Alexandria paced to and fro across her bedroom floor. She had a lot on her mind and had been finding it hard to preoccupy herself with any one task. It was her second week back from her visit to the Baron which her husband had arranged without her knowledge. During her time there she had learnt a lot about men, about sex, about how to comport herself in the presence of one who had complete control over her body. While the Baron was treating her like the plaything she knew she had become, Alexandria had dreamed of the revenge she would exact on her husband when she returned, imagining jumping out of her carriage and tearing into him with her nails, of grabbing a guard's sword and thrusting it into his chest. But when she did return to him, stepping nimbly, as she was in quite some pain, out of her carriage, the violence gathered up inside her suddenly dissipated and she looked shyly to the ground. The prince had escorted her back to her quarters and afterwards departed without so much as a word over what he had put her through. His behaviour in the next couple of days was not uncharacteristic of him; aloof and short of words, if anything had changed it was the lack of physical camaraderie they no longer enjoyed. She almost missed the smack of his guiding hand on her backside, signifying it was time for her to skip into their bed. As it was he had taken to sleeping in a different chamber from her.
Alexandria was not sure how she felt about this, on the one hand she was still furious about how she had been treated, like a bargaining token in a game of craps, she angrily thought, but then she dearly missed his touch and would stay awake late at night thinking of him, stretching out in the king-sized bed they used to toss and turn in together; her hand straying, against her better judgment, down to her spread legs and the lips of her pussy. Unbeknownst to her husband though, she had not given up her hopes to achieve some measure of revenge upon him, and as she strode, nervously yet with a certain icy resolve, across her floor, she constantly glanced to an hourglass on top of her nightstand. The sand in the upper bulb had almost completely drained into the lower. The time to act was nigh! Alexandria waited a few more moments, stroking the pleats out of her short nightgown; taking a big breath she picked up a candle stick and a small velvet bag and walked out into the hall. Going down the passages that were poorly lit, she flitted like a shadow, intent upon fulfilling what she had set out to accomplish. Her bare feet lightly padded against the stone, as she strained her ears to hear if anyone was up ahead. The castle was asleep though, and she reached her husband's door without trouble. Entering it, she put the candle and the bag down and looked towards the bed. Her husband's head could be seen topping the duvet he was under. Sidling up to the bedside, Alexandria yanked the covers off him. He didn't stir. She looked at his muscular body splayed out upon the sheets, his firm thighs, and the hair upon his chest. He looked less imposing while fast asleep. The object of her desire and woe curiously impotent as it too lay helpless under her strict gaze.
She stood over him and drawing back her hand slapped his cheek hard. His eyes shot open and he made as if to move, but instead of bolting upright, or at the very least, attempting to shield his face from further blows, his hands lifted off the bed and, as if they were overcome by an exertion of some sort, fell down again. Alexandria who had been holding her breath let out a sigh of relief as her eyes shone and a flickering smile replaced her anxious demeanour. She had been expecting this reaction from her husband. Testing if her plan was entirely successful her hand coquettishly slipped down to her husband's cock, and cupping it gingerly in her hand, began to pump up and down on it; seeing it get hard so quickly made her turn her smiling face to her husband, whose pallor was, conversely, decidingly white, perhaps realizing now what sort of situation he was in.
"It's time for you, my dear, to experience a little bit of what I had to endure when you so casually put me in the captivity of another." She waited for a response. The prince moved his lips but no sound came out. His frightened expression though was easy enough to read.
Alexandria was overjoyed that her plan had worked so well; caught between excitement over what was to befall them and a sense of anger that it had taken so long to arrive, she seesawed between the two emotions. A few days ago she had stolen away in the dead of night to an old lady who was rumoured to be a witch. This lady, her maid had told her, could brew wondrous potions of various effects and if one would grace her hand with silver they could be bought for a price. She had met up with this lady at her cottage in the woods and asked for a magical potion that would render a man immobile; one that would still allow him to feel and to be aroused, but prevent him from actively engaging with the sensation. The witch had vowed that there was nothing magical about her concoctions, and seemed also for some reason to be offended at being labelled a witch, she said they were simply herbs from her garden, but that she could mix up something to fulfil the princesses wishes anyway. When Alexandria had got what she wanted from the witch it was a simple matter of coercing her maid into spiking her husband's evening tipple of whisky to complete her designs.
Enjoying seeing her husband so defenceless, she rolled him onto his front, where he laid tensing his muscles and wriggling ever so slightly. Slapping his upturned buttocks, Alexandria was reminded; firstly, of all the times he had done so to her, but more vividly of the Baron's treatment of her, which had been far more inventive and cruel. She shuddered to think about it now, but instead of banishing it from her thoughts, used it instead as fuel to stoke the fire of her vengeance. She traced her nails across her husband's back relishing the imprint they left. Jumping onto the bed alongside him, she bent over his prone body and whispered into his ear:
"I want you tonight to feel what I feel every time you hold me down and fuck me." She couldn't believe she was uttering these words; considering how she had been raised, until a short time ago she had not even known what the word "fuck" had meant, let alone said it. But after having been forced to beg for it repeatedly, forced to crawl along the floor and entreat her master to fuck her, she had become quite accustomed to the language. Jumping off the bed again, Alexandria couldn't help repress a giggle at what she was about to do. Reaching into the velvet bag she had brought along she withdrew a contraption, which after she had slid it up her hips and stood in profile, her husband, with mounting fear, realized was a strap-on.
