To Train A Queen Read online

  The two men looked much as they had before, but Lady Arabella did not. Indeed, she was nearly unrecognizable as the proud aristocratic beauty the soldiers had delivered to Master Harkness only that morning.

  Lady Arabella had been deprived of the remnants of her ruined gown, and was now completely nude. Her lovely body, with her high breasts, wasp waist and long elegant legs, was covered with marks reflecting various sorts of mistreatment. There were very many sinuous, raised red lines marring the whiteness of her skin, especially across her proud bosom and flat belly. These marks Christine took to be the product of a whip, and she did not doubt that it was a far harsher instrument than the three-bladed leather one Harkness had used that morning to correct Emily.

  Christine at first thought she saw something glinting in the uneven light around her aunt’s nipples, then decided that she had been mistaken. When the men brought Arabella into better light, Christine saw that she had been right the first time. Tiny half-circles of gold could be seen on her brown nipples, the visible portion of rings through her flesh. The sight made Christine’s eyes open wide, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to contain her cry of shock. Lady Emily, who saw Arabella’s new decoration at the same moment, cried out, “Sweet Jesus in heaven, Arabella! What have they done to you?”

  Count Casimir smiled. “I see you admire my gift to the noble Lady, my dear. Jewelry has the power to enhance even so beautiful a woman as My Lady Arabella, do you not agree?”

  Emily said nothing, but the question stung Christine into replying. “Only a foul monster would think to do that to such loveliness,” she snarled. “For this alone you deserve the reward your infernal master shall give you: an infinity of torment roasting in Lucifer’s flames.”

  Casimir nodded as though she had complimented him. “My dear Princess, there is no need for jealousy, merely because I have given Lady Arabella this gift and not you. I have more of these rings…” he reached over to Arabella’s breast, and took one between his thumb and forefinger, “and I pledge on my honor that you shall have ones as fine as these, or finer.” He lifted and gave a cruel twist to the loop of gold, drawing a cry of pain from Arabella and compelling her to rise to the tips of her toes.

  “Release me please, I pray you, sir!” Arabella gasped. It was obvious that the ordeals at Harkness’ hands had been effective in cowing her. She was no longer the fearless noblewoman she had been.

  “Beg me humbly, slave, and perhaps I will grant this boon,” Casimir said. He turned the ring again and Lady Arabella shrieked, her chains clinking as she clutched at his arm.

  “Eeeee! Your slave begs you to show mercy, My Lord!” she screamed.

  He contemptuously opened his fingers, releasing his hold on the ring, and Arabella dropped to her knees, sobbing. Casimir did not waste a glance on her, resuming his conversation with Princess Christine as if nothing had happened.

  “But you have not seen the noblest part of the gift,” he continued. “It is said by wiser men than I that true perfection can be found only in the number three, with the Holy Trinity our exemplar. There is a third piece that completes my gift to Lady Arabella.” He reached down and gave the sobbing Arabella’s hair a sharp pull. “Stand forth and display my present to the Lady Emily and Princess Christine, worthless slut,” he ordered.

  Lady Arabella slowly stood up, and then reached her hands down to reveal another little golden circlet.

  Christine stared, unable to tear her eyes away. This morning the Lady Arabella had been one of the most prominent noblewomen in the kingdom; the wife of a Duke and sister of the Queen, universally admired for her beauty and respected for her intelligence and courage. A few hours later she was the slave of the man who had ordered the murder of her husband, degraded and broken. She automatically began a silent prayer for God to help poor Arabella, and then stopped. God had done nothing to protect Arabella from Count Casimir, as He had done nothing for Emily or herself, though none of them have done anything to deserve what had befallen them. She looked up at the ceiling, the beginnings of resentment awakening within.

  What kind of all-powerful Deity would allow such injustice? Perhaps a priest could explain it, but she did not think so. For the first time in her life, she was no longer certain about the ultimate nature of the universe. For the first time when she thought of God, Princess Christine knew doubt.

  Chapter Nine

  Casimir was not content with the display of Lady Arabella’s new golden trinkets. “As I mean to instruct these inexperienced girls all the ways of pleasure, I shall require the assistance of a mature slut like yourself, My Lady,” Casimir said. “Show the Princess and the Duchess how a lusty bitch pleasures herself.”

  Lady Arabella ducked her head and said, “At once, My Lord.” She blushed deeply as she sank down on her heels, with her legs spread wide, facing Christine and Emily.

  “Pay close attention to this demonstration, girls. If I suspect you are not, I shall have you ringed like Lady Arabella this very night,” Casimir warned.

  Christine and Emily had already been brought off by Harkness themselves, and had each seen the other masturbated to orgasm, but they had not seen a display like this one. Lady Arabella was not simply being manipulated by another, as they had been. She was exciting herself with her own hand, voluntarily (on orders of Casimir, true, but still she could have refused) committing the mortal sin of self-abuse.

  Sin it may have been, but certainly it was a fascinating performance. Lady Arabella’s hand slid up and down and her fingers gradually began to gleam in the firelight. As she continued, she closed her eyes, threw her head back and moaned, softly at first, then with less and less restraint. Christine could not tear her eyes away.

  When it appeared Arabella was on the verge of an eruption, Count Casimir’s voice snapped out like a whip: “Enough! Cease and desist, slut!”

  Arabella opened her eyes and turned her head up to face him, her hand still stroking. “But sir,” she protested, “I am but a moment away…”

  “Stop on the instant, whore, or we shall return to the table of Master Harkness to renew your acquaintance with cold steel pincers and hot iron bars,” Casimir said.

  With a gasp, Arabella jerked her hand out from between her thighs as if she had in fact been burned. “No please, that is needless! See how I obey, My Lord!” she said hastily.

  He frowned. “I see you were slow in compliance,” he said, “but this one time, I shall overlook it. Now you shall demonstrate a new skill for your nieces. I see that you have wetted your fingers well. You shall apply them to your rear, and prepare the way for my entry.”

  Lady Arabella stared in astonishment and disgust. “What? Surely I do not hear you aright, My Lord! Have I not revealed to you all I know of my Lord’s treasure caches? Have I not obeyed your every command? Can you truly mean to now misuse me in so unnatural a way?”

  “You will find on longer acquaintance with me, My Lady, that I mean exactly what I say, neither more nor less,” Casimir answered. He turned to Harkness. “Master, it appears that Lady Arabella is curious to discover what else you might be able to do with her in your dungeon. Let us not leave her in suspense, but take her back to slake this inquisitiveness.”

  “No!’ Arabella shrieked. “No, My Lord, I beg you! Forgive my unthinking words,” she urged. She leaned forward and reached back. “It is my pleasure to do as you will, My Lord Count.”

  He seized her hair and pulled her head back, so that she was obliged to stare straight up at his grim countenance. “You try my patience, My Lady,” he said, in a voice heavy with menace. “That is a perilous game. You would be wise not to do so again.”

  “Yes…” Arabella gasped. “I mean, no, My Lord. It shall not happen again.”

  “That would be well for you,” Casimir responded. He released her hair. “Now make sure you ready yourself well for me.”

  After perhaps five minutes of preparation, the Count said, “Enough. You are ready.” He opened the front of his breeches, allowing hi
s rampant tool to spring free, then knelt down behind Lady Arabella, who had withdrawn her hand and now crouched on all fours.

  “No, My Lady,” Casimir said, as he laid his stiffness in the dale between her upraised globes, “Take not your hand away. You must yourself direct me inside.”

  There was a soft “Oh!” from Arabella, but nothing more by way of protest to this further refinement of her humiliation. She dutifully reached back with one hand to grasp him about halfway along his length.

  Christine now understood why Casimir had ordered his beautiful captive to participate in this way (other than the enjoyment he obviously took from her further humiliation, that is), for now he had both hands free to spread Arabella’s fine fleshy mounds wide apart, allowing him greater access to the object of his perverted lust.

  “Now, My Lady,” he said. “Put it in now.”

  “As… as My Lord wills,” Arabella answered in a shaky voice. Her hand drew him towards the entrance to her rear passage, and gingerly began to force it through the undersized opening. She gasped, but she did not dare to pull away. When perhaps an inch of Casimir had penetrated her, he said, “I thank you for your help, My Lady. Now you may take your hand away and I shall do the rest. Brace yourself well,” he warned, as Arabella released him and brought her hand back down, so that she now crouched on all fours, her back arched to receive him.

  Casimir took Lady Arabella by the hips and drove forward slowly but irresistibly. He paid no heed to her frenzied shrieks, chatting as he possessed her.

  “Did not the late Lord Ormund take pleasure from you in this wise, Lady Arabella?” he inquired as though he was asking her about the weather or the prospects for deer hunting.

  “Eeee! Eeeee! No, no…. he would never… ieeee! Have… done such… a thing… oooooh!” she stuttered between cries of pain.

  “Ahh,” Casimir sighed when he had at last buried his entire length in her. “Then it is my good fortune he was so foolish, for that means I am the first to open this way, and I can assure you, My Lady, that you grip me as tightly as any girl I have sampled, and that is not a few.”

  If he had been expecting Arabella to express appreciation for this compliment, Count Casimir must have been disappointed. Instead, she turned to face him, and said, “Please sir, I pray to God that you finish with me, for I must surely die if you continue to use me so.”

  Casimir chuckled. “How you noble bitches do go on!” he said. “Certes, a little of this will do you no harm. Indeed, My Lady, I foresee a time not far in your future when you shall have learned to take pleasure from this. Perhaps you may even do so in some measure now.” He reached down between her legs, flicking with a fingernail. She responded quickly to his experienced handling, and in a surprisingly short time she was again as aroused as she had been a few minutes before. Soon, Arabella was moving her haunches around in little circles in response to the strokes of his fingers.

  Arabella looked down at the hand between her thighs, her eyes wide in disbelief. “No, no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You cannot make me… ohh… ohh…”

  Casimir started to move his hips again, slowly drawing back until only the very end remained in the narrow tunnel, then just as deliberately filling her up again, all the while teasing with his hand between her legs. The effect of this double process on Arabella was strange. Groans of pain turned into what sounded and looked to Christine like sighs of ecstasy, and then back again, as Lady Arabella’s body sent her mixed and powerful signals. As Christine watched, both riveted and horrified, Arabella writhed and shuddered in a huge orgasm, moaning, even as he continued to penetrate the fastness where no man should ever have dared go.

  “So you see, My Lady,” Casimir remarked, as he continued to stroke in and out with the regularity of a pendulum, “when the slut is as lusty as yourself, she can easily find pleasure while taken in this fashion.”

  Arabella did not respond to this sally, patiently enduring on her hands and knees, remaining silent but for occasional sudden inhalations when the Count changed the angle slightly and renewed the signals of pain. He made her climax with his hand again before he finally brought the assault to an end, digging his fingers into the flesh of her thighs, bellowing wordlessly as he exploded.

  When he was done, Count Casimir slipped his softening tool out of Arabella, rose, and stepped back.

  “That was a fine gallop, My Lady, and a good lesson for young Christine and Emily,” he said. He came around to stand before her as she crouched on the stone floor.

  Arabella looked up at Casimir, her face without expression. Christine could almost read her thoughts. What was this one more dishonor, after all? “Whatever you say, My Lord,” she said dully.

  “You were quite an entertaining fuck, Lady Arabella,” Casimir said, “and I doubt not that you would be a better one still, were I able to give you the benefit of some training, but I fear we must both forgo future pleasures together.”

  “What mean you, My Lord?” Arabella asked. “Would you murder me now, after you have used me to sate your unnatural lusts? I would thank you for it, sir, as I desire not to prolong a life which has become no more than a constant torment, and I would gladly see what lies beyond in the next world, though it be no more than a final end to my suffering.”

  Casimir smiled. “My dear Lady, I have no designs on your life. What a sad pass it would be if the world was to lose a woman so beautiful of face and form, and especial one so responsive to the hand and the cock. No, My Lady, you are but relocating on this mortal sphere, departing this Kingdom to begin anew elsewhere.” He waited for her question, but Arabella would not give him the satisfaction of asking it.

  At last he shrugged, and said, “I was prepared to take over management of the Duchy of Harrowdale, and return it to you and Duke Ormund once I became satisfied of his faithfulness to the new regime. But when he offered violence to my men, I considered that he had raised his hand against my person, and by law both his life and properties were forfeit to the Crown. As there may be some who consider you proper claimant to the Duchy, although there is not the least support in the law for it, I see you, My Lady, as a possible source of future dissension for so long as you remain here. So, I have arranged for you to be sold to an agent who will, I believe, take you down to the flesh markets of North Afrique, to be sold for a price perhaps thrice what he has paid me. Then you will find your new home in the harem of some Berber sheik, and will no longer be a threat to my claim to the Duchy of Harrowdale.”

  On hearing these words, Lady Arabella pressed her hands together as if in prayer and cried out, “Please sir, please kill me, rather! My death will serve you as well.”

  He shook his head. “But it would not. For to be of full effect, your death must be as public as possible, to leave no shadow of doubt that you live no more. But such an execution could excite trouble among the nobility, so I would not have it. Instead, you will be seen riding off in a fine carriage with an escort my men and in the best of health, and that will be the last you are seen hereabouts.”

  “I will tell the truth, then, unless you bind and gag me,” Arabella said, “and make known to all your pretense.”

  “I think not, My Lady,” Casimir said with a sad smile. “Before you go, you shall be given a strong draught that will fuddle so that you will not be able to speak sensibly, and you will be in any event kept well away from the idly curious by your escort. I bid you a pleasant journey, Lady Arabella. Farewell.” With that, he turned and strode away. The Lady Arabella cast herself on the stone floor and gave herself wholly over to grief.

  Chapter Ten

  Not long after Count Casimir’s departure, a squad of soldiers led by their Captain (not Boynce, this time, but another man Christine did not know) came and took the unresisting Arabella away with them. Master Harkness left them soon after that, and they were alone again in the dungeon.

  Christine thought she was far too downhearted about poor Lady Arabella to be interested in making love to Emily, and the convers
e seemed to be true as well. They clung to each other and wept bitter tears, their grief leaving no room at first for any other emotion.

  Christine had been gently stroking Emily’s soft, golden hair to comfort her. At some point, without her quite knowing when, her hands had left Emily’s head and had begun to slide along the smooth warmth of her flanks. Then she noticed the wonderful way her friend’s full breasts pressed against her own, and she realized that she had become aroused without being aware of it. She felt a stab of guilt, thinking about her own pleasures while poor, poor Arabella had been condemned to a fate worse than death.

  She decided to admit to Emily what a terrible, unfeeling person she was, and to apologize. Just as she was about to speak, Emily lowered her head to Christine’s neck and began to kiss her. “Christine, sweet, sweet Christine, how I love you,” she mumbled.