Page 54 of The Princess Tied

CHAPTER TWELVE

prince may not have sent clothes but on entering the marquee a step behind John, a servant presented a new dress, draped over his arm—red this time, but of the exact same design as the white, with laced back and that peekaboo hole.

“Your girl may use the bathroom,” the servant said, pointing.

Of course she knew where it was, having been directed to it the night before. Though Kostan was considered a backward country compared to Bitzocoin, this mobile bathroom was luxurious. The cubicle held a seat and was not some hole in the ground. Perfumed air too, and there was a small basin with gold taps. The door was canvas and so were the walls. Underfoot was a rug.

The underwear were a flimsy red pair of panties and bra. Po sighed, holding them up to the lantern and seeing almost every detail through them. She shrugged out of her riding clothes and slipped on the clothes. More of her cleavage seemed to show than the previous night.

If this prince ever visited her country, she might have him served as an entrée—filleted and marinated in acid.

The evening went as before, with little occurring at first except for the consumption of food, and when directed she fed John as well as herself, so as not to draw attention. But after the roast pig, quail, lemon sorbets, cheeses, and much wine had been disposed of, the games truly began.

One by one, the three slaves of the other guests were called to the prince and to the glee of his rapt audience, he inserted various things into their nether holes—from their squeals and cries and the ducklike way they walked back to their owners, it was not pleasant and had after effects, and the objects were likely still inside their bottoms.

“What has he done?” she quietly asked John, leaning toward him.

“Put ginger pieces in them. It is called figging.”

“Ah.” No wiser, or not much, she straightened.

“Sets your bottom on fire but can also arouse.”

“Oh.” The things she did not know.

Of course the Kostanians did not invent BDSM; they had no such thing. Safe and sane was not in the prince’s realm, even if ginger figging was. The Kostanians did however know a lot about kink. Among their favorite proclivities were bondage, caning, flogging, and machine fucking with a dildo spear, though they powered it with a treadmill run by camels.

This was considered completely normal in Kostan.

They also thought they’d invented polyamory, but this was incorrect. Everyone had invented that.

While Po was wondering when rather than if the prince would ask John to surrender her for the same activity, a servant arrived with a tray of small silver objects.

“For you to use on your slave,” the satin-dressed man said, offering the tray lower, at John’s height.

It let her see the objects too—tiny clamps and bells and another thing that resembled a cock… with spikes. John’s eyebrows rose.

“Thank you. Put it there.”

The servant slid the tray onto the table.

He wouldn’t, of course, but she checked his face to be sure and could tell nothing.

“You wouldn’t?” she asked, out the side of her mouth because the prince was watching them.

“Let’s see.”

The prince called out. “She is next, good guest. I cannot make exceptions.”

“But as a guest, do I not have rights also, lord?”

The ripple of laughter from the men said otherwise.

“As in, this tray of gifts to decorate her with—is that an alternative, Prince Drake?”

“I expected both. Those on her.” He pointed down the table, the cloth of it strewn with dropped food and dirty plates. “Then this, in her, by my hand.” He held up a cone of ginger with a flared base and wiggled it in the air.

“I see. I’ll concede the decorations but would like to challenge the prince to a game I hear he loves—dragon chess. Nar-quar-do.”