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Prince Mordrin, Heir Apparent of King Rodring of the Kingdom of Altaara…was extremely hot, even with the two girls fanning him on either side. He was dressed in robes of cloth-of-gold with a fur collar and thick fur boots, so it was no real surprise to him that he sweltered in the heat of the noon sun, even under the canopy that was placed on the dock for his use. Their party was set up on the largest levee of the city, a panoply of richly dressed courtiers attended by their servants. Scantily clad girls served them delicacies as the nobles talked and laughed and observed him from the corners of their eyes. The commoners who usually ambled through this levee were not there, choosing, wisely, to avoid this array of the wealthy and powerful. They had either battened down in the endless expanse of ships and boats that were docked on either side of them, or had found lodgings in the city. For this reason, the dock of Principal City was quieter than yesterday.
Today was the day that the Prince’s betrothed was to come from the nations beyond the sea. His betrothed. As the only son of Kind Rodring, the arrival of the future Queen was an important moment, and for none more important than him.
He shifted in the seat and ran a hand through his jet black hair. King Rodring should have been here today, but he was sick, as he had been for the past three weeks. He had left many responsibilities he fulfilled to others, especially to Mordrin, but he did not mind. After all, being the heir, it was his job to take the place of King Rodring when the time came. Father to son, as it had always been from time immemorial in Altaara.
Mordrin snapped his fingers and instantly, a girl in a white dress thin enough to for him to make out her nipples walked forward, falling to her knees and then crawling to approach his seat. When she was close enough, she lowered her head to the ground a centimeter away from his foot and then rose back to her knees in the universal pose that every Altaaran girl was taught: Position 1.
Position 1 had originally been meant for a girl who was naked. When done correctly, it meant the girl was kneeling with her knees apart to expose her cunt and clit for the man who required the position. The shoulders were pressed back and the chest thrown out to show the breasts to the best advantage and the eyes were lowered to the ground.
The servant girl in front of Mordrin was doing an exemplary job of Position 1. He did not like the latest fashion that dictated the servant girl should only kneel without opening her legs. Lord Cardomin, a friend of Mordrin, had argued with him only a few days ago about how it didn’t make sense for a girl to kneel and open her legs when she was fully dressed and her pussy could not be viewed anyway.
“It’s the principal of the thing,” he’d said. “A girl that is required to kneeling with her legs apart, even when clothed, will be reminded that she owes it to her master, lord or owner to make available her body to him. And every time a man’s girl opens her legs when she kneels, he’ll be reminded of the power he has over her and his mastery of her. It reminds both of them of their respective places.” It had been the first time Lord Cardomin had conceded the victory to him in a debate.
“Look at me, chit,” he said now, to the girl in front of him. The girl did what she was told. She was beautiful, of course, all the girls who served the palace were. She had long blonde hair and large blue eyes. Her round faced was upturned to him as she knelt. “The fashion now is to keep the knees closed when kneeling. Why do you still keep your knees apart? Answer freely.”
“This is the way I have always done it, My Lord Prince,” she said nervously, and then, thinking he was displeased with her, she began closing her knees.
The slap that he laid on her left cheek rang out on the dock and the courtiers that had been talking amongst themselves and watching him secretively now had an excuse to turn their full attention to him. Florean, the Master of Servants on the dock today, hurried forward, casting a sharp glance at the blonde girl that promised even greater punishment still for displeasing the Crown Prince.
Before Florean had the chance to bow, Mordrin continued. “You have been punished for displeasing me. I enjoy Position 1. Make note of it, cunt.” He turned to Florean. “This girl is to be presented in my chambers tonight, where I will see how well she looks in Position 1…in the nude.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” said Florean, looking surprised, and then ushered the blonde girl away. The girl, who was in tears at having been slapped so suddenly looked even more surprised. And pleased. It was considered a high honor for a girl to be ordered to the bed of someone so exalted as the prince.
Mordrin turned back to survey the watery horizon and listened as the courtiers who had come with him return to their conversations. At least, the men started to talk amongst each other. The wives, who stood behind their husbands, did not speak until a man addressed them. Ten years ago, they would have been kneeling, not standing, thought Mordrin in disgust. A great deal had changed in the years since King Rodring’s health first began to decline, and one of them had been the standards of behavior expected of girls
“That was very well executed, Highness,” said a quiet voice next to him and Mordrin jumped. Lord Cardomin was there, of course, tall with a chestnut head of hair and empathetic brown eyes deeply set in a kind face. He had a mouth that was quick to smile and slow to frown. His steadfast friend would not have missed this event. He had been talking to the dukes of one of the outlying islands but had drifted over to watch the spectacle of his treatment of the servant girl.
“I simply prefer it if a girl kneels with her knees apart,” he said, shrugging at his friend as if he were a simple man of simple tastes.
Lord Cardomin laughed good-naturedly. “Of course, Your Highness. And the fact that slapping the girl and then ordering her to your chambers showed exactly where you stand about the obedience expected of girls, to the courtiers present here had nothing to do with it. Of course.”
“They already know I’m a conservative,” he reminded Cardomin.
“The cunt will come to your rooms tonight and you will drill her until she can barely walk. Tomorrow you will have her further whipped or punished in some other way for daring to close her legs to you today and she, and the girls of the palace as well as Queen Naila will all remember to walk softly when they are around you or another conservative man.” Said Cardomin, once again showing his uncanny knack of knowing exactly what was on his mind.
Mordrin grinned. “Actually, I was planning on having her put in the stocks, but a public whipping sounds like a better idea.”
Cardomin rolled his eyes and then turned to the girl standing behind him. She was tall with auburn hair and a sharp face and looked to be about thirty. She was Lady Kamina, Cardomin’s wife. Mordrin was always puzzled why Cardomin had not retired the girl already and taken a new wife. “What do you think girl?” asked Cardomin.
To Mordrin’s irritation, Lady Kamina actually raised her eyes to look at both him and Cardomin, without permission. “I believe it was a very intelligent thing to do, My Lord, My Lord Prince.” At lease she had the decency to place her eyes on the ground after she was finished speaking.
“Indeed, whore, I am honored by your high praises,” he said dryly. Lady Kamina actually looked embarrassed! As if she were a man he had insulted! Getting more annoyed by the second, he said, “Cardomin, I am not sure about you, but the girls of my household are able to take insults and humiliation as no more than what they deserve. It seems you may need to train this cunt in what true humiliation and subservience means.”
Cardomin laughed to diffuse the tension. “Ah, Kamina is a spirited girl, I know. But she knows her place, don’t you, pet?” He asked, running an affectionate hand through her hair as if brushing the mane of a horse.
Mordrin turned away in private disgust. Cardomin was one of the men who spoiled and cossetted a girl until she became useless. Girls needed dominance, discipline, and regular use, abuse and humiliation in order to learn their place and purpose. Looking at Kamina he could tell that she understood none of those things. Privately, she might even consider herself to be on a level with Cardomin! He had heard that there were girls who were like that. He had thought such creatures lived beyond the sea, in some of the other far-flung nations of the world, but not in Altaara! It was ridiculous and yet these girls continued to get above themselves.
Of course, thought Mordrin, it was not all the fault of his friend. Kamina was a lady-in-waiting to the Queen, his stepmother, and was likely influenced by Naila.
Mordrin clutched the sides of his chair. Thoughts of his stepmother always made him angry. In Altaara, noblemen usually had harems. They first took wives at the age of nineteen and then retired them into the harem when they wished to take new ones. For the King, his latest wife always received the title of “Queen,” while his previous wives were called consorts. King Rodring was aging. In his prime, he had been a strong, disciplined man who expected complete obedience from all his subjects, and unquestioning subservience from the women around him. But age and a weakening body and mind meant that a succession of headstrong women had beguiled him with their beauty and taken over some of the responsibilities and powers that were normally attributed to the king. The latest of that line of wives was Naila, fifty years younger than the king. Mordrin had not liked Niala when she first became the King’s bitch. He knew that having women around powerful men could be dangerous. Such women would need to be treated with more discipline and shown more humiliation than most normal women needed, lest they think that they could appropriate some of the power their masters possessed. Mordrin’s own household held around fifty female servants and he made sure they were the meekest, most obedient girls that could be trained. He had personally tested the sexual prowess of each of the girls to make sure that could properly entertain the guests who frequented his house and made sure they exercised to keep their bodies pleasing to men. He even let some of his male servants use them from time to time when they had done something to please him.
But Naila, she was different. She had gathered around her some of the ladies of the court and had taught them in the way she thought. Cardomin’s wife Kamina was one such girl. The ladies of the court were growing ever more headstrong and independent, forgetting what their duty was. And, because the rest of Principal City took its cues from the palace and the rest of Altaara took its cues from Principal City, that meant the nation’s girls were all getting above themselves.
And this latest outrage: this foreign princess that he was betrothed to, that was surely Naila’s doing as well. It was tradition that the king choose his heir’s first wife for him, but King Rodring was sometimes too ill to leave his bed. It was clear that Naila had influenced him in some way so that a princess was chosen, one who likely believed that girls were equal to men, or some other variation of that barbaric idea.
Well, thought Mordrin, he had straightened out many girls during his lifetime, and whether princess or queen, he knew that Princess Aliane (all he knew of her was her name) and Queen Naila were simply girls, when all was said and done. First, he would discipline this foreign princess and teach her what her place was. And then, thought Mordrin, his hands tightening on the wooden armrests, he would teach the women of King Rodring’s court, especially Whore Naila, what their places were too.
~~~~~~
“…And the women are not allowed to speak unless given permission to speak by a man,” said Elan, her teacher on Altaaran etiquette and culture. Or rather, Princess Aliane corrected in her head, Master Elan. Even as Princess, and later a Queen, she still had to refer to other men as “Master,” even if they were the meanest of beggars. She thought that such a custom was very interesting.
Her friend Nynivea was not so pleased. She gasped and looked horrified. That seemed to be her usual mode of expression whenever Elan – er, Master Elan – lectured.
“What?! Not speak! What if-.”
“No exceptions,” snapped Master Elan. He was always very irritated with Nynivea, who was a rather headstrong and expressive young woman. “While we are in international waters, the rules and laws of Altaara do not apply. However, once we are in Altaaran waters, I will punish you for insolence.”
“That should be in exactly three minutes,” said Captain Marque, striding through the open doorway of the galley. He was captain of the Naiad, the ship they were travelling on. He was a broad man, with a scraggly beard and small black eyes. As he came before them, Aliane saw his eyes dart to her, travel down her body. Aliane felt a thrill of electricity travel down her spine as Captain Marque appraised her. She was currently wearing the latest fashions of Altaara: A red dress so thin it was see-through that went down to her ankles, but was cut up either side all the way up to her waist, so her thighs and hips were bare. The filmy cloth barely covered her breasts, which were in danger of spilling out over the neckline, and she swore that her nipples were visible if you looked closely enough. All in all, it had to be the most scandalous thing she had ever worn in her life. And she loved it.
It scared her a little, that she liked to wear something so revealing and that did not take much alarm of the descriptions of Altaara and of the way Altaaran women were expected to live. Why did she so calmly accept her new life? Nynivea did not accept it, even though she would be going back home in a month with her entourage after Alaine was settled. Why didn’t she rebel against it the way Nynivea did? Aliane was not sure. Maybe her mind was rejecting the changes. Maybe the differences in the way her life had been and the way it would be now had not had a chance to soak in yet. There, she would be expected to kneel and be subservient to a man. To all men, really, but Prince Mordrin, her betrothed, especially.
“And, if your master desires, he may sell you or your services to another for a-.”
“That’s absurd!” shrieked Nynivea. “That’s the most uttely awful thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Quiet!” roared Master Elan.
“We have crossed into Altaaran waters,” said Captain Marque blandly, and Alaine could tell he was smiling under his scraggly black beard. Nynivea was very good-looking, with long black hair and sharp hazel eyes set in a creamy round face.
Master Elan wasted no more time. He grabbed Nynivea’s hair and dragged her shrieking over his knee. “Now I can and will discipline you, cunt. It is a shame I don’t have the suitable tools to make you howl, but I have my hand and the strength of my arm, and it will suffice for you for now.”
He flipped Nynivea’s skirt over her kicking legs and pulled her panties down her thighs, exposing her round ass. Captain Marque shifted a little to get a better view of the creamy white buttocks and grinned at the sight. Nynivea had been rude to the captain a few times when she had caught him whipping his men to get to them to work harder. Aliane knew that he had been itching to see her get, in his eyes, her comeuppance.
Nynivea, who had been screeching incoherently up until now, began beseeching Aliane. “Your Highness, please, make him stop!”
Aliane watched with interest as Master Elan raised his open hand high and smashed it hard into Nynivea’s round left buttock. Nynivea’s whole body jerked forward under Master Elan’s tight grasp and she screamed.
“You should not have angered Master Elan, Nynivea, I’m afraid I can’t help you if Master Elan has decided to punish you. If I went against him, Master Elan would punish me.”
Master Elan nodded curtly to acknowledge the truth of Alaine’s words before letting the next slap hit Nynivea’s right buttock, eliciting another scream. Alaine had no desire to stop the proceedings. Although Nynivea was her friend, she had disobeyed Master Elan, who, according to the laws of the country whose jurisdiction they were now under, could punish her how he saw fit. Aliane, as a Princess, had been brought up to respect laws and rules.
But there was also another reason, she decided, as she watched Master Elan rain blow after blow on Nynivea’s madly struggling body. The sight was…enjoyable. For a second she wished it was her Master Elan was spanking. She knew Nynivea’s now red cheeks must be aflame with pain as well as a deep heat that she would feel traveling down to her untouched clit and a wetness in her pussy. Alaine’s own pussy was wet and she deeply wished Master Elan would smack her clit like she was doing to Nynivea’s ass.
After many more blows, Nynivea finally stopped struggling. She was a headstrong woman, but Alaine didn’t think any woman would be able to hold her own against Master Elan’s arm. Instead, she hid her face and cried, begging Master Elan to stop and saying she was sorry. Her legs had stopped kicking and her body had stopped twisting. She’d come to accept that Master Elan’s blows were inescapable.
Alaine felt a strong desire to masturbate at the transformation, but she held herself in check. Instead, she thought on her new life and her new place, which had been so plainly shown to her by Nynivea’s punishment. And she also thought on Prince Mordrin and whether his arms were anywhere near as strong and whether he was anywhere near as strict and dominating as Master Elan.
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