The Princess's Court
Part 3 of 5
(FM/Ff nc)
There was no way to tell how long it had been.
Seconds? Years? Jessica looked up at the moon, and
listened to the terrifying hum of the insects all around
her. The spells that protected her only kept them from
biting her; they didn't lessen their interest! But even if
the buzz in her ears or the maddening tickle of wings at her
neck and ears and all across her naked flesh were all she
had been scheduled to suffer, it wouldn't have been
bearable.
This won't happen, she had told herself, even as the
cloud of insects had swirled into being. This can't! It's
more than awful! She imagined that the Princess would come
through the doors and have her removed, or that Roland would
appear and. . . yes! Oh, please! Didn't they realize that
this was frightening? That being tied helpless for the
night was punishment enough? That she was not some servant
wench, used to the whim of her mistress, but a delicate
lady?
But then, after the first few tests of her prostrate
body, she had realized that this was, in fact, going to
happen. That for her punishers, comfortable in their fine
beds, her plight was a pleasant thought, and that they found
a night of `discomfort' (for that's all they thought it was)
was a very appropriate penance for a young lady with a
penchant for running away. She had screamed to tell them
that it was already too much! That she was already so sorry
and so punished, and Mercy-Oh-Mercy, they must surely spare
her!
But the gag stifled her voice, and only quite moans
escaped.
Then she struggled again, feeling that she must
escape, or die trying. But the straps held her snug and
safe, and she neither escaped nor died.
Finally, her only act allowed was to look this way and
that, trying to follow individual monsters. When there were
a few, this was possible, but soon there were many.
Hundreds! And they flew close about her face and lips, and
the backs of her knees and there was no way she could follow
even one.
So it was that Lady Jessica had given up trying to
focus on the swarm. Instead, she stared with single-minded
attention at herself, looking between her breasts, past her
belly, to the swollen bulge of her sex. Light from it
filtered through the soft fur of her pubic hair,
silhouetting the parasites as they alighted and departed
her..
She watched, as one randomly swooped in. Punished as
she was, the most important thing in the world was the
question of what it might do. Would it fly past? Oh,
please! Or, no. . . her inner thigh, already freckled with
bites! Or maybe it would go down, past the horizon of her
vagina and torment her buttocks, or the cheeks of her anus.
Maybe it would even venture between those orbs, where a few
of it's brothers had already been, and add another star to
the constellation of discomfort she suffered in there!
Punished little girls, she reminded herself, using the
mocking tones she was sure they would, were supposed to keep
their minds on their punishments. This momentary event
certainly had her full attention!
Time seemed to stop as it landed softly upon her
nether lips, and she thought, `No! MERCY, no more THERE!
OH, PLEASE!' and she thrust and struggled as though if she
were bit there again, she would perish. But the creature
knew it was safe, and her movement didn't amount to much
anyway, and it fluttered lazily over to a damp, pink fold,
and drank it's fill, and all the while, she cried into the
gag and bucked and thrust in a manner that was sexual and
desperate.
And then, oh-did-it-itch! Oh. .. She would give
anything to scratch that one spot! Anything at all! How
could she suffer this and not go mad, and not die? None of
the itches went away. There were just more and more of
them. She learned that the longer the bite lasted, the
worse the itch. The more bites in the same place, the
worse the itch. These revelations made struggle of some
kind imperative!
And so it was. Such dramas were played every second.
And most times, there were many attackers. A cloud of smoke
around each breast. A dark, buzzing shadow, thick between
her thighs. Two small outposts, visiting her feet, and
keeping her dancing.
It was not lost on her, that this torment was designed
to keep her most erogenous skin continually stimulated.
The distress kept the entirety of her attention focused, for
every second, on her sexual regions. It was so successful,
that she felt dampness from her sex over-full sex slide
between her buttocks. The insects seemed to like her juices
as much as they appreciated the sugar-water, and they gave
her lesson after lesson in how sensitive and aware she could
be of the narrow space between her sex and her anus.
She was a slender girl, and her breasts were neither
too large nor too small for her body, but in the sizzling
attention of the mosquitoes, they felt huge. She watched
helplessly as they swarmed her, finding the undersides and
the nipples the best spots for their tickling, itching
assault. Her nipples already felt swollen tight, making
them even more vulnerable to the pin-prick stings of the
creatures. And all she could do was watch, fascinated and
horrified, as they took their time with her.
Her buttocks hadn't fared any better. If only Roland
were now here to swat at her pale jiggling orbs! It would
be worth it to spare them from the monsters! But as things
stood she deeply regretted having earned a spanking before
suffering this. Roland had tenderized her far more than he
knew, and the raw, punished skin reported every bite, ever
wing flutter, and every new, scintillating welt with
unfailing accuracy. She felt their spastic, idiot caress
as they knitted their punishment across her seat.
Even with so many things to worry about, she found
their torment of her anus especially frightening. They
ravished the outer cheeks, but seemed, perhaps, a little
unwilling to enter such a narrow world. They needn't have
feared: Roland knew her anus was to suffer, and he had tied
her so that it was open beyond her control. Still, when
they did venture inside to partake of her wetted, slippery
opening, the sensation of itching was so horrible and
intense that she was afraid she might loose control.
Loose control and. . . She tried not to think about
what merciless stimulation of her anus might lead to. At
least on her sex, they had many targets to enjoy, and the
small opening from which she peed had only been bitten once!
Tears streamed down the sides of her face, and saliva,
escaped from her gagged mouth, dripped down her cheek. More
small irritations that summed to the astronomical whole of
her misery!
Time passed.
Later (hours?) she was so exhausted, that despite the
incessant tickling of her feet she ceased to fight, and they
hung still. The moment she made this decision, she was
suffused with relief at not having to exercise anymore, and
she honestly intended to endure passively, whatever was
inflicted. They tormented her arches, wringing blubbering
sobs from her, but she did gain two, or maybe three seconds
of surrender before they discovered the soft webbing between
her toes! The ferocious itch was electrifying, making her
whole body spasm and twist, and somehow, from somewhere,
she found the energy to resume her rapid kicking. The
motion, maybe, discouraged a few of the attackers.
An instant had passed.
Eight insects, ignoring her feeble protests, enjoyed
the fleshy curve of her buttocks. Their bites reminded her
where Roland had most enjoyed spanking her. She was sure it
could not get worse but when she collapsed exhausted, dozens
of them, waiting for just such a calm descended on the
insides of her thighs like hundreds of lover's kisses.
A second passed.
Through tear-blurred vision, she watched mosquito
alighted on her left nipple. Her left nipple was already
ablaze with welts upon welts. She screamed into the gag and
begged with her eyes, please, oh, please! Anywhere else!
And she struggled, not with any hope of protecting herself,
but thinking that maybe she could convince the creature to
take another option. It landed, right where she was afraid
it would, and needled her for a long, deep drink that left a
welt which would torment her especially throughout the
night.
Seconds passed. Slowly, they became minutes. Finally
hours. When she guessed, deliriously, that sunrise must be
soon it was almost eleven thirty at night. Now she lay
still. The body had exhausted itself, fighting with all of
it's strength and all of her will and there was nothing
left. She had thought that, somehow, when this point was
reached, it might be bearable. She had imagined that maybe
she would reach an understanding and be able to make peace
with the punishment. But she learned the submission was
only what was required, and it spared her nothing. In fact,
when she lay calm, she discovered how awfully effective her
small protest had been.
Movement, even the small amount she had been allowed,
had spared her anus and the inner folds of her sex a most
devastating work out. It was not even midnight, when she
found herself opened to the `serious' portion of the
punishment and her suffering began in earnest. She could do
nothing. Even the most spectacular torment of her most
delicate sexual flesh couldn't stir her body to protect her.
She squirmed faintly, watching as the swarm descended
enmasse, covering the entire crescent of flesh from her
clitoris to her anus. As Lord Sopwith had hoped, cried.
On the first night of her punishment, Lady Jessica
cried all night.
Morning finally did come, long after she suffered
everything many times. With the first rays of the sun the
insects were gone, becoming ash, and drifting away in the
faint breeze. Although Jessica had imagined this moment as
a relief of epic proportions, she found that misery they
had left her with did not fade in the least. But there was
one mercy. Without the unending assault she could finally
surrender to he exhaustion and, after a manner, sleep.
She remembered a little about when they came for her.
Mainly that Roland was the first through the door, and that
he waited impatiently at her side while the handmaids and
servants and guards of the Palace came by to see how she had
faired. Each visitor and even passersby in the hall enjoyed
the devastatingly intimate view she presented. There was
much speculation about the light she gave off, and how badly
she needed relief from that kind of itch.
As for the bites, she recalled the loathsome
handmaid's game of offering to rub her, if only she would
describe, in great detail, where she most needed it. In
this facility, she knew she had been a great source of
entertainment for the help staff, who had ceased their cruel
teasing (she was never, once, touched, as per the Princess's
orders) only when other needs of hers proved more timely,
and she begged for a bedpan, that she might relieve the
pressures she had endured all night.
What before, she could not do in private, she did now
before an appreciative audience, who understood exactly how
demeaning it was. And, afterwards, it was Roland who took
her away. He untied her and carried her, cradling her in
his arms. She knew she was filthy, and disgusting, and
should be mortally ashamed of these things, but she so
needed to be held that she pressed her tear-wet face against
his neck and slipped back into sleep.
When she awoke, she knew some but not much time had
passed. She was laying on a tile floor, with her hands tied
to a post above her head, but she was otherwise freed. She
looked up at the whitewashed walls and to her left at a
great, oyster-shaped tub of marble, and she realized that
she was in the Princess's bath chamber.
She wasn't alone.
"Hush," Roland said, for she had whimpered. "The
Princess has demanded that you be brought to her as soon as
you awaken. If they discover I've not done so, I'll be
punished along with you." She looked at him wide eyed,
amazed at the simple way he described the risk he was
taking. When he knew she understood, he took a basin of
warm water and a pile of wash rags to the floor beside her.
"I'm going to clean you quickly.."
He held her left ankle, bending her knee up to her
chest, and she felt him place the warm cloth between her
legs and wash her as though she were an infant. He cleaned
her buttocks and her thighs, and the he placed a hand over
her mouth so that when he wiped her anus and sex, her moans
would not be heard. He pretended not to notice the way she
wiggled, or the noises she made, or the light that betrayed
the pleasure she felt. He was fast, but thorough, scrubbing
hard, in a way that both soothed the itch and was too rough
to allow her to spend. When he was done, the agony of the
bites had faded so that it was still a torment, but not so
much of one she couldn't bear it.
"That will be some comfort for you when the Princess
sends for you," He said. "I would clean your face, but they
wish you to appear in Court tonight, sullied by a night of
tears." He stroked her hair and offered her water from a
flask (no wine this time, but water was what she wanted).
"I can only risk another five minutes." He looked around.
"Here. Let me fold a towel for your pillow. . ."
"Why are you helping me?" She managed. He looked at
her as though she had uttered nonsense.
"If you want, I'll deliver the Princess now," He said,
archly.
She looked away so he wouldn't see the new tears, and
he gently brought her head back. "I'm sorry. I. . . I feel
bad for you, and I have no doubt that even with my help,
you'll get all the punishment you need."
"They can't mortify me publicly! Not like Andrea!
Oh, mercy. . . I could never stand it. . ." He held her, but
he did not agree.
"Do you think I deserve this?" She asked, and he
simply nodded. He was a disciplined, professional soldier,
she thought bitter and impressed. He would never find
himself asking the Court for punishment, as she had done.
She imagined how he must think of her. Spoiled. Arrogant.
Disgraceful. Oh, Mercy, some part of her that enjoyed
seeing her despair scolded, I don't deserve his kindness!
Would not he be pleased if I begged to be taken before the
Princess for the harshest punishment she could deliver?
But then he smiled. "But at least this way we've met
so that I like you. I'm sure if you were in your official
capacity, I'd find you an intolerable brat, and you'd ignore
me as beneath your station."
She blushed miserably. "What is there to like? That
I'm getting what I deserve? That the smallest torments they
devise for me are unbearable?"
He laughed, "There is that. And I would be lying if
I denied that your. . . vulnerability touches me, but
there's also your spirit. Anyone who made this much an
enemy of the Princess cannot be all a coward. And, you're
honest with yourself. You admit you've misbehaved." He
studied her, for a moment before he continued, "And, if
you'll forgive me, Mi'Lady, you're quite beautiful." She
closed her eyes, blushing.
"I. . ." She swallowed and tried to continue. She
still didn't dare look. "I feared you found me repulsive. .
." She broke into tears, and she felt him close to her.
"Nonsense!" He was appalled that she might feel that
way. "Why? How might that be possible?"
"What can you. . . mercy. . . what can you possibly
think of a Lady who wets herself so when she's punished?"
She sobbed with shame, and he kissed her lightly,
saying, "Only that she needs to be punished more
frequently."
His words froze her. She was looking up, into his
eyes, and she knew that her face reported her reaction as
faithfully as her nipples or sex. Oh, Mercy. . .
"I'm sure you agree that if you had a man in your
household. . . one who wouldn't hesitate to correct you most
severely, when you needed it, you wouldn't be here today."
How dare her body react that way to such a suggestion!
It was insulting to her dignity as a Lady, that this soldier
thought she needed a man to spank her when she was bad! And
how dare he torment her with such images? But naked as she
was, squirming in his arms, she didn't dare bluster or
scold, and she could only tell him the truth of what she
felt. She looked down, and said, "No such man would
tolerate me, Sir."
"Because you can be selfish and thoughtless and
willful?" His voice was very gentle, almost teasing, but
without malice.
She nodded.
"I think he would cherish you when you're giving,
remind you when you're thoughtless, and discipline you so
that your will works for you and not against you."
His face was very close to hers and all she could
think of was how beautiful he was and how strong and gentle,
and authoritative. He kissed her again, then.
"What. . . mercy, what was that for?"
"I wanted to," He said.
She tried to say something to him. Something
complicated and honest. She wanted to ask him for
something, but she didn't know the words. When she opened
her mouth to speak, he silenced her with a kiss. "Hush,
now. We'll talk later. The guards are coming." He lay
her back, and stood. Then, with one last, secret look at
her he went to hold the door for them.
Jessica realized that her sex ached and burned with a
tension wound so tight that she felt her gut would implode.
Shame radiated from her body casting reflections on the
polished tile. It means I need to be punished more, she
thought, and she almost smiled.
"It's so difficult," The Princess complained
laughingly. "I will please myself no matter what, but I
must consider the tastes of the Court as well. They need to
be entertained. And then there's you." She sat up in bed,
a tray laden with freshly cut strawberries and pancakes
dripping with honey and half melted butter. Sunlight
streamed through the window, onto her bed, making it's white
sheets appear supernaturally brilliant and clean and
comfortable. Her hair had been combed recently and her
fingernails painted and filed. She had a beautiful smile
and it was clear she was enjoying herself. She was talking
about Jessica's sentence.
"I can see that you are very. . . how should I put
this? Delicate? I'm afraid that you'll surrender all too
easily, and that would spoil everything. I have the added
burden of making sure that whatever I devise for you is so
humiliating that you have to fight it. That's where the
drama comes from. The internal struggle between the desire
to submit and the cost in pride." She sighed. "I'm sorry,
Honey, but you're so sensitive that I'll have to make sure
that cost is very, very dear." She smiled and plucked a
strawberry from the bowl, dipped it in whipped cream and
delicately ate it, being careful to keep it's red stain from
her pristine sheets.
"I'm sure you appreciate the difficulty."
Jessica stood in the center of the room, forbidden to
move. She was naked, her legs comfortably apart, and her
hands atop her head. The Princess had also ordered her to
spread her wings, and so they stretched from her shoulders
up to the ceiling, and out. They appeared as glittering
membranes, wet and suffused with the same warm light that
dripped from her sex and nipples. For a Nixie, such a
display was almost unbearably vulgar, as if she had been
ordered to spread her nether lips and expose everything. It
was horrible, and even though she knew that this was a
private humiliation, performed only before her Princess, it
was almost too much to bear. It was as though the Princess
was determined to rob her nudity of all dignity. The tear-
stained face, the ripe, sloppy condition of her sex, and
even the deep blush that never left her weren't enough. She
had to be exposed in the most degrading way possible.
The relief she had experienced when Roland washed her
had faded over time, and now the all but invisible rash of
bites that decorated her private body itched worse and
worse. It was more than she could do to keep her hips
still, and they moved constantly, and ever so slightly, in a
dance dictated by the discomfort. Would she squirm again,
and be punished for it? She was afraid she would.
But even worse than that, was the need that her ordeal
had awakened in her. She had the feeling of frustration
that one experiences when sex or masturbation (it had been a
long time since she had had sex) is interrupted before
climax. She had never imagined she could need it that
badly, and it terrified her. What if it could get worse?
Would she. . . ask for it? Beg? Oh, Mercy!
The Princess absentmindedly scratched at her arm.
"The mosquitoes were a wonderful idea. I shall have to ask
the magicians if we can arrange for a smoke pot under each
x-wrack, and a spell to insure that only the supplicant who
hangs there is tormented. Wouldn't that make it more
entertaining?"
Jessica gasped and the gasp turned into a sob, and she
trembled. She didn't lower her hands or fold he wings, but
she was wracked with misery she couldn't hide.
"You'll be pleased to know that I've arranged
transport for our entire class. Especially the girls who
could stand you." Katherine paused for another fruit.
"I've always said that being humiliated before your enemies
is bad, but being humiliated before your friends is worse.
I can only imagine how sorry you must be."
This is for School, Jessica thought. This is
punishment for not following her. For rebelling, I'm to
stand here naked, itching, with my wings spread and my
excitement creeping down the insides of my thighs, so that
she can mock and tease me to her heart's content! She
wants me frustrated to tears!
There was a knock at the door, and Katherine looked
up. "Come," she said.
The teenage handmaid entered. She glanced at Jessica,
but didn't stare. "The Wheels are prepared, Your Highness."
Katherine smiled. "Excellent." She looked at
Jessica, and then at the maid. "Do you think we should tell
her what is in store for her? So that she may worry and
fret while she marinates upon The Wheels?"
The handmaid nodded. Now she did study Lady Jessica,
her pleased smile never fading. She reveled in the Lady's
powerless animosity. "May I say it?"
"As a reward for your service, Meredith," Katherine
allowed.
Meredith the Handmaid approached Jessica, her eyes alight with cruel
pleasure. "Well, Mi'Lady, The Wheels are two brass wagon wheels more
than ten feet high, and they're. . . I'd say, two feet apart. You hang
on them, your left hand and ankle on the left wheel and the same on the
right." She paused so that Jessica could imagine this. "Then they turn
slowly and round you go. Now, between the wheels there's all manner of
things placed so that they stroke you right up the middle. Some are
feathers. Some are lashes. They've stinging nettles, and all manner of
wonderful surprises. And you never see what's coming because you're
arched so. They go just fast enough that the feathers tickle and the
lashes hurt."
The Princess nodded. "It's so. You see, Dear, there's enough pleasure
to make you spend at only once around the wheel, but just exactly enough
pain that you wont. And I'm afraid that for you, that's a rather large
amount of punishment. In one revolution, your sex will be raw and sore
and so sensitive that even the caress of feathers will be torment. It
would be punishment enough, but I'm afraid you'll turn on the wheel all
day."
Jessica sank to her knees, shaking her head, clasping
her hands in front of her. But the Princess had more to
say. "You see, you need to be ready for your sentence. You
need to be on the edge of spending all day so that when
you're brought before the Court, your humiliation will be
complete. I've decided that you'll serve on your hands and
knees for a year, like Andrea, but before you're allowed
that, you'll entertain us by having you most interesting,
private fantasies-the ones that you masturbate to, Dear-
magically extracted for everyone at Court to see. We need
the Wheels to get your imagination working."
Roland, Jessica thought dumbly. No. . . no, that
couldn't be allowed! Oh, Mercy, what would he think? He'd.
. . she'd. . . she tried to imagine what would happen if he
saw her serving him on her hands and knees. . . if he knew
that, during the awful night of punishment, her only
distraction had been the fantasy of him standing above her,
scolding her in a calm, even comforting voice and telling
her silly things, like that he cared for her, and found her
pretty, while he flogged her sex! He'd never understand!
He'd find her laughable! Pathetic!
"No! Oh, Mercy, Please!"
The Princess smiled. "Do you want to beg me?"
Jessica, her eyes huge, her lips trembling, her hands
fluttering nodded. Katherine smiled. She slid off the bed
and raised her nightgown. Her sex was shaven smooth, wet
and swollen with anticipation, and beautifully lit. "You may
appeal to your Princess, Jessie." She took her hairbrush
from the night table and gave it to Meredith. "Please
inspire the Lady," She asked sweetly. "If she fails to
finish me before she succumbs to your strokes, she shan't be
spared."
Jessica crawled, weeping desperately. She placed
herself on her hands and knees and even arched her back and
rolled her hips to make a pretty and easy target of her
buttocks for Meredith to torment. Then she lifted her face
and asked, "May I please you, Ma'am?"
"Is it. . . oh, Jessie, it's terribly, horribly
humiliating, isn't it?"
"Mercy, yes," Jessica sobbed, tears streaming down her
face. The Princess's sex glowed brightly and seemed to
swell with approval.
"Then you may, Jessie," The Princess said, softly.
"You may. . ."
Meredith waited until Jessica's lips touched the split
curve of the Princess's organ. Then she set about to
punishing the disgraced Lady. She swung slightly up, and
snapped her wrist at the last moment each time so that the
spanking would impart sharp, scalding pain to the
defenseless orbs.
Oh, Mercy, No! No! Not there! Please! Oh, I
mustn't move, or quit, or, oh! It wasn't fair! Jessica
tried to concentrate on her service to the Princess. She
had been with girls at school, but she had never used her
lips. Only her hands, and only rarely. Still, she knew what
she was supposed to do, and no matter how degrading, she
resolved to do it if it would spare her from being exposed
before Roland. She would do anything, she decided!
If she could. The handmaid knew how to spank, and was quick to realize
that her subject was delightfully tender. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! The
burn became unbearable! Jessica sobbed, muffling her cries by pressing
her face against the Princess's sex, ready to surrender when the next
spank fell, but it didn't.
In the moment of respite, Jessica willed herself to lick in
earnest. She didn't know what had spared her, but she knew it might not
last long.
It didn't. The moment she composed herself, the Handmaid spanked her
again, slowly, so that it took every bit of her to remain still and
submissive, and all she could do was sob pitifully into her Princess.
But just before she surrendered, the spanking stopped again.
Jessica moaned and tried again, her tears mixing with the Princess's
excitement on her cheeks. She felt Meredith pet her rear with the flat
of the brush.
"Are you going to toy with her all day," Katherine asked.
"If I may, Your Highness," The handmaid said contritely.
"You may," Katherine smiled. "But remember that every minute spent
humiliating her here is a minute she is spared having her sex and anus
flayed to the edge of orgasm on the Wheels."
The spanking began again, and it was horrible. Jessica screamed into
the quivering flesh. Her buttocks danced as she tried to be brave!
The thought of loosing Roland was enough to make her keep position, even
when the handmaid lay her chastisement on the same flesh again and
again. It was not enough. She could not bare the spanking, and the
Handmaid knew it. The Princess had her hands on her
hips, paying more attention to the Jessica's beautifully suffering
buttocks than the Lady's attentions to her sex.Jessica's hands flew back
to cover herself, and the game was over.
Oh mercy. . . MERCY! It. . please. . . "Please,"
She gasped. "Let me again! Oh, Mercy, I beg you!"
The Princess stroked her sticky, glistening face, and knelt, looking
into her eyes. "You tried very hard, Honey. I'm proud of you. But I'm
afraid you needed to do better. Don't worry. You'll have a year to
learn to take your spankings." She smiled and clapped. Two guards
stepped into the room.
"Take her to the Wheels, and make sure the feast is prepared for
tonight. There will be a great many guests."
Meredith grinned, pleased with the work she had done, but the
Princess's look was soft, and almost wistful as she watched Jessica be
taken away.
ArkSyn
