The Revolutionary

"Oh, this is horrible, Papa!" the attractive blonde young woman stated.

"How could it have come to this?" asked the red-haired lad.

"And I had just gotten the palace, the way I wanted it!" stated the attractive middle-aged red-haired woman.

"Buck up!" returned the bearded middle-aged, tawny-haired man. "We escape as a family. Our considerable wealth will find us a safe haven over the border and with that money, we can set up a government in exile. This so-called "revolution" will burn itself out and we will be welcomed home in a display of gratitude, the likes of which this world has never seen."

The lurching stage continued to bolt over the landscape. The quartet of deposed royals were too stunned for much conversation. The events of the last few days had been a complete nightmare!

The stagecoach ceased its rolling.

"We must be across the border!" the patriarch stated. The royal family heard the locks click and the doors sprung open. Something was wrong! There stood the clean-shaven young revolutionary who had overthrown the imperial government! The handsome man smiled.

"As I stated," he intoned, "I have contacts and control of more men at the apex of your former government than you can imagine, you, parasite!"

The deposed king's mouth dropped in an O. He resembled a stuck fish.

"Not even you most loyal men were trustworthy. You've been riding around the countryside for hours, completely oblivious. There will be no government in exile. All of you will face judgment for your crimes. Now, exit the stage and be quick about it!"

From behind the young revolutionary, a phalanx of soldiers leveled rifles at the occupants of the coach. With lumps in their throats, the royal family slunk out of the vehicle. An aide to the revolutionary strode forward a moment later he popped his head out of the coach and stated to his leader.

"You are right, Esteemed Comrade! There are gold bars, jewels, documents, property deeds, and stock certificates concealed everywhere!"

The leader of the new people's republic turned to face the royal family which had formed themselves into a defensive knot. "No doubt, there is as much or even more sewn into the linings of your clothes! Strip!"

King Rudolph stood rigid in place, unable to overcome the shock of total defeat. It was Queen Isla who found her voice.

"You are a disgusting, young fiend! I shall do no such thing!"

The Esteemed Comrade rolled his eyes and gestured to some members of the female brigade. Their ranking officer saluted him.

"Take these two into the next room and make them comply."

"Yes, Sir!" shot back the major.

The Esteemed Comrade faced the queen and princess. "You will obey my soldiers, or you will not leave this building alive. Corpses can easily be undressed. No one other than my men and women know you are here, and they are all fiercely loyal to me and are sworn to secrecy. Remain recalcitrant and your dismembered bodies will be turned to ash and scattered to the four winds. Am I making myself clear?"

Queen, Isla, forty-four, red-haired, green-eyed, and trim of figure, with a countenance of a woman much younger than her age, nodded her assent and took her daughter's hand. Princess Natalie, Twenty-one, blonde, blue-eyed, with a China doll face and a porcelain complexion, hung her head in shame, took her mother's hand, and followed the uniformed women into the next room.

The Esteemed Comrade watched them disappear before he turned to face the former king and former heir apparent.

"Your daughter is out of sight, why are you still dressed, parasite?"

"I am your superior in every way. I will not yield to you one inch!"

"Fine," shot back the young revolutionary, "You can watch my men ravage your wife, your daughter, and your son before we slit their throats. Those acts will be followed by you witnessing your manhood being cut off, the wound cauterized by a torch, and that manhood being shoved down your throat until you choke on it and expire. I shall give you the least dignified royal execution in human history."

"Barbarian!" spat the deposed king as he reached for his necktie.

"Oppressive dinosaur!" returned the new ruler of the country.

As the king was removing his jacket, the female major entered the room carrying Isla's dress.

"You were right, Esteemed Comrade!" Banknotes and jewels could be spied through distressed and rent seams.

"Excellent work, Major! Make sure not one millimeter or either their clothes or persons goes uninspected. Turn over what you recover as well as the remnants of the garments to the JAG corps for their trials -- when and if they occur."

The female major darted out of the room with the incriminating dress. The Esteemed Comrade turned and faced King Rudolph who was down to his undershorts. At age fifty, the King's debauched youth and lack of an active lifestyle were obvious in his considerable middle-age spread and florid complexion. His tawny beard ended at his hirsute chest. His son, Prince Andre, nineteen, was naked, his hands shielding his manhood. The boy was tall and thin. His curly brown hair and soft features gave him an almost feminine aspect. Rumor around the nation held that the lad was more interested in his hobbies of composing poetry and music and tending to his wardrobe than any significant royal activities. The Esteemed Comrade chuckled inwardly at the thought of the foppish, supercilious heir ever commanding respect or awe upon the throne.

The handsome young revolutionary gestured at Rudolph's undershorts and commanded, "All of it, old man!"

The deposed ruler flushed red but stepped out of his silken boxers to chuckles from the Esteemed Comrade and his assembled men. The man who until a few hours ago was the most powerful man in the entire nation had a minuscule manhood. It could barely be spied in the nest of pubic hair. Rudolph hurriedly hid the royal jewels with his right hand. He needed only half of a hand to conceal his staff of life.

At a signal from the new leader of the ancient kingdom, a pair of twill trousers, cotton shirts, and slippers were tossed at the feet of the father and son.

"Get dressed!"

The king and prince quickly donned the ill-fighting garments. The ex-king's sliced-open waistcoat revealed stock options and foreign currency.

"You stole from your citizens, bled them dry so that you could live a life of extreme privilege. Now, you strive to take as much of that stolen plunder as you can carry out of the country to build a government in exile that would one day return to this country and loot it afresh. You, parasite, are the personification of evil!"

Rudolph crossed his hands across his chest.

"I AM the state. My rights come not from man but from God!'

"Spare me, you, fossil. God turned the very servants and bodyguards from your personal bedroom to our cause. The Joint Chiefs of Staff of your own army threw their lot in with my cause. That is why you were left undefended as the mobs approached. Unlike you, I am only a transitional leader. Once the new constitution is established, I shall return to my former station. You on the other hand will answer for your crimes."

"You have no authority to try me!"

"Says the delusional prisoner!"

At that point, Isla and Natalie were led into the main room. Both wore expressions of distress and were clad in short blue denim skirts and tan cotton blouses. The Esteemed Comrade knew full well that just in the case of the husband and son, no undergarments had been provided. He admired their trim figures and attractive bared legs. The blouses could not disguise the fact that both mother and daughter were delightfully top-heavy. The young revolutionary was struck by the stunning natural beauty of the former queen. He had always felt an affinity for and attraction to mature women. If he had any qualms about the effects of his revolution they concerned her.

Isla regained her poise, "Are we to be executed like common criminals, sir?"

"Woman there is nothing common about you," stated the Esteemed Comrade with a nod and a grin. "Execution is only one possible outcome."

"Then get on with it!" interjected Rudolph.

"The dispensation of any or all of you shall be decided by the people you used to oppress. Bring them to the arraigned place!" exclaimed the new head of state. Each royal was led to a different carriage. These left at five-minute intervals for a fortress not far from the capital.

**

It was time for the newly inaugurated Prime Minister to address the deposed royals one at a time. He sat in his office with a recording secretary and his guards. First up was the former crown princess Natalie. She was led to the office, wrists unbound. She wore the simple dress of a peasant and an anxious expression. At his instruction, she sat across the desk opposite him. The secretary read off a list of formal charges. Natalie's blue eyes lit up with horror.

"Sir! I did none of those things! I am only a young woman. My only activity for the past year has been receiving and opening proposals for an engagement and attempting to find a suitable husband from another royal house."

"You may believe that woman, but I believe the charges, if we were to take them to a people's tribunal, would be convincing and result in a guilty verdict."

The beautiful girl gasped.

"Because of your youth, the death penalty will not be imposed, more likely is several decades of solitary confinement."

The young woman teared up. "Good sir, I beg of you to use your influence to find some way to avoid that punishment. I will live as a commoner and give up all royal claims. I am asking for a chance at life. I am only twenty-two and I've only been kissed a handful of times!"

The dashing prime minister made a non-committal nod. The distraught ex-princess was led from the room.

Next up was the former Prine Andre. A similar list of charges was read aloud. The boy sat and blinked.

"I find those charges most outrageous!" he replied.

'That is your opinion. I assure you, that if you were brought before a people's tribunal, your conviction is an almost forgone conclusion. Because of your youth, execution is not a likely outcome. Were you willing to undergo voluntary sterilization, ending the royal line permanently, your incarceration shall not be long or especially onerous, so long as you also publicly renounce any claim to the throne or foment revolution against the nation of your birth! As a condition of parole, you will never be permitted foreign travel."

"I demand a trial. The people will rally to my side!"

"Dismissed!" barked the prime minister. "Get him back to his apartment."

The guards grasped the boy by the scruff of the neck and dragged him down the hall.

The former king had not taken to captivity well. He was surly and dissolute. He said not a word as he settled himself across from his usurper. It took nearly an hour to recite the list of charges.

"Bah!"

"Scoff all you want, parasite. If this goes to a people's tribunal your life will be forfeit. Your death will be painful and of excruciating duration. Hanging, firing squad, and gas have been ruled out as possible methods to end you. I leave it to you to contemplate the alternatives that are left open. The result will be the same. The ultimate end of your reign."

"My son will avenge me!"

The prime minister laughed and informed him of the charges against his daughter and son. Do you really think your supercilious son won't cede his fertility to escape a decade of hard labor in prison serving with deaf inmates so he cannot elicit any sympathy through oratory? Your family's long hold over this country is over. The only question for you to ponder is, how you will meet your maker."

The rebellious ex-royal spat in the Prime Minister's direction. He avoided the spittle and said mockingly. Your last rebellion is like you, obese and impudent! Take him away!"

He had saved the former queen for a variety of reasons, many of them deeply personal. Isla was quiet. She had made the effort to spruce up her simple home-spun dress. Her face was unlined and makeup-free. He had always been attracted to her looks and personality. He had a cup of tea waiting for her, a nicety he had not provided the others. She took a sip.

The secretary read off the charges of her daughter, son, and husband, as well as the possible punishments. The color drained from her lovely face.

"You would steal the youth from my daughter! You would emasculate my son! You would murder my husband?"

Icy silence met her comment before he spoke, "Shall I bother to have the charges against you read?"

"That shall not be necessary. I can imagine them quite well. Nothing I can say or do will alter any of our fates."

The subsequent moment of silence ended with a statement from the young man, "Perhaps the contrary is true Madame."

Her blue eyes boggled, "What do you mean?"

"Hypothetically, I could arrange for your daughter to be wed to an older, widowed, distinguished office of the upper command. He would consult with his counterparts in allied nations meaning wonderful trips and extended vacations to alluring exotic nations. She would have to renounce any claim to the throne for herself and her future children, of course; and she would have no say in the officer selected. She will meet him at the altar. Hypothetically, I could find a position as a private for your son in the foreign expeditionary forces. It will be a hard, disciplined life, which will see him very rarely return to this nation. He will have all the rights and privileges of any soldier including a full pension at age fifty-five. He must, of course, renounce his claims on the throne as well. If he marries, his wife must be foreign, and, under no circumstances may she enter this country. He could write you a letter every day, send you pictures and poems, but he will never be in a position where he could ever regain the throne through means either fair or foul."

Isla nodded, "And my husband?"

The new prime minister shook his head.

"I see. How do those hypotheticals become non-hypotheticals?"

The young man smiled and leaned back in his chair. "The people need symbols. They need demonstrable proof that a new order has descended. Some such as the elimination of your husband are essential. Others contain vast import in how they are carried out. We cannot have you free and we cannot have you imprisoned. Your status as a widow, either nominally free or behind bars, would make you an attractive target to foes of this nation and some of the old guard within it. There are those who would seek to place the fallen crown upon your lovely head and reverse all the progress made. That cannot be allowed to happen. The court can explain away the mercy for your children because of their youth. The court will paper over their clear culpability if you offer something in exchange."

"Such as?" asked Isla after a nervous swallow.

"You must be rendered to such a state that ascending to royalty again would be impossible."

He opened a drawer and removed a chromium and composite material collar. "If you willingly enter the state of chattel slavery, your son and daughter will have futures. Not the ones they expected but productive and free lives. If you take the collar, you will die in it and will be buried with the paupers."

"That is perverse!"

"So, you view it now. You will have to learn an entirely new skill set, cooking, cleaning, scrubbing, sucking cock, licking pussy. You will retain the old skills of being demure and obedient."

"I was your queen!"

"The people need a symbol. The highest and mightiest of us must assume a position lower than the most wretched citizen or this revolution is pointless. You, collared and humbled, will kill entirely the counter-revolutionary movement."

"What person owns that collar?"

"The collar in question is mine, madame."

Isla ran her fingers through her hair. "This entire revolution of yours was a ploy to get into my knickers?"

"Oh, I assure you, my revolution was sincere, the inside of your knickers was an afterthought. A delightful afterthought. However, soon elections will be held, and I will cede the prime minister's mantle. Taking a souvenir into retirement has definite appeal."

"I'm twice your age!"

"That doesn't bother me."

"You are a disgusting, reprobate."

"Perhaps, but that is not a no."

"Must I make my decision now?"

"I will give you seventy-two hours to contemplate. Beyond seventy-two hours the trials will begin, starting with your son."

"Can I consult with them, can I see my husband?"

"You must contemplate alone. Your children will not know that you have set their fates until the die is cast."

"Will you be merciful?"

"A gentle yet firm hand is what I offer."

The lovely older woman studied the younger men. He was certainly handsome and fit. She stopped herself short, how could she even be contemplating ...

"May I return to my apartment?"

"Certainly. Notify me when you have made your decision."

The mature woman was escorted back to her humble apartment in a daze. Once behind her door, she spent many hours in contemplation. After her dinner was served, Isla requested a visit from the Chaplin. She and the man of the cloth spoke until nearly dawn. It was emotional and gut-wrenching for both. At last, a decision was made. The priest intoned the prayer of absolution and anointed Isla's head, hands, and chest with oil.

"I believe our leader's scheme may be counterproductive. Your Grace, the people will see you as brave and noble. Their love for you will be even more profound and boisterous. Though you will no longer be the queen of our country, once this deed is done, I surmise that you will be more beloved than any of your predecessors in all their finery and poise."

"Thank you, Father."

"Go with God, daughter."

The priest exited the small apartment. Isla didn't even bother getting undressed. She slid into bed and had her deepest sleep since years before the revolution. She woke mid-afternoon of the following day. She rose, made herself a cup of tea, and stripped off. She considered her reflection in the mirror her captors had provided. She knew she had a fine physique for a woman her age. Previously, she had taken pride in that. Now, she wished she was a haggard old crone. Or, at the very least, the sort of woman who left the shockingly young prime minister cold. Isla recalled it all, her pampered girlhood, her whirlwind courtship with Rudolph, the disappointment of their first honeymoon tryst. Her obedience in bed, often just lying there, fulfilling her wifely duties as Rudolph exercised both his marital and royal prerogatives. The birth of her children. Most of all, she saw her emptiness, being a wife, a mother, and a queen had their enjoyments but taken as a whole. What was the point of it all? Duty had been her reason de vie for all her forty-four years. Slavery and a collar, as onerous as the prospect was, was simply one more duty. She tugged a robe about her slim form. Soon, she would not even own her very skin! She sighed and strode to the bathroom and began to fill the tub. If nothing else, she would be clean before this dirty business began.

**

In the young man's office once more, the conversation was candid, even informal.

"You know there is but one answer I can give, sir."

"I need to hear it."

"I will accept your collar. I will become your property."

The young prime minister's face betrayed no emotion. "The fate of your children shall be as I promised."

Isla nodded, "Thank you, sir."

"Shall we seal the deal with a kiss?"

"Sir?"

He came out from behind the desk, took her hand, and compelled her to stand. She was in his embrace, his hot lips upon hers. It had been decades since Isla had kissed any man other than Rudolph. Her husband was an adequate kisser but always seemed mentally preoccupied. She was completely unprepared for the passion and intensity of the young man's kiss. She went weak in the knees and was suddenly grateful for his embrace. After a long interval, he broke the clinch and stepped backward. Isla emitted a gasp and flushed crimson all over. The young man's brown eyes sparkled with passion and mischief.