The Princess Selection - Incest

This is a background story for one of my other works. In case the title doesn't give it away, this story is the incest version of "The Princess Selection - Group".

The Princess Selection

Foreword.

The planet of Sapphira is controlled by the women who live upon it. That they call themselves 'slaves' is a mere artifact of their long enslavement at the hands of the men, or 'Masters', who previously ruled it. Those men were overthrown three hundred years before book 1, and are now called 'beasts' rather than 'Masters'. I will not go into detail about the 'beasts' here, but suffice to say they are considered slightly lower than pond scum.

01: The Princess Selection...

Maria would have been a liar had she claimed that her birthday was unimportant to her, but that was not to say that she had any great interest in celebrating her own birth. Rather, her birthday was also the anniversary of the day on which she and the six who would become her Knights had finally been able to sleep together as lovers once more. It marked the end of seven days in which they had fought not as the lovers that they had become, but instead as enemies. They had fought each other within the Pits before the Queens and First Ladies of the world; and they had done so in desperate pursuit of the right to choose who would assume the role of Princess. It had been the longest week of their lives, for it had been a week of frustration and tears regardless of victory; and yet it had been only the last week of a process that had started three years earlier.

That process was known as the Princess Selection.

The Princess Selection was carried out every ten years, and despite its title, it was carried out within every one of the Northern Hemisphere's countries, regardless of whether they were monarchies or technocracies. Within the monarchies, it was held within the vast and sprawling grounds of the Queen's palace, whilst within the technocracies it was held within the First Lady's mansion; and there were just three requirements for entry. The first was that the slave entering should be a citizen of the country in which it took place, whilst the second was that she be at least seventeen years of age. The third requirement was the most difficult to pass, however, for it was that each entrant should hold a rank of bronze or higher within the Pits. The ease in passing the first two conditions meant that it was therefore normal for almost every qualifying fighter to enter the Princess Selection; but they did not enter out of any desire for personal gain.

Certainly, the life of a Princess and her Knights was a relatively comfortable one; but it was also one of significant hardship. They would spend the majority of their lives confined within a single mansion, and would only venture out in order to serve their diplomatic duties. They would be unable to visit the ones that they loved but in contrast, they would be visited almost constantly by the beasts and Upper Beasts who sought to offer their seed. Of course, no slave had ever lived who could look forward to such a life; but all across the Northern hemisphere, they entered in their tens of thousands regardless. Over thirteen thousand slaves made their way to the Queen of Kritoria's Palace that year; and just as with those foreign slaves who travelled to the capital of their own country, they entered the Princess Selection purely because they loved their country. They entered even if they hated the thought of becoming the Princess, and even if they thought that they could never hope to become a Knight let alone a Princess. They entered in the hope that through their defeats, they might help to improve the skills of the seven slaves who would eventually be selected to protect the interests of their country on their behalf.

And Maria had been one of those.

She had entered the Princess Selection on the very day of her seventeenth birthday; and she had done so with the intention of becoming nothing more than a sacrifice. She had longed with all of her heart to return to the mother, brother and sisters whom she had left behind; but she had also longed to help her country. Who would reach the finals? Which seven slaves would offer their lives in service to their country? Of course, Maria had no way of knowing which of her peers would reach the finals at the end of those three grueling years, but she did not care. She entered with the intention of ensuring that whoever they were, they never forgot the techniques that her mother had taught her; and although others could match her determination, none could beat it.

For the first year, she and the other entrants had fought for at least eight hours per day. They had fought in one-on-one matches, or in teams of two to four, or even in battle royals of twenty to forty at a time. They had competed as girls regardless of their actual age, though; and they had fought in shorts and t-shirts rather than in lingerie or in nothing at all. They had been judged not just on their victories or defeats but also on their appearance as well, though. Who amongst them could best maintain her dignity when covered in mud and pinned to the ground? Who amongst them could stand after hours of grueling combat, with her clothing drenched in sweat and covered in mud, yet appear calm and collected as she did so?

The first year saw them more than decimated in number, for they were reduced to just a thousand, but the second year was to bring about an even more significant change. For it was then, with the passing of even the youngest amongst them into adulthood, that they fought as slaves instead of as girls.

Tearing the clothes from each other's bodies. Mauling each other's breasts and stiffly jutting teats. Grinding their hands, their fingers, their mouths and in fact any other part of their body that they could use, against each other's delicate folds and swollen clits. Slamming their strapons into each other sodden pussies with as much force and skill as they could muster. They were judged upon their composure and appearance as much as upon their prowess once more then, but the conditions under which they were judged were incomparable to those of the preceding year.

Who amongst them could maintain her dignity as the entire country watched her being fucked from behind, whilst her clothes hung ripped and torn about her mud-covered body? Who could display the beauty expected of a Princess or her Knights even as she was brought to orgasm repeatedly? Who amongst them could maintain her composure and lick skillfully at a pussy held before her face, whilst other slaves sucked upon her teats and thrust their strapons deep into not only her pussy, but her arse as well? The competitions and evaluations of the second year had whittled them down to just two hundred, but even then, there had been no sign of the strife that was to mar the expected finish.

After all, they were not fighting for position or status. Instead, they were working together to ensure that the slaves of their country could rest easy, content in the knowledge that they had a Princess and Knights of the finest caliber to defend their interests and display their skill. No, even at that late stage it had seemed as if the Princess Selection would finish as normal, with the seven finalists choosing from amongst themselves who would succeed and who would serve.

But it was then, at the beginning of the third year, that Maria's dream began to fall apart. She had remained successfully hidden within the shadows until then, whilst her ranking within the remaining slaves had suggested that she would soon be eliminated. The first cuts of the third year had reduced their numbers down to just one hundred, though, and the reduction left her in full view of the world. Why was it that her supposedly guaranteed defeats ended with her opponents sobbing in ecstasy before her? Why was it that time and time again, a match ended with a formidable opponent worshipping Maria's pussy in a confused but delighted daze, as if uncertain as to how she had lost, but happy regardless? Might it be that she had finally come into her mother's skill? Might it be that they were to have the sort of Princess that her mother's pregnancies had denied them in the past?

The slaves of Kritoria noticed Maria for the first time then, but that was not to say that she went undefeated, as her mother would have. In fact, out of all of the participants not one amongst them had a record that was as erratic as hers was. For every time that she had shocked them with an unexpected victory, she could offer a forfeit on medical grounds, an inexplicable loss or even a complete and even more inexplicable betrayal. Why, when serving in the role of Knight, had she succumbed so easily and climaxed so helplessly? Why, having driven her assigned opponent to climax, had she joined her surviving opponent in ravaging the teammate who had acted as her Knight? Had her actions been deliberate then Maria would have been exiled in shame immediately. There was never any doubt as to her effort, however, and there was just as little doubt that she herself had no idea why it was that she acted as she did.

The next cut reduced their numbers down to just fifty; and Maria found herself amongst them despite her medical conditions, her record and her desire to rejoin her family. She refused to lose heart with the same stubbornness that she refused to do anything less than her best, however; for there were many others far more clearly suitable for a place within the last seven.

Surely, there could be no question that Elizabeth would maintain her position at the top of the fifty, and thus take on the role of Princess. Surely, there could be no doubt that Maria's own ranking would not change sufficiently to make them consider her as a possible Princess or Knight. Surely, anyone would look at the weaknesses that accompanied her condition, and realize that she was the last person that the country should rely upon. Had Maria known just what it was that her Queen and country-slaves thought of her then she would have felt a lot less certain about her fate. They were not blind to the danger of having a Princess such as herself, but that did not meant that they were opposed to the idea; rather, in fact, they desired it!

Certainly, no work of art could ever compare with the sight of Elizabeth fighting. The other slaves were also by then at a level where there was nothing more thrilling than the sight of them attempting to fuck each other senseless within the Pits. There was, however, something special and delightful about watching Maria fight that could not be found in the fighting of her peers.

Would she once more display her mother's ability to completely and utter dominate the Pit, and leave them yet again in shock and awe at the skill with which she brought her opponents to her peak? Would she have to forfeit the match, and thus treat them to the incredible sight of her cooperating with the slave or slaves who sought to satisfy themselves upon her? Might she once more betray a teammate or start making love, only to realize what she was meant to be doing when it was far too late to salvage the match? Unfortunately for Maria, her inconsistency spoke to her country-slaves' sense of mischief and humor.

Would other countries accept the conditions under which she could fight? Might they try to take advantage of her susceptibility to stress and desire by using rules long since all-but-forgotten? The Queen of Kritoria had met with those Queens or First Ladies who were her counterparts to discuss just such questions, for she was of course obliged to place her country before her own desires as a slave. She had returned from her travels with the agreement of the entire world that those rules would be discarded in favor of witnessing such a Princess, though. The stage was thus set for Maria to ascend to the role of Princess. Fifty became twenty-eight and then finally, almost three years after the selection process had started, twenty-eight became just seven slaves.

And to her dismay, Maria found herself amongst them.

She had lost everything. Her family. Her chance to return to the brother whom she loved, and who had begged her not to leave. Her chance to pleasure and serve her mother as was a daughter's right, and her chance to instruct her beautiful, younger sisters in the art of making love. She had given up so much for her country, but she had made six wonderful friends, and she knew that she would at least be happy to spend her life in service to the young slave who had taken her virginity almost two years ago. They were given one week until the day upon which they were due to announce which of them was to become the Princess, and Maria had had no doubt that she would give herself to Elizabeth at the end of it. She was as wrong in that as she was wrong about her Queen's opinion of her, however; and for the first time in over two centuries, the Princess Selection was to end with the finalists battling each other.

02: ...And Her Knights' Betrayal.

They had stood divided into two factions; friend against friend, sister against sister, mother against daughter. On the one side had stood Elizabeth and those others who sided against Maria. They did so despite their love for her, and despite the fact that her body might still prove too weak to be suitable for the role that they intended to force upon her. On the other side, there had stood Maria, still protesting that her condition left her too unreliable for such a role, and those who sided with her despite their own desire to have her as their Princess. They had fought with all that they had then, and they had done so as enemies rather than as lovers, whilst the world had waited in tense expectation.

For six days the Queens and First Ladies of the world watched Maria and her future Knights. They were the only ones who did so, though, for the battles took place behind closed doors. The skill with which Maria's peers fought was undoubtedly of a standard to match that of the highest Princesses and Knights, but none of them could watch Maria and not think of her mother. Again and again, she failed to show any sign of the weaknesses that had plagued her previously. Again and again, she had reduced her opponent to a sobbing and squirting wreck before the other matches had approached their midpoint.

Who could find anything enjoyable in the sight of what the seven of them were reduced to, though? Who could willingly witness the grief and emptiness of a slave forced to put aside all love and affection in the pursuit of nothing more than her lover's sexual exhaustion? Who could bring themselves to watch as those lovers who had lost lay in bitter, tearful defeat despite the orgasms with which they had been forced to concede? The rulers of the world watched seven slaves forced by their devotions and beliefs into war, and they prayed that they would never fail in their duties to such a degree that their own Princesses and Knights would be forced into the same.

It would be remiss not to add that the Queens and First Ladies grew ever more conflicted as they watched the seven though. On the one hand, there was the risk that they had made a mistake in allowing Kritoria to retain the young slave who seemed so transformed before them; for dare they allow one country to possess a slave of such fearsome skill? On the other hand, her victory seemed certain; and they pondered whether they should just stop the matches and force Maria into the role of Princess, in order that they might see how interesting such an eventuality might be.

For six long, exhausting and numbing days, Maria and her future Knights had fought in all-day one-on-one tournaments to decide who would be eliminated from the next day's battles. They cried themselves to sleep at night, and they slept with only those two or three slaves who had sided with them, but the days carried on regardless of their grief. Finally, on the seventh day, Elizabeth and Maria had met as the two sole surviving contestants, and those who watched knew that barring a miracle, Elizabeth could not prevail.

Of course, Maria allowed Elizabeth some access to her own sex, for it was easier to do so than to resist all contact; but that was all that she allowed, though. Time and time again, she managed to pin Elizabeth until she sobbed and screamed in ecstasy as she climaxed against her will. Time and time again, and despite everything that Elizabeth tried, she managed to bring Elizabeth to her peak; and then she somehow avoided the most dangerous of Elizabeth's caresses until such time as the threat of her own orgasm had subsided.

Elizabeth's determination was of such legendary strength that she survived Maria's assault upon her body for almost two hours, but the Queens and First Ladies watched in the knowledge that her defeat was inevitable. Her orgasms had drained her both figuratively and literally. She could do nothing more than lay helpless, panting and sobbing in the oil within which they fought, and she had squirted so often that her only lubrication was the oil that Maria's fingers and toys carried into her. Just when it had appeared as if Elizabeth might faint, though, the Queen had received a call from her peers. She had done so without surprise, and then she had smiled slyly as she relayed just six words to the five Knights who watched without joy.

"Would you betray Maria for us?"

Would they?

Could they do something so unforgivable? Maria's downfall was partly her own fault, for in her display of skill she had shown them a slave who deserved to be a Queen rather than a Princess. Her nobility in defeat had proven to be such that her Knights would have desired such an outcome even had she not shown such skill, however. They paused only to look into each other's eyes before replying; and the grin with which the Queen had received their words was long considered the most wonderfully wicked that any slave had ever given. The Queen had ordered the tournament to become a battle royal then, and all five young slaves had scrambled to join their lovers in the oil. They had pinned and ravaged Maria. They had assaulted her clit and sodden pussy with their vibrators even as they pulled and sucked upon her nipples; and she had been as helpless before them as they had been before her. She had had no way to escape their onslaught, nor avoid the countless orgasms, but she fought with a determination that awed and delighted the rulers who watched. For five long hours, she fought to reverse the tide of pleasure that swept over her, but in the end, she lay as shattered and wrecked as Elizabeth had hours earlier. She had conceded defeat, and she had kissed her six future Knights as lovers, and then they had ignored her pleas for mercy, and they brought her to one orgasm after another until she finally fainted in ecstasy.

She had awoken the next day to find that as expected, they had been consigned to a life of almost permanent imprisonment within the Princess's Mansion. She awoke to find also that she had been named the future Princess, though; and her six friends had wept without exception as they begged for her forgiveness. It was thus neither the battles nor the betrayal that Maria remembered, but the emotions that they had shown her then. The desperation with which they had apologized. The eagerness with which they had pledged their lives and their loyalty. The way in which they had accepted her double-ended dildo within their buttocks for the first time as an act of submission rather than training. The love that they had declared in between their tears and the love that she had admitted in between her own. She had leant motionless against a wall, and then she had allowed each of her Knights to use their buttocks to fuck her with the double-ended dildo. She had allowed them to continue until they were each drenched in her cum and too exhausted to move; and only then had she gone down on them. She had gobbled, licked, slurped and sucked at their beautiful pussies until each of her Knights could cum no more, and then they had cuddled, kissed and finally slept together as lovers once more.