The Emperor’s Daughter
By Razor7826 (Copyright 2008. This is a work of fiction and in no way represents the author’s view).
For all their claims of fairness and morality, the Democratic Republic of Garlin spared little time in sinking to the ill reputed tactics of my father’s empire. Even from my position, chained to the wall of my private cell, I could hear the cries of men and women. Were they former allies of daddy? Or, were they common criminals sentenced to what used to be my private playground?
They cried for mercy all through the day and not. Men and women of all ages begged for release and proclaimed their innocence, but just as I never listened to my captive’s pleas, so too did the new captors.
It had been days since I left my cell when a new wave of guards arrived. I clenched my thighs together, but that was not their intent—yet. They attached a leash to my collar and dragged me from my cell, my feet barely able to support my weight after weeks of being fucked where I lay.
When those cast iron bars receded into the ceiling and the doors of the prison slid open, I knew exactly what new torment awaited me.
Laura Kampf walked along the deserted prison hallway followed only by her most recent acquisition. In one hand she held the leash that dragged along her collared slave; in the other, a wooden sign. A strange metallic necklace glittered around her neck. The pitter-patter of the slave’s bare feet was barely audible above the clap of Laura’s heels.
A chain encircled the young woman’s hips, tight enough to press into her skin.
“Hurry along, Tracy” commanded the Emperor’s Daughter.
Laura pulled harder. “Do not question my views, you rebellious cunt.” .She had to put all her weight against the polished metal to pry it open. It led into a larger chamber, with a row of bars separating its two halves. Five guards were spread across the room: two by a huge set of double doors, one at middle partition, and one each by its two side doors.
“Good morning, Mistress. Will you be going outside today?” asked the guard from the central barrier.
“Yes. I request a guard to watch the prisoner for the day. We will be in the plaza.”
“Right away, Mistress.” The guard walked to a console built into the wall and slid a key inside. With a turn and taps of three buttons, the prison bars ascended into the ceiling.
The guards beside the central door moved to the center, grasped the cast iron handle, and pushed. A sliver of light darted across the floor and expanded until the entire entrance hall basked in morning light. Laura tugged on the prisoner’s leash and walked into Maria Plaza.
It was pristine, just as she liked it. The plaza, along with Laura’s Center for Behavior Modification, were gifts from her Father on her eighteenth birthday. The central fountain was surrounded on all sides by innate carvings into the floor, all made of white stone. She did not know what kind of stone, exactly, only that it was polished and maintained by an armada of slave labor and lower class workers.
Laura led the slave to the metal pillars that rose from the ground in a circle around the fountain. They were polished steel, added months after the plaza was first created—an addition of Laura’s own sadism. She forced the prisoner to her knees.
“Please, not this!” the prisoner yelled.
Laura pulled back her riding crop and slashed the girl across her cheek. “You have debts to pay, Miss Frum.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Laura laughed. “Guilt by association.” She forced the girl’s wrists and ankles into the manacles at the top and bottom of the pole. Then, she grabbed the dental gag that dangled around her own neck and crammed it into the girl’s mouth.
The girl screamed and begged, but Laura ignored her. Men were already lingering at the edge of the plaza, but none dared enter until Laura was gone, lest she pick men out of the crowd to be her personal playthings. With the girl bound and prone, Laura placed the sign around the girl’s neck by a heavy length of the chain. The sign only had two words: Cum Dumpster.
“Look at them, Elizabeth. Don’t they look hungry?” She bent over and grabbed the girl’s cheeks in her hands and tilted her head, forcing the girl to look at the dozens of men waiting for Laura to leave. “Though you may have done nothing explicitly wrong, you could have turned in your family. However, you failed to do what was right for the Empire. Enjoy your punishment.”
Laura retreated back into the prison doors.
“How long will she stay out there?” asked one of the guards.
“Until the same time tomorrow. Make sure that the people use her exactly as specified.”
“Will do, Mistress.”
Laura returned to her quarters. They were situated directly above the central entrance, four stories up. The prison was a narrow building; halls of cells on the ground floor, then a tower of a residence for the woman in charge.
She walked to her balcony. The girl was already being used. A line of men extended past the fountain, and it was growing faster than the men could dump their loads inside her mouth. The less patient men bypassed the line and rubbed their cocks against her skin, shooting their loads into her black hair and across her fair white skin.
The Emperor’s Daughter watched the scene below and savored every minute of it. Though the same punishment had been handed down to countless women, Laura never got tired of it. She leaned against the marble railings of her balcony and slid her left hand down her skirt. The hours passed as she fingered herself to the scene of endless brutality.
Not once did the men below dare make eye contact, lest they catch her attention.
She was awoken sometime after two in the morning. The guard dragged a middle aged woman behind him with a leash and collar. Her arms were manacled behind her back, and tears streamed down her face.
“We found her trying to free the prisoner.”
“Yes. She claims to be the girl’s mother.”
“Set her up at a pole next to her daughter, and let them both rot for another day.”
“Yes, Mistress.” The guard left her room. Five minutes later that some guard exited out the front door holding the mother’s arm in one hand and a sign in the other.
Without warning, a shadow sprinted from the nearest alley, brandishing a sword over his head. He screamed and yelled like one of the savages that the Emperor had suppressed years ago. He did not reach the guard, did not free the woman that he had clearly intended to free. A bullet pierced his chest, another, his head, and he collapsed to the plaza floor in a lifeless heap. The mother and daughter screamed—they knew who he was, it would later be proven. He was a family member that couldn’t stand seeing the women used as such.
The guard turned around and gave a thumbs up to the watch tower, from which the saving bullets had been shot from. He returned to his task and forced the Mother to kneel at the pole’s base.
Laura fell asleep again without giving the mother and daughter further thought.
The Emperor’s Daughter returned to the plaza the following morning to survey the damages wrought unto the rebellious family.
The daughter had been used significantly more than the mother. She stared at the ground, her entire body limp and dragging against the chains and manacles. Cum dribbled out of her mouth, and Laura could still see some that puddled behind her teeth, as if the slave did not even have the strength left to expunge it from her mouth. If not for the slight movement of her chest as she strained to breath, Laura would think the prisoner was dead.
The girl’s body, too, was covered in cum. Some of it was dried; some of it still gleamed as a liquid. Her tits were especially drenched, and her nipples looked bruised. Apparently, some of the men had taken the opportunity to inflict direct harm to the cum dumpster. Curiously, the way in which the girl clenched her thighs together made it pool between her legs, just outside her cunt. Laura wondered if it could result in a pregnancy.
It would be the ultimate insult.
The mother was much the same, but less worse for the wear. She still looked at Laura with her eyebrows arched in contempt, but she spoke not a word.
The Emperor’s Daughter returned to the prison and announced the women’s final fate.
“Good. They are free to go.”
We exited into the central plaza. Though pristine during my father’s reign, it had fallen into disrepair and filth over the last few months. The new government did not have the same reverence for art that my Father did.
Weeds slipped up through the cracks and covered the fine details etched into the bricks. When viewed from proper heights, the plaza represented a giant mural detailing the founding of the city. It was a magnificent work of culture and art, and one of the greatest architectural masterpieces of the modern world.
And they, they-- the filthy people that killed my father and destroyed his empire--ruined it. They took a productive economy and peaceful society and ran it into the ground over a slight difference of perspective. They could not see the great empire for what it was and tore it down, slowly at first but already teetering on the edge of the abyss.
Even in prison, I could get the newspaper or hear the guards’ gossip. Everything was in shambles, and the new leaders did not have the resolution or vision necessary to control what my father created. Things were getting worse, but there was no longer a solution. They had killed their only hope.
And now, months after they pushed my father to take his own life under the threat of prosecution as a war criminal, they were resorting to the same tactics. The guards stripped me of my brown garments and pushed me to my knees before fastening me to the one remaining pole, just as I had done to my prisoners in those better times.
I knew what was coming. One of the guards shoved the dental gag into my mouth; I resisted with all my might, but it was not enough, and soon I was every bit as prone a victim as the poles were designed for. However, there were two differences. Not only did they not hang that cum-encrusted sign across my bare breasts, but they blindfolded me. I knew why-- few would dare cross me if I could identify and avenge the sinners.
Soon after the guards left me to my fate, the footsteps of dozens or hundreds of my former subjects approached. They whispered to each other in hushed tons, as if fearful I might hear. They were right to be afraid.
I could feel them block the sun from my skin. They were close, all staring at me, wondering what to do with my body. I didn’t bother to speak, for I knew it served no purpose.
“Fuck it, I’m going in,” announced one of them. His belt buckle clattered to the ground and he approached. He held my head firm with both hands and slid his cock into my immobile mouth.
It was disgusting. I had tasted only a few cocks before in my life, but his was the vilest. It reeked of sweat, cum, and lord knows what else this peasant used it with. I shook and screamed, trying to shake that filthy thing from my mouth, but he held tight. The others laughed at my plight, my misery fueling their own sadistic pleasures. They were no better than me, no more peaceful or moral. Just a bunch of selfish ignoramus’ fulfilling whatever desires they could get away with.
The man’s cum shot and the back of my mouth and splashed down my throat. I thought I would wretch, but I suppressed the urge, knowing that nothing could be more unbecoming of the Emperor’s Daughter than to puke in public. I would endure in my own way, above base bodily reactions.
Another man took his place, and another, and another. I wanted to see their faces, to know whom to hunt down and torture, but the thick black blindfolded made that an impossible task.
Or almost impossible, I should say. The pole was dented from whatever weaponry had destroyed each of the other poles, and it was at the perfect height of the blindfold. I leaned back and maneuvered my head, hoping to snag it off.
It worked. The blindfold fell to the floor and the men and women that surrounded and abused my body froze in their tracks. I stared at each of them in turn for a brief moment to memorize their face and pass judgment.
They fled in panic before my stern gaze. I still had it—the power to terrify anybody with a glance, the perfect tool for any leader. I would have been a great successor to my father someday.
My victory, however, was short lived. Gunshots rang out across the plaza. The guards were returning.
It was Flint. “Nice work, Ms. Kampf, but that is not what we intended. Guards, bag her.”
I didn’t know what he meant until one of the guards a tiny burlap sack of my head and fastened the cord far too tightly around my neck. His companion held my head still, just long enough for him to pierce a mouth hole with his knife. I was once again ready to be used, this time with no hope of seeing my attackers.
How many hundreds of men used my mouth? Everybody knew the horrors I committed during my father’s reign, and almost all of them must have known one of my victims. There was no shortage of former subjects that wanted to see me raped, tortured, violated, or murdered. And now, they had the chance, and from the feelings of it, most used the opportunity.
Never underestimate the human capacity for revenge. Though most claim to be good people that speak with disdain for the horrible deeds committed daily in the world around them, nearly every single man and woman will jump at the opportunity to murder, rape, or maim a person they hate, given the promise of no legal recourse. I was living proof.
How many days did they leave me there? How many men tore at my body, pierced my holes, and filled me with their filth? It felt as if every inch of my body were caked with cum, some dry and crusted, the rest still moist. It pooled in my mouth and dribbled out, and so many times I thought I would drown in it. I hacked and coughed, but still it wasn’t enough. I was forced to swallow so much that I was never hungry.
And the women. When I offered meat to be used by the city folk, only men took the offer, but my own torture included women. Mothers, sisters, or victims themselves, all taunting and cursing me as they forced me to lick their cunts or peed in my face. They reminded me how much I detested women, especially those of the lower class. If they weren’t pregnant, they were useless.
But for all those monsters did, they did not kill me. My captors would not allow it. They had other plans for me. They left the bag on my head until we were back in the prison and did not even allow me a shower before leading my back into my cell.
I retreated to my corner and huddled up against the wall. However, I quickly pulled away, shocked by a strange sense. Something had pricked the skin of my shoulder. I turned around.
It was a piece of paper jammed forcefully into a crack in the wall. I pulled it out and unfolded it.
“Dear Empress Laura,
Your loyal followers are watching you. Some day you shall be free, so that you can lead our people in reclaiming what was stolen. Hold out as best you can until we get an opportunity.
Your Loyal Subjects
P.S. Dispose of this letter so that the guards do not discover it. Secrecy is our only weapon.”
I smiled. Perhaps I would someday escape this life of misery.
No, not just perhaps. Definitely. Whatever these monsters inflict upon me will be returned ten fold. Someday—maybe not soon, but someday—The Emperor’s Daughter will regain her father’s throne.
None will be safe from my terror. None.
To be continued…