This story was completed as a gift for me by NoLongerInnocent. Posted with her approval.
Even in my cell I can hear the bells. The king is dead, long live the king, right?
I wonder what it means… for me. I’ve long, long stopped hoping that a good, kind monarch would take the throne and release. What have I done to them? I don’t think there are many who even remember the war in which by people were subjugated and me and my sister captured.
But they haven’t forgotten about me. It is as if each new king was getting a letter from the old one:
- Don’t trust Duke Galibard.
- Remember to pay the Orokish mercenaries.
- Sire an heir.
- Don’t anger the Church.
- Make sure the elven bitch in your dungeon is abused.
Each time I hope that they will at least forget about me, even if it would mean starvation, but they never do. I haven’t seen any of the kings, but I remember them very well by what they had done to me.
Alburg IV, the one who just died? He had me sent to this dungeon. Every day around ten prisoners, randomly chosen – but only those who were behaving well – had a go at me. On every sixth day it was gangbang die for an entire prison block. It did wonders to stop them from offering any resistance to the guards. No one wanted to be taken off the list of potential men to rape me.
And they did rape me. They pushed their cocks into my pussy and ass, they made my suck their cocks, jerk them all over my tits… most disgusting human beings and I, Princess of Alior, was their fucktoy. They had competition whose cock would stretch me harder, who will make me scream louder… brutes, all of them.
And the guards? Do you think they would resist trying my holes? I had to “earn my keep” here after all… How many did that last? As long as Alburg reigned but time for me… isn’t what it used to be.
Before Alburg IV there was Heinor III. God, he was terrible. He somehow was certain that there were still elven treasures and artifacts buried, that I haven’t told them about and had me sent to the torture chamber. Every day they kept asking questions but that was just an excuse to use their… things on me. Stretching me over a torture rack, burning me, fucking me as I’m bound, whipping, using pliers, piercing my nipples… my clit… and playing with it cruelly.
Years, years of agony. Why couldn’t I find solace in madness? Or maybe I did go crazy? If so, no solace there.
Then there was Alburg III. He wasn’t that bad… just had me sent to barracks and made the soldier’s whore. Hundreds of cocks, every day. For years. Ass, cunt, mouth, hands, tits. Always gangraped. I was the most popular whore there – always beautiful, always young, always tight – and there were so many soldiers, so many cocks.
Before him? Gramon I.
He was the worst. He had me thrown to the kennels, to entertain the dogs. I can still their knots inside me, I can still taste their sperm on my tongue, even after all those decades. The things I offered to do for the kennel master, just to get away from the cage for one day…
Fortunately Gramon didn’t rule long. If I heard correctly, he tried to have his wife fuck dogs as well, and her brother – later Alburg III – killed him.
So many kings, so many decades of being abused, being raped… of not seeing Shea. My twin sister. My mirror image.
It was Rogamon IX who burnt my kingdom and took us captive. It was him who had me serve as a public whore on the market place, offering my cocks to every man who would come over. It was he who separated me from Shea. With all the abuse that touched me, I fear to think what agony was she in.
Someone is coming. Will they rape me again? Will they transfer me to a new place according to the new king’s mad orders? I
My cell is ready for them to take me of course. Bed with shackles. Torture implements, dildos, whips… all hanging from the walls so that they don’t have to bring their own. I begin breathing quickly. What will they do to me?
Two soldiers bring her – wearing only a see-through red dress and toss her to my cell. She doesn’t fall because I’m right next to her, holding her.
I kiss her face, I kiss her tears, I hug her with all my strength. This new king… would he be the first decent one? I don’t care if her lets us go. He reunited me with my beloved Shea. I could crawl for him, I could swallow his cock and ride it with my ass out of gratittude, giving the best fuck of his life…
For now, I’m holding Shea. The soldiers leave.
We talk a lot. Decades of catching up to do.
Soon we find ourselves talking about our abuses. Comparing them.
She is crying, almost choking on tears. Sobbing as she recounts what was done to her.
She is talking and I realize that I hate her.
Weak, pathetic bitch. For all those decades she was just a concubine of each king. One man. One man to satisfy, one man to fuck, one cock to drain. Not more than three, maybe four times a day, less when they got older. Some didn’t even hurt her. Some didn’t even whip her. Some didn’t even use her ass.
And she is crying?! She thinks that she had hard time?!
I start talking. I tell her everything. About two cocks in my ass, two in my mouth. About being branded. About being whipped and burnt. About one hundred cocks during one day. About dogs.
She can’t listen anymore, pathetic bitch. She covers her ears.
I slap her. Easily overwhelm her pathetic body. Tie her on my bad. I keep talking. Telling her everything. Grabbing whips from my cell, using them on her. I don’t hit as hard as my captors did and she is still sobbing. I grab two dildos. Let’s see how she likes two cocks up her ass…
Alburg V, newly crowned King, looked into the crystal given to him by the court mage. He watched Shea screamed as the other bitch – her name long forgotten, and he had seen no reason to ask Shea for it – was forcing two dildos up her ass.