Out Of The Frying Pan 3

"You can see why I summoned you, sire. These gypsy women have some rather interesting horses towing that caravan. Look closely."

"I see what you mean, colonel."

The invading king Geoffrey turned to the dark-complexioned gypsy women and asked, "How did you ladies come into possession of a team of horses from the royal stables of your fleeing king Arnold?"

The first woman stated, "We found them, your excellency."

"Really? Where?"

"They wandered into our camp. No one was using them, your royal highness."

"Interesting, woman. Don't gypsies generally have their own horses? Further, I have captured every castle in this realm. All of the mares, stallions, and geldings save those actually being used by King Arnold and his knights have been accounted for. The battlefields are quite some distance from this barn on the border. For two horses, tended and cared for with the intention of being for royal use only should end up in the hands of two anonymous gypsy women, is either quite a remarkable coincidence or a bit of chicanery is afoot."

"We speak the truth, Sire!" insisted the first woman. The second gypsy woman remained silent but looked or warily.

"Search the wagon!" ordered King Geoffrey.

"Sire!" came the startled reaction, "It is filled with jewels and gold bars bearing King Arnold's royal crest!"

"Ah, so it is chicanery!" stated Geoffrey.

He shot the women a withering look and said, "Fetch the farmer's wife and daughter, if she has one, so these women can be stripped and searched."

"You shall do no such thing!" the previously silent woman declared.

King Geoffrey peered closely at the defiant woman. There was something familiar about the woman. She had a certain air, an imperiousness not at all befitting a humble gypsy woman. The vanquishing king strode over to the slim lovely woman. She met his gaze with open hostility.

"You do not know your place, woman," opined the king. He intended to grasp the woman on the shoulder, but she flinched, and Geoffrey's hand came down upon her headscarf, it came away along with the dark wig under it, revealing net restraining golden curls. Instantly the pieces fit together.

"Why if it isn't Arnold's Queen Margarite, disguised and absconding with the royal treasury! And the other must be her chief lady in waiting!"

"You foul parasite!" squealed the exposed queen.

"Insult me all you like, bitch. I have to upper hand. No doubt more treasures are sewn into the linings of your voluminous skirts. We shall soon find out!"

"I am a queen of the realm. I'll not bare my person to a mere commoner!"

"Or the contrary, madam, you are no longer the queen of anything. You and your lady are my prisoners as is your treasure. Your only hope for clemency is through me. Now, you and your handmaiden will cooperate with the search, strip to your skins, and be quick about it. No one knows that I have captured you. No one knows that you are or the run with your people's wealth in your possession; and, if I give the word, neither of you will leave this barn alive. Is that clear, your grace?"

An involuntary shiver passed through the captured queen. At that moment, the soldier dispatched to the farmhouse returned with the farmer's wife and her adult daughter. Both women curtsied when they realized they were in the presence of their new king and absolute ruler. Geoffrey explained quickly what was expected of the women. The farm women and the captured women were ordered behind a partition that left only the women's heads and shoulders exposed.

"Once the prisoners have disrobed, throw their clothing over the partition. I then expect you to search every part of them is that clear?"

"Yes, sire!" returned the farmer's wife and her daughter.

The disguised queen Margarite moaned mightily, but, at last, her dress was tossed over the partition. King Geoffrey spied the humiliated royal trying to hold back her tears. She had not entirely succeeded, and rivulets of tears had etched away at the brown dye or her face, revealing pale, alabaster skin. The dye on her face and neck ended at her delicate collar bones. It was clear to King Geoffrey that the tales of Margarite's beauty were true. It was clear that free of the disguise and paint, that she would be an absolutely stunning woman.

One of his men was busily disassembling the queen's gypsy dress. He held open a seam and smiled at the king, diamonds and other jewels winked in the lantern light of the barn.

"Bag up the dresses, we will inventory everything later."

"Yes, sir!" replied the officer snappily.

Geoffrey smiled when he turned and discovered the queen's undergarments, boots, and stockings on the floor beyond the partition. These too would need to be searched. The king decided that he would perform this task himself. He had the queen's unmentionables bagged separately and had the parcel placed in his saddlebag.

"You, whore!" screamed Margarite as the fingers of the farmer's wife entered her sex. A moment later, the farmer's wife presented Geoffrey with a small silk bag. He opened it and found the Star of Orion, the crowning jewel of the royal collection. It was priceless.

The mother and daughter stepped out from behind the partition and informed Geoffrey that they had finished their search.

"Can you supply these women with dresses? You will be well compensated," stated the king in response.

"My clothes should fit them rather well, sire," offered the daughter.

Geoffrey removed a small change purse full of gold coins and handed it to the daughter. "Hasten to bring them something suitable, girl."

The young woman was off like a shot for the farmhouse.

From the other side of the partition, the newly deposed Queen Margarite glowered at conquering King Geoffrey.

"It is true that you and your entire nation are nothing but filthy reprobates!" she hissed accusatorily.

"And YOU shall mind your tongue, woman. If I am such a filthy reprobate, then why did your husband's army not only desert the battlefield but also hasten to fight by my side once I led my troops over your border? It seems to me that both your husband and you have overstayed their welcome in your own nation."

Margarite continued to glare defiantly at her usurper.

"Further," continued Geoffrey, "In a week's time I shall be installed as monarch over this realm in the castle that was your very own. I shall rule it far more effectively and maturely than you have. Once this former country becomes a province of my empire, I shall not tax its citizen into poverty and misery, solely to procure baubles like this for my person!"

As he stated this, he waved the Star of Orion meaningfully.

"One of my first acts shall be after the contents of this caravan and your person are cataloged and assessed, is to return its value to the people you compelled to purchase for you!"

Margarite reared back and spit at King Geoffrey.

"Vipers do always strike in the end do they not?" stated Geoffrey eliciting a laugh from his officers.

At that moment, the young farm maiden returned with two of her finest dresses and a set of underthings.

"Here, Sire, these are my best!" she said as she curtsied before her new ruler.

"Thank you, fair maiden. Once you and your mother have seen that they are properly attired, I ask that you make no mention of what has transpired in your barn. Your family's silence provided that it is iron-clad, shall yield a title for your father and a generous boon from the crown."

Both mother and daughter's mouth fell open with awe and delight. After a moment the mother stated, "Nothing has happened this evening, your highness. If any neighbor asks what has transpired, we will state the truth, that our family loaned your men a team of horses."

"Excellent, my lady," returned the king as he bent his knees and bowed before the matron.

In short order, the women were garbed in peasant finery.

"Have the wagon delivered to Welborn Castle. Keep the women apart, out of sight, and sequestered. I'll puzzle out what to do with them in a few days. Treat them both as you would any gentlelady but do NOT defer to them in any way."

"Your orders shall be obeyed to the letter, sire!" exclaimed the colonel who had diverted the disguised women.

II

King Geoffrey relaxed in the huge master bedroom of the central palace. Far from being seen as an oppressive invader, the people once led by King Arnold seemed to bend over backward to see to it that he was comfortable. Those loyal to the former king had either fled the country in fear of their lives or had lost them in their attempts to escape when they fell into the hands of overtaxed, bitter, and very angry citizens. The new king's first decree was a one-year moratorium or all taxes and a court of just compensation to return wealth to the populace. Any resistance that may have remained to Geoffrey's rule collapsed in the wake of those enormously popular moves. There had been very little bloodshed on either side and the vast majority of Arnold's army had sworn fidelity to Geoffrey. The generals and colonels who could have caused trouble were quickly and silently eliminated and men beneath them promoted to fill their positions. As for the unlamented King Arnold? Allies across the border were holding him. Geoffrey thought it best, when the time was right, that the people he had so oppressed would serve as his judge and jury. No way was he coming out of things with his head still attached to his shoulders.

"It is good to be king," said Geoffrey to the mostly empty room about him without a scintilla of irony. Now came an event he was really looking forward to.

At his summons, a cloaked sedan chair was carried into the bed-chamber. The footmen quickly left the room.

"You may come out now."

The black fabric parted and out strode the former Queen Margarite. She was dressed in a fine but not overly expensive mauve dress. Her golden nimbus of hair fell in flowing curls above a simply enchanting face. A face that would have been enchanting, were it not presently scowling. The dress clung to her slim firm revealing that she had a rather prodigious bust and an hourglass figure. "Yes," thought King Geoffrey, "I'm going to enjoy this a great deal!"

Margarite refused to curtsy or even nod once she exited the sedan chair.

"Still sulking, are we?"

"Go to Hell!"

"Ah, still radiant sunshine, I see!"

"Why have you summoned me here, parasite?"

"Ah, curious are we not?"

Margarite glared.

"Very well. It is time that you were given the lay of the land, woman. Your former people have welcomed me like a conquering hero. Songs and poems have already been written in my honor. Plays, monographs, tributes of all kinds are flowing from the hearts of the people you so wickedly oppressed. In due time, your former husband will be returned to this city in an iron cage to face the judgment of your former citizens. I will provide him with the ablest barristers and attorneys money can buy. It will make no difference; his conviction is a foregone conclusion. The only question is whether the jury will decide upon a simple beheading or drawing and quartering."

"You would not dare!" squealed the former queen.

"That I'm afraid is out of my hands, justice must be done. I've taken the liberty of dissolving your marriage. You will not be permitted to be the grieving widow. Which begs the question of what should happen to you, fair woman? Or the one hand, since you were even more avaricious than your former husband and, in many ways, drove him hard to oppress your former citizens, I should turn you over to them as well. The best you are looking at is being tarred and feathered after a battalion of soldiers has publicly ravaged you followed by permanent exile. Most likely, however, is that you will join your former husband or the chopping block."

"You monster!"

"However, fair woman. No one knows where you are. Oh, I may have let the rumor spread that you fled the country disguised as a midwife. I may also have proclaimed a hefty bounty for your person. The simple fact is, woman, that I alone have the power to keep you breathing, unmolested, and living in comfort. And those can only happen by pleasing me."

"Never!"

"Very well, I will alert the local magistrate that you have been captured. And so..."

"No!"

"No, what, woman?"

"S..s..sir, please do not turn me over to the crowd."

"Why, should I not?"

"Sir, your excellency. I call upon your decency, your gentlemanliness, your compassion."

"All of those, I am afraid, woman, are in short supply at present. What ELSE do you have to offer?"

"SIR!"

"The lights are finally going on aren't they, woman? Here is the clemency I offer you. It is clemency that allows you to live in luxury. It is clemency that offers you protection from your aggrieved populace. It is clemency that provides you a long life."

"What clemency is that your excellency?"

"Now we come to the nub of it, woman."

Geoffrey removed a square of silk from an object or the desk near him. Revealed was an ornate collar made out of gold, silver, and leather.

"The clemency, woman, is rather simple. You shall be my chattel slave until the end of your days. Much of the time, this shall be your only adornment."

"In the name of God, Sir!" shrieked Margarite.

"I serve at the will of God, woman. It is either this or an anonymous grave after weeks spent in a reeking, pestilence filled prison, followed by a horrific death. There is no third option."

"You, are a swine!"

"That may be. But this swine alone can assure you a life. You will live in luxury, dine on delicacies, sleep on down mattresses, and revel in carnal sensations. You will be freed of the burdens of governing or deciding what to wear or which invitations to accept or decline. You will be able to earn small tokens of affection such as jewels and fine dresses, you may even find, after a passage of time that you have acquired a bit of power as well."

"That is preposterous, you lecher!"

"Oh, I assure you woman, it is quite plausible. All things considered; a captive life is better than no life at all."

"How do I know that after you have bedded me you won't kill me anyway?"

"You don't. But if you DO reject this sincere offer, you WILL end up dead."

"That's not a choice!"

"Most assuredly, it IS!"

"May I have some time to ruminate over this offer?"

"No, you may not."

"Please, I beg of you!" the former queen threw herself at the feet of Geoffrey.

"Beg all you want, woman. I have explained the terms."

"You cannot! This is beastly!"

"No need for hysterics. I am an accomplished and tender lover. I shall see to your pleasure as well as my own."

"But I am a queen!"

"Correction, you WERE a queen. You are merely a woman now. A very beautiful and desirable woman, true, but interchangeable with so many others."

"My people will NEVER accept this!"

"Actually, I think they will be quite delighted to discover you in a position far lower than the humblest of them."

"My, God! You're serious!"

"That was my point in summoning you here."

"Oh, sir, King Geoffrey. Don't do this to me."

"Very well, I will turn you over to your enraged former citizens."

"No, please don't"

"Then make a decision, woman."

For a long moment, Margarite remained huddled on the floor weeping copious tears. Geoffrey was content to wait her out.

At last, her head rose from the floor. Geoffrey handed her a handkerchief with which she daubed her eyes.

"What would you have me do, Sire?"

"Very well. First, you shall rise. Then you shall divest yourself of every scrap of clothing before kneeling at my feet in an attitude of supplication while I affix your collar. Then you shall rise, embrace, and kiss me passionately. Then we will retire to bed, where we will satisfy each other. Or the morrow, all of this will become far easier for you."

"But I hate you."

"That's the point, dummy!"

"Is there no other way?"

"None whatsoever."

"You BRUTE!" hissed Margarite as she returned to her feet.

Geoffrey took delight in the look of utter resignation on the former queen's face. All the haughtiness and superiority had drained from it. She really was a beguiling woman.

"Can you at least turn your back?"

"Ha!"

"You are despicable!" said the former queen through tears as her shoulders shrugged to loosen her gown. In another moment, it had slid down to her ample chest. With a withering look, Margarite tugged it over her silken bandeau.

Geoffrey paid rapt attention. This gorgeous woman, once broken and brought to heel would make an excellent consort. He had already had the food she ate while sequestered with an odorless, tasteless drug that would keep her infertile for months. Regular doses would prevent and problematical children. Once she took his collar, there was no way this woman could ever regain her former stature. Geoffrey knew just how he would drain the piss and vinegar from this ravishing creature. Prolonged and humiliating public nudity was only the first step. Already, he could feel himself stiffening. Fortunately, he was wearing trousers that would not reveal that fact.

The dress traveled to the floor as Margarite stepped out of her low heels. Her trim, well-toned physique was revealed clad in just her underwear. Beneath the bandeau, her ribs tapered to wide hips and enchanting thighs. She had a lovely navel in the midst of her flat tummy. Margarite shot Geoffrey a hot, defiant look before her hands strayed to the clasps or the suspenders which supported her white seamed stockings. First, the left leg, in all of its immaculate glory was revealed, then the left. Margarite folded her hands across her body and glared at the king.

"No one told you to stop, woman. If you are incapable of the simple act of denuding yourself, I shall summon a half-dozen of my guards to assist you."

"Oh, you, you ..." gasped Margarite in frustration as she reached behind her back and undid her bandeau. The first sight of the former queen's breasts did not disappoint. They were firm and full. Despite being or the large size, it was obvious that they needed very little in the way of support. Her alabaster skin tone gave way to light brown areolas and chance pink nipples. King Geoffrey appreciated that her delayed forced strip was so much more enticing and erotic than if she had simply shed her clothes rapidly. Margarite was clearly in agony. Geoffrey was savoring her pain. He stared at her meaningfully.

"Oh, GOD!" she cried as she pulled down and stepped out of her suspenders and step-ins. Her body flushed crimson as the last of her person was revealed. King Geoffrey smiled as he contemplated the nest of honey-toned curls that covered Margarite's sex, answering finality the question as to whether the former ruler had come by her hair color naturally.

"Satisfied, you reprobate?" asked Margarite in an accusatory tone.

"Let me see all of you. Turn in a small circle. Then you must embrace and kiss me and assume the position of s supplicant slave."

"This offense against my person shall not go unpunished, you scoundrel. One day, I will get even."

"Perhaps, woman, but that day is not today. Now step away from your concealments and obey my orders."

Margarite sighed mightily, but left her clothing piled on the floor and turned slowly for her adversary.

Geoffrey was delighted, Margarite had wonderful valentine shaped buttocks, a lovely back, and adorable little feet with delicate arches. Very few women compared to the one unveiled before him now, and she was his to deal with and command in any way he saw fit!

She completed her turn and then approach Geoffrey, a look of utter loathing upon her ordinarily beautiful countenance. She was the only thing of deposed King Arnold that he coveted. The only thing of Arnold's worth having really. She was in his arms, neck bent upwards to receive his kiss. Geoffrey planted a deep and lingering one upon her carmine lips, catching the woman completely off guard. As he broke off the osculation, his hands pressed gently upon her shoulders, compelling her to kneel. Margarite, knowing there was no escape, for now, from the trap Geoffrey had set, complied.