Castle Slave Ep. 05: Scarlet Woman

I almost went mad. Certainly I was out my mind, and into the minds of others, a cacophony of wretched misery and anguish punctuated with dull aches, stabbing pains and brutal lashes of sharp agony. Of my own body I was barely aware, shackled to the cold stone floor of the dungeon cell where I had been thrown.

"Never before," the Queen had said, "has a Servant of the Court committed a crime that would see her stripped of the black and clothed in the scarlet. But what you did was far worse..."

The assembled nobility murmured angrily. "Burn her," a woman said, adding with a hiss, "with acid." Other voices suggested equally terrifying fates for me.

"Murder," the Queen said, her voice and eyes icy cold. "Three murders no less, and in a manner so vile that it sickens me. Death..." She paused for effect. "Is too good for you. No, you are going to live."

Her words prompted cries of astonishment from the crowd, and she held up a hand to calm the glaring onlookers. "You will live, though you will beg for merciful death. You will share in every torment visited upon the Scarlet Women. You will feel every whip on your skin, every blade in your flesh, every exquisite torture dreamt up by these noble minds." She bowed ironically to her audience, and this time they murmured with approval.

"You will get," she whispered, "exactly what you deserve. What every Scarlet Woman deserves." Her fingers touched my corset briefly, delivering an electric shock that threatened to tear me apart as my convulsing limbs tore at the chains that held me. Worse than that, almost, was the heat that blossomed from her touch, a bright point spreading swiftly, burning like fire, turning the black of my corset to a vivid scarlet to match the long tail projecting from my ass. The fire swept across my back, then dimmed to a gentle heat that spread slowly throughout my body. "One day," she said, "you will thank me for this."

But there was something else the Queen said, in private, before I was hauled away into the Castle's dungeons. "You took the life of an aristocrat," she said, "and they will make you pay dearly. But let me remind you: We are connected. Your pain is my pain. Your pleasure is mine. As long as I still live, you will not be alone."

"And how long will that be?" I asked morosely.

"Long enough." She kissed me softly on the lips. "You are going to be amazing, and I hope I live to see it."

I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn't feel amazing. I felt dirty and broken. I felt utterly alone, abandoned in a dark cell, enough freedom of movement only to lick and chew at the scraps of food they cast in my direction. Untouched by my jailors, and yet their hands were all over me, their cocks fucking my ass and mouth, their cunts squashed against my mouth, choking me, riding crops and bull whips bringing tears to my eyes, knives making me scream until hoarse. The violation of my flesh where limbs had been replaced with clockwork.

None of it was real for me, but all of it was. I clung to the Queen's words like a lifeline, a slender thread of impossible hope, a reason to survive each day without my spirit being utterly crushed by the endless abuse.

*

To be fucked, and have no idea who was doing the fucking, was not a new experience. Indeed, as a Rose Girl, it had been a regular occurrence. Four times a year, during the Grand Balls at solstice and equinox, when all the aristocracy assembled in the Royal Court for a long day of dancing and other entertainments, some of those other entertainments were provided by Rose Girls.

Except Rose Girls were not permitted within the Royal Court. Instead, out of sight of cameras, a dimly lit hallway ran the length of the back of the Royal Court, with holes of various designs puncturing the wall at waist height. The aristocrats could stand facing the wall, or lie in comfort on benches, enjoying in anonymity the services of unseen Rose Girls.

I had been a Rose Girl for only three weeks at the time of my first Grand Ball. To the faint sounds and distant rhythms of dance music, I spent six hours on my knees, sucking cock after cock after cock until my jaw ached and the chest of my plain pink corset was soaked through with cum that had spilled from my increasingly weary lips, or that had been deliberately sprayed across my chin and neck. It had been fun, in a way, comparing so many different sizes and shapes of cock in such quick succession, comparing the often bitter taste of their cum too.

This was something I grew more adept at over the years. I took pride in this work. It was far more enjoyable than just lying on a bench, my rear end pressed against the wall, passively taking an unending queue of cocks in my cum-soaked ass. Reduced to a body part. A thing to be fucked. Although I would be lying if I said I got no pleasure from it.

By far my favourite of these activities was being on my knees again, presented not with strident cocks but sweet, aristocratic pussy. No two cunts were alike, and I don't mean merely the dressing of pubic hair or the colour of skin, which were also greatly varied. No, each had a unique and distinctive smell, a different pattern of folds in the tender labia, and a clit that could be shy as anything or as prominent and demanding as a miniature cock.

And whereas my goal in sucking cocks was to make them come as swiftly as possible, quite the opposite was true of the cunts I worshipped...

*

A month, two months, possibly even three. My mind adapting gradually to the deluge of sensation, and to the flood of emotion, and to the relentless hammer of despair. The Scarlet Women, one hundred and eight of them, individuals, all abandoned to the dungeons and endless torment without even the slender thread of hope that had been offered me.

And as I became aware of them, so they became aware of me, an invisible presence in their minds, sharing their suffering. Solace in a time of need. None of us were alone.

And I had no doubt that this was the Queen's doing. Under the guise of punishment, she had made me instead a queen. A Scarlet Queen, perhaps. Helpless in a cell, but not powerless.

I had changed in other ways too. They had stripped me naked before chaining me in my cell, leaving only my corset, of course, and the scarlet-haired tail that had now been lodged in my ass so long it might never come out - not, bizarrely, that it had needed to. Though I often had no choice but to pee on the floor, not once had I had the urge to pass solids.

Without my weekly shave, my hair had been growing too, and had even reached my eyes. My fingernails and toenails... I couldn't tell. From my elbows to my fingers, and from my knees to my toes, my skin had thickened, becoming leathery yet sensitive like my corset, and the corset itself had spread down into my crotch from in front, and down between my cheeks from behind. Restrained as I was, I had no way to tell what was really happening to me.

All I knew was that I was restless, and hungry for revenge - for all the Scarlet Women, not just myself.

*

Another of the entertainments at the Grand Ball made use of another hole. A large hole in the floor with a guard rail, overlooking the room below, which was technically in the Inner Castle and underneath the Royal Court. There was no anonymity there, and technically no physical contact between aristocrats and the three or four unlucky - or maybe lucky - Rose Girls to be in that room.

I was once given that dubious honour. Myself and my friend Diane, and another Rose Girl called James who I knew by sight but had never really spoken to. All three of us stripped down to our chastity belts for the occasion. We entered that room timidly, craning our necks to stare up at the ring of aristocrats looking down at us. Maybe ten in all at the start, but soon there were twice as many crowding about the hole; mostly men, but a few women as well.

I jumped, shocked, as a stream of piss struck my back, but then I took a breath and turned to let the golden stream splash across my breasts, as I had been instructed to do. There can be few more degrading experiences than being peed on from a height by a stranger. Still, the best way to survive being a Rose Girl was to embrace the role, so when another gentleman aimed his flow at my face, I opened my mouth for him.

But that, of course, was merely the beginning. Their trousers down and their bladders emptied, the men were soon rubbing their hard and variously sized dicks with clear intent. In some cases a woman was handling the cock, her eyes staring down at us with amused contempt. It wasn't long, though, before cum was splattering down across us from a dozen different directions. I loved it, of course. I loved having it rain across my head and back. The only place I didn't love it was my eyes, and the best way to avoid that was to keep myself happily busy, licking the cum from Diane's breasts and belly while teasing and sucking her nipples. James circled around us, cleaning Diane's face and shaven head, and running his tongue lovingly over my back, the task unending as ever more cum and pee fell, and fell, from heaven above...

*

I cried out in fear as the cell lights flickered on and the cell door shuddered open. "Oh, God!" a familiar voice said. "Belinda? Is that really you?"

I peered up at Mariella, but the lights were too bright for comfort. Mariella flinched backwards with a scream, and the dungeon guard shot up behind her. "Stand clear of the prisoner," it said in its neutral voice, its electrical whip aiming at me.

"It's okay," Mariella told it. "I was just startled. The prisoner is secure."

The robot guard scanned the cell, then whined away into the dark. Mariella dropped to her knees. "What have they done to you, Belinda?"

My eyes had adjusted at last to the unaccustomed light, and I stared, surprised, at my arms. My skin was scarlet now, and the thicker skin of my hands and lower arms resembled red leather gloves. No doubt my legs had changed similarly. "Is my face red too?"

She nodded. "Yes, and your eyes and hair too." She smiled shyly. "Like a creature from some mythological hell."

"It is the Queen who has done this to me."

Mariella nodded, and placed a folded something - something scarlet, a dress, perhaps - on the floor between us. "The Queen sent me to give you this, and to tell you that tomorrow is the Winter Solstice. 'Tell Belinda,' she said, 'the world will be born anew. The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen.' Though if the Queen does die tomorrow, I fear for all of us."

I tugged uselessly at my chains. "I don't suppose she gave you the keys?"

"No." She frowned suddenly. "She said something else. Something about picking the right locks."

The significance of that did not strike me until hours later. I'm sure I would have got there on my own eventually, but I was not in a state conducive to clear thinking. Though I had learned to endure the savaging of my scarlet brothers' and sisters' flesh, it was never possible to ignore the ferocity of a whip or the orgasmic dance of a cock. But with a supreme effort of will, aided in part by their love for me, I calmed my thoughts and reached out as I had reached out once before, in the cavern deep beneath the Castle.

Because even in the depths of the dungeon there were power grids and wireless interfaces and robotic systems and embedded sensors and soon I could see all of it. Locks to be picked. A zero to a one here, a one to a zero there, and the robots that had guarded us became our servants instead. "Rise, my sisters," I said, and sealed the dungeon's many doors so that no one could enter or leave.

*

Robots were seldom seen outside the dungeon. They were ugly metallic creations that didn't match the aesthetics of the pseudo-medieval Castle. Also, as I knew well from having to deal with the electrics on several occasions, the robots' power supply was incompatible with the Castle's primary grid. Jack told me once that no one actually knew how to fix them when they broke, and that there was a storeroom somewhere full of spare parts. Or, at least, a storeroom that once upon a time had been full of spare parts but now held only an odd assortment of parts, most of which were corroded with age.

They were a relic of a past time, though they made effective wardens of the dungeon, uncaring of the cruelty their wards were subjected to.

But they had other uses too. During one Grand Ball, I had been taken to a room visible through a window from the Royal Court. There a robot (one, ironically, that I had installed myself the day before) had gripped my hips firmly from behind, and a long, thick and well lubricated dildo, vibrating gently, inserted itself into my ass. Which was a pleasant, if rather alien, way to start the day. I had no choice in the matter.

I could see but not hear the aristocracy peering at me through the window, and could tell there was a dial of some sort on the wall beside the window. I could see them turning it this way and that. I could feel the effects of it too.

At one extreme, the robot was stationary, inside me and vibrating gently. At the other, it pounded my rear with rapid strokes and fierce vibrations, almost but not quite enough to drive me to climax. I was completely at the mercy of the spectators beyond the window as they played with the dial and amused themselves with my reactions.

By the end of the day, I was drenched in sweat, exhausted, and my ass was so bruised that I was convinced it would never work again...

*

For the first time in months I slept soundly, freed from my chains and free from aristocratic malice. The only screams in the dungeon were from those who had recently been inflicting pain - I felt no pity for them. And clean! A long shower to wash away the stale sweat and urine, and I had finally seen for myself the extent of my transformation. Scarlet skin and hair, matching my long horse's tail. Red leather corset, gloves and boots. Eyes like fire.

My corset had indeed grown down into my crotch and between my cheeks. The sensitive, leathery skin covered the Queen's cunt, and it sealed in the buttplug stretching my ass while allowing my tail to project out. There was a small hole for my pee to squirt through, but although I could sense the touch of my fingers, they failed to excite me in any useful way. The corset had evolved into a new and devious form of chastity belt, one I could find no way of removing - it was almost enough to make me cry.

The gift Mariella had brought me from the Queen wasn't a dress, but a military-style coat that gave me a commanding appearance. It didn't fasten at front, and it was parted at the back from the waist down. It did little to conceal me or protect me, but it did give me a sense of authority and didn't impede my movements in any way.

I gathered them all together, the Scarlet Women. Men and women both, some almost as inhuman as me with their clockwork limbs, stared at me with curiosity, and without fear. They knew my heart, as I knew theirs. They were all so fragile and young. Life expectancy was short in the dungeon.

Too fragile to be warriors, though the rage born of too much abuse, and the hatred of the profoundly unfair system that had stripped them of their dignity, gave them a determined strength. And I, despite having been tied up with so little to eat for months, felt strong enough to take on the world.

"We have suffered long enough," I said, my voice raised to be heard by all. "Today is the Winter Solstice. Today the rule of the aristocracy comes to an end. Today you will have your revenge. But remember who your enemy is. Do not harm your sisters. And do not harm the Queen."

*

In the wake of the Grand Ball, the Servants of the Court would hold their own celebration. As soon as the lords and ladies had retired to their rooms in the Castle, or flown off to their far-flung estates, we gathered in the great ballroom, stripped down to our corsets, and sat in a circle, passing bottles from hand to hand, taking a sip of the Queen's aphrodisiac cum each time a bottle passed through our hands.

After a long day of serving the aristocracy and witnessing their excesses, we were exhausted and sickened, and not a little aroused. As we relaxed and drank that sweet elixir of pleasure, we laughed and sang, and stared hungrily at all the erect cocks and glistening cunts, until at last the Queen, ensconced on her throne, announced, "Let the orgy commence."

I attended four of these orgies during my year as a Servant of the Court. At the first, I was so unsure of what would happen and what was allowed, that I didn't dare move, and instead watched in amazement as the chain of people contorted into a writhing snake of lustful pleasures. I wasn't left alone to do nothing, however. Samuel, on my right, turned and pushed me backwards against Jason, on my left. Their two strong pairs of arms guided me until an astonishingly thick cock nudged at my ass, which for the first time in weeks was not stuffed with a tail.

I eased myself down onto that wonderful cock as Samuel bent and kissed my corset, teasing my nipples as best he could through the black, leathery skin. I stopped caring about rules and concentrated on working that cock as deep into my ass as I could get it. The tail plug had kept me well stretched, but this was quite something else.

As I rode that cock with increasing confidence, my hands teased Samuel's nipples in return, caressing his corset and loving his ecstatic expression as I did. He shifted position, suddenly, bringing Queen's cock and Queen's cunt together, and thrust into me, pushing me down as he did until my back rested on Jason's chest.

For the first time in my life I cocks in both ass and cunt. I was in heaven. I did my best to thrust back, but my movement was limited, and Jason seemed entirely trapped beneath me. But Samuel's vigour was all I could have wished for, and Jason's hands were wrapped around my breasts, his fingers scratching deliciously over my nipples.

Someone - Edward I think his name was - knelt beside me and guided my head to a rampant cock that tasted of cum and smelled of pussy. I welcomed it into my mouth, and into my throat as it thrust urgently. I was not unused to having cocks simultaneously in mouth and ass, but to have a third in the Queen's cunt was a dream come true.

Samuel came first, and though I tried to join him, working my hips frantically, my climax eluded me. He eased out, and Jason used the opportunity to pound my ass properly and Edward thrust deep into my throat and held me like that, unable to breathe, as cum spilled from the writhing cock into my belly. He released me at last, and as I gasped for breath, he circled round between my legs and plunged the Queen's cock, unrelentingly hard, into the Queen's cum-soaked cunt.

It wasn't the only cum-soaked cunt in the room. No sooner had I recovered, able to concentrate at last on the cocks fucking me, than Mariella squatted over me, the Queen's cunt dripping cum onto my lips.

And the orgy had only just begun...

*

The main door to the dungeon opened to admit a party of furious aristocrats and one very confused Blue Belle. Sir Augustus charged inside, demanding, "What the devil is going on here? Why are all the doors locked?"

They halted uncertainly at the sight of so many Scarlet Women gathered and free from restraints and handlers, then backed away as I ran towards them. Sir Augustus struck out at me with his riding crop, but I barely noticed it. I gouged his face with razor-sharp claws. Without pausing to question this, I left him screaming blindly and leapt ahead, digging into two exposed necks until blood exploded from the wounds and flowed down my arms.

The Scarlet Women surged around and past me, pursuing and attacking the other aristos with equal savagery, and escaping out into the Castle. I dropped the twitching, soon-to-be-dead bodies and turned to the terrified Blue Belle. "Hello, Jack," I said. "You have opened the Gate to Hell..."