To Train A Queen Read online

  “If you require it, My Lady, I am not unwilling to provide encouragement,” the Count said. There was a hissing sound, one with which Emily was all too familiar, followed by the bite of the three bladed lash on the softness of her inner thigh just above her sex.

  She yelped in pain, then hesitated no longer but stretched forth her tongue. The taste was sharp and unpleasant, and, as she was obliged to press her nose up against him to perform as he required, her nostrils were filled with the unfamiliar and unpleasant odor.

  Emily licked and then sucked, then continued sweeping her tongue under, over and around. Soon, the flesh became a thick column. Without ceasing her attentions, Emily could see that the Count’s cock was now at a full stand. She rolled her eyes up, trying to estimate its length. Surely, she told herself, it was not as monstrously long as it appeared.

  “That was a fair effort, for a novice, My Lady,” Casimir said. He stepped back, and she could see that his rod, if not as impossibly long as it appeared at first, still was an impressive instrument, with a span of at least nine inches and a girth in proportion. Emily had seen the aroused shafts of stallions, dogs and other farm beasts, but she had never before seen an engorged human penis. The sight sent a shiver up her spine, which was in part caused by fear and in part by… she was uncertain. Anticipation, perhaps?

  “Now, Princess Christine, you shall show me what your tongue can do,” Count Casimir said. He stood before her with his rampant organ nearly touching the Princess’ open mouth.

  Christine’s spirit had been slowly recovering from the low into which she had sunk during the day spent in the hands of Master Harkness. The sight of the despised Count Casimir had fanned the embers of her anger back into flames and hardened her determination to give him no satisfaction. She recalled with a certain pride how she had called his bluff when he had threatened her. Let him bluster, let him beat her, let him order Harkness to try all his tricks on her (although she did not linger over this thought), she would never do his bidding.

  “Well?” he asked. She glared up at him in answer.

  The Count shrugged. “So be it. I confess to surprise at how little consideration you have for the sufferings of Lady Emily, Princess.” He looked at Harkness and nodded.

  The executioner pulled down the handle of the drum, submerging Emily’s head in the basin of water. Then he began to methodically flog the girl with the three-bladed whip, using Lady Emily’s pubic triangle as his target. The effect on the young Duchess could be judged by the froth of bubbles that formed on the surface of the water, and the frantic twisting of her tightly bound limbs.

  “Stop it! You’ll kill her!” Princess Christine screamed, which emerged as a string of nonsense syllables. She tried to lunge from her place to rescue her dear friend. As she was well secured, the only result was to nearly strangle herself. The bubbles were becoming fewer and Emily’s struggles weaker as Christine watched, unable to intervene.

  Casimir watched the suffering girl interestedly. “She will emerge when you begin your assigned task. Will you not reconsider, Your Highness?” Casimir asked. “Your friend would thank you for your help, I think.”

  Up to this moment, Christine had not fully gauged the full measure of Count Casimir’s cruelty, nor his shrewdness. He obviously understood her weakness and was prepared to use it ruthlessly. Whatever she was willing to undergo herself, the Princess could not allow Emily, as dear to her as if they were sisters, to suffer for Christine’s pride. She had no choice.

  She extended her tongue. He motioned to Harkness, who promptly brought Lady Emily back up out of the basin. She coughed explosively, spewing water everywhere, then desperately gulped in air.

  “Around the shaft now, if you please, Your Highness,” Casimir directed.

  She set to work, still eyeing Emily, to make certain that she had fully recovered from her immersion. She hardly noticed what she was doing.

  “Very well done, Princess,” Casimir congratulated her. “Now, I think, the time is right for allow you to show me your sincere desire to earn my trust.”

  He unbuckled the gag and, with some difficulty, worked it out of Christine’s jaws. She gave a sigh of relief when the ring that had been forcing her mouth open all day was finally removed. The muscles of her jaws were still so overstretched and exhausted that she still could not close her mouth fully, so that saliva continued to overflow and dribble from her chin.

  The Count’s organ was even stiffer than before. It now arched back in a curve, pointing at the sky. “Take it in, Princess Christine,” the Count ordered. “I suggest you make your best efforts to please me, for Lady Emily’s sake.”

  He looked at Harkness and nodded again, and again Emily was plunged head first into the basin and Harkness plied the whip on her.

  “Nnnaaa!” Christine exclaimed, her overstretched jaws unable to form clear words. She leaned forward as far as the metal collar would allow. He gestured, and Harkness retrieved Emily, coughing and thrashing, from the basin. After that, all Christine’s attention was focused on the Count as he inexorably advanced into her mouth. She could feel the strength returning to her jaws, and she considered for a moment whether it would be worth her while to bite his filthy member, to try to rip it from his body if she could. Then she heard Emily gasping, and she realized that if she did bite him, Casimir would make her watch while Harkness tortured her friend in some new and horrible way, so she put the thought aside. She knew she could never risk Emily in that way.

  She felt the head of Casimir’s cock pressing against the back of her throat, which closed up in self-defense. “No, no, Your Highness,” Casimir said, “you must find lodging for the entire length.”

  Christine felt the pressure increase as the Count drove forward. Her esophagus went into spasm, involuntarily clutching at the foreign object that pushed its way in. She felt her stomach heave, as if she was about to vomit.

  “That’s the spirit, Princess. Grasp it firmly,” Casimir said encouragingly.

  Worse than the heaving of her stomach, much worse, was the fact that her airway was blocked. She tried to communicate to the Count that she was struggling to breathe, but she was only able to make only the feeblest of sounds, and her hands were bound and useless.

  As the Count worked in and out, Christine saw black spots dance before her eyes. A gray film seemed to settle over her vision, but before she faded away into the welcoming arms of blackness, Casimir suddenly withdrew and gave a great cry.

  Princess Christine sucked in air with desperate urgency, puffing like a bellows. As she did, she vowed to herself she would never again take the breath of life for granted.

  “You have signs of a natural bent for this art, Your Highness,” Casimir said. “If I may suggest one area for improvement: you would do well to learn the trick of breathing whilst giving this service.”

  The still panting Christine did not reply to this sally.

  “Ah, Master Harkness,” the Count called. “How progresses Lady Emily?”

  Christine saw that Harkness had manipulated the drum upon which Emily was bound to bring her head to the level of his waist. As she watched, Harkness held the blonde girl’s head in his hands, directing it up and down on him. Emily’s eyes bulged alarmingly from her head and her face was bright red, but Christine judged that the executioner was allowing her time to catch little breaths between strokes and that she was in no danger.

  “With a bit of practice, she’ll do, My Lord,” Harkness answered. “Ah, now, My Lady!” He withdrew from Emily and gripped his cock in his hand. “Ah fuck!” he cried as he ejaculated.

  Harkness bent down to bring his face close to Emily’s. “My thanks to you, My Lady.” The blonde girl squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, her tears running down her cheeks.

  “Emily!” Christine called. Her friend opened her eyes, looking to the Princess for comfort.

  What could she say? Christine wondered. Her heart found the words for her. “Emily, despair not. Never will I abandon you. I love you.”


  Lady Emily nodded and answered. Although she did so silently and only in thought, the Princess heard that thought as clearly as if she had spoken the words aloud. I love you too, Christine.

  Chapter Six

  Count Casimir left them soon after, with a promise to return the next evening to continue becoming acquainted with his future Queen, whoever it finally turned out to be. Harkness, showing more humanity than Christine would have credited to him, finally relieved Emily of the painful ring gag. He fed them a supper of lukewarm porridge and stale crusts of bread, then secured them for the night, attaching the chains of the naked girls behind them to rings in the floor, and leaving them the freedom to move as far as the chains allowed, although they remained locked in the manacles he had forged for them as before.

  “Please, Master Harkness,” Emily said as he bid them good night and began to walk away, “must we sleep on these cold stones? Could you not spare even the thinnest scraps of blankets for us?”

  “My Lady, it seems a hard, cruel thing,” he answered, “but it is My Lord Count’s will that you both be bedded this way for now. When you earn clothes and blankets by learning how to please him, then you will get them. Good night, My Ladies.”

  After Harkness’ footsteps could be heard no more, Christine said, “Come closer, dear Emily, and let me hold you in my arms.” Whether through carelessness, or because he had no instructions to do otherwise, Harkness had confined them close enough together that they were able to embrace each other and cling together for comfort in that dreadful place.

  Soon the girls were lying side-by-side, each with her arms wrapped around the other, sharing the warmth of their bodies. Christine sighed in satisfaction when they settled in position.

  “Poor, dear Emily, you are all I have left in the world, and I am all you have,” Christine whispered, her lips inches away from those of her friend. “It grieves me so to see you trapped here in this terrible place. I would do anything to save you; happily I would give my life. But I am helpless and can do nothing for you. I cannot even give you a blanket for your ease. All I can offer is mine own body for your bed, though little comfort it may give you.”

  Emily smiled. When she spoke, her sweet breath made Christine forget her sorrows for a moment. “But it is a great comfort to me, my beloved Christine, better far than the finest feather-bed, though it be clothed in silken sheets and goose-down quilts. We have each other at least, if only for a little while, and that surely excels naught. Can you not feel how hard my heart beats in my chest when I lie here in your dear embrace, from the way your sweet breasts press against mine own or from the warmth of your belly as it presses against me? Do you not feel as I do at this moment, as if we were no longer two, but just one, sharing a single heart?”

  Christine answered, “Beloved Emily, I feel… I do not know the right words, but… my body is strangely light, as if a great moment of joy was near, as if…” She drew Emily’s mouth down to hers and their lips met in a kiss. They had kissed each other many times before, in greeting or parting, in congratulations for some achievement, or on birthdays and other occasions. But never had they kissed like this. Christine’s body shuddered as though an earthquake had passed through her, while Emily, for a little while was transported and knew only the touch of soft lips and the warmth of smooth skin on her body.

  All unknowing, their mouths opened while their lips still pressed together, and Christine’s tongue slid into Emily’s mouth. The blonde girl made a soft sound deep in her throat, pulled the Princess’ body closer still, and wrapped a long leg around her slender waist.

  Christine, with a great effort of will, fought through the delicious fog that was making it almost impossible for her to think. She pulled her lips away and whispered, “Emily, what are we doing? What is happening to us?”

  Emily’s hand gently touched the Princess’ cheek, then slid it down to stroke her breast. The Princess shuddered again under the touch. “It is love, I think, sweet Christine. It can only be love.” She lowered her head, and sucked the stiff nipple into her mouth, and flicked it with her tongue.

  The sensation she felt was something like the arousal she had unwillingly experienced at Harkness' hands earlier in the day, but at the same time was altogether different. The executioner had known how to manipulate her body so that it would respond as he wished, but nothing he did touched her inside and, she was quite certain, nothing he could do would ever touch her in the way that Emily was now touching her. The feelings aroused by her friend’s hands, mouth and body went to Christine’s very soul. The sensation was so powerful, she was sure she would die of its wonder.

  “Emily, dear, sweet Emily,” she moaned as the other girl’s hand found its way between her thighs, which the Princess had spread wide without even knowing it. When Emily’s fingers delicately stroked her engorged pink button, Christine dug her fingernails into the flesh of her friend’s back in her need. Just before she thought her heart would burst for joy, she climaxed, arching up her hips to meet Emily, calling her name again and again, trembling like a victim of fever, keeping Emily’s hand trapped between her thighs.

  “Are you well, dearest one?” Emily whispered in her.

  “I… do not know… am I well?” she repeated, as if puzzled. “It is not easy to say. I feel as if I was before this night made of wood, and only just now have come to life in your arms.” She squeezed Emily in a ferocious embrace. “I love you, Lady Emily of Fernhill, and if God were to take me to Heaven this night, I would go in peace, knowing at last what it means to be alive.”

  “But then we would lose each other, dear Christine,” Emily said, “and our new lives would end before they could start.”

  “Then let us make the most of whatever time we are given,” Christine said. She began to cover Emily with wild kisses, beginning on her lips and face, and then moving to her neck and her breasts.

  “Oh, please don’t stop, my love,” Emily moaned.

  Christine had no intention of stopping. She discovered that arousing Emily gave her as much pleasure as being aroused by her. She spent a long time stroking and fondling the blonde girl’s full breasts, marveling at their softness and resilience, taking the swollen nipples in her mouth, nibbling and sucking until Emily squirmed with pleasure. Then, greatly daring, she pushed Emily’s thighs apart and slid her mouth down between them.

  “Oh, oh, what are you doing, Christine?” Emily mumbled in her distraction. “Is it not a sin?”

  By way of answer, Christine’s mouth fastened on Emily and her tongue delved inside. Emily moaned and raised her hips up to bring that wonderful tongue in deeper. Christine’s tongue now swirled and flicked, making the other girl cry out with her pleasure.

  Christine raised her head. “Can God not want us to know a thing so wondrous?” she asked. She returned to nibble and suck until Emily erupted in a long, all-consuming orgasm. When she became aware again of her surroundings, she reached down and drew Christine up to lie beside her again. Her friend’s face was flushed and her eyes were shining.

  “Well?” she asked, propped up on one elbow, looking down at Emily.

  “What?” Emily asked. “Oh that. It was all right, I suppose.”

  Christine started to make an angry retort, then took another look at Emily and burst out laughing. Emily wrapped her arms around her beloved, pulling Christine close as the girls laughed and laughed, as though they had not a care in the world. For a long time, the dungeon, which had many times been filled with screams of torment, echoed with a sound rarely, if ever, heard there, the sound of pure merriment.

  Chapter Seven

  If, as the bards claim, true love conquers all, then the next morning would have found Princess Christine and Duchess Emily far from the clutches of Master Harkness and Count Casimir, together and free to enjoy the full measure of their new-found love. Sadly for them, when the two girls awoke in the morning entangled in each other’s limbs, they were dirty, sore hungry, still prisoners chained to the floor in the royal
dungeon of Bartavia.

  As soon as they heard Master Harkness’ cheery whistle as he descended the stairway, Christine and Emily hastily separated themselves. They needed no discussion to understand that allowing Harkness (or Casimir) to discover full depth of their love would only give their tormentors another weapon to use against them.

  When the master of the dungeon greeted his unwilling guests, he had a feeling that something was amiss that he could not put his finger on. The two girls looked properly discouraged and weary after a day and a night in his care, with their heads down, staring at the floor, but Master Harkness sensed that this was a pose, at least in part, and suspected that their spirits were higher than they had any business being. He peered at them doubtfully.

  “I trust you slept well, My Lady, Your Highness,” he said.