Nissa and I grew quite close, and sometimes I wondered if the guards weren’t there to make sure we didn’t find pleasure in each other. If allowed, I’d have loved to give my maid pleasure to show my thanks for all the ways she cared for me.
Once, my hair came down during a whipping, and Nissa was strung up beside me and whipped along with me. I begged our Queen to let me take Nissa’s strikes, because I couldn’t bear to hear my gentle groom’s screams of pain. Afterwards, I was always careful to make sure my hair was secure before I was taken to the Queen.
“Little One,” Nissa told me one morning, “our Queen is throwing a party this evening, and ye’ll be available for use throughout the night. She’s going to have ye fast today, though ye’ll be allowed fruit juices and milk, jes’ no solid food.”
“Available?” I asked, afraid I knew what it meant. The Queen had let many men use me when it suited her purpose, but she’d always been present. This sounded like I might just be parked somewhere and made available to anyone. I’d been used this way for entertainment at parties and festivals by previous owners/leasers, but the Queen had mostly kept me for herself, and only shared me with people invited into her bedroom. She frequently let the guards have use of me, but she was still there. Watching.
“Aye, Little One. Anyone with the coin to do so will be able to pay for ye in three-minute increments. Usually, the cunt and ass have different prices. I don’t know what she’ll allow — sometimes men can pay to whip the slaves too, should they be of a mind.”
I’d thought the Queen wanted me for herself, and my heart sank into my stomach with fear I might be falling out of her favor. I shook my head without thinking, and Nissa scolded, “Ye know better, Little One. Slaves don’t get a say. I’m only telling ye what’ll be expected of ye.”
I nodded, and she instructed, “No words, no talking. Sometimes our Queen wants ye to act like a royal pleasure slave, other times she wants ye to be a little whore who needs to be fucked and beat. Tonight, the evening will start with ye as pleasure slave, doing yer best to make each man happy. Milk their cock, whether it’s in yer cunny or ass. Arch yer back. Make yerself the picture of grace and beauty.”
She took a breath, looked away, and kept her eyes averted to finish the instructions. “Ye’ll know when things change. When ye become the whore. She’ll probably keep yer mouth for herself at first, but will eventually let the men fuck it too. Once things change, just endure it as best ye can, Little One. There’ll be no dignity, no grace.”
I touched her hand. “It’s okay, truly. I’ll do anything our Queen asks of me. It’s what I was trained for and she knows it. She isn’t asking too much of me, but even if she was, I’d gladly endure it.”
LITTLE ONE
I walked a few steps behind my Queen, my shiny steel collar around my neck and the elegant chain leash in her delicately manicured hands. My waist cincher was black leather and felt tighter, though I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination because I was nervous, or if it was actually smaller.
My arms were in a single sleeve behind my back, pressed together so my breasts and rouged nipples jutted obscenely in front of me. My hair was pulled back into braids, my makeup was overdone but immaculate. I knew I’d look the part of the whore once my makeup smeared, but Nissa seemed to think it was what Her Majesty wanted.
Within moments of walking into the party, I understood why Nissa hadn’t put the irritating cream on my nipples — it was apparently acceptable for every stranger I walked by to twist and pull them. I moaned and whined but didn’t pull away, and my Queen gave both my nipples a few extra tweaks. My heart swelled at her approving look, and I vowed to do everything I could to represent her and make her proud.
I’d learned much about Her Majesty since coming to live with her. Once, I’d answered a question with the answer I believed she wanted, instead of the truth. I immediately realized she knew what I’d done, and the look on her face made my blood run cold. I’d been terrified of what was to come — but while I’d apologized, I didn’t beg for mercy. I didn’t deserve it.
She’d called for someone to come get me, and terror filled my gut when I realized it wasn’t Nissa. Her Majesty had teleported my waist cincher off when the woman who came handed me a standard palace-maid uniform. I’d put the uniform on and been led to a dorm room. My bed had been five beds up, but I’d climbed the ladder without arguing. The next morning, I was directed to a rough, too-warm dining room I hadn’t known existed, where I’d eaten oatmeal and day-old bread with the other household slaves and maids before being sent to the miserably hot laundry, where I’d folded clothes and bed linens from eight in the morning until ten at night, and no one had told me when it was my dinner shift. The next day, I had breakfast again, and worked the laundry all day. Again. It was hell.
More than the heat, and the lack of food, was the knowledge Her Majesty had sent me away. My soul needed her, my heart was broken. Slaves aren’t supposed to feel, and she’d forced me to. Insisted upon it. She’d been kind. She’d hurt me and then fixed me. Over and over. She found value in me. She knew what I needed, and it seemed to perfectly fit what she needed. I wasn’t sure I could live without her. I knew I didn’t want to.
On the third evening, when the other slaves were taken to dinner, a guard came to get me. I followed him through the castle, and bent over in the courtyard when instructed, so he could rip the skirt of my maid’s uniform off and use my bottom-hole on the stage, for all to see. I hadn’t been used in days, but I didn’t orgasm because my Queen hadn’t told me to.
Walking the rest of the way through the castle, in a maid’s shirt but naked from the waist down, cum leaking out my bottom, was humiliating, but I didn’t care. I had hope I was being taken to her, and I’d have walked through fire if it meant I could return to The Dark Queen.
When I was finally in Her Majesty’s chambers, I’d fallen to my knees and prostrated myself, apologized for not answering her truthfully, and promised to never again give her the answer I thought she wanted instead of the truth.
She’d merely asked me the question again.
“Did you enjoy being tickled, Little One?”
“I hated it, Your Majesty, but I’ll submit to anything you wish to put me through because slaves are available for their owner’s pleasure.”
I hadn’t given her a reason to punish me since. My purpose in life is a sex slave, and I was thrilled to finally belong to someone who made use of me the way I was trained to be used. Working in the laundry was hell.
Now, as she led me to the main dais, she paused at the sign on the steps so I could hear the Royal Crier announce the prices. My holes could be rented in three-minute increments, and fucking my bottom-hole was the least expensive, then my cunt. There was also an option for them to whip me with a flogger (charged by the half-dozen strokes), or a belt (charged by the strike).
My beautiful Queen turned me to face her, tweaked my nipples again, and said, “So you can pace yourself, I’ll tell you this sign will be up for probably an hour or two. You’ll eat my pussy on and off while you’re used from behind, until I tire of your mouth. At that point, we’ll move you, and a line will be added to the sign so men can also pay to fuck your face.” She touched my lips and smiled. “I find myself a little possessive of your talented mouth, so the only pussy you’ll be eating is mine.”
Her hand stroked and fondled my breasts almost absently. “If you please me over the next five hours, I intend to give you a real name, and then I’m going to whip you.” She kissed my forehead. “It’ll be worse than anything I’ve ever done to you, Little One. I haven’t struck you in days because I wanted a fresh canvas to work on tonight.” She stroked my breasts again, as if admiring the pale skin with no marks, and then pulled her hand back and slapped them both a dozen times, until they were red.
When she finished, I gasped, “Thank you, my Queen!”
She tugged the leash, and I followed her up the dais to her throne.
Her Majesty settl
ed me into position on the shelf under her throne, with my torso supported and my legs hanging down. Almost as an afterthought, she told me, “No orgasms tonight, Little One. If you dare find your own pleasure, the whipping at the end of the night won’t be by my hand, and you’ll spend a week in a chastity device while you’re assigned to the laundry.”
Most men chose to use my rear entry, and within an hour, it was so sore I broke into fresh tears every time someone else entered my bottom-hole anew. Many of the men also paid to flog or belt me, and I viewed this as a welcome respite from the repeated intrusions into my backside.
Nevertheless, I’d been dangerously close to orgasm at least a dozen times, and I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to hold my pleasure at bay all night. I focused on pleasing my Queen, using my tongue the way I know she likes, and tried to ignore my own pleasures and hurts. However, the pain grew exponentially worse, and holding onto my orgasms became more and more difficult.
Thankfully, my arms were released sometime in the second hour, and I was allowed to use my fingers as well as my mouth to pleasure Her Majesty. I heard a few comments about how many orgasms she was having, spoken as if this was more than those gathered around were accustomed to seeing. A few people joked they’d like to get lessons from me, since I seemed to be so adept, while others hoped my mouth would be made available so they could see for themselves how good I was.
My original Master had the piece of skin under my tongue snipped when I was quite young, and spent years stretching my tongue every night to make it longer and stronger even before my sex training began. I knew I was talented in this area, but hadn’t realized I might be unusually skilled.
I heard a ruckus behind me, and my Queen sat up, dislodging my mouth from her beautiful pussy.
“It’s okay, Guards. Let the giant come forward so I can hear his request.”
My rear entrance was being used, but I could easily turn my head to see the giant. He walked to us with more grace than I expected, and went to one knee before the Queen.
“You wish to fuck my slave?” she asked.
“I’ll pay double for the opportunity, Your Majesty.”
Chapter Eight
Little One
“A few stipulations,” Her Majesty told the giant. “You’ll pay triple, and you’ll purchase six minutes in both her cunt and ass. You’ll be her last customer of the evening, and when your time’s up, I’ll flog her tits while she sits on your lap with your cock in her ass.”
“I’ll take that deal, Your Majesty.”
“One more condition. Show my girl your cock now, so she’ll know what’s waiting for her at the end of the night. She can work you up for free, if you aren’t hard.”
Most giants have the huge forehead like Neanderthal man, but this one didn’t. He had the bulbous nose and large lips, but I was hoping he had enough human in him, he wouldn’t have a full-sized cock.
I met his gaze, saw his sadistic smile, and lowered my eyes. Slaves don’t look free people in the eyes unless physically or verbally compelled, especially with The Winter Queen sitting over them. He opened his trousers and pulled his cock out, and I forgot to breathe.
The tip was narrow — the size of a large human penis — but then the shaft quickly grew thick and the base of it was at least as thick as the top of my thigh.
I whimpered, and my Queen gave a sadistic chuckle. “I’m going to let him split you apart, Little One. Behave, and I’ll consider letting you orgasm while he plows your cunt.”
“Whatever you want from me, my Queen.” I meant every word. I’d gladly submit to anything she ordered. Of course, whether I submitted or not, it was going to happen. During my training, guards had been ordered to hold me down so I had no choice but to comply when I’d refused an order, and punishment had lasted days or sometimes weeks — until I demonstrated I’d learned my lesson by offering myself at least a dozen times for whatever I’d refused. Slaves quickly learn our bodies aren’t ours — we don’t own them, and we have no say in what’s done to them. Slaves serving time at least know they can’t be maimed or killed, but slaves like me aren’t even given those small assurances.
I had no doubt the Queen would always get what she wanted. Still, I wanted to please her, even if it meant taking this giant’s cock in both my holes. She’d chosen me to be her personal slave and no way would I let her down.
From that point forward, holding onto my release was even harder. Whether what I felt was anticipation or terror, I couldn’t say. Either way, I needed to come so badly it hurt, and the pain of holding it back sent my arousal skyrocketing even higher.
QUEEN MAB
My heart broke when my little one so willingly accepted the fact she’d be torn apart by a giant at my whim. This night was our good-bye, but she couldn’t know it yet. It’s possible I was trying to find the line she wouldn’t cross for me, but I knew in my heart, my little one loved me so much, she’d never refuse to do something as long as it meant she’d stay in my favor.
The next day, I’d test her resolve in ways neither of us had imagined.
Grief threatened to take over my heart, and I wasn’t going to orgasm anymore, so I ordered up some men from the dungeons to take my mind off the pain of losing the little slave I’d grown so attached to.
Guards strung them up all around the room, and I had someone make a sign so guests could flog and cane the prisoners for a price as well. I removed the teeth from four and made their mouths available for cock or cunt, while their asses were available for fucking or caning. These four prisoners had been trained, and they knew they’d pay dearly in the coming days for every woman who didn’t have an orgasm during her six minutes with them. Also, I’d keep their teeth out until all punishments were delivered, which meant drinking their meals instead of eating them.
My little one was having such a hard time holding onto her orgasms, and I soon discovered the screams all around her just added to her lust. Her little asshole had to be in agony after being fucked for hours on end with little relief, but she was holding onto an explosive release with all she was worth, and a few times I wasn’t sure she’d manage to keep from tipping over the edge.
I couldn’t follow through on my punishment, if she had one. Part of it, sure, but not all of it. I wondered at why I’d threatened a punishment I had no way of making happen. She’d no longer be mine at dawn tomorrow, so there was no way I could order her to the laundry for a week. Perhaps part of me was in denial, but I had to face the facts — I was losing her.
One of my most trusted guards was in charge of seeing to her safety while I wandered around and talked to guests, but I kept one ear out, to be sure she was fine. The guard intervened a few times to tell someone they had to come out of her throat long enough so she could breathe, and I considered taking away the men’s lungs for a minute or two, but I tore into a prisoner with a barbed whip instead.
A dozen male and female pony slaves were put to work outside, carting passengers around the castle in a little buggy, for a price. Other pony slaves were bent over and could be used, though their price was a good bit less than my little one’s. I don’t often share my favorite plaything, and the line waiting to use her was longer than even I’d expected.
Hours later, my little one was in survival mode, suffering in silence, but amazingly still close to an orgasm — though no longer just on the edge.
I wished I’d had time to prepare her for what was to come. When the cook had asked my little one what she wanted to eat, she terrified the poor girl with the choice. To keep from stressing the little thing, my cook had learned the basics up front, and then spent the next couple of weeks determining what my favorite slave liked and didn’t like, and had provided food without offering a choice.
My little one had always been a slave. How was she ever to survive what was to come?
And could I survive losing her without taking it out on my loyal subjects? I hoped to merely take it out on those responsible for this most unfortunate debacle, but I kn
ew myself well enough to know I’d likely also test the loyalty of those who loved me.
LITTLE ONE
A large crowd assembled when it was announced I’d only be available another fifteen minutes. Everyone wanted a good vantage point to watch the giant impale the tiny little quarter-pixie pleasure slave.
I was so tired by the time the giant lined his monstrous cock up with my cunny, I didn’t have the energy to be terrified. I knew it would hurt, but I couldn’t stop it. Plus, I wanted to please my Queen.
I held my breath when he entered me, and grasped the edges of my shelf to be sure I didn’t try to move away. I grunted and cried as the tissues of my cunt walls stretched and pulled, but I didn’t beg for a respite. The giant pushed and shoved himself into me without a care for how I’d accommodate his girth. The bones in my pelvis shifted, and I screamed when he finally tore me open, plowed hard into my cervix, and I was forced to take all of him. Giants are long, but not proportionally so, thank goodness. My screams were because of his thickness, and because he hammered my cervix, but not because he was slamming into important organs in my abdomen.
I was trained to enjoy pain, and though this was extreme enough it registered as agony rather than pleasure, I knew my Queen wanted this — which meant I wanted it, too. I belonged to her as I’d never belonged to anyone. Her wants were mine, and if she wanted him to tear me apart, so did I.
There were gasps from many of those watching when he forced his way into me, but also laughter and jeers. I was a pleasure slave, after all. This was why I was here, and it was my job to do all I could to give even this giant all the pleasure I could provide.
Once he was in and found his stride, he hammered me harder and faster, and I finally screamed and begged for a moment of rest, a few seconds to get used to him, but I never asked him to stop. He plowed into me at full speed and strength, sating his own lust without regard to how a mere slave accommodated him, and I timed my breaths so I pulled air in when he yanked his monstrous member out of me, because he drove the breath out of my lungs when he shoved himself back in.
Slave Page 7
