Story was created in partnership with the one and only Lawful Hungry, on request of NLIAlicja. All art and content is my own.
Letters came to Arendelle all the time, from all around the world. They were carried by messengers on reindeerback, or sent via boat along with regular cargo, or tied to the legs of trained birds. They contained congratulations and well-wishes for events and holidays, or discussions about trade agreements, or general news from afar. Occasionally there was something special about them… diplomatic letters, sometimes especially flowery — in terms of both language and stationery — from a particular princess, or the occasional letter from the Southern Isles that undoubtedly included effusive apologies for the conduct of their youngest son. Not all of them merited an immediate response, and one of the duties of a ruler and his or her court was determining which letters were worth opening straightaway and which could wait until a quieter moment.
Queen Elsa paid no attention to the plain, hand-delivered letter at first, filing it away as a mundane missive from some citizen of her kingdom. While not a majority, letters like these were a common sight, often a person asking the court for involvement in some local initiative or hoping to sway its opinion on a topic of importance. She truly loved all her citizens, and she did intend to get to the letter in time, but it simply didn’t rank as high as other concerns like reconsidering which forests would be open to logging or fending off Weselton’s insufferably insistent attempts to reopen a trade route. Sometimes she would delegate letters like this to Anna, not because Elsa wanted to ignore them, but because Anna was a princess with the capacity to speak for the court and she would bring up anything that needed Elsa’s touch… but Elsa hadn’t seen her sister for several days. Doubtless she was off being courted by Kristoff again, but it did mean that the letter sat unread for a few days.
It was a Thursday afternoon, a slow day for the court, when Elsa finally got around to working through the stack of waiting letters. She picked up page after page, unrolling and reading and deciding how and whether to respond to them, working through them at a steady pace. From the outside, the only interesting thing about this letter was the crudely-tied string holding it closed, a far cry from the careful bows most people used when sending their thoughts to royalty. She untied the string and unfurled the page, scanning the rough, uneven letters:
To our dear Queen Elsa,
We hope these days find you well, but then again, we really don’t.
We meant to contact you sooner, but then, the princess can be quite distracting, can’t she? It’s hard to focus on anything else but that lovely thing. Anyway, the important part is that we are talking now, right? Surely by now you have noticed that your darling sister has disappeared. Then again, with how little you seem to care, maybe you haven’t… what with all the very important royal things you need to do. Maybe something insignificant like the princess’s disappearance completely escaped your notice. Just in case, we can clear that up for you. She’s not missing at all… She’s been here, with us, for the last few days. Such a sweet girl. We ran into her on the street a few days ago. All it took was some sob story about a kid in an alley who needed help, and she followed us, alone and distracted.
Poor stupid thing, right? But not everyone is cut out to be Queen, I guess.
Right about now, you’re probably expecting a ransom demand. Stop. This is not a ransom note. We don’t want your money, witch. We have something much more fun in mind.
I wish you could have been there when we popped her cherry. She looked so cute there, getting fucked in her tight royal cunt. You might have even heard the scream from the castle, if we hadn’t taken her far, far from anywhere you will ever find her. She got quiet somewhere around the fourth man, unfortunately, but she woke up pretty quick when we started dunking her head in water every time she stopped talking. She’s still pretty shit at sucking cock, but we’re teaching her, slowly but surely. She’ll learn to love it.
Or, maybe she won’t. That depends on you… on how long you let us have our way with her. We’re putting the power in your hands, Queen Elsa. Do what we say, and Anna will be safe and sound in your arms in no time. Ignore this letter, or try to find us, or delay even the slightest bit, and we’ll make our little ginger slut-in-training wish she’d never been born.
You want your sister back?
You are going to do some things for us. When you’re finished, Anna will be returned to you, as intact as you let her be. I wouldn’t recommend delaying, though… we get bored easily, and while a virgin princess was delightfully tight and fun to play with the first day, there is only so long that a jizz-stained whore can entertain us before we’ll have to start getting a bit more… imaginative.
But you love your sister, so you won’t let that happen, right? You’re probably just waiting to see what the first task is, right?
Here you go.
Anna is suffering. You know that, but do you really KNOW it? For your first task, we want you to share in some of her suffering so you truly understand what she’s going through every minute you delay. Tonight, go out and find a man in town, any man you want. Sell your body to him for whatever price he’s willing to pay… but not one dime more than 50 coin. Since I doubt someone as aloof as you have ever gone shopping in your life, I’ll inform you that’s about the price of a loaf of bread. Take your chosen ‘client’ to one of the back rooms of the Silver Bells Pub and fuck him. We will let you wear a sheepskin, which is a kindness we’re not giving your little sister, so you had best hurry if you don’t want a bastard heir in your family tree. When he’s finished, nail the used condom to the wall of the room so we know you’ve done it. Once we have the proof, we’ll contact you again.
Tell nobody about this letter, or why you do the things we tell you to do. Every action you take should seem like your own idea. Obey, and I guarantee you’ll get your darling sister back in one piece. If we hear a single whiff of a notion that you’re looking for us, I guarantee you’ll get her back in several.
Good luck, my Queen.
-A concerned citizen.
A sheepskin hung from the bottom of the page, tied to it, dangling obscenely.
Elsa couldn’t move her hands. She wanted to tear the letter to pieces, storm into town, and find its author, but nothing below her neck moved. Her eyes read the page over and over, alternating between analyzing every little penstroke for a hint to its author’s identity and failing to focus altogether. In a matter of seconds, her mind flashed through a thousand possibilities. She thought about calling in the guards and searching every cellar and every cabin and every abandoned room in all of Arendelle; or sending out a call to every royal she knew, hoping one of them would have a magician who could find Anna; or even ignoring the letter entirely, assuming it was some vicious prank by a single twisted, evil person, and waiting patiently for Anna to return from whatever journey or vacation she had suddenly taken. But in her heart, however, she knew she wouldn’t do any of those things. This was her sister. If there was any – any – chance the letter was genuine, she couldn’t risk it. She had to get her sister back immediately. She could enact whatever retribution she wanted later, but for now, she had to obey the letter.
Anna came first.
She set it down on the table and began to rush out of the room, then thought better, turned around, and snatched it back up. She knew nothing about its author, not his age or his job or even whether he was from Arendelle; even his sex was a guess, though from the content of the letter it seemed a safe one. He might even be one of her guards, loathe as she was to admit it. If she left the letter out, and he found it, and he thought she was trying to leave it for somebody to find… but even if nobody in the castle had anything to do with it, she could only imagine what would happen if it fell into anybody’s hands but her own. Elsa couldn’t risk any chance that anyone would read the letter but herself.
She rushed from the room, blowing by two workers with a chilly breeze. She bruskly waved off two guard, three courtiers, and her majordomo in her rush to get there, none too politely. She didn’t stop for anything until she was safely ensconced in her bedroom, where she could tuck the letter into a rarely-used drawer, under a pile of the blankets she hadn’t needed in years. It was protected now. Nobody would find out about what had happened to Anna. This was Elsa’s burden alone.
Solving that singular problem, however, did nothing for her mental state. She’d only met one of the author’s demands, to keep the letter a secret. The other demand, the far worse one, still lay heavy on her mind. She could barely even understand it. She even took the letter out three times, hoping the words on the page had somehow changed since the last time she read them. Her orders were clear: she had to find a man and… and… lay… with him, in the back room of a tavern.
A hundred questions swirled in her head. Why this tavern? Why a random man, and not one of the kidnappers? Would the kidnappers be loitering around the tavern, hoping to be the lucky man without giving himself away? What was the relevance of demanding money instead of just sleeping with somebody? But most importantly, why? Why had they done this? Was this an act of revenge from another kingdom? Had she slighted somebody in some way? Was the author an admirer, and this was some disgusting, evil way to connect to her?
She knew nothing, only his demands.
While she knew right away that she would do what the letter said, her mind took nearly an hour for the fact to truly settle in. In that time she considered every alternative, trying to use logic to beat away at her problem. Could she just send a few trusted guards to quietly search the city? It would take days, and in that time word would doubtlessly get back to the kidnappers. Could she lie in wait for the person who came to collect the evidence she was to nail to the tavern wall? If the person she accosted turned out to be an ordinary worker, everything would be out in the open; she had to assume the kidnappers had some plan to confirm her actions without putting themselves in danger. No solution seemed foolproof enough to guarantee Anna would be returned to her intact.
Elsa was smart. She felt sure that she could think of a plan given enough time, and perhaps with a little help… but time was the one thing she didn’t have, help the one thing she was forbidden. Any delay meant more time with Anna at the mercy of cruel, violent men. She had already suffered at their hands for who knows how long while Elsa, busy queen that she was, didn’t get around to checking her mail. Such a stupid reason, one Elsa could have rectified days ago. She might even have Anna back in her arms right now!
But she hadn’t. And she didn’t. For now, the only thing she could do for Anna’s sake was obey and hurry.
The rest of the day crawled, a gratuitous exacerbation of the dread hanging from her chest. She had to smile at people when all she wanted to do was scream, conduct courtly business when she should have been making plans to search door-to-door, and respond to letters when her hands shook took much for her to hold a pen. It had definitely manifested in her not being especially polite, and she probably didn’t endear herself too much to most of those who came to speak to her, but there was nothing for it… she would need to make apologies after she had Anna back. She didn’t eat a bite of her meals either… not because of the lack of appetite she professed, but because with her nerves as they were she was certain she would throw up anything she tried to swallow. She declined all of her evening activities, not because she felt like retiring early but because she needed the time to gather her courage.
The sun dipped below the mountains and the hallways cleared, leaving her alone with her thoughts, a swirling whirlpool dragging her hopes down, down, down. Finally, in the dead of night, accompanied only by darkness and silence, Elsa changed into the simplest dress in her wardrobe, wrapped a gray cloak around her shoulders, made certain the sheepskin was in the pocket of the cloak, and glided from her bedroom balcony on a slide of ice.
Arendelle was different at night. It radiated with a mellow sort of vibrancy, bright and colorful enough for her to see her way around but shadowed and quiet enough for her to sneak around. Entering town had been easy, but skulking from building to building was harder. More people wandered the streets than she had expected, perhaps because she’d never been in the town proper this close to midnight unless a festival or event demanded her attention. She hadn’t seen what her people really did at night, and from her limited vantage point behind the Silver Bells Pub she surmised they did much what they did every day, albeit in smaller numbers. In a sense, it was good. A part of her wished the roads would be barren so she could avoid meeting anybody at all, even if she knew it meant Anna would pay the price. This situation countered her own anxiousness. If men were in plentiful supply, she had no excuse.
And it was a man she needed, very explicitly. The letter said “find a man in town, any man you want.” She had total freedom, except that she was limited to only half of the adult population. She wished she wasn’t. All things considered, being with a woman would have made the exchange more palatable. A woman was more likely to be understanding, to be gentle, to lead her carefully through the steps she barely understood. Using soft hands to guide Elsa’s movements, pressing her between a wall and a warm body, parting her lips and closing them around —
Elsa shook her head. But no. No, she had to be with a man. She swallowed, wondering if the kidnappers had done that intentionally or by accident. No doubt whispered rumors had made their way around the kingdom. “I’m so glad Princess Anna found such a nice young man. He seems like he’s really fitting in here. I wouldn’t mind him in the court at all. If only Queen Elsa could find a nice man too. Although, I hear she’s not even looking. Do you think she’s…” None of these rumors had reached her ears. No one had said anything to her. Perhaps they were all in her imagination… but she knew the thought was there. Were the kidnappers specifically trying to humiliate her, to force her into something they knew she couldn’t want, or did they just assume this was the way it would go, because that was how they did it? She didn’t know.
And it didn’t matter. The facts of the situation included a man, and a man she needed. Maybe a woman would be gentler, calmer, softer. But the men of Arendelle were no savage brutes either. It wasn’t as though they stalked women all day, pouncing on them and dragging them off to perform unspeakable acts. Her people, like all people at a high enough abstraction, were fundamentally good, Elsa was sure of that. Any given man was more likely to treat her well than harshly. Further, she could pick her own partner. It was right there in the letter, the one concession she’d been so graciously given. She didn’t have to stumble into the dingiest bar she could find and chat up its ugliest patron. She could bide her time and look for somebody upstanding, somebody with kind eyes, somebody who would treat her well. Reading people was not a problem for her; she did it every day. Eventually the right man would come along.
And eventually, he did.
Elsa didn’t mind the bitter cold of the mountain night, but she still felt it in her fingers and ears and nose. The chill served as a sort of clock, reminding her how long she’d been out trawling for a man instead of safely in her bed. Her high standards had eliminated everybody who had passed by — or, everybody who fit the kidnappers’ criteria, anyway. Even with hours left before morning she began to fear the sun, knowing it heralded another day of torment for Anna. That was when she saw him, hugging his arms, panting steam. Despite his shiver, he still smiled and greeted everybody he passed before wrapping a well-maintained coat around him. He was older but not too old… he looked perhaps a little over a decade her senior, fatherly perhaps, he had no facial hair, just a mop of brown on his head. He seemed well-to-do enough to have some sense of manners and etiquette, but not so well off that he though himself above those around him. He wasn’t perfect, for… obvious reasons… but he would be good enough for her.
She shook her head and drew herself up to her full height, and she took a single step before she whipped back into darkness. If she approached him with her normal regal bearing, she might scare him off. Or even worse… he would recognize her! She didn’t know what would constitute “telling somebody” in the eyes of the kidnappers. If she, Queen Elsa, just grabbed a normal man of the street, making a spectacle of herself along the way, surely that would alert people to a strange situation. And her reputation! If people knew she was sneaking around at night… no, it was better to pretend to be somebody else. Somebody who would go up to a strange man and offer him sex for money. “Right,” she sighed as she pulled her cloak around her body and covered as much of her face as she could with its hood, “Just be a prostitute. Easy.”
She shuffled onto the street, trying to seem inconspicuous and probably failing… but even if she seemed strange, if nobody knew who she was, her identity was safe. Her shoes tapped across the stones, pulling her closer and closer to the man who hadn’t seen her yet. She glanced up at him every few steps, hoping to catch his eye, and when she was close enough to touch, he finally smiled at her. She ducked back under her hood, hiding her eyes even if it meant she couldn’t see him. “Good evening. Uh, sir.”
“Good evening.” His easy voice held only a hint of a shudder from the cold as he slowly came to a stop. “Can I help you?”
“Ummm… Yes.” She swallowed and stared at the ground, hoping it would help. If she just said it like she was reciting from a script, it was like she wasn’t saying it. That would make it easier… she hoped. “I can’t help but notice you’re alone tonight. Would you like some company for a while?”
“…ah! Ah, okay. Right. Um, I’m, uh… I’m flattered, but I’m wed. I’m not really interested, but—”
Elsa nearly stopped there, running off in shame, but she didn’t. She didn’t, couldn’t, let that bother her. She swallowed. “Please, sir? I would be willing to join you for only…” Elsa paused. Now that she was here, the price seemed… peculiar. How much was a going price, anyway? What did a prostitute cost in Arendelle? Were there prostitutes in Arendelle? She assumed there were, but it had never come up before. If she gave the price she was told, 50… would it be too high a price? It seemed so low… but any price seemed too low to her. Would he balk at 50 and leave? If she offered something low, however, could it be too low? Would it just imply she was cheap?
Elsa had nothing to go on. She would have to rely on him. A true citizen of Arendelle would never try to cheat on matters of money. “…a mere… forty coins?”
A flicker of disgust crossed his face. “That’s very flattering, but I don’t think I should. My… my home is far from here. Right, yes. And the trip would be so long.”
“Wait!” Elsa protested. “We can… do it here?”
“In the street?!” he protested.
“Shh!” She peeked up at his aghast expression, daring not to see if anybody else had heard him. “No, in the back of the tavern.”
“That’s not much better. Listen, lady, I don’t…” He slowly trailed off. “Wait…” He peered down at her, and tried to hide further behind her hood. “I know you, don’t I?”
“I-I doubt that very much, sir.” Suddenly the cobblestones beneath her feel seemed very interesting to Elsa.
“No, no, I have seen you. At a festival, maybe? I recognize those eyes. They complemented your dress. It was this brilliant blue, and — oh my gosh, My Queen?!”
“Quiet!” she snapped, and his lips closed so fast they made a sound. “Please… don’t say a word. Look, I need this, okay? I can’t explain it, but I need it. So can you help me?” Her eyes softened, and she risked looking up at him. “Please?”
“Great,” she said, and she did not mean it even a little. “This way.” She turned and shuffled back behind the pub. His footsteps followed, stilted and a little rushed, all the way to the back door. She panicked suddenly, hoping the back door wasn’t locked, but it swung open at her touch. They ducked inside and she closed the door behind them, finally giving herself a touch of privacy, even if it was in a smallish room adorned only with a table, some chairs, and an empty candelabra.
Elsa pulled down her hood, assuming she had no further use for it. The man’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when she turned around, and a new wave of shame washed over her. She took a deep breath, then two more, and folded her hands in front of her. “So. I think… this is where I get the money?”
The man nodded, but seemed uneasy. He pointed to his lips.
Elsa sighed. “You may speak.”
“Y-Your Majesty!” The man knelt. “I don’t know what you need, but I am willing to help!”
“No, that — ugh!” She scrunched her face and sighed. “I am offering you my body. For a fair price, of course.”
“You can’t mean — My Queen… so little? I… I mean, in my younger days, I… happily paid five or six times that!”
So, that settled that. Cheap it was. She shuddered a little bit. Not just making her sell herself, and to a man, but for a pathetic price. Her skin felt like crawling off her body. “Please stand up.”
He bounced to his feet. “You can’t mean what I think you mean. It sounds like you’re offering me… um… sex.”
“Yes,” Elsa said, exasperation and revulsion warring with each other. Why couldn’t this idiot just make this easy? Why did he make it so much harder than it had to be? “That is what I am doing.” She let a little bit of anger a distaste slip into her voice… not intentionally, but her fear and frustration leaking out. It was lucky she had her gloves on.
“Oh, goodness.” The man leaned back against the wall, eyes wide. “I thought I was… going mad! The queen is whoring herself out.” His words were a dagger between her ribs, but she couldn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. “I would be honored to pay for the use of your body, your majesty!”
The weight did not lift from Elsa, but it did grow lighter. She had satisfied part of the kidnappers’ demands. The rest of her task, technically, was not up to her. She could simply lie back and let it happen. She hated it, and just thinking about it made her want to bathe for a week and scrub her skin until it bled, and she desperately hoped she could somehow forget about the whole event as soon as the next day, but at least now she could be a passive participant instead of the instigator. It made things easier, somehow. “Excellent. I assume you are fine with paying in advance.”
The man nodded so hard his jaw nearly flopped off, and he tore his coin purse from his pocket and began counting. The money went into her pocket and she removed her cloak, standing in the room illuminated only by the moonlight reflecting off the snowy buildings outside. They stood for a moment, watching each other, until he spoke. “Aren’t you going to undress?”
She pursed her lips. “Only as much as necessary. Are you?”
“Right, yeah.” He unbuckled his belt with quivering hands. “Bend over the table.”
“Bend over?” she balked. She shivered with disgust noticeably. She wasn’t about to have sex like an animal. Not this time, and not ever. “I’ll lay on the table, thank you very much.” She tugged her dress up her legs, bunching it around her waist. When her fingers hooked her panties she paused for a moment, a look of disgust flicking over her face, and Elsa reconsidered each and every plan she had rejected for finding the kidnappers. But nothing seemed a better idea than it had in the sunlight, so she set her jaw and pulled her underwear down. The man stared openly at her, the first person in her adult life to see her naked below the waist. She covered herself with her hand and looked away, hoping the darkness masked the blush setting her cheeks aflame. The table barely shifted when she hopped onto it, leaning back and letter her legs dangle over the edge. “Go ahead.”
She stared out the window, trying to be somewhere else. She winced when she felt his hands on her legs, pushing her thighs apart and rubbing them from hip to knee. A shudder passed over her, and only determination kept her from pulling away from him. A single finger rubbed her lips, and she gritted her teeth. It prodded at her unceremoniously, stroking to and fro, trying to elicit the arousal she knew would never come. After several long moments of clumsy torture she felt his finger grow damp, a purely automatic reaction. Whether he interpreted it as such, it didn’t stop him. The finger pulled away, and a thumb touch her instead — no, thicker than a thumb. She knew what it was. Her dampness coated this thing too, and it began to edge its way inside her. She clenched her fists and thought of everything but what was about to happen to her: of letters, of budgets, of Anna, of what she would do to the kidnappers when she found them, of the letter and… ”Wait!”
The man stopped. “What?”
“A sheepskin. I need you to wear one. It’s in the cloak.”
“Oh. Um, right. That wouldn’t be good, would it?” He pulled back and rummaged through the cloak pockets, finally producing the oblong coating that would serve as proof of her tryst. She turned her gaze elsewhere, preferring for everything involving his naked crotch to occur out of sight. In only moments the thing was back with a wholly different texture, and it too rubbed her until it took her dampness.
This time when it pushed in she didn’t stop it, and she gritted her teeth as something forced its way into her for the first time. An ache grew the deeper it went, splitting her almost until she cried out, and then a sharp pain that did make her squeak… and then suddenly it was in and Elsa knew her hymen was gone.
She wanted to vomit.
Her brow furrowed and her frown grew as he entered her in lurches, jamming his thing into her farther with each passing second. With each thrust a grunt died in her mouth, trapped by tightly-pursed lips. She tried to press herself into the table and become one with the furniture, so she didn’t have to feel him inside her any more. No matter how much she tried to ignore him he was an all-consuming force squirming in her most sacred place. Even fainting would have been a blessing, but she had to remain there, experiencing every second in agonizing detail.
He groaned and his pace increased, shifting her body as he moved. She choked and whimpered, unable to maintain the stoic silence she thought would be necessary. All her dreams about spending her first time with the person she loved shattered, empty hopes she could never fulfill. Tears dripped from her eyes, but her arms hung limply at her sides, refusing to move and wipe her face clean. He grabbed her leg, forgotten against the overwhelming ball of disgust under her stomach, and pushed her so the side so he could change his angle. He scraped her insides again, wholly different but no less terrible, spurred on by his own little grunts. She only waited, letting him move however he liked and hoping he would tire himself out soon. When he pushed deep inside her and grunted, she braced for him to change positions again, too tense to prepare herself physically. She noticed when he pulled out, but it didn’t register for a moment, not until she looked down and saw the sheepskin dangling from his hips with a bulge at the end.
He was done.
“Right. Good.” Elsa cleared her throat, trying to stop herself from sobbing in abject misery and humiliation. Finally she allowed herself to dry her cheeks. “That’s done. I’ll take the… that, thank you.”
The man pulled the condom off and held it between two fingers. “This? Why?”
“It’s complicated. I just need it.”
He rubbed his chin, then shrugged. “That wasn’t part of the price.”
Elsa froze, eyes going wide. “Excuse me?”
“I paid you for sex, right?” the man said. “I was hoping it would at least be good sex, but it was… well, if you’ll forgive my language your Majesty, it was pretty shit. If any other whore just laid there like a dead fish, I’d demand my money back. But since you’re the queen, I’ll just settle for keeping a souvenir.”
Elsa’s hands balled and the room suddenly dropped thirty degrees. Frost began spreading across the floor as her eyes narrowed, and snow began to swirl around her fists. “I need it…”
He scrambled back into the corner, his pants still around his ankles. “Whoa, whoa, calm down! You’re not going to attack me, right? The queen, using her magic on a regular person? What would everybody say?”
Elsa glared at him, but her hand relaxed. He was right. She wasn’t actually going to attack one of her own people. She breathed hard, forcing herself to calm down. “Fine, you’re right. I won’t.” She narrowed her eyes and put her authority into it. “But I still need that. I’ll give you your money back.”
There was a strange look on his face. “No thanks,” he said. “I want this.”
“Why? Why could you possibly—” she stopped short. She knew the answer. She saw it in his eyes, in the smirk he tried to hide, and the way he held the condom out toward her, dangling like bait on a hook. I want it because you want it. He knew nothing about her situation — unless she really had randomly picked one of the kidnappers, and there was no way she could find out that without running the risk of endangering a lecherous but innocent man — but he could tell the sheepskin was important to her. He had what he wanted, so he had the power.
She slumped, misery rising up even higher as she lowered her head and then brushed additional tears out of her eyes. Elsa then looking up at him with hard eyes. “What do you want for it?”
He no longer hid the smirk. “I want the fuck I paid for.” She shuddered at how the four-letter word stung. “I want you to do it like you want it, like a real whore.”
Elsa’s heart dropped into her feet. Just being there for it was bad enough, but now she had to participate? This wasn’t part of her plan. But she needed that condom. She couldn’t just let this man go, then wander town propositioning men until she found one who already had a similar safeguard on him. And if she failed…
She wouldn’t. She had to get that condom, no matter the cost. She swallowed her reservations and pulled herself to her full, regal height, still a half-head shorter than the man. “Fine,” she snapped. “What do I need to do?”
From the look on his face, she’d have thought he’d been offered a mountain of gold. He tied a knot in the condom and tucked it into his pocket, far from her reach. “First off, I just came. I need to get hard again. So,” he planted his feet, “suck my dick until I’m ready.”
Elsa tried to hide the complete look of disgust from her face. She knew what he wanted… more or less. She might be a virgin — or, she had been a half-hour ago — but she wasn’t a completely prude. She’d at least heard of such things, but she’d assumed it would never matter to her. Now, as she knelt in front of a man whose name she didn’t even know and stared at the white goo covering his penis, she almost wished she’d looked into it more. Maybe Anna would have been able to give her some hints — but then again, she doubted her perfectly chaste sister even knew what a penis was until she’d been abducted. Now Anna had been through this and much worse, and Elsa couldn’t possibly refuse, not when such a comparatively small task might save her. She positioned herself at the tip of his shrinking cock, flinching at the musky scent it exuded. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened wide, sliding forward until its head passed through her lips.
However little she thought of his smell, his taste was twice as bad. Immediately she gagged and drew back, coughing his odor out of her lungs. Her whole body shook when she moved forward again, now with the benefit of understanding the weight of her task. Her lips pursed as his cock pushed past them, blocking some of the more… objectionable material from entering her. It bumped into her teeth and he drew back with a mild oath. Else panicked; if he left now, she would almost certainly fail her task for the night. With an energy bordering on the maniacal she lunged after him, grabbing his thighs and holding him steady so she could suck him again. This time she kept her jaw low, lower perhaps than she needed, and he slipped easily halfway into her mouth.
She wretched slightly, but kept her stomach under control… even though her eyes began leaking again. Now that it was in her mouth, She paused. What was she supposed to do now? Should he lick him? Her tongue could barely move with his dick pressing on it. Every little action it took rubbed it against the underside of his shaft, bathing her taste buds in the salty, disgusting taste of his seed and sweat and musk spread all along his skin. Her brow furrowed with disgust and she retched, but she tried her best to turn it into some semblance of a moan. His softening cock jumped to life, growing long and hard again, so she kept at it, licking him and swallowing on occasion until the awful taste disappeared and left only his overpowering girth. The hint, she decided, was in his words. ‘Suck my dick,’ he had said. She did her best to obey.
She dared to open her eyes, but the mass of hair at his base provided her no additional encouragement. Her eyes traveled up his shirt to his face, where he leered at her with palpable lust. “That’s right,“ he offered, “look at me while you suck me off.” Elsa nodded, which rubbed him against her mouth and provoked another guttural moan. She tried it again, tilting her head, shifting it back and forth, letting such simple motions change his pressure and sensation without any major effort of her part. He sighed and stared at the ceiling, and she kept her gaze up, watching for any signs of discomfort or boredom. She had to please him if she wanted her proof, and every ounce of her attention went into figuring out what he liked, where he wanted her tongue, and what speed made him sigh or moan the loudest. In a way, simply paying this much attention was the most horrific thing she had done… it focused her entirely on what she was doing, made her completely unable to escape it. The man glanced down at her, seeing her big, blue eyes staring right back, and he groaned and forced his hips back. “Alright, that’s good. Now beg for it. Make me think you want it.”
Elsa jumped to her feet, removing her aching knees from the hard wooden floor. She fell back into a dignified pose by default, crossing her hands in front of her and staring at the man’s crotch. Her mind raced, trying to think of a worthwhile response. No part of her, save her compassion for her sister, wanted that thing back inside. Her regal mask, trained over so many years, effectively masked her emotions, but she only had practice faking things one might expect from a queen: stoicism, confidence, minor outrage, a prim happiness indiscernible from contentment. None of them lent themselves to begging for sex from a stranger. But, then, again, she didn’t have to think of something. He’d already told her what he wanted from her, more or less. She might not be able to fully commit to it, but she could go through the motions. So, swallowing the lump in her throat, Elsa bent over the table like an animal, as he’d originally requested, and pulled her dress up to her waist. With her naked rear presented to him she licked her lips, closed her eyes, and pulled his words from her memory. “Please,” her repeated, her voice wavering, “Please, I want you to… fuck me. Fuck your whore queen.”
A moment passed — had she succeeded? Should she keep going? She jumped when his hands grabbed her waist and pulled her back, where his dick rubbed against her rear. Her back relaxed, then tensed again as she realized how for an instant she was actually happy to feel a man’s disgusting… dick… rubbing himself against her. One hand left, and she felt it again against her hips, pushing him into position at her sex. Her hands curled into fists and she set her jaw, girding herself for penetration. His head rubbed against her for a long minute, forcing her body to produce more lubrication. The tip slithered between her lips, a sensation at once dauntingly foreign and all too familiar. It hadn’t felt like this before, she noticed. Was it the position? Was it the familiarity? Was it the heat? She realized the answer just as his hand lay back on her waist. “The sheepskin! You’re not wearing the—” He shoved inside, turning the rest of her warning into a sharp yell. Her hand clapped over her mouth, silencing both her scream and the following grunts of pain. He pushed until he could go no farther, smashed against her petite backside, and while he paused she whispered. “You’re not wearing anything…”
“Of course not.” He clearly didn’t see the same need for quiet as she did. “I’m not going to reuse a scumbag.”
“Do you have another?” She asked pleadingly. It was a long shot, but she had no other idea.
“No. But I’ll pull out. I promise.”
She wanted to tell him his promise meant less than nothing to her, not after he had held the previous condom as ransom, but she thought of Anna and bit her tongue. Her teeth tightened when he moved, nearly drawing blood. His grip told her what to do, shifting her weight forward and backward with a slow, patient cadence. She followed his every order unfailingly. This wasn’t about her pleasure; but then, it never had been. This was about making sure he got off regardless of how she felt about it, like she was an actual whore. If it hadn’t been so humiliating, she might have chuckled… for the first time, she realized the real point of this assignment, and she felt cheap, and dirty, and like an innocent idiot.
She grabbed the edges of the table and drove herself backward, embedding him in her so hard it nearly knocked him over. “You feel so good,” she lied, timing her breaths so she could speak steadily. “It’s much better like this. Do whatever you want to me. I want to really feel it.” His fingers tightened around her waist, holding her still. She paused and waited, expecting him to add to their conversation, and when he instead slammed into her she didn’t get her hand to her mouth in time to muffle her surprise. He left no time between thrusts, rutting her like a savage animal until she couldn’t tell whether he was coming or going, too caught up in the sheer friction to focus on anything else.
She gripped the table until her knuckles turned while, a feeble attempt to creating a sensation more overpowering than him. He hunched over her, so close she could feel his hot breath on her back through the dress, an intimacy far greater than her stomach could handle. She tried to moan, to mutter more praise and other debasements, but the words shook on the way out as his humping rattled her entire body. Her feet slipped and she fell against the table, taking him with her. His weight smashed her chest into the wood, squeezing the air out of her lungs. She groaned in agony, and spread out over several thrusts it came out sounding like more of a lusty moan, something that made her stomach rebel. He grabbed onto her shoulder, so she swallowed her pride and tried it again, panting and whining with the best imitation of an orgasm she could muster. He growled into her ear, “cum for me.” She didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but she got the gist. The blonde let her volume rise, prolonging her imaginary release. With a final sigh he picked himself up and pulled out, and a moment later Elsa felt something warm and sticky splatter all over her naked rear.
“Oh, yeah, much better.” He fonded her for another minute, steering clear of the substance oozing toward her thighs. “You can be a really good lay when you want to be, Your Majesty.”
Elsa wanted to sob. She wanted to run away scream. Instead, she forced herself to speak. “Y-yes, well,” she cleared her throat, “I’ve held up my end of our deal.”
“Yeah, you have.” The sheepskin landed next to her hand with a wet splat. “It’s yours. Don’t spend it all in one place.”
She grabbed it too fast and it squished between her fingers, dangerously close to breaking. She drew back, letting it fall to the table, and picked it up delicately at the very ends of her finger and thumb. She stood and shuffled her dress back around her hips, letting it absorb some of the spunk from her skin. When she turned back to him, she had her familiar courtly face on. “I expect the greatest discretion from you.”
“Certainly. Who’d believe me that the Queen was really a whore anyway?” he laughed. “Just remember me if you ever want me to do it again.”
“I don’t expect to, thank you.”
“Well, offer’s on the table.” He nodded at her, then bowed. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“The pleasure was mine,” she said. She didn’t know what she said it. She certainly didn’t mean it… It was simply the polite response. From the way he stood a little straighter and how wide his grin was when he headed back into the cold, she wished she hadn’t. She stared at the condom and turned up her nose, praying she’d never had to see another thing like it as long as she lived. With careful quiet steps she rummaged around the back room until she found a tack on the wall, and she carefully hung the disgusting bag from it, hoping it wouldn’t leak. With the macabre trophy in its place, she pulled her panties back on, wrapped her cloak around herself, and returned to the chilly night.
She knew it would have been smart to lie in wait for whomever came to retrieve the sheepskin, then convince them to give up where they had Anna. On the way back to the castle she convinced herself it wasn’t a tactically sound decision, not if there were multiple kidnappers and the others still had her sister in danger. It could lead to his discovery, or tonight simply not counting for their demands and she might need to do it again. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, however… the real reason was was more that she couldn’t stand to spend another second in that room, much less an entire night only feet from the tool that had taken her virginity. The exact reason didn’t matter. The night was over, she had done was what demanded of her, and tomorrow would be a new day with her sister back in her arms. She had to believe that.