Priscilla's Palace of Pain

Priscilla was now delirious, she had failed in her mission, she had now brought shame to herself and her family. Priscilla searched her mind for someone to blame, anyone, anything. Priscilla screamed and cursed at the High Prince, but as she searched her mind the only person she could truly blame was herself. The High Prince's sisters would disparage her name as a liar and a fornicator, the incident of her punishment would be known kingdom wide. Priscilla was crying like a baby, pleading nonsense that fell on deaf ears.

Eventually, Blaine looking disgusted turned his back to Priscilla and walked away. The Queen again motioned for silence.

"Prepare her carriage, and release this wench."

Hamilton let go of Priscilla's hair and almost immediately Priscilla began to struggle against her bondage, Priscilla felt one ankle be untied and immediately kicked her bare leg wildly at the guards who were doing the untying. Then, when her other leg was untied, she kicked wildly with both feet, she cursed, spat and wailed, her bare feet kicking wildly, her legs opening to shamelessly expose all of herself to the highly entertained crowd. Finally, Priscilla's wrist bondage was loosened and Priscilla immediately stood up, she let out a blood-curdling scream gripping her long blond hair that was impossibly tangled and messed up and ripped out two large clumps of it pulling it out from the roots. At this point, a notable amount of Priscilla's hair was missing and her head throbbed nearly as much as her buttocks.

Rosemary and Violet were buckled over laughing at the naked and humiliated courtesan, the Queen for the first time in the night cracked a wicked smile.

Priscilla's nostrils flared and she looked at the three royal women and gave them all a rude gesture. Just as Priscilla did this she felt a tomato strike her on her back, whipping around Priscilla made the same rude gesture to the servants and the lower nobility behind her, only to be struck in the face by another tomato. Priscilla continued to get pelted, the juices of apple cores, tomato, and chicken skin stuck to her naked flesh.

Priscilla had no choice but to run, run back towards her carriage. Her bare feet felt cold on the marble floor as her starkly naked body sprinted through the throne room and out into the front courtyard. Rosemary and Violet fell to the floor laughing at the sight of the formerly haughty young courtesan running naked, her tomato juice stained, switch struck ass jiggling as she ran.

Priscilla's feet hurt she exited the throne room, They pattered along the wet cobblestone path, guards looked on as the naked woman sprinted past them. Priscilla managed to stumble and fall directly into a small puddle. Dirty rainwater flung itself onto Priscilla's tear stained face. From her knees, Priscilla could see the ornate carriage that she had come to the palace in. Priscilla got up and continued to sprint, her soft bare feet kicked up pebbles as she ran. Priscilla couldn't get into the carriage fast enough and when she did she wailed and wailed, she punched and kicked, she pulled at her hair, again and again, pulling out more and more clumps. Priscilla was a crying, dirty mess, her hair ruined almost as much as her reputation and pride.

Eventually, Hamilton came to the carriage with a handful of pillows. Hamilton thought ahead. Priscilla would need them on the way back to her manner as her ass would be sore from her switching and much of the road was impossibly bumpy.

As Priscilla sat on a layer of five pillows, she was nearly catatonic. Priscilla crossed her legs and covered her breasts with her arms. She stood above Hamilton because the pillows lifted her up. Hamilton put his hand on her knee and said, "Don't worry m'lady there are plenty of suitors that would love to have you."

Priscilla broke down as the carriage bumped along on a bumpy path, "NO, NO, NO! Only The High Prince, I want to be Queen!" Priscilla sat high on her pillows flailing her limbs, having a pure temper tantrum. It would be like this for the entire trip back.

***

Prelude

After many weeks of isolation and perpetual temper tantrums, Priscilla came out of her quarters and resumed her life. Her reputation was ruined, but she was still a very rich and powerful woman. Eventually, she would indeed marry, but not to the High Prince, instead she would marry a distinguished Admiral, whose cunning won the Kingdom numerous decisive battles, the man was Hamilton's son Dane Lockridge.

In the newly christened Lockridge manner, a room of mirrors was installed at Priscilla's request. Dane Lockridge was surprised to find Priscilla's sexual tendencies were very giving, which was in juxtaposition to Priscilla's outward personality. Dane could not stand Priscilla's entitled and sadism towards her servant, so Dane made sure to take Priscilla over his knee and spank her whenever she committed these unbecoming acts.

Dane and Priscilla's relationship was a curiosity to the rest of the nobility and royalty. It was openly wondered why such a strong and dignified Admiral would lower himself to marry a woman with such a sullied reputation. Priscilla loved that her husband would always defend her.

Priscilla eventually would learn of a political movement to weaken the royal family and install a parliament with a Prime Minister, who would hold more power than a King. Priscilla took it upon herself to push for her husband Dane to push for this type of system.

During an economic depression, this system was established in a bloodless coup and the very first Prime Minister of the Kingdom was none other than Dane Lockridge. Priscilla had finally achieved her wish of being the wife of the most powerful man in the country. Yet even then, her history followed her, the presses would bring up the "Switching Scandal" as Priscilla's humiliation was referred to many times. Priscilla was considered a "political liability" for her Husband, yet he stuck with her, even when the papers published a detailed illustrated comic of Priscilla's public humiliation. He stuck with her even after Rosemary and Violet spent a great deal of money erecting a statue of Priscilla to the royal rack and transported it across the world's museums passing it off as high art.

So, Priscilla was never fully able to distance herself from her short stay at the royal palace, yet she endured, never completely losing her haughty mock-royalty personality, never fully giving up her tendencies to get sadistic joy out of suffering. Yet she herself would recreate her faithful night at the Royal Palace in private with her Husband, for Priscilla not only liked to revel in her own sadism, but also in her own masochism. In the end, nothing made her more lustful and wet than lowering herself to perceived disgusting taboo depths. She could never reconcile her shame with her desires.