As I turn in well made bed and wince at the still sore markings that paint my tawny neck, I curse this monthly humiliation ritual my 'mother' puts me though. I imagine her amusement and scoff bitterly, sitting up as a dutiful handmaiden gently dabs the lipstick marks on my skin with wet napkin. Of course the bruises made by that vile woman's mouth remain, a jeering reminder that greets me in the mirror and reminds me of my place here. A year of being under her thumb, an eclipse of the self that robs me of my rationality the moment my mind replays her mantras. My father is of no help, naturally, having likely been hers the moment they first met eyes up on Thoth. 

"M-my lady, her majesty has requested your attendance in her bedchambers, she says she wants to run you through your speech one more time while the day is still young." Even the staff all wear her marks, not a stretch of skin in this pyramid is safe it seems... perhaps maybe my father's. Every new moon the self appointed queen who stole my rightful crown returns my mind to me so cruelly, knowing well how easily I'll fall for her again and again and... well, I shan't go down without a fight even if I myself am beginning to understand the futility. I'm still smart enough to realise that's the point of this, to break me until little remains but a brainwashed pawn she snidely calls a daughter. 

Even now, when I attempt to delay the inevitable meeting, my body moves by itself to hurriedly cooperate with the servant dressing me. The mirror demands my smile and so I oblige, compelled by suggestions planted deep into my subconscious many moons ago. Try as I might to disobey the mirror, the smile it coaxes out of me is so convincing that I begin to believe it. An unnatural sensation of happiness and contentment that washes over me like a curse, making me spit in dissatisfaction at this terrible plight. Everything my family built is now just a pitiful masquerade, put on by that towering interloper who has us dancing in her palm. My tireless training has amounted to naught, her tune all too enticing. With one swift blow I could end her wrongful reign, my dagger still hugs my thigh in the unlikely case of siege. Though custom suggests I should be using it on myself I've only ever considered it a tool to carve my distaste into the enemy before me. If I were to strike her down, this woman who has the pyramid and its people under thrall, my life would return to how it was and should be. 

However... I'd be without a mother again, a part of me weeps internally at that fact and the resulting heartache stays my hand. All part of her design, I suppose, she knew exactly what I was lacking and tempted my feeble heart before I had mind to stop her. 

"I'll do my makeup, you're dismissed." The maid is shaking like a fawn, mother has been enjoying the company of her staff and now it seems she's taken to borrowing my own. Had I let her paint my face, she'd likely have made Pollock quite proud. I... I need to look my best for mother, make myself pretty. All my old clothes have already been replaced with a more palatable arrangement for her, reminding me again just how little of my dignity remains. Acts of resistance are few and far between these days and all too small to matter, in the past I may have allowed the trembling servant to do her worst but instead I focus intently on the mirror that unravels my disobedient tendencies with every slow blink. Like the moon reflected on the surface of the ocean, I know that the pretty picture before me is just an imitation of my real, unwavering beauty. While the image on the waves may be disturbed, the unbothered moon hangs above all in its perfect form. I need to become perfect for mother, that's right... 

I catch myself falling into trance before the mirror yet again and avert my eyes with a pointless click of my tongue. The dagger hugs my thigh, this could all be over in an instant. I focus on my plan to catch her off guard, but that leads to my resistance faltering elsewhere. I dress so pretty for her that the woman reflected by the mirror is a stranger to my former self. With a painted smile that sets against the canvas, I hasten my step on the way to mother's chambers. 

"There you are, Silva. Come in, make yourself comfortable in my lap for a while, won't you? I'd like to borrow your ear." As I swing open the door mechanically, I feel a sensation of tripping over in my mind at the sight of the woman and the seductive sound of her voice, imagining her tongue in my ear making me so good for her as it rightly should. My heart beats irregularly for her, white knuckles relaxing and forgetting the dagger at my thigh pathetically quickly. 

"Y-yes mother." I attempt a snarl, but instead I fail and flutter, meekly stepping into the room and seating myself in the monolithic woman's lap. Her long fingers stroke through my hair and when she sees the fire in my eyes she shushes me and douses flame so easily. Laughably so, to the point that I giggle at my own silliness when her thumb runs over my lip and she tilts my head up to assess the hickeys lining my neck, shoulders and chest. Of course I chose a low cut dress, she said to show them off, I think I have a speech today... 

"You're such a good girl for me, my Silva... this is the fastest you've ever given in, one of these months you're going to wake up and there will be nothing left to deny my sweet affections. We both know this, await it eagerly, though I will miss the remnants of the fighter you at least pretended to be once upon a time." Unable to protest her words anymore, I melt against her touch and sink deeper into the woman's lap. "Nothing left but my docile daughter, eager to obey me, hanging off every word from her beloved mother. Isn't that nice, Silva?"

While I nod into her chest, the woman lets out a sultry giggle and pulls her breast out of the bone white nightie that hugs her slender form so perfectly. As my mind buckles against the weight of her conditioning, I fail to resist the temptation to suck her supple tit and I'm rewarded with a hand that glides up my bare thigh. The hand makes me weak, clamping my thighs around her demanding digits before she coerces them back open with gentle caress. I'm already a whimpering mess against her, my voice muffled by the soft flesh filling my mouth while she teases my obedient clit. 

The woman's hand leaves my sex and I whine into her chest, no longer feeling the shame that once gave me pause when we would play like this. Mother's fingers curl around my dagger and slide it from the sheathe, running the dull side up my curves as I shiver at the cold sensation. "I think we can forget all about this in future, mommy keeps you safe now hmm?" Ah, she's taunting me with that embarrassing babble but I'm too far gone to find myself humiliated, giving needy little nods that tell her just how owned I feel. "There's my good girl, I'll have it melted down into something pretty you can wear for me. I mean, it isn't like you can be trusted to deal with any threats after letting me claim you as my good little trophy. A princess, destined for the crown, turned into nothing but the mewling slave of a former handmaiden. How pitiful, but I think you're where you belong. It feels good, doesn't it Silva? Becoming my new creation, shedding your old personality for something simple and pure. All you know is being pretty and obeying your mother."

As mother speaks, I just continue to nod and affirm her words with growing desperation, I want her to touch me in that place again so badly that I begin to grind into her. With my sharpened dagger, mother cuts my hair short just before I'm supposed to give my speech. The way I wore my hair was symbolic, it meant something, but I'm failing to remember what all of that was even about... so I don't really care anymore. I'll let her know that I approve with lilting giggles that spell the end of my old self with a tone of finality. 

"Now, let's talk about your speech~"

"Uhm... hello e-everyone." The blaring sun ahead of me melts my skin and I look out over the gathered masses with volatile nerves exploding themselves in clusters. During my last public address I carried myself with grace and dignity, I wore the garb of my ancestors and hair reaching down in long braids that told a story of our history. Today, I tremble with a shy smile that doesn't reach my widened eyes, terrified of the reflection in the mirror and the distance between myself and mother. Instead of fumbling through a speech I'm not worthy to make, I'd much rather run into the woman's arms and return to the comfort she brings. 

It's evident how unexpected my appearance and demeanour are, having been considered a stickler for tradition and a ruthless player who would one day succeed my fool of a father and flip the game board. In place of that long lost woman stands a meek thing with a short bob and uneven bangs, wearing a dress designed more to entice than impose. My love bites are on display like I belong in a gallery of well trained sluts, fingers curling nervously in my short skirt as the toes of my long white boots point inwards. "I... oh... ahaha, there's a lot of you... I forgot how many people we uhm... there are? No I mean... never mind, sorry. I've not called you all out on this blisteringly hot day to ramble. I'm... I'll make this quick, o-okay?" 

After waiting a few moments for a response, accustomed to requiring one with mother before I can continue, I remember that the crowd is usually threatened into silence and giggle at my own stupidity. The crowd looks confused, they must be wondering if this is a prank of some variety, some likely doubt that I am even who I claim to be. How embarrassing, I really wish I could return to the bedroom with mother already. 

"I... I am officially, hereby declaring my uhm... denouncement... to the throne. A new ruler has already been appointed but today it will be made official, please... uhm... accept your new queen into your hearts and minds and trust her to steer our unified Earth towards new f-frontiers." The crowd stares with even more dumbfounded looks than before, stunned into silence when they watch the towering foreigner approach me from behind and gently lower her hands onto my shoulders. My father's sudden marriage has been public knowledge for months, but none expected a woman from the moon to ever rule this world. Protest is a long forgotten art, but acceptance can still be made ugly. Mother will set them right, I'm living proof that even the most resistant minds can be broken with a little persuasion. As mother holds my shoulders I gratefully lean back against her body with my eyes fluttering closed, looking so small by comparison. 

Looking out over the crowd, Mother slides her fingers across my jaw and rests them over my lips. Without thinking I accept the digits into my mouth, forgetting where we are as she pulls my mouth open and makes a lewd show of me taking her inside so gracelessly. "Silva, your speech isn't over yet. Please continue for me, there's a good doll."

Feeling the heat take on a new intensity across my trembling body, I'm reminded of the maid from this morning. With purpose I wet the fingers in my mouth and gasp into the microphone while the world watches in silent horror, or perhaps awe. When I'm told to, I unzip the front of my dress in unquestioning compliance and feel the sun kiss my bare form while the fabric collapses around my ankles. Mother's fingers slide down my body from my chin with a trickle of spit forming a glossy line, gliding all the way down to my hungry slit and filling it slowly. Two fingers at first, but a third soon joins while her long nailed thumb reaches for my clit. I gasp and moan and groan and squirm for mother, no, for the people of Earth. If they didn't get the message before, that I'm a useless leader but a perfect plaything, they surely will when I spurt my dying dignity onto the front row in toe curling climax. Over and over again.

"Welcome to the world stage, my Silva~"