1 comments/ 41155 views/ 8 favorites Kollany Thirty-Five Ch. 01 By: The_Technician = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Kollany Thirty-Five is an Erotic Novel in Eight Parts. It is set in the future on a deep space colony and follows the life of Princess Shumara Seven from the time that her plot to assassinate her father, King Humana One, fails to the day of her sentencing and judgement one week later. During that time she endures a series of punishments that involve forced nudity, humiliation, body transformation, mind-control, forced masturbation, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, spanking, beating, flogging, donkey-girl forced labor, electro-torture, golden showers, freezing showers, snow torture, and being forced to eat cold oatmeal (gruel). Through these many punishments and rewards, Shumara Seven discovers her true sluttish nature and eventually accepts and welcomes her final punishment and status. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Chapter One - A Failed Assassination Attempt Princess Shumara Seven stood naked before the full length mirror in her bedroom gazing at her perfect body. Her body was indeed perfect, as everything on Kollany Thirty-Five was perfect. She was the perfect height for a person of the ruling class. Her skin carried that perfect golden glow that declared to all who saw her that she was one of the rulers of Kollany. Her hair was just the right shade of golden brown as befit her status. Her eyes were the perfect shade of emerald green that could show every emotion from the intense warmth of love to the cold cruel depths of hatred. Even the cleft of her womanhood was the perfect thirty-two degree angle with just a hint of the outer labia showing to create the most appealing appearance for her sex. Princess Shumara Seven was as perfect as the DNA sequencer and controller could make her, and yet there was a flaw. There was one defect within this perfect princess. She was overly ambitious and cruel. The line between the genetic traits that create a good ruler and the genes that create a tyrant is a very thin line. Shumara Seven, if she had ever been allowed to fully rule, would have definitely been a tyrant - a beautiful, seductress of a tyrant, but a tyrant never-the-less. As she stared at her regal image in the mirror, Shumara could not see her arrogance or her cruelty or her lack of compassion. Even if she had been able to see these traits within herself, she would not have considered them flaws. They were, for her, a part of being royalty - a part of having the genetic right of kings and queens. It was her right to be arrogant. It was her right to be cruel. It was her right to inflict pain on lesser beings..., and in princess Shumra's mind everyone and everything was less than her. For Shumara, the only flaws that she could see as she gazed intently into the mirror at her perfect body were the tears that were streaming down her face and the control collar that encircled her neck. The control collar was there because her elaborate plan to kill her father, King Humana Two had failed and she was now a prisoner awaiting punishment. The tears were primarily because she had been caught. The one thing that the collar could not, or perhaps would not, control was her tears. Since the moment that she felt the collar slide around her throat and heard the click of the latch sealing her fate, her face had been continually wet with tears. There were tears for the beautiful clothes she would never wear again. There were tears for the looks and words of the lowly servants whom she had once ordered about with her own cold commands. And now that the collar had brought her back into her own room and stood her before her mirror to gaze upon her perfect body, there were tears aplenty for herself and for her perfect body. None of the tears which flowed freely down Shumara's face, however, were for Prince Humara Nine, whom she had seduced and led into her treachery. Humara had been an essential part of her perfect plan. He was the one who was to poison the king. He was the one who would be immediately killed by the king's guards if he was discovered trying to slip the poison into the king's wine. On the other hand, if he had succeeded and slipped the drug and poison into the king's drink unnoticed, he would still be dead, killed by a guard that Shumara had paid in advance not with silver, but her golden body. The plan was perfect. Shumara had known all along that Humara might fail. He was weak; he had been easy to seduce into her plans; he was stupid; and he was expendable. He never suspected that succeed or fail, he was a dead man. Shumara's stooge among the king's personal guards was no stronger of will and not much brighter. It never crossed his mind that there might be a third traitor ready to kill the one who killed the one who killed the king. He even believed that Shumara loved him as he stood ready to act when Humara acted and insure that Shumara's role in this remained secret. No one should have ever known that Shumara was involved at all -- except for one small mistake made by the princess herself. It was more of a necessary risk than a mistake, but it was done and it was Shumara's undoing. The weakest point in a plan is often where it fails. The king, like Shumara, had a perfect body. The king's perfect body would shake off any ordinary poison. The only way to kill the king by poison was to use a DNA modifier especially formulated to remove his resistance to poisons. That combined with a common, slow acting poison would kill the king within a day. They might find traces of the poison, but once the transformation was complete it would be almost impossible to detect the modified DNA, let alone trace its origin. Shumara knew an old hag who sold black market DNA modifiers. A lot of people purported to sell modifier capsules, but when purchased from most people, these fake black market drugs did nothing. The pills that the old hag sold, however, would indeed increase your penis size or your bust size or remove various imperfections from your body. It was said that she could even change your genetic class - for a high enough price. It was rumored that she was one of the "old chemists." That may have been so because she knew the true formulae and had access to forbidden equipment that could sequence DNA modifiers for whatever you desired. Shumara told the old hag that she wanted to make herself susceptible to the common cold to see what it was like to experience the misery that some of the lesser classes suffered from so regularly. To make her story sound even more believable, she even ordered a modifier to restore her resistance. The old hag, however, could read Shumara's twisted soul through her emerald green eyes and knew that the modifier was for some evil purpose. She knew that Shumara planned to use it, not on herself, but on someone else. And since it was to be developed for Shumara's DNA it would work only on her or a very, very close relative... like her father, the king. The old hag was loyal to the king for many reasons, so before she ever began to sequence the genes or prepare the modifier, she reported the purchase to the watchers, and the watchers reported to the king's council, and the king's council reported to The One. And The One set in motion a plan to capture Humara Nine in the very act of putting a fake genetic modifier in the king's drink. Shumara had not counted on The One's truly perfect plan which made it possible for Humara Nine to be captured alive. That should not have happened. Those who attempted to harm the king or others of the ruling class were almost never taken alive. If they did not die in the attempt, the guards would often, in a frenzy of anger driven by their genetic need to protect the king, kill them outright. But with so many extra watchers and watcher guards hiding nearby, that did not occur. The guard whom Shumara had bribed with the gold of body was afraid to act. Also afraid to act was the guard which she had anonymously bribed with silver to kill the first guard as soon as he killed Humara. So Shumara's plan failed, but The One's plan succeeded. Prince Humara Nine was captured alive in the very act of attempting to poison King Humana Two. He didn't even have the dignity and honor to try to take his own life when he was caught. Instead, faced with the evidence, he began weeping and confessed everything - including the involvement of Princess Shumara Seven. Later that evening one of the watchers, who had recently been assigned as Princess Shumara's personal bodyguard, placed the control collar on her neck as she was in the middle of upbraiding a servant for being late bringing her some trinket or another. From that instant, Princess Shumara Seven was a prisoner. She no longer controlled her own body. With the control collar around her neck, her body belonged to The One. There was no need for a trial. The One had all the evidence it needed to be sure of her guilt. At the appropriate day and time, The One would decree its sentence and all of Kollany Thirty-Five would see it carried out. Until that time, the collar controlled everything. Later in the day, with the collar securely around her neck, Shumara had walked out of her rooms in the palace apparently of her own free will, but in reality with every slight muscle movement controlled by the collar. She walked down the royal hallway and came unannounced into the king's throne chamber where the king was in the middle of his weekly vid-report to the people. He and his guards had been fully briefed and were expecting her appearance. The vid-cam operators had also been informed that there would be a "special guest" and were instructed to be ready to cover everything that might occur. The home audience, and those in attendance who were not aware of the earlier arrest of Prince Humara Nine, watched with amazement as Princess Shumara Seven walked up beside King Humana One, waited quietly for him to complete his remarks, and then announced to him and to the entire population of Kollany Thirty-Five, "The watchers have uncovered irrefutable evidence that I attempted to poison our prime ruler with an illegally obtained genetic modifier. I have been convicted along with Prince Humara Nine and will be publicly sentenced and receive my final punishment one week from now, exactly at noon, in the city square of Kollany Thirty-Five Prime. The sentencing and the beginning of my official punishment will be vidcast live at that time." The collar continued to speak through her, "Since I am now a convicted criminal, I may no longer wear the clothing of the ruling class." Shumara's body trembled as she struggled against the collar's control, but her arms and hands were no longer hers. They moved as if on their own to unbutton the front of her exquisite gown and slowly slide it from her body. Soon her blouse and underslips followed so that she was left standing in front of the vid-cams in nothing but a lacy bra and a very brief pair of panties. Her arms shuddered once again as she resisted their movement behind her back to release the bra. They shuddered even more as they moved downward toward her final brief article of clothing. It is a tribute to the power of her will that she almost broke free of the collar's control when her hands moved to the sides of her panties. But the unlimited power of The One controlled the collar and so the collar continued to control Shumara. Under the collar's direction, her hands slid the panties downward until she was standing naked before the populace of Kollany Thirty-Five. Her voice was slightly husky, but still loud and clear as she once again spoke, "Since I am not yet a member of any other gene class, and to what class I will be re-assigned will not be announced until my sentencing in one week, I will remain naked and classless until that time as a reminder to all of what I have done. It will also be a lesson to all that wrongdoing will be punished severely by The One who ultimately rules us." She paused and faced the cameras squarely. The vid-cam operators zoomed in to a tight shot of her face as she continued, "In that time I will be subjected to special forms of instruction which will show me the errors of my ways and remind me - and all of you - of what I have given up by my actions. I will also be led to at least symbolically make right the many wrongs which I have committed in the past. If this time granted me by The One is fruitful, perhaps my punishment will be lessened by my contrition and remorse." Princess Shumara Seven, now merely Shumara Seven, then walked slowly out of the room with the vid-cams following her every move so that all the inhabitants of Kollany Thirty-Five could see every aspect of her perfect body. The final vid was a tight closeup of her perfect ass cheeks as she went out the door. What Shumara did not yet know, but would quickly learn over the course of the next week was that the control collar not only controlled a person's body by taking over control of the nervous system, it also read memories. Or, to be more accurate, it allowed The One to read a person's mind including, not only current thoughts, but also any and all memories of past events. The collar, or The One who controlled the collar, now knew every wrong thing that Princess Shumara Seven had ever done. The One also knew her schemes and her dreams, her fantasies and her fears. With this knowledge, the ultimate punishment which The One would decree would not only fit the crime for which she was convicted, it would also fit the way that she responded to the collar's attempts to force her to right previous wrongs that she had committed. Following her public admission of guilt, Shumara had been confined to her room in the palace by the collar except for those times when it led or directed her elsewhere. At mealtime, it would lead her to the great hall where she had once sat at the main table with the elite of the elite. On the first night, she was forced by the collar to crawl naked among the tables begging for food like a common house dog. Many women whom she had once thought to be her friends laughed heartily as she knelt with her arms before her like a puppy and they threw scraps of food at her open mouth. Thankfully for her, this forced puppyhood was for the first night only. The next morning she was led to a special table that had been prepared for her at the back of the hall near the serving doors that led into the kitchen. It was an old, rough, stained, wooden table and bench that rubbed uncomfortably against her naked ass, but at least she was not on her knees on the floor. Throughout the day, the collar would have her walk the hallways of the palace and the attached government office buildings, stopping in each room or office to announce, "I am Shumara Seven. I was a princess in line for the throne, but because I went against The One's rules for our society and for my gene class, I am now nothing. Please watch my sentencing and final punishment in seven days." The number in her announcement changed each day. It was a countdown to her final day of reckoning. The routine of each day was basically the same except that the shudders and tremors of resistance decreased each day. Perhaps she fought less, perhaps the collar was fine tuning itself to her system, or perhaps it was allowing her to move more on her own. In any case her movements became more fluid each day and her voice sounded more and more natural as her naked body moved to places she would never go and her voice spoke words she would never say. At the beginning and end of each day, the collar would bring her here, before her mirror, to gaze for an hour upon her perfect body and to think about what she lost by going against the will of The One who ruled Kollany Thirty-Five. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = END CHAPTER ONE OF EIGHT Please remember to vote by clicking on one of the stars at the end of the story. If you really liked it, click 5. If you really hated it, click 1, but please click something. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Kollany Thirty-Five Ch. 02 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Kollany Thirty-Five is an Erotic Novel in Eight Parts. It is set in the future on a deep space colony and follows the life of Princess Shumara Seven from the time that her plot to assassinate her father, King Humana One, fails to the day of her sentencing and judgement one week later. During that time she endures a series of punishments that involve forced nudity, humiliation, body transformation, mind-control, forced masturbation, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, spanking, beating, flogging, donkey-girl forced labor, electro-torture, golden showers, freezing showers, snow torture, and being forced to eat cold oatmeal (gruel). Through these many punishments and rewards, Shumara Seven discovers her true sluttish nature and eventually accepts and welcomes her final punishment and status. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Chapter Two - Judgement Day minus Six Shumara's first night as a prisoner in her own body did not go well for her. Following her forced public announcement of her crime and her absolute debasement during dinner in the great hall, the control collar led her back to her room. As it was leading her down the great hallway, she had attempted to use her body to try to escape. She knew that her naked, perfect body had an effect on the guards as she passed. So as she walked back to her room, with the small amount of freedom she had to move her eyes and her fingers she attempted to indicate that she would be "very grateful" to any guard who would remove the collar. She even managed to gyrate her walk into a couple of pelvic thrusts before the collar re-tuned its control of her stride. The guards, if they noticed, did not act, but the collar noticed everything and it did act. When she reached her room, after placing her in front of her mirror to gaze upon herself until her tears were dripping on the floor, the collar then led her to her bed where it forced her to begin to finger and rub herself in a strange form of masturbation where the fingers, but not the mind were hers. The collar knew exactly what her body wanted and exactly when to deny that final pleasure to her. Throughout the night, her hands brought her to the edge of release and then slapped or pinched or just came up to her face and smeared her juices across her mouth and nose. If she could have spoken, she would have screamed to be allowed to cum... she would have begged to be allowed to cum... she would have offered to do anything if she could just cum. But the collar kept her just short of final orgasm and allowed her heat to cool for a few moments until once again taking her to the very edge of the peak that she sought. It was as if the collar or perhaps The One who controlled the collar was laughing at her attempts to escape by using her perfect sex. Or perhaps it was showing her that her punishment would be shaped by her own actions. If she attempted to use her sex to escape, she would be punished through her sex. Just before dawn, her hands took her to release. It was a thundering and explosive orgasm that had been building in her throughout the night. It was an overload of pleasure for her body and mind. It almost made the night of torment worth it, but then her hands again began their rubbing and prodding as the collar forced her to orgasm again and again and again and again. Now, if she had been able to speak she would have screamed and cried and begged to be allowed to stop cumming, but instead her hands continued to rub and circle and tease until she peaked in another, now painful, orgasm. Finally, after sufficiently punishing her feeble attempt at escape, the collar released her into a few hours of sleep before waking her to begin what would be her daily walk of shame. During breakfast, the collar forced her to smile brightly and look each person in the dining hall in the eye as they passed by her solitary table or stared at her from where they sat. Her cheery "Good Morning, Sir" or "Good Morning Madam" echoed almost continuously throughout the hall. When the servant women from the kitchen gathered around the serving door to look at her, her neck shuddered in resistance against turning toward them and her mouth trembled as she tried to hold back greeting them, but the collar was stronger than her will and eventually she merrily chirped "Good Morning, Ladies" through quivering teeth. What her mind really wanted to scream out at the servant girls huddled in the kitchen door was exactly what she had screamed at them so many times before. That was, "Wait until I get you over a kitchen chair. I will pound your ass into shredded meat with one of the cook's kettle spoons." Kettle spoons were large, very over-sized wooden spoons intended to stir a kettle of stew or soup that was cooking over the open fires of the kitchen hearths. Shumara loved using kettle spoons as her chosen instrument of torture when she would spank or beat the kitchen staff. She had even ordered several special kettle spoons made "for the cook" that hung on the wall alongside the fireplace for those occasions when she needed to vent her anger on someone. The presence of those spoons in the kitchen was a constant reminder of the power and pain which she held over the servant girls and boys of the kitchen staff. As Shumara pictured those spoons in her mind, she especially remembered tying the chief cook's daughter, Jenny, across the serving counter in the kitchen and beating her until she could scream no more. She had then left her there naked, with blood running down her legs, for her father to find when he came into the kitchen to begin preparing the next meal. As soon as that image formed in her mind the collar buzzed slightly and forced her to stand. It then walked her to the serving door which separated the kitchen from dining hall. The serving women scattered before her in fear of what she had done to them in the past and what she might do to them now, even in her disgraced state. "I am ordered to request that all kitchen and serving staff gather in the kitchen at exactly two this afternoon. I know that this is your break time, but I promise that what you will see will more than make up for missing your afternoon break. I am further ordered to especially request that Junhara Six and her father Donhara Three be present." With that Shumara bowed to the assembled women and backed out of the room. As she left the great hall to begin her tour of shame through the rooms and offices of the palace complex, the collar loosened its grip upon her slightly and allowed her to sob and cry out loud as tears flowed freely down her face and wet the tops of her naked breasts. As she sobbed her way through the rooms and hallways, she was aware of the smiles and even laughter that accompanied her. The humiliation was so intense that her skin darkened with a reddish blush until it appeared almost as dark red as the distinctive hue of the genetic class which cleaned the buildings and took care of the grounds that surrounded them. It was nearly one o'clock when she finished her walk through the rooms and offices and the collar brought her back to the great hall. All eyes turned to watch her as she entered and walked to her table where a large bowl of cold gruel awaited her. Shumara had always hated even the smell of gruel when it was served to the servants and had never in her life actually eaten or even tasted it. But the choice was not hers as she scooped spoonful after spoonful of the slimy slop into her mouth. She hoped that she would be allowed to remain at her table for a while when she had finished, but instead her body rose and went to the front of the hall to the slightly raised speaker's platform. She stood in front of the podium and announced with a loud voice, "Superiors of me, I beg your indulgence to announce that I am to be punished for my past behavior with the serving staff. If any of you wish to witness this punishment, it will begin at 2:00 o'clock sharp in the kitchen." Shumara Seven then lowered her arms to her side and stood there like a living statue as she watched the clock above the doorway slowly tick its way toward 2:00 o'clock. A few moments before 2:00 she began a slow walk to the kitchen. Many of the ruling class who did not have duties that required them to be elsewhere, had remained after eating to see what would occur, and all of the kitchen and serving staff were crowded into the kitchen to witness whatever punishment Shumara would receive. Each of them had felt her wrath at least once and all of them were hoping that she would suffer at least as much as she had made them suffer. Shumara walked into the kitchen and directly over to the four overly large spoons that hung on the wall alongside the fireplace kettles. One of the spoons, except for its size, was a normal spoon; one was a spoon with holes drilled through it supposedly to allow liquids to drain away but actually to make it sting more intensely when it struck against the flesh; one was flat, almost like a spatula; and the last was flat and slotted so that it was somewhere between a spatula and a fork. The slotted wooden spatula raised instant welts in a distinctive pattern when it was applied to a persons backside. The welts from that spatula-fork often scarred and remained as a reminder of the princesses wrath for years. None of these special spoons had ever actually been used to stir the kettles in the palace kitchens. These were Princess Shumara Seven's "private spoons" and had only one purpose. They were used to whip a servant's ass until he or she screamed and begged for mercy. When they were not being used for that purpose, they remained on the wall as a constant reminder of her power. Shumara took the four spoons from the wall. She gave one of them to Jenny Six and another to her father Donny Trey. She then asked, "Who is it that cleans the coals and ashes from the ovens and fireplaces?" A rather dirty looking wench stepped forward. She was one of the lowest of the servant girls with the dark, almost gray skin of the servant class, but even darker and grayer. She was chosen partially because she was the lowest of the servant class, but also because had very muscled arms from lugging wood in for cooking and taking ashes out to the soap house. She was handed the spatula spoon. Shumara continued, "And who draws the water from the well and brings it into the kitchen?" A much cleaner, but no less muscled young woman stepped forward and was handed the spatula fork. Shumara then moved to the preparation counter in the center of the kitchen. Several of the servants gulped or cried softly as they remembered what had happened to them when she had tied them across that very counter and had beaten them with those very spoons. One of Shumara's favorite "games" was to force them to hold one of the spoons in their hand or in their mouths while she beat them with the other spoons. If they dropped it she would begin her count all over again. Then when she was finished, she would make them stand in the great hall just outside the kitchen door, still holding the spoon wherever it was that she had placed it, until the next meal had been served and the hall had been cleared. If the next meal was breakfast, that meant the servant girl or boy stood there all night. Shumara lay herself across the low counter with her breasts hanging free on one side of the counter and her legs barely touching the floor on the other side. There were special eye-bolts at the base of the counter that Shumara had ordered installed and were normally used to tie her victim in place. Two servants stepped forward with ropes, but the collar said through her voice, "It will not be necessary to tie me. The collar will see to that. Each of you is to administer 50 strokes as hard as you can. Jenny Six, you are to go first. After you are finished, place the spoon in my right hand. The ashes servant will go next and then place her spoon in my left hand. The water girl will be third and then place her spoon in my mouth. Donhara Three, you will be last. I think that by the time you have finished you will know where to place your spoon. You may need to use some of the grease from the scrap bucket on the handle before you put it in place. Afterward, I will take the spoons with me and burn them in my fireplace. They will never be used here again." Shumara held her arms out to her sides and spread her feet as wide as they could go. It was as if she was very tightly tied in place except that there were no ropes holding her. The first stroke smacked against her ass cheek and resounded like a shot within the kitchen. Her scream, which was even louder, surprised her more than it did those who were watching. Evidently the collar had returned control of her voice to her so that the servants could hear her scream and beg for mercy. Scream she did, very loudly, but she did not beg for mercy, at least not at first. Instead she cursed and spit and declared that she would someday get her vengeance on those who dared to touch her royal body. Pride, however, is no match for pain, and somewhere around the thirtieth stroke she began to beg. "Please don't do this. Please I can't stand it. Please don't hurt me like this." Her words, if anything, had the opposite effect on Jenny Six. She sped up the tempo of her strikes and swung harder and harder with each swing of her arm. Finally she reached fifty and stopped. She was panting, sweaty and gasping for air, but for the first time in several years, she was also smiling. In fact, she was almost laughing as she took the spoon and set it in Shumara's hand and said, "Remember, former princess, if you drop the spoon, we start the count over again at one." Shumara wondered if the sound of joy in Jenny's voice and the look of triumph on her face was what the servants had seen on her face as she said the same words to them. The ashes girl stepped up directly behind Shumara and began swinging her spoon downward against Shumara's upper legs. Shumara bounced and kicked as much as the collar would allow and on the fifth strike, her hands opened and she dropped Jenny's spoon. Jenny rushed forward and picked it up and put it back in Shumara's hand. "You lost five on that one, former princess. You will need to do better than that if you are going to survive this." Both Shumara and Jenny knew that Jenny's laughter that followed was because she was again using the exact same words that Shumara had used the night she had beaten Jenny to a bloody mess on that very counter. The ashes girl began once again and, as before, she struck vertically on Shumara's legs and ass. Shumara screamed and begged and squirmed but she did not again drop the spoon even when the ashes girl reversed the spoon and struck deeply in the crack of her ass with the narrow handle, once striking her tail bone and once striking her puckered anus with the very tip of the handle. When the ashes girl finally finished, she placed her spoon in Shumara's left hand, and the water girl stepped forward with the terrible slotted spatula-fork. "I don't know if you remember, former princess, but when you tied me naked to this counter, I was looking at the ceiling, not the floor. If I am to do to you what you did to me, I need to turn you over." "No, no, please, not that," blubbered Shumara, an image of what she had done to the water girl forming in her mind. But then in a voice that was clear and crisp the collar spoke through her and said, "Turn me over and lay me flat on the counter." Several men servants stepped forward and she was soon laying face up on the counter with her head at one end and her feet at the other. "That's not how I was tied," said the water girl and she roughly grabbed Shumara's feet and spread them so that her legs were outside the counter and her feet hung down with her knees bent. The result was that Shumara's legs were spread so wide that her slit gaped open, and with her lower legs hanging alongside the counter, there was no way that she could draw her legs back together. "That's more like it," laughed the water girl and she reached forward and tapped the side of the fork-like spatula-spoon between Shumara's legs against her mons. Shumara jumped slightly with the tap, but the collar held her in place. After three more taps, one directly on the clit and one on each nipple, the water girl announced, "Now we begin," and she turned the spoon in her hand. The first full stroke landed solidly on Shumara's left breast. It was followed immediately by strikes that alternated from breast to breast. Shumara's screams became almost continuous as the flat, slotted, wooden spatula continued to fall repeatedly on her nipples. When she thought that she could scream no louder, the water girl stepped slightly to the side and began pounding her cunt with blow after blow. Her screams filled not only the kitchen, but the great hall and the great hallway beyond. Just as she thought that she would lose her mind for the pain, she suddenly felt the handle of the spoon being thrust between her lips and teeth so that she was holding it in her mouth like a dog with a long bone. The water girl bent low over Shumara's face and whispered, "I enjoyed that more than you ever did when you beat me. I am wet between my legs and will dream of this whenever I am lonely in my bed at night." With that she laughed and reached down and stroked Shumara's swollen cunt. Shumara gasped in pain at even the light touch. "I think you will remember it too," laughed the water girl as she stepped back into the crowd. Shumara felt herself sliding into a semi-conscious haze to escape the pain which consumed her body. The collar brought her back to full consciousness, though, as a man's voice boomed out. "Former princess, you have a choice to make. I know where I will leave this spoon if you remain as you are, and I know where I will leave it if you turn back over onto your stomach. So the choice is yours. Do I continue to pound you cunt and tits and then leave this spoon in your twat, or do you roll over and I pound your ass and legs and then leave this spoon firmly embedded in your royal ass?" It was then that Shumara remembered that she had once beaten Donhara Three and left him standing in the kitchen next to his ovens with this very spoon protruding from his ass. She did not answer, but instead began to turn her body as if to roll over onto her stomach. The pain was tremendous, and alone she could not have done it, but the collar overrode her pain and forced her muscles to act. That, and the help of several of the servant women, allowed Shumara to return to her original position with her now swollen breast hanging over the edge of the counter. She had hoped that this would help her escape further pain to her cunt, but as she lay on the counter, she realized that all of her weight was now pressing down on the very area which was so badly bruised. "So be it," spoke Donny Trey, and he began to strike her buttocks, legs, thighs and back. He was older, larger, stronger, and filled with the memory of what she had once done to him and to his daughter. Each stroke made a loud splat that was heard even above Shumara's screams. Each stroke also left a raised red welt with darker red dots that marked where the holes had been drilled in the spoon. By the time he had finished, Shumara was no longer screaming, but instead just whimpered weakly with each blow. When the fifty strokes had been delivered, the cook walked over to the bucket that sat on the floor next to his stoves and plunged the handle of the spoon into the greasy mess. As he walked back to the center counter he stopped for a moment at his preparation table and sprinkled something red and powdery over the handle of the spoon. "I greased this as the collar recommended, but I also added just a touch of spice so that you will not forget me or what you did to me and my daughter." With that he pushed the handle of the spoon roughly between Shumara's legs and into her puckered asshole. Her whole body vibrated as the cayenne pepper began to burn within her, but the collar soon reclaimed total control of her body and held her still. Kollany Thirty-Five Ch. 02 Despite the pain she slid off the counter under the collar's control and onto her feet. She stood there with her arms held slightly out from her body, a spoon in each hand, one in her teeth, and one protruding from her ass like a stiff wooden tail. She clumsily turned in a complete circle so that everyone could see everything and also so that she had to look at everyone as they smiled and laughed at her complete humiliation. Then with a slightly stiff and clumsy walk caused both by the beating and by the spoon still stuck in her ass, she wobbled off into the great hall to stand outside the kitchen door where she had made many servants stand after being beaten by her. The response of the various people who came into the hall for the evening meal was almost identical. As each came through the main doors, they would catch sight of Shumara standing with her arms held straight out from her body, each hand holding a giant spoon, another giant spoon in her mouth and a fourth sticking out of her ass. All conversation would cease as they took in the grotesque sight, but then smiles would form as they pointed at her and said, usually loud enough for her to hear, "I see Shumara has finally gotten a taste of her own medicine." Finally the meal was ended, the hall was cleaned and the servants had all gone off to their rooms for their night. As the lights dimmed, Shumara, the spoons still in place, waddled through the great hall, down the hallways and into her room. Once in her room, the collar again partially released control of her body back to her mind. A clear voice spoke within her head saying, "As long as you do not attempt to leave this room or speak to anyone through the doors or windows, you may remain in control of your body." Feeling herself in control, Shumara immediately dropped the two spoons and spit the spoon out of her mouth. She then gingerly reached behind herself and slowly pulled the final spoon from her ass. "I sense conflicting emotions within you," said the voice. "You hate what happened and yet there is something about it that entices you. I can sense that it was not what was done, but the fact that it was done in public that has humiliated you. In fact, you secretly wish that they had done one final thing to you, don't you?" "I wish no such thing!" Shumara yelled out loud, even though she knew that there was no one with her but the collar, and it could read her thoughts. "Don't lie to me or I will punish you," said the collar. After a long silence the collar continued, "Or is it that you want me to punish you? Do you want me to do to you what you secretly wished that they had done in the kitchen?... or even on a table in the center of the great hall?" "Please do it," whispered Shumara, her head dropping in shame at what she had just said. Her face immediately resumed the fixed expression that indicated that the collar was once again in control. Her movements were the measured pace of the collar's control as she picked up all four of the spoons from where she had thrown them on the floor, lay back on the bed, and holding all four handles tightly together, thrust the spoons into her cunt as far as they would go. Holding all four spoons together, she began moving them in and out of herself at a steady pounding pace. Her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps as her hips bucked against her hands until finally with a scream that was the same and yet different from what had been heard in the kitchen she clamped her legs tightly around her hands and moaned and thrashed upon the bed. "That wasn't me, Shumara," said the voice from the collar. "I released control before you picked up the first spoon. That was you. And it proves that you did lie to me. So, now comes your punishment." Shumara's hands, now under the true control of the collar, again began their pounding thrusts. She moaned and thrashed and yelled, "No, please no!" But her hands kept pounding and pounding until she clamped her legs together in orgasm not once, not twice, but ten more times. Finally, the voice from the collar spoke in her mind, "Sleep well, former princess. Your body will heal overnight. You have five more days of preparation, but I know already that it will be very difficult to come up with a proper punishment for someone such as you." = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = END CHAPTER TWO OF EIGHT Please remember to vote by clicking on one of the stars at the end of the story. If you really liked it, click 5. If you really hated it, click 1, but please click something. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =