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The Exchange

Chapter 30

Sitting at the desk in her bedchamber, Donica took a sip of wine and set down the glass. It was the middle of the night, and she had only just received a response from her brother Louis, who was king of Curith. The raven appeared at her window, clacked its beak, and cawed loudly, stirring her from feverish dreams of Bastian in his coffin.

Long red mane steaming around her, Donica sat up and bid Primus go back to sleep. The big Beauceron obeyed, pulling the sheet up over his shoulder again as he settled against the pillows. Since the king's demise, he had taken to sleeping with Donica in her bed. In her loneliness, she had commanded it. Primus used to sleep at the foot of the bed. On the throw rug.

Donica waved for Flavia to fetch her housecoat, and once the meek slave had helped her slip it on, she wrapped it tight about her waist and waved for the girl to fetch her wine. In Corene's absence, Donica had taken Flavia on as a personal handmaid. She was convinced the little creature would run away in despair, for she cried at night for want of Corene, that much Donica knew. But Flavia was far too valuable for Donica to allow her to escape. Without Flavia and Etienne, there would be no controlling Corene. And Donica knew a blade in her belly would not be long coming if ever she were to lose control of the princess. She was perfectly aware that Corene despised her.

Flavia hovered nearby as Donica pulled out parchment and ink. She could smell the pretty Beauceron's sex and knew it was dry as a bone. There were slaves in Curith and Krodor that could get wet on command. They were called Akbash, white dogs that were quite beautiful and loved to serve as greatly as the Beaucerons in Varimore did.

When Donica was a girl living in Curith, she had a white Akbash slave named Axia. Axia could get aroused on command and could do fantastic things with her tongue. Donica would tap her twice on her long white mane, and she would eat the moist sex of her mistress for hours.

Sometimes Donica looked at Corene and was reminded of Axia. Like Axia, Corene had a great deal of intelligence and strength but refused to use it, instead remaining meek and relying on her beauty. It was a shame. And Donica had to ask herself what she ever saw in Corene and why she ever chose her to become princess and heir. The Gardiners were a weak sort to begin with. That the baron and baroness had been so easy to pick off should have awakened Donica to the fact that Corene was not queen material. Ah, but the girl had been so pretty and sweet. Like a little doll. Donica wanted her the way a child wants a toy in window.

But Corene was a mistake. Now there was but one thing to do: replace her.

"How many times have you eaten Corene's pussy, I wonder?" Donica said into the silence.

Standing with her head bowed beside the desk, Flavia stiffened. She was holding a tray and a pitcher of wine - a task Donica wouldn't have normally given to one so nervous and clumsy as Flavia, but she had trained the slave well in Corene's absence. Each time Flavia spilled a pitcher, broke a glass, or even tripped while walking, Primus ploughed his enormous penis into her anus before all the court and pounded her while she hung suspended in a sling. It made for interesting garden parties. Afterward, Flavia was always humiliated and ashamed. She hadn't broken a wineglass in a week.

"How would you like to eat her pussy the rest of your life? What if I told you I was sending you and Corene far away? Would that make you happy, Flavia?"

Flavia hesitated and nodded.

"Of course, it would. You love your princess, don't you? You don't want to see her pretty head rolling through the dirt."

Flavia nodded again. Her eyes were down but they were darting back and forth: she was terrified. Her ears were back tight to her long mane, but they were always back tight.

"If you want Corene to live, you will do everything I tell you. Understand?"

Flavia nodded sheepishly.

"Or I will kill the both of you and be done with it," Donica said with a curl of her lip and took a sip of wine. She set the glass down and tapped it with her red nail. Flavia stepped forward with the pitcher and carefully filled the glass.

"Good girl," Donica whispered, watching thoughtfully as the red wine swirled. She licked her lips and felt a little lightheaded. She had been drinking all night. "Corene is due back very soon. I want you to take this vial . . ." She opened a drawer and lifted a vial filled with green liquid. Pinched in her long nails, it glistened in the moonlight. "And when Corene has her glass of wine before bed, I want you to put this in it."

Flavia frowned uncertainly.

"It is not poison, don't be foolish," Donica said with a dismissive laugh and set the vial on the desk. "If I was going to kill Corene, it would be publically, and likely for some crime she hadn't committed. I like getting my point across." Donica lifted her quill and dipped it in the inkwell. "No, the vial is not poison but a sleeping draught. As Corene is sleeping, I shall have her taken from Wychowl. And you shall accompany her. I am sending the two of you to Curith. My brother has agreed to take Corene as his mistress."

Flavia's lashes fluttered, but she didn't appear to object. She took the vial in careful fingers and paused: she didn't know what to do with it. She was naked.

Donica set aside her quill and smiled. "Here. Let me help you . . ." She took the vial from Flavia, and looking the slave deep in the eyes, she slid the vial up her sex. Flavia's lips parted in surprise. A small gasp escaped her and her little breasts heaved. She bit her lip as Donica's finger sank deeper, and when the vial was in good and tight, she clenched the lips of her sex to hold it.

"Good girl," Donica whispered as she withdrew her finger. "Now. Under the desk."

Flavia obeyed. She knew exactly what Donica wanted, and when she had crawled under the desk, the queen felt her small paws push her robe open and the skirts of her nightgown away from her lap. Flavia pried the queen's thighs apart, and then she was licking her sex, carefully and slowly. Her hot tongue slapped, wet with salvia but gentle as it coaxed the queen to swollen arousal.

Donica picked up her quill again and started to write:

My Dearest Louis,

Everything is running smoothly. And why would it run otherwise? Need I remind you just how careful and clever your sister is? Corene has Etienne in custody and should arrive at Howlester with him in mere hours. I will have her delivered to you at once. Your soldiers are waiting for her return. They have orders to snatch her from her bed in the night, and none of my mastiffs are to stop them.

You should enjoy her immensely, brother. She is not a virgin in the slightest sense of the word. In fact, she has taken lovers outside our dear Etienne. Three, if I am not mistaken. So I imagine she knows how to please. She is young, beautiful, and possibly infertile. She will not bear bastard children and impurely bred mutts. So you may do as you wish to her. I hope she will suffice.

No doubt she will thrash, kick, and scream at the very thought of being your plaything. She's been told since she was six that she would become queen of Varimore, that she would marry Etienne and have his children. It is something she believes is hers by right, though I doubt she has the strength to fight for it. Corene is not strong. She is sniveling and weak. She is not a predator but prey. She will be easy enough to control once she is yours. Slap her a bit if she talks back. Threaten her little slave Flavia, and she will cower into obedience at once.

You will see immediately why I must discard her in favor of your daughter. Before you say it, I know I should have listened to you. I know I should have chosen Hellene over Corene. But your daughter was engaged to marry the prince of Poston. What was I to do at the time? Ask you to break the alliance because of my own failure to produce an heir? Then I had little Etienne, and I thought it wouldn't matter anymore. But it does matter. The boy is incapable of selecting a proper mate, and he despises Corene. He will not despise Hellene.

The time to act is now. Prince Gerard is dead and our dear Hellene is a widow left alone with a little daughter. I would still see Hellene wed to Etienne, and I am glad you have agreed to the arrangement. King Gerard's brother has taken the throne of Poston, and he will no doubt see Hellene and her child as a threat. Hellene refuses to marry a male who is quite possibly her husband's murderer, and you would see her extracted from the midst of Poston's political intrigue.

Crowning Hellene the queen of Varimore would uplift yet another proud Andalusian to the throne of King Antony. Etienne is like his father: he has no wish to rule and no spine to do so. He will need a strong bitch like Hellene on his arm. She is beautiful, she is cunning. He will meet her and fall to his knees.

But one problem remains: the child. Little Philomena. What is to be done with the brat? A quiet drowning? Infants drown in the bath all the time. Let the girl go on with her father. I know what it is to let a child live in the wake of their parent's slaughter. Look at Corene. Look at her, the wretch. With the things you are going to do to her, she is better off dead. I wonder . . . will you use the whip the first night? Or perhaps violate her with a bottle? Or shall you asphyxiate her as she orgasms? Is that still all the rave back home?

You know, my brother, there are some nights I still think I should have finished what I started, that I should have had Corene murdered as her parents. Perhaps the moment she showed weakness I should have sent her to the countryside and arranged for an accident . . . I know. I know I shouldn't put such things in writing. But I've had a bit too much to drink, and Corene's slave slut is licking my pussy. I can't focus.

That girl should be dead. But I was too soft hearted. I loved Corene. So I kept her. I spoiled her. I told her she would marry my Etienne, my son. And what did I get in return? Disobedience. Backtalk. Attempts to flee. I do believe the girl has gone mad. Captain Carnell sent me a letter recently. He said Corene was hallucinating and stripping herself naked at balls. It's time, my brother. It's time to be done with her.

My way and she dies. But your way and she's the court slut of Curith. I can't say I prefer your way, but I smile when I think of what is in store for her. Are you going to invite your friends to play? Perhaps our brothers? Will you hold her down and take turns pounding her? Or will you pound her all at once? Do be gentle with the little slave. With Flavia, I mean. But do make sure Flavia watches. It will keep them both in their places. Corene won't be able to live down the humiliation - gang raped in front of her beloved slave. And Flavia will understand that she is helpless.

Oh. But if you find yourself having grown bored with Corene, do send me her head. Hellene always did want to meet the princess of Varimore.

Is it settled then? Hellene will arrive here at Varimore within a fortnight and Corene will arrive in Curith some time next month. I do appreciate the exchange, my brother. And you needn't worry.

Hellene will find herself quite comfortable here in Varimore.

Love your darling baby sister,

Donica

Donica dropped her quill and gasped as her clitoris swelled pleasurably. She leaned back in the chair and moaned, spreading her legs wider. Flavia licked deeper, slower, with a careful finesse that made Donica's fingers tighten on the armrests. The moisture of her arousal oozed from her sex and darkened the cushion.

The queen's cries awoke Primus, who was sleeping on the bed. She saw the slave's ear prick forward and beckoned him. "Fuck her, Primus," Donica said and casually lit a long cigarette. She drew on the cigarette holder and kissed out smoke as the big Beauceron made his way toward desk, great penis flapping.

Flavia nervously climbed from the under the desk and stood with her head down and heart thundering. She tensed when Primus clapped a heavy paw on her shoulder and looked at the queen.

"Fuck her over the sofa end there," Donica said with narrowed green eyes. "In her tight little twat. Make sure she screams."

Flavia's lashes fluttered, and Donica saw the moisture ooze down her sleek back thighs. Primus flipped her easily into his big arms, then carried her to the sofa and bent her over the armrest. Soft backside in the air, Flavia let the big male press her face by the neck to the cushions. Her little breasts were smashed under her as Primus grabbed her by the tail and slid himself carefully between the clenching lips of her sex. She winced. He halted and grunted as he slid himself free, only to pull out the vial and look at the queen.

Donica laughed: the vial of sleeping draught was glazed in the juices of Flavia's arousal.

"That's alright, darling," Donica said, smoke wreathing from her nostrils. "Set it aside and fuck her little brains out. Look at the poor darling. She's dying for it."

Flavia closed her eyes, feeling embarrassed. But she was certainly dying for it. Her sex was swollen and dripping and hot against the cool air. The firm grasp of the big male's paw on her tail filled her with anticipation. She could feel the head of his hard penis brush her when he moved and wanted to clench her lips on it.

Primus pressed the head of his penis against Flavia's lips and slowly pushed his way in. She sighed with pleasure as he began to ride, and his thick phallus held her so taunt, her soft screams soon filled the room. She could feel the queen watching her as Primus humped her over the armrest and wanted to disappear.

Suddenly impatient, the big male grabbed Flavia by the neck and pulled her up, forcing her to support her weight on her arms. Her little breasts trembled as they rocked, and with a satisfied grunt, Primus groped her breasts from behind as he rode her. Flavia smiled as the hard heat of his chest and arms enfolded her: he always loved squeezing her breasts when he made love to her, and if he couldn't get at them, he would get frustrated and rough. He squeezed her small breasts until the nipples jutted and sank his fangs in her neck as he pounded her. Trapped beneath him, she panted shrilly and wiggled her hips to admit him further.

"Ah . . . ahhhahaaa . . . ah . . . ah . . ."

"Mmpfh . . . mmpfh . . ." Primus grunted with every slam, intensifying Flavia's screams as he intensified her pleasure.

He slammed his hips hard and pressed deep, and she closed her eyes as his seed rushed to fill her. She missed the heat of him when he pulled away. She just lay there, breathless and weak, backside in the air as her body lay bent over the armrest. She felt the male's careful fingers spread the lips of her sex, and then the cold vial was gliding in. She gasped.

"It's a wonder she'll be able to hold it in," the queen said with a laugh. "Surely your pounding has made her wide as a canyon, Primus. No matter." Flavia heard the queen's cigarette hiss as it was crushed out. "Fuck her in the face."

Flavia's lashes fluttered. She bit back a cry when Primus grabbed her by the tail and flipped her on her back.