Absolutely

Vrasha felt tingly, a sort of naughtiness which she had very rarely felt before. Usually when she had sex, she felt excited, happy, fulfilled or lustful. Taboo was rare but it was a delicious shiver that ran through her body. She looked at her image in the mirror, swallowing slowly. Her nipples had hardened and she reached out to gently stroke one. Was she insane? Why was she doing this? She didn't know. She felt like she was falling, some part of her was screaming but the rest didn't hear.

She had another hour or so before Karden expected her.

Why couldn't she explore this new fantasy? With Elody gone, it was probably the closest she would get to some alone time.

Vrasha closed her eyes for a moment, trying to picture the scene. There had been a big battle around her nineteenth birthday. It had been a turning point for the whole war, the moment where she went from bother to threat in her brother's eyes. He'd underestimated her badly, and she'd mauled his forces because of it.

But what if he hadn't? If he'd appointed a competent general for his forces would she have won? Nowadays, yes. She was sure of her skill. Back then? Maybe not. So she would go with that. If she had lost that battle and been taken alive, what would have happened to her? Vrasha's throat felt dry as she contemplated it. Arousal surging through her womanhood, pulsing alone her spine.

What would be done to her if she had lost?

Well, firstly, her hair would not be left in a ponytail. One hand reached up as she watched in the mirror and undid it, letting her dark hair fall to her shoulders. Instantly, she looked different. More womanly, she thought. More like her old self, anyway. They would strip her naked, of course. That much was not in doubt. She would be marched through their camp in shame in front of their soldiers and the prisoners of her own army.

No, more than that. Her brother would gather them all in a great meeting. Like a feast but more sombre for the defeated. They would sit with their hands bound behind their backs, watched over by armoured guards. As many of her men and women as he could capture, her brother would bring. And then he would walk her out of the tent. Her hands would be bound, her hair would be long. She would be naked.

No, not merely naked. He would do more to her than that.

Vrasha took a deep, shuddering breath. In the city of Gelmina, slaves were everywhere. And that meant that punishment had to be handed out potentially in any location. Karden had been sure to tell her yesterday that they had a kit for it stored away in her chambers in case she needed it. Tools to punish wayward slaves. Vrasha had sworn never to use it.

At least, not against its intended targets.

The kit proved to be a large, sleek box pressed against a corner. Her fingers trembled as she drew it out. It was as long as her arm and made of polished metal coated a with moisture-resistant exterior. Opening it, she found it contained all the kinds of things she had both expected and dreaded. Means of punishment both light and harsh. There were cuffs, chains, a whip, a thin stick with a large, flat head, and many other things.

She could not believe that she was doing this. Vrasha's heart was pounding and she was glad that no one was here now to see her but she pressed on. Arousal surged within her, the fantasy held within her mind blazed with desire.

How would they treat her? Well, she was still royalty so she would not be too badly damaged. Instead they would surely go for humiliation and degradation.

She reached for a small device, a coiled metal clamp. It as cold to the touch, but she had seen its like used before. Obviously, her brother would think that war was a man's work, so he would punish her in a way that would make her aware of her body. Vrasha pressed down on the legs of the clamp and it opened, the teeth were rough in order to grip and hold. She felt something inside of her as she raised it up to her chest, taking her left nipple and stroking it. It was already rock hard, and she pressed the teeth of the clamp around it. When she released her hold, the metal clamp bit down on her chest and Vrasha murmured in the back of her throat, the feeling was part pain and part arousal. She did the same with her other nipple, and now the pulsing sensation was harder to ignore. She allowed herself a few moments to get used to the sensation.

She knew that her brother would never stop with just this however so she reached for a length of chain from the box. It was fine, but strong. Vrasha threaded it through the metal hoops of the clamps, drawing it upwards and then tying it around her neck as tightly as she could. It wasn't exactly a collar, but it was the sort of thing that might be used as one after a battle. The metal chain dragged at her nipples, jerking them cruelly upwards and enhancing the feeling of helplessness and degradation. Vrasha moaned as they tugged at her chest, and she imagined that they were not tied to her throat, but being held by some jailer or guard. Dragging her forwards by her tits in front of her whole army. She would be stumbling, with her arms tied behind her back. Would he blindfold her? Probably. She wouldn't know where she was going, she'd have no direction but for the cruel yanking which would make her gasp and cry out each time.

But this was only her chest. Surely, her brother would not leave her sex alone? He would say that it was to remind her of her place as a woman, but really she knew it would be just to torment her. What would he do? She moaned, one hand falling between her legs. The simple brush of her fingers against her pussy made Vrasha shiver with delight.

How would he punish her down there?

The first thing would be her clit. He would want that to stand out, so that everyone would see it, her deepest and most intimate place. The place where only her lover was supposed to have seen. He'd want the whole gathering - both foe and friend - to know her body intimately.

She looked back to the toolbox, seeking something that would fit with her fantasy. There, she found a strange thing. It looked like a belt which stretched around her thighs with four clamps that reached around to her front. She had never seen anything like it before, but realised what it was with a jolt when she touched it. it was a spreader for her womanhood! Vrasha swallowed, but would her fiendish brother allow her even that much dignity in front of her troops? Of course not.

She took the belt and circled it around her legs, pulling it tight and adjusting it. Then with trembling hands, she took each of the four clamps and applied them to her lower lips, two to each lip. The feeling made her shake and moan, especially when she pulled it tight and the clamps started to pry her womanhood open. Vrasha swallowed, imagining that it was being done in front of a crowd. Her brother and his inner council watching as she was shamed. Yes, her lower lips would be spread widely so everyone could see her eager she was in her new role.

Then it would go to her clit. They would tease it and **** it, **** it to respond. Breathing heavily, Vrasha saw that in the now it was already responding. She ran a finger against it and her legs shook. That felt good! Really, really good. But how would she torment it? She didn't want to use yet another clamp!

Fortunately, Gelmina had thought of this and she found a tin of cream. It was a soft white colour, but the box promised her that it would induce feelings of heat and discomfort. She dabbed it onto her finger and then applied it to her clit. As soon as she did, her bud started to tingle. First pleasantly and then more uncomfortably. It grow more aroused, obviously peering out from inside of its hood. Vrasha swallowed.

But there was one last thing that she would add. There was a charcoal pencil in the box as well, and she took it and started to draw upon herself. This, she was sure, would be done to her when she was pinned down. Blindfolded and unable to react to the feeling of the pencil as it scrawled across her naked body. What would they say? She wrote the word ''****'' on her upper chest, then traced the pencil down towards her breasts. Her brother would surely know of her earlier discontent with her upper body, so she wrote ''Small'' on her her right breast. On her left breast, she wrote a number instead. Imagining it was the amount of times she had climaxed since being captured. Ten. Ten would do, she decided. She swallowed, her throat dry. Tracing out the number somehow made the fantasy all the more vivid. They would have told her that her men were going to be executed but that for each climax she came to, a hundred would be freed. Then they would have laughed and gathered around as she desperately masturbated, both hating herself for giving into their taunts and yet also knowing she had ****.

After she had finished, they would tell her that her men were not going to be killed at all, and laugh at her shame. They would write ''Whore'' along one thigh, and pair it with an arrow that pointed to her womanhood. She drew a cock on her inner thigh pointing up.

Finally, she put down the pencil and returned to the mirror. The clamps bit into her nipples with each step she took, tugging on them like an angry captor as she moved. The spreader held her womanhood open, it was obvious just how wet she was, and her clit was aroused and engorged, the tingling feeling sweeping across it was alternately both pleasurable and shameful. With the words and images she had placed on her own body, Vrasha looked now less like a princess and more like a common prostitute on the street, or indeed, as a captured woman made to serve the appetite of her vanquishers.

Vrasha moaned and closed her eyes, her fingers probing her soaking womanhood. She jerked at the clamps which bit against her nipples and gasped, pain and pleasure exploding through her body. Her legs were weak and she sunk to her knees, but that only made it all the better. She imagined she was blindfolded and being marched like this across the land. Her hands were tied behind her, her nipples lashed to a cart which was moving almost too fast for her to keep up. Every time she slowed, it would jerk at her painfully and people would laugh. She was being shown off, the symbol of hope brought low and defiled. In every village she went to, she would be shown in a grand gathering and made to crawl across the ground.

She gasped, her fingers moving faster and faster. She could feel the orgasm sweeping through her, adding desperation to her touch.

Each night, she would be fucked. Used as a reward for those loyal while her own followers were made to watch. At first she would resist, but each time it happened, the pleasure would become greater and greater and she would find herself wearing away. Gradually, she would become exactly what her brother wanted her to be, a sex **** to be kept around the palace as a prize for his victory. She would crawl and moan and beg, be treated like a pet and used by anyone who her brother decided was his favourite for that day. She would spend the rest of her life being tormented and teased in endless ecstasy.

Vrasha came, the feeling of pleasure sweeping through her so powerfully that it made her mouth open in a silent moan, and **** her to brace herself against the far wall. Her head was spinning and she realised she was going to have to have another bath before she met with Karden.