Princess (2 page)

Suddenly it was impossible not to look. Iriel turned, to find the scaffold in plain view, not two hundred paces away across the crowd. Kaissia was there, stark naked, her beautiful clothes scattered on the wooden boards of the scaffold, held tight down across the knee of a big, red-haired woman, just as Iriel had been held across Mistress Loida's knee. Only it was worse, far worse. Kaissia's naked white body stood out like a flame, long legs waving to the smacks, arms tied hard behind her back. Her golden hair was tossing high, her red bottom cheeks bouncing, her well furred tuppenny blatantly exposed, the little pink star of her bottom ring too, all of it in full view of perhaps half the population of Aegerion.

Iriel could only stare, mesmerised by the sight of a highborn girl naked and punished. Her sense of pity grew stronger, realising that her own emotions under punishment would be weak compared to what Kaissia was suffering, and that even what was to be done to her when she went back was nothing to the ordeal about to be inflicted on the young highborn woman. The naked spanking was just the start.

Others stood in the area cleared by High-Prince Nerangarian's guards, those artisans whose trades were needed to complete Kaissia's shaming. Nearest the scaffold was a burly woman Iriel knew only by site, her wands, inks and the stained skin of her brawny forearms and powerful hands revealing her as the tattooist who would cover Kaissia's breasts in patterns to ensure that the shaming was permanent.

A little to one side was the town dung-gatherer, Fo, a huge, hideously ugly man with both hair and skin brown as if stained by the substances of his trade. A girl stood beside him, his daughter Yi, also dressed in little more than rags and with the same deep brown hair, yet lithe and pretty despite the streaks and smears on her flesh. Both had the marks of run sweat on their dirty skin, the result of having trundled a huge and steaming barrel of mixed dungs from their compound at the edge of the city.

Beyond Fo were two men Iriel did not know, but who had the look of the country about their clothes. They were manhandling a covered cage which shook to the motion of something within. As an angered bellow reached her, Iriel realised that what was in the cage was some great man-beast and an instant later the implications of its presence. Kaissia, once stripped, spanked, tattooed and smeared with dung, would be put in to be ravished by whatever man-beast they had caught. Still the spanking continued, slap after merciless slap delivered to Kaissia's writhing buttocks.

Iriel's feelings had grown abruptly sharper, deep sympathy, yet once more a touch of anticipation, which she struggled to hold down. It did not stop her watching, her eyes riveted to the scene even as her stomach twitched in response to the thoughts in her head. It was just, she knew, correct, a fair and usual punishment for Kaissia's crime, which was to have given herself to a bull-nymph, not once, but several times. Only the fucking was not normal, yet she knew that the High-Prince was generally considered merciful, weak even, in not adding further details to Kaissia's ordeal.

On the scaffold the spanking stopped, the sound of the last slap reverberating among the tall dockside houses of Aegerion, the only human noise alongside the cry of sea birds, the gentle slap of waves and the creak of wood and cord. Iriel saw that Kaissia had reacted shamefully, proving the accusation of wantonness levelled against her. White juice was smeared between her thighs and the lips of her tuppenny were red and swollen, then, as the spanking woman took a firm hold on the chubby red peach of her victim's bottom, Iriel's mouth went slack.

Kaissia's bottom cheeks had been hauled apart, big fingers digging into soft female flesh, to stretch the little pink and brown ring wide, also her tuppenny, a gaping hole, running white juice and with the ragged edge of the torn hymen clearly visible. A mutter ran through the crowd, a sound rich with passion, and Iriel found herself praying that if she had to be put out for public ravishment it would not be until the next day. Yet she knew that Mistress Loida would not miss the opportunity to have her fucked by so many eager men and a knot of apprehension tightened in her stomach.

On the scaffold Kaissia stood, pulled up by her hair, unsteady as the fingers of her bound hands pushed down in a vain effort to soothe the purple ball of her smacked bottom. She was sweating, her ivory pale skin glistening, her beautiful blonde hair a bedraggled mess, yet she was not crying, as Iriel saw, the large blue eyes clear of tears, but glazed, as if she was unable to take in what was happening to her.

With Kaissia spanked, the tattoo woman began to prepare, climbing to the dais with heavy chair, then returning for her equipment. Two guards took hold of Kaissia, to pull her down onto the chair, unresisting, her face still set in bewilderment. Iriel stared, watching as the girl was tied up, her arms behind her, her ankles fastened to the chair legs, her upper body locked into a cradle of rope to force her chest out and keep her big breasts high and wide.

Unhurried, the tattoo woman set up her things, placing a stool beside Kaissia, positioned to make sure the crowd still had a good view and placing her wands and inks neatly on the boards of the scaffold. Still Kaissia stared vacantly out over the heads of the crowd, making Iriel wonder whether some witch had not managed to drug or ensorcle the girl to numb the pain.

Briefly Iriel glanced around, wary of Mistress Loida or the men who had pursued her. None were visible, every face fixed on the scaffold, some serious, some lustful, a few, female, showing sympathy. Two, close by, caught Iriel's attention. Both were women, both had the typical flame red hair of the Aeg. One was tall even among the men and while dressed in a rich and stylish gown she held a long axe of curious design, a most unusual site. The other was more plainly dressed, perhaps a maid, and viewed the world with a wary, aggressive stare.

Iriel's attention turned back to the scaffold as the tattoo woman took one of Kaissia's breasts in hand. Kaissia was full chested, bigger even than most Aeg girls, and firm, her breast making a fat ball of girl flesh in the tattoo woman's hand with the rigidly erect nipple poking from the top. With her face set in concentration, the tattoo woman leant close, her wand poised, then driven sharply against Kaissia's flesh. Iriel winced but the tormented girl made no sound, merely hanging her head in what seemed the final admission of defeat.

The tattoo woman worked deftly and fast, indifferent to everything but the soft flesh she was called on to paint, puncturing it over and over with quick, precise motions. Each left a new stain on Kaissia's flesh, blue against pale cream, expanding slowly into a swirling pattern, the ritual marks of shaming, which the girl would bear all her life, and show, bare breasted and set to drudge work, tasks even the lowest peasant girl would think beneath her.

Slowly the pattern grew, the bound girl motionless in her bonds, seemingly unaware as her proud breasts were painted for her shame, first in blue, then in red, the pattern intricate, precise and unmistakable. Only when her nipples were pricked did she look up, her eyes still blank, her mouth wide with a runnel of drool escaping from one corner. The tattoo woman worked on, pricking into the stiff bud with exact little motions, tainting the delicate nipple flesh a brilliant red, first one, then the other, to impart to Kaissia's breasts a look of indecent arousal.

As the tattoo woman stood away a murmur of approval went for the crowd, appreciation for speed and art, albeit that of the executioner. A guard stepped forward, to dash water into Kaissia's face and over her chest. For a moment the highborn woman showed no reaction, then shook her head, clearing her wet hair from her face to look out, still dazed, yet proud. Iriel immediately felt a touch of the same emotion, and the need to thump her hand on the hull of the ship beside her, the Aeg gesture of approval for a valiant act. It was wholly inappropriate, she knew, Kaissia's breaking being entirely just, yet it was hard to resist. The wild looking girl near by had no such qualms, striking the wood, then grinning to show the sharpened teeth typical of the barbarians from the heart of Aegmund as her tall companion spoke to her.

Iriel's brief moment of elation faded as the guards began to untie Kaissia. Next came the dunging, a process that surely must break the girl's spirit, and even if she held back then there was the man-beast. It would fuck her, beyond doubt, its strength far beyond her means to resist, although to judge by the rumours of what had happened with the bull-nymph, and by the amount of thick white juice running down Kaissia's inner thighs, there might be no resistance.

Both envy and disgust filled Iriel's head. Kaissia was said to have been caught on a lonely part of her father's estates, naked, in ecstasy, on all fours, with her bottom stuck up to meet the thrusts of the bull-nymph, a creature half her own size and of intelligence barely beyond that of a dog. It was true that bull-nymphs exuded a heady scent said to be sometimes used by witches to arouse women, yet the creatures were shy and reclusive, seldom seen and hard to tempt from the forests. For Kaissia to have egged the creature on, stripped, somehow disposed of her chastity girdle and offered herself for fucking, let alone to have her maidenhead broached, was an act so blatantly wanton, so offensive to propriety, that for a moment Iriel's sympathy died. Yet it rose again as she watched the huge dung-gatherer and his daughter work the barrel up on to the scaffold.

Kaissia was standing, loose, but still with her hands tied behind her back. Two guards held her arms, and her pretty face wrinkled briefly in disgust before setting once more into an expression of haughty pride. Fo wrestled the barrel into position, his daughter standing back, well out of the way. One spade like hand thrust into the barrel, coming up holding a steaming handful of dung. Kaissia quickly shut her eyes, only for the filthy mess to be slapped onto her belly, hard. Fo was grinning as he smeared dung over Kaissia's belly and into the thick gold growth of her mound, then lower, to make her eyes pop in shock and disgust as her tuppenny was penetrated. Her body twitched, her resolve weakening, but still she held out, allowing herself to be turned around, her bottom to the crowd, the cheeks still rich red from spanking, a smudge of white and a smudge of brown showing between her thighs where they met her cheeks.

Again Fo stuck his hand in the dung, to pull out a still larger handful, which he smacked to Kaissia's bottom, making the fleshy cheeks wobble once more as they were fouled. Still she resisted, even when the dung-gatherer pushed two thick fingers between her meaty cheeks, rubbing the filth well in, only to break with a sob as her bottom ring was penetrated. Fo laughed, spent a moment easing his finger in an out up Kaissia's bottom, then withdrew.

Iriel was shaking, overwhelmed by pity and disgust and sheer shock, yet all the time thinking of what she herself had coming and wondering if the men would want to inflict similar indignities on her. In the pillory she would have little choice in what happened, and even if a guard was set over her he would not stop anything he felt was merely done in a spirit of jest. From the ripple of low laughter that passed through the crowd that all too obviously included the soiling and penetration of girls' bottom rings.

Kaissia stood, still held, bits of dung falling from her buttocks and belly as she was turned about once more. She now looked sullen and her lower lip was trembling, yet still her face was dry. Fo gave a grunt, scooped up another big handful, paused a moment to let what was about to happen sink in, then pushed the full, steaming load into Kaissia's face. Iriel heard her own gasp and her stomach tightened hard as the filth was rubbed into the shamed girls' face, not fast, but plastered slowly over her features and into her hair, Fo taking his time to ensure a job well done.

When the big dung-gatherer did remove his hand it was to reveal Kaissia's face a filthy brown mask, so thickly coated that her features were barely recognisable, while thick clots covered both her tightly closed eyes. Fo chuckled, wiped his hand in Kaissia's hair, then suddenly ducked down, scooped her up and dropped her bottom first into the barrel. Iriel caught the squashy noise as bottom cheeks met dung, then a thick bubbling sound as Kaissia sank in, to wedge in the mouth of the barrel, her body submerged in filth from ribcage to the backs of her knees. Immediately she begun to struggle, wriggling in the filth to set wet dung slopping over the rim of the barrel.

There was a moment of silence, the crowd shocked at the sudden and inappropriate act, which was no part of the ritual. Then came laughter, loud and unabashed, from a single man. Iriel turned, looking up to where the harbour keep loomed over the quay, to see High-Prince Nerangarian leaning on the parapet, the white and gold of his beard split by an open grin. Others joined in the laughter. Fo made a deep bow and in response High-Prince Nerangarian threw something down, a gold Thalar piece, which the dung-gatherer's daughter caught and quickly slipped into the recesses of her ragged gown.

Bowing once more, Fo moved to his barrel, to haul Kaissia out, brown and dripping. Below the scaffold the two rough looking men Iriel had noticed bent to lift their cage, eliciting a new bellow from within. There was an immediate stir from the crowd. The tall girl to Iriel's side muttered a question, to which her companion replied with a shrug. Iriel found herself biting her lip and trying to tell herself first that Kaissia deserved what was about to be done to her, and second that she did not want the same treatment herself. Neither effort worked.

Iriel blew her breath out, disturbed by her own emotions. Her stomach was fluttering, her tuppenny warm and tingling, her nipples stiff. For all her sympathy for Kaissia and difficulty in accepting the justice of the coming fucking, she knew she would watch, and that her own need, already as strong as at any time she had taken men's cocks into her mouth, would grow stronger still.

The dung barrel was off the stage, Yi mopping up what had spilt or dropped from Kaissia's soiled body as the cage handlers moved it to the very centre of the scaffold. One man made to remove the cover but High-Prince Nerangarian stopped him with a gesture. Guards moved Kaissia forward, reluctant to touch the filthy girl, but with swords drawn to deny her escape. She stayed still, her body dripping filth, her eyes closed, her emotions showing only as a slight trembling and the tightening of the muscles in her neck.