Empress Enslaved Ch. 02

This is the concluding part of the two-part story 'Empress Enslaved', with much the same themes and content as the first part. Thank you for your comments, and I hope you enjoy this conclusion.

*****

Belle fell back against the wall of the tavern, breathing heavily. For a few brief seconds, as the world seemed to explode around her, she had forgotten that she was naked.

Even now, as the shouting and snarling died down and J'akart regained control of the situation, she was filled with fear not for herself, but for her Empress. When Isabella had spat in the barbarian King's face she had genuinely thought his two bodyguards were going to attack her. They had grabbed Isabella, shouting and screaming in that horrible language of theirs, groping at her naked, violated body while J'akart wiped the Empress's saliva from his face. She shuddered to think what Barrand and Zoaxus would have done to her -- to both of them -- had J'akart not ordered them back.

Oh my sweet, noble Isabella, why couldn't you have just swallowed your pride? Belle thought miserably to herself. She watched the Empress stagger over to the far corner of the tavern, retreating just as she had, while the three horse lords conversed in their own language.

Isabella was thinking much the same thing. She was still reeling from the psychological hammer blow that had been her last humiliation. She didn't know what was worse -- the sheer depravity of the double penetration she had taken, the spectacular orgasm it had wrought in her, or the fact that her own servant had been there to witness it all. She shuddered, and wrapped her arms around her legs to cover herself.

All she would have had to do was call him a King -- a meaningless act that no would ever be able to prove she had done anyway. But she hadn't been thinking. She was too dazed and degraded from sheer humiliation, and she had lashed out. And now... well, she didn't know what would happen now, but there was certainly something changed in J'akart. She cast a dark look over at where the three of them were talking. This did not bode well.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Belle edging closer towards her. No -- no please, just leave me alone. She knew her servant meant well, but she wanted to just forget Belle was even there.

"Y-your grace," whispered Belle, tentatively.

"Get away from me!" snarled Isabella, hating herself immediately. This wasn't Belle's fault, she knew. She had come here trying to help her...

Yes, and made things a hundred times worse in the process, and made a total disgrace of herself by submitting to the men so enthusiastically.

And what did that make her then?

"Just... leave me," she said, a little softer but still without looking at her. She couldn't bear to see Belle like this -- naked and dishevelled with those huge breasts and buttocks on display. It reminded her of the fact that she was naked too, and she wanted to forget that more than anything else.

Belle withdrew as though stung, eyes watering at the rebuke. She must blame me for all this, she thought. What have I done?

The meeting seemed to be over. J'akart and Zoaxus clasped hands, said some final thing in parting, and then Zoaxus marched from the room -- stopping only to collect his tunic. He shot a parting look at the two women in the corner, smiled, and left.

Isabella knew better than to ask questions at this stage -- she had a horrible feeling they would be answered eventually and that she wouldn't like it when it was.

J'akart and Barrand turned their attention to her now -- Barrand looked only marginally less furious that he had when Isabella had first spat in his King's face, and J'akart's expression was inscrutable, but determined. They advanced over to their corner -- Barrand following his King.

There was a brief silence as the two men looked down at the naked Empress. They had re-clothed themselves, but more out of projection of superiority than any real desire to hide their chiselled bodies, she supposed.

"You disrespected me," J'akart said. Isabella made herself look him in the eyes.

"You are not worthy of my respect," she answered, highly conscious of Belle watching them both -- she had to show her servant she wasn't the whore they were trying to make her seem.

Barrand scowled and made to advance on her, but J'akart stopped him with a raised hand.

"We didn't have to do this, my sweet Isabella..."

Isabella moved so quickly that the whole thing was over before Belle had worked out what was going. Isabella had darted to her feet and made to bolt out of reach of the two men -- presumably for the door. Just as it looked as though she might actually make it, J'akart seized her arm with remarkable agility for a man of his stature, and pulled her into him.

"I don't think so," he said, holding the struggling Isabella against him. Isabella put on a show fight, but in truth the last of the fight went out of her when she felt J'akart grab her. Her back was pressed against the barbarian, her arms pinned to her sides. For a moment, the feel of his body pressed tight against her own naked body gave her flashbacks to her compromised position of just moments ago, when she had been sandwiched between the two men pumping in and out of her holes. She shuddered -- she needed no reminders of that.

As soon as she stopped struggling, the King forced her down so that she was essentially sat with her arms pinned behind her. Then J'akart grabbed her legs and pulled them up into the air.

Belle looked away wearily. She didn't think any sight would shock her anymore, but it was still disrespectful to look at her Empress's exposed vagina when so crudely exposed like this. Even if a little voice inside was pointing out that her Empress had just tried to escape and leave her behind.

"The Empress is going to be joining us on a little... excursion," said J'akart, while Isabella tried and failed to bring her legs back down. She was acutely aware of the less than dignified appearance of her vagina after her recent pounding. Barrand grabbed Belle and brought her over, as she scrabbled to keep up on her hands and knees. "And she needs her serving girl to make her presentable first."

Barrand shoved Belle down before Isabella. There was no ignoring it now -- Isabella's legs were spread wide open, and between them her pink, swollen, vagina gaped open. It also, to Belle's horrified fascination, had a trickle of J'akart's cum dripping from it.

"Clean her!" Barrand barked, forcing Belle still further forwards, so that her face was pressed against Isabella's crotch. As much as she was afraid of what J'akart meant by 'excursion', she was also very much aware that Isabella was being punished for disobeying -- and she did not want the same.

For the third time that night, Belle started dutifully lapping at her Empress's vagina with her tongue. This time was different -- Isabella's thighs, mound and slit were all drenched in her own fluids, awful manifestations of the intense pleasure she had experienced at being used so disgracefully. And what was more, she mostly seemed to be lapping up the cum that J'akart had pumped into her, and was now trickling out.

Isabella stared stonily ahead, refusing to respond to this base violating of her dignity. It was different for her too now. She was well aware of the shameful state her most private area was in, and acutely conscious that Belle was now well aware.

But more than that, she could tell something was different. It was like J'akart had broken a dam in her mind, and now her body was in a constant state of pre-arousal, just waiting for the slightest stimulus to begin erupting once again. Whereas before she had been able to block out the forced ministrations of her servant ineffectually licking at her between her legs as a mere undignified intrusion, now every lap of the tongue sent tingles up her spine. What was she becoming?

Fortunately, J'akart no longer seemed remotely interested in humiliating Isabella through giving her pleasure. He had a rather cruder humiliation in mind.

"Very good -- you have quite the pussy lickers in your service. But..." He twirled Isabella around like a ragdoll, planting her face on the ground and her ass up in the air. "...you are still not quite... ah, presentable."

Barrand guffawed as J'akart seized Isabella's buttocks and spread them open. She burned with embarrassment, knowing only too well what Belle and Barrand could now see.

Belle herself was transfixed. Isabella's asshole winked open, and here too a think trickle of cum oozed from the opening. She tried to picture Isabella had she had seen her that morning, resplendent and dignified in her royal attire -- but she couldn't. All she could see was this naked, cum-soaked woman whose gaping holes were presenting before her.

"Clean her!" Barrand hissed, dragging Belle's head up by the hair so that her face was again buried between the humiliated Empress's buttocks. It will be over soon, she told herself, running her tongue along the length of Isabella's ass to clean up any residue of cum. At Barrand's insistence, she even buried herself inside Isabella's anus -- it was not nearly as tight as it had been previously. She blushed at the sheer depravity of what she was doing -- would she ever be able to look Isabella in the eye again, after she had licked a man's cum from her anus?

"She's done," Barrand said to his King, after what felt like an excruciatingly long time for both Bella and Isabella. J'akart nodded, and Barrand yanked Belle away by her hair. Isabella could hear her struggling as Barrand took her away, but J'akart prevented her from turning her head. Instead, he crouched down to her level, and looker her sternly in the eyes.

"We could have left by now. We had no wish to humiliate you all night. All you had to do was accord me the respect that is owed to me."

"What are you going to do?" Isabella asked, allowing the fear she was feeling to seep into her voice for the first time. J'akart smiled his mirthless smile.

"To your serving whore? Nothing. She paid us the proper respect, and her only crime was intruding on us here -- for which she has now paid."

"What are you going to do with me?" Isabella pressed, hating how childish and selfish she sounded. J'akart paused before answering, making a show of reaching into a nearby satchel, and pulling out something leather.

"You, are going to come with us," he said, extending the thing and revealing it to be some sort of leash, for a dog. "By now General Zoaxus should have prepared a suitable... welcome for us all."

Realisation dawned on Isabella, which was only accentuated when the King slid the leash around her neck. Finally free from J'akart's grip, she scrambled to her feet in panic, but any escape thoughts were rendered futile by the leash around her neck. She was chained like a dog, and could go nowhere.

"No..." she moaned.

Belle was aware of none of this. Barrand had dragged her to the middle of the room, kicked over one of the casks of ale that were strewn at the side of room, and rolled it over. He was so strong, even with one arm around Belle's he was able to prevent her from running off.

Then, with one last push, Belle realised just how empty J'akart's claim that he was letting her go was -- Barrand pushed her forward so that she was bent over the barrel, and within seconds there were ropes around her ankles and wrists, fastening her down.

"N-no -- you said you were going to let me go!" she wailed.

"We said we were leaving you," Barrand replied, testing the ropes to make sure they were secure. Belle was stuck in this position -- bent over the barrel. Anyone entering the tavern would be immediately greeted by Belle's naked ass sticking up in the air, with legs splayed wide open. "And so we are."

"Are we ready?" asked J'akart, quite business-like.

"Yes, my King," Barrand replied, walking quite calmly toward the door. The King followed, bringing Isabella in tow behind her.

"No, not outside! J'akart you promised!" shouted Isabella, covering her nakedness once more now that it was clear where they were going. "You can't take me outside like this, I'm not wearing anything! Please, give me my clothes! I'm not wearing anything!"

"Whores don't need clothes," J'akart replied, without turning back. They were almost at the door now -- Isabella's efforts to stay still were futile. Belle shouted something incomprehensible, torn between wanting to help her Empress and not wanting any further punishment. Isabella looked over at her prostrate servant -- her legs were spread so wide over the barrel that even her sizeable buttocks were spread open, enough that both her holes were clearly visible.

"For pity's sake, cover her up at least!" Isabella demanded.

"Well which is it -- do you want clothes for yourself, or for her?" J'akart asked, finally stopping. "Well -- choose!" Isabella paused. Was she really being given the opportunity to get her clothes back? All she would have to do was consign Belle to her fate. Surely she must, she was the Empress... "Too late," J'akart smirked. He seized the discarded clothes of both Isabella and Belle, which they had lost what felt like an age ago, and lit them with a candle. Isabella's will to resist broke as she watched her robes smoulder and burn before her. J'akart resumed his stride outside, and Isabella followed in meek horror, as the cool air and starlight struck her naked body, giving her goosebumps. The horses were waiting.

"Stop! Come back!" Belle shouted to a now empty room. She struggled and struggled, but the ropes were too tight. She could hear the horses being untethered, the guttural voices of J'akart and Barrand speaking in their own tongue, hoofbeats... and then silence.

* * *

The night air seemed unusually cool on Isabella's bare skin. Perhaps it was just the acclimatisation to the tavern, or perhaps it was the sheer terror that at any moment someone could see her, but Isabella was almost shivering on the back of J'akart's horse. Her body was covered in goosebumps, and her nipples were hard, and erect.

She could not see where they were going. She had been fastened to J'akart back to back, so that she was facing away from their direction of travel. Her arms were secured at her sides, so she could do nothing to hide her nakedness -- a cruel and unnecessary measure, given that the leash around her neck prevented her from escaping. All she could do was keep her head bowed, and hope that her long black hair would keep her face covered.

Mercifully, the city streets that usually never slept, were now all but deserted. Any figures that they did happen to come across seemed to quickly slink into the shadows as they approached. So far, the only person to see her was the grinning, leering form of General Barrand, following his King on his own horse. She did not return his stare, though she could feel him pawing at her with his eyes. Hadn't he seen enough?

Minutes passed in near silence, as the only sound to punctuate the heavy night air was the clip clop of the hoofbeats. J'akart rode with purpose, though where they were heading to Isabella could not say. She did not know where they were, but they certainly weren't going to the palace. My own city, and I don't know where I am.

"J'akart," Isabella whispered, once they had been riding like this for ten minutes. He did not show any sign that he had heard her. "J'akart, this is enough. Someone will see me!"

"Be quiet whore," Barrand grunted. J'akart remained silent.

"You promised our... encounter would be private. You promised no one would know!"

"And then you spat in my face and refused to give me my proper title. Now don't say another word or I'll make you crawl behind my horse like a dog."

Isabella bit back her retort. He could do anything, she reflected miserably. He could talk to her anyway he liked, do anything he liked -- there was nothing she could do, and no one who even knew where she was.

The heavy silence fell again, much more menacing this time.

Except -- there was another sound. A faint clipping sound, getting louder and louder. Isabella glanced up. Barrand had heard it too, he was looking behind, in the direction they had come. It was another horseman, coming up fast behind them. It occurred to Isabella that there was no scenario in which this was good news -- no matter who it was, it was another person who was going to see her naked body, and even if it was one of her own people, that was someone who would one, recognise her, and two, be too outnumbered to help her anyway.

J'akart stopped the horse, turning to face the newcomer and so pointing Isabella away. From J'akart's friendly greeting though, she could only assume it was another of these pestilent barbarians.

"Salah'aar Kaan," the rider said. It was a man, and he spoke in the low, guttural tongue of his people.

"Salah'aar Kho," J'akart responded.

There was little point in listening to a conversation in a language that she did not understand, but even so, Isabella strained her ears to try to make out every word. She was desperate for any information she could get. The rider sounded... nervous. Sometimes. It was hard to discern without seeing him. J'akart said little, listening intently, until the end when he asked a few pointed questions.

Don't let him see me, she thought desperately. He doesn't need to see me like this.

The conversation seemed to be reaching an end. The stranger gave what sounded like a respectful farewell, and his horse seemed to be about to turn around. And then, without a thought for Isabella's modesty, J'akart casually turned his own horse back around, and began a slow trot forward. The shocked rider (she wasn't used to seeing them wear so many clothes, even if they were little more than animal skin rags) stared at her wide-eyed, seeing everything from her erect nipples to her splayed legs -- and what was between them. Barrand smirked his infuriating smirk as he rode past the man, offering an amused parting comment to his comrade. She bowed her head again.

Well, there was another man who had seen her naked and bound.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Whore!" Barrand warned. Isabella ignored him.

"Who was it? Did they know who I was? What did you tell him? You promi-"

"We did not discuss you," J'akart said. He sounded pensive.

"Then what did you discuss? If you think you're going to... to share me amongst your men..."

"You would do what exactly? No, he brought... interesting news." He fell silent, as though trying to decide what to tell her. "It would seem, that some of my scouts have gone missing -- out on the Western outskirts of this dreary hovel of a city of yours. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this would you?"

"What?" said Isabella, genuinely taken aback. "No, of course not."

"You don't have any would-be heroes thinking they can save their city with a few blunt swords? You haven't ordered any guerrillas to take pointless raids against us?"

"No."

"Well I should dearly hope so. Because if this is some pathetic attempt at guerrilla insurgency, I can assure you, my little whore queen, that you will face the consequences."

Isabella fell silent. She did not know what to say to that.

* * *

Belle had no inkling of much time had passed since she had been left alone in the tavern. She did not even know if she wanted to be found. If she were freed, she could make a plan, try to help the Empress -- but if the price of that was someone finding her, seeing her like this? Naked, in this obscene position?