29. A Princes Work
TWENTY-NINE
A Prince's Work
PIERCE
My princesses whimpered in their cages. Even our Fairy Godmother gaped, her eyes wide with unasked questions, as I dragged the unconscious man across the floor.
Her training, while slow, continued in the proper direction. Compliance was a skill she learned quickly, and she was keen to please me now that the others would suffer for her indiscretions. She had finally found her maternal instinct.
The nurse was an armful—a bastard with a mean left hook. My left eye had swollen shut until I could barely see out of it, and I couldn’t wait to get upstairs to ice it down.
I had given considerable thought to my preparations, but getting him home had been even more difficult than I’d expected.
He headed straight to a bar after his shift. I wandered in a few moments later and slipped something into his drink. He could barely walk to my van but was aware enough to haul off and punch me when he saw what waited for him inside.
The leather, chains, and the duct tape were dead giveaways, and although he’d fought, he’d been in no condition to win. My eye was an unfortunate casualty, something I would take out on him at a later date. I pressed a rag saturated in chloroform over his face, and that had been the end of his fight. The rope and duct tape secured him and took his fists out of the picture. It nearly broke my back, half carrying, half dragging him downstairs and through the tunnel to my dungeon.
My attention shifted to Gretel, and I bit my lower lip with worry. Blood soaked through her bandages again. When I called her, she didn’t answer. Not because she was disrespectful, but because she was unconscious.
Had she lost too much blood?
Once I had Dickwad secured, I would check on her. If she were seriously hurt, I’d never forgive myself.
Dickwad was bigger than I remembered, and I was concerned the chloroform would wear off before I had him secured. I struggled to work quickly.
“Cinderella, how’s my girl?”
“My Prince, I am well.” Her sultry voice echoed from her cage, but she didn’t come forward to greet me. I sensed fear in her voice, and I was not pleased.
“Come into the light, so I can see you,” I ordered.
She shuffled forward, and I glanced at the bandages over the X I cut between her breasts. Red saturated the material. Her bandages needed to be changed, as well.
“Good girl,” I said. “Tell me about Gretel.”
Cinderella hung her head in a proper submissive pose. She clasped her hands in front of her, making sure they didn’t obscure my view of the triangle of blonde hair between her legs.
“My Prince, Gretel has not spoken for some time.”
I dragged my unconscious helper to the wall and chained him there. A steady pulse thumped under my finger when I held it to his neck. Slow, rhythmic breathing told me he was still out, but I didn’t trust him. I leaned my elbow against his sternum and gave a deep rub sufficient to wake the dead. He responded with a moan.
Satisfied he wouldn’t revive anytime too soon, I left him against the wall to check on Gretel. She looked so pale, but her breathing was steady. Her pulse fluttered in her throat—at least she had a pulse—but it was way too fast.
Looking at the amount of blood she lost, it wouldn’t be long before her pulse turned thready and weak, or stopped altogether. I had at most a few hours left, and I needed Dickwad to get her bleeding under control.
I slapped her face but got no response. I hit again, and her head flopped. When I nudged her with the toe of my boot, she gave me nothing. Satisfied she wasn’t ignoring me on purpose, I squatted down to get eye-to-eye with her. She breathed with a gentle rise and fall of her chest. Blood soaked through the bandage, covering the large X carved between her breasts. I yanked it off to examine the cut beneath.
The gaping wound entranced me. The congealed blood accentuated the sharp surgical cuts. I couldn’t wait to see the scar left behind after she healed.
Dickwad groaned against the wall and startled me. That pissed me off. My reaction revealed weakness and hinted at the tiniest thread of fear lodged deep within me. This was the first time I had another male in my dungeon. Drugged or not, he posed a threat until I disposed of him.
Gathering the supplies needed, I wrapped the man in thick leather belts and bound him with chains. Every restraint was tripled for redundancy, and I placed locks on each chain.
The biggest problem I faced was how to handle his hands. He needed to tend to Gretel, but how much slack should I allow? If he got loose, I wasn’t afraid he’d escape my dungeon. I was worried about what would happen if I had to fight him down here.
Best case, I killed him, but he’d been hard to take down while drugged, thus the black eye. And that was after I’d drugged him. If we got into it down here, he wouldn’t be under the influence of a drug, and any fight would put my princesses in danger. I couldn’t have that.
Locked in their cages, the chances of them getting injured would be small, but I didn’t like the thought of violence around them.
Worst case, he overwhelmed me. Things would turn bad for everyone because the mother fucker would have to kill me. They’d all die because there was no way any of them were getting past the locks, and none of my girls knew about the backdoor I’d built down here. Even if they found it, they’d have to contend with the locks.
After much fiddling, I finally had him how I wanted. The belts and chains crisscrossed his chest, and pulleys strung him up like a puppet. Leather encased his legs, and a web of chains and ropes secured him to the wall and the support beams overhead. Locks glittered in the light, tying everything in place.
When he tended to Gretel, I would bring her to him with whatever supplies he required and lay them all out. Then I would step a safe distance away and release the chains holding his arms with the pulleys overhead. He’d be free to move hands and arms, nothing else, and when he was done, I would string him back up.
I watched Dickwad with a wary eye. Sharing had never been one of my strengths, and I hated to share even this little bit of my private world with him.
I despised him for the intrusion.
Less than half an hour later, his moans turned more purposeful. Soon he would wake. I went to the closet and pulled out gowns for my princesses, folding them with care over my arm. My princesses looked lovely in their garments, and while he was here, they would be covered. All, except Gretel and Cinderella. That could not be avoided.
As I passed out the dresses, I stopped by each of the cages to reassure them.
Red Riding Hood crawled to me. She dared not look at me. We’d had to repeat a lesson last week, and she still bore the marks from her punishment.
I reached through the bar and tangled my fingers in her raven locks. “How is my princess?”
“I am well, my Prince. May I serve you?”
The change in her attitude had been a pleasure to behold since her punishment. My dick twitched with arousal, but I was too wary of my unwanted guest tied to the wall. I handed her the dress.
“Put on your dress, Red. You can please me another day.”
She bowed her head and took the gown.
Next, Sleeping Beauty crawled to the front of her cage. Perhaps the most intelligent of my princesses, she rarely required punishment. Gracefully, she knelt with her head on her hands in supplication. She never spoke unless I addressed her directly. I loved that about her.
I handed over her dress. “Get dressed, Beauty.”
“Yes, My Prince.”
Red welts crisscrossed her back. I’d had fun with the whip this morning. The deep bruise over her kidney had yet to fade, though. I twisted my lips and wondered if I shouldn’t have Dickwad take a look at that.
Goldilocks greeted me much the same as the others and stretched out her hand to retrieve her dress. I moved to Cinderella’s cage. She watched me warily with wide, expressionless eyes. She endured such pain for me, which made me proud.
I knelt in front of her cage, and she shuffled forward to press her forehead against the bars. “You do not get a dress. I want him to check your cuts.”
Belle, my beautiful Belle, my first, and the only one I ever allowed unchained while out of her cage, waited for me. She didn’t kneel like the others but rather prostrated herself on the floor.
I smiled at her display. “Belle, what do you want?”
“Whatever pleases you, Master.” She was the only one who ever called me Master.
I would die for Belle.
“It would please me if you got up.”
She jumped to her feet and gave a smile as her eyes flicked to mine. She wasn’t permitted to look me in the eye. It would earn her a caning. That was the stated price when any of the princesses dared to look upon me without permission. I shook my head, playing her game, relishing the thought of welting her perfect ass and then fucking it until I passed out.
I wagged my finger and clucked my tongue. “Belle, you are a naughty princess.”
Her look of contrition was anything but repentant. My dick swelled with arousal. I could not ignore my need much longer.
Her eyes cut to my crotch, and she swept her tongue over her lower lip. I was tempted to let her bring me relief, but I had a much better idea.
“Put on your dress, Belle. I’ll cane you later. For now, your punishment is to watch your Fairy Godmother please me.”
Belle snatched her dress out of my hands. “She doesn’t know what you like, Master.”
“No, she does not, which is why she must learn.” I would never tell Belle our Fairy Godmother surpassed Belle’s oral skills.
In the corner cage, our Fairy Godmother hunched her shoulders. She learned her lesson and would do whatever I wanted. I released the button on my jeans, loving the wide-eyed expression on her face. I gestured for her to take to her knees.
There was a look of utter disgust on her face as she approached the front of her cage. I would attend to that bad habit soon. Reaching through the bars, I secured a chain to her collar, and then I tugged her close.
It took but a second to free my cock. I stood outside the bars, shoving my cock through the gap and into the heat of her mouth. Her velvety soft lips wrapped around me. I had a momentary hesitation about her teeth. Still, I was confident she understood the price of failure after watching me with the knives.
A deep voice, groggy from the after-effects of the drugs, cried out. “What the fuck!”
I rocked my hips into Henrietta’s face, enjoying the sensations she pulled from my body.
“You! You mother fucking bastard!” Chains rattled, and held firm, as Dickwad tested the strength of his bonds.
I had no concerns about him getting free. I had been careful and checked everything six times.
“You sick fuck! What the fuck have you done?”
His words rang in my ears, speeding me toward release. The rising panic in his voice added a delicious counterpoint to the soft pulls of Henrietta’s mouth.
Her dead husband trained her well.