PRINCESS GWENDOLYN

in

THE CASTLE OF PAIN

By Llabmik

Chapter 1 - The Sweat Box

The naked blond princess squatted inside the iron sweatbox, her pale flesh cooking in the broiling sun. The heavy hot box sat in the centre of the deserted, sun-blasted courtyard of Queen Rowena's Counterpane Castle (affectionately known as The Castle of Pain to it's inmates). Waves of heat shimmered up from the surfaces of the black box.

Inside the sweatbox, the air was as wet as sweat soup. Hands bound behind her back, Princess Gwendolyn huddled in a ball, squatting hunched over, head between her knees, in the centre of the dark, airless container, carefully keeping her bare skin from touching the scorching metal of the box. Her spine screamed in pain, but given a choice between agonizing back pain and having her lily-white skin fried to a crisp, she chose the back pain.

Sweat welled up from every pore of her nude body. Her whip-welted buttocks were as oily as her high forehead. Sweat plastered her flowing golden tresses to her head and back. Sweat poured through her fine blond eyebrows, stinging her beautiful blue eyes. A rivulet of sweat ran down the valley of her sternum, channelling down the crack of her ass and running in a warm river over her cuntlips. Sweat slid in gathering beads down her ribs, over her flat belly and into her pubic hair. Sweat dripped from her nipples. Sweat trickled down her inner thighs. The intense heat leached her of all energy, enervating her to the level of a torpid turtle. After a while, her beet-red skin stopped sweating as her body reached a more advanced level of dehydration. Inside the burning metal box, her boiling brains were coddling in the fluids of her skull.

At high noon, a lone guard carried a bucket of piss water to the black sweatbox, which shimmered in the heat radiating from its surface. He opened the small iron grating and scooped out a ladleful to generously allow the parched princess to gulp down as much piss water as she liked. The guards, and indeed the Queen herself, had all donated generously. It had been boiled down until it achieved a dark yellow colour to concentrate its essence and render it tastier. In these circumstances, pee soup is best served hot.

Her sandpaper dry throat and deep-fried brains prevented Princess Gwendolyn from questioning the dubious provenance of the dark yellow soup. The sniggering guard wasn't volunteering any information as he held the ladle of stale-smelling, brackish liquid to her paper-dry lips. Her heat-basted body wasn't really functioning beyond an overwhelming need for liquid replenishment.

Squatting like a toad, poor dehydrated Gwendolyn sipped gratefully at the putrid liquid. Highbred grace wasn't an option. When the first ladleful was empty, she shamelessly abandoned any pretence of gentility. Her pink tongue flickered out to lick greedily at the last small golden drops at the bottom of the ladle. The guard helpfully moved the scoop of the ladle so that she could tongue it thoroughly, inside and out, generously allowing her to lick up every bit of urinary goodness.

Her parched throat opened up, watered back to life by the brackish fluid. Her bloodshot blue eyes fixed obsessively on the bucket of life-giving liquid as the guard swirled the ladle around in it suggestively, lifting a scoopful and pouring it back into the bucket, tantalizing her bloodshot eyes with the sight of the dirty yellow liquid and bewitching her ears with the splash. She begged prettily for more, her voice croaking and cracking roughly. The Princess hoarsely expressed her thanks as the guard, at last, held the ladle up to her lips to graciously allow her to slurp up a second scoopful of pee soup.

Her skin began to develop an oily sheen as she resumed sweating heavily. The liquid allowed her cramped constipated bowels to move once again and she painfully evacuated hard, raspy turds in a humiliating fanfare of farts. Even for the coarse age she lived in, Princess Gwendolyn had developed a powerful body odour. The combined stench of urine, sweat, farts and shit choked the air around the sweatbox.

The smirking guard wrinkled his nose in distaste, looking down his nose disdainfully at the squatting fetid princess. He worked silently, saying nothing as he slowly, teasingly filled her belly with urine, making her beg for each life giving scoopful. Only the Queen, her principal tormentor, was permitted to actually talk to the Princess. Everyone else rewarded her desperate queries and frantic pleadings with a stony silence.

Queen Rowena watched the performance from a second story window looking down on the courtyard. She spoke derisively to her lady-in-waiting.

"The highborn bitch absorbs urine like a dry sponge."

Lady Charlotte, lady-in-waiting and muff-diver extraordinaire, curtsied respectfully.

"She probably is very much drier than an ordinary dry sponge, your majesty. You have sweated her thoroughly."

Rowena nodded serenely.

"Gwendolyn needed to drop a few pounds anyway. Her lily white skin will be lobster red by the end of the day."

The lady-in-waiting was warmly supportive.

"She was far too pale, your majesty."

"I've arranged for some vigorous exercise for her this evening."

"An excessively delicate female, she will be the better for it, your majesty."

They giggled together.

Chapter 2 - A Royal Workout

At the end of a roasting hot day, Princess Gwendolyn sobbed in gratitude as the soldiers extracted her nude body from the sweatbox. Every few hours, she had been graciously granted the opportunity to suck back as much of a bucket of piss as her severely dehydrated body could handle. Thoroughly marinated in urine, her bright red skin glistened with a sheen of oily perspiration.

Queen Rowena's voice reflected a mocking sympathy.

"Your skin looks quite painful. You definitely need a cooling bath."

Before a dazed Gwendolyn could gather what thoughts remained in her deep fried brain, she found herself hoisted up by strong hands gripping her delicate wrists and slim ankles. She was carried, stark naked, spread-eagled in mid-air between the guards, into the stable and plopped into a deep trough filled with horse turds moistened by generous quantities of strong-smelling horse piss.

Her pretty head was pushed under as the stable hands went to work, pushing her down, making sure that she was fully submerged, completely bemerded from her pretty head to her dainty little toes. The strong stable hands groped her thoroughly, working horseshit into every opening and crevice of her young squirming body. They enthusiastically massaged it onto her tits. They worked it between her toes. Horseshit was slathered onto her crotch and buns. They worked it into her hair and smeared it onto every part of her pretty face. Her head was pulled up out of the trough. She parted her lips to gasp for air and scream as obscenely probing fingers pushed shit deep into her cunt. A handful of shit slapped into her gaping mouth rewarded her shrieks. Thoroughly revolted, she spat it out in disgust. Before she could gasp in any air, her head was shoved under again. She breathed in two deep lungfuls of horseshit and began to choke violently.

Laughing, the stable hands hoisted her out and threw her down on the hard stone floor. In a Medieval version of the Heimlich Manoeuvre, a helpful fist was buried in her diaphragm. Pinned by her wrists and ankles on her back on the stone floor, her exposed belly was pummelled pitilessly. Her wrists and ankles were released. Curling into a foetal ball, the gagging princess forcefully ejected large quantities of fecal matter from her lungs. She was allowed a few moments to commune with the contents of her stomach and lungs.

Still coughing helplessly, the young princess was hoisted up by her wrists and ankles, carried onto the drawbridge and tossed into the moat. Unable to swim, she floundered wildly in stagnant water that contained all the effluent from the castle. When she had 'washed' herself in the cesspool to everyone's satisfaction and was on the verge of going down for the last time, the guards lowered a rope to her from the drawbridge. She grasped it desperately and they hauled her to shore.

Weak as a newborn kitten from her ordeal, Princess Gwendolyn was wiped dry. The Queen had her shackled upright, spread-eagled, stark naked, between two posts in the courtyard as darkness settled over the kingdom.

Queen Rowena retired to her chambers, instructing her servants to leave the bedroom unlit. She watched, smirking haughtily, from her darkened window over the courtyard as the peasants, lumpish clods little better than the beasts of the field, grimy, bemerded sons of the soil, crept into the courtyard and surrounded the helplessly exposed Princess Gwendolyn. No Lady would willingly consort with such lowborn brutes, preferring strong, clean-limbed men of good blood and noble ancestry.

Out of consideration for the supposedly sleeping queen, a strong farm boy clamped his massive mitt over Gwendolyn's mouth to keep her quiet as the first rapist entered her. The Queen nevertheless heard faint snuffling squeals as the filthy, lowborn rapist grunted rhythmically between highborn Gwendolyn's parted, lily-white thighs. A small keening cry could be heard as Gwendolyn was entered from behind with a slimy peasant turd used as a rectal lubricant.

A long line of lusty, strong-smelling sons of the soil quietly spent the night opening Gwendolyn's holes in the dark courtyard, knowing better than to disturb their Queen's sleep. Satisfied at the sight of the pale naked body struggling between a brace of peasant rapists in the moonlight, Queen Rowena eyed her lady-in-waiting.

"Aren't you a little over-dressed, Lady Charlotte?"

Lady Charlotte stripped for her Queen with alacrity, revealing a buxom body to complement her lovely face. She had no desire to experience any of the dubious delights awaiting those who displeased Queen Rowena. She dropped to her knees as the Queen lifted her skirt and buried her lovely face in the Queen's moist crotch.

Gang banging lusty lowlifes is exhausting work, but a rape toy's work is never done as long as there are horny perverts to be entertained. As a result, after a gruelling night spent rubbing up to strong-smelling sons of the soil, poor naked Gwendolyn found herself the next morning sweating away deep in the bowels of the dungeon.

Princess Diana winched a hogtied Princess Gwendolyn up a little higher until she was arching up nicely with her bare belly lightly brushing the floor. The rope extending upwards from the naked beauty's bound wrists and ankles stretched tautly to the ceiling. Princess Diana had jammed some of her soiled underwear into Gwendolyn's mouth and tied it in place with a silk scarf.

Princess Diana was Queen Rowena's oldest daughter, the utterly depraved product of generations of royal inbreeding. Her cruel eyes slitted evilly as she wiped one of her royal boogers onto the end of a broomstick handle.

"As we both know, a Princess should be decorous and demure."

She rammed the broomstick handle into Gwendolyn's aching fuckhole and stirred vigorously. Gwendolyn screamed into her filthy gag.

"I guess we're both falling down on the job!"

Diana sniggered as she hooked out another booger with one of her long scarlet fingernails and wiped it on the broomstick handle. She gargled a bit at the back of her throat and spat a viscous yellow wad of phlegm on top of the glistening dewdrop of Royal Snot. As Gwendolyn screamed her way through another invasive penetration and brisk reaming, Princess Diana pushed a ringlet of her golden blond hair out of her cornflower blue eyes and looked thoughtful.

"Everybody's been concentrating on opening your holes and stretching them in until they can accommodate even the most generously endowed lover. Your tits have been shamefully neglected!"

Leaving the broomstick handle buried deeply in Gwendolyn's inflamed fuckhole; she had two burly guards pull over a set of rollers used to flatten cloth sheets. She smiled brightly at a gibbering Gwendolyn.

"This machine is called a 'mangle'. Delightful name, eh?"

She provided helpful details.

"It's used for pressing cloth. Before it can be used, the rollers have to be heated up."

As the guards placed the iron rollers over the fire, Gwendolyn eyes stared up at her pleadingly. Princess Diana loved the look. It made her day. Although they hadn't warmed her tits yet, fair Gwendolyn was sweating heavily.

The guards, wearing heavy mittens, fitted the hot, smoking rollers onto the mangle. Diana picked up a pair of wooden tongs with one hand.

"I wouldn't want to burn my fingers!"

Her other hand dipped inside her dress. She began massaging her stiff clit.

She tweaked one of Gwendolyn's nipples with the tongs and fed it between the rollers as one of the guards helpfully turned the crank. She nipped the other nipple and fed it into the mangle as well. Red-faced and shrieking, Gwendolyn frantically arched her heaving torso as far back from the machine as she could, resisting desperately as her bare breasts were broiled and flattened between the hot rollers. Gradually, she was pulled in until her chest was pressed hard against the smoking rollers. Her breasts protruded from the other side, bulging obscenely.

Princess Diana was ecstatic, her face blissful as she worked her clit with both hands. The guards were feeling a bit frisky themselves as they toiled between the shamelessly masturbating princess and the naked one shrieking her brains out. A bit breathless, Princess Diana gave her next instruction.

"Lets reverse those puppies!"

The guards turned the handle the opposite way. Gwendolyn's battered and basted boobs were ground the other way. As soon as her poor pinched paps popped free of the rollers, her throbbing breasts instantly began swelling to obscene proportions. Between the bruising and the scorching, the near-bursting balloons on her chest were instantly catapulted to super blimp status.

Princess Diana gave the guards the nod. They fell on Gwendolyn like the rabid fuck freaks they were. She watched approvingly as they untied her, jerked out the broomstick handle and spread-eagled her on her back on the floor. The head guard fell on top of her, raping his way savagely into her fuck hole, grabbed Gwendolyn's grotesquely swollen tits with both hands and squeezed hard. Gwendolyn's bare bod bucked violently as she shrieked dementedly into her gag.

Princess Diana nodded approvingly.

"That's much better."

Chapter 3 – Traitoress

On the raised podium for the defendant, facing the crowd, hands clasped together in front of her, the Duchess stood quietly. She had no choice. Her cone shaped hat with its attached filmy veil had been removed. A Scold's Bridle had been fitted over her head and locked in place to ensure her silence. A metal cage encasing her head with a thick spiked bar protruding into her mouth from the front, the Bridle encouraged her to keep her mouth wide open. The long sharp spikes lining the inside of the metal cage pointing at her head kept her stock-still. The metal chain fastening the top of the bridle to a pulley on the ceiling kept her standing tall and straight, chest up, tits out. Seated on her raised throne, Queen Rowena eyed the Duchess intently.

"Crank her up higher! I want the insolent Duchess on tiptoe."

The metal chain was winched tighter. The Duchess desperately went up on tiptoe to avoid the spikes as the spiked cage encasing her pretty little head was tugged upwards.

"Strip her!"

The guards hastened to obey. Afraid that the smallest twitch would rip open her face on the spikes, the Duchess did nothing to resist. Her gold and silver jewellery with its large precious stones was removed with some reverence. The Duchess stood very still indeed as the guards untied the decorative cord holding her fur lined cloak over her shoulders. Her jewelled belt was unbuckled. The grinning guards helped her out of her elegant long woollen gown with its embroidered neck and fashionably long sleeves that could touch the ground. Rough male hands unlaced her fine linen underwear and pulled off her finely tooled leather shoes. In short order, the Duchess was showing everyone in the courtroom what she had to offer. Smooth milky white skin, shapely legs, a flat belly, full breasts, tight buns, dark red nipples and the fact that she dyed her naturally black hair red with henna were all embarrassingly obvious. An arm belatedly placed across her nipples and a small hand cupped protectively between her legs did little to hide her charms.

Queen Rowena waxed poetic as the naked Duchess pranced prettily on tiptoe before the crowd, blushing right down to her nipples.

"You stand before the Queen's justice like a newborn babe. Naked and helpless you come into the world. Naked and helpless you stand before Justice. Your Queen will decide your fate."

Queen Rowena's words were chilling.

"You are charged with Treason most foul. The punishment is death by dismemberment. How plead you? If you plead guilty, cover your breasts and genitals. If innocent, turn your back to the crowd and reach behind you with both hands. Put a hand on either cheek and spread them wide so all may see your anus, showing everyone that you have nothing to hide."

Slowly, reluctantly, the Duchess dropped her hands. Her blush deepened, spreading down to the top of her line of her black pubic hair, as grinning men nudged each other and sniggered. The women tittered as she carefully turned around and parted her dimpled buttocks to catcalls and derisive applause, exposing her wrinkled rectum to the crowd. The Queen was indulgent.

"It looks like the Duchess could take a little more care in wiping herself after a bowel movement, but her plea of Not Guilty is duly noted."

Coarse laughs greeted this sally.

Belial, the mastiff trotted up. A huge, powerfully built dog, used in bull baiting, bear baiting and dog fights, it commanded enormous respect. Actually, when he wasn't fighting bulls and bears or ripping some other dog to shreds, he was a good family dog. A popular favourite in the fights to the death that were the brutal entertainments of the day, Belial mugged amiably for his many fans and admirers. The crowd laughed as the large dog sniffed the exposed crotch of the Duchess. She squealed frantically as it stuck its cold wet nose against her exposed anus. Excitedly, he jumped up and began humping her bare leg. Drooling over her tits, he spurted doggy cum over her naked thigh. The handlers gently removed him after he lost interest in his new love object and hopped down, giving her nipples a quick lick in the process. Queen Rowena chortled merrily, patting the huge dog affectionately on the head.

"That's the same dog that will gulp down the bits and pieces the executioner carves off, if you are found guilty. He seems to like you already!"

After the toadying laughter died down, the Queen got down to business.

"If guilty, your lying tongue's protestations are worthless and, even worse, deliberately misleading."

Queen Rowena raised her eyes piously skywards.

"If innocent, the good Lord will protect you. The defendant is therefore forcibly kept mute lest a lying tongue corrupt the gullible."

Rowena stared closely at the naked beauty, whose calves were trembling from the unaccustomed exertion. Small trickles of blood flowed where spikes had pricked her pretty face. Rowena's eyes narrowed to cruel slits.

"Since the Lord protects the innocent, we will have a trial by ordeal."

She nodded briskly at the guards.

"Allow her heels to touch the floor."

The Duchess looked relieved as the Bridle was lowered.

"If the Defendant refuses to submit to a Trial by Ordeal, she should cover herself with her hands. If she is full and open, she should spread her legs wide, reach between them with both hands and part her genital lips as widely as possible with her fingers, signifying her receptiveness and complete openness."

Refusing the Trial by Ordeal was an instant admission of guilt and lead automatically to being gutted like a fish in front of an interested, though hardly sympathetic audience. The Duchess slowly reached between her legs. She took an enchantingly deep breath that lifted her tits nicely, brazenly spread her legs, parted her slit with both hands and showed the crowd a flash of gash.

"Bring forward The Harridan's Horse."

An object resembling a heavy wooden sawhorse on wheels was wheeled out. Each wheel was off-centre on its axle, causing the horse to bob up and down and from side to side as it was wheeled before the Queen. The feature that gripped everyone's attention was the polished wooden dildo mounted on top. Staring at the wooden dildo, the eyes of the Duchess widened as she recognized it as a faithful reproduction of the late Duke's member, an exact replica right down to the small sword scar running down the side. The only difference was a matter of size. The late Duke hadn't been quite so large (at least, the Duchess had never managed to inflate him that much). She stared dumbfounded at the Queen, who winked slyly at her.

"Duchess Merriweather! An august person of your stature would not be here, naked before the court, unless the most credible accusations of treasonable behaviour had been made."

The widowed Duchess, whose major crime was spurning, as gently as possible, the lewd lesbian advances of her Queen, remained silent and still, contemplating the error of her ways. Lady Charlotte and the other ladies-in-waiting, imperial muff divers all, smirked knowingly as Rowena instructed the Duchess.

"The Bridle will be removed. You must maintain a strict and complete silence. The smallest protestation will force me to have your tongue removed to prevent your lies from influencing the credulous and will, furthermore, be construed as a confession of guilt."

The Queen liked to encourage correct behaviour.

"Comport yourself like a noblewoman, co-operate fully, maintain a dignified silence, prove your innocence in the ordeal to come as you ride the Harridan's Horse and all will be well."

The Duchess wondered how much dignity she could bring to straddling a dildo, stark naked, in front of a sniggering ribald crowd. The cruel-eyed Queen graciously allowed the Duchess a small mercy.

"In recognition of your position, and as a personal favour, I order the member to be anointed with pig's blood to ease its entry as you saddle up."

The hated bridle was removed. The Duchess watched with visible distaste as a flagon of dark red pig's blood was poured over the dildo. The Queen raised an admonitory finger.

"Remember: silence, dignity and complete co-operation are what your Queen requires of you."

Without further ado, a soldier on either side of her gripped a milky white arm and lifted her by the armpits. The Duchess was hoisted high into the air over the horse. Her thighs were parted. She shuddered violently as she felt the cool, dripping member, slimy with coagulating pig's blood, slip inside her. Her feet were bent back and her ankles cuffed to the back legs of the Horse.

The Queen, who had been standing with her ear cocked conspicuously, was satisfied at the absolute silence of the ashen-faced Duchess as her fuckhole was spread wide and penetrated deeply. Everyone watched in helpful silence so that her smallest moan would have been audible. After the Duchess had settled in, and her dainty ankles strapped in place, the Queen squeezed her trembling thigh encouragingly.

"Well done, Duchess! Sit up straight. Clasp your hands together behind your head and pull your elbows back."

The ample breasts of the Duchess lifted delightfully, swaying majestically as she obeyed. The Queen clapped her hands commandingly.

"Gwendolyn!"

Princess Gwendolyn, cleaned up, her hair coiffed, her pretty face carefully made up, clad in her royal finery, a diamond tiara on her head, stepped forward nervously. A roomful of men who had enjoyed her unwilling favours nudged each other and smirked as a visibly terrified Princess Gwendolyn curtsied respectfully.

"Yes, my Queen!"

"You have generously 'volunteered' to assist in the Trial by Ordeal."

Poor Gwendolyn was thoroughly cored. Since being kidnapped to prevent her marrying to form an alliance between enemies of Queen Rowena, the fair Gwendolyn had been fucked over and abused thoroughly. Her hated stepmother, Queen Morgana, had assisted in the kidnapping, glad to be rid of a serious rival who had the ear of the King.

Lovely Gwendolyn was a very different woman from the haughty, indignant beauty who had arrived at Rowena's castle, squirming in a sack. A letter, thoughtfully forged by Queen Rowena with many thoughtful contributions by her stepmother, had caused her outraged and deeply embarrassed father to disown her, thinking his foolish daughter had eloped with a lowly stable boy rather than marry elderly King Ethelred for the good of the kingdom (elderly in this Dark Age meant that Ethelred was in his mid-thirties).

Gwendolyn had never met King Ethelred, her intended betrothed. She had heard of the utterly depraved methods he used to deal with his enemies. She rather desperately hoped that he was one of those men who showed a hard side to the world and a soft side for his immediate family. She loved her father and, like all realistic princesses, was resigned to sacrificing herself for the good of her people. After all, King Ethelred had already reached the ripe old age of thirty-three. How much longer could he last?

Her stepmother had cleverly defended her when she supposedly 'ran away' rather than perform her diplomatic purpose in life. Her father, the King, a strong-handed, simple-minded warrior, had majestically over-ridden Queen Morgana's foolish, 'womanly' objections. She was a delightfully seductive Queen, but the deeper statesmanship was obviously beyond her. It needed a man to make the hard decisions.

Princess Gwendolyn, who since her arrival had been publicly stripped and whipped, slapped and strapped, and thoroughly raped over by teams of drooling perverts, was quaking nicely. The fresh young woman who had arrived squirming in a sack was now visibly older, shabbier, dirtier and sluttier.

"I will do whatever you command, my Queen!"

Queen Rowena grinned.

"Your loyalty is to be commended! Few decent, respectable women would have agreed to assist in this way."

"I exist solely to serve you, my Queen!"

Rowena glanced over the crowd of rapists knowingly.

"It seems to me that you've both served and serviced a great many others."

The men chuckled appreciatively while Gwendolyn blushed prettily, stammering apologetically.

"I-I-I meant that I serve you before all others, my Queen!"

The Queen gripped Princess Gwendolyn's upper arm and was gratified to feel the young beauty quivering tremulously. She spoke very sweetly and soothingly.

"Why don't you show everyone your royal contribution to the trial of the Duchess, my dear?"

Princess Gwendolyn pulled her long gown up high above her waist, exposing her fine linen underwear. She untied the drawstring and dropped her drawers, exposing her beautifully rounded royal posterior. A grimacing servant held a silver tray with a fine china plate on it under her bum as she squatted down and began straining to excrete her 'contribution' while everyone watched. A fat, juicy turd slithered out of the royal rectum. The crowd applauded, hooting derisively as the red-faced Princess carefully wiped her bum, seeking to avoid any criticism from the Queen for lack of diligence. The servant placed the engraved silver tray with its steaming, fresh brown sausage on a small table in front of the Duchess. Gwendolyn pulled up her drawers, tied the drawstring and dropped her embroidered gown once more. Tears glistened in her eyes, but the young princess was hugely relieved at having performed adequately. The clearly spelled out consequences of failure didn't bear thinking about.

The Queen was patronising.

"Good breeding tells. Her mother was a shameless foreign hussy! Like mother, like daughter. Isn't that right, Gwendolyn dear?"

"Yes, my Queen!"

Rowena turned to the Duchess, who was staring wild-eyed at the fat royal turd placed in front of her.

"My challenge to you is quite simple, Duchess Merriweather. You eat every particle of Gwendolyn's excrement and lick the bowl clean afterwards. If you throw up, you throw up into the bowl. You have fifteen minutes to consume it all and lick the bowl clean. You must keep it down for an hour afterwards while you silently ride the Harridan's Horse for the edification of the court. If you fail in any respect, we'll start by slicing off your nipples and feeding them to the dog, since he had a taste of them earlier."

Duchess Merriweather, a proud woman with a notoriously weak stomach, looked ill. The Queen sat down next to the naked beauty, picked up a silver spoon and scooped up a large helping.

"Open wide!"

The Duchess opened. Rowena placed the warm turd on the tongue of the Duchess. A helpful lackey turned over a small hourglass to count the time. The reeking stench assailed her nostrils. The crowd made noises reflecting their sickened disgust and watched avidly.

"Chew!"

Her watering eyes bulged as the Duchess closed her mouth. Gagging and retching, she struggled to obey. For the next 14 minutes, she repeatedly vomited and licked up the foul excreta. Rowena was encouraging.

"It looks like you're going to lose your clit and nips in one minute if you can't keep it down this time."

Duchess Merriweather slurped up every brown drop from the bowl, resolutely clamped her lips shut and swallowed convulsively, eyes watering, snot dribbling from her nose. Doggedly, she kept it down as the last trickle of sand ran out of the 15-minute hourglass. The Queen was visibly pleased as she contemplated the red-faced, hard-panting beauty.

"Excellent! Now for your horsy ride!"

Her ankles were uncuffed from the back legs of the Horse. She placed her bare feet in two stirrups that dangled down from the crossbeam in front of her. The Queen's cruel eyes slitted with pleasure.

"Your challenge is to stay on the horse and keep down your yummy meal for the next hour. Remember, if you touch the Horse with your hands to steady yourself, you are guilty. If you vomit, you are guilty. If you fall off the Horse, you are guilty. If you make the smallest sound, you are guilty."

The Queen smiled sweetly.

"In other words, all you have to do is behave with the silent dignity and proper decorum that befits a Lady of your elevated station and all will be well!"

A much larger hourglass was turned over and the Duchess began a long hard-humping ride.

The four wheels of the horse weren't even close to being centred on their hubs. As a team of oxen led by the Queen's torture master tugged hard on the ropes to pull the horse around the courtyard circling the crowd, it lurched and bobbed violently, swaying from side to side and back to front like a bucking bronco. Duchess Merriweather's big bare breasts lurched and bobbed violently too, reflecting every jiggle and shudder of the Harridan's Horse over the rough cobblestones of the courtyard. Lips pressed firmly shut, her knees gripped the crossbeam between her legs determinedly as she clamped her cunt tightly onto the thick dildo sliding obscenely up and down between her pale parted thighs. She kept her hands clasped firmly atop her head to prevent any accusation that she had inadvertently touched the Horse as it bucked violently between her legs.

Sweat soon covered her shuddering, juddering torso. The blood between her legs wasn't all pig's blood as the hour wore on and the dildo sawed in and out brutally, despite her efforts to keep her cuntlips kissing the crossbeam at all times. Every vein and artery stood out, throbbing hard, in her beet red face.

Despite the best efforts of the torture master, his team of oxen jerking the Harridan's Horse in agonisingly violent fits and starts, a grim-faced Duchess Merriweather stayed the course. The last trickle of sand trickled through the hourglass and the oxen stopped. The Queen slapped Duchess Merriweather's sweat-slick rump approvingly.

"Believe me, I'm glad that you have passed this Ordeal so that you can continue to serve your Queen!"

Her eyes flickered down to the crotch of the Duchess Merriweather in a small, but to the Duchess, a very significant way.

"You may speak now! I would hate to be forced to repeat this exercise. Tell me, are you eager to serve your Queen in every way?"

The ashen-faced Duchess nodded submissively, understanding completely, knowing she couldn't possibly survive this a second time.

"I will do anything my Queen requires."

A cloak was placed over her shoulders to cover her nakedness. She was gently lifted from the horse, the thick blood-slick dildo slipping out from between her legs. As she stood, bright red blood trickling from her swollen, burning cunt down the inside of her thighs, she had a simple, but slightly malicious question for her Queen. She didn't want to be the only one to suffer.

"May I know my false accuser?"

Queen Rowena glanced at Princess Gwendolyn in a way that the crowd could not mistake.

"Don't worry. I'll discipline her."

Gwendolyn paled, hysterically protesting her innocence as the guards hustled her off.

PRINCESS GWENDOLYN

In

THE CASTLE OF PAIN

By Llabmik

Chapter 4 – Cum Bucket

In her bedroom, the Queen sighed as she pulled up the front of her nightdress to allow Lady Charlotte to bury her face in her crotch. It was the muff-diving end to another busy day.

She watched out the window as four men carried Princess Gwendolyn to the centre of the courtyard. The delicate blond beauty was tied naked on her back to a wooden bench. Her lily-white ass rested on one end of the bench, slightly over the edge. Her shapely legs were spread wide and tied to the bench legs. Her knees were tied to open them as wide as possible and expose her completely. The other end of the bench reached just to the base of her neck, so her pretty head hung down. Her golden hair had been pulled down and a leather strap cinched tight over her forehead making her head vertical, upside down and at right angles to her body. Two grooved, hard wooden jaw spreaders were wedged in tightly between the molars at the back of her jaw to keep her mouth open and available. As a result, her lips were stretched obscenely wide.

Once Lady Charlotte was carpet munching to her satisfaction, Queen Rowena pulled up the back of her nightdress, baring her bum. Duchess Merriweather quietly dropped to her knees behind her. Her cunt burned between her legs as she brown nosed in between the Royal buttocks and inserted her tongue into the Royal rectum. The now familiar harsh bitter taste of excrement rolled over her tongue as the Queen excreted a small turd for her to gulp down. Duchess Merriweather's Adams apple bobbed as she swallowed dutifully.

Lady Charlotte inserted two fingers into the dripping Royal cunt and skilfully fingered Rowena's g-spot as she gently lapped with her warm wet tongue at Rowena's stiff throbbing clit.

In the courtyard, the evening's entertainment was just beginning. The Queen arched her back in pleasure as she watched seven inches of cock ram into Princess Gwendolyn's throat. At the other end of the raping bench, the force-fucker between her legs spat on his cock to lubricate it and jammed his thick prick into her temporarily dry sex. The Queen could hear Gwendolyn's thin, choking squeal as he started to pump. The two rapists soon developed a rhythm and were two-timing the Princess with thrusts that rocked the squeaking bench back and forth between them.

Queen Rowena's fat, lazy guards watched down from the battlements, watching absently when they weren't busy sleeping, gambling with dice and bones or relieving themselves on a serf passing below. They'd had their fill of the highborn bitch. They were content to let the lower orders slime her holes.

Two long lines of hard, horny, filthy peasants had formed at either end of the raping bench. Rowena watched avidly as the line shuffled ahead. The cruel Queen's sharp eyes glinted with satisfaction as she saw Gwendolyn's throat convulse as a load of man oil was piped between her gaping lips. Gwendolyn struggled awkwardly to swallow as the sperm filled her mouth, but it was hard given the way her head was bent back, held firmly in place by the strap. As rapist after rapist shot his load into her throat, cum dribbled over her lips. A thick gooey white line trailed over her cheeks, down into her eyes and over her forehead. Gwendolyn's pale white body rocked under the unrelenting thrusts of fucker after fucker, as she was team creamed from face and crotch. Her bare breasts bobbed rhythmically when they weren't being squeezed and twisted, fingermark bruises clearly visible on her alabaster skin. Each hard-driving rapist tried to bury himself as deeply as possible inside her unwilling orifices.

It wasn't long before the young Princess could no longer breath through her nose. Her nostrils were plugged with cum that overflowed from her gaping mouth. Cum pooled in her eye sockets, blocking out her sight, locking her deep into a touchy-feely world of brutally invasive sex. As evening progressed into night, cum flowed down her long blond hair to the floor.

Queen Rowena crested from orgasm to orgasm. Her eyes narrowed to pleasure-filled slits as she watched a long line of shabby, ill-dressed, unbathed peasants fill Gwendolyn's pussy and mouth with their vile, disgusting sperm. Throbbing painfully between her legs, Gwendolyn's labia were grotesquely swollen. Between rapists, the muscles of her pussy would no longer contract and remained spread open.

Eventually, Rowena couldn't even make out the details of Gwendolyn's genitals, blurred and covered with cum - sticky, milky, gelatinous sperm. It oozed from her hole. It covered her crotch, saturating her pubic hair. It flooded and dripped to the courtyard floor between her spread legs. Her belly was slimed thoroughly.

Rowena grinned wickedly as yet another lowborn beast started pounding into young Gwendolyn. Again and again the scene was repeated: the rapist's hips thrusting, slamming forward, between her spread thighs and between her forcefully parted lips.

Gwendolyn was now just a generic fuck doll. Her face was a big slimy blob of white ooze with the only dark patch being the cavern of her mouth. Deep pools of cum filled Gwendolyn's eye sockets. The white viscous substance ran down her cheeks, dribbling off her face in long sticky strands to the floor. Her forehead was covered, cum ran down her long hair, the long gooey strands of hair clumped together and delivered rivers of cum to the floor. Cum had flowed deep into her sinuses. She could only breath gaspingly between thrusts of the cocks that filled her mouth. Bubbles burbled up her nostrils as she tried to gulp in much needed air. She swallowed pints and pints of cum. When she could swallow no more, her belly full, it gathered in pools in her mouth. Cum spurted from her mouth as she spewed up the vile substance, only to have more pumped in.

Rowena retired to bed with Lady Charlotte. The Duchess slept on the floor beside them like a loyal dog. The mastiff, more favoured, slept up on the bed, at its mistress's feet. The women in the bedroom fell asleep to the rhythmic squeaking of the raping bench as Princess Gwendolyn toiled on into the night.

Rowena awoke early and looked out the window to see how the Princess had fared overnight. When the men had stopped using Gwendolyn, cum had flowed out of her gaping sex. Her nude body was completely covered, coated with wriggling sperm and spermatic juice. Her slimy breasts rose slightly with each breath. Ejaculated lines of cum marked her belly and criss-crossed her tits. Her head was a disgusting, slimy, cum-covered mess. Her eyes were invisible under twin pools of peckersnot. Great globs of cum hung oozing from her face, coating her forehead and cheeks. Her nostrils were filled to overflowing with spunk, which had drained back down into her throat through her nose. Unbroken streams of cum ran from her head to the floor, flowing over, and saturating completely, her beautiful, smooth, long golden hair. It was hard to believe that the oozing disgusting thing spread on the bench, was a Royal Princess.

Queen Rowena grinned. At her side, Lady Charlotte tittered.

"She looks like a real breeder to me."

The Queen snorted.

"I've seen rutting swine that looked better!"

"She's going to produce a royal bastard if she keeps rutting at this pace, your majesty."

Rowena nodded serenely.

"The slimy sow will probably squeeze out a whole litter of illegitimate piglets!"

Duchess Merriweather lay on the floor, looking up sleepily. Hitching up her nightgown, Rowena squatted down over the pretty face, nestling her crotch over the gaping mouth of the Duchess, catching her in mid-yawn. Kneeling on the floor, facing the torso of the Duchess, she spread her knees wide and worked her bare feet under the back of the Duchess' head, forcing the pretty face of the Duchess into her bared crotch with her patrician nose buried in the Queen's butt crack. Rowena opened her bladder and urinated into the gaping mouth, wrapped warmly and wetly around her pee-hole. The Duchess gulped convulsively to swallow the hot salty liquid.

When she was done, she humped her cunt lewdly over the pretty face and stood up. She stretched extravagantly, bouncing her breasts playfully as her ladies-in-waiting swarmed around, kissing and licking her intimately before dressing her.

PRINCESS GWENDOLYN

In

THE CASTLE OF PAIN

By Llabmik

Chapter 5 – Training A Trollop

Queen Morgana, Gwendolyn's stepmother, had decided to play a quick visit while the King was off on a hunting expedition to a neighbouring kingdom, a trip that combined diplomacy with pleasure. Morgana had definite ideas on the education of a Royal Princess.

"Queen Rowena, I'm sorry to confess that when I arrived as the King's new bride, I found that my step-daughter's education had been sadly neglected. I see that she still is pathetically ignorant in the womanly arts."

Rowena's eyes glittered. Morgana was a woman after her own cruel heart.

"How so?"

"Mind you, you've done wonders. She used to be such a shy girl. You've helped her to loosen up quite remarkably."

Rowena nodded.

"And yet?"

"And yet, she just lies there. Men prefer a lively wench."

"Very true! Perhaps you would care to give her a little coaching? Give her a few step-motherly tips?"

Morgana smirked.

"Exactly!"

A short time later, the two Queens sat on their thrones, as Princess Gwendolyn was frog marched in by the muscular torture-master and forced to her knees before them. Gwendolyn was sullenly defiant.

"You're scum, Morgana, unworthy to be my father's Queen!"

Morgana shook her head sadly as she spoke to her kindred soul, Queen Rowena.

"More poisonous than a serpent's tongue is an ungrateful child!"

Queen Rowena was warmly supportive.

"And after all that you've done for her!"

The two Queens laughed together, bitch buddies bonding beautifully. Rowena addressed the guards briefly.

"Strip the insolent slut. Sexual deprivation is chilling her heart. See that you warm her thoroughly!"

Queen Morgana smirked in satisfaction as Princess Gwendolyn was stripped of her clothing and spread-eagled on her back. Morgana noted the look of zoned out resignation on Gwendolyn's face as the palace guards dropped their drawers for the now familiar gang bang.

"Is that the way to welcome your guests, Gwendolyn?"

Morgana instructed the torturer briskly.

"Pry her dainty little toes apart and jab a few heated needles in between them to teach her to smile prettily at her guests."

Gwendolyn's beautiful blue eyes bulged as her slender, delicate toes were prised apart. The torturer pulled hot needles out of a small brazier with a pair of small pliers.

The needles hissed as they were jabbed into exquisitely sensitive flesh. Gwendolyn face flushed red as she sucked in a hasty breath and emitted a high, tit-shaking scream of pure agony.

Queen Morgana cooed gently at Gwendolyn panting nakedness.

"This all could have been avoided if you would just remember your manners and smile prettily at your lovers. Let's see a nice big smile, my dear."

Gwendolyn hurriedly slapped a smile on her face as she looked up at the massive brute kneeling between her legs waiting eagerly to plunge his dripping member home.

Queen Rowena had a small suggestion.

"Perhaps if she could pump her hips invitingly?"

Hurriedly, with a nervous glance at the needles heating in the brazier, Gwendolyn humped her hips lewdly. Queen Rowena nodded approvingly as the heavyset guard slammed himself on top of Gwendolyn, thrusting violently, rutting like a bull in heat. Gwendolyn grunted and struggled to breath underneath his massive bulk.

"Tough love. It works wonders!"

They watched, smirking in silence, as the guard emptied himself copiously into poor panting Gwendolyn's pussy and withdrew. Oyster juice oozed from her inflamed cunt and formed a small puddle between her legs. Morgana eyed the situation critically.

"Torturer, I think she needs a few more needles to teach her to use her tongue, to scrub her breasts against her lover's chest and to squeeze her thighs together around her lover's hips to tighten her cunt."

Gwendolyn begged and pleaded as the torturer pried her dainty little toes apart. Her promises to improve were cut short by her full-throated screams as the needles hissed wickedly between her toes.

As Gwendolyn stared at the thin rapist clambering into position between her legs, fondling his large throbbing member to full erection, Queen Rowena added her thoughts.

"You should point your toes prettily and use your hands to stroke loverboy enthusiastically."

Gwendolyn snaked her tongue into his mouth, moaning ecstatically, massaging the thin rapist nervously, as he pumped fast and furious, hammering at her pussy like an oversize woodpecker. Rowena had a whispered consultation with Morgana.

"Let's see how she does on top, next."

Morgana surveyed the line-up of force fuckers speculatively.

"Perhaps we should wait until after the big mountain of blubber. He should definitely be on top to teach her the value of speed. The old one behind him can be underneath, while she straddles him and does all the work on top, being judged according to a time limit. After that, perhaps a blow job for the grimy one?"

Queen Rowena nodded agreeably.

"Variety is important! A naive young girl like Gwendolyn has to learn that every lover is a different challenge."

As poor naked Gwendolyn disappeared, squealing, under a mountain of blubber, the two Queens chortled happily. They spent the rest of the day putting Gwendolyn through her paces.

Everyone, except Gwendolyn, turned out the next morning to see Queen Morgana off. After being fucked over night and day, Princess Gwendolyn had passed out, but Morgana was forgiving.

"Just make sure that the dirty little trollop gulps down a good breakfast, naked on her knees, washed down with lots and lots of man milk."

The two Queens kissed sweetly, but not too innocently, and parted company.

Chapter 6 – Cum-uppance

There are disadvantages to sleeping in the raw. Queen Rowena awoke with a start as the bedcovers were peeled off her nude body.

King Ethelred grinned down at her while strong hands grasped her wrists and ankles, spread-eagling her naked figure for his delectation. He gestured at the bodies of her guards, slumped in pools of their own blood by the open doors to her bedchamber.

"I fired your guards for incompetence."

He eyed her nude form appreciatively.

"Not bad for an old broad!"

Queen Rowena glared up at him.

"You! What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

He gestured at Princess Gwendolyn, grinning wolfishly at his side.

"I'm reclaiming my future Queen! Your careless, sleepy-head guards weren't alert enough to be aware of a stealthy attack in the night by battle-hardened men. Taking it all by stealth and avoiding a long siege means that I get all the goodies in your kingdom intact."

He grinned down at the panting naked Queen.

"You are included amongst the 'intact' goodies, although I don't intend for you to remain intact for long!"

Princess Gwendolyn was cheerfully informative.

"King Ethelred wants to cement his conquest of your kingdom."

By now, Princess Gwendolyn was totally shameless. She pulled up her skirt and deftly excreted two steaming turds by Rowena's head while Ethelred removed his conical iron helmet. The links in his ringmail shirt tinkled musically while he pulled up on it and his undershirt. He dropped his leather pants to reveal his thick, gnarled, dripping knob. He grabbed one of the Royal turds and stuffed it up Rowena's cunt for lubrication. Rowena opened her mouth to shriek in outrage and Gwendolyn picked up the second turd and rammed it between Rowena's gaping lips. She clamped her hand over Rowena's lips to seal in the goodness while Ethelred mounted his squirming conquest.

Queen Rowena bucked and writhed as Ethelred, an older man, pumped long and hard. Gwendolyn could feel the heat of Rowena's vomit surging futilely against the palm of her hand as she kept her hand resolutely pressed against Rowena's snuffling, choking face. She grinned as Ethelred unloaded copiously.

"It's important for a Queen to be a real performer. I tried my best to make her a satisfactory ride for your majesty."

Ethelred gently removed her palm from Rowena's face so she could spew freely after he decunted. They spoke romantically while, eyes watering, Rowena yorked up messily on the bed.

"You've done a superb job, my sweet. However, we don't want Rowena to choke to death. She has lots of entertainment value left in her."

Life as a scum-sucking bottom dweller had given Gwendolyn a thirst for power and a thorough appreciation of humiliation techniques. The romantic couple watched with interest, holding hands affectionately as Ethelred's troops rubbed Rowena's face in a pool of her own puke and shit. The young princess gazed adoringly at Ethelred, her cornflower blue eyes agleam with the fanatical personal loyalty that a strong, protective warrior can command in a fearsomely force-fucked female.

"You are so wise, my future husband."

It occurred to Ethelred that her recent misadventures had made her an ideal mate for a man of his admittedly coarse, violent tastes. His interest in an innocent, naive beauty was close to zero, not that any beauty stayed innocent and naïve for long while he was around. He kissed her affectionately.

"I have an early wedding present for you, but it's in the dungeon. You have to keep it a secret."

Gwendolyn arched her eyebrows inquisitively.

"Ooooo! Sounds like some mysterious fun!"

In the hallway outside the Queen's bedchamber, Lady Charlotte was naked on her knees giving knob jobs to a line-up of soldiers. Duchess Merriweather stood over her making sure that she sucked down every last pearly drop of oyster juice. Obediently, Lady Charlotte run a slim finger along the underside of the grinning soldier's dick to squeeze out the last milky white bubble of man oil. As it glistened, quivering liquidly atop his pee hole, she licked it off with her pretty pink tongue. Her Adams apple bobbed up and down in her pale white throat as she gulped down the slimy ooze. Ethelred slapped Duchess Merriweather on the rump playfully as they left.

"I have the Duchess to thank for making this possible. She supplied complete plans for the castle and also arranged for the drugging of the food served in tonight's feast."

Gwendolyn expressed her most sincere gratitude to the Duchess.

"I will do for you whatever I can. You have my word."

Merriweather glanced into the bedchamber to see Rowena, forced to her knees and bent face-down over the side of the bed, having her outraged face scrubbed vigorously in puke and shit, while opening her rectum for King Ethelred's men.

"Oh, I'm getting my reward while we speak."

King Ethelred laughed.

"Perhaps you would care to stay and suggest a few things? My men are hereby commanded to be most obliging!"

The Duchess chortled merrily as Lady Charlotte's head bobbed diligently beside her, slurping obscenely on a thickly veined penis. The Duchess looked around inquiringly.

"Do any of you men have to pee? If so, Queen Rowena has some thirsty work ahead of her! Later, a good pig's blood enema will refresh her bowels! The woman's full of shit and needs a thorough cleansing!"

A few minutes later, Princess Gwendolyn and King Ethelred were standing arm-in-arm looking down through a grating in the dungeon floor, watching Queen Morgana fighting off the rats while standing up to her armpits in the brackish water of the leech pit. Ethelred was chattily informative as they watched the Queen struggle to fend off the starving rats diving viciously at her face.

"Duchess Merriweather gave us her route and we intercepted the good Queen on the road. Her face has been rubbed with cheese to make it much more attractive to the poor starving rats and her underwear has been removed to give the leeches freer access. It must be difficult for the poor woman to decide whether to keep her hands clamped between her legs or over her face."

Gwendolyn nodded thoughtfully. As Ethelred had anticipated, her recent experiences allowed her to fully savour and enjoy all the nuances of her future husband's ruthless depravity. Gwendolyn delighted him with her instant grasp of the possibilities.

"After the rats get finished gnawing on her face, and those big parasitic leeches are finished sucking on her guts, we could have her entertain the lepers at the leper colony. By then, she'll be their sort of woman."

Ethelred was admiring.

"I like the way you think! We'll just tell your father that she was contaminated by lepers while foolishly taking a shortcut through the colony."

Gwendolyn looked at Ethelred roguishly.

"Do we have to wait until the marriage to consummate our relationship?"

She batted her eyes coyly as they headed up to find a bedchamber.

"I know lots of tricks!"

It turned out that King Ethelred could indeed appreciate an experienced young woman.

PRINCESS GWENDOLYN

In

THE CASTLE OF PAIN

By Llabmik

Chapter 7 – Sweating Sluts

For the third straight day, the burning summer sun blasted the row of sweatboxes baking the bound beauties trapped nude inside.

At one o'clock, King Ethelred ordered Queen Rowena removed from her box for a refreshing drink. The grinning guards jerked the Queen, her wrists bound behind her, from her roasting iron prison. Without hesitation, the naked Queen dropped to her knees and gratefully plunged her hot flushed face into the doggy bowl of warm urine and clotting menstrual blood. She began lapping it up eagerly, her loud slurps clearly audible throughout the courtyard of interested onlookers.

Gwendolyn giggled delightedly.

"I know just how she feels!"

King Ethelred smiled urbanely.

"Your sympathy with even the lowest of your subjects does you credit, my dear. Perhaps we could take her and her ladies-in-waiting for a walk through the countryside to see how Queen Morgana is doing at the leper colony, from a safe distance of course."

Gwendolyn gazed at him adoringly.

"What a good idea! It would be a wonderfully educational experience for them. Until your arrival, they led such sheltered lives."

King Ethelred ordered the others released from their sweatboxes. Each was fed from her very own doggy bowl. Gwendolyn watched with interest as a beet-red Princess Diana lapped up a mixture of pig's blood and dog vomit.

Queen Rowena groaned as the leather harness was cinched tight around her chest, restricting her breathing. The dog collar around her throat was tightened to eyeball popping tightness, making it difficult for the poor woman to swallow her own spit. She drooled steadily from the corner of her lips as they were wrapped around the long dildo gag that was plunged deep into her mouth, held in place by a sturdy leather strap that passed through a hole on the middle of the dildo. The long, thick rod protruding from between her lips provided a convenient handle to guide her with. When pressed back into her throat, it caused her to gag and choke painfully. Her breasts ballooned agonizingly as a constricting iron ring, with long spikes on the inside, was clamped around the base of each breast and screwed tight.

Queen Rowena squealed as the small pee plug was roughly rammed up her piss hole. Her fuck hole was sealed with a large ribbed dildo. A butt plug was jammed into her asshole. The guards twisted it back and forth to worm it in as deeply as possible. Each of these three crotch plugs ended in a large metal ring. A crotch strap attached to her chest harness was passed between her legs and through the three rings. The crotch strap was fed through the roller on the buckle at the small of her back and yanked on savagely to cinch it as tightly as possible before being fastened in place.

Rowena shrieked into her penis gag as her breasts were skewered from the side by a long thick metal pin. A leash was clipped onto the breast skewer in between her two bulging breasts and tied to the pommel of King Ethelred's horse.

The other ladies in waiting were cinched tightly in their own constricting leather harnesses, gagged, their holes plugged up, their ballooning breasts skewered, wrists and elbows tied behind them and their neck collars tightened until their eyeballs bulged.

They were strung out behind the Queen in a line. A leather tether was clipped to each one's breast skewer. The tether was fed through the crotch rings of the beauty in front of her and clipped to that beauty's breast skewer. The last in line was Princess Diana, Queen Rowena's daughter.

Princess Gwendolyn saddled up. She and the King trotted briskly through the countryside. Rowena and her ladies squealed desperately and stumbled along behind them.

As they approached the leper's glen, they could hear the soul searing screams of Queen Morgana opening her holes for the diseased men. Sitting on horseback at the top of a cliff overlooking the glen, they watched the Queen being gang-banged in the valley below. Gwendolyn nodded in serene satisfaction.

"With the end of her nose chewed off and her ears gnawed on like that, it really looks like she belongs here. I doubt that my father will have any further interest in her once he gets a look. He'll probably declare her dead and move onto some brainless bimbo."

Ethelred was agreeable.

"To be safe, we should arrange to give him a suitable selection of eager fuckmates so that he doesn't pick another Morgana. Men like him often repeat their mistakes."

"You are so wise, my beloved!"

They watched with interest as the lepers pawed at the Queen's ample breasts and fingered her crotch with their rotting fingers. Queen Morgana's features were a study in disgust and utter revulsion as the loathsome lepers unloaded in her face, between her tits, under her armpits, in the crack of her ass as well as donating generously to the royal orifices.

"She should catch the disease in no time with such intimate contact."

He turned to the horrified women behind him as he pulled Princess Diana's breast pin, releasing her from her place at the end of the coffle.

A wooden crane with a winch was used to lower supplies to the lepers. Princess Diana looked momentarily relieved as her bindings and intimate inserts were none-too-gently removed. Relief turned to shocked dismay as her wrists were bound to the rope dangling from the winch and her gag was removed. She squealed desperately, begging piteously as she swung out to be lowered to the lepers. Her shapely legs scissored wildly. Her naked body twisted frantically, hanging by her wrists from the descending rope.

"Enjoy your new home!"

He whistled. The lepers looked up, their eyes gleaming dementedly as they caught sight of the bound beauty being lowered to them. Ethelred pulled the cord attached to the lynch pin holding her wrist shackles to the winch's rope. Princess Diana tumbled to the ground and hastily scrambled to her feet. Gwendolyn and Ethelred giggled gleefully as the lepers surrounded the hysterically shrieking fresh meat without touching her. They chuckled as the lepers persuaded the naked blue-eyed blond to expose herself shamelessly and finger herself lewdly for their delectation.

Playing for time in the only way that her inbred mind could think of, Princess Diana ran her pretty pink tongue lewdly over her lips while she pumped her hips obscenely. She bent over, reached between her legs and opened her cuntlips wide with her fingers, showing them lots of pink. Gwendolyn nudged Ethelred.

"What a butt brained bimbo! Does she think that's going to buy her much time? Surely, she's just making a bad situation worse!"

Ethelred snorted in derisive agreement.

Princess Diana squealed frantically between tightly shut lips as she was sandwiched by the diseased men. The leper leader pressed his half-eaten nose and rotting lips against Diana's contorted, utterly revulsed face. Decaying finger stumps pawed her shuddering naked body, spreading her shapely legs, plucking eagerly at her cuntlips, parting her tightly clenched buttocks, examining her goodies and opening them for access. She let out a long ululating wail of total terror as perfectly functioning penises penetrated her orifices and began pumping diseased bodily fluids into her.

Princess Diana's faint cries of gibbering horror and stomach-churning revulsion carried up to the top of the cliff, carried by the crystal clear acoustics of the glen. Queen Rowena and her shackled ladies stared down with bulging eyes and listened to Diana's muffled squeals accompanied by the animal grunts of the rutting lepers. Bone-deep dread gripped their quaking bowels in a fiery vice as Gwendolyn looked at each of them speculatively.

Gwendolyn much preferred sweating them herself, but saw no reason to divulge this none-too-comforting information to Queen Rowena and her pissing, quaking bitches as they stared fearfully back at her, their eyes huge.

Chapter 8 – Shrieking Sluts

Queen Rowena screamed long, high and hard.

The castle dungeon had small square holes cut into the cold stony walls, just large enough to contain one hunched over victim. Queen Rowena's ladies-in-waiting had each been 'persuaded' to crawl into one, headfirst, with her wrists bound behind her back. All that could be seen of her pet bitches was a row of shivering bare bums criss-crossed with thick, red welts and shackled feet spread nicely to expose the goodies, clamped down at the ankles to the entrance of their claustrophobic hidey holes. Semen seeped from their well-raped slits so temptingly laid out for the casual passer-by. Each huddled alone in her dark, chilly hole, listening to Queen Rowena without knowing exactly what was being done to elicit such prolonged soul-searing screeches. A stone lip ran along the front of each hole so that any water or urine would be sealed in with its occupant. Since toilet privileges were non-existent and the holes had a slight downward slope, all ended up lying with their pretty faces resting in a pool of their own piss.

Accustomed to public speaking in the good ole days before electronic amplification, Queen Rowena's voice possessed both volume and stamina. Her full-throated shrieks of raw pain, interspersed with desperate, pleading bellows of gut-wrenching anguish carried beautifully and echoed hauntingly throughout the depths of the torch lit dungeon.

Hanging naked from her wrists, Queen Rowena's sweating back, buttocks and thighs were crosshatched with welts. The nude queen twisted and turned wildly in mid-air. She concentrated desperately on keeping her legs together, having supervised enough whippings to dread the stroke that her whip master had called the cunt kiss.

Princess Gwendolyn sat on her padded chair, enjoying the whipping with a connoisseur's eye, knowing exactly how it felt to have the whip eat in where the buttocks joined the thighs. Up until this point, it had only been theoretical knowledge for Queen Rowena. Princess Gwendolyn loved the way Rowena's naked body, beaded with sweat, glistened in the torchlight, twisting frantically as the whip master administered a cruel lesson in seeking out and stimulating the most exquisitely sensitive pain receptors in the female anatomy.

Cracking viciously, the whip sliced into the tender backs of her knees. Rowena reflexively folded her legs up and felt the whip's fiery tongue lick the cringing soles of her feet.

Princess Gwendolyn admired King Ethelred's whip master. He surely knew how to make his victims hop, placing and timing his whip strokes beautifully as he, with slow and methodical cruelty, raised long angry red welts. Queen Rowena's legs scissored wildly as she bellowed and bawled like a wounded boar, writhing sinuously in the firelight.

Skilfully, the whip master made Rowena twist one way as a flaming welt blossomed on her exposed armpit. Then he made her twist the opposite way as the welt's hot-tempered sister blossomed angrily on the other armpit.

Rowena shrieked madly and her breasts lifted in unison. Her body arched violently upwards as the tip of the whip cracked, delving deeply into the cleft between her butt cheeks and snapping hard against her anus. Gwendolyn laughed merrily, clapping her hands in delight.

Rowena naked body juddered and jackknifed as a series of agonizing whip strokes ate into the sensitive sides of her bare belly. She foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog as she emitted an ear-splitting series of piercing screams.

Her exposed breasts jerked upwards as the whip cracked repeatedly across their tender undersides. Desperately, she lifted both knees to try and protect them.

Princess Gwendolyn would remember forever the look of stunned surprise on Rowena's face as she found that her knees-up attitude had positioned her perfectly for the dreaded cunt kiss. The braided whip snaked between her raised and parted legs, snapping brutally from behind along the length of her slit to kiss her clit in a starburst of agony. Her penetrating scream, savage in its brutal intensity, caused several of her ladies-in-waiting, cowering naked in the dark, to wet themselves.

Rowena shuddered and juddered on the end of the creaking rope like a hooked fish and passed out.

"Superb work, whip master!"

A deeply appreciative Princess Gwendolyn tossed the whip master a leather pouch filled with gold coins. She eyed his bulging crotch. He was obviously a man who loved his work. She jerked her head towards the unconscious form of Queen Rowena, swaying gently as she hung limply suspended by her wrists.

"Perhaps you would care to rouse Sleeping Beauty from her slumbers with a refreshing little quickie?"

The whip master grinned. His assistants parted Rowena's legs and wafted a bottle of vinegar under her nose.

As Rowena's eyes fluttered open, he rammed his erection home. She screamed with each penetrating thrust as he humped her hard, her anguished screeches rising even higher as one of his eager assistants took her from the rear, opening her aching rectum for business.

Princess Gwendolyn, always interested in the comfort of her subjects, eyed the shivering row of rumps being presented by the ladies-in-waiting. This was all that was visible of them as they cowered in their dark, pee-soaked holes. Her voice was touched with concern.

"The poor dears look cold!"

She eyed their exposed genitalia critically.

"They all seem a bit hairy. Whatever was that stupid fuckhead Rowena thinking? King Ethelred likes his ladies smooth."

She grasped a torch and boldly thrust it between Lady Charlotte's legs. The flames licked eagerly at her crotch. As the smell of burning pubic hair filled the dungeon, Lady Charlotte squealed like a boiled pig, humping her hips dementedly to try and ease her anguish.

A firm mistress, Princess Gwendolyn held the torch firmly in place until every last pubic hair had been fried to a crisp. Flames slid easily along Charlotte's tight slit and licked wickedly up the crack of her ass. Lady Charlotte's bum, cunt and inner thighs were glowing a bright red when Princess Gwendolyn decided that her cunt had been cooked to the required degree.

Lady Charlotte was bawling like a baby when the next palpitating pussy tasted the flaming torch and its owner began shrieking like a banshee.

Chapter 9 – A Royal Bitch

Gwendolyn stared into Rowena's glazed eyes. There was nothing much left alive in there. The woman had been stripped, whipped, beaten, gang raped and broiled in the sun long and hard. The older woman obviously lacked the stamina and resilience of the much younger Gwendolyn. Deeply withdrawn, the traumatised ex-Queen seemed barely aware of her surroundings. With the supreme self-confidence of youth, Gwendolyn was certain that she could snap the old bitch back to reality and please her husband-to-be at the same time.

King Ethelred liked to receive intimate trophies taken as a tribute from his unwilling conquests.

Rowena screamed as her nipples were nailed to the board. She blubbered, dancing frantically on tiptoe as guards lifted the board to eye level, stretching her tits from her chest. Her mind fully engaged once more, Rowena shrieked high and hard as a keen-edged dagger was sawed delicately back and forth, cutting across the base of her teats like a line of searing fire. Lifted by the impaling nails, her nipples were peeled slowly and agonizingly from her breasts as the slowly sawing blade bit into her flesh.

The guards handed the board to the Royal Cabinet-maker so that Queen Rowena's severed nipples could be attractively framed and displayed in a small glass trophy case.

Queen Rowena's nude body was hustled over to the Royal Physician's X-shaped operating table. Wrist and ankle cuffs held her spread-eagled and helpless while the old Doctor worked his magic. An old hand at nipple removal, he skilfully stitched Rowena's teat-less breasts shut, using lots of small stitches, so that they would present a smooth, albeit nipple-less, appearance when healed.

Gwendolyn gestured at Lady Charlotte. The pretty young sycophant stepped forward eagerly, anxious to curry favour with the new regime.

Time to take trophy number two.

Lady Charlotte knelt at Queen Rowena's crotch. Rowena's forcibly parted thighs quivered against her ears as she went to work. The mouth whore's pretty pink tongue worked skilfully, licking and delving teasingly between Rowena's reluctantly distended labia, winkling the canoe driver out of hiding. When she was finished, Queen Rowena's canoe driver was standing erect, quivering at the back of his labial 'canoe'. Rowena trembled on the very verge of orgasm, breathing hard and sobbing hoarsely. The sexually excited, near-orgasmic Queen watched the slowly approaching serpette (a short knife with a gleaming curved blade used for pruning) with horrified, yet lustfully yearning, eyes.

The Royal Doctor performed the labial removal and cliterdectomy with a nimble-fingered dexterity that exhibited a wealth of experience. Her sexual excitement dulled the agony somewhat. On the other hand, we are speaking of an area rich in nerve endings. Queen Rowena shrieked continuously throughout the operation as he deftly kept the pain to just barely manageable levels so that she wouldn't pass out. Her bloodshot eyes bulged in horror, staring unbelievingly at her crotch as her genitals were bloodily excised. Snot drooled from her nostrils, mixing with her spittle as scream after scream was ripped from her straining, tightly corded throat.

At last the old Doctor with the flowing white hair was finished. He carefully laid her cuntlips and clit, neatly removed in one piece, on the board between her nipples for inclusion in the trophy case.

Rowena blubbered hoarsely as he salted the wound to staunch the bleeding, took a needle and thread and stitched shut her most intimate orifice, closing it forever. Her days of sexual pleasure were finished beyond any possibility of revival.

An older man with occasional erectile difficulties, the Doctor hurried away with his new assistant/mouth whore, Lady Charlotte. Knowing her place and very anxious to keep it, she wanted to strike while the iron was hot. Judging from the bulge in his trousers, his iron was definitely hot.

Gwendolyn stared coolly into Rowena's twitching face. The haunted eyes of a deeply wounded animal looked back. Satisfied with what she saw, Gwendolyn turned her over to the King Ethelred's Beastmaster.

His specialty was converting the men and women who got into King Ethelred's way into hideous, stomach churning monstrosities that would no longer be a threat to the King or anyone else. Rowena fainted repeatedly as he went to work on her flesh with his sharp carving knife. Each time she awoke to find a new horror inflicted on her. He started in on Rowena's once-arrogant face, slicing off her nose and cutting her ears into sharply pointed dog-ears. He sliced off her eyebrows. Inserting the blade between her lips, he cut back from the corner of her mouth to the hinge of her jaw along each side, slicing off a strip of flesh to expose her teeth in a ghastly permanent grin.

He cut her Achilles tendons. Her ankles would no long support her, forcing her to crawl on her knees forever after.

He released her from the X-shaped table. He forced each arm up high behind her back, forcing it higher and higher until he heard the bone crack. He skinned the palms of her hands, forced her broken arms behind her back and placing them palm-to-palm. Taking a needle and thread, he stitched each finger and thumb to its opposite number so her two hands would grow together behind her.

Taking her to the Royal kennels, he locked her in a cage with her new playmate. Belial, the mastiff, was overjoyed to see her. Thirty-two inches at the shoulder, the massive fighting dog showed her his new trick. Knocking her flat on her nipple-less tits, he joyously mounted her from behind using the only hole available. The knot at the base of his penis swelled to lock it in place inside her ass hole. Rowena bounced like a rag doll as he scrubbed the floor with his new bitch, humping hard, drooling down the back of her neck.

Gwendolyn and Ethelred watched in satisfaction.

"It looks like Rowena has found a new friend. A woman with her looks can't be choosy. My God, he's a horny brute, though."

Gwendolyn nudged him playfully.

"You should talk!"

"Are you complaining?"

She slipped her hands inside his pants and snaked her tongue into his mouth.

Chapter 10 – The Bitchblade

"A woman must learn to defend herself. That way she can never be a victim."

King Ethelred's words fell on Princess Gwendolyn's ears like water falling on a desert plant. The desire blossomed in her mind. She snuggled up close to him in the bed. His disdain of innocent virgins was a continuing comfort to her. Through the open bedroom window, they listened to the moans, whimpers and gasps of Queen Rowena's Ladies-in-waiting being raped over in the courtyard by brutish peasants. In the days before porn videos, live entertainment was the only game in town. Gwendolyn and Ethelred enjoyed a romantic little interlude while, in the courtyard below, a fiercely struggling, fair skinned beauty was made to grunt like a pig by strong smelling sons of the soil, Gwendolyn stuck her tongue in Ethelred's ear hole. She whispered her question breathily into his moistened orifice.

"How does a woman learn to fight? Who will teach her?"

Ethelred gave her a sated grin.

"I'll teach you, if you like."

Gwendolyn and her bare breasts bounced up and down on the bed with childish enthusiasm.

"I like! I like!"

The next day in the dungeon, King Ethelred gave her a light rapier and taught her the basics of parry, thrust, lunge and recover. They worked slowly and carefully as he taught her a swordsman's stance and the rudimentary parries.

Queen Rowena's guards were dangling nude, hung by their wrists from a long trestle overhead. Their ankles were bound to a ringbolt below, stretching them out temptingly. Giving in to temptation, Gwendolyn had arranged for them to be whipped with thorns from head to toe. A badly scratched man hanging helplessly with his genitals fully exposed to an armed woman that he has recently raped is tremblingly respectful. Whipped curs, they had little to say as they watched Ethelred encourage her by tossing apples in the air and having her slice them in half. A quick study, she did it with a vicious competence that was little comfort to her dangling spectators.

"If you mouth off to me, I'll slice off your dicks!"

Gwendolyn walked down the row of naked guards, pausing in front of each to dip her blade under his testicles and lift them delicately with the flat of the blade. She looked each coolly in the face, earnestly inquiring if he had any complaints about his treatment. Afraid to make the smallest sound, each guard answered silently with frantic head shaking and pleading eyes.

She loved the way that their scrotums shrivelled to walnuts at the touch of the cool blade. The deeply fearful guards seemed to be trying to withdraw their flaccid, thoroughly deflated penises back into their bodies, like a turtle pulling its head back into the shell. It was all deeply gratifying.

"Might I suggest an amusing little game to improve your swordsmanship?"

A saucy little minx, Gwendolyn eyed Ethelred inquisitively.

"What did you have in mind?"

"It's a game called bagpipe. You cut a contestant's ankles free and he tries to defend his testicles and penis from your questing blade while hanging from his wrists in mid-air, using only his legs. The aim of the game is to remove his genitals cleanly with one slice."

Gwendolyn grinned. The ropes creaked as the naked guards twisted uneasily.

"Bagpipe? As in slashing off both the bag and the pipe with one cut?"

"Exactly!"

She raked the head guard with predatory eyes. Urine spurted from his limp member. Laughing, she slashed the rope tying his ankles. Squeezing his legs tightly together, he instantly raised his knees to his chest, lifting his scrotum and penis in his lap, pressing them protectively against his ample stomach.

Playfully, Gwendolyn walked around him. The guard, with bulging eyes, twisted desperately in mid-air. His hairy buttocks dimpled as he cradled the family jewels in his lap.

She deftly stabbed the pointed tip of her sword into his anus, pricking it lightly. He screamed, clenched his buttocks and lowered his legs. In a heartbeat, his manhood was on the floor.

This simple, but effective, ploy was met with a respectful round of applause from those spectators that were not dangling nude and helpless. Gwendolyn had a definite talent.

The head guard had a different opinion. Ashen faced, the spittle flew from his lips as bright red blood seeped down his thighs.

"YOU BITCH!!"

Instantly, the head guard was made to scream like a woman as the Royal Doctor, an old hand at castration, cauterized his wound, dabbing delicately between the screeching guard's held-down legs with a red-hot iron. The air filled with the smell of cooking flesh as the red-hot iron hissed and smoked with each searing touch. The Royal Doctor crudely fitted a straw into the remains of the head guard's piss hole.

As the former head guard (now head eunuch) sobbed hysterically, King Ethelred turned to Gwendolyn.

"Since you display the skill that I thought you would with a sword, I have a present for you."

The Royal Armourer stepped forward and knelt respectfully before her, head bowed. In his hands, he held a superb rapier. Its serrated, elaborately engraved blade gleamed wickedly. A light, finely balanced weapon, its jewelled hilt reflected consummate craftsmanship.

Princess Gwendolyn's eyes flashed as she hefted the fine weapon.

"It's wonderful!"

The armourer spoke proudly.

"It has an invisible feature, my future Queen!"

Princess Gwendolyn arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"The blade has been dipped in poison. The smallest prick kills its victim within ten heartbeats."

Gwendolyn glanced speculatively down the row of nude, sweating guards.

"The smallest prick, eh?"

All eyes turned to George. George, the most under-endowed guard, began trembling visibly. Making eye contact with her intended victim, Gwendolyn gave him an evil smirk. Urine dribbled from his pathetic member and ran down his shivering thighs. His bowels quaked audibly.

He whimpered pathetically as she playfully gave his shrivelled penis the smallest, tiniest little scrape, just barely breaking the skin.

Almost instantly, every muscle in his nude body tightened to spasm. His taut nakedness jerked and twitched violently in mid-air. Blood trickled from his nostrils. His lips frothed with red foam as his lungs dissolved in his chest. He coughed bloodily as his internal organs disintegrated. George's body was gripped by one last powerful, wracking convulsion and then he hung limply, his days of disappointing the women at an end.

Gwendolyn nodded approvingly.

"You do excellent work, Armourer."

"I suggest that you call your weapon Filthfroth as that's what it turns its victims into."

"Filthfroth?"

Gwendolyn arched a sceptical eyebrow, something that she was getting good at. The Armourer blushed. It had seemed like such a brilliantly inspired name. It had been jovially well received by his drunken cronies at the pub the night before. Gwendolyn spoke kindly to him.

"Would you mind terribly if I called it something else?"

The Armourer, a small frequently taunted man, looked at her gratefully.

"Call it whatever pleases you, my future Queen!"

She gestured at the blubbering head guard, a forcibly retired rapist still trying to cope with the abrupt, catastrophic loss of his manhood.

"That man called me a name earlier."

"Surely not an appropriate one, your majesty!"

"He called me a Bitch."

The Armourer blinked.

"He is a very stupid man, your majesty!"

"Agreed! But to my enemies I am The Bitch and this…"

She held up the deadly weapon.

"… This lethal sword I christen The Bitchblade. With a weapon like The Bitchblade, whose lightest touch is a mortal wound, I need fear no one and can enjoy a long reign with complete peace of mind, although my enemies shall have none!"

And with this charmingly naïve burst of youthful optimism and ill-advised reliance on technology, we end our story (at least for now).