the same manner around her clit, and got a much more pleasing response. Now he was getting somewhere. "Stop, times run out." Shocked at how fast five minutes had passed already, the former heir glanced up in confirmation and saw the sand heaped in the bottom bulb. He fervently wished he's never given into temptation earlier in the pool, he'd been warned but hadn't heeded his Queens counsel. "Such a shame pet," his Mistress gloated, with so much glee in her voice it was almost indecent, "Fawna has an extremely sensitive body, but since you were too heavy handed, or heavy tongued, it was too painful for her to climax. So that means you will receive your punishment." The Queen held up a wooden paddle about the same circumference as his head, as she twirled the handle between her fingers, "But since I will be generous, for each hit you take on your tight compact ass, I will add 10 seconds of time back on to your next challenge. But you need to count every spank." Resigning himself, still consumed with feelings of impotence and shame from failing to make a beautiful woman orgasm, the Prince hauled his dripping, naked form out of the water, and bent over exposing his behind to the Queens displeasure. When the wooden paddle descended he cried out in surprise and pain, as the water dripping from his ass enhanced the sensation and made it sting all the more. Belatedly remembering, he gasped "One!" as he wondered how he would endure many more of these. Though he could shout stop at any point, it conflicted with the desire to claw back some much needed time for the next task. The Prince gritted his teeth and counted each slap of the paddle, his buttocks growing hot and becoming more sensitised as the force of each blow rocked him forward. He kept reminding himself he could endure this, just one more hit, one more hit... At eighteen he yelled "No more!" and immediately the paddling ceased. The noble drew in some much needed air to steady his body, wishing for some cold water to douse the flames he felt in his tender backside. He rolled over onto his back and found the cool stone floor soothing as he let out a sigh of relief. "Well done pet, you've increased your allotted time by three minutes," the Queen complemented, and added the extra time to the hourglass as it reset, "Now see if you can do better with Helena." The auburn haired girl stood before the Prince, as he gazed up at her naked form he admired her long legs and full breasts with long rosy red nipples, and the way her long straight hair cascaded down her back to tease her cute butt. Then gracefully, without a word she straddled his face and insistently rubbed her crotch against his full lips. The Prince was shocked having never been in this position before, as the handmaiden's body blocked out the light and he felt her weight pressed down upon his head. But the feeling of being helpless, of having all the power transferred to Helena, sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. The thought of her riding his face, forcing him to submit, just taking her pleasure from him, turned him on more then even sharing a bath with four beautiful women. With a muffled groan, the noble began to lick in earnest, this time holding back in his intensity, but still encouraging the handmaiden to grind her pussy into his mouth. He imagined his Queen in this position, seated on his head like a throne, or even riding his cock whilst one of the girls straddled his face. "Stop, times up pet." The words slowly sank into the Prince's pleasure drugged brain, but were emphasised when Helena rose up and crawled away from him, leaving the former heir panting and alone on the floor with her juices smeared over his face. "Didn't I make myself clear pet? Your target today was simple, to learn to read a woman's responses and make her orgasm, not to drift off into your own fantasies," rebuked the Queen with a bite of impatience laced into her tone, "Now get up and receive your punishment." Feeling mortified beyond belief, her pet reluctantly did what he was told. As he counted each time the paddle forcefully made contact with his tender ass, the resentment built and an old forgotten streak of defiance flared up in his soul. There was no fairness to these lessons, how was he even supposed to please his Mistress when there was no hope of succeeding, when it felt like the cards were stacked so firmly against him? "That's enough!" the Prince shouted on the tenth stroke, as he spun around and glowered at his owner, feeling embarrassed at his failure and humiliated by her tests. "There isn't enough time!" he yelled, venting his protests and frustrations, "It's impossible!" Absolute silence greeted his rant as the glowing orbs flickered and dimmed, then the Queen's magic poured out like a tsunami, filling the room with her fury. Cries echoed from the handmaidens, as the pools water began to boil and bubble with her wrath. The scolding wave of magic crashed against the Prince's exposed skin, as he flung up his arms in an effort to ward against the onslaught. The feeling of cooking in his own skin made the previous paddle spanks seem like a feather touch in comparison. In the centre of the confusion and panic, the Queen stood unmoved, her anger transforming her features making her both more beautiful and terrible to behold. "I won't take such insolence from anyone, especially you my former Prince," she yelled, causing the rest of the handmaidens to cower in the corners as her voice cracked out like a whip, "I am Queen! My will is absolute! You begged me earlier to punish you if you displeased me. Do. You. Think. I'm. Displeased?" "Punish me! I beg you!" the terrified Prince screamed, as her words flayed his exposed flesh, leaving long red welts in their wake, Eventually her rag died down to a simmering aura which writhed and prickled across his naked flesh. "If you learn nothing else, remember this," she scolded, "The more you obey, the more you receive pleasure." "The more I obey, the more I receive pleasure," he intoned, finally realising the full ramifications of that simple phrase. The handmaidens had crept back towards the pool once their owners temper had cooled, trembling in the aftershock. As the others resumed their positions, the slightly built, brown haired girl called Bambi laid down beside her fellow pet. The Queen rose to her feet, pointed a finger towards the passive slave and commanded, "Lick." The Prince proceeded to dedicate himself to Bambi's pussy with a clarity and focus unparalleled before. With every lick he paid attention to her reactions, to every sigh and moan, and learnt when to apply pressure and when to move to another erogenous zone. As Bambi's hip thrusts picked up the pace, he moved with her in perfect rhythm, as his hands stroked the wide hip bones and trailed down the swell of her shapely thighs. He forgot about the time limit, or the watching audience, and was lost in the erotic act of pleasuring a woman in the most intimate manner. He even forgot about his own straining member aching for attention. Royalty Brought Low Pt. 05 "Times up, pet." 'No no no, please NO!' he thought desperately as the moment was broken, he wildly looked up at the timer fervently wishing it was wrong, to still have 10 more seconds! But the top glass bulb was completely devoid of sand, condemning him. Feeling crushed beyond comprehension the Prince drew away from the quivering handmaiden who was whispering over and over, "Please Mistress, please Mistress..." "Cum for me, Bambi," her owner ordered, and the brown haired girl climaxed spectacularly, her entire body arching off the floor as she screamed her completion to the room. Once she had quietened down, silence descended leaving only the gentle lapping of water. "That was a very decent effort my pet, your technique was greatly improved," the Queen complemented, "If only your ass could have taken one more spank." That reminded the Prince of his beaten, throbbing backside, and winced not sure it could take any more punishment. The Queen read his expression and took in his trembling form that was bowed low in his failure. "Hmm, I think your punishment should take another form," the enchantress agreed, "Rise up pet." "Thank you my Queen," he panted sincerely as he rose up onto his knees. His heart leapt at his owner's wise decision, he didn't deserve such understanding and generosity. The Queen slipped a green glowing ring over his erection, whose metal seemed to pulse gently against his flesh, sending shivers through his torso as he waited patiently to see what further depravities his Mistress had devised. "Now your last attempt was commendable pet, but since you failed to meet my rules, you haven't earnt the right to pleasure my pussy," she said in mock sorrow tones, "So you will watch Giselle and pay attention to her technique." With a beckoning gesture the bronze skinned handmaiden eagerly went towards her leather clad goddess with a rapturous expression on her striking features. Jealousy knifed through the Prince at his fellow pet reaping the reward he craved for himself, but the former noble couldn't deny the idea of two women copulating was too alluring to resent for long. Giselle showed considerable restraint and patience as she knelt in front of her living altar, as if determined to savour every second of this gift and treasure it in her memory always. Her entire being became a finely tuned instrument, receptive to reading her Mistresses every pulse of pleasure. As the Queen groaned out loud for the first time, the band around the Princes cock contracted slightly, causing his eyes to widen in shock and the former noble to let loose an answering moan. Was that his Mistresses plan, for him to resist the pleasures seductive lure and to keep observing Giselle's masterful technique? But as the enchantresses moans grew louder, the glowing ring contracted tighter with each rise in volume, and very soon the bliss he felt gradually morphed to pain. However the Princes erection did not wilt, but instead grew harder. The hedonistic experiences in this depraved castle had left their mark, and the consequences of submitting were gradually conditioning him to associate pain with pleasure. All this didn't register as conscious thought, as the mind warped captive grunted with each sharp sensation and avidly watched the carnal display. Then as Giselle coaxed the Queen to a spectacular orgasm, her shriek of ecstasy caused the Prince genuine agony and his scream of torture echoed round the chamber in sadistic harmony. His hands clenched into fists so tightly the fingernails drew blood which trickled down to mix with the other fluids on the floor. As the Prince recovered he opened his eyes to see a leather clad boot in his field of vision. A familiar sound of clicking fingers caused the tortuous ring to release a pulse of magic that rippled across his body; rejuvenating and repairing the damaged flesh as a reward for his obedience. The welts across his back, the damage to his groin, the redness of his ass all disappeared as if they'd never been. To the Prince it felt like a thousand fingers caressing his body all at once, so all-consuming he barely noticed the ring detach from his pulsing cock and fall to the floor with an innocent tinkle. He cried out completely consumed by the magically induced sensations, made all the more sweeter following on the heels of the some of the worst pain he had endured. His body was strung as tightly as a harps string, practically vibrating with tension. But he stayed kneeling, his gaze unfocused and unseeing, teetering on the brink of release, waiting for his Mistress to pronounce judgement. "You have finally pleased me, my submissive toy," she praised, her voice brimming with satisfaction, "Come for me." The Princes climax ripped through his body, as he shuddered on the floor completely uninhibited, his sobs a mixture of garbled sounds and broken thanks to his dark Queen. Her lesson was now etched on his very soul, to obey is to receive pleasure.