The Revolutionary

"Oh, this is horrible, Papa!" the attractive blonde young woman stated.

"How could it have come to this?" asked the red-haired lad.

"And I had just gotten the palace, the way I wanted it!" stated the attractive middle-aged red-haired woman.

"Buck up!" returned the bearded middle-aged, tawny-haired man. "We escape as a family. Our considerable wealth will find us a safe haven over the border and with that money, we can set up a government in exile. This so-called "revolution" will burn itself out and we will be welcomed home in a display of gratitude, the likes of which this world has never seen."

The lurching stage continued to bolt over the landscape. The quartet of deposed royals were too stunned for much conversation. The events of the last few days had been a complete nightmare!

The stagecoach ceased its rolling.

"We must be across the border!" the patriarch stated. The royal family heard the locks click and the doors sprung open. Something was wrong! There stood the clean-shaven young revolutionary who had overthrown the imperial government! The handsome man smiled.

"As I stated," he intoned, "I have contacts and control of more men at the apex of your former government than you can imagine, you, parasite!"

The deposed king's mouth dropped in an O. He resembled a stuck fish.

"Not even you most loyal men were trustworthy. You've been riding around the countryside for hours, completely oblivious. There will be no government in exile. All of you will face judgment for your crimes. Now, exit the stage and be quick about it!"

From behind the young revolutionary, a phalanx of soldiers leveled rifles at the occupants of the coach. With lumps in their throats, the royal family slunk out of the vehicle. An aide to the revolutionary strode forward a moment later he popped his head out of the coach and stated to his leader.

"You are right, Esteemed Comrade! There are gold bars, jewels, documents, property deeds, and stock certificates concealed everywhere!"

The leader of the new people's republic turned to face the royal family which had formed themselves into a defensive knot. "No doubt, there is as much or even more sewn into the linings of your clothes! Strip!"

King Rudolph stood rigid in place, unable to overcome the shock of total defeat. It was Queen Isla who found her voice.

"You are a disgusting, young fiend! I shall do no such thing!"

The Esteemed Comrade rolled his eyes and gestured to some members of the female brigade. Their ranking officer saluted him.

"Take these two into the next room and make them comply."

"Yes, Sir!" shot back the major.

The Esteemed Comrade faced the queen and princess. "You will obey my soldiers, or you will not leave this building alive. Corpses can easily be undressed. No one other than my men and women know you are here, and they are all fiercely loyal to me and are sworn to secrecy. Remain recalcitrant and your dismembered bodies will be turned to ash and scattered to the four winds. Am I making myself clear?"

Queen, Isla, forty-four, red-haired, green-eyed, and trim of figure, with a countenance of a woman much younger than her age, nodded her assent and took her daughter's hand. Princess Natalie, Twenty-one, blonde, blue-eyed, with a China doll face and a porcelain complexion, hung her head in shame, took her mother's hand, and followed the uniformed women into the next room.

The Esteemed Comrade watched them disappear before he turned to face the former king and former heir apparent.

"Your daughter is out of sight, why are you still dressed, parasite?"

"I am your superior in every way. I will not yield to you one inch!"

"Fine," shot back the young revolutionary, "You can watch my men ravage your wife, your daughter, and your son before we slit their throats. Those acts will be followed by you witnessing your manhood being cut off, the wound cauterized by a torch, and that manhood being shoved down your throat until you choke on it and expire. I shall give you the least dignified royal execution in human history."

"Barbarian!" spat the deposed king as he reached for his necktie.

"Oppressive dinosaur!" returned the new ruler of the country.

As the king was removing his jacket, the female major entered the room carrying Isla's dress.

"You were right, Esteemed Comrade!" Banknotes and jewels could be spied through distressed and rent seams.

"Excellent work, Major! Make sure not one millimeter or either their clothes or persons goes uninspected. Turn over what you recover as well as the remnants of the garments to the JAG corps for their trials -- when and if they occur."

The female major darted out of the room with the incriminating dress. The Esteemed Comrade turned and faced King Rudolph who was down to his undershorts. At age fifty, the King's debauched youth and lack of an active lifestyle were obvious in his considerable middle-age spread and florid complexion. His tawny beard ended at his hirsute chest. His son, Prince Andre, nineteen, was naked, his hands shielding his manhood. The boy was tall and thin. His curly brown hair and soft features gave him an almost feminine aspect. Rumor around the nation held that the lad was more interested in his hobbies of composing poetry and music and tending to his wardrobe than any significant royal activities. The Esteemed Comrade chuckled inwardly at the thought of the foppish, supercilious heir ever commanding respect or awe upon the throne.

The handsome young revolutionary gestured at Rudolph's undershorts and commanded, "All of it, old man!"

The deposed ruler flushed red but stepped out of his silken boxers to chuckles from the Esteemed Comrade and his assembled men. The man who until a few hours ago was the most powerful man in the entire nation had a minuscule manhood. It could barely be spied in the nest of pubic hair. Rudolph hurriedly hid the royal jewels with his right hand. He needed only half of a hand to conceal his staff of life.

At a signal from the new leader of the ancient kingdom, a pair of twill trousers, cotton shirts, and slippers were tossed at the feet of the father and son.

"Get dressed!"

The king and prince quickly donned the ill-fighting garments. The ex-king's sliced-open waistcoat revealed stock options and foreign currency.

"You stole from your citizens, bled them dry so that you could live a life of extreme privilege. Now, you strive to take as much of that stolen plunder as you can carry out of the country to build a government in exile that would one day return to this country and loot it afresh. You, parasite, are the personification of evil!"

Rudolph crossed his hands across his chest.

"I AM the state. My rights come not from man but from God!'

"Spare me, you, fossil. God turned the very servants and bodyguards from your personal bedroom to our cause. The Joint Chiefs of Staff of your own army threw their lot in with my cause. That is why you were left undefended as the mobs approached. Unlike you, I am only a transitional leader. Once the new constitution is established, I shall return to my former station. You on the other hand will answer for your crimes."

"You have no authority to try me!"

"Says the delusional prisoner!"

At that point, Isla and Natalie were led into the main room. Both wore expressions of distress and were clad in short blue denim skirts and tan cotton blouses. The Esteemed Comrade knew full well that just in the case of the husband and son, no undergarments had been provided. He admired their trim figures and attractive bared legs. The blouses could not disguise the fact that both mother and daughter were delightfully top-heavy. The young revolutionary was struck by the stunning natural beauty of the former queen. He had always felt an affinity for and attraction to mature women. If he had any qualms about the effects of his revolution they concerned her.

Isla regained her poise, "Are we to be executed like common criminals, sir?"

"Woman there is nothing common about you," stated the Esteemed Comrade with a nod and a grin. "Execution is only one possible outcome."

"Then get on with it!" interjected Rudolph.

"The dispensation of any or all of you shall be decided by the people you used to oppress. Bring them to the arraigned place!" exclaimed the new head of state. Each royal was led to a different carriage. These left at five-minute intervals for a fortress not far from the capital.

**

It was time for the newly inaugurated Prime Minister to address the deposed royals one at a time. He sat in his office with a recording secretary and his guards. First up was the former crown princess Natalie. She was led to the office, wrists unbound. She wore the simple dress of a peasant and an anxious expression. At his instruction, she sat across the desk opposite him. The secretary read off a list of formal charges. Natalie's blue eyes lit up with horror.

"Sir! I did none of those things! I am only a young woman. My only activity for the past year has been receiving and opening proposals for an engagement and attempting to find a suitable husband from another royal house."

"You may believe that woman, but I believe the charges, if we were to take them to a people's tribunal, would be convincing and result in a guilty verdict."

The beautiful girl gasped.

"Because of your youth, the death penalty will not be imposed, more likely is several decades of solitary confinement."

The young woman teared up. "Good sir, I beg of you to use your influence to find some way to avoid that punishment. I will live as a commoner and give up all royal claims. I am asking for a chance at life. I am only twenty-two and I've only been kissed a handful of times!"

The dashing prime minister made a non-committal nod. The distraught ex-princess was led from the room.

Next up was the former Prine Andre. A similar list of charges was read aloud. The boy sat and blinked.

"I find those charges most outrageous!" he replied.

'That is your opinion. I assure you, that if you were brought before a people's tribunal, your conviction is an almost forgone conclusion. Because of your youth, execution is not a likely outcome. Were you willing to undergo voluntary sterilization, ending the royal line permanently, your incarceration shall not be long or especially onerous, so long as you also publicly renounce any claim to the throne or foment revolution against the nation of your birth! As a condition of parole, you will never be permitted foreign travel."

"I demand a trial. The people will rally to my side!"

"Dismissed!" barked the prime minister. "Get him back to his apartment."

The guards grasped the boy by the scruff of the neck and dragged him down the hall.

The former king had not taken to captivity well. He was surly and dissolute. He said not a word as he settled himself across from his usurper. It took nearly an hour to recite the list of charges.

"Bah!"

"Scoff all you want, parasite. If this goes to a people's tribunal your life will be forfeit. Your death will be painful and of excruciating duration. Hanging, firing squad, and gas have been ruled out as possible methods to end you. I leave it to you to contemplate the alternatives that are left open. The result will be the same. The ultimate end of your reign."

"My son will avenge me!"

The prime minister laughed and informed him of the charges against his daughter and son. Do you really think your supercilious son won't cede his fertility to escape a decade of hard labor in prison serving with deaf inmates so he cannot elicit any sympathy through oratory? Your family's long hold over this country is over. The only question for you to ponder is, how you will meet your maker."

The rebellious ex-royal spat in the Prime Minister's direction. He avoided the spittle and said mockingly. Your last rebellion is like you, obese and impudent! Take him away!"

He had saved the former queen for a variety of reasons, many of them deeply personal. Isla was quiet. She had made the effort to spruce up her simple home-spun dress. Her face was unlined and makeup-free. He had always been attracted to her looks and personality. He had a cup of tea waiting for her, a nicety he had not provided the others. She took a sip.

The secretary read off the charges of her daughter, son, and husband, as well as the possible punishments. The color drained from her lovely face.

"You would steal the youth from my daughter! You would emasculate my son! You would murder my husband?"

Icy silence met her comment before he spoke, "Shall I bother to have the charges against you read?"

"That shall not be necessary. I can imagine them quite well. Nothing I can say or do will alter any of our fates."

The subsequent moment of silence ended with a statement from the young man, "Perhaps the contrary is true Madame."

Her blue eyes boggled, "What do you mean?"

"Hypothetically, I could arrange for your daughter to be wed to an older, widowed, distinguished office of the upper command. He would consult with his counterparts in allied nations meaning wonderful trips and extended vacations to alluring exotic nations. She would have to renounce any claim to the throne for herself and her future children, of course; and she would have no say in the officer selected. She will meet him at the altar. Hypothetically, I could find a position as a private for your son in the foreign expeditionary forces. It will be a hard, disciplined life, which will see him very rarely return to this nation. He will have all the rights and privileges of any soldier including a full pension at age fifty-five. He must, of course, renounce his claims on the throne as well. If he marries, his wife must be foreign, and, under no circumstances may she enter this country. He could write you a letter every day, send you pictures and poems, but he will never be in a position where he could ever regain the throne through means either fair or foul."

Isla nodded, "And my husband?"

The new prime minister shook his head.

"I see. How do those hypotheticals become non-hypotheticals?"

The young man smiled and leaned back in his chair. "The people need symbols. They need demonstrable proof that a new order has descended. Some such as the elimination of your husband are essential. Others contain vast import in how they are carried out. We cannot have you free and we cannot have you imprisoned. Your status as a widow, either nominally free or behind bars, would make you an attractive target to foes of this nation and some of the old guard within it. There are those who would seek to place the fallen crown upon your lovely head and reverse all the progress made. That cannot be allowed to happen. The court can explain away the mercy for your children because of their youth. The court will paper over their clear culpability if you offer something in exchange."

"Such as?" asked Isla after a nervous swallow.

"You must be rendered to such a state that ascending to royalty again would be impossible."

He opened a drawer and removed a chromium and composite material collar. "If you willingly enter the state of chattel slavery, your son and daughter will have futures. Not the ones they expected but productive and free lives. If you take the collar, you will die in it and will be buried with the paupers."

"That is perverse!"

"So, you view it now. You will have to learn an entirely new skill set, cooking, cleaning, scrubbing, sucking cock, licking pussy. You will retain the old skills of being demure and obedient."

"I was your queen!"

"The people need a symbol. The highest and mightiest of us must assume a position lower than the most wretched citizen or this revolution is pointless. You, collared and humbled, will kill entirely the counter-revolutionary movement."

"What person owns that collar?"

"The collar in question is mine, madame."

Isla ran her fingers through her hair. "This entire revolution of yours was a ploy to get into my knickers?"

"Oh, I assure you, my revolution was sincere, the inside of your knickers was an afterthought. A delightful afterthought. However, soon elections will be held, and I will cede the prime minister's mantle. Taking a souvenir into retirement has definite appeal."

"I'm twice your age!"

"That doesn't bother me."

"You are a disgusting, reprobate."

"Perhaps, but that is not a no."

"Must I make my decision now?"

"I will give you seventy-two hours to contemplate. Beyond seventy-two hours the trials will begin, starting with your son."

"Can I consult with them, can I see my husband?"

"You must contemplate alone. Your children will not know that you have set their fates until the die is cast."

"Will you be merciful?"

"A gentle yet firm hand is what I offer."

The lovely older woman studied the younger men. He was certainly handsome and fit. She stopped herself short, how could she even be contemplating ...

"May I return to my apartment?"

"Certainly. Notify me when you have made your decision."

The mature woman was escorted back to her humble apartment in a daze. Once behind her door, she spent many hours in contemplation. After her dinner was served, Isla requested a visit from the Chaplin. She and the man of the cloth spoke until nearly dawn. It was emotional and gut-wrenching for both. At last, a decision was made. The priest intoned the prayer of absolution and anointed Isla's head, hands, and chest with oil.

"I believe our leader's scheme may be counterproductive. Your Grace, the people will see you as brave and noble. Their love for you will be even more profound and boisterous. Though you will no longer be the queen of our country, once this deed is done, I surmise that you will be more beloved than any of your predecessors in all their finery and poise."

"Thank you, Father."

"Go with God, daughter."

The priest exited the small apartment. Isla didn't even bother getting undressed. She slid into bed and had her deepest sleep since years before the revolution. She woke mid-afternoon of the following day. She rose, made herself a cup of tea, and stripped off. She considered her reflection in the mirror her captors had provided. She knew she had a fine physique for a woman her age. Previously, she had taken pride in that. Now, she wished she was a haggard old crone. Or, at the very least, the sort of woman who left the shockingly young prime minister cold. Isla recalled it all, her pampered girlhood, her whirlwind courtship with Rudolph, the disappointment of their first honeymoon tryst. Her obedience in bed, often just lying there, fulfilling her wifely duties as Rudolph exercised both his marital and royal prerogatives. The birth of her children. Most of all, she saw her emptiness, being a wife, a mother, and a queen had their enjoyments but taken as a whole. What was the point of it all? Duty had been her reason de vie for all her forty-four years. Slavery and a collar, as onerous as the prospect was, was simply one more duty. She tugged a robe about her slim form. Soon, she would not even own her very skin! She sighed and strode to the bathroom and began to fill the tub. If nothing else, she would be clean before this dirty business began.

**

In the young man's office once more, the conversation was candid, even informal.

"You know there is but one answer I can give, sir."

"I need to hear it."

"I will accept your collar. I will become your property."

The young prime minister's face betrayed no emotion. "The fate of your children shall be as I promised."

Isla nodded, "Thank you, sir."

"Shall we seal the deal with a kiss?"

"Sir?"

He came out from behind the desk, took her hand, and compelled her to stand. She was in his embrace, his hot lips upon hers. It had been decades since Isla had kissed any man other than Rudolph. Her husband was an adequate kisser but always seemed mentally preoccupied. She was completely unprepared for the passion and intensity of the young man's kiss. She went weak in the knees and was suddenly grateful for his embrace. After a long interval, he broke the clinch and stepped backward. Isla emitted a gasp and flushed crimson all over. The young man's brown eyes sparkled with passion and mischief.

She took a long moment to find her voice.

"May I have one last night with Rudolph? He should have the passions of a husband a final time."

The prime Minister stroked his chin. "Madame, when we confiscated your marital jewelry, the new parliament dissolved your marriage. He is not entitled to your charms any longer, nor can I permit you to see him. However, for another even longer kiss, I will see to it that on his final night before his execution, he receives willing female companionship. That is the best I can do."

Isla's eyes filled with tears as she nodded. The young man's second kiss was even more enthralling than the first!

**

Isla signed the last form. The witnesses, including the chaplain and some of her former servants attested to the fact that the former queen was not taking this step out of duress or coercion. The notary applied her seal to the last page.

"Done!" intoned the moderator. The queen had just become a slave.

Knowing that a public ceremony would be a flash point, the prime minister had made this enslavement ritual private. In deference to her past, the queen was permitted a crude woolen dress rather than the expected and usual complete nudity. Isla sighed. The room was death quiet as she strode over to the wooden enslavement rack. She placed her neck in the semicircle carved in the wood and the officiant parted her long hair before he fit and locked the collar about Isla's neck. The silver lock was filled with molten gold, sealing it forever. Only in death could it be removed.

Somber, the witnesses and officials filed out of the room. Isla stared at the young man. Her fate was tied to his for the rest of her days. It was a paradoxical inverse of her royal existence where her fate had been the state's. Her fate now was in the hands of one man, a young and handsome man who could do anything he wished to her without repercussions. She swallowed hard. Her collar felt impossibly heavy.

She broke the silence, "What shall I call you, master?"

"Sir is fine. Our revolution dispensed with maters though some slaves remain."

She nodded, "How shall I serve you, sir?"

Wordlessly, he took her hand and led her to his private apartments in the fortress. Isla was stunned that they were not much more elaborate than her own. She expected a prime minister would live in luxury. Perhaps the young man's revolution had been sincere after all? He locked and bolted the door after they entered. He removed his suit jacket and tie and hung them on the clothes tree. There was a long pause. His first command was not even uttered. His look told her everything. She closed her eyes, opened the simple garment, and allowed it to flutter to the floor. No man other than Rudolph had ever seen her naked. Even Isla's physicians had been women.

The young man let out a breath. Not even in his most fervid imagination had the former queen been as glorious. Her trim figure enthralled. Long shapely legs, trim waist, flat belly with just a hint of sag from giving birth, a flared ribcage that supported two prodigious breasts with light brown areolas and chance pink nipples. Since the royal family had relied on wet nurses, Isla's breasts were still firm and perky. He circled her a few times, taking her in from all angles. Her buttocks were mouthwatering, her back, incredibly sexy. The young man knew, instinctively that this stupendous body could never have been pleased or satisfied by a limp dick like Rudolph.

"Open your eyes, slave."

Her frightened green eyes met his confident brown ones.

"Undress me."

So it begins, she thought as her trembling hands reached for the buttons of his shirt. She noted that the shirt was not the familiar silk of Rudolph's but simple cotton of good quality. She parted the buttons and spied the young man's incredibly fit torso. He had prominent pectorals and sharply defined abdominals. She stood on her tiptoes to tug the shirt off his shoulders. He was smooth and hairless over the entire expanse of his chest. Isla spied his powerful biceps. She recalled her honeymoon decades ago. Even then, however, Rudolph could not compare to this young man. Isla's right index finger traced his musculature from collar bones to belt line. What was coming over her?

She bent and untied his shoes. He had large feet with high arches. She tugged off each sock. He stood firmly on his feet, almost like an athlete before a race. While still on her knees she reached up and unfastened his belt. She stood. He grasped her in her arms and stole a kiss. It was delightful.

"Continue," he uttered.

She unclasped his trousers and tugged down the fly. His simple, utilitarian, cotton boxers came into view. The breath froze in Isla's lungs. The tenting in the front of the undershorts was prodigious. Isla had come to understand through gossiping with her maids and her more adventurous friends that men were not of uniform size in this area. Until now that had only been an abstraction. The reality was just out of view behind the waistband. Fascinated, Isla tugged the boxers over and past her new master's manhood. "My God!", she said softly. How could a woman accommodate something so large? Was the prime minister an unusual freak? Isla had no way of knowing. Her hands explored his maleness, cupped his balls, and considered it inside her.

The young man grinned. This encounter promised to be more than he had dared hope. He strode forward, swept up the startled mature woman in his arms, and strode towards the bed. He set Isla down and loomed over her. He planted an exhilarating kiss upon her lips and then began kissing his way down her body.

Isla's mind boggled. This was nothing like when Rudolph made love to her. At most, he would suckle her nipples a bit. Her young master did that and so much more. He kissed down to her toes, nibbled each one, and worked his way back up. His face was in her crotch.

Certainly, he's not going to...? thought Isla before in fact he did. Her first experience with cunnilingus was shocking, stunning, but a moment later exhilarating. She had no idea that her salty intimacy could be stimulated in such a way. She closed her eyes. She was no longer in this virtual stranger's bed. She was somewhere warm, the sun shining down. The warmth spread through her. The intensity built and built until it released itself like an overwound watch spring.

"SIR!" cried Isla as her thighs reflexively came together violently against the sides of her young master's head. Isla's mind reeled. Was this the thing her married friends and maids had been talking about? The female pleasure source? She forgot the specific word they used. It seemed crude, but she could not deny that something very much like they described had just happened to her. None of the many sexual encounters as a wife had gotten her anywhere near this point. For a long moment, Isla was above the fortress, a dove soaring on the wind under that impossibly warm sun.

Her master chuckled. Embraced and held her trembling body. She opened her eyes. She found him staring at her with an expression of surety and maturity beyond his years. He smiled and stated softly but firmly.

"That is only the beginning, my precious slave."

Her mouth fell open.

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you."

He began kissing her once more. She felt mellow and truly relaxed for perhaps the first time in her life. He rose, placed a finger against her lips, and said as he entered her. "It is mine to take." He filled her beyond her comprehension. Every encounter with Rudolph faded like icicles in the sun as her young master began to pump with earnestness and youth. That same magical feeling along the base of her spine and then through the rest of her returned, only with not as much intensity. She felt him soften, felt his seed trickle from her sex. She knew she had been unalterably and irredeemably changed. Our old life faded as that of a stranger or an imposter as slumber caught her and she entered the embrace of Morpheus as one dead.

**

She awoke with a start, not knowing where she was. The sight of him working at his desk and the collar around her neck brought it all back to her. The incriminating stain on the sheet demonstrated fully that none of it had been a dream. She lay between the sheets wondering where life would take her from here. He looked up from his work and smiled at her. She returned his smile. He was by the bedside. This kiss was the best by far!

"I take it you slept well, slave?"

"Yes, sir. I most certainly did."

"I took the liberty of ordering breakfast for us both. After breakfast, I give you your bath and we begin our day."

"I'm perfectly capable of bathing myself."

"No doubt slave, but today, that is not permitted."

He kissed her again. Kissing him would always be a pleasure.

"Your wish is my command, sir."

She stretched her supple body and sat up. The duvet and sheet fell away. Isla no longer feared being naked in the presence of her young master.

"I think we have time for a bit of lovemaking before breakfast arrives. Would you like to make the attempt, slave?"

"Yes, sir! I would like that very much!"

**

Natalie gazed at the wedding gown which had been sent to her apartment. Of course she recognized it. It was the one she was to have been married in -- to another royal. Her mother had not believed in waiting till she had a fiancé before the dress was purchased and fitted. She understood she had been given a reprieve. A chance for something akin to a normal life. She signed the forms ceding all her rights and the rights of any of her future children to the throne without hesitation. Now she was to be married to a complete stranger. All she knew was that he was a young colonel in the Marines. She was greatly conflicted, but the alternative was decades and decades of solitary confinement. Hopefully, her soon-to-be husband was not a tyrant or a drunk.

They sent a girl named Sarah to help her get ready. She was polite and tried to raise Natalie's spirits. "What does any new bride really know about her husband?" she asked. "Men often keep their secrets and their fetishes hidden until after the nuptials."

"Sarah, I don't know what happens after I say I do. I've only been kissed a dozen times or so."

"Most men like their wives inexperienced. Explain to him how innocent you are. Only the most heartless of men would be rough or abusive to you once they learn that."

"Have you ever been married, Sarah?'

"No, Ma'am but I've been with several men."

"Really?"

"Yes, they all have different features and physiques but they all pretty much want the same things."

"Such as?"

"Long, lingering kisses, a happy respectful air, and the suckling of their manhood. The rest pretty much takes care of itself."

There was a knock at the door. Sarah opened it a crack.

"It's time," came a bass voice from beyond.

Natalie adjusted her veil. "Stand with me as maid of honor, Sarah."

"I'd be delighted, Ma'am."

Natalie followed Sarah down the long hallway to the chapel. At the door, Natalie received a bouquet, and they found some posies for Sarah. The organ came to life. All eyes in the pews were on Sarah and especially Natalie. She spied her groom at the altar. He was tall, broad, and dark. The former Princess imagined that there were probably at least fifteen years between their birthdays' but her father was older than her mother, perhaps this was for the best. Natalie thought him incredibly dashing in his dress blue uniform. He gazed at her and smiled. He had a very kind and genuine smile. Natalie's trepidations began to recede.

"Ready Ma'am?" asked Sarah

Natalie nodded; the pace of the organ increased Natalie followed Sarah down the aisle. The congregation stood as one.

**

The former crown prince Andre was dropped off on a remote beach on the outer periphery of the nation that, under other circumstances, he would have ruled. The landscape was bleak, windswept, uninviting. He had signed away his rights and royal prerogatives under duress. Only the conviction that they would lock him away for decades after they castrated him drove his pen to ink the documents. He was sworn into the expeditionary forces, fitted for a uniform, and transported here. His sergeant was harsh but fair. A long day of orientation and frustration ended with his being assigned to a tent with another private.

Brad was his age and had joined the expeditionary forces to escape a horrid home life. Andre kept his origins vague. Brad undressed and relaxed in his khaki undershorts. Andre noted that Brad was wiry rather than muscular. He had an easy manner and an eccentric sense of humor. Andre adored him immediately.

"Why don't you get undressed as well? We are off duty until morning."

Andre divested himself of the unfamiliar uniform.

"You are quite handsome Andre."

"Thank you."

"How do I make you feel?"

"What do you mean, Brad?"

"What I mean is that we are a long way from civilization. Women may as well be on the far side of the moon. Not that I have need of them in any case."

Andre appeared perplexed.

"You really don't know why they put us in the same tent do you?"

"No."

The wiry lad rose from his bunk and crossed over to Andre.

Brad's hug and kiss were surprising but, astonishingly for the sheltered ex-royal, both enjoyable and exciting.

Sensing no resistance, Brad stole another kiss. The third time, Andre kissed him back.

"I'll teach you all you need to know, Andre. Has anyone ever sucked your dick before?"

Andres's headshake indicated no. Brad tugged down Andre's undershorts. The subsequent blowjob awed the sheltered boy. He had no problem reciprocating when Brad asked him to return the favor. Suddenly, the years ahead to his pension did not seem so dismal.

**

Rodolph was astonished that a woman had been provided to him. He would leave this world being a man in every sense. He certainly did not expect this nicety. She was dark, petite, with a charming figure.

"I am yours to command, sire."

He relished undressing her. He preferred whores. Wives were only good for easing a need or providing heirs. Whores were up for anything. She undressed him. She serviced him. She praised his meager talents as those of an Adonis. She sat on his face. She did everything he asked of her. She was bored almost to the point of tears throughout, even as her smile and dulcet-toned praises never abated.

She padded out of his cell at dawn. They came for Rudolph then. He gazed at the revolutionary. Had they actually made this impossibly young upstart prime minister? A parliament replacing his authority! The very idea! The revolutionary spoke first. "Just so you go to your reward with eyes wide open. The willing woman you spent the night with came courtesy of your ex-wife's pussy."

Rudolph looked at the upstart in anger.

"She has a wine birthmark the shape of a strawberry in the small of her back."

Rudolph lunged at the prime minister but was instantly restrained by the guards.

"You violated her! You abused her, you pervert!"

"Completely consensual, I assure you despot. I've made her happier between the sheets in a few days than you did in twenty-plus years of marriage."

"You lie!"

"Believe that fiction as your life ebbs away. We decided on your execution method."

"Bring it on!"

"Aren't you curious?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Impalement! A skewer going in your anus and, eventually, out the top of your head or an eye socket."

The ex-king had braced himself for anything but that. His face drained of color.

"No! That is monstrous! Have mercy!"

"Did you show mercy when you ordered your troops to fire on your citizens requesting food from your considerable stores during a famine? Did you show mercy to the soldier who appealed his death sentence to you after he was charged with treason simply because his commanding officer desired the soldier's wife for his own? Did you show mercy to the revolutionaries who inspired my movement before you had them publicly drawn and quartered? I could go on, but the point remains the same. As was aptly demonstrated by your trial and your arrogance throughout, mercy is an alien word to you!"

The country's former king, Rudolph took an unconscionably long time in dying. Afterward, the young prime minister supervised the incineration of his violated body. He seeded the ashes with salt and scattered them to the four winds himself. He returned to his apartment. His sober expression told the Isla that the deed had been done. He held her as she wept, but Isla was surprised that her grief was not especially deep. Until she began sharing the bed of the young prime minister, Isla was convinced that she had loved Rudolph and that he had loved her. Now, she wondered if it had not all been two decades of play-acting. Her young lover allowed her three days to cogitate and mull before he made stupendous love to her and turned her mood from low to loquacious.

**

In the special coach, she sat in her wedding dress, he in his dress blues. They shared their first kiss since tying the knot. He spoke in a rich baritone voice, simply sincerely.

"I will be good to you Natalie. I am a man of simple needs and pleasures. I was hurting for a long time but now I am beginning to feel better than my old self. I lost someone I was amazingly close to. I see her every day in the faces of my daughter and son. This coach will take us to the seaside. A ship will take us to my post. It is a beautiful country; you are certain to adore it."

"James, be gentle with me. Despite my background, I am quite naive about many things, especially intimacy."

He leaned in for their second extended marital kiss.

"I'll be patient to a point. If I must, at some point in the future, I will take you across my knee."

"I'm not a little girl, James!"

"Behave like one, Natalie, expect to get treated as one. I doubt you will drive me to that. I'd rather stroke your ass than smack it." He pulled her onto his lap. This kiss was the best so far! Natalie really, really liked her new husband. He was handsome, funny, sensitive, and fundamentally decent. She anticipated that intimacy with him would be more than satisfying. She doubted that she would find the companionship of any royal she had met through an elite matchmaker as satisfying.

Her new husband's hand explored under Natalie's skirt. She felt herself moisten as his hand caressed outside her underwear. She noted the mysterious bulge in his trousers. She had seen art and statues; she knew in theory what naked men looked like but beyond that it was all a mystery. Her mother had not cleared things up at all. "It is a wifely duty. Sometimes it is almost pleasant," was the most she would confide. Natalie heard quite different things from princesses close to her age whose morals her parents would have objected to. She had no idea which version was the truth. Even her adventurous friends, however, informed her that the first time was often painful. Natalie detested pain in any form. Even a stubbed toe had made her whine like a baby. The realization that intercourse might be painful clashed with her desire to get to know her new husband better. She truly wanted to explore his intriguing body.

Her hand found its way past the buttons of his tunic. She felt his firm muscles and her curiosity increased on a logarithmic scale. She savored his kisses and returned her own with vigor. Colonel James Ferrier manipulated his new bride so that he could tug her knickers off and down her long shapely legs. His fingers probed past the entrance of her blonde box. Natalie, after the initial shock, found it thrilling. She had never explored that part of her anatomy on her own. Her parents and her obsessive servants and nannies had prevented any forays into simple curiosity, let alone any forays into self-love. Just as he was lifting Natalie's skirt over his head, the stagecoach rolled to a stop.

"Awww!" vocalized Natalie.

"Have no fear, my bride, the night is still young, and the adventure has just begun!"

He gathered her in his strong arms and carried her out of the coach, down the pier, up the gangplank, and into his officer's stateroom. This feat of strength impresses the observing sailors and Natalie herself. An orderly hastened behind, carrying the newlywed's luggage.

Squared away in their locked cabin, James kissed her deeply before, without a word, he divested her of her white wedding dress. Natalie was surprised she was not embarrassed as she stood in just her bandeau and wedding garter. James tugged away the bandeau, freeing Natalie's impressive breasts. He took a long moment appreciating her trim, enchanting physique. The new prime minister was more than generous!

"Undress me, wife," he said softly.

"Yes, sir!" she replied in an even softer voice. Her fingers went to the gold buttons on his close-fitting tunic. Her trembling hands fumbled the first few buttons, as the fabric parted, revealing, despite his age, a still incredibly fit physique, Natalie became more confident and adept at the task of stripping her new husband. She was so caught up in learning the buttons, fasteners, and buckles, that she was almost startled to find him in his officer's silk undershorts. James nodded. She tugged them down and over the first erect penis she had ever encountered anywhere. She stood and gaped. That goes in there? She mused to herself. How that operation was to be carried out was now not quite as mysterious.

He fell into the bed and pulled her down on top of him. His lips sought hers. Her lips sought his. For a long interval, no time at all seemed to pass. He maneuvered atop her and tweaked her nipples with his teeth lips and tongue. Natalie was startled by the sensation. She never imagined that her nipples could be stimulated this way. James kissed her way down her body, thrilling her every inch. He licked her secret place, causing the inexperienced girl to involuntarily shiver. And then he was inside her. The pain was intense but passed quickly. As the derriere that Natalie thought positively sumptuous pistoned away, the new bride felt a most delightful yet completely unfamiliar sensation begin to course through her body. The sensation built until it released itself, "God!" cried Natalie followed by "James!" and gales of laughter. The new groom grinned from ear to ear.

**

They shared a quiet breakfast in bed, which had been delivered by a yeoman. At times they fed each other. Long intervals of smiles, grins, and laughs, passed as the meal was consumed. He gathered up the plates and trays, and deposited them outside the door which he then re-locked, James turned. Natalie did not doubt his intentions. She felt her loins dampen. She was enjoying being a wife.

Her mood changed substantially when the colonel only permitted her to wrap a towel about herself as he led her into the sunshine of the upper decks. Crimson with shame, she tried to ignore the penetrating stares of the sailors and marines. James led her to a structure on the forward deck and forced her through a door he promptly closed behind her. Natalie found herself amidst a group of mostly older naked women.

"You must be Natalie," said one.

The blushing woman nodded.

"Welcome to the club. Drop the towel dear. We can see out, but no one can see in. Only officers' wives are permitted to tan. Officers' wives do nothing in half measures. If we are given the right to tan, you will be damn sure every one of us will tan all over. Hence, this structure." She gestured at the surroundings. "A tan tells an officer's spouse right away. It makes it so much better to know who you are dealing with before you even speak to them. Sit, get to know us. Pump our brains on how to be a proper officer's wife. You have mighty big ballet slippers to fill."

Natalie relaxed. The towel went to her right hand. There was a table set up with tea and sandwiches. She realized that she had a great deal to learn. She settled into a vacant chaise lounge and stated, "I'm all ears!"

**

Brad and Andre knew enough to keep their passion for each other hidden. Their sergeant was understanding but above him was potential trouble. Andre knew every bit of Brad's anatomy and Brad was intimate with his own. Andre paid attention to passing posteriors of other soldiers as he had never done before. He felt loved for perhaps the first time. He was close to his mother and sister, but his father had always considered Andre something of a disappointment. He could just imagine what his late father would think of Brad! He was resolved to the fact that he would probably never mourn for him. While Brad was on guard duty, Andre sat on his cot and used his duty box as a desk as he composed a letter to his mother. Her sacrifice floored him. She had given him a better life than she possibly could have imagined. A woman willing to do what she has done must truly understand sacrifice and love. Andre vowed to be as inspirational as a soldier as Isla was as a mother.

**

Isla placed the picture of Andre and Brad in a frame. She wondered if her son's new friend had a sister who would make a suitable wife. Andre's letter to her filled her with delight. She had made the right decision. Natalie was settling in as well. A new husband, instant motherhood, and the responsibilities and duties of an officer's wife. Natalie explained that much of it was exactly what she trained for as a princess. Being an asset to her husband was still the point of her life. Officer's wives were forbidden to have children for two full calendar years from their nuptials, so grandchildren were not in Isla's immediate future. Still, she was hopeful.

Her husband, the former prime minister, had not been out of government long. Although agreeing with his political statement of a brief term in office and never to serve as prime minister again; his successor and the populace viewed him as too valuable to the new state to simply retire. He was made the new Treasury Secretary, which meant many hours poring over Rudolph's financial records to claw back to the people the wealth that he had appropriated. The father of his country worked with a determination that bordered on fanatical.

Isla gazed around the simple apartment in the capital. Just three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, dining room, pantry, lavish library and enchanting sunroom. It was the most luxury her young husband would permit the people to provide him. The government acquiesced to his enslaving the former queen so long as Isla abided by the standards and was treated no differently than any other female slave. In practical terms, that meant very short and revealing dresses, annual assessments by a neutral party, her registration number tattooed on her right butt cheek, and a mandatory three-week training session under the state slave master.

Valuable and necessary as it had been, Isla hoped her children never learned the details of her training. Almost a year later, it was still sharply defined in her consciousness. Officials from the State Slave Bureau, arrived unannounced, placed a leather hood over Isla's head, bound her wrists, and hobbled her ankles before transporting her halfway across the country to a remote farm surrounded by electrified barbed wire and acres and acres of wilderness. Her bonds were removed as was the hood. A huge, exceptionally muscular bald man stared down at her. His steel grey eyes were pits of enmity. Isla was stunned into silence. He tore her clothing away.

"You earn everything here, bitch! Food, clothing, and shelter are meted out to you as you earn them. No deference will be paid to your sex, age, or former station. Now, fall into that line, for your shearing and subsequent cell assignment!"

They cut her long hair short. They shaved her privates. They provided an ice water shower. They threw her naked into a cramped cell. They intended to break her. Isla vowed they would not. She had been sent here to learn and that is what she would do despite the circumstances.

She sucked all manner of strange cocks. She learned to savor the taste of pussy. She learned all the proper slave display positions. She pegged others and was pegged herself. She took it up the ass. She learned how to perform a complete pirouette when mounted on an erect cock. She felt the sting of the flail and she wielded the flail as well. She applied herself diligently. She was so outstanding that she graduated at the top of her class. The state slave master kissed her deeply in congratulations and sent her home in a ceremonial white velvet robe with a candle tattoo on her left thigh indicating her status as class luminaire!

She returned to her young master who read her glowing report avidly. "I always believed that you were a remarkable woman, and you continue to prove me correct time after time."

The incredible sex they had been having became so intense, that most nights, depending upon the orgasm, Isla thought she would either burst into flames or liquify like butter left atop the stove. She felt more alive than ever. Secretly she hoped that she would become pregnant. She hoped that she was not too old. She wanted to give her young master a living breathing memorial of their love and passions.

Her old life as queen seemed that of a stranger. A stranger who still possessed her memories and sometimes occupied her dreams but was fading slowly, like a dense fog being burned away by the sun on a mostly overcast day. The Secretary of the Treasury entered the room, she flew to him and accepted eagerly his embrace and kisses. This is what she was meant for! "Oh, darling, sir, how can I best serve you at present?"

The young man took all of her in from crown to great toe. Never had he seen a more intoxicating vision. He pondered her question. He was not long in coming up with an answer.