Training the Princess

Duane examined his prize, his eyes taking in every inch of her pale creamy flesh. "Such beautiful skin." he muttered, as if to himself. He was accustomed to talking about women like things, for that is all they were to him. Pretty things to be used until he grew tired of them. "Now, spread your legs girl, shoulder width apart."

Isola felt a blush creep over her skin as she widened her stance, all too aware of the areas now exposed to both his eyes, and potentially to the sting of the crop.

"Lace your fingers behind your head now," he ordered, watching her comply with growing lust, "Yes, your tits look beautiful like this, sticking out, begging to be abused." he ran the tip of the crop around her breasts, circling around her nipples, watching them stiffen with the attention. "Well, it seems you like this, don't you pet?" he asked, gently flicking her now erect nipples with the crop's tip. Isola gasped as the crop lightly flicked her nipples, even the light touch bringing a teasing pain.

Isola shook her head, she couldn't believe what was happening. It had to be the cold. Yet there was no denying the tingles running through her body each time the leather rubbed against her pointy nipples.

The king laughed as he watched her blush deepen. He knew she would never admit it. Not yet, at least. In a month's time he knew he could have her begging him to use to crop on those sensitive peaks. "Well, if you aren't enjoying yourself let us move on to the punishment, twenty lashes with the crop should suffice for the first time."

Isola's eyes widened, he would hit her twenty times? The three she'd received on her ass still pained her, and there were to be more?

"Count." he ordered, not giving her a moment's time to think before he brought the crop smacking down on her ass, she gasped as the cool leather crashed into her flesh, leaving behind a burning sting. Her eyes watered, dreading the next nineteen blows.

"One." she murmured, hanging her head at the humiliation of being such a part in her own torment.

"Very good, pet, very good." he said before bringing the crop down again, this time hitting lower, closer to her thighs, leaving yet another red welt on her pale flesh. A third rained down on her even before "Two" was out of her mouth, making a twin red mark on the other cheek. She counted "Three" as he brought the crop down by her hip, then let it slowly run over her flesh. She counted out as the leather ran over the welts raised on her skin.

Duane watched Isola struggle to be maintain her pose and her silence as he beat her sensitive flesh. He knew this was the first time she'd ever known a hit to her delicate skin, much less a cropping. Watching her struggle to remain composed, and to count out each of cruel hits had his cock throbbing. His current girl, Leona, would need to be brought up from her cell tonight... he'd want release, but he wasn't ready to take Isola yet. No, he always drew out the training. Stripping away a girl's pride layer by layer, watching her succumb to his will and beg to be taken. And Isola was strong willed, he had most of his conquests crying for mercy by this point, yet Isola remained silent. He could see her tears welling in her eyes, yet she refused to cry out. She would be a challenge to break. But he would succeed. He always did in the end.

It could take months to break the girl in. Not long enough to prepare for the wedding. He would take her on her wedding night. Dressed all in white, her black hair gleaming, fresh from the ceremony, straight from the priest into the top chamber of the castle. She would scream that night. That would be the culmination of her training, she would still have fight in her, still scream and beg for mercy.. His son could have Leona. He should have a new girl on his wedding night, and once Duane trained Isola he'd have no use of her. Leona's will was gone.

"Fifteen" Isola whimpered her voice faltering for the first time, her flesh felt like it was on fire, welts covering her thighs and rear. She couldn't believe the pain she felt, yet more blows came down, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, she could barely stand, her knees were weak with the pain of it, yet she did not cry out. She would not. He wanted her screaming and she would not let him hear it. She bit back each scream that brewed up in her throat.

Until the nineteenth hit. Duane drew his arm back fully for the first time, bringing the crop down hard and fast against a particularly red welt. A cracked scream escaped her throat. "Ahhh!" she yelped, stumbling forward a step at the force of the blow.

"Yes, pet, let me hear you scream." the king said, running the crop over her stinging ass, watching the freshest hit turn a deeper shade of red. "As much as I love to hear you scream, girl, I need to hear you count. Your punishment will only be increased if you forgot your orders." he threatened, walking in front of her, looking at her face as tears gently spilled from her eyes. He ran the crop over her flesh, enjoying the sight of the shiny black leather against her pale white skin. He brought it up over her smooth stomach, running gently between her heaving breasts, caressing her with it. He went further, going up her slender neck, over the heavy silver collar he'd had made for her. The normal iron would not do for such a lovely royal girl, but she needed to know she was not free. "I'm waiting, pet. I am not a patient man." He gently tapped her cheek with the crop, peering down into her glowing green eyes.

"Nineteen, master." she whispered. Her eyes going to the floor, avoiding his hard steely gaze. With the pain running through her she feared what the crop could do to her face. She couldn't bring herself to anger him, he had the power here.

"Such a good girl," the king purred at her, gently stroking her face with the crop. "It seems you may be starting to learn your place here. And since you've been so good how would you like a special treat?" he asked, stepping closer to her, enjoying watching her shrink into herself at his closeness. "I think we will let you pick where the last blow shall fall." he said, not waiting for a reply.

He began to run the crop over her body, stopping to tease her nipples, "How would you like to be cropped here? To watch your tits dance as the leather bites into you tender little nipples?", he teased the tips of her breasts, watching her nipples become harder at his ministrations. She shuddered lightly, and he watched her gently shake her head, her long hair moving against her pale flesh. "No? Well how would about here?" he asked again, running the crop slowly down her stomach, watching her inhale as he toyed around her navel, flicking it ever so gently. Her light gasps each time he drew back the crop delighted him.

He did not wait for her response before trailing lower still, allowing the crop to run down her freshly bare mound. He was rewarded by another gasp as he gently brought the tip down between her lips, he saw a blush spread across her chest as he gently parted her lips, "And what have we here?" he teased, turning the crop so the wide end was parting her pink lips, running the crop slowly further back, bringing another gasp from the girl as he toyed with her sex, feeling it slide easily between her glistening lips. He drew the crop away suddenly, looking at it in the light. "I see someone is enjoying this." he said, turning the crop in the flickering light, letting her see the wetness on it.

Isola's face burned red with shame as she saw him examining the crop. She wanted so badly to curl up inside of herself, not face this shame. She shouldn't be enjoying his touch. He was a monster, holding her captive, forcing her to wed against her wishing, torturing her... yet her body was betraying her. She could not contain her excitement as the crop teased her body, she felt nearly at wit's end when he ran the crop though her legs, it was all she could do to not moan like a whore as he pressed the flat of it against her, rubbing her in a way no one had ever touched her before. "No, please no." she begged, needing this to stop. It was all too much.

"No what, pet? You can deny it all you'd like, but the proof is right in front of your face" he held the crop up to her face, holding the tip directly under her nose, then gently running it over her full lips. "Do you smell that, girl? That's your desire. Your lust. Your body is betraying you. You want this. You want to be my play thing, to be used and abused as I see fit." he could see her trembling, her body ached from holding her position for so long. The pain and the tension added to her strain. "Do you deny it?" he asked, aching to touch her, but drawing out the pleasure. That would be for another day. He wanted to leave her aching confused and unfulfilled.

Isola remained silent. A tear running down her cheek as he stared down at her, she wanted to flee the room, push through the heavy doors and go anywhere, even back to the dungeons would be better than standing before him while he made a show of her shame. But she couldn't. She was afraid of the retribution should she run, knowing whatever he did would be worse than staying out her punishment. She just needed to last another few minutes while he toyed with her.

"Silence won't save you, pet. And for not answering me know that there will be further punishment." he said, his voice cold and sharp. He pushed her against the wall, down onto a high stone ledge cut into the wall below a narrow window. She shivered as the cold stone hit her ass, gasping at the roughness of the stone rubbed against her battered flesh. "Spread your legs, slut." he commanded, shoving her legs apart when she was slow to comply. "You will do as I say or be punished, girl. The longer you keep me waiting the worse it will be for you."

Isola nodded in understanding as he released his grip on her thighs, splaying her open wide before him. She silently prayed for the gods to keep her safe. She feared he would rape her now, taking her innocence, making her a sinner in the eyes of the gods. She was too frightened to move, yet at the same time all too aware of the wetness between her legs. That frightened her almost as much as Duane did.

"Spread yourself open for me," he ordered, his eyes full of lust at the sight of his young captive spread before him. She may think she doesn't want this, he thought, but her pussy was soaking wet, he could see it glistening in the flame light.

She hazarded a confused glance at him, not understanding what she was being asked to do, afraid to disobey. She saw him begin to arch back the crop, "Please, please master, I don't understand." she said, her voice barely a whisper in the stone chamber.

The king smiled to himself, this girl was more innocent than he'd dared to dream if she couldn't see his meaning in that. He took the crop, and gently ran it up her thigh, pleased to see her shudder at the touch. He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck. "This," he said, gently running the crop further up her thigh "is your pussy. Your cunt." he traced a line between her pussy lips, marveling at the slickness he found within. "That is what I want you to spread. Take your hands from behind your head and spread your cunt open for me."

It was as if her limbs were suddenly full of lead, with how hard it was to will her hands to move. She closed her eyes as her hands snaked down between her legs, gently gripping the slick outer lips of her sex. She couldn't believe how wet she was. She spread herself before him, displaying herself like a wanton whore. She could only pray that this humiliation would end soon.

"So lovely" Duren muttered under his breath, watching her spread herself, her cunt blossoming like pink flower. "Ask me to hit you." he said shortly. His eyes glued to her shining pink cunt.

Her eyes flew open, refusing to believe what she was hearing. He would make her beg to be punished? And he couldn't mean to hit her... there. Surely she couldn't stand the pain. "Please... no. Please, you can't." she begged.

Fast as lightening his hand flew across her cheek, smashing her face against the cold glass with the force of his blow. "You will not disobey me again, my patience is wearing dangerously thin for your defiance. This is your third time disobeying me. Do not do it again, I warn you if it should happen again my son will be very pleased to find a new toy waiting for him tonight. Now I tell you again, ask for you punishment, girl."

Tears welled in Isola's eyes from the sting of his hand, she had no choice but to comply or face whatever horrors his son had in store. "Please hit me, master" she whispered.

"Hit you where, slut?"

"Please hit my... my cunt" she choked out, face red with humiliation at her part in this.

He drew the crop back and SMACK the hard leather made contact with her soft wet cunt.The sound of the leather hitting her wetness mingled with her shriek of pain and filled the room. He drew back again, hitting her a second time, this time near her clit, teasing the little bud as he removed the crop.

Isola's cunt was on fire, her nerve endings flaming through her body. She'd never known her body could withstand so much pain, yet every time the crop drew teasingly away she found her hips bucking against it. Her body was operating out of her control, screams tearing from her throat, juice flowing down her thighs. She lost count of how many times he hit her, her mind of blur of white hot pain and primal pleasure.

Suddenly his finger grasped her chin, pulling her face towards his. He had the crop resting on her mound, the tip teasing her clit, her hips reaching up, yearning for his touch. She was exquisite in her pain and lust. Duane was shocked at how quickly she'd grown aroused by the crop bearing down on her cunt. She would make a wonderful pain slut for him. Her body was so compliant to his will, even if her mind was not. "Look at yourself, princess," he said, pressing the crop against her clit, watching as she struggled to still her hips. "You want this, you're body knows it. Look at you pressing up against the crop. Your pussy is sopping wet, begging me to make you cum. Is that what you want, pet? Do you want this?" he asked, flicking her clit with the crop for the first time, watching as she gasped and bucked. "Just say it, pet. Tell me what you need." He flicked her clit again, before rubbing it with the flat of the crop.

Isola did not understand what was happening, she couldn't deny to herself that she wanted it. The pressure of the crop against her was driving her wild, her hips bucked, increasing the pressure on her sensitive nub. She shook her head, refusing to give in to his will, even if her body would betray her.

"Your body is telling another story, girl" he purred, gently bringing the crop down on her cilt, watching her pink lips part in a gasp as the leather smacked against her. "All you need to do is ask for it. Ask me to make you cum." he said, running the crop feather light over her clit, watching her fight it, trying to will her body to behave.

She shook her head, her eyes shut tight, refusing to give in to him. Her body was crying out for release in a way she had never known, her mind refusing the let her. "Please." was all she could squeak out, unsure of if she was begging him to continue or to stop.

"Say it, ask me to make you cum. You know you want to. Your cunt is begging for it." he said, slowly moving the crop back and forth, flicking her clit, watching her pant in the effort of restraint.

"No." She said, her body shaking, her mind a confusing jumble, overloaded by feelings she'd never known.

"No?" the king asked, a hint of anger sneaking into his voice. She would not give in easily. Her body was on the verge of orgasm, yet she held strong. He would enjoy the day he made her cum for the first time. Making her spasm and moan in pleasure as he ripped an orgasm from her body. He would break her will. "Then you shall not have your please, slut. For your lies to me, yes, lies. You can deny it all you like but your body tells the truth - you have elected for pain." he snapped the crop back, hitting her sharply across the face, raising a red welt across her cheek to match his hand print. He gripped her by the throat and tossed her to the floor, where she landed in a jumble, her hands reaching to cover herself for the first time. "You will spend the night in a new cell. You will not be fed until you learn to accept your place." he said, placing the crop on a hook in the wall, he snapped his fingers twice and the same women who dressed her were came in. "Take her to her cell, she is to be chained to the walls and given no meals until I command it." he told them, going to sit on the high throne against the chamber wall. "And bring me Leona." he ordered, she would not have an easy day. The stubbornness of Isola left him full of pent up lust, Leona would be well used today.

Isola was ushered from the room after the women redressed her, the silky red fabric sending chills down her spine as it ran along her welt covered body. He watched her go hungrily. Her next lesson would end differently, he knew. He would have her begging him to make her cum by the end, or begging for her death.

He waited in the audience chamber, alone with his thoughts. They were full of Isola, he pictured her bound and spread against the wall, lash marks covering her body, covered in a sheen of sweat, chest heaving, begging for him to touch her.

Leona was led into the room by a guard, heavy shackles around her neck, wrists and ankles. She was brought to him naked, her body covered in fading marks from her last disciplining. She hardly needed the shackles now. Her will to fight was leaving her. But today it did not matter, her time with him would go quickly. His lust was high from Isola's first training.

"Go." he told the guard, rising towards Leona. Her eyes remained planted on the ground. Assuming her submissive stance, arms crossed behind her back, legs spread, chest out and eyes down. He ran his hand over the swell of her breast, fingers tracing over old whip marks, fading slowly against her tanned skin. "Was I too rough on you last time, slut? These marks are from days ago..." he mused, tracing his handiwork, remember her screams as he laid the whip against her flesh.

"No, Master. I only live to please you. It is my greatest joy to give you pleasure." she responded. "Would you like to whip me again, you highness?" her nipples were engorged with blood as he traced over her wounds, begging to be touched. She'd learned to love the pain. To live for it. The king was her master, her reason for being. She was his to do with as he saw fit.

"We shall see, girl. We shall see. But first go to the corner and lift your arms above your head. I want you chained." he watched her go to stand in the corner below a heavy metal chain, lifting her arms, waiting to be chained into place. He attached the chain to her cuffs, pulling the chain tight, forcing her onto her toes to remain balanced. She was stretched taut, her muscles long and lean as he locked her in place.

Duane brought down the cat from the wall, running the many leather ends through his hand as he looked at Leona, bound and waiting. She would accept whatever pain he inflicted on her, and beg for more. "Would you like me to whip you with this? We haven't used the cat in many sessions, slut. And I remember how it would make you scream."

"O yes master, please whip me. Whip your slut." she begged him, already wet and anxious for the pain.

Duane swung the whip with a sharp SNAP, watching as red lines bloomed against his slave's skin, she cried out when one of the knotted ends made contact with her sensitive nipples, the pleasure and pain tied together in her mind, one and the same. The whip dances across her body, covering every inch of her in angry red lines, deep red welts covered her skin where the knots made contact, she was soon hoarse from screaming.