Read The Emperor's New Pony Online

Authors: Emily Tilton

Tags: #Erotica, #Bdsm, #Historical, #Literature & Fiction, #Romantic Erotica

The Emperor's New Pony (9 page)

BOOK: The Emperor's New Pony
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The moment he dreaded most of all came. He had washed the rest of her, but he had not washed between her legs. His heart beating a mile a minute as he sponged off her back, he brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “My princess, I am so very sorry about what I must do.” He saw her purse her lips, and then she gave another tiny nod.

In that moment he adored her much more than he had ever adored her as his monarch. He stooped down and brought the sponge up between her thighs, trying not to look at what he did. Edera whimpered and gave a little sobbing moan. Ranin tried to be quick, but he knew that the emperor would undoubtedly visit more humiliation upon them if he found any fault with the way Ranin washed his filly down.

Nor, now that it was nearly over, could he deny that a part of him wanted very much to make Edera feel the pleasure he knew she could not help feeling with a warm soapy sponge rubbing her there, and so, torn between his reverence for his princess and his wish to make her feel the comfort that the sponge would bring, he let it linger softly over her cunt, moving it back and forth very gently.

“Oh!” Edera whispered, and then she sighed.

Then the emperor’s voice cut through the tender little scene once again. “Goodman Versal, I had not suspected you would grow so affectionate so quickly! Take that sponge away from filly Edera’s naughty cunt this instant! It is not my will that she should come yet.”

Edera gave a little sob at this news, and for a moment Ranin wondered whether there had been something more to her pleasure with the sponge than the kind of soft comfort that he knew women sometimes took in touching themselves. Had she been hoping that Ranin would make her come? Or was there perhaps even something about being held in the cross-ties—as there clearly had been for Adilan—that made Edera feel greater pleasure than she would have had she been lying abed alone?

He obeyed the emperor, taking the sponge away. Then, sure that he had given satisfaction with the wash-down, he unbuckled and unhooked Edera from the cross-ties, and wrapped her up in one of the fluffy blankets for a few moments to dry her. The emotions he felt as he held her inside the blanket astonished him. His princess looked up at him with what seemed like unfeigned affection. Her eyes even seemed to shine as she felt him rubbing her back and, unable to help himself, her bottom, through the thick, soft fabric.

Ranin’s heart seemed to respond in kind, but also to beat faster, as he thought about this strange new relationship the emperor had forced upon them. In Amidia, the idea that the lord chancellor and the princess might be this close, ever, made absolutely no sense. Edera had been destined for a royal marriage. Ranin had thought that if he should return to Auria, he might find a second wife among the petty nobility. But here they were, humiliated servants of the emperor of Maq, and Ranin was holding Edera close to him, and it seemed his touch held the power to ease her suffering.

But it lasted only a moment, for the emperor said, in that sweet tone that always seemed to carry his greatest degradations, “Time for her tail now, Versal.”

Edera gave him yet another of those tiny nods, but Ranin felt that even her good will in submitting to what he must do now could not absolve him of the guilt he felt at how hard his cock became at the sight of her upturned bottom, still bearing the fading marks of the quirt. And, much as he wished to, there was no way he could turn his eyes from the sight, for he must impose the bung in her little ring carefully and gently, and he knew he needed to pay very close attention to the unintentionally lewd motions of Edera’s backside as she could not help the way her bottom writhed under his touch.

Worst of all, just as he was about to put the tip of the bung to the tiny dimple, the emperor came over to stand above him and watch. By that time also, Morqan and the stable boys had returned, and Ranin could see them, too, watching from a little further away on the other side.

“Master Morqan,” said the emperor, “have you any advice to offer your new assistant about the imposition of the tail? Perhaps you could tell him about soothing?”

Morqan said, “With many of the fillies, when their training regimen allows it, it’s a good idea to soothe the cunt while you put the tail in the rump. You can just go ahead and rub up at the top where her feeling is the greatest. I don’t know if you’re the kind of man who likes to get a close look at what girls have down there, but there’s a little knob that’s almost like a tiny cock at the top, and that’s where girls like to touch themselves the most. When we’re training fillies, we can use that in a lot of different ways—for reward and for punishment. Why don’t you go ahead and give it a rub, and see what happens? Sometimes you can get them to open their rumps right up with just a little bit of attention to their cunts.”

Ranin tried desperately to keep his breathing under control. To rub Edera between her legs with the sponge had been one thing, but the suggestion that he should just put his fingers there upon her sweet slit seemed so outrageous that he felt himself flushing red. Knowing how delighted the emperor would be to see him blush that way, he resolved simply to do what they said and pretend to himself that it did not make his manhood stand up as stiff as a pike.

Still, moving his fingers to do the thing his mind had resolved to do was no easy task. It felt like a material barrier of shame lay between his hand and Edera’s cunt. Ranin had to confess that he had always wondered why when he touched a woman at the top of her cunt, she seemed to find it more pleasant than nearly any other touch he could bestow. He had been married only a year when his wife died, and he not had many lovers, but he felt he had his share, and that he could make them feel the pleasure a man owed to the woman who surrendered her modesty to him.

Now, forced to contemplate giving that pleasure to Edera, Ranin was hard pressed to stop blushing like a schoolboy as he thought of the condescending anatomy lesson Master Morqan had just bestowed. Princess Edera’s sweet little cunt seemed to invite his touch—it even gave a little flutter, he thought, as if begging him, who had been her lord chief marshal of horse, to do the shameful thing and touch her there. But he should never have seen his princess’ cunt at all, let alone that way, shaved and offered under her shapely bottom, presented for his touch while he put the humiliating bung, with its tail, inside her.

His fingers trembled and moved, and at last touched his beautiful princess there, as gently as he could. Edera moaned, and that moan made him want to soothe her, and he rubbed. He even felt the little nub, and then he realized that the woman’s wetness came shamefully from her cunt at his touch, and he could scarcely believe how it moved him, making his cock pulse with every quickened beat of his heart.

Oh, please, sweetheart… my sweet princess… lovely Edera, please… open up your bottom and end this torment for both of us,
he thought.

Scarcely knowing how he managed the words, he said softly, “Open up now, sweetheart. Sweet filly, take your tail now.”

And she did, with a whimper: her bottom surged, and Ranin drove the bung inside it, hating himself for loving the sight and the feeling of imposing it upon her.

“There!” said the emperor. “Very nice! We shall make a proper stable master of you yet, Goodman Versal!”

Chapter Ten

 

 

Three months later, Edera lay on the straw of her stall, weeping.

“Princess,” called Alira through the thin wood divider that separated their stalls, “what’s wrong?” Alira’s voice was full of concern. Edera had come to love her so much more here in Maq than she had before; the way Alira had taken to the training seemed to Edera to call out to something in her own soul that she could not yet acknowledge, but hoped perhaps one day she might.

“Hush, Alira!” Melisan said from Alira’s other side, her voice nearly inaudible to Edera’s ears. “You know they will whip you if they hear you speaking!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Alira said. “They never come without making noise.”

“The emperor does!” Melisan hissed, beginning to grow agitated. Edera did not blame her: a month past, the emperor had revealed himself suddenly, in the night, to tell Edera that her country’s conquest had taken place, and that Lord Ranin had successfully pacified her people. He would return to the capital the next day to begin her real training.

But the emperor had not let them know he was there until Melisan had said, “Alira, are you awake?” at which point he had flung open her stall door and entered with his quirt held high, whipping Melisan until she screamed in agony. Only then had he come to Edera’s stall to announce the final destruction of her country.

Such things were the reason, Edera thought, that only very rarely did the Amidians hear any of the other fillies talking to one another. Even after two weeks here, they themselves whispered much less than they had in the beginning. Once they had started lessons with the tutor Master Ropiq, they had a chance to talk during their morning break, as it was called, with the other fillies who took lessons—twenty or so of them, together in the big schoolroom upstairs—and that had already come to seem more than enough conversation for an imperial filly.

For Edera truly did now think of herself as an imperial filly. The reason she wept was that she felt that she could not be the imperial filly she wanted to be, and that she needed to be for Ranin—for
Lord
Ranin, whom Edera had promised herself she would keep calling by his true title.

Suddenly they did hear footsteps approaching their stalls, and so all the talk ceased. Even Alira, who seemed, strangely, to love to be whipped—lightly, at least—did not want to risk the sort of true thrashing Melisan had gotten from the emperor, or Adilan had gotten from one of the crueler stable boys a few days before, when she went pee in the middle of a training walk around the yard and some had splashed on the boy’s leg. Gad, who was kind, had been there, and had told the boy who beat Adilan that he would report him for it, but the boy had laughed.

Edera was sure that Gad had reported the boy, but Master Morqan probably had not been able to do anything about it. Many of the stable boys were the sons of the lords who mounted the fillies, Edera had gathered, and hence not truly answerable to Master Morqan at all.

The footsteps stopped outside Edera’s stall door. She stood up, feeling the tail swish behind her, against her legs. Ashamed, but unable to stop herself, she gave it a little twitch, and felt her cunt flutter at the feeling of it filling her backside. The feeling called up the yearnings she could barely admit to herself—yearnings that had grown stronger and stronger with every time she watched another filly mounted. When would her turn come? Who would it be?

“Edera,” called Lord Ranin’s voice, and then there his dear face was at the barred window of the stall.

Edera almost spoke, but then she remembered how she longed to please him. Good fillies did not speak without permission.

“You may speak, my princess,” he said.

She had been going to say something sweet, but instead, at hearing herself called ‘princess,’ she said, “You must not call me that!”

She watched his face set hard, when he heard her words and realized she had decided once again to be contrary.

“Edera,” he said sternly. “I fear I am here to punish you.”

“What?!” Edera felt her face crumple as Lord Ranin opened the stall door and stepped inside, bringing one of the simple three-legged stools that stood outside all the stalls for the boys to use when they groomed the fillies. Even as grief and shame and fear rose up at the idea that he would punish her, another part seemed to cry “Yes!” His nearness, in that strange simple uniform of the homespun tunic and the leather breeches that covered the… place where… she felt her whole naked body blushing at it. “Oh, goodman… lord… please, no. I mean, why would…” But she knew. She knew why he would punish her.

They stood face to face, less than a foot apart in the little space of the stall, fragrant with straw and also shamefully odoriferous with the scent of Edera’s pee, since the fillies had to learn to make water in their stalls, and though the boys mucked the stalls out each day, the scent lingered. Suddenly she became conscious of her nakedness in a way she had not felt it in days—weeks, even. Here was the man who had come to her writing closet to receive her commands, and now he had come to punish her, upon her bare bottom, upon the tender flesh of her naked body.

Lord Ranin’s face held sorrow, it seemed to her, but also determination. He did not want to punish her, she knew, and that was the problem—the true problem. The reason she did not perform the way she should, as an imperial filly, lay in the way her trainer refused to punish her properly. Now it appeared that would change, right here in her stall.

Lord Ranin did not say another word, but turned to his right and set the stool down. Then he sat upon it and looked up at Edera. “Come here, filly Edera,” he said, “and get over my knee. I am going to spank you, as perhaps I should have spanked you a long time ago.”

Master Morqan did sometimes use this kind of spanking on a filly, but only rarely. Edera had seen through a stall window once, as Lord Ranin walked her past to take her out for evening exercise, that the big stable master had one of his favorite fillies, a light-skinned Northern girl named Kari with ice-blue eyes and hair so light in color that it looked nearly white, over his knee. He had taken out her tail, and he was spanking her hard with his enormous open hand, and talking to her softly as he did it—so softly that Edera couldn’t make out any of the words.

A stab of envy that she could not explain had gone through her at the sight. Beatings from the quirt—real beatings, as opposed to the occasional flick all the fillies got many times a day—like the one the emperor had given Melisan held a fascination for Edera; after three months as an imperial filly, she could not deny it. She had not received one, and Melisan would certainly be terribly resentful if she knew with what rapt attention Edera had listened to her cries and, later, looked surreptitiously at the tracery of red that covered her ample bottom cheeks.

BOOK: The Emperor's New Pony
8.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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