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Princess of pain, medieval sex storyTo her brother, Phillip, the king had said, as he'd stood beside the heir to the throne, on one of the palace's many balconies, "One day, my son, for as far as your eye can see, in whichever direction you look, all this shall be yours, just as your word shall be law and your every heart's desire shall be met." To his daughter, Penelope, the king had said, "We shall see to it that you marry a worthy and gentle nobleman."
At eighteen, the queen had told the king, it was high time, and past time, really, for their daughter to be wed. Thinking that the marriage of his daughter to any one of the five suitors for her hand would strengthen the ties between his kingdom and that of his ally, the king announced that his daughter was available to become the wife of the prince whom he, the king, her father, considered best for her, and, in the interest of supplying his court with a bit of bawdy entertainment in the process, the king also proclaimed that his choice would be determined by the suitors' administration of punishment to a comely young female prisoner, whom, he had earlier decreed, should receive five strokes of the cane. Whichever suitor, in the king's estimation, best laid on his stroke should win the hand of his daughter, who was herself a quite beautiful young woman.
The test of the suitors' mettle was scheduled to occur in mid-afternoon, after the noonday feast. Accordingly, when her betters had let the weight of their repast settle, the wench was brought forth, naked, from her dungeon cell, blinking at the bright light of day that had been, for months, denied her. By the chains hanging from the iron fetters about her wrists and trailing from those about her ankles, she was secured to twin posts between which she was further bound by leather straps around her waist and neck, after being laid across an upholstered bench of an appropriate height.
The lords and ladies of the court, seated along either side of the hall, with the king and the royal family nearest to the site of the scene that was about to unfold for the audience's delight, whispered and murmured among themselves, commenting upon the youth and beauty of the fair prisoner.
"Such a young thing," the Baroness Elizabeth exclaimed, clucking her tongue.
"And possessed of such admirable haunches!" her husband, the Baron observed, to his wife's consternation.
"Her breasts are so lovely, round, and full," remarked the Duke of York to his beloved wife.
"Would that mine were so fair," the Duchess replied, giggling.
"I fear her smooth buttocks won't look so pretty after they've received the five lashes the king has decreed her punishment to be," said Sir Harold, the knight.
"What ever did she do to merit such punishment?" asked a his lady love.
"I hear," Sir Harold answered, "that she spoke insolently to Sir Geoffrey's page."
"And I," said Malcolm, Duke of Lancaster, "that she cooked a pheasant that her father poached from the fields of the king."
"A pheasant?" said Lady Goodkin. "I heard that the bird was but a common barnyard fowl, but one which belonged to a neighbor's yard."
"Whether pheasant or chicken, it would be a shame for such a body to starve for want of a bird," the visiting Count Drake quipped, to the laughter of his peers.
Along one wall, near the shackled prisoner, five young men, dressed in the garb of royalty, had lined up, the suitors for Princess Penelope's hand. They were all handsome young men, the princess thought, but good looks, both she and her father agreed, were not enough to account a man as material that proper for consideration as a prospective husband for a young woman with the grace and beauty of gentle Princess Penelope. Hence, this afternoon's test.
A trumpet blast got the attention of the courtiers, and a court crier, unrolling a scroll that bore the king's proclamation, read the text of His Majesty's decree out loud to the crowd: "By order of His Royal Majesty, King Louis Pierre, this prisoner is brought forth to receive, as just punishment for her crime of petty theft, five strokes of the cane, one stroke each of which shall be administered by the Princes of England, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and Germany, that His Majesty, King Louis, may determine which of these suitors for her his daughter's royal hand in marriage is best qualified to receive this honor by virtue of his having laid on the best stroke of this instrument in the service of our King."
There was a low, general buzz as the noble spectators exchanged comments, questions, and replies.
Another blast of the trumpet silenced them, and the herald identified the first suitor: "Frederick, Prince of Germany!"
A cheer went up from the audience as, cane in hand, the sturdy, redheaded, hirsute young man strode forth, taking up a stance behind the bent-over, manacled black-haired beauty.
"What do you think, my child?" the king asked his daughter.
"He is handsome, Father, as are they all, and very well made."
"Let's see how he performs," King Louis replied.
The German prince, launching himself onto the tips of his toes, drew the cane high overhead, and, in a flash, swept the cruel instrument down with tremendous force. The cane streaked across the prisoner's beautiful buttocks, and she screamed as blood-curdling a cry as any man of arms had ever heard a fatally wounded enemy warrior emit, as a red and bleeding line appeared in the sleek, tight flesh of her firm, round bottom.
Princess Penelope looked away, feeling sick to her stomach from the pain that she imagined the poor prisoner must feel, simply because she'd stolen a chicken to keep from starving.
A trumpet sounded, and the crier announced the next contestant, "Prince Pedro, of Portugal!"
A swarthy, handsome youth with luxuriant locks of unruly hair stepped onto the marble floor, gave a few practice sweeps of the cane through the air, causing the prisoner, each time, to flinch in dread, before, tossing back his hand, he brought the cane forward and down, hard, against the prisoner's bottom, and the woman shrieked, her ass bucking against the bench over which she was bent. She screamed again, and then moaned, groaning and whimpering. A second fierce cut had appeared in the woman's buttocks, an inch below that of the first line. Like the previous laceration, this one also oozed bright beads of blood.
"What think you of his performance, my dear?"
"As like unto the first as two peas which share the same pod," Princess Penelope replied.
"My thoughts, exactly," her father said.
Following another trumpet blast, the next suitor was identified as "Henry, Prince of England!"
"They say the English are fierce warriors," King Louis said to his daughter. "Let us see whether this assessment includes those of their royal blood."
A pale, tall, lean young man with blonde hair and a haughty attitude stepped onto the floor, took up his place behind the prisoner, and, with quick, decisive action, smote her lovely buttocks with a savagery rare even among men whose hearts and souls had been hardened in long, ferocious battles. The prisoner's knees buckled, but the bench over which she was strapped and the chains to which she was connected, hand and foot, to the sturdy posts, prevented her from collapsing, though her howls of pain left no doubt as to the depth of agony the English prince had caused her to suffer.
The crowd cheered, pleased at the young suitor's display of cruelty and his utter indifference to the plight of the peasant woman.
As arrogantly as he'd stepped onto the floor, Prince Henry sauntered off, and another blast of the trumpet sounded as the fourth suitor, Prince Carlos, of Spain, stepped forward, cane in hand. For a long moment, the suitor stood his ground, considering the lacerated, red bottom of the unfortunate prisoner he'd been called upon to beat.
"He's captivated by the charm of her backside," a page whispered to another squire.
"He's much more deliberate, even than the others, in judging where best to lay his cane," a visiting Count suggested to his wife.
"A vertical stroke, dead center, along her cleavage," the Countess said, "would win him the princess' hand, I'd wager."
The prince continued to study the prisoner's wounded bottom, and the crowd began to get impatient. A susurration of their voices, sounding like the wind in the treetops of a thick, lush forest, was heard as the audience wondered aloud to themselves and to one another what might be the cause of the prince's delay. However, at a gesture from their king, silence reigned, once more, among them, and, still, the princely contestant delayed.
Finally, after a few more seconds, the prince raised his hand, the end of the cane clenched firmly in his fist, and brought the rod down, lightly, upon the prisoner's bare bottom. There was no loud report of the instrument as it landed upon the woman's posterior, as there had been in each previous case, and the prisoner suffered the strike without so much as a gasp, without writhing or bucking, but, instead, looked, as best she could, over her shoulder, disclosing a sleek, full breast between her ribs and her upper arm as she did so, and, through her tears, glanced, with heartfelt gratitude upon the kindly prince, murmuring her thanks.
The audience jeered, openly denouncing the suitor, despite his princely station, and King Louis made no effort to stop his subjects' rude expression of their disdain for one whom they considered weak and unworthy of the hand of their kingdom's princess.
Without a word to Penelope, the king nodded toward the trumpeter, and the announcer named the final suitor, Prince Luigi of Italy.
After such a mild attempt as the one made by his counterpart from Spain, the Italian prince felt certain that, by inflicting the most punishing blow of all, he would easily demonstrate his manliness and worthiness to become the husband of beautiful Princess Penelope, and, with supreme confidence, he strode onto the floor, his shoulders squared, his chest out, and his head held high.
Exhibiting, in his every expression and gesture, his utter contempt for the lovely brunette who stood, a condemned thief, and a peasant at that, he swaggered to his station, behind the criminal, raised his cane, and brought the thin rod down savagely, in a flashing arc, so fast and hard that the cane itself was but a blur to those who witnessed the stroke.
The prisoner's buttocks indented deeply along the cane, showing its fierce impact, and a bloody line, deeper, wider, and longer than the others, appeared in the brunette's buttocks, as she bounced frantically upon her toes, her thighs quivering, and her astonished, pain-filled buttocks flexing vigorously. Her long, undulating howl filled the palace, and the lords and ladies cheered, applauding and whistling to exhibit their approval of the English prince's cruel strike.
The king turned to his daughter. "Your thoughts, my precious?"
Penelope's eyes were wide, and her voice was small. "If it please you, Father, I have made up my mind."
Following the public caning during which the beautiful peasant received justice for having stolen a chicken from the royal kitchen's plentiful stock of meats, fish, fowl, vegetables, fruits, grain, and other provisions, she was released into the custody of her husband, and, following the evening's feast, the king called his court together again. When the lords and ladies of his realm had assembled and the princes had gathered together, King Louis announced his decision as to which of the suitors should have his daughter's hand in marriage. He was the same as Princess Penelope herself had desired for her husband--Prince Carlos of Spain.
The king's announcement caused a great stir among his people, as it did in the palaces and castles of the royal families of the suitors he had rejected in favor the heir to the Spanish throne. Most believed that the king would select either the German prince, Frederick, or the English prince, Henry, but no one, neither knight nor duke, baron nor earl, count nor viscount, nor anyone else who'd been present at the caning of the peasant woman would ever have guessed that the king would choose prince Carlos! After all, Spain was not the wealthy power that England represented, nor had it the military power that Germany boasted. Even the least hopeful of the suitors, Portugal's Prince Pedro, seemed manlier than Carlos, and, certainly he had laid the cane upon the peasant wench's buttocks with far greater than Carlos.
However, when the king, who was known to love his daughter, addressed his faithful assembly, enlightening them as to his motive, every lord and lady, and every suitor who had not found favor in the eyes of the monarch, understood at once the wisdom of his choice, for he said, often a prince, upon becoming king, increased in arrogance, thinking himself above all men and equal only to God, and, if he reigned in a Catholic country, perhaps to the Pope. Such men often became contemptuous, even of their wives, beating the queen as they would a whipping boy, a disobedient or slothful servant, or a petty thief such as the peasant woman who had been caned for the pleasure of the court this very day (and for her own punishment, of course). After King Louis had bidden his daughter's suitors to execute the punishment that the monarch had imposed upon the prisoner of the court, the king and his daughter had watched carefully, marking the severity, the cruelty, and the brutality with which the princes wielded the cane against the defenseless peasant woman, having decided that he who was the least brutal should claim Princess Penelope, for it was such a man who would be least likely, upon ascending the throne of his country and assuming the crown of his kinship, to become tyrannical and rash, impudent and contemptuous, vain and sadistic.
"How could a father do less by a daughter whom he loves?" the king called to his listeners, and the lords and ladies, and even the rejected suitors, applauded, many whistling as well, to signify their admiration for the wisdom of their king.
"I already have great treasure and a might army of loyal, fearless, and able knights," King Louis continued, "but no man, not even a king, is immortal, and, so, one day, I shall die, as all flesh dies, and, on that day, and every day thereafter, I want my beloved daughter to enjoy life and liberty, luxury and safety, happiness and security, and there is no better man to ensure that she lives such a life than Prince Carlos of Spain, who is manly enough to be kind to the woman he weds and by whom he shall father his own heirs."
The crowd cheered, and throughout the magnificent hall, the chant was taken up by every man and woman, "All hail, Prince Carlos of Spain!"
As the crowd continued to praise the prince, the king said to his daughter, "You have chosen well, Penelope."
"I have but one favor more to ask, father. Grant it, and my happiness is complete."
"What do you request, my child?"
"The peasant woman, the one who was caned here today."
"What of her?"
"She is to become my lady-in-waiting, and her family is to be provided a fortune sufficient unto the end of their days."
"Granted, my daughter."
"Then, truly, father, my joy is complete."
Everywhere, the chorus of lords and ladies shouted, "All hail Prince Carlos of Spain!"
"Hadn't we better see to the comfort of my future son-in-law, my daughter? After all, tomorrow, he shall be your husband, and France shall be united, in your marriage to Carlos, with our neighbor to the south."
"You are right, father, but, before you send for him, let me send for the peasant woman, my lady-in-waiting, for I must bathe and dress in fresh costume for such a great occasion."
"Your judgment, as always, is flawless, my dear. Let it be done according to your will."
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