A Late Night Abduction

You awaken to the sound of people arguing.

"Your Majesty, this is most irregular," you hear a man say.

"Calm yourself, Reginald," a woman replies. "Remember who it is that allows this sanctuary of yours to continue operating."

The man sputters incoherently for a few moments before going silent.

You pretend to be asleep as the door to your chamber opens.

There is silence for a moment, and then the woman speaks, "I know that you're awake. Why don’t you get up so I can get a good look at you?"

Her tone brooks no argument, and you hastily climb out of bed to find yourself standing face-to-face with a woman in her early forties. She is pretty, with just the slightest hint of gray in her long auburn hair.

She’s wearing a blue riding dress cinched about the waist with a fine-spun gold cord. Her only adornment is a simple gold tiara with a large green emerald that sits regally on her brow.

The man, still dressed in white, stands beside her, nervously blotting at his sweaty face with a small silk handkerchief.

"You're a big one," she says under her breath, looking you up and down.

Without warning, she grabs at your crotch and takes hold of your cock. For the briefest of seconds, her eyes widen in shock, but the mask of indifference snaps back almost instantly.

"I’ll take this one."

The man looks at you apologetically as two green-cloaked soldiers take you by the arms and haul you unceremoniously from the chamber.

Minutes later, you find yourself slung across the back of a soldier's horse like a sack of grain, making your way through the dark city streets.

The ride up to the palace is bumpy but blessedly short. Before long, you find yourself being propelled through neatly manicured gardens and into a large, cathedral-like room with a massive gold throne sitting on a dais at one end. Without a word, the guards dump you on the hard marble floor at the foot of the dais.

The cloaked woman takes her seat on the throne, her face contorting into a scowl. "One way or another, she will learn," she mutters.

Within minutes, the doors to the room fly open, and a tall blond woman in a sheer white nightgown practically flies into the room, her face crimson with barely contained rage. The Queen tenses but gives no other outward sign that she is anything but in full control of the situation.

"It's four in the morning, Mother," the gorgeous blond woman growls through gritted teeth as she makes her way to the Queen's throne. Despite her obvious anger, she courteously curtseys in front of the Queen, mere steps away from where you're sitting.

Despite the precariousness of your situation, you can't help but stare at the blond woman’s large breasts, her nipples straining against the thin fabric in the cold evening air.

"You will address me as Her Majesty when we are in this room," the Queen says in a tired voice.

The girl sniffs and continues, "Does it by chance have something to do with this overly large man you have sitting on the floor of your throne room? Am I being accused of harming him in some way? Because I assure you that I have never seen this man in my life."

"For once in your life, shut up," the Queen orders. The Princess shoots daggers at her mother but holds her tongue.

"Cassandra tells me that you killed a man today. A scullion boy from the palace kitchens, if I’m not misinformed."

"Mother, I can explain..."

"I don’t want to hear it, Viola," the Queen cuts her off. "If you hope to become Queen one day, you will need to learn how to treat men with compassion and respect."

"If you were anyone else, I’d have you flogged and locked in the dungeon. But you are not just anyone, are you? And so I must come up with a more... suitable punishment."

The Princess pales. "What is my punishment to be?"

"You are to take this man, and you are to care for him until such time as I feel you have learned your lesson."

"There are rules, though," she continues. "For as long as this trial continues, you may sleep with no other man. Furthermore, you may not harm this man in any way. If you fail at this, or if he is maimed, dies, or disappears under mysterious circumstances, I will strip you of your birthright and make your sister Anora heir to the throne."

"You cannot!"

The Queen bounds to her feet and grabs her daughter by the hair, wrenching her head back and staring down at her with fury in her eyes. "I. Am. Your. Queen. As long as I live, you will obey me."

Gulping and nodding as best she can, the Princess glares at you. "Come," she says in a strangled voice. "Follow me."

Following her out of the throne room, she leads you through the palace, her guards in tow.