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A Handmaid's Tail

By: Couture



**The Retainer**

"I would like to request an audience with King John."

"For what?" the Retainer asked in a rough manner that suggested the young woman wasn't going to get an audience no matter what.

"I have some skills with a pen, numbers, and language" Antoinette said, doing her upmost to keep her voice clear and profession and not let it descend into a whining plead as it wanted to. "I was hoping to find some employment with the King."

The irony wasn't lost on Antoinette. Throughout her childhood, King John had been an antagonist. His incursions on French soil were frequent and known for their brutality. Her father had fortified the French defenses and always managed to turn the English scum back. Yet, he had never predicted that his demise would come from his own blood kin. He had been killed by his brother and the whole blood line had been methodically wiped out. There was no one left but Antoinette. She took flight to the safest place she knew...the heart of her enemy. 

"Where are you from that they would teach a girl such things? Or are you some sort of witch? I warn you girl, the English know well how to deal with witches."

"No sir, I'm no witch. I'm God fearing." Antoinette said, hurriedly making the sign of the cross over her chest. These English were a backwards lot. She had forgotten just how much. Obtaining suitable employment might be harder than she thought. Worse, she could even be accused of witchcraft for even having knowledge of letters. "My father was a scribe. I learned from helping him when I was young."

"I reckon' he should have kept you in the kitchen with your mother," the Retainer said taking a document and putting it on the table in front of Antoinette. "Well, let's see just how scribed you are. What do you make of these here letters?"

Antoinette bit her tongue. How scribed? It wasn't even proper English and the man was English. Ignorant is what he was. Be that as it may, she summoned all the meekness she possessed, and tried to read the filthy manuscript in the dimly lit room. She moved it closer to the candle. "It says that the King had decreed the road tax be raised...-Sir what are you doing?"

The young woman was at a disadvantage. The Retainer had come up behind her while she was bending over the table to read and lifted her skirts up. Worse he was at that moment making short work of her bodice and her undergarments.

"You are a little old for the King's taste," the Retainer said. "From the look of you, you have a fine body under all this material...and a tight arse. But, I'll wager that it won't be so tight after I'm done with it."

"Sir," Antoinette pleaded. "Unhand me at once. Do you have any idea who I am?" At one time she was a Princess and this rotten curr would have faced execution for even having thoughts of doing such as this. However, Antoinette was no longer a Princess, she was nothing at all right now. She was wanted and there was a price on her well-bred head. Her fine clothes had become dirty and ragged in her long journey from France. Worse, she was weak from a lack of food and proper nutrition.

"My-my I was right after all. You are a comely enough wench ... in need of a good lesson," the retainer said. "I suggest you kneel down and apply some lubrication to my staff, because I intend on lodging it firmly in your innards. My learned little scribe, I have you know I've turned some of the worst whores that work the wharf into honest women after giving them a good buggering, so I imagine I'll be able to teach you your place."

"Please sir, I know my place." Antoinette begged doing her best to wriggle out from the hard calloused hands that held her captive. She was no match for this man and his dirty fingers - groping her and making short work of her vestments. "Let me be. I'm not the sort."

"I dare say you won't be the sort of girl that goes around saying she knows her numbers and letters when I'm done with you either, but the sort who knows the difference between a dirty dish and a mop bucket," the Retainer said. "Now put some spit on it or I'll take you dry."

Antoinette knelt down in front of the miserable cur. His breeches were swollen at the crotch. She was already in fear as she unbuttoned his flap, he hadn't been lying, he was hung like a stallion. She began to shake in fear as she took it in her hand and it still continued to grow. It's girth was such that she could not wrap her dainty fingers about it. It was several hands long, knobby with a curved shape, and capped with a bulbous head.

To make matters worse, he smelled bad, like a wet dog. Yet, she held her breath and stuck out her tongue for a man for the first time...and used her tongue to wet the hateful appendage, knowing where it would ultimately come to rest. How far she had fallen, once a princess, and now on her knees for this .... this rotten cur. She might be able to get out of this with her virginity intact, but it was going to come at a huge price.

"Now let's see if a learned lady squeals any different from a common whore," the retainer grinned, as he pulled the petite young woman up by her hair and promptly bent her over the desk, holding her down by her neck. Then he spit in the crack of her tight little arse and rubbed it in with a well calloused finger.

Antoinetted tried to fight the digit's progress up her tight arsehole, but her muscles were no match for his cruel finger. Worse, if just his small finger was difficult to accommodate, how was she going to manage his monster of a cock? She did the only thing she could think to do; she began to thrash and shriek.

"Your squirming brings the milk to my bollucks," he said. "And soon your cries will be quieted when I plant my cock in your belly."

The girl fought well. She couldn't scratch or bite in her bent position, but she squirmed and dodged the monster at her door with great vigor. 

The retainer kept lining up his rigid phallus with it's intended target and pushing home. He had connected several times, but hadn't quite managed to force his way into her innards. But he had played this game many times before. They always sought to delay the inevitable, but even the hardest fighting and most flexible wench would make a mistake, and would arch her back and attempt to dodge his hard stave. It was then that he would push it home, and she would have no where left to run except impaling herself further on his cock.

However, Antoinette had already guessed at his game. He had come close to taking her several times already. The ring of her ass still throbbed from the missed attempts. She was no common English slut, but a well bred French Princess. If this English curr succeeded, he was going to ruin her, of that she was certain. So, she arched her back and moved her ass up knowing full well he was going to try to take her. But this time she had locked her hands on the edge of the desk. 

The Retainer grinned seeing his intended target presented for him. Such a tight little bud, already red from his earlier attempts. Oh, he was looking forward to this. Without further thought, he plunged his hips forward. 

Upon hearing the Retainer's triumphet cry, Antoinette pulled with all her might, pulling herself out of his reach, but she wasn't finished yet. She kicked back like a mule and prayed for the best.

It had been a fun game watching the little slip of a girl climbing over the desk. Her wriggling and squirming had made his bollocks fill to the brim. Oh the retainer was going to enjoy this little slip of a wench with her slim hips and tight ass. He was going to take her more than once. The first fuck would be something else. A virgin hole milking his bollocks. She would cry at first, but then would come to terms with it. Would go limp, grunting with each pistoning thrust. Then he would fill her to the brim with come. 

After, she would think it was over. She would get up and smooth down her skirts. She would find it difficult to stand and walking would be painful. He wouldn't let her leave until she cleaned off his cock. She would make such a face, but she would do it, if only to get out and have it done with. To get away from him. Then his stave would begin to harden again. Knowing what was coming, she would begin to cry. 

The second time he took that tight arse, he would make her do some of the work. Oh, this squirming little vixen wouldn't think so now, but she would if he threatened to bugger her thrice. Which he was going to to anyway. He would do it again and again until she finally learned her place. Letters and numbers...for fun he was going to make this little minx count the number of times he buggered her tight arse. So intent was he on his fantasy, that he didn't even see her foot as she reared back like a donkey and it struck home. All he knew was that his already full bollucks exploded in pain driving him down to his knees.

"You will pay dearly for that girl," he groaned. After he was done with her and he wouldn't be done for some time, he wouldn't be content with knocking her down a peg or two. Now, he was going to take her to the docks himself sell her for a few silver.

But Antoinette had no intention of waiting for that to happen. She ran from the room as fast as she was able, not even bothering to lace back up again. To hell with being a lady. Self-preservation drove her actions. And drove her directly into a woman walking down a corridor.

"Pardon me ma'am," Antoinette said. She was already getting to her feet and was ready to run again, not even thinking to help the woman up. Then she felt an iron grip around her neck. Thinking it was the retainer she shouted,"Unhand me you rotten man." Then to the guard that was helping the woman she had knocked down. "Help me. Don't let him get me."

"Your majesty," said the voice behind her. "What would you like done with her? A flogging? The stockade?"

The stockade? The thought made Antoinette shake with fear. She had heard tales of the stockade...morever what went on at night while the person was unable to defend themselves. A trusted few friends could keep the predators as bay. But she had no friends. And she wasn't making any now, not after having bowled over the Queen. 

The Queen eyes flashed angrily at the young woman in front of her. "Whore," she spat. "Look at you running around in a state of undress. I think some time on the stocks should teach her a good lesson."

Antoinette blushed a bright crimson. She wanted desperately to lace her bodice, but her arms were being held behind her back. Worse, she had been taken for a woman of loose morals, and she was anything but. 

"Your Highness," Antoinette pleaded. "I was accosted by the Retainer. I merely wanted audience with the King to seek employment."

"What sort of employment?" the Queen sneered. "Court whore?"

"No Highness," Antoinette said. "I thought interpreter or scribe."

"There you are whore!" a voice boomed.

Antoinette flinched as she heard the voice of the Retainer. 

"Your pardon highness," the Retainer said, growing much more polite upon seeing the Queen. "I see that you have this well in hand....I was - I was chasing this wench that managed to slip into the castle."

"She must be a very fast wench indeed," the Queen said. "To have raced ahead of you in all these skirts."

The Retainer had been maneuvered into a corner. Unable to admit the truth, all he could do with mutter, "Very nimble Highness. Like a rabbit."

"Well Rabbit," the Queen said. "I think you owe the Retainer an apology for embarrassing one of the King's men by out running him."

Antoinette was outraged. The man had very nearly raped her and she was expected to apologize for getting away. "But Highness, he accosted me!"

"Do you really expect me to believe some half naked beggar or one of the King's own men?" the Queen arched an eyebrow and gave a harsh glare at the young woman.

"I'm sorry for out running you sir," Antoinette managed to force out, but her eyes glared at the lying cur in front of her. She could smell his wine soaked breath. Could see him rubbing his grubby finger greedily. 

"Don't go anywhere yet Retainer," the Queen said. "I may need you to take this rabbit and put her in the stockade. Unless she can....apologize to me for knocking me over."

Antoinette looked fearfully at the Retainer. Watched him lick his lips hungrily. Oh he would be first in line at the stockade once night fell. And this time she wouldn't be able to escape. He would have his revenge. "I apologize your Majesty."

Then the Queen made her apologize in French, Spanish, Latin, and Gaelic, because a true interpreter wouldn't have a problem with this. The girl managed in all but Gaelic - and started crying at that point thinking she was going to the stocks.

"I think we can overlook you assaulting me," the Queen said. "However the King is well stocked in scribes and interpreters. But I have something else in mind for you. Do you think you could teach a member of the royal family?"

"Oh yes Highness," Antoinette said. "I'm well-versed in protocol, language, and numbers." This was turning out better than she had hoped. She had secretly feared being an interpreter as it could lead to her identity being found out if she were asked to translate for someone she knew.

"Good. Make yourself presentable," the Queen said. "And come with me."

**The Princess**

Antoinette laced up and followed the Queen. They walked down several corridors, further and further and further into the castle. Antoinette felt right at home. She was introduced to her new charge, the Queen's own daughter Mary, a fine boned girl of eighteen summers. The Princess's hair was dark and her eyes flashed like her mother's. She had an imperious mAneller that made it very hard to teach. Antoinette had to be creative and turn her lessons into games to keep the young girl's attention focused on her lessons. It was during one such game that Antoinette learned the downside to her new profession.

"Check mate," Antoinette said as she moved her knight beside the rook, trapping the Princess's King. 

Mary's eyes flashed angrily. Her cheeks turned bright red. Tears welled in her eyes.

"It's okay Mistress Mary," Antoinette said. "Everyone loses on occasion. How else does one learn what not to do? And how not to make the same mistakes in the future." 

The Princess didn't bother answering her tutor. Instead she told hold of the chess board and dashed it to the floor, and then storming from the room.

Antoinette was aghast. She had managed to let the Princess win every game they had played so far. However, most all of them had been pretend games. Chess was not. Chess had rules. She had given the girl chance after chance, but she couldn't even remember how the pieces moved. Eventually, Antoinette had to win, there was no other way. Well, everyone had to learn that rules had to be obeyed, even Princesses. Antoinette had the advantage of having a house keeper with a firm hand. Now, it was her turn to do the same favor for Mary.

She was caught totally by surprise when Mary returned with two guards and the former French princess was hauled down to the dungeon.

"So," Princess Mary said. "Not feeling so big of yourself now, are you?"

"No Mistress," Antoinette admitted. She didn't feel big at all, chained as she was, her ankles in shackles, and secured to the floor in such a way so that her legs were spread wide. Worse, her wrists were also shackled and secured to a bar hanging from the ceiling, pulling her wrists high behind her back. She was completely at this spoiled girl's mercy and the point was driven home quite well by the knife that was held to her neck.

"Let's play a new game," Mary said. "This is one of my favorite games. It's called breaking in the horsie. Let me explain the rules. First of all, horsies don't have any clothes."

"Please," Antoinette begged. "I - I don't want to play this game."

"Oh but I do," Mary said, using the small knife to cut through her tutor's layered garments. Stripping her bare. Then she went over to the table, put the knife down, but picked up her riding crop. She flexed the leather and whipped it experimentally through the air.

"When I was young, I saw the prettiest horsie you ever saw. I told my daddy the King to get it for me. But he told me no. Told me I was too young for such a horse. A stallion. He was tempermental. Too much spirit for a girl like me," Mary said. "But I cried and cried. I promised never to ride it - only to look at it and feed it carrots and tie ribbons in its mane. Eventually I got my horsie. And when no one was looking I went down to the stable to ride it first thing. Do you know what happened?"

Antoinette shook her head no, but she could guess. The horse had thrown her. The King had been right all along.

"Such a bad horsie," Mary said. "My arm was in a sling for weeks. Daddy was going to have the horsie put down, but I wouldn't let him. Instead I had him tied up in a stall. And then I went to visit him again just as soon as my arm was well enough to do this."

There was a whistle and a crack. Pain sparked through the former princess's bottom. She bucked causing the chains to jingle, but they didn't yield. She gave a cry of pain.

"With this very riding crop," Mary said. "I taught the horsie what a bad thing he had done."

There was another whistle and crack. This time the pain coursed through the inner part of Antoinette's thigh. "Mercy!" Antoinette begged.

"That's French for thank you." Mary laughed. "And you are very welcome. How about another and another?" Each time bringing the leather down hard on her captive.

Antoinette tried everything she could think of. She struggled against her bonds. She screamed. She cried. She begged for mercy. She tried to dodge the blows as best she was able, and then she did the worst thing she probably could have. She grew angry. No one treated her like this. No one. Least of all this spoiled English Princess.

"Let me go this instant," Antoinette yelled. "I have you know that I outrank you. I'm a Princess, and by all rights, the true Queen of France. I will not be treated like some errant handmaid. Now unfasten these bonds you evil girl!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Antoinette wished she could recall them. All she could hope now was for Mary to think she was lying. There was a reward for her head, she prayed the young Princess didn't know about it. Although, for now she was glad her outburst had provided a respite to the crop.

"Oh my," Mary said. "To think that I have a Princess...the true Queen of France all trussed up in the dungeon. Come Princess, call upon your guards. Have them stop me." The crop fell again and again. "Come Princess, call them. Have them set you free. Tell them to put me in irons. Go ahead. Call them." Each word was punctuated by a smack of the crop on inflamed hot flesh.

The hopelessness of her situation was never more obvious. Nor, the degree in which her status had fallen. She wished she could call her guards, but there were no guards for her anymore. Any loyal to her father would have been killed. The others would be loyal to her bastard of an uncle. And even those guards couldn't help her here in an English dungeon.

"Please Mistress," Antoinette pleaded, tears now rolling down her cheeks and off the end of her nose. "I meant no harm. I'm but a tutor. Please let me go, I'll not say a word to your mother. I'll give her whatever sort of report you want."

"Oh no Princess," Mary said. "It's far too late for that. I knew there was something special about you from the moment I saw you - Antoinette, the missing French Princess."

"I was lying Princess," Antoinette begged. "I'm no one. I just wanted you to stop."

"Do you remember that horse I was telling you about?" Mary asked. "That horse was from a good line. One of the best. I know flesh Princess..." Mary's hands roved her captive's lean sweat drenched body. 


A Handmaid's Tail



The touch made Antoinette shiver. At first it was a touch like she'd seen so many times, by her father whenever he appraised a new horse he was interested in. It was a touch that told Antoinette she wasn't a Princess anymore, she was nothing but a mere animal to this horrid girl. She didn't think a mere touch could make a person feel lower than she felt at that moment. But the touch changed once more. Measuring her breasts. Her nipples. Her ass. Oh God, even her sex. She had nothing sacred anymore. 

"This is royal flesh," Mary said. "I can see it in every curve. I can feel it. I can touch it."

"Please Princess..." Antoinette begged. "I'm but a tutor. I heard the stories and only repeated..."

"I've never whipped a Princess before," Mary said, ignoring Antoinette's explanation. She picked the crop off the floor and resumed work on her captive. "Have you ever been whipped Princess?" 

"No," Antoinette gasped as the blows began to fall again. "Oh no..."

"I haven't either. You see, most have, with only rare exceptions...like Princesses." 

The bound woman resumed her struggles again. Resumed her pleas. Her cries. But nothing seemed to work. As a matter of fact, Antoinette soon noticed her struggles only seemed to make the blows come down all the harder. She felt despair and hopelessness unlike she had ever known. She gave up on her struggles and accepted her fate - hanging limply while the Princess whipped her helpless body.

"Ahhhh," Mary said. "Now we are getting somewhere. My horse did the same thing. Even a big stallion will realize a hopeless situation and stop fighting the inevitability of the crop. You should be proud, you didn't foam at the mouth like he did. Now where were we? Oh yes, now my horsie has learned that I can to whatever I want to it. All those big horsie muscles don't help a bit, do they? Ah, but something is amiss. What is it that every horse has that you seem to be missing? Go on. Guess correct and I may stop."

"I don't know Mistress. Hooves. A saddle..." Antoinette volunteered quickly after each blow of the crop. 

"No stupid," Mary said. "A tail."

Mary went to a cabinet and pulled out two more instruments of torture - a cat of nine tails and a lash that had metal barbs at the end. Antoinette began to shake helplessly. She would never survive such a beating.

"Stop your crying or I'll whip you with them," Mary said as she shook each one and inspected the handles of each. She put the lash back and settle on the cat. She also picked up an oddly shaped metal cylinder on the way back to Antoinette. 

"You don't realize how lucky you are Princess," Mary said. "Usually the King's torturer would get the oil hot in the fire and then poor it over the person they wished to talk. It isn't like water. The oil clings and can't be shaken off. Usually they pour a bit of oil on the poor bastard's back. Mary tilted the bottle, pouring the oil on Antoinette's back. The cold oil was a shock to poor Antoinette. The helpless Princess gasped in response to the shock of cold oil on her hot inflamed welt-covered back. It felt good, soothing, but she could just imagine how it would feel were it hot.

"Then they tell the prisoner this is your last chance to talk. Then the show them the bottle, let them get a look at it. Determine it's purpose. They always talk. If it's something the King doesn't want to hear, he orders it done anyway."

While Mary was talking she showed her captive the bottle. It was a shape she had seen only a few days earlier with the Retainer. It was cock shaped. Dear Lord! 

"Oh please no Princess..." Antoinette pleaded.

Mary ignored her captive's pleas. "Sush, I hear the French love this." The she began to push it home. 

Antoinette was terrified at first. Especially when it didn't enter the opening she thought it was destined for, but her other opening. The rear one. Her last experience had been with the Retainer, and she remembered how much his failed attempts had hurt. She tried moving and dodging just as she had before, but the Mary lined the head of the phallus up with the French girl's arsehole and began to gently push. Covered in oil and gushing it from the front, it promptly slipped home. Antoinette still bucked and shimmied in hopes of avoiding her fate, but she soon experience an unfamiliar feeling. She felt full. Stuffed. Her ass stretched open, but not painfully so. She could feel the cold oil pouring into her insides. The fight left her as quickly as it had begun. She gave a grunt as Mary pushed the bottle in and out. Fucking her with it.

"You are French, aren't you?" Mary teased.

"Yes..." Antoinette admitted, surprised at the tone of her voice. Part groan - part moan. Worse, she knew her captor was right. She could feel her body responding to this buggery. Could feel it began to warm. To react.

"Now let's get your tail in place." Mary pulled out the bottle and began to work in the handle of the cat of nine tails. It was bigger around than the bottle of oil. It took a bit of working to get it past the royal spinchter. She smiled as she realized her French Princess didn't fight and dodge as she had earlier. Just hung limp and accepted the handle. Merely gave a groan or a grunt as each ridge passed her tight anal ring and slipped home.

"Oh you do make a fine horse Princess. With such s splendid tail. All the other horsies will be so jealous." Mary said as she picked up the crop again. "Now let me ask you another question about horses. Do you know what makes a proud horse? What separates the wheat from the chaff?"

"No Princess," Antoinette groaned. She was sure whatever the answer it would involve some form of physical or sexual torture by the examples she had been given so far.

Mary moved in front of her French captive , trailing a leather gloved hand over the girl's neck and finally to her chin which she lifted. She let go, and then applied a few brisk strokes of the crop to Antoinette's arse. Afterwards she tilted her French captive's chin back up until she was satisfied that it was held to her satisfaction. "They keep their chin held high and proud."

Yet there was worse to come for Antoinette. She hung there helplessly as Princess Mary moved behind her. She felt the leather gloves over her oily back, sliding down to the small of her back, then pushing it down, forcing the French woman to arch her back. Then another gloved hand slipped between her wide spread thighs, to her lean stomach, then down lower to her abdomen, then to her sex, lifting up, lifting her up to her tiptoes. "The same goes for their horsie tails."

"Now that's a proud horsie," Mary said. "Now is the point I taught my horsie not to fear the crop. The crop is something I carry with me whenever I ride. I don't want the horse to see it and throw me, now do I? That makes for a Princess with a sore ass if she's thrown to the ground."

Mary went back to work with the crop. She slapped the leather crop against every square inch of her poor captive. 

Poor Antoinette, these blows weren't like the others she had endured. These stung - but they didn't have the same bite as before. She was able to endure them, doing her best to keep her head held high, and her 'tail' in the proper position, else her captor give her a harder blow. While enduring the crop smacking her all over her body, Mary told her how the horse had thrown her when she tried to ride him once again and the first time he saw the crop. Instead of listening to her father in the first place and getting a horse that was more suitable for a young girl, she decided to do it on her own. To make her own solution. Quite forcefully. With preserverance. 

Like the horse before her, Antoinette also learned that the crop could be used to punish. It could deliver pain if she were disobedient. She could also be cropped and it not hurt more than a slight sting. But she also learned something else, if she were particularly obedient, when the Princess said she was proud of you, the crop could even give pleasure. Rubbing her between her legs. Intimately. Juices running down her slim thighs, Antionette had never felt the like before. Making her tingly. So tingly that even when the Princess slapped the leather against her most intimate of areas, making wet splatting noises, Antoinette wasn't feeling the sting at all. Only pleasure shooting through her loins. Making her gasp. Making her moan.

"My horsie liked this part of his training," Mary said sweetly. "I think it embarrassed him at first that I could do this to him. Control him in such an intimate fashion. " 

Mary brought the crop up hard between Antionette's legs, letting her feel that pain or pleasure was given at Mary's whim. Then she returned to stroking Antoinette's wet sex with the leather, making the girl moan and writhe.

"What do you think Princess," Mary grinned. "How does it feel that I can work you up? How does it feel to be moaning and groaning for another girl, you little pervert." 

Antoinette tried not to answer. But the crop made it necessary lest her humiliation be even greater than it was right now. It would be shameful enough to admit being turned on, but horrifying if her body betrayed her even further which was bound to happen if this kept on.

"It feels humiliating Princess. Please...stop...I've learned my lesson. I won't tell anyone. I promise," Antoinette begged.

"It sounds like my pony has finally learned her lesson," Mary with a smile. "Let's find out."

Mary unfastened Antoinette's bindings. Once free the captive Princess stretched her aching joints. Her torment was finally over. She reached around to pull out the tail, still lodged firmly inside her. Then she jerked it back as the crop hit her hand with a stinging blow.

"Oh no horsie," Mary said, slapping the crop against Antoinette's already sore bottom. "I haven't ridden you yet. Get down on the floor horsie. Hands and knees. Get down so I can mount you."

Antoinette went down. It was extremely humiliating. Sure she had been spread and whipped in a most humiliating way, but at least she had been tied. She hadn't a choice in the matter. Now, she was willingly getting on her hands a knees. Like an animal. After a few more stinging slaps from the crop, she had assumed a proud position, only she didn't feel proud at all. Not with her back arched, her neck held high, and her 'tail' sticking luridly out of her bottom in a most unnatural way. It didn't help to have Mary walking around her, touching her here and their with the crop until she was just so. Worse, to have the spoiled girl kneel down next to her and run her hands through her hair, cooing, "Ohhh what a pretty mane." or to run her gloved hand over her breasts, fondling them casually, saying, "Small...but I hear all the French are inferior to English in that regard."

Oh but the worse, the very worse was when Mary straddled her back and sat down, then took a lock of curly brown hair in each of her hands, then gave a wiggle and declared, "Giddy-yap"

To have been a Princess, to have had her own maids and ladies in waiting, and then to be done like this, to be sat upon like an animal. To be forced to carry this spoiled Princess, a girl who outweighed her by thirty odd pounds across the hard dungeon floor on her hands and knees, it was degrading beyond belief. Worse, she had shed all her tears from her earlier cropping. And she was sure the Princess wasn't just riding her, she could feel the hateful girl's crotch pressing against her, grinding on her while she hauled her around the room. 

When Mary grew tired of this game, she had her new horsie stand up. Then with crop in hand and ever ready to deliver a corrective spank, she taught her French captive how to trot. How to prance. How to keep her head held high and arms held up in front of her chest. How to swish her arse from side to side. How to bring her knees up to her navel with each step, even when galloping around the room. How to neigh. How to whinny. 

Poor Antoinette did everything she was asked. Even as she galloped to and fro, she could see that Mary was taking sexual satisfaction from her subjugation. Her suspicions when being ridden had proven correct, the Princess now had her riding breeches undone, and her hand stuffed down the front. Her voice was husky and throaty as she barked out orders and delivered her punishment. Intent and getting off on the humiliation of her French rival. The girl finally gave a moan, her hips pumping as she came.

That was the end of Antoinette's punishment for beating the English Princess at chess. The girl was civil enough afterwards, and even went so far as to fetch some suitable clothing for Antoinette to wear. 

However, it was obvious to both girls that their relationship had changed. Antoinette no longer had any illusion of being the young Princess's tutor. She still tried to maintain some semblance of lessons, no longer making games of it, but merely reading from a book in hopes that the Princess would grow bored and dismiss her tutor. She felt like running away, but she needed to get paid by the Queen so that she would have money enough for travel. A recommendation would be nice. She felt sure that if she had a few moments of the Queen's time, she could be on her way to other, less humiliating employment. Until then, she just had to endure and make sure a certain spoiled Princess was never made angry. But she soon found out that the Princess didn't need to be crossed to enjoy her perverse games.

"I'm tired of this lesson," Mary said after growing bored from listening to Antoinette read from a book. "Let's play chess again."

"I thought you didn't like that game?" Antoinette asked. The thought of having to play again sent a cold tendril of fear up her spine. "Besides, I'm sure you would rather play with someone with more skill than I." 

"I know my skills are much better," Mary said. "But let's play any way. Perhaps you may get lucky again."

Antoinette sat down at the board. She didn't enjoy playing anymore. Not by Mary's rules. She moved a pawn up two spaces, but it didn't matter. Mary moved her Queen out, skipping over the pawns in front, placing the piece to be captured by Antoinette's pawn. Antoinette looked at the blatant disregard of rules, but said nothing. Merely moved another pawn out. Mary captured it.

So the game went with Antoinette being completely routed. There were no rules, save those made up to suite the whims of a spoiled Princess. Antoinette hoped the girl would get bored, it couldn't be fun to play a game that was no challenge at all, but from gleam of joy in the girl's eyes, she was finding some sort of entertainment. As the game progressed, a chill crept up Antoinette's spine. Her eyes darted to the remaining men. Unable to take any, she moved her King, prolonging the outcome. But in two more moved, Mary moved her Queen into position. 

"Check mate," she declared, triumphantly. "I think you need some punishment for losing so badly. That wasn't even fun. Now, strip down horsie and get one all fours."

"Please Mistress," Antoinette begged, but she didn't disobey. It was hopeless, how could she be punished for losing as well as winning? However, she had learned that lesson quite well. This alternative was preferable to a trip to the dungeon. However, that didn't prevent the former French Princess from whining and pleading as she unlaced her clothes and took off her gown, her bodice, and all her other vestments, even her pantaloons. "Someone could come in..."

"They know better." Mary said as she stripped out of her gown, baring a thick-boned body, with thick thighs, a broad bottom a bit dimpled from fat, and full pendulous breasts. "I don't have my riding breeches horsie," she said. "So I guess I'll just have to ride you bareback."

While the petulant Princess didn't have her riding breeches, she did have her crop which never strayed far from her hand. It was enough to convince Antoinette to keep further protests to herself. 

"Now let's see about that horsie tail..." Mary said, quickly scanning the room. She was feeling randy and hated the thought of having to travel all the way to the dungeon to get the whip. Then she spotted something and a smile grew on her face. A feather duster. 

"Oh please don't Mistress," Antoinette begged, as Mary approached her rear with the duster handle. Looking at the many ridges on the slim handle, the tutor knew for certain she didn't want it inside her, so she dodged it at the last moment.

"Bad horsie," Mary pouted. "Back in position." She made her point with the crop. A few hard swats on her tutor's slim bottom, and even her perenum until she was on all fours, her chin held high, her back arched, her bottom held up invitingly and her thighs spread obediently.

Poor Antoinette had to endure the humiliation of remaining in such a demeaning position, while Mary worked the wooden handle up her arsehole. God, how it burned! As did what was left of her dwindling pride. Why hadn't she run away when she had the chance? Now this? 

"A bit of oil Mistress," Antoinette begged this admission. Than duster handle was smaller than the whip handle, having been designed for the small hands of a maid. Yet, it was still hard going, up into her tight hole. 

"I'm not going down to the dungeon to fetch a bit of oil," Mary said. "Here....how's this?" And then the Princess spit on her tutor's arsehole and continued working the handle in.

Thankfully, it seemed to moisten the path for handle to fit. Yet, it was demeaning to have been moistened in such a humiliating fashion. To be spit on. So crude. So common. Worse, to have lived twenty four years, still a virgin, and then upon her employ at this English hell-hole, her bottom was now getting more work than a French courtesan. And it was never just put in and done with. No, Mary had to push it in and out. Working her with the handle. Watching that tight pucker bulge as it was removed and sink in as it was plunged home. Taking her tutor from a feeling a violation, of fullness, until a feeling of tingly sexual warmth suffused her loins, and she no longer felt full when it was put as, as she felt empty as it left her confines. 

The worst part was just after, when Antoinette couldn't help but move her hips in response. Couldn't help but push back as if she were with a lover. Even though the sheltered girl had never known love. Yet, though her mind knew the difference, her body couldn't discern love from cruel Princess. Couldn't help the sighs escaping her mouth. With the full humiliating knowledge that those very same moans were being extricated by the buggery of her royal arsehole Worse was the knowledge that they were being brought on by another girl - her hateful English captor. 

It became worse still as her innocent body betrayed her further. Made her loins hot and wet. Made her narrow hips begin to work back and forth. 

At the peak of humiliation, just before something untimely happened, Mary straddled the poor girl and made her carry her across the room. Her poor knees aching against the cold stone floor. The feel of Mary's hands, supporting her upper body with her hands on Antionette's should blades. 

"Faster horsie," Mary moaned. She rode her horse around the room, her bare sex pressed against the girl's back, knees bent sharply, her ankles pressed against the girl's bottom; every once and awhile delivering a blow of the crop. With each of Antoinette's step, Mary would roll her hips, pressing her nether lips and clit against the woman's sweat covered back. The same sweat made it harder and harder to stay perched atop her horse. But it was her horse's responsibility to make sure she stay in place. Antoinette took smaller and smaller steps, moving closer and closer to the floor. She was looking forward to finally coming to rest on the floor. So her poor knees would no longer have to support the heavy English Princess.




A Handmaid's Tail



"I want to hear some horsie sounds," Mary moaned as her horse finally dropped exhausted to the floor. She humped faster, working her clit and lips against her tutor's slim body.

Laying face down on the floor while still being ridden was much less stressful on Antoinette's body. She was no longer being whipped by the crop. Her knees no longer hurt. It was a bit hard to breathe, with the Princess still atop her. However, it was one of the worst for her pride. There with her breasts bunch against the cold stone. Having to whinny and neigh. All while being humped. Being used as some sort of sexual masturbatory aid. An animal that existed for sexual manual labor. 

Antoinette had heard stories of women that felt sexual stimulation when riding a horse. To be honest, she had felt a bit of sexual heat after riding the first few times. But then it subsided after the first few rides. Now, she was the horse. A slick wet muff being rubbed against the small of her back as the Princess relieved her passions. Antoinette felt used. And the worst? There naked on the floor. Her arse violated by a feather duster. A girl grinding on her back. Humiliation enough for anyone, much less a Princess, but the truth of it was...she felt hot. Tingly. And while Antoinette was determined now more than ever not to give in to her growing passions, not to let this wicked girl cause her to climax. Up till now, it was a battle she was winning, but she was beginning to resent winning. While she held on to her pride, the English bitch was coming time and time again.

Giving a whinny, poor Antoinette could feel the Princess grinding against her, undergoing yet another orgasm, moaning out cries of passion. 

The worst was over then. A few minutes later, the Princess to came down from her orgasm. Then Antoinette was ordered back to her hands and knees while the Princess dressed. Then the French tutor received a brief reward, the same as any horse. The Princess groomed her after her ride, using a cloth and cold water from the basin. 

"Such a good ride you gave me today horsie," Mary cooed, rinsing her 'horsie's' back. "But I'm afraid it's left you all sweaty. Don't worry, I'll have you groomed well enough in a few moments."

The grooming session was nearly as humiliating as being ridden. Being treated like a beast was a far cry from her days as a spoiled Princess. Yet, in some ways they were similar. A handmaid would give her a bath, dress her, and fix her hair...and in the case it was done by Mary. But, there the similarities ended. In her own castle, she would have been in tub full of hot water, bathing in luxury. Now, she was kneeling on the floor on her hands and knees, shivering as the Princess cleaned her. Chill bumps covering her body. Her teeth chattering as she obediently knelt. Neither would she have had a feather duster in her arse, and Mary occasionally fix her tail by pumping it in and out with shallow strokes. Pump it in and out until the poor tutor began to softly moan and writhe. Till the heat from her loins would brace her against the cold. Would make her narrow hips work no matter how hard she willed them still. Only then, would Mary finally brush out her hair and afix it with ribbons. The worst part of this humiliating treatment, was that as Mary cooed, "Pretty horsie..." Antoinette could feel herself begin to react. To want to earn more praise. Even if praise was fit for a horse instead of a Princess.

Antoinette knew she had to get free of this horrid existence. But doing it would require finesse, which she had in abundance, but it would also require good timing. She bid her time and waited for just such a moment. Until one day as she passed into the Princess's room, she heard voices. Peeking around the corner she spied on what was happening. 

The Princess had her leg propped on the table in the most unladylike manner. Her sex wet and disgusting. Looking at that regal and powerful big boned body, Antoinette knew what lay in store for her. More humiliating riding and a feather duster shoved up her arse. But then she saw something that made her pause.

"Come Anal," Princess Mary said casually. "It's time for you to serve the royal cunt."

Antoinette recognized the girl Mary addressed. It was her handmaid Anelle that she was addressing in such a crude manner - turning her pretty name into a lewd sexual suggestion. The poor girl knelt down in front of the Princess and made the sign of the cross. She was naked, just like the Princess. Her body was perfectly proportioned, with large breasts that seemed to defy gravity, a narrow waste, and wide hips. Her hair was red and curly and her distaste was written across her face.

"I want to see a smile Anal," Mary said as she showed the young woman what was in store. It was a curious contraption. Phallic in nature with leather straps. "Or I'll see about another trip to the dungeon girl."

"Oh it's always a pleasure Mistress," Anelle plastered a smile on her pretty face. 

"It's no never mind," Princess Mary said, presenting one end of the phallus to her hand maid. "Soon you won't be able to frown. Open up."

Though her creased brows still showed her displeasure, the hand maiden dutifully opened her sweet mouth as the Princess shoved one end of the phallus inside. It was a large phallus and Antoinette was amazed to see the handmaid being able to open her mouth wide enough to accommodate its obvious girth. 

"I can't remember which end was mine and which was yours," Mary said. "Can you give it a little taste to see?"

Anelle's eyes widened in horror. She tried to shake the phallus free, but Mary was already buckling the straps around her head. 

"I take it you have my end," Mary laughed, as she turned around, leaning over her vanity, and sticking out her large flabby bottom. "Oh stop your procrastinating and get to work." 

Kneeling behind Mary's posterior, Anelle poked around with the phallus, searching for the Princess's opening. From the low moan from the Princess, she must have struck gold.

"Mmmmm-you know how I like it Anal," the Princess moaned. "Nice and slow..."

Anelle began to slowly move her head back and forth, her neck held at a painful angle, slowly thrusting other end of the phallus into the spoiled English Princess. Pleasuring her with it. The poor handmaiden's mouth being used as if she were a man. Antoinette caught site of a wet strand of moisture dangling from Anelle's chin. She wondered whether it was the poor girl's saliva or Mary's disgusting sexual nectar. 

In a gaze that brought panic, Antoinette saw Anelle cut her eyes in her direction. They widened in recognition, then her cheeks colored brightly. The French Princess quickly hurried away lest her spying be discovered by Mary.

At that moment Antoinette knew she had to leave this horrible situation. She couldn't wait for the right moment. She had to make this her moment. She was due to tutor the Princess in an hour. She hurried to meet find the Queen.

"Your Highness," Antoinette said. "I wonder if I may have a word?"

"Surely," Queen Elizabeth said. "How are my daughters lessons progressing?"

"Very good my Queen," Antoinette said. "Actually they are going too good. You see, your daughter is very smart. Extraordinarily so...." Antoinette had memorized this speech. It was the only way to get out of being Mary's teacher after such a short time. "As a matter of fact, she is so learned, I don't think there is much I can teach her."

"Ahhhhh...." the Queen said. "I thought as much. My daughter is so precocious. You would not believe how many tutors she has had. And always they say the very same thing. I have keep finding new ones, as my brilliant daughter manages to learn everything in the course of a week. Ha, the last tutor only lasted a few days."

"I'm glad to hear it isn't only me," Antoinette said. "I was afraid that the quality of my education wasn't as of high a standard as the English."

"Oh no my dear," the Queen said. "You've done well enough. Lasted much longer than the other women of late. And this would be where I would pay you, give you your references and send you on your way, but I'm afraid that isn't going to be the case today."

"My Queen?" Antoinette began to have a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"You see," the Queen explained. "My daughter came to me and told me that you would be coming to see me with much the same result as the other tutors. But unlike the others, my daughter wants to keep you on. Of course, you can't be a tutor since you can't very well tutor someone who is so brilliant...as you have concluded. Then she suggested another job."

No. No. No. Antoinette could barely stand.

"You will be allowed to stay on as her handmaiden."

"Highness, I'm honored," Antoinette said. "But I really couldn't. I'm not trained for such a role. And I want to continue on as a teacher or scribe."

"I know it's a step down my dear," the Queen said. "And I tried to help you out knowing so. I even told Mary she wouldn't be able to have two handmaidens. You should be honored that she chose you over pretty Anelle. She's had her for five years."

"But Highness, I can't..." Antoinette pleaded. Begging openly now.

The Queen's eyes hardened. "It isn't a request dear. It is an honor to serve the royal family. You will do it gladly or I'll have you flogged until you'll do. Now stop you jabbering. Do I made myself clear?"

"Yes your Highness." Antoinette said, her voice dejected. "Perfectly."

"That's a girl," the Queen said. "Now a proper smile and a curtsey. It's time you started behaving properly for your new station."

Antoinette painted a smile on her face and she curtseyed.

The Queen's eyes were still hard. "That may have done for a tutor," she said. "Now try it again. The deepness of your bow should be in accordance to your station in the royal household."

Her cheeks a bright crimson, Antoinette curtseyed again, this time bowing much more deeply as befit a handmaiden instead of a learned tutor.

"Good girl. Now go tell my daughter the good news and be sure to tell her to relieve Anelle. I'll send a guard with you to make sure you arrive promptly."

"Yes my Queen." Antoinette could barely stand her legs were shaking so. In her mind, all she could think of was poor Anelle on her knees, serving the royal cunt. Dear Lord, was that to be her new role as well? Worse, a guard trailed her, making sure she went straight back to the Princess's quarters. Making sure she didn't run away, never to return.

Back in the Princess's room, the scene in front of her made her tremble with renewed fear. Poor Anelle was over the Princess's lap, her bare bottom being spanked ruthlessly with the backside of the Princess's hairbrush. 

"Now what were the jobs I asked you to do? Just three simple tasks and you can't even manage them. What were they?"

"Being available to my Princess. Serving the royal cunt. Keeping an eye on your tutor." And then the handmaid spotted Antoinette at the door and pointed. "There she is Mistress. I saw her spying on you this morning. That was the last I saw of her. I couldn't help it."

"Get off me. Stupid girl." Mary said, shoving the fine bodied girl off her lap as if she were a sack of potatoes. Then she was quickly up and rounding on Antoinette.

"Where have you been without asking? You are late for your duties" Mary demanded. "I think we need to make another trip to the dungeon to teach you promptness."

"I went to see the Queen," Antionette said, momentarily looking over to Anelle for support, but the girl glared at her where she had fallen with angry red-rimmed eyes.

"Did you now," Mary said, her eyes twinkling and a sadistic smile as her lips curled. "And pray tell what did she say?"

"That I was to be your new handmaiden," Antoinette said. The words came out grudgingly. Her chin trembled as tears threatened to overcome her. "And that Anelle is relieved of her ... her ... duties."

Anelle dashed across the floor and knelt at Antoinette's feet. She kissed the hem of the startled tutor's gown. She looked up with wide eyes and tears of joy. "Thank you Mistress." Then she looked to the ceiling in rapture. "Thank you Lord for answering my prayers."

"Enough Anelle," Mary said sternly. "If you keep up your behavior, I can talk to mother. Don't think for a moment I can't have two hand maidens if I truly want them. Now go take my new handmaid to see maid Hilda and have her dressed and made presentable.

The two handmaids left to find Hilda. On the way, Anelle couldn't contain her jubilation. 

"I prayed for the Lord to send me an angel to take me away from that evil girl. I had hoped that you were that angel, but I didn't allow my hopes to get up...they have been dashed to many times before. " Anelle kissed the reluctant Princess on the cheek again and again to express her thanks.

"I'm no angel," Anntoinette said. "Please listen. We must run away. Far away from this perverse castle."

"Run?" Anelle said. "After I'm to be released? Never."

Thinking fast, Antoinette begged. "At the very least, when you leave the castle, I need to get a message to someone in France...." 

"I will not be going to France," Anelle said. "I promised God if he would deliver me from this wicked place, I would go straight to the nunnery."

"You will be well paid.."

"I have been paid well enough by the Lord when he sent you to take my place," Anelle said. "Besides, we are here. Listen, before we go in, always make sure to be respectful to Hilda. She is a sadist who loves the strap. If you do like you are told, Hilda won't be able to punish you. She will make you uncomfortable, yet it is bearable. If she does anything more, just tell the Princess. Hilda will try to test you. She will try to scare you. Just say your prayers and it will all be fine."

"Maid Hilda," Anelle said. "Antoinette will be taking over my duties as the Princess's handmaid. Please see that she is appropriately dressed and made presentable for the Princess."

Hilda was a course fat woman with hairy forearms and a single long eyebrow across her forehead. The woman slipped on a pair fine leather gloves, stood, walked over to Anelle.

"I will, but first let's make my favorite handmaiden presentable." Hilda said, as she lifted Anelle's gown. It was clear to see that the maid wasn't wearing any undergarments and that she was oddly devoid of hair in her nether regions. Antoinette had never seen the like. How could a grown woman be devoid of her womanly down? Perhaps that was the reason Hilda took such liberties with the girl. Antoinette looked away to avoid watching the scene in front of her.

"Maid Hilda," Anelle gasped, by now both her large breasts had been freed from her gown and Hilda was splitting her time between them and the smooth sex between her legs. "Hilda- that means I'm not in your charge -ahhhh- Hilda - you can't -mmmm- do this to me anymore."

"Come dear," Hilda said. "I know you want it. You've been the Princess's whore for years now. You've been teasing me the whole time. Come on dear, give Hilda a turn. I promise you'll like it. "

"No Mistress," Anelle gasped, her hips thrusting against the fingers that were working between her perfect thighs. "I'm going straight to the convent. Know that if you touch me, you will face God's wrath."

"A pity." Hilda stopped manhandling the poor handmaid then turned her attention to Antoinette. The former Princess almost wished she had kept on with Anelle, knowing that she would be the one receiving the unwelcome attention now.

"Well - let's see the new handmaid," Hilda said, picking up a short thick leather strap. "When I tell you to do something girl, you hop to it lickity split. Or you will taste my strap. Now strip off."

It was one thing to be bossed by someone her equal, but now being ordered around by a mere servant. Even if that servant was the head maid, still made Antoinette blush. Yet, she knew she had to obey or face punishment. Thank God Anelle had warned her.

"I can't see what the Princess sees in this one," Hilda said, casually touching Antoinette's pale breast and tweaking a pink nipple. "Tsk-tsk, such small breasts. Too skinny. And your bottom doesn't beg for the strap like fine Anelle. Those narrow hips, more girl than woman. I don't understand what the Princess is thinking..."

"The lady was first taken on to be her tutor," Anelle volunteered.

"Ahhhhh...." said Hilda, giving Antoinette a lewd wink. "A teacher. That makes a difference. What possessed you to volunteer to be a handmaid teacher?"

"I didn't volunteer," Antoinette said, then wishing she hadn't been forthcoming with those details.

"A reluctant handmaid. Even better. Up on the table tutor," Hilda said. "It's time to make you presentable for the Princess. Now up you go."

The swarthy housekeeper didn't hesitate, but physically lifted the tutor onto the table as if she were light as a feather. 

"Lean back and grasp the other side of the table," Hilda said. "Spread those skinny legs girl."

Antoinette looked towards Anelle for guidance. Was this humiliation to be permitted as well? The handmaiden gave a quick nod, her cheeks turning blushing slightly. Her cheeks weren't the only cheeks blushing as Antoinette timidly spread her legs to either side. To her dismay, spread though she was, it wasn't good enough for Hilda. She grasped the girl's feet and set them so they were parallel with the edge of the table. The position left the poor Princess vulnerable indeed.

"Relax handmaid," Hilda said. "Now comes the fun part. Anelle liked it quite a lot. Didn't you Anelle?"

Hilda dunked a gloved finger into a jar of warm wax, and then smeared the melted wax onto Antoinette's sex, causing the girl to jump with alarm.

"Hold still girl," Hilda said, as she quickly pressed a cloth to Antoinette's sex and jerked it free.

"Oh!" Antoinette gasped. Shit it hurt. Then she looked down in surprise at her sex, noticing how red it had become...and then also noticing that she was void of any hair in that location. Dear Lord, she was being denuded. Anyone seeing her sex would surmise that she wasn't a woman at all, but some sort of woman-child, just as she had with poor Anelle.

Worse, Hilda wasn't just content to denude the poor handmaiden. No, she stroked the poor girl. Touched her intimately with her soft leather gloves. Driving her to distraction. Making her warm and wet. Making her struggle to remain obediently in place on the table, when her slim thighs wanted to close oh so badly. It took all of her will, and then each time it seemed she would disobey, Hilda would dip her fingers in the warm wax, smear it on the handmaid's aroused sex, then rip it free once again.

Poor Antoinette tried to fight the passions rising in her petite body. But this horrible ugly wretch knew what she was doing. Had not just turned her on, but taken her to the point of no return. The head maid had taken all the fight of of the youthful handmaiden, had made Antoinette moan and writhe. Made her surrender to the inevitable climax that threatened to overtake her tingly limbs. However, the Princess soon found out that Hilda had other skills as well...she knew just how to keep a girl on the edge without letting her achieve climax. 

"It's best to pray," Anelle whispered. "Pray for deliverance."

"Shush girl," Hilda said. "You've squirmed about on this table many an hour. Moaning. Rutting. Your prayers for deliverance were to me as I recall. Oh please Hilda, I'm so close. Rub my clam. Just a little more on my hot clit. Please, just one. Just this once. The Princess is so cruel to me."

"Pray your hardest," Anelle said before falling silent, turning away from the spectacle on the table. She closed her eyes, and her mouth moved in silent prayer. She wasn't even on the table, yet her body still yearned in response merely from being in this dreaded room. Seeing ugly Hilda. Nipples hardening to tiny pebbles. Nectar leaking down her thighs. She gave a gasp between prayers. Her hips. Dear Lord, her hips were moving back and forth. Her clam was contracting. Dear God, how was this even possible?




A Handmaid's Tail



"Pray harder," Hilda laughed at the former handmaid's duress. "If you would like to take a turn on the table, I can give you pleasure you never imagined. Just this once. Isn't that what you wanted? Since you are no longer the Princess's handmaid, I can take off these gloves and touch you. Skin to skin. And then you can show me the tricks she has taught you my pretty. I have heard tale of what you do for the Princess and it's made me hot for it."

"I'm promised to God now," Anelle said, moving into the corner, as far away as possible. Her face blushing a bright red by the betrayal of her body. She pressed her hand firmly to her legs and thighs to prevent them from moving on their own volition. Oh how she wanted to just give in. To hop on that table and let Hilda have her way with her. Gods, how she deserved it after all she had been through. Yet, she knew if she did, she would surely do it again and again. She would have only traded one cruel Mistress for another.

After what seemed like hours, Hilda finally finished her ministrations. Antoinette was totally smooth. Denuded. But there was more. She was dressed with no undergarments save her hosiery. While she was used to corsets, she had never been put into one quite so tight, trimming her already small abdomen to one but two hands around. The dress wasn't an ordinary dress either. Like Anelle's, it had a secret, there was a hidden slit up the middle, hidden by extra fabric that ran to the side, which allowed the knowledgeable easy access to the wares beneath. Then there was the top. On Anelle, it showed an expanse of cleavage almost all the way down to her pink nipples. But on Antoinette it displayed everything that wasn't. Her small breasts would be totally exposed if she leaned forward, as she did not have enough cleavage to hold the top in place.

Antoinette wasn't sure what it took to make her presentable to the Princess. So far, it just seemed to make her more and more humiliated. Worse, Hilda was constantly touching the poor girl, bringing her close to climax time and time again. Antionette couldn't deny her state of arousal. The evidence was displayed on the wet sodden gloves Hilda wore. They kept getting wetter and wetter, and it wasn't till the bell sounded twice that she stopped teasing the frustrated handmaid. 

"It's time for you to get back to the Princess," Hilda said, quickly stripping off her gloves, her hand quickly moving beneath her dress to bring herself off.

"We must hurry," Anelle said, taking Antoinette arm and pulling her out the door.

"Pray wait Anelle," Antoinette panted. "I must catch my breath. I can hardly walk."

"No Mistress," Anelle said. "We must hurry back to the Princess. Hilda is even now sending a maid behind us. If she arrives before us, you will be sorely punished. It is the Princess's way of assuring that you will not be tempted to spoil yourself..." 

Antoinette almost fell down when she realized what the maid was suggesting. "I'm not allowed to...." pleasure myself - she finished in her mind.

"Only at the whim of the Princess," Anelle said. "She thinks a frustrated maid .... is more attentive to her needs. It is not easy being the Princess's handmaid. You must pray long and pray hard. Hurry, I think I hear the maid's footsteps approach."

"I beg of you," Antoinette said. "When you leave. Please get word to Duke Lagnelle. He's a French Duke. Tell him that..." she hesitated. She couldn't admit to being a Princess. "Tell him that I remember well my summers as his house. I would like to return and spend some time knitting with his daughter once again."

"If I can," Anelle said. "But the message will have to go through someone else. I will dedicate my life to God."

The two handmaidens rushed to the Princess's quarters, narrowly beating a young maid close on their heels.

"You just made it," Mary said. To the other maid: "You may go now. My new handmaid has arrived safely. Be sure the door is closed behind you."

"Let me take the collar from your neck Anal," Mary said, as she took a key kept on a chain around her neck and unlocked the collar from Anelle's long neck. "Now, show the new handmaid how to present herself to her Mistress."

"Take off your gown Mistress," Anelle said. "Quickly. Make haste lady. Just pull the gown down off your shoulders then step out of it."

"I have a feeling I'm going to need my crop," Mary said, picking her crop off the table.

Newly motivated, Antoinette quickly shrugged off her gown, then began to fumble at the ties of her tight corset.

"Leave the corset Mistress," Anelle said. "Now down onto your knees..."

Antoinette quickly followed instructions from the former handmaid. Going down to her knees. Spreading her slim thighs. Reaching behind her back and grasping the opposite elbow. Finally, shifting her hips forward, until her pelvis was indecently thrust forward. It was almost as if she were making herself as vulnerable as possible for the Princess.

"Let's see if Hilda done a sufficient job of removing your womanhood," Mary said, kneeling down in front of her handmaid and running her hand along the woman's smooth sex. It wasn't just smooth as a baby's bottom, it was also inflamed from the hot wax, and quite quite wet. 

Antoinette couldn't stop the gasp that came from deep in her throat. Neither could she control the shivering in her limbs. Nor the shallow thrusts of her pelvis.

"Juicy as a peach, and what a plump little quim for someone so petite." Mary said, taking the collar and bringing it to Antoinette's long slim neck. "Anal, tell my new handmaid what happens next."

"You will be collared Mistress," Anelle said. "And then you will take your new name." 

"She's not a Mistress anymore Anal," Mary said. "Nor a lady judging by the ripeness of her peach. A whore is more like it."

"I'm a free woman Mistress," Antoinette stammered, too afraid to move out of her vulnerable position. "You can't just collar me as if I were a slave. I have rights."

"You mean I can't do this?" Mary said as she slid the collar in place and locked it. "You should take your complaint before the magistrate....oh I know, or even the King."

It was then that Antoinette understood just how lost she was. The regular rules didn't apply here. Not in the presence of royalty. 

"Now let's see about a name for my new handmaid," Mary scratched her chin as she pondered, muttering a few suggestions. "Slut...no...already used anal. Whore...nah...small breasts...nippynips...no....oh I have it. I shall call you Queem. It's almost a royal sounding name isn't it. Don't you approve? Say hello to Queem, Anal."

"Hello Queem." Anelle said.

"You may go now," Mary told her former hand maid. "I'll take it from here."

Anelle left, leaving Antoinette feeling more alone than ever. Her life had been turned upside down. She was a slave now. Even if she ran away, the collar would mark her as property, the Princess's property, even though by all laws she was a free woman. Yet, her status was even less than a slave. She was part slave - and part Princess's whore. Worse, the Princess kept up her ministrations. Rubbing her. Stroking her. Pinching her. Driving her to distraction. Making her body react. Grow warm and tingly. To crave release.

"Queem," Mary said. "The Queem of France as my own personal toy. My lowest of the low. Only my father has a Queen, but she's nearly his same rank. But not you my juicy little Quim. Quim - Quim, how do you like your name little Quim."

Oh God! With realization dawning on the poor handmaid with renewed horror. Her name. It sounded French at first. Almost lovely. But now, a small change in the vowel and ....dear God, she was named after a female body part. She remembered poor Anelle. Sure a few called her by her name, but most copied the Princess's poor example. Making snide comments behind her back. Now, she was to shared the very same plight.

"Why have you done this to me Mistress?" Antoinette plead. "Dear Lord, you rode me around like a horse. You whipped me. You even violated my....my arse. Wasn't that enough for you?"

"You put yourself in this very position my juicy little Quim," Mary said. "You asked the Queen to relieve you of your duties. Only I was two steps ahead of you, wasn't I? Well, I have to admit that I liked you as my tutor. The only problem with that was that everyone treated you almost like a Princess. As my tutor you almost nobility. But now? Now you are a long ways off aren't you? Now the fun really begins..."

Mary stood up and walked around her kneeling maid. Using her crop to occasionally adjust the girl's position. 

"Don't feel too bad. You may be a slave now, but you are my slave. As such, no one is permitted to touch your flesh, unless they are wearing gloves. Likewise, you may touch no one without gloves. Of course, this rule does not apply to me. " Meanwhile Mary was tugging down her lingerie from beneath her gown. "Now it's time for you to serve the royal cunt."

Mary removed a phallus with several straps from her drawer. She ordered Queem to open her mouth and tried to stick one end of the smooth wood into her slaves mouth. Thankfully, Antoinette could not open her mouth wide enough to take it in. It was the best thing that had happened so far, because she knew where that phallus had been planted after watching poor Anelle use it on the Princess earlier that afternoon.

But Mary's eyes didn't register disappointment for long. She thought momentarily of letting her handmaid hold it in her hand. Yet that seemed a waste of it's original intent. Soon her eyes eturned to an hungry icy glare. Tossing the phallus to the bed, she took hold of Antionette's chin and tilted it up. "I have heard tell of the French," she said. "I have heard tell that they are not so Puritanical as the English. That they kiss one another...not just with lips...but with their tongues. I want to experience one of those French kisses."

The Princess bent down to kiss her handmaiden. Yet the kiss she had requested wasn't forthcoming. Only a chaste buss on each side of her mouth...as the French were prone to do in greeting. She reached down and tweaked a hard nipple drawing a gasp from her handmaiden. She quickly pressed her mouth against Antoinette's parted lips. Two more tweaks were necessary to keep the former Princess from drawing away or closing her mouth. Then she roamed her soft hands over handmaiden's slim body. 

For her part, Antoinette was determined to withhold the kisses that had been requested. It was bad enough that she had been denuded and collared. Ridden like an animal. Her arse violated. To be named after a woman's sexual organ. All by this horrid spoiled Princess. And then there was the teasing. Not the lewd comments, but the physical teasing she had endured, but by Hilda and the Princess, that had left her in a constant state of hypersexual duress. Her loins tingled. Her nipples. Those two hard pebbles....how they ached. Her newly denuded sex felt every sensation as if it were magnified by two. The Princess's soft fingers teasing the engorged wet lips of her sex could not be ignored by Antoinette's body, no matter how much her mind detested the girl. Her hips moved of their own volition. Taking what pleasure they could obtain. And though no matter how much she strived not to, her tongue peaked out of her bow shaped mouth and sought the English Princess's.

Antoinette gave a low moan and surrendered to her body's needs. Her tongue danced with Mary's. Moving in and out her mouth languidly. Then fluttering lightly over the tip of the Princess's tongue. The painful tweaking of her nipples had ceased, only to be replaced by intimate caresses.

"The English are so Puritanical. And you French are so sensual. You have the right of kissing, that is certain." Mary moved her mouth away and then back again, only to move away at the last moment, leaving the formerly reluctant handmaid with her mouth seeking a kiss and her tongue extended from her pink lips. The depths of her surrender was soon evident as Mary kept a bit of distance between their lips, drawing out the former Princess's dextrous tongue, making her stick out out further and further. Where just moments ago, she had withheld even chaste kisses, and now she was eagerly giving promises of so much more. Making the confused and frustrated girl blush as her sweet kisses were made to become more and more lewd and sexual in nature. Mary looked at that dextrous French tongue with hunger. Since her new handmaiden could not wear the phallus, the girl was going to have to give pleasure another way. Mary was determined to have that French tongue in other places besides her mouth. She had high hopes for that eager tongue, and if those hopes weren't realized...well, she could let the girl hold the phallus with her hand. At least as long as it took to have a new one made.

"Oh Quim, your lips are soft as velvet....and that tongue, so eager, so dextrous..." Mary said as she stood up and took off the last of her underclothes. "I could feel those lips on mine and be kissed like that for hours and hours." Then the Princess rucked up her gown and threw it over the kneeling handmaiden, straddling the poor girl. "Kiss me again Quim. Kiss me as the French do."

Poor Antoinette soon found herself face to face, or rather face to sex, and a rather aroused sex it was too. The odor of sex, the musk that hung like a fog on a fall morning was heavy beneath the woolen gowns. The sex was plump and ripe. It was protected by dark womanly hair and the former Princess couldn't help but feel a bit inferior...especially in her position kneeling there under the skirts. 

"My lips are eager for your kisses Quim," the Princess said, her voice thick with need. "I want to feel that eager tongue exploring me."

Antoinette was in quite a predicament. She had heard of giving men pleasure with her mouth and tongue. She had heard her maids blush and whisper of such matters. It was done to keep from becoming pregnant, and the men were quite satisfied by the arrangement. The Princess had blushed quite readily as she spied the young maid demonstrate the skills on a rolled pastry, bobbing her head up and down and manipulating her hand at the bottom. It was quite scandalous and had left the young Princess feeing more than a little tingly. 

But this suggestion. To please a woman with her mouth... Was such even done? It was a sin..surely. And how would it even be managed? It was one thing to think of doing such to relieve a man's passion. A woman did things for men. But a woman? It was unthinkable.

"I think your tongue needs some convincing...." Mary said, moving her leg off of Antoinette's shoulder. "I shall have the guards transport you to the dungeon."

"Wait Mistress." Antoinette's muffled voice came from beneath the Princess's volumous gown. "I don't know what it is you expect of me."

A sly smile crossed Mary's lips. She put her thigh back over Antoinette's shoulder. "A kiss Quim. Merely a kiss. On my lips. The French way. Just as you did before. You were so very good at it, I want to be kissed again."

Poor Antoinette didn't want to pay a visit to the dungeon again. She remembered how the crop had kissed every square inch of her body. How it made her jerk and squeal. How it broke her resistance and made her submit to whatever her cruel captor desired. The crop's kisses weren't kisses of pleasure either. Not French kisses, but hard English kisses that left red and purples welts. The crop would make her do whatever the Princess wished anyway. It was best just to submit. She closed her eyes. It was so hot and stifling beneath layers of wool. Just a kiss. Merely a kiss. Just as she had done before. She puckered her lips and leaned close. Curly hair tickled her nose. Her pink lips touched the Princess's own. 

Mary felt beneath her gown and pushed her handmaiden in tightly. "The French way Quim. The kisses of the French...." she urged.

The French way. With open mouths and searching tongues. But this was not mouth she was kissing, not in the traditional sense, but in a perverse way it was a mouth, and it did have lips. Antoinette stuck out her tongue. Pressed it into slick wet lips. Eyes held tightly closed, she tried to pretend else wise, tried to imagine kissing one of the young French dukes. A mustache and a beard tickling her nose. Kissing him beneath a blanket. Oh how she tried to imagine, but it was impossible. Not with the Princess telling her to lick her hot Quim. To suck her clit. To flutter her tongue like a butterfly. To eat her cunt. To taste her nectar. The taste, oh the taste was not like any young noble she had ever snuck a kiss from. And that most pungent and distinctive of female smells, was not like any young noble either. A noble would never leave her face soiled. The Princess's musky juices running down her chin. Her hairy box grinding into her lips and nose. A stray pubic hair on the back of her tongue, threatening to choke her. The Princess humping. Thrusting. Calling her a French whore. A slut. The devil's own tongue.

The Princess moaned. Cried out in passion. Her doubts about trading in her former handmaid for this petite French Princess who couldn't even open her mouth enough to accept the phallus, had been driving from her mind by the climax wracking through her loins like hounds through the brush on a fox hunt. She couldn't even remain standing, such was the force of the explosion running through her body. Toppling over her handmaid, she mounted the prone girl, enjoying the captive lips and tongue as they were meant to be. Enjoyed at Mary's whim.

The hapless handmaid did her best to continue. It was so hot trapped there beneath the layers of wool. So hard to breathe. The Princess had mounted her, held the handmaid's arms trapped beneath her knees. Such a heavy girl. So unlike a refined French Princess. More like an English serving girl. Her thick thighs and wide hips taking any thought of rebellion from the poor handmaid's mind. Sometimes sitting on her face till the poor maid felt she would surely asphyxiate. Other times, raising up, forcing the handmaid to bend her neck at an unnatural angle to continue pleasuring her cruel Mistress. To run her tongue along her swollen labia. To flutter it on her engorged clit.

The Princess cried out in passion, riding her handmaid's face as if she were a pony. Hot sparks of pleasure spreading light lightening from her loins as her orgasm hit. Taking her pleasure as she saw fit, until her climax finally dissipated and left her sated. At last, she rolled off her handmaid. She laughed at the poor girl's state.

She had made a mess of Anelle, her last handmaid, more times that she could count. Had left her with juices and spittle from the dildo, running down those full breasts and lean flat stomach. Had coated that dimpled chin and those almond colored cheeks with sweet honey. Yet, this climax had gone for much longer. This one had left the former Princess's face a mess, with her black mascara running down her cheeks like black trails of tears. Only her cheeks near her ears had been left with the white powder that was so fashionable at the moment. Everywhere else, her chin, her nose, her forehead, had been drenched. Soaked. Even her hair was plastered to her head in wet curls. The girl lay on the floor passively, breathing hard to catch her breath. Her arms still held where Mary had held them down. Her legs at odd angles, displaying a very wet and aroused sex. All Mary could think, as she traversed the room on shaky legs before falling down into a soft couch, was, wow, that was a good one.

With laughing eyes, Mary said, "You made quite a mess of me Quim. Now come here and freshen the royal cunt."

Antoinette was soon instructed on what would be involved after her sexual interludes with the Princess. After all, an English Princess couldn't very well go around smelling like a French whore. So with fresh water from the wash basin and a clean cloth, Antoinette bathed the Princess's most intimate area. In her country it was called a whore's bath, yet, having to kneel there between languid outstretched thighs, bathing the Princess, even while her own face and hair remained soiled by the Princess's exuberant secretions, Antoinette was the one that felt like a whore. 




A Handmaid's Tail



With her thighs spread wide, leaning back in a languid pose that only comes to the loose limbed after orgasm, Mary looked down at her new handmaid working diligently to freshen her cunt. "I can't believe I traded a good English handmaid for such a hopeless French girl," she lied. "But you were passable. Anal used to give me such pleasure, it was worthy of the Gods. The French, sure they can kiss, but I think that may be all they are good for."

Mary was lying of course. Antoinette had given her pleasure such as she had never seen the like of. It had robbed her of her strength. The best part was knowing this handmaid, this slave, was once a French Princess. What's more, she knew she wouldn't give the girl the pleasure of knowing she had given her the best climax of her life.

"Now blow my pussy dry," Mary said. "Gentle breaths. I don't want to catch cold." 

After the Princess's sex was sufficiently blown dry, Antoinette was required to use a small comb to style Mary's hair. Not the hair on her head, but the curly down between her legs. Finally a few drops of French perfume. Only then was she permitted to see to her own cleaning, yet still she wasn't allowed to dress. Instead the Princess ordered her new handmaid to stand in front of her with her back facing the Princess. Then she was ordered to lean forward as far as she was able.

"Now reach your hands back," Mary ordered. "One on each cheek and pull them apart for me. Show me that tight little hole the French love so much."

It seemed to Antoinette that hole was a favorite of the English, since it had acquired the most use since she had been trapped at the castle. In her whole life at her French castle, it had never been touched until now. Yet, she knew she should be thankful her virginity was still intact. If she managed to escape, she could marry and lead a normal life. She tried to think of a normal life as she reached back and spread her cheek obediently. It was so embarrassing to display herself thus. So humiliating showing parts of her body that should remain hidden. 

Mary smiled wickedly as she took the feather duster and inserted it neatly in her handmaiden's tight arsehole. It took a bit of work, but not as much as before. She didn't even have to spit on the tight hole but once before the wooden handle was firmly planted.

Once again Antoinette's body had betrayed her, had caused her to move her hips back and forth, working herself on the ridged wood handle, that Mary worked with short strokes. She was brought to my a swat on her backside.

"Naughty maid," Mary said. "Always with your mind in the gutter. This isn't meant for your enjoyment. Now that you are a maid, what is it that maids do with their dusters?"

A blush crept to Antoinette's cheeks. Her knees shook with humiliation. "They dust Mistress."

"So get busy," Mary sneered. "Or should I use the crop to encourage your lazy arse?"

"No Mistress," Antoinette gasped. She hopped to work, but found it wasn't easy as she first imagined. The main problem was the location and angle of the duster. It was facing down. The only way she could bring it up was to bend her torso down. Then to move it back and forth, she had to swing her hips or push them back and forth. Which was all the more difficult when leaning forward as she was.

"Faster...you lazy twit...hah...or should I say twat," Mary said. With a loud crack, she left a mark on the French girl's alabaster bottom with her leather crop. "Now clean that figurine."

The poor handmaiden trotted across the room and proceeded to dust it. She could tell that the handle up her arse was changing the way she walked. Making her hips swing wider. Worse, when she bent forward, shaking her ass from side to side and back and forth, she could feel the handle shift inside her. God, it was causing her pleasure. The Princess smiled at her handmaid's duress. She made the poor girl work. Made her hustle. Made her shake that slim ass until sweat coated the girl's back and stomach. Until moisture flowed down her thighs as she responded to the handle shoved so unceremoniously up her well-bred bottom. Made the girl gasp and moan as she was made to climb atop the desk and dust the items below her. It was a fun game for the princess...if not for the handmaid. A pity she had never played it with her last maid. Putting her new handmaid through her paces was making the Princess feel randy again. She soon forgot about the dusting and put the girl beneath her skirt again until she was sated.

In the passing weeks, the Princess always seemed to complain about the quality of Antoinette's sexual performance. Threatened to beat her for being a lazy slut. But, for someone who didn't like it, she always seemed to crave it, at least that was what the handmaid was coming to think. 

The hapless handmaid had even begged to wear the phallus that Anelle had worn. Had pleaded to borrow it, so that she could practice, maybe then she would learn to stretch her jaws to accommodate its girth. And when Mary refused and called her small French jaws useless. With trembling chin and welling tears, Antoinette had begged the Princess to fashion a new one. Smaller on one end. Suitable for a French girl. Perhaps she would be allowed to whittle it down herself?

"You would be useless anyway. Anelle was ever so skilled." Mary sneered. "Besides, all the French are good for is their tongues. Such dexterity. Must be from the way the made R's when they speak. Further training is all the was required. With practice you will be almost as good as Anelle." 

Practice. Pleasuring another woman with her mouth and tongue. What Mary called practice; Antoinette thought of it as depravity. 

Mary thought of it as sheer bliss. Anelle had been a pleasure, but she could hardly remember the girl now. It wasn't long ago that Anelle's - Anne's mother had come to the castle to find employ for her daughter. The girl was beautiful. Truly stunning. Of course the Queen and the other royal ladies would have none of the girl. Who in their right mind puts such temptation in front of her husband? Of course Anne's mother had hoped for just such an occurrence, and was extremely disappointed at the reception of her daughter. It was only when Mary, the King's own daughter had thrown a fit, even over her own mother's objection, that Anne had been hired. 

Anne's mother's joy soon faded. Why hadn't her daughter landed a young Nobel? Even an old one for that matter? Wasn't she the most beautiful girl in the kingdom? She was even more disappointed when she later returned to visit her daughter, to explain what to do to land a man. To acquire a fortune to help her poor mother out. Only to find her daughter wearing a slave collar. Of people laughing at her behind her back. Calling her Anal. Then one night she witnessed what was going on between her daughter and the Princess. The next morning she left the castle never to return again. Knowing very well that it had been her own greed that had led her daughter to this plight.

Mary on the other hand, possessed the prettiest girl in the country. Owned her body and soul. It was thrilling seeing both noble Lord and Lady alike in envy of her handmaid, knowing they couldn't so much as touch her. Yet now, Mary realized how shortsighted she had been. Those big tits and that spankable ass...so perfect for providing cushion for male suitor or sucking for a baby. However, they did nothing for hastening a climax. More importantly, they took up a lot of room. Her new maid, her French Princess, with her fine features and her slim and limber body, could do things that Anne never could. She found that she could hide the sexy Antoinette beneath her petticoats and no one was the wiser. It became a kind of game to her. She looked for new places to enjoy her handmaid's oral pleasures. In the tea room. In the garden. At dinner. All that was required was for her to take a small book to read and then have a seat. Quickly looking about, she would make sure that the coast was clear. Then she would raise her volumous skirts. 

"Quicky," Mary told her French handmaid. "Hide."

Antoinette's blue eyes went wide. A blush crept to her pale cheeks. With a docile, "Yes, Mistress," down she went, quickly scampering beneath the upraised skirts. Then they were quickly lowered behind her. 

"Hurry," Mary said. "Someone is coming. Get your feet beneath my gowns."

The helpless handmaiden, folded her slim body up. Huddling between the Princess's spread thighs. Resting her chin on the seat. Her lips only inches from Mary's wet cunt.

"Is that a good book Princess?" A young noblewoman asked as she passed, keeping the sun off her face with a dainty umbrella.

"It's a little boring right now," Mary said. "However, the lady of the house is getting ready to whip her maid for laziness."

Antoinette took the hint. Sticking out her tongue, she began to slide it up and down Mary's wet slit. Doing it as quietly as possible. This new game of the Princess's terrified her. At least the times before they had been in private areas where no one came in, but this was a well-traveled part of the garden. Keeping her body as still as possible, she circled the Princess's clit, trying to coax the pearl from its clam.

"As I said, it's just now getting good. So, I must get back to my reading," Mary said. "Perhaps I will see you later."

So it went. It became very hot underneath the Princess's gown. Antoinette's poor back ached from her hunched position, but she dare not move. It wouldn't be the Princess that was punished if her activities were discovered. She would be the one to pay the price, and she was rather attached to her head. So she licked. And sucked. And teased. It felt like she was under there for hours. And in truth she was. The Princess wasn't fully able to enjoy her handmaid's tongue. People kept walking by. Worse, they seemed to pick the very moment she was close to orgasm to do so. She grew more and more frustrated as she had to tap the trapped girl on the head and tell her "Easy Quim. Someone approaches." and then when the passerby left, she would tap her again, and tell her to hurry and get on with it.

So frustrating as she was taken to the brink of orgasm time and time again. To look over the waterfall and see the crashing rocks down below, only to be tugged reluctantly back to the shore before she rolled over the crest. God, how she wanted it. It was torture. It never occurred to her that this was what poor Queem experience day after day. To be touched. To be teased. To be made to squirm and moan, only to be denied the final experience. It made for a good maid, was all that Mary knew. Which was true, Antoinette had grown eager to please. She hoped. She prayed. And she even prayed hard. Prayed that if she pleasure Mary just one more time, that if she did it as well as Anelle had, that she too would be granted that sweet release. 

However, Mary had learned a lesson with her first horse. Had learned that you could give it a sugar cube and it would be thankful...but only until the cube was gone. But if you let it see the cube, if you let it smell it. To taste just a bit. Such a horse would run like the wind for you. Such a horse didn't just think of you as the person who gave sugar cubes, but as a diety. Someone to be worshipped. And if the handmaid underneath her skirts wasn't worshipping her, she didn't know the meaning of the word.

Mary grew more and more short with the pedestrians that passed by, interrupting her from enjoying her 'book'. It grew more and more difficult to maintain this pretense. The tongue flicking her clit, swirling along her slit, was driving her to distraction. Luckily her large gown was still doing a fair job of maintaining her modesty despite the fact she was sitting with her legs spread in a most unladylike manner. Her large bosom was flushed and beginning to heave. It took all the self-discipline she had not to push her maid down and ride her face.

But if things were going badly for Mary, they were going so much worse for her poor handmaid. Quim was trapped beneath all the hot layers of wool. She was burning up. It was hard to breath in the dark confines of her woolen prison. Covered in sweat. her back ached. Her calves burned. Her tongue was sore. And her lips felt bruised. Yet, still she managed to keep going...to lick - to suck. Yet, every time the Princess's hips began to buck, when she knew it wouldn't be long, someone would show up and she would be tapped on the head in warning. Then she would be required to begin again. To start anew. Eventually, she managed it, flicking her tongue on her Mistress's clit until her hips began to buck. It was all Antoinette could to to capture the volume of sticky nectar the flowed from the Princess's pink maw. Afterwards, her licks grew gentle and soothing as the Princess came down from her orgasm.

When the handmaid finally emerged from beneath the Princess's gown, she was much the worse for wear. Hair damp and a mess. Her gown soaked through with sweat. She reaked of musk. 

It was these extra duties, the beneath the skirt interludes that made the Princess decide to alter her handmaiden's attire. She went to the dress maker and ordered several requests. First, a bonet was created to hold the handmaiden's hair out of the way, yet was small so as to take up less room beneath the Princess's gown. Antoinette's dress was made much smaller. Smaller than any lady would wear or servant, even smaller than the skirts for small children. The skirt was also black, so as to hide how wet it could get when it had soaked through with sweat.

The skirt created such a sensation that the Princess was called before the Queen over the matter.

"I had heard rumors," the Queen said. "But I had to see it for myself. Turn around girl. Let me see the whole thing."

Blushing, Antoinette did a pirouette, then a deep curtsey. She was embarrassed and humiliated, but she was glad to be called before the Queen. Someone had to keep the Princess in line, and this had gone to far. She wore less clothes than even a courtesan would wear. The stares the men gave her were hungry. Women looked at her with such venomous glances, they terrified her just as much as the men.

"But mother," Mary whined. "It's what all the French handmaids are wearing. Besides, the jester wears almost the very same thing."

"Dear," the Queen said. "the jester is a man. Women don't go about in stockings. It's indecent."

Antionette kept silent, but she was dying to tell the Queen more details of her garb. The jester's stockings were sewn unto his bottoms. However, Mary had been quite inventive. Antoinette's stockings were held up by small cords that attached to her corset. Anyone reaching beneath her skirt would find a smooth sex with no protection at all. Then there was the matter of her shoes.

"And those shoes..." the Queen said. "What exactly are those shoes she's wearing?"

"I call them heels Mother," Mary said. "Aren't they splendid? I must admit that I was inspired by the King's fool. See the bells? But, the Fool's toes are all pointed up, so I thought, why not the heel? So I made them taller. She's a small girl like most of the French. It makes her a bit taller and able to fit in among the English. It also makes her gait a bit more refined."

It wasn't only the heels that made her gait more refined. Poor Antoinette was now conscious of her every movement, lest someone see what lay beneath her short skirt.

"Be that as it may," the Queen said. "There is something about them that seems....improper."

If only she knew her daughter's real reason, thought Antoinette. The heels were designed to lift her bottom, so that her tail would be held in a proud manner. If only the Queen could see the other items the Princess made her wear in the Princess's private chambers. The tail, the bridle, reins, and bells. It was absolutely horrifying.

"But mummy," Mary whined. "The heels are now all the rage. The cobbler can't keep up with demand. Please...."

This much was true. Though they were kept hidden beneath gowns, the ladies of the court had 'grown' one or two inches in the last few weeks. 

"Alright, but just keep her away from the clergy," the Queen said. "Or you will be minus a maid."

"Thank you mummy," Mary said. "Come Queem, let's go."

"And whatever possessed you to choose that name?" the Queen said. "Do you know what people call her? The Princess's Quim. I was mortified for her...." To Antoinette: "Dear Lord girl, to think I employed you once as a tutor. Even the other handmaids look down upon you. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry highness," Antoinette said. Her cheeks burned. She could feel tears well in her eyes. 

"You know I don't listen to what people whisper mother," Mary interrupted. "But I hear that Queem here was responsible for that little rumor."

"What do you mean?" the Queen asked.

"Well...the Housekeeper told me that she caught my handmaid doing something very wicked. I can only guess that others have seen her as well..." Mary said. Not really a lie, because Hilda had told her of the very transgression. 

"What were you doing girl?" the Queen turned a steely glare on Antoinette that made the poor handmaid want to disappear. What was the Princess doing? Didn't she know that the Queen could punish her harshly for such a remark.

"I was - I was -" Antoinette stammered trying to think of an explanation.

"She was caught in the linen closet..."

"With who?" the Queen asked. "What were you doing girl? Was it the Retainer again? The rumors I hear about the man make me shiver...but I hear the French women are quite the little whores...."

"It wasn't the Retainer mother," Mary said. "But I had given her chores, yet she was found naked, all spread open, and rubbing herself...moaning. Doing who knows what to herself. The horrid little creature."

"A pervert. I would almost like to have her do it again. To make her do it in front of me whilst receiving a good cropping. That would be a suitable punishment..." 

Antoinette shivered as the Queen's stare turned hungry. Were all the English perverts? Even the Queen?

'I've already punished her mummy," Mary said. "But still she persists. I wonder if you would call the Crone?"

Antoinette couldn't believe this turn of events. It was true that Hilda had caught her being improper, but there was good reason. The evil woman had teased her for hours. Had made her body turn to very malleable jelly in the woman's teasing glove covered hands. Till those soft leather gloves were soaked through and through. Till finally they had made her beg for orgasm. Had made her plead for it like a cat in heat. Had made her purr. Had made her, a Princess of royal birth, agree to to anything the wretched woman suggested...even lick her. To be her pet. Of course the woman knew better than disobey Mary, and had put Antoinette in the linen closet to fold sheets until she cooled down and then to put her clothes back on. But not to touch herself.

Of course Antoinette had disobeyed. She couldn't help herself. After two months without orgasm and constant teasing. She deserved it. She mauled her small breasts. Tweaked her hard nipples. Frigged her clit. Oh that sweet clit. It had taken serving one. Licking and sucking one to see just how much she loved that appendage. How much pleasure it could yield. Her fingers sped. She attacked it. Fast. Without mercy. Lest she be caught. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. She propped herself up on the counter. Spread herself without regard. Moans began to escape her lips. God, she was so close. She was determined not to be robbed.

Then Hilda opened the door, with two other maids in tow. Poor Antoinette was mortified. She was a Princess...and yet now these other girls would think her beneath the lowest of maids. A maid slut. A pervert. Worse, she didn't even have the downy protection of curls to protect herself like these other maids. And she knew that they noticed, judging by the smirks on their faces. Still she didn't stop. She had earned this. She deserved it so dearly. Her slim hips pumped. She kept at it with her dextrous fingers. Kept at it even though Hilda ordered her to desist. Threatened her with the strap. She only stopped when she was physically restrained.