Empress Enslaved Ch. 02

"Get her up."

Zoaxus dragged her onto her hands and knees, and silence fell once again. Everyone in the crowd knew what was about to happen. Isabella bowed her head in silent resignation, trying not to think about it. She felt another twitching between her legs.

J'akart approached, stony faced and absolutely mirthless. She wondered what news he could have just received that would disturb him so much...

* * *

Belle had scarcely ever felt more out of place. The Royal Antechamber was nearly full now, and while nobody was speaking a word to her, she was acutely aware of the looks these various Lords and Generals were giving her -- mostly of the 'why is this serving girl attending a military council' variety.

Of course it didn't help that most of the men here had very recently seen her storm into the entrance hall, red faced and panting, and as naked as the day she was born. She was wearing robes now, but she still felt completely naked every time someone cast an unfriendly glance in her direction.

There was a brief hush as Kommandair Henning entered the room, followed by various loud greetings. This was who they had been waiting for. Only the Warden of the Palace Dardaniel, sat to her right, remained silent. It had been he who had ushered Belle out of sight when she had arrived, and so far only he had heard Belle's story. It was at his insistence that she attend this middle-of-the-night meeting, so that when the time came she could tell them all. The thought absolutely terrified her. He was drumming his fingers impatiently -- only the two of them knew how much every wasted second might matter, but they could do nothing until the generals were informed.

"Well as you know gentlemen time is of the absolute essence -- I propose we begin at once," said the Kommandair, still in his ceremonial armour, once had taken his seat at the head of the table. You have no idea, Belle thought dejectedly.

"Ought we not wait for the Empress? I had hoped her Excellency might have greeted us by now," said one of the other Lords, whose name Belle could never remember. Beside her, Dardaniel gave an involuntary jerk of his hand.

"Empress Isabella is no doubt sleeping," said the Master-at-Arms. "We need not disturb her with military matters. Let her rest." There was a murmur of assent.

Belle felt physically sick. On the one hand she wanted to blurt out the truth -- she knew that every second that passed was time wasted and that anything could be happening to Isabella right now. On the other hand, she truly did not know if she had the courage to address all these important people about anything, let along the horrible story she would have to tell.

Kommandair Henning waited for silence to fall, before beginning. "Well gentlemen, as I think most of you know by now, three hours ago my cavalry division reached the Western periphery of Morgavia-"

"How is this possible?" the Master-at-Arms interjected, as jubilant cries rang out through the room. "We thought you were at least a day away!"

"I was able to initiate a forced-march -- day and night. I can assure you, my troops are of the highest quality. Such a task is well within their capability when Empress and City are at risk from beasts such as those currently infesting it."

"And speaking of which," said the Lord who had interrupted The Kommandair earlier, "are we to understand that these horse riding barbarians are currently unaware of your presence? They certainly seem to be in no hurry to leave -- they are still pillaging the keeps in the heart of the city, and there seems to be some sort of disturbance in Providence Square of a most indecent kind."

If he was annoyed at being interrupted again, Henning showed no sign of it.

"We believe this is the case yes. We were able to capture or kill most of the scouts that this would-be King 'J'akart Jho' had stationed in the West. Certainly if word has reached them, they will have no idea of the scale of the danger they are currently facing."

Cheers went up at this again. Even Belle felt her heart racing. Was she hearing this right? The army was here already? Just outside the city!

"This is incredible news Kommandair! Why aren't their monstrous heads rotting on pikes as we speak?" cried another of the interchangeable Lords jubilantly. Henning smiled at the jingoistic cheers that once again broke out, but calmed them with a hand.

"Gentlemen, it is my intent to carry out a frontal assault on the city at dawn. By then we can have the city surrounded-"

"Dawn? But that's four hours from now! Surely they will realise what is happening by then!"

This time a flicker of irritation did briefly pass over Henning's face. "That is unavoidable. Yes we may lose the element of surprise, and yes a handful of them may escape by then, but the vast majority will have no time to organise themselves. These barbarians have no effective chain of command. But an attack now before we can cover the exits from the city, even a surprise attack, would simply drive them out onto the plains where they will be far more dangerous. They have no experience of fighting in the streets. We attack at dawn."

"No, you mustn't wait!" Belle squeaked, unable to quite believe her own presumptuousness herself. The room's attention turned to her, and once again Belle felt as though she wearing absolutely nothing. For the briefest of moments, the expression Barrand and Zoaxus had worn as they scrutinised her naked body and teased her seemed to flicker across all their faces.

"How dare you speak to the Kommandair like that!" replied a very outraged Lord. "From a mere serving girl!"

"Yes, Dardaniel might it be time for you to finally explain why you have invited this... girl to our council," the Master-at-Arms said lazily to Dardaniel. "Especially one who was behaving so shamefully not half an hour ago." Belle deflated rapidly beneath his stare. Fortunately, Dardaniel spoke for her.

"My Lords," he began, his deep, ponderous tone commanding a respect that his position didn't strictly require. "Annabelle is here with grave news, that may be of utmost importance to your military council," he said. They did not bother to hide their looks of derision. "What she has to say I could scarcely believe myself, so I present her here so that you may make up your own minds. The situation may be far, far graver than we had believed."

She felt herself calming slightly -- Dardaniel always had that effect. She also could distinctly see the Lords' expressions changing from anger to curiosity.

"Belle, tell them what you told me. Tell them what has happened tonight."

Belle took a deep breath, tried to steady her shaking hand, and began to speak.

* * *

It had never been more important for Isabella to keep her head bowed. She could feel J'akart's presence behind her as she waited on her hands and knees, and when she looked between her legs she could see him standing there, savouring the moment. No doubt enjoying the sight of her legs splayed open before him, her sex waiting to be filled. She was intensely aware of the view she was giving him -- every slight breeze was a rush of cool air over her gaping pussy. Her long hair blew in the breeze, threatening to reveal her face at any moment.

The collar was torn from her neck, almost choking her, and cast aside. Isabella said nothing. It was stupid, she knew, but she felt even more naked now -- not that it had been covering anything worth covering.

There was no escaping this, and just waiting there in anticipation was doing strange things to her. She kept imagining the moment when J'akart would enter her in front of all these people -- when she pictured how she would look she was mortified, filled with humiliation. But when she imagined what it would feel like -- all she could think of was the agonising ecstasy her body had experienced back in the tavern, when she had behaved so shamelessly. Whatever happened, she was determined not to repeat that.

His hand gripped her waist, and a hush fell on the crowd. Her whole body tingled at his touch. She told herself to close her legs, to at least give the impression of defiance, but she did not. Already she was breathing heavily.

"You could have been spared this," he said. And slid his penis inside her.

Her "ungh!" as he entered her was heard all around the silent square, which was taken as the cue for everyone to start talking again. Not that Isabella was cognisant of any of that. All she could think about was the enormous dick spearing her, filling her completely and driving every other thought away. How had he slid in so smoothly? Was she really that wet?

Apparently so. J'akart entered her all the way without any resistance from Isabella's treacherous cunt, which greedily welcomed the invader.

And then it started, without any build up or warning or easing in -- an intense, powerful pounding that rocked her to her core and immediately filled the square with the wet, obvious sounds of J'akart's powerful frame smashing into her defenceless cunt. She gasped and moaned without thinking as both literal and mental shockwaves pulsed through her, making her breasts bounce wildly and her mind emptied of all but a burning, longing desire to be filled, to be pounded and fucked and made to squirm like this forever.

It was like the last hour hadn't happened -- she was back in that tavern, being given the fucking of her life and craving every stroke. Now the whole city could see what a whore she was, and with every wet thrust into her, she found herself caring less and less already. With her head bowed, she could almost forget that everyone could see her naked body being taken from behind like a dog in heat, that everyone could hear her delirious, half-masked moans of pleasure, that everyone thought she was there willingly -- some whore so cock hungry that she whored herself out to the barbarians as soon as the opportunity came. She didn't even care that her people -- her own people -- were calling her a whore and a horse fucker and even more obscene things that she hadn't even heard before, simultaneously cheering on her obscene display and shaming her for doing it.

She could feel both of J'akart's hands on the bare flesh of her waist now, claiming her, making her his. No sooner had she realised that the feel of his hands on her bare skin was actually adding to this shameful thrill she was feeling, then they began to rove over her, exploring every part of her, leaving her with nothing that wasn't his. He leaned over her, grabbing her breasts and squeezed at her already rock hard nipples, making her squeal with pleasure and pain. He ran his hands over her back and along her thighs. He even grabbed her buttocks and spread them open, exposing her asshole to his view. Somehow the knowledge that he could see both of her holes just drove her further into this dark, obscene pit of carnal lust that had opened up in her mind.

It was when she realised that -- that she was getting off on showing J'akart her anus -- that she understood two things. One -- she was just as dirty a whore as they had been calling her all night. And two -- regardless of what she had determined to do ten minutes ago, she was going to come here in front of all these people and there was nothing she could do to stop herself. As soon as that thought floated through her lust soaked mind, she felt her body start to tense, as though recognition was the signal it had been waiting for. No, hold on, don't give in, don't give them this final humiliation... Her moans were becoming louder and faster, she could feel herself slipping.

And then, just as she had resigned herself to the inevitable, J'akart's wandering hands found her hair, grasped it, and yanked it backward. Isabella gave a strangled cry as her head was pulled upward and backwards, exposing her cum-drenched face to everyone.

So many people. There were so many people watching her get fucked senseless -- she had almost blocked them out, staring at the ground. But now she could see them, and they could see her, in all her red-faced, lust-filled, naked indignity. J'akart seemed to delight in this humiliating exposure, increasing the force of his thrusts to almost unbearable levels and forcing an animal, guttural moan from her that carried throughout the square and seemed to go on and on.

She could feel their judgement, like a physical wave. She knew they probably couldn't recognise her from this distance, but in her imagination they all knew who she was, and what a complete whore she must be. She could feel that version of herself, the dick-hungry whore that they all thought her to be, possessing her almost, as though her people were turning her into this person by sheer force of imagination. She braced herself for the inevitable.

"This is your last chance," J'akart grunted in her ear. Isabella replied with a delirious half-moan, half speech noise. "This is your last chance to accord me the respect I deserve. Do you recognise me as rightful King of the plains?"

Isabella could hardly process the question. All she cared about now was being filled, having her hole stretched in the way that only J'akart could. She would have done anything to please him right then, anything he asked.

"Do you?!"

"Yeeessssss!" she squealed, much louder than J'akart had asked the question and with barely a comprehension of what she was saying. The King gripped her waist and grunted deeply.

She didn't know whether it was the humiliation at giving in to his demands, the feel of J'akart's seed spurting into her cunt, or just the culmination of being fucked so hard for so long, but she finally burst. With a piercing screech of words she didn't even know she knew, she finally exploded and allowed the long pent up climax to wash her away. All of the shame and humiliation and feelings of disgrace were swept away by a tide of ecstasy that she could no longer pretend she wasn't feeling. It didn't really feel like it was even her -- she might have been watching some other woman hump J'akart's crotch furiously with their hips, might have been listening to some other woman cry out with passion and pleasure and complete satisfaction.

She knew the comedown would be terrible, but as her head sank down to the cold, wet cobbles, she wanted to savour this moment of utter satisfaction while she could, before she remembered where and who she was. Only when J'akart finally pulled himself from her, leaving her with a terrible sense of emptiness, did she begin to feel exactly what she was -- a naked, humiliated Empress, whose subjects had just seen her fucked to orgasm, and whose slit was currently dripping with J'akart's cum.

She would not look up. She was not ready. She slowly lowered her ass, so that she was just lying on the cobbles, panting and gasping for breath. Nobody seemed to be saying anything.

As she expected, the waves of shame and humiliation were crashing over, but it was different this time. Even now, all she could think about was how she had been made to feel, how empty she now felt... If she looked up, she could no longer bask in that utterly confusing feeling.

Someone was getting on a horse. She knew she could put this off no longer. She raised her head and looked behind her, doing her best to ignore the crowd that was slowly finding its voice again.

J'akart was mounted. The rider who had interrupted them earlier was beside him, looking more anxious than ever, as though every second they waited was a precious second wasted. He was leaving?

"Where..." Isabella moaned nonsensically. She lacked the words to even begin to describe how she was feeling.

"I have to go," J'akart said curtly. He did not even look at her. He was dressed once more, and seemed much more interested in the leather strap he was putting on his horse than in the naked woman beneath him whom he had so recently fucked into oblivion. Armed horsemen approached them from the crowd, surrounding their King. He acknowledged them each in turn and, only then, did he look down at her.

His expression lacked the mischievous lust they had had before. He now seemed to see only a defeated enemy, who had ceased to be a prize of interest the moment she had surrendered herself. "My men will take care of you," was all he said. And, without so much as a goodbye, rode off to the East, through the parting crowd and flanked by his entourage, and out of sight. Isabella's head sank back to the cobbles. It was over...

Except Barrand and Zoaxus were still there, now standing on either side of her. She rolled over to see what they were doing, and found that she no longer cared that her heaving breasts were exposed to them. She had fallen as low as it was possible to fall, and such minor catastrophes as showing her breasts in public had ceased to have any real meaning. She no longer even cared very much that the two bodyguards were staring at her with undisguised lust, or that they had both removed their tunics. Indeed her gaze seemed to fall to their exposed, semi-erect penises of its own accord, her hateful, treacherous imagination already imagining what they could do to her in extraordinarily vivid detail.

Behind them, more barbarians were leaving the perimeter of the square, and walking towards them.

* * *

The silence in the Royal Antechamber was complete. Belle had spoken for what felt like an hour, but which in reality could not have been more than ten minutes. She had spoken without interruption, and had told them the entire story, from when she had first seen Isabella leave the palace that evening -- leaving out some of the humiliating, graphic details.

She told them what she had seen when she reached the tavern, about the deal it transpired Isabella had made, about how they had both been stripped naked. She described, with a crimson face and in very scant detail, the awful things they had been made to do. She did not tell them how Isabella had briefly surrendered herself to them in that tavern, but she did go to great lengths to describe her dangerous, bold defiance, and the fact that J'akart had taken her to continue her humiliation and exact revenge for it. Finally, she told them what they had done to her before they left, and what she had had to do to bring this news to the palace.

Now there was just the silence. She had not looked at any one for the whole time she had spoken, and she did not dare do so now either. Finally, the silence broke.

"This is a disgrace!" roared one of the Lords. "This shameless whore has invented this... this treasonous story about Her Grace Isabella the First, and we are expected to sit here and allow this filth to be heard in a military council?"

Belle looked up, horrified. The man looked genuinely furious, though the others were keeping their expressions closely guarded.

"Lord Tisk, you forget yourself," Dardaniel rebuked. "This girl is here at my invitation, and I would not have done so had I not been satisfied that she was telling the truth."

"Girl," began the Lord beside him, with slightly more caution. "Are you quite sure you are not simply mistaken? No doubt the woman you were with looked like the Empress, and I'm sure they were very cruel to her-"

"No, I know what the Empress look like!" she squealed, forgetting her manners. Didn't they know they were wasting time? She also noted that they were all perfectly willing to believe that she had been with the barbarians all night, and none of them seemed overly concerned about her ordeal.

"I am afraid that Annabelle is one of the Empress's personal handmaidens. If she says it was Her Majesty, then I see no reasonable doubt about that fact," Dardaniel said, his voice grave.