Jasmine wondered if it was a paradox, but she had never been good at such things. What it certainly was; was inconvenient. She glowered at her own reflection in the mirror by the door. She knew that word did not even cover it, but it was as close as she was going to get to contemplating the embarrassing situation in which she now found herself. The high cheekbones of the woman in the glass coloured with natural rouge, a vulgar look for one such as she who was of the highest. Her blue imperious gaze stared back at her under the tasteful pile of brown hair. At least it wasn’t all bad, she thought.
The trouble was this.
The High Seer had predicted that a senior royal female was going to be spanked that very day; an unasked for prophesy that had tumbled from his entranced lips; the unasked for insights were always the most powerful.
The High Seer’s prophecies were supposed to be infallible and it was politically essential that they were seen as such. After all it had been he who had predicted the accession of the Empress against all the odds.
Jasmine had immediately suggested spanking her sister or one of her young cousins, which was a regular occurrence at the palace. It would have been a simple enough solution to ensure a fulfilled prophecy. But the Lord Chamberlain and the High Seer himself had pointed out that such a contrived and not to mention mundane solution was hardly worthy of note and would not be sufficient.
“What a ridiculous prediction anyway,” Jasmine had angrily spat.
“Yes quite Ma’am,” the Lord Chamberlain had agreed.
“Women are spanked every day, even royal ones,” well most of them, she amended silently, continuing, “It is both custom and law.”
The Lord Chamberlain cocked his head and tightened his lips. He dare not say it, but there was obviously one royal bottom on hand that was never spanked and was therefore noteworthy enough to meet the requirements of prophecy.
Jasmine and the Chamberlain exchanged glances, they were of one mind and for Jasmine it did not bear thinking about.
Several courtiers shifted uneasily, some of them looking daggers at the High Seer. Among them was Lord Garth, captain of the palace guard, although he looked more amused than angry.
Garth was the son of her father’s friend. In her youth she had carried a torch for him, but marriage had been out of the question due to his low birth. At 18 she had protested to her mother that such things were stupid, but Garth’s grandfather had been a yeoman from a long line of well-to-do respectable mid-ranked farmers and her mother had had a point.
He caught Jasmine’s eye and winked supportively so that she smiled for the first time that day.
“What about a lottery?” The Lord Chamberlain suggested.
“What?”
“Well as you know ordinarily non-dependent women over 25 can only be spanked by their husbands or…” he let the implication hang in the air.
“Or their intended,” she saw where he was going.
“There are near 30 eligible princesses… a name by lot could be matched with another and…”
“The ensuing marriage would be noteworthy enough,” Jasmine said enthusiastically, “Is there time to organise such a…”
The Lord Chamberlain coughed.
“Of course all eligible royal women would have to be included, all the unmarried ones…” he continued.
“You mean…” Jasmine gaped at him; she did not like the sound of that at all. She had no intention of getting married and a one in 28 chance was much too short odds for her.
The Lord Chamberlain shrugged.
Jasmine wracked her brains for a way out; she hated having to be constrained by such machinations. There had to be another way. Then an idea began to form in her mind.
“What about a game of Hazard?” she suggested.
Several courtiers began muttering among themselves.
“Some sort of card game…?”
“No, no, it’s a game I used to play with my sister and cousins,” she grinned.
Princess Harmony, who had been listening, rolled up her eyes, trust big sister to wriggle out of it again. Still as the second royal present she would fare better than her young cousins.
“I don’t understand,” the Lord Chamberlain replied with a fixed grin.
“It is a game of hide and seek with a twist,” Harmony explained.
“Harmony, I didn’t see you there,” Jasmine said stiffly.
Her younger sister with her milk white tresses and elegant curves was often considered the more beautiful of the two. She was certainly the most well-liked.
“Your highness,” the Lord Chamberlain inclined his head to the newcomer.
“The players must hide in or escape from the palace grounds, but it gets complicated…” Harmony continued.
“You see if someone is caught they can either veto their capture or nominate a more junior player to take the forfeit,” Jasmine put in.
“So long as the both the captor and the nominee is more junior, but they can only do either once,” Harmony explained.
“Forfeit?” the Chamberlain asked.
“Why they are spanked of course,” Jasmine grinned.
“In the fullest sense of the word,” Harmony added.
“I am not quite…” the harassed man was beginning to hate the situation almost as much as Jasmine was now. “When does it end?”
“When the most senior players escape hazard,” Harmony said dryly, adding in more hopefully than she felt, “Or don’t.”
The youngest of her cousins usually had to be very good indeed at getting away if they did not want to be punished.
“I really…” the Lord Chamberlain was aghast, feeling certain that if all the royal family did all day was play incomprehensible games then the Empire was doomed.
“The rules are complex right enough, but I understand them,” the High Seer cut in, “This, I feel will fulfil the prophecy, so long that is, as I am the final arbitrator.”
“Excellent,” Jasmine clapped her hands.
Again Harmony rolled up her eyes to heaven. There were going to be a lot of sore royal bottoms today and she was determined that hers was not going to be among them. However, there was one difference to how Hazard was normally played; namely that often the game ended when Jasmine was bored. That particular exit would not be available to her sister on this day.
“There is one condition…” the High Seer said in a tone that was evocative of a vision.
All eyes turned to the old man.
“The royal princes and young noblemen must be the hunters and all the females of royal blood their quarry,” he concluded.
*
All I have to do is reach the secret passage and escape to neutral ground, Jasmine thought, then the first or least bottom captured will serve the High Seer’s vision and the day will be saved. She was confident enough, but was fuming nonetheless. By the end of this day several royal princesses will be betrothed and for Jasmine that dangerous outcome was a great incentive not to lose the game. Still many of the girls will no doubt allow themselves to be captured at some point for that very reason. Maybe that early prophecy fulfilment will stop the game, she pondered. But she found that she was not entirely pleased at the idea. Hazard was her favourite game and she always, always won. The High Seer’s conditions only made it more fun.
Jasmine had eschewed her usual finery and had opted for hunting gear with skin-tight fawn leggings and a short green leather tunic that skirted her prominent behind and barely dusted her thigh tops. It had been a costume of rebellion in her youth because her mother had hated it so much for being too revealing.
Her hair too had been plaited on one side of her head so has not to become entangled in the undergrowth of the garden.
As she stole along the wall behind a stand of roses her heart pounded. Immediately to her right and above her head was a fence of entangling thorns so that she had to creep at a stoop with an arm to steady her against the wall to her left.
Somewhere up ahead of her a royal princess was yelping in accompaniment to a volley of sharp slaps. The sound was dangerously close to one of the entrances to the secret tunnel. Was that just chance?
As she wracked her brains to remember who else knew of the passages under the grounds she edged ever nearer to the sound.
Princess Chloe was held sprawled over the lap of a young nobleman Jasmine slightly recognised. The girl was denuded below the waist with her voluminous skirts piled onto her back and her silk pantaloons dangling around her ankles.
Her bottom was already the colour of a polished strawberry and the young man seemed a long way from stopping.
“Tristan please,” she wailed, tears pearling on her cheeks, “I never meant that you weren’t good enough, I… I… oh please.”
Safe in the palace there was many a princess who could bide their time and keep the young men of the court dangling. Today a great many old scores would be settled Jasmine knew.
Then she saw Prince Arthur, his eyes of jet shiny as he gloated over the scene. His black mane of hair draped of his black leather coat giving him a sinister air that suited his nature. Jasmine shuddered. What was he doing here? He usually had no time for games.
Then her heart went cold. Arthur had several times sought her hand, a futile attempt that she had enjoyed sneering at. But then she thought guiltily, she enjoyed sneering at many men. How many had she humiliated or merely mocked at court? Today there were many who would love to settle an old score or just secure her hand. Fool, she cursed, was all of this some plot then?
Chloe was bawling now and Jasmine could see that she was not alone. Beyond where the spanking was taking place Chloe’s elder sister Catherine had been cornered in head stocks with her skirts pinned to her waist. Her naked bottom had been displayed to any who passed on the main thoroughfare and someone had given her quite a time of it judging by the state of her behind.
Next to her plucking at petals on a rose was another young nobleman and from his attire, not a very rich one. Poor Catherine’s days of being spoiled in luxury were over. She was quite a prize.
As Jasmine drew nearer she could hear her cousin speaking in a low whisper to the man who had captured her.
“Charles you don’t have to… I mean I know this was the only way but Charles please this is so…” Catherine wailed.
“Your days of setting the terms are over my love and for once your family will just have to accept it,” the young nobleman chuckled. “And mark me; there will be a lot more of this.”
“Yes dear,” Catherine said miserably.
Perhaps Catherine had Chloe had been caught on purpose then, Jasmine decided, but that didn’t help her any. Further, the presence of Prince Arthur at one of her only escape routes was too much of a coincidence. He was a descendant of Emperors from the old time and it was more than likely that he knew about the tunnels. How many of his brothers and retainers guarded the exits?
Jasmine backed away and decided to cut through the maze. It was fairly new, but she could navigate it blindfold. It was doubtful that the serious young men of the court had even ever visited it.
Originally she had imagined hiding there until the game was over in the event of anything going wrong, but that was a forlorn hope now. There were too many out for her hide; literally. So instead of dawdling she skirted the outside edge of the labyrinth and cut through the orangery to the gazebo.
She hoped that it was too far from the palace or the way out for most of her pursuers to be searching here.
As she broke cover from the bushes she saw the error of judgement for what it was.
Princess Clair had been cornered by Prince Graham, although heaven alone knew how as she was lithe and he was far too fond of pies.
“I veto this capture,” she said hastily.
Graham bowed curtly and she scurried away.
While his head was down Jasmine ducked under cover and looked around for a way past.
Lord Thomas of Elion was sitting on a stool in the middle of the gazebo with princess Pterion draped across his lap. Even jasmine had to admit that the girl looked cute as she squealed and squirmed under his spanking hand.
The bigger surprise was that her twin sister Patricia was standing meekly in the corner having also been soundly spanked. Surely he did not intend to marry them both?
“I nominated her,” Pterion wailed.
“And she nominated you,” Lord Thomas chuckled, “And neither of you vetoed me.”
A game then, between the three of them, Jasmine realised as she slipped away. The palace grounds would never be the same again after today, she thought sadly, there will be royal marriages aplenty now, and the prophecy had been fulfilled.
All she had to do now was escape. Her best option now was the water gate and there was only one way to get there.
The covered gulley for the runaway irrigation water was muddy and smelled. Jasmine knew that no one would think of it as a convenient exit and after 40 minutes crawling on her belly in the slime she was beginning to see why.
At various points along the main thoroughfare there were openings where Jasmine could stick her head out in the shade of a shrub to get her bearings. From her vantage point she could see that barely a nook or corner of the garden was unoccupied.
Almost anywhere a spanked princess could be put in the corner that space was occupied. In fact the only uncornered princesses she could see were firmly across the knees of a prince or noble son getting the spanking of their young lives.
Not all the men had opted for hand-spanking either. Several had brought along short paddles or even riding quirts to really get to the bottom of the matter.
Poor cousin Amelia was positively bug-eyed as she clawed at the air as if fending of a swarm of bees. Although Jasmine rather thought the sting was at the other end. A broad-shouldered grey-at-the-temples older knight was belabouring her bottom with an improvised switch, extracting soulful wails from her as he did so.
“Oh I forgot, vetoed, vetoed, spank Amy instead,” she suddenly said frantically.
Poor Amelia had never been the brightest of the bunch, Jasmine smirked. It was far too late for such an opt-out and in any case, Jasmine could see that her sister Amy was already bawling across the lap of a rather handsome duke’s son. It was doubtful too that she had remembered to veto or nominate, the soggy secluded Jasmine wondered idly who had made the better match.
She took another look at the raw welts that crisscrossed Amelia’s bottom; the royal princess would be standing to supper for days and days. Her playmates had certainly been decimated.
Finally Jasmine made her way to the end of the culvert and crawled out onto her hands and knees under the Water Gate just a short distance from safety.
“Got you,” a sneering voice said as its owner seized her arm.
Jasmine pulled away and whirled around to see Prince Arthur. Beyond him Harmony was struggling in the arms of one of his retainers spitting bile at her captors.
The goody-goody Harmony had obviously had the same idea as Jasmine. They were obviously last two unspanked royals in the Palace Grounds.
“Vetoed,” Jasmine spat in a panicked voice.
Arthur shot a glance at the Lord Chamberlain and the High Seer standing on a nearby bridge overseeing the unfolding drama. The Chamberlain nodded to verify that Jasmine had not yet used her veto or nomination.
A cloud crossed Arthur’s face, especially when Jasmine stepped back into the strong protective arms of Lord Garth who had also guessed the direction of flight of the two senior royals.
Then Prince Arthur grinned; Jasmine’s sister was almost as big a political catch. He at least had some leverage now. Having recovered his arrogant poise he said in an oily voice: “Your sister has already vetoed me. But as the last possible nominee…”
Jasmine frowned and pulled away from Lord Garth. She had done it then, she only had to nominate Harmony and… the realisation that Arthur had won a small victory struck her. Harmony looked sick.
“While you dance and play the games of court are ensnaring you,” Garth whispered, his firm hold reassuring even as it seemed to threaten her vaguely.
“Unhand me Sir, you have no right…” still preoccupied by the realisation of Arthur’s victory and her sister’s fate, her indignation had no force now.
“You can no longer veto my claim,” Garth whispered, “You must nominate.”
“You… you wouldn’t dare,” Jasmine squealed. It was a non-regal sound and she blushed.
Garth frowned.
“Have a care. You have won, but at least honour the game,” he growled, “Else you insult me.”
Jasmine glared at him and then eyed her woe-filled sister as she pretended not to know what he meant.
“Very well,” Garth said in a commanding voice he usually reserved for the parade ground.
With that he seized Jasmine and hauled her over his lap.
“You’re a mess and this outfit, it is not fitting,” Garth scolded.
The leggings were torn from Jasmine’s legs as she shrieked in protest.
“You can’t, I forbid it,” Jasmine squealed.
The look of anger that flashed on Arthur’s face reminded her that she had but one way out, but the nomination clung to Jasmine’s lips as she lay bare-bottomed and prone over Garth’s knee. Then it was too late.
Garth pounded her exposed behind with one warriors swat and Jasmine screamed in angry frustration. The second came hard in its train, followed by a volley that registered no resistance.
“Thank you,” Harmony mouthed to her sister’s distressed countenance across the gulf that now separated them.
“Him, you chose him,” Arthur raged.
Garth gave Jasmine the spanking she had always needed but could never have. On and on he spanked as Jasmine bawled and wailed her tears splashing now to the floor as her bottom glowed like a country rose.
“Stop it, please, you win, you win,” Jasmine sobbed.
“Not by a damn sight,” Garth growled, “By the time I have done with you won’t sit on your throne ‘til Lammas. Before I’m done you’ll feel a switch and don’t think I have forgotten the corner. I have a nice prominent one all marked out for you.”
“Oh Garth,” Jasmine boo-hooed, but all protests now were fruitless.
On the bridge looking on, the two older men nodded in approval.
“And so the Empress Jasmine marries at last and the Empire is saved,” the Lord Chamberlain chuckled, “How did you know?”
“Know? I know everything, I am a seer,” the High Seer smiled.
“What if she had chosen Arthur for Harmony?” the Chamberlain said.
“Then the prophecy would still have been fulfilled and our empress would have been robbed of her playmates. She would have knuckled down in time,” the seer shrugged.
“So many princesses and so many royal marriages, it is a hell of a way to decide a life,” the Chamberlain protested.
“I suspect that most seized the opportunity wisely. Any mismatches can be… resolved with coin. After all, it won’t be the first time a wench was spanked but not married,” the seer chuckled.
Below them Jasmine was now suffering the indignity of being bent across a fence rail while garth sliced great welts across her bottom with a switch. A situation she did not altogether appreciate, one which she loudly sang about in big gasping sobs.
*
The court was quiet now. The usual cascade of playful laughter and chatter of women had been replaced by pouts sniffing and every corner of the palace held a princess her bottom polished red and displayed in the traditional manner.
Only Harmony sat at the banquet table, the centre of attention for every remaining unmarried noble in the kingdom and not a few ambassadors making advances on behalf of their master’s.
“What’s happening now?” Jasmine said impatiently.
“Pretty much business as usual,” Garth said with a shrug as he bit into an apple.
It did not pass his notice that the apple’s flesh was the mirror of the ruby glow adorning his future wife’s bare bottom.
“Ooh, can’t I at least turn around,” Jasmine wailed.
“You do and I’ll spank you again in front of everyone,” Garth scolded her, “You have nothing on in front thanks to that ridiculous costume.”
“But… but… ooh, this sooo embarrassing,” Jasmine stamped her foot as much as she was able with her nose touching the wall, “I am the empress.”
“Yes my love, but if you want to actually sit on the throne ever again then you had better behave hadn’t you?” Garth chided her.
“Yes Sir,” Jasmine said with a pout.
She doubted that a single princess would leave the corner for the rest of the night; another damn tradition.
The end.
