Empress Enslaved Ch. 02

One this was certain -- there was no chance of her getting out of this by herself. She had stopped trying to escape the ropes that secured her ankles and wrists, and had resigned herself to being stuck, bent over this barrel of ale. She had never felt sorrier for herself.

She wondered where Isabella was now. Maybe they had taken her back to the palace? Then she remembered J'akart's face when he had addressed the Empress -- he clearly had some cruel punishment in mind. Would she take her place if she could? The image of Isabella trying to escape and leave her behind came to mind, of refusing to let J'akart give her clothes when they were leaving...

But no. She was the Empress and Belle was the servant. She had a duty to Isabella...

The door was opening. She could hear it, slowly creaking open, and lamplight slowly filled the room. They were going to see her! Every muscle in her body tensed. What was she going to say?

"Are they gone?" asked a woman's voice. It sounded afraid. The door seemed to open further.

"I think so," replied a man's gruff voice. They were Morgavians, definitely. But that did not necessarily mean she was safe. "I don't see- good Lord!"

Footsteps came into the room, and Belle heard the woman shriek.

"Lothar, is that... who is that disgusting girl?"

"I'm sorry!" squeaked Belle, turning bright red. She tried to turn her head to face them. "Please, untie me. I'm not supposed to be here."

"You're damn right young lady, this is private property!" the man shouted. "Have you no shame girl?"

"Oh Lothar, cover her up! She's been... cavorting with this horrible horse riding monsters!"

The man approached her from behind, and Belle tensed. She felt his hands grapple with the ropes on her ankles, and she was acutely aware that his face was inches from her exposed holes. Must everyone see..?

"Is that right? You were shaming yourself in here with them while us decent folk were hiding for our lives? Is that it?" The rope came undone, one leg was free.

"No, it wasn't like that! I..." she paused -- how could she possibly tell them the full story. Her other leg came free, allowing her to finally close them. The man came into view to untie her wrists. He looked old, and tired, and disgusted.

"Lothar don't look at her!" the woman shouted, apparently unable to bear to come any closer.

"I have no wish to," he replied, finally freeing Belle. She scampered to her feet, hunching slightly and covering her body with her arms. She couldn't stand to see her own people looking at her like this.

"Please, I need clothes. They... they burned mine," she pleaded. They did not appear sympathetic.

"That's what you get for giving yourself to animals like them, you silly, wretched little girl," the woman said. She looked to be the same age as what she assumed was her husband, and if anything looked even more furious that he was. "You'll get nothing from us. Nothing!"

"Please! I need to go! I need something to wear!" she said, to the man this time. He would not even look at her.

"You reap what you sow," was all he would say. Belle was running out of time. She was the only one who knew the danger Isabella was in, and she was standing here arguing with a pair of tavern owners over whether or not she was a whore.

"Oh... No!" she cried in frustration, before running for the door. If this was what it took to save Isabella, if there was still more price to pay... well, she had a duty.

She ran past the astonished woman, out the front entrance, and out into the night, stark naked. Her breasts bounced wildly with every bounding step, but she didn't care. She knew what she had to do.

* * *

There was definitely a noise up ahead of them, Isabella was sure of it now. It sounded like voices, but there was something else, some sort of... rushing sound that she couldn't place. With every dark, deserted building they passed, she became more sure of what she was hearing - there were people ahead of them.

She didn't dare ask any further questions of J'akart. He seemed to be in a foul mood since the rider had visited them, and she was still desperately hoping that he would keep his word and, before they got to wherever they were going, give her something to cover her body -- or at least her face.

They turned a corner, and suddenly the voices and rushing sound became much more pronounced, as though they were coming from the end of this road. Suddenly the rushing sound clicked in her head -- it was flowing water. A fountain...

Isabella's heart sank still further -- they were approaching Providence Square. J'akart was taking her to the large, regal square, with the Fengrave fountains in the middle, and houses on all sides. Somehow she didn't need to be able to see where they were going to know what J'akart had in mind.

She opened her mouth to plead one final time with the cruel King, to spare her this humiliation -- but before she could form the words, another horse could be heard riding toward them, this time coming from ahead of them, from the square.

"General Zoaxus, is everything in order?" asked J'akart when the newcomer reached them.

"It is, my King," the bodyguard replied. Isabella could practically hear his grin. She knew that the only reason they would speak in her language was so that she could understand them, and be intimidated. And as much as she was determined to defy this cheap psychological trick, it was working. What was ready?

"Excellent," said J'akart. Isabella felt the ropes around her midriff loosen, and then fall away. Instinctively, her arms moved to her breasts. "Well, Empress Isabella, this is where you get off I'm afraid."

She had no idea what that meant, until a single, powerful shove from behind sent her tumbling forward. She gave a strangled cry as she fell to the ground in an undignified heap, much to the delight of Barrand and Zoaxus.

For a brief second she thought she was being released -- until J'akart's uninterrupted forward movement pulled sharply on the leash around her neck, forcing her to scramble after him.

"Wait - stop!" she cried. J'akart's speed was such that she could only just keep up with his horse by scrabbling after him on her hands and knees -- she had no chance to stop and get to her feet. Barrand followed close behind her, and Zoaxus rode ahead of J'akart. And ahead of him...

Isabella actually gasped. The fountains were visible up ahead in the distance, and now the road leading up to the square was in view too. As it widened, she could see dozens of horsemen lining the sides of the street, standing at attention with spears in hand. She was going to have to crawl past all of them? Wearing nothing but a collar?

But no, it was worse than that. There were people behind the barbarians, people whom the barbarians were presumably there to keep under control. Only as they approached the first cluster of onlookers did Isabella realise -- they were her own people.

"No!" Isabella moaned quietly, lowering her head all the way to the ground so that her hair would fall over her face, hiding it from view. Of course this only made her ass more pronounced, as though she were purposefully sticking it up in the air for everyone to see it. But if the alternative were being recognised...

An unbroken line of people on both sides silently watched and passed judgement on her as she crawled by them. She would try to sneak glances at her people when she thought she could risk it -- they looked afraid, but some of them -- especially then men -- were watching her with considerable interest.

She could forgive that -- they must have been dragged from their beds by the invaders and herded into place in fear and terror, and now they had to watch one of their own people be humiliated. It must be awful, feeling so sorry for someone but being unable to help them...

"Whore!" a voice shouted. It was a woman's voice, a Morgavian.

"Shame!" another cried.

"Horeslord slut!"

Now there were dozens of them, all screaming slurs and crude insults at her as she was dragged along before them. Every one of them was like a punch to the gut. All her life she had been treated with nothing but love and deference by these people, and now -- this. Granted they didn't know who she was, but so what! Was this what her people were really like? They all just assumed she was some willing whore, and so that made her little better than sport for them?

She didn't realise they had reached the square until the throng of people on either side of her fell back, and she was surrounded by open space. J'akart continued his steady forward march, into the middle of the square. She looked up. The entire square -- easily fifty yards on each side, was lined with people -- Morgavians, held in check by a thin line of tanned barbarians. And all of them were staring at her. She lowered her head again. She had to get through this without being recognised -- the alternatives were too terrible to contemplate. And her only chance of doing that, depended entirely on obeying and pleasing J'akart...

* * *

Belle stopped to catch her breath, shivering slightly as she leant against the wall. She didn't think anyone could see her, but all the same she tried to cover up as much as possible.

The journey had been fairly terrifying. She had run pretty much all the way from the tavern, which was not a particularly long distance, but the fact that she had been completely naked had made it seem a thousand times longer. She had also had to weave in and out of alleys to avoid being seen, but nonetheless she had passed at least two stunned onlookers, and she had a feeling that at least three others had seen her as she ran. She did not stop to see if she recognised them, or they her -- she did not want to see the disgust on their faces.

And now, she was all but here. It was only at this moment that she realised that that had been the easy bit. Around this corner was the Imperial Palace -- the seat of Morgavian power and one of oldest, largest and most resplendent buildings in the city, and probably in the known world. And the side door she had left from would be locked and no one would be there to open it. She was going to have to bang on the front door, butt naked -- without the slightest plan of what she was going to do if she managed to get inside again.

She peered around the corner. The large iron gates were sealed shut -- as they had been for most of the occupation. She could see no people, but she was sure there would be people watching. They might even be able to see her now. She shivered.

Could she really do this? The only people who could save Isabella were in there. They had to be told what had happened. But would they listen to her? What if she did all this, humiliated herself before everyone she knew, paraded herself naked -- and it was all for nothing because they threw her in a dungeon?

As she was prevaricating in that dark alley, the doors suddenly started to rumble open. She jumped, hiding herself again -- had they seen her? She peered around the corner again as the doors swung open, torchlight flooding out onto the dark streets.

There were horses -- she could hear men on horses approaching. For a moment she despaired at the prospect of the barbarians riding into the unguarded palace. But even before she saw them, she knew that couldn't be the case. There was only a few of them, and it sounded as though they were moving slowly, and stealthily.

Five riders came into view -- not the animal-skin wearing brutes that were occupying the city, but armoured Morgavians in battle dress. Four of them seemed to be bodyguards, and in the middle was a man with the plumed helmet of a Kommandair. They moved into single file as they approached the entrance to the palace, and rode inside.

Belle hadn't the faintest idea what this meant or what was happening, but she did know one thing -- it was now or never. Those doors were probably not going to be opening again tonight. No sooner had she thought that than they began to close -- ponderously slowly, but unstoppably.

"Oh -- wait!" she cried, throwing herself out onto the street before she could change her mind. No one seemed to hear her. She burst into a full sprint, her breasts bouncing wildly with every step she took towards the closing doors.

She just made it. The doors were open just enough for her to launch herself through when she reached them, catapulting her into the entrance hall...

...which was surprisingly packed for the middle of the night. She came to a stop in the high-ceilinged, well-lit hall, panting and blinking. Dozens of people lined the hallway, and even more people were lining the balconies above them -- the very one that she herself had stood watching J'akart enter only that morning...

Silence fell as people started to notice her. The five riders turned around, as did the captain of the guard who had been greeting them.

"Belle?!" he cried. A few nervous giggles broke out above them, as well as a slight murmur. OK, she thought to herself, what now?

* * *

The slow, undignified crawl into the centre of the square seemed to take an age. What little mental respite she had gained in moving away from the angry onlookers, she had lost in the sheer number of people who could now see her, crawling on all fours like a dog with a leash around her neck and a trio of mounted barbarians to keep her in check.

Her knees were sore, her palms were scuffed and cold, and she could barely see where she was going with her hair covering her face. But that was not enough to block out the reality of what surrounded her.

Finally, they reached the centre. J'akart stopped, dismounted, and his generals did the same. The huge fountains gushed up into the air a few feet away, covering her already cold body in a light spray of water. They were finally here. The wait was over.

"MORGAVIANS!" J'akart roared, his loud, powerful voice easily carrying to all corners of the square. "Thank you for joining us!"

She looked up. The whole square was listening intently -- not just J'akart's own people. She briefly entertained the idea of suddenly revealing herself to her people. There were so many of them -- surely they could overpower the barbarians if they had to, if they knew their Empress was in danger. But could she really do it? Was rescue really worth being exposed like this, having everyone know what a shameless whore she had been?

And what if they didn't want to rescue her? What if they were so disgusted by the way Empress Isabella had whored herself out that they no longer cared what happened to her? Then it would all be for nothing.

With that dispiriting thought, she lowered her head again.

"Get her up," J'akart commanded. Isabella immediately felt Zoaxus's strong hands drag her to her knees.

"No!" she squeaked, throwing her head forward and down to cover her face with her hair. J'akart addressed the crowd again.

"We did not know, before we came here, what sheer depravity your women were capable of! The things they will do to get their hole filled!" he shouted. "If you knew what sordid acts this Morgavian had performed tonight willingly, you would blush, and turn away." He looked down at Isabella. "Show them!"

Zoaxus yanked her head back, and Barrand moved in front of her, blocking her from view. She did not know when he had removed his tunic, but she was now staring at the brute's semi-erect cock, inches from her face.

"Wha-" she spluttered, before Barrand shoved his member into her open mouth. She distinctly heard a ripple of laughter echo around the square. The thing swelled almost immediately, filling her mouth and throat and cheapening her before her subjects.

And the worst thing was that unless she wanted to expose her face, she had to swallow the whole thing so that she could hide her face against Barrand's midriff. She looked to all the world like an eager cock-hungry slut.

"I think she was hungry!" J'akart bellowed. More laughter from the crowd now, who were becoming much less restrained. Isabella could not bring herself to hate them. She hated J'akart, the monster in her mouth, and herself -- but not them.

The dick was fully erect now, utterly filling her and almost making her gag. As humiliating as it was, she could feel herself reacting once again to the feeling of having a man inside her, for the first time since the tavern. There was that broken dam again, her body waiting for the slightest stimulus to start dragging her mind into the gutter. Her tongue seemed eager to explore the phallus without any conscious instruction on her part, much to Barrand's delight.

And then for the third time that night, the sound of a rider approaching came to her attention. Behind J'akart, one of the tanned horsemen burst through the crowd, making for the King with some speed. Isabella briefly thought this was a rescue attempt by some loyal Morgavian eager to help his fellow citizen-- but J'akart turned with so sign of visible alarm.

"Never mind that, whore," Barrand growled. He grabbed her hair, and forced her head along the entire length of his considerable girth and almost choking her. As much as she wanted to listen to what was happening behind him, Barrand was occupying her full attention. He started pumping himself in and out of her face, using her mouth as just another wet hole to be filled. She stared up the length of his chiselled body, wide-eyed and pleading -- but this only spurred him on faster.

She was barely aware of the conversation behind them. The rider looked uncomfortable and afraid, and even J'akart looked grim. Neither of them were paying Isabella the slightest attention.

But it was too difficult to focus on anything other than the furious face fucking she was now taking -- Barrand was pounding her face and pulling her into him by the hair with equal force, making Isabella gag and splutter in a most undignified way. A glob of her saliva hit the cobblestones from her open mouth, hammering home just how debased she must look.

"You think you are so much better than us? Parading around in your fancy city?" a now frenzied Barrand grunted at her. "But we've seen you for what you really are. I watched you crawl in here, parading your whore ass in the air, teasing me, begging to be fucked. Well, have no fear whore -- we're going to make you come in ways you never thought possible."

She could do nothing but stare up at him as he delivered his disgusting, humiliating put-down. Her mind revolted at what he was saying, but she felt a twitching between her legs. What are they doing to me? I'm not like this!

There was no warning -- one second she was sucking on Barrand's cock, the next it was erupting in her mouth, pouring cum down her throat. He grunted loudly and released her hair, and she yanked her head back immediately. But too late to salvage any dignity -- Barrand spurted over her face and breasts as she fell onto her back, panting and gasping for breath.

The world came back to her in a sea of jeers and laughter from the crowd. She bowed her head, feeling utterly disgusted with herself. It wasn't just the disgusting fluids covering her chest and face -- she had felt something start to happen to her toward the end, the same thing that had happened before and ended in such humiliating disgrace. What did that mean?

"She certainly was hungry," Barrand panted, looking very pleased with himself. But J'akart did not smile. He had finished his terse conversation with the rider, and he looked... different now -- not quite angry, just... determined. The rider tried to get his attention, but he held up a hand as if to say not yet and fixed his cold gaze on Isabella.