Queendom 06: Hiatus

There was nothing natural about the taking a walk in the middle of the night with a geriatric, that two with one's nether exposed. Yet, what felt the oddest was, soon after departing from the Castle, Master commanded her to 'PATROL'. It meant, she had to walk upfront now on, instead of following wherever the leash got pulled. And unlike the initial impressions of taking the lead, all it did was fan the flames of anxiety within, to an impending sense of existential terror.

Even with all the subjugation of treated like a mere house-pet, being leashed had its advantages. For one, the Queen loved not being the one to lead. There was a certain comfort, a sense of security, in being reduced to a mere follower. Add to that, taking the lead of a night-time escapade, while staying on all fours. Firstly, she had no idea where they were headed, other than an earlier mention of some 'Ridgmund's shed'. The welts from earlier were still stinging, that she truly feared taking the wrong turn, and getting corrected by her new Master the way he loves. The moonlight helped with the navigation, and the extra padding on her knees and palms enabled a smooth stride, even on that ill-maintained gravelly road.

Yet, every once in a while they'd reach a region where the trees grew on both sides of the path to such a thickness that it virtually blocked all light from the sky. At such paths, Fyodor would make sure the leash was extra-loose, adding to the fear of the Queen, as she walked in front, not knowing what she was stepping on. Fyodor might have been familiar with the route enough to remain calm. But it was the first time ever, for the Queen to walk this path, not to mention near-naked and on her knees. Elanor would focus on the light at the very end of the vista, and keep walking, knowing full well that it was just her, the nature, and her Master.

Calling him that didn't feel weird anymore.

There were a few stray dogs along the way, on their usual night-time strolls. It deeply terrified her, the notion of being mauled by the strays, but somehow they kept a safe-distance from her. And barely barked at them from afar, if anything. She soon realized it had something to do with the animalistic presence of the true alpha holding her leash. The once Stable Maester, with his years of experience taming beasts of all kinds, including the blue-blooded. Thankfully only one midnight-stagecoach passed them both on the way. And the people, including the coachman, seemed deep asleep to notice the unnatural pair walking alongside.

Elanor didn't wonder anymore, if Mistress was watching. If it was all Bella's plan. That part of her mind was taking a rest, after the much hurtful defeat earlier, from having to lick clean the dirty shoes of a mere sentry-man. It wasn't the disgust that hurt, but the defeat. That realization, not just that you had been outplayed, but that you didn't even notice the game change.

It certainly didn't help that once given in, her obedience kicked into its maximum, and her tongue willingly slid into the dirtiest folds of the footwear, all just to please her Master. She would have eagerly licked clean its underside, the filthy sole which must have stepped on god-knows-what, if not for the old man pulling on her leash. No, there was no coming back for the Queen Chaste, not after such a disgraceful display of her own volition. Not for a while at least. Elanor needed some rest, some peace, some space. So she shrunk down, back into the depth of her mind, as her innate subservience took hold of the reins.

And after that long, terrifying walk, her well-rested mind now realised, beyond all attempts at denial.

No, there's no more a doubt..! Something had gone terribly, horribly wrong..

This is no plan of Bella..!!

Even with their recent differences, the Queen knew Bellatrix better than her closest friends. Mistress wouldn't have risked her shame and privacy. Not like this, so reckless and mean-spirited. There was an air of sadisn in it all, that was clearly not Bella. And if not for sheer luck, her own men would have either been laughing at, or staring perplexed and disgusted, at the state of their divine monarch in such an unreasonably obscene state. Elanor now hated the outfit, the bane standing against all possible options she could think of. She had a very short window, before her Master returns.

Master..?! Why am I referring to him as Master.. Oh, right. I'd rather not pollute any more of my sweet memories of dear Uncle Belkin, with the horrible after-taste of this fateful night. It's better to refer to him as Master for now.

The safest way for her now was, getting free of the suit, finding some decent clothes, even a plain shawl would suffice, and running back fast to the Castle, hoping the wild stray dogs wouldn't chase her down. Once there, I know ways to get inside undetected. If things get worse, she can always ask help of an unsuspecting maid, even a guard. If it gets out of hand, affairs can always be sorted out later on. It's not like she was impersonating the Queen. She was the Queen.

But it all hinged on getting out of this damn outfit first. It's near impossible to get out of it, all on her own. Which means, there is only one possible solution to this whole issue. One end to this whole mess. The one who started it all.

Lady Agrafena herself.

Bella had mentioned checking the Royal Chambers later tonight, to free the from the outfit. Which means, it's only a matter of time, before Bella figures out she's missing. And the Queen had no doubts about the Horse Whisperer, especially her tracking skills. If not for that, this whole treatment regime would've ended tragically long back. The night of the Annual celebrations. Her bareback ride, in Templeton.

She just hoped that Mistress made it in time, before it got any worse. Who am I fooling.? It's definitely going to get worse, such has been my luck so far.

"PREPARE.!!"

Elanor woke up startled as she heard the command, in an unfamiliar, immature voice. Who is this, now?? She looked up, taking a step back slowly, at the man standing before. Well, calling him man was an over-statement. He looked barely of age, not just by his skinny long arms, meatless thighs in that loose short trousers, nor his shy mustache, but the unmistakable air of inexperience surrounding him. Then again, confronting a bitch-suited virgin leashed to the fence wasn't a common circumstance even for the experienced. Elanor saw a short, fat shadow peek out of the shed, and tell him clearly.

"Don't be scared, Yashim. You're nineteen, for God's sake..! Just hold the leash, she will obey. She knows the rules."

The boy wasted no time, untying the knot, and taking charge of the leash. Elanor sighed.

Now I am to call him Master..?!

He circled the helpless Queen, while licking his fingers clean of what looked like chilly sauce. Was he dining? At this time of the night??Well it's surely chicken that I smell on him..

He repeated, this time with a clear smirk.

PREPARE..!

Well, go be an obedient pet, Nora. That's what you are worth now..

Elanor sat down on her hind-legs, her shins pressed against the floor, her buttocks resting on the heels, while her both fists were right before her pelvis. Now, remember Nora.. Lean slowly forwards like you practiced. You don't want to spoil the name of Master Belkin..!! Amazed at her attention to detail, the level of participation in her own humiliation, the Queen swept both arms forward in a straight line, leaning all the way, stretching her spine and bowing her head meanwhile. From above, she looked like an arrow figure, the tip of it being her anus.

Now, for the most important part. Preparing yourself for the whip.!

Elanor slowly bent her pelvis, such that her spine curved upwards, in a clearly uncomfortable, utterly erotic posture, pushing her rear upwards, presenting her ass-cheeks and pussy to the smirking boy behind. Elanor had no idea how indecent she looked, especially the way her ass cheeks parted. Yet she felt good, the way the cool breeze caressed the whip marks, leaving her rear very much in crimson. So, is he going to give me another one.?!

The Queen felt her throat clench, and eyes bulge at the audacity of the kid. With no warning, he slipped a finger in her, the same slimy, sauce stained, spit coated one. And unfortunately he chose the wrong hole, though it surely felt very right, quite evident from the chuckle.

Almighty..! Did he just violate my rear..?!

As Elanor stayed frozen, with her hungry anal ring biting down around the boy's spicy finger, Yashim, the nineteen-year-old, said scratching the royal rectum.

"You know, my brother used to say.. If a girl lets you poke her in the ass, there isn't much else she'd deny. We'll find out soon, won't we..? Heheha.."

How disgusting a cretin..?! Yet, why do I feel a sudden tingle in my clit..?

Elanor followed him, into the old cabin, her mind still buzzing from the intoxicants earlier. Blue poppy sure felt good this time. Maybe I should reconsider my stance on the ban. The Queen felt like she was having short flights, every cold lungful making her weightless again. Inside the two men were busy talking, catching up it seemed, and the whole conversation just flew over the Queen's head. But she knew that laugh. It can't be good.

And his eyes. This guy, Ridgemund. His gaze had the same strange predatory quality she remembered seeing in Master Belkin. It wasn't a sexual predation, but not even a dominance thing. It almost seemed, and she could be wrong.. But it seemed his preferred poison was sadism, much like his friend. If only Mistress would reach me sooner..

Only, the Queen had no idea of the actual severity of her situation.

This was not just an error from Bella's part, but an error from Ishikawa as well. An error of entertaining history, without any truer, deeper sense. Of not just the history itself, but the history between the people involved. The old King had taken such a keen interest in Domestication, even putting his promising new Imperial Horse Trainer in charge, needind a friend to aid his dark hobby. Every King had his place of darkness. Somewhere he dwells in, either to simply rest, or to relish and rejuvenise.

Each had his poison. Be it to connoisseur forbidden artifacts, to mate with inappropriately close blood-lines.. Or for Barthomius Senior, to find pleasure in the sub-humanizing, of blue-blood promiscuous hot-heads. At least for Fyodor, it didn't matter whether it was a man or a woman. To him, this wasn't sexual. To him, it was witnessing the sadistic degradation. And sure, he had his reasons.

The first year, King and his trainer had a free reign, training people to the brink of breaking. The only inconvenience was, some trainees completely recovered in no time after release, free from all psychological holds of their Master. This was a huge hit to the King's ego.

And like a good friend, and fellow admirer of Domestication, Sir Fyodor came up with a solution. The Standard Modification Procedure was formalized into the program. This includes piercing and branding the trainees, with the participants required to maintain it for life. The effect of a permanent body brand was magical, lasting long after the person had been freed of domestication. She could go on to become a very respected Baroness, or a Lady and mother a few. It didn't matter. At the mere sight of her trainer, her knees would tremble. It worked much like a repressed sexual urge. Burned into your skin. However hard you try to deny, once the pleasure and obedience of it gets drilled into your system, it was near-impossible to resist her Master's call.

That's when Fyodor ran into Ridgemund, as they were looking for an experienced farrier. A blacksmith who not only hoofed horses, but was also keen on piercing, and similar body arts. And fifteen years later, they were still the best friends, who had shared some of their best time taming reluctant bitches. It had always puzzled Ridgemund, about the obsession of Barthomius Senior.

'He's the King! He can have a harem full of the best willing sluts known to man. Why is he stuck on these broken bitches..?'

What Ridgemund never understood was, these blue-bloods, the punished, were some of the toughest nuts to crack. The very definition of uptight and arrogance. And having them at the end of your leash, conditioned to behave as sub-humans, was a thrill only few could comprehend. Also, the King wasn't the simpleton who got his rocks off, by merely breaking the will of these dames. He was a sophisticated soul, who reveled not just in pounding the broken pieces further, but keeping them brittle under his boots, putting off for good any flame hiding deep within them. He didn't want a huge stable of domesticated slaves. But a small collection of select slaves, whom he enjoyed training, long after their prison term.

It was this history that Ishikawa, Bellatrix, and the Queen herself failed to comprehend. These weren't just men who specialized in the unlikely sinful. But men who made a satisfying career out of it, such that it was their way of acting playful. Upping the ante with each new trainee, finding ridiculous ways to ink their body, to burn the shame into their skin and soul.

Ridgemund asked.

"What's the hurry, Belk.? How long has it been, since we had a drink..? Relax, the bitch can wait.. Here." He extended his bottle to the long time friend.

"Just check the last page, and you'll see.." He took a sip from the bottle, handing Ridgemund the Domestication file. "Remind me Ridge, what's the Standard Modification Procedure for all new trainees."

"Mods huh..? Well the recent standards vary from Kingdom, but in general.." Ridgemund replied, his words illegible at times, while his eyes struggled to focus on the form in his hand.

"Well, you know Belk, you invented most of it. We start with tattooing the name to their back torso. It helps to identify quickly from above, especially when you're training them in bulk. Some even specify, to be tattooed on the face. You remember those special cases, that pixie with SLUT tattooed on her forehead. Or the fatty, whose official name was KUNT..!"

Fyodor chuckled at his friend, sipping his mead. Ridge continued.

"Next will be branding, obviously. Either the royal seal, or the clan's symbol, to be burned onto the left cheek, rear. Both nipples are to be pierced and studded. All body fur removed, including the hair cut down to a boy-cut. The nose septum pierced and ringed, so the control-reins can be attached later on. Wait a minute.. It's all crossed out, here in the form. Why, is she to be a show-pony? Or is this them wasting our time again..?"

"Wasting our time..? You think I'd let them, Ridge??" Fyodor had that malicious grin, the one that spoke volumes. "What does it say about the Identification Number.?"

"Well, let me see. It doesn't. Oh, I forgot.. Oh, Belk! You sneaky son-of-a-B.." There was no mention of identification number in the last page. Ridgemund looked overjoyed as he patted his friend's back, and took out another bottle.

This again was one of those alterations to the existing procedure, that Fyodor made, at the request of the King. There were still some early cases law-savvy family members of the accused, going through the fine-print, making sure to opt out of any permanent markings to their kid, paying it in fines instead. So Fyodor had purposefully omitted Domestication Identification Number, from the list of things that'd be marked to the trainees' body.

No one noticed this minor detail, as most were worried about bigger, hard-to-hide markings, like being pierced or branded. Domestication number was a mere identification sign, a ten digit text tattooed, usually right below the belly button. Most officials found it insignificant to raise an issue over, even later on. But they were missing the whole point.

The point wasn't the mere pain, nor the size of it, at the end of the day. The act of permanently marking one's body, combined with the relentless conditioning that ensued, made sure that the accused stayed a pet, especially with the psychological hold of the Master. And to make it worse, Fyodor made it a habit of getting them tattooed almost immediately, even before any training began. The very reason why the old-man led the Queen all this way, the very same night he recieved her file. To make sure that she had no way of escaping.

Sure, Fyodor stayed clear of the sexual aspects of training, for the most part. But he undeniably relished in every opportunity to explore his sadistic streak upon the helpless sub-humans. He had his reasons, at the beginning, but soon that darkness became very much a part of him. A part he rarely let out lately.

And after all this time, he couldn't wait to get his new assignment, Crimson, all measured and marked, so he can finally have his release.

It's been so long, after all.

**

*

The Chief Castle Guard of Cloveshire walked through the corridors in large strides. There was no emergency, just some uniquely unusual reports coming from various patrolling guards. Just to be on the safe side, he felt it necessary to report it to the Head of Households. Something about the absurdity of the stories made him laugh. And he would have left it alone, had it not been for the sincere bafflement in the eyes of the last guard.

Even with Lady Agrafena's warning, about turning a blind-eye, the Chief found the night to be somewhat bland. Sure, there were some guests staying up all night, with their drunken songs surely loud at times. Yet nothing seemed outrageously weird, other than a few reports on some lone stroller in the middle of the Castle Gardens, with a dog. Granted they all observed him at a distance, and mostly in the shadows, but nothing seemed unusual, not enough to take a closer look. Reportedly, he even had one of the Queen's guard accompanying at times.

But the very last guard, who came all the way from the Garden gate, had a very concerned look. Apparently, the guy was an old, decorated general, who refused to give his credentials, and walked out through the gate. And his pet, seemed to be.. a 'one-of-a-kind breed', and she followed him along on her own volition. What seemed odd was, instead of calling it a dog, he seemed oddly specific, even respectful, mentioning the mutt. Maybe I'm over-thinking it. But one of the guests just walked out of the Castle, in the middle of the night. I think, even not an actual emergency, the Head of Households should be notified. He rationalized while knocking of Lady Agrafena's cabin door.

And to his surprise, a sleepy Linaralla opened the door.

"God! What time do you think this is..?"

"Apologies, madam. Is Lady Agrafena awake.?" He asked, quite surprised by the strange woman upfront.

"You think..??" She said with a chuckle, but her eyes stayed annoyed. He shook his head, realizing the stupidity in his query.

"I mean, I'd like to speak.."

"Is this an emergency..? An absolute emergency??"

There was a way in which she talked down, yet managed to stay respectful, which was totally new to the chief. He stood there, unsure as how to answer it. Lene said.

"Thought so. I appreciate your dedication, but my friend had a truly long and tiring day. And she's dead sleep. If it isn't an actual emergency, don't you think it'd do good, to let her have one peaceful night's sleep."

Well, it's only an old man, strolling. Not the end of the world. It can wait.

The chief nodded and bowed bye, as Lene shut the door smiling.

She went on to have a proper night's sleep. Much like her friend.

And very, very unlike her Queen.