her body’s response to the belt, the wristlets, and the tail, made her long to sneak her eyes around to watch Melisan and Adilan and Alira when they squatted in the corner of the wagon where a hole had been cut out, clearly for this purpose. The strange feeling, the dreadful pleasure, seized her when she saw the golden stream gush from her friends’ private parts, and then even more when they heard the shouts of laughter from the soldiers who escorted the wagon, with cries of “There goes a filly!”
And something about the way the emperor had treated her as nothing but a filly seemed to make a whisper in her mind that she could, and should, give in to the strange excitement. Why should she not watch another filly make her water? Did real fillies bother to turn away when other horses let their golden streams go upon the ground? Did not real fillies even look at the stallions’ enormous male parts? When the breeders allowed it, did not the stallions simply mount the fillies and cover them?
Thinking about it now, Edera found herself to her shame remembering how when they had watered the Amidians at the trough an hour before Master Morqan had said that they would be ready to show that Amidian man who was on his way ‘how fillies go pee.’ They had watered them well at that terrible little trough in the yard where a girl had to get down filly-fashion and put her face in the water. Now that Edera thought of it, the pressure in her privates, which had been building all through the time when they had to meet Lord Ranin and show him their tails, became almost unbearable.
Then, so overcome with the pleasure of release that she did not even realize that she had begun, Edera, princess of Amidia, went pee right there in the stable, in front of all of them. She gave a little sob as she felt the stream start. Then she felt the pee flow, and she heard it shamefully loud as it hit the floor. Then, worse, she felt for a moment that having been a filly now for three days, to do such shameful things had a rightness and a propriety about it, as if she were forgetting she had been a human girl, who stood upright and wore a gown—or as if that had been a sham, and Edera had in her soul always been a filly who made water in the stable, in front of her masters, the stable boys, and the other fillies.
“Oh, look,” said the emperor behind her. “Goodman Versal, look at what filly Edera is doing! Isn’t it charming?”
“Oh gods!” burst from Lord Ranin. “You monster!”
“Whip her, Gad,” the emperor said. Gad brought the quirt down on her bottom while Edera was still peeing, and suddenly that too felt right, because should not a girl be punished for peeing like a filly? And why did it feel good? How could being whipped with a quirt feel good? Edera cried out around her bit, over and over, as Gad gave her two more lashes upon the other bottom cheek.
“I beg of you… I beg of you, your imperial majesty,” Lord Ranin pleaded. “Beat me in her place. Please.”
“I do not think you have begun to grasp the ordeal I have in store for you, Versal. I will not beat you. But you will beat her.”
“What?” said Ranin, and Edera cried out again at these words, though Gad had stopped with the quirt. She cried out at the thought of being beaten more, for they had whipped her so often since this all began. But at the same time, though she could not think why, the image of Lord Ranin beating her made her feel better. Perhaps because she felt so keenly that she had let him down, and let the kingdom down, she hoped he would have the opportunity to punish her for her foolishness. But somehow that was not all of it—another part of her seemed to crave the whip Lord Ranin would wield.
“I shall not make you do it now, Versal. I like to save my pleasures. But I shall tell you the fate I have decreed for you: you shall train filly Edera for me. You are a famous marshal of horse, in the country most renowned for its chivalry in all the
And something about the way the emperor had treated her as nothing but a filly seemed to make a whisper in her mind that she could, and should, give in to the strange excitement. Why should she not watch another filly make her water? Did real fillies bother to turn away when other horses let their golden streams go upon the ground? Did not real fillies even look at the stallions’ enormous male parts? When the breeders allowed it, did not the stallions simply mount the fillies and cover them?
Thinking about it now, Edera found herself to her shame remembering how when they had watered the Amidians at the trough an hour before Master Morqan had said that they would be ready to show that Amidian man who was on his way ‘how fillies go pee.’ They had watered them well at that terrible little trough in the yard where a girl had to get down filly-fashion and put her face in the water. Now that Edera thought of it, the pressure in her privates, which had been building all through the time when they had to meet Lord Ranin and show him their tails, became almost unbearable.
Then, so overcome with the pleasure of release that she did not even realize that she had begun, Edera, princess of Amidia, went pee right there in the stable, in front of all of them. She gave a little sob as she felt the stream start. Then she felt the pee flow, and she heard it shamefully loud as it hit the floor. Then, worse, she felt for a moment that having been a filly now for three days, to do such shameful things had a rightness and a propriety about it, as if she were forgetting she had been a human girl, who stood upright and wore a gown—or as if that had been a sham, and Edera had in her soul always been a filly who made water in the stable, in front of her masters, the stable boys, and the other fillies.
“Oh, look,” said the emperor behind her. “Goodman Versal, look at what filly Edera is doing! Isn’t it charming?”
“Oh gods!” burst from Lord Ranin. “You monster!”
“Whip her, Gad,” the emperor said. Gad brought the quirt down on her bottom while Edera was still peeing, and suddenly that too felt right, because should not a girl be punished for peeing like a filly? And why did it feel good? How could being whipped with a quirt feel good? Edera cried out around her bit, over and over, as Gad gave her two more lashes upon the other bottom cheek.
“I beg of you… I beg of you, your imperial majesty,” Lord Ranin pleaded. “Beat me in her place. Please.”
“I do not think you have begun to grasp the ordeal I have in store for you, Versal. I will not beat you. But you will beat her.”
“What?” said Ranin, and Edera cried out again at these words, though Gad had stopped with the quirt. She cried out at the thought of being beaten more, for they had whipped her so often since this all began. But at the same time, though she could not think why, the image of Lord Ranin beating her made her feel better. Perhaps because she felt so keenly that she had let him down, and let the kingdom down, she hoped he would have the opportunity to punish her for her foolishness. But somehow that was not all of it—another part of her seemed to crave the whip Lord Ranin would wield.
“I shall not make you do it now, Versal. I like to save my pleasures. But I shall tell you the fate I have decreed for you: you shall train filly Edera for me. You are a famous marshal of horse, in the country most renowned for its chivalry in all the
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