Brendan was flung forwards with a shove. He could only buckle his knees to avoid falling flat on his face, unable to use his hands to break the fall as they were shackled behind him by his lower back. He heard the door slam shut behind him, a heavy silence settling into the room as if it had blocked him off from the rest of the world, leaving him alone with the aching in his knees.
He tried to dislodge the blindfold over his face with his shoulder. The frantic gesture bore little success; he suspected the strap he felt under his chin was there to prevent such an escape. His flailing grew in intensity as he groaned in frustration, until the sound of a giggle coming from somewhere in front of him made him freeze.
“Do you need help with that, little prince?” the sing-song voice of a woman wafted in from behind him, startling him immensely. *When did she get behind me-*
“W-whose there?!” He barked out, yelling into the room in panic. “As *Prince Brendan LoRouve*, I command you to-”
Brendan’s shout was cut short by the high pitched smack of flesh hitting flesh, a stinging pain spreading across his cheek that stunned him so much that it took him several seconds to realize he’d just been slapped.
“*How dare y-*” he began to yell again and was interrupted promptly; his other cheek flared red in pain, sending his head swaying the other way with the force of impact. This slap was even harder than the last.
Brendan’s lips twitched, as if on the cusp of forming words, yet they caught in his throat and all he did was swallow back his rage. His head lowered further, shoulder’s raising instinctively to shield his cheeks from further abuse.
Yet no further contact occurred. A few seconds passed. Then a minute. He kept his head lowered, staying quiet.
He was startled as he heard footsteps, a hard clicking sound against the stones below followed each step as steps began to circle around him.
“I swear, all you rogue noble types are like this when I have you brought in,” the voice from before spoke, following the direction of the footsteps. “Far too coddled if you ask me.”
“Though I’ll give you *some* credit,” her tone momentarily grew playful, somewhat coy. “A rebellion so soon after becoming an adult; it’s oddly refreshing to see such initiative.”
Brendan felt a painful prick against his neck. He gasped in pain, instinctively leaning away and scrunching his neck.
“Though it’s certainly questionable whether you should have just done what your parents did and accepted the peerage I so generously offered them,” she muttered, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. “Though it’s far too late for that now.”
She laughed, a shrill high-pitched cackle that chilled Brendan to the core. *That sounds familiar, why does it-*
The sudden realization of who it might be made his heart sink in his chest, the chill throughout his body growing even stronger. He lowered his head further, as his heart began to race in fear.
He was about to take his chances and speak up again when he started to feel a bit strange. That fear from before, the one that made his hairs stand on end, was fading away; replacing it was an immense warmth, spreading from where he’d felt the jab in his neck.
His body got warmer, his breathing grew heavier; he started to sweat a bit under his clothes. Strangest of all – and most embarrassing – was the sensation growing down near his waist; his cock had started to grow harder, a pounding throbbing taking over as he felt arousal building within him.
“What did you do-” he asked subconsciously, voice tinged with fear. The pain of another slap bloomed on his right cheek; this time with so much force behind it that he was flung off-balance, soon finding himself on the floor beside where he’d been kneeling. He barely managed to cushion himself with his shoulder, avoiding a concussion.
And as all of that happened, *he’d moaned*.
When he felt the impact of her hand across his cheek and when he hit the floor, he moaned deeply, subconsciously, unashamedly in pleasure sourced from the pain of her slapping him. His voice wasn’t that loud, but in the quiet of the room it was practically deafening.
He began to squirm on the ground, rubbing his thighs together as pleasure continued to build inside him; his pride quickly caved into an overwhelming need to stimulate his cock, to find some release for the burning arousal between his legs by feeling it rub against the fabric of his leggings. Even that simple motion made intense pleasure run through him and he soon found himself approaching the brink of orgasm.
Until he felt two firm hands against his inner thigh, promptly forcing his legs apart.
“Now, now, compose yourself,” the sing-song voice returned; to his horror, now looming over him. “Oh, and I’ll use a whip for the next reminder, so I suggest you keep quiet.”
He heard the buckle of his belt being undone. He tried to kick the hands away with his legs, but as his legs merely wobbled like jelly at his impulse he learned that whatever had been done to him had also sapped him of his strength. He was helpless to resist.
He felt the nudge of buttons, the slide of fabric on his skin as he suddenly felt the cold air on his exposed thighs. He felt a hand run over them, squeezing them as another hand pulled down his underwear. His body shuddered as his now extra sensitive cock felt the air, throbbing at full mast with his foreskin mostly pulled back; he felt beads of thick, wet pre-cum dripping down its length onto his balls.
“Nice, plump thighs,” she commented, her tone calm and analytical. As if she were commenting on produce.
He felt the sharp pain of a bite break out on his thigh, the sensitive, stimulation deprived surface flaring in heat, pain and – strongest of all – pleasure, as he let out a guttural noise half between moan and groan.
“A thankful sight, since seeing this *thing* down here has made it clear to me that letting you top anyone would be a mistake,” she continued in the same distracted tone, giggling as she finished.
He felt a playful smack against his now exposed cock, the sensation jolting him with pleasure that made him roll his head back and gasp. The blobs of pre-cum clinging to his member splattered all over his belly and waist as it throbbed in response.
The sensation somehow pushed him over the edge; as he felt the beginning of an orgasm his cock clenched up, the first pulse arrived and-
*Nothing.* The orgasm disappeared, immutably gone even as the intense need for release remained.
Brendan bucked his hips in the air desperately, his lips letting out a panicked whine as his humping sped up. All that answered his confusion at his predicament was her laughter.
“I believe you’ll find that while you are a dozen-fold more sensitive to touch now, the final messy ending is going to elude you,” she taunted him. “Until I decide you’ve earned it that is.”
“Now that your informed of that; as a bottom bitch in the making, let’s start by getting your *unnecessary* components safely stowed away, shall we?”
Brendan heard the dripping of water, the scrunching of cloth; and the rattling of heavy metal objects in a tray.
He felt her press something against his crotch, cold washing over his shaft and testes that quickly began to conflict with his arousal; he was now properly torn between shouting and moaning, the shock and pleasure of this sensation contrasting as the soft, cold touch around his crotch fondled him. It lingered like that for what felt like ages as he whimpered helplessly; he thrashed around on his back, unable to act with his hands bound behind him, too scared to argue and too weak to fight back.
“Awww, is that too cold for my sweet prince,” her voice chimed in, mocking in tone. “Is he used to warm baths; not being tied up on the floor, having his cock cleaned after failing at rebellion?”
“What was your plan for that anyway? Barely three hundred men, against a regional detachment of sovereign soldiers,” she tsked playfully as she teased him. “If I hadn’t sent word that I wanted you brought to me untouched, I doubt your pretty little butt here would have been spared by their commander you know.”
He felt a sharp smack against the side of his rear as she said that; he gasped in surprise, moaning as the shock faded and the pleasure spread across his lower cheeks.
“No matter, you’ll have ample opportunity to thank me for that from now on,” the voice continued, giggling slightly. “And none of that will involve all this ‘ruling’ and ‘leading’ that you’ve proven you’re so terrible at; *isn’t that generous of me?*”
The brutal chiding of her voice made Brendan want to shrivel up and die, the humiliation of his circumstance melting with his arousal in dangerous ways. All he managed to do in that position was turn his head away, keeping one cheek on the ground, showing that he was upset even as he continued to moan against his own will.
He didn’t reply to anything she said; all he did was all it seemed he was allowed to do. To moan and groan as her ministrations continued.
Then, as suddenly as it appeared, he felt the cold cloth pull away; a moment before another touch quickly replaced it. It was cold too, yet this time it was hard and firm unlike the softness from before, much like steel. It was also felt only at the base of his shaft, around his balls, unlike the previous sensation that smothered his cock entirely. That only lasted a moment however; a short click was heard almost immediately, and then he felt a similar cold sensation creep down the length of his shaft.
A final click as the metal reached the base of his cock was followed by a pleasantly high-pitched giggle as she let go of his member.
Brendan felt his crotch was much heavier now. As his erection tried to return he felt it strain against something, painless yet tight, something he couldn’t dislodge even as he shook his hips to try and get it off; the weight simply clung to him, swinging with him as it continued to smother his erection.
“I always love this part,” she remarked, sounding pleased. “Let’s get this blindfold off so you can tell me what you think of my gift.”
He felt a tug on the side of his arms, and he couldn’t help but follow it’s pull as it hoisted him back up onto his knees; then, as he knelt there, he felt clasps being undone around his head. The fabric of the blindfold slipped. Adjusting to the dark room didn’t take too long, given the fact that it was only slightly lit by torches around its edges.
“You-” he whispered quietly, horrified by the sight of the woman standing before him. He’d guessed correctly from her voice, yet seeing her in the flesh was a nightmare in itself.
“Pick your next action carefully. Remember what I told you about the whip,” the now revealed captor threatened him immediately.
Her hair was auburn, approaching red, and shoulder length; skin ashen brown, eyes piercing red, with high cheekbones and rounded features. The sheer translucent negligee she wore ended by her waist and barely hid her petite breasts, or the plump folds of her sex that poked out from just underneath its rim. Her figure was short; lithe overall, but with wide hips and thick thighs for her height.
She was the one most knew and feared for by her title; *the Slaver Queen*. The one who annexed his parent’s small kingdom a few years ago, the one who he’d tried to rebel against in the hopes that his actions would incite others to act against her. One of the most powerful political figures on the continent.
Brendan’s voice caught in his throat. There were many things he wanted to say; insults he wanted to hurl at her, comments about her malice, threats about how he was going to get his justice and boasts about how he was going to escape.
Yet as her threat sank in, he glanced down and saw the metal that now clung to his cock, wrapped and locked up in an elaborate device that looked like it was made of rose gold; an image that connected with what he’d heard before about the things she did to those who displeased her. He felt more of his strength and will fade, weighed down by this humiliation, sinking further with the throbbing arousal and weakness of his body.
Without saying anything, he simply lowered his head slightly and looked away.
“Wonderful, you’re learning,” she said softly, pleased. “I assure you that in your new station, that is a trait that will serve you well.”
He felt a hand under his chin, raising it up to her gaze. He looked away instinctively until spite gave way to fear, and he matched her gaze. He let her handle him as she turned his head this way and that.
“I think the name ‘Benny’ would suit you better,” she muttered, a serious look of ponder on her face.
*W-What?! How dare- this bitch! I swear when I escape I’ll-* his thoughts failed as quickly as his anger rose.
Brendan recalled the rout of his army, the execution of the general who rebelled alongside him and his capture by a detachment of her royal guard. His thoughts of escape dimmed further as he stared into the Slaver Queen’s deep red eyes; she didn’t build up a reputation because of people who escaped her. Brendan held his tongue, grimacing.
“Don’t you agree?” her voice questioned him. The edge in her tone had grown, her presence now even more overwhelming.
He felt the grip on his chin tighten painfully. He was about to answer, when he remembered what she said before about talking.
*I- I have to. No but, if I- dammit. Dammit all.*
He nodded slowly. She smiled, yet her tone remained ice cold as she continued speaking.
“If I hear the name ‘Brendan LoRouve’ come out of your mouth ever again, or the mouth of anyone around you, I will hurt you so much that you’ll beg for me to make you forget that name,” she punctuated her words, tightening her grip and lightening it as she spoke certain words. ‘Brendan’, ‘hurt’.
“My chemists would be more than happy to break your mind *entirely* their way, but that would lower your value to me; a value I suggest you maintain, for your own good, beginning with the habit of a quick ‘yes, your highness’ whenever I address you.”
Brendan swallowed, eyes widening in fear.
“Y-yes, your highness,” he muttered promptly, eyes glancing away as far as he could from her.
She shifted her grip, turning his face so that she caught his eyes again; her nails digging into his cheek suggested that she wanted him to keep looking at her, that his action just now was an act of disobedience. The effect on Brendan’s mind was devastating; he wasn’t even allowed to choose where he looked anymore.
“Who are you?” she asked him, her tone harsh and commanding.
“B-,” Brendan swallowed, grimacing as he did. “Benny, your highness.”
“Remember, Benny, I have no shortage of ways to remind you of that name I so kindly gave you,” she added, slowly turning his head this way and that, judging whether he was keeping up with her gaze; an action which he carried out with utmost care.
“Yes, your highness,” Benny replied, meekly. He felt the weight of the days events start to weigh on him, an exhaustion further compounded by the throbbing of his caged cock and his arousal laden breathing. He relaxed into her grip slightly.
She seemed to notice the fatigue and smiled. Her grip on his chin lightened into more of a gentle hold, her thumb beginning to caress his cheek lazily were her painted nails had left an imprint.
“I reward good behavior and obedience, Benny,” she spoke softly, her tone having thawed abruptly, now sweet and tender. “I won’t lie and say that I don’t take pleasure in disciplining those who fail to achieve my expectations, but those acts are often simply a means to an end.”
She brought her face closer to his, staring into his eyes with her own half closed; a deep, malicious smile on her lips.
“I’ll have someone come by and clean you up in a few minutes,” she said softly, almost whispering. Her crimson red pupils darted around, her gaze wandering across points on his face; Benny felt every little freckle, crease and blemish on his face being analysed. *Valuated.*
“If your behavior is acceptable during the rest of the days events, then by tonight I might show you that I actually treat my property rather well when it behaves itself. Do you think you can manage that, Benny?” she added softly. Her voice was now oddly personal, not even mocking, as if she were addressing a close friend.
“Yes,” Benny replied quietly, his voice murky and a bit hoarse, arousal laden. *Why is she so pretty- why is she-*
“I- I understand, your highness,” he whispered quietly, voice shaky; the heavy haze had grown, now almost entirely smothering his thoughts.
“Who understands?” she added, her tone perky as she grew even more pleased with the sight in front of her.
“*Benny,*” he replied promptly, softly. “Benny understands.”
“That’s a good boy,” she smiled, pleased with his response. She leaned in, gently kissing him, an action that made him moan and shudder as he felt his lips being bitten into softly. Another orgasm peaked as the sensation pushed him over the edge, his arousal overwhelming him; yet once again it washed off without giving him any relief.
As her lips pulled away he was panting with eyes closed, a small trail of saliva running down past his lip and down his chin. His mind was far gone, lost to heat, barely even realizing that he was absent-mindedly rocking his hips; an action that made his new chastity cage swing back and forth as it hung there between his legs, pre-cum dripping heavy from the tip of his cock as it throbbed within its golden prison. A small puddle had formed underneath him.
She grinned, giggling slightly as she rose to her feet. She gently placed a hand on Benny’s head and pulled his face in close to her thigh; the dazed prince kissed her leg deeply, reverently, a slight gasp leaving his lips as he made contact with her skin.
She sighed, pleased with herself. She played with his hair for a moment, letting her new toy kiss its new owner some more, before letting go gently and walking away towards the cell door. Benny’s lips tried to follow after her, body leaning towards her subconsciously; a desperate groan leaving his lips as he realized he couldn’t do so, bound as he was on his knees.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/uqyylm/the_queen_puts_a_rebel_prince_in_his_place_bd_ds
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