Kanor's Game

You sat upon your throne, the weight of the world doing its best to crush you. Around you, your soldiers, your guards, your advisers and aids thronged. Around them, various nobles, hangers on, and assorted bottom-feeders of the courtly ecosystem. The throne you sat on was the same one which you had used before, when you had last dragged the princess here, though such thoughts were currently far from your mind. It was a day of business, for the most part. There was much work to be done, especially if you were to secure your place in history.

"The Lord of Samarkind also would wish to increase the cost by fifteen percent." The aid was saying.

"I see." You said, your head resting on your closed fist, which was itself balanced against the arm of your throne. You looked down at the man, an aged servant, though one you trusted and knew was experienced. Anger stirred in you, burning like fire in your soul, but it was not his fault, and you refused to lash out at him for it. You were not like your father, and refused to fall into the same sort of actions. That man had been a drunken, foolish thug who used his power to do what he wanted and damn the consequences. His war making had almost bankrupted the empire, and earned you few friends.

Whereas, you were more refined, more skilled. You knew what it was to wish to see the world bow to your power, to have your name blazed into history, but unlike that oaf, you had a thing called finesse. Now was not the time for war and battle, the end of the current campaign was a time to rest, to recover, recruit and rearm. The kingdom of the former princess, Susan had put up a lot more fight than anyone had expected, your reserves were taxed, your people were exhausted.

The Lord of Samarkind - a small collection of towns and cities to the east of your empire - knew this as well. Usually, they would not dare to demand such a bribe, and it was a bribe. The previous price had been more than fair. However, they now knew that they had power. The Empire could not afford another war while it was recovering, it needed time, and it had many foes who would dearly love to deny that to it. Samarkind acted as a barrier of sorts, buffering your land from your enemy's. Luckily, they made most of their money from trade with your empire, so they didn't want to rock the boat too much. But the latest news was that their elected lord was trying to shift their economic focus, making them less dependant, and more able to stand on their own. This increase in the cost of imports was just part of that. A clear message to the empire. ''Give us more money, or we will find someone else who will.''

You gritted your teeth. Your father, upon receiving that, would have rode out with the army, sacked some of their towns, and then asked them to repeat themselves. Simple, easy, bloody, and it would make more enemies than almost any other way to solve the situation. You, however, would have favoured a different approach, utilising soft power in the form of your diplomats, as well as potentially sending the Black Cloaks with another, similar, form of message.

However, it was not in your hands. You may be emperor one day, but that day was not today. The choice would fall to someone else, the regent, appointed to lead the empire until the true heir was chosen.

"And the regent?" You asked. "What did he say of that?"

"He agreed, my lord."

You cursed, scowling for a moment. "Idiot! While he is correct that we cannot afford another war, merely bowing and obeying encourages others to do the same. Soon, other trade partners will also begin to raise their prices. He should have argued, and made a fight of it, even if he ultimately had to give in. The important thing isn't to win, it's to be seen as someone who will not lay down and be dictated to."

The servant remained silent, knowing that you were talking to yourself more than him. The regent was competent, but that was all. It was nearly time for you to make your move. Soon enough, the call would be made on who would be the next emperor - within the next month or so - but you could hurry it along if you wanted to apply political pressure. However, until Vrasha was removed, you dare not do that in case you lost. You needed to have her out of the way before you became the Emperor. It was the last stumbling block.

You could only hope the Black Cloaks would report back soon.

You sighed, but knew that now was not the time for such economic woes. Later, you would fix the situation, once you rose to power. The army was experienced now, though tired. Given time to recover, the elites who had survived the war would pass their knowledge to the new recruits who had not seen it. Their number would expand, and your forces would be extremely dangerous. Then, in a few years, you could turn your attention to conquest again. Not to the east - you didn't want to face a united front, and Samarkind was far too useful as a shield, but perhaps to the south, or to the west. Silyir would prove a useful staging post, but for that to work, you would need to return to them their former princess... once suitably broken to your purposes, of course. Assimilated into the empire, they would make for a new reserve of manpower and resources, allowing you to extend your power perhaps even as far as the Sable River, and once you made it to that natural chockpoint, you would be able to dig in, reinforce, and begin the cycle all over again.

Yes, you told yourself, already feeling your temper starting to lighten, the situation was bothersome at the moment, but that was merely due to your father's incompetence, in time, you would be able to make it work. You already had plans in motion... the princess was one such plan, but only one, you had many more in place. the ascent of the empire would not be stopped, it would spread across the land, and with it, the name of the one who ruled there. The name of the Emperor, Kanor. And so, you would be assured your place in history.

"Thank you for the report." You said to the aid. "You may go now."

The man bowed, and hurried off. You took a look towards the clock on the wall, and nodded to yourself. It was time.

"My noble allies." You said to the court, and gradually, the hubbub of conversation died away. Each man or woman turned to regard you, some with interest in their eyes.

"We have talked most of the morning." You said. "Deciding weighty and important matters. Now, it is time to relax for a few short hours. As you all know, I have in my possession, a **** of the finest pedigree. Today, once more, I shall be allowing her to experience the hospitality of our home."

You heard laughs at that, and some people peered closer, their eyes alight, glittering with desire or lust.

"I will now have my aids bring forth a device that will be used to torment her." You said, waving a hand as several workers began to move into the room. "Please clear the centre of the room, my friends."

Slowly, the crowd parted, as the device was set up in the middle of the room. It was not a massively complex device. It consisted of a wooden chair, high backed, with reinforcements running down the undersides and the back. Leathers straps connected to the arms, and the legs, the latter of which were splayed slightly so as to **** whoever was sitting upon it to do the same. Most of the crowd watched the chair, mostly because it also came equipped with a raised phallus of smoothed wood, positioned so that it would enter the rear end of whomever was **** to sit in the chair. It was of moderate size, but to be **** down upon it would be quite the punishment, especially for someone who had never before stretched the limits of their anus. Several of the men in the crowd licked their lips, some of the women almost looked sympathetic, though others looked eager. This was, of course, not the only thing that he had brought for the day.

Beside the chair, there was assembled a second object. It looked like a furnace, but made of wood, and the glow that came from within was certainly not flame. There was a grated door to one side, facing the chair, and from it, there escaped a faint blue glow of magical light.

Once the whole thing was set up, the lead guard nodded to you, and you gestured for the princess to be brought into the room.

Susan grated her teeth as she felt the pull of the guards on the chain which bound her wrists. She did her best not to stumble as the door slide open, the light of the court washing across her pale skin. She was still mostly naked but for the breastband and her loincloth, her copper hair falling to her shoulders as she was half-dragged forwards. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she walked, forcing her body to put one foot in front of the other. It was one of the hardest things that she had done, but she knew that if she didn't, she would simply be **** to. Part of her wondered what new humiliation was planned for her today. {if Corruption > 10} Her lower self churned, desire mixing with shame as she walked. Her legs felt weak, her pussy moist, almost wanting. She hated it, and hated herself for feeling that way, but she knew before long, she would be **** to endure something sexual, whether she wanted to or not, and her body was responding to that knowledge, just as Kanor wanted it to. She took deep breaths, forcing herself to keep control of her rising lust.{endif}

The light of the court played across her body. The crowd watched her, she glared at them, her hands twisting into fists, though they were shackled. The crowd consisted of courtiers, both men and women, dressed finely in silks and lace. Their hair done in elaborate and expensive styles. Their faces refined, but their eyes were cold. They looked at her, seeing her like a piece of meat, it made her want to shiver. They laughed and gestured, mocking her nakedness, making her flush red as she sensed herself the subject of many jokes and mockeries.

{if Corruption > 10}Susan flushed, their cold looks, and predatory gazes made her shiver, but the worst of it was the way her breath caught in her throat, the way her lower self seeming to be growing wetter. She was horrified. Was she getting off on this? Something about the way she was being shown off, it seemed to be hitting the right buttons for her. She hated it, and hated her body even more for this betrayal, but what could she do about it? All she could think of was the weight of the shackles which bound her wrists, how helpless it made her feel. How hot her skin seemed to be. Images danced through her mind of how the court would soon be seeing her naked body. She would be stripped bare to them, **** to bear those gazes on her naked flesh. They would see everything, and would they then realise how her body was reacting? Would they call her a whore, a slut, a sex **** that knew her place? Susan desperately hoped such would not come to pass, but the thought that it might was making her weak at the knees. She just hoped that weakness was born of fear, rather than of arousal.{endif}

{if SarahRomance = true} She thought of Sarah as she was dragged forward. The maid's soft skin, her lingering touch. The taste of her lips. Susan had never truly considered herself in love with anyone before, there had always been so much to do, and no time for anything of that nature. But now, she threw herself into that memory with all of her strength, hoping to use it to bolster herself against what was surely to come.{endif}

Step by step, she was taken to the centre of the court. Around her, the crowd flowed and parted like water. Her guards flanked her, making sure no one got too close, but she could feel their eyes on her every step of the way. Eventually, she saw Kanor upon his throne. {if SlaveFantasy = true} the same throne which she herself had been strapped to during those long hours, when that potion had been **** into her lower lips, tied to the chair, and begging silently for someone, anyone to help her.{endif}

At last, Susan saw the fate that awaited her. The chair and the furnace, the latter of which glowed a cold blue. But her eyes focused instantly on the chair, and she took a half step back before the chains yanked her forwards again. She glared at the guards, but her gaze quickly focused again on the seat which was clearly intended to be her own. The wooden protrusion left her in little doubt as to what would be happening to her next. She blanched pale, her heart hammering. She knew that in mere moments, she was going to be **** down onto that thing, her asshole **** wide as it slid up her anus. She imagined how cold it would be, how hard. She'd never done anything like that. Never toyed with herself there. Even when she had masturbated back home, before this hell, it had always been breasts and pussy. Never ass.

She gulped, feeling her throat suddenly dry. The guards on either side of her were chuckling, having sensed her distress.

"Do you not like your throne, princess?" One of them grinned at her. "I'm sure you'll fit right into it once you get a chance. Or is that supposed to be the other way around?"

She snarled at him, but her mind was whirling. She knew that she needed to distract the guards and Kanor to give Sarah a chance to get the key. Up until now, she hadn't really thought about how she was going to do that, but now she was **** to do so. She knew she couldn't find. She'd be clubbed down instantly, so she had to find some way to do it without them realisng what she was doing.

With the reality of the situation staring her in the face in the form of the chair, she realised she only had three options. Once was to resist, as totally as she could. She knew that this would be the least pleasant route, but it would help her to preserve her self-image. Kanor would doubtless punish her harshly, and Susan knew that she could not withstand him forever. However, it would create a spectacle, drawing the eye of the court and many of the guards. Hopefully, that would give Sarah a chance.

The second option was to give in completely. The idea made her flush with shame, and wince at the mere thought. But if she did what they wanted her to do, without the usual resistance, they might think that they had broken her. They might start to enjoy themselves, focusing totally on her instead of Sarah. But she would need to **** herself, shame herself, doing whatever it took to buy Sarah the time she needed.

The third option was not much better. Even if she didn't want to serve them, she could instead give herself to the pleasure of her body. Throwing herself wildly into climax after climax, just in the same way as she usually tried to resist them. By doing that, she would surely create a scene, even if it made her shudder to think of just what sort of scene it would be.

Those were her options. Surrender to her enemies, surrender to her pleasure, or to fight on and know she would be punished for it.

What one was she going to do?