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Enslaved Princess (Bruce McLachlan)

Enslaved Princess by Bruce McLachlan

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Princess Khamsin is on her way to an arranged marriage when her ship is overpowered by raiders. The unfortunate Princess, her entourage and the entire crew are taken captive and shipped to the raiders' stronghold. There, despite her royal status, the Princess suffers the fate of all beautiful, captured women at the hands of these savage people.

Kept naked, made to suffer and sexually used over and over again, her pain is much, her dignity eventually totally destroyed.

A saga of depravity and bondage; of a future land where sadism rules and slaves suffer unspeakably.

The Princessís new trainers are masters of bondage and have countless devices to help them break a slaveís will and render them obedient and servile.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 2 / 2018

No. words: 30800

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Sex Slavery / Training

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Chapter One

Princess Khamsin stretched her body against the soft satin sheets of her bed and luxuriated in the sensation of her skin sliding against the fabric. She repeated the motion and relished the tactile banquet offered by her blankets before she finally lay still upon them.
With a wide yawn, she rolled onto her side and looked across the cabin to the row of portholes. She stared blankly at the blue sky and its sporadic patches of curling white.
Khamsinís mind darted with unfinished strands of thought before concentrating more devotedly on prurient fantasy. The tease of the bed and the warm haze from having just awoken inspired a lustful attitude that she was powerless to resist.
After flicking some of the golden strands of her shoulder-length hair from her shoulders, she closed her eyes and let her fingertips trail along her slender form. Picturing the hands of a random member of the crew, she imagined one of them just entering the cabin and casually helping themselves to her body.
As the fantasy continued to develop, her hands parted company. One of them migrated to circle and brush her nipples while the other descended between her legs.
Letting her finger trail through the tangled forest of pubic hair, she felt the dampness of her lust and smiled broadly to herself. Etching small swirls upon her clitoris, she continued to play with her teats and release soft mewling gasps of pleasure. Her mind swarmed with pictures of a male form thrusting his length into her, his muscular physique pinning her down and keeping her captive beneath him.
The warm bloom of her orgasm continued to flower, spreading and bringing her to a tensed crescendo of pleasure. Snorting and jerking from the eruption of bliss, Khamsin bounced on the bed as she tried to endure the rapture. Her senses were beset with the contradiction of continuing her play to gain more or stop because it was too much to endure. She drank of the sensations for as long as she could and then finally relented. With her skin flecked with a slight shimmer of perspiration, she dropped back and relaxed.
Breathing via deep steady pants, she embraced her own form and mulled the fantasy over in her mind. The release from her frustrations soiled her erotic mental pictures with the truth of her situation, allowing reality to creep back into her mind and curse her with undeniable fact.
In just a few more days, she would be condemned to a living hell of banality and all because she had suffered the misfortune of being born into a noble family.
She knew that the peasants and even her own servants dreamed of being royalty, envying her as a princess of birth and standing. Nevertheless, Khamsin would instantly trade it all away to be free of such obligation. She wanted to be able to do as she wished, to be able to indulge her heated libido whenever she desired and with whomever she might wish and not be constrained by duty, decorum, social rules and etiquette.
Now she was to be handed like chattel to some pedantic weasel of an Endien bureaucratic who preferred the intricacies of a ledger and the acquiring of profit to the exploration and indulgence of sexual gratification and yet there was nothing she could do to stop the marriage. Once she arrived, the ceremony that was to damn her would ensue within just one day.
After leaving her home kingdom of Kfornah, the route across the Sific Sea had followed the standard overtly southbound arc to evade proximity to the dreaded Isle of Hroth. A storm had forced the ship even more drastically southwards to avoid it and although the detour had made her several days late, she was still unfortunately on time to make her wedding.
Dragging herself from the bed, Khamsin tugged on the bell rope. The simple action brought a selection of handmaidens who scuttled humbly in so that they could attend their princess.
Acting without the need for orders, they began to dress their mistress in clothes that were of the same mode as their own, but Khamsinís were far more exaggerated and opulent than theirs. A laced bodice flowed into a trailing skirt that concealed her low-heeled shoes. The incorporated sleeves and gloves hid her skin and the entire pastel gown was embellished with silver and diamond jewellery that caught the sun and made her shine radiantly. The women then set clasps about wrist and throat before attending her hair. They span it expertly and fixed it with elaborate clips to successfully pin it back and keep it from her face. Touches of makeup were added to the unveiled visage with utmost care.
Such incredibly expensive treasures of the Lost Age were a limited resource that only the most elite of all royalty could afford. People still used various equivalent cosmetics, but nothing came close to the wonderfully engineered products of the lost masters of this medium. Their identities were as mysterious as their ancient craft, people known only by a bizarre surname or sometimes by just an equally enigmatic number.
Khamsin brushed the servants from her. Their fussing was becoming annoying because they kept going over their work, checking it, preening obsessively. They bowed and retreated before following in her wake when she wandered out of the suite and towards the deck. The group was a perpetual ghost to her movements and they limited her time alone to some token minutes out of each day.
Exiting into warmer air, Khamsin trekked pensively to the guardrail. After taking a moment to watch the sea lapping upon the sides of the ship, she looked out to the skyline and let her mind drift with her unfocused gaze.
The huge stretches of deep blue sprawled to each horizon. They were vast and full of mystery as the sun winked upon the crests of the lethargic peaks. A soft wind wafted passed and lacked the strength to properly fill the two huge sails of red canvas. The flap of the stern fabric and the shuffle of the idle crew were the only noises to contradict the soothing tunes of nature.
The tanned and muscular forms of the crew lounged against the barriers and the masts, their duties minimal with the lack of wind. Instead, they took the opportunity to laze about, drink and play various uncouth games that steadily cheated them out of their wages.
Khamsin looked across the ship and wondered as to the marvels that the Lost Age had bestowed upon it. Much of what had once been was now gone. The metal shell had been converted to hold the sails and a couple of ranks of oars for emergency propulsion. When she had first been brought aboard, she had been given a tour by the captain and had seen the strange convoluted metal pipes and wheels, cables and machines that had once served the ship to negate any reliance on the wind. Today such intricate creations were little more than ballast and spare scrap. The crew removed and reused it as required with no clue as to even the most basic concepts behind the antiquated but massively superior technology.
Few ships like this one existed now. Most were much smaller and formed from wood that copied the design of the relics from a long lost era. Sometimes they could employ the strange fibrous rigid plastic from the Lost Age that was irreplaceable and because of its strength and lightweight nature it was also beyond evaluation.
Khamsin paid no more attention to the vessel because she was absorbed with her own thoughts and with the eternal majesty of the sea.
Normally she hated the long ocean voyages that carried her from continent to continent on her various diplomatic missions. However, after the stresses and strains of her vain fight to escape her marriage she needed time to let her mind empty itself of turmoil.
The other passengers were below decks, availing themselves of the shade and the luxuries on offer in the various function rooms. Khamsin decided to decline bothering with them. The sun was warm and pleasant and the effete Kfornian nobles with their boisterous swaggering, inflated egos, and lack of any charisma or charm were not tempting her into their company. She had never felt so alone, so surrendered to the whims of chance. If only there were a way to evade her monstrously dull and indomitable destiny!

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Aliens, strange worlds, fetish based writing.


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