Princess (13 page)

‘What are you doing?' Ortac demanded.

‘Buggering you,' the man replied simply, then grunted as he pushed, Iriel's sloppy hole spreading to the pressure as she cried out in disgust.

‘There is no time for games!' Ortac snapped.

‘Calm yourself,' the man grunted, forcing the collar of his foreskin in past Iriel's straining bottom ring. ‘It's my last chance, and she's dirty so it's going up easily and I'll soon spunk. Now let me concentrate.'

‘Idiot!' Ortac answered, but went on with his task, fingering the sobbing Kaissia's bottom hole because she was having trouble defecating.

The man in Iriel's bottom grunted once more, wedging the last section of his cock up into her rectum. She stuck her bottom out, resigned to buggery and determined to make it as painless as possible.

‘That's my girl,' he sighed, ‘show the peach, fat and wide.'

He began to bugger her, grunting and mumbling obscenities as his cock moved in and out to the sound of squelching noises and her involuntary panting. Her breasts began to swing, then to slap together as he got faster, adding to the lewd noises wrung from her body. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, his pushes grew faster, his balls began to slap on her empty tuppenny, sends little jolts of pleasure through her until she was sure she would come, only for him to fill her rectum with hot jism and leave her on the brink.

‘Pig!' she managed, as he emptied himself into her, cock held deep up her bottom.

His response was a sigh of perfect bliss, then a firm slap to her bottom. She gritted her teeth as he began to pull out, and settled on the pot the moment he was free, jism bubbling and farting from her half-closed bottom ring.

‘She is right,' Ortac stated. ‘You are a pig. Now clean her up, quickly!'

The man laughed, but immediately took Iriel by the hair, forcing her to lift her bottom once more. He slapped the wet cloth between her buttocks, penetrating her anus, then cupping her tuppenny to wipe away the juice, once more sending a jolt of helpless pleasure through her as he touched her bump.

Iriel stayed down, suffering the indignity of having the most intimate parts of her body probed in shame-filled silence, until she had been washed to the men's satisfaction and lifted once more, to stand shivering in the pale light striking into the stall through the open doors. Only then did she discover that her hasty buggering had been seen not only by the caravan men but by several dozen people in the yard.

She sighed and shook her head, the added indignity a small thing beside all that had been heaped on her. The air was cool, and she realised that it was not long after dawn as the men began to pat her down with handfuls of moss. Around her, the others were receiving much the same treatment. Yi had been fucked and had jism running down the insides of her thighs, but otherwise the men had contented themselves with fondling breasts and bottoms and the occasional intrusion of a finger. Aeisla, with three men attending to her, was already dry, and was being rubbed down, her face set in a mask as scented oil was applied to her heavy breasts.

The pots were removed, the remaining sacks of spiced fish taken away, the floor washed. One man handed out more pots of oil and Iriel found herself struggling not to react as she was anointed, the man taking particular care over her breasts and buttocks, but leaving her nipples and the lips of her tuppenny free. Another man brought in their costumes, which had been removed to save them from damage, and she was dressed in the ludicrous little skirt and top, then the high-laced sandals. Her hair was twisted into a crude knot and stuck with plumes, her nipples painted, then her tuppenny, to leave her exactly as she had been first paraded into Oretea.

With the last girl costumed and painted and the yokes chained to the wagon frame to force the girls to remain standing, the majority of the men dispersed. Only two guards and a man from the House Alwan remained, this last in elaborate livery and wearing an air of cold self-importance as he went to stand by the open door. The people who had watched Iriel buggered had gone, leaving the yard empty, also clear of straw, camel dung and all the other detritus that usually added to the hot reek of her quarters.

She waited, at first expectant and determined to show her defiance, then curious, then bored. Nothing happened, until at last, with her legs aching and sun risen to its full scorching heat she caught Assanach's voice, not commanding as usual, but deferential, almost wheedling.

‘…yet what of others of the House, Great Prince? I have no wish to create enmity. An auction surely would…'

‘Do not be concerned,' another voice answered, calm, deep and with far more authority than Assanach had ever mustered. ‘You shall be paid, and well, more certainly than you might expect at auction.'

Assanach appeared, accompanied by several men, soldiers, a little beetle like creature who appeared to be a clerk and one other, tall by Oretean standards, slender and straight, his beard pure white and not oiled but encased in gold filigree. Iriel met his gaze as he stopped to look up at her and the others, determined only to show defiant pride, as Aeisla had instructed.

‘Release them so that they may kneel!' Assanach ordered urgently. ‘Bow your heads, you, you are in the presence of Palades Daken, Royal Prince!'

‘Do not trouble yourself,' the man answered. ‘Have them brought down.'

‘With haste, with haste!' Assanach urged as the guards went to the yoke chains. ‘Do not keep the Great Prince waiting!'

The guards obeyed, Aeisla returning Iriel's questioning look with a nod, and the coffle was helped carefully down to the ground and lined up in the yard, where Iriel stood blinking in the brilliant sunlight, her chin lifted, trying to show haughty contempt but feeling ridiculous in her costume. Palades Daken walked around them, once, then again before addressing Kaissia.

‘Do you profess rationality, girl?'

‘I do,' Kaissia answered, ‘and furthermore I am a Squireling, and highborn.'

‘A Squireling?' he queried.

‘The Aeg title for Princess,' Assanach responded quickly.

‘I see,' Palades Daken continued. ‘And you are Princesses, all five?'

‘We are not,' Kaissia answered. ‘Aeisla is of the rank of Reeveling, the others are lowborn.'

Palades Daken chuckled and looked up at Aeisla, to whom Kaissia had nodded.

‘Not Princesses then? I had suspected as much, given that you wear feathers from the ostrich, a bird the scholars assured us occurs only south of the Eigora Khum. You are Aeg though, evidently.'

Assanach was wringing his hands frantically together, his face now the colour of a plum, but Palades Daken ignored him, speaking again to Aeisla.

‘Are you strong, girl?'

Aeisla spat, catching him full in the face. For one instant anger showed in his eyes and a gasp of outrage rose from his attendants, then he had mastered himself and extended a hand to hold back the guards. Stepping away a little, he spoke again.

‘Strong of purpose, that is for certain. I am told that in Staive Cintes you slew eight watchmen, including a Twelveman of renowned skill.'

‘I killed five,' she answered, ‘Cianna, by me, two, Yi, at the end, one. Twelveman Cound had his back to me, an easy stroke. My last I took while enmeshed in net, Yi's likewise.'

He nodded and went on.

‘Following which events the Eriedes ordered you taken here to be sold, thus getting rid of you while also gaining a handsome sum. In his place, I would have done likewise. Thus and so. Inveides, pay Master Assanach a purse of four thousand gold Marks, after which he is to be taken to the marketplace and whipped. Come.'

He turned on his heel, guards immediately taking hold of the coffle chain to lead the girls after him, leaving Assanach's shrill mixture of thanks and pleas behind.

Despite herself, it was more than Iriel could resist not to relax against the well filled cushions on which she lay. She was still hobbled and collared, also nude and chained to a ring in the wall, but the awful yoke had been removed and her hands were free. She rubbed her wrists as the last of the guards left with a doubtful look the five of them.

Leaving the House Alwan, they had been led through the streets of Oretes, not to the great palace she had seen before, but to a lesser one still some five times the size of the High-Prince's keep in Aegerion. There, they had been led through formal gardens and pillared halls of the blue-white marble inlaid with more exotic stones, to the chamber in which she now lay. They had been stripped of their foolish costumes and washed but left naked, then very carefully shifted from the coffle to the wall rings, their hands released last. Palades Daken had stayed with them, watching over his guards, who had then been dismissed. Now he stood looking down at them, his face set in thought.

‘So,' he stated after a while, ‘you are my slaves. Are you honoured? To judge from your faces, clearly not, which I confess is a new experience for me. Our philosophers state that slavery is the natural role for women, so why so resentful?'

‘Your philosophers known only of your own people,' Aeisla stated.

‘An observation philosophical in itself,' he replied. ‘I am told you have been in Vendjome, as a slave, yet escaped.'

‘You know a great deal,' she answered.

‘I do,' he answered. ‘For instance, I also know that both on the occasion of the death of the Twelveman in Staive Cintes and one other, you have risked your lives for no obvious return beyond the satisfaction of your honour code. Such loyalty is a rare trait, or did you have some other motive?'

‘I… it is a difficult matter,' Aeisla responded, ‘but yes, essentially it was for honour.'

‘Remarkable. I am intrigued to know how such loyalty comes to be bestowed.'

‘Not from a slave.'

‘Just so. I know little of Aegmund, save that it is a cold and cheerless place inhabited by ferocious and gigantic barbarians. So much you confirm, yet it seems you have hidden depths, perhaps useful traits. Would, I wonder, your loyalty be earned if I gave you your freedom?'

‘Our gratitude, certainly,' Aeisla said cautiously as a wild hope rose up in Iriel's breast.

‘I would require rather more than gratitude,' he answered. ‘As you may know, I am uncle to the Palades and serve in the role of Vizier, while you may have divined that I am careful to ensure that I remain informed of important events in the Kingdom.'

‘So we see. What do you wish of us, to gather information for you? From the Vendjomois even?'

‘Hardly an honourable occupation,' Kaissia sniffed. ‘An enemy should be faced openly.'

‘It is an improvement on slavery,' Aeisla replied, the others quickly nodding agreement. ‘Pray continue, Great Prince.'

‘Hmm, “Great Prince” is an improvement on spittle,' Palades Daken remarked. ‘But no, I do not require you to go to Vendjome, nothing so dangerous. What I require is your full loyalty and perfect obedience, only thus may you have your freedom, and then only once the task is done.'

‘Name it,' Aeisla stated.

‘First,' he replied, ‘be assured that should you betray my trust your death will be slow and lingering, so much so that you will wish you were rotting in the hung cage in Staive Cintes.'

‘There is no call for threats,' Aeisla answered. ‘You have my word.'

‘Mine also,' Kaissia added, ‘loyalty in return for free citizenship of Oretes.'

Iriel nodded her agreement, Cianna and Yi also.

‘It may well involve being whipped, maybe worse,' he stated. ‘Certainly it will involve the use of your bodies, and in unusual ways.'

Aeisla merely shrugged. He nodded.

‘So be it, and if I am to accept your word, then you must accept mine. For the time being, I merely need you to follow my instructions without committing undue violence. Initially, you will be given as a gift…'

‘A gift!' Kaissia interrupted.

‘Be peaceful,' Aeisla soothed. ‘This for our freedom, in body as well as spirit. When you grovel by choice, only then are you a slave. Remember this.'

‘A gift to the Palades,' Prince Daken continued, ‘and you need not feign submission, as it would be a suspicious change in your known characters, which Assanach has built up to a fine degree. Fight, spit, whatsoever you please, until such time has he has fucked you. Only then do you need to change you ways, or rather, to appear to, feigning devotion for the pleasure he brings you.'

‘You wish us merely to pass over the details of his personal machinations?' Aeisla queried.

‘No, not this.'

‘What then?'

‘You will be told when the time is right.'

‘This plotting does not sit well with me,' Kaissia objected. ‘I prefer a plain objective, and if you tell us so little how do we know that you will not sacrifice us to gain some end you have not revealed?'

‘You do not,' he answered. ‘It is a risk you must take for your freedom.'

‘Let us accept,' Aeisla urged, ‘at the least we may gain a chance to die well!'

Cianna immediately struck her fist on the floor, a gesture copied by Yi and Iriel.

‘I wish to know more,' Kaissia stated. ‘At the least the nature of this King we are to be given to, which others we may trust, which…'

‘Trust none,' Iriel put in, ‘but rather assume we are in a nest of vipers, each one turned against us. This is my understanding of Oretes!'

Prince Daken chuckled, then spoke.

‘There is something in what you say. Thus and so, pay close attention. To understand what I require of you it is perhaps advisable to know something of the history of the House Palades. The old King was the twelfth of his line, and as has often been the case when monarchs die at a great age, the succession came into dispute when he died. The two eldest of his sons, my brothers, had predeceased, each leaving a son. The legitimate heir, of undiluted royal blood, was one Thraxus, an imbecile. His cousin Uilus claimed the throne, but the council placed me as mentor to both Thraxus and his infant sister, Sulden. In time Thraxus died, choking on the bones of a poorly prepared mudfish. Again Uilus sought the crown, but again the council preferred to give title to Sulden while retaining myself as regent. A year later, Sulden simply disappeared, and at last Uilus took the throne. Thus the situation has stood for eighteen years.