Author’s Note: “The Ternish Betrayal” is a complete novella, available for only $3.99 USD as an e-book at my creator site (click here to view). If you enjoy my writing, please support it with a purchase!
Slut-Queen Kissy squirmed on her throne. Part of her discomfort came from humiliation. The Gartish ambassador who now ran her life had chosen an outfit for her today that both emphasised her royal stature – it was made of white and pink satin, with gold trim, and glowed with elegance – and simultaneously marked her as a whore, for while it lifted and supported her large tits, it did nothing to cover them, and her royal fuckbags were on full display to the members of her court.
But the larger part of her discomfort came from actual *discomfort*. The Emperor of Gart had sent Kissy a present yesterday – a jewelled platinum butt plug modelled after the shape of his own cock – and Kissy had been obliged to insert it that morning into her anus, where it still remained as she sat on her throne. Its pain combined with the aching in her labia, which were clamped to elastic straps that themselves connected to the top of her stockings, keeping her pussy permanently spread awkwardly open. And of course, she wore no panties.
Since she had succumbed to the curse of Gartish magic, her life had been hell. The Kingdom of Terna had fought for generations to free itself from the misogynistic rule of Gart, and Kissy – who had once been known as Kisantha – had sold the nation back into slavery for the privilege of getting to orgasm on the Gartish Emperor’s cock. She had told her people to call her the Slut-Queen now, and the depths of their agreement, and contempt for her, was present in every voice she heard.
Right now, the court jester, Hammad, was striding up and down the long royal hall, entertaining her court.
“Here’s a joke!” he said. “Why doesn’t Slut-Queen Kissy object when men rape her?” He paused, then delivered the punchline. “Because she can’t talk and cum at the same time!”
Kissy giggled nervously, smiling.
“Here’s another,” Hammad continued. “What’s the only thing about Slut-Queen Kissy that doesn’t deserve contempt?” He paused again. “The man’s cock in her mouth.”
Kissy giggled again – but abruptly realised to her horror that it didn’t sound genuine. She tried to laugh again, but she was too late – Hammad strode down the throne room with swift momentum, and slapped her hard across the face. Then he lifted each of her tits in turn, and slapped that hard as well. Kissy squealed, but quickly said, “Thank you, Hammad. I’m sorry, it’s funny that I’m stupid and a slut.” And she giggled again – better this time.
“It *is* funny,” said Hammad, and then returned to his set.
Only a year ago, Hammad might have been executed for laying hands on her. But now, not only had she thanked him for hurting her – but she had actually commanded him to do it. Under Gartish instruction, she had made it illegal for any women to not laugh at a sexist joke, and she had to set an example for her people. She had specifically ordered her court jester to beat and slap her if her enjoyment of his abuse was not sufficiently genuine.
“What do you give Slut-Queen Kissy on her birthday when she’s crying and her face and tits are bruised?” continued Hammad. “Nothing – she’s already got everything she deserved.”
“Ha ha!” laughed Kissy, and a desperation to not be slapped again helped her to actually find it, in some way, funny. It was good to laugh at herself. Everyone else did, after all.
A trumpet sounded, and Hammad moved quickly to one side of the hall. It was time for the royal court to sit as a court of justice. Traditionally, the constabulary of Terna would investigate crimes, and bring them to Kissy for a final ruling, but since Kissy had sold the kingdom’s dignity out of a need to ride the Emperor’s cock, it had been the occupying Gartish soldiers who provided the law enforcement. And it was four such soldiers who now strode up the length of the hall. Behind them came four women. Each woman was naked from the waist up, her hands cuffed behind her back, and the soldiers were leading them by leashes attached to clamps on the women’s bare nipples.
“Four cases for the Slut-Queen’s justice,” declared the lead soldier – a Captain, by his insignia badges.
“Speak, Captain,” said Kissy, trying to sound dignified – difficult, with her breasts on display and the discomfort in her ass and pussy.
“These four women are a mother and her three daughters,” said the Captain. “They are the fuck-furniture of the house where my unit are quartered.”
Kissy nodded. The concessions she had offered to the Gartish Emperor had included a right for Gartish troops to be quartered in any Ternish home, and for the women of that home to provide domestic and sexual services to those soldiers free of charge for the duration of their stay. “Fuck-furniture” was the favourite Gartish phrase for describing these women, and the Gartish Ambassador had instructed Kissy to start using it as an official term in her proclamations and laws.
“What do you accuse them of having done, Captain?” asked Kissy.
“Cow-Udders, step forward,” said the Captain. The oldest of the women, a mature raven-haired beauty with large tits, took a blushing step. The new laws required Ternish women to answer to any degrading name the Gartish chose to give them.
“What was your name before the Gartish came?” Kissy asked the woman.
“Alanthra, your Highness,” said the woman, bobbing nervously.
“I think Cow-Udders is a more fitting name for you, and I shall call you that,” said Kissy. She blushed as she said it. She hated doing this, but the Gartish Ambassador made it clear she was to accept and reinforce any names the Gartish soldiers chose to use.
“Yes, your highness,” said the woman previously known as Alanthra, scarlet with humiliation.
“Slut-Queen, this woman’s daughters have been disobedient brat-whores since the day we took occupation,” said the Captain, “but in our grace and mercy we chose to be forgiving. However, this woman chose to reward our generosity with disobedience, so we have no choice but to bring the whole family before you.”
“What has she done, Captain?” asked Kissy.
“Last night, we were off-duty and enjoying drinks and meals served to us by the fuck-furniture,” said the Captain. “It occurred to us it would be amusing to watch Cow-Udders rape her own daughters, and I instructed her to do so. However, the disobedient cunt refused, and continued refusing even after I delivered her several disciplinary slaps to her face. She said she would rather face your justice than put on a pleasing sex show with her daughters.”
“They’re my *daughters*, your Highness!” protested Cow-Udders. “They wanted me to lick the snatches of my own daughters! I can’t do it! Tell them they can’t make me!”
Kissy blushed. She wanted to set this woman free – but her obligations to the Gartish were clear. She could resist – but if she was disobedient, the Gartish ambassador wouldn’t allow her to orgasm that night. And she could already feel the Gartish curse doing its work, beginning to make her pussy distractingly wet as she looked at her bare-titted subjects. By evening she would be desperate to be fucked, and the torture of being denied was no longer something she could stand. She would subject these women to degradation, so that she would be allowed to satisfy her cunt.
“Cow-Udders, it is a serious offence to deny the Gartish troops any sexual pleasure. They risk their lives keeping our country safe and secure. How dare you be so selfish as to refuse to please their cocks?” Kissy frowned. “Your daughters are adults, and more than ready to be raped. I find you guilty of ungratefulness and conduct unbecoming a cunt. You will receive fifty lashes of the belt to your naked tits following the conclusion of this court session, but because I am merciful I will allow you to masturbate while you are being whipped. Then you will rape each of your daughters for my entertainment. If you do not, I will have your daughters put to death, so if you were troubled by thoughts of doing the best thing by your daughters, your path should now be clear. And thereafter you will perform whatever sexual acts with your daughters the soldiers see fit.”
Cow-Udders wailed, but the Captain jerked on her leash and ordered her to kneel and be silent, and she complied.
“And what of her daughters, Captain?” asked Kissy.
“We call the eldest Cuntpig,” said the Captain, pulling a dyed-blonde buxom girl forward by her tits.
“A good name,” said Kissy. “It suits her.”
“Cuntpig simply isn’t fun to rape,” the Captain said. “She’s the worst fuck-furniture I’ve encountered. She just lies then when we fuck her. She is completely failing at her job to sexually satisfy us.”
“That’s terrible,” said Kissy. “Cuntpig, are you aware that I have recently announced the foundation of a Ternish Academy for Female Skills? It was not cheap, and it required selling a substantial number of women into Gartish slavery for our nation to afford.”
“Yes, your Highness,” said Cuntpig.
“You should consider yourself lucky, Cuntpig,” said Kissy, “because I am awarding you a compulsory scholarship. You are to present yourself to the Academy immediately after being raped by your mother tonight, to undertake a degree in Enjoyable Rape, where you shall be vigorously instructed in how to be more fun for men to violate and abuse. It’s not every woman who gets the chance to better herself.”
Cuntpig looked like she might cry. “Thank you, your highness,” she said.
“Who’s next?” asked Kissy.
“The middle daughter, Spermhole, refuses to answer to the name we gave her,” said the Captain.
“My name is Samantha!” protested the girl.
“Captain, you have permission to discipline Spermhole for speaking out of turn,” said Kissy.
The Captain drew a short wooden cane from his belt, pulled hard on Spermhole’s leash to stretch her tits out painfully, and then viciously brought the cane down across her fuckbags – once, twice, three times. Spermhole cried out, and tried to fall to her knees, but the Captain kept hold of her tit-leash and she was forced to remain standing.
“Spermhole, you should be grateful to have received such a descriptive name from the Gartish, for after all, what are women but holes for men to cum in?” said Kissy. “I order that your name be legally changed to Spermhole, and all public records of your previous name be destroyed. We will have your new name tattooed on your wrist, so people will know it. If you fail even once to answer to this name, I will have you sent to the Academy for Female Skills, where I’m told they have a very effective and painful course that will help you forget you ever had any other name.”
The girl’s eyes went wide. “Your Highness…”
“What is your name, girl?” asked Kissy.
The girl’s lip quivered. Finally, she said, “My name is Spermhole, your Highness. Thank you for correcting me.”
“Very good,” said Kissy. “And what of the last girl, Captain?” The last girl was a pretty girl with light brown hair and pouty lips.
“We call this one Little Whore,” said the Captain. “Little Whore has trouble complying with the law that fuck-furniture must dress in a way that sexually pleases men.”
“What do you say, Little Whore?” asked Kissy.
“Your Highness, I go without panties, and wear short skirts,” said the girl. “My tops are low-cut and I wear push-up bras. I try my best!”
“Slut-Queen, what she’s describing is simply the *normal* dress a woman should wear,” said the Captain. “The law requires that fuck-furniture dress more provocatively than normal. I’ve repeatedly told Little Whore that her outfits should hurt and degrade her and make her look and feel sub-human, but she simply won’t get the message.”
“Your Highness,” protested the girl, “they want me to hang weights from my clitoris by clamps! They want me to bind my breasts with rope to make them bulge! They say I should go out into town with their cum on my face!”
“Yes,” said Kissy, “and you should have listened. You have failed to extend these men the simple, reasonable courtesy of letting them view you as a degraded sub-human fuckpig whose tits and cunt are in constant pain, and that’s simply unacceptable.”
“But your Highness!” the girl protested – but the Captain promptly slapped her across the face.
“After your mother has raped you,” said Kissy, “you will report to the royal blacksmith. He will see that your nipples and clitoris are pierced, and he will weld rings into them, with heavy bells hanging from them. Seeing as you chose not to dress appropriately, the choice will be taken from you.”
The girl wept, and the Captain had to slap her twice to make her stop. Then the women’s remaining clothes were stripped, leaving them naked, and the mother – Cow-Udders – was instructed to rape her daughters for the court’s pleasure.
The courtiers began taking bets on which girl the mother would be most sexually attracted to, and there was a gasp and some laughs when she started with the middle daughter, Spermhole, forcing her to the floor and straddling her face. The expression on Cow-Udders’ face when she felt her daughter’s tongue beginning to lick her fuckhole for the first time was priceless, and elicited further laughter.
In her throne, Kissy squirmed, and then slowly raised her skirt and lowered one hand to her pussy. The Gartish ambassador’s instructions were clear – she was to masturbate whenever she saw a girl raped. And besides, her pussy was becoming so wet, as the Gartish curse took hold. She wouldn’t be allowed to cum without the ambassador’s permission, but that didn’t stop her wanting to touch herself. She moaned as she watched Cow-Udders hump her daughter’s face, and thought about how nice it would be to be raped by the ambassador that night, and what new laws he might think up for her kingdom that would deepen the degradation of its women…
“What do you call four Ternish woman and a bucket?” called out Hammad, over the noises of the women fucking. And then the answer, “A dairy!”
And Kissy blushed, and laughed, and fingered her cunt, and tried to pretend that this was all normal and exactly the reign that she had hoped to have as a young princess…