The Slavegirl and the Shackles

Once upon a time, in the far off Kingdom of the Watchermen, there was a handsome young prince called Prince Silverhawk. And when his father the Old King was slain by the Bandits of Beezee, Prince Silverhawk became the handsome young King of the Watchermen, and his mother, the Favorite Concubine of his father, retired to the Nunnery Under The Bells in the Emerald Hills.

Now it was the custom and ancient law of the Watchermen that their King should have a beautiful slavegirl as his Favorite Concubine: A comely wench who had slavegirl-long hair, and slavegirl-bright eyes, and who had the Thing to be Watched For in a slavegirl. For if a princess, or a lady, or a fair young free-maid were to become a Queen, she might turn out to be subtle or sly or even conniving, and might lose all affection for her lord, while a slavegirl who had the Thing to be Watched For would remain humble and affectionate until the end of her days.

As Prince Silverhawk had never before purchased a slavegirl for himself, King Silverhawk turned to his tutor and advisor, the gray-bearded dwarf Rumpelstiltskin (but not the one you are thinking of). And on the advice of gray-bearded Rumpelstiltskin, the messengers of the King traveled to the round auction-stone of Brassbell, and the maiden-barn of Worthwood, and the silken slave-halls of Lamplock, and brought back one beautiful slavegirl after another. Each was chained and barefoot and scantily clad, with beautiful slavegirl-long hair and bold slavegirl-bright eyes, and each was brought into Castle Woodwatch where she was displayed before the young King and his dwarven advisor. And yet none of them had the Thing to be Watched For that would make her a Favorite Concubine of the King of the Watchermen.

“I fear we must cast even further afield, Sire,” said Rumpelstiltskin, “yet I would hope for a closer path under our feet.”

The young King answered, “Indeed we must cast further afield, for the sake of custom and ancient law, as well for as my own desires. Yet a great storm approaches, and I will not send out more messengers until it has passed.”

The very next morning, a great storm did pass over Castle Woodwatch. It continued to rage to the start of the evening, when a voice was heard at the castle gate, begging for shelter. It was a young voice and a feminine voice, and the woman it belonged to was drenched and shivering in the storm.

The young King ordered that the castle gates be opened a crack for her to enter, for even an impoverished crone or a lamed and penniless beggar deserved a corner in which to shelter from that storm. And then the King went down to see for himself, for he had caught a glimpse of the woman as she stood at the gate, and he wished to see more of her.

That more was the sight of comely young wench dressed in silks. They were the finest silks, silks worthy of a princess, and yet they were drenched with rainwater so that they clung revealingly to her well-shaped body. And if there once had been silk slippers on her pretty bare feet, they were long gone, shredded and washed away.

Standing beside the king, the dwarf Rumpelstiltskin said, “Sire, this is surely a princess of the finest sort, a daughter of the King of Pearls-and-Diamonds. Yet what she may be doing here is more than I can guess.” Then, “I am the Lord Rumpelstiltskin, first councilor to the King. You stand before His Majesty Silverhawk, King of the Watchermen, and by his mercy are granted shelter from this storm.”

“My lord,” came the answer. “I thank His Majesty for his mercy. For I am indeed a daughter of the King of Pearls-and-Diamonds. And I was called Princess Sylvia Vicki Cecelia clan Rivertree, until I was taken captive by Captain Thornbeard, the Pirate King of Krin-Kran-Krow. In the dungeon beneath the Tower of the Krow, I was given the slave-name of Vicki and taught the Seven Sensuous Secrets of pleasure that a harem girl must know. And now I am sent forth to find my fate. Captain Thornbeard waits in Beezee-port, with a locking collar, made with cunning by the sea goblins and sized with perfection to fit about my neck. And he will be pleased to sell it to any man willing to pay a worthy price.”

The King’s gaze lingered over the comely wench Vicki, silk-clad and storm-soaked. Princess, if princess she still was. Slavegirl, if slavegirl she had now become. “So, your highness-and-beauty,” he said at last. “Are you now a true slavegirl?”

Vicki curtseyed – and it was the curtsey of a slavegirl, ankles held close as if hobbled. “I do not know,” she answered, and her eyes kept downcast as befitted a princess.

“You must strip to the skin and dry yourself,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “When you are warm and comfy, we then shall see. Yes, we shall see.”

So it was done. Serving-maids were sent to strip and dry the comely wench Vicki, and to prepare for her a comfy sleeping-place of twenty feather-beds. And as this was being done, the King and his advisor, the dwarf Rumpelstiltskin, conferred together in the Walnut Room of Castle Woodwatch.

“She was certainly born a princess, and she is certainly a comely wench now,” the King said. “But is she a true slavegirl? I cannot tell if she has the Thing to be Watched For, or whether she lacks it.”

“Aye, Sire,” answered Rumpelstiltskin. “It seems that she is, and it seems that she isn’t. Yet there is a test that we may apply. For in the treasure-room of Woodwatch Castle are a set of slavegirl-shackles, humble in appearance yet made of never-rusting dwarf-steel of the very best quality.”

“There are indeed,” the King said with a smile. “And now the time has come to use them.”

So that very night the comely wench Vicki – now warm and dry, and dressed in a shift suitable for a princess in private, or a slavegirl in public – that very night, she slept on a comfy pile of twenty feather-beds, with shackles of never-rusting dwarf-steel locked on her ankles and on her wrists.

And during that night, the comely wench Vicki slept well but not deeply, for her dreams were hot as well as sweet. She squirmed and she moaned in those dreams, for in them she was aware of the shackles locked on her wrist and on her ankles. She found herself excited by the way those shackles held her captive. How her every move had limits imposed by the never-rusting chains of dwarf-steel of the very best quality. In her dreams, the comely wench Vicki was now a chained slavegirl, an owned maiden, a valued and beloved female property of a master. And locked in her shackles she could not resist the dream-hands of her master as they helped themselves to her body.

The dreaming slavegirl laughed and cried out and squirmed, and tried to press closer to the hands of her dream-master, and the shackles frustrated her in a most exhilarating way. She felt her dream-master touch her, and kiss her, and caress and massage her bare arms and hands, and her bare hands and feet, and all the rest of her scantily clad body. She felt all the passions of a slavegirl who knew the Seven Sensuous Secrets of pleasure, and her shackling made those passions burn all the hotter. For they were locked in place, and she could not possibly remove them.

And then the dreams of the slavegirl Vicki turned to visions of comfort and bliss. Chained and barefoot comfort and bliss, where she was cuddled, and made much of, and valued for her passion and affection, rather than for the pride and position of the princess she once had been.

Vicki woke at dawn, but lay long abed. And when she finally did rise, and left her comfy sleeping place of twenty feather-beds, she remained dressed in the shift suitable for a princess in private or a slavegirl in public, and the shackles of never-rusting dwarf-steel remained locked on her wrists and on her ankles.

Barefoot and chained, Vicki found the young King and his dwarven advisor Rumpelstiltskin in the Walnut Room of Castle Woodwatch, where they had just finished breaking their fast. And the King saw that Vicki’s hair was loose and slavegirl-long, and that her eyes were bold and slavegirl-bright. He saw that she wore the shackles locked upon her with the grace of a slavegirl, and he saw that she had the Thing to be Watched For. And then he knew for sure and certain, that the comely wench Vicki was a true slavegirl, and that she must become his Favorite Concubine.

So King Silverhawk sent messengers with a fat purse to Captain Thornbeard, the Pirate King of Krin-Kran-Krow, and they brought back the locking collar, made with cunning by the sea goblins and sized with perfection to fit the neck of the slavegirl Vicki. And she wore that collar, as the Favorite Concubine of King Silverhawk, to the end of their days. And those days were extraordinarily long and happy.

But the slavegirl-shackles, humble in appearance yet made of never-rusting dwarf-steel of the very best quality, remain in the treasure-room of Castle Woodwatch to this very day.