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The Captured Princess Ch. 01

By: HandsInTheDark



The year is 122 in the year of the Caliphate Which Is Fallen; or 2616 in the common calendar. My name is Alani, and I am or was a princess of the nation of Kilmjada in the world of Harvi 4. The title is in doubt because I have been captured by the marauding armies of the Raja Nir, I believe my people to be defeated, and I fear for my life and honor. There being no hope of rescue, I will die by my own hand at the first opportunity, but for now I am chained by the ankle and locked inside a crate used for livestock, with a few of my possessions. The pod I scribe on has been disabled so that it cannot transmit or record, but at least I can still scribe on it.

I do not know why I am still alive, and I fear to consider the reasons. When I was dragged from the capital, it was in flames, and I saw my father and two of my brothers killed. I do not weep for them because they died well, weapon in hand. But there is no one to ransom me.

I will not cry or scream or grieve. I am 23 and was raised to be brave in the face of adversity, and to die well if need be. Until that time I scribe this account of the horrors done to me as testament to those who come after. May the anger of the moon god fall upon the Raja Nir for daring to have me dragged, as livestock, to his capital.

++

Once in the capital of Raja Nir, I am taken to the baths in haste, and this surprises me. I had not expected the virtue of cleanliness in this city, in which all people live as dogs. Once within the baths I am hauled, unwillingly and by the chain on my ankle, out of the reeking crate and into a room of steaming pools and thick towels, and the ever vigilant cameras. I was not surprised to see the room populated with both men and women, and both slave and free. I was in Narajin, in the land of Narsana; the people had no wisdom here, no education and no sense of modesty. Naked slave women washed men. A few naked slave men washed a woman who was nearly moaning in delight from the touch of their crude hands. (I burned in shame for her.)

The man in charge of my crate bellowed for attention.

"Attend! Presenting the sole surviving princess of Kilmjada, last nation of Kam, the Caliphate Which Is Fallen; Alani the Fair, all honor to her name!"

This was how I learned that my elder sister had perished, but these people would not see those tears.

Everyone in the room stared at me, in sudden silence, and I stood straight, determined to not be embarrassed by the horrid grime and tattered clothing that clung to me from my difficult journey and rough handling. I was astonished that this cattle-herder-turned-guard had given a proper announcement of my name and rank, and I raised my head high.

And then everyone erupted in cruel, mocking laughter.

"Look at the proud peacock!" the slave nearest me cried. "But oh her finery and feathers need cleaning! Here, your princessness!"

With a shove she sent me flying backwards, and I tripped into a wide tub of cold water, foul from some previous occupant. Even as I got my head back above the water she was on me, ripping at the foul scraps of cloth I'd travelled in.

"You dare to-" I snapped out, and then she had my head underwater again until I choked. Then she pulled me back to the surface, and slapped me across the face.

"Daughter of murderers," she snapped, "You are no princess here. And you'll be punished for your people's crimes. You'll be taught to crawl and beg and yip like the cur you are."

I did not deserve this. There have been atrocities on both sides of the war, but we were not the aggressors. And I was a young princess, with no political power; by our laws I could wield no authority until I was twenty five. I had nothing to do with the conduct of the war, and in a just country I would not have been held accountable.

I slapped her back. "I may no longer be a princess, but you have never been anything but a slave!"

She was stronger and larger than I am -- I am just under 150 centimeters tall -- and as she held me underwater again, I realized I would not be let up. So be it. I composed my soul to the moon god and prepared to inhale water-

Then I was on my feet, hauled up by the hair, with the slave girl sprawling at my feet. The man who had pulled me up was behind me and his grip did not let me turn my head, but I knew he was far taller than I, and very strong.

"All you, hear me, and you most of all, contemptible slave," he shouted. "This little morsel is to be presented to Prince Arj in an hour and I do not think he wants to see her dead. And by the powers, a princess of even Kilmjada is worthy of better than drowning in a bath."

There was a cold stinging down my back, and my clothing, such as it was, all fell away. I suddenly realized he'd run a knife through it. I flushed red in anger and shame; no one except my slave girl had seen me naked since the age of ten. Add this to their sins, o god of the moon.

"Clean her up and present her oiled and pretty to the guard in fifty minutes. Questions will be asked of everyone here if she is abused or marked and I don't think Prince Arj will spare the torments to get truth told."

The torments. My blood ran cold. They had been abolished in my country before I was born and I had not believed they were still in use anywhere. I was truly among the most savage of barbarians.

++

I was unchained, and bathed in warm water and with clean soap, by two men and a woman. The man who had pulled me from the rude slave, stood nearby and watched closely. The men were well controlled and touched nothing unseemly, but the woman was apparently a whore and found it amusing to run her hands over me, sensually and provocatively, while talking to the men.

"Pretty face she has, and with her long strawberry blonde hair she's quite a novelty, isn't she. What do you think Arj wants her for? Maybe for these fine breasts? Hold still, princess, I'm sure you've been washed by a pretty girl before... your nipples seem to like the soap, or is it the men's gazes they like? No shame in that, after all, they also look at mine and see how hard they are..."

Her fingertips moved slowly over my nipples and they hardened further, and I closed my eyes in horror. She was a dog and a whore.

"Don't be afraid, pretty one, I see how they want you, with your slender waist and your flared hips and the shapely legs, but they don't dare take you. Not if Arj wants you. But I bet they'll think of you as they torment me with their cocks, both of them at once..."

I glared at her, shuddering in fresh horror, and recited prayers to myself. And then one of the men began to touch her as she touched me; and I bit my lip and closed my eyes tightly, because I knew very little of this and did not want to learn from them. (I had watched some of the royal concubines when I was a bit younger and I knew the basics of a man and a woman together, but it was all I knew and as much as I needed to know until I was 25.)

"Oh, Sarno, stop," the slut moaned. "She has to be spotless and I -- can't -- no, not both of you at once! At least- at least wait- oh, both of you, look at how the princess blushes, and what color do you think she'll be when Arj is done? I wish the three of us could watch her with him..."

"Are all the women of this country such shameless whores?" I snapped.

My rescuer spoke, darkly. "Oh, princess. When they are done with you, you won't be able to open your legs fast enough. If Arj keeps you, shameless whore will be the nicest term for what you'll become for him. He crumbles the will of women the way I crumble brittle straw between my fingers."

"Death first," I said, flatly.

That elicited a brief chuckle "The moon god rejects suicides, doesn't he?"

"Any death with honor is acceptable to the moon, ignorant dog, and I shall die nobly, reciting prayers."

"Well, you know your superstitions better than I ever will. The moon is a chunk of rock in a fixed orbit and I assure you it is uninterested in your death. Die praying if you like; your brother will not have that option."

And my stomach sank within me and my blood was ice. Only one of my brothers had been still unaccounted to me - little Telano, of the tender age of ten. As a latecomer to the family, he had been much loved by my parents, enough to provoke some jealousy when I was younger, but I dearly loved him now, and he was respectful and kind to his sisters. But he had ever been one for neglecting his weapons studies, even as war had closed in, and he had probably been captured unarmed and with no chance to offer his soul to the moon.

"My brothers all died nobly, defending my mother," I said.

"Sorry, princess, at least one of them lived and was dragged here a little before you. And if you misbehave in any way, they may let you see him, on, say, the third day of torment. They are still sane, so early in the process, you know, but usually incapable of much speech..."

"Lord Tir, please, stop," whispered the woman. "Not even a daughter of dogs deserves such talk. You make me shake."

"He need not stop, since it is only meaningless lies he speaks," I said, and I spit at his feet. Which was a sin, for to spit at a lie you must know it to be a lie; but he would not know that. Forgive me, moon, for this unseemliness.

His hand lifted, and from the way he towered over me and from the span of his chest, I knew a blow from him would have sent me sailing across the room, but I lifted my face and waited calmly. He was 190 centimeters at the least, and the muscle of his upper arm made my calves look like twigs. But it would only be bruises, and I would not show fear.

His eyes smoldered in fury, but he dropped his hand again. "It won't be me that marks your skin before Prince Arj has his look at you. Afterwards, if he rejects you, I will teach you the consequence of spitting at a Lord of Narsana. It will be a long lesson. And if by chance he takes a fancy to you, well, what happens then will satisfy my desire for retribution."

"So the Lords of Narsana spend their days planning retributions against women? It is a marvel a people so weak got as far as my capital."

His smile was evil and mirthless. "I don't doubt our customs regarding the treatment of women will seem barbaric to you. And you will find it very strange that those same customs will make you burn to please men in ways you never imagined."

I spat again, and this time sinlessly.

He turned to the two men. "Toy with the slave girl," he snapped. "And you, former princess-" his hand was again in my hair and I was suddenly out of the tub and on my knees, facing the slave, "-will watch, eyes open. You'll learn about your new role in this country."

The slave gasped as she was forced onto her back by the two men, and then they knelt on her limbs, pinning her, legs apart, arms over her head. She was not much older than me, and attractive, and the men were grimly pleased by their orders. I thought, secretly, that the slave girl would be as well, since her slutty behavior had been so public before. But there was fear in her eyes as she looked up at Lord Tir; fear and pleading. What response that got her, I could not see; he again held me tight by the hair and I could not turn my head at all.

I closed my eyes, and immediately the slave girl gasped. "Princess, no. Obey him. The more disobedient you are, the worse it goes for me."

As if I cared? I closed my eyes tighter.

"I beg of you- oh! Oh please no!"

I did not know what had happened, but the next sound was unmistakable. She was slapped. It was a thing that happened often to slaves in any country, and a familiar enough sound; I'd slapped my own slave any number of times when her attention wandered. But here instead of the short gasp I expected in reply, there was a soft moan, and then panting. I had heard such panting among my father's concubines, but they had been in secluded, private places (and not easy for even a curious sixteen year old girl to get to.) To sound so wanton in public...

Another slap, and she whimpered in clear and deep arousal.

"What are you?" A man snapped at her.

"A slave," she whispered.

"What is the work of a slave?"

"To be pleasing."

"What pleases men most?"

"The use of a woman's body," she said, in a strangely little-girl voice. And then: "Princess, have mercy. They will rape me to death if you don't obey. You have no love for me, fair enough, but I am a good slave."

I was not surprised that ancient formula was in use here - I think it is universal in all the worlds. A slave's life is hard and they are prone to being used as pawns in the schemes of their betters, but in most civilized places they can still lay claim to justice if they have served well. The rules are simple: if a slave is abused beyond her station, she can state "I am a good slave." She then submits to whatever is asked of her, but afterwards her acts of service are judged by someone independent of her master. If her service has been loyal and without real fault, she can be removed from her master and resold, or even set free. But if her service is judged wanting, she may be put to death. Of course, the slave's hope is often in neither of these outcomes, but that the Master will reconsider whatever abuse he is meting out, rather than risk losing his property. It is a dangerous card to play, but it is generally the only one the slave has.

What was surprising was that she'd address her plea to me. I certainly did not own her, and I had no say in what happened here. And I was not likely to be merciful, not to anyone here.

"Make that plea to your owner. What happens to you is all one to me."

She whimpered for a few moments, and then moaned, low and deep. She was slapped again, and her breathing became a frantic pant.

"No," she moaned. "Not... no, please..."

I suddenly realized I was burning with curiosity, and I was horrified at myself. It did not help that Lord Tir, behind me, had my head pulled tight against him, and his erection was throbbing at the back of my neck. (Yes, I know about men and erections; I'm not completely ignorant. But I've never seen one up close or felt one pressed against me, and I found it deeply disturbing that men had this very obviously intense physical symptom just from looking at... whatever was happening.)

"Please, no... I can't hold still from... no, please. Don't slap me again, I'll be good, I'll be so good... I'll... I'll be whatever you want..." She whispered, huskily.

So shameful -- but my body blazed with curiosity, and with... more. Even in my country, slaves (of both sexes) were sometimes sexual playthings, and I knew, though I had never witnessed it, that some were trained to be especially satisfying, whatever that means. The very best became concubines, scarcely slaves at all, expected to please a man whenever and however he wished, but also taken care of and protected...

My eyes slitted open. A royal princess to forswear the touch of men until of age, but in truth my sister had been less than careful about that rule; she'd been enthusiastic about being careless with it. And she mocked me for being so cold, as she called it, so dedicated to the moon in the sky while for missing pleasure here on earth. Some nights I had heard her moaning like an animal in delight, and though I told her it sickened me (and sometimes it had), at other times I'd burned with curiosity and a nameless, wicked longing. I felt it again now, a thousandfold more intense now that it was not my sister. I shivered -- and opened my eyes wider.

The slave was caught between the two men. They were kneeling, facing each other, and her back was to the chest of one while her widespread legs embraced the other. The one behind her had her breasts in his large hands, and his fingertips ruthlessly worked her nipples. His lips were against her ear, and whatever he was whispering was unseating the slave's reason. The other man had his erection in his hand, and was rubbing the tip of it, up and down, slowly, against the woman's just parted flower. It was obvious she was not permitted to move, but the twitching of her hips and thighs told me she was finding movement very hard to resist. I have run a finger along that place -- moon, forgive me -- and I knew how intense the sensations became, and how it became harder and harder to stop. She had no way to stop it, and from the look of her misery it was obvious she'd been forbidden to take the pleasure from it that I knew existed, but have never experienced.

Her hips bucked suddenly -- she'd tried to impale herself on that impossibly ugly, impossibly fascinating shaft. She was instantly slapped, across the face and breast. The slap only aroused her further; her whole body was shuddering.

Such a shaft was right behind me, hard and shifting against my neck. For the first time I realized what my situation really was -- I was lovely, helpless, and in a land where men used women for amusement and pleasure and without a single thought for the woman. If the Prince of this land had not called for me, I'd likely have been treated like this slave, and even now be feeling-

I shied away from that thought. I must be strong.

Suddenly the man in front of me pushed the head of his shaft into the hapless slave, and just as quickly pulled it out again. He snarled, softly; but tears trickled from her eyes and she cried out in need. I have never seen nipples so hard, lips so wet, and as for the clearly visible pistil of her flower, throbbing among her petals...

Lord Tir murmured down to me, "You are looking at your future."

I said nothing.

The slave girl sobbed softly as the man in front of her pushed his shaft into her, slowly and firmly, and once it was buried in her, he began to roughly massage her flower, and then to quickly pinch and tug-

She writhed, and her legs stroked his back, trying to urge him to move more, to repeatedly thrust inside her. Instead, the man behind her shifted, lowered her to the ground, took out his own shaft and forced it between her lips-

I didn't know a woman could be reduced to such helpless begging. It was impossible to look away; her desire was compelling and hypnotic. She needed them to take, she needed to give, and above all she needed the release of her pent up and agonizingly frustrated hunger. There was no shame in her at all, it didn't matter how many people saw her; there was only an animal lust. Once, just once, I stroked myself until the pleasure was maddening, then literally painful. She was far past that, but she only wanted more. I realized for the first time what a man can do to a woman, and I flushed hot to my toes because I could understand, to my horror, how a woman could want this.

I closed my eyes again, in shame for the way my body -- my naked body -- was reacting to what I had seen. And then I felt a deeper shame -- I realized I'd been lightly rubbing my head against Lord Tir's shaft, completely unaware of it-

Sobbing, I whispered "Stop, take me away from this."

The scene with the slave shifted again; the man buried inside her had reached the limit of his self-control, and he slid over her and just pounded her flesh.. She shrieked, thrashing, and the other man held her wrists over her head and against the floor. She was completely helpless.

I was shaking now, and I have never burned to be touched by a man the way I did now. It was something like jealousy -- this slave, this dog, was experiencing something I could not even imagine-

Moon, forgive me! I was forced to feel this hunger, deliver me from these barbarians!

Lord Tir spoke -- to another slave. "You. Girl. Stop staring and get the combs and makeup. This captured morsel at my feet has to be made up for her appointment, and time is wasting."

The girl ran on swift, bare feet to fetch a box, and then nearly skidded to a stop in front of me. "Please, daughter of rajas, I must do this and would rather not suffer the humiliations of Glana, the slave behind me. Let me make you up without a fuss, you must look good or you and others will suffer."


The Captured Princess Ch. 01



She could not have been over eighteen, and while she was pretty, she was no stunning beauty like Glana. She seemed frightened and to be honest a little in awe of me, and not at all cruel. I have a soft spot for well-behaved slaves. I nodded to her.

Her fingers were swift, and she daubed oils into my skin with blinding speed, and then color. It was a familiar process, even a pleasant one, despite Glana's agonized and increasing incoherent pleading.

But then she brushed colored powder into my nipples, and I moaned in involuntary arousal. The shame of it, but oh the fire! I burned, oh moon, I burned-

Tir, behind me, chuckled. "You, Glana -- come hard, now!"

And the makeup slave rubbed glittering powder on my torso, as Glana exploded in noises that terrified me and aroused me to my core. To be handled and brushed and painted at such a time was... I have no words. In my innermost thoughts I begged the makeup slave to turn into a man and touch me, rougher and more demandingly. Instead she ran her hands down my legs, gently, and I trembled. It occurred to me that she had made me more beautiful, more desirable, more fuckable (yes, I know the word), and that my next stop would be a man who could do whatever he wished with me. As I looked now, he would only have one wish.

"Turn, please, daughter of kings," she whispered. "I must do your back."

"I do not think the Prince will be looking at my back."

"Oh... I think he will," she whispered, and I shivered in sudden understanding. Her eyes looked earnestly into mine. "Please, princess, you must be perfect or it will go badly for me."

So I turned, still on my knees, and that put me facing-

I closed my eyes again and whimpered, as she rubbed color and perfumes into my ass and back. Lord Tir, for his part, only toyed with the grip in my hair, bending my head back so he could look down at my face. I dared not meet his gaze, but neither could I look at the huge bulge, there near my lips. Gasping, I tried to look down, but he tilted my head further, and forced me to look up at him, into his face.

This must be said, however shameful. The men of Narsana are handsome. So much so that in the early part of the war, women would joke about how it would not be so bad if we lost. (They sang a different song when the rapes and pillages and killing of children began.) There is a darkness to these men, a dusky color, and a mercilessly deep brown color to their eyes. And while we only saw their warriors, now that I was in their city I realized that they all put a premium on physical strength.

So when I looked up at Lord Tir, I saw the sort of dark, chiseled face that women whispered about and dreamt about. I lowered my eyes quickly, but his hand dropped my hair and took my chin, and forced me to look up again.

His eyes assessed my beauty. There was no other word for it. He enjoyed my gifts, measured them, took them in with burning eyes. The shame and arousal increased in me and I closed my eyes, and that horrid makeup slave was in my hair with her combs, and I was vain about my hair and for a terrible moment I was glad Lord Tir saw me prettied -- but then one of the men behind me came, and so did Glana, and the burning embarrassment of that ended my improper thoughts.

And then, to my surprise, Lord Tir whispered, so softly that only I would hear, and in an accent closer to my people than his own. "It is a pity, what will happen to you, princess..."

The moment passed instantly. "Enough , slave. Her hair is what it is, there is no cure for the reddish cast in it. Go and fetch slut silks for her; be quick!"

"I'm to be given clothing?" I said, as steadily as I could.

"I would not call it clothing, princess. Silk, as transparent as ice, meant only to emphasize the hardness of your nipples and the flow of your skin." He lowered his voice. "Now listen very carefully, there is no time. Do not be haughty with Prince Arj. He appreciates women, but if you offer insult he will punish you as you cannot imagine. His vocabulary of pain goes beyond rape and even torments. And he has your brother. You might both survive if you do as I say. Be beautiful, use few words, do not flinch if touched, and hope you please but do not excite him. He might make a gift of you to someone decent... it is the best you can hope for."

The makeup slave returned with something crumpled in her fist, and Tir stepped back from me. "Stand, daughter of my fallen foe," he growled, and I got to my feet quickly.

The madness behind me had quieted, to just soft panting. She had obviously not been raped to death, but how she'd walk after being pounded into the floor like that I couldn't imagine.

What had been crumpled in the slave's fist was my entire outfit. Shaken out, it passed light like thin smoke, and would not count as undergarments in a hot summer in my land. Tir took them, and chuckling darkly, proceeded to tie a thin strip of cloth around my torso. I bit my lip as the stretchy silk slid against my nipples, but I did not blush further -- my skin could be no pinker. The slave girl draped the other piece of cloth around my hips.

I looked down at myself, and a tear trickled. This was me. Naked but for two strips of gauze that would not be visible in dim light unless you squinted, serving only to lift my breasts and caress my flower as I walked. My beautiful clothing had been stolen and I would never see it again. It had all been the gift of my mother, except for a few pieces from admirers. I had sworn these barbarians would not see my tears, but...

"Please no," the makeup girl said, darting forward with cotton in hand. "The color will run, and then there will be punishments. Don't cry, beautiful princess."

"I am no princess now," I said, gathering up my haughtiness. "I am to be a whore, it seems."

"All women are both," she said, simply. "It is the man we are with that decides which we are and at what times. Alright, that is as best I can do with your tears. You are so beautiful! Be brave, daughter of Rajas!"

She was hard not to like, but there was fear and darkness in my heart, and I nodded angrily and turned away. Lord Tir escorted me to the guard and my next appointment.

**

He was silent, as he and four guards escorted me though a veritable maze of wide marble passageways. Gold and brass adorned the walls (and hid cameras and sensors, I knew), and then we passed from areas of electric lighting to gas lighting, which was reserved for areas where nobility spends much of their time. Women look better under gas lighting; men look stronger.

Ahead was an obvious meeting hall, the opening adorned with both brass and living birds; the living ones were carefully managed by sonic nets so they could not stray far. They still had more freedom than I did, I thought, sadly.

I was gestured through the opening. Squaring my shoulders and raising my head, I walked in. The room was full of well-dressed people, and directly ahead there was a throne made of jade.

I had been raised well, and one rule has been drilled into me: a king on his throne is given respect no matter how small the kingdom and no matter how the politics between the nations lie. A king is a king, regardless. And a Prince is naught but a future king. There would be no spitting here. I stood before the throne, and then knelt, waiting.

"Stand, girl who was a princess."

I stood, back straight, eyes raised to his knees but not further, with my hands at my side. My hands wanted to crawl to my breasts and thighs, but I held them still. I was here to be looked at, and he was a Prince. He would have his look, one way or another.

He smiled, mirthlessly. "Stand as a woman stands."

I had no idea what this meant. I stood straighter, as a princess stands, clothed or otherwise.

There was uproarious laughter.

"She hasn't an earthly, does she," Arj roared in high amusement. "Hm... vizier, what is an earthly, anyway?"

"I haven't an earthly, Thakur," the vizier said, bowing. "But I will consult."

"So, pretty one," Arj said, returning his attention to me. "I ask you to stand like a woman, and instead you stand more like a man. You were clearly raised to respect a throne, so I do not take this as deliberate insult, but only ignorance. But it is displeasing. So my head concubine will step forward and pose you as a woman should stand in the presence of men. Do not be such a fool as to resist her suggestions."

The woman who stepped forward was scarcely older than me, but to watch her walk was astonishing. She flowed like vapor and swayed like the leaves of an aspen tree. Her long blonde hair fell in cascades to her waist. The silk she wore hid even less than mine did; she had no flaws to hide. I instantly felt threatened. If Arj had this, he had no use for me, and I was -- I admit it -- suddenly terrified of the consequences of being cast aside.

"Welcome, girl who was princess," she said, in a soft, honeyed voice. It was neutral; not friendly, not mocking, not anything at all. "I will pose you as my Thakur commands."

She laid hands on my hips, then my belly and back, then my legs, arms and head. When she was done, I had one foot behind the other, with my legs lightly twined; my hips jutted upwards slightly, and tilted with the left side raised, my back was arched, and my arms were close in and slightly behind me. My shoulders were uneven, left lower. My head was tilted back and slightly to one side, and my hair was thrown forward over one shoulder. "Eyes to his crotch at all times, whether he sits or stands. Never make eye contact unless he invites you to with his hand on your chin. If you need to lick your lips, do it quickly and lightly," she whispered as she finished laying out my hair.

I stood there, shivering now, as she flowed her perfectly shaped self to a kneel not far from the throne.

Arj chuckled. "You see, it is not so difficult to be a woman. The secret is to understand yourself in relation to the men around you. In my presence, women are to be pleasing to the eye and ear; it is my decree. Fail at it and there are other places you can be placed -- the mines, for example, or an army whorehouse. My troops and miners are less concerned with beauty than I am..."

Fury filled me, and I prayed to the moon it did not show in my face. I have had my fill of the attitudes of noble men in my own country, and here, I was not surprised to learn, matters were far worse. Moon knows a woman is a difficult enough thing to be, without men around to add to our troubles by thinking of us solely as pretty or ugly. It had been my father's idea to name me Alani the Fair, and he had never understood why I took umbrage to the title. He was pleased that I had inherited and improved upon my mother's looks, more pleased by that than my mastery of two languages, scientific arts, or my singing voice.

But for all my fury, my legs shook. There would be no rescue for me, this land was my new home, and this Prince had somehow become the decider of my fate. And I was sick to my stomach at the realization that already I wanted to be beautiful, as beautiful as the blond goddess-turned-whore at his feet.

"You are a woman of few words," the Prince prodded.

"I was raised to be such in the presence of other royalty," I said, and then cursed inwardly at the plainly audible tremor in my voice. But even in this moment, I was struck by a moment of wry humor; my father had tried to teach me to hold my tongue in court, but it had rarely gone well. After one outburst he'd had me spanked by the captain of his personal guard, and my shame and horror had gone some ways towards making his rules stick -- and towards making me much scarcer at court, because I could never again meet the eyes of his captain. That huge and powerful hand, coming down on my small shivering form, still troubled my dreams.

"Then your mother taught you well," he replied.

"My father was the teacher of that rule," I said. I again thought of that captain, his hand coming down on my suddenly exposed flesh -- though nowhere near as exposed I was now. Men have such power over women; we give it to them and they take it with both hands and use it to shape us. Why is it this way?

But I snapped back to the present, for Prince Arj had suddenly left his throne. There is only one thing worse than a man on a throne, and that's a man who is off one.

He stood a foot in front of me, towering. He was perhaps 200cm tall, broad, with a tapering waist and powerful legs and arms. His walk was nearly silent and his movements free and easy. Not all Princes, I knew, were born to their role, but this one was. He was commanding and powerful, dusky and muscular. His clothing was much more military than royal, and his leather and dragonscale dress fit him well. He had no crown; only vain princes wear them. His eyes beat down on me, on my utterly revealed and helpless form.

And my body responded to him. All women are drawn to power and react to it; in that respect a princess is little different from a washer-woman. I could do nothing about my hardening nipples or the flush of my skin, or my suddenly dry lips. I feared him for his physical strength, his aura of calm command, and the lurking cruelty that was crouching in his eyes. But it was an erotic fear. And he and I both knew it.

His hand landed on my hip, and then moved, slowly and without hurry, up my side. My breathing changed, audibly. I could not control it. It was like being spanked all over again, and I felt myself sinking into my appointed place in relation to him, inwardly acknowledging that I was less than him. Only a princess can understand the depth of that realization. I could wear any face and say any words and be as haughty as I pleased; but with this single touch of his hand he had forced me to acknowledge that his will and power were stronger. I trembled in shock and something like despair, and he felt it, but did not comment.

And then his thumb stroked over my breast and across my nipple. A hot confusion filled my thoughts, taking the place where raging fury should have been. My belly contracted suddenly and almost painfully. Oh moon, make him stop before I make some sound!

"You know little of men," he said. He was addressing only me, and it was not an insult or a jibe; it was simply a statement of fact. I shuddered in fresh horror. He was learning me. No woman wants to be understood, no matter how much we complain when we are not. We must have our secrets.

"There is much about you that you yourself do not know." Of all the shameless arrogance! "You have stayed a child, in an attempt to be a good princess for your father. You are a veneer of strength surrounding a core of submissive desire to please and be loved. In other words you are a woman, Alani the fair, but not one who understands herself. Not yet. I think I will make it my task to teach you who you really are."

His thumb, stroking my nipple... I couldn't think. I forced myself to remember that I was, or had been, royalty.

"The Prince Arj must have unlimited time on his hands," I said, as steadily as I could. If I could have said it bravely it might have been bold or at least confident and haughty, but to my ears it rang of false bravado. Which, of course, it was.

Immediately he caught the throbbing nipple between thumb and forefinger, and rolled it back and forth. My belly twinged over and over, and I had to bite my lip to prevent saying things that would have made me appear weak and foolish. My mother had taught me, over and over, that silence could be more powerful than words. Oh moon, let her be right!

"It's not that difficult a matter," he said. "It can happen in a second. It's happening right now."

I said nothing. There were no safe words. His hand moved to the other nipple, and suddenly it was difficult to stand. No man had ever touched me this way and I had not realized what effect it had. Shame and desire filled ever corner of me and no matter what I must not show it!

And then he stepped back, and addressed his chief guard.

"She is pretty enough, but very ignorant... find her quarters, have her guarded, and arrange her training. Oh -- and water, but no food, for two days; she's a bit full in the face."

Arrogant dog! My face was considered lovely in a land known for pretty women; and no one had ever dared to call me anything other than beautiful! Just because he liked them underfed -- that slut of a head concubine had a trace of rib showing -- that did not mean there was anything wrong with my face! My lips parted as a jumble of angry words rose to them-

-And somehow he heard them coming before they spilled out, because suddenly his dark eyes were on mine, and there was anger in them. Whatever foolish thing I was going to say, died on my lips.

"Or rather, three days without food, but watered wine for the third day. And keep her active. Two hours of dance a day at the very least. Her time in a crate did not do the tone of her legs any good. Now drag her out, and court, disband. Except you, Enjine; you are to my lap."

Four guards closed on me, and two laid hands on my upper arms in a grip I had no hope of breaking. I screamed in rage, but all that earned me was that the Prince looked my way, and in his eyes... oh moon I would do anything to forget what I read there. Cruel, dark, merciless amusement. He had the daughter of a hated foe in his possession. I would be abused in ways I couldn't even imagine, and when he was sick of my insolence -- or my brokenness and tears -- he'd have me killed without remorse. Oh moon, I have honored you; deliver me now!

++

I lived in an emotional hell for two days. Escape was impossible -- guards were everywhere and my strawberry-blonde hair made me the most recognizable person in the palace. Suicide was nothing I could contemplate, not while they had my brother. The man I was being trained for -- trained like a dog or horse -- was a merciless monster; I knew this not only from meeting him, but from the whispers and glances, when people saw me. "Prince Arj wants her," would be whispered -- and the pitying glances would come my way.

Not that I saw many people. The doors to my apartment had a scanner and would not open for me. The windows were open rectangles until I approached them, and then became a sheet of glassee. I tried beating on them with a stone vase, and only managed to chip the vase. Such windows are used in the rooms of very young children and it was somewhat humiliating to have them in my room.

As for the training, so far it had been simple. Physical exercises, balance exercises, lessons in applying makeup (in which I sat like a wooden doll while women showed me tricks, because they could not force me to do more.) But the dance instructor was a powerful male with a sword and a whip, and the first time he snapped that whip towards my face -- the sound is almost deafening when it is that close -- my haughtiness collapsed and I practiced the steps he commanded, over and over.

As for not eating, it made me lightheaded but not worse. I have fasted once a month at every new moon, for three days, since I was eight. It was no true hardship.

On the third day, early in the morning, Enjine, chief harlot, woke me.

The moment I focused on her face, hate filled me, and my hand slashed upwards, fingernails raking. I had quietly sharpened them on the stone of the windowsill, hoping for some chance like this, and I wanted blood and scars.

She must have expected it, because she effortlessly blocked my attack, and then stepped back and drew up a chair.

"There's no point to it, Alani. Hate me all you want -- I might, in your circumstance. But you can't help yourself or your brother if you rage."

"Hate you? You are nothing to me. You are some small princeling's lapdog. I mistook you for Ashtaroth or some sister demoness as I woke, that is why I struck. The resemblance is striking."




The Captured Princess Ch. 01



"I can see you're going to be a fun one," she said, sighing. "And less talk of demons, please. I know things about Prince Arj's worship habits that would make your blood freeze. There are names that should not be spoken aloud in this palace."

"Thank you for confirming my beliefs about your master."

"You'll come to appreciate his finer points in time, if you survive."

"Finer points? The story I heard is that he gave the order for the sacking and raping of Darseen. Would that be a finer point? A coward and a whore-monger, I'd say."

"You do realize your every word in this apartment is recorded, don't you?"

"I'd assumed it."

"Then know that your brother is missing a finger because of things you have said and done. One finger, only, so far."

I sat in repulsed silence.

"That is why I am here, Alani. Please be good. No, perhaps you can't be good. Please be accepting. This is your new home now, and I know you must hate it, but there's nothing you can do about it that will not harm innocents."

"And why would you care? You are not of my blood! You're a slave and a whore in a land of dogs!"

She pursed her lips. "It was the pinky, if you're curious."

"Let it be the whole hand," I raged. "Let his life end here. Better that than to submit to a warring, whoring nation. We were a peaceful country. We offered no offence. We traded in grain and grapes until your armies marched-"

"I am a woman, and I do not discuss politics."

"I am a princess, and I do!"

"You're talking to the air, then. No one wants your opinions here. This nation swore an oath to end every nation in the Caliphate, two hundred years ago. Yours was the last. Don't ask me why there was an oath or what it was sworn to, I'm sure I'd rather not know. I do know that the war was fought fairly, no atomics, no plagues, just-"

"Just the slaughter of farmers and the rape of mothers. And a crop failure that was no natural occurrence. Faugh! Your men, your leaders, are animals!"

"An angry male is a dangerous thing, Alani. In this country, anyway. As women it is our role to prevent them from getting angry. Some women do it with wisdom, but you and I..." she shrugged. "We do it in other ways. Men fight to dominate territory and take the women for themselves. They wage war to own our bodies. They talk of honor or oaths to demons or economic need or who knows what all, but in the end..." she patted her breasts. "It's about the hottest women and the most sex and the most prolific offspring. I was captured from Surra, brought here, trained intensively, surgery, drugs, hypnosis... all to please Prince Arj."

"O! fortunate favorite of the Prince!" I snapped. "If getting on all fours for him is intended to satisfy him and slake his urge for conquest, you seem to have failed."

"No one woman slakes Prince Arj. But to your point, he was not the strongest proponent of the war. And this is all far from the topic. I'm here for you, not for political debate."

"I want nothing from you, thank you."

"Please, Alani. You might become a concubine to the Prince. I promise you there are worse lives. As I am head of concubines, you need me as you friend."

I spat at her feet.

"Have it your way then," she said. "Just know it doesn't have to be this way."

"We're done here," I said, gesturing her dismissal. She just laughed.

"No, we are not, silly girl. I brought you your watered wine, by the way; drink it slowly. It is only half water."

"They let you carry heavy things? Aren't you worried that your perfect symmetry will be marred if you build up muscle in your right arm?"

"I do, actually. I carried it on my left for half the distance. You are clever to have thought of it."

"All humans seem clever to dogs. Leave!"

"I cannot, silly girl. I have work to do here. The sexual aspects of your training begin today."

"So your Prince follows you here?"

"Prince Arj? The very thought. He won't have you until you've been quite thoroughly conditioned and managed. No, pretty girl, I will begin your training."

And she smiled, darkly, and ran her tongue along her thumb, slowly, eyeing me.

"Soulless slut! No woman will ever-" And I leapt at her, claws extended-

-and crashed into a wall of glassee that had not been between us a moment before. I'd had no idea that a wall that size could be created, and I hit it hard enough that I was knocked backwards, dizzied and breathless, to my knees.

"Guards needed," she said to the air. "Bring the bonds."

++

I was dragged to a wide bed, naked and chained, limbs spread apart. A gag with a wooden ball affixed to it was forced into my mouth; I could not speak, spit or bite. The guards stayed to watch what followed.

"Innocent, beautiful Alani," Enjine said. "The first time with a woman is often horrifying, but you'll rapidly come to crave my touch almost as much as you'll crave the Prince's. You can't help that, so don't fill your mind with vows that it will be different with you. I remember how I felt. First, I'm going to give you some of the wine, which has a drug in it. It will not make you sleepy. It has other effects."

A guard held my head still, as she pushed a tube into my mouth, alongside the ball. She pinched my nose, and the drugged wine trickled in. I had no choice but to swallow, over and over. Warmth filled my belly instantly, stronger than the warmth of wine.

"There. And now, pretty girl, it's just you and me, and these guards. And the cameras... I wonder how many people are looking at you right now? There's no way to tell.' Her hand landed on my belly, and she pet it, slowly. "Strangers, watching your sexual needs pulled to the surface, against your will. You will find that erotic, whether you like it or not... deep in every woman is a need to be wanted, a need to attract the male eye. And to harden his cock."

Her hand traced small circles, low on my belly. I closed my eyes and prayed to the moon, aloud, but the gag made my sounds incomprehensible, and it didn't drown out her words.

"What we are doing here is hardening cocks, I promise you. And that's the secret to this, sexy girl. It's not really me that is turning you on. It's the fact that I'm just an instrument of the Prince. It's his will that touches you, he's just using my hand to do it... I have no choice in this. Though you'll have guessed that I don't mind it. When I was trained I was also taught to appreciate female beauty..."

Her hand slid to my thighs, and stroked them. I couldn't get away. I couldn't close my legs. I couldn't scream in rage.

"In truth there's something sexy about other beautiful women. We both know it. You look at my breasts, and you feel... something. It makes you want to be sexier as well. Maybe it's the comfort we got from nursing, long ago? Or maybe it's something... else. Look at my breasts, Alani."

She slid her body next to mine, and turned my head so my face was nearly in her cleavage. I closed my eyes, tightly. She was wrong. I had no interest in her body. That was sickening.

Her hand drifted, like soft silk, back over my belly and under my breasts. She pet there, lightly, making the fullness of my breasts press against her hand.

"Yours are also lovely. I shivered when I saw Prince Arj run his thumb over your nipples, because I knew what you felt... it's such a vulnerable place, a nipple. Did you know that when they are massaged, something in released within a woman's brain? You can't help how good it feels. Already you wish my fingertip would caress one... open your eyes, pretty, helpless girl. Look at my nipples. See how hard they are becoming."

I would not.

"Look," she said, softer and lower. And then her hand drifted again, over my nipples, petting them slowly and lightly. Revulsion filled me. I shook.

"If only you could stop me," she whispered against my ear. "Then you'd remain sane and chaste. But you can't. And the truth is, it feels good regardless of who does it. Did you know that we can be trained by pleasure... It works just as well as a whip. Of course, you'll experience the whip, too. You'll experience everything. There's no form of sexuality and pleasure you won't become helplessly addicted to. Have you ever craved a spanking? Multiple men? Rough sex against your will?.."

The spanking. Of all memories to being up, that one... his hand coming down on my bared ass. My sobs and whimpers, the uncontrollable embarrassment of it, the lasting sting, but worst of all, fearng the man that did it to me. Fearing his strength, the hardness of his hand, and the way I had become helpless in his lap. The feeling of his power, controlling my very body. His merciless amusement and -- oh moon -- the way I'd struggled to keep my body from pressing against his suddenly huge erection-

"I told you to look at me," she hissed, softly, in my ear. And then she slapped my face, sharply.

I shrieked in rage, but also in fear. I was a princess and she was a slave, but she had slapped me as if the opposite were true. She was trying to reverse the roles and that must not happen!

My eyes flew open, and I shut them again, tightly. Her hand went back to my breasts, petting, slowly. The contrast of the sting of my cheek of the warmth of her hand, and the hardness of my nipple, and the memory of the spanking...

"Are you starting to feel the drug? It's disorienting at first, but soon... open your eyes, or I'll slap you again. Maybe your breast this time, I know how to do it over and over but not mark you..."

Suddenly her fingertips were pulling at my nipple, quick light tugs. I shivered. It should not feel good. It should not.

"And now, my fingernails, biting in gently, but deeper and deeper... open your eyes, princetoy. If you don't there will be blood..."

Pain flared quickly, and suddenly my eyes were open and staring. "Good girl." She cooed to me. "See how pretty we are, with our rounded breasts and flat bellies? Take pleasure in our beauty... I'm going to reward you for looking at me, sweet girl."  

Her mouth nibbled across my throat and over my breast, and she sucked my nipple, slowly but deeply. I had not expected the intensity of the pleasure it caused, and I gasped. What was this drug?

And then she licked her thumb, and ran it quickly down my belly, and against my flower. And stroked and rubbed as she sucked.

Not that! I twisted violently in my bonds, but she only chuckled. "Guards? Pin her flat."

Large hands took my hips, and now I was truly unable to move. Her thumb returned, sliding along the petals, pressing gently inward, and then returning to-

"Stop! Stop!" I cried, but I couldn't even speak. I was utterly helpless and she was relentless. Her thumb worked in a tiny circle and fire built up inside me. Does it really not matter who touches us, only how? Was it my helplessness, the eyes of the men, the effect of the drug?

Her lips were against my ear again. "Good girl... when did you last have pleasure? I know you've had none since you came here..."

I shook my head frantically, no, as my belly tightened.

"Don't lie to me, pretty girl, you've been watched, you haven't even touched... oh. Oh my, Alani. You mean you've... never... had this pleasure? Is that even possible? Oh, pretty girl, what a dilemma you give me. A treat like that should belong to my Prince, but the thought of making you feel it..."

She panted against my ear, and her thumb moved faster. Another finger stroked slowly along my slit, and pressed inward, very gently. She knew all the places to touch, she knew things I didn't, and my legs tensed helplessly. And then my belly. Warmth was growing, spreading, and I fought to keep it back, but somehow it made things worse. My back began to arch involuntarily, and then Enjine thrust her tongue into my ear, moaning in anticipation-

"Your first instinct was better, Enjine," snapped a deep male voice. Arj's. Enjine twitched like an electric shock had touched her, and she sat up instantly. "My Thrakur!"

He was not here; it was only his voice. He'd been watching. And he had stopped her at the very last possible second. I clenched repeatedly, shamefully, desperately, half-sobbing in frustration.

"Make her want it if you like, and show her how if you choose. Not more."

She bowed her head, and then turned to me again. She was, I knew, disappointed and angry.

"Make you want it, my Thrakur said." She whispered against my ear. And then her fingers began to play on me -- cruelly.

She knew exactly how to bring me to the edge of pleasure, and then stop. And then start again. In minutes I was sobbing in helpless frustration. Then she nibbled my nipple, quick tiny bites and sensual licking and intense sucking, while her finger drew fast circles just inside me, and my sobs turned to shrieks. I had no idea my body could burn like this, and the presence of the men nearby made no difference at all. If anything it made it worse. Soon I was voiceless from screaming.

"You'd be willing enough for the Prince's hands now," she hissed to me. "And I find that thought hot. So I'm going to show you how women take pleasure from their imaginations. Watch carefully."

She straddled my belly, and looked down at me with an evil and perverse desire. "Touch her breasts," she told the guards. "Not too gently."

She stroked herself, neck and torso, as she watched them touch me. And then her hand settled over her flower and a breast, and she teased herself into frantic moaning with quick, practiced fingers. I should have been embarrassed beyond words but I was long past that point, and I stared at her aroused body, helplessly fascinated. Her eyes watched the mans' hands on me, and she licked her lips.

"He's... he's going to... force you... your pretty, helpless body... you'll beg him to stop, but..."

She sank fingers into herself, savagely. "...you'll arch, you'll convulse as he pounds you- oh fuck, your pretty innocent helpless body responding, learning to love his brutality, and the lost little-girl look in your eyes as you realize you're going to come, and want him to come in you, the shame because you don't know how to please him, the fear and arousal as his cock enslaves you, and the way you'll writhe and beg... oh fuck yes, beg to come around his monster cock, beg helplessly, and then you'll-"

She arched, belly convulsing through her intense pleasure, imagining my rape. To my horror it made me clench faster, and the guards twisted my nipples, pulling upwards, slowly... one rough touch against my flower and I'd have exploded uncontrollably, and my hips tilted up, hoping to lure a guard's hand there, and I bit my lip to stop myself from pleading-

"Enjine to my quarters, guards to your stations," the Prince's voice called. Enjine's eyes opened slowly, as she panted. "Yes, my master," she cooed.

She slid off me, and bent over me, warm and so beautiful and so content. She licked my ear, and murmured, "He'll fuck me senseless. It doesn't matter that I just came -- he'll just take me, and it will feel good because I'm pleasing him. That's what men do to us, they make us need to please. You think you're strong and self-sufficient, but once he possesses your body you'll do anything to please his hard cock... his and anyone else's he wants you to. Think about that."

She shifted, and licked and kissed her way down my breasts, and belly, and then, one featherlight lick across the bud, and I moaned uncontrollably.

"Don't," I sobbed. "Don't leave me tied. The drug- I want-"

"Oh, sweet girl. I lied about the drug. There are drugs that will do things to you, but that was just wine. Everything you felt -- that was all you, you innocent little slutling. Think about that, too... Now I have to run, he is not patient when his cock is hard..."

She turned and scampered, and the guards left me.

I lay there, bound, and whimpered softly in need. The cameras... men could see me... they could see me helpless and desperate, and only fear of the Prince would stop them from coming to me... fantasies took over my mind, and in all of them I saw the Prince's eyes...

++

Shuddering, I passed into a shallow sleep, and my dreams were unspeakable, so I will not speak of them. I know about dreams. They are not the mystical passageways to other worlds that some religions claim. They simply are a mind's attempt to bridge what we believe and what is true. My dreams were trying to teach me about the inevitability of my life with the Prince... I will say no more.

I woke to four men around the bed, naked to the waist. One had a tube and a jug; another had an ornate blackwood box.

I screamed, but pointlessly, because the gag was still in my mouth. They chuckled, putting down their supplies, opening the box...

"Time to pee, slut," one said, and he wrapped a cloth between my legs, and then pressed down mercilessly on my bladder. I had never imagined anything as degrading as being forced to pee into a cloth on command, and when I finished I was sobbing. It was somehow worse than the forced arousal on camera; then I remembered that this was under a camera, and my tears redoubled.

"There there, slut, it's ok. Baby sluts pee themselves sometimes. And then they get washed."

Tears gave way to infuriated rage, but I was gagged and the insults I rained down on them were ineffective. They took sponges from the box and swabbed my body down, and then rubbed me dry with thick towels. In truth I've been washed by my slave a number of times, but the choice was mine and she was female, and nearly a friend. These were dogs who intended to humiliate, to infantilize.

And then they blindfolded me.

I didn't know their social status, and somehow, that made this worse. Guards, nobles, brigands off the street? If there is a humiliation worse than being handled by four strange men at once, it is in not even knowing their social class.

"Listen carefully, slut. No matter what, you will not have an orgasm. Or 'spring into bloom' as your sort puts it, is that right? No matter what you feel and hear, you will hold back on that slutty urge of yours. We know you want to show us all just how hot you get when you're handled, but I guess you know they've got your brother, so you don't get to come and you don't get to speak. And if we do give you the use of your hands or mouth, you'll be a good slut, you'll be pleasing. We hope you understand, because if you don't? Well that's bad for you. But I know you want to be a good slut -- all women do."

The touching began.

The hands were coarse and hard, and that probably meant they were no nobles. But not certainly -- in a time of war, there are nobles who ride out to prove themselves in battle. Lord Tir's hands had shown the peculiar hardness that comes with weapons training. So had the Prince's.

Hands on my breasts, throat and thighs... the light stroking of my belly...

I could do nothing about my body's reactions. I'd been forced to arousal earlier, by Enjine, and then left to roil in need. Now I learned that without release, being touched brought the arousal back, hard. My nipples were quickly aching against the palms of my tormenters, and my breathing was a frantic pant soon after. I tried to beg them to stop, but the gag permitted no words. Tears began to trickle again.

Then... two mouths, one over each nipple. So wrong! Even as inexperienced as I was, I knew that this was a sensation women were not intended to feel. I have never understood why a grown man would want to suck at a woman's nipple; but now I did. It had much less to do with what the man feels, as what it does to the woman. I felt my rage ebbing, my desire for touch increasing, and I moaned something like fear as I realized my body was relaxing, acclimating to the touch of men I did not know.

"Good slut," one whispered in my ear, softly. No, I was not a slut! I had been deprived of food, sexually tormented, and threatened, and my reactions were not normal! Take this gag from my mouth and I will tell you of my purity!




The Captured Princess Ch. 01



Then a hand, sliding down my belly, almost tickling. No, not there! Do not touch me there! But his hand drifted lower, and a fingertip slid, lightly and mockingly...

"She's already wet," a voice chuckled. "We don't even have to spank her- fuck the gods, she's a virgin!"

That made them all pause, and then there was evil laughter. "Is she now? Get the vibrator. And the sensitivity cream. Good news, slut, you won't need that gag much longer..."

My body was massaged with some sort of cream; I smelled sandalwood, and other scents that I did not recognize. And then the tube was inserted and I was forced to drink more of the watered wine, many swallows of it. My head began to spin, and the massaging and sucking continued, and then a buzzing noise...

I had heard of these, but they were of course forbidden to unmarried women in my land. I had heard them referred to as "little torments", and had never wished to meet one.

Buzzing angrily, it was pressed against my nipple -- painful -- and then slid down my belly -- ticklish -- and then- oh gods-

"It doesn't take long, slut. No, no squirming, then I'll just have to press it more firmly, and that's much worse... let me control how much you feel. No? Have it your way, slut..."

Pillows were forced under my hips, and a chain was wrapped around my waist and hips, and affixed to the legs of the bed. Now I was stretched out, unable to move and almost unable to breathe. And then that vibrating horror was applied against my bud.

I was sobbing in seconds. My helplessness, and the torment of fingers and mouths, and that impossible sensation spreading through me-

"Don't come, slut, no matter what. You only get to have that pleasure for cock. But don't worry, when that time comes you'll be craving your own rape... but it's not rape if you beg for it, is it, slut."

He ran a finger slowly along my slit. Not entering. Just... brushing...

I screamed in frustrated, animal need.

"Take her gag out."

No please not that, I'd hated it before but now it kept me from begging. Leave it in, leave it in!

I tried to bite down to hold it in, but my breast was slapped and I gasped in shock, and then the gag was gone.

"Vile pigs and do- gods no, stop, stop!"

My will broke. I'd been fighting to hold it back, but I was only flesh, only an ignorant girl and nothing mattered but relieving the need in me, I let go and arched towards-

"No, slut," he said, and moved the vibrator off my bud.

I cried like a baby. Nothing I wanted mattered; these men, these animals without social standing, did as they pleased with me, they were more powerful than I simply because they were male, and it was so wrong, so wrong, but my body wanted them-

The vibrator returned and my tears turned to incoherent pleading, but every time I tried to fight it he became more ruthless, and every time I let go and tried to give in he took it away, and blew gently on my bud. I convulsed in need.

One of the men grabbed my hair, and brought his lips to my ear. He licked, lightly, and began whispering.

"A man's cock," he said, "becomes hard to penetrate a woman. A woman becomes wet to make that cock slide in easily. You are soaked, slut. You want cock. All sluts want cock. They want it forced into them, over and over and over, they want to squeeze down on it, and the more you learn to love it the less it matters whose cock it is, in every woman there is a slut who wants only to be used for pleasure, there are dreams you've had when you met yourself as such a slut, and now I tell you that in those dreams you met your future self. Cock after cock after cock, orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, and you'll crawl to any man you're told to in the end. You've met Enjine, there are parties for fancy nobles in which it is her job to please them all, can you picture that? Now put red-blonde hair on her, blue eyes instead of green-grey, and smaller nipples, why it's YOU, slut, crawling from hard cock to hard cock, begging to be penetrated, two men at once while roughly held in place, over and over and over-"

And then a voice in my other ear, "You're going to lick my cock, slut. Lick not bite. Remember your brother. And lick not suck. You don't get to suck yet, first you'll learn to acquire the taste-"

He shifted, and pressed it against my mouth, and I knew my sister had done this and that had sickened me, but I could not be sickened now, all I knew was that I was being forced to arch again and again towards an orgasm I could not reach, and my tongue moved, frantically, if I pleased them they'd let me come, oh skies, anything, anything for that, and I licked faster, sobbing, and then he put his hand over his cock, forcing it hard against my lips, and he rubbed, and it swelled thick and hard, he was going to come, and my tongue danced against it, I'd never made a man come-

He shifted again, and I was splattered, belly and breasts, with his seed. Oh moon the sounds he made! They echoed in my mind, wild, beautiful, dark, hot-

The others chuckled, and stepped back. My body was shuddering, spasming in need, and in that state they took turns coming on me. Each splash made me cry out, but whether in shame or fear or simply slutty hunger I do not know. All my emotions were confused and torn and mixed together.

And then, once knelt down and whispered in my ear. "There's worse to come, slut, in a few hours. I hope I get to watch."

Laughing and panting, they packed up and left me like that. Left me stretched out and in agony and smelling them on me.

The coarsest of men knew everything, my deepest darkest fantasies, they knew fantasies I didn't know I held within me. I wept for my own ignorance, and for an innocence that was dying within me, and a need that grew more animal--like each day.

++

I woke to the realization that my hands were free, and someone was with me, at my feet.

"Don't scream," the voice said, very softly. "Don't talk. Don't try to sit up, you'll be sore. We don't have long, so don't give trouble, princess."

I knew the voice. "Lord T-"

Instantly there was a rough hand over my mouth and a low hiss in my ear. "Do not talk! There are sensors here that are triggered by your voice specifically. We are unobserved but if you speak that ends. Obey me!"

Swiftly he unwrapped chains, and took away the blindfold. The room was dark, lit by starlight from a window, with the light of the core making very dim and vague outlines in the room visible. I remember the myth that the purest of women could see by the light of the galactic core, just as well as if by dawn's light, and even though I knew the myth to be false, I blushed at the darkness in this room.

But from the height of one of the vague outlines, I knew this to be Lord Tir. I shivered. Now what?

He dropped on me something warm and wet and heavy. "Wipe down," he murmured. "You stink of man's pleasure. Quickly!"

He'd called me princess. After the horrible litany of slut... slut... slut.... I almost wept afresh at the return of my title. I cleaned up, and found I ached in every tendon.

"This is chocolate," he said, pressing it against my lips. "You can't have much, after your fast, or you'd be ill- but it will give you some strength."

I burned to ask a thousand questions, but in fact there was only one. Why? I took the two bites of it he offered. It was not of high quality, but it was the moon and stars dissolved in spiced wine, just at that moment.

"Take my hand," he said, so softly I strained to hear. "You must sit up and then stand. It will hurt, but those dance sessions I put into Arj's head should have helped you a little. No sound, even if it's agony."

I learned then that there is one emotion even more powerful than the agony of frustrated desire, and that's a woman's curiosity. I was dizzy with thoughts that I would not let rise to the altitude of hopes, but some broke free of my nets and soared into the sky and became questions. My lips parted and then his hand was over my mouth again; how he could see in this darkness I didn't know. Then his hand moved to my hair, his favorite handle for controlling me, and I took the hint, and forced myself to stand. I don't remember anything hurting like that except the day after my first riding lesson, at age ten.

I took an unsteady step, and whimpered. Immediately he pulled me against him, my back to his chest (or more likely stomach; my head did not reach his shoulders), his hand again over my mouth. He was, I realized, naked to the waist, and I wondered why. It was leather below the waist, old and soft and worn.

"Let me be clear," he said, almost voicelessly. "if they notice you free now, they will likely discover your brother is loose as well. But he has a long walk before he can be anywhere safe. If the alarm goes up now, you will both be found and tortured in front of each other. The still twitching, incoherently raving pair of you will be dragged through the streets by drakkin, to be pissed on and stoned by an angry populace that believes your country started this war. Your dying bodies will then be sunk into the depths of the ocean where no moonlight reaches. There will be no rebirth of either of you. No matter the agony you feel now you must be silent." His other hand wrapped around me and the flat of his palm pressed against my belly. "Steady your breathing. We will be climbing out the window."

My brother, free. For this I could be silent; for this, if need be, I could fly. But I shook my head, against his chest. He lowered his head to my mouth, and I whispered in the softest of tones, "Glassee".

"Not in this room," he whispered back, lips warm against my temple. And then the conversation was over, and he marched me to the window.

In a silent agony I did not feel because of the lightness of my heart, I climbed to the window ledge and my feet found a ladder waiting. Together we got to the ground, outside, with the glory of the core above me, and the moon just in the last seconds of slipping below the horizon.

++

"We can talk quietly now," Lord Tir said. The light was not bright here at night, but it was better than in the room, and I could see he was dressed as a servant. The disguise was not entirely convincing, with his short cropped, oiled hair, but in the darkness it might pass. He picked up a bag that was against the ladder and handed it to me. "Get dressed."

Inside was a short dress of the sort used by slave girls intended for sex, and a wig of shoulder length, jet black hair.

"The wig won't work," I whispered softly. "I need scissors to trim my hair, it's too long to fit under this."

From his pocket he fished out a small knife. "Bunch it in your fists at just over shoulder length." I did and he cut it with a quick, strong slash. Thirty centimeters of gold fell away, and I twisted up the rest and fit it under my wig.

"These are not very effective disguises," he said softly. "If we are stopped, you say nothing. Your voice gives your country away. As a slave you do not raise your eyes, and you settle into the same stance Enjine showed you at court. You might get patted or fondled -- fake a little aroused gasp if that happens. This is not a time for you to be a princess." He handed me a bottle from the bag. "Wash yourself quickly with this; it will hide your scent from trackers. And then we go."

"Hold," I said, as I rubbed the liquid over my feet and legs. It tingled. "That you take risks for me is obvious. But to what point and purpose?"

His eyes grew angry and impatient; it was obvious even in the starlight. "To rescue you from the Prince Arj, princess Alani. It is not a fit fate for you; you do not deserve what he'll do to you. Truthfully few women do, though I admit my heart doesn't bleed for Enjine. My plan is to arrange your escape from the city and out west, to one of the minor kingdoms of Lenz. And your brother if possible. It is risky and you face a real chance of death, but I think you'd rather that than what the Prince plans."

"Why?"

He sighed. "There is not time for this."

"Then we make the time," I said, wincing as I rubbed the tingling fluid over my breasts. "I appreciate your grace to me, but this is reckless and might get you, my brother and I tortured to death. Against that risk you have some hope of reward, or you're a fool - and a fool, however heroic, is a dead man walking. What gain do you make from this?"

"A kiss from your lips at the end."

"Don't patronize me. A man of your stature gets all the kisses he wants, and more, from women more skilled than I. You are not a man that thinks with his shaft."

"You'd be surprised. But very well. There are people in your land who will pay for your safe passage. Why, I don't know. There's no hope your nation can rise again; and a young princess, forgive me, is no rallying point for a resistance movement. They are making a foolish gesture. But they are fools with platinum."

"You have no need of money."

"Again, you'd be surprised. But in truth it's not just the money. My grandfather was born in your land, and he was a good man. The war against you was unjust and unfairly waged. For most of your people, I call it the fortunes of war -- we are stronger, we win, and all your women and gold now belong to us. But for you, princess -- you have spirit and, for your age, a sense of justice and grace. You had no part in the political decisions of your people, and neither did your brother. You do not deserve this fate. To hold the love of your brother against you is a new low for Arj, and I would see him humiliated by this loss if I could. The Raja has other and better sons and if this one falls from influence and grace, we are a better nation for it."

He turned me and rubbed some of the liquid into my back, with his other arm around me, tight under my breasts. It lifted them and I found myself staring down at my body, feeling the nipples harden and the flush of arousal wash over me again. My body was truly learning the ways of sluthood, because if there was ever a time not to respond to a man, this was it.

"Some of your reasons are selfish, and for that reason, I trust them," I said, to cover the tightening I felt in my belly. Strong fingers worked at the base of my neck, and I felt myself melting.

"There is one more, and you might trust it less." He turned me, and placed his hand under my chin and made me look into the darkness of his eyes. "You are beautiful and to see you sullied does not sit well with me. This is not how we used to treat fair women from any land. Honor has meaning to me. So does kindness. But this is enough talk."

He slung the bag over his shoulder, and stepped out. "Follow two steps behind and to the right. Eyes down. Try to walk like Enjine -- " he glanced back at me -- "no, don't. Apparently it takes practice."

I blushed at that.

We left an area of low bushes and small trees, and were now out in the open. This was the royal grounds, and it was laid out wide, with one enormous building -- the palace proper -- behind us, and a series of other buildings which were merely large. The spaces between the buildings were hundreds of feet. Some buildings were lit by electricity, some by gas, some by piped plasma or bioluminescence. There were occasional gas lights dotted along the paths between buildings, but for the most part the grounds were in deep shadow, splashed in places with white, yellow, blue or green light. The paths were mostly poured stone, with some poured metal; the latter were warm to the feet, pleasant on this slightly cool evening.

The faint light played on Lord Tir's skin as he walked. His body was a carved work of art, and I found myself staring, and remembering his powerful, muscular arm under my breasts. My skin tingled again as I remember how it had looked, how it had felt.

I was walking behind him, watching his back muscles flex. He walked fearlessly, even in this circumstance. I wondered what that was like. As a woman, even a princess, I felt some element of fear whenever I was out in public. Even in this circumstance, he felt none. He was tall and strong and armed and male, and I felt the strength of his certainty and calm as I walked in his wake. He had power; I had none.

Other servants walked the grounds, dressed like him, most carrying sacks or tools. I saw two other women, one dressed like me. And some guards, watching with bored disinterest. Even in the dimness and distance, I could feel the other sex slave -- the other woman dressed as a sex slave -- measuring me with her eyes. I felt I compared well, and wished for a moment I could have my blond hair on display. Cutting it had been sad; I was vain about my hair. Lord Tir has commented dismissively about the tint of strawberry in the blond; I wondered, had he meant it? Because it was only a glint of red. Admittedly my sister had had the pure blonde hair, and nearly as thick and long as mine. She'd once spoken -- shamelessly, as always -- of having it twisted into a rope, and forced across her mouth like a gag, with a man's fists holding it tight on either side of her head, trapping her to the carpet as he forced her legs apart with his own- I looked at the span of Lord Tir's shoulders again, and shivered inside. All that strength, pitted against the slight muscle and yielding will of a woman's body-

I shook my head. This was not the time to think of such things.

"Hold, slave," Lord Tir said in an unusual guttural voice. I froze instantly, and remembered what he had said about settling into a slutty stance. I blushed in shame that I should have to pose like that, and then blushed deeper, wondering what went through his mind when he saw me like this. He turned to me, tall and suddenly menacing, with starlight playing along his brow. I dropped my eyes instantly.

"Guard paying too much attention," he murmured. "Not sure why he's suspicious but I need to convince him you're what your outfit says. I'm going to touch you, mockingly and coldly. Do what you can to pretend to arousal, but without too much noise."

I whimpered softly, in manufactured fear, but it was an easy fear to manufacture.

"Slut and whore," he snapped. "Did you think no one would catch you? Touching yourself in that fashion? Eyes up, slut. Your master gave your punishment to me, and I'll make you feel his displeasure!"

I met his eyes, and he played his part well. His eyes blazed with lust and cruel dismissiveness, and I suddenly licked my lips in genuine fear.

"But first, humiliation. Drop the skirt to your ankles and touch your slutty clit, here and now. Do it!"

Why oh why couldn't he have left the skirt on me? Then I could have faked the touch, and maybe I still could, in the dim light -- no, I didn't dare fail to play my part fully.

Shivering as the short skirt slid down my legs, it occurred to me that I would have to continue to meet his gaze as I touched. This time the whimper was real. I was suddenly and impossibly shy, I, who had shouted at kings.

My hand was trembling by the time it slid to my clit. I stroked, gently, and to my horror my body responded instantly. It was learning to hunger for this sensation, learning quickly and well...

"Touch faster."

I whimpered again, and obeyed without thinking. He was powerful and pleasing him was important, he was going to save me from Prince Arj, I just needed to obey him, obey this powerful, commanding man with the dark eyes that made me shy and small...

"What are you?" He snapped.

It was becoming hard to think. I was supposed to be a slave, I'd been caught masturbating, I was...

"A slut," I whispered.

"I didn't hear that!"

"A slut," I gasped. I was burning.

He reached into one of the pockets and drew out a wooden handle, attached to a coiled line -- oh moon, it was a whip. Oh skies no! I was only pretending to be a slave, please do not let that cruel implement touch me!




The Captured Princess Ch. 01



He reached forward, and slid the coiled leather across the tops of my breasts. Then over my nipples, and belly. I moaned, helplessly. Somehow this playacting had become all too real; now I knew what it felt like to be a slave, and my belly contracted over and over in sudden need. Not just the need of sexuality; the need for approval. I had to be pleasing and obedient. O stars, it was whispered that some female slaves embraced their low estate eagerly and willingly, and for the first time I could believe it.

He raised it to my lips. "Kiss master's whip. Remember what you are, an owned possession with a wet slit!"

My lips moved over the leather. It tasted of salt, and it occurred to me that it was the salt of human skin and blood... Tir had used this whip. Those muscles and those hands, driving this woven lash against some shaking male slave, or even some terrified wayward female. Stars above, women submit to men because men have no mercy, they act as they please and without apology, they know nothing of our doubts and terrors, no wonder we kneel to them!

I looked down, holding back whimpers. There was a huge erection tenting his leathers. He knew, I moaned to myself inwardly. He knew I was aroused and not just faking it, he knows I want forbidden things, he sees it in the shaking of my eyes and the tremble of my lips and the hardness of my nipples and the frantic movement of my fingers, o moon, rise back into the sky and take this moment back, let him never have seen and known the depth of my shameful, female weakness!

"Don't you come," he snarled. "You nearly did before and it would have cost you your hand." He unfurled the coil and my eyes raised to his, pleading in terror.

He ignored it, and with a sudden movement, the whip coiled around me. It did not precisely bite, but it did sting, and it stayed wrapped around me, trapping my arms to my side and crossing my breast, belly and thighs. Trapped! I cried out, in both shock and -- I shall be honest -- deep arousal.

Then he dropped to one knee, which confused me until his voice hissed out evilly. "Fall over it."

I refused to obey, or even believe, for a moment. So he reached up and caught me by the throat and pulled me over his knee, ass up, limbs still trapped. And then his hand, powerful and hard... oh please mercy no!

Five rough spanks and I was sobbing, and I could not move away from him, so my upper arm was pressed against his throbbing erection. "Stop," I whispered, in tears. "You shatter me!"

"Up, slave slut," he snapped, pushing me to my feet. He unwrapped the whip and put it away, then stood and walked down the path again. I reached for the tiny skirt, but he shouted "Leave it. Follow!" and I fell into place behind him, naked, sobbing softly.

"Well acted," he whispered.

I simpered, helplessly.

++

After a time of walking, he left the path and moved quickly. It was very dark here; the ground was uneven, and I staggered.

We were at a ruined building, collapsed into rubble, dark against a darker sky. Tools were scattered around, and many blocks of stone. He moved directly towards the rubble, crouched, and slipped into a gap between two slabs, scarcely large enough to fit him. "In here," he whispered, as if I was a child and did not understand. "Quickly but carefully, the stone is rough."

I crept in after him, into total blackness, and found myself in a very tight and very soft place, except for where my body was pressed against him. I moved my hand against the softness; it felt as if I was inside a giant cotton ball. I looked back the way I had crawled; the passageway was narrow and only a small patch of sky could be seen. Then he pulled on a cord of some kind, and with a quiet grinding noise a stone slid into place, blocking the hole.

"Where?" I whispered.

"A nobleman lived here once, but he fell out of favor. His family was killed, he was tormented to death, and his house was ruined as a reminder... It will serve as a bolt hole, where we stay until I get word on your brother," he whispered back. He fished something out -- my body was pressed back against the length of his, so I felt his every move -- and there was a click. The soft glow of a pod dimly washed into our hideyhole.

It has been prepared in advance for our visit. We were lying in a cocoon, a mass of extremely soft, fluffy fiber that was used for bedding on spacecraft. It filled the tiny space we were in, and we were nestled together inside it with no room to move and little room to breathe. Tangled in the fiber was a small woven basket, and I realized I smelled bread. Oh merciful moon, I was starving!

Lord Tir checked his pod. "Your brother isn't out yet, but so far there's been no real trouble. You can eat." His arm slid across me as he opened the basket, and pressed bread to my lips.

I ate, quickly. I was trying not to think about my nakedness. Or the hard, bare chest behind me, or the weight of his arm along me.

Then he flicked off the pod, and it was dark. Pitch dark. I was thankful for the darkness.

His erection was very obvious. I held as still as a statue, but I started to shiver, and not from cold.

His arm slid tighter around me -- it had nowhere else to go -- and I gasped, very softly, at the way it enfolded me. He was risking everything for me... oh skies, it was just like in the stories, I was a rescued princess. His fingers stroked across my belly lightly, just once... I bit my lip in the darkness to stop another gasp, and my lips felt soft and sensitive. His hardness pulsed against me... it was only possible to think about one thing. I blushed hotly at myself.

Kindness. Strength. Authority. No secrets possible, completely exposed, and then the nearness; he heard my every breath and I could feel his pulse, slowly accelerating. Remembering the touch of his hand on my breast, and darkness of his eyes, and the terrifying sound of his voice... my thought became incoherent; everything was turning to feelings. Seconds passed, and I tried to slow them down, because every second brought it closer.

His fingers stroked my belly again, and then again, higher. Barriers falling away. I was a rescued princess, I was a little girl...

After a while you can't help yourself. Shaking, I turned and kissed him, quickly and shyly.

"Princess," he said, softly.

"No, don't," I said, voice soft and unsteady. "I know what could happen, in the days to come. I could be caught, raped, killed. I... you have been kind when no one else was. And I... no, I can't say it. But I want it to be this way." I kissed his mouth again, more slowly, my mouth opening to him. I felt like I had no right to kiss him, and yet, I had to. I felt so small.

I had no fear of pregnancy; like all young noble women, I had my yearly shot. I had little fear of pain; my sister told me there was very little and it was easily borne. But none of that truly mattered; I'd have dne tis regardless.

His hands slid down my back, over my hips, and to my ass. They gripped me... "Be sure. At a certain point a man cannot hear no. Be very sure, fair princess."

"I'm not sure of anything," I whispered, against his lips. "Not even you and certainly not myself. But..." I kissed his mouth again, lips trembling, and his pulled me tight, against his erection, and rocked my hips. I went soft and hot and needy in a way I had never dreamed of before. "I... don't know anything," I whispered.

"Men aren't complicated... we all want the same thing. Reach between us, place your hands over my cock, through the leather, and rub, slowly. In return..." his hands moved up, to my sides, and his thumbs played over my nipples, and oh, stars, I burned, shy and curious and craving and frightened and so wet, so very wet. "You like that, don't you," he said, and I moaned, head falling back, realizing I could have no secrets here. I arched, presenting my breasts to him, and he snarled against my ear. "Silence, girl. We must not be heard now. Now open the leathers and touch my cock."

It was hard, heavy... it dwarfed my small hand. I rubbed it, slowly, and he growled again. "With your other hand, rub your clit."

"I'm already burning, you must know this."

"Do it anyway. What a man finds desirable is a woman so hot she can't think, she only feels. And a man finds an obedient woman pleasing, slave or princess it makes no difference."

I nodded, unsteadily, and touched. And whimpered. "What you did, outside... you made me... I wanted..."

He worked a hand down my side again, and between my legs, and he stroked my slit with fingers.

"Will it hurt?" I said, almost voicelessly.

"Sometimes. It's not terrible. You'll kiss my mouth while it happens." He put the pod back on, and the dim light revealed me... he wanted to see it happen, I realized. I whimpered, but the embarrassment did not stop the arousal, and I moaned again. His fingers, mine, his throbbing cock... I licked his lips, slowly. Suddenly I was on my back, in the fibers, and he had my wrists pinned over my head. I squirmed, but with a sensuality I did not know I possessed.

"Say 'fuck me', princess."

I swallowed. "F-f. F- no I can't-"

Then his cock was at my opening, rubbing, up and down. My hips tilted up and everything in me sang the same song. I was pure emotion now, and the fear was suddenly lost in the need. My body rocked in some instinctive movement I knew nothing about. Please, I thought, just take, don't make me ask-

"Say it, princess!"

"F-f-f oh gods! F-Fuck me, Lord Tir. Fuck me... please, please. Please! Please fuck me, Lord Tir! Oh please-"

His mouth closed over mine; it was about to happen, and I kissed him sensually, eagerly, and be pressed in, oh gods in, my whole body made for this, I arched helplessly, his phallus felt immense and ruthless as it pushed deeper into me, fear shook me, but pleasing him was all I wanted-

And then he began thrusting, and it was terrifying, the strength and power of it, and I so small and trapped by his body and yet so accepting of his brutality and need-

As much as my body burned, I was too confused and overwhelmed to come, too embarrassed by knowing less than the meanest slave in this kingdom. But I rocked my hips for him -- it was all I knew how to do -- and impossibly his body became harder, like stone, and he groaned like an animal. Oh, yes! my body sang. I wanted this, I wanted more... He panted, faster and faster, and the sound was hypnotic and I realized I wanted him to come more than I wanted to breathe. I wrapped my legs around his, as I had once seen a concubine do, and stroked the backs of his legs, coaxingly and slowly-

He cried out in what for a moment I thought was rage, but moved even faster and then thrashed, and sagged against me. Oh moon, I'd done it, I'd pleased him!

He slid away, though he couldn't go far. He panted, eyes closed, for a few moments. And then-

"Your turn." He slid his hand over my hip, and touched me.

"No, Lord Tir, I don't need-"

"You will come," he said. His voice was suddenly ruthless and I was horrified that I'd displeased him by not coming when he did. But his fingers did things that my own knew nothing about, and suddenly I was kissing his mouth again and then coming, suddenly and violently, and then I lie still, sobbing softly...

"Good girl," he said. "Always seek to come when with a man. The look of it pleases him - and it makes you more eager for the next time. You are very pleasing, girl. And that's important, whether you're a princess or the lowest of whores. As will be made clearer to you..."

There was a grating noise, and for a moment I did not understand. And then I felt cool air, and heard applause-

"Get out, princess," Tir said. "The Prince would like a word."

+++

Devastation.

I was dragged out of the hole by many hands, and was scraped and bloody when I was stood up on the ground. Around me were lights, men and women, and the Prince directly in front of me.

I did not kneel this time.

Behind me I heard Tir emerge from the hole. That was when the tears began to trickle, but I was silent.

"I trust you get the point, Alani, slave," the Prince said. "There's no escape and no one to help you. You are property, forever. You are mine."

I spat on the ground. Spit and tears and semen and blood and comingled sweat and the nectar from my flower; I was all about liquids at the moment, it seemed.

"So why are you not kneeling, my slave?" He asked.

I spat again; and then heard a thin whistling sound. Suddenly Tir's whip bit around my calves, and with a sudden jerk I was on my hands and knees to the Prince. Laughter, and more applause.

The tears would not stop but that did not matter. I no longer wanted death, I suddenly realized. Dead, I could do nothing. Alive... I would find a way to kill both the Prince and Tir. Forgive me, moon, because I know that vengeance and slaughter is men's work, but I see no other way to die with honor...



The Captured Princess Ch. 02



I had no plan, just implacable will. I knew that whatever I did would result in my and my brother's death, and I mourned the latter, but I judged his death acceptable if I could kill at least Tir and Arj. It was not an even trade -- two royalty for a royal and a noble -- but I saw no way to improve upon it.

To achieve even that I needed to get to them, and for that to happen I needed to be desirable to them. They wanted a broken princess turned slave. I would give them one. There was no shame in this, Lord Tir was an accomplished liar and actor; I would become one too.

To begin with, I needed Enjine. I asked for an audience.

She came quickly, and more modestly dressed; which is to say there was cloth from her neck to her mid-thigh, though it was stretchy and tight and there were many gaps. The color of the cloth shifted according to the warmth of her body. It was beyond unseemly.

She settled in a chair across the table from me, in the little room I'd been given. "Yes, sweet girl?"

I didn't like that she hadn't spoken until she'd settled; but if it came to that, I didn't like that she hadn't knelt at my doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. Once a princess, always a princess.

I bit my lip. I had to be good and sweet; and it couldn't be the good and sweet we use with other women to make it clear that we're only being good and sweet because they don't deserve the honesty of our truer and harsher feelings. (I've known few men who could tell the difference; I've never met a woman that couldn't.) But I could do this; as my father had often said, the key was sincerity; when you can fake that you've got it made.

"Enjine... I'm lost. I know what I have to become, but I have no idea how. I am hoping that I can find a path from your own story... How did you get here?"

"Oh, Alani, My story is not of much use to you. My parents were tradespeople, and I lived with them until I was eighteen. I had a man who loved me, the son of a very minor nobleman. I thought I would bear his children and be happy enough, but what is happy enough? And one day the Raja made a decree that two days hence, all the unmarried women from sixteen to twenty five were to present themselves in front of their homes between third hour and sixth. We all knew what it meant... some fled town to avoid it, some dressed and made up to hide their charms, and I... put on my best clothes and brushed my hair until it shone, and stood outside, back arched. I say I was captured, and indeed I had no choice about coming, but I came willingly enough. I was one of three chosen."

"I would have fled the town."

"Some of the ones that did were captured. The pretty ones ended up here in the city as slaves, and the rest were killed. The Raja likes to be obeyed, sweet girl. You are royalty, you should know."

I cast my eyes down. "Do not call me royalty. It's no longer true."

"Oh, pretty one... very wise, but you will always be at least a little bit a princess. And that is why the Prince wants you. There will always be a small part of you that knows you were not meant for this life, and the outrage you feel will excite him. He's always wanted a pretty pet princess to spank."

"He has your beauty. He does not need me."

"Oh, you are sweet! But no, it is not what you think. I am not with him all the time. Twice a week, perhaps, I find favor in his eyes. But he has eighteen other women and he visits them all. He has taken or purchased from all over the world, you know! To be honest... I am more of a showpiece than a playmate. He prefers to keep me pretty, so he avoids marking me up. He is only rough with the others. There are times I wish he was less gentle..."

I kept my shudders hidden.

"I'm certain. But I didn't ask my question right, I think. I didn't mean here in the sense of the capital, I meant... you accept this life so easily and calmly. I'm terrified and inadequate. How did you learn to please, no, to want to please?"

"I've always wanted to please. Many women do, we're... I don't know the words. We take quiet pride at pleasing the eye and hand and cock. And we want to be... I think the only word is obedient. I only feel right when I am within the Prince's will. Not just sexually. But very much sexually. And I will tell you a terrible secret, sweet Alani the fair. You are exactly the same. You wanted to please your father by being a good princess, and it meant the world to you to succeed. Well... it will be the same here, except with the Prince. The day is coming when you'll ache to please him and you'll cry when you don't."

"When the moon falls from the sky," rose to my lips, but I did not say it. I shrugged instead. "But I have no idea how to become that, and I know I must for my brother's sake."

She looked at me, thoughtfully. "Your father was killed. Mine was not. Your journey will be very different than mine. But... I know this. Your hair, Alani. I know it is part of your humiliation that you walk around with uneven hair, as a reminder of how Tir trickled you. But no one told me I couldn't offer you a haircut so... let's go get your hair trimmed. You'll feel better with it prettied up!"

I looked at her as expressionlessly as possible. In one breath she talked of my father being killed and in the next she spoke of how cheering it would be to have my hair cut even. Whatever they'd done to her here, there was something wrong with her as a result. Or maybe being pretty and pampered had really left her that shallow. All her depth was between her breasts; perhaps that's all she'd ever needed.

"Pray don't mention Tir to me. He was horrible."

"He's not so bad. I mean yes he tricked you and that wasn't nice at all, but he doesn't beat his slaves and the Prince says he's one of the most trustworthy men in the kingdom when it comes to political decisions. And Tir didn't support the war, which shows he's bold. He did as his Prince commanded with you, that's all. And thanks to him... this will sound cold, perhaps, but... you're not a virgin. It's over, you're free. You can be sexual now, without remorse."

This was too much; my careful act cracked. "No remorse? By the moon and stars, I was a princess! My virginity was the most precious gift in the Caliphate, to be given only to a man worthy of my beauty and rank! A great noble from an ancient family, a hero of my people; my wedding would have been the event of the half-century for my entire nation-"

Enjine was giggling, and I simply stared at her. "Asmodeus, I'm sorry," she gasped. "No, I am. I'm being so mean. But really, sweetheart, it's sex. Cock in pussy, in and out, yum. I had my first sex at -- well, never mind how old, but I came gasping, and never looked back. Event of the century, oh sweetheart, is virginity really such a religion in your land? I've been plotting for half a year to get into Tir's bed, his cock is said to be everything a woman dreams of, and you're sorry. You talk like a book from a thousand years ago!"

"In my land, not even whores talk like you do."

"That's probably why it fell. In this land we have men who take and demand. In yours it sounds like old women set the rules... anyway, enough, I'm sure cultures are different in all the worlds, and who's to say what's right. But in all the worlds, trimmed hair is a foundation of beauty. Let's put aside differences and get pretty!"

++

I find it difficult to describe the number of ways I was coming to loathe Enjine. Never mind her excessive beauty, or even her shallowness. Her fixation with appearance and fashion and cosmetics was beyond maddening.

"No, I think an angled cut -- your hair is already so full, and it's always good to emphasize your strengths, and the angle will suggest even more - no, slave, wrap it this way. And I think the emerald accented combs in your hair, that touch of red is so exotic... or the darkest amythests... I like sapphires in my own hair, or sometimes obsidian, but for the combs itself it's so hard to get the exact shade I need to pick up the color of my eyes..."

Ok skies. I'd always had my slave pick out clothing, and rarely given it a second thought; and while she'd been known to go on about what clinging silk did on me, at least she hadn't whinged on for hours about combs. Even the slave washing my hair was starting to look a little glazed.

But it is always true that having hair washed, dried and brushed is soothing. I found it possible to just drift on the endless flow of words, dipping into the meaning often enough to make a non-committal comment from time to time. And then I smiled, for I remembered my father doing the same with my mother. Not every women talks too much, I decided, but there are definitely a few that do. Alas that men paint us all with that brush.

"..and then we'll do the thin straps crossing up your legs-"

"Wait, what?"

"Come on, Alani. This is important. The thin straps will look perfect on you, they will accentuate the shape of your legs."

"Enjine, don't you understand, everything you describe is what the whores of my land do."

"Wise whores. In truth, if you want to know what a man likes, look at a successful whore. They don't eat if they get it wrong."

"Clothing isn't just about men!"

She nodded to the slaves brushing my hair and rubbing oil into my hands. "Slaves, out." They threw her angry looks; a concubine is, after all, naught but a fancy slave. But they heeded her. The door closed behind them, firmly, and she turned to me.

"Alani, you asked me how to make you become what you need to become. That's what I'm doing. I'm not the fool I sometimes appear to be - especially when the microphones are on. I know you have no heart for this work, and you still wish you had some other path. But this is where you are, and I can help you. So I will, in this room. Hair, cosmetics, fitted silk, oils, perfumes... this is where it starts, so listen carefully. In all women is a desire to be beautiful. You'll deny that because you never had to be only a woman; a princess is something more. You know nothing of what it is to be merely female. And now you have to learn. And I tell you this: as a woman, appearance is all. You stand or fall in a man's estimation according to how you please the eye and ear. We all know it's wrong and we all know it's true! Maybe there's a world where a woman's wisdom and patience and caring are in high esteem, but you and I haven't been to it. So attend to your appearance as if your life depends on it; because how your life is lived does depend on it. It is not enough to be beautiful. That only draws a man's eye, it does not hold it long. You have to work it. You need to command it. Make your beauty your slave, your possession. Teach it obedience. Men will desire you if you do, and while you may hate being desired, it is infinitely better to be desired than to be scorned. That is why we ache to be beautiful. Our innermost thoughts tell us that men value us for our sexuality, and we behave and respond in kind."

I exploded. "Of all the shallow, degrading, self-denigrating-"

"ASMODEUS, ALANI! I KNOW!"

I stared at her. She got up, moved behind me, and began to work on my hair.

"I know," she said, much more softly. "I am not talking about right and wrong. There is nothing right about any of this, and nothing fair. So? I am a slave, Alani. I wasn't born one. Many slaves were freeborn, have you ever once thought of that? No! You accept it! Then understand that what a slave is to the free, a woman is to a man. Accept that as well! Men make it that way. Read history; the times that woman have been the equals of men have been rare and brief. And maybe even those times are mostly fairy-tales, because most of what I have read was stories of vanished Aireth. We are wired to yield to men, and they are wired to take charge of us, and just because you never had to yield doesn't mean that you will never have to."

"You talk very freely for a woman who knows all about the microphones and cameras."

"Oh, the men rarely listen in this room. All the talk of cosmetics and clothing, and no sex? They wander off quickly enough. Honestly, Alani... combs, my ass. I have no trouble finding turquoise combs that pick up the color of my eyes. But just because it bores them to tears doesn't mean it should bore you."

Despite my loathing, I tried to return to my self-appointed role.

"What you say is doubtless true, Enjine. I am used to being at least listened to, if not often heeded. But I am not yet of age so I had no real power, to be honest only fear of my father bought me any esteem at all. So don't assume I'm completely ignorant of how men treat women. My mother the queen needed my father's permission to speak in court, and he did not always grant it."

"Then in a strange sense, your position is improved," she said. "You used to be esteemed for your father, but you can learn to be esteemed for yourself. Not for the qualities you might want celebrated. But at least for qualities" --she patted my breast -- "that are yours and yours alone. And in this room we will make them very powerful qualities."

She probably believed this. I would never understand her.

"Why do you do this? Enjine, I'm not a fool either. Make me pretty and I am your competition."

"It doesn't work that way. Not here. It would if I was in love with Prince Arj. I'm not. I've watched him with many women. I've been require to masturbate and come, while watching him, many times. As a result I get intensely aroused when he touches other women. Maybe you don't know this, but female sexuality is clay. A man who wants to, can mold it into many possible shapes. I promise you, he will make you into whatever he desires. That doesn't mean you have to love him -- though if he desires that, he can make even that happen. Pray he doesn't. The jealousy would be unbearable - it would be the worst thing he could inflict on you."

I felt the risk was low. I shrugged. "Oil. Trimmed hair. These are not power, Enjine. These are simple tricks."

"But they are tricks that work, and that is power. And the purpose of me bringing you here isn't to oil your skin and trim your tresses. That's just means to an end. I am trying to wake in you the love, the need, for being pleasing. You need to wish to be beautiful. So I will make you stunning, and you will see it and find yourself desirable. And then you'll want to be desired."

"I am already beautiful."

"Yes, but remember what I said about making beauty your possession. You need to pose your legs so that men daydream of grabbing your thighs and forcing them apart, and you need to smile just as that fantasy occurs to them. You need to sway your hair, so that men, primitive hunters that they are, feel the urge to chase that elusive prey and grasp it. You need to wet your lips just as their eyes cross your breasts, and swing your calf just as their eyes move to your mouth, and offer eye contact just as their gaze moves along your leg -- you need to make their eyes hasten over you without ceasing, always to another part of you and never away from you. You need to want to do this. I promise you that when you do you will feel like a woman in a way you have never imagined. I'm going to make you achingly feminine. You're not a man, sweet girl, so stop acting like you want to be regarded as one. You can never win in that competition."

"I require a man's respect, not a man's lust." I had no way to keep the princess in me down, I thought ruefully.

"Men don't respect women. Not the way you mean it and want it and maybe as a princess nearly had it. Men respect only people more powerful than themselves. They don't respect based on qualities like mercy or kindness or appearance or anything that matters to us. They respect based on physical strength, prowess with tool or weapon, and political power. Those are areas that women have no interest in excelling in, have you noticed? That's by design, though I don't know which god to blame. Men are constantly in competition with other men, so they can rise upwards and acquire more and better women. They have no interest in competing with us. Only other men matter! Do you find that shallow? Well, we are no better. We melt for men who are strong and powerful. We select the strongest and richest men we can find. That's why they compete. We only love winners."

"Enjine... that ignores half of everything. Men die to protect women. If they don't exactly respect us, they do honor us, with gifts and courtesies. We are the future of the human race and they know it."

She threw up her hands. "Neh! I don't deny that. I think in the beginning there was an attempt at balance. Men honored women, women respected men, and it sort of evened out. Maybe. But now... I do not know. I only know that in my heart I want to be ruled over. I have known many men, and they want to rule. Maybe there's a way to balance and harmony in that; maybe love is what is supposed to keep everything going. I don't know much about love; I'm a concubine, not a free. And I accept my fate. I need to please my Prince. I don't ask for love."

My contempt for Enjine collapsed. Now I felt only pity. And sadness, because I had not even her position. If she would never know love, neither would I.

But I was not playing my part right, and I needed to focus on that.

"Then I must learn to be sexual without hope of love," I said. "I know men treat them as completely unrelated things. How I don't know."

"It's not as hard as you imagine, to learn it. In fact it is very, very... I don't have the words, but you will not become pregnant and you will not become ill, and so for you, sex will become a pure and irresistible pleasure, just as it is for men. Sex desired as a man desires it... it's hot, Alani. You'll learn to crave it. You'll only have to be tricked or forced the first few times, I promise... But first let's think about beauty. I am enjoying prettying you. I will apply the oils, choose the clothing and the perfume for you, and you will see what you become."

I fell silent, and she proceeded to apply oil everywhere. It was a pleasant enough sensation, and she was very skilled, but... her outfit, as I mentioned, changed color in accordance to her skin temperature, which made it obvious that working on me made her very warm. I found this uncomfortable, and closed my eyes.

She was, I reflected, trying to be kind. But I had thought Tir was trying to be kind too, and it had been the bitterest betrayal of my life. I could never trust anyone again.

She began to oil my belly and breasts, and soon I was shivering, from a mixture of emotions. It felt very good, her fingers were very skilled, and my nipples were hard. I cleared my throat.

"I think they have had enough."

"Just a bit more, sweet girl. I know it is not quite... comfortable for you. But arousal makes you more beautiful, and that is what we are after."

"Really, Enjine, you are being too transparent. You enjoy this."

"Very much. Why would I deny it? I've been taught to, and you and I will be required to enjoy each other as men watch, so you will be taught to enjoy it too. Our bodies love touch, and they love it regardless of whether a man or woman does it. Not that there aren't kinds of touching that I prefer from men... but someday perhaps you'll see me tied up while sweet little Siri gives me a massage. She makes me beg, and then sometimes the Prince takes me while she kisses my mouth and works my nipples... you have no idea what it's like, fair girl, but you will."

I slitted my eyes open. Her nipples were hard against the bright red cloth that hid them so poorly, and I closed my eyes quickly again. That should not have been an arousing sight. She caught my reaction, and chuckled, softly.




The Captured Princess Ch. 02



"Alani," she purred, softly. "It's ok. I'm pretty. You're allowed to find my body interesting. I like yours."

"I don't. When I've looked at all, it's been at men."

"Then think about men. Think about a man forcing me on to my back, holding me down... watch my pretty body struggle, in your imagination. I'm not strong enough to defend myself, nature has made it so. One of my favorite fantasies is a man who forces me. I'm only allowed to have who my Prince says I can have -- but if I'm forced there is nothing I can do, is there.... Picture me struggling, trying to be good, trying to follow the rules... but that thick cock, slapping against me as I squirm... try to imagine that. So thick and hard, you've felt one now, and it wants to be in. Banging against me, opening me up, and though I try, I try so hard, I can't get away..."

She slid her hand low on my belly, just above my bud, and massaged there, firmly. "Banging and banging and pressing and sliding and I'm trying to close my legs, trying not to raise my hips, trying not to want what I mustn't have. But it's so hard. You know now. They insist, they are so unrepentant and demanding, they make you open your legs, and the wetness, Alani, we can't help it. The wetness says we want it even when we beg otherwise. They know our words are not the whole story, men never listen to your words when they can see your body react. And it's scary to say no to them. No will make him angrier, but if I just... let him... he won't be angry anymore. The need to please sexually, have you felt it yet? When I know a man means it, I get wetter and wetter... look at my nipples again, do you see how hot this makes me? Now look at your own. So full and hard... there is something about imagining another women being made to yield. Is it because we want to be made to, but don't dare admit it, so we imagine it happening to others? But it's really us, isn't it... Picture it, Alani, a man's cock grinding against you, you mustn't open your legs, but you're so wet, so slippery, so hot, and he's so scary intense-"

She was rubbing my bud now, her words filling me, hypnotizing me. I could see her being taken, as I lie there shivering in my half-dreaming state, I could see her fighting to keep her legs together, then fighting to keep him out, then fighting not to take pleasure from it, but the pleasure happens, you can't fight it, I knew because Tir's cock had driven into me and now I wanted more-

"Enjine, stop. Stop Enjine, please stop-"

But she didn't, and a finger dipped into me, and it didn't matter that she was a girl, nothing mattered but the intensity of the image she'd planted in my mind. Everyone here knew what I craved before I did, and I could not resist-

"I believe she asked you to stop, Enjine."

We both froze. How Prince Arj had gotten the door open without us hearing I do not know. I only knew that the impossible fire in me was suddenly ice. He wore leather, accented with red silk, and the silk was tight across an erection my mind refused to think about.

Enjine's knees hit the floor and she crossed her arms over her chest, then put them behind her back, all somehow in a single motion. To my horror -- to my utterly shocked horror -- I followed her to the floor and struck the first pose that came to mind, ass on heels, hands on thighs, head lowered, lips parted -- the pose of a sex slave.

And I knelt there, burning in an embarrassment, no, a deep shame, that I have no words to describe. Where the instinct had come from I had no idea. But now to change my pose would be to offer deep and deliberate insult. Oh moon, your royal daughter is a fool!

I could see Enjine's hand twitching behind her back; she doubtless wanted to correct the flaws in my pose. Then I forgot her, because of the soft, heavy tread coming our way.

The Prince pushed Enjine aside with a thrust of his hip, as he settled between us. I shut my eyes, expecting I knew not what. Beating, rape, mockery.

His hands settled on me, firmly but not cruelly. He shifted my upper arm, pressed his hand into my belly, arched my back; he moved my hair, he inched my thighs apart. He was posing me, wordlessly, and not brutally. I was too full of numb terror to protest or fight; and somehow his touch was ... I have no experience with this. He was commanding and gentle at the same time, and what came to mind, unbidden, was the hours I'd spent as a child watching the horsemen make horses run through their paces, over and over, until they were perfect.

And then, again lightly, again firmly, he placed his hand under my chin and raised my face, and I remembered Enjine's words on this: I was to open my eyes to his.

Oh skies, the fear. The last time he had touched me, in his court, he had somehow conveyed that he was more powerful than I was. I had felt authority in his touch, and once you feel that you can never unfeel it.

He ran his thumb over my labret, and my eyes opened helplessly. I could no longer think. He gazed down expressionlessly into my eyes, in that way that men have. Why is it that when a woman lets her gaze go blank, it is sexy, but when a man does it, we feel fear, and everything in us aches for some trace of humanity to return to his gaze?

His thumbnail pressed against my impossibly soft lower lip, and then stroked along it. I didn't look away from his eyes, not out of bravado -- I had none -- but because I knew I was not permitted to. The slow stroking against my lip continued, and I blushed a deep pink as I realized -- he wanted me to kiss his thumb.

The blush, and the light stroking, set off shivers in me. I was so utterly naked. Not in my lack of clothing, that didn't even matter, but in the manner he didn't let me look away, as his thumb's light caress on my lip look my reason away. I had to kiss his thumb. It was expected. I had to. And every second I didn't, those expressionless eyes would become more empty still, and then, as if from far away, the anger would appear. I shivered again, and then, mercilessly, his thumb moved to my upper lip. My tongue twitched in my mouth; I wanted to taste him. Oh sun and stars, I did.

From the floor besides me, where Enjine lay spilled, came a soft mewing sound. She knew what I was feeling, the urge to kiss his hard thumb with soft, soft lips. Oh gods, his face, handsome and ruthless and cold... and his thumb began to press against both lips in a light, hypnotic movement I could not ignore. Enjine made another soft sound, a whimper, and she lay her hand lightly on my thigh, but I barely felt it... press after press after press after press, there was nothing else...

I licked his thumb with just the tip of my tongue, and then shuddered and kissed it helplessly. My eyes fell closed; I could not keep them open.

"Good girl," he said, soft and deep and dark.

And then he got up and walked out.

I stared after him, and watched the door close.

"What... was that?"

"He made you submit," Enjine said, softly. "That's so hot. He didn't have to speak a word. He broke a princess's will with one finger. Demons below I need to masturbate."

"No, I mean -- I didn't -- he just- it wasn't anything, I just... nothing happened!"

"Look at how aroused you are. Look at yourself! I got you warm -- he got you burning."

"No I'm not- he just- got me confused-"

"Touch yourself. Touch your bud. Touch it!"

"What? No, shut up, that's not allowed, that's wrong, stop, don't talk about that-"

"Right now it's allowed. He won't mind, not this time. Touch it. Rub it. Rub it, Alani! Feel yourself burning. Touch. Touch it! Touch it! Touch it! Good, more! Did you see how hard his cock was under that silk, oh fuck I want that in me and then I want to see it plunge into you -- faster, Alani, yes, rub it harder-"

They'd drugged me, I was sure of it. So much need! I suddenly gasped as feelings flooded me, overwhelmed me-

And then the door slammed open and it was the Prince and there was a rope in his hand, the room spun and I was on my back and the rope was around my wrists, and Enjine curled around my head and shoulders and steadied me and whispered in my ear, "Lift your hips for him." And his hand moved between my legs and fingers entered me, roughly tormenting an already desperate hunger, and I cried out in raw animal need; Enjine moaned into my ear, over and over, "Please him! Come for him! Please him! Come for him! Please him! Come for him, hard!-"

Somewhere deep within me was a little crying princess whispering please no stop, but I couldn't stop. They'd drugged me somehow because I had no idea that I could want like this, and his cock pushed into me and filled me over and over, and Enjine toyed with my breasts and licked my ear and then bit the earlobe- everything tightened, more and more and more and hot and tight and arching and I couldn't breathe, I could only cry out-

Thrashing, undulating, crying... I was a molten puddle of hard used woman on the floor. And he was still thrusting, still setting off impossible contractions in my belly, and then he came, inside me, snarling my name like a curse. I shuddered.

Then he was done, and panting, he stood over us. His hand worked out a last splash of seed, and it landed on us both. "Good girls. Enjine, don't even ask, you need to remember what it is to burn without release. Walk Alani to her room and get her a bath if she likes. No sex play with her."

He walked out, panting and weaving slightly.

My tears started in earnest.



The Captured Princess Ch. 03



"Again."

"Please let me suck you, my Prince."

"Again."

"Please let me suck you, my Prince!"

Wait... was that me, speaking?

"Again."

"Please let me – oh skies, no!"

I was on my back, bound, blindfolded, naked... there was a soft, varying humming in my ears. Drugged... this time I knew I'd really been drugged, the soft fog of confusion could be nothing else.

There was a pinprick... injection. I shivered in fear.

"You'll recite as instructed." It was the Prince's voice.

"No!"

And then the shocks slammed through me, and I screamed.

"Recite!"

Helplessly, my lips formed the words. "Please let me suck you, my Prince."

"Again."

I fought it, and couldn't. "Please let m-me suck you, m-my Prince."

"Good girl. I'll reward you."

His hands moved on me. Massaging my breasts.

"You love having your breasts touched. Rubbed. Licked. Sucked. Pinched. It's so sexual. Hands feel so good, you love to be touched. You love to be fingered. You love to be spanked. You're so turned on by this massage, Alani. Do you feel how hard your nipples are? Gentle pinches, over and over... intense feelings are flooding your body. Hot, sexual, submissive... you love being beautiful because it makes me watch to touch you and you want this, more and more, each time. Hands, tongues, cocks. Repeat that."

"H-h-hands... t-tongues.. c-c-cocks..."

Everything he said was true. I hated him but he was still right. Why was he right? Why was he always right?

"Hands... t-tongues... cocks..."

The gentle twists and pulls on my nipples were the most sensual thing I'd ever known. More, please more! It makes me want to suck your cock!

"Hands... tongues... cocks..."

Cocks were wonderful. He'd told me that a thousand times and he was right. Hard, forceful, insistent, plunging in over and over; in was the best thing in the worlds. I'd do anything for in. And touching them was... there's a spot, the frenulum. It was made for a tongue tip or the ball of my thumb. I wanted to hold his glans between my lips and grind my tongue into his frenulum. Precum was like honey, ok skies, I wanted his precum...

"Hands... tongues... cocks... Please, I want to suck you, my Prince."

How? How was this possible? I hated him. I hated his large, powerful hands, his merciless long fingers, the muscle in his chest, the long, powerful legs. I hated his dark, compelling eyes, the thickness of his immense, hard cock... I needed to lick that cock, to run my tongue along the glans, and then underneath... who had taught me these words? I remembered masturbating, frantically, to a screen showing an immense cock, all the parts labeled... I hadn't been allowed to come until I could recite all the parts and how the male felt when they were rubbed, licked, sucked and lightly stroked.

"I'm going to touch your clit now... do not come, Alani."

"Of course not, my Prince- oh... oh... that's so good..."

His fingers were strong, but not as skilled as Seri's. She used her tongue and lips and fingertips all at once and it was irresistible, she'd brought me to orgasm very quickly and over and over while I'd lay, bound, with my head in the Prince's lap. Had that only been this morning? The Price was wonderful, letting me have all these sexual experiences, why did I hate him? I would fix that. Oh, my clit, such pleasure and need...

"Please, I want to suck you, my Prince."

It was wrong to be selfish. I wanted to be a generous and giving person. He was giving me pleasure and I wanted to give it back. I licked my lips, slowly and sensually. Such soft lips. Arousal made me soft, slow, languid. Feminine. I loved this. I was becoming addicted to sexuality. He'd told me that and it was so true.

"Not yet, Alani. But you may kiss it."

He turned my head, shifted... I kissed, over and over, helplessly. My tongue found the frenulum, and danced. Licking the shaft was mostly for show. Sucking the glans, or pushing it against the back of the throat, that was what Princes needed.... He growled, softly. I'd learned about that growl, it meant he was happy, pleased. His finger slid inside me, just a little, and moved... why hadn't I been more like my sister? Earthly pleasures were sooo goooood...

Deep down... there was fear and horror. Bite him, something silly and ill-informed whispered from those depths. Of course not! His cock was wonderful, exciting, powerful, I could kiss it all day, and someday soon, he'd promised, he'd be savage with it, and I couldn't even imagine that but when he'd said it Enjine had moaned like an animal, and Enjine knew so much... He was going to make me clever, like Enjine. He was powerful and wise and compelling and handsome, so handsome, and ruthless and demanding and firm, why did I hate him? Hate is wrong. He was a man and I'd been taught as a child that men were to be respected and obeyed, and oh, oh, now I knew why...

I wanted to come. The drugs softened my self-control so I had to be careful. His thumb was over my clit and fingers were inside me, not deeply, striking over and over at spots that drove my body wild, he knew so much about me already. I tightened, slowly, helplessly; helpless was such a sexy word. I did not want choices. I wanted to be compelled. Compelled was such a sexy word. Please, Prince Arj, compel me to serve you-

"Don't come, Alani. I'd punish you."

I'd seen him punish Celana. A leather strap, across her ass, breasts and flower. He'd been angry. Afterwards she'd been bruised. I'd never let that happen to me. He'd be ruthless...

I needed to come! I licked him faster, maybe if I distracted him he wouldn't notice if I came and held very still, could I do that? No, I'd writhe... it was so sexy when I gave in and just came, compelled and helpless...

His hand moved faster, on my breast and inside me. "Don't come, Alani. You can come again when you are fully mine, when all of you is in obedience."

Oh skies, he knew. He knew about the distant, ill-advised voice deep within me, the one that spoke only hatred and cruelty. I wasn't like that! I'd been raised to be obedient and good! I'll be so good... Oh, I needed to come... I needed... ached... burning... sweating, shaking... gasping... he wanted obedience... I'd find the voice within me, the ill-advised voice of hatred, and I'll kill it and then I could please the Prince, please him and please him and please him like the good girl I was, the good obedient sexy slutty princess I had finally been allowed to be...

++

The Prince and Enjine curled up together, looking at displays of data.

"She's fighting it," the Prince said, flatly. "Here, and here." His finger stabbed into the data, which swirled around his finger to bring itself into clearer focus. 

"It's hard to blame her," Enjine said. "Twenty three years of being taught she's to be honored and cherished as a Raja's daughter and a descendant of a deity. She's been here, what, an octave? Patience, my Prince."

"Does she trust you?"

"After Lord Tir, she's not going to trust anyone. Of course not. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes. I need her isolated and without support. She needs to live in a world where she's the one that's wrong, she has no one to turn to, and everyone else is happy. No female lasts long in that environment."

"Why so ruthless, my Prince? Why so cruel with her? Don't you risk damage?"

His eyes darkened as he stared into the data. "She's fighting it. Women generally don't."

"Oh, my Prince, of course she is. Women, in general... we need security. We need to be taken care of, especially on a world such as this. Dragons and barbarians and haracrabs, half the world is a nightmare for even a man to travel, and the other half is ruled by men of iron with hearts and fists of stone. It is a dangerous world to be female on. So we turn to strong men who can keep us safe, and who can do that better than a Prince? You are every woman's secret dream, even if many of us will never confess it. Every woman, that is, except the likes of her. She was already secure, and that's the world she wants to go back to. That, for her, was more secure."

"That world is gone. The Kilmjada rebellion is in full array, but it cannot get far. And she doesn't even know it exists. I am the safest and best place she can be right now. She must see that."

"Oh, my Prince. All this knowledge of women, and sometimes you still miss the basics. The best place she can be? Snuggled against a foreign noble who fought his way to her side and made off with her under your very nose. They flee by moonlight, on horse, hovership and train to some distant kingdom where he will woo her as she dreams of, and in the meantime he has taken no more than a kiss, which he apologized for afterwards, even though he burns for another."

"Enjine, you are truly a romance novel, misfiled under erotica. There is no such noblemen. I'm sure it's a lovely fantasy, but if she hopes in that..."

"Well, she doesn't hope in that. Lord Tir would have cured it if she did. But deep down she thinks she deserves that. Every woman wants to deserve it, and as a princess she knows she has a right to heroic rescues by gallant men."

He chuckled. "Where is that right written?"

"In her DNA. Where not even you can rewrite it, my Prince."

"Hm. You're rather pleased by her pride and resistance, aren't you, sweet Enjine."

Enjine blushed. "I am rather transparent, just as she said. Oh my Prince... I know you will win. You have weapons she still does not even dream of. But, yes. All women crumble under your gaze, and open your legs for you. All except the likes of her, and that's why you wanted her. Finally, a challenge for you. You may find the rest of us boring after her..."

His hand closed over Enjine's breast, and she simpered, softly. He smiled.

"No true woman ever bores me, and least of all you, my slave. You are much, much more complex that I can imagine; I know my limits as a male."

"You have no limits as a male," she whispered. "Which is why I worship you. You have absolute power over women, simply because you decided that it has to be that way. There is not a single doubt inside you, only utter certainty, and that is what no woman can resist... Do you feel my nipple, hard against you palm? Do you feel me trembling? That is what you do to me, to us. Yes, I know about the drugs and hypnosis, but oh, my Prince, you had me without them." She lowered her head, brushing her hair across his wrist. "Hurt me, my Prince."

His hand came up without hesitation and slapped her across the face, leaning a red stain over her blush. She sobbed and buried her face against his bare chest. "Anything for you," she whimpered. "Anything. And make her like me. Crumble her and I am even more your slave."

"I think you want her for yourself, my sweet."

"She is beautiful. Do not fault me for wanting to force pleasures on her. You taught me to feel the pleasures I inflict on other women. You conditioned me to believe I have a bond with them and feel what they feel, and no matter how I know it false, I believe it and feel it. I am addicted to the sexual ecstasy of other women. And she is luscious."

He stroked her hair, smiling. "She is. I only take the best toys for myself. But now, my thrall, I have Princely duties that do not involve the pleasures of the phallus, of which you know little."

"Oh. Going drinking with the boys?"

"Ha. Only afterwards. Electosword practice, a cooling bath alone, court matters, war council. And you wonder why come evening I need to devour a woman whole? Pick someone for me."

"I pick myself."

"No, you don't. You're needed with Alani this evening. Play your part well. And no self-pleasuring."

"I burn, my Lord."

"Then I better not catch you sniffing around Tir or Kaler."

"My Prince!"

"Oh, stop. Every woman wants Kaler. And I'm told 'Tir's cock is everything a woman dreams of', was that the phrase?"

Enjine blushed pink. "My Prince hears my very thoughts. And all my conversations, it seems."

"Yes, to both." He snapped his fingers at the data display, and it vanished. "Be good, Enjine."

He got up and left. As he walked, Enjine's eyes trailed after him, and after a moment, she smiled, slowly.



The Captured Princess Ch. 04



Enjine had learned to knock when she visited. That was more than any of the (male) guards who had been assigned to me ever did. I found I was thankful for this small courtesy, and that depressed me.

She slid into the chair across from me at the table, and gave me a winning smile. I gave her back my politest one. She was wearing the same color and style of silks as I, and while we would never pass as twins – with her brighter hair and 20 centimeters of extra height – it did make us look eerily similar. The guard, just recently assigned to me, was openly staring.

"Cute guard," she said to me, leaning back so the thin silk stretched taut over her breasts. "Can you send him away?"

"She cannot," the guard replied. 

"He's here to make sure I don't masturbate," I said.

"Oh, that's such mornan-shit," she said. "This room is cameras everywhere... Hmm. You can't masturbate... but no one said I couldn't."

"Slaves are allowed to masturbate?"

"I am. What I'm not allowed to do is have an orgasm. So I usually avoid masturbating. But he is a very cute guard..."

The guard was already tenting his breeches.

"Enjine... don't," I said. "I cannot deal with... it. Any of it."

She looked at me, contemplatively. "You were hypnotized this morning."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Sweetheart, we use that line on men, and then we get annoyed when they fall for it. Never use it on a woman."

"Skies, Enjine! Look at me. I've started shaking just thinking about it! I remember eating, feeling dizzy... I remember hands on me, and words being spoken, but not what the words were, and waking up in my bed in flames of need and a guard explaining that I couldn't touch myself! I remember nothing else! What happened to me? What did I do?"

"Probably you did very little. I've watched the procedures a few times. You were probably mostly passive, drugged into complacency."

"You don't understand! I don't remember! Things happened and I do not remember!"

"You've never been drunk, I guess? I know, baby. It's creepy, and if you knew what happened you wouldn't be less upset. But this is your world now. You are property, and all I can tell you is, in the end you'll accept your status."

"Happy little mindless druggie slut slave me!"

"That's... kind of catchy, actually. Alright, I'm sorry, I know you're upset and I remember being frightened when it first happened to me."

"First happened? How often does he do this?"

"Whenever he wants. My last session was a few months ago. And I know you don't want to hear this, but... I like it. I've been conditioned to find hypnosis highly erotic. I love the loss of control, the sense that in the deepest possible way, his will controls mine. Alright, I'm already horny, let's change the topic."

"Change the- you just don't understand. I'm scared. Before this morning it was my will versus the Prince's. I could fight if I wanted to. I could at least pretend that I had choices. Hypnosis? How does that even work? I thought people had to be willing. I thought it could be resisted. How do I know what's in my head now?"

"I know, baby. I know it's terrifying. But it's out of your control. And you have some very old beliefs on hypnosis. There are drugs that make you completely compliant. There's auditory stimuli, aversion therapy, I don't know what else. You can't win. You wouldn't win even without the hypnosis; he's just that strong. I'm sorry. He's ruthless."

"What you're describing isn't even legal."

"Alani. Stop. There's commoner law but it doesn't apply to the royal family. Other than a few things in the founding documents, royals do exactly as they please. You don't have any rights. He is a Prince. You are a slave. I'm sorry but it's true. You can't go to anyone and claim you've been wrongly treated because there is no right and wrong when it comes to a Prince. Throw yourself on the Raja's mercy if you like; he'll just have you executed as a warning to other slaves."

"So be it. I have no wish to live," I said, bitterly.

"Now really," said the guard, suddenly. "It seems to me this isn't all as tragic as you make it out. So you were royalty somewhere once, miss slave? That's your problem, right there. Any other woman here in your place might be happy enough. She'd recognize she had food, water, and walls of stone and men between her and the haracrabs. She'd work out that her job is pleasing men, but it's not a hard job and women want to do it anyway, and here you'll be taught as to how it's done right. And-"

"Begging free's pardon," Enjine said suddenly. "Pleasing men is not so hard. Unless that man is the Prince and can have you executed for letting a tooth nick his dick."

The guard stared at Enjine, and she quickly closed he mouth and looked down. He continued.

"I hear he can be harsh. But most women want firm rules, maybe need them." He turned to me, frowning. "And it's funny to me to hear one royal complain when another royal does what all royals do. Where you're from, girl, the royals don't act so different, I hear. Not when it comes to their playmates."

Angry, I opened my mouth, but then shut it. My older brothers had had women in thrall. Some of those women had occasionally sported whip marks, and maybe not always because they'd broken a dish. My sister had used her position to sleep with anything that caught her fancy, and one of her lovers had turned up dead at the bottom of an old well after they'd had some disagreement. "Not the same," I said. "Hypnosis and trickery... we did not do such things."

"And hypnosis is worse than a whip, of course," he said. "Listen to me carefully, girl. Royalty stays royal by imposing their will on others. That can be done many ways. Whips for slaves, armies for nations, propaganda and taxes for the free... and hypnosis for you. It's all the same, there's nothing special about your treatment. I conjure that you weren't of age in your land, so maybe there's a lot you didn't understand about how Powers behave. But even you'll understand what a slave is. The Wheel turned and now you are one. Maybe it will turn again and maybe not, but in the meantime, learn to be what you are."

"Odd," I said coldly. "When a woman speaks of the Wheel, or Fate, it is usually to bring peace, or joy, or even solace. When a man does, it's always to bind people to a man's will. All men are alike. Who teaches you all to be like that?"

"No one tells us how to be men. We just are."

"That's true enough," Enjine said. "Women study, talk, we learn from other women, we pass down lessons and wisdom and knowledge. We teach women we love and learn from those that hate us, but we are all about learning the right way to do everything. But no man ever learned anything from anyone."

"We're born knowing what we need to know," he said. "It saves a lot of time."

"Your theory does explain things," I told him, more sourly than bitterly.

I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that Enjine's hands had become restless. She was playing with her hair, absentmindedly curling it against her neck. That caused the side of her hand to nestle in her cleavage, pressing her full breasts outward, straining them against the thin white silk. She smiled at the guard. "I do not mean to argue with a free. But please speak more gently? It is very difficult to be a female slave in these lands. Men make it hard; it would not be so bad if men were not so cruelly, mercilessly demanding. It makes us shake. Women want to please; something in us is born already halfway to slavehood, and to be one fully is something we learn more easily than we admit. We only feel peace when we please a man. Must you hammer at us?" 

She extended a leg, accidentally brushing it against one of mine. "Have pity on Alani. I hear what you say about royal authority and what a man knows and all the rest, but it still terrifies us to live under a man's will, to be dragged by his hands to the places within ourselves that we don't understand. Men have such power, and we cannot ignore what that does inside us. You... don't know your own strength." And she lowered her eyes, and quickly licked her lips.

If I had been taking notes, I could not have written fast enough to record all the lessons I'd just been taught. The guard's pants were tented so tight that his throbbing member was fully outlined against the cloth. And a part of me turned wicked, and I turned to Enjine, giving the guard the benefit of a profile view of my breasts, through the tight translucent silk. My leg shifted to press back against Enjine's leg, my calf lightly stroking against hers. "Maybe that is my problem, dear Enjine. I know I must please the Prince, and in the end I know I will. But his cruelty, the forcefulness of his methods, they terrify me. I'm only a woman, whatever station I was born to." I held out my arm. "Please take my wrist. Feel how I shake."

She stroked my perfectly steady wrists, over and over. "Oh, poor girl! Be as strong as you can. Men will be cruel, but in time – I know this is frightening to hear – you come to... to desire that cruelty. We grow accustomed to it, and then... then we need it, we need the feeling of full, powerful, unblinking focus on us. I would tell you of some of the things the Prince has taught me to crave, but," she tilted her head towards the guard, "perhaps another time."

"I don't think I could bear to hear it. I am terrified of what he already makes me feel," I simpered, but Enjine's eyes flashed, and I read the message written there: don't overdo it.

"...but, seeing how calm you are in his presence convinces me that someday I will adapt. But I will need your help. I know nothing of men."

"I will teach you. In fact, I stopped by to bring you out to meet the other girls this evening; but I didn't know you were under guard, and I don't think we can take him into the harem. The Prince's rules are firm and he would not come out alive. Though," she licked her lips, "he might die happy."

I giggled at this. I tried to make it sound sincere, and to my ear I failed somewhat, but no man would ever notice.

"The harem... my future home," I said, less sadly than I felt. "Wait, does each Prince have his own? I don't even know how many brothers Prince Arj has."

Enjine leaned back, then threw her hair forward, over her breasts, and let it slowly trickle to the sides as she spoke. The guard's eyes were dark, and ravished her, and occasionally me.

"There are five Princes and one princess. The Rani, sorry, 'queen' to you, wanted a daughter and kept trying until she got one. But there is something wrong with the princess and you will never see her, she is kept cloistered away. Prince Arj was second to be born, and will be Raja someday without doubt. Arj's harem is by far the largest. Twenty women! Prince Raka, the eldest, doesn't have one, he considers them unseemly for a future Raja. It's whispered he's a virgin... and it's whispered falsely, because he got hold of Siri one night, and you should have heard her moans. I feel sure she wasn't the first... Raka and Arj do not get along very well.

"And, let's see, Prince Kusha, the youngest, has taken a vow and only opens virgins. I find that impossibly wrong and impossibly hot and I just try not to think about it. The others have modest harems, six women or so. And because they have less hope of becoming Raja, they are... freer to find any other woman that pleases them. I don't know why they bother with their harems at all, probably mostly for show. Though Sahar's Alarmel is so hot I turn green every time I see her. And they say she needed no hypnosis, no training... I watched her with Prince Sahar one night. He doesn't tie her up, he just commands her and she obeys, no matter how he makes her burn; he toyed with her for hours, and when at last he took her, his hand in her long hair... gods and demons, her screams of pleasure made the usually oh-so-controlled Sahar into an animal. He thrust on her like a bull, brutally, and she came over, and over, and over... he came inside her and then had her lick him clean, and kiss his feet. I can... I have a strong sense of empathy, I can feel what other women feel, I knew exactly what she was experiencing. Oh, Alani, I know you are frightened. But submission has its pleasures. Men make us both shake, but for different reasons."

I looked sideways, out of the corner of my eye. The guard's hands were restless at his sides, and his erection was huge. Why Enjine was toying with him this way I didn't know, but even while appearing to forget he was in the room, she had his unbroken and lustful attention. I decided to continue playing along with her game.

"Did he – I burn in shame even to ask this. Did he suck and bite her nipples?" I brushed one of mine, lightly. "I- Tir touched mine in public during that, that trick he played. I've never felt anything like that. Even now as much as I hate him, that moment comes back to me. I know it is shameful."

"It's not shameful. Our bodies need to be touched. When a nipple is caressed, things happen in us... And yes, he sucked them and bit them, making her hold still and stay silent... there's a tiny sound that happens in the back of our throats at such times. The little gasps of air as we fight to remain silent... she made them, over and over. Little sounds of need... Alani, you need to learn that this is not a shameful thing, it is simply what it is to be a woman. I'm going to touch you and make you understand this better."

"The, uh, guard..."

She acted like she'd forgotten he was there. Maybe she really had; her body was very aroused from her description of the slave girl.

"Oh... him. He can do nothing. We are not his property. He can close his eyes if he likes."

She stood up and swayed over to me, and stood behind my chair. "Turn your pretty head so your cheek is against my breast. That puts your mouth near my nipple... but don't do anything with it. I am not supposed to indulge in certain pleasures this evening, and your mouth is one of them. Just... look at it. Oh, Alani, did you just lick your lips? You want to tease me? There is wickedness in you after all... now, feel my hands on your bare belly. Warm and comforting, and yes, a little wrong because you are new to being touched by girls. But put that aside, it's easy to get used to. Now... I'm going to bring them up over the silks on your breasts... like that. Skin through silk is so sensual. My fingertips along the base of your breast, my palms brushing your nipples... the contrast between bare and silk is fascinating, isn't it? My hands on the skin of your belly is one sensation, my hands through the silk is another. Deep within you there's a desire to feel what this is like without the silk in the way. Opposed to that desire, is the rule about not exposing your breasts, so your desires are in tension... that feeds the eroticism. Men know this. Men know that when I want and I must not fight in a woman's mind, she becomes distracted and easier to trick... your nipples are getting very hard, Alani. Do you feel that warmth starting to spread, and the sensation of relaxation? Or maybe a different word... the sensation of trust. So now... I will give you a new conflict. Trust and Worry. I take your nipples between my fingertips, like this, and I squeeze gently... oh, yes. That could hurt, do you trust me not to hurt you? You want to trust, but I have sharp fingernails... now I pull gently, and oh, you arch so prettily. That flat stomach of yours is tensing, isn't it. It's practicing for the orgasm...."

I burned. It was the hypnosis, I knew. Something in me had changed and now I responded to this. I went scarlet with shame, but oh, the fire she was starting. And that a man was watching, made it... 

"Are you starting to wish the silk was gone? I will go back to caressing all that full, warm softness around the nipple... oh, you feel greedy now, greedy for what my fingers were doing. Imagine poor Alarmel, commanded to be a statue, with large hands tormenting he- Alani, you must not rub your legs together. That's too close to breaking your rules. Focus on your nipples... Now I will unhook the silk over them, and, mmmhmm, yes, I will bring it up and along your mouth, and rehook it... it's not an effective gag, of course, but it symbolizes one. Your power of speech, taken away, when there are things you burn to say. For women, speech is powerful, needful, and not to have it... weakens... us... Your breasts are so beautiful. Feel my hands on them now, petting and stroking... that is what you wanted, isn't it. And now, my thumbs and forefingers..."

I could not stifle the quiet moan.

"Hush now, baby. Do you like having them squeezed, over and over, like this? Please, Alani, don't make me tie your legs to the chair legs. You've been taught to hold them together but right now that just adds to the temptation to rub, so you must hold them apart.. a little more... yes. The wash of white silk on parted legs is irresistible to the eye and hand. So now, another conflict. You wished to be touched... right... there. I know you do. But not by a girl. Oh, if only the guard's tongue were available... but he mustn't do that. So what I will do is this... my hand, stroking the inside of your thigh. A very powerful conflict. It's too intimate, I should not touch there, and you want to close your legs to stop me, but then you'll rub them together... yes, now you start to shiver. Stroke after stroke, right up to the sweet vee of... hold still, Alani. I will tie your legs if I must. I would tie them wide open. You'd be exposed and helpless. Are you thinking about the cameras? The men watching? What their hands are starting to do? You're shaking now. I'm going to remove the silks over your legs as well... oh, that makes you blush. Because now people can see your honey start to trickle. And because you know what happens next. Oh, Alani, no! Now I must tie your legs apart, I warned you..."

I moaned uncontrollably as the silk was hooked around my knees, keeping them apart. And then her hand slid between them, and curled...

"Bitches!" snarled the guard. 

At that, Enjine immediately stood up, and reached for the hooks in her own silks. One by one they fell open, and the silk slid down her body, caressing her and pooling at her feet.

And then she walked up to the guard, swaying, hair swinging back and forth. When she was within a foot of him, she wrapped her hands in her hair and looked up into his eyes. Her hips moved in a slow, coaxing oval. Her legs twined. He didn't know where to look first.

"I belong to Prince Arj," she said, in a voice like dark honey, flowing from a hive on a hot summer's day. "So you may not touch me. You are a guard, so you may not leave. I am certain you may not masturbate on duty. In truth, for a free man it's surprising how little you can do. And as a slave, there are things I can't do as well. But..."

She formed her thumb and forefinger into a circle, and slowly licked around the inside of it. "I can touch you. And as long as you keep your eyes fixed on Alani... pretty, aroused, innocent, fascinated Alani... you are still doing your duty. Make sure she does not touch herself. Make very sure. Do you think you can fill this circle? I think you'll have no problem...

She knelt, threw her hair aside, and in moments had the guard's cock exposed. "No thrusting. That would be too much like fucking on duty. So let me do all the movement, I don't think you'll be disappointed... Look, Alani. Look at how hard he is. I think he likes you, and I'm sure he likes this...

She stroked slowly along his shaft, and he was panting quickly, then frantically. She stopped and licked her hand again, moaning, and then returned it to him, focusing on the head.




The Captured Princess Ch. 04



"Fucking... bitch... someone should... slap you... back into place..."

"The Prince often does," she said. "Do you like it when I stop and squeeze, like this? Curse these cameras, I could do so much more for you... and you could do so much to us. Wouldn't you like to make us take turns sucking you?.. Look at him, Alani. Feel what it is like when stares at your body and burns for you. He wants you. He wants to rape you. This slippery, thick, hard cock, forcing into your pretty, bound body. A body that I made wet for him. He's picturing it. He's picturing you starting to like it, so I'll press my fingertips in, right under here, as if you were squeezing down on him to milk him-"

"Slut and whore!" he exploded. "Free are to be respected!"

She licked her lips. "Oh, I respect you," she whispered, softly. "And I want you to come, copiously, and then spank me as I lick it up--"

"Fuck!" With a massive effort he stepped away from her, and pushed a button on his wrist. "Get a girl guard to the prisoner's room now, see the video feed for why. Fuck!"

He stormed out of the room.

Enjine was back to me in a second, and she held her hand to my nose; it smelled of him. Then she slid the hand down my body and pushed her fingers into my soaked slit, and they moved in me without resistance. I gasped, convulsing, gripping her. Her other hand wrapped in my hair and she forced my mouth to hers. "Come quickly and hard," she hissed.

I did. I couldn't help it. And as I came I heard the unmistakable sound of a male orgasm from the hallway. He hadn't gotten far before he'd had to finish, and the sound filled my ears. I came again.

And then she cradled my head to her chest, and held me like that, while unknotting the silk around my legs with a practiced hand.

"Why?" I whispered as softly as I could.

"Tell you someday. Can't now," she whispered back, almost too softly to hear. "You did well."

She stepped back, and moaned a little. "I am now, officially, the horniest slut in the world," she announced. "I was a hot mess before I got here, and now... fuck, the Prince is going to be with Siri soon. I'm going to take a very large risk and beg for a threesome. If I'm unable to sit down for a week, you'll know why. Oh, fuck..."

"Enjine, wait. I need a favor. My brother... I have to see him. Face to face. Can you arrange that?"

She hesitated, clearly distracted, but she took a deep breath. "I can ask for you. But, sweetheart, I don't think seeing him is going to help your state of mind."

"But it could help his. Please, Enjine."

"I'll ask. Fuck, I can't think when I get like this. All that matters is cock, pounding me..." Her eyes got cloudy and she was starting to shake, and I thought with horror that that would someday be me, a woman who cared only for the pleasure of some man, a woman dominated by the basest of instincts. Oh moon, where have you gone? Free me from this horror!

With a half sob, she suddenly dashed out, whimpering and leaving her silks behind.

A few moments later, a woman stalked into the room, in full guard gear, including a leather whip, dagger, slugthrower and handcuffs. She was square built, had short grey-brown hair and the meanest-looking face I had ever seen. She took one look at me, and sniffed the air.

"Is that hot slut I smell? By the core, I get all the shit assignments. Listen up, dollface. Playtime is now over. You're to sit quietly, do nothing that anyone could mistake for interesting, and think about baby bunnies or whatever the fuck girls your age find harmless and cute. And wrap that pile of silk around yourself because I am not real interested in seeing your teats, and you sure won't be having any other guests. Fancy girls like you think your shit looks like crystal and smells like lilac, but I for one am not impressed with you, and if there's any trouble you'll be hauled over this table in a nanosecond. And neither one of us will find what happens next erotic, just in case you're unclear on that. I said cover up, slut buns! Any questions, no, good, I don't like a lot of chit-chat on duty anyway."

She sat in a chair and the conversation ended on a distinctly permanent note. I sat and shivered a little.

++

The Prince turned his head, slowly, from the video display. "You are the worst guard in the history of the rajadom."

"If it pleases my Prince to say so. Some training might have helped..."

Prince Arj laughed. "I don't know what training could have helped. Cebermus... what the hells happened?"

"The video tells it plainly enough. What happened was Enjine. Core's light, she's a rakshasi. I can only assume she had no idea I wasn't a guard."

"I didn't tell her. I never imagined she needed to know. Why the hells didn't you get out of there sooner?"

"Is that a serious question?"

The Prince chuckled, and Ebermus continued. "My Prince sees women of that quality all the time. I don't. I admit the view dazzled. And once Enjine got her hands – well, hand – on me, it was hard to think of a graceful way out. It was hard to think at all."

"It was such a simple plan," the Prince mused aloud. "You and Enjine, independently undermining my new slave's sense of justified outrage."

"And I made a good start, until Enjine jumped in. It wasn't even that she contradicted the message. If anything she reinforced it with that 'Oh, men are terrible but you must bear it' speech. But I could have had Alani seeing herself as the problem in a matter of hours, especially with a rape at the end. But Enjine... well, you saw it, she stepped in and ran everything right off the rails."

"She was very aroused. After she left Alani, she came to me – while I was with another girl – and begged for rape."

"It is good to be the Prince. I hope she got it."

"You can't punish the Enjines of this world with rough sex. I fucked her senseless and then ordered her to a confinement tube for thirty six hours. Water only. Random shocks. No movement, no light. My guess is she'll never handle a guard on duty again."

"How sad for the guards. But, to return to guild business... I can't work on Alani again. You need another Tormentor. And it's a pity because this was so unlike the usual projects; I was looking forward to working on her."

"Accidents happen. Would you recommend any additional treatments for Enjine?"

"What you prescribed is... rather intense. An injection of Madrigal, maybe, if you want her tormented by sexual needs she can't do anything about. Or Marltine for straight agony. But from a clinical perspective, why bother. The plan failure was a legitimate accident. Handling a guard and interrupting your time with a girl – clearly you're angry if you're putting her in a tube, and she'll understand that. She's a good slave, isn't she?"

"She is. Alright, you're dismissed. Better luck next time. The guild will get half payment."

Cebermus bowed and departed. Prince Arj poked at the video again, frowning and shaking his head.

++

My door opened; it was mealtime, and my tray was arriving. I sat up, sighing. Enjine had not visited today, and my pod had only access to a very limited selection of the library. Erotica and sexual guides only. It was a very subtle form of torture. I still knew so little about sex, and though I wished to keep it that way, curiosity was proving to be a brutal mistress. Occasionally I gave in and read something, something which often turned out to be so disturbing that I blanked the screen and clutched my stomach. But in a few hours, Curiosity would snap her whip around me again, and I'd end up reading further. I was trying to fight it today, and time moved slowly.

The tray landed with a thump on the table. Graceless slave. I looked up with a rebuke in my eyes, out of long standing habit-

It was the Prince. 

"Guard, leave, and post at the door."

The guard made commendable speed out, and closed the door behind him.

"Cameras off."

I was shaking already.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Food is earned," he said. "It is true of everyone, even Princes, but especially slaves."

"The Prince Arj misunderstands me badly if he thinks I can be led by mere hunger."

He speared a bit of sausage from my lunch, and bit it, slowly. He swallowed it, looking at me.

"I know you cannot, Alani. You'd cheerfully starve yourself if you thought you could defy me that way. But that's not really the point. The point is that you come to associate your daily needs with my generosity. I'm going to feel you from my own hand, when I'm done with my other business here."

"May you take no pleasure from my rape."

"I will take great pleasure from your rape. But first things first." He slid a scrap if parchment to me.

Esteemed princess Alani, descendant of the moon and my sister
I know you are alive for I have seen holos of you, being touched by men. Do not let them touch you. Do not forget you are a princess and above them. They have hurt me and I am sorry my writing is unclear but the bandage makes it difficult, but I am brave. Our father will rescue us, do not give up hope. They want the note now, so goodbye. Princeling TelanOnono.

It was unquestionably from my brother. Only he knew of the nickname I had given him when he was seven. And he had enlarged the O in his name in token of the adoration of the moon we shared. Tears stung my eyes.

"I asked to see him alive and before me," I said, steadily.

In reply the Prince snatched the note from my hand. "Tomorrow you won't even be sure you saw this note," he said. 

"He deserves to know his father was killed by your armies."

"By the Raja's armies. And what he knows and doesn't know isn't important. Let him live in false hope, just as you do."

"No, I have no hope," I said.

"Kneel and disrobe, my slave."

I obeyed. If I did not, I'd be forced to kneel and the silk would be torn off. It was not obedience, it was only acceptance of the inevitable outcomes. I lowered my head to hide the bitterness in my face.

"I can do nothing about what happens to my body. My mind, you will never have."

He chuckled, low and deep. "First of all, given your body, most men would find that arrangement acceptable. Second... you're wrong. How many hypnotic sessions have you had?"

"One."

"Six," he said.

I spat.

His hand lashed across my face so hard I spilled sideways to the floor. I shook my head and got to my knees again, my eyes instinctively seeking his. What I saw there made me flinch and look down, but I forced my eyes up again.

"You still don't understand how hopeless your situation is, Alani. I enjoy the process of bringing women to full submission. I enjoy every twist and turn of it. There are a thousand ways to do it, all dark and sweet and intoxicating. And I always succeed. Do you know why? It is because deep in every woman is a need to submit. It's genetic. Some hide it better than others but every woman can be driven to submission by a man who is willing to do what it takes. I do not limit myself. No one limits me. I am everything your little-girl nature aches to submit to. I am what your womanly body burns to be taken by. But before you are permitted to please me in that fashion-"

His hand lashed out again, across my face, knocking me over a second time. I refused to let myself cry out, but my fear of him was overwhelming, and to my shame I realized I'd wet myself. And my limbs were shaking so badly I couldn't return to the kneel.

"That is for raising your eyes to mine, uninvited."

"Kill me," I said, forcing my voice to be steady. "Or sooner or later I'll find a way to kill myself. I will not suffer in the knowledge of what happens to my brother if I'm dead. You will kill him anyway, if you have not already."

And then I broke down. "Show him to me," I begged. "He is what I have left in the world. He is a child, and no enemy of yours. No man makes war on children."

"I do not make war on children. The war is in this room. And until the war is over, and you are fully submitted and obedient, you will not see him. But if you continue to misbehave, more pieces of him will be removed, so you might not be so happy to see him when the time does come. Foolish Alani. You want to see him? You won't even be allowed to be certain I have him. You don't even know how many times you were hypnotized. You aren't permitted any certainty but the certainty that you are enslaved. Women cling to certainties, and by giving you only that one, I make you helplessly embrace your fate."

He paused, and I could feel his eyes, those furious dark eyes, beating down on me. "Now, slave, return to the kneeling position. Hair back, eyes down, hands on your thighs, palms up and open, knees parted."

"No. Kill me."

He said a word I did not understand. Instantly my body took the position he commanded. And the terror in me, faded.

He'd taught me that obedience brought peace. Or perhaps I'd been taught that as a child, and he simply found application for that lesson here. It is not enough that we were genetically inclined to be pleasing; we were also raised to it. We females are subverted and undermined from the womb, it seems, for the convenience of men.

"We call it hypnosis," he said. "But it's more than just suggestion. It can be very compelling."

He bent down and placed an ornate dagger in front of me, and then straightened and turned his back.

My hand would not move. The dagger was somehow terrifying, and had I not been commanded to a kneel I would have crawled away from it. I tried to force my hand to take it, but my hand remained entirely immobile.

In fury and terror, I sobbed.

He turned again. "None of my slaves are permitted to handle weapons, Alani. You'll have noticed your meals don't come with a knife, and the spork is of a soft metal that would bend if used roughly. You thought it was so you couldn't kill yourself or anyone else. It's actually so you can eat. You would back away from the tray if it had dangerous implements on it. You've been taught that a weapon is only safe in the hands of a man.

He picked up the dagger again, and to my maddening shame, my fear of the weapon passed.

"You'll ask why, if I can do that, I haven't made you a sex puppet. Yes, I see in your face you've heard of them. It's been done to a few women here, as a warning to others. The result is... effective, but not very erotic. I have no need to do that to you. I'll make you love me, instead."

I had replies to this, but I could not speak through my sobs. He only chuckled.

"And now it is time to be a woman, my slave. Arise, slut, and go to the bed. Bend over it, palms and face touching the sheets."

"I – I can r-refuse," I said, brokenly.

"Yes," he said. "I have words I can use to take your choice away, but I'm not going to use them. You will do this yourself."

The terror had faded. The fury was still there. No man, no human, has the right to do what he was doing to me. And he'd finally made a mistake; in calling me slut. As long as my brother lived, I was still the princess of a royal family. Never call a princess a slut. We take it poorly.

I walked to the bed and posed. Something was happening inside of me. I did not understand (and I still do not). There was nothing I could do about my body and how it reacted. His hypnotic tricks obviously worked. 

But I was not my body. 

I had always lived very much within my skin, feeling things, touching, tasting, enjoying the sensation of wind in my hair and the smell of sandalwood and the grip of a marrabird on my finger, and even (though I did not dwell on it) the secret warmth that came of a man's glance. Somehow all that was suddenly gone. I observed my body now. I could pay attention to it, and I could feel the prince's hand move along my back, his fingernails stroking lightly. I felt my legs tightening in response to the physically pleasant scratching; my body had been conditioned to want his hands. But that was only my body. A body, I realized, was a tool. A body is flesh, and flesh does what it is told, and my flesh was now prone to doing whatever he told it to do. But it was his conditioning, not my submission, which made it obey. He'd been trying to convince me that conditioned response was evidence of my submission, but now I knew it was not. I suddenly knew the difference.

His hand moved over my ass, and in response, my mouth began to water. Arousal turned me into a cocksucker. I licked my lips, and felt the flush of excitement and anticipation wash through me as my lips were wetted. He liked his girls oral, it seemed.

His hand was tracing lightly along my slit. I felt dampness and warmth. In one sense he was right; my body, now awakened and conditioned, was a very slutty little thing. Let it be so. I was a princess and I had other concerns.

"Good girl," he said, soft and deep. My shiver was one of rage. 

His finger pressed in. I was not fully wet, but I quickly became wetter for him. Subtle, I thought. He was showing me how he had conditioned my body to make itself useful to a man. He was hoping I'd confuse I made you good at this with This is all you are good for.

"Women become what men want them to become," he whispered, as his finger slid easily and quickly within me. I noted the pleasing tension my body felt in response, and felt a sudden temptation. I could live in my body again if I chose, I could participate in these sensations, not just observe them. The draw of it was very strong; the sensations were intensely pleasurable. He knew what my body liked; or he had taught my body to respond to what he did; there was no difference between the two. My sexuality was clay. But I was not my sexuality. I was not clay.

"The power of a man over a woman is very simple, Alani. Women need to please, and to please everyone around them. They hate conflict, desire security... you are secure and safe if you please me. Your body knows this."

A finger moved to my bud. Tapping. 

"I've given you an endless capacity for orgasm. You can come over and over. And I can force them out of you, and oh, Alani, that is erotic. Watching your body betray you, over and over."

But my body could not betray me. I was Princess Alani, and more than my body. 

"But it's so much more degrading to make you want to give in."

The tapping sped up, and then became rubbing. Such a slutty body I had now! My legs were taut, my ass tilted up as if begging for more. His other hand moved along the side of my breast, and then traced around the nipple. I felt the fire in my belly leap. When he pinched on the nipple and the clit at the same time, the fire spread throughout me. He did it over and over, and my body shuddered. I observed it all.

"Slut. Slut. Slut."

No. No. No. Princess.

The wetness was trickling down my leg. My body had so quickly learned to be sexual. A woman's body is made for this... we presented ourselves to attract the eye, knowing that after the eye comes the hand; and once the hand has free reign, then the phallus. No, I was getting confused, that was Eniine's thinking, not a princess's; for what I had to do I had to be clear, my thoughts had to be all Princess.

He was behind me now, his clothing falling away. Soon now. His hands slid around me, cupping my breasts, catching the nipples, inflicting that maddening pain that made my body go up on tip toes, made it offer itself...

The head of his cock, sliding, pressing. It was so big. I felt the little flash of fear, thinking it would hurt; but it hadn't much the first time and it didn't at all now. One of his hands settled on my hip and the other in my hair, and my body, my foolish woman's body, burned to take it in...

I cried out; he'd gotten rough. My hand scrabbled uselessly at the sheets. He'd lifted me, my toes barely brushed the floor and he pounded, and pounded, and my body was so small and he was so impossibly strong and hard and brutal. Suddenly my will was collapsing, the overwhelming sensation of his brutality making me dissolve back into slave Alani. No! I was a princess!




The Captured Princess Ch. 04



"Good sluts come when they're forced to take cock," he snarled, panting.

That word. I hated it. It wasn't true. I separated again, mind and body. My body was going to come soon, I did not have much time-

"And now something new, Alani."

He slid out and then pressed again, slightly higher – no!

My foot lifted, and then slammed down as fast and hard as it could along the inside of his calf and instep. He cried out in sudden pain and rage, jerking his foot away from mine – which parted his legs. My foot swung back, circled upward, and slashed forward as fast as I could make it go. My heel raked his balls violently, and he crumpled, folding up, loosening his grip on me. I turned and as I did I forced my elbow into his face, not quite getting his nose.

I was a dead woman now, but I was still a princess, and I'd put my father's insistence on self-defense to good use before I died. Even as he crumpled to the floor he reached for his clothing, where the dagger was – and probably, hidden in the recesses of the silk, a neurowhip. The dagger might not stop me from running, but a touch from that whip would have me writhing on the floor. I had to leave, and leave now.

I scrabbled across the bed, exulting in my small, quick, agile body. I pulled the sheet after me, my feet hit the floor and I jumped for the window. No glassee, but also no ladder this time.

The evil whine of a neurowhip unfurling, high pitched: only a small one. But that only meant it would not break bones. The pain would be the same, and it would force my mind and body back together and then I'd be a slave. It hissed forward, but as I'd hoped it tangled in the sheet I billowed behind me, and I tumbled through the window, leaving the captured sheet behind. I kissed the ground roughly with my knees and forearms, and was breathless, but that didn't matter. I got up and ran.

I had no plan, except to survive as long as possible, to add to the Prince's humiliation. I ran. He would already have called an alert and my position was known. The war was in this room, he said. But I was no longer in the room and now I would choose where the war was fought, and I would find a tool so I could die by my own hand when the war was over.

I ran, neatly trimmed hair whipping behind me. In the distance I heard a horn, but my blood was already ice. I ran.



The Captured Princess Ch. 05



I ran, desperately trying to be quiet. I was among low bushes and trees, with the building nearby to my left. I had little knowledge of the royal grounds, having seen it only at night, or sparsely from my window during the day. My only plan was a doorway into a less commonly used part of the building. And then a closet or under a bed where I could hide for a time. If anyone saw me it was over; I was impossibly easy to recognize. I cursed the reddish tint in my hair.

Guards were spilling out into the royal grounds, and from their organized movements it was obvious they'd drilled for this. Once upon a time, long before the war, I'd though men marching in formations was the most beautiful thing in the world. A long time had passed before I'd come to realize that nothing in the universe was more dangerous and less lovely than organized groups of men.

There was the sound of a door opening behind me, and a sudden snapping noise. Then I felt a sting, and with a terrified whimper, I realized I'd been hit with a dart. I stumbled on in blind panic, but my limbs grew heavy, and abruptly I fell face forward to the ground, tried to rise again, and collapsed.

++

I woke tied to a bed, and for an instant I almost laughed; that seemed to be how I spent most of my time these days. I had the absurd thought that they were afraid beds would run away, so they tied me to them so they wouldn't get far...

"She's awake."

I opened my eyes and looked up. Lord Tir looked down.

"Idiot," he said. He held up a blue dart, and put it aside.

I tried to spit at him, but my body didn't work right and nothing actually happened. He probably thought I'd tried to blow a kiss at him.

"You might have survived," he continued. "Maybe gotten some revenge someday. You might have at least kicked him when the cameras were on. Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl. This is why nations burn when women lead. You wouldn't know a strategic plan if you smeared yourself with plan musk and did the plan mating dance in a field of horny plans."

My lips didn't work, which was the worst thing in the world. My brain exploded with things to say that couldn't be said.

"I actually had some hope of you. I thought you'd pretend to yield, retain some spirit, and maybe push him off a balcony someday. Too much to ask! And now you'll pay. I'd kill you out of mercy but you're wanted alive; and you can imagine why."

"Mkmske. Lvewpnnkiself."

"No, I'm not going to leave a weapon out for you to kill yourself on. You probably couldn't do it anyway. And if you did I'd be punished for letting it happen."

"Y hee?"

"You're still here because you're a pawn that's about to be sacrificed to the king's rage, or at least a prince's, and I am trying to figure out if there's any useful move to be made with you before that happens. But I don't think there is. Very soon I'm going to have to announce that we found you. I can't even get a goodbye fuck out of you, as drugged as you are. Now shut up and let me think. What a time for Enjine to be out of commission."

My brain raced.

Tir could not be trusted, of course, but I was willing to believe he had some dislike for Arj and genuinely wanted Arj to fall. But that did not help me; there was no one I could trust. No one here had been kind to me. Except the makeup servant my first day here, in the bath; she'd smiled so sadly when she'd daubed my eyes, so the color she'd applied wouldn't run...

Sacrificial pawn... color... run...

"Fkdamnt!"

"I believe her highness means 'I am most displeased.'"

"Vckdamn oo too!"

Sunset was soon. The moon would rise after midnight. It had been hazy out, so it wouldn't be a core light night. They'd blanket the grounds with searchlights, no doubt, but they'd mostly rely on thermal imagers and automated scanners, and thermal imagers would have trouble with detail at sunset. I knew all this; I knew more; my older brother had been fascinated by security and tactical defense. I needed to speak and I needed to speak now.

"mlteen!"

But I couldn't make the r sound work right. And Tir was ignoring me now.

"maaaahlllteeeen!"

He stared at me. "Marltine? The torture drug? You want me to torture you? Stars knows the idea is interesting, but this is not the time."

I'd studied drugs since I was seven; science had always fascinated me and I'd had a secret longing to be a nurse when I grew up. (It's amazing, all the things you can't grow up to be when you're born a princess.) My parents had had no interest in my scientific studies but at least they hadn't stopped me. I needed a low dose of marltine to throw off the effect of this incapacitating agent.

"fve micloglans."

He was staring at me. Then he turned his head. "Shelly, get Ravis in here now, with his kit."

Shelly left, leaving me alone with Tir.

"You and I are not friends," he said. "You know that. But it's just possible we have a common goal. If that's true and it stays true, I won't do anything to harm you. I need the same back. I know exactly how you feel about me, but this a time to be strategic, not tactical. If Ravis gives you back the use of your limbs you will not pull any shit. One false move and I --"

The door opened, but I couldn't turn my head, so I had to assume it was the doctor. A new face swam into my field of view.

"Blue dart?" he asked Tir. There was a grunt of assent.

"Right. Clarizipan, 2 mill-"

"Malteeen!"

He looked at me. "You in a very big hurry, girl?"

"Ys!"

"Too bad for you. Contraindicated," he said, fumbling through his kit. "Even at the minimally effective dose, the pain is intense and-"

"Do it," said Tir. "She may have good reason to hurry, and pain is not her biggest concern at the moment."

"Fiv miclgams," I said.

Ravis stared at Tir, and then frowned at me. "Escaped crazy slaves and the Great Lords that love them. I'm clearly not going to win an argument in here." He pinched my upper arm. "Six micrograms," he said. "At your weight you can handle it."

I loved medical science, but I hated doctors.

He measured and injected, and got a wastebucket ready. I knew what that was for.

Thirty seconds later my limbs worked, and I used them to crawl over to the edge of the bed and use the bucket. I hadn't eaten, but the unpleasantness of dry heaves was completely lost in the burning, gut wrenching agony of the drug. Then the convulsions hit and Ravis had to hold me so I wouldn't fall soul the bed.

But they passed quickly.

"Damn the s-skies," I gasped. "Worse t-than I imagined. Lord Tir, listen. I n-need to speak-k v-very freely, can I?"

"Ravis, thank you, out."

"No," Ravis said. "She's my patient now and she's under the effects of a dangerous drug. I will not be leaving. But doctor-patient confidentiality covers anything I hear in this room."

Tir sized him up with a cold glance, then nodded. "Not to mention, I can have you killed if you break that oath. Stay if you want. Alani, speak."

"Get a slave my size, blonde. Tint her hair red, it doesn't have to be a g-good job, cranberry juice will do it quickly. Wrap her in loose clothing. Give her a shot of BZ and another of lantrimil chloride and t-tell her she'll be t-tortured if she's caught, then set her fleeing across the grounds-"

"You cold hearted bitch!" Ravis said.

Tir was frowning. "Explain."

"The combination is called 'terror soup'," Ravis said. "It hasn't been used for decades but it's trivial to synth. The victim will tend to believe whatever she's told, will hallucinate the details to make it plausible, and will experience an amplified fear response to anything frightening. It was a tormentor drug of choice once upon a time. How she even knows about it-"

"I read," I snapped. "Anyway it will give the guards and scanners a five minute distraction, which gives Lord Tir a chance to smuggle me somewhere safe."

"There's so much wrong with that I don't know where to start," Tir said. "First of all, help you escape? What's in it for me?"

"Anything you want," I said, steadily.

"There's a lot I want that you can't give me. The things you can give me... yes, you'd make a tasty little slave for me, but even I'd admit that that's not much of an improvement for you."

"Anything is better than rape, torture and death."

"It would be rape every time I took you. We both know it. Which brings up the minor problem that you hate my guts and would eventually kill me in my sleep. Also that Arj is going to search until he finds you, and if he finds you in my bed, we both die."

"I'm a princess. I don't betray benefactors. You'd be safe from me."

"You're royalty, with royally-trained instincts, and no I wouldn't. Secondly, this is the royal grounds. There's no way to smuggle you anywhere safe. I couldn't believe you fell for that absurd hope when I offered it at our last meeting."

"You're a noble, living on royal grounds. Moon only knows how much stuff you smuggle in and out on a weekly basis. You've got some system. Every noble family does."

He ignored that, so I knew it was true. He continued, "Thirdly, the moment they catch the hapless decoy, they'll know she isn't you and that someone forced her. They'll know you didn't do her because you have no access to drugs. Nothing focuses royal attention like evidence of conspiracy. They'll torment more and more people until they find out who arranged this. Starting with the decoy."

"No. Because you'll frame one of the princes."

That got stunned silence. I sat up, gracelessly, and continued.

"The princes here hate each other. Don't deny it. Arj doesn't get along with the eldest and one of the younger ones must want Arj's spot in the succession. Five princes is at least three too many."

"Very well, you can think strategically after all," Tir said. "And given a month to plan, maybe something could be done. But I hear the sound of heavy boots on the floor above us. They are working their way down, to flush you into the open. When they get to the stairway, I have to announce that I have you, to save my own skin. Sorry."

"If they capture me, I'll tell them of your disloyalty to Arj."

"You won't be believed. You have some much reason to hate me that you'll only be laughed at."

I lowered my head, so he would not see the despair in my eyes. "So, I lose again."

"That happens when you try to thwart royal decree. You must want the prince dead very badly?"

"Abject humiliation would do."

He paused. "The Torments are survivable, if the tormentors are instructed to allow that. The Prince still wants you as a slave more than he wants you dead. Listen carefully. There's nothing the Tormenters don't know about inflicting suffering. If they want, you'll be broken by midnight. It doesn't matter how strong you are; they can always win. But physical pain is not the main weapon. They'll undermine you emotionally, seeking to convince you that the brokenness is permanent. That is what you have to reject. Take that thought into your soul now, because it is all that is between you and a horrible fate. Nothing they can do is undoable. What else... they might induce hallucinations, which will be indistinguishable from reality. Don't try to tell real from fake. That's a trap. That focuses you on your perceptions, your weakened grasp of reality. Just treat everything as experiences they want you to have; it doesn't matter what's real or fake because it's all designed to fuck with you."

"Why tell me this? We are not friends and I am useless as an ally."

"My reasons are my own."

"Was I that pleasing, sexually?"

"You were very obviously clueless, Alani. Beauty makes up for a certain amount. That's not why I'm helping you."

"Then-"

"They are on the stairs," Shelly said from the door.

I lay back. Tir reached over to the table and picked up a blue dart, and stuck it into my leg. "May we meet again."

++

I woke in a cloud. That was my first thought. I saw whiteness.

I sat up, looked around. White, everywhere.

I was dressed in white. My skin and nails had been painted white. The ceiling was a white dome with many small, diffuse white lights in it, the circular wall and floor were white. The soft fiber I lay on was white.

"Hello?"

There was no echo. My voice didn't resonate in the room. I looked around; I didn't cast any particular shadow.

There was no door. There was no noise, other than my own heartbeat. The air was slightly too warm, but only slightly. I reached for a strand of hair, and discovered it had been cut shorter. I yanked a strand out; it was pale white-blonde, with no trace of red.

Time passed. I started singing, simply because I needed to do something, but the sound of it was swallowed up. I sang everything I knew, until my voice got raspy. I walked, but there was only a circle to walk in, so I decided to walk in star patterns for a time. The room was only about 20 feet across; it was not much of a place to walk.

I felt light. I touched my skin; it felt a little numb.

I tried to scratch off the white nail polish. It didn't come off; scratching at it just uncovered more white.

I shook my head, suddenly; I was feeling a little sleepy. Or just spacey.

On a whim I took off the clothing. I was painted white all over, and shaved smooth.

"You are nothing," a voice, said, suddenly; and I jumped because it sounded like Enjine's voice, but strangely quiet and flat. I couldn't decide where it came from. Everywhere.

"You are a colorless object of no purpose and meaning. The world has forgotten you exist. You have no value. You are not worthy to see color, hear sounds, or feel pleasure."

"Ha," I said. I was alone. I would masturbate; that would bring pleasure. They couldn't stop that. I immediately slid my finger over my bud.

I felt nothing, just numbness. I poked and prodded. Nothing much happened.

"You could have been something. You could have pleased someone else. But you are not worthy of giving pleasure to others. You are no one. You are nothing. The room would look the same if you were not in it. You are pointless."

I waited for it to go on, but there was only silence.

I closed my eyes, because I was starting to strain for evidence of marks on the walls, shadows... anything. But eyes closed was worse, because I started to listen, too intently, for any single sound, and I then couldn't stop myself from listening. I opened my eyes. Whiteness. I closed them. Silence.

Open, closed, open, closed...

Time passed. I lay down again.

Memories flooded in. I had to keep my eyes open, because if I didn't I listened too hard and then I couldn't focus on memories.

Dancing. A feast. Parades. My mother, singing and fussing with my hair. It was suddenly horrible beyond words that I would never see her again. Of course, I'd never see anything but white again-

That made me sit up. Just because I was being punished with this monotony, didn't mean it was forever. At some point I'd be let out. I wonder what I'd be allowed to see first?

That question suddenly consumed me, and I imagined a thousand possibilities; as soon as I thought of one, another pushed it aside. Many of them were bright flowers, one was a waterfall, but most were faces...

It was like being on a rocket, with no way to turn it off. Images sliding past, and I suddenly realized that as each image slid by I'd never see it again.

Terror twisted my thought and I tried, frantically, to stop the images. I closed my eyes, and then I was listening, and that helped stop the images. Was it even possible to be in a room that was always silent? Something would creak eventually, wouldn't it?

Wouldn't it?...

Oh stars, wouldn't it?

++

There were periods of unconsciousness. I never felt them come on but sometimes I would find myself in the fibers, with no memory of lying down.

"Please," I whispered. "Please let me out. Please let me see. Too much white. Hard to focus. I can't see myself, I blend... please. Please let me out. There are no people in here. I'm not a person if there isn't anyone else to be a person with. You can't be a person alone. Please. Please, I know the hallucinations are coming. I've seen the little bits of movement, there's something behind me, something white with claws, searing black claws, I can't see it, it's too quick, please let me see the black claws, I don't care what they do to me as long as I can see them!"

Tears fell.

"It's not fair that tears are colorless. It makes it hard to count them. Please I want to see flowers again. Blue and red... my mother took me to the park when I was younger. Roses and hydraquints, and the blue whispers, glowing even in the daylight... the wind would whistle over the cliff. Air makes sound, it does! Except in here, how is that possible, I can hardly hear myself. Please let there be wind. My hair, why was it cut? Why isn't it red anymore? Please you can't take things away any more, I'm losing the images, they leak out and one by one they fade in the whiteness-"

"Lani, you make such a fuss!"

"Mother!"

She sat before me in her throne. "You were a princess. We raised you to be a good girl, why did you need to be punished?"

"I was kidnapped, mother! The Prince here wants me-"

"Then let him have you. He is after all a Prince. To the victor goes the spoiled."

"No! Mother don't say that! You're my mother!"

"No, Lani. I am dead. I'm no longer real. I am nothing now. And you are nothing now. You are fading away, blending into the background. Only the Prince can save you."

She started to turn white, blending, fading away. "They killed me. They will kill you, unless you surrender. It is only by being with others that we ourselves can exist. Alone you will shrivel and die. Alone you are nothing."

"Come back," I sobbed.

"I am not real. You are not real..."

Whiteness. Oh skies, too much whiteness...

++

"You are nothing. You are a colorless object of no purpose and meaning. The world has forgotten you exist. You have no value. You are not worthy to see color, hear sounds, or feel pleasure. You could have been something. You could have pleased someone else. But you are not worthy of giving pleasure to others. You are no one. You are nothing. The room would look the same if you were not in it. You are pointless."

It was, I thought, the fifth time I'd heard it. I wasn't sure. I had it memorized now, and when it spoke -- without warning or pattern, it seemed, my mouth formed the words as well. I didn't know why; they were hateful words, but my mouth moved in unison.

I needed color.

I needed it. I needed it now. I needed it!

I knew where to find it. I was only white on the outside. Inside there was red.

My fingernails were blunt and short and white, but I tore a gash in my wrist, and watched the red trickle. Oh, red!

A drop fell on the floor, and then more, and I laughed-

Blackness.

Complete and total blackness.

Darkness. Silence. Nothing.

"Space, no! Stop! Please no!"

++

I awoke in blackness again, but I was bound to some sort of table, and gagged. And the walls sounded different; they sounded close. The air was unpleasantly warm.

"You are to be punished," said the Enjine-like voice.

Above me -- I could not tell the distance -- a tiny blue light winked on and then immediately off. Oh moon and stars, bring it back, turn it on, give me-

Suddenly my body was wracked by searing electrical shocks, and the sound that filled my ears was terrifying, a mixture of snarls and a hissing, keening moan, and grinding gears and wordless screaming and deafening white noise.

The screaming was me.

It stopped, abruptly.

"You will continue to be punished," said the voice.

Nothing happened.

I saw a blue light again, but I knew it was a hallucination. It wandered for me, in the pattern of a star, like a person walking in a room, trapped.




The Captured Princess Ch. 05



Other hallucinations occurred; I do not remember them.

The blue light flicked again, for real this time. I braced, expecting shocks, but a few seconds passed and they didn't happe- then the voltage slammed through me, hideous, agonizing, and I convulsed, and the horrible sounds, and my terrified screams...

Time passed. The blue light winked again, and this time the shock was immediate. I convulsed in agony , screamed for mercy, and passed out.

++

I woke again, sweat-streaked and sick to my stomach, in blackness, bound to the table...

++

I was in the white room again, but there was no blood on the floor, and this time I was against the wall, manacled. Something was on either side of my head, and below my chin, so my head was held immobile, facing forward. Opposite me was white wall. I was naked, and the little I could see of me was white.

There was a flicker on the wall. Just for a moment. It had been a man and a woman, naked.

The woman had red blond hair.

Another flicker. A hand on a breast.

I understood this. I was desperate for anything to look at and I would helplessly focus on anything I was shown. I was being focused on sexuality, and nothing else. It was very simple and not at all subtle.

I closed my eyes.

But the empty, terrifying silence got to me.

Suddenly I couldn't stand any more. I opened my eyes, helplessly focusing on the whiteness, silently begging for another image. I ached for colors, faces, humanity. But they'd stopped.

"Please," I said aloud, suddenly. "Please!"

Another flicker. Color, form. I could ask!

"Please!" I whispered.

Another image. It stayed in place a microsecond longer. It was of the prince and I, and very explicit. But that did not matter. It was color and shapes and I had to have it. I whispered again, and again, and then I was begging, frantically and continuously.

The images came, faster and faster, and then faint sounds were added as well. Oh moon, nothing was sweeter. It didn't matter that the images and sounds told a story of sexual degradation, of cock filling my slit and mouth and ass, of me pleading to be touched and slapped and used. I could see myself in color. It was all that mattered.

I was not a fool; I knew this was subliminal manipulation. I knew they had me begging and craving my own abuse. But it did not matter. As long as I could see color, I was alive and sane.

The images blurred into a movie, a movie of the Prince bending me over a bed and touching me, from behind. I -- not the white thing chained to the wall, but the girl with real, colored flesh across the room -- was whispering something over and over, and I strained to hear it.

The Prince suddenly slapped me, and I shivered, head to toe, breasts shaking from the impact. I had never realized how pretty I was. The warm colors, the way the aroused nipples pointed, the flow of my pretty, pretty hair... And the Prince! Dusky, muscular, his hands moving over me, a feast of movement and color, so alive...

I strained to hear myself.

"I want this," I whispered. "I want this, I want this, I want this, I want this..."

The white thing on the wall shuddered from head to toe in horror, but I felt the hands on my breasts and the gentle tug on my nipples, and fire washed through me, more intense than anything I remembered. Hands, moving over me, forcing sensations from my body, my deprived, unloved, suddenly desperate body.

I watched as his finger slipped slowly inside me, and I was shuddering from head to toe in shameless need. The intensity was impossible, and the warmth I felt as I squeezed down flickered between purple and orange, so beautiful; my aching need for his finger to move faster within me tasted like strawberries.

"I want this, I want this, oh skies I want more, please let me keep my color, my hair, my beauty, the sensation of being touched, please take me, take me hard-"

"You do not want it badly enough," said the Enjine-like voice. Her soft, flat voice was a glowing knife, floating towards me.

The video stopped suddenly, and the room went pitch dark.

I screamed in a terrified anguish I cannot describe. Suddenly I was the white woman on the wall again, and I could not be her another second.

"Please skies no, please, no, no, no, no, fuck the moon let me out I can't take anymore I'm nothing and I want to be something again please LET ME OUT, I'll do anything NO! NO! NOT THE CLAWS!"

The white haracrab appeared in the darkness in front of me, with jet black claws that were invisible in the darkness, but I could see them anyway and it moved towards me, clicking, the three eyes were burning points of blue light, moving in uneven star patterns, and then the claw stroked my abdomen, paused, broke the skin, tore out my womb, reached for my breasts-

++

I was shuddering, hearing the sound of birds. My eyes opened slowly, and I convulsed when I saw colors. I was on a bed in a room, naked, and the light and the sounds and the colors were too much. A moan broke from me and I moved my hands over my ears and eyes, and curled into a ball.

"Hush, baby slave," said a quiet, low voice. "This is real, the punishment has been halted for now. Leave your eyes closed. You have to take it in slowly."

It was the Prince's voice. I sobbed, helplessly.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he said, softly. His voice was hypnotic; I could not stop listening. It was a human voice and oh, oh, how I ached for it!

"The birds -- too much -- please-"

He spoke a command, and glassee formed, muting the birds. Then he stroked my side, very slowly and lightly.

"I do what I have to do, Alani," he said. "I can't have you defy me. Power remains power until it is successfully defied, and then it is nothing. I cannot let you win. You must be made to yield, and now you know I will do anything to accomplish my goals."

The sensation of touch was overwhelming and addictive. I moaned in pleasure that was not arousal, but sheer delight.

"Stretch out, on your belly, and open your eyes. The sheet you are on has been dyed many shades of blue and violet. It's a good place for your eyes to start.

I was suddenly shaking. "Don't -- don't hurt me-"

"Alani. No one has to get hurt! Just yield. Give yourself to me. I know it is not what you are born to, but you - and everyone - is clay. Some of us know it and are not afraid to mold others. You can change what you are. Or I can change you. But it is better if you do it yourself."

His hand stroked my back, and over my ass and along my leg. Human contact is heavenly. His hand was so calming. He didn't want to hurt me. I opened my eyes and gentle swirls of blue filled my gaze. Soft, sweet color.

"I'm going to give you a very gentle massage," he said. He parted my legs, and moved my arms apart from my body, and moved my hair to the side. I twitched, and looked at it. It was reddish blonde, but not exactly my shade. He started rubbing my back, light circular motions.

"My hair..."

"Dyed," he said. "Bleached white for your time in the room, then dyed to get your color back here. If you comply, I'll let you grow out your natural color again. I find it exotic."

"I can't go back. Don't turn me white again."

"You have to go back, for a little bit. But if you're a good girl it will be for a short time. If you ever try to hurt me, of course, you'll die in there, in anguish. What a loss that would be."

"What about my brother?" I didn't understand why I hadn't thought of him until now.

"He's... gone, Alani. He got his hands on a weapon and killed himself. It was an accident. Casualty of war..."

The shudders returned. He was pressing his hands over and over at the small of my back, and it felt so good. I could smell some sort of cologne on him, and it just occurred to me that I'd smelled nothing for as long as I'd been punished. Scent is such a rich sense.

But I hadn't been punished. I'd been tortured. And my brother was dead. Or was he?

"Is this real? Am I hallucinating?"

"This is real. But I'm the last person you should ask that question to."

"I hate you," I said softly. "If torturing me was supposed to make me love you, it failed."

"No, Alani. It had nothing to do with love or hate. Only obedience." His fingertips traced designs on my ass. "How you feel about me will change over time. I could use punishment to force you to love me -- yes, there are techniques for it. But I have no need to do that. You will be obedient to me, and in doing do you will become sexually pleasing to me. And that will rewrite how you feel about me, in the end. Why use pain, when pleasure will do?"

"I want to see my brother's body."

"He is already buried. Someday you will see his grave. But that, also, must be earned. Everything a slave receives must be earned."

He traced his hands along my leg, and then dipped his hands in a bowl and rubbed along the length of my thighs. It was scented oil, and I shivered in ecstasy. He chuckled, softly.

"Are you hungry?"

"A little." I paused. "I don't remember eating, or the baths... how long was I punished?"

Tortured, I told myself. Stop saying punished.

"You aren't permitted to know. But sooner or later you will hear the date. You might be able to work out a rough guess. It wasn't as long as you may think. As for food and the rest, you were made unconscious at intervals, and those needs were death with. As a white, you would not be permitted to deal with that yourself."

"Please don't make me go back. Why would you?"

"The reasons are complicated, but the training is more effective this way. I will tell you what will happen. You'll be with me for a few hours, and then free to be alone or talk to other slaves. You will be watched of course. At some point you will do something to displease. Maybe you will curse, or drop something, or become angry, or simply move ungracefully. It does not matter. When you do, suddenly four men will burst in and take you back to the Torturers. They will teach you that you must please me, and when the leson is permanently settled within you, then I will call for you to be freed. You'll be returned to your room and you will be given clothing and oils and perfumes, and then you will come to me and offer to sate me with your body, and I will use drugs and hypnotic triggers and hand and mouth and cock to give you an intensity and depth of pleasure that will make you sob. Once you do it willingly, it's over and you are mine forever. There isn't anything about this process that's complicated. Absolute torture when you displease, irresistible pleasure when you are good. All women want to be pleasing, but for you it will become an unanswerable obsession. You will do anything for my happiness; you will spend time thinking of new ways to please me. It is like being in love, and perhaps it will become love in the end."

"You do not want my love."

"I think it's fairer to say you do not want mine."

He worked my calves with the scented oil, and then my feet. I moaned in pleasure. All my senses were disturbed and distorted. Fingertips working my toes... I have no words for how good it felt.

Then he lifted my foot and very gently nibbled my big toe.

It was sexual in intensity. I whimpered, and I heard the overtones of desire in my own sounds.

I knew this was wrong. I knew I hated the Prince for what he had done to me -- my enslavement, Tir treachery, the abuse of my brother -- if it had even happened -- the demanded sex and the punishment. Torture. But it was hard to associate emotions with those wrongs. All that mattered now was senses, sensations. His hands moved up my legs again, massaged my ass, along my sides, tracing the fullness of my breasts, and it was intoxicating. My body betrayed me, shaking in delight, silently begging for more touches.

He could not send me back into that room, away from this. I knew why he planned to. Anyone could stand something once. But no one could stand it an infinite number of times, and two is the beginning of infinity.

"Do you want music," he asked, very quietly, against my ear.

"No. More words," I said, without thinking. I felt so starved for human voice.

"Then I will speak of your beauty," he said. "Your skin is delightful. It is firm where it should be, soft where it pleases, and it draws the eye. Your hair is thick and strong, and when you yield it will be grown out long and washed and combed to perfection each day. But, Alani, to do this right, I must turn you over. Come, on to your back..."

I didn't resist this command. I wanted the sensation of his caress and the oil everywhere. He knew this, and I knew it.

"Your lovely, flat belly. I'm going to drizzle oil on it, close your eyes and just experience..."

It was warm and flowed softly and slowly; it was so incredibly sensual. And then his hands followed, and my stomach contracted under his touch, hard. He massaged me there, and then caressed my hips, making me more and more slippery.

"Arch your back," he commanded in a whisper against my ear, and I did, without thinking. Obedience. He had made me obedient.

He massaged my breasts, and I arched deeper, pressing against his hands. I felt myself flush, and loved the fact that I changed color when touched. Then his mouth closed around a nipple, and I cried out, softly.

"Good girl," he whispered.

"I- I couldn't feel arousal, in the room."

"Of course not. There are drugs that remove the ability to have pleasure from sex, and drugs that amplify it." He kissed the other nipple, and my head tossed from side to side.

"Am I- drugged, now..."

"No. There is a mild stimulant in the oil, but nothing else."

"Why am I obeying you?"

"Right now you need human contact at any cost; that's why you accept everything I do. I am playing very unfairly. Let me show you the depth of your acceptance. Alani... your fingernails are white."

I looked down at my hands. My color was normal, but now my fingernails were white. I whimpered in dismay.

"Alani, your fingernails are black."

And they were. I hid my hands and kept my eyes down, shivering.

"You see? Now, Alani... place your hands up over your head, palms up, thumbs together."

I did. I did it willingly, because if I fought the command I'd have lost and that terrified me.

"You can't fight at the moment. It's fear," he said. "You don't perceive it as fear at the moment, but it's very real, very intense. It rules you. You're afraid I'll put you in the room and leave you there, and you will slowly become nothing. That room drives people insane and then kills them, in time. You'll do anything I ask, to avoid it."

He reached over me, and his fingertips touched mine. He drew them down, lightly, over my palms, and over the inside of my wrists, and I felt my pulse against his hand. Then he moved them along my arms. I squirmed helplessly, wanting him to go faster, but he only slowed down. I licked my lips as his fingers crossed over my armpits, and then over my breasts, across stone hard nipples, and then playfully across the curve of my ribcage. He stopped at my hips, and did it all again.

And again, and again...

Arousal. I was panting, and my oiled legs slid against each other.

"Women bond with those who show no mercy," he said.

I knew it was wrong. But as long as there was touch and scent and words and colors, right and wrong didn't matter.

"Touch yourself," He said.

I tried to fight the command. "Am I hallucinating?"

He didn't reply. Instead he drew a finger, very slowly, along my slit. My hand flew to my bud and I caressed myself.

"Oh stars," I wailed.

"After the deprivation, it's extremely intense," he whispered against my lips. "So now we'll make it better."

He licked my mouth, and then he did it again as his pressed his fingers into me. And then he kissed his way slowly down over my throat and breast, to my hard nipple, a nipple I was helplessly offering. He sucked it deeply in, while his fingers curled mercilessly inside.

Colors and sounds exploded inside me. The movement of my fingers was saffron, his fingers inside me were intense amethyst, and his mouth, sucking my nipple with increasing savagery, was a burning gold. And the spontaneous movements of my hips rang a gong, deep and powerful, and ringing faster and faster. Pleasure. Pleasure was irresistible.

His hand slowed down, speeded up; he played my body like a stringed instrument. My legs opened wide and I sobbed, because he was bad and I didn't want to come for him but nothing mattered except this pleasure and I needed, I needed the release-

Suddenly he shifted and grabbed me, and next I knew my wrists were pinned by his hands, pulled down to either side of my thighs, forcing my torso to arch into the air, and his mouth was on my clit, sucking.

"Moon, please! Please! I was going to flower! Please, I'm dying, let me touch myself, let me -- give me-"

"You - want - that - pleasure," he snarled, flicking me with his tongue between words. "Then -- yield -- yourself -- to - me!"

"How -- how -- what do you want, I surrender, you're evil but I can't -- can't stop -- can't fight-"

Then he was on me, tormenting my slit with his cock, and my hips tilted up for him and he was inside me, in, in, in, and he hissed "Touch yourself and come for your master."

Everything blurred, and his muscled torso and rough, demanding hands became my entire world. I began doing things I did not understand, doubtless a result of his hypnosis -- cooing, gasping, begging, rubbing his stomach and ass with one hand while I masturbated frantically with the other. His hand gripped my throat, his strength was terrifying, but to my shock it only made me hotter, and my hips rocked sensuously for him. The fire in my belly built back up, faster and hotter.

His sudden orgasm was violent. His hand cut off my air, and my slippery, oiled legs stroked his; I frantically tried to please and appease him. His snarls set off something in me, and I arched towards orgasm. I had never in my life wanted to please anyone so badly, not even Tir in the ruins, or my father when I first learned to ride horses. And I knew -- Tir had told me -- that men like it when women come. A voice in my head screamed "No! Princess! Do not come for this monster!" but that voice was already beaten, and knowing I was beaten intensified my urgency. I came uncontrollably, wave after wave of writhing pleasure, while trying to shriek though a closed throat.

Then he slid off me, and I gasped for air. There would be tears later, I knew. Now there was only a flush of relief and pleasure.

"Good girl," he whispered, panting. "You're learning to appreciate being a woman. I am very pleased."

The glow of pleasure, of satisfaction, of simple accomplishment, washed trough me. I'd been pleasing as a woman. Allowed to linger in that realization, I found it impossibly satisfying. My pretty little body was becoming good at pleasing men; I'd had no idea how much I'd wanted that. Was that something the Prince had placed in me... or had I always been that way?

"Do you ever... how do I ask this... play fair with women?"

"No."

"Why not?" I was surprised that I was genuinely curious.

"I could give the trite answer, and say that women never play fair with men. And it would be true. But for me," he paused, and curled my still shivering body against his, "that's not the reason."

He ran his hand over my breast, and I felt warmth in my belly. Orgasms, it seemed, didn't stop certain sensations.

"Right now," he said, "I'm touching you. Not because I want to fuck you. I just came and I'm unable to fuck again for twenty minutes or so. What I'm enjoying is the control. Your body responds to my hand; there's nothing you can do about that. And that pleases me."

"Why would someone with the authority of a Prince need to exert control? You have power."




The Captured Princess Ch. 05



"There's no such thing as too much power, Alani. I'm male. I have a Y chromosome. Birth gives me authority and wealth. Technology and a certain low cunning gives me control over women. The Y chromosome gives me the desire to dominate. You are in the middle of a perfect storm of masculine desire; I am what all men would be if they dared. In forcing you to feel what I want you to feel, I am fully alive, fully myself. And in you there is something that responds to that. You can blame that wild sexual response you just had on hypnosis and deprivation... if you want. I know better. Women inwardly crave the bad men, the men who act with ice cold certainty and unanswerable strength. They love the ones that push morality aside like the feeble myth of the priests that it is. You might be too inexperienced to understand what I'm talking about... but it is the way women are inside. I'll show you."

His hand settled between my legs, and a fingertip pressed against my bud and curled slowly into my slit. "Look me in the eyes. Eyes wide open; do not look away."

I raised my eyes to his, part helpless obedience, part bravado. His hand was warming, but I'd just flowered and I didn't think I would again.

"You have no choice. You will come, because I require that."

I said nothing, but suddenly I needed to look away, very badly. He was too handsome, too evil, too intimidating. I swallowed and then my eyes shifted.

"Look at me," he snapped in a deep, angry voice. I shivered, and my eyes moved back to his, and stayed there. I couldn't look away. Fear, Cruelty, Authority, Power...

His finger continued to violate me, and he smiled, slowly.

Suddenly I moaned. Immediately he pushed another finger in, and I squeezed down.

"I'm not a slut," I whispered, panting. "I'm not."

"Kiss me," he said. It was not a request.

"No," I whispered. "Don't... don't."

"Kiss me."

Warmth, everywhere. His lips were inviting, his eyes were terrifying. I shuddered, my legs opening wider, instead of closing as I bid them to.

"You will kiss me. Now."

Terror filled me for being disobedient. My lips parted, and I wet them. His lips drew closer. I couldn't turn my head, it would have meant looking away from those deep, demanding, merciless eyes.

He brushed my lips against mine, drew back, brushed them again...

I kissed him, open mouthed and helplessly. Our tongues danced, and my belly tightened, over, and over, and over. His teeth caught my lip, and bit down.

I came, moaning, around his fingers. Instantly he moved his lips to my nipple, and bit down again gently, and the orgasm redoubled, hard, so hard, so impossibly intense...

I shuddered to a stop, and then sobbed and rolled away from him. But he only put his arm around my waist and pulled me back against him, my ass against his cock.

"How quickly the addiction sets in," he said, softly.

++

Lord Tir settled in his room; and having premonitions about things, he was alone this evening. He rubbed a sore set of muscles, and settled into the leather hammock, frowning a little.

A display of data formed on a floating panel of glassee next to him. He quickly poked through news about the war, weather, crop failures, and events at Haracrab Wall. Restlessly, he got up, stripped, stretched out hard, and wiped down with a bowl and washcloth. He caught a glance of himself in a polished copper mirror, and frowned at the trace of grey in his hair.

Back to the hammock. He tapped at the glassee, and a carafe and glass rose up through the table next to him. He poured out a half glass of faintly glowing wine.

Bells chimed quietly. He smiled suddenly, tapped again, and a second glass was delivered.

A few moments later, a secret door in the wall of the room eased open, and Enjine stepped out.

She closed the door carefully behind her, threw her hair back, and reached for the knot at her shoulder. The soft silk slid away.

She knelt in a puddle of her clothing. "My Lord."

"Come."

"Oh! Foreplay first, Lord."

"Oh. Yes, you do always insist on that." He chuckled, looking at her. "Humor aside, get over here, Enjine."

She walked over, swaying softly, and stepped over the low hammock. Gracefully she lowered herself onto his legs, leaned forward, and massaged his chest. He looked her over, carefully.

"You seem to have gotten through the tube pretty well."

She shuddered. "It took three days to get over the nightmares. I thank you for your note. This really is the first night I've felt up to climbing those stairs."

"And yet, you look flawless."

"It will be a cold day in Sitala before I come to you looking less than beautiful." Her hands drifted down over his abdomen, and then lower still. "I've missed you, my Lord."

He took her wrist and moved her hand away from his already stiffening cock. "Business first, slutling."

She eyed his cock, and licked her lips. "If you insist. I've really, really missed what that does to me..."

"You won't miss it much longer. But I have the data, and I want some answers."

He tapped the glassee, and it turned to face Enjine. Stretching, he poured her a glass of wine, and presented it. She took it automatically, already lost in swirls of data.

"I'm sure you know enough to know this isn't good," she said, softly, face and breasts glowing in the soft light of the screen.

"It was never expected to be good. But how bad?"

Her fingers flicked aside numbers, waved through graphs and images. She shook her head. "It's complicated. She's not doing well, but she's doing better than she has a right to. But fucking stars -- sorry, my Lord -- Fractured skies, he's hitting her so hard. This goes well beyond a desire to dominate, this is hate."

"But she's fighting?"

"On several levels. But she's cracking at the seams in other places. Her sexual inexperience leaves her so very vulnerable. Of course she won't be inexperienced much longer at this rate, but -- what is that expression you military men use? 'Damage done?""

"Summarize, Enjine. Is she going to make it?"

She sipped, and flicked through the data again. And sighed.

"No, I don't think so. Please don't blame me, Lord. I did what I could to blunt the assault -- you know I did -- but all it got me was time in a tube when she needed me most."

"She mustn't fail."

"I know what's at stake. I was there for the prophecies. But the time she spent in the white room tears it. The Tormenters have done their job quite well. And the Prince knows his game." She gestured at the screen. "Terror and Sexuality - breaking women into little pieces since before the dawn of recorded history."

"In the dawn of history they didn't have emotive scanners, brain chemistry enhancers and neurostim."

"And women still broke. But it's a refined science now. Psychological manipulation was already well understood at the turn of the millennia. Then came the Marie Incident, and the Quantum Interface discoveries... mankind knows too much, Lord. As long as you have Tormenters and their knowledge in the world, no secret and no personality is safe. And especially no woman."

"I thought slaves didn't debate politics?"

"I'm not debating. You know I'm right."

"I won't argue it. But this is the world we are in. You're convinced the data says she fails?"

"Lord, everything I know about this I learned from the Prince. It amused him to show me the basics of Mental Analysis. I learned much more than he imagines -- and much less than we need. All I can tell you is, he's cutting away at what she needs to stay self-willed. It's never a question of whether the victim can resist. In the end they cannot. It's a question of how much force is brought to bear and for how long, how fast. He's never been this brutal, and he's going fast. She'll give in -- and at this speed, she'll be damaged. She'll never oppose him. The plan fails."

"You aren't heartbroken."

"I was always more fond of plan B anyway. Plan A would have gotten her killed."

"Plan B could get all of us killed."

"But there are no innocent pawns in it. We risk death fairly."

"Fairness is weakness. It's an unfair world, slave."

"Then in our death we'll impart a lesson about fair and unfair that the world badly needs."

"Hm. Aren't slaves supposed to be pragmatists, not idealists?"

In reply she licked her palm and thumb, and wrapped her hand around his raging erection. Slowly and lightly, she stroked him.

"I can be very pragmatic. I haven't been used in several days, Lord. I want you to rape me."

"It is... hard to call this rape."

"Oh, it is, my Lord. I am conditioned to come for no man but the Prince. But you always -- always -- hammer me with this beast you call a cock until the orgasm is forced from me. Is that that why you never gag me? To enjoy how I plead with you to stop? I can never consent to come -- which makes it all the sweeter for you when you make it happen anyway, and it makes my pleasure all the more... violent..."

She downed the drink and set the glass aside, and her free hand went under his balls. The two handed massage quickly got him panting. She leaned forward and brushed her nipples against his lips.

"Rape me," she whispered. "Rape me, hurt me, force me, use me... you know I'm truly a slut and cannot resist. Force my legs apart and slap me if I say no. You know what that does to me. Watch now as I press my hand against my slit, see how wet it comes away? Now I rub that into you shaft... you know, I'm going to enjoy it when you take her. You know this about me, about my fascination with other women being made to feel pleasure... but you'll finally get to experience it. My moans against your ear as you pound her, my breasts against your lips, your hand in my hair, the other hand in hers. Oh, Lord, you should not touch me back, I'm owned, but you know about my breasts, don't you. Fingertips and nipples, why does it make a woman so weak to resist? And every man knows it. The Prince likes to force me to watch what his hand does there, and that does make it maddeningly intense -- oh, you don't like hearing about the Prince and I? I am property, Lord, and you are naught but a thief, stealing what's not yours. Bad, wicked, immoral thief, taking.. . oh Lord, taking..."

He suddenly forced her to the floor, spilling them both from the low hammock. She gasped in pain, which melted into a moan. Kneeling over her, he forced her legs apart, and pushed his cock into her, but only partway.

Her moan turned to fear, and she tried to crawl away from him, but his hands caught her wrists and forced them to the floor. Trapped, she writhed and whimpered. "No... bad... don't make me want what I should not have-"

He rocked, slowly, mercilessly, not pushing deeper, not letting her slip away. She sobbed, softly. "Just let me please you... hands, mouth... not this. Not that impossible, thick- please! When you move it like that, my clit feels-"

His hands found her hair and breast, and he slammed her against the floor again, pounding in with his cock. Her shuddering legs wrapped around him, caressing helplessly.

"You're right, Enjine. I'll fuck you and just keep fucking. All this sinew and muscle, pounding you open, wider and wider, and you can't make it stop... fuck toys love to come for ruthless men. The orgasm is how we know you're beaten-"

"No. Stop?" she whispered, in a voice that flowed uncertainty, like warm, sticky honey. "Please-"

He slapped her face, and she sobbed, hips moving for him now, back arched... "Can't come... can't... please, don't, stop, I already want... please Lord Tir! Please!"

Suddenly he got off of her and pulled her mouth to his cock. "Taste yourself. Lick it, Enjine. Suck me and masturbate. I love the way your lips look around my cock. You were well trained for this, possibly the smartest thing Arj ever did -- faster on your clit, slut. Harder. I know you burn and you don't get to hold back-"

He head fell back and she sobbed. "Please! Not supposed to come, please, I'm in flames, have mercy!"

He forced fingers into her and curled them roughly, over and over. "Keep sucking!"

She tried, frantically, to get him to come in her mouth, and his body turned hard as testament to the way she used her tongue. Then he was thrusting deep, making her gag.

Then he pulled out, dragged her to her feet and marched her towards the wall.

Bolted to the floor, a few feet apart, a few feet out and two feet high, were two rough-cut wooden blocks. The tops were worn from years of use, and sticky with a resin. Enjine knew them very well. She whimpered as he put her back against the cold stone wall, and she stepped up onto the blocks, forcing her hips to tilt upwards invitingly with her legs spread wide. He pushed her wrists into the waiting manacles, just over her head. They clicked closed, and she shuddered.

Her eyes went down and stayed down. His hands spent a few ruthless minutes on her nipples and clit, and then he kissed her, slowly and sensually. When the tears started, he pushed into her and took, savagely.

"Don't come," he snarled, panting. "Don't come. Don't come. Don't come." His thumbs worked her nipples, and her tears fell faster.

"I- I won't," she sobbed in a little girl voice. "I'll be g-good... I'll try- oh darkness, I want- I want-"

But her body arched and her stomach tensed, and her eyes widened to impossibly dark pools as she looked down at her own tormented, desperate flesh.

"No. You'll be bad. Come. Come, slut. Come for my cock, it pleases me-"

"No! No, skies, gods, stars, I c-can't think, I mus- don't- Pl-"

He fucked her faster, and twisted her nipples suddenly, then slapped her face. Her body went wild, milking him, coming violently, and as she cried out he came into her, grunting and panting.

When he was done with her, he freed her and carried her to his bed. He made her lick him clean, and then fingered her to another orgasm, holding her head against his chest and making her look up at him. When he was tired of making her come, he let her sprawl against him.

Her eyes fluttered closed. "L-Lord T-Tir..."

"Yes?"

She shivered. "I don't know. I don't have words for what you do to me."

"You come that way for the Prince, too. I've seen it."

"It's... different. Yes, his firm use of me gets to me, of course it does, I was weak that way before he ever trained me. But it's his right to take me when and how he pleases. It's not yours, and that makes this so much more devastating. In a good way. Oh, never mind, nothing is worse than a babbling girl after an orgasm."

"True."

She made a face at him; he kissed her.

"Do you love me, Enjine?"

"I... asked you never to ask me that."

"Yes, and I'm so very prone to obeying the dictums of slaves. Do you love me, Enjne?"

"I... don't know if I've ever truly loved anyone, Lord. But what I feel for you terrifies me; I would obey you in anything you truly insisted on, and not because of your rank. Maybe, for me, that's love. I haven't exactly had the clearest experiences in this area, Lord. The Prince is good at making women feel slavish devotion and calling it love."

"Real love causes jealousy and I'm sure he prefers a quiet harem. Anyway... I will take your answer as a yes."

"Does it matter? You have me anyway."

"It matters. Especially given plan B."

"I suppose that does change things. But one thing, Lord. I obey you and yearn for you... but I do not entirely trust you."

"Ha. You are commanded to disrobe before approaching so I can be sure you don't carry a weapon, Enjine. If you can come for me against orders, maybe you can stab me too."

"So trust is an... evolving... part of our relationship."

"Yes."

"Don't you men ever worry that we women will bite your cock off?"

"Not generally. That's very rare, and anyway, modern surgery is amazing. They just sew it right back on."

"I swallow."

"You're funny. You'd choke. And if you were going to bite a cock, it would be Arj's."

"He'd cheerfully cut me open to get it back. And I think the record for surviving in the Torturers' care is seventeen years. I wouldn't want to have to challenge that record."

"The record is actually twenty two, but the victim's last three years were so mentally fragmented it's hard to be sure there was an actual person being tormented. In the end he was a guinea pig for new drugs and techniques. That episode was kept secret, and it was inflicted by our dear Raja, back when he was a Prince. Now there is a man who you do not want to anger."

"And your plan will not anger him?"

"The Raja? No. He has plenty of sons. Did you know that with a fifty percent vote of the council, he can change the succession order? His whim and fourteen votes, and he can make any of his offspring the next Raja. It's not common knowledge -- but all his sons know it. So they all scheme -- and he's waiting to see who survives and who fails. If Arj fails, he won't shed a tear. Survival of the fittest, Enjine."

"I don't know why that's hot, but it is."

"Bloodthirsty girl."

"I like cum better." She curled and licked his lower belly, slowly.

"After this conversation, I better not feel a single tooth. But it's not going to provide you much yet."

"Oh, Lord. You should know better when you are with me. Be pleased to sit on the edge of the bed..."

She slipped out of bed, ran to his closet, and returned with a bowl and bottle of jasmine oil. Slowly, she began to dance for him, applying the oil to herself with slow, practiced fingers as she swayed, making herself a smooth, slick, glimmering plaything...



The Captured Princess Ch. 06



"Oh! The new girl!"

I braced myself as upwards of fifteen beautiful women streamed towards me. They all had the "you must be hugged and kissed!" light in their eyes, and I felt more like a visiting cousin than a recently made slave. It was oddly and powerfully comforting, even if they were all naked and some of them were prettier than I was.

(And some were less beautiful. I struggle to understand this. I see women who are very obviously beautiful, but men barely give them a second glance. And I have seen less perfect women who men will not leave alone. What is it that men sense about these women, that makes them so relentless? I was raised to believe that men only cared about beauty, and it is clearly what matters most to them. But there is something else as well, and I do not know what it is.)

Hugs and kisses blurred together. They were ecstatic to see me, but it was the largest crowd I'd seen in days and I'd just gotten over my isolation, and my visit with the Prince. Colors and sounds and faces were still almost stunning.

"Come, Alani! Oh, you're lovely. We have food -- grapes, and a little cheese, we've saved it for you -- but first a bath, we'll wash you-"

They slowly resolved into individual people. I recognized Siri from Enjine's description -- short, impossibly cute, with waves of dark brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. Antara was a stunning blonde girl, not over 20, with the sweetest voice I'd ever heard. Quasar had jet black hair, an oriental face, and she danced every step she took. Suchita was a stunningly sensual, tall goddess of a woman with a quiet smile. I could see no pattern in what was here; the Prince clearly didn't have a single "type" as far as women went.

"-Is it true you were a princess! Oh, how different everything must be! But we will help you-"

"Stars, STOP! Too much!"

Silence.

"Isolation," Quasar said. "Oh, sweet girl, how long? Do you know?"

"No! And I'm going back in at some point."

Sad silence. I looked around. "Sorry to ruin the moo-"

Suchita stepped forward and laid her hand briefly across my mouth. And then turned to the others.

"Quasee, find Enjine and get her in here. Antara, the bath, and we'll want music, so Inara, get your flute. Clarissa, the combs and oils." She moved her hand. "Alani, were you painted white?"

"Yes."

"Get nail polish, Clarissa. One of you find some spiced wine if you have to hand job every guard from here to the kitchens to do it. That can be your job, Siri."

That got laughter. Siri licked her hand with a wicked grin, and darted off just behind Quasar.

"Talk or don't, sweet child, as you wish," Suchita said to me.

I had never been given service like this as a Princess, and in that moment I learned a lesson about the difference between someone who Has To, and someone who Wants To. I suddenly wondered how civilization worked at all with such heavy reliance on slave labor. I looked at Suchita.

"You are all... happy here?"

"We are all here," Suchita said, smiling. "It is simply where we are. Happiness comes from something other than a place or even a situation."

But fatalism, I thought, always comes from misery.

"But there are other places to be," I said. "Have you tried to go to any of them?"

"I would still be myself in any of them," she said. "And what I am is a Prince's toy. It is my place on the wheel."

"There is no wheel."

"There is. It is found in the will of men. How else do you explain the fact that you are not a Princess now?"

"Insufficient attention to defenses. Too many plowshares, not enough swords."

"Such was Fate's decree."

"If I ever run across this Fate bitchling and her fucking wheel," I said, "I'm going to slap her face so hard she'll be forever looking at where she's coming from."

"Actually," Suchita said, "I don't think you're the only one who wants that..."

"Heat pulse, stand back," came Antara's voice. There was a flash of red, and a gust of steam. "Bath's ready!" she sang.

I made haste. I didn't want the Prince on my skin a moment longer. I dipped a toe in, shivered from the heat, and sank slowly into the warmth and vapor. Soaps and oils followed me on the hands of harem girls. I selected one soap for my face and one for my body, and poured an essential oil into the bath. I was struck by the fact that a harem girl got the same pleasures and treats as a Princess, when it came to bath; I couldn't decide if I liked that or not, but in the end it came to the same thing in my case, so I let it go.

"Moonrise on solstice night," I cooed. "What bliss."

Hands descended on me and scrubbed; Clarissa lifted my hair out and did complex things with soap and water and warm towels and drying oils and combs. Others lifted my feet out, inspected them, and applied pumice to my skin and files to my nails. When Inara and Antara began a soft flute and voice duet, I nearly cried.

"We take care of each other," Clarissa said quietly. "We are each other's slaves, even Enjine, the head of the harem. She said you met her, I think? She's nice, and so smart. She remembers everything. But the point is that when any of us comes back from the Prince, she's taken care of. Massages, baths, whatever we have. We are the best friends in the world."

Because you have to be, I thought. But it made sense. The more men dominate, the more women bond.

"-can't believe I didn't hear she was here," drifted Enjine's voice, and then she pushed herself in front of me and smiled. "That's perfect. Sweet girl, just soak, it's good to see you in a comfortable setting..."

She darted off again, and Clarissa, behind me, chuckled.

"She's a lucky girl, Enjine is."

"Is she?"

"Yes. If the Prince loves anyone at all, it's her."

"Then he loves no one, simple Clary," Quasar said, as she settled in to inspect my hand. She turned to me. "They say he loved a woman once, when he was barely twenty, and something terrible happened. And now he will not love at all."

"Enjine will win him over," Clarissa said. "You'll see."

Enjine darted back. "I heard all that, you know. Alani, close your eyes, open your mouth, and prepare for a trip to heaven."

Nervously I closed my eyes, and Clarissa gasped. A moment later there was richness and sweetness...

"Where did you get real chocolate," Quasar whispered.

Enjine chuckled, almost shyly. "Oh... A visiting noble last month. You'll remember him -- jet black hair, oriental, off-world accent. The Prince had me make sure he slept well at night. He was... generous."

I'd had real chocolate exactly four times before. Three times with my family, on the Garden of Pleasures night, when the moon occulted Cekali. And once in secret; it had been given as a gift from an admirer from Skyfall. I'd been fifteen, and I'd fantasized about marrying him for a month. (My father forbid future contact from him; he was from a very inferior and materialistic house.)

This chocolate met all my expectations, being sweet and dark and rich and having just a hint of orange to it; and it was a full minute before I could open my eyes again. It was unnerving to find I was being avidly watched by seventeen women; Inara had put down her flute and I hadn't even noticed the music had stopped.

"I bet it's not her first time," one of the girls whispered, jealously.

"Fifth," I said, airly. There were general groans.

"It's so, so unfair that only men know how to make it," Quasar complained. "And it's that way on all the worlds, even the pussy ones."

"Democratic ones," I corrected automatically. Pussy was a vulgar term and my mother had been adamant that it not be used in reference to politics. My father had used it all the time. "And it's been analyzed. We know it's sugar, something cream-based and extracts from an unknown plant. And it was not always secret and scarce. On forgotten Aireth it was available everywhere."

"So were unicorns and democracies," said Inara. "Do not weary my ears with tales of Aireth. Frozen water falling from the skies? A moon so bright it cast clear shadows? Please."

"Frozen water falls from the skies on Apollyon Four," one girl said. "My grandmother was from there."

"She told you fairy stories, child," said another. "Ice falling from the skies would kill people. A 100 gram object falling three thousand meters is fatal; can you imagine the carnage from shards of ice stabbing down from the skies?"

"She said she caught it on her tongue."

"That's how her tongue got so forked, then."

There was general laughter.

Enjine looked me over. "Out of that bath, pretty girl. The warm towels are ready."

I was lead to a bed layered in thick towels, and they wrapped me in them, rolled me about, and massaged me through them. It was impossible bliss. Clarissa daubed me with perfumes, and Enjine brought me silks to wear.

Once I was comfortable, the Princess Questions started. There is no getting away from this, I have learned. People without rank always want to know what it is "like" to be a Princess. I've learned that whatever specific question they ask first, reveals what is missing in their own lives. The plain ask about suitors. The underfed ask about meals. Slaves ask about authority. All women ask about clothing and shoes.

What always strikes me about my life, in comparison with others, is not that I had better food, or better clothing, or more handsome suitors (in fact I didn't; most potential matches are physically unappealing, because politics trumps everything.) It is the variety of experiences I have had. I was free to read, to ride, to learn weapons (a freedom I did not avail myself of much, sadly), to travel with my family, to sit at court and sometimes even to speak at it, to see things many people never see. So many people, I have learned, do one thing in life, over and over, and never hope for more.

But I quickly cut off the questions. I was no longer a princess, and the reminders hurt.

And as I looked around the harem room, all marble and red silk hanging and gaslight, I knew that the variety of experiences of my life was over. This would be my world now. For all the silk and marble, I was in a cage.

"Fuck the Prince," I snapped, suddenly.

Immediately the gaslights faded out, and darkness descended. As the girls wailed in terror, a red light blinked on, high in the ceiling, and pulsed rapidly. By that light I saw the girls fall to their knees and cower on the floor, arms wrapped around their head. The poses were so uniform I decided it must have been some kind of conditioning that I had not had yet. All I felt was sudden terror.

Four armed men entered. I tried to run, but they were swift and strong. I was grabbed by the hair, and brought to my knees; and they quickly bound my wrists and knees, and carried me out.

++

I was dragged to another white room with odd furniture I did not recognize, but all of it had straps and manacles and hinges, and I did not doubt it was all designed to turn a woman's body into a helpless plaything. The men quickly had me trussed, face down, on a nearly horizontal, curved wooden X that raised my ass, held my wrists and ankles tight, bound my knees and elbows still, spread me open wide... A tight band around my waist prevented further squirming.

One of the men produced a knife, cut away my clothing, wadded some of it and forced it into my mouth. A strap around my head kept it there.

Then they left, silently. They had never said a single word. I was not worthy of words.

I pissed on the floor. It was the only act of defiance I had. I resolved that I would not cry, no matter what.

Time passed. While the room and furniture were white, the straps and buckles and various devices on the wall were not, so the effect was not as disorienting as the other room had been. But the effect was to focus my attention on the paddles, whips, little torments, bottles of oils and electric cables in the room.

Time passed. A slave girl came in with a mop and cleaned up my mess, and left wordlessly.

More time.

"Foolish child," said a voice. It was familiar, but it took me time to place it. There had been a guard with me at one point, the one Enjine had teased...

I raised my head and looked at him. He was dressed all in black, and wore black gloves. One of the legends about Tormenters had mentioned the black gloves.

"Listen carefully," he said, lifting my head further by my hair, so he could look into my eyes. "There's a game called good guard, bad guard. We don't play it here. All of us are bad."

He took a needle out of his pocket, carefully measured out a dose from a vial, and injected my arm.

"The Prince needs your obedience driven into place permanently. When I'm done it will not matter what you want or believe; you will always please the Prince. His anger will be the worst thing in the world; his pleasure, the most important. I'm not interested in changing anything else about you. The rest of you doesn't matter.

"The injection will take hold in a few more minutes. By the way, this is not a torture session. You may experience some unpleasantness, but only when you resist. Put differently, this will be as miserable as you choose to make it."

He began to stick things to my skin. Things with wires.

"These electrodes administer shocks, but nothing agonizing. Nothing like before. Some of them just make your muscles contract. And, Alani, please. There's no point in hiding your fear. Some of these sensors monitor fear and arousal... there are no secrets in this room. You can pretend to be stoic, but that just makes the technique work faster."

Would it? I wondered. Or was that just a lie to trick me into letting my emotions run wild? Was it the truth, a trick, a trick within a trick? I realized I couldn't know, and that it didn't matter.

He affixed something between my legs. That would be a little torment, a vibrator. He gently slid something oiled and slippery into me. More straps. And then goggles were put over my eyes. They lit, showing me only bright whiteness.

"Those goggles know when you close your eyes. More than a blink will cause a burst of pain; it's a very unusual and frightening sensation. Test it if you want, but you'll learn to keep your eyes open very quickly."

I felt a stirring, a shivering... not arousal, not coldness. A restlessness. My fingers began to twitch. I tried to still them, and it worked for a time, but then the little spasmodic movements began again.

"The stimulant is working. I'll be back later to check on you."

Footsteps, receding.

Whiteness.

I knew how this worked. The lack of sensory stimulation brought on the visions, and the silent, unanswerable fear of permanent madness. Knowing how it worked didn't help me fight it; if anything the fear kicked in faster.

I could still taste chocolate. It was a rich and lingering and complex taste, with a tiny bit of orange in it. It wasn't fading; my limited sight was again making my other senses stronger. Enjine, I decided, was complex even for a woman, a strange mixture of sweetness and obsession and cleverness. Was she truly happy here?

I was starting to shake now; the stimulant had me so restless that I could not lie still. My skin began to tingle and my mind began to race, memories flitting by, more and more quickly...

Suddenly the vibrator started, and I jerked my hips upward and away from it, and then realized that made my pose even more inviting to anyone who came in behind me. And the movement did no good; the device followed me upwards, and now I was trapped in this pose, unable to escape the vibrations-

++

Enjine licked her lips slowly, watching the video feed. She shifted restlessly in Lord Tir's lap, and blushed a little to find her own wetness making the leather beneath her slippery.

"You've never explained how you got access to this camera, my Lord," she whispered.

"You know the answer. My unknown benefactor provides the necessary keys."

"You call him unknown, but I think you know who it is..."

"I don't. And if I did I wouldn't tell you. But I don't know."

"One of the younger princes?"

"I don't know."

Alani's soft moan drifted from the video image. Enjine pressed herself downward, tighter against his leathers, and licked her lips again, faster.

"My Lord will perhaps forgive any unseemly behavior on the part of his enslaved slut," she whispered.

His hand drifted over her bare belly. He chuckled. "You exist to be unseemly, slave." His hand drifted lower, settling and stroking lightly, less than a centimeter from where she suddenly needed it to be.

"I do. The Prince's lessons were not all in vain. Look at her, writhing, fighting not to feel, not to imagine... you understand, I believe, than when a woman's sexual awakening is... sudden and unexpected, sometimes the obsession takes hold deeply. She has no idea how to fight this; look at the way her legs tense, I'd like to lick very slowly along one right now, no woman in her state can resist a tongue ..."

Suddenly she was thrown to the floor, and she found his hand gripping her hair and forcing her to look up. "You aren't here to admire her torment. I know it arouses you; I can smell it. But you're here because you've been through something like this and you can explain to me what this does to her. Return to my lap when you can focus."

Enjine nodded after a moment, and flowed herself into his lap again. "It is difficult, Lord. The Prince treats me as a child -- a smart child, but a child -- and a fuck toy. He does not see my other gifts, and that you do, sometimes confuses me."

"Little confuses you, Enjine. But to my question?"

"I don't remember this part of my conditioning. There are... half-memories, hints and glimpses of things. Some are terrifying. But from those half memories, and things the Prince has mentioned... she's being shown images, and they flit by too quickly to take in, so she can't form a conscious reaction to them, but the mind still reacts, deep down... that, and the little torment, will continue until she's incoherent with lust. And then the real conditioning begins. She's shown images, and those wires measure whether she responds with pleasure or revulsion. And then she's given punishment or pleasure, according to whether her response was 'right'. Both the punishments and pleasures are tiny, little shocks or little sexual stimulations, but it's all so fast -- several images a second. The brain learns quickly, and the artificial intelligence that does all this is infallibly accurate. Her responses will shift and twist and conform. This goes on for hours, and when she's conformant enough, the Prince will probably enter and give her more obvious rewards with his hands and his cock... women are wired, Lord, to trust and obey men who have a deep effect on us sexually. It is the worst thing in the world, because the men who give the best orgasms are so often the least trustworthy... present company excepted, of course, Lord..."

"Or not," Lord Tir said, chuckling softly. "And then?"

"I don't think there's much of anything else. As the Prince plays with her body, she'll be forced to experience pleasure and need she can't possibly fight. When he takes her, the orgasm will be impossibly strong and last for many minutes; the intelligence running her knows how to make that happen. When she's literally exhausted and passes out, the hypnosis is applied so she doesn't consciously remember much, and she'll wake up in his lap, sated, sullied, sore, with trained and ingrained feelings of awe and affection for him. I remember that part. All I can tell you is that before she was taken I did something for her that may help her a little. Never mind what. But even so I don't hold out much hope. It does something to a woman to feel so utterly ravished, and wake to find herself snuggled against her ravisher. The Price is fond of saying everyone is clay. How true it is, I don't know; but a woman will follow her emotions; subvert the emotions and you subvert the woman."




The Captured Princess Ch. 06



"Humans are more than their emotions."

"Sometimes not much more. Men, I think, can truly separate themselves from their emotions. I don't know how you can do it. Few women ever truly succeed at it. The simple truth, my lord, is that women determine what is right and safe and good by what they feel. Men approach right and safe and good as a problem to be solved intellectually."

"So to free her, we teach her to hate the Prince."

"She already does. I do. Hate doesn't matter; I still love it when he touches me and takes charge of my body. You need to teach her to disassociate from the Prince. To want him, ache for him, even hate him less. In that prison we call the harem, there is little chance to disassociate from him; the symbols of his power are everywhere. For me... my freedom comes from you. My feelings for you give me the necessary distance from him."

"I think you're trying to say that if I'm more loving and affectionate towards you, you'll oppose Arj better."

"Oh. Was I that transparent?"

In answer, he turned her head to face the video, and his other hand moved down over her belly again, and began to stroke her clit. She whimpered, very softly, her face going blank.

"You do this? After you just punished me for these feelings?"

"I think you've explained all you can. But continue to look at her and convey to me her feelings, since you understand them so well."

"Cruel Lord... but I must obey... I can see in her twitching that the conditioning has begun. Little flashes of pain and pleasure, nothing trains a woman faster... you men know this, do you not? Arouse us, then cause pain, even just a spank or a slap or the burn of torn clothing, and something in us turns to water... she's so frightened because she cannot directly perceive what is happening, her responses shift too quickly to be consciously perceived, and she's so aroused... so aroused... craving cock and penetration and fullness and roughness, needing her body to be mastered-"

"I think some of you is mixing in there."

"Perhaps. Do you have any idea what your finger does to me. Foolish question, you know exactly..."

Tir shifted aside his leathers, exposing himself. Then he pushed two fingers into her, swiftly, and spread them apart within her. She shuddered, and he curled them, roughly. Enjine arched, and sobbed softly, staring helplessly at Alani's twitching body...

++

Something has changed. I saw rapid flickers, but I had no idea what they were. And moment by moment my body shivered or clenched or shuddered. Sometimes I felt shocks or flashes of nausea, but they passed instantly. I had no idea what was happening to me, and that was terrifying.

I tried to close my eyes, and suddenly it felt like my elbows and knees were shattering and grinding, and then my backbone as well; the sick twisting of nausea compelled me to open my eyes, and I nearly vomited.

And the uncontrollable arousal... the vibrations and slow, pounding movement inside me... there is something about being forced to experience an arousal you did not ask for. It is shattering in its power, and to your horror you crave more and more. I can only guess there is an evolutionary basis in it; a man who can compel your arousal is strong, powerful, and therefore a good mate. He may not be good for your soul, but what does evolution care for that? It wants us to mate and mate and mate with the most powerful man possible. There was a saying in my country: If you wish to be wet, kneel before the King. Being the one person in the kingdom exempt from that, I can't comment on it -- but I know it worked for my mother.

I needed to come -- but somehow the devices knew it, and prevented it whenever I tried to yield. I no longer really wanted to fight them, as I had when I'd first arrived. Orgasms had become impossibly desirable, sex was a powerful temptation, and I was ashamed at how I fantasized about it now, fantasies I have not dared type. Every woman is a princess and a slut, I was told my first day here. How quickly I'd been taught to become the slut.

Something in the flickering... I could feel myself changing, and the terror and the arousal merged...

Desperately I tried to distract myself. Anything. Anything!

Chocolate.

I could still taste the chocolate.

It was the one sensation I had that had not been forced on me by the Prince and his army of cruel servants. No flavor lasts in the mouth forever, but the darkness of it, and the orange, lingered. I tasted, I thought of the illicit chocolate I'd been given almost ten years ago... so long ago, now! He'd been cute, a little unsure of himself, and at the time I'd liked that. The Garden of Pleasures night; being massaged while a Pleasurer had stroked my lips with chocolate. Because I was not yet of age, the experience had not been sexual, but it had been undeniably sensual, and one of the Pleasurers, a very wicked and roguish fellow, had later kissed and licked my fingertips and toes. So very, very against the rules, but I had been nineteen and he was handsome, and my body had lit up more hotly than it ever had when I'd spied on the harems. But not as hotly, I realized, as when the Captain of the guard had spanked me. With the hindsight of more sexual experience, I realized now what feelings that spanking had triggered in me-

Oh moon, thinking about that now was a mistake, and I flew towards orgasm. But the cruel machine that had me applied a flash of nausea and the orgasm was averted. I howled in frustration, but little got through the gag. My traitor body was convulsing in need now, and the rapid flickers of pleasure were becoming more pronounced and more common. I could almost see the images presented to me, though I did not want to.

What was this machine doing to me? In my first visit to the white room, the demons that had assaulted me had been madness, brought about by the deprivation, and the very obvious sexual suggestion of the video. They had been devastating but at least they were apparent, essentially sensate, opposable. Here there was nothing to apprehend, just faint sensations that flitted by too fast to register. And the impossible temptation was to try to focus on them anyway, which I did not doubt was deliberate, and made it all more effective...

No. Chocolate. It was something to hang on to. I thought about the texture, remembered again having my lips teased with it long ago, and remembered the smell of Enjine's perfume as she had handed me the recent piece. Sandalwood. Notes of wintergreen. A strange mixture of warm and cold smells, just as Enjine was a strange mixture of warm, sensual slave and cold, subtle-

Pain flickered through me. I wasn't supposed to think about Enjine. And then there were spasms of pleasure-

++

Tir seized Enjine's waist and lifted her, and immediately she swiveled her hips, offering herself to his very erect cock. The grip of his hands was painful, but she reveled in that, and then cried out as he toyed with her, stroking her slit against the head of his cock with sudden, quick movements.

"I already burn," she said in a broken voice. "I already ache to give you everything. Why do you tease? How much more of a needy slut could I possibly be?"

"It pleases me that you ache, slut," he growled, suddenly impaling her, and ignoring her sudden cry. "Now masturbate while you work my cock with your body. Work for your fucking."

Her hands wrapped in her hair as she simpered, lost in a combination of lust, fear and submissiveness. Her hips moved in a sensual oval, massaging his cock as she knew he liked. Her eyes drifted, barely focusing, to the screen, and she watched in a haze of need as the Prince entered the room.

++

I heard his footsteps; I'd learned to recognize the cadence of them. I shuddered in horror. I could do nothing about the impossible arousal hat had been forced on me. I had grown up believing that arousal was a woman's choice, that it was a fragile flower that would die at a single wrong word from a man, a single mistimed act. Now I knew that ruthless trickery could force it upon me, and it made me feel weak and helpless. I had no control, and the terror and arousal had merged.

His hand came down on my ass, suddenly. I again flew towards an orgasm that was again denied. I cried out into the gag.

He spanked me, his hand falling quickly and mercilessly. I'd have come over and over if the wires had let me. I was sobbing now, because of the depth of my humiliation, but also in raw need. His will was all that mattered. I was a puppet to his desires.

Suddenly he removed the device that had been inside me, and filled me with his fingers. I fought desperately not to clench down. But the images flickering before my eyes touched on some primitive animal need, and my body gripped him as he slid them in and out, roughly.

"Come," he said.

I did. Hard and helplessly. His thumb moved across my anus, then pressed inward as his fingers settled deep inside me and curled roughly.

"Again."

I came again, tears running down my cheeks. He was unanswerable. I had no choice. My body loved orgasms, craved them.

His fingers slid out, and he got behind me. I knew what happened next; the kneel this wooden torture rack forced me into was made for what came next. His cock forced into my sodden slit, and his hand came down in my ass again-

++

Enjine came as Tir's hands gripped her breasts and squeezed, and her moans sent him over the edge as well. She sagged against him, shaking.

"Good girl," he whispered. She continued shaking.

"Lord... as I was coming... oh skies. I remembered. Oh bright core rising, I remember..."

"What?"

"What she's going through. Right now. We're not supposed to remember. Oh fuck... Lord... Lord!"

She turned in his lap, her hands gripping his face as she stared miserably into his eyes. "You have to stop it. You have to help her. It's horrible! What it does to you! You have to make him stop!"

"Enjine... I would if I could. There is no way. I have no access and I have no army behind me. I would do anything to help her if there was anything that could be done."

"I beg you! You must! I'll do anything!"

And a flat, electronic voice came from the screen. "Would you, now."

They both froze. The voice continued.

"Would you do anything? Would you risk yourselves for some useless, immature, fallen princess who has no future and no way to repay you?"

Tir found his voice. "I assume I'm addressing my benefactor."

"An amusing title. I have not provided you much benefit, Lord Tir. Information and access, that is all. But you've made good use of them. But as to my question?"

"I would," Enjine said. "She's human. She's not a thing, meant only to have a use."

"You speak boldly, for someone who is only a thing that has a use," said the voice. "And it is not wise of you to promise you'll do anything. Men like Lord Tir remember such words."

"I meant what I said," she said, still shaking.

"And you, Lord Tir? Only pretty words to calm a frightened fucktoy? Or is there in you still some trace of sympathy for a girl you barely know, beyond carnally?"

"There is at least a trace of sympathy left in me, yes. But you know my true motivation, I believe."

"I know your true motivation."

"Then you know my answer, but you already did. I thank you for this unprecedented visit, but I'm curious what motivates it?"

"It is simple enough," said the voice. "You are going to rescue that foolish child of a princess and you are going to take her far away from here, to the little bolt hole I believe you have been building in Corenhome. You're going to do it now. And because you and I share a goal, you'll do it with my help."

"My benefactor is most generous," Tir said, carefully. "Or you would seem to be, if I was at all certain this wasn't an elaborate plot to get me killed."

"If I wanted you dead, there are simpler ways. And let me be very clear; if you do not comply with my request, evidence of your treason will surface."

"Ah," said Tir. "You are that sort of benefactor."

"I'm the only sort that there is."

"Who are you," Enjine said suddenly. Tir put his hand over her mouth, tightly, and smiled to the screen. "She's new at this. If I were asking the questions," he said as his hand pressed more tightly against Enjine's moving lips, "I'd ask just how we are to accomplish the rescue."

Tir's delivery tube rattled, and a small earpiece appeared on the table. "You'll wear that and I will guide you," the voice said, and even through the electronic tone there was a trace of amusement in it. "We'll start by disrupting your Prince's fun..."

The lights in the room with Arj and Alani abruptly went out, and the scene was replaced by the faint green of infrared camera display. Arj looked up in shock, and then the wall behind him turned bright green, cracked and buckled. In the distance, Tir heard an explosion, and within a few seconds, sirens.

The voice continued. "For the next few minutes, a number of people will be under the unfortunate impression that the city is under attack. There will be much chaos. You, Tir, are going to intercept the guards carrying the foolish princess to safety. You will have to kill some guards. And you, Enjine, are going to go with him and do your best not to get killed."

"I-I am of no value in this-"

"Child. I will explain what value you have at a later time, but you both are needed in the Qualas building on floor two, which is reached through a secret door in the library. And you need to be there in less than three minutes. The keycode is 1389. Move your asses!"

The glassee screen vanished. Tir pushed Enjine to her feet.

"This isn't how I like to spend my post-orgasmic bliss," Enjine said. Another explosion rent the air. "But I'll learn to adapt quickly," she amended immediately.

Tir fitted the earpiece and rearranged his outfit, rapidly slipping several guns and a sword into place. Enjine reached for her silks, but he tore them out of her hands. "No. They offer no protection and it's just another handle to grab you by in a fight. You get to carry these two guns-"

"I can't!" she wailed, backing away.

"No time!" He stepped forward and slapped her across the face. "No time for your conditioning! If we get into a fight you point these at anyone with a weapon and fire. Don't worry about trying to hit anything, I'll do the marksmanship. You are no longer the Prince's toy, you are mine and I say you use them!"

He forced them into her hands, and she held them like dead and rotted birds, terror blanking her face. He slapped her face again, turned and ran. More explosions shattered the air, one quite close. Sobbing, but clinging to the guns, Enjine followed after.



The Captured Princess Ch. 07



Outside, smoke was drifting across the grounds from a dozen rents in buildings. To Tir's eye the damage didn't look very significant; small explosives, not a rain of missiles. But the bulk of the people on the grounds were slaves, without combat training, and they were terrified. The guards were divided between looking for an attacker and keeping people from panicking.

Another explosion, across the parade ground, shook the air. And night was falling. Scattered explosions at night would increase the terror and completely disrupt most activities, Tir knew. As terror went, it was well planned. But all that would result is that the guards would lock everything down tight, and that was the last thing Tir wanted now. Whatever his benefactor's plan was, it was unclear that it was in Tir's best interest.

He stuck to the trees between the buildings, partly for the cover it offered from blasts, and partly because Enjine was carrying weapons and that was going to be difficult to explain to any guards.

What mattered most was avoiding contact at all. As a result, Tir wasn't happy to see that the building he needed had a guard at the door.

He stopped, still in the shelter of trees. "Drop weapons," he murmured.

"We're giving up?" Engine panted, dropping both guns.

Tir laughed softly. "No. We can't. No screaming when this turns violent. Follow."

They left the trees and covered the twenty meters to the door.

Tir eyed the guard. "Open, guard. She's to be sheltered here."

"No, Lord," the guard replied. "Orders are to allow access to the royals only."

"Maybe you misheard. You recognize the girl? Who do you think she's being brought to? Stand aside. A Great Lord of Narsana just gave you a command."

"I cannot co-"

Tir's fist struck the guard's solar plexus, then uppercut his jaw. As the guard stumbled back, Tir stepped forward and drove an elbow against his temple, and then his fingers caught the guard's hair and snapped him downwards, into a violent collision with Tir's rapidly rising knee. The guard collapsed in a heap.

Enjine whimpered. "Is he-"

"For pity's sake, no. Put on his pack."

Tir opened the door with the comatose guard's thumbprint, and then dragged the guard in, grunting. He looked around. All was quiet for the moment. Enjine closed the door behind them.

"He's one of our own guards, and you just-"

"We no longer have an allegiance. All we have now is a goal. We are cogs in a plan that's clearly much bigger than we are, and we're going to be good little cogs and turn as designed because we will be dead tomorrow if we don't. Go left, we need the library."

"We left your two guns outside."

"We're not going back. But I took the guard's guns and you can - no, you can't. Starsdamnit, they have a fingerprint reader in the trigger."

The flat voice buzzed in Tir's ear. "Open the grip, remove the red microcard, turn the switch labeled S4 to on, bend the third pin from the left on the adapter until it snaps, and reinsert the card."

"There's a trick I didn't know," Tir muttered, snapping the handle open.

"Very few do," buzzed the voice.

Tir adjusted the gun, watched the indicator blink green, and handed it to Enjine.

"You have less than 30 seconds to get through the elevator," said the voice. "The secret door is behind stack 14 and the keycode reader is built into the fire alarm on the wall next to the door."

The library was dimly lit and predictably deserted, and large cracks in the wall attested to some nearby explosion that had made it that way. Tir made his way towards the stacks quickly; sheaves of glasslight were stacked there, glowing their oddish blue color. "Ever been here?"

"Once," Enjine said. "Arj had me to put on a wig and pretend to be studying here. There was apparently a girl in school he didn't get to bone..."

"Yeah, I did that once."

"Really? What color was the wig?"

"Very funny."

Lord Tir frowned and opened the fire alarm, found a keypad inside and punched in 1389. The wall next to it shifted and exposed a door, which opened silently.

They stepped into the elevator, and the door shut behind them.

++

The voice rasped in Tir's ear as the elevator slowed. "When the door opens you'll have less than a minute before three guards and Alani come through the door. Alani is on a hover-stretcher. She must not be killed. In a choice between Enjine and Alani, you must save Alani."

Tir was thankful Enjine couldn't hear that.

The door opened, and they stepped out into a maintenance tunnel choked with pipes, tanks and conduits. Tir located the door the guards were expected through, and quickly put himself and Enjine behind a tank.

He inspected his gun, and glanced over the many pipes and tanks. "Benefactor, this is a dangerous environment for gunfire."

"The tanks contain toxic compounds but nothing explosive. Call me Ben, by the way."

"Bennie?"

"I can arrange it that you do not survive this adventure. My primary uses are for Enjine and Alani."

"Ben it is. Now... Enjine?" Tir said. "When the door opens, let them step through and then shoot at the head of the tallest man you see. If you miss, empty the gun trying, but aim high. Don't step out from behind this tank."

They settled into place. Tor could feel Enjine shaking, and laid a hand on her shoulder. It didn't help the shaking.

The door opened, and three men stepped out. Tir and a terrified Enjine opened fire. In two seconds it was over, with all three guards down.

++

Enjine dropped the gun and sobbed. Tir darted forward and grabbed the free floating stretcher. Alani was unhurt, and sleeping deeply, bound to it.

The voice crackled. "Where you are now, I cannot see you, only hear. Do you have her?"

"Yes."

"The left front handgrip on her stretcher is a steel tube. Pry off the cap and inside there is an injection. Give it to her."

Tir removed the needle, and injected Alani. "For this to work, you would have had to have known which stretcher they would grab to transport her, in advance."

"No, Lord Tir. It was only necessary to hide needles in all twelve stretchers in the Tormentor's lab. Please do not waste time with idle speculation about my methods. You are in a dangerous situation and there is not much spare time in this plan of mine." The voice paused. "How is Enjine?"

"Sobbing and horrified."

"You need her to be calm. For this we will make time. Give her a few moments of comfort."

"Enjine," Tir said. "I know that was frightening but it's absolutely essential that you pull yourself together. I know that's nothing you ever want to have seen, but you need to put it behind you."

The voice rasped in Tir's ear. "That is how you comfort? Never mind then. As soon as the foreign princess can walk, you will go down the tunnel away from the door for one hundred and fifty meters and find tank 148-14-A. You'll open the valve on top."

"And how many people will that kill?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Wise answer. It shouldn't kill anyone, but I wouldn't stay in that part of the tunnel afterwards. As for the guards you shot, they were part of the Tormenter's guild and they are disposable by definition."

"You have an interesting set of moral rules."

"More like guidelines, really."

++

I moaned, softly. I looked up and saw Enjine's face, streaked with tears. I had a sudden urge to vomit, but it passed.

"I'm sorry," she said to me, working the straps. "About a number of things. You need to stand up and be able to walk, and you need to do it quickly. I can't explain because I don't fully understand what's going on, but we are with Lord Tir and you are away from the Prince and it's possible you will stay that way."

Intellectually I understood the words but there was no emotional response. I felt energetic and restless, and as the stretcher pivoted and deposited me on my feet, I felt alive and alert, very unnaturally so. Drugs again, I realized. I was starting to feel like a pincushion.

"Now we must move," said Lord Tir, from behind me. "Enjine, take your weapon."

"No."

"I require it."

"And I refuse," she said, her voice shaking. "I will not touch one again. You will have to protect me. No woman can act as a man does."

"History is not on your side on this one, Enjine. But it's the wrong time for that discussion. I need your obedience in this."

"I cannot obey." She crossed her wrists in front of her. "I am a good slave."

I was next to Tir in that moment and I faintly overheard the words spoken into his ear: "Let it go. You have found her limits, now honor them."

Tir cursed, and tapped Enjine's crossed wrists, the gesture of unbinding. "Stay behind me and pray to whichever chunk of rock or ball of plasma works for you. Benefactor? We're travelling again."

It took me a second to understand about the earpiece. "Who-"

Enjine put her hand over my mouth. Tir grunted. "Too many women don't know when the right time is to ask questions. Learn to live happily with uncertainty."

"That's another thing no woman can do," Enjine muttered, uncovering my mouth.

"Oh," I said suddenly. "Bodies."

"Leave them," Tir snapped.

I ignored him and knelt beside them. One of them did not have much of a head left, but I closed the eyes on the other two. And I reached into the pocket of one and removed an injector I'd seem him put there earlier. "Moon be kind to you in the final moonrise," I murmured, and stood.

Enjine was green and looking away, fixedly. Tir looked at me, assessing me. "No fear of the dead, Princess?" He started walking, and we followed.

"It's long gone. Your nation threw at us everything from machetes to missiles. It was a rare week we didn't honor the dead in the capital, and my brothers and I were expected to walk among the fallen and offer rites. Towards the end the casualties were numerous and there was not always time for proper wrappings, and I saw every mutilation there is. There is no fear now, only anger."

We arrived at a tank, and Tir strained to open a large valve on top. I paused, unclipped a large wrench from the wall, and handed it to him.

And I looked at the tank, and blinked.

"Do either of you know what 'Molten Na' happens to be?"

"No idea," Tir grunted as the valve suddenly turned. There was a strange, high pitched gurgling noise from the tank.

"We should leave," I said.

"Ben?" Tir said to the air. And then he nodded and we walked further down the corridor, passing doors that had obviously not been opened in some time.

++

The corridor sloped down, and ended in a set of doors, corroded shut. Tir threw his shoulder against them, and in the end bashed one ajar. We slipped though, and faint lights in the room came on.

There had not been much time to spare. Behind us there was a sort of grinding noise, and then an echoing explosion, more sounds of metal tearing, and a colossal rumble. I pulled the two of them away from the door as best I could, and then a cloud of steam and dust whipped into the room, and curled towards the high ceiling.

At first I thought the room looked oddly like a museum; more slowly, I realized that that was because it was one.

Tir nodded, and touched his earpiece, then clipped it to the leather at his hip. It spoke.

"Good evening, Enjine and Princess Alani. I will introduce myself shortly, but first we must deal with the current situation. Behind you, the tunnel has been deformed, and I hope blocked off, by an explosion. Don't go back, there is a fire and things may be toxic."

"It would be," I said. "Caustic soda suspended in steam."

"Ah. So you have studied, Princess?"

"As the war and my responsibilities permitted... Princess."

That got a stunned silence, and then Tir cursed softly and got down to his knees. Enjine followed. I remained standing -- she wasn't my princess.

A panel of glassee formed in the air in front of us. The projectors here did not work right; the image was strangely faint and flickery. But it was of a face.

It was not a pretty face. The eyes were asymmetrical, enough to be physically unpleasant to look at. And it seemed to me that there was evidence of a great deal of corrective surgery in her face. She smiled, but it was not a natural smile, as if some of the necessary musculature was missing.

"A lucky guess, I think, but it pleases me that you spoke your guess, and somehow it pleases me more that you were right. Lord Tir would never have worked it out. Would you, dear."

"It was not among my guesses," he said.

"And it will not be among Arj's, at least not very quickly. Get up, Tir. You are no longer my subject, being a traitor and an exile. Enjine, stay kneeling, it is what you are best at. Alani, you might at least press your hands together and bow your head for a moment."

"When you do," I said. She laughed merrily and complied, and I returned the salute.

"My role in this will probably be discovered in the end," she said. "But I will hope against hope that it isn't, and to preserve that hope, you will never speak of this to anyone. If you are captured it will be tortured out of you, so I would appreciate it, Tir, if you would shoot the girls and then yourself if capture is inevitable."

"The Princess has made her wishes clear."

"Ah. Well, it was worth asking for," the Princess said sourly. "Let us return to the matter of your escape. At the other end of the room is an early model of a maglev train. When it was installed here, over two hundred years ago, it was said to work. A previous raja was very fond of trains, it seems... it was one of his toys. If it can be gotten to work again, the tunnel built for it goes under the walls, and there is an emergency exit to the surface at the far station. That puts you in the city. You will take a waiting carriage to the airport, where you will carefully fail to fly out on a waiting plane, and then take a commercial freight train to the border. You will be packed as luggage, I'm afraid. Details will be provided as you go. All this depends on you getting to the freight train, and the train leaving, before your absences are discovered and the country goes into lockdown."

"And if the maglev right here cannot be made to run?"

"Then you have a long walk in front of you. And I fear that will take so long that your absences will be discovered, these tunnels will be remembered, and you will be caught. Hence the request that you kill yourselves. You are not as effective in my plan if you are dead, but I'll still achieve some of my intent."

"Forgive me, Princess," I said. "But I do not know my benefactress's name."

"Morn," she said. "I was to be named after the radiant dawn in the language of Aireth, since I was expected to be a beautiful light to my people. Alas, it was not to be. Someone, as a prank, introduced something into my mother's food soon after she conceived me. As some sort of confused joke relating to her morning sickness, I believe... it was thought to be Arj that did it -- he would have been quite young -- but no one is sure. It does not matter. But I spell my name differently, with a U, to make a pun in the same language of Aireth... Also not important now. You have a train to catch."

"Princess, I must ask. My brother?"

"I have looked. As far as I can tell he was never brought to the capital; Arj was bluffing. But neither have I found proof he was killed in the fall of the capital. I believe he was, but I can't be sure. I am very sorry."

"I'd suspected." I felt nothing; I'd already given up hope.

"Then I was lied to," Enjine said.

"So was I," Tir said. "But I suspected that. We are all liars now, it seems."

He rose. "So, my Princess. Your rage against Arj's prank leads you to wish his political destruction?"

"Oh, Lord Tir, no," she replied. "I hate Arj, but not because of the damage done to me. He plans to murder our older brother, Raka, whom I am somewhat fond of, even if he does think me as stupid as I am ugly. Which is odd as I'm the best programmer and hacker in the capital; it comes of having nothing else to do. Raka brought me chocolate recently, and entertained me with stories of the outside world, which I of course am never supposed to see. But I also climb out of windows sometimes, and there are people who recognize my authority even if my father does not... But enough about me. Nothing is ever supposed to be about me. This is about the fact that Arj would be the worst possible future Rajah, and Raka might be acceptable. When it comes out that Arj lost his prized pet slave princess, and his head concubine, and they escaped with a noble lord believed to be loyal... I do not believe Arj can recover. The kingdom will be safe. And that is all that matters to me."

"I thank you for the elucidation, Princess. It is good to know this vast scheme is based on something as important as the kingdom's future, and not merely petty revenge for some prank gone wrong."

I felt myself go pale, and Enjine winced. I don't know if Tir noticed the icy silence his comment provoked -- why don't men realize these things, when they are so clear and loud and obvious? -- but the glassee went dark, and I knew that somehow, somewhere, somewhen, Lord Tir would pay for this moment.

Enjine rose and we all approached the train. I blinked suddenly, looking at it.

"It's a very old model," Tir said. "I have no idea how it's supposed to operate."

"What, this old thing?" I said, bounding up to the engine housing, and pushing it open. "You mean this Magnespeed 14-B turbo, with the, let's see... fifteen point one kilovolt regulator option and the upgraded air cooled stabilizers? It's in remarkable condition for the age -- they diamond-coated the parts and it's held up nicely..."

"Um..." Tir said.

"I read," I said. "Also, I had brothers. Also, the 14-B is legendary -- it broke speed records, it was the first train to reach mach 3, and then in the same year, mach 5. That was with the Cooley engine modification, which this doesn't have, of course, but it's still going to be a thrill ride. Alright, I sound like my older brother now. But if that generator behind the train still works, and the flexers aren't too brittle, I bet the train will work."

I slammed the cowling and jumped into the engineer's compartment. "Oh my goodness, they installed the optimizer. Top speed in 15.5 seconds. That's not even legal anymore." I hit Start, and the generator behind the train hummed to life. Indicators blinked and turned green, and I think I giggled. "Get in."

"Benefactress -- Princess Morn -- were you aware that Alani had knowledge of this train's design?"

"No," she said, coldly. "Fortune smiles upon you."

"Ah, Princess Morn," Enjine said, carefully. "When we get to the city... you may recall I am without clothing. Alani as well. In the city that will attract attention."

"There is clothing in the carriage for all three of you. Also a spray-on hair dye for Princess Alani. And now I wish you well, because someone has actually thought to come and see how I am weathering this attack. We may speak again, but perhaps not. Things should flow unheeded from here on. Or not? Farewell."

A burst of flame surrounded the earpiece, and Tir cursed and threw it from the train.

I manually trimmed the train to account for the very light load -- automatic in modern trains, but not the older ones - chose a speed envelope, and engaged the primary drive. With a quiet uneven purring noise, the train began to move.



The Captured Princess Ch. 08



We sat, strapped in, watching the blur of the old tunnel wall, seeing each flash of the overhead lights in the ceiling as we passed them, two each second. If the track had been laid straight, and we had been going at full speed, the trip would have taken less than a minute. But I hadn't dared specify full speed, and the track curved and twisted -- it had been designed as a joyride, not serious transportation.

I tore my eyes from the blur of the walls and focused on the controls. I was not an engineer. I was a woman who, as a girl, had been caught up in (and secretly fascinated by) my brother's madcap imaginary adventures, many of which had involved daring escapes on a 14-B. He'd printed up a mockup of the control cabin, accurate in all details, and in it we'd flown from imaginary advancing armies, hid in tunnels from air strikes, taken on refugees and smuggled weapons, and dealt with temperamental engine breakdowns (these always occurred at critical moments like a steep track descent or an arrival at a station, so I always knew when they were coming.) In fact we'd had so many imaginary bizarre engine failures that he'd ended up drilling me extensively in the controls and on the fly recovery procedures.

The indicators all glowed a reassuring blue-green. This was not an imaginary madcap adventure, and we were fine. I turned my mind to the problems of the real world.

"What becomes of me, Lord Tir?"

"We escape and live happily in a new land," he said instantly.

"Or Tir shoots us," Enjine added helpfully.

"Or that," Tir said, smiling a little. We were all giddy with the excitement of the flight, of the dangers and uncertainties.

"No, I mean... assume we do escape. You have some place to go, so there we are going. But what happens to me?"

Enjine opened her mouth and immediately shut it again. It was not her place to comment. Tir looked me over, and I suddenly remembered I was naked. My hand slid over my flower, but I did not bother trying to conceal my breasts.

"In the short term, you are my possession, my slave. In the long term, I have no idea."

"And how does this even come to pass? Were you planning to leave all along? With Enjine? How do I fit in?"

"I'd always wanted Enjine to be mine. I was also unhappy with the way the kingdom's politics were going. No one wanted a kingdom under Arj, but Raka isn't ideal either. He's very fond of war as a solution to everything, and he wants the planet for his own, and that is a path to ruin. So for years I've been carefully moving my assets to a more stable nation. And then you showed up. Arj made a lot of fanfare about your capture and boasted you'd be his whore within the month. That kind of talk plays well in this country, and success would have positioned him ahead of Raka in the esteem of the nobles and common people. But I am old enough to remember a more honorable way of treating the conquered. And I do not want Arj as Raja. So it occurred to me that if you could have resisted him, or even be whisked away, his capture of you could be his undoing."

He ran a hand over Enjine's breast, and she smiled and closed her eyes. "Enjine and I have been becoming closer for over a year now. She was unhappy under Arj. There's only so much conditioning can do; it can force sexual responsiveness and obedience, but it can't compel love. Only a man can compel a woman's love, and Arj is in a very real sense a boy, not a man... She and I discussed ways to keep you from breaking, or to help you escape. We both did what we could to encourage you and keep you strong. There was little we could do though."

"We did not do badly," Enjine said. "I chased off that Tormentor pretending to be a guard, before he could fuck with your head. I watched as the Prince analyzed your progress and I learned your strengths. I even fed you some of my precious chocolate to give you a distraction when you needed one. Tir did his best to feed you scraps of respect, even while playing the Prince's man. But in the end we could not do very much; you survived as long as you did because, as Lord Tir said, there is only so much conditioning can do against a strong will."

"It can do a great deal," I said, quietly. "If the Prince were here now, I woul-"

There was a violent thump, and we'd all have been thrown from the seats if not for the straps. Then there was an unholy squeal of tortured metal and a terrifying vibration, and indicators on the controls started going red and orange. Tir cursed and reached for the brake.

I was faster. Later I realized I was hyped on two different kinds of stimulants, but at the time all I could do was wonder why Tir was moving so slowly. I slapped his hand away from the brake, hit the override and shoved the accelerator to full.

The squeal of metal grew louder but that did not matter. The vibration was what was going to kill us, and for a terrifying second it grew worse. My hand snapped to the manual trim controls, things you don't touch when a train was in motion. I touched them, hard. Somewhere behind us a blazing array of sparks washed out from the train, garishly lighting the tunnel around us. The train gave a terrifying lurch and the ceiling got much too close; I'd gotten it wrong. I tried to re-adjust, but too late; the tail end of the train left the grip of the magnets and whipped upward, smashing into the ceiling...

Instantly I hit the emergency disconnect, and the last three cars of the train, intended for freight, detached, just as we passed Mach 1. Because of our speed the chaos behind us seemed eerily silent, but in the rear screen I watched three cars spinning off the track, tearing the tunnel apart and turning orange-hot as they disintegrated.

Speed of sound in rock is over Mach 10, we couldn't outrun this-

But the train stiffened and the vibration died away. So at least the train wouldn't tear itself to pieces, but if the ceiling kept collapsing-

Chunks of stone suddenly fell around us, but at our speed they looked and acted like projectiles flying at the train. One hit the front of the train dead on, but shattered, and the train took the impact in stride, they don't make them like this anymore-

Station Ahead, Reduce Speed, flashed the indicator. We passed Mach 1.5, things blurred, but all that mattered was the ceiling, where's the steel, where's the moondamned steel-

Light and dim silverness , all around us. I slammed the brake on and wondered if I'd black out from the deceleration.

I didn't, but I wished I had. I vomited and my vision reddened. The train overshot the station by a mere 300 meters, and then, to my surprise, stopped and began to back up, calmly, as if I hadn't just fucked with every aspect of its design and construction.

We pulled into a cute little replica of a station, still deep underground, and the train whrrred softly and cycled off. Outside, clouds of dust trickled past us, and there were faint rumbles.

I sat, patted the controls, and cried.

+++

Tir's hand landed on my shoulder, and so did Enjine's.

"Let me guess," Tir said. "You read."

"I was so scared," I whispered. "Oh moon. I wet myself and threw up. I'm sorry."

"That's fine. I get the impression we're alive because of whatever you just did."

"Huh. Yeah. The poor train, I ripped it to shreds..."

Tir got out, after banging the stuck door open. He looked back, but there wasn't much to see except for the dust. "Probably. I'm curious, what happened?"

"Tunnel collapse. My brother and I used to pretend- no, I'm not going into that. As a high speed train moves through a tunnel it pushes a big pressure wave of air in front of it. Not a problem normally, but this tunnel hasn't been maintained for hundreds of years. There's probably been flooding and shifting and who knows what else. So the pressure wave up ahead of us stressed something and the ceiling began to collapse. Part of it hit the train and the train got unstable, and that's instant death at those speeds. But by accelerating you stabilize the train -- it stiffens and sinks down, gripping the... eh, never mind. I screwed up getting things stable again and had to release the cars, and that just smashed up more of the tunnel, which triggered more collapse."

"So why aren't we buried now?"

"Stations and the approaches to stations are wrapped in steel, so even if there's a collapse it only takes out tunnels, not stations."

"So I think what I get from all that, is if I'd slowed the train down, we'd be buried and crushed."

"Um... no. Buried and smeared. We'd have spun off the track in the collapse and smashed into volumes of stone. Human bodies turn to jelly in those conditions." I smiled shakily at the controls. "No one's ever died in a 14-B, though. I was so scared I'd ruin her perfect record."

Enjine squatted down and looked into my face. "You are the strangest female I have ever met. Can we leave now?"

"I'm shaking so badly I don't know if I can walk."

"Lord Tir would be happy to put you over his shoulder and carry you into the city, ass first."

"Oh. I'm fine, let's go."

++

We climbed a long, narrow, dusty stairway. Enjine and I were talking. Tir was ahead, largely ignoring us.

"Women cannot do the things men do," Enjine said. "It's biology. We're not meant to fight and kill, to rule, to investigate the sciences. Our minds work differently. And it's true in reverse. Men can't do the things we do."

"Bah," I said. My father had been very fond of saying bah, and I decided I'd carry on the tradition. "That's mostly upbringing. I was raised by my older brothers, since kings and queens get busy in wartime. I can fix a hovercraft, I can dig holes and find worms and catch fish with them and I can clean the fish. And I can drive a train," I added, proudly.

"Badly," said Tir.

"Better than you," I retorted. "I agree about not fighting and killing, though. But that's not an essential skill. It's just something men do because they don't know how to negotiate."

"No," Enjine said. "It's something they do to get more women for themselves. Winner gets the spoils."

"That's how Prince Arj thinks," I said. "Proof that it's probably wrong. My father was wiser, he said that men got more women by growing food than killing men. Sounds funny, but I see now what he meant. As woman we want security, plenty, peace..."

"You also want confidence in a man's ability to fight for what's needed," Tir said. "Don't try to tell me about how women are all sweet and pacifistic and peaceable. Show me a man who has hacked his way through a battle and emerged victorious with the blood of the fallen dripping from his sword, and I'll show you a man who's going to get laid by his pick of the women that night."

"Said the man who's been there and laid his pick of the women," said Enjine. "And sometimes more than one a night."

"Never more than two," he said. "That's just proper manners."

"He tried three once," Enjine murmured to me. "He couldn't actually-"

Tir's hand was suddenly around Enjine's throat, her back was against a wall and her toes were an inch from the floor. "In our long life together," he told her, "I will make it a project to tame your tongue, so help me stars."

++

I will skip over some of the details. The city was being locked down and troops were everywhere, but the forgotten station's forgotten emergency exit opened into a city guard station that was nearly deserted, with every man on the streets, looking for us. I snuck up and knocked out the one guard who was between us and the waiting carriage, with the injection I'd stolen earlier. In the carriage we were able to quickly clean and dress, and my hair was turned an oriental, inky-black under Enjine's quick ministrations. She made me up to look oriental as well. If we were stopped and examined closely, it was unlikely to fool anyone, and if there was any doubt there would be a DNA test, but it was perhaps better than nothing.

Enjine made up Tir as well, coloring his hair and smoothing wrinkles, and adding a beard. He looked fifteen years younger, and I found I did not prefer him that way, but I did not dwell on it. The carriage took us into an airport and we were loaded onto a cargo plane, but once inside a man instantly packed us into crates which were being hurriedly offloaded from the plane. Later we learned that the plane was shot down for contravening a suddenly imposed flight ban.

Our crates were carted around, stored, carted again, loaded onto a train... we could not talk, there was no food and only one bottle of water in the crate, and, as I realized four hours into our travels, no provision for dealing with pressing biological needs. I shall say no more.

We were uncrated in a noble's house in a different country. We were free.

A slave arranged much needed baths for the three of us, scrubbed off our disguises, informed us that the Lord of the house had given us three days to find other lodging, and in the meantime we were free to eat, drink, and keep a very low profile.

Late in the second day, Tir -- no longer a Lord, but a rather wealthy man -- moved us into a hired apartment high in a tower overlooking a beautiful city. As soon as the slaves unpacked a few goods he'd bought, he opened a glassee screen, gathered us to him, and began to speak.

"My name is Tir Saros, and until recently I was a Great Lord of the nation of Narsana. I have left my land and title in protest of certain events orchestrated by a member of the royal family, and in protest of Narsana's recent treatment of prisoners in general. With me, of their own free will, are Enjine, formerly chief concubine and slave to Prince Arj of Narsana, and the Princess Alani Silvermere of fallen Kilmjada, recently enslaved by Prince Arj, in violation of the laws and customs of Narsasa and all civilized nations of this world. I wish it known that we are safe and well, far from Narsana's borders. I miss my homeland but I cannot in good faith support the actions of Prince Arj. I flout his authority and denigrate his character as unworthy, and find him unfit to be my prince. I call upon the people of my land to consider carefully his character and actions, and remember that we are a proud nation, and our pride is based in our honor. I shall not return, or speak again of Narsana, until Prince Arj is permanently removed from the succession."

He tapped Send, and Dismiss. A tear trickled down his face; but then he looked at us, and smiled.

++

I was on the balcony, watching moonrise, when he made his move.

I was wearing dark blue harem pants, and was topless. I didn't know why I liked being topless now; it was something that Arj had somehow lodged in me, and someday I'd fight it and win free, but for today I just marveled at the feeling of air on my nipples. There were bangles on my wrists, and high heels on my feet, and I'd begun to experiment with makeup, under Enjine's tutelage. I was not yet twenty five, but the customs of my country were becoming less important to me. I was no longer a virgin, no longer a princess; now I was simply a woman. And arguably a slave. Tir referred to me as such; but he didn't treat either I or Enjine exactly as one. He made passing reference to the fact that in this land, only nobility could keep slaves, and he was not a noble. I smelled a rationalization.

There was movement behind me; I ignored it. He knew I was ignoring it, too.

His hands settled, lightly, on my hips. "Good evening, Princess."

"Good evening, Lord."

"So, this is how it's to be? To each other, we are still titled?"

"If you like. But in fact, I am a slave girl and you are a man."

I hadn't meant it to sound quite that sexually charged, but his hands tightened on me, and the shiver I felt was not unpleasant.

"Lean back against me," he whispered against my ear. It was a cool evening, and I did.

His hands crossed to my belly, and stroked, very slowly.

"Where is Enjine?" I asked, conversationally.

"Watching, probably."

He was probably right. I made a non-committal sound.

His hands slid up, and very slowly massaged the base of my breasts. After a few moments, I bit my lip. His lips found my ear, and he bit down, gently.

"When you first took me," I said in a remarkably steady voice, "you were my rescuer. Except you weren't. Except you were. It has been a little confusing. When a woman gives herself, there has to be a reason. She has to believe the man is worthy, or she's giving comfort, ... men don't a reason. Women do. And in the end I have seen that you are worthy, but I am a Princess, Lord, and my standards are necessaria-"

"Alani?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"You may learn to tame Enjine's tongue, but min- oh stars and moon stop, stop that, stop-"

His teeth bit gently into the side of my neck, just where it meets the shoulder; and his hands massaged my breasts, roughly. My nipples, already erect from the cool wind, wrote pleas and invitations across his palms. Languidness flooded me, and my eyelids nearly closed. I could whisper stop from core rise to moonset, but he'd hear the shivers of my skin and the fluttering of my eyelashes and that damnable licking of my lips, and not one word I said.

And then his fingers caught my nipples, and squeezed down, sending jets of fire into my belly. My absurd words turned into a soft moan.

"Look down," he whispered against my ear. I did, and watched his strong, capable hands tease the nipples, pull them taut, and then bite in lightly with fingernails. My legs went weak, and after a few moments my head fell back on his shoulder.

One hand came up, and he traced a fingertip over my lips, lips made slightly slick by Enjine's application of a glossy gel. His finger parted them, and I closed them but he simply repeated the gesture, and I found I couldn't close them again. He tuned my head and kissed at the corner of my mouth, and instantly I was back at the ruins with him, trusting him too much, kissing him timidly, and then... less timidly. He'd made me burn, and my body had learned to dance in the flames. It wanted to dance again now, and shuddering, I fought to hold it back, and hold it back and then I was kissing him, kissing him opened mouthed, hungrily.

But I broke that kiss, before I lost everything. "You have Enjine. What do you need another woman for?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

Men, I thought.

His hand drifted down my belly, and my thoughts turned to confusion, that sweet confusion that a woman could fight off if she wanted to, but somehow never does. Clarity returned somewhat when his hand dipped into my pants.

"On the balcony? No. You're the same as Arj -- you want to show the world you can have your way with a princess."

"No. I want something much better than that. I want to show the world I have a princess who wants me to have her. I want to bask in the love of a princess."

"Don't you dare use the Love word with-"

His hand plunged in and his finger curled, and I was already so very wet for him. I had been for two days; the bastard had been going around shirtless, working his swordsman and punching exercises, and spanking Enjine's ass, whenever she spoke inappropriately. Which I think she did occasionally so she could be spanked, in front of me.

"Stop!" But it was a moaned whisper, breathy and sexy, a plea in denial's clothing.

A second finger joined the first, and they spread out within me and twisted, slow and merciless and strong, and with his other hand forced a kiss from me, his tongue moving in the same slow, ruthless rhythm as his fingers. Somehow the combination was hypnotic; every thought and feeling flowed to his movement.

I was outraged. Really I was. I was so outraged my legs were useless and my lips were soft and yielding and my eyes were slowly fluttering closed -- I was surprised to learn that really did happen. I was so outraged I sucked his lower lip without realizing I was doing it, and when he pressed his thumb against my bud and circled it mercilessly, my arms went up and circled his head and pulled him into a tighter kiss. That is how angry I was. I'd punish him by being bad in bed, I decided, and then I thought about that and shivered, yes, I'd be bad, I'd be so, so bad. Some of the things I'd read in the library in my captivity...




The Captured Princess Ch. 08



"My princess's nipples are lovely by moonlight," he murmured.

"That's supposed to be my eyes. See, this is why women never want to be topless. And don't. Don't use my and princess... not in the same senten- don't. Tir! Stop. I know what you're doing to me. It's a trick. It's like being captured all over again. I know the feeling of chains on my wrists and this is just the same. No, stop moving your fingers like t-that, please stop, we have t-to talk abo- about- this-"

"No more words, my pretty cock-whore." And the words of the makeup slave came back to me, every woman is both princess and whore, and I knew it to be true. I was dressed, I reflected, just that way, one half naked and wanton, and half modestly wrapped in -- no, the analogy failed, the way these thin silk pants outlined my ass I couldn't begin to claim they were modest.

But regardless. Now I needed to be the princess.

"Tir." With a huge effort and both hands I gripped his wrist, and moved his hand away from a part of me that saw no point in stopping for conversation, and bucked to get his hand back. "Listen to me. I'm a Princess. I cannot give myself to you as a slave. If at all it has to be as a princess. You mustn't insist on anyt-"

It was a fine speech until mustn't. That's not a word you can use with any man. You can use cannot, that is a respectable word. But must not appeals to every man's desire to break rules and it comes perilously close to suggesting I want the rules broken. It sounded exactly like I'd giggled and said Oh, bad Tir, you mustn't...

He snarled and spun me and bent me back over the balcony railing. I was in no danger of toppling over the edge, but with his hand on my throat I could not straighten, and my hair moved in the wind, giving me a terrifying sense of my height and vulnerability. The fingers of his other hand ravished my flower, and his mouth closed over a nipple. Before he'd been teasing me towards arousal and it had been like sinking into warm honey. Now he was forcing it, and it was like being dragged down by thick steel chains.

My body loved it.

"Tir! Stop! Tir, I'm scared! Please stop!"

Fear and arousal, merging. My hands found his forearms, felt the thick cords in them, and I'd meant to try to pull them away, but I found myself stroking them. Placate the angry man, my mind whimpered.

"My slave gives too many speeches," he said, and this time the word slave was used exactly the way angry owners have always used it to their property. I should have been furious; instead my body betrayed me further. My legs parted and I pressed one against his, sliding against him, petting him. His displeasure was the worst thing in the world; I had to placate him. The arch of my foot trailed along the back of his calf, slowly. In response he bit down, and I moaned sluttily. Pain and fear and desire. I wanted more.

He pulled me forward and put me on my hands and knees, and snarled as his hand slapped my ass. We were visible to half the city, and I knew that after a few slaps I'd be unable to speak at all.

"Lord Tir," I sobbed, softly. "Not this. Please. I may no longer be a Princess but don't reduce me to this. I need some trace of respect in my life."

"She does, you know," whispered Enjine's voice, out of the darkness of the apartment. Her voice was breathy and I knew she'd been masturbating to my plight.

Tir's hand traced my ass, and shaking, I pressed back against it. He'd won. I had to please him now. It had gone from a pleasant possibility to a necessity, an irresistible craving. He knew it and all I had left was the shred of pride that begged to be taken in a bedroom, not on a balcony. His finger slipped in and I sobbed in animal need. He knew. He knew my begging pride was powerless and he could do what he liked.

My head lowered. He'd take me here and I'd be shattered, finally broken, and that would be the end of my stubborn attempt to avoid slavehood.

"Up," he said, and walked into the apartment. "Follow."

I did, shaking. He walked past a wide-eyed, panting, naked Enjine curled suggestively on the couch, and into the bedroom. I followed.

"Hands on the bed, feet together on the floor."

I couldn't think. I couldn't stop feeling emotions I didn't understand. Not quite fear. Something like... awe and shyness and confusion and inevitability and longing. But mostly I felt it wasn't fair. He'd manipulated me and taken me and schemed for me and rescued me and kidnapped me and now his hard cock wanted me; and something, something deep in me that I didn't begin to understand, demanded that now I was his. I should have had some sort of choice but somehow he'd taken that away. Or I'd given it away? Shaking, my hands touched the bed, and then clung to the sheets.

The women of my land had a saying: what is the difference between a woman in love and the lowest of sex slaves? The slave gets a nice collar.

The door closed behind us, and faintly I heard Enjine's frustrated "No!" And then Tir's hands jerked down my pants, leaving them to tangle around my ankles; and he placed his hands on my hips, tilting them suggestively, and I was on tiptoe...

..and then the fear died and the awe grew, and I felt the head of him, massive and shameless, press against my slickness... for the first time I gave myself to a man without reservation.

I came helplessly, over and over until he released in me; then he let me sag to the bed and shiver, and I nuzzled against his thigh.

Such peace...

++

I don't know what happens next.

To be honest I'm having the time of my no-longer-virginal life. Tir is a sexual machine and it takes both Enjine and I to keep him calm. It is so very tempting to just stay here, enjoying the comforts of his body (and with a deep blush, I will admit that I have learned to enjoy Enjine's body too; for a sweetly submissive slave she can be very persuasive.)

But there is a little voice in my head that reminds me that I am a Princess, and of a fallen country. I am the last survivor of my house, and I am no longer a child. I know I can't return and lead a glorious revolution against our conquerors; the time is not right and perhaps won't ever be in my lifetime.

But Enjine showed me some of the prophecies of the clerics of Narsana. They make interesting reading, and they talk about a schism in a mighty house, and a child born of the last two warring nations that strikes a hammer blow, and shatters the divided house of the conquerors...

In three months my infertility injection wears off. Of course I'd get it renewed. All daughters of nobility do; otherwise unscrupulous men would get us pregnant and attempt to gain the family fortunes that way. Or in my case, I'd do it to continue to safely enjoy the pleasures of Tir's ruthless cock.

But what if ... I didn't?