The banquet hall

“Watch you little slut…” Baird told Liam, the former Lord, as he pushed the naked slavegirl to her knees at his side. She watched obediently, tears of disbelief and fear in her eyes as her former body also knelt and swore fealty to Lord Baird. It was one of Baird’s henchman in her body she knew. Liam had been a proud man and this very public defeat was shameful.

Behind the kneeling Lord Liam was assembled almost everyone she knew. Her former family, allies and vassals. Some seemed scared, others angry or shocked. Mostly there was confusion because none could remember how the castle had fallen. But all of them shared the same mistaken belief that Lord Liam had capitulated and was now bowing in defeat to Lord Baird. If they only knew the truth.

Trull, now Lord Liam Codsworth of New Boston, Vassal Lord of Lord Baird, looked at the former Lord turned slavegirl and smirked as he rose and stood to the right of Lord Baird. He knew the truth. “All kneel and hail our Leige and overlord of New Boston! Long live the overlord!” The new Lord Liam declared. “Hail overlord Baird! We live to obey!”

There was a loud rustling as everyone knelt as one and a chorus of hails of varying levels of enthusiasm to their new overlord. “Long live the overlord! Hail overlord Baird! We live to obey!”

Baird sat before his new subjects and gloated. It was good to be the overlord. He nodded acknowledgment and turned to take pleasure in his new slavegirl’s pitiful expression for a moment. Then he clapped his hands and stood. “Excellent! Stand! Stand up my loyal subjects! Only slaves live on their knees! Let the feast begin!” Overlord Baird moved to the banquet table, pulling the leashed former Lord Liam behind him to the left, the new lord Liam at his right hand. The gathered peoples respectfully parted before them and his mercenary escort then followed. He took his seat at the head of the table and again pressed the new Sial to her knees at his side like she was a lap dog.

“Be seated,” lord Baird instructed.

Lord Liam took a seat to the right of lord Baird. The others took their places at the banquet table according to rank, lord Baird’s mercenaries scattered amongst them. There were other tables for lesser personages.

Trull quietly whispered to lord Baird, “it is as you said sire, your mercenary Phule sought to betray you - he is out cold in the dungeon,” Baird scowled as Trull took a seat near to Lord Baird along with his other nine loyal mercenaries.

The new Sial hated that she responded so obediently in front of everyone - she had known academically the effects of ****’s Bane which the slaves ingested with their meals. That it stimulated their pleasure centres and made them docile and submissive. Her bare sex tingled pleasantly as she watched her former self, her nether regions moist and heated. The **** seemed to limit any thoughts other than those associated with servility and humble submission.

"Now, ****," Baird hissed in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "You threatened to mount my head on a pike. You will pleasure your new master as I dine with your former vassals… take my cock in your mouth. It’s apt if you think about it… crawl under the table and show me what you're made of." She whimpered and ignominiously moved under the table. He roughly guided her head towards his groin, her lips parting obediently to accommodate his thick length. Her tongue flicked out, tasting him, and she moaned softly, her body responding eagerly to his presence.

The new lord Liam chuckled as he reached out and played with the new Sial’s bare pussy.

Sial’s mind swirled with confusion and desire as she suckled on Baird, her hands grasping at his thighs, wanting more of him. The hand fingering her sex felt wonderful. She could almost feel the **** working its way through her system, making her more submissive, more eager to please. She wondered if her former self, Lord Liam - the man she had been, was still somewhere inside her. She felt like she was not fighting against her new role but embracing it.

****'s bane permanently altered one's pituitary gland, so that androgens produced were of a kind useful only for the well-being of the body, and produced no aggressive feelings. That was what the ****-wardens said. And it felt true to Sial.

Baird thrust into her mouth roughly, the base of his cock sliding against her chin. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back and forth on his shaft. Her mouth filled with the taste of him, the **** making her hungrier for more. She moaned around him, her tongue working against his length, her breath hot and ragged.

There was nothing in the girl of the man she had been. She was enslaved. The ****-mark, freshly tattooed on her left breast in the Acteonese written language marked her as a **** was a mere formality. The ****’s bane reinforced her new reality as did her genetics - only the most compliant, contented slaves are allowed to breed and her new body was that of a seventh generation slavegirl.

Her body moved of its own accord, her lips and tongue working against his length, her throat opening to accommodate him deeper. She wanted to please him, to serve him.

Baird's hips bucked violently, his cock thrusting powerfully into her mouth as he came, filling her with his seed. She swallowed greedily, the salty taste of his release bitter on her tongue. Her body trembled with the **** of his orgasm, her own pleasure rushing through her.

He pulled roughly at her hair, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes glinted with satisfaction and possession as he gazed down at her. "That's a good girl," he growled. "You've pleased your master well." His hand stroked her cheek, the roughness of his skin against her sensitive skin sending shivers down her spine. She felt oddly pleased.

Baird tugged at the chain around her neck, pulling her forward. "Now, get to work sucking my new vassals cocks with the other slavegirls."

Sial nodded and she crawled away from Lord Baird, her eyes never leaving the floor. A few other guests watched with interest, wishing to enjoy her use, but to most gathered here the fate of a slavegirl was not worthy of their concern or even their notice. The former Lord was now a mere plaything and she knew that she would be expected to perform for the banquets pleasure throughout the evening. As she moved through the room, her mind raced with thoughts of rebellion and escape, but the **** kept her in check, ensuring that her primary focus remained on serving with her mouth and body in whatever way the revellers wished.

Sial's body was on display, clad only in a collar and a thin chain around her neck. Her breasts swayed as she crawled on her hands and knees, drawing the interested gazes of the many men and a few women in the room.

Under the table she would crawl and suck a knights cock, fellate a lady, masturbate a vassal with her tiny hand or finger a wife or mistress. Some would feed her. Others would fondle, pinch, caresss or frig her grippingly moist sex, large sensitive breasts or slim shapely body.

She knew these people. These were her friends and vassals… Or she thought she knew them. But they all treated her so differently now. Gone was the praise, the respect, the polite civility. True, most had been sycophants whilst others had admired and paid homage to her lordly status. Now, crawling about on the cold flagstones, a naked and leashed slavegirl… she was a nothing but a mere sexual object. Her feelings and sense of worth did not matter at all. Where once they came before her, cap in hand to beg her for her favour and patronage, now they took what they wanted from her without asking. They expected obedience and humble servitude. They demanded it without thought or concern for her. And she willingly gave it - beneath the table on her knees - in an utterly shameful way. And she hated that she loved it.

Her mind was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Humiliation, anger, and a disturbing arousal that seemed to grow stronger with every act of obeisance. Her body thrummed with a desire to serve, to satisfy, to be used. It was a prison she could not escape.

She tried to not be aroused herself but she enjoyed the demeaning acts, keeping her head down as she finished her slow supplicating lap of the table on her hands a knees and made her way back to Lord Baird's side. When she reached him, she knelt at his feet, shamed and horny from her lap of defeat.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. She obeyed, lifting her gaze to meet his.

"Yes, my lord." Her voice was soft and submissive, tinged with a hint of desire. Her eyes drank in his appearance, taking in the authority that seemed to emanate from him. She could feel herself responding to him on a primal level, her body instinctively craving his touch, his approval.

But… she was a man. A lord. Trapped in this female flesh. She wasn’t a woman. Was not a true slavegirl.

But her erect nipples and wet swollen sex said otherwise.

"You are a very pretty little thing, aren't you?" Baird said condescendingly.

She was little. Tiny. Petite. Weak. Horny. “Yes master.” She agreed.

“You performed your duties well,” he fed her a choice piece of meat from his plate then turned back to his guests.

It continued to be shameful but extremely arousing to be degraded like this. Half of the people in this dining hall had been her subjects. They had respected, feared and obeyed her. Now they saw a lowly ****, a plaything of the lowest social standing possible, lower than the servants that once catered to her every wish, lower than everyone except her fellow slavegirls.

The four other girls that had been in her former harem served the guests under the table as she had, naked, aroused and subservient like her.