Possessing Allura Read online

  ‘What’s your secret, Tesotoro, did you give her a little barbarian injection to tame her?’ she would hear them taunting. So he was a barbarian; that would explain the blond hair, though it did not explain how he’d come into the service of a noble of her civilized country. She would find this out, one way or another.

  Apparently word got back to the baron about Tesotoro, and finally he came to her, exceedingly angry. ‘Did you spread it for him?’ he demanded, grabbing her by the back of her neck.

  ‘No,’ she wailed, ‘I swear it.’

  He cuffed her. ‘You’re a lying cunt,’ he spat. ‘The rumors fly all over the castle. You sniff after him like a bitch in heat.’

  ‘It is nothing,’ she promised, tears in her eyes. ‘Nothing at all.’

  He stared at her, scowling. ‘I will punish you for this. Regardless of what you did or did not do, an example must be set.’

  ‘But that isn’t fair,’ she protested, employing the phrase she so often found herself using to such little effect as of late.

  He pushed her to her knees and thrust his cock between her lips. ‘I won’t be made a fool of, Allura,’ he vowed, the princess sucking obediently, grateful for the chance to appease him. ‘This will cost you dungeon time,’ he informed her gruffly. ‘Three days.’

  Allura sucked more eagerly in an effort to change his mind, but as he ejaculated in the back of her throat, compelling her to swallow his copious issue, he remained steadfast. ‘It won’t be pleasant but you’ll survive it, just like Saraveeta.’

  ‘Is that what this is,’ she asked when she’d swallowed his seed, ‘a shoddy way to win revenge on behalf of your new slut? Maybe you should have married her and not me.’

  The baron frowned, but instead of being angry he seemed amused. ‘Do I detect a note of jealousy?’

  ‘You detect contempt, Montreico, which is all you deserve.’

  The baron tucked away his deflated penis. ‘Rodolfo will escort you to your new quarters, my dear,’ he said mildly. ‘Do give my regards to the rats and the spiders.’

  ‘I hate you with all my heart!’ she cried. ‘I despise you more than you will ever know!’

  ‘Oh well,’ he shrugged, ‘I suppose I’ll have to live with that, won’t I?’

  He left her alone to wait for Rodolfo, the man looking stiff and somber as he came to fetch her. ‘I’ll have to shackle you.’ He held out the heavy chain, clutched in his fists.

  ‘Rodolfo, take pity on me,’ she pleaded, lowering her face to his feet, her golden hair draped over his boots.

  ‘Princess, do not make a spectacle of yourself.’

  ‘But this is only between us.’ She looked up at him. ‘I know what you feel for me. I can see it in your eyes. Why should we not share a life together?’

  ‘Give me your wrists,’ he ordered.

  She held them up. ‘Rodolfo, I do have feelings for you.’

  ‘As you do for Tesotoro and whoever else happens to be holding your leash at the time.’

  Allura blushed. He was accusing her of being a slut or a treacherous user or men. She wished she understood how it all worked; both were true, and neither were. ‘But Rodolfo,’ she decided to appeal to his ambition, ‘do you not see the opportunities for a man like you? I’ve watched you. I know you chafe under the baron’s yoke. I can give you power beyond your wildest dreams.’

  The shackles closed tightly and heavily on her wrists. ‘You will be quiet,’ the man instructed, ‘or face the consequences.’

  ‘You mean there is something worse than the dungeon?’ She laughed darkly. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘Arms in the air,’ he commanded. ‘On your feet.’ Allura stood, holding aloft her chained wrists. ‘There is always something worse.’ He produced an iron collar with a heavy padlock, and it weighed low on Allura’s shoulders as he snapped it shut.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ she whispered timorously as the metal locked.

  ‘Put your hands behind my head,’ Rodolfo commanded, ignoring her words, then he abruptly pulled her tight against him and kissed her, his tongue invading her mouth, and she had no choice but to stand there and let him have his way.

  By the time he released her she was panting. ‘Rodolfo, don’t stop…’ she pleaded in hushed, breathless tones.

  ‘I cannot go on like this,’ he stated, his voice a low growl. ‘The temptation overwhelms me. That is why I must put this on you without delay.’ Allura beheld the iron belt, designed to fit about her naked middle, sealing off her sexual parts to any not privileged with the key. ‘By order of the baron you will wear this until freed from the dungeon. None will remove it but he, none will have you till he commands it.’

  She swallowed nervously. ‘But what if I have to pee?’ she asked, the first foolish question that came to mind.

  ‘There is a grate in the front,’ he informed her. ‘You will urinate through it. This is for your own good, princess. You would be mightily abused in the dungeon without it.’

  ‘But… but won’t I still be vulnerable?’

  ‘Your ass and your mouth will not be guarded,’ he confirmed, and only now did the full implications of her sentence begin to sink in. Maybe she wouldn’t survive. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to.

  ‘Rodolfo, please make love to me first,’ she begged shamelessly. ‘Let me go down there with the memory of your cock inside me.’

  ‘The belt,’ he said dismissively, ‘I must put it on. The baron holds the only key.’

  ‘Don’t lock me away,’ she rubbed her front against him, ‘not yet.’ She told herself it was all part of her stratagem, to keep herself free as long as possible, but there were needs in her soul, shameless needs, and if the baron could or would not fill them then she must look elsewhere.

  ‘Bitch!’ He pushed her, flinging her to the floor. ‘Why do you torment me?’

  Allura had no shame. She was desperate. ‘Fuck me,’ she begged, but Rodolfo shook with rage, fists clenched. Never had she seen a man so divided against himself; a man so determined to fight his own desires. ‘Please,’ she instinctively sought and found the key word, ‘master.’ And she succeeded, the baron’s right-hand man falling on her as if indeed she were a slave.

  ‘I’ll fuck you straight to hell,’ he cursed, and she fought for air as the man’s erection impaled her smoothly and fully. She felt so small beneath him, so vulnerable.

  Over and over he told her what a treacherous bitch she was, but he never once slowed his assault, Allura pounded into submission. She may have begged for it, but now it was being imposed and she tipped into the orgasm she craved. If only she could see tomorrow. If only she could feel again some sense of control over her own destiny.

  ‘Clean yourself,’ he commanded, rising from her and finding a rag. ‘Time is wasting.’ As best she could with shackled wrists and no water she wiped away the evidence of their union from between her thighs. ‘Legs apart,’ he ordered as he tugged her arms above her head again, and the belt creaked as he put it on her. It was snugger than she’d hoped, and in one way it gave her a feeling of safety and protection, but when the mechanism locked she shuddered with dread.

  ‘We have to do the ankles too,’ he said, kneeling at her feet, and Allura saw the ankle shackles had some chain between them, enough for her to shuffle along but no more.

  ‘Rodolfo,’ she asked softly, ‘will you come and visit me?’

  ‘I have many duties, princess. I can make no promises.’ His answer, cold and dispassionate, frightened her. Was he writing her off as too much trouble to be bothered with?

  ‘I wish to see Saraveeta,’ she said, ‘before I am taken below.’

  ‘That is not authorized, princess.’

  ‘Then make it so, unless you would like me to share with the baron what has just occurred between us.’

  He cocked his head warily. ‘Blackmail?’ he mused.
‘I warn you, you are on unsafe ground.’

  ‘Rodolfo,’ she persisted, ‘grant my request and I shall drop the matter forever.’

  He pursed his lips, thoughtful. ‘I shall take you at your word,’ he decided.

  ‘Thank you.’ He would never be more than a fool, she thought, the kind of man who would turn down the world on a platter for some intangible sense of honor.

  Saraveeta came to her wearing a dress of red and a gold wrap around her shoulder and below one arm.

  ‘You look more and more like slave royalty every day,’ said Allura.

  The girl touched her new collar, solid gold, a little defensively. ‘The baron is pleased to treat me this way. I have no say in the matter.’

  ‘Even when it comes to punishing me?’

  ‘I took my revenge already,’ said a much more subdued Saraveeta. ‘I bear you no more ill will. You may consider yourself forgiven.’

  Allura was instantly suspicious. ‘What’s come over you?’ she demanded. ‘Is something going on between you and the baron?’

  The girl remained expressionless, neither warm nor cold. ‘It’s nothing I could explain to someone like you, no offense. You called for me, Allura. I assume you have some purpose in mind?’

  ‘Do you mean am I going to plead for you to intervene with your new friend, or whatever he is, to keep me from the dungeon? No, anything but.’ Actually that was precisely her plan, but seeing the renewed fortunes of her old friend only made her the more determined to endure her own sufferings with pride. ‘I was simply going to ask you to get word to my uncle that I am doing well.’

  ‘And are you doing well, Allura?’

  She held up her chains, jangling them. ‘Never better. This iron jewelry is ever so much more practical than gold, don’t you think?’

  ‘I think,’ Saraveeta replied grimly, ‘that you have been through too much since your arrival and that the baron has no business putting you in the dungeon.’

  Now it was Allura’s turn to be surprised. ‘You would defend me after I had you thrown in a dungeon?’

  ‘We must all grow as people, Allura. If we keep on passing the same bad experiences back and forth we will never overcome hate.’ Saraveeta pulled a tiny vial from the folds of her dress. ‘This is a drug, Allura, it will dull the pain for a while and make the transition easier.’

  The princess allowed Saraveeta to put it to her lips, and almost immediately she felt the effects. The room seemed more distant, her heart laboring in her chest.

  ‘Saraveeta…’ Allura slurred the name of her friend, ‘will you hug me now… and let me tell you… I’m sorry?’ Allura felt her consciousness slipping away; she heard voices, Saraveeta’s reassuring touch, saw faces blurred and colorful.

  Two of the baron’s men carried her, one holding her legs, the other underneath her arms. She wondered if she was heavy for them with all her chains. Would they ache in the morning from the strain or did they do this sort of thing all the time? Strange the things that go through a person’s head in such bizarre circumstances.

  ‘It’s cold,’ Allura complained as they wound down the ancient, spiral stone steps to the threatening world below. ‘I’ll catch my death down here.’

  The guards chuckled. ‘Ain’t much by the way of fancy fireplaces down here,’ said one, tall and thin like a reed.

  ‘Or good candlelight, neither,’ added the second, who seemed as squat as a teakettle with copper teeth.

  Their shadows grew longer and more jagged, and at the bottom level the teakettle thrust her into the arms of the reed and took a burning torch from a bracket on the wall. ‘Hey, she’s too heavy for me alone,’ the reed complained.

  Allura giggled, thinking it was funny to see them argue, because to her they looked like characters from some silly fairytale.

  ‘Let’s just get the shackles off and put her on all fours. She needs to get used to it.’

  ‘Good thinking.’ The reed opened the various locks, removed the iron bonds and began kicking her behind. ‘Get along, little doggie.’

  The stone floor was damp and slimy, her palms slipped and she slumped on her front. ‘Whoops,’ she mumbled, wondering why her arms and legs wouldn’t work.

  ‘Hey, that’s the princess,’ the teakettle whistled with some alarm. ‘You want to get us impaled?’

  ‘She ain’t no princess down here.’ The reed kicked at her. ‘She’s dungeon meat like the rest. Anyway, what you think the baron sent her down here for?’

  ‘Good point,’ the kettle acknowledged. ‘The only thing I don’t get is why they sent her down drunk.’

  ‘They’re royalty. How should we know why they do what they do?’

  ‘Spoken like a true philosopher.’

  Now they were both shoving their boots into her ribcage, trying to get her up to her knees. She itched beneath the iron belt, feeling the pressure of their feet.

  ‘Come on, dungeon trash,’ said the kettle.

  ‘Move it, slut,’ echoed the reed, and Allura did her best, although it finally took one of the men holding her hair like a leash to keep her straight. They continued down a long dank corridor to a heavy wooden door at the end. The stench was overpowering now and Allura nearly wretched. She could feel the drug wearing off already, and by the time the door was opened her senses were once again acute.

  Inside the vaulted, stone-walled chamber she saw various tortured prisoners, all female. One, in a torn peasant dress, hung on an X-shaped cross, her ankles and wrists tightly bound. Both breasts were bared and welted with the marks of a heavy whip. Her eyes followed the newcomers but she appeared too terrified to speak.

  In another corner a small woman crouched naked in a cage. She was clutching a crust of bread, green with mold, tearing off occasional crumbs with her teeth. Her short black hair was matted, and a heavy iron collar was around her throat, attached to a chain that was fixed to the wall outside the cage. She crouched on straw that stank of urine.

  Another woman was bound over a barrel, her buttocks red and twitching, as if from a recent beating. She was quite large, with a head of red curls that lay disheveled in the soiled straw upon the stone floor of the cell.

  ‘What’s this then?’ the grizzly, bearded dungeon keeper asked as the soldiers presented the naked blonde. The shabbily dressed, claw-fingered hunchback of a man barely looked up from his work, which involved clamping nasty iron jaws onto the breasts of a naked, gagged girl. She looked to be eighteen or so, and was tied down on a wooden table.

  ‘No less a person than the baron’s new wife,’ said the reed, who no longer looked quite so bizarre, now that the drug had worn off. ‘And the crown princess to boot.’

  ‘Boil my balls in oil,’ the dungeon keeper grumbled. ‘Can’t that whelp handle his own woman problems? Can’t he see I’m up to my eyeballs down here?’

  ‘Apparently she’s tougher than she looks,’ said the teakettle, who now resembled nothing more than a squat guard with an overbite.

  ‘Is that right?’ the keeper asked Allura directly, the fingers of one hand deep in the pussy of the suffering girl, making her moan amidst her tears. ‘You a difficult little cunt to manage? Reckon so,’ he answered himself. ‘Never met a highborn bitch that wasn’t. So what’s she down for, the works?’

  ‘Everything but the pussy,’ the reed confirmed. ‘And you’ve got three days to do it in.’

  ‘No pussy, you say?’ the keeper grumbled. ‘So how am I supposed to do my job if I can’t get in her workings good and proper?’

  ‘Ass and mouth are open.’

  ‘I should hope so,’ the keeper snorted. ‘Can’t tell me to break a bitch and not have those to work with.’

  ‘Where you want her, then?’

  ‘String her up over yonder. And crank those chains for me while you’re at it. Get her swinging for me, if you don’t mind.’

  The
two guards dragged Allura to a set of chains hanging from the ceiling at eye level. Clasping one shut on each wrist, they worked the crank on the wall gradually lifting her to tiptoes and finally off her feet entirely.

  ‘A lovely sight.’ The teakettle gave her a push, letting her swing.

  ‘Anything else?’ asked the reed, sounding a little anxious to get out of the ominous place and back to the light of day and fresh air.

  ‘We’ll leave you to it then,’ said the kettle, looking equally keen to get out of the dungeon.

  ‘No…’ Allura cried, but to no avail as the two guards, tall and short, slammed the heavy wooden door behind them.

  ‘Hush,’ the keeper ordered, ‘or I’ll gag you.’

  ‘Please, master,’ gasped the pale young woman with the iron jaws on her breasts, ‘I’ll tell you all you want to know. I had three accomplices. One worked at the inn and the other two—’

  The man brutally shoved a gag in her mouth. ‘Demon’s balls,’ he grumbled, ‘now I remember why I shut you up before. You talk too much.’

  She shook her head, sobbing; begging frantically with her eyes, but the loathsome man had eyes only for her pain, and the way it made her youthful body contort and writhe.

  ‘Confound my desiccated old cock,’ he grumbled, and Allura watched him masturbate, his eyes bulging and his jaw tightening, using the suffering of the girl on the table as an aphrodisiac.

  ‘You, royal cunt,’ he growled at Allura, ‘tell me something to make me harder.’ She stared, openmouthed. ‘Do it,’ he threatened, ‘or I’ll bite these little beauties clean off.’ He had his gnarled fingers on the screws of the jaws.

  ‘But what shall I tell you?’ she cried. ‘I have no idea what you want to hear.’

  ‘Tell me what you’re willing to do to keep me from skewering your nipples with needles.’

  Allura hung helplessly, clenching and unclenching her fists. ‘You cannot do that to me,’ she challenged. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’

  ‘Sure I do,’ he said glibly. ‘You’re a three-day fix it job. No access to the cunt. Lydia, any reason I can’t skewer nipples on a three day job?’