Possessing Allura

by Reese Gabriel

  ‘Your slaves?’ she gasped.

  ‘Yes, my slaves. Among whom is this one, Saraveeta, who is owed an apology by you.’

  Instead of apologizing she struck the girl. ‘How’s that, Montreico?’

  By way of an answer the baron spoke calmly, sounding suddenly sober. ‘Saraveeta, go to my closet. In it you will find instruments of discipline. You will bring me the leather whip.’

  ‘You’re bluffing,’ said Allura. ‘Even you wouldn’t dare use such an instrument on a princess of the blood.’

  A few moments later he was wielding it, sleek and black like a venomous snake. When he cracked it, expertly, the blood drained from Allura’s face as she saw the determination in his expression; not only would he use the lethal implement, he would take delight in doing so.

  ‘Montreico, I see no cause for conflict here,’ she said quickly, backtracking. ‘Surely we can reach an arrangement.’

  ‘The only “arrangement” that interests me, princess,’ he snapped the tip of the dastardly device an inch from her face, ‘is to have you writhing on the floor, helpless to avoid your inevitable punishment.’

  ‘Baron,’ she put out her hands, ‘give me another chance. Let me please you.’

  ‘You will, Allura,’ he vowed confidently, ‘you will.’

  The first blow struck her exposed stomach, searing the taut white flesh, and the princess cried out, looking down at the vicious red line.

  ‘Now that I have your attention, my dear, I’d like you kneeling before me, where you belong.’

  Allura slid to her knees, humbling herself. ‘Please,’ she cowered, but he took a slice at her thigh.

  ‘Were you given permission to cover yourself?’ he demanded.

  ‘But the pain,’ she complained.

  ‘Pain?’ he scoffed. ‘What do you know of pain? I’m quite sure you give ten times this much to your slaves. To Saraveeta, for example.’

  Allura sought to shuffle back out of range, her dignity quickly evaporating, but he easily lashed her ass, then another blow across her shoulders brought her down onto her front.

  ‘You have a lot to learn, my dear. Your every defiance brings you more suffering.’

  The princess no longer attempted to move. She took the next two blows with whimpers, one to her upper thighs the other again across her shoulders, a fine sheen of sweat forming on her agonized flesh.

  ‘You look very fetching this way, Allura,’ he continued to mock her. ‘Shall I describe the marks to you?

  She cringed, not knowing if she was expected to answer or endure in silence.

  ‘Crawl to me, wife,’ said the baron. ‘And don’t bother getting on your hands and knees; your belly will do fine.’

  Allura slithered across the cold floor, well aware that her own slave was witnessing her disgrace.

  ‘You may kiss them,’ he said, when she reached his boots. She stiffened in silent rage, but dared not disobey.

  ‘You obey well,’ he mused, as she delivered tiny kisses with trembling red lips. ‘Perhaps I shall have you do this for all my men.’

  He saw the shaking of her indignation and laughed. ‘Relax, princess, we do have to maintain your station. You’ll be my slut and no one else’s.’

  Allura felt the seconds burn like hours. She was dizzy, and not only from hunger or thirst or shame.

  As if sensing her simmering needs, he probed her verbally. ‘What are you prepared to do now, Allura?’

  ‘I will do what you say,’ she breathed between kisses, wanting him to push her hard. ‘I will obey.’

  ‘But you’ve already been given instructions, haven’t you? And you chose to ignore them.’

  ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged, ‘I failed to obey.’

  ‘What will you do to fix it?’

  ‘I will urinate,’ said the princess, on the verge of yet another shameful orgasm, ‘as I was told to, in the pot.’

  ‘And afterwards?’

  ‘I… I will do whatever I am told next.’

  ‘You will take your breakfast,’ he supplied. ‘You will crawl on all fours to the bowls I have so graciously set out and you will feed.’ He pushed her away with his boot.

  ‘How does this make you feel?’ the baron asked, some minutes later, choosing the most damnable time to ask.

  ‘I feel… humiliated,’ she replied, squatting over the chamber-pot, her urine tinkling into it. ‘It’s not fair to treat me like this.’

  ‘I decided what’s fair in your life from now on, Allura,’ he pointed out. ‘If you want to eat you will do as I’ve told you.’

  The shame was overwhelming, being forced to perform such a private act in front of him, and worse, her slave, but eventually her bladder was empty and she could at last eat.

  ‘Saraveeta,’ the baron said, his tone mischievous, ‘does your mistress ever require you to behave like an animal?’

  ‘Yes, master,’ the slave answered honestly.

  ‘You feed from bowls?’

  ‘Or else she tosses me scraps on the floor, master.’

  ‘Your mistress is very cruel to you, is she not?’ he continued, like some judge in court.

  ‘I am a slave,’ she answered expeditiously. ‘Mine is not to judge.’

  ‘But you were once friends. Isn’t that so?’

  The pretty slave squirmed, fearful she might incriminate herself. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And now your friend owns you. Quite a turn of events, wouldn’t you say?’

  Saraveeta’s eyes darted nervously to her mistress, but Allura was in no position to interfere anymore. ‘It was a great turn, yes… but all was by law,’ she added quickly.

  ‘Yes, I’ve looked into the matter for myself,’ the baron mused. ‘You were accused of harlotry with a boy your own age at court. His name was Porfino.’

  Saraveeta’s eyes lowered, and she made no comment.

  ‘Were you guilty?’ he asked the dreaded question. ‘Did you give yourself sexually to this boy?’

  ‘Yes, master,’ she replied.

  The baron’s dreaded sword emerged, skillfully slicing the air. ‘The penalty for lying to one’s master is death,’ he reminded her. ‘And in your case, if you are not honest with me I shall cut you open from groin to breast. So once again I ask, were you guilty?’

  Saraveeta fought back a sob. ‘N-no,’ she said, her voice barely audible.

  ‘Speak up, I can’t hear you.’

  ‘No, master, I was not guilty.’

  ‘But there were witnesses.’

  ‘Only one, master.’

  ‘Only one?’ The baron acted surprised. ‘And who might that be?’

  ‘The princess, master.’

  He put a hand to his brow in mock surprise. ‘The princess?’

  ‘Yes, master,’ she replied, maintaining her level tone despite his sarcasm.

  ‘I am shocked,’ the baron sighed. ‘Allura, is this true? Never mind, you may take a drink. We’ll take this up later.’

  Her pride shattered, Allura slurped gratefully and noisily at the bowl of cool water, gulping it down, quenching her intense thirst.

  ‘Slow down,’ he advised, ‘you’ll choke.’

  When she looked up a few seconds later the water was gone.

  ‘Now you may feed,’ the baron allowed, and as disgusting as the gruel looked and tasted, she was way past being fussy and swallowed it down without bothering to waste time chewing.

  ‘So you were falsely accused,’ the baron mused, turning back to Saraveeta. ‘You never touched this Porfino?’

  Saraveeta shook her head sorrowfully.

  ‘Didn’t you like him, then?’

  ‘I did. I loved him, master.’

  ‘But he did not love you?’

  ‘Begging your pardon, master, but he did.’

  ‘But he rej
ected you. He could have married you and spared you this slavery. Why did he not do that?’

  ‘Th-there was another,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Another?’

  ‘Yes, master. Porfino loved the princess. He went to her, throwing me aside with her encouragement.’

  ‘But she did not marry him.’

  ‘No.’ Saraveeta paused, as if she did not wish to say the rest. ‘She cast him aside.’

  ‘That must have been hard on him.’

  ‘Master, Porfino killed himself,’ said the slave with surprisingly little emotion. ‘Just a month afterward.’

  Allura’s mouth froze in the bowl.

  ‘For love of our dear Allura,’ the baron offered dramatically, the sarcasm evident.

  ‘That is a lie,’ cried the princess, lifting her face, her mouth caked with gruel. ‘Porfino died in battle. He was a soldier.’

  ‘Is this true, Saraveeta?’

  ‘Yes, master, he was a soldier, and it was reported by his commander that he died in combat, but in truth he fell upon his own sword on the eve of battle. He did so out of grief, having just received word from the princess that she did not consider him worthy to marry her.’

  ‘But how could you, a mere slave, learn such a thing?’

  ‘A guard told me this, a veteran, who witnessed it all. He took pity on me one night as I was being used by his company.’

  ‘This usage being one of Allura’s punishments for you, I imagine.’

  ‘My mistress likes me to be abused by men as often as possible,’ she acknowledged. ‘And beaten.’

  ‘And would you like revenge?’

  ‘Master?’

  ‘It is possible, you know, if I allow it. In fact, I could command it. Allura,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘crawl over here and lie on your back, legs apart.’

  The princess did as she was told, tearing herself away from the sustenance she needed so badly, and taking advantage of her vulnerability the baron inserted the heel of his left boot in her sex. She was warm and wet for him, and with just a little movement to and fro he had her moaning and writhing.

  ‘Why do you hate men?’ the baron asked his wife.

  ‘I… I don’t know,’ she said piteously. She’d meant to say she didn’t, only him, but it was becoming ever more difficult under the circumstances to form her thoughts.

  ‘Sure you do,’ he countered. ‘And it has nothing to do with your past lack of attention from your father, never knowing your mother or any such nonsense. You are the way you are because you have too much freedom. You despise all men because none has stepped forward to give you what you need. Control. Subjugation. Complete and absolute rule of your mind and body.

  ‘That is why you have taken Saraveeta into this lonely hell of yours. First you denied her true love, then you forced upon her the unspeakable frustrations of being owned by another female. But you also enjoy empathizing with her, and so you live through her, whenever you send her to be used by men.’

  Allura rolled her head from side to side. He’d invaded her mind as perfectly and infuriatingly as he had her sex. ‘I don’t know,’ she gasped, ‘what you’re talking about.’

  The baron pressed his boot, subjugating her cunt. ‘You do know and I am here to stop you from lying to yourself.’

  She pushed her pelvis up against him. ‘Let me come,’ she pleaded; ready to take for herself this most disgraceful, humiliating orgasm.

  ‘No.’ He withdrew his boot and put it to her mouth to lick, and the taste of her juices mixed with leather made her swoon. If only she could use her hands on herself. If only he’d let her.

  ‘Orgasms have to be earned, Allura,’ he stated. ‘I will decide when you have them and when you don’t. Just as I will decide what happens to you every moment of your life. Get used to this,’ he advised. ‘It is how I intend to live. Outside this chamber people will see you a certain way. You will have your aura, your façade, but you will know always, every time you look in my eye, that behind these doors I can and will do anything to you I wish, just as if you were my bond slave.’

  The freshly licked boot descended onto her belly. ‘You are beneath me,’ he declared, ‘but you have only scratched the surface of your submission. As I said before, I intend to break you very, very slowly. I apologize in advance for the inconvenience of the cruelty you will endure; unfortunately you have the misfortune to marry a man who is a bit of a sadist – physical and psychological.’

  Allura tried to see beyond her need to orgasm. There was so much at stake and she could not afford to give in so easily at this juncture. But he had worked her to a fever and there was no turning back. ‘I need to come,’ she reiterated.

  ‘We all have needs, Allura. Seldom are they met.’

  She blinked back tears, a wave of sentimentality and loneliness overcoming her. Was she really making up for something lost early in life, in spite of what he said?

  ‘Montreico, please,’ she pleaded, ‘let me be alone with you; make love to me, as your wife.’

  His expression grew dark. ‘We consummated already, or have you forgotten?’

  ‘No, I have not, but there is more. I feel more. I need more.’

  ‘You need a good hard fuck like the little slut you are, Allura. I’ll arrange it for you, but you may not like the results.’

  In a terrible gesture of vulnerability she lifted her arms. In front of Saraveeta, no less, she was ready to expose something she’d never known was there. It was not a long-term change, not an answer to anything, but it was in the now and she must rise to this occasion. ‘Montreico, fuck me, please.’

  He beheld her, his face belying complex emotions. ‘No,’ he refused, ‘I leave that to Saraveeta.’

  ‘Master?’ asked the slave, voicing her lack of comprehension.

  ‘The horse dick, Saraveeta,’ he elaborated. ‘You will strap it on and use it to fuck your mistress. Give her all the orgasms she wishes, but make sure she takes them as a whore, without dignity, begging and humping like an animal.’

  Saraveeta was shocked. ‘But master, I—’

  ‘Do you seek to disobey me?’ he interrupted.

  She lowered her eyes. ‘No, master,’ she replied softly, and Allura noted the ease in their conversation with one another. Was there a bond forming between them?

  ‘Montreico,’ she shot back, retracting her foolish emotionalism of a moment before, ‘are you so little of a man that you leave a slave girl to do your duty? Fine, I’ll enjoy it more with her.’ she tormented him.

  He smiled slyly, like he could not care less, and then surprised her by leaving the room.

  ‘Veeta, I command you to help me escape,’ said Allura, in a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control.

  ‘The master would not like that,’ Veeta said, shaking her head.

  ‘But how can you give loyalty to him? Who has known you all these years, since childhood? Who’s been the one to…’ Allura’s voice trailed off as she realized the foolishness and hypocrisy of what she was saying. They were silent for a few moments, and then Veeta spoke.

  ‘Are you quite finished?’ the slave wanted to know. ‘Because I think it’s high time we got started.’

  ‘Veeta, what are you going to do?’

  ‘It’s Saraveeta,’ she said, her tone taking on the same intensity of the baron’s. ‘And you know very well what I am going to do.’

  Allura yielded to the stark reality. ‘Saraveeta, I beg you,’ she sobbed, ‘don’t do this to me. I’m so, so sorry for all of it. And I’ll make it up to you, I swear. But I’m a princess, you can’t hold me to the same standards.’

  ‘And what standards are those, Allura? The standards of honor and loyalty and friendship?’

  ‘You are my friend. You are.’

  ‘Go and get the shaft,’ said Saraveeta coldly, ‘before I become angry
.’

  The princess’ mind looked for angles, for some way to bargain. Could it really be true that she deserved this? ‘Saraveeta, I will free you if you let me go,’ she offered meekly.

  ‘Do you really think you still own me?’ the girl queried, and the princess glared in shock. The possibility that she’d already lost Veeta for good had truly not occurred to her. ‘The dildo in your trunk,’ Saraveeta reminded, ‘I am waiting for it.’

  Allura fetched the dreaded silver horse cock and belt.

  ‘Put it on me,’ commanded her former slave.

  Allura’s fingers trembled. It seemed ten times bigger now. ‘Saraveeta, I could pay you in gold and diamonds.’

  ‘Pay me?’ the former servant scoffed. Is this what our old friendship means to you? I think you had better shut your mouth before you dig an even bigger hole for yourself. Better still, get on your knees; let’s give you a little taste of what’s in store.

  Allura sobbed, kneeling before the intimidating shaft, upturned and wicked, like a sword from the desert tribes, the forged balls permanently and brutally hard.

  ‘How is it?’ Saraveeta wanted to know, as Allura touched her tongue to the metal. ‘Is it cold? Just wait till it’s in your cunt and ass.’

  ‘M-my ass?’ Allura stammered.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed, ‘your ass.’

  ‘But it will rip me,’ Allura protested.

  ‘Not if you relax and think about what a little slut you are, and how you need it more than you’ll admit. Then it will penetrate with ease. Trust me, I know.’

  Allura licked the shaft. Her pussy was on fire, but what she needed was the baron, not what was in front of her.

  ‘You look good that way, Allura,’ Veeta mocked. ‘I always thought you would. The baron’s probably right; you only act like such a bitch because you need someone to master you. All in all I could almost forgive you. Almost.’

  The thinly veiled threat induced Allura to suck with more enthusiasm. If she could appease the girl now she might more easily be dealt with later.

  ‘Lubricate it well,’ Saraveeta threw her own words back in her face. ‘It’s going to be awful tight in your ass otherwise.’

  The princess whimpered, taking as much of the dreaded phallus in her mouth as she could, desperate to get the ordeal over with.