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I’ve just put up Miyuki: The Living Goddess – Part 3 on patreon. In addition to that, if you become a patron, you’ll be able to read part 2, as well as Princess Miranda’s Carefree Life of Luxury, along with the short but ongoing stories I Want It Now!, The Spoiled Girlfriend Chronicles, and A Lady of Leisure. 

If you want more stories like Miyuki, then become a patron. The pleasure is surely worth a measly $10 a month. Think of how much you spend on less valuable things?


Become My Serf

I’ve started a patreon page. I need a backup in case my parents or bf ever decide to cut me off, and I need motivation to continue doing this.

If you want stories as long as Miyuki, with as much evocative imagery and as many scintillating descriptions of submission to unearned power, then consider supporting me.

It won’t take much to get me to create a Miyuki a month. You would have dozens of Miyuki-length stories at this point if I’d been on a schedule like that from the start. I have many ideas for a lot of variety.

In all honesty, writing with the level of quality I put out takes a long time. A lot of thinking and a lot of editing goes into it. I throw away stories that don’t meet my standards of quality, so it’s a lot of work. I hope you understand the reasonableness of my seeking contributions, and I hope you value my level of quality enough to contribute.

Future stories will be available only to patreon subscribers, so become my patron and serf.

If you contribute, I’ll also let you suggest story premises and elements.

Miyuki: The Living Goddess – Part I

(I put up new stories like this all the time on Patreon!)


Princess Miyuki lay sprawled on her overstuffed bed, snoring. She stretched luxuriously in her sleep, poking a foot out from under the covers and extending it off the edge of the bed. Just before her leg was fully extended, her foot hit something. The object yielded as she resentfully continued her stretch, but she felt a soft lump in the middle of the thing, pressing on her sole.

She opened her eyes slowly and without looking continued to probe the object with her toes. Then she remembered. It was her slave, Jun, of course, kneeling in wait at the foot of her bed in case the princess wished anything.

“Wine,” Miyuki said.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jun replied before darting off to satisfy her princess’ wish.

Miyuki yawned and lounged in bed until Jun returned a few moments later with both a glass and jug of wine. The slave knelt beside the princess’ bed and offered her the glass. “Will you be wanting breakfast now, Your Highness?” Jun asked sweetly as she poured for the princess.

“Of course,” the princess replied snottily, as if she resented even the effort of verbally affirming a desire.

“Yes, Princess,” Jun replied as she struggled to maintain a cheerful tone. “I’ll bring your breakfast up at once.” She left once again to fetch her owner’s breakfast.

Jun hated the princess. She hated that an accident of birth left her at the beck and call of the rudest, most entitled brat she could imagine. All she lived for was her lover, Dorei. She could put up with being kicked in the face and barked at for wine, as long as he would hold her when it was over.

When Jun returned, balancing two trays loaded down with food and beverages, she found her princess snoring in bed once again, the wine on her night table, untouched. “Princess?” she asked gently. Miyuki only snored more loudly.

The princess would be in a foul mood if awoken, Jun thought. Her only option was to stand by until Miyuki woke again, whenever that would be.

After 45 minutes, Miyuki finally roused herself for good.

“Your breakfast, Princess,” Jun said as she knelt and laid a tray of bacon, seasoned eggs, oranges, sweet pastries and milk at Miyuki’s side.

Miyuki’s pudgy hands went straight for the sweets. She took a bite of a pastry and immediately spat it out. “It’s cold!” she complained.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should have been faster! Then I wouldn’t have fallen asleep. This is your fault! I don’t want cold food. It’s disgusting!” she nearly yelled, knocking her tray and its contents to the floor in a tantrum.

Just outside the palace, Miyuki’s subjects were starving and killing each other for scraps of food. Most of what little they could produce was taken by soldiers for Miyuki’s private stores.

The food and drink flew everywhere, and the milk splashed Jun’s face and drenched her humble serving gown. “Make it again!” the princess huffed, crossing her arms in displeasure.

Jun had closed her eyes when the milk hit her face, and she kept them closed until Miyuki finished speaking. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes and replied with deliberate cheerfulness, “Please forgive me; I’ll prepare a proper breakfast at once, Goddess.”

As Jun exited Miyuki’s chambers, a messenger entered.

“What is it?” Miyuki snapped as she got out of bed, letting the surfeit of covers fall into the mess of food and drink below.

The messenger knelt. “I’m sorry, Your Greatness, but the presentation you requested will have to be delayed.”

Princess Miyuki stamped a bare, pampered foot in anger. “I wanted them ready when I awoke!” she screamed at the slave to whom had fallen the unenviable task of reporting the delay.

“A thousand apologies, Your Highness,” the frightened slave replied, bowing deeply, “but some of the warriors are wounded and have only just returned from battle! They require time to recover!”

“I require obedience!” Miyuki snapped in fury. “Have them presented with the rest or I’ll send you to the dungeons!” She pointed imperiously at the enormous guard who stood motionless at the entrance to her bedchamber. “You, give him ten lashes. Teach him what happens if I don’t get what I want!”

The silent giant took the frightened messenger by the arm and dragged him whimpering to some place of punishment outside of Miyuki’s chambers or concern.

Miyuki selected a book and climbed back into bed to wait for breakfast. Jun returned shortly with two trays of food, hot, edible versions of the mess that now littered the floor by the princess’ bed.

Jun knelt in the mess and laid the trays on the enormous bed, next to the princess. “Your breakfast, if it please you, Your Highness. Please forgive my earlier sloth. It was unworthy of you,” Jun said, bowing her head low.

Miyuki ignored the words and grabbed once again for a pastry. This time she tasted hot bread and warm, sweet, gooey sauce. It was enough to titillate even Miyuki’s spoiled taste buds. She greedily stuffed the rest of the pastry into her mouth and grasped for another with her now-sticky fingers.

The thin, pretty slave watched enviously as sugary goop accumulated and glistened at the corners of the princess’ mouth. Jun’s meals consisted of the thinnest gruel imaginable and possibly clean water once or twice a day.

Miyuki finished sucking down an entire glass of milk to wash down the treats, and then, through a mouthful of bacon and eggs, ordered “rub my feet.” She sat up and dangled her legs off the side of the bed, wiggling her toes in Jun’s face and in anticipation of the massage and delight at her meal.

A look of incredulous nausea flashed across Jun’s face, but was quickly corrected, fortunately before Miyuki could see because she was focused on her meal. Though plump and in some ways a slob, Jun couldn’t deny that Miyuki was cute. She had soft features and smooth skin, and chubby cheeks that made her look even younger than her already youthful age. Childish in mind and body, Jun thought.

She knelt in front of the princess and lowered her face to Miyuki’s feet. She placed a soft kiss on the top of each foot, and then lifted Miyuki’s right and placed it on her shoulder.

She took Miyuki’s left foot by the heel and raised it to her face. She had to kneel at an awkward angle and crane her neck uncomfortably in order to allow Miyuki to fully extend both legs.

As she began to knead Miyuki’s impossibly smooth foot, the princess chirped another demand. “Sing for me.”

Of course, Jun thought. This was why she had been Miyuki’s 18th-birthday present. She chose a morning song and sang sweetly as she alternated between feet at Miyuki’s pleasure.

When Miyuki finally finished her meal, she delicately probed her belly with her fingers. “Uggghhh. I’m stuffed,” she moaned. “Bring me a litter. And clean up this mess,” she barked, waving a hand vaguely in the manner of someone too stiff from bloat to bother with precision.

Jun wondered where Miyuki had decided to go that she would need a litter, but quickly obeyed and left to grant to her princess’ wish. She returned shortly with two buckets of water and an empty, cushioned litter carried by two lean, muscular bearers.

The men approached the side of the bed and bent to allow Miyuki to clamber aboard. Once the princess had taken her seat, the men hoisted her with a suppressed grunt. “Bath” was all she had to say to be whisked to her chosen destination.

Jun watched in disbelief as the two men carried the princess out of sight, down the stairs to her bathing room. She’d seen some outrageous behavior in her two weeks as Miyuki’s personal slave, but this was ridiculous. There was nothing she could do about it, she though, so she knelt and began to scrub.


The princess alighted her litter and entered her bathing room to the familiar sight of kneeling slaves, heads bowed to the ground. All of Miyuki’s bathing slaves were female, and they sprang into action at the sound of Miyuki’s bare feet padding along the marble floor.

One took the princess’s arm and helped her into her large bath, two others ran to fetch brushes and ointments with which to bathe her, and the last bolted to the cramped, sweltering furnace below, where slaves shoveled coal at every moment of every day so that Miyuki could bathe comfortably at any time without having to wait the few moments it took to heat the water.

As their young owner luxuriated in warmth above them, men and boys of all ages toiled beneath her in searing heat, the cruel sting of the lash their only mark of the present against their past 18 hours at the furnaces.The pleasant bath Miyuki had every morning came only at the cost of inhuman physical labor that left her furnace slaves deformed.

Miyuki was the only daughter of the king of the city-state of Sapporo, and could not recall a time when a human being outside her family had not unhesitatingly obeyed her.

She languidly waved a hand. Her handmaidens immediately dried their princess and assisted her to a seat fat with cushioning before beautifying her with all of the oils and powders slave labor could produce.

A timid girl knelt at the princess’s soft feet and tenderly kissed each of her toes. Miyuki looked down her nose at the girl and pointed to one of the bottles of scented oil near the girl’s knees. The girl delicately removed Miyuki’s numerous gold, platinum and silver toe rings, and for the next hour remained on her knees on the hard marble floor, rubbing orange-scented oils into Miyuki’s feet.

The princess lay with her eyes closed, enjoying the gentle pressure being expertly applied to her left foot, when she heard a rumble. She opened her eyes and looked down her nose at the girl intently massaging her feet.

She knew it must be the girl’s stomach expressing hunger pangs. Who knew how long this creature had been working without food or sleep? That was just the girl’s lot in life, Miyuki thought, just as hers was to rule, and thank goodness for that!

Miyuki grinned gleefully at a chance to rub her unearned luxury in the face of someone toiling miserably beneath her to provide that luxury. She moaned exaggeratedly and rested a hand on her plump belly, “ooooooh. I’m soooo stuffed. Breakfast this morning was just too much.” She watched the girl for a reaction, but she just kept rubbing stoicly.

“Still,” Miyuki continued, “maybe I have room for a few grapes. Slave,” she barked, kicking the girl’s face, “fetch me a bowl of Sunrise grapes.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the girl replied meekly, bowing even lower than the feet she was massaging before rising and leaving for the kitchen. She returned a few moments later carrying with both hands an enormous, elaboratedly decorated silver bowl spilling over with grapes.

Sunrise grapes were the rarest delicacy in the region. It took hundreds of man-hours of toil in dangerous climes and careful, scrupulous planning to produce even a few small pieces of the delicious fruit. They were far too difficult to produce to be economical, but the princess had a sweet tooth, so at the cost of a few dozen lives each year lost to the harsh growing conditions, Miyuki could snack absent-mindedly on the fruit whenever she wanted.

The girl knelt next to Miyuki, bowed her head and held up the silver bowl. Miyuki carelessly grabbed a few grapes from the bowl and popped them into her mouth, knocking about as many to the floor in the process.

“You,” Miyuki waved languidly at a girl nearby scrubbing the floor, “my feet. And you,” she said looking at the girl with the grapes, “feed me.”

The girl steadily and delicately fed Miyuki grapes, watching as she slowly applied pressure to each one with her sparkling white teeth until they popped. Then she chewed luxuriously and swallowed, over and over again.

After a few minutes, Miyuki looked at the girl strangely. Always attentive, the girl leaned closer to make sure her princess was alright. “Bleehp” came the confirmation as the princess released a royal, ladylike burp in the girl’s face. The girl dare not look disgusted, and in truth she had no trouble not looking so. The princess’ foul belch smelled of the grapes and was the closest the girl had ever been or would ever be to such luxuries.

Miyuki smiled smugly when the girl’s only response to her rude belch was a timid, polite smile. “I’m done with these grapes,” Miyuki said, though she had hardly made a dent in the enormous bowl. “Use the rest to bathe my feet.”

The girl took a pestle and liquefied the grapes by hand. She set the bowl before the princess and watched resignedly as she dipped her soft, plump feet into the delicacy men had died to obtain.

The girl continued on Miyuki’s feet, pumicing them from heel to toe and filing and clipping her toenails as dead skin flakes and nail clippings rained down into the juice. Finally she dipped her feet into the water to wash away all the dirt and grime, and the gunk comprising dead skin congealed with sweat that accumulated between her toes when she wore her expensive boots on excursions during the unbearably hot days of summer.

Miyuki was disappointed to see that this girl had apparently already been broken. She didn’t show any reaction to any of the indignities she’d been subjected to so far. The princess decided to see if she could push her past the limit.

As the girl began to rise from her knees with the basin of filthy foot water, Miyuki said “wait.” The girl looked at her submissively and ready to be ordered about.

“How long has it been since your last meal?” the princess asked. “Two days,” the girl replied. “And since you drank?” “The same.” “I see. Drink the liquid you used to bath me.”

The girl looked at the princess, shocked for the first time since Miyuki had seen her. Yes! Miyuki thought. Haha, don’t you want to consume my royal filth? she thought.

“Princess, I…”

“What?” Miyuki said, annoyed. “Do what I say!”

“Yes, princess,” the girl said fearfully. She raised the basin to her lips and hesitated for a moment, looking down to see the congealed bits of skin and sweat and dirt swimming in the hazy juice. Then she stopped thinking and just drank.

“Ewwww” Miyuki said, giggling like a spoiled brat gloating over a game she had won by cheating.

When the slaves finished, they clothed their owner in a dress of unrivaled beauty and decorated her with priceless jewels. As soon as one of them slipped doe-skin sandals onto Miyuki’s feet, the princess got up and left without a word or look of gratitude.

Miyuki exited the enormous palace and approached her waiting litter. It was a large, ostentatious affair, and well supplied with all the comforts of royal living. Slaves kept the litter stocked with chilled wine and trays of sweetmeats so that the princess could eat as she was carried. The whole thing was born by six male slaves who had been brutally conditioned to endure the heavy burden in any condition. A gilded whip lay at hand in case Her Royal Highness wanted to go faster.

A slave got down on hands and knees, and Miyuki stepped from his back to her litter and sat on her cushioned throne. “Go,” Miyuki barked as she lashed one of her litter slaves. They went, and Jun followed on foot.

Men and women stopped and knelt along the road as the princess passed. Most people knew Miyuki was royalty before they were told. She had soft brown hair, green eyes, and plump, pouty lips. At 5’2″, she was of average height, but her chubbiness suggested she had little experience working in the rice fields and farms most peasant women were accustomed to.

30 minutes after they had departed, Miyuki and her six exhausted litter-slaves arrived at the spot where her soldiers were arrayed. As she alighted her litter, she saw dozens of handsome young men her age, all muscular, some wounded.

All had killed for her, and in time all would die for her. Miyuki walked toward them and a wave of kneeling commenced. Miyuki giggled with glee. There were so many hot toy soldier boys for her to play with, she thought. “Stand” the princess commanded. All stood in perfect attention, ready for inspection.

Miyuki curiously poked and prodded those playthings she found most excited her. Her father allowed her to play with her toy soldiers in any way she wished.

The princess had ordered that the bravest, strongest, most handsome warriors in her age range be assembled for her perusal. She had grown bored of her daily indulgences and the familiar sights of the city, and had decided to go on an adventure. She was only a soft, spoiled young girl, however; the pampered princess hadn’t the faintest idea of how to take care of herself, and didn’t care to learn. In order to go on an adventure while being spared the brutal work of survival, she wanted a slave trained specifically to cosset her.

Miyuki was surprised and amused by how hard her soldier-slaves’ bodies were. Physical training was alien to her. She hardly ever walked, let alone ran, and preferred to be carried. Her plump physique was a status symbol. Only royalty could indulge in the indolence that kept her soft.

A slave caught her eye. He was hot. “You,” the princess said. “Kneel.” He knelt. “What is your name, slave?” the princess demanded.

“I have no name but what Your Highness chooses to call me,” he replied earnestly, “but my given name is Dorei.”

“‘Dorei’ will do,” she said smugly.

“Yes, princess.”

Miyuki spat in his face and gauged his reaction. He remained expressionless. “Hmph!” the princess pouted. Like a child annoyed that her teasing was having no effect, she felt the urge to assert her dominance over him. Turning her nose up and putting her hands on her hips, she thrust her right foot forward. The slave bent and lowered his lips to her foot, kissing its top and each of her toes. He marveled at her pink toenails, soft and luxurious in contrast to the hellish world of battle to which she had condemned him. When he raised his face from her foot, Miyuki slapped him viciously and announced “I want him.”

“I want him,” Miyuki repeated as she approached General Hiroto, commander of her slave army. She pointed at Dorei and said “put that slave through the most grueling training you have. If he fails me, then you will have failed me.”

“Yes, Your Blessedness,” the general said, bowing deeply.

Miyuki smirked and whispered in Dorei’s ear as she passed him, “you’re going to experience hell.”

Dorei was confused. He didn’t know how he had displeased Her Highness, but her actions were divine and beyond reproach. He could do nothing but wonder what his princess had planned for him and watch as she settled onto her litter to be borne back to the royal palace.


Miyuki swayed softly with her litter as its bearers marched in step on the uneven sand. The waves approached, bowed and dissolved back into the sea. The princess found their ceaseless pattern reassuring.

“Your Worship,” a man said as he approached and knelt before the litter, “a hurricane is approaching. You must return to the palace at once, or your royal life will be in danger.” His voice had a worried, sincere quality, as if his only concern truly were for her. Miyuki imperceptibly raised her green eyes to the sky. She saw nothing but a few clouds and the sun’s rays rushing to offer her their warmth. She lazily, gracefully twirled her right hand in the air off of the side of the litter and felt a slight wind kiss her silken skin. She had spent the day relaxing and collecting seashells on a nearby part of the isles, escorted by a dozen slaves, and she was enjoying herself. She would be damned if she was going to let some fool ruin her day at the beach.

“Stop bothering me,” the princess replied. “You think you’re important because you’re a shaman, but you’re still just a slave. My slave. Why don’t you make yourself useful and give one of my bearers a break? They’ve been carrying me all day and if we’re really in such danger, we might have to leave in a hurry.” Miyuki picked up her gilded whip and lashed her front-right bearer. “Let the shaman have your place.” Miyuki smiled and looked at the shaman. “Take his place,” she said. Her tone was sweet poison.

The shaman approached the litter and Miyuki’s original bearer, a muscular youth, relieved himself and set the bar into place on the older man’s left shoulder. Miyuki crossed her legs and girlishly bobbed a dainty foot. “Onward,” she commanded. The bearers moved on.

Evening came on the princess all at once. The sun’s attendant rays fled. The wind’s kisses turned to snarling bites, frothing with the wet of the rain. The waves rose up and thrashed at her defiantly. Thunder struck.

“Take me home now!” Miyuki screamed in terror. The resting bearer rushed to the litter and knocked the shaman to the ground in his haste to retake his position. The shaman lay in agony on the wet sand, his princess’ cruelty having deprived him of the strength to stand. He waited to be consumed by the waves while he watched the muscular young men strain beneath Miyuki to speed her from danger.

Even beneath their royal burden, the slaves were moving in disciplined tandem, almost at a sprint. The princess, however, had no experience restraining her emotions and panicked. “Faster!” Miyuki shrieked as she lashed a litter slave with the single-mindedness of pure terror.

One of her wild blows caught the slave’s temple, and he collapsed. The litter toppled in his direction, and the bar he had been gripping fell to the ground. The speeding litter came to a full stop as the bar plunged in the sand and Miyuki was thrown from her seat in the direction of the impact. Fortunately, she landed on the collapsed slave, and his final act was to soften her landing as she crushed his rib cage.

Miyuki remained on top of her slave, stunned. Her three remaining slaves rushed toward her and one lifted her in his arms.

Then the wave struck.

As the flood crashed into them, the slave who had lifted the princess held tight onto her, even as the other two slaves were swept away. Miyuki frantically climbed onto her slave’s back and he began to swim to shore.

After several minute and within sight of the palace, the slave was near exhaustion. Miyuki’s weight kept him low in the water and he swallowed mouthful and after mouthful of the briny sea in his desperate attempts to breath.

When they finally made it to shore, men were waiting to take the princess to be cared for. The slave she had ridden was still choking up sea water by the time they got back to the palace, and Miyuki was crying.

“Daughter!” her father cried as he entered the room and rushed toward her. The king looked her over and when he was satisfied she had suffered no permanent harm, fear turned to anger.  “Why did you stay out so late in spite of the danger?! I had a shaman accompany you to avoid exactly this!”

Miyuki was frightened. If he knew what she had done, he might forbid her the use of slaves for days! Or worse, cancel Dorei’s training and her adventure!

As slaves dried Miyuki with towels, she pointed at her still-drenched rescuer and said “it was his fault! He got the rest of them to take a longer route home because he said it was easier for him and the rest of my bearers to carry me that way. It’s not my fault! You can’t forbid me from using the bearers! I wanted to visit Kimiko this weekend!” Miyuki stamped her foot to punctuate her exclamation.

“Was this your fault?” the king asked the slave who had nearly drowned saving the princess.

The slave looked at Miyuki and saw her glaring at him. He knew she would win no matter what he did. Even if he told the truth, and even if her father believed a slave over his only daughter, she would receive the merest of punishments and he would be under her control once again in a matter of days, and when that happened… he knew Miyuki could be horrifically cruel.

“Yes. It was my fault. I foolishly and selfishly urged the path of comfort for myself, even knowing it put your daughter in danger.”

The king perceptibly clenched his jaw. After a moment he said “daughter, it was your life he put in jeopardy. I put the choice of his punishment in your hands.”

Miyuki looked cheerfully at her haggard, wet life-saver. “Cut out his tongue and send him to the front lines.”


Dorei was struggling. He wore a kind of “back seat,” a backpack whose pack was actually a cushioned seat, in which Miyuki sat. They were traveling east to a nearby city-state whose princess was Miyuki’s friend. Dorei was the finest slave Miyuki had ever owned, and she knew her friend would be jealous of his strength, courage, hard body, handsome face and absolute devotion, but why was he going so slowly?

“Go faster,” Miyuki whined. They were ascending a hill just a mile outside of Kimiko’s palace. Dorei’s calves alternately screamed with each tortured step. His back had gone from a dull ache to a throbbing pain centered near his lumbar. He was slick with sweat and becoming lightheaded.

“I’m hot” Miyuki complained. “Yes, Your Worship,” Dorei gasped. Miyuki pouted and swung her legs impatiently.

When they reached the top of the hill, they saw three armored men standing a distance down the road. “Approach them,” Miyuki commanded.

When they got close, one of the armored men said “are you Her Royal Blessedness, Princess of Sapporo?”

“Yes,” Miyuki said smugly, “and you must be my honor guard. Take me to the palace at once; I’ve had an exhausting journey.”

“We will take you,” the man said. The three men approached and surround the princess and her slave in a triangle formation. The man who had spoken took his place in front of them, but turned to face Miyuki. “Oh, but not to the palace. Follow. No questions.”

“You’re trying to kidnap me!” Miyuki shrieked. “Dorei! Protect me!”

One of the silent men had a dagger at Dorei’s throat in half a second. The other roughly removed Miyuki from Dorei’s back. The man who spoke looked at Dorei and said “we fight for you. You are free, released of this parasitical burden.” He gestured at the princess. Looking back at the former slave, he said “you may go your own way, or join us, and fight to free more men like yourself from the yoke of the privileged.”

Dorei looked slowly at Miyuki as one of the men bound her wrists with rope, and then back at the man who spoke. “I will join.”

“Good,” the man said. Follow me. “You,” he looked at the princess, “will WALK.”

The man who spoke led as the group walked. Miyuki cried from the outset, bawling at first, and then sniveling. Before they had walked a mile, the princess was out of breath.

“I can’t go on!” she cried.

“Continue,” the formerly silent man behind her said as he shoved her.

Miyuki couldn’t believe it. No one laid hands on her.

“Go!” the man said, pushing her again and knocking her to the ground.

Miyuki lay on the ground, crying. The man roughly hoisted her to her feet and said once again, “Go!” She went this time.

After hours and miles, they reached a camp in the woods. The area consisted of a few tents, a fire pit, and some haphazard piles of supplies.

One of the men tied Miyuki to a stake in the ground by the fire pit, leaving her exposed to the elements as he went to a tent to retire.

“You may sleep in my tent,” the man who spoke said. “I’ll take first shift on the watch.”

“Thank you,” Dorei replied.

The man stood watch for hours in silence. Then he spoke to the princess. “I’m treating you like an animal. Is it painful? Degrading?”

“Yes,” Miyuki said in a frightened voice.

“You treated Dorei this way.”

“He’s my slave. I’m your princess,” she replied earnestly.

“It’s as simple as that– Oh, Dorei. Do you need something?”

“I heard something. We may be surrounded. Let me take one of the men and scout.”

“Yes. Be quick,” the man replied.

Dorei roused one of the men and both vanished into the surrounding void. After several minutes, Dorei returned.

“We are about to be ambushed. They captured your man. Take Miyuki and run. I’ll get our other man.”

Dorei ran into the tent and the man who spoke quickly untied Miyuki from the stake. Then he heard commotion and then a piercing scream from the tent.

Dorei emerged several moments later, with blood on his tunic.

“You betray us. For her? Why?”

“She is my rightful princess.”

“Then you deserve your slavery,” the man said as he drew his sword.

Dorei too had a sword from the man he’d killed in his sleep, but wore no armor. Dorei was a trained warrior, but could tell by the man’s movements that they were appropriately matched.

The man slashed downward, but Dorei was swift in his lack of armor. He dodged the blow and countered, only to be deflected. Watching his opponents stance, his hands, his eyes, took immense concentration. Fights are won or lost by focus.

“KILL HIM, SLAVE!” Miyuki screamed.

A lifetime of slavery left Dorei particularly vulnerable to distraction by royalty. It had been drilled into him to pay attention to the likes of Miyuki above all else, and his natural masculine desire to protect a helpless girl only made him more susceptible. It cost him.

In the second he took to process his princess’ words, the man thrust. Dorei twisted aside, enough to avoid being disemboweled, but not enough to avoid a deep cut into the side of his lower torso.

“NO!” Miyuki screamed. “I command you to win the fight! I command you to kill him! I command you to rescue me!”

The man approached Dorei. “Aren’t you going to obey her, slave?”

Dorei dropped his sword and fell to his knees, weak, bleeding and exhausted.

The man approached and grabbed Dorei by the neck, pulling him to his feet. “I’m going to kill you. I don’t permit anyone to live as a slave.”

Dorei didn’t say anything. He only made to kneel before thrusting himself like an arrow at the man, knocking them both into the fire pit.

Dorei held the man down from above, roasting him in his suit, but in turn being roast by the heated armor.


Kimi!” Miyuki squealed when she saw her friend as they approached the palace entrance. “Down” she told Dorei. He half-collapsed to his knees, allowing Miyuki to alight him. “Fan” she barked. Miyuki required all of her slaves to carry fans with them at all times. Dorei removed the luxurious feather fan he always had strapped to the length of his right leg, and began to waft it over the princess as her young friend approached.

“You came with only one slave!?” Kimiko exclaimed. “How brave of you! What if you had run into bandits? And it’s so hot out! You must be exhausted!”

“I am tired,” Miyuki said. It’s not an easy journey, but I made it. Of course only a slave like Dorei could do it alone. He’s the greatest there is, everyone says so.” She smirked. “My parents let me have him. He’s completely mine, bound to me. I don’t have to share him. And I wasn’t worried about bandits, Dorei can protect me from anything and would die if I told him to.”

Kimiko examined her friend’s slave. Looking over him, she could barely maintain an air of being unimpressed. He was HOT. She’d kill to have a hunk like Dorei protecting and waiting on her 24/7. He was exquisite, and she was jealous, but she didn’t want to show it..

“Well, doesn’t he have any manners?” she teased, putting one foot forward with an affected air of absentmindedness. Miyuki didn’t like the idea of her personal slave kissing anybody’s feet but her own, but she supposed etiquette required the concession. “Greet our noble host.”

Dorei knelt, bowed his head low and placed a kiss on Kimiko’s outstretched foot. Kimiko giggled and said “come on Miyu. We can have our feet kissed any time. Let me show you around!”

“Can’t we just relax for a bit?” Miyuki whined. “The trip was exhausting and I’m hot and sweaty. My nails need to be redone, too.” “Of course,” Kimiko said. “I was taking a tour of the rice fields earlier, and my bearers were too slow to create a breeze, so I’m icky too. SLAVE,” she yelled.

A slave came running and knelt at Kimiko’s imperial feet. “Foot bath,” she said to no one. “At once, my lady,” the slave replied before darting off.

The peasants lived in perpetual famine and ignorance, and therefore had both the motive and context to believe the women housed in the shining and unapproachable palaces were divine.

Miyuki’s personal slave corps was mixed. Some believed her to be a goddess, others served out of secular fear. Her guard and army corps, however, were thoroughly and relentlessly conditioned to ensure they were not only believers, but fanatically loyal to the girl’s whims. Young trainees in the soldier and guard corps were separated into groups of 101 for brutal training and conditioning. At its end, one was always chosen at random to tortuously disembowel himself and commit suicide, thus reducing the unit to an even hundred and proving his absolute devotion and obedience, and the probable suitability of the crop. If the randomly chosen slave hesitated to sacrifice himself, the whole crop was deemed probably deficient and culled.

As soon as Miyuki and Kimiko took their places on the overstuffed luxury seats in Kimiko’s enormous private bathing room, two female slaves knelt at the aristocratic brats’ feet and offered them a dazzling array of colors to choose from.

After a moment’s consideration, Miyuki pointed at a shade of sky blue, and Kimiko chose magenta. MIyuki’s slave carefully removed the princess’ finely crafted boots. She was careful not to wrinkle her nose when she smelled the warm, vinegary air that rushed from the boots and royal feet. She didn’t want to offend so highborn a young lady.

Instead, the pretty young slave used her thumbs to knead and massage her superior’s soft feet and plump toes. She noticed enviously that Miyuki’s pink toenails hardly needed retouching. Why did this spoiled brat deserve such lavish treatment when she herself had never even been allowed the luxury of shoes, much less lady Miyuki’s boots made from the rarest and most luxurious of animal furs?


“You, follow my caravan,” Miyuki said, pointing at a handsome young man laboriously splitting wood.

The young man stopped and looked at the princess. He was surprised to find that she was looking at him. He quickly set down his axe, knelt and bowed. “Yes, Your Highness… but why?”

He was only a poor laborer, toiling in the dirt for the benefit of a far away goddess. He had thought the closest he would ever get to her might be an errant glance as her caravan passed.

“Because I say so, slave!” Miyuki barked. “If I want you to kiss my feet, you will. If I want you to eat my shit, you will. If I want you to fight and die for my entertainment, you will” Miyuki said nastily. “Maybe when I’m done with you I’ll send you back to your life of toil in this filthy dump, but until I say so you’ll follow us and do exactly what me or any of my friends tell you to do. If even one of them complains about your service I’ll have your eyes, tongue and ears cut off before I send you to the front lines, and I’ll make sure the battle doesn’t end until you’re bleeding to death in the dirt.”

Miyuki’s friends grinned smugly at him from high on their litters.