"Put her in irons and then we'll do the rest." That was Lord Aker's order.
Princess Catalina tried to get away, to crawl across the hard dirt floor, but she didn't get very far. The stable lad was the first to reach her. He grabbed an ankle, the better to see her cunt, and the arms master and the barber each took hold of a wrist.
Quickly the surgeon helped the stable lad. He took a firm grasp of her other leg, and the good Lord and her future husband grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back, looking into her eyes. His face very close.
"Look at me!" he ordered. "You still don't understand. You've got no place to go. There's no way out. I could drop you down a well and nobody would ever know, or ever care, what happened to you. You'd simply disappear. You would be gone, forever. No last rites, no final confession, no absolution, You'd be doomed to hell for all eternity. I don't think you want that. Or I can keep you around ... for as long as you amuse me, for as long as you satisfy my wants...for as long as you give me pleasure."
She had never been spoken to like this before, and princess Catalina was clearly terrified. Then he kissed her on the mouth, just before they picked her up and carried her to the bale of hay.
The men must have done this before, with some servant girl or perhaps the wife or daughter of some peasant. It was all very quick and very coordinated.
First they made her kneel at the hay bale. Her knees were in the dirt, her body stretched out across the hay. In that uncomfortable position she was forced to grind her tits and belly into the rough hay, and the more she struggled the more it hurt.
The stable boy held her from behind and she felt his stiff prick against the crack of her ass. She was sure he hadn't bathed since last Easter, and he stank. The other servants were reasonably clean, for whatever it was worth.
They began with the shackles on her wrists, cold heavy iron. There was only one link between the cuffs, and her movement would be severely limited. Later, Princess Catalina realized she would be able to piss, and wipe herself dry. But she would have to beg a peasant woman or, God forbid, the dirty stable boy to wipe her ass every time she needed to perform that particular form of elimination. The ankles cuffs had several lengths of chain on each side.
"Put the cuffs on her ankles for now," her Lord commanded. "We'll join the links when we're finished with her.
They picked her up and turned her over on the bale of hay. The barber held her arms over her head while the others forced princess Catalina to bend her knees. The chains went once around each thigh and small locks were used to hold the chains in place. Then her new husband took control of her arms and the surgeon and the stable boy opened her legs wide.
"Shave her cunt and then under her arms. We'll see if we can guess how many times my blushing bride's been broached. Then the surgeon will inspect her body to make sure she doesn't have a disease, and while he's at it he'll look for the 'witch's mark.' It would be a shame to have to turn this tasty piece of fruit over to the Inquisition."
Princess Catalina almost peed with fright from the mention of the Inquisition. She prayed a silent prayer while slowly, slowly, the barber began to sharpen his razor.
"Please, dear God, don't hurt me."
Princess Catalina hated to beg, and she really wanted to say, "Please, fuck the shit out of me –ream my asshole with that big stiff prick of yours - hurt me with your cock as much as you can."
Lord Aker knew the truth. He could see it in her eyes. Some women never get enough cock - in their mouths or their cunts. Or if they are very special, in their asses. Sometimes they just needed a little bit of encouragement to bring them to that realization.
She was on her back, her arms over her head, her ankles chained tight against her thighs.
"Start under her arms, with the scissors," her future husband, her present Lord, and Master, ordered.
The barber grasped a handful of her underarm hair and pulled it hard.
"Owwwee."
"Sensitive bitch," as he cut the first handful.
Slowly, painfully, he cut the hair from both armpits, pulling the handfuls of hair and chopping it off. Towards the end he laid the scissors on their side and trimmed very close. He nicked her once or twice with the large blades, and finally had to threaten to cut off her nipples if she didn't stop her whining. Princess Catalina was blubbering, besides herself with fear, by the time the first part of the ordeal was over.
"Now her cunt," Lord Aker ordered.
The surgeon and the master at arms held her open, wide open, her knees wide apart with her hairy cunt totally exposed. The stable lad was allowed to watch, his eyes open very wide, as the barber hacked off most of her public hair with the scissors. Then the servants continued to hold her as the barber sharpened his razor, back and forth across the stone, back and forth, back and forth.
"Barber, soap her up." The barber had a bowl of water and a bar of soap straight from the castle kitchen. He wet the dirty rag and rubbed her cunt with it.
"No, please don't."
"Shut up, bitch."
Then the wet bar of soap was rubbed against the stubble of her pubic hair. Princess Catalina tried to squirm but they held her tight. The barber worked the bar back and forth against her stubble until he finally worked up a little foam.
Princess Catalina had never bathed with kitchen soap before. She was a royal princess, used to finer things in life. This soap was not a fine thing. Even on the march, when she was leading troops in battle, she brought along the fine things that gave her pleasure.
This soap did not give her pleasure. It was made from cooking grease and lye – ashes from the hearth, really, and it was formed by a very simple chemical process. It smelled of pig and it only made a slight lather. Worse, it burned her delicate private area.
"Please, it hurts. Wash it off, please."
"When your cunt is as smooth as a newborn baby's bottom."
Then the barber started with the cut throat razor. Princess Catalina was afraid he would cut her belly, or do even more damage further down, as he scraped the dark stubble from just below her belly button to the area between her cunt and asshole.
Princess Catalina had been told by one of her officers that Arabs circumcised their women. She was fascinated to learn they mutilated their daughter's cunts while they are still little girls, trimming off the clitoris and outer labia. They did this so that as grown women would never have any sexual pleasure, so they would never masturbate, so they would never cheat on their husbands, so that they would be faithful wives.
"Please, dear God" Princess Catalina prayed to herself, but it was really a soft whisper. "Please don't let them cut me like the Arabs do."
"No, my sweet, I'd never mutilate that pretty cunt of yours. That would be very stupid of me. I know I can't make you my slave if I deny you these special pleasures. You'll soon learn my favorite sex practices are all very addictive. I know you're not a virgin - that you like to cum, that you never get enough sex. And I'll teach you new things, better things, dirty sinful things. When I'm done with you, done with all of your training, you'll pray not to burn in hell with me and all my other whores for all eternity for all the sins we've committed."
Was she a dirty sinful whore? What kinds of things would he teach her?
She knew she couldn't resist so princess Catalina tried to relaxed and let the barber finish his task as quickly as possible. Lord Aker was right. There was something delightfully sinful about having a bare cunt, about being open and on display if he wanted others to see her.
"Are you finished yet," the Lord asked the barber.
"With her cunt, I am. But she's got the hairiest asshole I've ever seen. And I'd never get in there with this razor."
Lord Aker gave it a moment's though. Then he gave his order to the stable lad.
"Run and fetch the seamstress. Tell her to come back immediately, and to bring a strong kitchen maid to help her. Tell her to bring her tweezers, and a bucket of corn cobs. And while you're at it, fetch me a stool to sit on, and bring me a bucket of beer. We'll all have a party."
Princess Catalina had no idea what was planned. The barber and master of arms turned princess Princess Catalina over on her belly, and used several lengths of rope to tie her to the bale of hay. The hay scratched her tits and belly, which only added to her discomfort.
Finally the entourage assembled. Lord Aker sat on the stool directly in front of the princess. It was clear he enjoyed the look of fear on her face.
"We can't inspect you for the witch's mark if you have a hairy asshole, can we, my Lady?" He was being intentionally formal. Just then princess Catalina didn't have the strength to reply rudely.
"No, my Lord," she said in a defeated voice.
"But perhaps the seamstress can help. Spread your ass and pluck you like a chicken."
From the beginning, princess Catalina was sure they had done this before. While the men held her arms and legs, the kitchen made spread the cheeks of her ass, exposing her hairy asshole.
