The Lost Prince Ch. 03

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Valentina arrives at the station, gets closer to Pieter.
2.6k words
4.37
18.3k
4

Part 3 of the 5 part series

Updated 08/27/2023
Created 04/13/2013
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Author's Note: So, let me say that I am sorry that this took so long to get out. One of the problems I had was that I really wanted to get Valentina out of the area where she was. You'll notice that this is a shorter section than I normally post. My Beta Reader suggested that I break it up because it was just too big. The other part will be up shortly after I make the final edits and read it some more. Where we last left off, our "lost prince" was taken from the prison camp where he became "Valentina". In the second part she did some traveling and was violated by some of the angry youths with nothing else to do. Now we begin the last stretch of the journey towards the west of the former empire where the big cities are.

Everyone is over eighteen of course, and if you've already read the earlier parts and are in this section of the site then you can pretty much guess what you're going to get in this story. Once again, I know this is shorter, and much of it is about the traveling and the character. I really need to see the character's journey to get the story in my head. Don't worry. More goodies await.

*****

We avoided the worst of the storms with some luck, and thanks to Yuri, who knew the land well. The burly man leered at me with lustful intent whenever he got the chance, but I was never alone with him. Pieter bundled me in a wool blanket, and gave me sips of brandy from a small flask he kept in his coat. He hadn't kissed me since we'd left the village. That made it less awkward, I supposed, but the prospect of tenderness was something that I desperately looked forward to. That was at least a small comfort as we trudged down the road in a small convoy of wagon and motor car. Great stretches of land were before us, and near barren tundra gave way to copses of trees that marked the edges of forests that were nearly buried by snow. The people in the wilderness lived between the forest and the everlasting flat. Our "road" had been made by untold wagons and horses coming down it. Eventually we noticed the train tracks, and then followed them.

It took us over a week to reach the small train station and the cluster of buildings that some of the soldiers jokingly referred to as "the town". There wasn't much there besides the ticket station and a fuel depot. The others buildings were mostly ramshackle and operated only to support those. We were still in the far reaches of what had once been part of a great empire. Now people like Pieter called it the "Great Bastian of Social Justice": a paradise for the worker. Judging by what I'd seen in the village the definition of "paradise" seemed to have changed while I had been at the camp for all those years. I remembered it being something that the priests talked about: something that would never actually be in the normal world. My father used to say as much. He had lost most of his faith during the last war—the one that the revolutionaries negotiated our country out of.

I cared nothing for that. I was grateful to be inside and out of the cold. Not all of our party was to go on the train. Some of the soldiers would remain in the area as part of the local garrison. The royalist "Army of White" had been defeated, but there was still concern about pockets of resistance. Somewhere, deep inside of me was withered seed that held out hope that they might find me, but what would they make of me now? They would expect the son of my father, not some "girl" being called Valentina.

I sat on a large wooden bench while Pieter spoke to the station manager. He had some documents in a leather pouch, and impressed upon the man the importance of our journey. The man behind the counter seemed to be a tired and lonely sort, hidden behind several layers of clothing too big for him. He wasn't one to argue, and so our arrangements were made. I was hoping that Yuri would be staying behind, but that was too much to hope for. We had time until the next train was due, and so we began to wait.

Thankfully, Pieter's connections managed to get us some time at the facilities provided to the local garrison. We had not been able to bathe at all during our journey. The last time I could actually recall doing so was at the camp the day before Pieter and his men seized me from Doctor Gorski. The chill of the cold had prevented a great deal of sweat, but needless to say our general odor was rank by the time we got to that station. I had never had that sour "human smell" on myself before. I was so grateful when Pieter told me that I would be allowed to bathe and wash my clothes. My nurse's uniform was all I had of my own. I considered the coat and blanket to be conditional "gifts" from Pieter.

The tub was essentially a large tin container with a wooden frame built around it. This was not the refined indulgence of a true banya, but rather the creation of pragmatic workers who wanted to keep clean and warm. A wood-fired furnace heated water that was kept in another tin container, and then pumped into one of four tubs. Pieter said there were places like this built at many of the railway stops, so that the soldiers, who were usually transported by train, could bathe and avoid disease.

"I've used many," he said. "Of course we had very little time to enjoy ourselves. Our commanders understood that the good men of our country bathe to distinguish themselves from the savages, but with train cars full of men, what can you do? Anyway, there is soap and towels. See to yourself. I must go tend to the other men. I'm keeping them from you for your benefit."

He touched my face gently with his gloved hand.

"Boris and his friends got to enjoy you, but from now on I intend to keep you in reserve. There is a destiny awaiting you."

In those confusing days of transition I probably believed him. Like Gorski, he had become the compass of my world. How was I to know or even understand anything different?

Pieter left me there, and I stood alone before the tub. I carefully removed my nurse's uniform. It desperately needed to be washed. I didn't want to think about the wreck of my hair. I had kept it covered over most of our journey, but I knew that it desperately needed to be cleaned.

When I removed my bra, my breasts felt so cold in the air despite the warmth of the tub before me. Even after a few years of having them fully developed they felt awkward and so heavy. There were no older sisters or mother to educate me about such things. These billowy "glands" were a strange thing. In my time at the camp I'd tried to pry a little information from the other nurses, but I was always so worried that they would discover what I was. Of course, at that point I was beginning to wonder if they always knew, and simply played a role for my benefit.

When I first dipped my foot into the tub I thought that the water would scald me. Gradually, the burning gave way to a deep penetrating feeling of shear warmth that was soothing. I eased my whole body into the hot water. I felt the heat warm up my male parts first, and then my breasts as they sunk into the water. After spending so much time on the cold road it was like being born again. I dipped my head beneath the water, and began to wash away the grime of days. It was still wild with growth, but I had no way to cut it. After washing it as well as I could with the soap, I pulled my long mess of brown hair behind my head, and relaxed in the warmth of the tub.

Maybe things were not so bad, I thought. I was alone and not being exploited at the moment. Every breath of hot, moist air that I took felt reinvigorating and "free". I could have stayed there like that forever. That would have been my heaven on earth.

"You seem different already," said Pieter appearing from nowhere.

I covered myself instinctively, despite the fact that he'd already seen all there was to me.

"I thought you had things to do," I stammered.

"Done already, I am a very efficient worker at my tasks." He pulled off his leather gloves and put them in his back pocket. "That is why I am trusted to care for you."

I began to wonder who had been deciding these things for my life. Why hadn't I been killed in the basement? Why would they do this to me? Wouldn't it have been easier to take and exploit one of my sisters? And then after leaving me with Gorski for years, why would they suddenly want me? All of these years and all of these changes, what had they really meant?

"How are you getting along in your washing?"

"Well...I..."

Pieter unbuttoned his sleeves, and rolled them up. I noticed the unusual swirl-patterned and shiny scars along his right forearm. My time working as a nurse told me that these scars were from burns that he'd suffered long ago. What faint arm hair he had only grew around the burns. Pieter scooped up some of the water and splashed it on me.

"The water feels very good," I admitted. "The road was cold and hard." And hardly a "road" I didn't add.

He nodded. "Gorski's camp is far out there. The People's Party would rather it be a kept a secret."

"There are others like me." It was more of a statement than a question. Pieter accepted it though.

"Yes. Gorski's work had been around since your father was in power. In the last several years though, he's made great strides. The Party concluded that his treatments could be useful in the reeducation of those believed to be corrupted. I took you to him for that reason. It was a new chance at life for you. Ultimately it was you and the doctor who made it happen, but I had to get you to that point."

What should I have said? That I would have preferred the bullets and the pits?

"You must be clean for your journey," said Pieter.

He took up a cake of soap in his hand and began to wash my sides and stomach. I tried to keep my breasts covered, but his gaze penetrated me enough that I relented, and moved my hands away.

Pieter smiled at the sight of them. "Beautiful: a true lady."

He then began applying the soap to my breasts, and worked up a thick lather. Eventually both of his hands were feeling at them. My breath caught in my throat at the attention. I should have hated him, but the massage he was giving me felt so good. He worked at them deeply, and I shuddered at every moment.

"Valentina," he said to me. "Do not think of yourself as anything but a servant and a girl. The past is gone. This new body and this new life is the way you are meant to be."

It felt so good that there was little hope to argue. This body that Gorski had given me was mine. It was "Valentina", and as much as I might resist it she was me.

Pieter couldn't see it, but under the soapy, murky water my dainty boy parts had grown hard. My body loved all of the attention—no matter how conflicted my mind was. Somehow, he seemed to know this about me.

"The heat," he offered. "It can bring us back to where we want to be. Your body is still young, so any attention can bring you there, yes?"

My breathing increased. I couldn't help it. Had Doctor Gorski's treatments altered my body in such a way that I was made so desperate with sexual need? Pieter knew that my body was at his mercy then. We were alone in the tub room. He stared at me with those bright blue eyes of his. I was still so much a child compared to him despite the passage of years.

He slid his uncovered arm down into the hot water. His fingers trailed my stomach and then slid down between my legs. I tried crossing them closed, but there was little resisting his advances. He found my hard cock with his hand, and gripped me firmly.

"There you are," he said. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

I nodded, unable to lie.

He began stroking me slowly in the water. I gripped the sides of the tub.

"Men have taken from you," he said. "But how many have given? I know what you truly are, Valentina. A 'new girl' for sure, but deep inside you is a drive that most natural women will never know. I told you that if you obeyed, then I would be good to you. So it is now."

He kept at me. I was a toy in his hand, and he knew exactly how to handle me. I reached the brink quickly.

"Pieter..."

"Ask my permission."

"May I...May I...?"

"You may," he said, and finished me off. I released soon after. The orgasm shook my body. Little globules of my seed floated up the surface of the graying water.

He held onto me. The tip of my small cock was burning in the water. I was small and fragile in his hand—a doll for him to manipulate.

"This was good?"

"Yes...Oh yes."

"Good. Be a good girl for me, and I will take care of you. Can you do that, Valentina?"

I nodded enthusiastically. It was a simple transition I decided. I would be Pieter's woman from now on.

"Finish your bathing," he said. "Wash your clothing too."

He left me again in the tub. After I caught my breath, I grabbed for my clothes and began washing them in my bath water. The remnants of my seed didn't bother me. Not much was bothering me at that point.

*****

Post Script: Thank you so much for your continued interest. I know it must be hard considering the last time this was updated. I find it to be a pain when there is a story I want to see more of and the author has disappeared. As to the next update: it is coming soon. I've actually been getting around to editing a slew of things that have been sitting on the flash drive for a while now. Valentina may still be on the road, but remember that she was in a very remote place. Now at least they have a train, and the good thing about a train is that there is much more room to do things on it.

I did consider an actual "banya" scene, but didn't think such a luxury would be at a train depot for soldiers. The idea of the banya has often been used for comedic effect in western stories, and I want to do a little more research because I'm not writing a slapstick comedy here.

Thanks again. Please know that I greatly appreciate your comments and your votes. I'm always thrilled when I see that someone enjoyed something that I wrote. When you're a writer this is really the reward for all the effort.

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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 10 years ago
A good read

I have truly enjoyed your story so far, and I look forward to reading the next (and, currently the only other) chapter.

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