Where Princes Kneel

The soft glow of oil fire filtered out through the lamp, and shadows lapped at each other all over the floor. The air was stale and dusty, ventilated only by a thin, vertical slit of a window. Through it, I saw a narrow column of evening sky. Ahead of me lay my bed, which was shaded by a frilly cloth and draped in layer upon layer of rich, silky fabric. Beneath it was a hugely fluffy red rug that reached almost to the edges of the room. All I could hear was the understated scratch of my feather pen on paper. I hunched over my desk, casting shadows on the polished oak wood.

As I practiced my penmanship, my hand twitched across the expensive paper almost on its own. My mind was elsewhere.

Behind me, there was a knock on my ponderous wooden door, shattering the silence.

"Come in," I said stiffly.

The hinges grumbled as the door yawned open.

"Prince?" said a voice.

I turned around and recognized the servant behind me. This was Júlio, my parents' personal messenger. They used him to communicate with me so they could spend more time with their precious oldest son, Crístobal the XII.

"Hey there, Júlio," I greeted. "Any news?"

"Yes, prince, I-"

"Please, it's just 'Emilio.'"

"Er... as you wish. Emilio, I have a message from your parents. They say you are to attend your brother's banquet at Port Muíxa."

"Ugh..." I groaned. "Do I really have to be there?"

"I... that's what your parents have ordered."

"No, Júlio, that's not what I meant. I meant... how adamant were my parents? When they asked you, did they sound... dismissive?"

"Yes."

"Let's use that. Tell them I am very busy, and we will need a lengthy discourse to sort out my schedule."

"In those exact words, Emilio?"

"Yes. I know those two; they'll never do it. They give me money, power and freedom, but the one thing they would never spare for me is time. As soon as they think that getting my attendance will be inconvenient, they'll drop the subject."

"I'm not sure about that, Emilio..."

"Don't worry, Júlio. They won't know it's a lie, and, if they do, they won't blame you."

Júlio hesitated for a moment, seeing my reasoning, then bowed and slipped away. A moment later, the mighty door boomed shut.

Having been thusly spared another waste of time, I smiled and set back to my practice. My hand skittered across the paper once more.

An hour passed in peace.

Then, all at once, my door swung open, hinges complaining under the sudden speed.

"Boy," said a female voice. "Get on your knees."

I turned around. My maid, Nora, stood imperiously in the doorway. Her short, tight black dress accented her smooth, bare arms, which folded authoritatively. Between her sharply flared-out skirt and her slick black boots, there was nothing covering her strong, shapely legs.

"Oh..." I sighed, "hello, Nora. I'm... I'm not sure I have it in me do this today."

Nora cocked her head disapprovingly to one side, then strode into the room and, with one arm, heaved the door shut behind her.

"Boy," she said, "That's not your choice to make. I want you on your knees."

Nora was right. She and I had an unusual deal. One night, after discovering that I had a kink for female domination, she approached me in my bedroom and made me an offer she knew I wouldn't refuse. Every night, after sundown, I would cease to be her prince, and she would cease to be my maid. After sundown, she was my mistress, and I was her slut boy, to be used and treated however she saw fit.

"You're right," I said. "As you wish."

Setting down my pen, I stood purposefully up, then turned around and knelt carefully, placing my hands on my knees.

"Spread your legs farther," she ordered.

Without a word, I slid my left knee a few inches out, then my right.

With a smirk, she knelt in front of me, holding her eyes a few inches above mine. With her left hand, she grabbed my chin, then ran her hand up and down my jaw. As she stroked my blushing cheeks, I realized that her body was even hotter than mine.

Her firm fingers effortlessly tilted up my head, and I gazed straight into her rock-solid eyes, which gushed sweetness and desire.

Nora knew full well how lucky she was; I was a treasure desired by women all over the kingdom, and here I was kneeling for her.

Her hand shifted to the back of my head, and I put up no resistance as she pushed me onto her lips. All on their own, my arms wrapped around her as she sucked lovingly on my tongue. Then I felt her hand brush between my legs, and I froze.

She would not let me go. Her vice-like arm held my head where it was, and her right hand dove beneath my belt, where her smooth skin contacted my soft, hot organ. Her fingers walked down my masculinity and closed gently around my balls, and I shuddered and moaned into her mouth. Her fingers opened and contracted, kneading my fragile testicles with feminine precision. As they did, she released my mouth, and I gasped in time with her stroking.

She licked her lips, smiling, then leaned into my ear and whispered, "Good boy."

I purred incoherently.

Her hand traveled to my hardening cock and wrapped smoothly around it, her fingers feeling every throb that surged through it.

"Mmm..." she whispered. "It feels nice. It feels eager. You're eager for me, aren't you? Don't you want me to push you over and take you?"

"Oh, yes," I panted.

"Maybe just one more day, and I will. Until then..."

She stood and hitched up her skirt.

"Pleasure me. Now."

For one moment, I stopped, waiting for her to step closer, then realized what she wanted me to do; I leaned it.

Once I was close enough, her hands darted around my head and grabbed me by the back of the collar, then hoisted me in as her skirt fell behind me.

I felt moisture everywhere. I brought up my face, and my wet lips touched hers, tracing a warm ring around her hungry slit.

Her hand beat against my shoulder.

"Lick me!" she snarled.

Without a second's hesitation, I stuck my tongue out, forcing it through her smooth, sensitive walls. I paused a moment as her whole body shuddered, then flicked my tongue up and back, sliding smoothly against her.

"Yeah," she hissed, "more, more..."

Placing a hand on her stomach, I slid my tongue across her sex in diagonal motions, feeling it quiver with each stroke, then pushed as deep into her as it would go. With a flick of my tongue, I tickled her clitoris, then traced a circle around it.

Nora was seething and swollen. Her fingers clutched fistfuls of my suit, and, even from under her skirt, I could tell that her teeth were gnashing.

Bringing my mouth up, I wrapped my lips around her clitoris and sucked once. Immediately, I felt her muscles tighten as a wave of tension shot up her body. Then I sucked again. Then again. With each pull on her sex, vitality ran through her, and her hands tightened around my shoulders.

Now she was pressing me so far into her that I couldn't breathe. I sucked frantically, then pressed my tongue onto her clit and traced around its base one more time.

At last, her body contracted, then flashed with heat as juice exploded from her sex, soaking my face. Her fingers tightened and loosened around me as she heaved long, heavy breaths. Her arms stopped pushing, and I finally separated from her body, then pulled out from under her skirt.

If I needed any more indication that I had done well, her face had it. Her cheeks blushed furiously, and sweat rolled down from her hair. She smiled exhaustedly and licked her lips.

"Good boy," she huffed. "Very good boy. That's all. I'll see you tomorrow."

"What?" I gasped. "Wait!"

Her brow creased.

"You said you'd give me my underwear back!" I whined. "Don't you remember?"

"Hm... yes. Yes, I guess I did. No, wait; I didn't say I'd give them to you. I said I'd let you see them. So, then..."

She drew my underwear from a pocket and held it out.

"Got a good look?" she jeered. "Tomorrow, if you're a good bitch, I'll let you wear them for another day. Got it?"

I bowed my head, dreading the prospect of going another day with my masculinity chafing against my clothes. But I knew it was not my choice.

"Yes, mistress," I mewled.

"Good boy. See you tomorrow."

With a flirtatious sway of her hips, she walked away. At the door, she turned and blew me a kiss, then grabbed the mighty wooden slab and dragged it shut behind her.

Just like that, I was alone again. My cock throbbed for more attention, but, at the same time, my brain sizzled from Nora's domination. I picked up my pen and found that I could no longer focus. I got up, opened my door and slipped out of the room.

In the castle courtyard, I got down on my back and stared up at the peaceful night sky.

Before I knew it, I was asleep.

The next morning, I felt a hand on my shoulder, followed by a timid male voice. I felt sunshine on my skin, then, a moment later, opened my eyes.

A figure above me scampered back a few feet. Sitting up, I blinked, adjusting to the sunlight, then finally recognized the figure ahead.

"Good morning, Júlio," I greeted. "No one saw me like this, did they?"

"I... I'm not sure, my prince, I didn't... I'm not sure. But I have something to tell you. It's your parents."

"Isn't it always? Fine, let's hear it."

"No, my prince, you don't understand- they're here."

In an instant, I sat up.

"Here?!" I repeated. "In person?"

"Yes, my prince."

In an instant, I was on my feet, eager to see what they had in store for me. I could not tell whether I was motivated by hope or morbid curiosity, but I could not wait to find out.

"This way, my prince," said Júlio, reading my mind.

Like a squirrel, I dashed out of the courtyard, then up a spiral staircase. I stopped, then began towards the throne room, only to feel a tug on my shoulder. Looking back, I saw Júlio demurely shaking his head. Instead, he led me down to the opposite wing of the building, to my room.

As we approached my door, which stood stolidly shut as always, sweat rolled down my forehead. I felt like I was entering a cave without a torch.

"Why here?" I whispered. "This is my room."

Júlio could only shrug.

Intrepidly, I pushed open the door, then stepped in, looking as confident as I could manage. There, my parents stood side by side, decked out in all of their gaudy regal foppery. My father looked to be putting on the same charade of courage as I was, and my mother, as always, was little more than a prop.

We stared at each other for a moment, deathly silent. Then my father awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Son," he began, "I'm sure you remember a promise I made to you two years ago- that I would give you at least three months' warning before I married you off. Well, I'm afraid that's a promise I've had to break."

My jaw dropped. I was amazed, not because my father had gone back on his promise, but because he was talking to me as a person and not an object. He never talked to me this way.

"We had received a wonderfully generous offer," he continued. "And we settled the deal yesterday. In exactly three weeks, you are to be officially married off to Princess Eleode of Hayguía."

I froze. Hayguía was a matriarcic nation, where women held power and men served them.

My father continued talking, but I no longer listened to him. I knew I should have been furious with him for breaking his promise, but I was distracted by my future. To be reduced to property... to be owned by a female... it was all just too exciting.

"Now," he continued, "I can see that you're shocked. I understand that, but I need you to-"

"How should I dress?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I need to know everything, Dad. Everything about Hayguía. Dress, customs, etiquette... do we have anything in the library?"

My parents both stared incredulously at me, until Júlio stepped in and quipped, "I believe so, my prince."

With that, I was off, sprinting downstairs to the royal library. If serving women was going to be my life, I was going to do my absolute best; it was time for some research.

In the library, I pulled down the first few books I could find on foreign customs. Within the minute, I was buried in the first one, reading about the history of Hayguía. I read that they had been a matriarchy from their very beginning, and that their fighting women had served with distinction all over the world. I read that their early adoption of gunpowder had won them an unbreakable border defense on their homeland, and that their fast, beautiful battleships had won them a global empire. I read about their advancements in science, curing diseases all across the world. I read that Hayguían medics were some of the most highly sought-after in civilization.

Then, I read about men's lot in that nation. I read about the husbands and brothers of famous and powerful women. I read that a man's wardrobe is chosen by his sister until he marries, then by his wife. I read that his job is to provide for his wife and her family. A proper Hayguían male is always at women's service in any capacity he is capable of.

When I read that, my mind immediately drifted to salacious matters. Sure enough, on the next page, there was a replication of a famous Hayguían painting of a warlord surrounded by her concubines. The caption told me that the symbols present were meant to identify her as evil, and that this painting was a condemnation of savage warfare. But all I could see was the woman's casual dominance. If the real women of Hayguía were anywhere near this strong, I would be plenty happy there.

For the rest of that day, I read about Hayguía, learning new details about my submissive life there. When I next saw one of my servants, I demanded more books on the subject. A few days later, I found my room piled high with such books. To my delight, most of them had come straight from Hayguían presses.

A few more days passed, and a servant humbly informed me that this was my last full day in my own kingdom. That night, Nora kissed me goodbye and released me from her jurisdiction as mistress. Once again, she was a simple maid, and I was a simple prince.

The next morning, at the port, my heart leapt as I noticed a grandly adorned Hayguían ship sitting aloof by the dock.

The hollow clop of my carriage rattling over the cobblestones came to a gentle halt. The exact minute it stopped, I leapt down. Grabbing my one bag, I made for the boarding ramp in a brisk walk.

Ahead of me sat the graceful, almost intimidating form of the H.M.S. Elsa IV, from whom two massive smokestacks rose like monstrously thick flagpoles. A paddlewheel hung on the side, yawning almost two stories above the water. Incredibly, the whole wheel seemed to be made of one piece.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened up my posture and adjusted my new red and white silk-trimmed collar around my neck. For the hundredth time, I pivoted it so that my collar ring faced forward.

I strode up the gangplank alone, with no fanfare and no servants. In Fulzore, such humble travel was unbecoming of a prince- obscene, even. But, if my research had taught me anything, it was that Hayguíans like their men to be unpretentious. Of course it depended on the woman, but, if I were to make a good impression on my future lady and mistress, I wanted to start by acting of the land.

At the top, a heavily built woman stood, completely blocking me. Her arms were folded, and her face broadcasted gruff but sincere approval.

"Prince Emilio, I take it?" she asked.

As I prepared my answer, it struck me that this woman might be the captain of her ship. Were that the case, it would be proper to call her 'captain.' But if she were any other crewwoman, it would be a major gaffe. I decided to play it safe.

"Yes, ma'am," I tried.

"Good," she returned. "But it's captain, not ma'am. Around here you call a woman by the highest rank she holds."

Wordlessly, I kicked myself. This was my first conversation with a Hayguían, and already I looked like I had not done my research.

Taking another deep breath, I tried to calm myself. If there was one thing a Hayguían disliked, it was a man with no patience.

The captain turned and started walking. With a smart, quiet stride, I followed her down across the immaculately clean deck. As I did, I saw the eyes of the entire crew on me. These women were ragged and salty, but they weren't dirty. Even as their eyes devoured my slender, well-trained form, I felt safe. I gave them a flirtatious wink and continued on my way.

"I can escort you below decks if you would like," the captain offered. "But I reckon you'll want to be here to see this."

"See what?"

"To see us push off."

Turning, she barked an order to her crew. In an instant, women were scuttling all over the ship. Chains clanked and groaned, ropes twisted and smoke billowed from the stacks. Then, finally, we began to move. Leaning on the railing, I watched as the Fulzoran port scrolled by beside us. Then, as we turned, it started to shrink into the distance.

The days flew by. I spent most of my time perched on the starboard railing, watching as civilization panned by. Occasionally, a woman would make small talk with me, and I returned it in kind.

On the fourth day, we arrived at Hayguía. The port was a magnificent spectacle, with clean stone walls rising behind a massive pair of metal peninsulas, women in dark blue uniforms scuttling about while a tinny voice yelled orders to them.

A heavy hand came gently down on my shoulder, and I saw a crewwoman standing next to me.

"Look over there," she said, pointing ahead. "Ever seen a tugboat before?"

I looked around for a moment, then, when it finally occurred to me to look down, my reaction spoke for itself. A tiny little ship guided the H.M.S. Elsa IV into harbor, puffing heavily as it did.

"Neat, isn't it?" said the sailor. "Maybe you'll get a closer look when we're on the ground."

I continued to watch, spellbound, as our ship pulled into the port and lowered its heavy gangplank, which clanged loudly on the metal.

"Okay," I told myself, "here goes."

Gathering my things, I stood up straight at the top of the dizzyingly long gangplank and made my way down, trying to look dignified without looking powerful.

At the bottom, I saw a line of at least a dozen women, most of them standing at attention, all well-dressed. The ones on the outside wore crush caps or tricorn hats, and had medals and war patches studded all over their uniforms, while others stood with no such marks of high merit, looking defiantly confident all the same.

In the center, I saw a young woman, perhaps thirty years old, standing with her feet together and her arms folded smartly behind her back. Her dark brown hair hung behind her in a nicely curved ponytail, and her sharp, gently rounded cheekbones framed a pair of full lips, which rested in a pursed frown. Her green eyes peered at me with guarded curiosity, and her sharp, evenly curved eyebrows rose with interest.

A fancy, frilled sash hung like a bandolier across her chest, in stark contrast to her cobalt dress shirt, which was adorned by brass buttons on her collar and down the middle. A short skirt accented thick black tights, along with a a pair of immaculately shined leather boots.

I stood for a moment, frozen by her commanding beauty; whether she knew it or not, she embodied the Hayguían feminine ideal, being at once powerful and nonthreatening.

"Princess Eleode, I presume?" I said.

"Prince Emilio," she returned, in a voice that echoed with female power, "It is a pleasure."

There was an awkward pause, then I remembered what I was supposed to do. Walking up to her, I gently got down on one knee, then both. I squared my knees at shoulder-width and looked up to Eleode. I had to restrain a smile as her leash clipped onto my collar with a little metallic snap.

"Good," she mumbled. "Come with me. We have much to discuss."