‘Rodolfo,’ he said, infuriatingly ignoring her comment, ‘take the future baroness to her room for the night.’
‘Room?’ she challenged, overlooking for the moment his attempt to demote her to baroness. ‘It had better be more than just one room.’
The baron had already turned his back, leading his horse by the reins to the stable where he would personally wash him down and tend to his feeding.
Allura clenched her fists, watching him walk away.
‘Princess, shall we go?’ Rodolfo drew her attention.
‘Did you fuck my slave as well?’ She whirled to face him. ‘Answer me, damn you.’
‘No, I did not,’ he stated indignantly, looking hurt by the accusation.
‘Good, keep it that way,’ she said, feeling a little guilty for turning her frustrations on the poor man. But Rodolfo said nothing in response.
A few minutes later he was opening the door to her room at the end of a long, red-carpeted hall lined with suits of armor, no doubt belonging to the baron’s pathetic ancestors. ‘Will you require anything further?’ he asked, preparing to take his leave.
‘No,’ she said, ‘you are dismissed.’
He bowed crisply and left, Allura closed the door behind him, but it was not long before Veeta arrived, her mistress confronting her at once.
‘You will tell me everything,’ she demanded of the cowering girl. ‘All that you did with those pigs.’
Veeta, bruised and bedraggled, fell to her knees. ‘Mistress, I did nothing. It was not my fault. They took me for their pleasure in the wagon. There was nothing I could do.’
Allura, shaking with anger, stormed up to the girl and smacked her cheek, the blow reverberated to her own wrist and for a split second she remembered that she, too, had been struck like this, not too long ago by the baron. ‘You lying little bitch,’ she hissed, covering her sudden discomfort. ‘Do you want me to cut out that slut tongue of yours?’
Veeta wept, putting her head to her mistress’ feet. ‘Please, mistress, I am scared and so uncertain here; do not be unhappy with me. I have no one else but you.’
Allura felt a lump in her throat – the unfamiliar feeling of guilt. ‘Stop your sniveling,’ she ordered, her anger abating somewhat. ‘Do I look like your mother – deserting cow that she was?’ It was a cruel dig, given that Saraveeta’s family had all been forced into exile following the disgrace of their daughter in court.
‘I am a bad girl, mistress,’ Veeta wailed. ‘Please punish me.’
‘I shall request a studded cane,’ Allura told her. ‘The kind used on male prisoners. I will draw blood, Saraveeta.’
The girl moaned to hear her old name. ‘I live to obey,’ she declared.
Allura put a foot down on the girl’s neck, her shoes soiled and dusty from the journey. ‘You don’t know a thing about pain,’ she said cryptically. ‘Or suffering.’ As if Allura were now an expert after a single beating. ‘This baron is our enemy.’ She pressed with the heel of her shoe. ‘Do you understand me? You must try for once in your life to resist.’
‘I will, mistress,’ she promised.
‘Whatever happens, you work for me, you belong to me, is that clear?’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘I’m the one who’s taken care of you, remember? Without me you’d be dead or whoring in some brothel, servicing ten cocks an hour, not a copper coin to show for it.’
‘I-I am grateful, mistress, I swear.’ The girl’s mouth sought the princess’ other shoe, to lick and kiss.
‘Do not ever cross me again, Veeta, or I will exercise my prime right of ownership. Do you know what that means?’
‘You may torture, maim or kill me as you wish.’
Allura removed her foot from the girl’s neck and nudged her side. ‘On your back, slave, and lift your hips.’
Veeta assumed the vulnerable position, but after just a few minutes like this, her bottom raised from the floor, she would be begging to rest back down. But Allura would not have to listen to her because Veeta was a slave and she was free. That was the natural order of things. Some were born to stand tall, others to grovel. She was of royal birth and therefore tallest of all.
‘You live to be fucked, don’t you?’ Allura mocked cruelly. ‘You have no other function. But remember that every cock that forces itself between your legs or between your lips is an extension of me. You will banish from your mind the thought of any man – the baron especially. When he is fucking you, you will think only of me and my dildo.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘It is possible to do this,’ said Allura to her slave. ‘To forget a man like Montreico.’
True enough words, thought Allura, but to whom was she addressing them – the slave girl or herself?
‘Soon I will be married, Veeta. Can you imagine that? Since we were little girls we awaited that moment when we would have husbands.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
Allura commanded her to squeeze her own nipples, multiplying her anguish. ‘But you will never have a husband, Veeta. Only masters. Men who need please you not at all.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
Allura felt the excitement between her thighs. She had a special treat for her slave tonight, although the first few times Veeta had been required to employ her tongue as a cock she had cried afterwards for hours, making prayers of supplication to the gods in forgiveness for such an immoral act.
‘Please me.’ Allura lowered herself to the slave’s face, lifting her skirts to her waist. She would not remove them in the presence of the slave lest the girl see how she’d been abused at the baron’s hands. ‘And I want to orgasm,’ she warned, ‘or the beatings you will receive later will only be even worse.’
The slave licked well, and Allura smiled with satisfaction. ‘When I am married to the baron things will change,’ she said. ‘He will no longer behave so arrogantly, and he will do as I say. For I am to be queen one day, and his life will be in my hands.’
Allura closed her eyes dreamily, and kneaded her breasts through her gown. Could it be right what the baron had said, that she behaved as a brat because she was trying to lure a strong man to come and put her in her place?
‘Oh yes, that’s it,’ she sighed. ‘There’s a good little slave.’ Allura ran her hands through the girl’s hair, reveling in her power. ‘Keep up the good work and we’ll find you a little treat to eat from your bowl. How would that be?’
‘Insolent bitch,’ thundered a voice, and she felt a hand in her hair, yanking it by the roots. She opened her eyes, crying out with shock and pain, and the next few moments were a blur as the baron dragged her across the room to a heavy wooden chair.
‘You are fortunate we have not yet sealed our bond, Allura, or this incident would mark your swift and final fall from grace.’
She was pushed over the back of the chair, her head to the cushion, her bottom displayed to full advantage. ‘Montreico, let go of me!’ she shrieked.
‘Come here, Veeta,’ he addressed the slave directly, ‘and observe the price of your mistress’ earlier disobedience.’
‘No,’ pleaded Allura, ‘do not let her see.’
There was to be no genteel lifting of skirts this time; grasping the back of her bodice the baron ripped apart her dress, tearing the velvet to shreds, and in a matter of violent seconds she was naked.
Veeta gasped to see the evidence of Allura’s beating.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ The baron ran a hand over the welts, making Allura whimper and squirm. ‘Such a seemingly effective punishment, and yet completely ineffective.’
‘Ow…’ cried Allura, the caresses reawakening the earlier agonies.
‘This is mine,’ the baron caressed Allura’s sex. ‘If you ever allow another to touch, fondle or fuck it, you will pay a price you cannot imagine. Is that clear?’
; ‘Yes…’ Allura sobbed. ‘Yes…’
‘Yes, husband,’ he amended. ‘The practice will do you good.’
‘Yes, husband.’ She tried to dampen the inevitable sarcasm.
‘Your body is pledged to me,’ he repeated. ‘I will share it with no other.’
She wriggled against his fingers, slick and aroused. ‘Yes, husband.’
‘You’d like to be fucked, wouldn’t you?’
‘N-no,’ she lied, afraid to demean herself in front of the slave.
The baron smacked her with his hand. ‘No wife of mine will be permitted to lie.’
Allura groaned, her cheek against the cushion, the blood rushing to her head. ‘Yes, I want it, oh, I need it.’
‘Well you shan’t have it.’ He used her hair once more as a handle, lifting her upright. ‘What you will have is a little lesson in humility. I want you to crawl to the bed and get on it, facing me, on all fours.’
Tears formed in Allura’s eyes, and not merely from the pain in her scalp; what he was about to make her do in front of her slave would mortify her.
‘Is there a problem?’ He cocked his arm, fully prepared to slap her.
‘No, there’s no problem.’ Allura simply could not fight anymore. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. The man was too big, too strong and too deviant, and he had far too much ability to make her body betray her. By his will he had reduced her to this, winning the battle of clothing, of posture, of obedience.
If only the little bitch did not have to be there to witness her submission. Allura looked down to the floor. The slave Veeta was, to all intents and purposes, her equal now. Both girls were naked; both were the same age, and both sex objects in the presence of a strong, lustful male. Which would he choose, she wondered, if he could have only one? The thought made her physically ill. The baron could go to the devil and take the little bitch with him.
Allura simpered as the marble pressed against her knees. It was so hard.
‘Do not make me wait,’ Montreico warned.
She went down the rest of the way, onto her palms, and quickly, anxious to get this over with, she began to crawl.
‘Are you a good slave, Veeta?’ asked Montreico, as Allura reached her place of shame on the bed.
‘I try, master.’
‘A good answer,’ he approved. ‘Come closer.’
Allura felt a sharp stab of jealousy as the dark-haired girl was allowed to take her place, standing directly in front of him, looking up into his eyes.
‘Do I frighten you?’
‘Yes, master.’
‘Why?’ he wanted to know, brushing back strands of hair from her brow.
‘Because master is strong and very strict.’
‘But why be afraid? If you are a good slave you will never fall afoul of me.’
‘No slave is perfect, master. There is reason enough for us all to take beatings.’
Montreico’s fingers were under her chin as he kissed her. It was full and soft and not harsh, and it made Allura burn inside that it was not her he was kissing like that.
Veeta stood passively, arms at her sides as he finished with her. ‘Have you ever been in love, Veeta?’ he asked.
‘Yes, master.’
Allura thought instantly of the young man Porfino they both so foolishly lusted for, the one over whom her jealousy had flared to unimaginable levels toward her best friend.
‘Not me, I have never loved,’ he confessed, brushing her nipples with the back of his hand.
The slave shuddered. ‘That is too bad, master,’ she sighed.
Impertinent slut, thought Allura. He would surely punish her for that, but instead he strayed a finger down to her sex.
‘Yes, it is. Tell me, Veeta, how did you become a slave? You were of high birth. You told me this much before.’
Allura tensed. Would Saraveeta use this opportunity to tell the truth, knowing how much the baron hated his fiancée already?
‘I was indiscrete,’ sighed the slave, parting her legs for him. ‘I allowed a boy… liberties.’
‘And now you pay the ultimate price for your natural passions. For the rest of your life.’
‘It is not so bad, master.’ Veeta was gripping handfuls of material on the man’s chest. She was a lusty young lady and he was about to find out just how much passion she could unleash.
‘Not so bad?’ He seemed surprised. ‘But a slave girl is beaten, abused and sold at the drop of a hat.’
‘But a slave gets attention, master, from men. I like men, master. I like them very much.’
‘You little slut!’ cried Allura, unable to restrain herself. ‘You worthless whore!’
‘That will be enough out of you,’ snapped Montreico. ‘Unless you’d like to be bound and gagged.’
Allura stung under the verbal chastisement, almost as if she’d been whipped. The man was treating her horribly, and yet his words were making her hot and wet, nearly as much as seeing him take full advantage of her slave in front of her eyes as if Veeta were his own.
As good as gagged, she watched as he put a hand to the girl’s shoulder, gently urging her down to her knees. With infinite grace and naturalness, and without being told, Veeta opened the man’s breeches and took out his erect penis. She began at once to lick it, showing him all the reverence of a god, and Allura hated the girl for paying homage to a man deserving of nothing but contempt.
‘Are you watching closely, Allura?’ the baron mocked. ‘This girl should give you a few lessons.’
‘When I am queen,’ she spat, forgetting his injunction, ‘I will have you flayed alive.’
The baron smiled forgivingly, entranced by the sweet mouth squeezed tight around his cock, the doe-like eyes looking up at him for approval, seeking permission to proceed. ‘Yes,’ he said throatily in response to Veeta’s unasked question, ‘take it deep.’
Allura felt the mounting heat between her thighs. She must have relief from this torment; she must have access to the slave’s body for herself.
Veeta was an excellent cock-sucker, as it would be so for any female whose life depended on her ability to please men sexually. The baron was large and thick, so wrapping one hand around the base she did her best to encompass the rest. Allura felt a burning weakness in her belly as she imagined that organ piercing her. Would he enforce his marriage rights over her? It was a possibility she hadn’t entertained. A man had absolute access to his woman’s body under the law, and denial on her part was considered a serious breech, regardless of circumstances.
But she was of royal blood. Theirs would be a unique contract, so she would insist on writing the words herself.
There would be no sex between them. No physical contact at all. If the man wanted to fuck, he could fuck his bond wenches. His and not hers, for she would get Veeta back in short order.
‘You are a magnificent creature,’ said the baron affectionately, running his hands through Veeta’s long, silky hair, black as a raven’s wing.
Allura made a mental note to cut it all off.
‘A master could easily be spoiled,’ he noted, positioning himself for what looked like his final release.
Allura was now beyond envy; she wanted them both.
‘Back,’ said the baron, easing her away gently but firmly. Veeta seemed surprised, but moved back on her haunches. Was he going to fuck her?
‘What do you know of men, Allura?’ Montreico faced his bride to be.
‘Am I allowed to speak now?’ she replied peevishly.
He was stroking his cock, legs apart, in a stance of arrogant power. ‘You will be mine.’ He ignored her sarcasm. ‘Does that frighten you?’
‘You can’t handle me,’ she bluffed. ‘It’s you who should be frightened.’
‘I will teach you your place,’ he predicted.
‘And I will t
each you.’ It was hard to maintain defiance like this, naked, posed on all fours, her bottom still smarting from the beating at the man’s hands.
‘Do you know the difference between a wife and a slave, Allura?’
She tried, successfully for the moment, to keep her eyes off his penis. ‘No, but I’m quite sure you will inform me.’
‘A slave has the luxury of many masters and the hope of change should she not like her current one.’
‘You will never own me.’
The baron’s eyes flashed as he squeezed his cock tightly in his fist, and then he was erupting, Allura’s mouth open as she watched the viscous seed land on the marble, a deposit of creamy unguent, Montreico’s eyes fixed on her as he came.
And they were still on her as he snapped his fingers, his face expressionless just as it had been during his orgasm. ‘Clean,’ he ordered, using a standard command for female slaves.
Veeta fell at once to all fours and began to lap at the baron’s sperm, and she did not raise her head until it was all gone, and even then she continued licking the marble floor awaiting clearance to stop.
‘Look at me,’ the baron said to Allura, giving her no quarter to avoid the power of his gaze. ‘Can you do that with your slave?’
‘Is that what it all comes down to? Your penis?
Another snap of his fingers and Veeta was licking his cock clean, the girl’s eyes closed. She was devouring him with real passion, and it was obvious the man’s complete domination of her had left her deeply aroused. After a few moments the baron was once more semi-erect.
‘Master?’ whispered Veeta, her eyes imploring her own consensual violation.
‘To my chambers,’ he ordered, ‘at the end of the hall. You will wait at the foot of the bed, kneeling, head to the floor, ass facing the door. With your fingers you will hold wide your buttocks until I arrive.’
‘Yes, master.’ She smiled as though he had just offered her a month’s voyage to the pleasure islands at the end of the world.
‘You will crawl upon all fours.’
‘I obey, master.’
Allura wanted to tear out the eyes of the little bitch. A slave should be humble and broken, but Veeta looked so sensuous, so feminine and empowered as she crawled, moving her limbs just so as to inflame the baron’s desire. There was little doubt that he would fall upon her as soon as he got to his chambers.
Possessing Allura Page 8