Castle Slave Ep. 01: Rose Girl

My father was a Brownman, a servant of the Outer Castle, as his mother had been - until she was promoted to a Greenman, and entered the Inner Castle. I never saw her again, though my father saw her from time to time.

Only servants, the army and the aristocracy entered the Castle at all, the servants through the North Gate, and the aristos through the South Gate. The Women's Infantry in their black and silver uniforms used the East Gate, and the Men's Infantry in green and gold used the West Gate. Over fifty thousand servants and soldiers worked in the Outer Castle; many of them lived in Springvale, the town that had built up at the North Gate over the years since the Castle was built.

It was like a grand medieval citadel, sprawling across the hill that once upon a time overlooked fields and forests. From the town, though, you could only guess at the hill. All you could really see was the Castle's outer wall, built high with stones so large they put Stonehenge to shame. From a great distance, you could just see over the outer wall to the top of the inner wall, and the fairytale castle within, but though we lived in its shadow we knew the Castle better from the aerial photography on television.

Four times a year there was a Grand Ball, and the television cameras were allowed to film the arrivals of the world's rich and famous in their elegant gowns and tailored suits. Sometimes we could watch them being greeted by the Queen. Though there were many who said she must be a hundred years old, or more, there was not a sign of age on her. She remained always a tall and imposing figure of youth and beauty, and was never shy of showing the voluptuous curves of her breasts.

But servants were rarely captured by the cameras. Their heads were shaved, and they were dressed all in long-sleeved black tops and floor-length black skirts, even the ones that were surely men. "Those are the servants of the court," my father would say, though that was, it seemed, the limit of his knowledge.

We were never a wealthy family, but my younger brother, David, had a recurring illness that cost us dearly in medical bills. By the time I reached adulthood, all our savings were gone, and our house mortgaged to the limit. My father's wages and the money sent by my grandmother were barely enough to live on, and anything left over went towards repayments. It is no exaggeration to say that we were desperate.

Times were hard for everyone, though. There in the heart of the Castle, aristos lived in incomprehensible wealth and comfort, and we had nothing. We could never hope to achieve such comforts ourselves. The most we could hope for was to serve in the Castle. The leftover scraps from their feasts would be such a wonder in comparison to the potatoes and cabbages and other such tiresome fare we were used to.

*

On the day I came of age, I went to the Castle, hoping to join the Women's Infantry, perhaps, or that I could be a Brownman like my father. I waited for hours with several others my own age, men and women, most from very far away, from other countries even. We were seen one by one, taken into a private room by a pair of Greenmen. There was no kindness in their elderly eyes, only a professional detachment as they ordered me to stand naked in front of them, examined me physically, and asked me a hundred questions. Most significantly, they asked, "Are you a virgin?"

I was expecting this. It was well known that the Castle only accepted virgins, though no one knew why. And somehow they always knew if you weren't. Even if I'd ever wanted to lose my virginity, my family had always made sure I never had the chance. "Wait until you're an adult," they would say. "Then, if the Castle doesn't want you, you can have as much sex as you like..."

So, I most certainly was. "Yes," I said confidently, and the Greenmen nodded.

They allowed me to get dressed, then announced: "We can offer you a position in the Inner Castle." They handed me a token confirming this, then sent me away again.

The Inner Castle... It was with a heavy heart that I returned home. The pay would be good, and of great help to my family, and really the only other way I could think to earn as much was as a prostitute. My aunt worked at the brothel in town, and always seemed cheerful about it. "I could have been in the Army," she always said, "but I like sex with men far too much."

I showed my parents the token. "If I accept this," I said miserably, "I may never come home again." There was a chance, perhaps, that I would still see my father from time to time, as my grandmother still did, but she was a Greenman and I had no idea what I would be. "Or I could work in the brothel..."

"No," my mother said firmly. "If you don't go to the Castle, you will regret it for the rest of your life. Do as you're told, be a good girl, and maybe one day I'll see you on television, dressed in black and serving drinks to the Queen herself."

*

Many tears later, I presented myself, as instructed, at the Yellow Gate. This was a small gate next to the Green Gate, the main gate used by the Greenmen to pass between the Outer Castle and Inner Castle. There was no one coming out of the Yellow Gate, and I was the only one going in.

The Outer Castle was a busy place, full of people hurrying between workshops, or just hurrying generally, far more chaotic than Springvale. Brownmen and Greenmen and uniformed men and women of the infantry made the crowds a colourful mixture. Through the Green Gate, leading to the Inner Castle, I had glimpsed peaceful gardens full of bright summer flowers, and beyond them the towers of the Castle itself. Through the Yellow Gate, I found myself going down a flight of stairs to a long corridor lit by electric lighting.

Two servants dressed in blue appeared from a side-room and instructed me to come in. They were an elderly couple, their attitude friendly but professional. The old woman wore a pale blue corset and matching thigh-length skirt, and sheer blue stockings. Only the high-heeled, calf-length leather boots were not blue. The old man wore the same, though his corset shaped him differently. Both were shaved quite bald.

"Please undress," the man said, and once I was naked he proceeded to measure every part of me with his measuring tape, making notes as he did.

"Sit here," the woman said afterwards, and attacked my long, dark hair with scissors. How I hated that, feeling my beloved hair falling to the floor around me. With electric shears, she removed what was left, all except a light fuzz that was finally removed with a shaver. As if that weren't bad enough, she shaved my armpits and then ordered me to lie on the table with my legs spread.

"Why?" I asked, horrified.

"You belong to the Castle now," she said. "Do as you're told, or you will be punished."

Remembering my mother's words, I did as told, and burned with embarrassment as the old woman first lathered up my pubic hair, then shaved it all away. I was left not merely naked, but bare to the skin, and feeling more exposed than ever before in my life. The temptation to run for my life, to escape the Castle and its indignity, had me twitching nervously. Only my certainty that the Yellow Gate would not open for me kept me from trying.

"One last thing," she said, taking a long, thin, round metal device from a plastic wrapper. Before I could ask what it was for, she pushed it into my vagina, with surprisingly little resistance until it nudged against the entry to my womb. I felt a slight pinch, and something penetrating me even further.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, alarmed and thoroughly confused.

"All done," she said, drawing the instrument out smoothly. "This will suppress your body's natural cycle. You shouldn't have any periods from now on."

I couldn't believe my ears. That she had done this to me without explanation, without asking permission, or anything. She had just shoved an IUD into my womb without any preparation.

That, more than anything else, forced me to confront what I had known but not truly understood until then. That I belonged to the Castle. I was less than a servant. I was property. I was a slave. I had, in effect, sold myself into slavery for my family's benefit.

The old man appeared with boots, a box, and a pile of yellow clothing, which he placed on the table. "Please stand," he said, and he lifted from the box a metal belt. A chastity belt.

I backed away fearfully, shaking my head.

The old woman snorted. "You are a virgin, aren't you?" I nodded. "Well," she said, "you'll wear this as long as you're a virgin."

What else could I do? I let them fit the belt to me. It was very snug about my waist, and the shield pulled tight over my now hairless crotch, the chains dividing beneath to leave my ass free. And actually it wasn't uncomfortable at all, just deeply humiliating. Had I known that any of this would happen, no way would I have come to the Yellow Gate. Fucking random men in the brothel had to be more dignified than being shaved and locked into a steel chastity belt. I felt utterly ridiculous.

The corset was something of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it supported my large breasts with surprising comfort. On the other, the constriction of my waist as the old man tightened it, and tightened it, pulling on the laces at my back, was almost more than I could stand.

The yellow stockings went on next, held up by garters that dangled from the corset; then the yellow skirt that only just concealed the tops of my stockings. The chastity belt could no longer be seen, though its firm grip on my crotch could not be ignored.

Finally the boots went on, and they asked me to walk around. I had worn high heels before, but not often, and never while so constrained by belt and corset.

"Follow me," the old woman said, and feeling utterly miserable, and more alone than ever in my life, I followed her along the corridor away from the stairs, deeper into the Castle. I saw more and more servants, some in blue, some in pink, but none in yellow. I was new, and alone in being new. How many of them wore chastity belts, I wondered.

She showed me to my room, or rather my bed in a room to be shared with three other girls, and told to wait. I had been allowed to keep one or two mementos of my former life - photographs of my family - and I put these by my bed. A window looked out onto a courtyard, or an atrium, rather, with a high glass roof. There were lots of servants crossing from doorway to doorway, looking cheerful enough and all except the Greenmen dressed in the same colour-coded uniform.

The constant temptation to touch my belt and somehow penetrate it was frustrating, and the realisation that I no longer had access to my most intimate part, that someone else had the key to it, if there even was a key, was profoundly disconcerting.

A young woman in a pink uniform bounded in. "Hi! I'm Diane!" she said. "Welcome!"

"Belinda," I said. "Thanks."

"Don't worry," she said, "the first few days are the hardest, until you get used to the belt and everything."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "So you've got one too?"

"We all do." She lifted her skirt briefly to show me her belt. "Only the greens don't have them, but they're outsiders, really. And the blacks, of course, but that's a privilege you have to earn."

"How?"

"By losing your virginity of course!"

"But how...?"

She laughed. "I can't say any more. It is forbidden to talk about these things. Now, come on. There are beds to be made, and floors to be swept."

Diane, like all the other servants (male and female) dressed in pink, was a Rose Girl. Those dressed in blue were generally older, at least by ten years; they were Blue Belles, and they had authority over the Rose Girls. Yellow marked me as a New Girl, and I didn't get to meet any other New Girls. The Greenmen lived separately, and there was little love between those trouser-wearers and us skirt-wearers, although that didn't stop my heart lifting at every flash of green in the hope of seeing my grandmother.

I didn't see much of the Blue Belles. I worked with the Rose Girls, who were all friendly and always joking around and making fun of each other in the crudest language. With the loss of my real family, I was glad of the compassion they showed me.

The first few days were indeed the hardest, not so much because of the long work hours as the frustration of the belt. It only came off once a day, for me to clean it, in a special room under the eye of a watching camera. ("You mustn't touch yourself," Diane told me, "no matter how badly you want to. Just take the belt off, clean it, clean yourself quickly with the water jet, and put it back on.") The belt's lock was electronic. I was completely at the mercy of whoever was watching through the camera. If indeed anyone was watching.

I had to sleep in the belt, and only my exhaustion made that possible, and I had to pee through it. Peeing through a narrow slit in a belt is both messy and unnatural. And there were no private cubicles, just a circle of toilets and anyone could walk in at any time. Even men. They too wore chastity belts beneath their skirts, their cocks hidden inside the shields in such a way that they had to sit to pee. None of them seemed embarrassed to be dressed as women, and oddly I found the sight of them in stockings and heels, peeing through their chastity belts, to be really quite erotic.

What made it really difficult, though, was having to listen to Sally and Lilah, my other two roommates, Rose Girls like Diane, kissing and giggling while I was failing to sleep. There was no privacy, and even the darkness could not conceal the silhouette of Sally licking hungrily at Lilah's ass, or vice versa, and every moan of pleasure from Lilah stirred my own useless hunger. I ached to touch myself, but could not.

After a month of this, I was being driven quite crazy by the need to touch myself. My one and only chance was when cleaning myself, watched only by the camera, and the growing sense that maybe, just maybe, no one was actually watching. Maybe I could touch myself for a minute - I wouldn't need any longer, I was so desperately in need - without being noticed.

Every day the temptation mounted. I was barely getting any sleep. Until I could deny myself no longer. With the belt off, I turned away from the camera and slipped fingers between my soaking wet labia, seeking my clit and stroking it with urgency. For a few seconds I was in utter bliss, rushing towards the first orgasm I had had in weeks.

Alarms sounded in the room, and I screamed, hurriedly returning the belt to my waist and locking it.

I was not given the chance to dress further. The door burst open and two Blue Belles marched in, grabbed me by the arms, and marched out again. They dragged me out into the atrium that my window looked onto, to a pillory - a medieval torture device! - that had been erected in the centre.

"No!" I cried, fighting against my captors. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" But I was forced to bend over, placing my neck and wrists into rubber-lined grooves in the lower plank, and then the upper grooved plank locked me in place.

I was utterly helpless, naked apart from the belt, my ass exposed to the many who passed regularly through the atrium, my bare breasts dangling one side of the pillory, my tears falling from my cheeks on the other.

They left me there for hours. Soon every part of me ached from maintaining that uncomfortable position. I stared at the floor, unable really to look around, and certainly unable to see behind me.

I couldn't see who was chuckling at the sight of me. I couldn't see whose hands caressed my breasts or smacked the cheeks of my bum as they passed behind me. I couldn't see whose lips kissed my ass, or whose fingers pinched my nipples.

I was a helpless plaything, humiliated - and increasingly aroused despite my misery. My fear of being seen and touched soon gave way to disappointment that the unknown hands and lips departed so swiftly. My quest for orgasm had been cruelly interrupted, and now I ached more than ever to be touched there, or indeed anywhere.

I was a virgin. I had never had sex, and I had never wanted it so badly.

The two Blue Belles returned and released me. They had brought my clothes, and once I was dressed in my yellow uniform they escorted me - not home, but up a narrow spiral staircase, passing many exits until my legs were killing me from the abuse of the pillory and the unaccustomed effort. Then down a narrow corridor and suddenly into a huge room furnished with polished dark woods and lined with bookcases stuffed with more books than I knew existed. The floor was polished parquet and the chairs cushioned with leather. A large display on one wall showed multiple views from around the Castle, including the atrium where the pillory was being dismantled. A gentleman in a dark suit, sitting behind a desk, examined me with dispassionate eyes.

"Kneel," the Blue Belles whispered in my ears before falling to their knees beside me. I quickly did the same.

"My name is Sir Augustus," the gentleman said, "Captain of the Rose Guard." Even without his supremely confident manner and the richness of his surroundings, his accent would have given him away as a member of the aristocracy. "It is I who decides whether you are worthy of being a Rose Girl, and it is I who will decide whether you are worthy of becoming a Blue Belle."

Sir Augustus walked round the table to stand in front of me. "Hundreds of youths come to the castle every week hoping for work. Most are sent away again. Only one in a thousand is offered a chance to be a Rose Girl. We choose only the most attractive, of course, but more than that we choose only those who are truly able to serve us. To give themselves to us, body and soul.

"We chose you, Belinda, and you chose us. Already your body belongs to the Castle, and we will use it one way or another. For pain, or for pleasure. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," I said, my voice catching.

"Do you want to be a Rose Girl, Belinda?"

Did I? Was there really a choice? "Yes, sir."

He unzipped his trousers and let them fall about his ankles, followed quickly by his knickers. His cock, half-erect, dangled before my eyes. "Suck it," he said.

I had seen cocks before, in pictures, or in real life from a distance. Never one so close, though. I knew what he wanted. I had seen pictures of that too. I had heard my aunt laughing about it. The irony that the Castle might just be a high-class brothel was not lost on me. Had my parents known that I would be earning the money I sent home with my body?

Right then I was so tense with need that I didn't care about the morality of it. Indeed, if he had taken off my belt and fucked me there and then, I would have laughed with joy. My only misgiving was that I had never had a cock in my mouth before, and really wasn't sure how to excite him without hurting him.

I took him tentatively between my lips, exploring the head with my tongue. It thickened swiftly, feeling a lot bigger between my teeth than it looked. Tightening my lips about the shaft, I sucked gently as I bobbed my head, brushing the smooth, sensitive skin, and soon the salty taste of his precum filled my mouth.

It surprised me how much I enjoyed it. The feel of a hard cock twitching in pleasure between my lips. As I gained in confidence, I tried to take him deeper into my mouth, using longer movements, sucking harder, my tongue stroking, but soon I began to tire, my jaw open too wide for too long, and I gagged as Sir Augustus pushed himself suddenly deeper, into my throat.

His cock stiffened, filling my mouth with cum that made me choke. I tried to pull away, but he held my head with his hands as his cock pulsed and spurted in my mouth. Cum spilled from my lips, dribbling down my chin and dripping onto my breasts and corset.