Eugenia's Transformation

The patriarch of the Jung family stood ramrod straight, a forced smile on his face. Next to him stood his golden-haired wife, his twin nineteen-year-old daughters, and his seventeen-year-old son. All were arrayed in their best finery and hoped their smiles would appear suitably sincere. To think such an ancient custom would affect them. The law was clear as it was ancient. One house, chosen at random, must open itself to inspection on the eve of the birthday on which the crown prince achieved his majority, so that the heir to the throne may select any item that strikes his fancy as a present from the occupants. It could be any item, from a rare family heirloom to prize livestock, or an impressive firearm. Whatever struck the lad's fancy was his without question and without debate.

In strode the king, an image of satin, silk, and authority. His tall and gangly son, and a squad of heavily armed guards followed and surrounded the monarch. The father and son bowed. The women curtsied. The father nervously began his speech.

I welcome you to the Jung household. We are a modest but loyal family. Our home is your home.'

The king yawned, "That will do, peasant. Why couldn't the lottery have turned up the home of a duke, or a viscount, hell, even a Burgermeister? We shall not be long."

The king turned to his son, "I doubt you will find treasure here, son, but have at it."

The Jung family remained standing, plastered smiles in place as the tall, thin, dark-haired prince vanished into the rooms of the simple house. They heard him opening drawers and chests and commenting on the contents he uncovered. He explored the marital bedroom, the bedroom shared by the beautiful strawberry blonde daughters, and the modest room where the son slept. The patriarch, noting that the prince was not much older than his son, hoped that the heir to the throne would find something of interest there. Perhaps among his son's hobbies, the royal lad might find a sentimental item that reminded him of his own youth. After thoroughly exploring every room of the smallish house, he emerged empty-handed. The royal scion returned to the vestibule. He considered the family. The father, graying, paunchy, and balding, was clearly a merchant of some type. The son was nearly as tall as himself. The son wore the grubbiness of his class and had pathetic possessions. The daughters were more attractive as a united novelty than they were individually. They reminded the prince of the lovely but otherwise bland princesses and duchesses his mother was always setting him up with in hopes of sparking something. The peasant's wife was... He stared appreciatively, blonde, buxom, and statuesque, she appeared almost too young to have been a mother this long. What had his father told him about sowing his wild oats before he became serious about marrying and settling down to start a family? His father's attitude was so much more refreshing than his mother's "marry as soon as you can" mantra. Were the rumors of older women's aptitude between the sheets accurate? Who better to initiate him into the joys of carnality than a beautiful and experienced teacher? What fun he could have with such a ravishing creature! At least until the duties of state required him to put her away and become a husband and father himself. He would delay that unsavory prospect as long as possible! Here, unquestionably, was a treasure of great value. The royal lad approached the Jung matriarch, placed a hand upon her shoulder, and invoked the ancient law. "By the power of the throne. by divine right. By personal preference, this is the treasure I claim from this home."

The mother's eyes went wide, her posture sagged, and her smile faded.

Mr. Jung emitted a frustrated grunt. "Now see here!" he began.

At a nod from the king, one of the guards pressed his bayonet point against the father's jugular.

"Another word of protest peasant, you die where you stand, your daughters are escorted to a whore house, your son castrated, and this house turned to ash. After all of that, my son will still have the treasure he selected."

Mr. Jung forced himself to remain silent. The rest of the family knew that only silence was sanity. The prince grasped Mrs. Jung by her white-gloved hand and stated, "Come, treasure, we shall have such marvelous adventures. With no choice, the wife allowed herself to be led away. Not even permitted parting kisses or hugs, she tried to impart to each member of her family the intense love she felt for them. Suddenly, she was out the door of the home she loved so much and up the steps to the son's royal coach. The lad strode in and locked the carriage door from the inside. He settled himself in the thickly padded luxurious seat.

"Come sit on my lap, wench, so that we may get acquainted."

Her heart beating a ragged tattoo, she did so. His arms encircled her. He stole a kiss.

"What is your name, fair one?"

"Eugenia, sire," she answered softly.

He placed his hand upon her chin, forced her to look into his eyes.

"Obey me implicitly and without question, Eugenia, and I shall show you a marvelous time. Be recalcitrant and moody, lock yourself off from me, I can see to it that my father's threats against the home that used to be yours are carried out. Is that clear?"

Eugenia nodded.

"Excellent! Now, kiss me like you mean it!"

What choice did she have? She planted a long, lingering kiss upon his lips. The lad's hands roved over her best dress, surveying and analyzing her anatomy. He savored the plumpness of her breasts, the curve of her thighs, the arch of her neck, and her nimbus of straw-yellow hair. Had he asked the creator for a special order of his own design, Eugenia Jung would have been it. The stultifying ride to this distant hovel certainly delivered an enjoyable return voyage.

He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her closed eyes, her delicate chin.

"You are mine, Euginia, completely and totally," he said in an interval when their lips weren't busy.

Euginia caught her breath and considered the young man. She was disgusted with herself for having enjoyed so many of the kisses that transpired. Truth be told, it had been a very long time indeed since she had been kissed with such passion and abandon. Her husband became fixated on business in recent years; his passion for his wife seemed to decline with each kilo of weight he added to his once lean and taut frame. Her mind was abuzz with many thoughts, but all she could muster in reply was, "Yes, sire."

"Certainly, your former husband must have married you at a scandalously young age!"

Eugenia flushed, "Sire, you jest. I have seen thirty-nine summers."

"By the almighty, you could have birthed me!" The young prince pondered that fact for a moment before grinning from ear to ear, "What a stimulating thought!"

Eugenia became aware of the lad's manhood impacting upon her bottom. The implications were clear as to what would transpire once they reached the palace. She subtly tried to shift her derriere ever so slightly, but the prince was having none of that. He held her fast and whispered in her ear, "Your feminine will meet my masculine in due time. Let us savor the preliminary."

"Sire, I am a married woman."

"That shall be rectified shortly with a royal fiat. Heed my warning of attempting to lock yourself off. You have no family. You are my property. I am the focus of your life. Remember that and act accordingly, and you shall have a remarkable and wonderful life. I can and will, if you are obedient, provide luxury you can scarce imagine. An adventurously submissive life on your part may turn out to be a boon for those who shared your past life. My father can find husbands from the nobility for your charming daughters, arrange a commission in the military for your son, royal patronage, and contracts for the business of the man who once shared your bed."

He looked at her expectantly. Euginia leaned in and began kissing him again with much more fervor and passion. The carriage rolled through the landscape.

It was well past dark when the convoy of royal carriages came to a stop inside the palisade wall of the royal palace. Eugenia gawked out the carriage window. Even at night, the palace was bright and luminous. Alabaster walls, soaring towers, and uncountable windows ablaze with lamps and candles. The thought of living there, even as a mere possession, was heady. Euginia took a breath to collect her thoughts.

The king appeared before the carriage.

"I know you want to play, son, but you must attend to supper. I am sure that your new toy is quite famished as well. Also, if your mother has an attack of apoplexy during the meal, I'll be sure to catch her before she hits the floor."

Father and son shared a hearty laugh.

As the king strode away, the prince lamented, "To be a prince means to have just enough and just not enough power simultaneously. It is a job everyone claims they want, but that is not true; they want the pomp and circumstances and the cushy living, the three things that make the position insufferable."

He paused, "Anyway, my dove. I'm sure you need to freshen up. Mother will adore you."

Eugenia agreed with the former but disagreed vociferously with the latter. As a mother herself, she knew quite well how she would react if her son came home with an intimate female partner who shared her years and experience. An angry queen with access to almost unlimited power was the very worst enemy to have. Eugenia considered the implications and could almost feel the noose about her neck and the queen cackling with glee when the trap door was sprung. For the first time, Eugenia hoped that the prince was the sort of boy who made sure to protect his possessions in every way. She knew, from the time she crossed the threshold of the palace, she would be a thing. The woman Eugenia had already expired. She managed not to break down in tears as the young and attentive prince escorted her to her destiny.

The lavatory stunned her. Running water! The wonderful bidet was explained by the maid. Feeling completely refreshed, Eugenia exited the restroom to a hug and a peck on the cheek from the prince, who led her to the cavernous dining room. The king and queen were already seated at the head of the table. The dark-haired, aquiline-nosed queen's face betrayed no emotion as the prince pulled out a chair for Eugenia. For a long moment, the women considered each other. Eugenia found the queen utterly unreadable, leaving her no idea how she stood.

The meal was scrumptious. Eugenia's taste buds had never experienced a more delightful repast. She paid attention to the prince to determine which fork and spoon she should use with each course. The wine was sweetly delicious. The king and queen held court after the last plate and glass were dispensed with. "Remember, Magnus, tomorrow is your birthday. I expect you to be ready for the hunt at the proper hour," stated the king.

"I expect you to be polite and charitable to your birthday guests tomorrow," inveigled the queen.

With that, Prince Magnus was dismissed. He pulled out Eugenia's chair, took her hand, and led her up the marble staircase to his room on the second floor. Eugenia attempted to control her breathing. The upcoming events were more terrifying and mysterious than her honeymoon decades before! All the way to the door of his bedroom, Magnus was the model of civility and rectitude. Once the door was locked behind them, however, he embraced her and kissed her deeply. He led her to the adjoining bath and began filling the tub.

She looked at him puzzledly.

"You need to be bathed, and I shall be the one to do it."

"Sire?" She stood for a moment as the reality of the moment descended. What else did she really expect? Eugenia nodded and began tugging off her right white glove.

"No, dove. I shall do everything! That is decided."

Eugenia took a deep breath, held it, let it out softly. So, it begins, she told herself. She offered her gloved hand to the prince, who carefully, gently removed it. He kissed the back of her hand gallantly and then removed her left glove. There was the simple gold wedding band that had not left the third finger of her left hand since her wedding day. Obvious. Potent. Past.

Magnus began working it off. "You are mine. This was presented by another. Its removal cannot be objected to." It came away in his grasp, and Eugenia had difficulty focusing behind her tears. He was not unsympathetic. He handed her his handkerchief while he fell to his knees to unlace and remove her finest pair of boots.

He rose to his full height, kissed her gently, and began parting the bone buttons of her dress. He tugged it down to the floor, and she stepped out of it. She stood in her full slip above her scanties. She wished she could be invisible like the wind or that the Maker would transform her into a songbird so that she could fly away. He tugged the slip over her shoulders and down. He admired the lacy bandeau that restrained her prodigious bust. She made no effort to cover herself. What would be the point? She could not meet his gaze. She stared at the tile floor. He betrayed a bit of impatience when he encountered the complicated catch to the petticoat, but after a frustrated moment, it fluttered to the floor.

"Your legs are marvelous!" he enthused. And indeed, they were, long, limber, and shapely. She flushed crimson all over. She stood now. in just her bandeau, step-ins, suspenders, and long white silk stockings. Magnus appreciated how the stark whiteness complemented Eugenia's fair complexion. He could never know that those stockings he was admiring were Eugenia's greatest luxury and her most prized possession. A gift from her husband on their fifth anniversary, when he had come into an unexpected windfall, Eugenia had lovingly cared for them ever since, ensuring that they were never torn or snagged. Worn only on special occasions, Eugenia always laundered them with care and precision. The finery worthy of a countess or duchess had made Eugenia feel like royalty in them. Now those thoughts returned as a bitter taste.

The prince admired Eugenia's lithe and fit torso. One had to look very close to see the proofs that this woman was a mother three times over. The young prince realized he had done phenomenally well in selecting this woman. He reached behind her back and loosened the knot in her bandeau before tugging it away. Magnus savored the first pair of female breasts he had seen in real life. Eugenia's were fine indeed, with light brown areolas and chance pink nipples. Magnus grinned. Returned to his knees and carefully unfastened each of Eugenia's stockings before carefully removing each one. Eugenia noted that he had taken pains not to turn them inside out. That act impressed her mightily. In that instant, Eugenia knew that she would never be taken for granted by this increasingly handsome prince. He would not intentionally debase or abuse her, of this she was certain, but he would have what he wanted. That too was abundantly clear.

He tugged down her step-ins, revealing her thick blonde intimate triangle, neatly trimmed about the edges into sharpness. He smiled, pulled away the suspenders, and she was birth bare before him.

For a long while, he just stood there drinking her in. He had her make a slow pirouette so that he could appreciate her from all angles before ordering her into the tub. Eugenia found the water exactly the right temperature. She was stunned at how vastly this tub varied from familiarity. In her old life, just filling the tub with hot water took nearly an hour, and very often the water was tepid by the time it was full. Here, there were taps reading hot and cold. With a flick of her wrist, she could have the perfect temperature. There would definitely be good things about living in a palace!

He placed a pillow between her head and the porcelain of the tub. She leaned back and watched as he divested himself of his shirt. He was wiry more than muscular with a bit of tummy definition and rather nice biceps. His hairless chest was smooth with small pectoral muscles. While not irresistibly attractive, for Eugenia, it was quite a change from her husband's flabby belly and rubbery arms. Not that she saw her husband with his shirt off that often, recently. In fact, she had trouble recalling the last time she had seen her husband naked. Even when they made love, he just pushed aside her bedclothes in the dark and did his thing. Romance was a warm but distant memory at best. Her husband providing her a bath? Heavens no! That never would have happened. Not past the honeymoon at any rate.

The lad gently applied the soap and chased it with a sponge. Eugenia noted that this soap was very fine, unlike the locally made product available in her remote village. It was fragrant and produced such awesome suds. She had to conclude that soaking in the tub, doing absolutely nothing while the handsome lad did everything, was beyond wonderful. Especially astonishing to Eugenia was Magnus's skill and dexterity in washing her hair. He did almost as fine a job as the women in the salon back home. She wondered where a lad of just eighteen summers had acquired such skill. It was not something one would associate with young men, but the fact that this particular young man owned this ability greatly endeared him to her. It demonstrated his patience and gentleness. Those two traits, Eugenia realized, were perhaps the most important of any if she was to not only survive captivity but perhaps thrive.

As she relaxed in the tub, the prince handed Eugenia a glass of wine. The older woman had imbibed to the edge of tipsiness at dinner, partly because the wine was so sweet but also as a defense mechanism. She knew that any encounter between herself and the prince would be easier and less traumatic if she were as relaxed as possible. Eugenia sipped slowly so that she didn't become sloppy and removed from the upcoming encounter completely.

After what Eugenia had to admit was a rather pleasant idyll, Magnus pulled the plug and helped Eugenia out of the tub. He toweled her off, as Eugenia wrapped a towel about her damp hair. As he worked, Eugenia spied her wedding ring atop one of her white gloves resting next to the basin. The symbolism was not lost one her. To think it ends like this, she thought. Not with his death, either of them getting involved in a messy and scandalous affair, the tragic bite of cancer, or a random accident. No, it ended in a rush of lust from a boy she could have birthed and an ancient, unbreakable tradition. None of the many manuals for brides and wives Eugenia had read over the years ever mentioned that possibility.

Her mind transported her back to her adolescence. Her most beloved aunt, Ida, was casting her fortune. The petite woman looked up from her cards. "Genie darling, your final call takes you far away from here."

"What do you mean, auntie?"

"The cards are not clear. I see a fancy house far away."

"Will I marry a rich man?" inquired Eugenia excitedly.

"The cards are unclear, darling. It's not a marriage. What is to be is unclear."

"Oh, auntie, I thought the cards told all!"

"They do, darling. But sometimes, for a myriad of reasons we cannot see clearly. This is all you need to know for now. When the vision comes true, you will know. That is all I can say."

"Will I be happy there?"

"On that, the cards are crystal clear, sweetheart. They say that your happiness or unhappiness there will rest entirely upon your attitude."

"That's not an answer!'

"Yes, it is darling. Yes, it is."

Eugenia had been fifteen when her favorite aunt had cast her fortune that final time. Ida passed away the next year when typhoid had struck her neighborhood, and as the years passed, and no rich men from foreign lands appeared to woo her, Eugenia had shrugged off the prophecy. Now that old prediction had come to pass, and it was all as obvious as her breath on a winter's day. My happiness or lack of it is entirely up to me, she mused. She looked at the young prince. She could not deny that he was her foretold destiny. Could he make her happy? Rather, could she make herself happy as his property? The alternative was perhaps decades of horror. He was not bad-looking. He was obviously attracted to her. Happiness for many couples and individuals had been built on far less. She returned his smile.

He led her to the adjoining bedroom. The ever-present yet never visible unless summoned servants had already turned down the sheets. A hairbrush had been laid out on the vanity. Eugenia brushed out her hair as it dried. Magnus seemed content to watch, as though he was suddenly not exactly sure how to progress further. Eugenia's countenance became inscrutable, she had never deflowered a virgin before.

She took the initiative. She stood and embraced the lad. He felt her breasts compress against his bare chest, and his tentativeness vanished. He kissed her passionately and maneuvered her towards the bed. She sat on the edge and she helped him remove his boots and stockings. He had large, well-shaped feet. They leaned back on the bed. Her hands were on the fly of his pantaloons. Hurriedly, he tugged them off. He was as naked as she. Eugenia decided that she liked the young prince's physique just fine. His manhood was long, firm, and girthy. Her lips brushed against them. He moaned. She took a tentative lick. Magnus sighed. Her lips encircled his shaft. "Oh, Eugenia!" he gasped. The older woman had stopped performing this nicety for her husband some time ago. His cooling passions towards her had reduced her own. She used to savor pleasing her husband this way. The reason was apparent in the young man's reaction. Her head bobbed slowly up and down while he made sounds of pure delight. Inexperience combined with tremendous excitement meant that Magnus's endurance was rather brief. Eugenia didn't care as she slurped down the royal seed. The almost forgotten tang of ejaculate brought back memories of her honeymoon when her new husband had explained carefully what he expected of her. Just as on that night, the taste of cum proved her personal triumph.

Prince Magnus pulled her close and planted a kiss upon her lips.

"You are wonderful!" he cooed. He snuggled with Eugenia, and she had the insight that her experience and maturity made her the driver of the carriage. At least until the prince caught up. By that time, Eugenia realized that she could have the young prince wrapped around her finger. Instead of being the captive, she could be the captor! Her future seemed far less onerous. Her head rested next to his. He traced her anatomy gently with his index finger. Already, he was falling in love with this amazing creature. His young, fit body was ready to go again before very much time had passed. He felt it was time for him to prove his manliness. He positioned her so that he could mount her. He recalled his father's instruction. The old man wanted his son to be confident in bed. He had given him lectures punctuated by some realistic works of art to give him a firm grounding. The King had hoped to smuggle a talented whore who serviced the elite classes into the palace, so that his son could put into practice the theories he had learned, but the queen had been tipped off somehow and every woman was thoroughly investigated before they passed the front gate of the palace. Both father and son were extremely tired of her recently gained religious fervor. She had become obsessed with purity and communing with God. She expected her husband and son to follow her example. She might as well wish that men could fly just by flapping their arms. In many ways, the king was quite pleased, even tickled by his son's selection. He saw no need for his only son to rush to the altar. Early marriages were often unhappy ones, especially arranged royal ones. The King's own parents had a distant at best relationship. He himself had no choice in a bride. Sofia was a princess from an allied nation, and the union of her royal house to his was essential to establish an alliance and seal various peace treaties. The queen had always been a bit prudish, but tolerable, sometimes even passionate between the sheets. Now she was a harridan who slapped his hands away whenever he tried to initiate intimacy and hid her body from him with meters and meters of fabric. "This is why," he told himself, "A good monarch always has at least a dozen mistresses, each with a different specialty!" He had not stated as much to his son, but he had gotten the point across.

Young Magnus struggled until Eugenia guided him in. All hesitancy left him. He quickly built a steady rhythm and pumped with a vigorousness and maturity that belied his youth. To her surprise, and then delight, Eugenia began to feel that certain tension building at the base of her spine. She had first discovered this tension as a girl but had been caught in the act of self-abuse by her mother, who turned her over to her otherwise loving father for a thorough thrashing. She rediscovered that tension and its wonderful release on her honeymoon. Of late, she had wondered where that stimulating tension had migrated to. Now it was back, better, and more powerful than it had been for a long time. They were both on the edge of the precipice, but she tumbled over first, her body writhing with pleasure as a throaty, sustained laugh emanated from her as the lad came with a grunt.

The world winked out for a moment for both. When it returned, they gazed at each other in wonder. He broke the silence with, "I have the very best birthday present ever!" Then, he laughed, gathered Eugenia in his arms and kissed her passionately until their tired bodies slunk away from the palace to enter the realm of sleep.

**

Eugina awoke to an empty bed. It took her several long moments to place herself and recall the events that had led her here. The dried spot on the silken sheets confirmed that the events of the night before were not illusory. A servant materialized and stated, "His highness is on the ritual birthday hunt. I have been informed that after your morning ablutions, the royal seamstresses are to be summoned to see to it that you are properly gowned for the festivities. A silk robe was placed by her on the bed.

Eugenia donned the robe, padded to the bathroom, and completed her morning toilet. She returned to the prince's bedroom, where the servant led her down the hall to a room filled with seamstresses and bolts of fine fabrics. Breakfast was being served in one corner. In the all-female environment, Eugenia allowed them to take the robe while the royal seamstresses and their apprentices took her every possible measurement. A din soon filled the air. These women, occupants of the palace, were laborers, many from the same background as Eugenia; therefore, they did not judge her. Jokes and gentle conversation made the time pass pleasantly for all.

A sudden instant silence descended. Every tongue was stilled at once. The queen strode into the room. Imperious, sour, cross. She gawked at the still naked Eugenia, pacing about her like a she panther on patrol. The queen was not much older than Eugenia. In her youth, she must have been stunning. She was still quite attractive, although it was hard to ascertain the nature of her figure as she was wearing a dress of voluminous fabric. It took Eugenia a stunned moment to properly curtsy. After an extremely painful interval, Queen Sofia grasped Eugenia's chin and forced her to meet her harsh, dark brown eyes, "I shall tolerate my son's fancy for now. I know that you have committed no fault in this matter. I admit that your presence makes me extremely unhappy and upsets so many of my plans. Again, that is not your fault. Women are very often the victims of men's evil. Hear me, though, woman, my son's emotions and soul are not yours to play with and manipulate. Eventually, you will have to be put away so my son can transform himself from reprobate dissipater to sacred, productive father and sovereign. That means there are two avenues of retirement open for you, slattern, either you are dispensed with in a brothel on the sea coast to be traded about by undiscriminating sailors till the end of your days, OR a small well-furnished cottage in a quite respectable neighborhood, with placards of thanks and satisfaction from the royal household lining the walls and an enviable pension to manage it. It is entirely up to you which outcome eventuates. Do you get my meaning?"

Eugenia struggled to find her voice before uttering "Yes, your majesty."

The queen nodded in acknowledgement, spun on her heels, and, on her way out of the room, stated firmly. "Teal girls, I think the strumpet will look quite fetching in teal."

After the door closed behind the queen, the buzz of conversation resumed.

"That went very well, Eugenia, darling," said the ancient head seamstress. "If she hated you, your gown would be beige." Simultaneous laughter from the seamstresses and apprentices.

The gown they created was absolutely spectacular. The teal coloring complemented Eugenia's flawless alabaster skin tone and golden locks. It brought a sparkle to her blue eyes. In it, Eugenia was convinced that she had never looked lovelier, not even on her wedding day. This caused her to think about the family she had left behind. She wondered how they were coping. She considered the prince's promise of their potential futures. Could her loss of freedom give them all more wonderful lives? It was a humbling thought.

**

The prince's eyes widened with delight when he spied her in her stunning new gown. The seamstresses had somehow intuited his preferences. The bodice clung tightly to Eugenia's frame, and the décolletage of the dress was carefully cut to reveal the fact that its wearer was amply endowed with just the right amount of daring. Trimmed in golden thread that captured the light, Magnus was reminded of images of fairytale princesses from the storybooks of his youth. Then he began to wonder how gossamer and lacy the underthings were beneath the dress. He was positive that the royal seamstresses would try to especially shine in that aspect. He wanted to crush her in his arms and plant a vigorous kiss upon his lips, but he was fresh from the hunt. His clothes were caked with perspiration and blood. He allowed himself a brief peck of her lips.

"Oh, Eugenia! You have brought me tremendous luck! Today, I took a boar! That is a most auspicious omen. It means my reign shall be bountiful and praiseworthy. My birthday guests will be magnificently impressed. I must hurry to get cleaned up and ready. Accompany me, Eugenia. I want to recount the hunt to you."

Talk of hunting and other extremely male pursuits always bored Eugenia to tears. Still, she was used to, as a wife, to feigning interest and interjecting phrases that seemed to deepen the conversation. It seemed to work; Magnus was in his glory issuing a torrent of animate words involving the tracking, cornering, and killing of the dangerous beast. It all washed over Eugenia like water off a duck's back.

As Magnus was being dressed, Eugina was escorted by a page to the banquet hall to be in her proper place before the guests arrived. She sat in the empty room while servants assembled a pyramid of the many gifts arriving before the festivities. Eugenia was startled by the appearance of King Phillip. He strode towards her chair. Eugenia made a move to stand up, but the king indicated that she should remain as she was. He settled himself on the chair next to Eugenia, placed a hand on her thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. "You look radiant."

"Thank you, your highness."

"You were the topic of conversation during the hunt, woman."

"Sire?"

"My son has made an excellent selection. He spoke about the family you left behind. Eugenia met his gaze.

"Continue as you are doing, and I can arrange that my son's promises of their fates become fact."

"I shall try, sire."

The king's hand roved up to Eugenia's crotch.

"My wife is most unhappy about your presence."

"I am quite aware of that, sire."

"Her power is not greater than mine. I mean to talk about your presence with her shortly. A private conversation of understanding. As far as I am concerned, my son needs and deserves you. You have an ally on the throne."

"Thank you, sire."

The king's hand moved from Eugenia's crotch to fondle her breasts.

"You are welcome, woman. Perhaps, one day, you can show me your appreciation."

He planted a kiss upon Eugenia's cheek, rose, and strode away, leaving Eugenia with a great deal to consider. The king made his way out of the banquet hall. Servants fiddled about setting everything up. Like the gifts, Eugenia was required to stay in one spot. Several uneventful hours passed. Eugenia watched in fascination as the royal sketch artist made quite beautiful drawings of the room as the last of the decorations were fixed in place. He then moved his easel opposite Eugenia and composed a sketch of her. He showed Eugenia the results, and she was delighted at how lovely he made her appear.

"May I keep it?" she asked.

"No, this is my gift to his highness. I just have time to matt and frame it, and wrap it. You are, though, without question, one of the loveliest models to pose for me in quite some time."

He bowed and hurried from the room. Eugina at least had the satisfaction of knowing that she would see the sketch again. While contemplating this, Magnus entered the banquet hall, arm in arm with his mother. Both in the wake of the king. He towered over his diminutive mother. Eugenia was utterly awestruck by how handsome the young man was in his carefully and expertly tailored suit. The burgundy jacket was cut tight enough to reveal his fit, wiry physique beneath. The trousers highlighted his thighs and butt and manhood. He was clearly putting on a show for the gathered guests. Eugenia noted the glances of many of the young women attending, princesses, countesses, duchesses, all were nakedly assessing the birthday boy. All of them were hoping that he would ask them to dance. Eugenia could tell that many were already imagining themselves living in this palace. She also felt the eyes of so many of them upon her. The young women were giving her the once-over, whispering to one another about Euginia and snickering behind their concealing palms. Word had gotten around, not only in the palace but also in the surrounding countryside, that the heir to the throne had chosen an older woman as his intimate in every sense, playmate. Men wore sly smiles when she caught them looking at her, Eugenia was quite familiar with that look. The fathers, the husbands, the young men, all of them were imagining her in her scanties or nothing at all. It was a look she had received regularly in her provincial town, but tonight it was magnified a thousand-fold. Magnus and his mother approached. Eugenia popped to her feet to formally greet them. She curtsied and placed a chaste kiss on Magnus's cheek for public consumption. The crowd's buzz was drowned out by the band striking the opening notes of their performance. The bulk of the guests, the lower ranking socially and politically, started making their way from the entrance of the banqueting hall to their seats. Magnus was front and center. His mother and father to his left, and Eugenia to the right. There was not much for Eugenia to do other than look fetching and coo along with Magnus as select gifts were opened. Only the most important royal families in attendance had their gifts opened while everyone was assembled. It would take days for Magnus to unwrap the huge number of gifts that he had received, and for the staff of the palace to compose thank-you notes and mail them out.

Eugenia's jaw dropped at the sight of so much gold and gems. Magnus received diamond-encrusted silver ceremonial swords, a hunting rifle with gold and silver filigree on the stock and barrel, fine clothes, the papers for pedigreed race horses, and so much more. His father gave him a marvelous bejeweled watch and a platinum-encased compass. For the first time, Eugenia agreed with her husband's many vociferous complaints about taxation in their country! Queen Sofia presented her son with a signet ring which had already been sized to his finger. "This ring has been gifted to the oldest son in my family on the night of his majority for three hundred years," she said softly. "Since I am the end of my line. It now transfers to this royal household."

The significance of the gift caused a thunderous round of applause. It also gave Eugenia an insight into why she was so heavily pushing her son towards the altar.

It was past Midnight when the last guest was ushered out of the palace. Eugenia was completely sated with food, cake, and champagne. She and the prince had danced a few waltzes, but for decorum's sake and political purposes, Magnus had to dance with as many young titled women as possible. Each of these women gave Eugenia the stink eye as they approached, something the young prince was not yet sophisticated enough to recognize. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she was certain that the prince would not allow that. As the last guest exited, King Phillip announced a special gift and had the servants produce a wonderfully designed box of the finest workmanship. The sort of box a boy or man of any age would use for his most beloved treasures. Magnus, delightedly, opened his father's gift. Inside, settled on the satin lining was an ornate tooled leather-bound book entitled "The Art of Slave Mastery" a bound pamphlet on the kingdom's slave regulations and a series of tiny clamps, ropes, a flail, handcuffs, fetters, phallic shaped objects, sharp pointy things, a ball gag, a ring gag, and a black leather hood. Magnus grinned from ear to ear as he fingered the contents of the package while Eugenia's blood froze in her veins.

King Phillip gazed at both his son and Eugenia. "Your new possession is a big responsibility, son, and a test. All slaves need to be trained and disciplined. I've had a long talk with your mother. If we see that you are effectively training Eugenia and following all the regulations of slave ownership to the letter, she will not put pressure on you to woo or wed for as long as seven years. If, however, we see that Eugenia is gaining the upper hand and behaving or acting above her station, your mother and I will conclude that you are not up to the task, and we will immediately end this experiment. I hate to admit it, son, but your mother is right when she said to me, "If he can't control a mere slave from the peasant classes, marrying him off to be dominated by the right royal damsel is the sensible and logical thing to do."

Magnus fell silent at that. Eugenia flushed scarlet. He embraced his father and said, "I won't let you down, sir!"

As they stepped away from each other, the king said, "It's time for bed. Nice day of rest tomorrow as a birthday present, but next week we all go to the cathedral as a family."

"Yes, sir."

The king and his retinue strode off towards his private quarters as Magnus watched. Only when his father was out of sight did Magnus turn to face Eugenia.

"My party was wonderful, but unwrapping you will be the highlight." He embraced Eugina and bent her backwards so that she fell into his arms.

"If I know the royal seamstresses, what is under that dress is even more alluring than the dress itself. Let us find out!"

He stood Eugenia back up and took her hand. A servant trailed them carrying the king's present of domination. Eugenia had already dubbed it in her mind, "The box of fretful things." Life suddenly had an entirely new set of challenges for her. By the time they reached the prince's room, she had decided to take the initiative. If she kept the prince busy and sated sexually, it might delay his investigating thoroughly the box and its fretful contents.

She embraced him, placed a blistering kiss on his lips, and asked breathily, "How can I serve you, sire?"

The trailing servant placed the king's box on a table and made himself scarce.

"I own you, Eugenia, you are my slave. The best present by far."

They exchanged deep, passionate kisses before he said, "I love your dress."

"Thank you, sire."

"Let me get you out of it."

"You are the boss, sire."

"Yes, I am."

His frenzied fingers went to the catch of the dress.

"Don't tear it, sire!" She placed her hands upon his, and the dress opened and slid down her torso. His eyes widened in appreciation when he spied the under slip constructed of the finest black silk lace net beneath this alluring net was an equally enticing bandeau, step-ins, suspenders, and teal silk stockings of the finest quality black silk and lace. The contrast of Eugenia's fair complexion against the ebon fabric was even more striking and manhood-filling than the stark white of the night before.

"Mercy me!" he exclaimed as he pulled her out of her heels, gathered her up in his arms, and eagerly carted her to the bed. He tugged the full slip net over her head. She began unbuttoning the ornate, close-fitting jacket of his very attractive suit and began parting the buttons. The prince was wearing a variety of musk that Eugenia found not only pleasant but arousing. His jacket and shirt ended up on the floor. He tugged away Eugenia's gossamer bandeau and suckled her ample breasts. She managed to position herself to tug off his finest pair of expensive calf-tall boots. He undid his own pants and undershorts and was naked while she still retained her transparent step-ins, suspenders, and stockings.

Magnus adored Eugenia's legs in the stockings and decided to take her in them. With his teeth, he tugged down he step-ins. Her blonde thatch was darker due to dampness.

"The best gift ever!" he exclaimed as he buried his manhood in her secret place. Eugenia let out a gasp of surprise. Already, the young prince's skills had increased! He buried her under kisses and reared up. It was fast, forceful, and fantastic. The young prince was delighted by the sensation of her fine silk stockings against his flesh. No wonder kings always clad their women in it! Eugenia cried out, "Happy birthday, sire!" just ahead of her orgasm, a delightful hearty laugh that was music to the young man's ears. He held her close, and Eugina's very long day ended with sleep descending upon her like a collapsing wall.

She woke up hours later, surprised to find the bedside light still on. Magnus was eagerly absorbing the contents of the manual. He eyed her with a mischievous expression. "Much of this seems to be a great deal of fun!" He winked at her. Eugenia. She excused herself to make use of the bathroom's bidet. As she strode off, the prince stated, "Keep the stockings on, slave."

**

Mr. Jung gazed at the empty chair at the end of the table. His daughters were busy putting the finishing touches on breakfast. An air of melancholy hung about the quartet assembled to eat. Neighbors had been sympathetic and brought small tokens: jars of honey, bolts of fabric, tokens of esteem, and regret. Here, though, the people were not sure how to react. A death? There was protocol. A birth? Naming dresses and rattles. An accident? Flowers, chocolates, and chicken soup. Eugenia's sudden absence was what exactly? She hadn't died, given birth, or suffered an injury, yet she was gone from village life as effectively as a candle being snuffed out.

The women of the village were, by turns, concerned for Eugenia's welfare and envious of her new living situation. The young women of the hamlet were unanimous in wishing that their home had been selected and that the prince had chosen them. The lads of the town appreciated the prince's power. They thought Mrs. Jung quite pretty, but each, in their minds, pretending to be the prince, had selected various young women from the neighborhood to be at their beck and call. The men of the village simultaneously sympathized with the bereft husband while admiring the eye and selection of the young prince. Eugenia's well-imagined intimate anatomy was a regular dream of many of them. Clearly, Magnus was intelligent and a youth of taste. That boded beyond an inkling that, when his time came to rule, he would be more than just a competent king. He promised to be a memorable, brilliant leader.

There was an impatient knock on the door. Mr. Jung, expecting a rude early well-wisher on his doorstep, encountered instead a royal courier in his finest livery. Without a word, the king's messenger handed him a parcel about the size of a hat box. The courier rode away.

Mr. Jung took the parcel inside and set it on the sideboard. It bore the seal of the king and was wrapped in ornate, beautiful paper. He carefully opened it. A familiar aroma filled his nostrils, Eugenia's finest perfume. Inside the box, carefully folded, was every article of clothing Eugenia had been wearing when the prince claimed her. Set on top, beneath her wedding band, was an official proclamation from King Phillip dissolving the Jung marriage and a receipt for the family gift.

He spied Eugenia's carefully folded stockings and was reminded of the afternoon when he had given them to her. Her gasp of joy at such a rare and beautiful and expensive gift. Eugenia modelling them for her husband. He could still see her clad in just her suspenders and the silk stockings, prancing with joy about their bedroom. In all the years of their marriage, he was convinced that Eugenia was most beautiful that magical afternoon. Not at the altar. Not in her wedding night trousseau. No, these stockings were her most glorious fashion ever. He recalled making love to her in them and the amazing sensation of silk-clad thighs over his bare ones! It hit the patriarch at once, and he burst into tears. His daughters rushed to comfort him. "Not even a bloody thank you!" he raged. "Not a single note of apology!" he wiped his eyes, "I was guilty of not being as attentive to my Eugenia as I should have been or could have been, but God damn it. I didn't deserve this! She didn't deserve this." The savory breakfast instantly became a bitter thing.

**

Eugenia nervously bit her lips so as not to vocalize her despair. Magnus had lashed her spread-eagled to the bed. He had lathered up her feminine glory and was currently taking a straight razor to it.

"Don't worry, little dove, I'm quite adept with a razor."

His hand stroked her right thigh.

"I won't completely denude the area. The guide says that natural blondes and redheads should be left a postage-stamp-sized bit of thatch, to demonstrate to the world that they come by their locks naturally."

Eugenia hardly found that comforting or consoling. The slow, deliberate tug of the razor as it worked on her secret place was disconcerting and heaven help her, even a bit arousing! That revelation shocked and humbled her. Magnus was lost in concentration. The only sound in the room was their breathing punctuated by the sounds of the steel razor being rinsed in the glass basin. After a long interval, the prince toweled away the last bits of shaving cream. There was Eugenia's womanhood, bare and pure. The entire forest had been clear-cut save a small oval at the very top. It looked marvelous. Familiar yet new. He could just spy the inner pinkness. He ran his hands over his handiwork. What a marvelous sensation! She looked good enough to eat. He lowered his mouth to Eugenia's sex.

"Sire?" she enquired when she felt his mouth upon her most intimate bits. Not that her husband hadn't explored down there, but the young prince was far less tentative than her husband had ever been. Joaquin had always left her wanting more. Magnus kissed her delicately, traced the erased hairline with his tongue, and then progressed past the opening. His mouth lucked into finding the knot beneath the hood. The reaction to stimulating this pearl caused Magnus to redouble his efforts. Eugenia could feel more tension than she had ever experienced previously building and building. She shivered in her bonds. Her limbs flexed, fought to escape. The world receded as the tension released in a marvelous, overwhelming sensation of pleasure and bliss. Eugenia squirted all over the silken sheets and cried out the name of the deity before going slack in her bonds and returning to the here and now. Magnus emerged from between her thighs, wiped his mouth, and chuckled before saying, "We are SO doing that. again!"

Hours later, Eugenia begged for mercy. Her young master was playing her like a fine musician, expertly improvising on his instrument. She was beyond weak. She was dehydrated and startled at her own wantonness. He mounted her, filling her completely, and extracting the very last orgasm out of her before freeing her wrists and ankles. Until evening fell, they sat, sipped tea quietly, and dined on various delicacies. No speeches were exchanged. None needed to be. If Magnus had not owned Eugenia before this day had begun, he certainly did now. Her new reality felt as though it was spilling out of her, coloring everything. She was a new creature now, almost physically transformed. She was his, completely and utterly in a way she had never been anyone else's before. Her future was as clear as a lighthouse beacon, she would give this young man everything he asked, gladly and without question, evasion, or equivocation. A pension and an attractive little cottage? Neither was even worth thinking about at present. All she wanted was an eternal now, an endless stream of days just like this. She looked into his eyes, smiled, and said,

"I suppose I should start addressing you as master."

"Yes, and I need to find a new name for you. Eugenia is the name of a free woman, which you are not."

"No, master. I am yours completely and utterly."

He laughed and replied, "I was about to say the very same thing about you!"

She sighed, giggled, and fell into his arms. All was right with the universe.