Possessing Allura Read online

  None were worthy of her, and she was systematically proving her case. This Raysar, whoever he was, would be no exception. In fact, she would see to it his humiliation exceeded that of all the others combined.

  ‘Very well, Meksior, I shall deign to see him. Send him in to me at once.’

  There was a judicious pause, followed by the clearing of the vizier’s throat. ‘Princess, I am not sure it would be proper for the prince to meet you here… in your private chambers.’

  Allura stormed to the doors and flung them open. ‘Fetch him this instant, you imbecile,’ she commanded to his cringing face. ‘Or I shall have you drawn and quartered.’

  ‘At once, princess.’ He cowered behind his purple robes, nearly tripping over himself in his effort to make it back to the stairs. A few moments later he returned with a high-strung young man, about six foot tall, thin and blonde with nice enough features and white teeth. The fact that he was uncomfortable meeting his potential bride in her bedroom was more than a little obvious, and she could hardly wait till he saw Veeta in the next room.

  ‘Leave us,’ the princess said to the vizier, denying him the chance to conduct a proper introduction. Then without further ado she closed the chamber doors, sealing them both inside. Let the games begin, she thought.

  ‘Princess,’ the count bowed awkwardly, ‘if you will allow me the honor of introducing myself, I am—’

  ‘I know who you are,’ she snapped. ‘And we both know why you’re here. I’m to evaluate you as a potential husband. In order to do this, I’ll need to consider many things. Not least of which, I’ll need to know how you fuck.’

  His features whitened to the shade of a ghost. ‘B-begging your pardon, princess?’

  ‘Veeta,’ she called out, ‘get out here on the double,’ and the girl scurried into the room, falling to her knees before her mistress, then without being told she lowered her head to the marble floor and began to kiss her mistress’ slipper.

  ‘This is my slave girl,’ Allura explained, ‘and I would like you to fuck her while I watch.’

  Raysar’s mouth hung open in shock.

  ‘Well you can’t expect me to lay for you myself. I’m a virgin. So you’ll fuck her in place of me and that will give me some sense of your skills. Bearing in mind, of course, that this is an owned bitch whom you may treat with as much brutality as you like whereas I am a princess, whom you will have to worship on bended knee.’

  Raysar swallowed hard, sweat beading his forehead. ‘I believe this to have been a mistake, princess. I regret any inconvenience,’ he bowed, his retreating back colliding with the door.

  ‘Count, surely you are not afraid of a mere slave?’ A simple snap of her finger was all it took to set the highly trained girl in motion. Without hesitation Veeta lowered herself to her belly and began to crawl to him. Count Raysar, mesmerized by the sight of her undulating, captive flesh, marked as it was with the whip, decided to wait and see what would happen.

  ‘Master,’ said the slave, her face at his feet, ‘the slave Veeta begs to give pleasure.’

  Raysar stiffened as she began to kiss and lick his boot, and Allura suppressed a smile as she watched the swell in his breeches, indicating that indeed he was enjoying the servile behavior.

  ‘On your knees, Veeta,’ she ordered. ‘Show our guest what you are good for.’

  Veeta knelt up, breasts thrust out, back straight. She was a sex slave, which meant there was no mistaking what she must do. This, too, was an act the noble’s daughter had balked at when first she was made Allura’s bondservant. Never would the princess forget the look on the sweet girl’s face when she was first pushed to her knees in front of their mutual friends, pressed by the princess into service for the occasion.

  ‘I would rather die!’ pretty Saraveeta had screamed.

  ‘We shall do you one better,’ Allura pronounced, sentencing her to a week in the dungeon, a place which makes even the strongest soul beg for death. Chained and naked, the girl was left to lie upon the cold stones in the darkness. Shivering and terrified she could only watch as beady red eyes peered at her, the sharp-toothed rodents waiting for a moment of weakness on her part. There were men in the dark dungeon, too, hungry for bread, and even hungrier for the tight channel between a girl’s legs.

  For a while Veeta managed to keep herself safe in a corner, out of the range of the shackled prisoners and the rats alike. But then, out of sheer exhaustion, she’d fallen asleep, only to awake feeling something nuzzling between her legs. It was one of the rats, pushing its snout deep inside her sex.

  Veeta scurried to the men, begging protection, and knowing that they had her over a barrel, they made her serve them, compelling her to lick clean their filthy feet and cocks before being allowed to lie with them. For the rest of her sentence she was plowed fore and aft, without respite.

  Upon being released Veeta showed she had learned her lesson by immediately begging to suck the cock of the young man she’d spurned earlier, but Allura denied her this privilege, compelling her instead to suck the cocks of the stable hands.

  ‘Princess, I must protest,’ Raysar objected, though he seemed in no particular hurry either to continue his exit or to hinder the naked girl from exposing his penis and sucking it between her lips.

  ‘Feel free to ejaculate in her mouth,’ Allura offered graciously. ‘Veeta swallows whatever’s she’s told.’

  ‘I… I really can’t abide this,’ the count stuttered, even as he grasped the girl’s face between his hands to increase the friction. ‘By the gods… this isn’t right.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to shoot off already?’ Allura mocked. ‘Surely if you were loving me you’d have more staying power?’

  He flushed red. ‘Get off me,’ he said, not too convincingly. ‘Stop this at once.’

  ‘Down slave,’ ordered Allura, and Veeta stopped sucking, released him from her mouth and sat back on her heels, just like the good little animal she was.

  ‘By the heavens,’ he moaned, knees shaking, and just as Allura had hoped it was too late for the young man; he was going to ejaculate.

  With both hands gripping his erection the count erupted, the thick stream pelting the tummy, breasts and face of the kneeling slave girl. Veeta made no move to shield herself, nor did she close her eyes as yet more coated her brow.

  ‘This isn’t possible,’ he gasped, looking down at the straining tip of his expended organ, but Allura was more interested in the sperm that had dripped onto the floor.

  ‘Lick it up, slave,’ she commanded, and Veeta bowed to all fours, lapping at the sticky discharge. ‘What do you think, slave; would he make a good husband or no?’ Veeta continued to lick the floor, the question rhetorical, for she would continue with the task until told explicitly to stop.

  ‘I do not think you are in need of a husband, princess,’ complained the affronted Raysar, ‘but rather a keeper.’

  Allura made no effort to hide her contempt, or her amusement. ‘Be gone, little man.’ She waved her hand. ‘Before I grow angry with you.’

  He left in a huff, not bothering to fasten his trousers. Pity the poor servant who had to point that out to him downstairs.

  ‘And that, my dear Veeta,’ Allura collapsed on her bed, exhausted from her labors, ‘is how you handle a suitor.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘But uncle,’ whined the princess, having been summoned by her uncle to his study, ‘I don’t wish to see another suitor today. I am tired.’

  The Grand Duke Fortragian fretted visibly behind his thick white mustache and muttonchops, the weight of his responsibilities heavy upon his heart. ‘Grand niece,’ he pleaded wearily, ‘must you fight me in everything? Have you not had your way in all things? Even more so now that your dear father is passed?’

  Allura pouted sulkily. ‘I haven’t gotten my way at all. It’s only because of you that I am entertainin
g these ridiculous suitors in the first place. The least you can do is let me meet them where and when I choose.’

  ‘And with all the others, yes, that was true. But Baron Montreico must be the exception.’

  Allura looked upon the graying, wrinkled man before her, a fraction of what he had once been in his handsome blue uniform. How easy it would be to defeat his will, and yet it was true that as the soon-to-be queen she must learn to be gracious to her subjects. ‘Very well,’ she raised her nose haughtily, ‘I shall deign to meet him in the audience hall. He may have ten minutes, no longer.’

  ‘Ten minutes,’ he nodded, obviously relieved. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Do not thank me so quickly. I merely said I would meet him. You can rest assured I will scarcely tolerate him, much less allow him to ever take my hand in marriage.’

  ‘Speak to him,’ the duke effused. ‘That is all I ask.’

  Allura narrowed her gaze suspiciously. ‘Why is this man so special?’ she demanded. ‘What are you hiding from me?’

  ‘Nothing. Not a thing. Come.’ He ushered her towards the audience hall. ‘The baron awaits you.’

  She stopped in her tracks. ‘What do you mean, he awaits me? Do you mean to say he is already in the audience chamber?’

  This was indeed an outrage. As princess, she should be allowed to take her place first on the dais, so that he might present himself at the throne and bow to her as was her due.

  Fortragian laughed a little nervously as he took her arm. ‘Really, Allura, it is nothing to be concerned about. As you said yourself, you will speak to one another for only a few minutes.’

  ‘Even a few seconds is too much under such horrid circumstances, uncle, and you know it.’

  ‘The time will fly,’ he promised, as a pair of liveried servants pulled open the doors to the chamber with a crisp flourish.

  ‘Until later, then,’ he bid her farewell, medals jingling on his gold embroidered jacket as he scurried for the cover of his study.

  ‘Ever the brave one,’ she muttered, observing his comical flight from the theatre of battle. She had been prepared for almost anything as she walked into the marble-columned room with vaulted ceilings and ancient hanging tapestries, but what she saw moved her to an unprecedented level of indignation and outrage.

  The baron was sitting on the throne. Her father’s throne.

  ‘How dare you?’ she cried, storming to the dais. ‘I shall have you put to death for this!’

  The Baron Montreico, a booted foot resting casually over an arm of the carved marble seat, merely smirked in response. ‘The death penalty is not for females to deliver,’ he stated. ‘Especially not insolent little brats like you.’

  The Princess Allura was taken aback, if only for a moment. No one before had ever spoken to her like this, affronting her royal personhood, and to make matters worse the dark-haired devil was breathtakingly handsome, with lustrous curls, a thin mustache and rugged features. Allura had never seen anything remotely like him before. He was dressed like a buccaneer, with calfskin boots up to his knees, bright red hunting breeches and a long coat of blue adorned with brass buttons. Across his broad chest hung a sash and he was armed with a shining silver rapier. No dandy or court primp ever dressed this way. Even his hands stood out; manicured but capable, accustomed to hard work. She couldn’t keep her eyes off them, most especially because he was peeling an apple, running a sharp knife round and round the smooth fruit.

  ‘Death is too good for you,’ she decided, warily testing her limits with the man. ‘I think I shall have you whipped instead.’

  The baron continued to peel his apple, seemingly indifferent.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ she demanded, her voice more shrill. ‘I intend to have you whipped, hard enough to make you beg to be put out of your misery.’

  The baron at last regarded her. ‘And you think yourself equal to that task?’

  Allura scowled. She did not like it one little bit when a man called attention to the inherent differences in the power of the two sexes. ‘The castle guards shall attend to it, under my orders. As punishment for insulting me and for casting injury upon the monarchy by… by lounging on the throne as though you were in some house of ill repute!’

  ‘And have you ever been to one of these?’ He arched an inquiring eyebrow.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘A house of ill repute. Have you ever been to one?’

  Allura scowled. ‘Of course not. How dare you even suggest such a thing? Now will you get off the throne or shall I call for the guards?’

  Montreico’s eyes darkened. ‘Do that and I’ll gag you.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she snorted, though in truth she had no idea what a man like this might be capable of.

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘You are not a gentleman,’ she said. ‘You are unworthy of your title.’

  ‘And I suppose,’ he laughed ironically, ‘that you are worthy of yours?’

  Allura flew at him, her temper pushed beyond all limits of restraint. She’d intended to receive the satisfaction of a hard slap to his face, but what she got was the man’s hand clenched like a steel cuff upon her forearm, holding her at bay.

  ‘You’re hurting me,’ she gasped, hiding her shock at being restrained in such a way.

  ‘As you would have hurt me?’

  ‘I hate you,’ hissed the crown princess, summing up her emotions in a single potent, if immature outburst. ‘And I hope you rot in the dungeon.’

  ‘Be careful of your words,’ warned the baron, ‘lest you find yourself one day in a position of accountability.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ she demanded.

  ‘I am not a man to threaten.’

  He released her and she rubbed her arm, though it was her pride that was injured more than her flesh. ‘When I am queen,’ she fumed, ‘I will have you fed to the dogs for laying hands upon me.’

  The baron rose to his feet, towering over her. ‘And when I am king, my dear princess, you shall beg me to lay more than my hands upon you.’

  She stepped back to avoid being thrust aside as though she were a mere serving wench, her heart thudding in her chest as she fought to find the words to put this man back in his place. But all she could do was watch him leave, swaggering, the sword swaying at his side, her small fists clenched, her throat dry.

  ‘One more thing.’ He turned back. ‘You have a slave by the name of Veeta, do you not?’

  Allura tensed. ‘What of it?’

  ‘She indicates you show an inordinate curiosity in the life of an owned female, what it is like to perform for men, to be beaten and used, and so on. Is this so?’

  ‘I am interested only in as much as I am a slave owner,’ she replied, trying not to sound defensive. ‘My motives are purely academic.’

  The baron smiled condescendingly. ‘Indeed. And are you curious as well – academically speaking – as to what I would do with you here and now, if you were my slave?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ she laughed scornfully, even as she felt a strange heat mounting between her thighs.

  ‘Pity,’ he shrugged. ‘Good day, then.’

  ‘Wait, baron…’

  He was nearly at the door. ‘Yes, princess?’

  ‘Tell me,’ she blurted impulsively, ‘what you would do to me.’

  ‘To begin with, I would strip you naked,’ he declared. ‘I would then order you across my lap and spank you for your insolence. Sufficiently humbled, you would be set to work. Picking up those apple peelings, perhaps in your mouth, on hands and knees. You would then give me pleasure, swallowing my issue, knowing that afterward you would be caged for the night like a dog, denied food and water till you begged to be allowed to serve me.’

  Allura’s knees grew weak. ‘You are a pig.’

  ‘No,’ he grinned, ‘I am a man.’

/>   A few moments later he was gone and she was alone, and for a long time she stared at the peelings deposited upon the dais. The room seemed full of the baron’s presence still. She could smell his scent. She could see his eyes, so deep and penetrating. And his words, so scandalous and cruel, still echoed in her ears. The things he would do to her. Impossible, horrible things, done only to a slave.

  What would it be like? What if he had the power to compel her to remove every stitch of clothing and order her, naked, across his knee, her belly pressing to his red breeches, her ass utterly vulnerable to those masculine hands? Her pulse raced as she gave in to her forbidden thoughts. Desperately, her hands molding her own buttocks, she tried to imagine what it would feel like to be disciplined, to be taught obedience by such a cruel and powerful man. He would be merciless, that much was clear. He would redden her behind, smacking it over and over until she had no option but to beg for mercy.

  He would eventually stop, but only when he wanted. Her tears would mean nothing. How would it feel to be treated so harshly, only to be forced at the conclusion to retrieve apple peelings with her teeth?

  She had to know. She had to experience it, now, in the safety of her aloneness. Slowly, very carefully, feeling weak and hot, she lowered herself to her knees, and then to all fours. How cold was the marble on her palms! Was this what it was like for Veeta every time she had to crawl? Slowly, deliberately, Allura inched forward, the nearest apple peeling seeming to mock her, repeating the man’s words.

  She would pick them up in her mouth, he had said, with the full knowledge that a cage awaited, and with it an endless life of suffering and obeying. She trembled as she lowered her face, using her lips she picked up some peel, and as she bit she wondered why a mere apple had never tasted so rich and alive before?