The Queen Transformed Ch 02

Hello folks, we're at part five now! Did not seriously expect to continue this thing, but somehow or other, I'm doing it.

Not sure when this train ride will come to an end—at part eight? Nine? But rest assured, that I do plan on resolving the plot threads that I've laid out, and that there will be a (hopefully) satisfying conclusion. Don't worry—I've been blue-balled enough in life to not want to do the same thing to any readers. :)

Once again, please read from the beginning (The Princess Transformed) if not, certain things might not make any sense to you. And thanks to my wonderful editor moncriefelle for her hard work on this piece.

On with the show!

*****

The day began with the former Queen Gladia in a position that had grown increasingly familiar to her over the last few months—on her back, being fucked furiously. As ways to start the day went, she didn't mind all that much. It had taken her only about half a year to go from being coiffed and gowned by silent handmaidens to being a creature of service herself, but it was either that or be found out by the Crimson Mage, and so she had chosen (albeit somewhat unwillingly) the lesser of two evils. At the very least, she was enjoying carnal pleasures of which she had never even dreamt of before.

Today's specimen was more delicious than usual. Another slave from the male slave quarters, just two buildings away. He had a large cock and knew how to use it. In the moments before he pushed her down and had his way with her, Gladia engaged in a little idle introspection. Was he destined for hard labor at the mines? Or would they give him a sword and shield and train him as a soldier? But, being ravaged on the floor sort of robs one of the capacity for further thought.

After a few minutes of heaving together, she suddenly sensed a certain urgency in his ragged thrusts. It was more than the simple onset of orgasm, and she tensed instinctively against his hard body. In mid-thrust he bit her ear gently, then whispered, "The Resistance sends its regards, your Highness."

She stiffened almost immediately in surprise, but his whisper was to "keep going," and so she did, wrapping her long legs around his muscled waist and clenching her pussy muscles around his rigid shaft. She guessed that this was as good a place to exchange information as any—no one would expect them to share information while fucking. But it was also very distracting. She had to tear her attentions away from the wonderful feeling of fullness in her slit and concentrate on the slave's words, all the while thrusting her hips back against him.

"Listen carefully, your Highness. In three days, you will be auctioned off at a slave market in the main square of town. Do not worry about who will buy you. The auction master is in our employ, and he will make sure that you arrive at a safe location. Once there, await further instructions."

She nodded to show that she understood, and gave her the informant's rod another squeeze for good measure. She was gratified to see him gasp a little and sweat bead in his brow—so, she wasn't the only one who was having difficulty being professional about this. The information relayed, they both proceeded to finish their coupling in the normal manner—that is to say, he fucked her roughly until she came three times, and then left her on the floor of her cell with warm cum oozing from her slit.

Awash in the afterglow and resting her tired limbs—having such vigorous sex was thirsty work— Gladia had ample time to think on the news she received. So, the mysterious resistance was finally making a move...one of them, at any rate. They could send messengers deep into the heart of the castle, and they had slaves and auction masters both assisting them. Interesting. But as usual, there was little else to go on, and so nothing to do but wait.

The next three days passed quickly enough, but Gladia found that she could not quite concentrate on her usual activities, pleasurable though they were. Her mind was focused on the future, and what it might bring. Would her imprisonment in the castle finally come to an end? What had happened to her children? Would they be able to restore her to her former body? So many questions without answers. With no other recourse, Gladia tried to lose herself in physical activity and almost succeeded. There was no shortage of handsome, muscular slaves to couple with, and so three days passed in a mix of trepidation and rapture.

The resistance was as good as its word. As the third day dawned, Gladia found herself bound in chains and brought along with some other slaves out of the castle and into the town itself. As they trudged through the town square, she spied the pennants of the usurper flying from the castle battlements and heaved an internal sigh. The irony was not lost on her. She had once been the kingdom's ruler, and now here she was off to be auctioned off like a piece of meat, displayed and paraded to anyone who had the coin to buy her. How the mighty had fallen indeed.

Gladia had no idea what happened to new slaves, but she was about to find out. She and her companions were brought to a building in the centre of town where they were washed, dried, fed, and clothed. Remarkably civilized for slavers, thought the transformed queen—but of course, it made sense to get your wares ready for market, so to speak. After that, they were sheparded into several pens, ready for transport to the auctions.

At least, most of them were. Gladia was on her way to the nearest pen when a slaver seized her by the shoulders and pushed her towards another room. Fighting back a rush of fear—had they found out who she really was—the queen followed the man's instructions. The room she found herself in was strewn with metal implements of all shapes and sizes, and Gladia was just trying to figure out what they were for when another man entered and gestured that she should face the wall.

She complied again, so as not to risk suspicion. Gladia heard the clink and clang of metal behind her and when she was told to turn around, the reason for all the metal in the room became clear—they were for chains, necklaces, metal bindings, and all other kinds of slave accoutrements. And in her case, rings.

Because, that was what the man was holding up. Two rings, obviously intended for use on her, but where? Gladia tried her best to keep calm, though her insides were churning. She didn't expect that she would be pierced! She eyed the steel rings that the man was preparing with distaste and trepidation. Where was he going to put them? Surely not her pussy, but he might. Gods, what would that be like? She couldn't even conceive of such a thing happening. She was a queen, and had accepted her (hopefully temporary) slavery, but to have cold metal go through her most sensitive of places...it was just so unthinkable that merely conceiving of it sent a chill down her spine.

But nevertheless, it was happening. The slaver craftsman heated a nasty looking needle-like device and then strode over to her, rings in one hand and tool in the other. Gladia tried to keep as still as possible, and... amazing enough, in seconds it was over. The slaver was nothing if not professional, and he wasted no time in unnecessary motion in completing his appointed task, leaving Gladia to stare at the two metal intruders that were now affixed to her nipples.

It hadn't even hurt as much as she thought it would. Two brief flares of pain, like having a boil lanced, and it was over. Maybe the rings were against pain, or maybe the needle was...she wasn't a mage, so she had no way of knowing. But there she was, not just a slave, but a pierced one.

In the days that followed, she would try to get used to them and never completely do so. The constant sensation of cold metal in her turgid nipples sent ripples of pleasure throughout her body that could not be denied, and she found herself tugging at them from time to time—sometimes so that she could cum more easily, but sometimes just out of curiosity and fascination. She had never in her wildest dreams imagined that she would have pierced nipples—then again, never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she would end up a pleasure slave in her own kingdom.

As if her lush curves and gigantic breasts were not enough, the rings advertised her slave status to the world at large. No free woman had metal rings on her breasts (then again, no free woman had breasts that large in the first place). One had only to glance at her to know that she was a pleasure slave, a woman whose sole purpose in life was to service men and women sexually.

Her new enhancements would serve her well in that regard. The lovers she had in her time in the slave pens—and she had many—were fascinated by them, tugging, pulling, and otherwise amusing themselves with the two dark, steel circles. Somehow, they also made her breasts and nipples a lot more sensitive. A man, either slave or slaver—her body was none too discerning—had but to tug at them and she would go weak-kneed with desire. Some of the more cruel and sadistic ones would even pull at them before, during, or after coitus, making her gasp in both pleasure and pain. And still others really knew what they were doing. Gladia achieved the most intense orgasm of her life while locked in congress with a wiry slave. Halfway through the act as she neared her climax, he had half-risen and gave both nipple rings a firm tug at the same time. The combined pain, pleasure, and shock had sent a thrill through her so powerful that tears leaked from her eyes, and she had come so hard and so loudly that she almost passed out.

That was how Gladia passed the few weeks in the slave pens until the auction rolled around. The tenth day of the next month found her on a wooden platform suspended high above the jostling crowds, stark naked for all the world to see. Normally, sex slaves like her wore at least a loincloth and a halter top to at least feign a modicum of decency, and to prevent the slaves from getting so aroused they didn't fuck each other on sight. But, for the auction she was stripped bare so that nothing was left to the imagination. Any potential customers could see exactly what they were getting, she supposed. She was told to walk from one end of the platform to another, to raise her arms over her head, and spread her legs so that purchasers could see the details of her inner folds. There was no hesitancy here, no reserve to be had or found.

She hated to admit it, but she was more than a little aroused by all the attention she was getting. The heated gazes of the crowd and the whistles and catcalls that were made as she strutted across the makeshift stage stirred something within her. She hefted the two giant mountains on her chest, presenting them to the masses below, and as she did it, she also found herself unconsciously rubbing her legs together, wishing for something long and hard to penetrate her. Her slave body could only take about half a day of going without sex before it began to get antsy, and she was fast reaching her limit.

If the resistance did truly have things in hand, then it didn't quite matter what the bids were, and she might as well have some fun while she was at it. She shot looks of pure desire at the men and women in the crowd, and was secretly delighted to see more than one of them look away, then look back. There were some who gazed at her naked form in frank appraisal—obviously seasoned buyers—while others seemed more interested in a free peep show. It didn't matter. She paraded herself as wantonly as she desired, thrusting out chest and ass in tandem as she strutted across the makeshift stage.

The auction master strolled over to take a more active hand in things. With practiced motions, he snapped her arms back across her chest and splayed her legs—all the better to display his wares before his audience, she supposed. Gladia wasn't surprised to realize that she was getting wetter and wetter, and not just because of the attention she was getting, either. The auction master's talented fingers found her pussy with ease, and she moaned as he dug them into all her secret places. She pushed back against the invading digits only to have them be pulled back.

"Look at this slut, ladies and gentlemen! See how she moans when I but touch her? And look at how she has been displaying herself without me even having to do anything—such a slave you will never see!"

He was right, the queen thought. She had been showing herself off without any prompting, and loving every second of it. And what was worse, she wanted to keep doing it!

"Such beauty and wantonness can be yours for the low, low price of twenty gold pieces—do I see twenty-five? I do! There's thirty, and now thirty-five!"

In the end, the bids stopped at fifty gold pieces—a decent enough sum. Although, she thought that a fine figure of a slave like her should have fetched a much higher price, but it didn't really matter, anyway. The slavers put the chains back on her and she was led out of the auction grounds into a mansion at the city outskirts—one that she was quite certain hadn't been there when she was the queen.

She had no idea what to expect. But, as she walked through the front doors and into the main hall, she was not altogether surprised to see a familiar, hooded figure waiting for her. It spoke at her approach.

"Your Highness, it is good to see you again."

She nodded and simply waited. The same slavers that had brought her to the mansion now became deferential, undoing her chains and disappearing in moments. Gladia had been in enough negotiations to know when to speak and when not to, and this was the latter instance. After a few moments, the figure spoke again.

"We are pleased to report that your children have been found unharmed. Unfortunately, they remain partially in the usurper's hands, and we are in the process of trying to transport them to a safer location."

Gladia couldn't quite suppress a sigh of relief. Daphnia and Perthias were safe! Her children were all right! But she sensed there was more that needed to be said, and so she refrained from replying just yet, simply nodding to show that she understood.

She was right. The hooded figure continued to explain that while the resistance was growing (although it did not say exactly how) it would still be awhile before they could think of challenging Rampillion. While the queen desperately wanted to know who and what they were, and how they managed to secure her escape from the castle, Gladia knew better than to ask such pointed questions.

During their conversation, the heat between her legs became a real problem. Though she had been fingered quite thoroughly on the auction platform, that was barely enough for her slave body. In fact, it just made the problem worse. Her switch having been flicked, she now yearned to be penetrated. She used every inch of self-control to avoid touching herself or crossing her legs, but the pressure within her mounted and mounted until she had difficulty listening to what was being said.

The figure seemed to sense her growing tension and broke in with a comment.

"Your Highness. We are aware that you have certain...needs that require constant and swift attention. The services of the slavers that brought you here were not bought easily, and we of the resistance would be much obliged if you could assist us in paying them in another coin, so to speak. We would then kill two birds with one stone."

Gladia wasn't quite sure whether to feel relief that she would be fucked soon, or indignation at how this...this..."resistance" could presume to promise the queen of Erecia as some sort of party favor to another. Surely with all their knowledge and information, they could do better than barter her in trade to slavers? But as was so often the case, she was in no place to argue or negotiate.

She nodded grimly to show that she understood—best to get things over with as soon as possible. Attendants appeared from the side rooms and ushered her into an antechamber, where the same slaver that had been showing her off at the auction waited with a huge grin on his face. She supposed he knew what was in store for them even as she did.

He was bald, tattooed, and muscular—attractive, in a rough-hewn sort of way. In her time as a slave, Gladia was beginning to appreciate male beauty more and more. But though she liked sinewy thighs and strong jaws, what she lusted for after the most were cocks—hard, veined, and long. This was a man she would not even have looked at, let alone considered having sex with, when she was the queen, but, she wasn't the queen right now. She was a nameless pleasure slut, with a steadily growing itch between her thighs that needed to be scratched soon, lest she go insane.

He smiled at her, a cruel smile, the smile of one who is accustomed to having his way and getting it. Desire warred with revulsion in her mind, but the former was steadily winning. He reached out to her to chuck her chin and gave her a command, direct and simple.

"Suck me off, slave."

She hastened to comply, kneeling to put his erect member in her mouth, and sucked until he flooded her mouth with his cum, the taste of it a sweet nectar. She snaked a hand back down to her thighs to touch herself as she licked and laved the hard length, trying to satisfy herself and the slaver at the same time—but she was interrupted by the slaver pushing her down onto the cold stone floor. Apparently, they were going to skip the foreplay and go right to the main act, which suited Gladia just fine.

But it was not to be. He didn't penetrate her. Instead, he pinched her aching clit between his fingers, and then when she moaned and leaned into his knowing hand, he removed it and stroked the inside of her thighs—stoking the fire within her higher and higher until she was almost panting. Before she could react, he kissed her roughly, and grabbed her huge breasts and fondled them, then kissed her again. He was playing her—she knew it, but was powerless to resist. He was making her a slave not just in name, but also in body, open to his every touch and whimsy.

It grew too much for Gladia to bear, and she lacked the strength to force him to comply with her. In fact, it was quite the reverse, with the slaver doing exactly as he pleased with her voluptuous body. He played with her clit, her breasts, her full buttocks—touching, kneading, and kissing her into a frenzy. The fire in her loins spread all over her body, and she grew slick with sweat and other juices. She tried to drag his hands and cock to her nether regions but he would have none of it, smiling that infernal smile and continuing his sport with her body.

Finally, the queen had had enough. To hell with dignity...it wasn't as if anyone knew who she really was here. She had to have his cock. She had to! The words were out of her mouth before she could even register them.

"Master...master! Please fuck me. Please fuck this unworthy slave."

He grinned as if he had been waiting for her to say just that, which he probably had been, and barked out a new command:

"Spread your legs, slut."

She complied slowly, thrilling at his heated gaze on her nether bifurcation. She imagined that it was making her hotter and wetter by the second—it certainly felt like it. He knelt to kiss her again and she swooned into his lips on hers. This was different, somehow—her surrender had made it sweeter, and she yearned to be taken hard by her master.

Another kiss, then more touches, then another kiss, until she was almost delirious with desire. Her lips opened in a half-pout and her hair was in disarray.

"Please...please master!" she begged.

The man smiled once more, a smile of indolent victory. He grabbed her by her wide hips and hilted himself in one strong thrust.