by Rose St. Andrews
Sheena was in a tough spot. She was high in the air, muscles straining, and she was staring at the ground below her. Sheena was essentially wedged between two crumbling buildings in the worst slum of Regina City. Were it not for her predicament, she might find that almost amusing. Regina City was named for the planet's former queen and was supposed to be the best of the best. Well, it appeared not everyone got the memo on that. Large sections of it were stricken with the worst poverty.
Oh well, at least we're kept out of sight, right, people?
She cast her eyes about the area looking for him, Mr. Snotty Upper Crust who'd been chasing her. He was nowhere in sight. This hiding spot always worked. No one ever thought to look up here, the open space between two buildings. Long ago, when she was about twelve, she'd figured that out, and learned to essentially 'wall walk' up between the buildings using her hands and feet to push against the old apartments and get her up and out of trouble. However, she was getting tired; she was going to have to come down.
It's okay, he's got to be gone by now. Nobody's going to spend so much time chasing one little street rat.
Slowly, jarringly, she came down the walls until she was close enough to safely drop to the ground. Brushing the dust and paint from her hands, she straightened her tattered shorts (they'd ridden up on her ass a bit), and set off. It was morning and she was hungry. She had no money (as usual), so theft or begging was the rule of the day.
Whoosh! An odd sound echoed around her. Her cat-like reflexes kicked in and she spun to face the new intruder. She wasn't fast enough. Two shots from a Web Gun struck her, pinning her arms to her side and ensnaring her ankles, and she promptly flopped to the ground. Wiggling and squirming like a snake, she heard and then saw feet approaching her. She looked up and saw the fancy and ornate boots of him step in front of her.
"Well, well, little street rat, we meet again," he said smugly.
"Look, dude, I don't know what you want with me, but let's talk," she said, trying to sound sweet and sincere.
He hoisted her aloft so they could look at each other. She cringed. He was big, with a powerful build, long arms and legs, and a long mane and beard of ebony hair with just a hint of premature grey at the temples. She also felt a slight surge to her pussy. He was awesome! If she wasn't poor and he (obviously) a member of the nobility, she would have come on to him when they first met. However, she might be only twenty, but she knew her station in society.
People like her didn't associate with people like him!
Which made his pursuit of her all the more mysterious. Normally, only people she stole from or men who wanted to attack her chased her, and the latter always gave up after one try. This was his third. It didn't make sense. She wasn't that pretty and he was clearly rich. Why not just hit one of the upscale brothels?
He held her before him. "Oh, I'm not falling for that one again. Now, I was prepared to be reasonable, but you've eroded my patience. So as much as I hate to do this, Your Highness, you need a lesson in manners!"
Sitting on a large crate, he hoisted her small frame up and across his lap, and... smack! His large and very hard hand connected with her bottom. Sheena squeaked. In the dozen years that she'd lived on the streets, she'd been slapped, punched, had all manner of things thrown at her, and even been drenched in buckets of water (thank God they were only water!), but she'd never felt anything like this.
"Ouch ow! Let go of me, you big bully," she squealed. "I didn't do anything to you! What's your problem?"
That powerful hand spanked her poor behind over and over, and the heat and sting quickly rose to a horrid level. He didn't let up and she was unable to do anything about it. The sticky stuff from the Web Gun was doing its job. She was trapped.
"My problem is with any person who repeatedly ignores me when I tell them I simply want to talk to them," he said casually.
"Ouch! Well, I'm sorry, but I've learned to-ow-avoid any man who says that. It usually means they want only one-ouch-thing," she explained.
"Really, I look like a common thug?" he grumbled. "I know you've lived on the streets since you were eight, but I also know how smart you are. When I came back a second time, and now a third, didn't that tell you something?"
Right now, what his hand was 'telling' her sore behind was uppermost in her mind!
"Ow! It told me you were persistent," she snapped.
He sighed and reached for her shorts. A quick tug and she was bare (she had no panties). Another spank landed - a really hard one.
"It tells you that what I have to say is important, you little brat," he shot back.
Now bare, her cheeks got royally whacked. Up and down went his arm, his hand slapping her defenseless bottom until it glowed bright red. She didn't need a mirror to know what was being done to her, and its effect was quite telling: she broke and started to sob.
"Waahhh! Sorry, I'm so sorry, okay-okay, I'll be good ... I'll do whatever you say," she bawled.
He kept at her a few minutes more, and then stopped and slid her shorts back up as best he could. Hoisting her to her feet, he stood and comforted her with a gentle hug.
"There, there, Sheena, it's all right, it's all over, and all is forgiven. Now, let's get you home and cleaned up, and a decent meal in you."
Gathering her up in his arms, he carried her out of the alley and past the onlookers who'd assembled to watch the show. They snickered and giggled to see her cry. She knew them all: thieves, pickpockets, con men and loose women, and yet they were also her friends. Most of them she'd known her whole life and they'd essentially raised her, helped her, and protected her from harm. They might be criminals, but they had a sense of honor, a code, and they were decent folk.
A large transport dropped down before them. Now she understood why her hiding place hadn't worked. He'd hovered over the area and easily found her. The back door slid open, he set her on a plush chair (yet not plush enough), and climbed in next to her.
"To the palace," he ordered.
The driver, one of those fancy servant-types, nodded, and they were off. Wincing and sniffling, Sheena looked around as Mr. Fancy worked to get the webbing off her. Despite her pain, she was intrigued by what was happening to her. Normally, the idea of a member of the nobility coming to the bad side of the city usually meant trouble. They typically wanted a plaything or servant, and she didn't relish either. She was now starting to process his words. Why had he called her, 'Your Highness'? How did he know so much about her, and how long she'd been on the streets?
"So, what's going on? What do you want me for?"
He smiled and gave her a drink. "Well, that's a long story, and we don't have a lot of time right now. So I'll give you a few details, and then the rest can come later. Okay, first, I am William, Duke of Nether, and Grand Vizier to the queen."
"Queen Amber the Usurper?"
"That is what some people called her, but never to her face, not if they wanted to keep their head upon their shoulders. Well, you may have heard the heralds making the announcement last month. The queen has died, and the throne sits empty."
"Yeah, okay, what of it? What's that got to do with me?"
"Well, this is where things get a little... crazy and unbelievable, but... you're next in line in the order of succession."
Sheena's jaw dropped. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"
He chuckled softly. "Yes, that's what I've been trying to tell you for the last week of our little game of hide and seek. You are heir to the throne of Duros, the only heir, and thus you shall have your coronation just as soon as possible."
Squirming around in her seat, partially to face him better and mostly to give her poor bottom some relief, her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "You have got to be fucking nuts! No, this is insane, there's no way I'm royalty. Ask my friends. I'm a thief, a liar, and a brat, but I can't be a queen."
"Sheena, please, try to moderate your language. We can't have a queen that spouts such words from the throne. Let me explain. What do you know about Queen Regina?"
"Ew! Yeah, I heard about her. Amber might have been a usurper, but at least she was just and kind, and merciful. Regina, she was a... a monster. They say she'd delay a hanging just to set fire to ants and watch them suffer."
William chewed his lip. "Yes, well... um, you see... you're a... a clone of her."
Her eyebrows shot up into the scraggily mess that was her black hair. "I'm a what?!" she screeched.
"The queen was old and near death, but she refused to step down and name a successor. She demanded her scientists find a way to extend her life, or else. Well, they knew what that meant. So, they did some research. Centuries ago, back when humans lived on one world, Mother Earth, they learned how to duplicate a living organism, but that was all. The queen's scientists took it a step further. The intention was to clone her and transfer her mind into the new body."
"Me?" she said softly.
He nodded. "Correct. They were in the process of rapidly aging the... body when the coup took place. It was a crazy time... explosions, violence, people running for cover. So, the... body was lost. We thought it burned in the lab, but it, that is you, became a homeless street child."
Sheena flopped back in her seat (barely aware of the lingering sting in her bottom). "I... I don't... I don't believe it. A dream, this is all some strange dream."
"This is as real as it gets, Your Highness. Ah, here we are, home."
She looked up and out of the glass bubble covering the hover-limo. Before them was the palace, the biggest, fanciest most ornate structure she'd ever beheld, and (apparently) her new home.
"H-holy shit," she stammered.
Sheena felt as if she was floating on a cloud or having one of those out of the body things she'd heard Madam Overdone talk about. She smiled. Yeah, she remembered what folks on the street said about madam, she'd been 'overdone' by her last husband. Now, climbing out of the limo, Sheena looked around. The atrium (that's what William called it) that they'd landed in was huge, fancy (the black and white marble tiles looked like a great place to play), and it didn't smell of garbage. A dozen staffers moved forward to bow to her.
She practically jumped back in fear as they did so. Usually, when someone did that, it was to cover what they were doing with their hands, which was normally to pull a knife or other weapon. William introduced them one by one and she made careful note of every name.
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