Possessing Allura Read Free

you. Show me what a little whore you are.’
    Veeta did not need to have the order spelled out. She knew well what it meant to be ordered to the row of fluted marble columns ringing the princess’ sunken bathtub. She pressed her body against the first one, grinding as though it was a man. Few punishments were more humiliating to Veeta, or more pleasurable to Allura than this one.
    If denying the slave orgasms was one form of torture, so was compelling them. And yet the desperate girl was more than willing to trade her pride for a chance to rub her breasts, belly and cunt against the cool, rounded surface. The first climax was upon her almost as soon as she clutched the column between her thighs. Wrapping her arms tight, she pushed her nipples savagely against it, allowing maximum friction.
    In the beginning Veeta had cried and begged not to be forced to do this, especially when ordered to do so in full view of members of the household staff or guests. The whip, however, proved a very persuasive teacher, as did hunger and other tortures, too many to mention. But being a smart girl Veeta learned quickly that humping a column like a dog was by no means the worst thing that could be done to her enslaved flesh.
    Sometimes Allura liked to make her hug the column while being whipped. This way Veeta would experience sweet stimulation and agonizing pain. Perhaps now would be such a time. She need only decide on the correct instrument of punishment – one of the snaking whips, perhaps, or the dreaded cane…
    The princess’ reverie was interrupted by a knock upon the doors of her outer chambers. ‘Who is it?’ she raged, determined that someone should pay for this interruption. ‘Who dares disturb me?’
    â€˜Forgive me, princess,’ came a voice she knew at once to be that of Meksior, the spineless vizier to her Uncle Fortragian. ‘I have come to inform you that your visitor has arrived.’
    â€˜Visitor? What are you talking about? I am expecting no visitors.’
    Veeta continued her heavy breathing as she pushed herself to another humiliating orgasm.
    â€˜Count Raysar, princess. The latest suitor. You recall his appointment?’
    The suitor. Yes. One of her uncle’s ideas. The grand duke, now regent of the realm, intended to marry Allura off so as to free himself of the problem of royal succession. By law she could not assume the crown herself unless married. It was a ridiculous practice and she intended to alter it at the next convocation of nobles. The princess would marry no one. She would be queen alone. In the mean time, she was humoring the grand duke, interviewing various prospective husbands, each of whom she promptly ran off, tail between his legs.
    None were worthy of her, and she was systematically proving her case. This Raysar, whoever he was, would be no exception. In fact, she would see to it his humiliation exceeded that of all the others combined.
    â€˜Very well, Meksior, I shall deign to see him. Send him in to me at once.’
    There was a judicious pause, followed by the clearing of the vizier’s throat. ‘Princess, I am not sure it would be proper for the prince to meet you here… in your private chambers.’
    Allura stormed to the doors and flung them open. ‘Fetch him this instant, you imbecile,’ she commanded to his cringing face. ‘Or I shall have you drawn and quartered.’
    â€˜At once, princess.’ He cowered behind his purple robes, nearly tripping over himself in his effort to make it back to the stairs. A few moments later he returned with a high-strung young man, about six foot tall, thin and blonde with nice enough features and white teeth. The fact that he was uncomfortable meeting his potential bride in her bedroom was more than a little obvious, and she could hardly wait till he saw Veeta in the next room.
    â€˜Leave us,’ the princess said to the vizier, denying him the chance to conduct a proper