Fantasies of Submission

Three years ago, there had been a war. The king and prince of Khol-Hon, taken in by the allure of slavery, had waged a costly war on the surrounding kingdoms. Their goal had been to acquire money, slaves and power. What they had actually done was to bring their kingdom crashing down. The wars had been stopped only when the princess, Vrasha aided by an army of rebels as well as a particualrly powerful sorcerress had risen against them. One by one, she'd cast them both down, taken the crown and become queen. She'd ended the war and brought peace back to lands.

And there it would have ended if it were a storybook, but alas, this was not. The kingdoms around Khol-Hon were angry and betrayed, many wished to continue the war. Others sought to invade and conquer for its own sake. Only the reputation of Vrasha, the princess turned queen, as well as the aid of her friend the sorcereess had spared the kingdom. But they needed things. Money, trade, funds for rebuilding, trust. They were short on all of them.

His role as a duke was to try and make the best of the situation. He was called Prestor, and had held this position for only a year. Previously he'd been a guard captain and about as un-noble as you could possibly get. But he'd been loyal, and Vrasha had noticed his efforts.

If he had known what he was getting into, Prestor probably would have thought twice about accepting the promotion. Being captain of the guard was easy enough. You kept tabs on your men, you set out patrol schedules. You made sure everyone obeyed orders, did their training and knew their duty. Sometimes you marched in parades wearing damn silly armour.

Compared to being a duke, it was easy. When you were a duke, your words had more power. You didn't just speak for yourself, but for Khol-Hon as a whole. Prestor wasn't responsible just for his men now. He had a whole duchy! A duchy! Mind you, he'd never seen it. Presumably it was being run by sober-minded people who knew what they were doing.

Hopefully.

...he would probably have to look into that at some point...

But for now, his role mostly was to remain in the capital, to help on-going diplomatic efforts, and to salve the damage that the former king and prince had caused.

There was one other thing as well.

It was this final, and most strange aspect of his duty. Wwhen he had first been raised to the position of Duke, Prestor had suspected that there was more behind it than simple reward for loyality proven. He had been right, though not in any way that he could possibly guess at that point. It was his loyalty which had caught Vrasha's eye and which had convinced her that he could be trusted beyond anyone else, but as it turned out, there were certain requirements for him to fulfil if he wanted the role.

It was late at night and he'd finished all of the other things he had needed to do. Prestor awaited the coming moment with both weariness and desire.

It was a little known fact that the palace of Khol-Hon had a dungeon. It was not often used. Vrasha's father had had it put in for his slaves, and since he had been overthrown, it had sat unused and forgotten. But the old man had been sure that it was stocked with everything and anything he might need to punish or torment his captives. There were all kinds of things, of toys, chains, torments and pleasures that coulde be unleashed on an unwilling **** to break her mind or shatter her will.

The dungeon was small. It consisted only of about six cells buried deep below the palace. There was also a single central chamber and several storage areas. As he padded through the stone corridor, Prestor could see that the torches were lit and cast the whole place into a flickering half light. He could hear her before he saw her. She was moaning, the sound low and soft. But it turned him on, and he could feel his shaft starting to harden. The sound was primal, wordless. a mixture of desire and humiliation. Shame and mortifiaction at a body's betrayal. It came from one of the cells and Prestor's breath caught in his throat as he turned and saw the woman who was contained within.

She was pale skinned with a proud face, a mane of dark hair which fell down her back. Even without her crown or her royal dress, there was no way to miss who it was.

It was Vrasha.