Candice in Wickedland Ch. 05

Slaves in the Royal Castle didn't sleep with their masters or mistresses. Every night, we were taken down to the dungeon level and an authoritative woman named Letherine would put us to bed.

Letherine was charged with making certain the slaves were groomed, fed, given proper medical care and put to bed at night. Sometimes I thought of her as the "slave babysitter", although I never mentioned that thought out loud.

When the slaves were put to bed, we were chained so that we couldn't touch ourselves or each other. Of course, that meant I woke up sexually frustrated every morning.

We all slept together in one large room, with approximately fifty beds. None of us got blankets, so there were dozens of naked slaves with perfect bodies visible all around me. Some of the slaves slept fitfully and I could see them arch their backs and strain their thigh muscles as they struggled against their chains. It was distracting to watch and made it difficult to sleep.

My dreams tended to be filled with erotic images and graphic sexual content. I don't remember all of them, however, a lot of them involved me being naked and getting chased by a malevolent crowd.

Sometimes I was chased through the woods, other times I would get chased down a public street, sometimes I would get chased through my old high school, once or twice I was pursued through an abandoned warehouse. Sometimes at the end of the dream, I'd get caught and my captors would fondle me roughly, pinch my nipples, slap my ass and force their fingers into my vagina.

Anna would come to visit me once or twice a week. She was a human visiting the castle of a Sidhe Royal Family in a Faerie Land. As such, she had something like ambassador status when she arrived. She was accorded certain rights and could speak with me in private and give me the potions that she brewed to calm my fears and keep me from panicking during my captivity.

For my part, I was still just a slave, so when I met with Anna, I was naked, usually locked in a cell and quite often wearing shackles.

Panthell was a woman who worked in the castle and was given authority over the slaves. She was slender, with strong arms and a no-nonsense personality. She usually dressed in a gray tunic that reminded me of a prison guard uniform.

"Place your hands behind your back," Panthell ordered and then I heard the click of shackles as she locked them on my wrists. A metal collar was then locked around my throat.

The metal shackles on my wrists were joined to the back of my collar with a short chain, preventing me from protecting my naked bottom. I took this as a clue that my ass was going to get whipped or spanked or paddled.

Then, a chain was secured to the front of my collar and Panthell used it like a leash to lead me down a series of corridors. She then unlocked an imposing metal door and ordered me to step inside.

It was a dark, intimidating cell with stone floors, stone walls and metal rings set at various heights in the walls. Panthell attached my leash to one of the rings, at about shoulder height.

"You have a visitor today," Panthell informed me, "When we're done preparing you, she'll be sent in."

Of course, by preparing me, Panthell meant making me look even more like a slut than I already did. Being naked wasn't enough. Panthell wanted me to look like I was not only available for sex, but desperate for it.

Panthell sent for Gudrun, to shave my loins. There was only a patch of short, barely noticeable stubble, but Panthell insisted that my pubes be completely smooth and exposed before I could receive any visitors.

Gudrun walked purposefully into my cell, with a bucket of hot water, a clean towel, a razor and some soap. She had shaved me before, but the girl's cold, impersonal attitude always made me somewhat afraid of her.

"Legs wide apart," Gudrun commanded me curtly, and then she proceeded to feel up my pink slit from top to bottom before washing my loins with soap and water. Next, she proceeded to pry my buttocks apart and wash the delicate, pink flesh of my anus.

My legs were trembling slightly as Gudrun ran her hands all over my private parts and lathered me up. And when my vulva was all slick and soapy, the girl pulled out her straightedge razor and began to shave me.

The look on Gudrun's face was unfriendly, but her hands were steady and careful as she gently removed stubble from the most intimate part of my female anatomy.

"Try not to tremble," the woman said as she gently edged the razor down my flesh, a hair's breadth away from the swollen folds of my pubic lips, "I don't want to cut you."

My legs were spread out wide, leaving my pink slit vulnerable, while an unfriendly, businesslike woman held a sharp razor up to my sex, and she wanted me not to tremble? My heart was racing, and a sensation of panic swirled around inside of me, but I tried to obey.

I could feel Gudrun's hot breath on my gaping pussy as my sex throbbed. I didn't want to get turned on at the touch of a cold, aloof, razor-wielding servant girl like Gudrun, but my body was so responsive at that point, almost any physical contact was sexually arousing.

As I mulled it over in my head, Gudrun was an attractive woman. Her clothing didn't flatter her figure like the tailored gowns worn by the queen or the queen's daughters, but she was slender and appeared to have some delicious feminine curves underneath her unattractive tunic.

After shaving my vulva, Gudrun had me bend over slightly and proceeded to shave away some small, delicate hairs she found on my anus.

When she was finished, and had washed away the soapy residue from my anus and pudendum, she gave my loins an approving look and said, "I hope your visitor appreciates the work I have done here. You now look quite smooth and touchable."

Gudrun gave me a look that was unreadable, but at that moment I wanted her to touch me again. I wanted her to shove her fingers deep inside of me and finger my vagina until I had an explosive orgasm, and I got my juices all over her fingers, but sadly, Gudrun did nothing like that. Instead, she just grabbed her soap, bucket, her razor and her towel, and she walked out of my cell with the same sort of businesslike attitude she had when she walked in.

"Uuhhhhhh," I groaned in sexual frustration, and then Panthell informed me there was one more thing that needed to be done to me before I was ready to receive visitors.

"Panthell, please," I pleaded, "I'm naked, chained and my pussy is obscenely exposed, what more could you possibly be thinking of doing to me?"

Panthell gave me an intense look and I noticed that she had cat-like eyes. They were a sort of golden-green color and instead of having circular pupils like humans, she had vertical slits. The intensity of her gaze intimidated me, and the cat-like nature of her eyes reminded me that Panthell wasn't human. That's when I averted my gaze and nervously bit my lower lip, regretting the fact that I'd spoken to her in the first place.

"Slaves need to be ready for sex at all times," Panthell replied firmly, "And all visitors need to be able to see your readiness the moment they glance at your body."

I was left panting, with my wrists bound securely behind my back, my breasts thrust out towards Panthell as if I were offering them up to be fondled or abused. Of course, Panthell took advantage of my vulnerable breasts. She reached out with both hands and began to fondle my nipples.

When she first placed her hands on them, I assumed that she was going to pinch them and hurt them cruelly, but instead she gently stroked them and then she leaned forward so that she could leisurely kiss them and lick them with her tongue.

Her tongue felt rough, almost like sandpaper. Of course, I reminded myself Panthell wasn't human. I shouldn't be surprised that her tongue felt differently on my nipples than a human tongue.

I moaned and gasped as her lips and tongue found my nipples and drove me crazy with lust. The nerve endings in my nipples seemed to be connected directly to the nerve endings in my clit and couldn't help rubbing my naked thighs together as my pussy throbbed and begged for attention.

"You should not do that," Panthell said when she noticed I was rubbing my thighs together, "Slave-girls are always supposed to keep their legs apart."

"I'm sorry, Mistress," I proclaimed to the woman with the cat-like eyes and the cat-like tongue. "It won't happen again!"

However, my apology was accepted. Panthell then proceeded to cup my breasts in her hands, take hold of my exposed nipples and pinch them.

"Aaaaaaahh," I screamed as my defenseless nipples were cruelly pinched and twisted.

Panthell eventually released her sadistic hold on my nipples. She commented on how hard and erect my nipples were after she was done abusing them and it was shortly after that that my visitor arrived.

"Hello, Candice," Anna said when she entered the cell and got a good look at me.

Anna is an important person in my life. At the very least she's my friend. I think she's my girlfriend. I mean, we had sex once before, and I feel a great deal of affection for her, but we've never put a label on our relationship status. And it wasn't long after we first had sex that I was abducted and became Princess Bedrohlich's slave.

"Hello, Anna."

It was awkward greeting her. I was naked, visibly aroused, collared, my hands bound behind my back and my neck chained to the wall. Meanwhile, Anna had her hands free and had a stylish leather bag slung over one shoulder. She looked self-assured and she was respectably dressed in black leggings, cute ankle boots and a stylish lambskin leather jacket.

Yeah, when you're not allowed to wear clothes, you spend a lot of time obsessing about what other people are wearing. I would have looked great wearing Anna's ensemble, but it had been decreed that I had to remain naked during the entire time as Princess Bedrohlich's slave.

"Can we have some privacy?" Anna asked as she turned to Panthell, "I'd like to speak to my friend alone."

"If you wish," the cat-eyed woman replied, "I'll give you an hour and then I'll check in on you and see how you're doing."

"Yes, that will be fine," Anna replied, "Thank you."

Panthell closed the door on her way out, possibly locking both Anna and me inside, but Anna didn't seem to be the least bit worried.

As soon as we had privacy, Anna took me into her arms. I was hugged and kissed, and I felt awkward over the fact that I couldn't hug her back.

"How are they treating you?" Anna asked, and I almost laughed. I was naked and chained. That told most of the story right there.

"Like a sex slave," I replied, "They keep me constantly naked and I've been passed around from one pervert to another. I've licked more pussy than an Abbywinters.com porn star."

Anna's mouth opened wide in surprise and she asked, "How do you even know about a website like Abbywinters.com?"

"One of the other slaves told me about it," I explained, "The slaves aren't supposed to talk to each other, but when none of our overseers are around, we whisper. If we get caught, we're punished, but it's worth it. Talking to somebody else helps us to feel less like a slave."

"What?" Anna asked, "Why don't they want you talking to the other slaves?"

"We're supposed to be sex objects," I explained, "If we're allowed to talk to the other slaves and express our opinions and feelings, we start to feel like human beings with distinct personalities. Slaves aren't supposed to have distinct personalities. We're just supposed to be firm boobs and perky butts and tongues that lick vaginas. We're not supposed to have opinions or feelings."

Anna frowned and silently digested the information I'd just given her. Of course, she wasn't happy with the way I was being treated, but it wasn't considered cruel or unusual by Sidhe standards, especially not if you'd been sentenced to a thousand days of slavery.

"Well, at least you get to talk to me," Anna finally replied, "The deal I made with Queen Eydis allows us to have visits. When you and I meet like this, you can tell me whatever you want."

"What's going on in the real world?" I asked, "I mean, like back in Fairhaven. How is Barbara? How's my mom? How's my dad? Oh, what about my car? I'm not going to be able to make the payments on it while I'm locked up in this place! Will they repossess my car when I don't make the payments?"

My questions came out of my mouth rapid-fire. Anna smiled and attempted to answer my questions as best she could. My friend Barbara had been freaking out, but Anna and the coven had worked on calming her down. They assured Barbara that I would eventually make it home safely. It would just be a matter of time.

My father had been freaking out, almost as bad as Barbara. My mother, on the other hand, took the news with relative calm. It turns out she'd known for years that I might become Princess Bedrohlich's sex slave one day.

"Your mother it seems," Anna said in hushed tones, "has been keeping secrets. Approximately twenty years ago, she had been one of Bedrohlich's sex slaves."

I gasped so loud it was comical.

"My mother?" I asked, "A sex slave?"

"It was a long time ago, but yes," Anna replied.

"But, but," I said, searching for the right words to express myself, yet failing. I mean...my mother was this middle-aged, suburban housewife! Also, she was my mother! Mothers can't be naked, sex-slaves, can they? That has to be against all the laws of the universe, right?

"She couldn't have been," I finally spat out.

"Why not?" Anna asked, "We already knew that everyone from Albrecht's family line was fair game for Bedrohlich. That includes your mother, your aunts, grandmothers, great grandmothers and so on. Come to think of it, it includes grandfathers too. Nothing in Albrecht's pact with Bedrohlich specified female descendants. She could have taken male descendants as slaves too."

"Ick," I exclaimed. The thought of any of my male cousins or uncles in the nude immediately struck me as gross. I used to think of men as sexually attractive, but for some reason, I had flipped my sexual orientation. Now, I found women to be sexually attractive, but men just left me cold.

I'm pretty sure Princess Bedrohlich had something to do with that.

"Why didn't my mother tell me?" I asked. "If I knew about Princess Bedrohlich and how people in my family were at risk of becoming sex slaves, maybe I could have sone something to protect myself!"

"Something, like what?" Anna asked.

"Well, maybe I could have run away," I ventured, "fled the country, gone to Canada."

"Sweetie, that wouldn't have helped," Anna explained, "Princess Bedrohlich is a magical creature. She can track the children of Albrecht's bloodline no matter where they go. You could have hidden in an underwater base at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean and she still would have found you. Running away would have accomplished nothing."

Anna and I talked it out. I pitched a few ideas, but Anna assured me that none of them would have worked. The deal Albrecht had made with Bedrohlich gave her too much power over my family. If she found me sexually attractive and wanted me as her slave, there would be no escaping her.

I tried to imagine my middle-aged mother as a sex-slave and I just couldn't do it. Then, I remembered that Anna said it was about twenty years ago and my mother wouldn't have been middle-aged back then. She would have been in her late teens or early twenties.

I felt a weird sort of solidarity with my mother that I'd never felt before. Knowing that she'd been ogled, spanked and whipped by Princess Bedrohlich and other citizens of the Kingdom of Verborgen made me feel oddly closer to her. It was probably the weirdest mother-daughter bonding experience ever.

* * * * *

Letherine has a tradition where sometimes slaves who have earned her favor can sexually abuse, objectify and punish one of her other slaves. Letherine believes that it's more humiliating for slaves to be abused by other slaves than to be abused by free men and women.

And on that very day, while Anna was there, Letherine decided that I was to be given to three of Letherine's slaves so they could sexually abuse and punish me.

"Oooooohh," I moaned when I heard the news of my fate.

"And to add to your humiliation, your friend will be there to watch," Letherine decreed, "It will increase your feelings of humiliation if people you know well are there to witness your abasement."

Letherine was 100% correct. Having Anna there to witness my humiliation made my feelings of shame and degradation a thousand times worse. I didn't want Anna to think of me as some sort of sexual plaything to be used and fucked and objectified by any random stranger, but Letherine was forcing me to be fucked and used while Anna was forced to watch.

You see, agreeing to witness some of my humiliations was part of the price Anna paid for being allowed to come visit me.

Anna and I were taken to a large chamber so that I could experience humiliation and Anna could watch. Shortly after we walked in, Anna and I were separated. Anna was led to an area where spectators could sit on benches while they enjoyed my suffering, and I was led over to an area with stone floors and eerie lighting.

My chains had been removed, and I wasn't certain where to put my hands. I clenched and unclenched my fists and fidgeted nervously, uncertain what I was supposed to do as I waited to be abused by my fellow slaves, then to my left, a woman's voice barked out, "Waiting pose!"

I looked at her blankly, I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Legs far apart," she snapped at me, "hands behind your back, grab your left wrist with your right hand, grab your right wrist with your left hand, shoulders back, breast thrust forward!"

When I had achieved the appropriate pose, the stern woman demanded, "Who taught you how to perform slave positions?"

"No one, ma'am," I replied, honestly.

"That will change," the woman said, "There are only nine slave positions. You're a slave, now. You should know all of them as well as you know your own name."

I was assured that the next day somebody would be teaching me how to properly execute all nine slave positions, and that if I didn't learn quickly, I would be cruelly punished, and my body would sport all manner of painful red marks from whips and leather straps.

Then the women who were going to humiliate me were brought in. They walked with a swagger not normally associated with slaves. I suppose the fact that they had been given authority over me filled them with a heady rush of power.

I recognized two of them.

One of the slave-women was a music pop star who had won tons of Grammys. One was a supermodel who had been on the cover of Vogue and had been a top model over at Victoria's Secret. Both women had disappeared from the public eye about six months ago. Rumor had it that they were both going through rehab.

Wow! If only their fans knew the truth! What they were really doing while out of the public eye, was far more titillating than drug rehab!

The third woman was certainly beautiful, although I didn't recognize her. Possibly she wasn't anybody famous. Not all slaves are celebrities. After all, I was a slave. And I was just a teenager who had just recently graduated high school and hadn't really accomplished anything with my life yet.

The one who had been on the cover of Vogue towered over me. She had high cheekbones, long legs, slender waist, firm, perfectly round breasts and abs that were firm, well-defined and sculpted.

As she sauntered over to where I was posing, she gave me a look like I was something good to eat. That look, combined with her superior height and exquisite beauty made me feel immediately intimidated by her.

My feelings of being intimidated by her only increased when she ordered me to get down on my knees.

I moved swiftly to obey, and then the supermodel kicked my legs apart, and reprimanded me for not spreading them pornographically far apart in the first place.

"Your pubic lips should always be exposed to my gaze," the tall slave admonished me, "Just because we're both slaves, doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you. I want your naked body on display at all times."

When my own pink slit was indecently on display, the naked supermodel stood in front of me, so her crotch was directly in my face. I took a few seconds to admire her hard abs and her firm, sculpted thighs, before focusing on her pubes. Like me, her vulva had been shaved smooth. Also like me, her pubic lips were very visible, plump and glistening with moisture.

The tallest of the slaves was flanked by her two naked associates. They weren't as impressive in height as the one in the center, but I felt intimidated by all three of them. And while I knelt there and stared at the pink labia of the tallest one, the naked slave-girl to my right spoke up and said, "You're supposed to lick her pussy now. And when you're done eating her out, I'm next."

I felt stupid for not figuring that out on my own. Slaves in Verborgen were prohibited from touching themselves and were intentionally kept in a chronic state of sexual frustration. So, naturally when a slave is given a slave of her own to command, the first thing she's going to want is for that slave to lick her to orgasm.

Once, I understood what was required of me, I grabbed the naked supermodel by her hips, and I brushed my tongue across the swollen folds of her labia. The taste of her sexual juices was mild, almost tasteless.