“Now’s our chance!” said Jak. 

The battle was not going well. Even here, far from the front, the sounds of bloodshed and slaughter were omnipresent. The camp was nearly deserted, almost all able fighters sent to the front, against an enemy that was much stronger than expected. A small band -- including Jak and Lys -- had been left here, to defend the Princess from any surviving enemies who made it through the lines. In theory.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Jak, “If we kill the Princess we’ll be heroes to the Revolt, and we’ll never get a better chance than this.”

In military training Lys had been surprised that not everyone admired the royal family, and particularly the young Princess Mirabelle, as much as she did. They were mostly indentured, as she was, and regretted that they were not farmers or hunters. Instead, they were being taught to kill for the sake of noble families, for disputes that they would not understand even as they lay dying with a sword in their belly. Lys had come round to their way of thinking, realising the Princess she was so happy to serve was just another one of the noble families who would spend her life like copper coin. Still, she had become an experienced soldier; after all, she no opportunity to act on her opposition. Until now.

Jak had turned, and was heading back towards the Princess’s tent.

“Even now,” he said, “When we should be out there, defending our brothers and sisters, they have us here, protecting a princess! A princess who shouldn’t even be here, but wanted to see our brave soldiers at work, or some such.”

Certainly, someone was going to be in trouble for letting the Princess get this close to danger. Jak was several paces in front of her now, heading for the Princess’s tent, and drawing his sword.

The Princess stood in the entrance to the tent, her lady-in-waiting beside her. Lys remembered the Princess’s face, that fine, noble face; from pageants, tournaments and celebrations. Always too far away for Lys to determine the emotion, but she assumed calm and collected. Beautiful. Tranquil. Now she looked concerned.

“For the Revolt,” yelled Jak, hefting his sword, and breaking into a run.

His feet went from under him. Lys stared at her sword, skewering Jak’s back. As he fell, he tried to turn, tried to say something. Lys pulled her falchion out of him, and put it though his throat.

Lys knelt before her Princess, as her friend Jak messily embraced death, throat bubbling red.

***

Lys wished that she could dissolve in the water. It was near enough body temperature; if she closed her eyes she could imagine herself becoming more diffuse, like dye in the water, bloody ink. 

This was the second pool that the experienced soldiers used after a battle. The first one was to take away the detritus of battle, it was there that Jak’s blood was washed away, along with the mud and scrapes that Lys had picked up in the hurried escape. The second pool was for spiritual replenishment, according to the Elders. Most of the soldiers just used it to wash off any remaining blood, and hurried to get out and to the tavern, shouting and tussling with each other. Well, not today, today the reduced number had been mostly quiet, but still in a hurry to get to a tavern. Now Lys had the pool to herself.

She closed her eyes again. She thought about Jak, his smile, his laughter. She regretted his death, but not so much having to kill him. He was going to kill the Princess, the most worthy and beautiful of nobles. Lys had sworn, in that moment, to defend her from anyone and everyone who would do her harm.

She still expected the Inquisition to come for her, but everyone seemed to accept the story that they had come up with. That Lys had seen a fellow soldier abandon their post, and followed, just in time to prevent an assassination. 

She heard a throat clear from across the room. She opened one eye, and the other.

The Princess stood in one doorway, her lady-in-waiting visible a step or two behind her.

Lys remembered about kneeling, but the pool was too deep for that. She could get out, but that would raise the problem of her nudity. Lys was not concerned about what fellow soldiers saw, but Princesses were a different matter. And the water at least offered some faint protection. She felt herself blush, though.

The Princess waved at her not to bother with any bowing. 

“It’s rare to see a soldier who likes having a wash. I simply wished to see the soldier who saved me,” the Princess said.

They hadn’t spoke on the battlefield. Lys tried to think of what to say. “Yes, your highness,” she mumbled.

The lady-in-waiting stepped forward, and whispered something in her ear. The Princess laughed.

“Nasira thinks you’ve been in there too long, you’re becoming soup yourself,” said the Princess. “What do you reckon, soldier, are you turnip soup, or something meatier?” 

“Um, yes, no, your highness,” said Lys.

Princess Mirabelle laughed. “Sorry, soldier, for teasing. Do you have a name, I mustn’t keep calling you soldier?”

“Lys,” said Lys, “Your highness.”

“Lys is a good name,” said the Princess, “Short. Direct. Shoutable. Tell me, Lys, why did you save me?”

“It was my job, my duty, your highness,” said Lys.

“But did you not know the assassin? Was he not a fellow of yours?” asked the Princess. 

These were dangerous questions. “I am sworn to you,” Lys said, “To the royal family, the Inner Council, and the Chiefs of War. My duty was clear, and I was glad to perform it.”

“Hmm,” said the Princess, “I believe I understand, Lys.”

Then she turned and walked away. Nasira stood for a second, raising her dark eyes from the ground and staring at Lys for a moment. Then she left as well.

When Lys returned to the barracks, they had already started moving her belongings.

***

Lys awoke next morning to the sound of the door opening.

She had, to her surprise, slept well; for all it was a strange bed and a strange day. The bed was comfortable enough to encourage that; she wished that she had longer to contemplate its softness, but the door was opening.

Nasira entered the room. “Good morning,” she said. It was the first time Lys had heard her voice; it was bright and friendly, but ... something else as well.

“Mirabelle, the Princess, has asked me to ensure that you are prepared for your first day as her bodyguard,” Nasira said, “Assuming that you still accept the role?”

Lys couldn’t remember if she been asked this last night, but nodded anyway. 

Nasira sent her across the stairs to visit the privy and washroom, while she consulted the wardrobe. Lys started to say that her wardrobe was negligible, but Nasira gave her a pitying look.

When Lys returned, her clothes had been laid out. There were linen undergarments, plus hose, undershirt, light chain mail and surcoat. Nasira watched attentively as each layer went on, and then moved in to straighten sleeves and to unscrew collars. Lys’s blushes were apparently unnoticed. 

The mirror in here was small, but larger than any that Lys had seen. She caught glances of her short red hair, and muscular physique; not hidden by the uniform, but emphasized.

“Good,” Nasira said. “Now the sword.”

She reached across for an arming sword, it’s scabbard new and gleaming. The sword itself was probably shiny as well.

“No,” said Lys, “I’ll use my falchion.”

She stretched across for the battered scabbard. A dangerous look flitted across Nasira’s face, and then vanished. 

“Fine,” she said, mildly.

She helped her with the sword belt, and then stood for a moment with her hands on the buckle, looking at Lys with an unreadable expression.

“There’s bread and cheese in the kitchen,” said Nasira, “You should have something to eat before your first duty.”

The duties of a bodyguard were not particularly complex, Lys found. She was to stand behind the Princess and look as menacing as possible. When out in public there was a ring of Royal Guards as well, but Lys stayed next to her Princess. Around the castle, she simply stood behind the chair the Princess sat in, watching. 

If it had been anyone else, Lys might have become bored; but she was in proximity of her Princess. Not only could she see -- mostly from the back -- her elegant comportment and long tousled blonde hair, but there was scent. In the morning her Princess smelt of the unguents of the bath, strawberry and honey. As the day went on, the Princess Mirabelle might have the smell of a light sweat, human and faintly musky. The perfume went on; rosewater, or violets. 

And the Princess spoke to her, occasionally. Mostly, it was waves, signals to look a bit threatening to a petitioner who had overstayed his welcome, or too stand down when an elderly churchman seemed angry. But sometimes she would ask her to pass the water, or a book, and Lys would feel proud to be of service. 

And when Nasira bolted the door that separated the Princess’s apartments from the rest of the castle, Lys could relax.

This is how the first week passed.

It was late. Lys was surprised to find Princess and Nasira waiting for her in the apartment’s kitchen -- she could smell her dinner, under a cover, sent up from the main kitchen. Nonetheless, she knelt immediately before the Princess. 

“Lys,” said the Princess, “I'd like to know how you feel you’re doing as bodyguard?”

“Um,” she said, worried. “I believe that I have done adequately. But please let me know where I can improve, your highness.”

“You have done well, Lys,” said the Princess. “You are an imposing figure standing behind me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And not just imposing, Lady Cassandra and the Duchess Gemma definitely ... admired you,” said the Princess.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. She could not think of anything else to say.

“So this is the question,” said the Princess, “Do you want to keep this job? Bodyguard and military matters. The job is yours, if you want it. Or you may leave, with a good reference.”

There was a pause.

“Or, do you want to keep the job, but have extra duties as well,” said the Princess, “Swear loyalty to my household, alone, and we will find additional ways for you to be of service.”

“Yes, your highness, please. I swear loyalty and obedience to you,” said Lys. The reply almost happened without consciousness, but she was happy with it. For the chance to receive commands from her Princess, she would do anything.

“You don’t even want to know what the duties would be?” said the Princess, with a chuckle.

“They might not be contingent with your sense of chivalry, even your self-respect,” said Nasira, crossing her arms. “Are you prepared to surrender the entirety of yourself to the Princess Mirabelle?”

“I am,” said Lys.

“To my household,” said the Princess, “Which means that when I am not present, you will obey Nasira as if she were myself?”

“...Yes, ma’am,” said Lys. There was some slight hesitation in her reply, Nasira has been friendly in tone, but Lys found her eyes cold.

“Good,” said the Princess. She held forward her hand towards the kneeling Lys. Lys had a moment when she didn’t know what to do, and then she kissed it softly.

The Princess nodded. “Enjoy your dinner,” she said, sweeping from the room.

Nasira remained, and walked closer. “Did you mean what you said?” she asked. “About obeying me. Will that not conflict with knightly ethics? Even if what you are asked for is dishonourable, objectionable?”

“...To obey you is like obeying the Princess,” Lys said, with some hesitation. “And obeying such an order is always a privilege, however low it may seem.”

“Hmm,” said Nasira, apparently noticing the hesitation. But she stepped forward with her hand out. Lys, after a moment, softly kissed it. 

Nasira smirked. “I was offering you a hand to rise, Lys.”

***

The next morning, Lys was awakened by a tap on the window. Looking out, she could see a grey envelope attached to the outside of the leaded glass with a dot of wax. She flung open the window and looked up and down. There was no access that she could see, no ledges or similar. She took the envelope inside and opened it; inside was a single scrap of paper with the symbol of the Revolt on it. A worker bee with a dagger for a stinger.

Nasira entered -- without knocking, as usual -- to give her the view of the day’s events. “What is that?” she asked.

“Um, nothing,” she said. Already the Revolt sigil was fading away.

***
 
Late in the evening, Lys was summoned to the Princess’s sitting room, Nasira’s voice echoing down the corridor. 

Lys wondered whether she should go and put on chainmail and surcoat, but decided that promptness was preferable. 

“Come in,” said the Princess.

She and Nasira were in armchairs either side of the fireplace; both were doing embroidery by the light of several lanterns.

“Since you have now sworn allegiance to us,” said the Princess, “You may sometimes, when invited, spend some time here.”

“Instead of spending your time skulking in the kitchen,” said Nasira. 

“Pull up a chair,” said the Princess. 

The only chair was in fact a footstool, but Lys pulled it in and sat down. 

The Princess gestured at a jug on a side table. “Would you like some wine?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Very well,” said the Princess, “Nasira and I were talking about our day. You know what I did; you were stood behind me for most of it. However, Nasira apparently had a trail through the merchants of the city, tracking down fine blue thread. It left her with quite a foot ache. So, Lys, we were wondering if you would be kind enough to rub her feet?”

“Unless, of course-” Nasira began, but Lys was already speaking.

“Yes, Princess,” she said, slipping off the stool and kneeling in front of Nasira. 

Nasira wiggled her white stockinged feet in front of her. Lys took one, and went to work. She was used to massaging her own feet, after a day of standing about, and took the same approach here. Though she lightened the pressure to allow for Nasira’s delicate nature.

With the foot on her lap, she started massaging, working on the pad, the sides, separating the toes. Nasira’s feet were the Princess’s feet, Lys reckoned, and so this task was an honour. Glancing up, she found that Nasira had left her embroidery on a side table, and was leaning back with her eyes closed. She swapped feet, and continued. She could sense the Princess close behind her, attentive to her actions. She was beginning to flush, maybe the heat of the fire was a bit much.

She finished the second foot.

“Mmm, that was very nice,” said Nasira, a bit dreamily. She leant forward, and said, “Let’s see your hands, Lys.”

Lys held out her hands. Nasira grabbed her by the wrists, and sat back in the chair, meaning Lys had to go from sitting on her legs to supporting herself on her knees. 

Nasira examined Lys’s hands, lying in her lap. “To think, these hands have welded swords, and killed enemies,” she said, “And yet they can be turned towards much finer work. Strong and delicate. And you don’t mind attending us if we’ve got something that needs massaging? Like feet, say.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Nasira, let me see one of her hands,” asked the Princess. Nasira lent forward again, letting Lys settle back down, and released Lys’s left hand. The Princess reached out and took it. Lys could feel her gentle fingertips. The position was awkward, Lys kneeling between then, both holding a hand each.

“Yes,” said the Princess, running her fingertips across her palm, “These hands can serve us. My feet also get sore on occasion. Some relief would be nice.”

“Yes, your highness,” said Lys, “I would be glad to be of service.”

The Princess let go of her hand, and Nasira did the same. She nodded toward the footstool. “Sit yourself down, Lys,” she said, “And please have some wine.”

When she went to bed that evening, she found she was picturing the Princess and Nasira both together, holding Lys’s hands.

***

There was an envelope on her side table. She woke up, and grabbed for it. Another image of the bee, and this time a message, “We watch. We know. Bide your time.”

The message began vanishing almost immediately. 

***

It had been a busy day, and Lys was glad to get into her room and relax. It was late when Nasira summoned her. 

“The Princess has had an attack of nerves this evening,” said Nasira, leading her through the Princess’s apartments. “She would feel more comfortable with someone on guard. If you would be so kind?”

“I should fetch my sword,” said Lys.

“There’s no actual danger,” said Nasira. “Reassurance is the main thing.”

She had brought her to a set of double-doors, indicating a chair next to them. Lys did not know, but reckoned that beyond that was Princess’s bedchamber. 

“If you would sit and guard?” she said, “I will attend to the Princess directly.”

Lys sat on the chair. After a short while she heard a noise: of fear? No, it came again, a gasp. Lys shivered as she worked out what was going on. Another, louder this time. Of course, Nasira and the Princess were intimate, which made sense, now she thought about it. 

She didn’t know how long she listened for. Nasira’s voice, in gasps and moans joined in. Lys pictured them intertwined, limbs entangled. An order from Nasira was an order from the Princess; an order from the Princess was an order from Nasira, she thought. They were one.

Eventually the noises stopped. A little while later, Nasira called out, “The Princess is recovered, Lys, you can go to bed.”

Lys made her way down the cold corridor to her bedroom. But once she was under that blanket, she found that she couldn’t stop thinking about the Princess and Nasira. The sound of them, lips against lips, gasps, clefts touching, oh god, lips against cleft, tasting, probing. 

She shouldn’t, she thought, but she reached her hand down. Her cunt was wet. She quivered again, as she touched herself. She tried not to think of the Princess and Nasira, but it was their hands, their tongues that filled her mind as she came.

The next morning was not busy, but Lys got ready for duty anyway. She ate breakfast -- bread, cheese, goat’s milk -- in the apartment’s small kitchen. As she finished up, Nasira entered and leant on the sideboard, watching her meditatively. 

“Can I ask you a question, Lys?” she said.

“Yes, of course,” replied Lys. She was a touch suspicious, but she was aware that her feelings for Nasira were somehow different now.

“And will you promise, on your duty to the Princess, to answer truthfully?” Nasira asked.

Lys paused. Was this about the Revolt notes? 

“...Yes,” she said.

“Stand up and face me then,” said Lys, “I want to see your eyes.”

Increasingly worried, Lys did what she was told.

“Last night, did you realise what the Princess and I were doing?” asked Nasira. 

Lys had not been expecting that question. “Er, yes,” she said.

Nasira grinned. “Oh, what were we doing?”

Looking at the floor, Lys murmured, “...coupling.”

“Look at me please, Lys,” Nasira said.

Lys forced herself to look at her. She could feel herself blushing, her face going the same colour as her hair. Nasira just waited.

“Coupling,” Nasira said, “Yes. The Princess and I pleasured each other with our bodies. You understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lys was taking all her energy not to look at the floor. Nasira’s face was heart-shaped and rather pretty, now she came to think about it. Her eyes were cruel, mischievous and ... something else, something unreadable.

“Were you jealous?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Lys, without thinking. 

“Oh really?” said Nasira, with a mean chuckle, “You thought that pleasuring the Princess should have been your job?”

“No! She would never...” said Lys, looking at the floor.

“Look at me,” said Nasira. “Tell me why you were jealous.”

Lys paused for a long time. “I was jealous because ... because ... I wanted to be in there too. Serving however I could.”

“With your body?” asked Nasira. 

“Yes,” said Lys, looking downwards again. 

“Well, the Princess-” Nasira began.

“Not just the Princess,” said Lys, interrupting without thinking, and then realising what she’d done. “...Both of you.”

Her eyes glanced at Nasira’s face and caught a fading glimpse of a smile that did not look cruel. She looked down again.

“Come closer,” Nasira said, gruffly.

Lys walked closer, an arm’s length apart. Nasira grabbed her under the chin, and elevated her face away from the floor.

“I got sick of you staring at the floor, despite my orders,” Nasira said, still oddly gruff. Her hand still touching Lys’s chin. “You’ve no objection to me manually moving your sweet and stupid beetroot-coloured face?”

“No, ma’am,” whispered Lys. Though Nasira’s words were harsh, the touch on her chin was soft.

“So, last night, when you returned to your room,” she said, “Did you touch yourself?”

Lys tried to drop her head, but Nasira gently forced it up. Lys realised she had already waited too long to lie. “Yes,” she murmured. 

“Louder,” she said, “Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes,” said Lys, louder than the mumble, but not much.

“To completion?”

“...Yes.”

“And what were you thinking about?” Nasira asked.

“...The Princess and you,” she said, “Serving you. Letting ... letting you use my body.”

Nasira smiled, and dropped her hold on Lys’s chin. “Which hand did you use?”

Lys hesitantly raised her right hand.

“Good,” said Nasira, “Now show me.”

“What!?”

“Show me.”

Lys looked around. The door that closed the apartments off from the rest of the castle was still bolted. The only other person in this section was the Princess, and she ... was Nasira’s action at her behest?

Lys reached for her belt.

“No,” said Nasira, leaning on the sideboard, and hiking her skirts. Lys saw a flash of brown skin. “On me. Unless-”

But Lys was already moving forwards. Nasira caught her hand, and moved it slowly between her legs. 

“Were you as wet as this?” Nasira asks, when Lys was with fingertip range. 

Lys felt, tentatively reaching out. “Yes, I think so,” she said.

“Then don’t wait,” said Nasira, a bit breathlessly. 

Lys pushed two fingers into the wetness, feeling Nasira quiver. As far as they would go, then partially out again. Lys was moving slowly, afraid of hurting Nasira.

“More...” whispered Nasira, “...faster.”

Lys added a further finger, and upped the tempo. Nasira moaned, like she had moaned the other night. Lys exalted in serving her thusly, in being the mechanism of her delight. She forgot about anything other than giving Nasira pleasure. The rest of the kitchen, the rest of herself, seemed to vanish.

From the state of her breathing, from her gasps, Nasira was close. Lys curled her fingers in, seeking the change of texture. Nasira came, clamping around Lys’s hand. Her scream was loud in the quiet kitchen. 

When eventually it was done, aftershocks and all, Lys removed her hand. Nasira, seemingly unable to speak yet, clutched for Lys’s hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing the fingers.

“Good girl, Lys,” Nasira said, shakily. Lys felt comfort and pride bloom in her heart.

That evening, Nasira called her to the sitting room again. Again, the two of them were seated around the fire, in armchairs. Although this time, Nasira was using the footstool. 

“Lys, come in,” said the Princess. “We’ve been having quite the chat about you.”

Lys didn’t reply. She had no idea what to reply.

“So we thought we should invite you to sit with us,” said the Princess. “But Nasira is using the footstool.”

“I will happily stand, your highness,” Lys said.

“Of course, if that’s what you want,” said the Princess, “But I thought this might be preferable...”

She picked up a cushion and dropped it on the floor, in front of her chair, by the side of her legs.

“Unless you feel that your dignity won’t allow it,” said Nasira, but this time her voice wasn’t cruel.

“No,” said Lys, “I mean, yes.”

Lys made her way over to the cushion, and carefully sat down. Her back was against the armchairs foot, and her arm was by the Princess skirt.

“Good,” said the Princess, moving her leg -- the Princess’s leg -- to gently nudge Lys. “And you can help keep my legs warm.”

“Her hair looks tousleable as well,” observed Nasira. 

“Good point,” said the Princess, as Lys felt cool fingers running through her hair. “Very relaxing,” she said, “After a hard day at court, I could just come back and...”

She grabbed a bunch of Lys’s hair for a moment, and then let it go again, before Lys had really registered. The Princess stroked her hair.

“That’s if you don’t mind?” said the Princess. “If you don’t mind me using your body to relax?”

“No, your highness.” She could feel herself blushing again.

***

She found another letter in her wardrobe the next morning. The same bee sigil and “You are exactly where we need you. Stand ready.”

She thought about telling Nasira. But that would mean telling them about Jak, about how, in another life, Lys might have murdered the Princess. That would be a short walk to the gibbet, she reckoned. She let the message dissolve away.

The day went well. Mostly it still consisted of standing behind the Princess. There was little change in outward behaviour, at least as far as anyone else could tell. But Lys felt a difference, in how the Princess behaved, in her eyes.

She had hoped to be summoned back to the sitting room, but that did not happen. Eventually, Nasira did call her, but not to the Princess’s quarters.

Nasira’s bedroom was a lot bigger and better decorated than Lys’s. Nasira sat in a simple shift, her hair trailing down her back, holding a hairbrush. 

She handed the brush to Lys, she paused, as if wondering if she had to give further instructions. She did not. Lys moved behind her and started brushing. Nasira’s hair was long and black. It was not greatly given to knots, but there were a few. Lys brushed until it flowed across the hand like spun silk.

“Is there anything else, ma’am?” said Lys.

“I like that you sometimes call me ma’am when I’m giving you orders,” Nasira said. “Can we make that permanent?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No objection again, hmm?” she said. “Can you kneel?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, kneeling. “Ma’am, I have knelt before you afore.”

“That was for the Princess,” Nasira said. “I want to know if you do it for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What if I asked you to prostrate yourself?” she said. “If I asked you to lie at my feet.”

Lys did as she was asked, lowering herself to the carpet, face down.

Nasira stood up.

“Arms by your side, face turned towards me,” she ordered. She delicately planted a foot on the side of Lys’s head, not placing much weight there, but still firm.

“You’re a soldier,” she said, “A fighter. And yet I vanquished you. Do you have no pride that someone like me can do this?”

She fractionally increased the pressure. 

“I am proud to be of use to you, ma’am,” said Lys, “And if that use is amusement, I am still happy to serve.”

Nasira removed her foot. Lys noticed that the soles of her feet were pink, as opposed to the light brown of the rest of her. Lys arched her body over, and delivered a kiss to the top of her right foot.

“What  ...  why did you do that?” Nasira was startled.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Lys said, “I wanted to show my obedience ... and your foot looked so kissable.”

Nasira said nothing, but walked back and sat down. Several seconds past.

“Stand up, Lys,” said Nasira.

Lys stood. She was concerned, she found, that this was the end of Nasira’s interview.

“Undress,” said Nasira, leaning back in her chair.

Lys began removing clothes. She had been naked, or partially naked, in front of Nasira several times ... but this felt different. Even more embarrassing, but also more urgent.

“Fold your clothes, Lys, we’re not savages,” said Nasira, amused.

Then Lys was naked. She could tell she was blushing. She tried to keep her head up.

“Put your hands by your sides, Lys,” Nasira said, “No covering yourself. Put your feet further apart too. Good.”

Nasira looked at her for a while.

“The Princess and I have discussed you,” she said, eventually. 

Lys said nothing.

“About using you, I mean,” Nasira said. “To be clear, about using your strong soldier’s body to relax ourselves. About using your tongue, your holes, your whatever, however we choose to. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you object-”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well,” said Nasira, “There is a problem, however.”

She stood up, and approached Lys, hand trailing over her stomach. 

“People have tried to assassinate the Princess,” Nasira said, “We haven’t known you long, and you’re a warrior. If you were secretly a killer, the Princess would not have a chance. So, we will have to wait for a season or four. How does that make you feel?”

“Ma’am, I would never hurt you or the Princess,” Lys said, “But I understand why a delay is necessary.”

“No, Lys,” said Nasira, “How does it make you feel? Truly?”

“Disappointed, ma’am,” said Lys, “Sad.”

“Well, there is an alternative,” said Nasira, walking back to her dresser. “We could make you wear restraints.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lys said, “Please.”

“Please?” said Nasira, “Really, Lys, have you any idea how needy you sound?”

“I want to serve,” said Lys, a touch defensively. 

From the bottom drawer of the dresser, Nasira took out a pair of heavy iron manacles, a short chain between the two cuffs.

“Would you like to try serving me,” said Nasira, “And we’ll see if it’s suitable?”

Lys stepped forward, hands out in front of her.

“No, behind you, I think,” said Nasira. Lys turned around, and Nasira snapped on the manacles. They were heavy, and while they weren’t tight, Lys could tell that they wouldn’t come off until they were opened.

Nasira stroked her bottom.

“How do the manacles feel, Lys?”

She thought about it. “Good,” she said, “Secure. I like that you and the Princess don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

Nasira got up, and went around to Lys’s front. She put her hands on her hips and maneuvered her backwards until Lys’s knees hit the edge of the bed. Then she pushed Lys, and she went over.

It was hard not to react, not to try to save herself, but the bed was soft. The manacles were in an awkward position in the small of her back though; she wriggled so that it was in a marginally better position.

Nasira flopped on to the bed, and then crawled partially on top of Lys, kissing her collarbone. 

“You have so many muscles, Lys,” she said. She moved and kissed the inner edge of a breast, then a tiny bite. “Maybe I should keep you here all night, just kissing every single muscle. And biting. Would you like that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lys, “I’ll serve you in whatever way you think.”

Nasira reached down, putting a hand on her lower stomach.

“What if you never got to reach satisfaction?” said Nasira. “What if I got you worked up, but never let you finish?”

“Whatever you want,” said Lys, “I just want to please you.”

“So you keep saying. Tell me how you’d really feel?”

“...Sad, ma’am,” said Lys. There was no point being deceitful. 

Nasira propped herself up on an elbow. “Sad?” said Nasira, “But Lys, I thought your only concern was our happiness? Why would your pleasure count for anything? You’re furniture. A toy.”

Lys said nothing.

“Perhaps, under all that ‘living to serve’, there’s a girl who is actually a selfish, greedy slattern?”

Lys paused. It wasn’t quite right, she thought, but could not articulate why exactly. Or maybe it was right? “...Yes, ma’am.”

“Ha,” said Nasira, lowering her mouth to Lys’s, and whispering. “Of course, it doesn’t bother us that you’re a slattern. In fact, it’s better to know that you want something. Then we have the delicious choice of whether to grant it or not. Mirabelle and I disagreed on how exactly how much fun it will be to keep you desperate. I suppose you’ll have to find out.”

“Ma’am.”

“But that’s enough talking,” she said, getting onto her hand and knees. “It’s time that you pleasured me.”

Nasira arranged cushions, hiked her shift, and positioned herself over Lys’s head, knees apart, holding on to the headboard for stability. Lys could see Nasira’s cunt above her, beautiful and aroused.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lys whispered.

Nasira continued to lower herself. “It’s not for your pleasure, toy,” Nasira said, but her tone was indulgent. 

Lys craned her head, arched her back, to lick at Nasira. 

“Oh no,” said Nasira, taking a hand off the bedframe and grabbing Lys’s short hair, slamming her back into the mattress. “You will wait for what I give you, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lys, “Sorry, ma’am.”

“It frustrates me that I can’t stop like this,” Nasira said, downwards journey halted, “With me in sight, close to you, maybe dripping on you. And you unable to do anything. That would be frustrating for you wouldn’t it? Would you plead and whine?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lys, “Please.”

“Fortunately for you,” Nasira said, “I really need your mouth on me.”

She descended the last few inches, and Lys felt warmth and wetness.

She tried to go cautiously, mindful of Nasira’s words about taking more than was offered. She dragged her tongue between Nasira’s lower lips, tasting her.

Nasira’s made a noise, and the pressure increased. Lys took that as a sign. She moved her tongue into the wetness, feeling her way. It was enveloped in sensitive  dampness. Again, Lys had the perspective of everything reducing to one point, the point of contact between them. She craned her tongue, used her chin and nose to help. Nasira was rocking against her, gasping. She flicked at Nasira’s clitoris with her tongue, encircled it as best she could, then went back to probing. 

Nasira came, screaming and throwing her head back. The pressure drove Lys’s tongue out, but as the initial intensity wore off, she concentrated on lapping all the juices she could. Nasira’s shuddering seemed to go on for a long time. Finally, she shakily pulled a knee across her and collapsed onto her side of the bed. She lay there breathing heavily. 

“Thank you, Lys,” she said, eventually. She shuffled round on the bed so that she was lying next to her. Nasira kissed her shoulder.

“That was very pleasurable,” she said, after a while. “Your mouth, your face, were of considerable service. You should feel proud.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, “I do.”

“You know,” Nasira said, “I liked the ma’am thing at first, but I’ve grown bored of it. Call be ... call me ‘your Ladyship’ instead.”

“Yes, your Ladyship” said Lys.

“No, that’s too awkward,” said Nasira.

“I could call you ‘my Lady’,” said Lys, “Like, yes, my Lady.”

“Hmm,” says Nasira, running her fingertips across Lys’s stomach. “And it’s ‘my’ because you belong to me, correct? Like a dog, if she could speak, would call her mistress ‘my mistress’, right?”

“Yes, my Lady, exactly.”

“Very well, I’ll permit it,” said Nasira. “Now, returning to an earlier subject...”

She slipped her hand down to Lys cunt, one finger resting between the lips.

“Oh, Lys, you’re so wet,” she said, “I’d bet you’d like me to take care of that for you?”

“Yes, my Lady,” she said, without much hope.

Nasira tasted her finger. “But you see, I think it might be more fun if you didn’t. I mean, eventually I would unfasten your arms, but I would tell you not to touch yourself, and you wouldn’t disobey me. You could spend your days touching me, pleasuring me, but would remain frustrated yourself. Doesn’t that sound delightful?”

“...No, my Lady.”

“No?” said Nasira, “Oh, I’m sorry, my mistake. I meant, doesn’t that sound delightful for me, the important one? Well?”

“...Yes, my Lady?”

“Good, I’m glad we agree,” said Nasira, she climbed slightly, kissing her cheek. Lys turned her head, and Nasira stopped for a moment before kissing her lips.

“Of course,” said Nasira, “We’ve already established that you’d beg, whine and plead, in those circumstances. Why don’t you try it, see if it persuades me?”

“Yes, my Lady,” said Lys, “Please, I’m begging you.”

“That is terrible, Lys,” said Nasira, “Consider me unpersuaded.”

Lys thought, trying to make her mind work. “My Lady,” she said, “My beautiful Lady, my owner, who I am glad to serve with every ounce of my being, please grant your ... worthless property a boon, spare her from her torture, and please relieve her ... she does not deserve your kindness, but, please anyway please.”

“Oh, your puppy dog eyes are dangerous,” she said, slipping down the bed. She put a pillow under Lys’s hips. “Be warned, I’m going hard and fast. Better make sure you finish before I get bored.”

Nasira didn’t quite go as brutally as she suggested, but did slide three fingers into Lys with little preamble. Lys was more than ready, however. She made a low moan. Nasira began moving her fingers rapidly, keep things just this side of too much. Or, thought Lys, maybe just the other side. With her thumb, Nasira teased Lys’s clit. Lys moaned. She could barely think, the delicious pressure was all she could focus on.

She came, gasping. Nasira slowed down, but did not stop, and Lys came again and again. Finally, Nasira withdrew her hand.

“Thank you, my Lady,” Lys whispered. 

Nasira made her way up Lys body, kissing her mouth again. 

Then she sat up, and helped Lys turn, unfastening the manacles. She rubbed and kissed Lys’s wrists and arms where they were sore. They kissed again, then lay awhile in silence. “No, thank you, Lys,” she whispered.  

***

The next morning she barely saw Nasira, just a quick smile. The Princess was seeing petitioners today, that meant Lys was guarding her as usual. 

As they were heading out of the apartments, the Princess spoke softly, knowing Lys was several steps behind. 

“I’ve been speaking to Nasira,” she said, “I was thinking I could use your body for pleasure, tonight.”

“Ye-” Lys started. 

“To fuck, I mean,” said the Princess, and then they were in the castle proper, and Lys did not need telling not to reply. She thought she caught the odd smirk on occasions when the Princess turned towards her.

The day seemed to take forever.

When they got back to the apartments, the Princess swept away, pausing only to have a quick whispered exchange with Nasira. 

Nasira approached Lys.

“Well, you’ve heard about your duty tonight,” Nasira said. “You accept?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“You will be restrained, of course,” said Nasira. 

“Yes, my Lady.”

“The Princess has a bit of a different style to me, but you should be fine,” said Nasira. Lys thought she sounded a little sad.

“I hope the Princess will use me as completely as you did, my Lady,” said Lys.

“However the Princess wants to use you, it is no matter to you,” said Nasira, her tone not matching the harshness of the words. “You will simply obey.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Right, well, the Princess wants you washed,” said Nasira. 

Lys walked to the washroom. Nasira lent on the doorway watching. Lys used the unguents and ewers to make herself clean; Nasira just watched at first, but stepped forward to help with the hard to reach parts.

“What do I wear?” asked Lys, as she dried herself. She suspected she knew the answer.

“Nothing, of course,” Nasira said, “Hmm, I wonder if the Princess would let us dress you this way each evening? It would make long evenings spent in front of the fire that much more interesting. Of course, it would be hard for you to be on display the whole time, but that hardly matters.”

Lys felt herself going red.

“There it is, your blush,” said Nasira, “Really, Lys, I think you like being degraded.”

She led Lys down the familiar corridor. Everything looked a bit more foreboding now that she was naked. I mean, she thought, I’m still stronger than them; so why did she feel so docile and weak?

Outside the Princess’s bedroom, she found there were restraints left on the chair.

“I’m to prepare you,” said Nasira, hand resting on Lys’s shoulder, “Honesty, I think the Princess might be torturing me as well.”

She picked up a restraint. It was clearly well made; the bracelet was silver, or at least something as shiny, and the inner band was padded with the same material that formed the straps. Nasira snapped one around each wrist. There were two more, with wider bracelets, for her feet.

“We’ll leave those for later,” said Nasira. “We don’t want you tripping over them. Now this.”

She held up a blindfold; Lys bent so that it was easier for Nasira to put on. Darkness fell.

“Thanks, love, I mean, Lys,” said Nasira. Lys couldn’t see now, but Nasira suddenly seemed quite flustered. 

“My Lady, I am yours, you may call me whatever you wish to,” Lys said.

“Well, obviously,” said Nasira, harshly, “You’re furniture. A toy. An item for our amusement. Don’t forget that.”

“Never, my Lady.”

Nasira took one of Lys’s hands, and guided her into the bedroom, carefully steering her, and settling her back on the bed. Lys was pretty certain that the Princess was in here, though she didn’t know for sure. 

Nasira fastened the strap to ... something? ... a bedpost, probably. Doing so seemed to require a lot of climbing over Lys. The other was also secured. Nasira put the restraints on her ankles, setting her legs a way apart. Cushions went under her hips, and under her head. Nasira crawled on top of Lys again.

“Secure?” said Nasira. 

Lys experimentally pulled at her restraints. “Yes, my Lady.”

“Comfy?”

“Ye-”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Nasira, “I’m going to leave you to the Princess now. Remember your purpose.”

“Yes, my Lady,” said Lys, “...But, I have no right to ask, but could my noble Lady spare me a kiss first?”

There was a gasp from the other side of the room; the Princess, presumably. 

“You see, Princess,” said Nasira, “How selfish and full of herself she is? I foolishly granted her release yesterday, and now she thinks she can just beg for kisses.”

Nasira gripped Lys’s chin most fiercely, and mashed her lips into hers, biting, and then tongue, and softness. She bit on to the lower lip for a second and then pulled away.

“Oh yes,” said the Princess, “I’m sure that will teach her.”

“Do you want to give up your night, Mirabelle?” said Nasira, “I’m sure I could have her whimpering for mercy within minutes.”

“No, Nas, I shall take my turn,” said the Princess, with a laugh. “If you want to sit on the chair outside and listen, that’s fine.”

“Fuck you,” said Nasira, mildly. 

Then there were noises that Lys had trouble identifying at first, until a lip smack gave it away.

“Have fun,” said Nasira. The sound of the door opening and closing. 

The Princess walked away, and sat down somewhere. A desk? There were various small noises. Lys wasn’t sure how long it had been. 

Finally, there was the noise of a chair being moved back, and footfalls heading towards the bed. Lys felt the mattress give as the Princess sat down beside her. She flinched slightly as a hand unexpectedly touched her cheek.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” said the Princess. 

“Sorry, your highness,” said Lys, “It was unexpected.”

“Oh dear, unexpected that I should touch you?” said the Princess, “But surely that’s what you’re for? How are we going to use you without touching you?”

“I mean,” said Lys, “With the blindfold, your highness.”

“Well, I’m very sorry, Lys,” the Princess said, “But you’re going have to get used to us touching you, blindfold or not. What would Nas say? Soft touches...”, she touched her cheek again, “Or hard touches...”, she slapped the same cheek. “I’m sorry. But are you ready for that?”

“Yes, your highness,” said Lys.

“Perhaps you better apologise for flinching.”

“I am sorry, my Princess,” said Lys, though she didn’t see why, “Very sorry.”

The Princess laughed. “No, you’re not,” said the Princess, “But you’re obedient.”

There was movement, and the Princess ended up, from what Lys could tell, with a knee either side of her.

“You know,” said Princess, voice from above, “You’ve made quite the impact on Nas. Surprising. I am different though.”

“Yes, your highness.”

The Princess pressed Lys’s breasts together. 

“I bet Nas didn’t do much with these,” said the Princess. 

“Er, no, your highness.”

“No, I usually have to remind her,” said the Princess. “Well, don’t worry, I love paps, and I will play with yours for as long as I want.”

She started to massage Lys’s breasts. She ran her fingers all over them. Started to slap them a little roughly. And then she went back to massage. The Princess -- the Princess! -- was playing with her tits, thought Lys. It excited her, but in a strange way.

“You have nice breasts, Lys,” the Princess said.

“Thank you, your highness,” she said. Lys noticed the edge of arousal in her voice.

“I’m enjoying them a lot,” said the Princess. 

The Princess began to caress Lys’s nipples. Gentle touches and then firmer, catching the nipples between finger and thumbs, rolling them. Lys gasped and arched her back.

“Do say if this gets a bit too much,” said the Princess, “I probably won’t stop, but it would be nice to hear.”

Lys just groaned and arched her back some more. The Princess would work on a nipple until it was almost too much, then swap to the other. Lys begin to lose focus, the darkness making it even harder to track the passage of time.

The Princess went back to caressing her nipples and breasts.

“Oh, Lys, I really wish you could worship my paps,” she said, “But we don’t trust you near me with hands or mouth. It’s very sad.” 

The Princess slid down a bit, and bent, putting her breasts on top of Lys’s. “There,” she said. She ground into her. With Lys’s breasts and nipples in their current state, it was almost too stimulating to bear.

“You see? They’re nice,” said Princess, sitting up. “Oh, but you don’t see, do you? Nas said you shouldn’t get to see me naked, that you’d enjoy it too much. What do you think?”

Either yes or no got her into trouble here. “Er, it is however your highness wills it.”

“Pffft,” she said, “Let’s see.”

She leant forward, and moved the blindfold up so that it sat on Lys’s forehead. Though the room was quite dim, Lys still had to blink against its light. The Princess’s noble face was quite close by.
 
“Well?” she said.

“You’re beautiful, your highness,” said Lys. “I have always thought you were beautiful.”

“Aww,” she said, sitting up. “And what about my milky globes?”

Nasira had a point. Lys’s brain was having trouble working out exactly how she felt towards the Princess’s breasts. Or perhaps not how she felt, how she could reconcile the animal excitement with her -- surely -- noble feelings towards the Princess. 

“Describe them, Lys,” said the Princess. 

“Your highness,” said Lys, “Um ... they’re quite round ... er ... they look delicious ... mounds of sweetness ... your nipples look like flower buds.”

“A little incoherent,” said the Princess, “But I’ll allow it. Lys, would you like to worship my breasts? I mean lick every inch of them?”

“Yes, your highness,” said Lys.

“I would like that too,” sighed the Princess. “But alas. Alright, Lys, I’m going to fuck you now.”

She leant forward, and replaced the blindfold. “It will be a surprise,” she said. 

The Princess hopped off the bed, and there were noises; a drawer, some rattling, the sound of leather. It took a little while, but there were footsteps back to the bed.

Lys felt the Princess position herself in a way that was very awkward, straddling across Lys’s right arm.

“I’ll show you,” said the Princess, “Turn your head, and open your mouth.”

Lys did so. They was more awkward manoeuvring, and something entered Lys’s mouth. It was clearly some sort of artificial phallus, leather covering over some less yielding structure, and quite big. 

“Suck it, Lys,” said the Princess, “It doesn’t do anything for me, but you would look pretty doing it.”

Lys sucked the leather head, as the Princess made tiny in and out motions. 

“You do look pretty, Lys,” said the Princess, removing the phallus, “Anyway...”

The Princess pulled the blindfold up, and stood up, turning so that Lys could see. The phallus went to a belt with complicated fastening to hold it in place. Lys guessed that some of it, a smaller section, was in the Princess’s body too. 

“You see?” said the Princess, “I’m going to fuck you with my cock.”

“Yes, your highness,” said Lys. She had already given up on bringing together nobility and the concept of fucking the Princess. All she knew is that she really wanted this Princess. “Please.”

“I don’t like this ‘your highness’ phrasing,” said the Princess. “What was it you called Nasira?”

“My lady.”

“Then you shall call me ‘my Princess’,” she decided.

“Yes, my Princess.”

She walked down to by Lys’s feet, and climbed back on the bed. The Princess bent down and suddenly licked Lys cunt. Lys quivered.

“Mmm,” said the Princess, “Nasira said that we got you very wet. And also that a lick from the Princess would render you speechless.” 

She rearranged their legs, and the pillow, and put on some oil from a small bottle. The Princess held the phallus just touching the lips of her cleft.

“Are you ready, Lys?” said the Princess. 

“Yes, my Princess.”

The Princess went slowly, easing the phallus in, inch by inch. Lys felt herself shake, the pressure increasing. Lys moaned. The Princess withdrew maybe half its length, and then went in again, slightly faster this time. Lys moaned again, feeling the pressure. The Princess also gave a little grunt, and began to speed up. She brought her hand in to tease the clit. Lys moaned again, abandoning herself to the feeling of being filled up, and then not. The Princess’s gasps also got louder. Lys was going to finish soon, she wanted to wait until the Princess was there too, but...

Lys came. She clamped down, but the phallus was too solid to be pushed out. In fact, after a second, the Princess kept going. Shocks raced up and down Lys’s body. She was moaning something incoherent to herself.

Responding to Lys’s throes, the Princess came herself, high-pitched gasps. They rocked their pelvises together until they finally quieted. 

The Princess crawled up and lay on her back next to Lys, her head on Lys’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, my Princess,” said Lys.

“Rest for a little,” said the Princess, “And then I shall use you some more.”

***

Lys awoke feeling fantastically sore. She barely remembered getting back to her room. Nasira had gotten her out of her restraints, kissed her goodnight, and put her to bed. Was that right?

It was already late; no-one had awakened her. But when she sat up, her attention was immediately drawn to the window, and outside it, a small box placed precariously on the sill. Lys retrieved it; a small blob of wax meant that it was less likely to fall than she had thought.

Inside the box was a small vial marked with a skull, and another note. Under the bee sigil it said, “You will kill the Princess today. We will keep you safe. If you do not, the world will know.”

Lys sat down on the bed. The note did not fade. Lys looked for a way out.

Eventually she stood, and put on shirt and hose. She left the note half screwed up on the bed, but held the vial in her hand.

She walked out of the room, and started looking for Nasira and the Princess. As she expected, she found them in the sitting room. 

“Oh, look who’s-” began the Princess, but stopped when she saw her expression. 

Nasira begin to get to her feet.

Lys opened the vial and drank the poison. It tasted of nothing. She dropped to her knees. 

“Princess, Nasira,” Lys said. She had to speak fast, she had no idea how long before the poison killed her. “On the battlefield ... I was there to murder you, with Jak. But I saw you and ... well, I fell in love, I suppose. Sorry, Princess. And then I ended up here, and it was so wonderful. You two made me feel so useful. And Nasira even started to like me. And so thank you. I won’t go to the torturer or the gibbet, I die here.”

Nasira had knelt down and was hugging her. The Princess had also gotten up, and crouched nearby.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Lys,” said the Princess.

“And have you lead me to the executioner?” said Lys, “And worse, disappoint both of you. No, this is best. If you let me die in your presence, both of you, I’ll be happy.”

The Princess knelt and hugged Lys as well. Lys said thank you through her tears.

“It might take a while, however,” said the Princess, holding something up. Lys took a moment to fix her gaze; a signet ring, carrying the seal of a bee-with-dagger.

“The notes ... the poison,” said Lys.

“Was harmless, Lys,” the Princess said.

“I’m sorry,” said Nasira, through tears, “But it was necessary for the safety of the Princess that we found out the truth.”

“So it was all a trick,” said Lys, despondently, “And I am for the executioner after all.”

“Don’t be foolish, Lys,” said the Princess, “You didn’t try and kill me, now or then, you are the most loyal soldier we know.”

“So, if you’d like to,” said Nasira, “You should stay with us. Um, even though we tricked you.”

“Yes,” said Lys. 

“And if you like-” began the Princess. 

“Yes,” said Lys, “I’m still sworn to you, both of you. Please. Now. I want to forget the past.”

She felt Nasira’s hand begin unbuttoning Lys’s shirt. The Princess was taking her own dress off.

“I hope you’re ready to do some worship, Lys,” the Princess said. 

“Yes, my Princess.” 

“And while you doing that,” said Nasira, “I’ll find some harsh and exciting use for your lower half.”

“Yes, my Lady,” said Lys.

Nasira turned Lys’s face towards hers, and kissed her mouth, fierce and passionate. Then the Princess grabbed her face, and kissed her too.

“Please use me,” Lys said.

And they did.