His Majesty (Rough Royals)

by Sara Fields

  Was I broken or so incredibly flawed in some way that the thought of being punished by the king turned me on? Had I thrown my wine at him in hopes that he’d take me in hand once more?

  I trembled as I waited for him to speak again, to give me some sort of clue as to what he was going to do to me, and when his voice eventually surrounded me it felt like a warm embrace. I held onto it like a vise.

  “Clear off the king’s table completely. I’ll deal with my naughty little concubine thoroughly and tonight, my noble court, you will be allowed the privilege of watching the whole thing,” the king exclaimed, and his people roared with applause. I felt my legs go weak and I very much wished I could run, but he held me tightly as if he could read my every thought.

  He lifted me up off the floor into his arms and carried me to the front of the room, taking a step up onto the stage where the king’s table waited. I stared at the wooden piece of furniture, recalling that just a short time ago we had eaten dinner there and shared several intimate moments together even though the room had been crowded with so many others.

  I had a feeling I was about to share so much more with the rest of his court and I wasn’t going to have the slightest choice about it.

  He picked up a fabric napkin off the table and wiped the remainder of the wine from his face and chest. Then he pointed at a spot on the floor and instructed me to stand on top of it.

  “You will wait here with your hands on the back of your head. I am going to talk to the cook so that he may fetch me a few things. If you move, not only are you going to get spanked, but my belt will whip between your pretty thighs too,” he warned.

  “I won’t move, Your Majesty,” I whimpered, as I hesitantly put my hands behind my head.

  “Good,” he answered firmly, and I could feel nervous butterflies catapulting inside my stomach.

  “Where is the cook?” he called and a man in a chef’s uniform raced forward from some side hallway. I watched as he talked to the man, listing out a few things he needed as the chef nodded, rattling them off in return. I was far enough away that I couldn’t hear what was said, which made it ten times worse because I didn’t know what was about to happen.

  I was left so unsure, nervous, and terribly aroused.

  When he was finished speaking, the king returned, and the chef scuttled out of the room to retrieve whatever it was that the king wanted. I shifted from foot to foot, trying to reconcile with the growing ache of the plug in my bottom as well as the wetness that was gathering between my thighs.

  I didn’t understand why my body was reacting this way. I was afraid to.

  I met the king’s eyes as he strode back to me, trying to plea silently for mercy and finding none of it. He stood directly in front of me and grasped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. He took his thumb and ran it over my lower lip, growling low enough for only me to hear.

  “This is going to be hard on you, baby girl, but you’re going to take all of it because you don’t have a choice. Isn’t that right,” he said softly.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered, unable to hide the tremble of fear in my voice. I looked out beyond him, realizing that the court had set up the room like a theater, lining up the chairs so that they all faced in our direction.

  They were waiting and looked incredibly excited for my punishment by the king’s hand. I swallowed heavily.

  I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready either, but it wasn’t up to me.

  It was up to the king.

  He walked back up onto the stage, reaching for me and dragging his knuckle along the edge of my chin. It was surprisingly tender, and I leaned into his touch. He smiled gently at me and when I looked more closely, I was surprised to see regret in his eyes. It was there for just a moment, passing quickly only to be replaced by a supreme confidence. I had a feeling whatever was about to happen was due to duty rather than a need to teach me a lesson.

  I’d wronged the king in front of his people and now I was going to have to pay the price.

  His fingers left me, and he pushed the table back himself. He grabbed a single straight-backed chair and placed it in the center of the stage. Then he sat down and held out his hand expectantly in my direction.

  “Come here, baby girl,” he murmured. I reluctantly obeyed, feeling like every single step was bringing me closer and closer to my doom. When I reached him, he took my hand and carefully helped me over his thighs.

  He’d told me I was going to get spanked. I expected this part. I anxiously hoped that was all I was going to have to endure.

  I was wrong.

  Matteo took my dress and leisurely pulled it up, revealing my nakedness to the crowd inch by painfully slow inch. My bottom clenched around the plug, already quite sore from having worn it for so long already.

  “Look at this pretty little bottom hole, decorated so beautifully,” he mused, while gripping my cheeks with his hands and spreading me wide for everyone to see. I squeaked with embarrassment, trying to use my hands to push myself up off of his lap just as his arm looped around my waist. Caught up in my dress, I failed to escape his hold on me and growled with frustration. In response, he simply chuckled. It was as if he knew just how much more powerful he was than me right now.

  He sounded far too confident and that made me nervous.

  “Feisty girl. I see I’m going to have to do something about that,” he said darkly in return and I shivered hard. He palmed my ass and his fingers delved between my bottom cheeks, pressing on top of the jeweled end of the plug. I gasped as he took the end in his fingers, pushing it up and down. He stretched my already sore little hole and punished it with the plug, popping it in and out of me over and over again. I couldn’t forget how everyone was watching this happen and I gasped with mortification. At first, I fought him, but as he continued to fuck me with it, I became more and more sore. When I finally stopped trying to fight him, his movements slowed and started to feel pleasurable rather than punishing, which left me reeling with aroused confusion.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said softly, and I moaned as those same fingers dipped between my thighs. “You’re soaking wet for me,” he announced, and I shuddered with shame, trying so very hard to keep myself from moaning as he circled my aching clit with his fingertips. It felt so good when he touched me this way and I hoped that he wouldn’t stop even though I knew I was being watched.

  He did though and a hush fell over the crowd when his fingers left me.

  “Bad little girls who disrespect their kings are dealt with very harshly in my kingdom, isn’t that right, my noble court?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the court replied in unison.

  “My little concubine was very naughty and earned not only a very hard spanking, but the strap as well. After that, I have a little surprise for her that’s going to leave her sore inside and out and will ensure that she never acts out like this again,” he explained loudly. I was too nervous to focus on anything other than his hands touching my naked skin.

  I whimpered softly as his palms kneaded my nervous backside. I found my hips rising to meet his touch and I tried to still my traitorous body, not wanting to accept that this whole shameful display was making me far more sensitive than I cared to admit.

  The sound of his hand meeting my backside hard for the first time rang out like a gunshot in the massive room. It reverberated off the walls and I cried out. For a second, I felt nothing but by the time a second one echoed over the audience, I squeaked as the sting burned across my bottom. He’d spanked me earlier today and I thought I could handle this, but this felt much harder and so much worse. This felt like discipline. This was truly a punishment.

  His palm cracked down hard on my bottom, over and over, and I struggled to take each one. I squirmed on his lap, but the steel rods in my bodice limited my movement. My skirts served to act as a weight around my waist, helping to pin me to his thighs and ensuring that I couldn’t get away.

  As my spanking continued, I drummed my feet against the fl
oor, trying to convince myself to do whatever it took to keep it together during this entire ordeal. I wouldn’t let them see me cry. I’d take my spanking and then it would be over. I wouldn’t let them see him break me, not on display like this.

  “You will remain still, concubine. You’ve earned this and you’re going to take every last one,” he warned, and I wailed as he harshly punished the tops of my thighs. His palm felt like steel as he spanked me, igniting a crescendo of fiery pain across the entirety of my backside. He gripped around my waist and turned me slightly, angling my body so that I was perfectly on display for the court.

  The crowd roared in approval and I imagined my pale plugged bottom slowly turning pink and then as red as an apple, all while they watched. I was bare and they could see between my thighs. They’d be able to see everything and worst of all, they’d be able to see that my punishment was making me wet.

  I moaned, the sound low.

  He spanked me harder and I struggled to take it. He varied the smacks all over my bottom and up and down my thighs, ensuring that I felt very much like a well-chastised naughty little girl. It stung like a million bees and the longer it went on, the more worried I became.

  The plug hurt and every single time that I tensed in anticipation of the next painful spank, it only felt sorer.

  And this was only the beginning of whatever he had in store for me.

  I clamped my lips shut, vowing to myself that I wouldn’t let the court and the king hear this how very much was hurting me. I squeezed my eyes shut next, trembling as the spanking increased in intensity. It was almost as though he knew that I was silently fighting him as each smack felt harder than the last. I urged myself to keep quiet. I told myself that I wouldn’t lose my dignity for him or for them.

  I tried. I tried so hard. And I was successful until he solely focused on my thighs.

  My breath hitched in my throat and the sting raced through me with terrible fervor. I pressed my thighs together at first, not wanting to splay myself even wider for the court to see, but it soon became an effort in futility. I edged forward and twisted my hips back and forth, quickly overwhelmed with the cruel sting that burned across the backs of my legs.

  Oh, it hurt. It hurt a lot.

  At the same time though, I knew I was even wetter than before. Each time his palm met my ass, I could feel my clit pulse with need. I was sure that wetness was dripping down my inner thighs. Not only that, but I knew I was wet enough to leave a spot on his thighs. I could feel it forming beneath me.

  I did everything I could do to stop myself from losing control, but my breath hitched in the back of my throat. My closed-mouth whimpers became more desperate and I tried to keep quiet. His palm was quickly proving to be too much though and when I finally made a sound, the crowd whooped with their approval.

  I tried not to think about my red bottom, already aching from the plug and even more sore from his palm, on display for the entire audience. I keened and I moaned, curling my hips and trying to edge away even though there was nowhere for me to go.

  I panicked and, in that instant, I knew I was going to cry. I had challenged the king and I had lost, ending up bare bottomed over his knee for a very hard spanking and it hurt.

  The first tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another. My moment of panic fled, and my body relaxed over his thighs as I accepted that I had earned this. I cried over his knees and the spanking continued, just as hard as it was before as if he was thoroughly bringing the lesson home so that I wouldn’t forget it.

  I knew that I wouldn’t. Not when I had been put on display like this.

  Gradually, the spanking began to slow, each smack just as painful as the last. When it finally ended, he dragged his fingernails along my overly sensitized skin and I whimpered softly, the points of his nails feeling sharp and painful, and for some reason, I liked the way it felt.

  He rubbed my bottom and I sighed, my tears drying against my cheeks as he massaged some of the pain away.

  “Alright, baby girl, it’s time for your strapping,” he said firmly, and I stilled. I had hoped that my punishment was over, that he would take mercy on me for being a good girl for him during my spanking, but I had been naive.

  He lifted me from his lap and helped me to stand before him. With a look of sincere appreciation, his gaze lifted to my eyes before they dropped down to take in the crumpled state of my dress.

  “You look so beautiful for me, don’t you, baby girl?” he asked, and my heart warmed. His words struck a chord in my heart and I dropped my eyes, feeling myself blush heavily at his compliment, even as one single tear ran down my cheek.

  “I expect an answer,” he warned, but there was a certain tenderness in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

  “Yes, you do,” he replied. “You’re going to look even more beautiful in just another moment when you’re completely naked for me.”

  I stilled and he roughly gripped the collar of the dress.

  His dark eyes stared into mine and that fear that I had felt before returned with a vengeance. My mouth went dry and I couldn’t think of how to react as he took the neckline of my dress and pulled it apart roughly. The sound of tearing fabric seemed noisy and I froze as he ripped the bodice down the front, causing the cord that held the corset together to fray into shreds. The steel boning against my ribs relaxed and in one horrible moment, it fell to the floor in tatters. I curled my arms around my chest, feeling the loss of the support from the corset. My skirt was next as he used his raw strength to rip it apart, tossing it to the floor along with the top of the dress. I was left in only the chemise and the petticoat, but those didn’t last very long either. The fabric of the underclothes was thin and gave way under his brutality as though it was simply a piece of paper that he was tearing in two. He knocked my hands out of the way in the process and I was left feeling vulnerable and unsure.

  In no time at all, I stood on the stage naked, plugged and freshly spanked. I didn’t even move to cover myself because I knew that he wouldn’t let me. I was on display for him and his court.

  He grabbed me and pulled me close, pressing my back against his chest as his palm curled around my throat.

  “The court can see all of you, can’t they, baby girl?” he said so the crowd could hear.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I said while trembling in his arms. With his other hand, he caressed my belly, edging up until he found my right nipple. He took it between his fingers, lightly twisting it into a hard peak and then he did the same to the other. After that, he pinched each one hard enough to make me cry out as pain blossomed across my breasts. At the same time though, a jolt of arousal rushed straight down to my core and left me trembling with need. He held me so possessively that I couldn’t help myself from sighing as he toyed with my sore nipples while presenting me so shamefully to the crowd.

  He reached between my legs after that, spreading my folds wide and showing the court what I didn’t want them to see. He traced a single finger on top of my needy bud, before he showed that to the crowd too.

  “Such a needy little clit and so very hard for me. Your pretty little pussy is soaking wet, baby girl,” he said loudly, and I shivered as my face went red.

  A servant walked up with a thick-looking strap in his hands. The chef scurried next to the servant with a covered silver platter. The king beckoned them both up onto the stage and the two men climbed up and placed the items they had brought onto the table behind us. I tried to look back, but Matteo held me still by my neck, squeezing gently as he reminded me that he was in charge and I was not.

  Once the servant and the chef left the stage, the king pushed me away and took me by the back of the neck, forcibly making me move where he wanted me. He directed me to the table and bent me over the back of it. He kicked my feet wider and pressed down on my lower back, ensuring that my pussy and sore plugged bottom hole were on display for all to see.

  I moaned wit
h mortification. It didn’t matter.

  I turned my head, watching as he picked up the strap from the table. It looked heavy and well-oiled and I shuddered as I imagined what it would feel like against my bare and already sore backside.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  Carefully, he laid it on my back and the soft feeling of the hide was comforting. It wouldn’t hurt that much if it was that soft, right? He caressed my naked skin for a long moment, taking care to dip his hands gently between my thighs. I arched into his movements, wanting to feel his touch there more than ever.

  My pussy throbbed hard the instant his fingers drifted against my folds. I could feel my slickness against his fingers, and I groaned, biting my lip hard as rampant desire raced through me like bolt of lightning.

  I desperately wanted to come.

  Then he spanked my pussy hard, catching me completely off-guard. The pain between my legs was sharper and more intense that I had been ready for and the strangled sound that escaped my lips gave away just how much it had hurt. He repeated the motion two more times and I moaned as I leaned on the table for support. My legs felt like jelly.

  He lifted the strap off my back next and I dug my fingernails into the table, trying to prepare myself for what was to come. The strap flicked against my naked bottom for the first time, light and tentative and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I could do this. I just had to survive a little longer.

  The next lick of the strap was a little harder. I took a nervous breath and leaned my body into the table, lifting my bottom just a hair and that’s when the strapping started to change.

  It became a thrashing.

  The strap licked against my nakedness surprisingly hard, and the fiery blossom of pain across my bottom was incredibly hard to take. It was a line of fire far more intense than his palm had been and I cried out, digging my nails even deeper into the wood beneath me.

  In no time at all, I went from feeling put together and on top of the world to a naked little girl who needed to be punished. I tried to keep still, but it was so very hard. The lash burned into my bottom again and again until the only thing I could focus on was its terrible deep sting. I whined and cried, and still the lash didn’t stop.