Page 170 of Twisted Royals

The jeans got removed all the same, leaving me in my silk t-shirt and nothing else. The sergeant's leg clamped down across my knees again, and at the same time he maneuvered my right arm out from behind my back, stretching it out in front of me. I felt hands — the major's, I thought — at the hem of the t-shirt. I still had control of my left arm, so I tried to wave it around, flail with it, anything to keep them from rendering me completely naked.

The hand on my backside withdrew. Even as I struggled, clearly refusing to comply with their insane ideas about how to treat a princess, I pled with them as if I thought they would be reasonable.

"Wait!" I said, trying to twist myself out the way of the spank I knew must be about to land. "Can't I…"

I had no idea what I would have said. Can't I just apologize? sprang to mind, but it seemed clear we'd gone beyond apologies.

The sergeant's hand came down, though, very hard, and he spanked me six more times in rapid succession as I screamed in agony, alternating right and left so fast that it felt like a single wave of pain engulfing my poor bottom-cheeks. I clung to the notion of apology, while my left arm still reflexively did everything in its power to evade my captors' grasp.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed. "Please… I'm sorry… Please, let me go."

At that moment the major's hand caught my left wrist.

"You don't really want to go, Susanna," she said. "You know that."

I had kept my face buried in the sergeant's comforter for the last few minutes of my terrible ordeal. As the awful woman who I had been told to call Mama took control of my right wrist from the sergeant, and stretched both my hands out in front of me, I lifted my head and saw her there. My eyes stung with tears, and I added to them in a heaving sob when I saw the contemptuous expression on the older woman's face.

"I do!" I gasped. "How can you… how…"

How could she say that? Of course I wanted to go!

I felt the sergeant — Baby, but how could I ever call him that? — start to raise my soft, gorgeous, pink-silk t-shirt over my chest. I let out another sob, my body writhing fruitlessly in their grip.

"Please…" I begged. "Don't take my clothes… I don't want…"

"You don't think you want to be naked for us," the colonel said from somewhere outside the pink haze that the silk had made around my face. "That's fine. It doesn't change the fact that you're going to be naked for us, and you're going to stay naked until we decide to give you clothing."

"Oh, God," I whispered. Not your clothing, even. I could tell that Colonel Baer always spoke with precision. His words implied, with obvious intention, that I wouldn't be getting back my jeans and my adorable silk t-shirt. When I received clothing, it would be of a different kind.

Some part of me, I realized, had detached itself from the rest of my mind and begun to observe this lunacy as if it were happening to another girl. To my horror, that part seemed to find the horrible idea of training a plausible thing — a possible future. The notion that these soldiers would in fact carry out the insane plan they had apparently developed, to turn their princess into their naked, disciplined sexual servant, had begun to take on a mortifying, dismaying reality.

A reality I… need?

I pushed that crazy thought away. Just because the horrible Major Jarowski had said I didn't really want to go didn't mean the words had the slightest shred of truth to them. How could anyone — let alone a princess — need whatever the fuck this was? How could anyone not want to get the fuck away from these terrifying soldiers as fast as they possibly could?

Rational thoughts flew away completely, then. The major deftly whipped the t-shirt off my head, shifting her grip on my wrists so quickly that I didn't have any chance to move them out of her reach. I lay bent over Sergeant Karl's knee, completely nude. He returned his hand to my ass, his two middle fingers probing again deep into my humiliatingly hot vagina.

I shook my head from side to side, vainly denying everything, all of it. I wanted to protest — to yell at the colonel that I had definitely not, in fact, come close to orgasm from the sergeant's rough, peremptory fondling. To my horror, though, my body utterly betrayed me: my hips jerked, and despite myself, my terribly sore bottom pushed instinctively against the huge hand that held my most private places as if it owned them.

"Look at me," the horrible woman said.

I shook my head again, feeling my hair, ponytail completely disheveled, threshing from side to side.

"Look at your new Mama," I heard the colonel's deep voice say from behind me, "or the master sergeant will spank you until you do. As you'll probably find out soon enough, we have no problem punishing you until you can hardly walk, but I'm guessing it won't require that much force to get you just to look at the major when she tells you to."

"Oh, God," I sobbed, my mind reeling at his terrifying words.

My new Mama. My new Papa. And… what? Was he supposed to be a sibling of some kind, the master sergeant? If he was a baby, what did that make me?

The unwelcome answer came into my mind from somewhere I didn't want to acknowledge, somewhere buried deep inside me.

A spoiled little brat who even Baby Bear gets to discipline, and to…

He hadn't moved his fingers, despite how badly I needed him to, but the mere thought of what this Baby Bear might do to Princess Goldilocks made me arch my back and try again to ride his huge, possessing hand.

Fuck me. Baby Bear is going to fuck me. Papa Bear is going to fuck me. Mama Bear… I didn't even want to think about it, really, but I knew there would be a way. I could hear it in her stern, mocking voice: Mama Bear would fuck me too.

Just as I felt Baby Bear start to lift his hand I obeyed. I opened my eyes and raised my head and saw the cruel blue eyes looking down into mine, my wrists held out between us as Mama Bear rested her right knee on Baby Bear's bed so that she could keep my arms straight and extended. Even in that slightly awkward posture she held her back ramrod straight, looking — I realized with a little whimper — much more regal, much more like a princess than I did even when I wasn't naked over a sergeant's knee for the terrible, shameful lesson I'd earned.

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