To Train A Queen Read online

  “Well enough…” Christine began casually, and then stopped abruptly. “That is…” she glanced up at Harkness for an instant, and then quickly lowered her eyes as she finished, “…as well as can be expected, when all we are provided for our repose is a stone floor.”

  “Which is to say, we scarcely slept a wink, thanks to your discourtesy, Master Harkness,” Emily chimed in, her head still down. “It was quite the worst night I can remember.”

  Now he was sure he was missing something. Princess Christine was clearly trying to hide something. And what could have happened overnight to restore Lady Emily’s spirit, as defeated and broken as he judged her to be when he last saw her? he wondered. He considered the matter for a few seconds, and then shook his head. Whatever their secret, it would probably require breaking a few fingers or toes, or possibly something even more drastic to get it out of them, and this was well beyond anything the Count had authorized him to do. It would simply have to remain a mystery.

  The first order of business was breakfast. This consisted of leftover porridge from the previous night, which he reheated and served to the two girls in metal bowls on the floor. As he secured their hands behind their backs before filling the bowls, they were obliged to eat by lowering their faces into the dog dishes and lapping up the food like hounds. The gruel, which has not been especially toothsome when it had been fresh, now had the approximate flavor and consistency of mud. Moreover, as neither captive girl had any great appetite, they both left off after a few half-hearted licks.

  That is, they would have left off, had Master Harkness permitted it. “My Lord Count told me very plain that he don’t want you two wasting away to nothing down here,” he told the two girls. “My orders are to see that you clean your plates, My Lady, Your Highness.”

  He attached their necks by very short chains to eyebolts in the floor, so that they were compelled to kneel with their heads inches above their bowls, then began to slash their defenseless bottoms and backs with the three-bladed whip he had used to punish Emily on the previous day. “I’ll leave off when both your bowls is empty,” Harkness told them. It was not long before the dog dishes were scoured clean, although by then the smooth white flesh of the girls' bottom globes were scored by triple rows of red lines.

  “Very good, My Lady,” Harkness said as ran his hand over the curve of the crying Emily’s burning rear end, “and you as well, Your Highness,” he added, patting the round perfection of Christine’s haunch. “You’ll both need all your strength today. You’re to begin learning the art of pleasing My Lord Count in the way he likes best…” A hand slipped into the valley between the rear hemispheres of each girl and fingers probed, bringing startled exclamations from Emily and Christine.

  “What can you mean, Master Harkness?” Emily demanded. “What can be back there that could interest the Count?”

  Christine was less of an innocent than her friend. “He means to perpetrate an outrage upon us more terrible than murder, Em,” she said. “You are speaking of that sin, are you not, Master Harkness? I do not misdoubt Casimir indulges in that disgusting activity in addition to his other vices, but surely you would not endanger your eternal soul by helping him to commit this act on two innocent Christian girls, Master Harkness. Eeeek!”

  By way of answer, Harkness pressed his index finger in, making her shriek again. He chuckled, while Christine pleaded, “No, no, please stop!”

  “You leave me worry about my soul, Your Highness,” he said. “You should ought to be worrying more about keeping My Lord Count happy, I’m thinking.” He forced another finger in.

  “Eeeee, ahh… yes, yes, I see, Master Harkness,” she answered. She writhed madly beneath him, attempting to escape the invasion. “I pray you, take your fingers out and I shall do as you say. Ahhhhh!”

  The Princess cried, “Thank you, Master Harkness!” when he removed the two digits.

  “I’m remembering to feed you but I’m forgetting that you need to be emptied out as well,” he said. “I’ll wager neither one of you has cleared out her insides since yesterday, and that won’t do, not at all. Now, just stay there, Your Highness and My Lady, and I’ll be back straight off with something to fix that.” He hurried away without waiting for a response. Since both girls were chained to the floor with their hands behind their backs, no reply was really necessary.

  Harkness returned carrying a pair of strange objects under his arm. They were metal cylinders, perhaps a foot long, tapering to points at one end, and with plungers projecting from the other. Christine instantly disliked the look of them.

  “These here will clean you girls out, so’s you’ll be ready for your lesson today,” Harkness said. He laid one cylinder on a convenient table, and approached Lady Emily with the other.

  “Please, Master Harkness,” the blonde Duchess asked, looking fearfully up over her shoulder, “what would you do with me?”

  He knelt behind her. “Now, don’t make a fuss, My Lady,” he said. “Won’t do a bit of good. Just stay still there while I give you this here clyster.” He extended the pointed end of the cylinder, which they now saw had a hole in the tip, into the valley between Emily’s lovely half-moons.

  Emily twisted to one side, and then yelped as the point poked into her tender flesh. Harkness dropped the tube to the ground with a clank, and then snatched up the whip, which he had laid on the table. “Begging your pardon, My Lady, but I do needs you to stay still.” He began to flail her already well-striped rear with vicious blows, applying much harder than the ones he had administered earlier.

  Emily squealed and tried to crawl away, and when this failed, turned on her back to escape. She realized her mistake immediately, when Harkness continued to slash her as hard as before, but now striking the softness of her breasts and belly with the leather blades.

  “No, please, no more, I’ll do it!” Emily begged. Harkness planted a booted foot on her ribcage just below her breasts to keep her from rolling back over, and continued to punish the Duchess frontally, plying the whip on her body from her thighs to her breasts. The punishment went on for ten minutes, during which time he seemed equally oblivious to Emily’s pleas and the raging Christine’s threats.

  Finally, he stopped, with the whip upraised, ready to deal another stroke. “Do you think you can stay still for the dose now, My Lady, or no?” he asked. His tone suggested that he would be quite as happy either way.

  “Y… yes… yes… I… I… will do… as… as you b… bid, Master Hark… ness,” Lady Emily blubbered. Harkness lifted his boot from her chest, and watched as she rolled back over. “Lift your bottom up, My Lady, and open your legs, if you will,” he said. Emily obediently bent her back to present her buttocks at a more accessible angle, and set her knees well apart.

  Harkness dropped the whip back on the tabletop and picked up the cylinder again. This time, Emily took care to remain still as he positioned the point of the device. She whimpered a little when the head of the nozzle pressed in her, but she neither moved nor spoke as Harkness drove the plunger home and then removed the object.

  “I have one more thing for you, My Lady, so hold just there a little,” he said. He fished around in the pouch of his apron and brought out a strange object. It looked something like an hourglass, with a narrow waist connecting two cones. It was made of some dark, flexible stuff.

  “This will stretch you for a bit, My Lady,” he said. “Don’t move.” He spit on one of the fat ends and then began to push it inward. The cowed Duchess did not dare to stir again, but she began to cry out at the size of this unwelcome intruder.

  “Eeee! Please Master Harkness, you are hurting me!” Emily whined.

  “It’s almost in, My Lady… there,” he said with a certain satisfaction, as the head of the object disappeared. She heaved a sigh of relief. She could still feel the neck of the object, but this was a mild discomfort compared to what the head had felt like as he pushed it in.

  Harkness picked the other tube from the table. “Now, Your Highnes
s, should I whip you first, or can we leave out all that?” he asked.

  Christine favored him with her most disdainful expression. “I shall not give you another excuse to chastise a helpless maiden, since you seem to relish it so. Proceed with whatever foulness your cruel master orders you to commit. I will resist you not.”

  “A wise course, Your Highness,” Harkness said. He positioned the nose of the second cylinder, pressed it in, pushed the plunger all the way down, and then removed it. Christine grimaced once or twice, but made no sound as he inserted a plug identical to the one he had installed in Emily.

  As he worked, he talked. “Now, you mistake poor old Harkness, Your Highness. I don’t wonder that you think me a hard, cruel man. I won’t deny that I like to see my job done as it should, but I take no pleasure from what I do to you and My Lady. You two is innocent young girls what got mixed in the business of strong men, and you don’t deserve none of this. I know it, and if I could, why, I’d help you. But there’s naught I can do, except this here: I can give you some good advice, if you're ready to listen.”

  Princess Christine considered all this for a moment. Was Harkness telling the truth? She could think of no reason why he would lie to them. Why bother? She decided that he was sincere. In any case, what did she have to lose?

  She nodded. “I thank you, Master Harkness, for your offer, and I would gladly hear your counsel.”

  “It’s just this, Your Highness. To me, all this here is naught but my work, my chosen trade, like. But My Lord Count, for him, it’s different. What you said of me is true of him; he is that kind of man. He likes to see pretty girls like you and My Lady. The younger and prettier, the better he likes it,” Harkness said. “All I’m saying is, whatever I do to you when you get stubborn and don’t do what you should, he’ll do summat worse, and he’ll like the doing. Do you hear what I’m telling you?”

  Christine had already decided that Casimir was the sort who was not merely willing to use the spur of pain when it served a purpose, but who savored cruelty the way another man might savor the taste of a fine burgundy. Still, Harkness’ advice served to confirm her belief. As it cost nothing to be gracious, especially when he was attempting to be friendly, she thanked the executioner for his advice. “I am grateful for your wisdom, Master Harkness, and I will endeavor to remember your words and not hold you at fault when you do whatever you have to do.”

  “And I as well, good Harkness,” Emily added. “I cannot help being so weak a girl, and it is for that reason I acted as foolishly as I did. I beg your… oh! Oh! Oh!” Emily curled into a ball and began to groan piteously.

  “Oh God, my poor belly! I will burst if I canst… ahh! Ev… evacuate my bowels!” Emily screamed. “Master Harkness, I am dying!”

  Christine’s chains rattled as she crawled over to her friend and lover. “Dear Emily, pray tell me what is happening!” She spun around and looked up at Harkness, her face filled with fear and grief. “Please, Master Harkness, can you not ease her?”

  “Rest easy, Your Highness,” he said reassuringly. “It’s only a bit of the cramps. Her innards are cleaning themselves out, is all. You’ll see. In a minute or so…”

  Just then, Christine felt something deep inside her abdomen. It was as if an invisible giant had seized the middle of her body in his hand and started to squeeze. She had a tremendous need to empty her bowels, a more powerful one than any she had ever felt before. At the same time, her eyes began to water, her nose started to overflow with mucus, and a great flood of drool gathered in her mouth. She stared up at Harkness in inquiry, her jaws clenched to contain her groans of discomfort.

  “It’s something you’ll need to get used to, Highness,” he explained. “My Lord Count wants his women good and clean inside before he has his way with ’em, and this here’s how he likes to clean ’em up. I’ll just give it another minute or two, and then…”

  “Dear God in Heaven, Master Harkness!” shrieked Emily. “Pull the plug and let me empty myself, or kill me, I care not which!”

  “There now, My Lady, sure and it’s not so bad as all that,” Harkness said. He reached into an alcove, and drew out two battered copper chamber pots. “Old Harkness will take care of you. You come squat over here, and I’ll pop that plug right out, so’s you can do your business.”

  Lady Emily, still doubled over from cramps, scuttled across to where Harkness had set up the pots. With a great effort and a loud groan, she pulled herself up to suspend her buttocks over one of the basins. “Hurry, please, Master Harkness, please hurry!” she begged.

  He reached down and took the exterior cone of the plug in hand. “Here it comes, My Lady.” He gave a sharp tug. Emily screamed once briefly, then made a sound that might have come from a boar which had just been impaled on a spear, a low, long grunt: “Ggggggguhhhhhhh!”

  A liquid explosion burst violently forth, a geyser so powerful that it splashed back up out of the vessel. It went on and on, showing no signs of abating for what seemed like a very long time. In fact, the initial burst lasted for no more than half a minute. Harkness watched in fascination. How could such a slender body contain so much fluid?

  Christine now made a sound like a cow giving birth, reminding Harkness that the Princess doubtless needed relief quite as badly as Lady Emily had. “Your Highness,” he said, “let me help you.”

  He brought the other pot over to her, and assisted the Princess into position with her bottom over the opening, then yanked out the obstruction. The result was just as dramatic as when he had uncorked the Duchess. Christine tilted her head back and howled like a she-wolf, as a veritable fountain of fluid gushed forth. All the muscles in her belly were contracting violently at once. It felt to Christine as if the invisible giant was squeezing as if she were a wineskin from which he wished to force the last drop. After ten minutes of this over-enthusiastic evacuation, the contractions finally ceased, leaving her feeling empty, her legs watery and too weak to support her weight. She lowered herself shakily onto the chamber pot.

  Only then did she realize what had just happened. After a day and a night in the dungeon, Christine had already begun to become accustomed to being displayed in the nude, having her most intimate parts manhandled, and climaxing for the delectation of Master Harkness and Count Casimir. She had believed that she could sink no lower, and was now more or less immune from further humiliation. What new dishonor could they heap upon her that was greater than what she had already endured?

  But now, as she perched with her buttocks resting on the edge of the big chamber pot, Princess Christine discovered that she had not yet tasted the dregs of the bitter cup of degradation. She blushed in mortification when she imagined how she must have looked to Harkness, howling and spewing foulness like a maddened beast. Why was it not possible to die of shame? she wondered.

  One look at Emily told Christine that her lover was feeling much as she. Her skin was so fair that it made the scarlet of her blushing face even more pronounced. The pain in Emily’s eyes clutched at Christine’s heart. Not for the first time, and not for the last, she silently asked God how He could allow one of His innocent creatures to suffer so.

  Harkness had left them as soon as their spasms had ceased. He returned, pulling a cart on which rested a big wooden cask. “Now that you’re good and clean inside, I’m to make you the same outside,” Harkness said.

  He adjusted Emily’s chains, hanging the ones that went to her arms on a system of overhead pulleys, then tightening them to stretch her wrists out far to either side of her head, and hoisted her up until only the tips of her toes were on the ground, then did the same to Christine. He removed a big wooden bucket overflowing with water from the barrel.

  “This here water is from a spring what comes right up under the castle, ladies,” Harkness said. “It’s the purest water in the Kingdom for my money, and fit to wash any noble ever born.” With this recommendation, he tossed the full bucket onto the front of Lady Emily’s body, soaking her from head to foot.

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nbsp; She shrieked and danced around wildly, rattling her chains. “Ahhh! Ahhh! I’m freezing!”

  “Mayhap it is a bit cold,” Harkness admitted. He returned to the barrel, refilled the bucket and dumped it over the capering Emily’s head from behind, sending her into even more frantic gyrations and lending strength to her already impressively shrill screams.

  Harkness returned to the big cask, reached inside and pulled out a long-handled wooden brush. Both girls recognized it, having often seen such brushes in the stables, where they were used to curry the horses.

  Harkness approached Lady Emily, brush in hand. She backed away as far as the chains would allow, which was not very far at all.

  “Please Master Harkness, surely you intend not to scrub me with that, do you?” Emily asked. “The boar-bristle brush never was meant to cleanse human skin.”

  Harkness seized a hank of her golden hair, and drew Emily to him with powerful arms. “This here brush will get you clean as a whistle, My Lady, never you fear,” he said. He proceeded to apply the stiff bristles to the left side of her neck. Emily twisted in his grasp, and tried to pull away as soon as she felt the brush touch her skin. “Please don’t, Master Harkness,” she begged.