Chelsea's Chastisement

by Tara Rose

  This was what she craved from her princes. This dominance while she was helpless and completely under their control. It was a drug and she had to have it now.

  They rubbed their slick cocks against her arms, her shoulders, and even the sides of her breasts, They took their time fucking her, and her mouth was raw and sore by the time each of them finally came, splashing their cum all over her face and breasts. They’d never done anything like this, and her pussy was soaked by the time they finished.

  She was ready to come again. All she’d have to do was squeeze her thighs together, but with the spreader bar on she couldn’t. Then they removed the bar and led her to the bed. “We’re not going to wash you off,” said Denver. “We’ve marked you, and you’re going to wear our cum for as long as we say today.”

  She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. All she could do was gaze at them as they laid her on the bed and spread her legs. They moved her to the edge and then Denver pulled a chair over while the other two walked across the room and picked up something she couldn’t see.

  Denver took a seat. “Ready?”

  “I don’t know. That depends on what you have planned, Sire.”

  He chuckled, and then Archer and Roland each approached her with a cuff in their hands, attached to a thicker chain. They fitted them around her ankles and tied the ends to the bed posts, so her legs were wide apart, with her pussy now only inches from Denver’s face.

  He was so much better at this than the other two, but it was still sheer heaven as they took turns with her, sucking and licking her clit and pussy until she was screaming in delicious agony as she came over and over. Sweat pooled at her hairline, and she panted in between taking huge gulps of air. She lost count of the climaxes, and they still didn’t let up.

  Just when she didn’t think she could take one more, Roland finished off the one he was working on while Archer leaned over her and took off the clamps. Chelsea yelled as the burning pain shot through both nipples, but as soon as he and Denver began to massage them, the pain was replaced with the most delicious warmth and exquisite sensation as jolts of electricity raced to her clit. He hadn’t been kidding about the enhancement. This orgasm was crazy. She couldn’t move, think, or even breathe. All she could do was lie there and take it.

  Tears streamed down her face as she gazed at each of her princes in turn. That they would want to give her this gift was too much to take in. She had no words. When they finally removed her cuffs and let her sit up, they made her drink two glasses of water before they’d allow her to try to walk to the bathroom.

  She took her time in there, staring at her face in the mirror when she was finished. Who would have thought this could happen to her? All the pain of losing her family was still there, although it had dimmed considerably since learning of Archer’s guilt over his brother’s death. The pain of what Steve had done to her, on the other hand, was completely gone, and that was such a relief to realize. Those three sexy princes out there had pushed it away forever, and for that she owed them more than she could ever repay.

  When she returned to the room, it was to find them talking, their heads close, as if plotting more evil ways to torture her with pleasure. She watched them for a few seconds, smiling, until her presence caught their attention.

  Denver crossed the room and picked her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than one of the cushions on the sofa. Their strength never failed to amaze her. “You’re going to love this,” he teased. His dick was hard and swollen again, as were Roland’s and Archer’s. That was another thing she found incredible to believe. Their stamina.

  Granted, they weren’t old by any stretch of the imagination. But she’d known men back home who were younger than any of them and it was doubtful they could have kept up with one of these princes.

  They positioned her over the edge of the sofa and tied her arms behind her back. This was what she loved the most. Being at their mercy. But then they spread her legs about shoulder-width apart and tied her ankles with the same cuffs and chains again, attaching the other ends to the furniture legs. They wanted her immobile. She squirmed against her bonds, but she couldn’t move anything except her head.

  They placed a pillow under her face to cushion it, and then Roland stepped into her line of vision, holding up the cane. She sighed out loud, not wanting to protest this time. After what they’d just done for her, she was ready to push this limit for him. The need to please each of them was so strong every day now.

  “How many swats with the cane have you taken in one day before this?”

  Oh lord. “Thirty, Sire.” And they had hurt like a motherfucker. “Broken into three sessions of ten.”

  He smacked the cane against his palm and she flinched. “That’s right. Good girl. I already knew but wanted to see if you would choose a lower number.”

  She made a small sound but had no words. At times like this, she’d learned that the less she said, the better for her. They liked her compliant, and she loved pleasing them.

  “Today, you’re going to take fifteen from each of us, but we’ll break it up as we’ve done before.”

  Chelsea closed her eyes and tried to keep breathing as crazy desire raced through her. This had just turned into the most intense morning she’d ever had, and she couldn’t wait for him to begin.

  When Roland approached her first to use a toy, it was both good and bad. He usually hit her the hardest, but instead of getting the worst out of the way at once, that only meant the strikes from the other two men would build on his, making the pain worse. He rubbed her ass cheeks, increasing the pressure on each pass to warm up her skin. But when the first strike with the cane landed across them, it still hurt.

  This time, however, by the fifth one, something happened that never had when they used the cane. She slipped into that dreamy, blissful state where the pain and pleasure mixed together, just as she now routinely did when they spanked her with a bare hand, or used a strap or paddle on her. She didn’t question it or try to analyze it. She simply let it overtake her.

  When he stopped, she was surprised. He kissed her on the neck, the back, and then tenderly on each ass cheek before slipping his dick into her pussy from behind. She moaned loudly as Archer reached underneath to play with her clit, and then when Denver pushed his dick into her mouth, her climax exploded.

  How her body could come again was beyond her comprehension, but she’d learned by now that these men had powers she’d never understand.

  Roland chuckled then withdrew, and Denver did as well. Archer took the cane from where Roland had placed it on a nearby chair, and walked behind her. She moaned before the first strike landed, and yelled through the next fourteen. She didn’t slip away as far this time, but they still were bearable. Was she becoming used to it, or had she finally accepted the cane? She knew they loved using it, and pleasing them was foremost in her mind whenever they played now.

  Archer kissed her lovingly before he moved behind her again to fuck her, and Chelsea had to blink back tears at the gesture. Once again, her thoughts strayed to love. She’d have to be the one to broach the subject, but what if that wasn’t something they wanted? What if all she did was upset them or make a fool of herself?

  When Roland stepped in front of her face and told her to open her mouth, her thoughts turned toward concentrating on sucking his dick the way he liked it. Denver played with her nipples while Archer fucked her like a runaway train, and when both men finally withdrew, she was tired and sore. But it was Denver’s turn with the cane, and she was determined to enjoy these last fifteen strikes.

  Tears fell down her cheeks during them, but at the same time, she’d never felt so fulfilled. The powerful knowledge that she’d done this for them made her heart soar. And when Denver kissed her, nuzzling her neck to whisper in her ear how beautiful she was, she nearly whispered back that she loved him. The words were right there, and she had to concentrate hard to stop them from tumbling out.

  He fucked her slowly, like he usually did,
and she thought she’d go out of her mind with need. Archer fucked her mouth, and Roland reached underneath to play with her nipples and her clit. She came again, much to her surprise, and then Denver and Archer withdrew. They let her use the bathroom, gave her water to drink, and then told her they weren’t quite done with her.

  All she managed was a weak whimper as they tied her spread eagle on the bed again, and used a paddle and a leather strap to punish her pussy. Each strike sent fresh desire racing through her, and when they took turns fucking her again in between the swats, she thought she’d pass out from sheer pleasure.

  Finally, they each came again, splashing their cum on her breasts and pussy this time. They untied her, and took turns holding her and stroking her soaking wet hair. No wonder they’d wanted her to wait to take a shower. But before she was able to bother with that, she drifted off to sleep, sore, but completely sated.

  Chapter Thirteen

  During the beginning of Chelsea’s sixth week in the castle, she overheard Anne tell Lawrence that she had heard from someone named Nathan, and that their plans were in place. Chelsea nearly tripped over a plant stand while scooting away from the doorway to tell her princes.

  They were in the sitting room playing cards, but Jon and Samuel were also in the room. One look at her face, and Roland asked the servants to leave.

  Chelsea closed the doors to the hallway, but never had the chance to speak because Jon opened them abruptly and came back into the room, bowing. “Your Highnesses, sorry to interrupt, but the king is here to see you.”

  She moved closer to the table and watched Atheron enter the room. His contingent of guards stayed out in the hallway as if guarding the room. He glanced toward Jon, and then cut his gaze toward where Anne and Lawrence stood just past the guards, their eyes full of suspicion. “The servants may return to their own rooms for now.”

  Jon moved instantly, but Anne and Lawrence didn’t until one of the guards stepped closer to the pair, as if threatening them. Chelsea glanced toward Roland, who was the closest, and mouthed, “I have something important to tell you three.”

  He nodded, then waited for his uncle to motion toward the guards to close the doors to the hallway. He glanced at each of them in turn. “What I have to say cannot leave this room. I don’t even want the servants to hear it.”

  “Of course,” said Archer.

  Atheron took a seat and rubbed his face with one hand. Chelsea hadn’t spoken to the man too many times, but she’d never seen him like this. He looked weary and conflicted. That couldn’t be good.

  “Chelsea was about to tell us something she’d overheard before you came into the room,” said Roland.

  “Something about Anne or Lawrence?” asked Atheron, his voice sharp.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” She told them what she’d heard the two say. “Who is Nathan?”

  “Coincidentally, I was about to tell you four that.” Atheron sighed loudly. “Lawrence had family living in Wexler until a few years ago. They now live in the Wastelands. Voluntarily. Nathan is his cousin. He’s been in touch with him at least six months, possibly longer. My guards were unable to ascertain exactly how long.”

  He cut his gaze toward Chelsea. “The Wastelands are not a place where we can simply gather information. We called on the people of Wexler to help us, but few did. That is the problem with some of the villages so close to the Wastelands. They have more trade and other dealings with the people across the border than they do with us, so over the generations, their loyalties become divided, or change altogether.”

  “Is Lawrence’s family against us then?” asked Archer.

  “It would appear so.”

  “Then why not banish him?” asked Denver. “Why should we bother trying to ferret out what he’s planning? Send him back to his family.”

  “I wish it were that simple. I’m afraid this has become rather a complicated issue that affects the entire castle.”

  Chelsea took a seat at the table. She didn’t feel well suddenly, and she didn’t like where this was going.

  “Nathan is also Alfred’s brother. Alfred was the former apothecary who made the poison for the triplets. The family is originally from Wexler, but it doesn’t appear any of them have lived there for at least two years.”

  “Forgive my interruption, Majesty,” said Chelsea, “but how would someone get a message to and from such a remote village? Would your regular messengers carry them for a servant?”

  “No, they would not. He has to have help from guards or even someone of nobility from inside these walls if he’s truly in contact with his family, especially in and out of the Wastelands.”

  “Do you have suspects?” asked Archer.

  “Not at this time.”

  “What do you want us to do, Majesty?” asked Roland.

  “This won’t be easy. We need to continue watching Anne and Lawrence until they tip their hand. Can you four do that?”

  “Absolutely,” said Denver.

  “Before you commit, you need to know that there is more to the story. My guards found a man who trades between Wexler and other villages with people in the Wastelands. He eventually finds goods for us here at the castle from kingdoms beyond the other three borders of the Wastelands. He is loyal to us. He told my guards that he overheard Nathan and a few of his neighbors talking about a sorcerer. They didn’t catch the name.”

  He sighed loudly, and goose bumps broke out along Chelsea’s arms. Her skin was clammy and damp now, as if she’d eaten something that was about to make her sick.

  “This sorcerer is familiar with the curse placed on our women, and claims she can place one on the women of Wythmail as well. The same conditions would apply. They would be barren unless attempting to bear children with a man from Enfield.”

  Chelsea stared at Atheron for a few moments while no one moved or spoke. “But that would mean none of your women could bear children.”

  “That is true,” he said quietly. “We would die out unless we did the same thing with another kingdom that we have been doing with the women of Wythmail.”

  Denver cut his gaze toward her for a second, and she swore he was blushing. “We have the women from Chelsea’s world.”

  “Not if what everything Nathan said is true,” said Atheron, quietly. “He also claimed that he and the group who is loyal to his family have people inside this castle who are ready to kill the artists and burn every portrait in the castle. If they are gone, and no one is left to make them, no more women from Chelsea’s world can cross over.”

  She swallowed hard. “But even if that does happen, we’re still here. How many of us are there now?”

  Atheron’s face was full of pain. She glanced around at her princes, who fixed her with sympathetic stares.

  “There are others, right? At least three, including me, that I know of. You said several cross over each year.”

  “There are sixty-four of you living inside the castle,” said Roland.

  “Okay. How many are of child-bearing age? Any idea?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” said Atheron, “but I would guess roughly half.”

  “Great. Then that’s thirty-two potential mothers for your royal sons. Do you even need the portraits anymore?”

  Atheron sighed loudly and fixed her with a gaze that sent chills up and down her spine. Her head felt funny, as if it were filled with cotton suddenly. “Nathan also said the same people who are ready to kill the artists and burn the paintings would kill each of you.”

  She stared at Atheron but everything in the room became blurry and then she saw spots in front of her eyes. She heard them call her name, but it was from inside a tunnel. She tried to touch her three princes, but she was too far away and couldn’t reach them.

  Am I falling back through the painting? No! I don’t want to go home! I want to stay here!

  * * * *

  Chelsea was lying on the sofa in Archer’s bedroom, and a woman she didn’t know was seated next to her, dabbing her face with a cold
cloth.

  “She’s awake, Majesty.”

  Chelsea sat up but had to lie back down again when the room started to spin. Roland was at her side, holding a glass to her lips. “Drink this, love.”

  She did, and felt a lot better. “What happened?”

  “You fainted, Miss.”

  “This is Deirdre. She’s one of the queen’s maids. My uncle sent for her when you fainted. She won’t tell anyone about this.”

  “I’ve never done that before.”

  “You had just heard shocking news,” said Denver.

  “No, this was different. I haven’t felt right for a while now, and this morning it’s been worse.”

  Atheron narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a few moments. “Have you been drinking your potion?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Majesty. Every morning.” Holy shit. “Except I’ve been late with it a few times…” A few times? How about three or four times a week? She was usually distracted because her three princes were too busy fucking her brains out most mornings or afternoons, and more often than not she drank her potion before bedtime, or drank double the dose the next day…

  Oh holy fuck…

  No. No fucking way. She was not pregnant. It couldn’t be.

  She stared at the three of them in turn, expecting to see the same horror on their faces that she felt inside right now, but they were grinning like village idiots.

  “No,” she whispered. “Not possible.”

  Had she taken the potion every morning? No. She’d taken it every twenty-four hour period, but she had not taken it at the same time each day. The princes always reminded her, when they remembered to ask. Did taking it late affect its efficacy?

  Holy shit…

  Deirdre watched her face carefully until Chelsea was uncomfortable under the woman’s scrutiny. Deidre stood. “Majesty, shall I send for a healer? We will know then whether she is with child or not.”