There is a surprise attack on your castle.

You just barely manage to squeeze under the side table, as the door is pulled outward. It is less than a week since you dispatched Mistaria to deliver your letter. You are huddling there in your servants' quarters wearing only your sexy new highheels.

The highheeled sandals had been a gift at the start of the session. They were presented to you just after you had finished dinner and retreated to the locked section of your castle where you and your servants played. They were beautiful six inch things made of scarlet red glass and gold, set with precious stones. But they were clearly designed to be extremely uncomfortable making them even sexier in your eyes. The arch of your feet would be bent almost straight up, 90° from your toes. There were glass studs on the sole designed to dig painfully into the underside of your feet, and a twisted gold, red cord to tie your feet in place. Above the heel there was a wide leather band with D-rings and a little padlock to lock it around the ankle. Sexy footwear and ankle cuffs built into one, they were so considerate.

Like all gifts they gave you, you had to show your gratitude. They had told you to preform striptease. You had been given a dress and changed behind a screen. Knowing they could see your silhouette through the screen you still hung your clothing (silk dress and stockings because you hadn't worn underwear) over the edge of the screen. You had locked yourself into the heels. At the time wondering if they would let you out after the session or perhaps they had planned to **** you to attend the next military meeting locked in slutty heels. Then you cinched the cords tight around your feet; before threading the excess through an eyelet and wrapping it a good way up your calf. You teetered a little as you stood up there **** nature had made walking hard even with your experience with heels.

The dress was a one of Master Edgard favourites. it looked like a mockery of the high wasted dresses worn at court. The top was made out of scraps of transparent material held in place by wide netting. Instead of the calf length speckled skirt there were two strips (one covering your shaved cunt, the other your ass crack) only four inches wide hanging down to your knees. This strips of speckled clothe hung from a thin belt just below your belly button meaning simple swaying would have them reveal your intimate parts.

Mistress Aime had started your music box when you emerged from the screen; it tinkled out a common waltz.

You were originally confused about the tease part of your striptease, there was little of your body not on display. But you had decided to instead tease yourself sliding the soft sash against your slit or pinching your nipples as you strutted around like a queen attending her ball. The heels grew more uncomfortable with every step prompting you to occasionally kick high showing your long legs in all their smooth glory.

You had made sure the strips of clothe frequently abandons their post. Either by swaying your hips (and coincidentally your breasts), or shaking your lovely round butt when your back was turned. Even flipping the front to the side so you could vigorously finger yourself; leaving it there as you sucked your dripping fingers so they could see the juices spreading down your thighs.

You hadn't being the only one to masturbate. Master Edgard had opened his trousers and stroked his cock. Next to him Mistress Aime had her skirt hiked up and her hand had worked hard under her panties.

You had grown tired of feeling the transparent clothe when you massaged your breasts. So you unclasped the halter top and let it hang from your waist. With it there, there was no need for your "skirt", so you uncliped that and let it fall while gyrating your hips.

So it was wearing wisps of netting and transparent clothe around your waste and your sparkling heels that you decided to turn your striptease into a lap dance. You started by grinding your bare slit on their knees. Then you rubbed your face into their crotches. You were even brazen enough to crawl onto their laps, brushing your erect nipples against your master's penis. They had both slapped you repeatedly on your face, breasts, and ass. Your mistress had delivered an extra hard slap to your cunt causing you to yelp and tumble off in pain, she laughed openly at your pain.

This particular episode ended with you on your knees between your master's rubbing your enlarged tits up and down his cock begging with both your eyes and voice for him to cum on your face. Your degradation had been enough to make your mistress cum she had said "oh yes, oh yes, I'm cumming you hear--ahhh--that you slut lishen to me cum!" seconds before your master's cum shot up onto your face and breasts. You quick reflexes allowed you to catch some on your tongue.

Your gratitude hadn't been enough and Master Edgard had said he would "teach you respect." Within five minutes you had hoisted you up several feet of the ground hanging by your wrists. They positioned a post under you; it was topped with a dildo and had a ring of spikes that poke into your thighs if you attempt to close your legs. They slipped the tip of the dildo into your cunt and dropped you a foot. The dildo slammed into your cervix and the spikes raked up your thighs. You had given out a loud scream and Mistress Aime had shoved her panties in your gaping mouth making sure the inside crotch was on your tongue. While she secured them with a cleave gag she explained that she had worn them for the last four days and frequently masturbated into them while planning this night.

Then your master had started whipping you with a bullwhip you had been sentenced to fifteen lashes, but it ended up being closer to fifty. He hadn't told you to count them yourself and thank him after each until after the third. You dutifully started from one but when you got to thirteen and said "Firfteen fhank you sir" he had said you weren't on fifteen yet and lashed you again. You repeated yourself putting more emphasis on the "th" sound but he simple brought the whip down across both nipples and told you to start again.

The second time counting you only made it to eleven or "elef ah ah aaahhhh" as your squirming on the dildo gave you your first orgasm of the night. You must have been a sight, cum on your face and tits, drool dripping from your chin, red bands from your your neck to your knees, your feet kicking about in those cruel shoes and your eyes full of pleasure.

The third time counting you made it to fifteen. But your master had given you two extra "just because you looked so beautiful writhing around" before letting you down.

There were times when they were relatively gentle. Sometime just before midnight they had even let you dress a little, It was into a thin silk bra and panty set. Mistress Aime, wearing a pair of your stockings and garters with more comfortable (but still sexy) heels. attached a dog collar and leash. She led you to your bed; she had started on her back with you between her legs. You had been led around her body massaging and licking what she wanted in turn she pinched, bit, teased and tickled you. As you slowly worked around each other your master wrote lewd but non the less true comments on your body. Things like "fun to slap" and "cocks go here" with an arrow pointing to your anus. Eventually your mistress had smothered your face to bring her to orgasm. Afterwards he had shown you your face in a mirror. Two loads of his cum had crusted to your face, and your mistress's fresh cum was glistening on your chin; "whore" was written on your forehead, and there was a spurting cock drawn on one cheek, and a dripping cunt on the other. You knew the ink would stay until it was scrubbed away with soap during tomorrow night's bath but until then they were permanent.

Most of the night had invoked your new heels in some way. For example around midnight they had tied a knotted rope down the length of the hallway. They ordered you to straddle it, it was very high and even with the added height of the heels the roped dug deep into your sensitive slit. They had attached a halter chain, so you could only make small steps. Then they had taken turns to walking you down the rope, seeing who get encourage you to move the fastest. Master Edgard had won by pulling on your nipple clamps. Your mistress would have won driving you forward with a riding crop, but half way through you had an orgasm. You had collapsed onto the rope, your new weight causing it to vibrate like a harpist's string. She had thoroughly punished you for making her lose.

The most recent game that had played with you was to get you to stand on two tall and narrow blocks about three feet apart. They had tied your hands behind your back, connected to a crotch rope, and told you if you fell they would "fuck you with the Mason" (an abrasive stone dido reserved for special occasions). Four times your mistress had dripped molten wax on your breasts, and four times your master had whipped it off with a nine tailed flogger. You had teetered many times and reflexively tried to stretch out your arms causing the crotch rope to bite into you.

When you failed to fall your mistress had grabbed her own flogger and joined your master in mercilessly whipping you. The pain (and pleasure it gave you) amost made you fall several times. One very close call was when you canceled backward momentum by thrusting your crotch forward. You had to leave your cunt exposed to stike after strike, with only a rope burried between your lips to protect it, as you regained your balance.

You had somehow managed not to fall, and with all three of you sweaty they had roughly taken you down and thrown you onto your master's bed. In frustration they had decided to rub your "filthy cunt" with imported Rush Pepper oil. When you didn't cry out immediately they had applied more pushing the wooden spoon deep into you. You have tasted food seasoned with Rush Pepper and knew that it would take a while for the heat to activate, but when you had tried to enplane this you had been slapped across the face and reminded that slaves don't know anything.

Then you had all heard the pounding and began to walk towards the door. Half way there, you heard the crash, then footsteps in the hall. There had just been enough time for your chief butler to shove you under the side table before the handle turned.

And there you are now. On your knees, in the fettle position, you are crammed under the tiny table, head bent awkwardly against the wall. Your cunt feels as if it is on fire and your hands are clasped tightly around your mouth to stifle your whimpers.

A figure enters the room, your face inches from his boots. "Good your awake, if not dressed" he says to your naked butler. It is Minister Odesworth, an intelligent and respectable man, but boringly formal.

"My goodness man" your butler responds "what is the meaning of this?"

"Orcs have breached the walls. We must get the queen." If he looked down he would likely discover the queen: your violet hair splayed about the floor, your ample breast spilling over your thigh, your heels sticking out behind the table.