The slave holding pens were little more than caves hewn out of the rock. Female slaves on the left, male on the right. When the time came to take them to market, or ship them out, they’d be bound securely in lines of five. Chains would connect their collars, giving little slack - maybe 2' from the back of one girl’s head to the next one’s face. A second chain bound their left leg shackles together, making simple walking - let alone running - difficult. And each one’s hands would be chained in place behind her back. Then nude, except for their chains and chastity, they'd be escorted out * * * * She stared at the chastity belt in shock. Just a simple steel belt, with the royal emblem on the front shield, it lay unlocked on her bed. “You would have me belted, as a common slave?” She asked, outraged. “Me, your daughter, a princess of the royal family?” “I don’t see any other way to get you out,” her parent admitted, stiffly. “Enemy forces will be here within the week. And the slave traders can get you out.” “Then it is my duty to stay here. I am an heir to the royal family, I will not run.” She paused a moment, and looked temporarily unsure. “I can fight. I’ve been training, and if things are that bad, you’ll need all of the help you can get.” “I know you can, sweetheart.” Her parent explained, “that’s why we need to get you out. The castle is strong. We can hold out a long time. But if we fall. . . .” “Don’t even think that,” the princess retorted. “I have to.” Her parent subtly admonished her, “war is unpredictable, and I have to prepare for both good and bad. You know that.” “I do, but . . . I will not run”. Her daughter declared “You’re not running,” her parent explained. “You’re to be a reserve force, insurance in case the worst happens.” Gripping her firmly, “you are strong. That is why you must go.” Eyes closed for a long moment, “if we should . . . if we should fall . . . you are strong. The royal heir will be safely away, and in a position to mount a counterattack.” For a moment, the princess bowed her head to the logic. Then, remembering what was on the bed . . . “I won’t need the belt. I do not need it to protect my virginity - I doubt whether the slavers would even have the nerve to approach a princess in such a way.” She’d known there was something more, something her parent wasn’t telling her - and the way the parent froze up, she realized she’d just touched on it. “You won’t . . . you won’t be going as a princess, my dear,” her parent admitted, hating every word. “The slavers are neutral. That’s how they can travel freely. They can’t knowingly smuggle you out without taking sides.” “But no one cares if they take a batch of slaves out, right?” The daughter spat in angry disbelief, “you’d have me go among these barbarians slave-naked, to be sold to the highest bidder?” “They are only transport - you’ll be part of a lot pre-sold to the Archduchess. Once there, you’ll be safe and formally recognized as my heir. The slavers are trustworthy in this” Eyes closed, the parent explained. “But I’ll still be with them, a naked slave in shackles, with only the belt to protect me?” Her outrage was palatable. “The Royal Smith is waiting outside, to fit you with shackles, collar, and . . . “ her parent swallowed hard, “and a tingler.” “A tingler! Those . . .those things are just cruel!” The Princess couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I know. And if I could, I would spare you this. But the slavers, and anyone else who sees you, must believe that you’re nothing but an ordinary female slave. And belted slaves are fitted with tinglers.” “No! I won’t go through with this! . . .”
The argument had raged long into the night, but, as the hours wore on, the Princess eventually conceded that her parent had a point. The invaders would make it to the castle soon, and a long siege was inevitable. And, in case the castle fell, it made sense to have the heir disappear. To escape and rally reinforcements, hiding in plain sight, the invaders would never realize the truth. After all, who would suspect a naked slave girl of being the missing Princess? Now, three days later, she stood on the beach, basking in the warm sunlight. How often she’d begged her parents to come down, and have fun by the sea. Maybe even try out one of the daring bathing costumes she’d seen the girls wear. But her parents had always nixed that idea - her safety, and the dignity of a Princess . . . and now! She stood nude, locked in a chastity belt, chained to four of her handmaidens, along with half a dozen other groups of nude slaves. And the entire way, the tingler locked in her belt had been relentless. Every step, every twist of her body, it had teased her clit. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, just from the walk from the slave pen . . . She could only imagine how desperate she’d be by the time she was unlocked “Get your hands off me, you filthy cur!” A blonde on a different chain screamed in outrage. The Princess smiled briefly. Good old Isabelle, a distant cousin and heir to one of the counties, she could always be counted on to make a scene. The moment she’d found out there was a plan to slip out, she’d insisted on being included. Loudly. For a while, the Princess had even feared that the wrong ears would hear Isabelle’s tantrums, even through the castle walls, and that all of her parents' careful planning would be ruined Now, though, the Princess began to suspect that it was her own mother who’d leaked the news to Isabelle. After the Royal Smith had fitted her with collar and shackles, the court beauticians had fallen on the Princess and her handmaidens like a whirlwind. Their waist length hair, cut tomboy short. Their bodies, shaved bald. But none of that for Isabelle. She’d insisted on the ornate belt and shackles used on imprisoned nobles. Her long golden tresses still flowed, while traces of hair gave way to the fact that it was not her natural color. And the attitude . . . the way she was carrying on . . . No one would mistake Isabelle for anything but a noble. Standing side-by-side, it looked like the Princess’s group was just packing material, to smuggle the real noble girl out. If challenged, all eyes would be on Isabelle . . . which would make her an excellent decoy. . . The Princess jumped as a rough hand smacked her bottom. “Eyes front now, lassie! No need for you ta be ogglin’ the spoiled rich one. We know how’s to handle her type.” The slaver’s eyes ran up and down her naked body, “‘sides, your body has charms of its own. Shame your new mistress wanted you all locked up and unspoiled. We could’ve had fun.” The slaver cupped her breast with one hand, “maybe we still can.” A leer in his eye, he whispered to her, “after all, that belt doesn’t cover everything, now, does it?” The Princess was actually leaning in towards him, her loins throbbing, when a voice cried out. “No. No. No.” A voice begged behind the Princess. She felt a tug on her neck, as the girl behind her fell to her knees, dragging the chain with her. “I can’t do this. This can’t be happening. Please, let me go - I’m not supposed to be here” The slaver whirled away from the Princess, who felt a sudden flush of relief. Thank heavens for Em, she thought, if that had kept going . . . she must have noticed how much trouble I was having with the tingler. “On your feet, you wretch!” The slaver roared at Em. Grabbing at the chain, he yanked her up, as if she was a dog on a leash. “Stand straight and shut it, or I’ll teach you the whip!” “Oh, please mister,” Em begged, “don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean anything by it!” The Princess had to duck her head at that last comment. Em had been the first to volunteer, and had insisted on being at the back of the Princess’s line. She’d wanted the spot because it was high profile, and it would let her watch the Princess’s back. And if her outburst was accidental. . . well, the Princess would’ve been willing to bet a month with a tingler.