My Lord Count,” Master Harkness answered. “Sit yourself down over at the table, and I’ll fetch a stoup of wine for your ease while I gives you my report.”

“I need not any spirits, Master Harkness, not when there is far sweeter refreshment awaiting,” Casimir said, waving away the suggestion. He lowered himself onto a stool at a table some distance away from the girls. “Come tell what you have learned of these noble bitches.”

Harkness joined him at the table, and began to talk to Casmir earnestly, turning from time to time to point at the girls. They could not make out his words, as his voice was low and he faced away from them, but they did hear the Count exclaim, “Truly?” in evident startlement, and then a little later, “Never before have I doubted your word, Master Harkness, but I must see this with my own eyes before I may credit it.”

He rose. “But that will come, as all things should, in its proper time. If I keep my lovely young guests waiting any longer, they may think me uncouth.” He strode over to the girls, Harkness at his heels.

The girls were unshackled from their places and marched across the dungeon to a new location. Here, Princess Christine was placed in a metal frame, which forced her to kneel on the rough stone floor with her arms pulled back behind. Her ankles and knees were attached to rings set in the floor, keeping her thighs spread open in a “v”, and a metal collar at the end of a rod projecting from the frame clamped around her neck, holding her head in place. A wooden arm extended from the frame to press into the small of her back, obliging her once again to arch her back and provide a provocative display of her fine white breasts for her captors’ pleasure.

Just a few feet away, facing the Princess, Lady Emily was mounted bound in a very different way. Her hands were secured over her head, well apart on a big wooden drum. Harkness then took her feet around behind and over the top of the cylinder, and locked them in place on either side of Emily’s head, bending the Duchess around into a circle. The drum was mounted on an axle and could be rotated to any position desired by use of a handle on one side. There was a foot-deep basin of water at the base of the drum in front.

“Master Harkness tells me that you each possess a tongue with excellent reach and flexibility,” Count Casimir said. “As I require my bedmates to make extensive use of this organ, I must test you in this skill before I may decide which of you is worthy to be the next Queen of Bartavia.”

He opened the front of his pantaloons, and drew out his manhood. He pulled the handle of the drum until the blonde maiden’s face was positioned an inch away from his erect organ. “Lady Emily, if you please,” he said. “You may begin by plying your tongue on my sack, then take each of my stones into your mouth and wash them clean.”

Emily rolled her eyes up at the Count’s stern visage, then back at the meaty object that hung before her eyes. She was a virgin, an innocent, who had never engaged in anything more sexually daring than allowing a few boys to kiss her. How could he expect her to perform such a vile deed? “Please, sir, have mercy,” she begged. This was distorted by the ring gag to, “Eech err ahh errchee.”

“If you require inspiration, My Lady, I shall not be backward in providing it,” the Count said. There was a hissing sound, one with which Emily was all too familiar, followed by the bite of the three-bladed lash on the softness of her inner thigh just above her sex.

She yelped in pain, then hesitated no longer, but stretched forth her tongue and ran it along the underside of the wrinkled bag of flesh between the Count’s legs. The taste was sharp and unpleasant and, as she was obliged to press her nose up against him to perform the task as he required, her nostrils were filled with the unfamiliar and unpleasant odor of his sweaty cock.

Emily licked until the Count’s sack was gleaming with her saliva, then sucked his stones one-by-one into her mouth, where she continued to attend them, sweeping her tongue under, over and around them. Soon the flesh in her mouth began to shrink, while at the same time a thick column of flesh started to press on her nose. Without ceasing her attentions to the Count’s scrotum, Emily looked to see that the Count’s cock was now at a full stand. She rolled her eyes up, trying to estimate its length. Surely, she told herself, it was not as monstrously long as it appeared.

“That was a fair effort, for a novice, My Lady,” Casimir said. He stepped back, and she could see that his rod was, if not as impossibly long as it appeared at first, still was an impressive instrument, with a span of at least nine inches and a girth in proportion to its length. Emily had seen the aroused shafts of stallions, dogs and other farm beasts, but she never before had seen the engorged sex of a male human. The sight sent a shiver up her spine, which was in part caused by fear and in part by… she was uncertain. Anticipation, perhaps?

“Now, Princess Christine, you shall show me what your tongue can do,” Count Casimir said. He came closer to Christine, stopping only when his rampant organ was nearly touching the Princess’ open lips.

Christine’s spirit had been slowly recovering from the low into which it had sunk during the day spent in the hands of Master Harkness. The sight of the despised Count Casimir had fanned the embers of her anger back into flame and hardened her determination to defy him whatever the cost might be. She recalled with a certain pride how she had called his bluff when he had threatened to cut her throat. Let him bluster, let him beat her, let him order Harkness to try his cruel tricks on her (she did not linger over this thought), she would never do his bidding, she promised herself.

“Well?” he asked. She glared silently at him in answer.

The Count shrugged. “So be it. I confess my surprise at how little consideration you have for the sufferings of Lady Emily, Princess.” He looked at Harkness and nodded.

The executioner pulled down the handle of the drum, rotating the drum until Emily’s head disappeared in the basin of water. Then he began to methodically flog the girl with the three-bladed whip, making Lady Emily’s pubic triangle his target. The effect on the young Duchess could be judged by the sudden froth of bubbles that formed on the surface of the water and the frantic twisting of her tightly bound body.

“Stop it! You’ll kill her!” Princess Christine screamed, which emerged as a string of nonsense syllables. Forgetting how securely she was bound, she tried to lunge from her place to rescue her dear friend. The only result of this effort was to nearly strangle herself. The bubbles became fewer and Emily’s struggles weaker as Christine watched, unable to intervene.

Casimir watched the drowning girl interestedly. “She will emerge when you begin your assigned task. Will you not reconsider your decision, Highness?” Casimir asked. “Your friend would thank you for your help, I think.”

Until this moment, Christine had not fully gauged the full measure of Count Casimir’s cruelty, nor his shrewdness. He obviously understood that her love of Emily was her weakness and he was prepared to use it ruthlessly. Whatever she was willing to undergo herself, the Princess could not allow Emily, as dear to her as a sister, to suffer for Christine’s pride. She had no choice.

She extended her tongue, stroking the underside of the Count’s sack. He motioned to Harkness, who promptly brought Lady Emily back up into the air. She coughed explosively, spewing water everywhere, then desperately gulped in air.

“Around the shaft now, if you please, Your Highness,” Casimir directed.

She set to work, still eyeing Emily, to make certain that she had fully recovered from her immersion. She hardly noticed what she was doing until she came to the tip of his pole where she tasted the slightly salty and bitter drop of fluid that had formed there.

“Very well done, Princess,” Casimir congratulated her. “Now, I think, the time is right for allow you to show me your sincere desire to earn my trust.”

He unbuckled the gag and, with some difficulty, worked it out of Christine’s jaws. She gave a sigh of relief when the ring that had been forcing her mouth open all day was finally removed. The muscles of her jaws were still so overstretched and exhausted that she still could not close her mouth fully, and saliva continued to overflow and dribble from her chin.

The Count’s organ was even stiffer than before. It now arched back in a curve, pointing at the ceiling. “Take it in your mouth, Princess Christine,” the Count ordered. “I suggest you make your best efforts to please me, for Lady Emily’s sake.”

He looked at Harkness and nodded again, and again Emily was plunged head first into the basin and Harkness plied the whip on her virginal mound.

“Nnnaaa!” Christine exclaimed, her overstretched jaws unable to form clear words. She leaned forward as far as the metal collar would allow and drew the head of Casimir’s cock into her mouth. He gestured, and Harkness retrieved Emily, coughing and thrashing, from the basin. After that, all Christine’s attention was focused on the stalk of meat that inexorably advanced into her mouth. She could feel the strength returning to her jaws, and she considered for a moment whether it would be worth her while to bite his filthy member, to try to rip it from his body if she could. Then she heard Emily gasping, and she realized that if she did attack him, Casimir would make her watch while Harkness tortured her friend in some new and horrible way, so she put the thought aside. She knew she could never risk Emily in that way.

She felt the head of Casmir’s cock pressing against the back of her throat, which closed up in self-defense. “No, no, Your Highness,” Casimir said, “you must find lodgment for my entire length.”

Christine felt the pressure increase as the Count drove his hips forward, and she could not keep the fleshy head from forcing open her throat and entering it. The opening of her esophagus went into spasm, involuntarily clutching at the foreign object that pushed its way in. She felt her stomach heave, as if she was about to vomit.

“You have now the idea of it, Princess. Grasp it firmly,” Casimir said encouragingly.

Worse than the heaving of her stomach, much worse, was the fact that her windpipe was blocked. She was going to choke to death. She tried to communicate to the Count that he was choking her to death, but the log of meat jammed in her throat allowed her to make only the feeblest of sounds, and her hands were bound and useless.

As the Count rammed his pole in and out of her throat, Christine grew shorter and shorter of air, in spite of a few hastily snatched breaths when his cock momentarily allowed it. She began to see black spots dance before her and gray film began to settle over her vision, as her consciousness faded (It’s about time! she thought). But before she let herself be taken into the welcoming arms of blackness, Casimir suddenly withdrew his cock, gave a great cry, and exploded, spattering Christine’s face, hair and jutting breasts with his sharp-smelling cum.

Princess Christine sucked in air with desperate urgency, puffing like a bellows. As she did, she vowed to herself she would never again take the breath of life for granted.

“You show signs of a natural bent for this art, Your Highness,” Casimir said. “I would suggest one area for improvement: you would be wise to learn the trick of breathing whilst giving this service.”

The still panting Christine did not reply to either the compliment or the advice.

“Ah, Master Harkness,” the Count called. “How progresses the Lady Emily?”

Christine saw that Harkness had manipulated the drum upon which Emily was bound to bring her head level with his waist, and had then inserted his rampant pole into her mouth, which still was held open by the ring gag. As the Princess watched, Harkness held the blonde head in his hands, directing it up and down on his cock. Emily’s eyes bulged alarmingly from her head and her face was bright red, but Christine judged that the executioner was allowing her time to catch little breaths between strokes, and that she was in no danger real of suffocation.

“With a bit of practice, she’ll do, My Lord,” Harkness answered. “Ah, now, My Lady!” He withdrew from Emily and gripped his cock in his hand. “Ah fuck!” he cried, then shot out strands of goo, which spattered the Duchess’ face, some gobs getting into her open mouth.

Harkness bent down to bring his face close to Emily’s. “My thanks to you, My Lady.” The Duchess squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, her tears mingling with the sticky spend that hung from her cheeks and lips.

“Emily!” Christine called. Her friend opened her eyes, looking to the Princess for comfort.

What could she say? Christine wondered. Her heart found the words for her. “Emily, despair not. Never will I abandon you. I love you.”

Lady Emily nodded and answered. Although she did so silently and only in thought, the Princess heard that thought as clearly as if she had spoken the words aloud. I love you too, Christine.