Princess Laureline of Mirth, Ch. 4

Laureline had to be tickle-tortured to the point of physical and mental exhaustion for her to agree to let Amelia use the ball of slime on her. The elven princess couldn't muster any more resistance when Amelia carefully brought out the ball of slime. Outside of the comfort of its box, the whole thing contracted and reshaped itself until it was a cohesive rounded blob, almost spherical except that it was dragged down by gravity to have a flattened base.

Amelia set it down on her chest and the adolescent creature began a methodical process of mapping out the contours of her body; rolling and inching its way over her skin and leaving a thin layer of glistening blue gel in its wake. Its movement were lurching but methodical and it reached all the way down to her hands and feet before rolling back the other way, doing laps across her body.

After the slime had tired itself out, Amelia picked it up and began to stroke it. Laureline then watched as Amelia slipped her hand within the slime’s body and wore it like a skintight glove. The slime was perfectly fine the arrangement; having no internal organs meant that it could arrange itself into any shape and it appeared to like being in contact with another creature.

With the slime around her slender fingers, Amelia began touching Laureline's body in a more intense way. The once-shy librarian was now boldly recreating the lewd acts that Laureline had used to enjoy with her bed-companion; Amelia became flushed as she fingered her and caressed her body. To Laureline's shame, the touch had an electric effect on her body like the slime was enhancing the sensation of every possessive stroke. Until this moment, Laureline had not realized how long Amelia's fingers were because the mousy girl usually had them busy with some menial task or hidden behind some leather-bound book.

It wasn’t just the satisfying feeling of deep penetration that came whenever Amelia slid her fingers inside of her; the slime itself was moving of its own according to reach just that little bit deeper and its extremities were vibrating in a delightful way, perhaps to increase the bounty of cum that it was harvesting from her; a pleasure which cascaded through her body and brought her to climax again and again.

Laureline became putty in Amelia’s hands - her mind just as a malleable and impressionable as the slime that invaded her.

Amelia spoke to her as she worked her over; she confessed that she did not want to see the princess taken in by the humans or the orcs. If it were up to her, then she would see the princess become a part of the hive of slimes in Oorway. Strange as their customs were, the slime queendom would venerate her and the pleasure they could offer was mutual.

They could feed off of her mana; and they had royal aphrodisiacs deep within the hive that were so powerful that those who experienced them never wished to leave. Amelia whispered in her ear that she would join her princess there and together they could experience a thousand sopping wet orgies, bound and fucked in ways that strained the elven imagination.

By the end of the hour-long feeding process the slime was perfectly content with its meal, and Laureline had experienced two dozen consecutive orgasms leaving her drained physically and mentally. Being completely done for today, she ended up needing to be carried by Zara over to her bed chambers until the next day’s lessons. Amelia excused herself so that she could 'record the results of this test' but Lauraline had no doubts that the little librarian girl would be masturbating over this scene for quite some time.

----

Over the next few days as the deadline of her training approached, Laureline was taken to the brink of sanity and imprisoned there.

Through a horrible psychological process of reward and punishment, they began the process of breaking her. Whenever she got answers wrong in her studies or failed to obey their instructions in a timely manner, they would bring out the black ropes and tickle devices that she had come to hate more than anything, and torture her until her voice went hoarse. If she obeyed them and did her duty then they would occasionally grant her a pinch of mana, straight from Aurora’s (and always Aurora's) personal stores.

She accepted the mind-blowing magical dust because she was expected to, but Laureline knew that it was a matter of time until she would look forward eagerly to the rewards, and therefore towards pleasing her captors. Already the mana was having an amplified effect on her; each new batch seemed to smell stronger and more intensely than the last, beyond any spice she had smelt before. She snorted them all with renewed eagerness, usually beneath Trixie or Zara's smirking eyes.

Of her three permanent live-in guests, the one who made her the most uneasy by far was Zara – the damned orc she-mage. While Amelia and Trixie were annoying and aggravating in their own ways, neither of them were particularly inclined towards physical contact other than when administering a scheduled punishment. Zara, on the other hand, was an extremely physical orc and never missed an opportunity to take a hands-on approach to disciplining the princess.

From her lessons, she knew that orcs had almost no concepts over personal space and boundaries; they were intimate and physical with each other to a repulsive degree and living amongst elves had done nothing to cure that social habit for Zara. Whenever she entered a room she would make sure to pat her on the back, to grab her ass, or to bring her in for a crushing bear hug. The big orc being scantily clad made each contact that much more intimate. Laureline had lost track of the number of times Zara had almost smothered her head between her enormous melons.

The sight of the orc sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine. The bright green pigment of her skin, looking so natural and yet so disturbing at the same time came to inspire a primal feeling of horror within her. She worried that Zara was conditioning her to fear orcs, and she dreaded the concept of being surrounded by dozens of creatures just like Zara. Except the other orcs would be far more crude!

“How about another deep-tissue massage, princess?” Zara rumbled, rubbing her hands together. “I have more useful techniques to show you.”

“Please Mistress Zara, I would rather focus on my studies,” Laureline said.

A half-truth. The ancient histories and texts detailing past interactions between the Assyrian Empire and the Orc tribes was mind-numbingly dull but it was a happy alternative to spending more time beneath Zara’s ministrations.

Zara didn't take this well. Her sudden stillness and silence brought about a chill of fear. Laureline whipped her head around and saw that Zara’s stern face was looking meaner than ever, along with the subtle joy that came whenver she got an opportunity to deliver a punishment.

“Our lessons have not been sinking in, I see. When a superior gives you a request, you take it as an order!”

Laureline hopped to her feet, chair clattering on the floor behind her. Zara strode closer and glared down at her. There was nothing for Laureline to do but cringe at her close proximity.

“Clearly princess, your problem isn’t a lack of understanding or motivation. You are just being held back by your own natural inhibitions. We have ways of correcting that.”

“What, I don’t--?”

“It’s so like you ‘high and mighty’ class elves to be racists against us greenskins.”

“Racist?” Laureline spluttered. “I’m not a racist--”

Zara caught Laureline’s jaw with her hand and held her mouth shut with casual ease, silencing her. Her emerald eyes, as brightly green as the rest of her, glowered down at her. “Even if you don't think about it, deep inside of you, you feel it. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Well, that changes now.”

The orc released Laureline with a contemptuous wave of her hand that sent Laureline sprawling to the floor, painfully. Zara sat down on the squat wooden stool that she had carried into the room and folded her arms, still looking at her with that glowering intensity that seemed to dare her to try and talk back in the face of this rough treatment. Laureline practically bit her tongue to cut off the impertinent response that was on her lips.

“Kneel, or I make you kneel. Your choice, princess.”

Fixing her with a sullen stare to make up for her lack of witty retort, Laureline knelt before her. 'Shit, I can’t believe she’s just doing whatever she wants with me,' Laureline fumed to herself.

Zara rooted within a leather pouch on her belt and withdrew an artifact; a green pendant on a golden chain. The pendant was heart-shaped but the bright green colour of the jade made her think of an orc. Her eyes followed the edges of the pendant and suddenly the mental image was forced into her mind of an orc’s buttocks as she bent over. Unable to help herself she glanced at Zara and checked her out. If Zara bent over and thrust her buttocks outward, the resulting pose would be quite similar to the beautifully carved jade idol.

“After this, we will have no more need of magic ropes,” Zara chuckled. “Look at it. Do not take your eyes off of it.”

Laureline complied, a bit curious as to what Zara had planned. The amulet did not seem especially magical but it was hard to tell with some artifacts.

The pendant swung back and forth, back and forth, in a constant pattern. The slightest motion from Zara’s wrist kept the green artifact in perpetual motion before her eyes. The longer the she stared, the more intense her gaze became on it until her surroundings almost seemed to fade away leaving the pendant the sole object of her attention.

“My people refined the art of hypnosis for use against slaves that come from particularly arrogant or prideful cultures. I have seen many an elf break down and reveal their true selves this way.”

Zara’s words instilled anger in her but strangely Laureline couldn’t bring herself to retort. The pendant had captured her attention fully and even processing Zara’s speech required more brain capacity than she had to spare.

In the back of her mind she began to realize that she very much did not want to be here, kneeling before Zara. She tried to stand, and her eyes widened in surprise as she realized that she was still kneeling.

“Can’t stand up, can you?” Zara grunted.

Laureline tried - she willed with every fibre of her being to get up and away from Zara, to hell with the punishments - but no matter how much she wanted it, her body was immovable. It didn’t feel like she was wrapped up in restrictive gear or completely numb; she just couldn’t get her body below her neck to obey her.

“Good. Now it’s time to give you something good to sniff.”

Laureline gulped - knowing all too-well from her studies what that meant. Almost every race had their own unique emissions. For the humans it was their sweat, the elves naturally released mana as dust, and slimes constantly oozed a copious amount of gel. For the orcs however, their main form of release was in their scent.

Her very presence already carried with it a very distinctive scent so that it was unmistakable when she entered a room and Laureline often found her eyes watering from being too near to her.

Zara peeled off her thick leather boots and that smell emanating from her intensified to an unbelievable degree. It wasn’t a foul scent, or even an unpleasant one, it was merely extremely strong and unique. The unmistakably powerful scent of orc feet - and, to her shock, it was an extremely familiar smell to her. Her eyes widened in surprise, awareness briefly coming back to her and almost breaking the spell over her. She tried to recall where she had previously experienced this intense sensation, but then the pendant swung back into place and her mind was captivated once more.

Zara waved her foot casually over the princess’ face and Laureline’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head, her mind reeling as if hit by a hammer. Paradoxically, her head tilted back and forth, trying to trace the path of Zara’s foot with her nose to collect every little bit of scent permeating the air as if her body subconsciously could not get enough of it.

The glow of the amulet seemed to leave a trace in the air – a crescent of sparkling green lights which grew as the pendant swung back and forth until to her dizzy mind it formed a large green smile hovering in the air. Laureline found herself smiling in return; a big stupid grin with a thin line of drool seeping out of the corner of her mouth.

She could vaguely recognize in her peripheral vision that Zara’s mouth was mouthing but no intelligible words reached her ears. They seemed stuffed as if her head had been encased in cotton. The only thing that seemed to matter was the swaying pendant and Zara’s big beautiful feet.

She blinked. Beautiful? Where had that come from?

The question vanished as soon as it had come into her mind.

She smiled.

Though she could not hear them, Zara’s words seemed to be having a pronounced effect. Her body was becoming warmer, her skin tingling from an increase in mana which flowed from her in a show of rapturous joy. Now she realized that the scent of Zara's feet was having the same effect on her as the rush of mana addiction that she had been experiencing all week! The heavy blanketing feeling over her head faded and she could hear once more. The world regained a little bit of its clarity even as an all-too pleasant buzz rose up.

“Smell familiar princess?” Zara growled in satisfaction. “The mana you’ve snorted has been marinated in my boots. You must have noticed the scent but you probably were unable to identify it. Well now you know!Every time you smell my feet, you will feel the need for your precious elf-drug ten times over.”

Laureline was too consumed with pathetic addiction to feel any sort of rage or denial; her expression before Zara was one solely of longing - an insipid grin locked in place.

“You want more, don’t you princess? You want to smell my feet more and more.”

Laureline nodded her head enthusiastically, her obsequious smile never dimming.

“Of course you do. You don’t mind that they’re Orc feet, do you?”

Laureline shook her head.

“Every time you feel like being rude to me, you’ll remember I can take away your precious mana and my beautiful feet, don’t you?”

Laureline nodded so hard she started to feel dizzy.

“You can speak now; answer me truthfully. What do you want to do right now more than anything?”

“Smell your feet!” The words leaped out of her mouth before her mind could fully process it.

Zara leaned back and roared with laughter - a noise that could easily have been mistaken as a battlecry. She slipped back inside its resting place on her belt, no longer needing it.

“Right answer princess! Right answer... Who am I to deny such a pure desire?” Zara’s smile faded but the glee remained in her eyes. “Crawl beneath my chair and lie on your back.”

Laureline swiftly moved into position - unsure whether it was truly her own desire or the lingering compulsion of Zara’s commands that made her body leap into action. In any case, she found herself exactly where Zara wanted her; lying on the floor of her room with her torso directly beneath Zara’s seat - her head sticking out of one end and her legs from the other. When she looked up, Zara towered above her and when she raised her big green feet directly overhead, they completely filled the view above her. A thrill of excitement rushed through her. She already knew what Zara intended to do.

“If you become wife of the Orc chieftain, then you could spend every night like this beneath her throne. Serving as her footrest. Worshiping and sniffing her big green soles which are even larger and more pungent than my own.”

“Yes…” Laureline whispered. Zara’s words turned her on in a way that she would never have considered possible. She loved Orcs and the thought of her royal, perfect face being in contract with big green feet all night was too much to hope for.

“Life is better, even for a princess, when you accept your true self,” Zara stated before lowering both of her feet directly onto Laureline’s face. At the last moment - just before those great big soles landed on her features in a gentle stomp - a flicker a fear crossed her eyes, unseen by anyone. It was the last moment of recognition that her life was truly fucked.

Then the Orcish feet - big enough to easily cover her whole head together - squished her face as Zara lightly applied a fraction of her weight on her. She wasn’t cruel or rough about it; it was a simple display of the power she held over her. Zara continually adjusted her feet in slow, gentle movements to find the optimal position. Poking and prodding Laureline’s lips, cheeks and nose with her soles and toes before finally settling them down and allowing Laureline at last to poke out her tongue and begin lapping away at them. The sensation went through her tongue right to her brain stem as she was consumed with base need for more mana, more feet, more of that heavenly scent.

“You have another hour before your next lesson with Mistress Amelia. Enjoy your time well,” Zara commanded with a smile.

The elven princess was so lost in her olfactory pleasure trip that she didn’t hear a single word. Though the Orc’s feet were not covered in mana or sweat, the simple contact of her tongue to the skin which released such pleasure smell was enough to give her an unparalleled high. Her addiction seemed to have transferred from mana to feet, and she didn't have time nor mind to worry about the implications.

Her royal pussy burned with a pleasure greater than any she had felt before and Laureline knew that no matter what humiliations the Orc and her other tutors inflicted upon her, she would do anything to feel this way again. Even though she would later recount the events of the afternoon to Amelia when they were alone and swear that she hated it; she knew in her heart that Zara had broken her.

----

Watching from the balcony, Laureline could see the diplomatic envoys making their way towards the palace. The day was upon them: the time for the fruit of her labours to be harvested and for some semblance of control to come back into her life, or so she prayed.

Everything was going according to Aurora’s schedule. The night before, a private coronation had been held to make official her position as the new Queen of the Assyrian Empire. Only Aurora, her teachers, and a few ministers and officials who worked under Aurora were permitted to attend. Once a decision had been made regarding which foreign nation an alliance would be settled on, then a public celebration and true coronation would take place.

A maid stepped up to her, offering a chalice of cool water. Laureline gratefully took it and watched the maid retreat gracefully into the shadows. It was hard not to feel a bit nervous around them, even after Aurora had vetted them and assured her that none of the remaining servants had anything to do with her mother’s disappearance.

As part of the last day of her training, the maids and servants had been permitted to re-enter this floor of the Inner Palace and to attend to her once more. Under the impression that she had returned from administrative missions with her mother, the maids gave no indication that they were aware that the princess had in fact been living here for the past week. Laureline eyed the simpletons, almost hoping that one of them would pick up on some clue while at the same time crossing her fingers and wishing that everything would go smoothly today.

Amelia had strongly discouraged her from revealing the truth to the servants. Even if they lacked inside knowledge, they all took their orders primarily from Aurora and were her direct subordinates. Spreading news of her humiliation would benefit nobody. She had thought about consulting one of the royal knights who had served her mother, but their loyalty was uncertain. Several of them were still in Aurora’s custody and undergoing rigorous interrogation procedures; Aurora claimed that they kept her busy most days and nights, though she did not seem upset to be forced to spend all that time with them.

Laureline turned her attention back to the envoys who were now crossing the halfway point between the long road connecting the outer walls of the Royal Palace to the mighty keep that was the Inner Palace.Amelia had gifted her a mon-glass so that she might better observe them; holding up the artifact to her eye magnified the view and gave her a good look at what she was dealing with.

Where the elves dressed in silk gowns and flowery robes, the humans opted to dress in functional military uniforms made from leather and studded with silver buttons. For some of them, their uniform seemed almost skin-tight and left little to the imagination.

She could see that their carriages were not drawn by steeds or cattle as was common for elves, but instead a host of humanoid slaves were chained in formation. They were so thoroughly clad in restrictive bondage items and all-encompassing headgear that it was impossible to identify their race; they could have been humans, elves or even orcs. Laureline shuddered, knowing that humans regularly enslaved and dominated other humans. Committing such acts against their own race was forbidden for elves but humans committed such atrocities so easily – what kind of horrors could they perform on those of other races, like herself?

Laureline envisioned herself clad in one of those tight uniforms; bound beneath rubber and leather until she was transformed into another anonymous slave. A Queen, completely indistinguishable from the other lowly slaves, treated like a beast of burden.

She shook her head, banishing those thoughts. As the potential wife to the princess of Damancia, she would certainly not receive such demeaning treatment. If she got on well with her, and formed a strong enough bond after meeting then it was possible that she would be treated as an equal, as a true partner. She would be allowed to own her own slaves and influence the future Queen of Damancia and the Assyrian Empire into helping her punish that upstart advisor Aurora.

Laureline allowed herself to smile at this much more preferable mental image; Aurora strung up on a rack with her fiendish co-conspirator Zara and the treacherous bitch Amelia imprisoned alongside her. She could even stick that annoying pest Trixie into an enchanted jar to toy with.

Her smile faded. All of that future happiness rested not only on the hope that she could sway her future arranged partner, but that she would end up with the humans at all. They were the best option for her in order to reclaim any sort of control over her life. The orcs would truly make her a slave and a broodmare in time, the Jotuns would see as little more than a source of entertainment and heavens above only knew what the slimes had planned for her. Their ways were more mysterious than all of the others combined.

She trained the mono-glass along the carriage and caught a glimpse of Aurora riding at the front of it alongside an equally mature looking human woman with a face of particular sternness. Aurora had set off specifically to escort the human dignitaries for the final steps of the journey – and to keep away any prying nobles residing near the royal palace who might get curious and overstep their bounds.

Laureline was grateful that she would be able to handle the diplomatic parties separately as each had been arranged by Aurora’s careful planning to arrive a couple of days apart from the other, with the humans arriving first. With any luck the negotiations and ‘trial period’ that Aurora had described to her would be concluded in no more than two days each allowing the party to depart before the next group arrived.

With a heavy sigh she released the mono-glass to a nearby maid who stepped up neatly with a pillow for her to drop it on, and went off towards the spiralling staircase so that she may greet her foreign guests in the welcoming chamber.

A short walk later and she arrived at the chamber, on time and alone. Her teachers could not accompany her in this step, though she was sure that Trixie was probably spying on her from some discrete corner.

Laureline skulked at the edge of the doorway and peeked out. The humans were assembling in the courtyard after dismounting from the carriage. The palace’s servants were arranged beyond the doors, hands interlocked behind their backs and looking down at the ground submissively. The slaves that the human delegation brought with them were assembling before them.

The differences between the two sides as they faced each other were stark; the human-owned slaves were clad fully in black tight uniforms with laced boots and all-encompassing face masks. Despite it being a gorgeous sunny day, none of them showed a hint of discomfort.

Beneath such tight outfits it was easy to see the contours of their bodies; to trace each bulging muscle. The reason their raw strength and confidence unnerved her was because humans were a race plagued with strife. They fought amongst each other and waged war on a scale beyond that of her kind. Even outside of the realm of military combat the humans were harder workers – which was part of what made them great slaves. Elves were too used to the conveniences of accessible magic and the support of the legions of chained workers. They didn’t have to struggle nearly as much and that luxury made them individually weak.

The elf-owned slaves exemplified that cultural divide; though they were humans as well, these slaves wore fancy maid outfits designed to show off their individual beauty with as much skin exposed while still being functional and proper.

Laureline took a breath to compose herself, stood up straight, and then marched out of the door in a graceful hip-swaying pace taught to her by Zara. As demeaning as her teachers could be, the one thing that could not be denied about her was that she was still beautiful and her heart swelled with pride when she put it on display even under these circumstances.

At Aurora’s insistence she was clad in golden bracelets, anklets and a posture-collar which held her head upright. Flower-printed lilac bolts of silk connected these gold ornaments together to make a loose, flowing dress that seemed to follow her in slow motion through the air. To the untrained eye her outfit appeared to consist of elaborate jewellery but Laureline knew that what she wore was conjured through Aurora’s magic and were just as much a mark of her slavery as the golden chains she had bound her with some nights before. The collar, inset with sparkling emeralds, was in fact a brand of ownership.

The look of approval on Aurora’s face almost made her cringe – recognizing the same expression from when she had finished eating Aurora out. Of the entire party of humans, there were only three figures who did not wear masks. Laureline had been briefed on them; the princess, her retainer, and her pet.

“Queen Laureline Mirth, allow me to introduce Princess Priscilla Volvaine of Damancia and the Lady Orion,” Aurora loudly called out to her. She swept out her arm, presenting the princess who walked closer with her retainer following her like a shadow.

Laureline barely noticed the retainer. It was Priscilla who instantly caught her eyes.

Her skin was fairer than Laureline’s own, who was sporting an appreciable tan, and her hair was almost bone-white to match but still looked healthy. Laureline was not unused to seeing exotic hair colours on humans but the sight of her was still striking, especially with the contrast against her black uniform and velvet grey cape. The midday heat did not seem to be affecting her at all.

The peaceful expression on her face made her seem so innocent and pure. Laureline’s breath caught in her throat as she looked into her pale, golden-flecked eyes and found that she couldn’t look away. Maybe it was the effect of spending the last week entirely with a group of women who demeaned, abused her and took advantage of her, and now she was face-to-face with someone entirely new, somebody who wasn’t asserting their control over her or threatening her with punishments. It frightened Laureline how badly she longed to with this woman, who was for all intents and purposes a stranger.

Desperate to take her eyes off of Priscilla, in fear that she might embarrass herself by staring awkwardly at her, Laureline consciously turned her head and focused on the princess’ pet.

The woman was a Lupinal; one of the famous bunny-girls produced out of the workshops of human sorcerers and alchemists. Her appearance and attire were starkly different to the outfits worn by her human owners and the other slaves.

Her skin was a dark brown and utterly hairless save for the top of her head. Her only articles of clothing were shoulder-length pure white silk gloves, and matching thigh-high socks which clung to her tightly. A thin white leather collar decorated her neck, with a little bell attachment that gave a gentle ringing with every step. Her torso was entirely naked.

Sensing the elven Queen’s attention, the rabbit girl respectfully bowed and performed a graceful twirl on the spot to show off her body.
Just above her curvaceous backside, a fluffy white tail stuck out to complete the rabbit aesthetic. Laureline couldn’t help but widen her eyes at the sight. She was so exotic and beautiful that she put her own slaves like Pearl completely to shame.

Her eyes flicked over back to the princess; she was smiling. It was seemingly a smile of approval at how Laureline gazed at her pet, and the look in her eyes must have betrayed that she found the view very enjoyable. Laureline blushed.

Aurora cleared her throat and asked of her, “My Queen, will you escort Princess Priscilla further into the palace? Lady Orion and I shall follow the two of you shortly.”

The human guards bristled, clearly affronted that they would not be beside their liege’s side but the human princess waved them back casually and they instantly resumed their positions without complaint. Their level of obedience was remarkable.

As she led the human princess into the palace, Laureline fought hard to keep a smile of elation from her face. Her potential partner-to-be was beautiful and dignified in a way that she never expected from a human. She wasn’t sure why she was so excited now when the idea of marrying a human had repulsed her before but she felt certain in blaming the training for this.

A week tormented by her fellow elvenkind and a monstrous orc left her with a new appreciation for the simpler humans. At least this pretty young princess probably wouldn’t threaten to smother her with her bare feet. Probably.

----

The guest library was a spacious chamber composed of two floors with a large open space in the centre. A spiral staircase at one end led up to the upper floor and further still to a private reading area and a solarium.

Laureline rarely used the room but considered it decent in both aesthetics and function. Priscilla’s face remained entirely neutral. A human servant, halfway through polishing some ornaments on the shelves, noticed their arrival and immediately stood to attention as they strode into the room, close to the fireplace.

Subconsciously, Laureline cleared her throat and licked her lips; nervous tics that she had not experienced in some time. Just being around the human made her feel parched and dizzy.

“Could you please get us some water?” Laureline asked the nearby human slave in her nicest tone.

The young girl looked faintly startled but silently bowed and acquiesced, departing through a small side chamber.

“Remember not to give orders directly to the human staff,” Aurora had reminded her that morning. “Their primitive customs may make the princess acclimated to human slavery already, but it would be a poor first impression if all she saw of you was you bossing around other humans. Phrase it as requests. Make yourself docile.”

There was a short period of awkward silence. The human princess was half heartedly inspecting some of the books on the shelves, pacing around the perimeter of the room without even glancing at her. Laureline realized that she was subconsciously standing at attention, just as she had been trained to do by Zara when in the presence of a superior woman. She tried to relax her posture, to loosen up, but her body’s instincts fought her.

She bowed her head in frustration and barely noticed when the slave returned with the water. No sooner had the slave set it down when Priscilla whirled around and spoke for the first time since arriving.

“Leave us,” Priscilla ordered; a calm measured tone of command.

The servant bowed and trotted off. Once again, they were alone.

Laureline fidgeted, and wondered what topic she could broach that would make the human girl open up to her but suddenly Priscilla was by her side, quiet as a mouse.

“What--” Before Laureline could get her question out, Priscilla reached for her by the collar of her lacy silk dress and pulled. The silk parted easily in her grip, torn to shreds.

She flinched back in shock but her efforts to get away merely ruined her dress further.

“Laureline, was it?” Priscilla asked. “Laureline Mirth is too fancy a name for a pet. Just ‘Lara’ will suffice. It is close enough that it should be simple to train you to respond to that.”

“Pet?” Laureline gasped, indignant at how casually this human wench suggested discarding her royal birth name. “Pet?”

“Yes, pet. What exactly did you think I traveled all this way here for?” Her tone was shockingly formal and direct.

“I… well, I…” Laureline stammered. She felt caught off guard, being expected to talk so openly about her situation. She glanced around the library, confirming that the two of them were truly alone. “I am to be your wife. I thought you came here to accept me as your fellow ruler…”

“We shall be married only in the legal sense; I have no romantic inclination towards you and I would be shocked if you felt anything towards myself. Our relationship shall be Mistress and Pet in private, and perhaps in public, in time. An elf girl who sells her own people out could never be my equal in any capacity.”

'Sell my own people? I’m the one being sold here!' Laureline thought to herself.

“Your dissatisfaction is apparent. I thought you would have been briefed fully on your situation?”

“Well, yes, but I…”

“Then there is no issue. Or rather; no issue for you. I for one am quite unhappy that I must make-do with a younger Queen. It was the former Empress that I had my sights on. It would have been so enjoyable to have her at my beck and call, but you shall have to do as a substitute.”

Hearing with such frankness the situation that Laureline was in felt a hundred times worse than the explanations Aurora had given to her earlier. With Aurora at least, she could pretend that her intentions were genuine, but this human tart saw her as no more than a mere pet. She would be equals with the bunny girl she had ogled in the courtyard – a doll to prance and spin according to her mistress' wishes!

“Let’s get a better look at you.” Priscilla snapped her fingers and before Laureline could process what she was doing, she found herself floating in the air, weightless and hopelessly disoriented.

“Magic?” Laureline squawked, waving her arms to try and stabilize herself in the air.

“Why so surprised? Your kind may have pioneered the mystical arts, but you do not own them.”

“But it’s so sudden and strong! I can’t...” She clamped her mouth shut to avoid embarrassing herself further.

“Are you telling me that you, an elf, cannot use magic?” The human princess seemed to lose her composure for the first time since Laureline laid eyes on her. She clutched at her stomach and bent over in a fit of giggles. “That is too precious!”

Laureline winced. Even her giggles sounded cute and precious. It felt impossible to be mad at her when by rights she should be indignant and furious.

“What are you doing?” Laureline asked. She realized that her nearly-weightless body was at risk of becoming entirely exposed as her clothes floated and bobbed in the air alongside her, already damaged by Priscilla’s grab earlier. She pulled the remnants tighter together, putting some effort into remaining concealed and retaining some dignity even though she felt extremely undignified.

“I’m deciding what kind of pet I should make you. Perhaps a pretty little songbird to fly around my chambers and sing a song to ease my thoughts.” She snapped her fingers and weight returned to Laureline.

Or rather, a weight many times her previous state fell upon her and sent her crashing painfully into the ground. Priscilla stepped forwards and lightly applied the rubber soles of her boots over Laureline’s neck, keeping her head down. Not that she needed to try very hard since Laureline’s own amplified weight kept her pinned to the ground as surely as if she had been wrapped in chains.

“Or perhaps you would be better off as my puppy dog, crawling on the ground beneath my feet. I can think of so many wonderful uses for you...”