Bitsy's Inhuman Submission

This part of the story picks up where Chapter 1 left off. Please feel free to let me know what you think.

*

A few hours later, Bitsy heard the light step of one of Stuart's maids on the stone steps. She had spent the last few hours cursing herself a hundred times a fool. To her shame, away from the king's mesmerizing influence, she was able to focus on what had actually transpired. Had she actually willingly swallowed his come? Had she also come in his mouth when he tongued her clit and mound? But most humiliating of all, her most egregious error was her arousal from her punishment.

She stood there, pondering her conflicting emotions and actions, until a petite girl, little more than a teenager, approached her with a tray of food. Delicious smells wafted from the tray, and Bitsy's stomach growled her response.

"Good evening, your Ladyship," the girl said in a soft voice. Like all of the king's female palace staff, she was dressed in a provocative parody of a French maid's uniform. "My name's Maria. His Majesty sent me down here to make sure you were fed and cleaned for him."

The girl, Maria, who couldn't have been more than twenty years old, placed the heavy plate of food on a nearby table before unlocking each of Bitsy's shackles. Bitsy stroked her tender wrists that had been roughened by the sharp edges of the iron. She then walked, trancelike, to the table laden with food.

"If you don't mind me saying so, Your Ladyship, you look very hungry," Maria observed.

Bitsy, her eyes glazing over from the goodies laid before her, murmured more to herself than to the maid, "The Duchess doesn't usually feed prisoners that she is going to execute. It has been three, no make that four, days since I last ate."

The young maid was shocked. "Four days," she exclaimed, "that's inhuman!"

"No, that's the Duchess," Bitsy explained as she reached for a fork.

"His Majesty had asked your brother-in-law, the Count, for a list of your favorite dishes," Maria gushed. "Wasn't that sweet of him?"

"Sweet," Bitsy mumbled around a mouthful of food. She ate voraciously for a few minutes, but then noticed that Maria stared at her body.

The thirty year old Bitsy blushed because she knew that her bouncy breasts were dancing as she ate her dinner. She smiled at Maria. "I'm sorry," she explained. "I'm just really hungry."

Maria appeared mesmerized by the movement, but then she smiled, a kittenish, come-hither grin at odds with her innocent appearance. "It's alright," she said, reaching out to stroke the underside of Bitsy's left breast, causing Bitsy to jump, "you have nothing to be ashamed of."

Bitsy realized that her age did nothing to mask her naiveté in front of Maria. "I-I've never done this before," she said, flustered.

"What?" Maria asked, her smile widening as if she appreciated Bitsy's discomfort.

"I've never touched a woman...that way," Bitsy explained. Even to her own ears, the words of the normally articulate First Lieutenant sounded garbled and unsure.

While comforting, the light caresses that Maria was bestowing on Bitsy could only be considered sexual. The hand that stroked the soft, pale underside of Bitsy's breast was now palming her nipple, tweaking it, making the celebrated Ice Bitch moan softly. "Have you thought about it?" Maria's smile was now wicked.

The fuchsia blush on Bitsy's skin made the normally pale flesh gleam in the candlelight. "Not until now," she said solemnly, but with a sweet smile.

Maria scooted closer. Soft pink lips brushed Bitsy's, coaxing them open. Maria's warm tongue flicked Bitsy's, and both the maid and the slave moaned. Maria pulled back momentarily to strip. Her mound was waxed; Bitsy hoped hers would look as delicious without the raven curls at the apex. The maid's firm, milky globes were even a bit bigger, a bit more rounded, than Bitsy's.

The maid winked at her. "I'll let you taste mine; and once I wax yours, I'll make you come in my mouth."

Bitsy swallowed hard. Sensing her indecision, the maid slid back over, kissing her tenderly, and then passionately. Tongues melded and their moans echoed throughout the dungeon.

Slowly, Bitsy's inhibitions faded, just as they had with Stuart. Her mouth slid down, tasting, nibbling, and then biting Maria's neck, enjoying the warm sweetness of her blood almost as much as the cry of pleasure she wrung from the maid. Maria's hair tangled in Bitsy's ebony curls, guiding her downward.

The slave nibbled and kissed and suckled at Maria's beautiful breasts to the delightful gasping music that Maria made. Gently, Bitsy caressed with trembling fingertips past Maria's stomach to the parted lips between the maid's legs.

Maria's pink pussy was already moist, dewy, and ready for a taste. Bitsy's head ducked lower, and, for the first time, she tasted another woman.

Warm, wet, tangy, and sweet all vied for dominance in Bitsy's mouth. No food, no drink, no blood she had tasted had ever tasted so unbelievably delectable, except for the cream that shot from Stuart's cock, she inwardly mused. The hand urging Bitsy now became demanding, holding her mouth to Maria's pussy. Bitsy's tongue tickled Maria's clit playfully, and the maid lifted her hips as her juices spurted into Bitsy's mouth.

The older slave licked greedily, the fresh nectar making her crave more. Finally, Maria pulled her back, looking into Bitsy's completely lime green eyes, glazed with a passion that matched her own dark brown ones.

"Time to switch, I believe," Maria stated, her tone brisk. Maria slid off of the table to trade places with Bitsy. The slave lay back, her eyes closed as Maria caressed, tweaked, and pulled Bitsy's large pink nipples.

Bitsy moaned and writhed beneath Maria. She could hardly believe that she had kissed Maria, caressed her, licked her, and was now going to have the favors returned. Soon, Maria's fingers were replaced by her lips as a smooth, hot coating of wax drizzled onto Bitsy's cunt lips.

The slave jumped slightly. "Shhh," Maria whispered, soothing her. "If you are a really good girl, you'll get a special treat." The thin cotton strips were placed on the wax, then, RIIIIIIP!

Bitsy's voice became a soprano yelp that reverberated again and again in the otherwise silent dungeon. When Maria finished, Bitsy whimpered softly, even though the moisture flowing from her pussy told a different story.

Maria's tongue traced the juices, parting the slick, now bald, lips of Bitsy's pussy. She teased and tortured Bitsy's clit, all the while eliciting shrieks of pleasure that turned into moans, then screams as Bitsy's orgasm flooded into Maria's mouth.

Neither cared that they could be observed from the cameras in the corners of the dungeon. As Maria's soft body slid along Bitsy's, their lips met in a soft kiss that tasted of both of their arousals. ***

"You realize, brother, that you are going to burn in Hell for what you have agreed to do," Marcos, Stuart's older brother, the only first born royal son to have ever abdicated in the history of the country, and the king's unwilling conscience, nagged him from ten feet away.

Stuart shrugged, not bothering to look up from his view on the security cameras that were locked on Bitsy's nude form in the dungeon. Even with the oral respite she had given him, his body still craved hers.

"I mean it." Marcos adjusted his priestly robes. "You know she is not guilty of the Duchess's murder. Why do you continue this?"

Marcos's younger brother did something he rarely did: he stared his older brother down. Of the same towering height, they also shared the unmistakably stubborn square jaw of their forebears. Stuart's flat black snake's eyes met Marcos's clear blue ones with challenge. "Maybe because I want to prove to you, dear brother, exactly how malicious my intent can be. And to everyone else." Stuart's gaze snapped back to the screen as Bitsy's melodious voice chatted with Maria.

Marcos looked at his younger brother. Curiously, Stuart appeared fixated on the new Count's first lieutenant; his brother had never let any woman hold his interest so completely. Maybe, Marcos reasoned, Bitsy will be his kryptonite. Marcos figured he, on behalf of the family, owed it to Bitsy to present a cautionary word to Stuart. "Bitsy's not like the other girls that you've played with brother. She's an innocent. If you destroy that innocence, there will be a hell that you've never known to pay."

His brother did not acknowledge the warning; Stuart's eyes continued to feast greedily on Bitsy's pale, nude form. Sighing, Marcos glanced down at his watch to realize that he was late for an appointment with his new employer. The International Police Department headquarters in Paris was his destination. ***

The jarring scrape of boots on the stone stairs interrupted Maria's musical laughter as she told Bitsy of her childhood in Bucharest. Quickly but professionally, Maria gathered the waxing supplies and the remnants of Bitsy's meal. With a quick bobbing curtsy to Stuart, she scurried up the stairs.

Bitsy kept her eyes closed, hoping that if she pretended sleep, he would leave. "No such luck," Stuart said, appearing to read her mind.

"What do you mean, Your Majesty?" she whispered, the black fur of her eyelashes opening to reveal spring green orbs.

His hands curled into fists, he leaned into Bitsy where she slumped shackled to the wall. Her earlier defiance seemed to have melted with the juices pouring from her pussy. "I am not leaving you here chained to this wall, Elizabeth, my pet. That would be cruel."

Her lips twisted in a parody of a smile. "I see, Your Majesty. And you wouldn't want to be cruel, would you?"

"Exactly." Stuart's smile was one of genuine satisfaction. His gaze swept down her pale nakedness noting for the first time with approval her newly waxed nether lips.

She glanced down to see what so transfixed his gaze. "Did it hurt, slave?

"A bit, Your Majesty, but Maria is very good at her work," Bitsy's voice, for once, was shy.

He smirked a bit, remembering the passionate scene he had seen between his maid and his slave from the security camera. His cock grew even more erect at the memory. "It was supposed to hurt more than a bit, slave, to prepare you for what's to come." His black gaze averted from hers as his stance grew remote, almost resembling a statue.

A shiver ran down Bitsy, prompting gooseflesh to dot her creamy softness. "What's to come, Your Majesty?" Panic tinged the pitch of her voice.

With a chilled hand, he slid her ebony waves back from her neck to stroke there. "Tonight, I will relieve you of your virginity. Tonight, you will become mine. Tonight, you will accept my collar as my slave." His eyes drilled into hers, hypnotizing her.

As for Elizabeth, her mind reeled. She wasn't stupid; she had realized that this is what her sentence entailed. On the way to the palace, during Stuart's first assault on her nakedness, and then while Maria "prepared" her, she had dwelled on the fact that she was about to break her final promise to Michael.

She tried to withdraw herself emotionally and mentally from Stuart's caress on her neck, but his rapidly warming fingers distracted her from that task, bringing back the memories of the imprint of his fingers, his lips, and his teeth on his skin. "It's no good, you know," his honeyed, hypnotic voice coated in a warm chuckle. The conversational tone seemed so at odds with his intent. "You are going to feel and experience every moment of this, my pet. There is no distancing, no withdrawing from this event. You will be with me every step of the way; I promise you the end will be the same as earlier. Fight me all you want, slave, because I'll enjoy your struggles. But at the end, you will be begging me to let you orgasm. If I'm feeling...generous...I just might allow you to do so."

The truly detestable part was not his words, not his certainty of her eventual acquiescence; no, the truly reprehensible aspect was that she knew, deep down, that he spoke the truth.

So lost was she in the knowledge that she would betray herself, Michael, and her virtue, Bitsy did not notice as Stuart unlocked the manacles and caressed her sore wrists. "Beginning this evening, pet, you will sleep beside me in my bedchamber. Please me and it will be in bed. Displease me and it will be in a cage on the floor." He snapped his fingers as if she were no more than a dog. "Come, slave; don't tarry. Lay upon the sofa. Recline. Become comfortable."

At the far end of the dungeon was a chaise, upholstered in plush red velour, a prop from a low-class bordello. It was to this piece of furniture that Stuart pointed. Her degradation and deflowerment would be complete. She walked to the chaise and lay woodenly upon it, her limbs akimbo and at harsh angles. "Tsk, tsk, slave, that will never do," Stuart murmured in the dreaded, falsely conversational tone.

"You are awaiting me, your first lover, your Master, not a fate worse than death." He chuckled at his own joke. "Just because you are not here free and clear on your own terms does not mean that you cannot enjoy yourself." Strong fingers that could easily break every bone in her body without effort smoothed over her bare arms and legs, rearranging the soft limbs to his enjoyment. The trails of sparked electricity he left behind on the feminine paleness left her bereft as his touch abandoned her.

"There," he sighed with satisfaction, a ruddy glint in his eye. "Now you look like a woman who desperately wants to be fucked." His eyes gleamed as he took in the harsh breathing, the womanly arrangement of her body, the nipples that had perked up the instant his fingers had snapped in command, and the glassy eyes that indicated an impending trip to subspace, that secret location that submissive slaves visited behind their eyes when the orgasms granted by the domination one's Master bestowed sent one into orbit. "Is there a problem, pet?"

Fine tremors made her soft white breasts quiver. He smoothed a hand over them, warming them with his touch. The chemistry they shared, the symbiotic Master-slave bond, sparked a need on her body to be imprinted by his. Stuart's eyes widened as his mind catalogued and processed the impossible: Bitsy Dracula, the Ice Bitch that was his cousin's fiancée, needed him, desired him, Stuart, to ease the ache of desire in her body. His mind marveled over that revelation as his body hardened further in preparation for the actual penetration.

She wet her lips, her pink tongue tasting the dry flesh nervously. "A problem," she croaked trying to regain some sense of herself. "You are going to rape me, and you ask me if there is a problem."

"Dear pet, I'm not going to rape you. I abhor that word. It implies a type of force that will not be an issue here. If at any point in time during the festivities you wish me to stop, say 'persimmon'—that is the safe word, remember it, it's important, and I will stop. It is even more effective than 'no.'"

Bitsy's innate curiosity got the best of her. "What is a safe word?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

The king flexed his fingers against his palms to keep from reaching for her and taking her brutally without pause. When her nose wrinkled, she appeared even less the Ice Bitch, and he wanted her with an insane rush. "A safe word is the escape route for a submissive, as you are, or a slave, as you also are, provided by Masters as a matter of protection. Anything that is too much emotionally or physically can be stopped with just the use of the word. All play, training, whatever, comes to a grinding halt at that point."

"Persimmon," she stated.

Stuart nodded. "Yes, that's the word."

"I know that's the word. I'm using it now."

He tapped her nose with his fingertip. "I'm not doing anything to you now. You can't use the word if nothing's happening."

Her answering smile was weak. "I guess asking to retain my virginity is not a possibility at this point, Your Highness?"

He forgave her the purposeful misspeak. In fact, as she referred to him as "Your Highness" more and more, he found the nickname endearing, which surely was not her intention in using it. "Slave, we can do this now or we can do this tomorrow or the next day. The end result is the same. I am going to seduce you. You will submit to me. And I will claim your virginity as my right. Do you understand, pet?"

Bitsy forced herself to nod. She knew his ownership and control over her body was inevitable. It was up to her at this moment to make it either catastrophic or pained. Maybe the king would show mercy on her if she acquiesced. "I understand, Master," she whispered.

Stuart opened a cabinet that touched the chaise and removed a few items that were disturbing at best. A whip with multiple leather tails swished as he waved it in the air. "This is a cat o'nine tails, my dear pet. The cat's tongues can caress if administered properly...or they can impose upon your skin the most electric form of pain." The other item was a length of bungee cord. For this, he offered no explanation; the king simply spread her legs, securing the cord at each ankle and feeding the cord along the bottom of the chaise.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. The trembling virgin was no more; the pink and white goddess with the raven locks had returned, his temptress whose body pulsed with a sexual desire and deviancy to match his own. He lifted the whip over her body to caress her with the strands, starting from her right toe, up her gracefully arched foot. Her foot flexed, the delicate muscles curling from the seductive brush of the leather strands.

As the strands split over her shapely calf, the king was pleased to observe her further relaxation. Her shoulders that had been raised in fight-or-flight readiness curved downwards as her body settled further into the plush crimson velour of the chaise. His nostrils burned with the essence of her arousal that even now beaded at her naked cunt lips. When he draped the tails up her thigh, her pre-orgasmic juices really started to flow. With the tails centered on her cunt, he spread the cream that gathered there to cover her lips and mound. Then the strands continued upward over her pale, flat belly to enshroud each breast. Even before the tails brushed her pink, pouting lips, she moaned for his touch.

"Not yet, my pet. You still are not begging; therefore you are not ready."

Bitsy's moan became one of frustration, and he couldn't resist a bit of an insidious laugh. "You know what to do now pet. Kiss it. It's stroked you like a lover. Doesn't the cat deserve a reward? You will kiss each of the strands." She held the strands to her mouth, kissing each in a glazed gratitude dropping each as it was caressed by her lips. Then, she looked up at Stuart for approval. "Good girl. Now lay back and let me show you how this toy kisses back."

He lifted it only to snap the whip down over her right breast, then her left. Unlike the crop, the snaps caused her to intake her breath only to feel warmth emanating from both slaps from the cat that made her breasts grow rosy slightly and her pussy dew further. Stuart had to keep an iron lock on his control that wanted to flee as her pussy continued to seep sweet fluid that taunted him as he rained the sweet stinging lashes over every inch of her front. Even her feet did not escape notice. With each slap that heightened both of their arousals to a dangerous pitch, she came even further under his umbrella of control.

When her body was covered with marks that flushed her skin an incredible rose and both their harsh breaths could be heard as they struggled for control, he delivered the final slash to the one area of the skin that was not colored by the cat's kiss. When the cat connected on her cunt lips with a much harder smack than the other slaps, her body arched off of the chaise. Her eyes went blank, her cunt squirted juices, and she screamed a scream of orgasm that seemed to go on and on as it echoed through the stone dungeon. Her mind crash-landed in subspace as the post-orgasmic chills shook her body. Her body now was completely limp on the couch, completely relaxed, and completely his.