‘I would get some sleep if I were you,’ the baron advised Allura. ‘Tomorrow is our wedding day.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Allura knelt up, alarmed by the suddenness of it all. ‘But there’s been no time to plan, to arrange the ceremony, the reception.’
‘These matters are not your concern,’ he said dismissively. ‘All that is required of you is your presence. Good night.’ The baron bowed smoothly from the waist and took his leave.
Allura fumed behind him, scrambling for the vase on the carved wooden table, and he had just closed the door when the glass shattered against it, sending shards and water flying everywhere.
It was a futile gesture, a sign of her complete defeat in yet another battle with the man. Exhausted, shaking all over, she collapsed onto the bed, hugging the pillow, curled like an infant, and thankfully sleep came, carrying her far from her real world troubles.
At some time during the night Allura entered into another existence, that of a dream. She was wearing a very long nightgown that fell to her ankles. Her feet were bare and she was completely naked underneath. She was carrying one of her dolls, the one she’d stripped naked to designate her as a slave. She felt like a child, but she was grown, with a woman’s body. Ahead of her, directly in front of her was the castle, much bigger and taller than she’d remembered.
She was about to cross the drawbridge, but she was afraid.
‘You must go,’ said the voice of a crow, hovering in front of her.
‘But I don’t know what I’ll find.’
‘You won’t find anything,’ said the crow, ‘except for what is already inside of you.’
Allura looked down at her ankle, which was encircled in iron. ‘Why am I shackled?’
‘Because you want to be,’ the crow replied, having turned into a bearded owl with the face of her father. Now Allura was more afraid to be outside than inside, and so she began to run across the drawbridge. Below her she could hear the snapping crocodiles, and they seemed to be whispering vague threats and criticisms.
‘Those are all the things you said that resulted in punishments for the slaves when you were little,’ said the owl, which was now nothing but a voice in her head. ‘And the crocodiles are the people after they were punished.’
As fast and hard as she ran she was not able to reach the other side. The bridge just seemed to keep on stretching, forever.
‘That’s because it’s a whip.’
‘Leave me alone!’ She clamped her hands over her ears, not liking how the voice could read her thoughts, and in doing so she dropped the doll, which made her stop, and when she looked down she saw molten fire.
‘It’s what you wanted for me,’ said the voice, and when she turned back there was the baron to remind her of all the times she’d cursed him to the hell of the demons.
‘I didn’t mean it,’ she desperately explained, but he was telling her it was too late, even as he pushed her over the edge.
The crow was there, trying to give her its beak to hold on to, but she was falling too fast. The air stank of sulfur and rotting bodies hung in the air. She saw pieces of soldiers she’d known who had died in battle, a jewel-covered hand that belonged to her mother, who had died at her birth, and the helmeted head of her father.
Once she actually did get hold of the crow’s beak, but it shook her off. ‘I can’t really help this far down,’ it said. ‘No one can.’
Twice she thought she hit bottom only to fall further, each time with greater intensity. Her nightgown kept getting burned off and replaced, and every time it turned to ash she could see her own skeleton.
Finally she hit bottom, which was soft and soupy.
‘Get up,’ said a horned demon with the head of a jackal, the bronzed chest of a man and the legs of a goat, ‘and suck me.’
‘I’m a virgin,’ she tried to tell him, but he struck her across the face with the end of his penis, which was a snake.
‘You don’t have a choice,’ he told her. ‘You’re my wife.’
Allura decided to make the best of it and offered a little kiss. Its eyes were darting and it was dry and scaly and alien. One little touch of her lips and it took advantage, jumping to the back of her mouth. She tried to scream as it went down her throat, filling her.
No sound emerged. Around them black rocks were forming a circle. The moist ground swirled gray like a swamp and more snakes sprouted like tall weeds. One or two pierced her feet like splinters.
‘You have to let them come out of your cunt,’ explained the horned demon with the jaundice yellow eyes and enormous hooped earrings, as though his words would somehow make sense of the situation.
Allura fell to her knees. ‘Have pity on me,’ she tried plead.
‘Lick my hooves,’ ordered the demon.
She put her head to the ground, the stench of the mud making her gag. The demon’s cloven hooves were hot to the touch and it pained her to lick them, but there were whips falling on her back now, whips made of snakes that were cutting and nipping at her skin, making her bleed in a thousand places. At last she succumbed, lapping more fiercely. The hooves were hotter now and her tongue sizzled. She tried to withdraw it and could not.
‘Ready for your horse cock?’ she heard her own voice, and felt something enter her from behind – not in her seething pussy, but in her ass.
‘Very dry,’ she was saying. ‘Let it be very dry.’
Allura did not understand how she could be talking as though she was outside herself, so the crow volunteered to help by flying up her pussy so he could speak to her more directly.
‘This is happening because of what you did to Saraveeta,’ the crow was able to tell her when it had crawled inside her head. ‘You have to be in her old body and hear yourself abusing her.’
‘Where is my brain,’ Allura wondered, ‘now that you’re in my head?’
The crow pecked at the back of her eyeball to make a hole to see through. ‘It was fed to all your victims. That’s the way it works.’
‘Take your horse dick like a good girl,’ her own self ordered, and the words sent Allura to a new place, under a table at a state dinner. She was wearing a collar and there was an artificial tail thrust into her ass. Every time she moved – she was on all fours – the tail made her come because it was connected to another in her pussy. Using her nose she smelled for her master, the baron, and putting her head against his boot, she whimpered.
The baron shook her off. ‘Make yourself useful, slut.’
Allura crawled from man to man, offering her services to suck them dry. The conversation continued as they mouth-fucked her one by one. They were talking about the kingdom and how to divide it up now that she was no longer a princess but only a pretty little bitch-slut. Her cheeks reddened with shame but she was very horny, too. She wanted the baron to fuck her. She would beg him later, but first she must service all his guests.
For some reason the last man was filled with an enormous amount of spunk, and as much as she kept swallowing there was more. If she didn’t swallow that would be enough reason for her to be put to death, so she really didn’t wish to fail. But she was going to explode if she didn’t stop.
‘I disagree,’ the man said, reaching down to clamp her nose so she couldn’t breathe. ‘Leniency on the peasants only breeds indolence. One must rule with iron not silk.’
Semen filled her belly. Semen filled her throat. Semen to drink, and coming out of her pussy. She tried to stem the flow with her hands, but it began to flood the room.
‘Disobedient cunt,’ called the baron, but soon they were all overcome by the swirling tide. The man gasped and choked as it went above their heads. She alone could breathe. It was like being under the sea and she felt such freedom and joy. A fish swam by and then another, colored ones with brilliant flashing lights like the jewels of her father’s scepter.
She was floating, at last i
n her element, splendidly free and naked. Putting her hands between the legs she laughed, the bubbles reflecting her joy. There was a push, a spasm, and then the form came out of her womb – a new kind of life, not entirely fish or human, but something in between.
‘You will be a mother,’ it told her, ‘to the world. But you will not be queen.’
Allura tried to enquire of her talking pink embryo but it was evolving before her eyes, sprouting wings and growing muscles and flesh, the sexual organs of the male and female both, and a brain stem twice as powerful as the old kind.
Kindly it reached forth and touched with its webbed hand, slender fingered. ‘Thank you,’ it said, its voice so melodiously sweet it made her want to cry.
‘No,’ it shook its head, ‘no questions.’
A hand slid over Allura’s eyes and she was gone from the sea of sperm, gone too from the brimstone world of demons. On her back, instead, she opened her eyes to a normal blue sky, like that of any day in the kingdom.
‘I love you,’ said Saraveeta, who was above her in the grass, stroking her cheek.
‘I love you, too,’ Allura heard herself say.
They were lying in the deep green grass and Allura’s lips were full and puffy from being kissed. Her chest was heaving and one of her breasts had been pulled from the skimpy protection of her peasant dress. The wet nipple tingled under a light breeze.
‘Why did you stop?’ she asked softly, wanting the other girl’s lips caressing her once more.
‘Because I wanted to stop,’ said Saraveeta. Allura’s old friend climbed astride her and pinned her hands over her head. She wasn’t wearing a peasant dress but breeches, boots and a man’s peasant shirt.
‘Are you…?’
‘A man?’ Saraveeta finished her thought. ‘What do you think?’
She didn’t seem like a man. She was lovely, her long dark hair sweeping her shoulders, her feminine chest rising with delicious arousal.
‘I think,’ Allura reasoned, ‘that we are lovers.’
Saraveeta, ever so much more confident, lovely and powerful without her yoke of servitude, eased her knee between Allura’s thighs, making her spread. ‘Wrong, Lurie. You’re my little slut, nothing more.’
‘L-Lurie?’ gasped Allura. ‘No one has called me that in years.’
Saraveeta ripped the front of the girl’s dress to expose her other breast. ‘It would make a good slave name for you, don’t you think?’
Allura tried to free herself, unsuccessfully.
Saraveeta, who had gotten much stronger all of a sudden, laughed at the princess’ anguish. ‘I’m only joking,’ she said, though she made no move to release her friend from her current state of bondage.
‘It’s not funny,’ said Allura. ‘I want to go home.’
‘Give me a good reason.’ Saraveeta took the fresh breast in her mouth, sucking the nipple to an agonizing point.
Allura moaned. ‘B-because I’m asking you.’
Saraveeta licked her lips devilishly. ‘Oh no, Lurie, you have to beg.’
‘P-please, Saraveeta, let me go?’
‘You have to satisfy me first. As a slut.’
‘Yes,’ she moaned, her helpless heat weighing on her heavily. ‘I will be your slut.’
‘You must satisfy my horse’s cock, my sweet.’
Allura trembled. ‘Yes, Saraveeta…’
‘Beg for it,’ she pressed, biting the girl’s nipple.
Allura cried out, ‘Please use me, Saraveeta. Fuck me hard.’
‘I intend to,’ replied Saraveeta, mounting her.
The cock was rigid and cold. Allura pictured the silver piercing her; like a sword, like a spear, like the weapon that killed her father. Saraveeta fell into a rhythm, like the beating of hooves and Allura saw him, at the head of his army, refusing the protection of his own bodyguards, riding to certain death.
But why?
Fate, whispered the wind. Fate, repeated the thrust of the cock. The pinned Allura began to spasm, coming all over the dildo. What was Saraveeta’s pleasure in this? And why hadn’t her father kept his life when so much depended on it?
It had to do with the bloodlines, and a break that must come in order for the kingdom to grow in the future. This much she realized as the dream spilled over into a shadowy night.
Take this, Baron Montreico, she reveled in her female climax; take this and learn your real place in the world.
Chapter Six
‘Mistress, are you awake?’
Allura opened her eyes. Veeta stood over her, her hair shiny, her eyes and cheeks aglow. She’d even been given a tiny sprig of flowers for her hair.
‘Of course I’m not fine,’ she snapped. ‘I’m being held prisoner by a beast. And why are you looking so cheerful?’
‘It is your wedding day, my mistress,’ she beamed. ‘Why would I not be cheerful?’
Allura sat up. ‘Who gave you those clothes?’
‘It is the baron’s orders. And I am to help prepare you.’
The slave Veeta was wearing a diaphanous gown of light blue, low-cut, revealing her cleavage. Someone had done her hair, as well.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Allura demanded of the gold collar around the girl’s throat.
‘All of the baron’s slaves are so collared.’ She touched it lightly, as though it were something to be proud of. ‘Is it not beautiful, mistress?’
‘Has everyone gone mad?’ demanded Allura. ‘Take that stupid dress off at once. Take it all off!’
Veeta stepped back, a distressed look on her face. ‘Mistress, forgive me, but I am under the baron’s orders.’
‘The baron? The baron?’ Allura flew at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. ‘Does the whole world revolve around this petty noble? I am crown princess. Do you know what that means?’
Veeta had no chance to defend herself before Allura ripped off her gown and tore at her hair. The girl was crying, begging, but the princess was beside herself with rage. ‘The collar,’ she screamed, trying to pull the welded gold circle from her neck. ‘Take off that collar.’
‘Mistress, it is forged on me!’
It was Rodolfo who pulled the princess off her. ‘Princess, have you gone insane?’
‘Unhand me, you cretin!’
He held her by the waist, her entire body lifted off the floor. She was twisting and arching her back, wanting a chance to claw him, and neither had intended for them to end up facing each other, her full breasts against his tunic. Nor had they intended for the full and lustful contact of their lips. The naked princess melted at once, all her earlier fury converting into an overwhelming desire to submit.
‘No, princess.’ He tried in vain to disengage himself, but Allura’s legs wrapped around his waist.
‘Take me out of here,’ she breathed hotly into his ear, ‘and I will marry you and make you the prince.’
Rodolfo hesitated for a moment, and sighing deeply he seemed ready to yield – or rather, to be plucked.
‘I’m a virgin…’ she purred, pressing her crotch against him, offering added incentive.
‘No, I cannot.’ He pushed her away and tossed her back on the bed.
Defeated and betrayed yet again, Allura turned on the slave. ‘You must kill her,’ she pointed to the kneeling girl. ‘The little bitch has seen our crime.’
Rodolfo dutifully drew his sword, putting it to the throat of the slave.
‘Master, please,’ Veeta begged softly, her neck angled back most deliciously. ‘Take me first; the slave begs to please the man who will kill her.’
‘Don’t listen to her,’ Allura warned. ‘It’s a trick.’
Rodolfo’s forehead beaded with sweat. He looked to the door, to the window and back to the door as though someone might burst in on them at any minute. ‘Do it, slut,’ he growled at last, pawing at his cl
othing. ‘But be quick about it.’
‘Master,’ moaned the slave girl, sitting back on her heels.
‘You fool!’ cried Allura. ‘You waste yourself on a filthy slut when I offer you the nectar of the future queen?’
‘I need time to think, princess, you must understand. What you ask me to do, it is the worst treason imaginable.’
‘Well you haven’t any time. The wedding happens today, you idiot!’
Rodolfo grunted, pushing himself to the back of Veeta’s mouth. He came immediately, and she drank him down all too happily.
‘Look at me,’ he demanded when she had finished licking his penis. He put the sword under her chin, drawing a drop of blood at the point. ‘If you ever breathe a word of this I will see to it you suffer the most brutal, agonizing death possible. On this you have my word as a huntsman.’
‘Yes, master,’ whispered the slave, her lips slick with saliva. Rodolfo frowned, but returned the sword to its scabbard, and at once the girl fell to her belly and kissed his feet.
‘I must go,’ said Rodolfo.
‘Good riddance,’ the princess hissed, and Veeta remained prostrate as the door closed. Allura despised her all the more for her easy subservience, and a wave of sadistic desire overcame her as she told the girl what they would say to the baron about her dress.
‘You will tell him you tried to escape, but I stopped you. You will ask him to torture you severely as punishment.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Come here so I can give you the appropriate bruises to fit our little story.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Did I say you could get up first?’ She stopped the girl from rising to her knees.
‘No, mistress.’
Allura watched her crawling on her front, and just had to slip her hand between her own thighs. ‘Go around the room a few times like that, I want to masturbate watching you.’
Possessing Allura Page 9