Chapter 12
My foot slipped before we had fully gathered my habit, and I began to fall backward, my heart seizing in sudden panic. I reached out instinctively and grasped at the nearest thing I could find… which, most regrettably, happened to be Her Highness's long, blazing red hair.
"Ow!" she cried out as she toppled with me.
We landed most ungracefully upon the carriage floor with her weight pressing down upon me. My back, and the back of my head struck the carriage door with an audible thud.
"Ah!" I gasped, a pained sound escaping my lips.
The carriage lurched to a stop and the door swung open. With nothing behind me for support, I began to tilt toward open air. Luckily the guard's palm steadied my back in time.
"Your Highness, are you harmed?" he asked in an utterly composed tone, as though this sort of chaos was routine for her.
Her Highness laughed as she pulled herself upright and seated herself beside me. I, meanwhile, managed to collect myself without the guard's aid, though I was flustered beyond words. That we had been on the verge of something so unspeakable was enough to turn my face scarlet. And to be so clumsy atop it all…
"Perhaps a touch too soon," Her Highness said, laughter still warm upon her lips.
I cast my gaze downward, fumbling to smooth my habit back into place.
"Shut the door," Her Highness instructed with a casual wave of her hand. The guard obeyed, and the door was swiftly closed once more. She then reached for a small compartment, opened it, and withdrew a scroll. She settled beside me, our shoulders touching.
"We may as well remain on the floor while I read this," she said lightly as the carriage resumed its motion.
She unrolled the scroll, and my eyes caught the title:
The Angel Who Spread Her Cunt for Cock Before a Crowd
I turned my gaze away shyly. She leaned against me and began to read aloud.
"'You filthy angel!'
'Madam Bulge, please!'"
I choked upon my own saliva at that name, a small cough escaped me.
"That is not even a proper name…"
"It is in this tale," she replied with a mischievous smile.
"Your tales rarely make sense…"
"Such tales are not crafted for sense," she said with a playful jab at my side. "One must abandon all reason before entering. Now then, why not try writing one yourself?"
"N-no!" I blurted out, horrified at the suggestion.
She laughed again, tossing the scroll aside and wrapping her arms around my waist.
"Your tale need not be of a carnal nature. I would read anything your hand puts to page. And that shall be my chosen treasure for the royal gallery."
"You jest…"
The Royal Gallery preserves the memories of royal family members across the generations. It is tradition that each must leave behind one item, and one only, that holds the greatest meaning to them before they depart this life. The first king established the custom. He chose a hairpin, once belonging to the beloved he had lost. The first queen followed him in kind, placing his sword within the gallery. The tale they left behind is a sorrowful one. The queen loved the king with all her heart, yet the king's heart belonged to another.
It was for that reason I was quite certain Her Highness was jesting. The thought that one of my modest little stories might sit beside such relics… It would be a laughingstock.
"I am not."
"Yes, you are."
"Nuh-uh," she insisted.
"The scholars of the future who study history shall most likely laugh," I said, unable to contain a quiet laugh of my own. Her cheerfulness was impossibly contagious.
"Why, the third prince placed a wooden stick in the gallery, so if there is to be any laughter, it ought to be at his item."
"I have heard of that," I said with interest. "What was the meaning behind the stick?"
"According to the royal records, he fought a duel with a duke using nothing more than that stick, while the duke held a sword. The prince won. And as his reward, he was granted the duke's daughter in marriage."
"That is a beautiful story!"
She looked at me with warmth in her eyes. "Ours shall be more beautiful still."
Ours.
She had said ours. My heart stirred.
---
"Your Highness…" I moaned, helpless to the sensations overtaking me. It was greater than any prayer I had ever offered, greater than any divine ecstasy I had ever dared to imagine.
Her Highness's breath came in deep, uneven gasps. "Ha… ha…" she moaned, as she drove her thick, pulsing length deep into my rear with steady force.
I dared to lift my eyes to the grand mirror set before us. My naked body was drenched in sweat, hair tangled and plastered to my skin, legs spread indecently wide. My womanhood glistened, the soft blonde hair about it damp with my own arousal. I watched, unable to look away, as her rigid length slid in and out of me, each motion slick and lewd.
It thrilled me.
"Oh, Naevia…" she whispered, wrapping her arm about my waist, pressing me tighter to her, her other hand braced upon the floor as she met my gaze in the mirror. Her golden eyes burned through me. "Look at yourself… look at how I fuck you."
"Your Highness… I love your cock…" I gasped, utterly undone. "Please… more… harder…" My hungry eyes dropped to the sight of our joining. My clitoris throbbed with every thrust, my breath breaking with the force of each motion. I could scarcely believe my body accepted her so easily, and without pain. Only this maddening, exquisite pleasure.
"Hold yourself up," she murmured.
I obeyed, raising myself, my hands on her thighs. My heart pounded in wild anticipation as she slowly withdrew her entire length. And then, in one devastating stroke, she plunged back into me, all the way to the hilt.
"Ah!" I cried out, the pleasure blinding me for a moment.
Again, she did it. Then again. Again and again. My breasts bounced with each thrust. I wanted nothing more than to be ruined by her.
Oh yes. Oh heavens.
I could no longer recall why I had come to Her Highness's residence in town. Whatever the reason had been, it had long since dissolved, overtaken by the haze of heat and need that now governed my every thought. I remembered only that we had exchanged words, and now we were bare upon the floor, our limbs entangled before the tall mirror that reflected every shameful motion.
Her length missed its usual path and plunged deep into my soaked womanhood, and I cried out with such abandon that I scarcely recognized my own voice. My eyes rolled back as her cock filled me completely, the walls of my sex clinging desperately to every inch of her. She did not fully withdraw like before. No… this time she remained within.
She took me. Over and over, the wet slap of our bodies echoing through the chamber, my juices gushing with each thrust, making a mess of the floor beneath us.
"Yes… take it, Naevia," she groaned.
Then she lay back, her hands tight upon my hips as she thrust up into me with violence. I rode her with wild, breathless need, unable to stop myself, unable to care who I was or what I had become.
"Do you love this cock?"
"Yes! Oh… Your Highness… more…" I choked, my mouth falling open, strings of saliva spilling past my lips.
"Ah… I am coming, coming!" she cried, pulling away only to stand before me, stroking herself before thrusting her length into my mouth, holding my head as she pushed to the very hilt.
I remained at her residence for several days.
"Naevia… my cock is hard, what am I to do?" she called.
"Y-your Highness… I can suck your cock. I can suck your cock."
"I can suck your cock…"
"Can suck your cock…"
"Suck your cock…"
"Cock…"
"Good heaven, Naevia! Naevia, get up this instant!"
A voice struck through the haze.
Something soft smacked my face. My eyes flew open.
I was in my chamber. It was still dark. It had been a dream. But it had felt so very real.
"Naevia!" came Sister Alethea's half-horrified voice. She was sitting upright in her bed, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as though some infernal creature had just passed through the room. "Have you been possessed by a devil? You kept repeating, 'I can suck your cock,' over and over again!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed and pale. "What were you dreaming about? And since when does sweet Naevia say the word cock? I cannot bear it. You and that word do not belong in the same sentence. And whose cock were you going to suck?!"
I broke into a fit of coughing, my face burning hotter with every second.
"I… I had a nightmare."
"A nightmare? That is not what it sounded like. Toss me my pillow, will you? I am sorry I had to strike you, but you were terrifying me. I thought you were going to transform into some cock-hungry demon."
"Sister Alethea!" I cried in protest, burying my face in my hands.
I flung her pillow back with little grace and yanked the blanket over my head in utter despair.
The dream still lingered.
The image of Her Highness's thick, glistening length entering me with such sinful reverence… filling every part of me, over and over again…
I smacked my palms against my cheeks, trying to banish the heat rising through me. My entire face must have been crimson, and I could feel the flush reaching the very tips of my ears. It had only been three days since her last visit. And already, I was dreaming of her like this.
---
I made a resolve to go to her. It seemed only right. She had always been the one to seek me out. And what was stopping me from seeking her out? I had been selfish.
So now I stood before her grand residence in town. A row of royal guards blocked the gate, their presence most intimidating. My fingers twined nervously together.
One of them stepped forward and inclined his head politely. "Good morning, Sister. How may I assist you?"
"Um… I should like to request an audience with Princess Yseldra. Might I ask… is she within?"
"Do you possess an appointment?"
"N-no…"
Another guard approached then. I recognized him, for I had seen him often in Princess Yseldra's company. He nudged the first guard lightly with a playful air. "If I were you, I would let her in. You would not wish to end up like Sir Brenric."
Then he turned to me with a friendly expression. "If the princess asks who delayed you at the gate, it was not I. Understood?"
The others quickly parted and opened the gates. I swallowed hard. Something most unfortunate had indeed happened to Sir Brenric.
"Welcome, Sister Naevia," said the second guard, gesturing towards the mansion. I nodded and stepped forward.
He followed at a respectable distance. He carried a playful energy, like the princess.
"You may call me Sir Lorcan."
"Thank you… I am sorry for coming without notice."
"No apology needed. I daresay the princess will be most pleased to see you."
"Has she… has she been terribly occupied of late?"
"She has. That is why she has not visited you. Did you miss her?"
"Y-yes…" I admitted softly, my face growing hot.
He chuckled. "I have observed the way you behave around her. If I may say so, the two of you make quite the fitting pair."
My cheeks flamed. I had no idea what one ought to say in response to such a remark.
We reached the mansion shortly. Sir Lorcan led me up a grand staircase and brought me to a door, upon which he gave a few polite knocks.
"Come in," came her voice from within.
My heart leapt. I had not heard her voice in days.
Sir Lorcan opened the door and bowed. It was a study. Shelves of books lined the walls, and before the tall window, she sat at a handsome writing desk, cloaked in a robe of pale silk. Papers were stacked before her, and her hand moved steadily, guiding a quill across the page. She did not lift her eyes.
"Your Highness," Sir Lorcan announced, "Sister Naevia has come to visit."
At once, her golden gaze rose and found mine. Without a word, she waved him away. He bowed again and departed, closing the door behind him.
She placed her quill down and leaned against the chair's back with a sigh. "Naevia… you have come at a rather unfortunate hour."
"I-I am sorry…" I stammered and turned, intending to retreat.
"Come here," she said, and her voice halted me.
I turned back, regret blooming within me. She was clearly burdened with work, and I had come uninvited, disturbing her. My teeth caught the edge of my lower lip as I approached. When I stood beside her chair, I saw the faint shadows beneath her eyes. She looked exhausted.
Guilt gripped me, and I cast my gaze downward. But then I stopped.
Beneath her thin robe, her length stood upright, forming a visible, straining rise in the silk. The tip had already dampened the fabric in a wide, dark patch. My breath caught.
"This is precisely what I meant," she said. "You have come at the worst time. This thing has been swollen for days, begging to be emptied. So you had best leave before I lose all restraint and ravish you where you stand. I shall visit you another day."
I tore my eyes away, desperate to look at anything else. My gaze fell to the document atop her desk. I caught one line "The support of Duchess Rowena Draymoor in exchange for the services of Nerissea" before the paper was swiftly turned over.
"Sister," Princess Yseldra smirked, "I did not know your eyes were so curious."
I stepped back, but she caught me swiftly and pulled me down to her, capturing my lips with fervent hunger. My breath quickened, my knees grew weak beneath me. She took my hands and placed them upon her bosom. They were full and impossibly soft, and shaped with perfection. She moaned softly against my lips, then she pulled away, removing my hands from her chest.
"Go, now," she said breathlessly. "Before I lose myself and force my cock past your sweet lips."
"That is… possible," I whispered, still dizzy.
"Fuck."
She rose to her feet, and I sank to my knees before her as she cast her robe away. I had heard the tales she read to me far too often not to know what was to come.