Fantasy spanking: The keys to the kingdom (part 2)

Image courtesy of Dreams of Spanking

Part 2 of this fabulous fantasy spanking story – written by Ozma van Aalsberg, and read aloud by Pandora Blake of Dreams of Spanking. The story originally appeared on Dreams of Spanking and is being published here with permission. Catch up with part 1 here if you haven’t yet heard/read it!

Riva stood up, still a bit dazed. The room around her still seemed incomprehensible, its size and its contents. She could not fathom what information might be held in all these books, or what possible business her new guardian had with them. Even stranger, the woman had seemed to expect her, and had been so prepared as to have a suit waiting, tailor-made, for her and only her. For all her preparations and attempts at secrecy, she had been found out, perhaps before she had even begun. She couldn’t begin to understand what it all meant.

“For god’s sake, girl, pull your britches up. Show a little self-respect.”

She looked down at her uncovered thighs and the mess of cloth bunched up around her knees. Without apology, she untangled herself. Pressing down on her hips, she smoothed out the cloth that covered her. Before, the trousers had been clothing, plain and simple. Now, the shape of them seemed a mold to hold together her tender flesh. Her hands sculpted her figure. She felt the shape of her body for the first time.

“Hurry up, girl. We’ve got a lot of work to do if we’re going to get you ready.”

Riva nodded, and stood at attention as she had seen soldiers do. Her face was still wet with tears, but she let the dribble remain where it was. She felt she could not move without command. She stood motionless as the madame began to list her responsibilities for the day.

Most of her task involved sorting books, reorganizing the shelves so that new volumes could be added. The madame spoke fast, and the details passed over Riva before she could comprehend them. “Why don’t you start with that, and we’ll reconvene in an hour, to see how you’re doing. Any questions?”

Riva stood with perfect posture. She was proud of the arch in her back and the relaxed rigidity of her shoulders. Some acknowledgement of her merit would have calmed her growing anxiety as she realized how little she had understood. The woman was still watching and waiting for affirmation. As the silence lengthened, Riva contemplated the question she should ask in just the right phrasing. “My apologies; though I am certain your instructions were clear, in my currently overwrought state, I have neglected to comprehend them. Forgive me for the tax on your time, but I am afraid I cannot proceed unless you reveal to me my task once more.”

This seemed appropriately deferential, and the words seemed clear as she rehearsed them in her mind, but as she prepared to send them off into the world, she found her mouth would not cooperate. Her lips would not part. Her tongue laid limp against a throat that refused to clear.

The madame spoke again. “Don’t be afraid to ask me anything. Even if you need me to repeat everything again, that’s fine. I’m not an ogre.” She winked, and Riva turned her eyes to the floor.

In time, the madame had returned to her desk to study and to write. No longer under scrutiny, Riva relaxed her shoulders and scanned the room. Her immediate surroundings, the living space, was largely empty. Her bed of leaves and soil was the most lush piece of furniture she could see, the only other specimens forged of metal and hard wood. No matter. She would not be doing much sitting.

Closer to the balcony’s edge, she found a misshapen pyramid of mysterious tomes. The madame’s discard pile, no doubt. Finding this provided her some relief, as the unskilled labor required for organizing these books was exactly the sort she could perform. Whether or not this was the task that had been asked of her, she would endure the tedium, and that would surely be appreciated. She picked up a volume and glanced back at her guardian for validation. She received none. The woman was absorbed in her work, whatever it was, uninterested now in the girl she had moments ago thrashed and humiliated so personally. The madame’s pen scratched in a fury as she turned pages one at a time in a steady rhythm. Riva found these mechanical motions hypnotic, but soon turned away in proxy exhaustion. She could never do what the woman was doing, not even the basic movement of it. The idea that she was comprehending and processing the texts she flipped through so quickly seemed otherworldly.

The book in her hand was bound in leather, and the title sewn into the binding. The script was in a language beyond her comprehension, but the letters were stitched with cunning precision. As she flipped through the pages, the letters within squiggled and squirmed in looping waves. Had snakes a written language, this would surely be it. Another book, bound in thick paper, was written in cloven hoof prints. Another was made of jagged, toothy impressions. She sorted each by the animals they reminded her of: snake, cow, shark. Bird, bear, fish. Tree? Rock? Wind and sky and sun?

The pile had been as tall as her waist when she began, and before too long, she had created over a dozen equally high stacks. The birds seemed more literate than other species, and their stack soon reached her eyes. Only a few volumes were in human languages, and only one in a language she understood. “A Complete History of Avarinth,” it read. It was the largest book in the pile, and she struggled to lift it, interested though she was in its contents. She scooted it to the floor, in its own stack, and leaning over it, opened the cover.

“How are you progressing, my dear?”

Riva closed the book and set a few others on top of it. She turned to face the woman, and murmured a casual but positive assessment of her efforts. “Good! Good.”

“Have you done as I asked?” The woman’s voice sounded too pitying and too playful. She knew that Riva hadn’t heard the instructions, and soon they would repeat the shameful scene of an hour ago. Riva tried to prepare herself. She was still sore. It didn’t seem fair.

“I think so. You just wanted me to sort them, right?”

The woman smiled, but did not speak. She came a few steps closer, past the girl. She lifted the books on top of “A Complete History of Avarinth” and dropped them back into the greater pile. Crouching, she held the book in both arms and lifted from her knees. The weight of it weakened her otherwise graceful stride into a waddle, but with purpose, she made her way to a nearby table and laid the book open.

Riva watched from a distance as the woman flipped through the pages. The madame seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, and when she found it, she turned and waved the girl over.

“Read that paragraph aloud,” she said. That instruction seemed perfectly clear, and Riva hoped her elocution would be mellifluous enough to dissuade the woman from any immediate consequences.

“Riva began to read:” Riva read. “‘Although she hadn’t heard her mentor’s instructions, nor had she followed them, the young duchess had done exactly what she had been expected to do. Having found the chronicle of every important event in the land that carried her family’s name, her interest in the future finally began to surpass her reliance on the past.’”

Riva looked up from the page to Madame Crowlitz. The woman smiled, but offered no addenda or clarifications. With a swallow, Riva continued reading, “‘The old woman had known her task to be unfair, and fully aware of the young duchess’s limitations, allowed her to disintegrate the cohesion of civilizations.’ I don’t understand what that means.”

“It is a little obtuse, isn’t it?” the woman agreed. “And I rather object to being called ‘old woman.’ ‘Mentor’ was better. But keep reading.”

Riva continued: “‘The young duchess had had no awareness as to the importance of the books she had separated, nor their bearing on the greater ecosystems they represented. With the impetuousness that had characterized so much of her youth, she had sorted them without first seeking clarification. Though she had acted without malice, her reluctance to accept her own limitations would soon create environmental disasters she would spend her entire rule repairing.”

She stopped. She wasn’t sure she believed the words in front of her. She flipped back a few pages, to her journey in the mountains, and further, to her instruction from Miss Farthington on proper poise and penmanship. That all seemed so frivolous now, though she had put so much effort into her studies at the time. As a teenager, she had assumed grace was all one needed to be royal. She cringed at her naivety.

The text had moments she had forgotten and consequences she hadn’t even known. When six-year-old Riva wandered alone into the forest chasing rabbits, her supervising attendant had been imprisoned for five years. No one had told six-year-old Riva. She turned back a few more chapters, to her mother’s ascent to the throne and her grandmother’s exile.

“I think it’s time for you to stop reading,” said the madame. Riva considered a moment, and closed the book. She wasn’t ready for it. She was still too prideful to read hurtful truths.

“You should eat something,” Madame Crowlitz said. “You must be famished.”

What if she pushed those stacks of books back into the pile? Whatever harm she had caused by ordering them could surely be undone. She ran back to the stacks. They were standing where she had left them, and she pushed them over, into each other. Each stack toppled. Each one stayed together. “A Complete History of Avarinth” was no longer the thickest book she had found today.

“I baked some bread this morning.” The madame interjected. “I bake bread every morning. You should have some. I should have offered it to you earlier.”

The girl tried to lift the giant books off the floor. As she laid her fingers over them, she found they hadn’t simply stuck together. They had formed single constructed texts, with only one outer cover on each one. Some of their spines were too wide to fit on a shelf. The largest book, the birds, would require some kind of hoist or a team of soldiers even to lift. Looking again, a few of the stacks looked taller now than they had a few moments ago. They were growing. They were absorbing pages from the pile, she realized. She pushed them off, flat on the floor. Whatever harm she had done would stay done, but she would not allow any more mischief,

“What has happened?” she asked the woman. “What have I unknowingly done? What demons haunt these books, that their rearrangement can usher forth calamity?”

Madame Crowlitz shook her head. “I’m insulted that you don’t want any bread. Child, you are hardly the first chieftain to factionalize the populace. You’ve separated your nation into coalitions, and each group will band against the others. All things exist in a precarious balance, and you have simply found out more early than others how little is without your control. Please, eat.”

The girl took the slice of bread before her, and lifted a pinch into her mouth. Yesterday, the woman had been so harsh about wasting her time, but today, when, according to lore, she had caused irreparable harm, Madame Crowlitz seemed unconcerned. Riva took another finger’s worth of bread, which was delicious and comforting. The pleasure of it sickened her.

“Madame, do not think me ungrateful, and be assured that I do appreciate your mercy and your hospitality, but the uncertainty of my position has left me ill at ease. Are you not to punish me for the mistakes I’ve made today?”

“My dear,” the woman said, “I do not think that I can punish you more than you have already punished yourself.” The woman sliced more bread for herself, and ate it in savoring bites.

Riva nodded, and after a pause, shook her head. “Forgive my impertinence, but I disagree,” she said. She heard herself speak and found the words strange, but she spoke more confidently than she felt. “You told me that your study is based in knowledge and discipline, and today you have denied me both. I am aware that I am ignorant of much, and now acutely attuned that my actions have consequences that I cannot begin to predict. However, and this what angers me, I cannot even comprehend those consequences now, their severity or their scope. You and that prescient book tell me in vague, stilted terms, but I do not understand the disaster I have made. It is not a part of me, and I ask you now, and forthrightly as I know how, how can I ever come to grips with the reality I have created, when you refuse to impart to me the strength you purport that comes from pain?”

Riva took a few breaths, exhausted from her speech, and absent-mindedly, ate the rest of her bread. The woman grabbed her by the wrist. “Do you really want me to punish you proportionally to the damage you’ve caused?”

“My desire has nothing to do with it. It is my responsibility.”

“Then take off that pageboy suit. Today you become a queen.”

The woman turned away. Riva closed her eyes as she opened her shirt. She wasn’t sure she was ready for what was to come, but she would do as she was told. Once she took the seat of power, she would no longer have the luxury of obedience.

The hat and the vest and the little shoes seemed to come off on their own. The trousers were squeezed tightly around her waist, and she had to bounce side to side to slide out of them, and she did. She cast her clothes over the balcony and stood in her undergarments, newly aware of the drafty cavern air.

Madame Crowlitz returned with a cartful of tools, curated specifically for this moment, Riva realized. The punishment she was about to endure must have been described in the book. The idea that her beating would have historical significance scared her somewhat, but she trusted that the madame wouldn’t put her through this ordeal if it wasn’t for the good of the duchy. With a few deep breaths, she gathered the will to say, “I’m ready for my punishment.”

“Not until you finish stripping down, silly girl.”

“Yes, madame.” Riva bore herself before the woman, and resisted the urge to cover herself. She had nothing to hide.

“Before we get started, I want you to tell me, in your own words, why you deserve so much of my attention today.”

Riva felt more exposed by the question than she did by her nudity. She wanted many things that a punishment wouldn’t provide. The damage she had caused would not be repaired. She would not feel better about having done whatever she had done, nor would she understand the mechanics of her sin. On some level, discipline seemed arbitrary. She should be punished because girls who cause problems get punished. That wasn’t the reason, though. She wasn’t a girl anymore.

“You will punish me because I, Riva, Duchess of Avarinth, command it.”

Madame Crowlitz seemed to approve of this, though also seemed to find something in it amusing. She immediately obliged, however, leading the duchess to a piece of furniture designed to hold a prisoner in place. Riva felt her body secured in its cold embrace, her arms fastened to its sides. Her ass stuck out into the room, pert and alert and ready. The woman touched it with a single fingernail. Riva felt the whole of her consciousness rush from her head and down her back. She was her bottom now.

“Pay attention, my darling, for this is wisdom.” She slapped the girl’s cheeks in quick succession with her open hand. The little stings were true, and Riva understood what they meant, in a grammar that surpassed her ability to translate. This poem was short, and as the next sonnet started, made of wood and leather and sharp bites of cane, she dissolved into sensation. How the woman swung her tools with such force remained a mystery, but her lesson made sense. She had never learned with her whole body before, only in the shallows of her mind.

Each swing of the cane seemed to rip her body apart, but it always came back together before the next stroke. Every time she dissolved, she lost her memories, her identity, and each time they reformed, she invented them from scratch, coincidentally choosing the ones that had been there before. She was inevitable, no matter how many times she was broken apart. A few feet away, her face was crying, but that wasn’t important now.

A block of wood sent ripples through her and her perimeter. She expanded to fill the room, and back again to her exposed bottom, now red with bits of purple here and there, and white stripes across it. All she was, was this small round battered thing, two weathered globes and one much larger.

“Thank you, madame,” she said, with as much composure as she could muster. “I think I have gained what I needed.”

The woman responded with a series of quick strokes, so hard and so fast that Riva could not prepare herself. She found herself transposed from everything to nothing, and as the last ripple pierced her, back into herself again. Her senses were elsewhere, and she could not see the room. She barely remembered where she was, and as the straps came off and she regained her freedom, she stepped into the world anew.

A dress was laid out before her, and it slipped over her shoulders. In it, she was regal, and as words floated past her, she caught a few. “You must journey home,” they said, among other things. She took a step, and felt a pang of her punishment again as her muscles flexed. And again she stepped forward, feeling her death and rebirth, out of the mountain, back to surface, out and out and in once more.


If you enjoyed this fantasy spanking story, head to the fabulous ethical porn site Dreams of Spanking for more gorgeously creative scenarios, including fabulously hot videos and photosets! You can also check out more of Blake’s incredible work over on Patreon, and hear more sexy stories read aloud at the free audio porn hub. 

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