Princess (14 page)

‘Uilus is the Palades?'

‘Just so, the Fifteenth Palades. In character, he was always something of a wastrel, but in recent years his excesses have grown more outrageous. He drinks to unconsciousness, takes opium and cares nothing for affairs beyond those which enhance his own pleasure. He…'

‘You wish to kill him, to take his place?' Kaissia asked. ‘Why did you not simply challenge him when you had your full strength?'

‘This is not their way,' Aeisla put in. ‘Matters do not run to the same course as in Aegmund, where we ensure that the strongest rule. In Oretes it seems to be those with the most cunning. Prince Daken intends that we should kill the King.'

Prince Daken's eyebrows rose a fraction and it was a moment before he answered.

‘Your barbarians are less dull than I had been led to believe. Yes, to speak plainly, I intend that you should kill him…'

‘As his guards will kill us moments later. Then you take the throne for your own!' Kaissia scoffed. ‘No, you do not understand us, Prince Daken. I will do that gladly.'

‘I assure you that your deaths form no part of the matter,' he answered, now somewhat discomfited. ‘I will explain. As I have stated, the Palades is no fit ruler. Each moment he grows more introspective and suspicious, until he sees plots on every side. Just a month ago three of our finest generals were arrested for treason and hanged in the marketplace. Palades Tavian, of the family and Commander here in Oretes, was fortunate to escape. Now our armies reel before the Vendjomois, bereft of leadership and spirit. I must act without delay.'

‘General?' Yi queried.

‘Men who lead armies,' Aeisla explained. ‘What Prince Daken is trying to say is that Uilus murdered Thraxus, Sulden, and these generals, but not openly. He fears that he will be next and wishes to strike first, and in the same manner. We see this as an act too shameful…'

‘So it is!' Kaissia exclaimed in outrage.

‘…to be considered,' Aeisla went on. ‘Here, I suspect that assassination is regarded as normal.'

‘What is assassination?' Iriel asked.

‘Assassination,' Aeisla replied, ‘is the practise of killing by stealth rather than open combat, a foul habit, but not uncommon in these lands. Do not be surprised to learn that in Oretes it is the normal means of succession.'

‘Hardly that!' Daken said. ‘But yes, this would not be the first occasion on which only one claimant of many has survived. Never is it open, and none speak of such things.'

‘I do not understand,' Iriel asked. ‘How could Uilus be sure that Thraxus would choke on the fish bone?'

‘He would not have been,' Daken explained. ‘Doubtless it was one of several attempts, all subtle, all untraceable. Uilus himself put the fishcook to torment but drew no confession.'

‘The cook died?'

‘Of course. How else would it be?'

Aeisla nodded.

‘What of the girl child?' Yi asked. ‘She was murdered by her own cousin?'

‘Evidently,' Kaissia said. ‘These people have no concept of honour whatsoever.'

‘Uilus would have murdered Sulden, yes,' Daken replied, ‘but he did not. Sulden lives, and I intend to see her to her rightful place on the throne.'

‘All this is remarkable,' Kaissia stated, ‘but I will not kill Uilus save openly, on a challenge.'

‘We have agreed to follow the Prince's orders,' Cianna pointed out. ‘We should do so.'

‘No,' Kaissia objected. ‘Would I put a knife in my Earl's back merely because my Baron instructed me to?'

‘We have no fealty here,' Cianna objected, ‘and besides, when he realises he is attacked he is sure to resist. This is sufficient for me, and requires only a table knife, if that.'

She grinned, displaying her pointed teeth.

‘Just so,' Daken admitted, with a fastidious shudder, ‘although I would prefer you not to express yourselves in such crude terms. Still, as barbarians, this is to be expected, yet if you do this his guards will certainly kill you before I can intervene. Poison is a better choice, administered cleverly so as to avoid his tasters…

‘Not I then,' Cianna stated. ‘Not poison.'

‘Another then,' Daken went on. ‘He will be suspicious, naturally, but it may be that you can introduce a ball of poison into his anus with your tongue.'

‘I have seen this trick in Makea,' Cianna stated, ‘but no…'

Aeisla interrupted, ‘I fear that it is impossible. Our honour code forbids it.'

Kaissia nodded in heartfelt agreement.

‘When the alternative is certain death?' Daken answered.

‘Indeed,' Aeisla responded, equally calmly. ‘Against guards we die with honour and thus reach the Feast Hall of Heroines. To give Uilus poison or even to knife him in his sleep would dishonour us and out ancestors before us.'

‘Other possibilities exist,' Daken sighed. ‘Here is one that may satisfy you. Uilus is cruel, cruel in the manner of a spiteful boy pulling the appendages from an insect. He takes pleasure in the hurt and humiliation of all, hence my certainty that he will oblige you to lick his anus. Another particular joy of his is to make the girls of the harem fight, generally in some absurd parody of combat and with weapons that while little more than toys can still do harm. Undoubtedly he will make you do this, perhaps against a greater number of Vendjomois or Cypraean girls. When this happens, you will be in the traditional garb of your homeland, and armed accordingly, for the sake of dramatic realism. You must turn on him rather than on your opponents. I will ensure…'

‘How would he be?' Aeisla queried. ‘Armed?'

‘Unlikely,' Daken admitted, ‘or at least with no more than a wine cup. He drinks a heady mixture of strong red from the Glissade Mountains and opium…'

‘Five against one man, unarmed, drunk and drugged?' Aeisla queried. ‘This is open assassination.'

‘Unthinkable,' Kaissia repeated.

‘Why so?' Daken demanded in exasperation. ‘It is simple enough, is it not? Can you not swallow your high-flown honour code for one moment, and here, two thousands of leagues from your homeland?'

‘What you suggest is undoubtedly assassination and as such untenable,' Kaissia insisted stubbornly.

‘It is simple combat!' Daken replied. ‘There will be guards also, a full Twelve of the Royal House in all probability. Is this not enough for you?'

‘Could we not provoke a challenge?' Cianna suggested. ‘In Makea there was a man, Ulourdos, who wished to fight me to mark himself as my superior. His pride was piqued by my refusal to be his slave. Uilus is perhaps as proud and vain as was Ulourdos?'

‘No doubt,' Daken responded. ‘What happened to this Ulourdos?'

‘I bit his throat out,' Cianna replied simply. ‘Aeisla must provide the full saga if you wish it?'

‘Thank you, no,' Daken replied, turning a little pale. He swallowed, then rallied himself.

‘Your plan might work, yes. Uilus has been known to join in his little entertainments, and even to inflict a spanking or minor cuts, perhaps to squat on the face on the beaten girl, depending on his mood. Would that suit? After all, you yourself admitted to striking down the Twelveman from behind.'

‘It would suit, yes,' Aeisla admitted. ‘And I did challenge Cound, he was half turned when my axe caught his neck.'

‘Daken is old,' Kaissia put in, ‘One of us might reasonably take his part as a champion, in which case the challenge would be formal.'

‘Possible,' Aeisla admitted. ‘It would be your right, as senior among us.'

‘I accept, gladly,' Kaissia replied. ‘Prince Daken, appoint me your champion with whatever ceremony is appropriate. I am prepared to overlook the details of my introduction to the palace for the sake of expediency, also to wait my opportunity. To fight a King as Champion is a fine thing. Even if I fail it will restore my escutcheon.'

‘She was shamed,' Aeisla explained.

‘Spanked in public, quite naked,' Cianna added. ‘Her breasts tattooed, as you see.'

‘Smeared with dung and put in the barrel,' Yi put in.

‘She was supposed to be ravished by a troll, too,' Iriel concluded, ‘a small one, but…'

‘Will you four be quiet!' Kaissia snapped. ‘There is no need to discuss the detail.'

Daken's eyebrows had risen. ‘This is how girls are punished in Aegmund? Remarkable. What was you crime, Kaissia?'

‘I would rather not discuss the matter,' she answered.

‘She gave her maidenhead to a bull-nymph,' Yi stated.

‘Only that?' Daken queried. ‘For a virgin of good birth, yes I suppose there might be objection. A good spanking, certainly, what could be more appropriate for a girl's discipline? But to be tattooed, put in a barrel of dung, covered by a troll, is this not excessive?'

‘Trolls are known then, in Oretea?' Aeisla queried.

‘Indeed so,' he answered, ‘but we do not have them fuck our women.'

Aeisla put her hand to her chin as he finished with a disconcerted laugh.

Chapter Five – The Palades

Iriel stretched, then reached out to accept a cup of wine from the curiously soft young man who was offering it to her. Degrading slavery might be, but there was no denying that it was a lot easier either than working as a seamstress or in a galley, let alone being part of the goods in a caravan. Aeisla's advice and the knowledge that is was an act in any case made her sense of shame little more than a background irritation, while in the three days since the five of them had been taken to the King's harem she had not been so much as touched.

Daken had timed his gift carefully, waiting two days until Uilus had thrown an entertainment so excessive that it had taken a further two to recover. Thus the girls had had a chance to settle in and to restore their strength. They had also behaved themselves, and while initially in chains, these had been removed, along with their hobbles, thus leaving them in simple and slender collars of engraved silver. Each was connected to a wall ring by a chain Iriel was sure she could she could break simply by twisting it sufficiently.

The palace was enormous, but composed mainly of open, pillared halls in which the affairs of government were conducted, along with two great wings of apartments, for guests and staff. Only the central portion was given over to the King's living quarters, but of that an entire floor consisted of the harem chambers and accommodation for the curious, flabby little men who saw to the girls' wants.

The main chamber was divided, by walls such as that to which the five girls were chained, also by ranks of pillars and screens carved of exotic woods. These formed alcoves, each liberally provided with cushions, a tabouret on which the servants could sit when a girl needed to be spanked, a cabinet for perfumes, coloured body paints and accessories for enhancing their beauty. There was also a bell, which she only needed to ring to have a servant bring food, drink or a pot.

Although she had seen only a small proportion of the harem chamber, it clearly housed a hundred or more girls, each in her alcove. Yet Iriel was effectively alone, able to speak to Cianna and Yi through the screens to either side of her, and to Aeisla and Kaissia with difficult, but otherwise cut off from her friends. Opposite, across a space of open floor, was another row of alcoves, six in all, four of which she could see fully into. All were occupied, and provided what had initially been shock but had quickly turned to amusement.

The five Aeg girls had been left carefully alone by the servants, who seemed to have no interest in ravishing their charges in any case, nor even taking advantage of the abundant display of female flesh. They did give spankings though, administered either by hand or with the little silver backed hairbrushes with which every girl was provided, and the spankings were given with particular spite. It was rare for an hour to pass without hearing the hapless pleas, pained squeals and meaty slapping noises of one girl or another getting her bottom attended to somewhere in the chamber, and not infrequently in the alcoves opposite Iriel.

Of the six girls, five had been spanked since Iriel's arrival. Only the one in the last alcove had escaped, a shy Oretean who seldom spoke and always kept her eyes downcast, the preferred attitude of the King and his servants. The other five were bolder, and after initial trepidation had come to speak to the Aeg girls so long as the servants were not around. Next to the shy Oretean was a coal black girl who came from southern Cypraea, a continent far to the east. She was sulky and homesick, often refusing to paint her face or take trouble with her hair, so that the servants had to do it for her. On the second day she had been taken to task over this and had obeyed, but not to the servants' satisfaction. Three of them had taken her, one to hold her upper body, two sat on tabourets with their knees interlocked and her across them, broad black bottom stuck high, legs kicking wide as she was spanked hard, one hairbrush to each bouncing buttock. With her heavily furred tuppenny and tight black bottom ring on show, Iriel had watched in shocked fascination, and been left feeling distinctly uncomfortable herself.

The girl at the opposite end of the row was a regular victim, although it was hard for Iriel to see more than a pair of shapely legs kicking up and down and some half of the servant's back as he spanked her. She took it meekly, going over the knee to order, but was invariably in tears after just a few swats. Three times it had been done, never for any obvious reason, leaving Iriel certain that the servants chose the girl more for convenience and lack of fight when they felt like taking out their apparently endless stock of malevolence on a bottom.

Of the three alcoves in which Iriel could see every detail, two were occupied by Vendjomois girls whose very terror of the servants had earned them two spankings a piece. Both spoke seldom, and in urgent, excited whispers full of fear. One had peed on the floor in her hurry to finish on the pot, and had simply been pulling down onto the floor in a knelling position, piddle still squirting from her tuppenny, for two dozen hard swats with her own hairbrush. The junior servant sent to clean the mess up had then repeated the punishment with the unfortunate girl held squealing across his knee and her face pushed down into the puddle she had made on the floor. The other had been more luckless still, caught masturbating late at night and held upside down by her legs while a hairbrush was applied to the swollen lips of her cunt. She had come while beaten, driving the servants into an unreasoning fury, and they had taken turns with her, over one knee after another until she was blubbering brokenly on the floor in a pool of tears and juice with her bottom purple with bruising.

The most frequently spanked was directly opposite Cianna, a young Oretean girl, exquisitely pretty. The servants held a particular grudge against her, and it was plain to see why. Her every word and every action seemed calculated to mock, not only the servants but the other girls. Frequently she had commented on the size of the Cypraean girl's bottom, and had teased her mercilessly after the spanking. The Aeg girls also came in for ridicule, for their height, their looks, their embarrassment over being in the nude and a dozen other details.

Again and again she had been upended by the servants, six times in all, yet no matter how often she was punished, she remained constantly insolent and also messy. Time and again she spilt her food or drink, smeared paint on her cushions and on one occasion when the pot failed to arrived fast enough simply came out to the limit of her chain and peed on the floor.

Each time she was spanked, and each time she fought, forcing three or even four of the servants to hold her down as she was put across the knee, or even with her bent over her tabouret with one of them sat on her back. She inevitably cried, wailing and cursing and beating her fists on the cushions, all the while with her little yellow-brown bottom cheeks jumping and her tuppenny growing more juicy. The servants referred to her simply as “the Brat”, a name the Aeg girls had quickly adopted.

The latest spanking was underway. The Brat was apparently a favourite with the King, and had been called for to satisfy him after his recovery from the entertainment. Although the girls were usually kept naked, Uilus preferred them brought to him dressed. The Brat had been oiled and perfumed, assisted with her make-up and given a wrap of heavy golden silk, richer than anything Iriel had seen or worked with. It had been worn low on her hips, leaving her apple-like breasts bare and also her navel, in which she had worn a great yellow stone.

No sooner had the servants left than she had taken a peach she'd had secreted in her cabinet and eaten it without the slightest thought for her appearance. The juice had left long streaks on the oiled skin of her breasts and belly, and also soiled her wrap. Once finished, she had casually dropped the wet stone on a cushion, at the precise moment the servants had returned.

The leader among the servants had responded with a squeal of outrage, then gone into a torrent of recrimination and instruction. The Brat had squealed just as loudly as she was quickly stripped and hauled over a servants knee, buttocks up and towards Iriel, who was watching with her fingers in her ears. The spanking had started and the Brat's squeals had grown louder still.

‘It reminds me of my village,' Cianna remarked from beyond the screen, ‘a pig-killing.'

Iriel chuckled, amused by the joke and delighted to have a spectacle to break her boredom, especially as it was the Brat getting another spanking, something she longed to do herself. It was due to be a good one as well, with the leading servant red faced with anger as he pulled up a tabouret to add his own efforts, then stretched out for her hairbrush.

He gripped the Brat's body, lifted it a little to settle her waist comfortably onto his lap and set to work, applying the hairbrush to her bottom with all his force. It sent her into a pained frenzy, neat yellow-brown buttocks pumping wildly to the motion of her legs, her fists hammering on the cushions, her little breasts jumping under her chest, her hair flying free as she tossed her head, her squeals rising to an ear-splitting crescendo.

She was hardly contrite though, her pig-like squeals interspersed with insults and curses, which only served to stoke the servant's rage. Both were shouting, furious demands for her to behave, delivered in high-pitched excitement, and all the time spanking, as hard as they could, hand and hairbrush slapping down on her trim cheeks, one each. She was showing everything, grossly immodest, with her legs repeatedly spread to the full, her tuppenny agape, the pink centre clearly visible and clearly moist.

Her bottom ring showed too, a little pink hole that started to wink as Iriel watched. Her own tuppenny was tingling and was wishing she had some opportunity to take a cock, even if it meant a spanking first. Not that it seemed likely, but as a particularly hard double swat caused a squirt of white juice to erupt from the Brat's cunt, she was sure that at last there would be a fucking.

Yet the servants continued to spank, apparently as indifferent to the Brat's physical beauty and helpless arousal as they were to her squeals of pain. Even when she broke down, bursting into tears and begging for mercy they never stopped, slowed, nor took advantage of her condition, despite her tuppenny being swollen and so ready that her hole showed as a little back mouth each time her legs kicked wide. Leaning close to the screen, Iriel spoke to Cianna.

‘She how she juices! Why do they not fuck her, or bugger her if that is their preference?'

‘They are eunuchs,' Cianna answered. ‘They have nothing with which to fuck.'

‘Nothing?' Iriel queried.

‘Neither cocks to fuck with nor balls to provide the jism,' Cianna assured her.

‘They are freaks?' Iriel queried. ‘But there are so many, and all so similar.'

‘They are eunuchs,' Cianna explained, ‘their cocks and balls cut off to prevent them fucking the girls and getting bastards on the Palades' property.'

Iriel turned back to where the spanking continued, as hard as ever, despite the Brat's bottom being purple with bruising and her pleas and apologies taking on a hysterical edge. She stared in horror, suddenly understanding not only the reason for the servant's reticence, but for their malice towards girls. It was a disturbing thought, and she pulled her hand from between her thighs, where she had been massaging herself in the hoping of masturbating while the Brat was fucked.

The servants was finishing the tear-streaked Brat off with a few hard swats to her thighs when abruptly all was silent, even the spanked girl's last wail dying and then cutting off abruptly as she looked back across her shoulder. Iriel followed the direction of her gaze, to find a man stood to one side, middle-aged, of typical Oretean build save for a heavy paunch overhanging the sash of a robe patterned black, crimson and gold. A wreath of golden leaves circled his head, and she realised it could only be the King himself even as the servants dropped to their knees.

‘Where is the slut I called for?' he demanded.

The girls in the alcoves opposite had put their faces to the ground and extended their arms in front of them, palms flat to the floor, even the Brat, a position that left her rosy bottom cheeks the highest part of her body.

‘Here, Great King,' the leading servant answered, his voice a trembling falsetto. ‘Chastised for daring to show improper respect to the honour you…'

The King kicked him, to sending him sprawling onto this back. He scuttled away, crawling and babbling so fast his words were unintelligible. The King scratched his ear, his gaze wandering lazily over the scene before fixing on the Brat. His mouth twitched into a smile. He lifted his robe, exposing a dark, ugly penis, the head already showing damp from the mouth of the thick foreskin. Reaching down, he took the Brat by the hair and pulled her up, onto his cock.

She squeaked in protest, but took him in, her eyes setting in disgust, her cheeks bulging briefly, then caving in as she began to suck. He gave a contented sigh and began to twist her hair in his hand, turning her expression to pain. Still she sucked, his cock growing in her mouth, the tears rolling slowly down her face as he twisted and jerked at her hair. At last he came, with his cock jammed into her windpipe so that the jism exploded from her nose. She was left gagging and spitting on the floor, twin ropes of sperm hanging from her nostrils, yellowish drool running out from her lower lip as she grovelled down at his feet. He took no notice whatsoever, picking up the golden silk wrap from the floor to wipe his cock, then looking down at the remaining servant.

He paused, glanced around, then picked up the pot into which the Brat had peed and smashed it down on the servant's head. The servant screamed, knocked sideways, to grovel in the mess on the floor as the remains of the pot was brought down on his head again, and again, until he lay sprawled unconscious, blood seeping from gashes in his scalp to mingle with the Brat's spilt urine.

‘Is it really suitable that the Palades should fetch his own sluts?' the King enquired, immediately soliciting agreement, condemnation of the injured man and a chorus of weak laughter.