The Bounty of War

[iambic]

Some random idea popped into my head for a set of bondage/s&m themed stories taking place in some Crusades-era kingdom out in some mythical part of Europe. You know the type of genre. I think it acts as a lucrative setting for a lot of plot-related details so I'll give it my best shot. If you like it, I'm positive I can crank out more for your (and my) amusement.

"Pick up the pace!"
Both men were pushed from the back and neither could help but emit a weary, defiant grunt before stumbling clumsily forward and awkwardly returning to pace. Their candor was understandable, of course - They had just seen nearly a full days worth of battle. One stood a bit over 6 feet tall, head a tangled yet somehow neat head of short, blonde hair, and blue eyes. His stature, although prominent, was further heightened by the shoulders of his cape and dark colours of his clothing. He was obviously a master of the sword, as could be gleaned from his demeanor and dress, and an exceptional one for his mid-twenties age. To his right stood a smaller man - 5 6, some would guess, and around the same age - with an even shorter head of brown hair and brown eyes to match. He was not as formidable - more slender than his companion, with a more forced imitation of confidence.

The sincerity of his countenance was of no matter. It was bootless whether either was a complete coward or a valiant warrior. Both had been fitted with small stocks that fit around the wrists and head at the neck, leaving them no ability to put their arms down or move their head or neck much. Balance was also an issue as a result, with their problems compounded further by the short chains connecting their ankles. The guards at their back treated them like livestock, poking and jabbing and pushing them to a speed utterly impossible in their condition. Still, each said nothing - the tall one simply kept his gaze low and his expression blank, while the shorter one showed signs of fear yet noticeably tried to hide them.

As they walked down the gradually more grandiose hallway, the blonde became more sullen as the shorter's hazel eyes widened. They had entered the throne room, a beautiful blend of fine paintings, amazing furniture, beautiful maids and a handful of guards. And of course, at the ivory thrones sat a maiden of pure black hair and perfect figure with no expression. At her right sat the King himself, balancing his elbow on his knee, with his leg perched on the chair. the King, smirking delightfully and staring directly into the eyes of the blonde.

The guards positioned the prisoners in front and between the two thrones. The two men stood stilly, except for the consistent and slight shaking of hazel eyes. The King lept up happily and made his way to them, eyes constantly on the blonde.

"So!" he proclaimed as he walked over to the brown hair. "Prince Wasvian, of the royal Wasvian kingdom eh?"
He walked around the brown hair, eventually averting his gaze from the blonde and poring into the eyes of the brown haired.
Wasvian stood shocked. "You... You knew..."
The King punted his head back and burst into uproarious laughter. The guards and maidens, usually stoic around the King, took this as a rare opportunity to begin laughing as they saw fit, and all proceeded to pile on the embarrassment of the young prince.
The King chortled at the prince "Please. Your desire to fight for your king and country may have seemed noble, but it was misguided. If your father was going to allow you into the heat of battle, with little training and no experience, I was going to find out and take advantage of it. Even if he tries to disguise you as a common foot soldier."
The prince didn't know what to say. He sunk his head low, stood staring at his feet but in reality to nowhere, trying to stay unfocused enough to hold back the tears.
The King smiled and turned toward his fair haired captive.
And you...

The blonde stood with his gaze low yet with an air of confidence. The King, still smiling, walked slowly over to the blonde and stood in front of him.
"And you - the prince's guard and the king's private pet?"
The blonde bolted his head up and stared directly at the wide-grinning king.
He took a forceful step forward and said sternly, "I am not his pet!"
The guards quickly stepped forward and grabbed him backwards, then forced him to his knees.
He became quiet again.
The king sighed. "Oh, my dear Valespoir, how I would like to believe that. But how could I? You were born in this kingdom. You are a patriot of this land - or I assumed you were. Yet as soon as the war breaks out you run to the other lands and get hired as a soldier? That's treason, V."
The King kicked Valespoir in the gut and he crumbled further.
"And that disgusts me."
As he struggled to gain his breath, valespoir was lifted by the guards and the other troops took a hold of the prince.
The King turned his back to both of them and began to speak.
"Both of these men are now prisoners of war in the guard of the Kingdom of Deloy. Their 700 troops are also to be considered prisoners of war, and they shall be kept at two nearby prison camps. These two - the prince and his guard - are deemed crucial to war intelligence and shall remain property of the palace."
The prince began to shake with fear more noticeably, and Valespoir may have been gasping for air longer than he normally would. A few scribes in the corner of the room wrote rapidly on parchment as the king spoke.
The King turned toward his wife in the throne.
"Their combatant status merits their punishment - wouldn't you agree, my dear?"
The Queen smirked slightly and nodded her head. This brought a brilliant smile to the king's face.
"Settled then!" The king lifted his hands "Guards."
The guards quickly forced cloth gags into the mouths of both men, and then proceeded to put black cloth bags over their heads. The men were then quickly led off to a room, while the King stood watching, smiling.

The men were stuffed into a room that could just barely fit one more person. The guards stepped out and shut the door. Although he was blinded, Valespoir could tell there was no light in the room anyway. He listened as the Prince panicked and mmmfed and struggled against his binds, but to no avail.
"The damn king." He thought. "No, not the king. I can't call him that. just because everyone else will doesn't mean he's anything more than fucking Max Dranick to me. Fucking Max -"
He cut his thoughts short when light suddenly shone through. Not much, but enough to catch his eye - coming from the bottom of the doorway. Probably a slit that opens to put food in, he thought. He knelled down to see if anything was there- there was.

It wasn't food. And whatever it was, it was burning. He stood up quickly before he nearly burnt himself and took a deeper wiff.
"Oh god... sleep root..."
It all made sense. These were sleep root plants, the kind that when burned in a small enclosed space would knock a man out. And with that, Prince Wasvian hit the ground.
"Goddammit Max." Valespoir thought "Goddamn you and your..."
Then, everything was black, and the noble warrior fell into a deep slumber on his prison floor.

The next chapter will detail what happenes to either Valespoir or Wasvian upon their awakening.

I only want to do one at a time- any suggestions on who should go first?

[iambic]

Alright. Chapta two - the Prince's torment.

"Owwwwwwwwww..."
The prince awoke to ringing in his ears and pulsing in the back of his head. Before he could even figure out where he was or what condition he was in, he knew he had hit his head hard when he passed out. But now he was awake, and as his vision returned he was glad to find out the bag was no longer covering his head. and the gag was gone.

It was better, certainly, but he was still in trouble. He found himself laying on the ground and bound at the ankles, knees, and legs with his wrists tied behind his back. He could only roll over onto his side helplessly, but decided to lay still soon after as it was no use.
"Great" He thought to himself. "tied and trussed like this, the Prince of Wasvian... and why the hell is it so cold in here?"
It wasn't, actually. In fact, the room was usually kept quite warm thanks to it's sizeable fireplace and the numerous delicate candles around the room (most were unlit, however). In fact, the prince couldn't help but notice the room was quite beautiful and elegant. Not as bombastic as the throne room with it's ivory thrones and velvet banners. This room was adorned with fine art, complementing colors, and a nice piano in the corner. From the looks of the elegant yet quaint 4 post bed he deduced that it was a bedroom - not that he much cared, however. He was really fucking cold.

But the source of the young prince's discomfort was not the room temperature - rather, it was his lack of clothing, a fact he discovered when he leaned up to get a better look at the room and ended up seeing his bare genitals.

Getting captured by the opposing army, humiliated by the king and tied up in an unknown place was one thing. The fact that someone, perhaps a guard, or a maid, or (oh god) the nefarious King himeslf had stripped him naked while he was unconcious and then tied him up was the most distressing issue he had been faced with thus far. Like his father, The Prince was prudish - it was the way of the nobility, after all. Few people had seen him naked after he had achieved adolesence - just a few girls here and there that he had bedded, and even then only quick glances that were inevitable. He wasn't ashamed of his body - in fact, he was in quite good shape - but appearing naked before anyone just seemed so unorthodox that he always tried to avoid such circumstances.

While contemplating how shitty his position was, The prince heard a door slowly creak open. Whoever was coming was walking in from behind him, and although he couldn't see them he heard the footsteps. Meticulous, as if whoever it was were tip toing across the hardwood floor. The mystery person stood at his side and placed their foot squarely on his ass cheek. He blushed.

"Prince Waspian, I presume." The voice was elegant and lofty. The prince wrenched his head to see who it was. The Queen. She stared down at him with eyes that pored into his soul. This girl couldn't have been more than 110 pounds, yet the combination of her vicious stare and his bound state made him feel 100 times more inferior than her. Yet somehow, he did not completely hate the feeling...
"Well? isn't that your name, boy?" She kicked his thigh lightly and he let out a small groan.
"Y-Yes..."
She smiled. "Good. I'm glad you can talk." She walked past him and over to a row of candles, and proceeded to light a match and slowly light them.

She said nothing as she did so. The Prince watched her carefully. She really was beautiful - especially now that she had changed out of the royal green dress he had previously seen her in and into a more form-fitting outfit. She had also let her hair down... everything about her seemed so relaxed. This only made him think more - Why was he in her room? what did she want with him? Why was he naked?
The varied questions swirling around in his head caused confusion and anger in the young prince. He was sick of this - being tied and trussed and treated like an animal. The people of Deloy were ruthless! and she was no better!
The Prince could not hold himself back. "Why the hell are you keeping me here??! Why did you tie me up!?? I won't tell you anything about my kingdom you hag!"
The Prince was quite content with his rant, although his happiness was short-lived. he was still bound on the floor... and she didn't even pay any mind to his ranting. She simply finished lighting the candles before turning toward him.

"My, aren't you a talkative one? I had no idea, although I do love surprises."
She walked toward him and stood in front of him. He looked up at her in defiance, yet it did not phase her. This woman was stone - or at least she could act like she was. She knelt down in front of his face and pulled something out of her breast pocket. The Queen walked slightly behind him and then all of a sudden he felt a large ball enter his mouth, holding his jaw open.
"mmmf..."
"Do you like it? A craftsman built it in order to keep his wife quiet. 'Nag-stopper' he said it was called. I prefer ball-gag, but you can call it whatever you like." She strapped the gag tightly around the back of his head and stood up.
"MMmmm...MMMMM!" The Prince was sick of having his ability to talk taken away, and the ball gag was even worse than cloth. he bit at it and tried to talk, but he was utterly subdued.
"Calm down sweetie. I have no intention of hurting you. What do you know anyway? Like my husband said, we know everything we ned to know related to you. A soldier under the secret employ of your king... that's all. You're not a sargeant or a general, just a foot soldier. You don't know anything worth torturing you for. Of course, you are the King's son, so we can't keep you with the normal soldiers. So we brought you to the palace."

She was right. The King really hadn't told him anything - all he gave him was a sword, some training, and that mysterious blonde guy to guard him. And goddamn, what a warrior he was - he did all the fighting while the Prince just acted like he did. It was all fine though, till the ambush and their capture...
"Buh bu bu bu mmm mm... mmmmmf..."
The Prince had tried to ask why he was in her quarters specifically, but was then reminded of the large gag in his mouth.
She threw her haid back and began to laugh. It seemed wicked, yet at the same time seductive and beautiful.
"Oh, you... So sure of yourself at all times! You can knock off the act though. If you were Goliath himself it wouldn't matter, I'm a master of tying knots."

She did it? Her? The thought hadn't even passed through his mind - the queen was the one who had tied, stripped, and brought him here?
He felt more at ease now. He feared the King - he always had. When the War broke out 3 years ago the King of Deloy was a weak and inefficient leader - both the Prince's Father and the people of the prince's kingdom felt the war would soon end. Deloy's attempts at independence would soon be quashed, and the empire would crumble to the might of the mighty Wasvian Kingdom. Yet after 2 years of defeats, Deloy's king was toppled and made to disappear, and his nephew, the current king, Max, took the throne. Since then victories were becoming more and more common for Deloy, and the Wasvians were quickly losing more and more men...

None of that mattered now though. The Prince was more concerned with his own helpless state than that of his country. Especially now that the queen was sitting down, staring at his body. It made him blush profusely.
"You're too cute. much better looking than that brutish father of yours." she ran her hands up and down his naked body and caressed him. He touch was so soft... it made him tremble as she did so. Down his neck, back, ass, legs, back of the knees, and then down to his feet where she stopped.
"Hm."
She stopped her fingers on the soles of his feet.
"I've never seen such delicate feet on a man. Their like a woman's."
The embarassment had reached it's height. The Prince of the opposing kingdom had him tied up and naked in his room with a gag in his mouth that caused him to drool all over the floor. and now she was telling him how feminine he was.
"mmmmmmmm..." there was no defiance in the groan, no spirit. It was simply the final sigh of a defeated man who was at the pit of humiliation.
"Oh, don't be so upset. It's a good thing! I'm sure the women love it."
This did nothing to lift his spirits, and the prince simply laid on his back limply, drooling to the side.

Suddenly he felt something. a tingle. on his feet? oh, god... she was tickling him. her delicate fingers ran up and down his soles, and he couldn't stop it.
"mmm... mmm... hhhhhuuuhhuhuhuuhuh HAHAHAHHAHAHAH!"
The Prince thrashed about and laughed through his gag. She stopped briefly to sit on top of him - now he was helpless, he couldn't move his legs at all.
"My are you ticklish!"
She continued to tickle his soles, and moved up to the backs of his knees, which were even more ticklish. THe Prince thrusted his head back and turned bright red as he laughed harder and harder, drooling as he did so.
"Guhuhuhugahahahahahhaahhah!!"
The noises were pathetic, yet it was the closest he could get to laughing in his gagged state. She reached behind and tickled his ass cheeks. He felt so humiliated - yet he loved it.

Wait, what?

Loved what? being tickled? submitting to her? What was going on? He was a soldier - the son of the King! yet here he was, helpless to the mercy of this petite dominatrix... and loving it.

The tickling stopped. He waited for her to continue taunting him, but she simply stood up, turned around, and sat down on his legs again, this time facing toward his head. she began spanking him without a word.
"MMF... MMMMMF!" Each slap was increasingly harder, and each slap increased the bloodflow to his dick.
"You want to know why you're here? Because I wanted you. I saw you bound and chained walking toward my throne and I wanted you. My own personal plaything, and royalty no less. You were so cute... so cluelessly naive that I was enamored with the idea of having you as my pet. The King wanted to throw you in some imperial cellar but I would have none of it."
She got up and flipped him over, and looked down at him. His firm body was tensed up from the punishments, and he was heaving to breath. His dick too, was completely hard.
"And the best part? You want it, don't you?" She ungagged him, signifying she wanted an actual response.

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't say yes - that would be to weak of him. But more false defiance... it just wasn't worth it anymore. Being a pet would be better than being a prisoner... or a Prince with too much burden placed on his shoulders...
"You're married though..." He said to avoid the yes/no question he was offered. It was a good point too.
"I'm not your fucking lover kid. Besides, sometimes marriage... it isn't... doesn't..." She stopped speaking and turned her head to the side.

Her expression was familiar to him. It was one of unfullfillment - sexual, perhaps, but also emotional and physical. A woman who wanted more from her partner than just occasional sex and a throne next to his. The Prince had seen it a few times before. In the eyes of his own mother at his father's banquets and speeches. The expression was also emblazoned across many of the slaves peasants kept as "wives", who were nothing more than captives of wars they had nothing to do with. Hell, to be quiet honest, Most of the women he fucked had the same expression afterward.

Before he could say anything to or about her, she looked back at him.
"You're losing wood. here."
She bent down and looked at his cock. It was true, all the thoughts about his sexual inadequacies caused it. She moved in closer and - wait, what was she... oh god.

She wrapped her lips around his warm cock and slowly began to suck. his dick perked back up, and actually became harder and harder. He moaned... he didn't want to try to stop her. He just laid there, a puppet to her own desires. She continued to suck and suck and suck until he came. She knew he would before he did though, and took her mouth off his cock and allowed him to come all over his own chest.

And there he lay - bound and tired, with his own cum splayed across his chest. and there she was - elegant, beautiful, standing up and staring down at him like a human regards a mangy dog. It was uncontestable - he was her slave. And he fucking loved it.

"I don't even think I need to ask."
She bent down and picked up his limp body and put him over her shoulder. He moaned softly, and tried to work out a "thank you msitress" or "you are my master"... something to show that he was no longer defiant against her and was willing to submit totally. But he couldn't - a day of battle, capture, and submission with only a few hours of sleep induced by sleep root had left him weak.
She led him over to a corner of the room hidden by her bed. He lifted his head slightly and saw it.

There was a cage. A large, square cage in the corner with a tiny mat.
"Your new home."
The Prince didn't know what to think. He half-expected this sort of set-up, but was still dumbfounded to see it in front of him. She set him down on the ground and opened the cage.
"get in"
Although he was tied, and extremely tired, he knew there was no use arguing. No arguing ever again in fact - he had accepted his position as her pet.

He started to crawl slowly and pathetically into his new home, but was stopped by her foot in his way. She bent down and outfitted him with a collar.
"Now get in".
And he did, crawling like a worm. When he got in, he curled up on the mat, and tried to sleep.
"Have a good night my pet. I'll play with you in the morning."
She extinguished the candles, and with that, he could no longer focus. His mind drifted slowly into thoughts of what sort of torments she would bring forth in the morning... and he thought of them with great anticipation and hope.

End chapter 2.

comments?

[MasFresco]

Nice Story, keep it coming.

[molten man]

Nice concept, Keep it going!!!

[iambic]

Ch. 3
Valespoir the Captive
(occurs simultaneously to Chapta 2)

Valespoir awoke from his nap in a daze, yet was able to compose himself soon after. Sleep root had been used on him before - by the same "king", in fact - and he was used to it's effects after several uses. He looked about at his surroundings - what was this place? It didn't seem like a room fit for a castle - it was quite dark and gothic, a stark contrast to the imperial nature of the rest of the building. Melancholy, yet the bookshevles and furniture that adorned the room signified that this room was used often. He glanced at himself and - Oh God. He was naked, aside from a pair of gold colored, silk underwear. He was also hanging from the ceiling, arms spread with lengthy bamboo spreaders, and the spreader attached to a chain in the wall. His ankles were also tied, and his feet dangled an inch or two above the floor. What the hell? He knew the king arranged for this - but why? what was he aiming for?

He thought about him. The King. He knew him simply as Max, but his sudden acension to the higheset throne was hard to grasp. How? Did he have such aspirations? The Max he knew was nothing more than a delinquent, content to roam about either kingdom in search of more Cannabis or those certain mushrooms. Why King? and why the war?

The Door opened after nearly an hour of contemplation, and the King entered as Valespoir knew he would. Before he knew it Valespoir was face to face with Max, still smiling that maliciosu smile.

"Well! You woke up quick!"
Valespoir remained silent.
"I'll tell ya V, out of all the goals I had for this war, capturing you was top 3. And hell, Getting that fairy of a Prince was pretty high up there too - all in all, I'd say it was a good day."
"I wouldn't" Valespoir resonded dryly.
The King laughed and resumed looking at Valespoir.
"Come on V! I brought you home. you should be happy!"
The king stuck his hand between Valespoir's two thighs and began to tickle his bare left one gently.

The warrior sqiurmed and figeted as his old friend tickled. The King just smiled and watched as he tried to hold back both his discomfort and laughter. Gradually, he made his way up Valespoir's thigh and groin area before stopping at the hem of his underwear.
"You know, you should really thank me."
Valespoir shot the king a deep glare, yet Max seemed to ignore it.
"Thank me."
Valespoir remained silent and held his glare, which turned the King's countenance sour. He grabbed Valespoir's ankles and lifted them up and began mercilessly tickling his feet.

Goddamimit, Valespoir thought. "You should have known this would happen." Valespoir's feet were mercilessly ticklish - his father called it his Achilles heel, and his mother had used the weakness to subdue her rowdy son well up until he left the house at 18. The only person he wasn't related to by blood who ever knew about the weakness was his best friend from childhood. He couldn't believe that that same friend would be using it against him.

Valespoir tried to kick and thrash against his binds, but it was hopeless. He was proerly secured, and the sensation running from his feet rendered him helpless anyway. He could simply burst with laughter that was louder than he could ever yell.
"MAX! MAX YOU SHIT! FUCKING - HAHAHAHAHA NOOOOO! FUCK FUCK FUCK I'M SORRY OKAY! I'M SOOOOO SORRRRYYY MAAAXSTERRR..."
The King stopped immediately after, and both pondered that last word. Maxster? Was that some sort of stupid nickname he had just concocted? Or a portmanteau of Max and Master? Either way, it was ridiculous, and it furthered Valespoir's embarassment.
Valespoir was breathing heavily by this point, and was struggling to hold back tears of laughter. In fact, he hadn't even completely stopped laughing yet.

The King stood looking at his prize. Seeing Valespoir in his completely helpless and vulnerable state was a greater prize than independence itself - in that moment, at least.

"I've thought a lot about you V. Not even two weeks into my reign and you run off for for the opposing kingdom. That doesn't bode well. And it's certainly not the expectation I'd have for my best friend, you fuck."

The King pulled his left arm back and hit Valespoir as hard as he could in the chest. The warrior exhaled completely and hung his head, gasping for air.
"... Tell me why. What problem do you have with my reign."
The king had turned his back to Valespoir and was making his way to a cabinet in the back of the room.
"Well?"
Valespoir managed to regain his breath, but still did not say anything as the king rifled through the cabinet and found what he was looking for. after a few seconds of waiting the king started back toward Valespoir while holding something to his left and slightly behind him.

Valespoir was contemplating the object as it suddenly stuck him, literally. A cat-o-nine-tails whip, all nine of which struck him at the same time and left red marks as they went along his body.
"AH!"
"well?"
The King continued to whip his captive as Valespoir winced and turned in a desperate attempt to avoid them. It was hopeless, however, and the warrior knew the only shot he had was reason.
"If you really were my friend I doubt you'd ever beat me with a whip."
The king stopped and stared at Valespoir.
"Not under any circumstances I would understand."
"You don't need to understand this Max. It's not important for you. Just put me in the fucking prison camp with the rest of them. I'm just a guard, not your little trophy."
The King walked stomped over to Valespoir and grabbed his face, staring into his eyes with hardly any space between them.
"What the fuck does that mean."
"You love me."
Max continued to stare and hold Valespoir's face tightly. His grasp then weakened, and then Max's stare became averted, and he slowly backed away from Valespoir.
"and you don't love me V?"
Valespoir hung his head and said nothing.
"No, you love the King. You love his iron-fisted rule and enslavement of peasants. Like your parents. And my mother. you're a fucking disgrace to your family."
Max spit on the ground where V's feet dangled and walked toward the door.
"I hate the King Max. I hate everything about him. Even his fucking son."
The tone of Valespoir's speech had changed. It was no longer that of a cold warrior who wanted to remain stoic in the face of his captor. It was one of sincerity, one that expressed it's truthfulness. Max had heard it before, and it stopped him in his tracks. He turned to face his old friend.
"Then why V? I just don't understand this."
"It has nothing to do with your Max. I swear. Please."
V managed to emince a smile that filled Max with thoughts of their past together. From their youths together to their adolesence to when they were soldiers fighting back to back on the battlefield... All of it came flooding back.

It sickened the King, and he left without saying a word, leaving V to hang alone in the darkness.

[BLOEM51]

Very good story. Keep on writing

[Caseopia]

This is truely a great story! I love the plot as well. Very good my friend :).

[iambic]

Chaptur 4 - Hope for Wasvia.

The girl awoke as the sun began to shine through her only window, and she sat up and stretched her young body. Even as she made her obligatory post-waking groan, she still smiled from ear to ear. Today's the day, she thought to herself, and she sprung from bed and began to get dressed. The light brown shorts that covered less than half her thigh, the light brown shirt with rolled up short sleeves, and the light brown boots... she looked like she was going to hide out in the desert. And it was very likely that she would have to.

Laney X, as she preferred to be called (no one knew her real last name), was a bounty hunter - or an aspiring one, at least. The majority of her "bounties" had been bar tabs for drunks, and they weren't exactly the hardest people to track down and capture. Her more difficult bounties were still jokes - petty theft violations that resulted in small fines for the perpetrators and even smaller pay offs for her. She lived in a one room shack, adorned with little more than a bed and a small bathtub. She had few possessions, a result of her low-paying job. That wasn't what infuriated her though - it was the lack of notoriety and respect that made her angry. She knew she could be a great bounty hunter, she just never had a chance to show her skills, which was partially a result of her gender.

All of this was about to change though, and that fact caused her to keep smiling as she dressed, ate, and got ready to head out. The entire kingdom had been abuzz with the news that the Prince and a number of troops had been captured the week prior by the Deloys. Although the Wasvian King had remained silent about the topic, it was well-known that he had sent out a number of mercenaries, none of which had returned with the Prince - most hadn't returned at all, in fact, and those that had surrendered their stipend to the King and swore off ever returning to the rebelling kingdom.

None of this deterred Laney. She could name any number of reasons that the prior mercenaries had failed - poor planning, ineffective swordsmanship (she was a master of the three-section-staff, a Japanese weapon that proved surprisingly efficient at disarming swordsmen.), or simply arrogance. She wouldn't fall victim to any of those flaws, however, and thus she departed for the King's castle to affirm her role in the rescue.

This was actually her second journey to the castle in as many days. The first time the "King's representative" as he called himself (most likely just a low-ranking page, or at least that's what she thought) had sent her away and gave her some lame, half-assed excuse for not being able to see the king. Although she was furious as she departed, a quick glance at the castle diminished her rage significantly.

There was a large room at the back of the castle, which did not face the village but rather faced the Range, a collection of small mountains which provided ample protection from any invasion. The King's lair, she knew, was the one with the large wind vane on the top that had a large green emerald above it. It was on the third story of the castle, and there was a constantly open window just large enough for her to fit a 20 year old girl through...

She stared up at this window, and after looking around to make sure no guards were watching (they always faced forward - the mountains were a better guard than any of them anyway), she began her climb. The side of the castle was not meant to be climbed, but thanks to her dexterity and will and she was able to scale it with only a few oh-my-god-i'm-gonna-die moments. As she reached the window she stuck both her hands through, pulled herself up and...

BOOM! She hit the castle floor hard. Too much force - she should have made a more graceful entrance, especially since the King was sitting at his desk, and instantly turned to face her as she entered.

"Owww..." the girl leaned up and rubbed her bruised ass.
"Who in the hell are you?" The king was a man in his 40s, not too good-looking or likeable, but a decent ruler nonetheless.
"I'm... I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to disturb you. It's just that... I think you could use my services."
"We have enough concubines at the moment my dear. And a pretty girl such as yourself should find a waitress or bartending gig before she resorts to such a career. You're not even a slave, are you?"
"What? no, I'm free... but I'm not interested in uh, prostituting myself... or serving drinks. I'm here as a mercenary. I believe I can free him."
The girl stood up as if to indicate she was ready to take on any contender, if it meant achieving her goal.

The King looked her over for a few seconds.
"No, forget it. I'll give you props for managing to climb through my window like that - and also revealing to me that there is a substantial flaw in my living quarters - but I refuse to spend another fortune to send out a mercenary who'll just end up failing anyway."
"I don't need a fortune. All I ask is 500 moorells for supplies and I can complete my mission in 3 days tops." A day walk there, a day walk back, and an extra day to accomplish everything... yeah, 3 would be more than enough.
"500 moorells?" The King contemplated that proposition - 500 moorells wouldn't even be enough to buy this blond haired blue eyed lass for a night, let alone hire a mercenary... It was probably just worth it to pay her to leave, regardless of the results.
"Alright" the king mused. "Here." He reached into his drawer and pulled out a few coins, and handed them to her. "500 moorells. Go gather what you need at the market and head out. Good luck."
Laney's eyes flared with excitement. She jumped into the air and threw her arms around the king.
"Thank you! I swear to you I won't fail! You won't regret this!"
The king smiled politely and gave the girl a sure-I-won't hug in return. She then removed herself from his arms and bolted out of his room and down the staircase, ignoring the guards and their demands to stop.
She's a spunky one, he thought to himself. I hope Max isn't too brutal with her.

Laney headed into town, eyes bright and smile broad. She first bought a mule, an essential tool for both transportation and for carrying supplies. Deloy's castle was a day's trek one foot, and a large portion of it was a desert known as the Olgith's Lair, named after the monster of legend who could not be vanquished by any warrior - he could only be subdued, turned to sand for a brief while, before he regrouped and restarted his terror. the legends were just that - legends, but still, the desert was considered a terrible and harsh place. Whatever, Laney thought. She had made the trek before as a youth, before the war, and was ready to go again. Still, she needed the mule to carry the food, water, and other supplies, all of which she purchased after buying the mule.

That all left her with 200 moorells. She did want to keep some of it for herself, but decided against it. She wasn't in this for the money - once she saved the Prince her name would be famous throughout the land, and money would be rolling in. Therefore, she decided to spend the rest on a slave to accompany her. Someone to act as a guide, a servant, and even as company throughout her journey.

She had never owned a slave before - she never had the need, and 200 moorells was more than she ever had free at one time. The war had brought in a number of POWs available as slaves, and the King had expanded his slave enterprises overseas as well. Middle eastern slaves were cheap, and she could easily afford one with the stipend the King had given her.

She entered the slave market. A filthy place run by a filthy old man with a lazy eye. It was a place she would be glad to leave soon.
"Welcome!" said the man in some sort of unknown foreign accent. "what can I bring you? a work slave? a husband? Come now my dear, what is your necessity?"
She looked around. A number of slaves were outside, working on various menial tasks or simply standing around. each was outfitted with a collar and loose chains, not that it mattered. the high wired fences were unclimbable, and the only way out was past the main entrance, with it's tough-looking brutal guards who would kill would-be fugitives. Escape was quite rare.

Her eye was caught by a slave wearing nothing more than rags of a loincloth - poor boy, she thought. He couldn't be much younger than her, maybe a year or two, yet his life had already been set. Still, he did look strong, and subservient. The old man noticed where her eyes had set.
"You like? he came in a few weeks ago - very good slave. So nubile, yes? strong too... well endowed as well."
She looked at the slave master. "Well endowed?" She inquired.
"Oh yes, 8 inches I would believe. Would you like to see? MACKHAYA!"
The slave looked over at the sound of his name.
"No no! that'll be quite alright!" Laney wasn't concerned with his penis - what she had already seen was enough to decide.
"He is very good. 170 morells. and I shall give you a chain leash and all the binds he is wearing as well - a gift, my sweet." His smile was disturbing.
"Fine. here." she handed him 200, and he made change for her.
"Very good. Vajibak!" A guard walked quickly over to the slave master. "The madam has purchased Mackhaya. Bring him over here." The guard bowed, then made his way over to the slave. As he was breaking rocks with a pickaxe, the guard grabbed his hair, basically dragged him over to where Laney was standing, and threw the slave to the ground. He fell, and got on his knees facing Laney.

The slave master attached a chain to his collar and handed it to Laney. "He is yours now" and smiled that creepy smile again. Laney looked back in puzzlement, and left without saying anything.

At the edge of the town, where the forest begins, she handed Mackhaya the reins of the mule and took his chain herself. He followed her as she began to walk, and the mule carrying the supplies followed him as well.

From there it was no more than straight walking, observing the various life forms that inhabited the small forest and then the desert. The desert sprawled for miles, and if she hadn't made the trek before she knew she could get lost easily. Still, she knew her way by the few landmarks in the desert - west at the collection of tall cactuses, east at the oasis... It was quite easy for one who had traveled before.

Mackhaya was a strange lad. He did not say much, even when she talked to him, yet he always answered her questions. Apparently he had been a villager in an eastern land she was not acquainted with - a farmer who had been on his own since he reached adolescence. The king's army had invaded his land for their copper, and he had been taken as a slave along with the rest of the village. Although many of his friends and neighbors had been made into conscripted soldiers, he was deemed a work slave and was thus given to the market.

She had offered to remove the chain on his collar, or even the loose binds that kept him from moving his arms fully. every time she had though, he refused.
"I am your slave, master. I deserve to be bound, and I can walk fine despite them."
"But you don't have to..."
"I want to."
his English was strangely good - apparently he had made contact with a English speaker who had come through his village at some point. Details were sketchy, but she didn't care. He was a good buy and a good slave, as much as she hated to consider him that way. Sure, he was her property... but he was still human. The way the guards and the slave master treated him... it was as if he were worse than livestock.

They trekked on throughout the desert. It was hotter than she remembered, and an oasis she was depending on had more or less dried up. She was relieved, therefore, when she noticed a tavern a mile or two from the border of Deloy.
"Must have opened at the start of the war", she said. Mackhaya simply nodded in agreement, and she tied the mule up outside next to a small watering hole they had.

They both entered, Mackhaya at the end of the chain that she still carried, somewhat awkwardly. Inside there were a few soldiers chatting at booths, and two large men of no affiliation sat at the bar, tended by an old lady who smiled politely.
"What can I get for you?" she said as Laney and her slave sat down at the bar.
"Two waters, iced. large. and do you have any millet?"
The bartender served them their waters, and Mackhaya drank but a little of it while Laney gulped half of it down quickly. When the bartender placed a bundle of millet on the table, she said "10 morells". Laney paid her and handed Mackhaya the millet. "Feed it to the mule" she said, and unchained her slave. He departed with the millet as Laney continued to drink.

She thought about her situation. So close to Deloy... at this point she began to worry about entering the castle. What if it was heavily guarded? breaking into the Wasvian castle would be easy - the guards would have been easy to disable if she had to, and once in she could probably sneak into any room she needed to get to. But she hadn't seen the Deloy castle yet... what if it was more than she could handle?

Laney was so wrapped up in thought that she didn't even notice the two men sitting next to her had gotten up and left as soon as Mackhaya had. Suddenly, they both entered. One had Mackhaya's arms pinned behind him, and the other was inspecting her slave.
"Hmmm.... yes..." He felt each of his muscles and other various appendages of his body. Mackhaya struggled agaisnt him in vain, and mmmphed helplessly as he had been tightly gagged with a cloth.
"He'll be a good worker in the mines. We shall bring him back to Astarath."

Laney heard the noises and faced toward the front of the bar, where the men stood. She got up and shouted "Hey!" but they paid no attention. She walked straight up to them and accosted the brutes.
"That's MY slave! let go of him!"
The smaller one (although still quite large) continued to pin Mackhaya's arms behind him, and the larger one turned around and faced Laney.
"Your slave? and I suppose you'll be the one to stop us from taking him?"
They both chuckled at the idea. Mackhaya looked at her helplessly.
"Yes." she reached into her holster attached to her back and pulled out her staff, unlocking all three parts of it and holding it straight to show she was willing to fight.

As the larger one approached her she let out a yell and shoved one end of the staff into his groin. He winced, cried out in pain, and fell to the ground holding his groin. The smaller one let go of Mackhaya and approached her, pushing away her staff as she attempted to attack his groin. Every attack she maid hence was dodged quickly by him - he made no attempt to attack her.
"Shasaya!" he yelled. The old lady behind the bar looked up at him. "I thought you put it in the water?"
"I did" she replied, and went back to cleaning the bar top.
This proved distracting to Laney. what in the water? the water she drank? what was going... oh...
She felt her stomach churn and she dropped her staff to the ground.
"Ah, nevermind Shasi. She's done."
She stumbled around the front of the bar before finally collapsing on the ground. Everythign turned black, and she was out.

...

She awoke a time later, yet everything was still black. A blindfold... she could barely see out the bottom of it though, and saw she was no longer in the bar. There were crates all around here, and two men packing stuff into one of the open ones.

She noticed she was securely bound as well, although she could not see the ties. Her hands were tied in front of her, and her legs were tied at various spots taht kept her immobile. She also felt a tight bit gag deep in her mouth. The men began to talk.
"You took her boots right?"
"Yeah. only thing on her that'll fetch any cash, aside from that pocket change we found. 20 morrells. Guess she didn't make too much last night."
More whore references. God. And her boots were gone too. just fantastic.
"So we're shipping her too right?"
"Yeah, she'll fetch a high price as a prostitute wherever they decide to take her."
"Didn't she have a slave with her too?"
"Yeah. Abbutus and Costella found him out front and are taking him to Astarath tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"They're up there getting drunk with Shasari right now. Fucking idiots. They probably won't wake up till 3 tomorrow, and end up having to rush to get the last cargo ship."
It all made sense now. This bar was a stop for smugglers and slave traders - the upstairs was just a cover. And she fell right into the trap they laid...

She couldn't help but let loose a tiny moan at the situation. Her slave captured, her tied up, and she had fallen for this ploy... The moan only made things worse though.
"Hey! she's awake!"
"Are you sure?"
One of them pulled the blindfold off before she could feign sleep and they both saw her eyes.
"See?"
"I guess you're right. well, let's get her in the crate."
At this point she noticed a crate larger than the rest. Just large enough to fit her in her bound state.
"Up you go sweetheart" One of them grabbed her legs, then the other grabbed her arms. She struggled against them violently, and although she caused them to focus harder on holding her, it did little to deter them.
"Hey! calm down baby!" the one holding her legs was smiling and started to tickle her bare feet. She began giggling (her laughter was always more feminine than she liked - it irked her), and her struggle turned into little more than flailing of her feet.
"that's a good girl" he said as they dropped her into the crate. She landed flat on her ass - great, another buruise, she thought as they sealed the crate.
"We'll ship her out in the morning. damn! she's feisty. look Mark, she scratched my arm. It's bleeding!"
"Wow. hope whoever buys her has plenty of band aids!"
both men laughed at their anachronistic humor, and she heard them walk up the stairs. She sat there, in the darkness of her crate, and couldn't help but start crying at the seemingly hopeless situation.

[molten man]

nice one!! kEEp it going mate!!

[Officelover]

Awesome writing, man. Please keep going. Keep it up and I'll add a rare subscription.

[iambic]

Thanks to all of you for your criticism and readership. It is highly appreciated. Anyway, here's the next chapter of our bondagey saga.

Chaptur 5 - Beyond Fulfilled

Mackhaya sat at on the ground next to the barstool the larger man was sitting on, and the smaller one sat next to his comrade. He was tied at the ankles and wrists and still gagged with a cloth, and he sat with his head down. He had managed to face his torso toward the barstool, with his hands hidden to the two brutes. He was working on untying the binds around his wrists, and was slowly making headway. Luckily for him, the two men had been drinking and talking for a while now, and were thoroughly drunk. The middle-aged woman behind the bar was doing tasks for the bar - inventory, cleaning, and occasionally taking part in conversation where it concerned her (Laney's "hot tits" and the fact that she "probably had a tight virgin asshole" were popular topics). All 3 were too involved in what they were doing to notice that Mackhaya was nearly untied at the wrists.

As the two men slowly sipped from what may have been their final beer, Mackhaya untied his wrists and sprung to his still tied feet. The man closest to Mackhaya noticed him standing, and he proceeded to stand as well and swing at the slave. Mackhaya stopped his attack with a circular block, grabbed his wrist, and broke his elbow at the joint.
"AAHHHHH! SON OF A!" The man clutched his arm and fell to the ground and began to crawl toward the front of the bar as he winced.
"Holy - Costella!" the other man stood up and charged at mackhaya, who managed to hop out of the way quickly. The man ran slightly past the Arab, who then pushed the brute's head into the stone wall he was facing as hard as he could with both hands. His nose exploded in a bloody mess before he hit the ground.

Abbutus had made it halfway to the front of the bar before he decided to sit on the ground and clutch his broken ligament. He sat there, heaving with tears in his eyes. Costella was either unconcious or possibly dead - either way, he was bleeding still. The bartender stood in shock behind the bar, completely immobile. After he saw that none of the three presented any threat, Mackhaya pulled off his gag and untied his ankles. He was free - well, free from their shackles at least.

"The keys." he stated bluntly to the bartender. She reached under the table and quickly placed them on the table before returning to her shocked stare. Mackhaya looked at them, then at her. He then lept over the bar counter, grabbed the bartender's hands, and pulled them behind her back and started to tie them.
"No, wait, I - mmmph!" Mackhaya gagged her with the same cloth they used on him. He then turned her around, and led her to a door behind the bar.

He opened it. It was exactly what he hoped it would be - a storage closet with enough room to lay her down. He did just that - without a hint of gentleness - and stared down at her frightened face.

It had been so long. So, so long. He thought of his woman in the old village, the way they would go at it night after night... before she was murdered when she bit the slave trader who tried to take her. The anger at that had subsided though, placed into the part of his mind where all the anger at what had happened in his village went. There was only numbness. his sexual desires, however, had not gone numb.

He reached down and tore apart her shirt, revealing her bare, large breasts. She tried to kick him away, but he lept back, grabbed her ankles, and pulled them apart. He tied one to a sturdy table leg, and the other to a free-standing pole. Now she was mad with fear, although she did not struggle.

He looked at her again, with her bare chest. She wasn't bad looking - large tits, a nice face for a woman her age (she was probably just under 40, he figured), and soft skin. He would enjoy this.
"Consider it vengance, ma'am." He then reached down and slowly removed her pants as her whines became increasingly melancholy.

-------

Laney could not hear the maelstrom above her, and even if she could she probably would have subconciously ignored it. She was in a state between sleep and meditation -a liminal zone that allowed her to contemplate the situation further. It really was hopeless - she did have a small knife in her shirt, but even if she could reach it in her bound state she knew she couldn't remove the sheath. And even if she was untied, this crate was solid, strong wood. She knew her situation was dire, yet there wasn't a damn thing she could do.
"Ooooooo...ffff...." Her soft, desperate moan was an auditory confirmation of her internal feelings.
"Mistress?" she heard the voice. Mackhaya! he was in the storage area - but how? Forget it, she thought to herself, and began screaming.
"MA MA MUH! MMMMMF! MMMM UMUM MUH UUUUUFFF!"
She heard a knock on the top of the crate. "You are in this one, yes?" She let out another noise to confirm. "Hold on." A minute later, she saw light, then a crowbar separating the top of the crate from the box part, and then Mackhaya. She was so happy to see him. He lifted her in his arms, placed her gingerly on the ground, then proceeded to begin untying her.
"Mackhaya, I can't believe this! how did you get out? what happened?"
"The two goons upstairs got into a fight and ended up knocking themselves out. I saw my opportunity mistress."
"Oh. What happened to the bartender?" she asked. Mackhaya continud to untie her in silence. "Mackhaya?" she questioned again. "She ran out." He stated, still staring at the knots he was untying. "Oh." By then she was free, and stood up. He handed her his chain. "here." it was unattached - the brutes had taken it off. She took it, looked at it, and put it down.
"No, I think you deserve to be free for a little while. You've been shackled enough for one day."
He nodded blankly, and they both headed upstairs.

Laney looked down at her feet. "Shit."
"What?" replied Mackhaya curiously.
"It's just that those guys took my boots. I hate walking around the desert without shoes..." she looked at Mackhaya's bare feet and then felt embarassed. "Whatever though. I can handle it." she began to head out the door, yet Mackhaya didn't move. "Wait Mistress. Just a few seconds." He walked into the door behind the bar and Laney turned around. Seconds later, as promised, Mackhaya emerged from out the door. Behind him, Laney thought she saw someone else - were they naked? and bound?. Mackhaya shut the door quickly, and handed Laney the bartender's shoes. "Oh! these are a little big..." she said "but they're better than nothing. Um... thank you Mackhaya!" She smiled and gave him a small hug. He didn't exactly return it, although he did lift his arms - a vague gesture of a hug perhaps. "Was anyone else back there?" She asked. "No." He dryly replied. "...Alright" Laney responded, puzzled yet somehow apathetic. Bigger issues lied ahead.

...

They arrived at the castle just after Midnight. Laney was taken aback by the site of it - a castle surrounded by nothing but desert. For the first time, she noticed how far away the village was - Maybe 3 miles further? In the night, it showed how beautiful the castle was - spiraling towers that seemed to touch the sky, and a base that made the castle look like it was actually melded with the sand. The night time also added menace to the heavily armed gate out front - she could only imagine how many troops were out front. Why isn't ours built like this, she thought, and grinned slightly to herself.

Regardless, Laney wasn't worried. The King was notorious for his sleep schedule - staying up late was important to him, especially since Wasvia's King managed a major victory during a night battle he was not awake for. He was still a person, however, and needed sleep, as much as he did not want to admit it. He would pass out early in the morning - around 4 or 5 - and wake up 4 hours later. Thank god Samantha used to fuck him, Laney thought. Now she could get a few hours of sleep before making her way in.

They made camp below a sand dune after Laney observed from a hill for a bit longer. Mahkhala set it up while she contemplated, or just sat and watch. It was nice having a slave. They each ate, and went to sleep. Laney decided to tie Makhala up before they slept - she said it was just because she could , but the scene in the bar still stuck with her. She wanted to be sure he wouldn't go anywhere or do anything without her knowing.

By day, Laney sat up and got dressed. She untied Makhala from the head to toe rope bindings she used, and then went over to their cargo. She pulled out the hand and leg cuffs and the chains and went over to him. she began to put them on. "Makhala, you're staying here. get everything ready to go and then wait for me." "Yes master" he responded. She finished, and headed for the castle.

Her observations showed her that near the left castle gates there was a small corridor that was unpatrolled and would still be dark at this hour. She hurried over. The gates outside the castle were large. She decided it'd be easiest to rappel up and pray no one saw her drop down into the corridor.

She was lucky - she made it over without an issue, although there was a guard walking right outside of where the corridor was, patrolling back and forth. He couldn't see her though, and she waited for him to turn his back to her before she pulled out her three sectioned staff and ran at him. she held one stick in either hand and used the middle one to grab him by the throat and lead him into the darkness. She managed to knock him out, and took his clothes. He was short... but still taller than her. It didn't matter - she just needed to find the prince and leave. She'd tell someone she had special orders and knock them out if she needed to. If she didn't draw attention, she wouldn't draw too many guards.

She headed inside. The door was open, and two guards stood at attention. She walked through and went unnoticed by them. Once inside, she kept walking. None of the guards said anything about her slightly loose clothing - maybe it just wasn't that noticeable? Good. This would go well.

She kept walking until she reached the throne room. Let's see... where did Samantha say the dungeon was? second left on after the west corridor by the throne room... ah! It was barely noticeable - meant to blend in with the stone wall, yet the frame of the door was barely noticeable. she lifted it - heavy, but she managed to get under. Down the stairs she saw that the dungeon's were empty - except for one person. A maid, pouting in a cell. "You!" Laney said in her best impression of a man voice. "Why are you down here?" She glared at Laney. "I let the Prince out of his cage. He looked uncomfortable." "What?" Laney replied. "Are you new here? She keeps him as a pet, cage and all. He looked lonely, so I unlocked the cage when he was cleaning. She walked in and took me down here. bitch." Laney was shocked. The Queen made him her pet? How strange... was it some sort of torture? She looked back at the maid. "Well... carry on then!" she blurted out before she stormed up the steps.

She walked back out to the throne room and saw the Queen walk out of an adjacent door holding a bowl. Then, everything made sense. The Queen let the door close on it's own, so Laney snuck in before it shut. She Saw the cage behind the bed - wow, she wasn't kidding. The Prince was naked with a collar, his wrists tied to his ankles. He looked up at her, and stared like a deer in the headlights. "Prince Wasvian?" she said. He stared, and nodded, although he did not realize it. "I'm under the employ of your father. I came to free you." she walked over to the cage and saw it was locked. Looking around, she found the key on the Queen's nightstand and started to unlock the cage. suddenly, the door opened, and Laney fled into a closet at the front of the room. The queen entered. "More water slave." She walked over to the cage, saw the key still in the lock, and stared at it. she put the bowl on the ground and stood up.
"Were the maids in here?" She said to her slave sternly. Laney grabbed the knife she had stashed in her shirt and ran at the queen, and held it to her side, letting her feel the point of it. "Don't move. don't say anything." The queen shuddered, then stood still.
"Let him out. untie him." The queen did as she was told. She thought about rebelling against her new captor, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She did not want to get stabbed - blood-letting was her greatest fear, and even if she didn't get stabbed the girl was now hold her three section staff, a strange weapon with which the queen was not acquainted. She was frightened, although she only showed disgust and bitchy anger.

She let The Prince out of his cage and untied him. The prince was st ill silent, and stood up. there were red marks all over his body, and ass. She felt sorry for him, and wanted to do something to alleviate his humiliation. But if she was going to get him out the castle, it couldn't look suspicious... And if this was the norm...

"Tie his wrists. Put his collar on and gag him." The Prince looked up puzzled, but the Queen did as she was told and he was bound. Laney grabbed her wrist tightly and pushed the knife close to her side. "Now look. This is what's going to happen. I'm going to lead you outside – I'll be holding onto your wrist the entire time. If you so much as struggle... I'll have to hurt you. Sorry babe, but I'd have to. You'll be holding onto his leash the entire time with your other hand. Okay?” The Queen said nothing, and Laney jabbed her with the knife. The Queen stepped back slightly, and then regained her ground. “Okay?” Laney asked again. “Fine.” the Queen replied. “Good. Let's go.” Laney grabbed her wrist and led her outside.

Walking down the hallway with the Queen and the naked prince was deeply frightening. She felt like, at any time, one of the occassional guards would say something and everything would fall apart. Yet none of them paid any attention – some saluted or bowed to the Queen, but she said nothing. Probably usual, Laney figured. The Queen simply held her attention ahead, and walked straight.

The Prince felt similar to how he felt when he was brought here. A flurry of thoughts flew through his head then – his enjoyment at being dominated didn't meld with his hatred of being knocked from his former royal position. Now, he was receiving his freedom again... but did he even want it? It didn't evne really matter – tings were outside of his control, yet again.

The trio made it to the front door and they left. Laney was sure the guards would know something suspicious was going on when all 3 left, yet still they said nothing. Two of them looked at them, then looked at each other and walked quickly inside. Shit, she thought. That could be trouble. She picked up the pace and made it back to the camp in no time flat.
Mackhaya had packed up the camp completely. Once there, Laney asked for something to cover the Prince's nudity (they couldn't walk into town with Royalty naked), and Mackhaya handed her a a blanket to make a loin cloth for him. There were no shoes for him, however. She untied him, and then tied the Queen in a mummified style.
“Um... Prince Wasvian, would you like to ride on the steed? You'll have to hold the Queen... just make sure she doesn't get away from you.” It was a joke, but the Prince took it seriously and began nodding profusel. Sure, he wasn't used to having her the other way around... but he still liked the idea.

They situated themselves thustly, and Mackhaya took the few supplies the had left to alleviate some weight from the animal's back. Then, as the sun rose of the desert's horizon, Laney made her way back to Wasvia, after a lengthy yet surprisingly sucessful journey.

“The prince and the opposing queen... They'll call me a goddess.” She thought to herself as she smiled and pressed onward.

...

PHEW! long one this time - over 4 pages in word! Still, I enjoyed writing it. Expect chapter 6 within the next few days.

comment comment comment.

[BLOEM51]

Good story so far I really enjoy it

[TheFloss]

WHOA! I love this! Please keep going! I can't wait.

I hope they don't get away so easy :P

[Officelover]

And... I've just added a subscription.

Great job, keep it up!

[molten man]

Nice long and interesting post!!

[glue]

This is REALLY good, nice idea and cmpletely unique. i think you might have a brilliant mind :)

8/10

[iambic]

This is REALLY good, nice idea and cmpletely unique. i think you might have a brilliant mind :)

Haha well thank you! That's quite the compliment :p

Alright, so... I kinda realized this little story of mine could be divided into two parts. It was Unintentional, but not detrimental. Chapter 6 is the last chapter in Part one, but before I start part 2 I figure I should throw in a little interim chapter, because everyone can appreciate something extra.

These take place before Laney arrives at the Deloy castle, and are more of a survey of the characters than they are a plot-advancing passage.

So, without further ado...

Chapter 6.5 - the lives of captives.

Since the first day of his captivity Prince Wasvian had become increasingly comfortable with his role as the Queen's pet. Indeed, his role had become official, or as close to it as it could be. He was always collared, and his living quarter's remained the small cage next to the Queen's bed. And he was nearly always naked - the few times he was clothed (for whatever reason) he actually felt less comfortable, a paradigm shift from his pre-captivity sentiments.

The Queen was, for all sakes and purposes, a dominatrix, yet a benevolent one. His lashings, spankings, and other torments were always followed by her holding him in her arms lovingly, stroking him up and down his naked body. The Prince loved it - he would lay his head on her breasts and they would simply sit there silently. He was completely carefree and relaxed in these instances, and she was happy to have someone to obey her completely.

In fact, there was little the Prince had to complain about. Although he did eat from a bowl on the ground, the food was actually exquisite - cooked by the royal chefs who were always finding some clever way to serve fine cuisine through a dog bowl. Although water was his usual drink, he would sometimes be privy to wine. He was a lightweight for sure - a few glasses and he was drunk, prompting the Queen to laugh at him as he struggled to keep his balance (it's hard enough to maintain while tied, let alone when wasted), and would punish him for being "such a hopeless drunkard". He could take a lot more punishment when drunk, and she would dole out extra in turn.

Although he was tormented in a variety of ways, and there were times when he felt that he could take no more punishment, the Queen never truly hurt or maimed him. The red marks or the slight bruises would fade with time, and she had her limits as well. She never cut him - one time she whipped him too hard and made him bleed a bit on his arm. She stopped, and actually apologized to him - the only time she ever did. He was surprised and assured her it was fine, and she could continue if she wished, but it was over for that night. Eventually, he realized she hated the sight of blood, but he was still glad to know she cared about his well-being in a sense. There was no scat play either - he shat in the outhouse like everyone else. He assumed she didn't like the site of feces either, but then again, who does?

Piss, however, wasn't taboo. He found this out on his first trip to the dungeon, which occured a few days after his initial capture. The dungeon was deep below the main floor of the castle - a dark, dank place where he could be sure to receive punishments that would test and push his limits. He wasn't sure as to the dungeon's purpose - did anyone actually get tortured on a political basis down here, or was it the queen's lair for her own amusement? Either way, it was like his second home. Whenever they began to descend the stairwell his mind would swell with ideas of torture that caused him to sweat in fear and swell in excitement. It was a rush of conflicting emotions that made his pet life sooooooo worth it.

There were a number of devices that he became accustomed to. there were several stocks, a rack, numerous chains that he would hang from by his wrists or one or both ankles, along with ropes, paddles, feathers, whips, cuffs... it was quite a set up. As previously mentioned, his first trip to the dungeon was the first time he pissed himself since he was a toddler. He remembered walking down to the dungeon, leashed with his wrists tied behind his back and blindfolded. He wasn't gagged - he usually wasn't, unless the Queen found his moans or laughter or whines to be particularly annoying. When they reached the dungeon, she removed the blindfold, and before he had time to take in his surroundings, she laid him down on the rack. She took his bound wrists and attached a them to a rope at the top of the rack, then did the same with his ankles. That's when the torture began.

He had never recieved such tickle torture. He was completely immobile - if she chose to tickle him somewhere, he would receive the torture on that same spot until she decided to move. The entire torture lasted... well, he really had no idea, but it seemed like hours. There wasn't a spot she didn't tickle, starting with his neck and working her way down his armpits, torso, genitals, thighs, legs and feet. She would pay extra attention to his feet, which she knew were especially ticklish - she would tickle them all over, soles and instep, in between his toes, his heels... everywhere. he would cry out with unfettered delight and beg her to stop - she would simply chastise him for doing so ("who do you think is in control here, anyway?") and continue.

Worse yet, she was able to flip him onto his stomach, and would do so when she saw fit. He was no less ticklish on his ass, near the back of his neck, and anywhere else she couldn't reach when he lay on his back. The back of his knees were probably the most ticklish spot on his entire body - he would literally squeal when she tickled him there, much to her amusement.

At one point, he was on his back, being mercilessly tickled on his feet... or was it his armpits? He couldn't remember - at that point he could hardly tell, as he was so involved in his torment that it all seemed to blend into one ticklish hell. Although he was hard, he remembered suddenly losing all control of himself - his muscles spazzed out and suddenly he was pissing at an angle into the air, which landed straight on his chest, and dripped all over. She stopped, and he began gasping for air
"oh my." she said, stone faced.
"I'm.... I'm... huh ooo huh ooo..."
"No need to apologize." She departed to some unseen part of the room (He didn't even bother to look - he just stared into the air in pure ectasy), and came back with a towel. She dried him lovingly, untied him, and carried him over the shoulder back into her room.

They never had sex though. He didn't know whether he expected to or not - Was he that sort of slave? He wouldn't have been opposed to being used like that. Not only would he have loved to have intercourse with someone as beautiful as the Queen, but he also felt as though doing so would be a beneficial treat for her as well. He knew she and the King rarely made love, and she was most likely sexually unsatisfied as such. He had recieved handjobs and a few blowjobs before, but these were his orgasms, not hers.

One night he laid in his cage after a full day of torment. He was bound in his cage, asleep, with a cloth gag covering his entire mouth. The Queen was asleep too - or at least, he thought she was. He awoke to the sound of his cage being unlocked, and looked up. Although it was dark, he saw the figure of the queen in her nightgown, and saw her remove the lock and drag him out by his feet. She laid him on the ground on an open space on the floor by the foot of her bed. The light was better here, as the moon's glow fell through a window above the bed.

And then it happened. She stood before him, and removed her nightgown. She was completely naked, and for the first time he saw her unclothed body. She was gorgeous - her black hair fell on her beautiful shoulders, and her breasts looked perfect on her slight frame. Her legs were strong, and sultry... every part of her looked gorgeous.

She removed his gag, and then stood with her legs on either side of his head, and then bent down.
"eat me." she whispered, and a fraction of a second later he went to town. He wasn't bad, apparently - she moaned softly as he licked her all over, doing his best to not fail his mistress. Her breathing became more and more frequent and audible, and she began to rub her breasts and nipples. She would also rub her cunt as he ate her out, and eventually she came in a rush of orgasmic fury. She very nearly screamed as she did, and the Prince was euphoric at the end of it. He had pleased her in a way he never had, and felt prideful that he had. Yet she said nothing afterward - she simply regagged him and put him back in the cage.
"Good night, slave." she said before returning to bed. Her words were neutral, yet her tone spoke volumes. He had never been so happy to be her slave.

That was two nights before Laney freed him - he did not have another chance to experience such joy before his unwilling departure.

...

Valespoir could have been considered a slave as well, yet not in the same sense as the Prince. V was property of the King, although he would never admit it and was not happy to be relegated to such a role. The room he had been tortured in on the first day turned out to be his room. He was at all times collared and leashed to a hook in the wall, yet the leash was long enough for him to access all parts of the room, including the small bathroom (I won't go into how bathrooms worked in those days, but let's just say it involves a bucket). He was usually alone, which was fine by him, as it was the way he preferred to live the majority of his life whether free or not. He would read the books on the bookshelf, train the rats he found living in a hole in the wall, or simply sit and think about his situation, life, adn the fate of the two kingdoms. He was quite the lothario as well, seducing the maids who had come to clean his room. It was the best way to keep his sexual appetite appeased, and although having sex while chained to the wall was weird, both participants learned to deal with it.

He was always naked, aside from the underwear. At times, the guards would enter the room, shackle his wrists to the chains hanging from the wall, remove his garments and bathe him. At first he would struggle against the guards, regardless of the fact that he was under some form of bondage through the whole ordeal and that they outnumbered him 3 to one. He put up a good fight, but they would always have him shackled in the end, and they would usually torment him a little as revenge - squeezing his naked genitals to get him to cry out in pain, gagging him with a dildo gag and laugh at him, or tickle him all over. Eventually he stopped struggling, and only one guard would enter. The torture stopped when he stopped struggling as well.

The King would also enter at times. Although Valespoir was sure he had made some headway with their brief conversation after the first torture session, his intuition proved to be wrong. The King would enter silently, and simply begin torturing him for information. "Why did you betray the kingdom?" He would ask while twisting Valespoir's nipples. While he would wince in pain and moan, Valespoir simply said nothing. He just couldn't tell his old friend why, and this infuriated the King. Tickle torture would turn into harsh whipping and spanking. The King would pull on his legs and Valespoir would yell in pain as he felt his wrists and arms begin to pop. He was sure that the King's rage would overcome his love for his old friend, and that he would die as a result. He never did though - he never even lost consciousness, although he would feel extremely sore and worn afterward and into the next day.

One night, the guard came in to bathe Valespoir, and he went through the usual drill, allowing himself to be chained and cleaned. The guard had put a gag on him as well - it was unexpected as he did not struggle at all, but Valespoir made no effort to express his discomfort at being gagged - it would have been useless anyway. What was more curious was the fact that after he was done being bathed, the guard left him there, naked and hanging from the wall, dangling inches above the ground.
"MMM MU MMM MM MU FI FEE" he cried as the guard departed the room, his vain attempt to tell the idiot he forgot to untie him. The guard didn't even look back, and just left. Valespoir began struggling to get down or at least remove the gag, but succeeded at neither.

An hour later, the King entered, and Valespoir's heart sank. He had never been tortured this late, and the fact that he was gagged caused hm some worry - how did the King expect to get information if he couldn't talk? Max walked straight up to Valespoir and stared at him. Valespoir stared down, without making a sound.

The King began to run his hand up and down Valespoir's legs, and the warrior couldn't help but evince a soft moan of undesired delight. The King massaged the warrior gently, and V felt his dick start to get hard - it was out of his control. The King had expected this, and put his hand into the bucket of soap water the guard had left. He wet his hand, then placed it on Valespoir's penis.

Valespoir was shocked at what he knew was happening. The King was going to... jerk him off? Indeed, his suspicions were confirmed as the King slowly began to massage his hard dick, up and down. He suddenly began to go extremely fast, bringing extra attention to the tip of his cock.
"MMM!" Valespoir gurgled as he threw his head back. the king had his glance set directly on his task, and continued to jerk.

a few minutes later, Valespoir came, harder than he had expected to. Warm come flew into the air and landed all over the carpet, Valespoir... and the King's hand and arm. The king let go of his now flaccid dick, and washed off the semen with the water. Valespoir began breathing heavily and hung limply from his chains as the king left without a word.

From then on, the King stopped torturing him for information. He would still come to V's room daily, sometimes for hours at a time, just to talk with him. They would sit on the edge of the bed, or in the two chairs, and discuss things. Sometimes they would reminisce about their childhood and adolesence in "The great and honorable kingdom of Wasvia", their swordsmanship training in the city, or their conscription into the army. When they weren't reminiscing, they would discuss the books Valespoir had read, or the state of Dexter, Mandark and Dee Dee, the rats Valespoir was keeping in a small cage. He trained them to do all sorts of neat tricks, much to their delight. The affairs on the battlefield rarely came up, although Valespoir knew from the maids that Deloy had only amassed more victories.

Even rarer topics of discussion were the King's current affairs. Valespoir knew little about the Queen, who he had never met before he moved to Wasvia. He knew she was a citizen of a village miles from the castle, near to where a battle had taken place. The two of them fell in love quickly and soon got married, yet that was all he knew. He never talked about her personality, her likes and dislikes, their sex... anything. Sometimes they would have a laugh at how the Prince had become her pet, and both of them would laugh uproariously as they agreed how pathetic he was, but that was it. The King also never discussed his ambitions for after his assumed victory. These were the topics Valespoir was particularly interested in, yet he never asked about them. If the King wanted only to have conversations with him, that was fine.

torture didn't stop completely though. The King assured Valespoir that he was "still a prisoner of the great King" (the sarcasm made Valespoir roll his eyes), and he would bind him in a number of ways before torturing him. Tickling was still the king's favorite, and it was probably the best way to get to the warrior. He would thrash about helplessly as the King would tickle him all over. If one were aware, they would notice many similarities between the Queen's torture of the Prince and the way the King tormented Valespoir. both had extremely ticklish feet, and both royal leaders would prey on this weakness. Valespoir, however, never wet himself as a result of the torture, although he did come close once. He wondered if the King stopped before V could - was he trying to save him from that embarrassment?

the other tortures continued as well, although V was never taken down to the dungeon (he wasn't even aware it existed). The King would still pry for information, but he did so half-heartedly and Valespoir never told him anything he didn't already know or could understand. "It doesn't matter Max" or "Please stop Max" were the only sorts of things Valespoir would say - it made the King mad, but it didn't increase the amount of torture. He just accepted it and continued before coming to an eventual end.

The Prince never thought about how great freedom would be - Valespoir, on the other hand, contemplated it. He actually did have a nice life here - he was with his friend, and had actually forged a sort of relationship with some of the guards, maids, and other staff. He was respected by them - they knew he was a warrior, and whenever he left the room (at the King's discretion, and usually with the King) he was dressed in fine garments that made him seem like a guest of honor rather than a prisoner. He was privy to fine dining, the likes of which he never got in his military rations. He also enjoyed the books he read and enjoyed the time he spent with Max - he forgot how much he cared for his old friend, and he loved when they would get drunk together and roam the castle for inebriated debauchery. He He would remind himself, however, that he was a warrior. His life was a volley of free fucking, hard drinking, battles and his own sort of philosophy. He would roam the country, go where he pleased and do what he wanted, riding horseback from one town to the next, returning to the castle only to fulfill his obligation to the Wasvian King.

Despite his romantic longings, however, he had to admit - being the King's prisoner wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. At times, it was actually... pretty damn good, he grudgingly had to admit.

Good thing, too - his freedom didn't come when the Prince's did.

[molten man]

Pretty long post but good continuation!!