Maid to Order

It was a good opportunity. You would live in safety and relative comfort. The Prince wasn't as bad as his reputation made him seem.

These phrases were parroted to you in the days leading up to your induction into the cleaning staff of Castle Jalope. As you were led towards the castle, a Royal escort clearing the path through the streets for you, many looked at you with jealousy, others with pity. Most held a disdain for the Castle and all who inhabited it, even if they were given no choice like yourself.

As you approach the grey stone walls surrounding the menacing fortress, you have second thoughts, hesitating in your step. The heavily armored knight behind you simply keeps up his normal pace, steel chestplate forcing you to keep up or fall. The Royal escort notices and sighs.

"It's perfectly natural to be nervous, but the Prince chose you for a reason," he says. "Some call him a collector of beautiful things, and you should take solace in the fact that your God appointed Prince has found your beauty worthy. You will no longer love in that filth and squalor. You will serve your Lord as first his maid, then perhaps more, should he see fit."

You pass through the huge wooden gates, the inside of the Castle a stark contrast to the muddy, dirty city that lay outside. Green courtyards with perfectly shaped hedges and blooming flowers. White marble statues of heathen gods and goddesses, and a small river trickling through the whole affair, disappearing into the ground. You are quickly led inside, the dark stone floors echoing the sounds of the armored footsteps behind you. The escort stops in front of a small wooden door and opens it, walking inside.

"This will be where you stay once your work is finished. You can rest, bathe, whatever here. Your uniform is on the bed, and you must bathe every day to keep with the rigorous standards of the Prince," he says. "Do you understand?"

You nod silently, and he returns the gesture. "Right then, I have other matters to attend to. Tonight, the Prince shall come here to see you. Be sure to be bathed and prepared to receive His Majesty."

He turns on his heel and leaves, closing and locking the door behind him.

____________________________________

1 week ago

you lived a normal life. A young woman of marrying age, you had to deal with many suitors of varying caliber. But today was not about that. The Prince was coming out of his castle for the first time in over a year. The town was abuzz as vendors and merchants prepared for the wealth of the Castle to be spent in the surrounding city. Your own cart was the mobile branch of the family business. Early each morning, your father would go into the cellar of your modest home and return with several buckets full of assorted dried meats, smoked and aged according to his secret recipe.

Among the common folk of the town, it was immensely popular. Merchants would buy it as sustenance for their travels between lands, while rich folk often bought it as a snack. But today would be the ultimate test. Would it attract the attention of the Prince on his one day among the people.

The center of town is packed with people, no doubt all attempting to catch the eye of the prince and perhaps win a contract to provide their service to the wealthiest man in the land. You manage to set up your cart along a small alley, just adjacent to the main square. You barely get your sign up on the front of the cart before a line forms and dozens of shouting men and women all hand you coin for your goods.

Hours pass and your stores in the cart begin to dwindle with no sign of the prince showing. You'd been saving a decent sized portion in case he showed up, but as the sun begins to dip down, you realize he probably won't show. You turn to the customer before you and tell him to wait a moment while you get the last bit of meats for him. You kneel, opening the cart and grabbing the last small bucket, only a few strips of meat left inside as you bring it up, only to notice that the crowd has gone quiet. Standing in front of the cart is a Royal escort and another man beside him with a quill and scroll, the feather dancing as he furiously scribbles something.

"The Prince has heard of your product and wishes a sample," the escort says loud enough for the crowd to hear. Behind him is a large horse drawn cart with various goods piled inside, all presumably destined for the castle.

You wrap the meat in paper and hand it to him as he drops a single gold coin on the cart, turning and leaving, the noise slowly building back up to it's normal volume. You wheel your now empty cart back home where you present the coin to your parents who excitedly ask about the Prince, slightly disappointed that it was only an escort who arrived.

________________________________________

On the bed lay your 'uniform'. It was higher quality clothing than any you'd worn before, but it was so lacking in material; A lacy, beautiful garment that covered less than your normal underwear. The bath was already drawn and hot, if the steam rising from it was anything to go by. Stripping free from your old clothes, you quickly but thoroughly bathe, drying yourself off with a towel far larger and softer than any you'd held before.

Still eyeing the uniform, you put it on, unsure when the prince is supposed to arrive. You look at yourself in the mirror, trying to decide whether you like the way it looks, discarding the headdress. It was tiny, as if designed for a child, and must have been mistakenly given with this uniform.

The door unlocks from the outside and opens wide, startling you from the mirror as you turn around. In walks what can only be the prince, a tall man, dark hair and beard shining, either from recent exertion or bathing. A baggy white tunic covers his body, tucked into fitted brown trousers. At his hip is a belt with a sword sheathed, his hand resting on the hilt. His black boots click across the floor as he walks toward you, the difference in height becoming more apparent as he approaches.

You unconsciously back up as he shows no sign of slowing, but your back is against the mirror when he stops barely a foot from you, looking you over like one does a prize horse.

"Good. You'll do," he says after a moment, stepping back.

"See these spotless shining floors? I like them to stay that way. My boots squeak on them when I turn, and it is very nice. Your job is to make sure they stay perfect. Simple enough right?"

You nod, a bit confused by his fixation with the floors.

"Alright, a test then, to gauge your skill," he says, drawing his sword and slashing it against the stone, metal sparking as a long shallow scratch marks the otherwise spotless surface. "Sometimes there are accidents, and the floor gets scratched. I need to know that you have the skill to fix it in a reasonable time."

He points to a clean rag and polishing stone sitting on the table beside your bed, watching as you grab the tools and kneel beside the scratch, trying to figure out the technique.

He watches for a moment as you struggle, then says, "The stone doesn't polish without water," a slight irritated edge to his voice. You wet the stone with bathwater and begin polishing, the scratch fading into a dull smear. Wiping with a rag reveals a light grey line, clearly different from the surrounding stone. You look up at him for guidance, unsure how to proceed, fearing you may only make it worse.

"You are new, so I suppose I have to be a little lenient with you. But I also like when I don't have to tell my servants every detail of their jobs. I have other things to do."

You look back down at the grey scar, the rag and the stone, indecision staying your hands as you simply stare at the problem. The Prince evidently cannot stand such inaction, and groans.

"Absolutely useless. I ask my man to find me someone who can actually help, and he just sends me another peasant in need of punishment? Get up..."

He barely waits for you to get to your feet before turning you and pushing you face first onto the bed, your uniform riding up and exposing your naked bottom to him. He pauses for a moment, one hand on the small of your back, inching down before he apparently decides better. He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head up, eliciting a startled cry from your lips.

"I can't have a useless maid. You are going to learn how to clean, or I will send you back into that rabble out there dressed like this." He pauses and his grip tightens slightly. "Where is the headdress? Your uniform is not complete without the headdress," he says, his body pressing against your behind as he speaks into your ear. At your silence, he moves back and yanks up your uniform slightly.

"You will--"

SMACK. An open hand descends on your bare cheek, hard enough to cause you to cry out in pain.

"Answer me--"

SMACK.

"When I ask--"

SMACK.

"A question."

SMACK.

Both your cheeks are reddened and sore from the unexpected attack, but despite yourself you feel a warmth growing between your legs.

You weakly say, "There... it's too small," as you point to the tiny headdress on the pillow. As the Princess hand leaves your ass, his fingers brush against your lower lips, causing you to twitch slightly.

"Good girl," he says. "Just answer me and serve me well and I will reward you like no one else can. Understand?"

You nod weakly, saying, "Yes," in case he requires verbal confirmation.

"Good. I'd hate to have to ruin something so beautiful." He pauses for a moment then whispers, "But you would be such fun while you lasted."

He stands, leaving you bent over the side of the bed, admiring the view of your hand printed ass before saying, "Practice on this floor, and once you get it right, I will allow you from this room. I will see you tomorrow night."

He turns and walks away, adjusting his trousers as he goes, locking the door behind him as you lay still, ass warm and tingling from the abuse it just received.

2.

It had been a few days since you'd arrived. There must be some combination of water, stone, and rag that would eliminate the grey scar that discolored the otherwise perfect floors, but it eluded you. And every day you received the same punishment, bent over at the waist, face pushed into the mattress as the prince pulled up your uniform and relentlessly slapped your skin, red handprints burned into the smooth pale cheeks. Every time, that same warmth between your legs built and faded, stronger with each strike, proportional to the pain he inflicted upon you. He seemed to understand this as well, his fingers gently stroking your lips before he left, sometimes pushing slightly inside, dangerously close to discovering the shameful wetness built up within you.

Today was different. He came in with a calm demeanor, no anger or hurry in his step. As you bend over the side of the bed, accepting your usual punishment as trained to do so, he shakes his head and says, "No. You don't learn. It's time for more." He grabs your hair and yanks you to a standing position, turning you to face him, your hips pressed against his as you are leaned backwards over the bed, your bare butt almost sitting on the edge. He stares into your eyes, emotions unreadable as he pushes you down to your knees, still holding your hair like a handle.

"I think it's time to tell you why I really brought you here," He says as he undoes his belt with his other hand. He releases your hair and grabs your arms, wrapping the belt around your wrists, binding them behind your back to the frame of the bed.

"I am going to be King one day, and I will need a Queen," he says absentmindedly as he tightens the restraints, standing up in front of you. "But most of the nobles who want to marry me are, well... set in their ways. They have family and influence."

He brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, his finger tracing your jaw down to your chin. "But you come from nothing. You have nothing. And I can do anything I want to you with no consequences," he says, his thumb running over your trembling lips and slowly sliding inside. "You wouldn't dare talk back to me, or refuse me, because you know what I can do," he says, slowly removing his thumb and putting it in his mouth to taste your lips. "Well, not yet you don't. But you will."

He quickly lowers his trousers, his cock springing forth, hitting your chin, causing you to jerk back in surprise. "If you talk back," he says, grabbing your hair, "I will silence you with my cock like this." He presses the head of his member to your lips, forcing it inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag.

He holds himself inside your throat, cock pulsing as you gag, hands involuntarily straining against the belt that binds you. "If you struggle, I will just punish you more." He bucks his hips, pushing into your throat, holding your head as you strain against him, his cock inching past your mouth. Despite the lack of air, gagging, and the sharp pain in your wrists, you feel that warmth again. The closer your lips get to the base of his cock, the more wetness you feel collecting on your lower lips, threatening to run down your leg, drip onto the floor beneath you. Through teary eyes you see the Prince look down at you with a strange expression, as if he is concentrating on an incredibly important task as he slides his cock in and out of your mouth, the back of your head pressed against the side of the bed. Spit and cum run down your face, dripping onto your outfit and onto the floor between your knees. His face grows more and more stressed, his breathing short and fast as he licks his lower lip, watching you take his cock like a cheap whore. "If I am to take a woman to be my wife one day, she will serve me and serve me well," he says, words quick and strained. "Once I deem you adequately trained, I will make you mine entirely. You will share a bed with me, satisfy all my needs, and bear me many children." He grunts, approaching his climax. "But until you are trained, you are just a maid with a set of tight wet holes."

He groans and buries himself in your throat, his entire length forced into you as he cums. His cock throbs, each pulse shooting a stream of hot white fluid down into your stomach. He holds himself in so long that you begin to see stars, your vision darkening as he finally slides his spit covered cock from your wide open mouth. Too weak to move, you gasp for air, saliva and cum dripping from your lips as the Prince admires his handiwork. He pulls up his pants and retreives his belt, untying your wrists. He gently lifts you from your kneeling position on the floor and lays you on the bed, cutting off the soaked uniform and wiping your face and breasts with the dry parts of it.

"A new uniform will be ready for you tomorrow," he says, tossing the ruined one on the floor before throwing the heavy blanket over you and walking out, sliding his belt on as he closes the door behind him.

3.

The next day it was back to the spanking. Outwardly you were relieved. Your throat was grateful, still sore from the past days' experience. Your bottom could handle the punishment being dealt, the days prior building your resistance to such pain. But secretly you craved more. Even as his hand descends on your upturned cheeks, the stinging pain causing you to subtly wince, you wanted more, needed more. Images of his hands gripping your hair fill your mind unbidden as he alternates between using his hand and belt to redden your cheeks.

The nights are little relief, hours spent in the darkness with the handle of a hairbrush to keep you company. Sometimes you would release the built up tension between your legs, other times push it as far into your throat as you could while imagining it were him. You knew it was coming soon enough, but the only question was when. Shame fills you on these nights as you lay in bed, pleasuring yourself to the thoughts of a man who was using you as nothing more than a warm set of holes to stuff his cock into, but shame did nothing to stop you.

Several days pass before you see him again. You aimlessly wander your locked room, slowly losing your mind as the small collection of literature quickly runs out of new material, the streak on the floor all but forgotten by you. Sometimes you think you hear the door unlocking, and reflexively bend over the bed, but no one enters. Until finally, he does.

The door slams open, and the prince strides over, belt already in hand, a sour expression on his face, not even bothering to close the door. He pauses for a moment at the foot of your bed, glances down at the still ruined floor, and then back to you. "Do you have an explanation," he asks quietly. He waits for barely a moment. "I didn't think so."

His belt descends on your ass harder than he ever had done so before, causing you to cry out in pain and lurch forward into the bed. His hand grabs the back of your uniform and holds you still as he brings the belt down again, harder each time until you start crying. "Useless girl. You are not my only responsibility, and when I have to waste my time to come down here and try to make you learn, the entire city suffers," he says, gently rubbing his hand across your bruised, tortured skin, heat radiating off it like a stove.

You hear the clink of his belt buckle and brace yourself once more, but he grabs both your arms and binds them behind you once more. He grabs your hair and uses the remaining length of the belt to bind your hair roughly to your wrists, head forced to look straight forward as you are bent over the bed.

He pauses for a moment to admire his handiwork, your trembling body bound and helpless beneath him. "Honestly, I don't care too much about the floors. Sure I like the way they look and all, and as a maid you really should know how to service them, but I really just enjoy using you, and I don't need you to be good at anything other than being a warm place for me to rest my cock after a long day."

You feel both his hands on your cheeks as he spreads them, your holes exposed and vulnerable. You wonder if he is finally going to do it, and a part of you tingles with anticipation, a primal urge to feel him fill you with his heir.

His tongue slides over your asshole and you jump slightly, the sensation unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. He spreads your cheeks and buries his face between them, breathing heavily as his tongue gently slides around and pushes against the tight hole. He breaks away for a moment and says, "All of your holes belong to me, even this one."

He dives back in, the bristles of his beard tickling your lower lips as your back arches and your hips jerk involuntarily. You feel yourself growing wetter by the second, but try to hold your tongue to not let him know how good it feels, or how badly you want him inside you. How badly you need him to pump a baby into you. You let out a gasp as your lustful thoughts relax you enough to allow his tongue to slip slightly inside you. He pulls away for a moment and says, "I knew you were just a little whore. You think I can't smell this," he asks, his finger gently stroking your pussy, collecting drops of your wetness.

He stands up and grabs your legs, undoing his belt from your hair and flipping you over. He drops his trousers and pushes you entirely onto the bed face up before joining you, straddling your chest as his hard cock looms above your face. He sticks his finger into your mouth and says, "I knew from the very first time my hand met your ass that you were going to work out for me. You think no one can hear you in the night as you gasp and moan for me? You can pretend to resist all you want, but I know what you really want..."

Both his hands are on the bed on either side of your head as he parts your legs with his own, his cock head pressing gently against your slightly parted pussy lips. "You want me to be the one to claim you, to make you mine forever and make you the one to bear my children. You want be to slide this cock into you and fill you with my seed every day until we are sure it has taken. And then you still don't want it to stop..." He slowly moves his hips, his cock sliding gently up and down your lips, pushing but never going inside.