Content tags/warnings: non-consensual sex/scenarios, humiliation, forced orgasm. Reader discretion is advised.
--
Six months ago, my parents were poisoned. As king and queen, they left behind three daughters and a vast country to mourn them. While they achieved a great many things while at the helm of our people, producing an heir, otherwise known as a son, was unfortunately not one of them. The dust had barely settled on their funeral when my father's cutthroat younger brother assumed the throne. To say that it's been hell ever since is an understatement.
I struggled to cope with the death of my parents, but drinking myself to sleep in various places throughout the castle certainly helped -- on the roof beneath the stars, in the library between the bookshelves, in the kennels beside the puppies. Nobody suspected that I was the thief responsible for the kitchen's missing wine storage.
I envied my two older sisters for the way they handled the death of our parents. They dressed every day in their usual gowns and jewels, walked the halls of the castle with poise and grace, and attended to their royal duties with unwavering commitment. I was the not-so-well-adjusted sister.
This morning was particularly embarrassing. My uncle, the newly anointed king, was out for a morning stroll through the royal gardens with several members of his court. Of course, he couldn't have known that he'd find his troublesome young niece vomiting her guts into an immaculately trimmed rosebush just past the water fountain. I was a mess of tangled hair and raccoon eyes, not to mention the sizeable rip in my pantyhose from when I'd spread my legs for the barkeep the night before. The lords and ladies of my uncle's court had gasped in shock, and someone observed quite loudly that I looked as though I'd just "crawled out of a gutter".
My uncle's face had turned a shade of red that could've given any tomato a run for its money.
My uncle's assistant quickly scooped me up and hauled my sorry behind to the handmaids' quarters, where I was promptly stripped naked, scrubbed clean, and dressed in proper clothes befitting of my status as a princess of our esteemed country. The handmaids flitted around me with narrow eyes and pursed lips, holding back their judgement. I didn't let it bother me. As Bertha yanked a brush through my tangled, straw-colored hair, she hissed at me, "You've really done it this time, miss."
I ignored the handmaid's comments. After I was bathed and dressed, I attempted to sneak back to my bedchamber where I fully intended to sleep the day away but was intercepted by a pair of guards.
"The king would like a word," they informed me. I briefly considered running away, but I knew that a hundred-and-fifteen-pound girl in a corset was no match for two burly guards with orders not to let me get away. I sensed a tongue-lashing on the horizon.
We arrived at my uncle's study. A short, red-faced man with a permanent scowl living beneath his squashed nose sat patiently behind a wooden desk -- my beloved uncle.
I sat in the chair opposite of him and waited. I noticed a glass of dark liquid clutched in his right hand, half empty, which wasn't a good sign. Perhaps Betha was right, and I had really done it this time.
A vein in my uncle's forehead looked to be on the verge of bursting. I almost hoped it would. "You made me look like a fool today, Gwenyth."
"I'm sorry, uncle." Empty words, but I felt compelled to say them, nonetheless.
"Can you not at least contain your activities to your bedchamber?"
I opened my mouth to remind him of all the trauma I was currently dealing with, but he interrupted me.
"We are at war," my uncle reminded me. "Your older sisters have done the responsible thing and married powerful lords with sizeable armies. The thing we need most right now is allies. And what have you done? When you aren't drinking yourself to death, you're out flouncing around the village like some common whore."
My blood began to boil. "Fine then," I snapped. "I'll marry a lord. Just pick someone and be done with it!" Honestly, if a wealthy lord wanted to whisk me away to a foreign land and make me his bride, that was fine by me. At least I would be far away from this place that reminded me so much of my parents. And more importantly, I would be far away from my despicable swine of an uncle.
My uncle threw his hands in the air. "Do you think I haven't tried? Nobody wants to marry a sloppy, lazy princess! You're twenty-one years of age, for fuck's sake! You should have been wed off years ago! You should have popped out at least three children by now! But look at you. An embarrassment."
I was quiet. I was not at all suited for the life he described, and I never would be.
He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. "Perhaps a proper punishment will correct your bad behavior. How else will you learn your place in this kingdom?"
I instinctually sat back in my chair, repelled by my uncle's sudden threat. My blood sang with a warning to flee, but one glance over my shoulder confirmed the presence of two immovable, armor-clad guards standing by the door. Even if I somehow managed to get past them, how far would I make it before they caught up to me?
I looked back at my uncle, attempting to assess his expression and glean exactly how far he was willing to go. Cruelty washed over his sagging face. "If you're going to act like a drunken whore, then you'll be treated like one." There was a moment of silence while we stared at each other before he called, "Guards? Take her to the stables."
Strong hands gripped each of my arms before I was promptly lifted out of my chair and heaved from my uncle's office. At first, I was too shocked to cry for help, but as I was dragged through the hidden passageways of the castle -- presumably so that the lords and ladies wouldn't see me making a scene -- I let loose a blood-curling scream that burned my lungs and hopefully shattered glass somewhere.
We crossed the grounds to the royal stables. The blinding light of the afternoon sun hurt my eyes, and it hit me that I haven't been awake during daylight hours in quite some time. I wondered if the guards would lock me up with the horses and make me live like an animal for a week. Surely my uncle would find amusement in such a punishment.
I paled as I realized we were headed toward the centaur stables. The guards burst through the doors without hesitation, hauling me along like a sack of potatoes, seemingly impervious to my kicking and screaming. The pungent scent of sweat and muck assaulted my nostrils, alerting me to the presence of beasts.