PRINCKS ASCENDANT!

Preface

The following is a work of fiction - of course! It contains graphic and perverse acts of sex, domination, and general weirdness! Gender fluidity or even what you could call a fantastical form of trans-sexualism are the foundations of the princk universe. It is a deliberate choice to make these stories rather outr??, even bizarre, and I totally understand if that is not your thing; simply move on to something that's more to your taste.

Once again, the basic concept of the princk - including the word 'princk' itself - is not mine. As best I can determine, it originated with the artist Eric Stanton. The version found in these stories is my own take on what a princk is and what it can do, and as such it differs somewhat from his or others.

It should go without saying that this work is meant for adults only, and that if the above is not your thing then you shouldn't be reading it.

This is set in the same universe as my previous princk work, "The Princk Amazons", but is not a direct sequel - it's set almost sixty years later and concerns different characters.

Feedback of this story would be very much welcomed, even if critical. If you wish to contact me for that, or if you are thinking of commissioning a story yourself (it doesn't even have to have Princks in it, honest!) and like my writing style, I can be reached at : adeaderend@hotmail.com

Chapter 4 : An Equestrian Morning

Paolo drifted up gradually from the very deepest depth of sleep. He slowly became aware of a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Wake up, come on, wake up,' a voice was saying, over and over. He opened his eyes to find his father, Angelo, standing over him. His father was completely naked.

"I'm awake," Paolo said sluggishly. "How long was I asleep?"

"Eighteen hours," Angelo said. "They sedated you. With their... you know." He actually blushed. "Their milk. They can make it do that... make it a sedative. She said you needed the sleep, time for the conditioning to take root in your subconscious."

"Huh?" Paolo struggled with a fuzzy memory, caused by the potent drugs still present in his mind. "What conditioning?"

His father's eyes were downcast, a blush of shame on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, son," he said softly. "You belong to Her Majesty now."

"I don't belong to anybody," Paolo said, sitting up. He became aware that he was naked, but somehow he didn't seem to mind. After all, here was his own father naked as a baby in front of him, and he seemed to find it natural.

"That's not the truth," his father said. "I wish it were, but... well. Things are as they are."

"I do what I like!" Paolo said, rising. He was almost as tall as his father, and not far short in muscle tone and build. And, he noticed wryly, he had an inch or so on his father where it mattered.

"Her Majesty wants to see you this morning," Angelo said quietly. "She wants you washed and shaven clean, face and body, and presented to her in the rear garden at ten o'clock."

"Of course," Paolo said, his annoyance evaporating instantly. "Whatever she wants." The words came to his lips without a conscious thought, and he was moving towards the en suite bathroom before it occurred to him how strange that was. As he went into the bathroom his father watched him with sad eyes, then turned to fetch his other sons.

An hour later all five of the boys were gathering in the hallway outside their rooms. The De Luca mansion was truly immense, one of the largest in the country; it had five miles of corridors connecting the more than 350 rooms, every inch of it decorated with a richness that was the envy of every other great house in the world.

The boys were all spotlessly clean and closely shaven; although none quite realised it, simply being told that it was an order of Elina De Luca had shortcut any rational thought and gone straight to their programmed subconscious minds. They had removed every little bit of body hair without further consideration, even carefully shaving their genitals.

A pair of naked servants came and led them through the labyrinth maze of the house. Even though the boys had visited the house many times, it was so gigantic that it would have been easy for them to become lost in the huge place. The De Luca mansion was a very deliberate statement of wealth and power.

They found their grandmother with their parents in the garden, sipping tea and eating breakfast. Three sizeable carriages sat on a broad pathway nearby. Elina cast a smug eye over the boys as they arrived. "Greetings and good morning to you, my slaves," she said merrily.

"Wait a minute, I'm not anybody's slave-" Nakia began hotly. It was as far as he got.

"All of you, kneel in silence," Elina said. Her voice was nothing like the tone of command that could shake marble walls. It was instead very quiet, and very soft.

All five of the boys instantly snapped their mouths shut and fell to their knees on the luscious grass lawn, their heads bowed respectfully.

"Let's make one or two things clear," Elina said evenly. "Pay attention to what I am saying, and take it on board. Number one, you are my slaves. There is no sense in denying that; it is simply not something you have any choice over. The deed, as they say, is done.

"Given that, you need to learn a few of the rules of the house. There are those Princkazons who take the 'strict but fair' approach to their males. I do not. Don't misunderstand me... I am strict. Oh yes, I am remarkably strict. And demanding. What I am not, though, is fair. I am in fact thoroughly unfair. And I delight in my unfairness. I revel in cruelty towards the inferior male beasts of this world. You boys are my property now. You are my belongings, and I feel no more inclination to treat you with any degree of fairness or kindness than I feel for a chair, or a hat stand, or any other object that I own."

The boys felt the most curious of sensations as they listened to these strange words. On some level they were outraged at being treated this way; she had not, after all, commanded them to cease thinking their own thoughts. But it was a distant, empty sort of feeling, devoid of any impetus to action. Like an echo of their real thoughts. And their real thoughts were that their Mistress had commanded silence and attention. The boys practically quivered with eagerness to listen to her words, as commanded.

"There will be duties around the house for you to perform," Elina said. "It is a rather large property, and I enjoy it being clean. But there will be other duties as well... rather more outr?? ones. And we will begin with one of those today. In at the deep end, as they say."

She gestured to her daughters and the three women stood, picking up a collection of black leather straps and harnesses from the table. They stepped over to the boys and began to fit them out for the morning's activity.

First came a leather bridle harness for each boy. The thick straps went about their heads, buckled securely into place. Leather cups sat astride their temples, blocking their sight to the sides. A thin bit went between their teeth, with a set of long reigns attached.

"There, you already look much better," Elina said.

Next came a pair of boots for each boy. Black leather to match the bridles, the boots laced tightly up to the knees. Instead of a normal foot, though, each was heavily built up, soles a good six inches thick. The lower surface was fashioned into the shape of a horse's hoof, with a metal horseshoe attached!

Angelo and Tito watched with a distant dismay as a pair of matching hand covers was produced and laced into place on their son's arms, covering their hands and giving them another pair of hooves instead.

"Wonderful," Elina said. "And now, the finishing touch. Bend over, slaves!"

The men stared as she produced a final implement whose intent was horribly clear. A long thick tail, fashioned out of a large bushy bundle of real horse's hair... and sprouting at the top end from a very large, rather thick black dildo! Tito shivered in humiliation for what was to come, but he dared not raise even a murmur in protest.

All five of their sons unhesitatingly bent over, resting their foreheads on the cool grass as Elina rested the thick rounded head of the first dildo against Paolo's asshole. He whimpered as she began to force the huge object inside, clenching his sphincter as tightly as he could. The little ring was no match for superior Princkazon muscle, though, and Elina gleefully forced the massive object inside of her grandson in one long hard thrust.

"You see, the head twists around," she said, demonstrating, "and as it does, the main shaft of the dildo expands! It's not unlike a Pear of Anguish, actually. It can expand up to double the normal thickness of two and a half inches, which is more than enough to keep it very tightly secured within your slave holes!"

Within minutes, each of the boys was securely plugged. Elina stepped back, giggling as she looked at them. How low she had brought them! Defeated physically and then mentally with the greatest of ease, and now reduced to mere beasts! "On your feet," she ordered. All five leapt to obey instantly.

"Now, you are no longer human beings," Elina said. "You are horses. Remember that fact : you are a horse. You will act as a horse. You will not speak; you may make the noises of a horse, but no human word will cross your lips. You will not walk as a man does; you will trot, or canter, or even gallop, in as good an approximation of the gait of a horse as you are able to perform on two legs. And you will obey the commands of the reigns and the whip. Is that clear?"

The boys tossed their heads and whinnied in the affirmative, eyes widening in surprise and dismay as they realised that they were responding to her words without even the slightest conscious thought.

Elina led them to the three carriages. Salazar and Abramo were each securely harnessed to a carriage, leather belts and straps about their waist securely fastening them to the two wooden shafts via shaft tugs.

Nakia, Lazaro, and Paolo were hitched to the other carriage in a troika arrangement, three standing abreast. With all the boys secured, Elina clambered into the troika carriage whilst her daughters each climbed into the carriage behind their own sons.

Elina took the long thin horse whip from its holder with a pleasant smile. She could - and had been known to - whip a fly out of the air with the lovely instrument. She was deadly accurate with it. Strictly speaking there was no need of it - any of her male slaves would run himself until his heart burst should she so much as whisper the command to him. But what of it? She didn't use the whip in order to compel greater effort or obedience. She used the whip because she enjoyed inflicting pain. That was, after all, one of the main pleasures in her life; to punish the lowly male animal for the crime of having been born into his inferior gender.

She applied the whip with relish, and the boys were soon trotting down the path with her carriage behind them. Elina glanced back to see her daughters likewise whipping their sons into action, and let out a joyful laugh. She had known that her girls would not let her down, not in the end. Sons or not, they knew deep down the rightful place of any male, and the proper way to treat them! They had only needed her to force the issue. She laughed out loud as she applied the whip again with a vengeance, putting a deep red stripe across Lazaro's back.

They drove the boys hard that morning, touring the beautiful gardens which surrounded the De Luca mansion. All five were in outstanding physical shape, used to doing all kinds of sporting and athletic activities at school. The previous year they had even run in the city marathon, scoring times well under four hours. Yet the De Luca gardens covered a full square mile, with almost two further square miles of woodland with paths winding through it. She toured it all, and here and there Romana and Adriana would pull up alongside and the three would engage in a bit of a race, whipping the boys gleefully into the gallop. They covered perhaps fifteen miles as they criss-crossed the estate, far less than a marathon - but then, a marathon is not generally run pulling a carriage behind one, nor with the liberal application of a horse whip to one's back!

After three hours the boys were all panting, exhausted, with sweat streaming from their bodies - and a multitude of red stripes decorating their backs. Finally, Elina guided them back to their starting place and allowed them to stop. "Wasn't that such fun?" She asked her daughters.

"Oh mother, it's been too long since we did this!" Romana said as they began to free the boys from the carriages. "We simply must spend more days like this."

"Absolutely!" Adriana said, lashing her whip across Salazar's back one more time so she could listen to the music of his scream. She stepped down and began to release him. "It's such a beautiful day, every day should be like this!"

"You slaves did quite well," Elina said diffidently. "As a reward, you may worship the boots of your riders with your tongues."

The boys instantly crawled to their superiors and began to lick their boots clean of any dust and dirt, horrified at the submission of this simple but degrading task, and yet completely incapable of even forming the idea of refusing. By now it was fully clear to them that there was simply no possibility of escape or resistance to their diabolical Grandmother; they were slaves, and that was the end of it!

Servants took the boys to the stable block to allow them some much-needed time to rest and regain their breath. Whilst this was done the ladies returned to sit in the sun and exchange pleasantries. Adriana and Romana gave Elina a detailed retelling of the demise of the Karung Dojo. Elina was delighted, repeatedly bursting out laughing as she practically glowed with pride in her daughters. She also openly laughed at Angelo and Tito's forlorn expression on having to re-live the memory of experience, still so fresh and painful in their minds.

"So these visiting monks... they don't know of the princk revolution at all?" Elina asked.

Romana and Adriana shrugged. "I don't think so," Romana said. She glanced to Angelo questioningly.

"No, My Lady De Luca," he said submissively. "They come from a very isolated Monastery in the north of Japan. It is a remote place, and they have very little contact with the outside world. They deliberately avoid such contact for the most part. Their order is entirely male. They are very traditional and conservative in their views. They regard men as the only truly honourable gender, and masculinity as the only true power in the world. Until yesterday, perhaps," he added mournfully.

"That is unacceptable," Elina said crisply. "I will not allow such a place to continue to exist in the modern age."

Angelo wondered for an instant what she thought she could do about it, but the thought died in moments. Unlike many, Angelo and Tito knew full well how thoroughly the governments of the world were under the control of the Princk Princesses. Japan was surely no exception; they would find some way to force the Monastery into bankruptcy, or allocate the land to some other use and purchase it under a compulsory order or some such. For that matter, there were plenty of Princkazons in Japan; they would probably jump at the chance to pay the place a visit and smash it to the ground if Elina suggested it. And she would, if the idea amused her.

"Furthermore," Elina went on, "the idea of such people coming to my country and soiling it with their presence offends me. I will not allow offence from any male to go unpunished. You two," she snapped at Angelo and Tito, and there was a trace of that command voice, the one which virtually compelled you to obey with the sheer force of it. "You will invite these monks here to my estate. Tell them after the events of yesterday you wish to make amends. Tell them whatever you like, but get them here. I want them here by tomorrow noon, and if they are not, be assured that you will suffer for it."

She stood, and her daughters and their husbands rose with her; one did not sit when Elina De Luca stood, such disrespect was simply unthinkable.

"Now, we are going to the stables," she announced. "Those slaves were entirely too sweaty for my liking. It's unsanitary, and I detest an unsanitary slave. A long blast of cold water from a good strong hose and some attention from a scrub brush is called for. And there will be some gruelling exercise periods in their future; they need to build up their stamina!"

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Did you enjoy this story? Do you want to read more? Perhaps you even might want to commission a story written exactly to your own fantasies and fetishes?

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