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  • The Prince's Bride Ch. 04

The Prince's Bride Ch. 04

12

Captain Horace lay back in his seat, eyelids fluttering. This evening had not gone as planned.

He'd promised himself he'd keep an eye on Lleva, to make sure she didn't get up to anything to embarrassing in the servant's quarters, didn't have her way with anyone, ask any major questions. He didn't trust that girl. Everyone else in the castle thought that Prince Felic was infallible, but Horace knew that he was like any other young man—and Lleva knew how to work men like Felic.

The trouble was, she knew how to work men like Horace, too.

The Princess's handmaiden had been contrite when he'd burst in and had her get off of that scullery maid, Lania. She'd been the picture of guilt as he'd led her out of the servant quarters, with every intention of delivering her outside the castle, where the damage she could do would be minimal. She'd begged for forgiveness, begged to be returned to her fellow attendants' quarters, to be allowed to show herself out. But Captain Horace wasn't born yesterday. He just ignored her.

And then her tack had changed, very subtly. She'd stopped crying. Stopped begging. And started flattering him. Lamenting how professional he was, how determined he was to do his job. Berating him, but over things he was proud of—his stubbornness, his strong will.

Gradually, he'd started responding to her, just to tell her to be quiet, that he wasn't going to let her work any more mischief. And then they'd started talking—just... talking, about the weather, about the castle, about how cold she was in her lacy nightgown, how cruel he was to put her out in the chilly night air. He'd continued to argue with her, but it had been almost amiable. Almost banter.

And gradually, he'd realized that they were working in circles. That he was lost. Lost in his own castle. And rather than call for the spirits, who were usually quite busy at night, he'd chosen to not admit he was lost. Her teasing was more than he could bear.

He'd decided to take her back to the servants' quarters. Then to the guest quarters. Then, when he couldn't find those either, he'd given up and decided to just take her back to the dungeon. How hard could it be to find the dungeon?

And somehow, he'd found himself wandering to his own bedroom. Lleva had been so flirtatious, so playful then, leaning against him. She was still so cold. Somehow she'd convinced him to give her his coat. Then it had been so easy to let her take his armor. His uniform.

And by then, they'd been in his soft reading chair, and she'd been curled up in his lap, so slight and curvy and soft. And finally warm.

And then she'd giggled. Triumphantly.

And her eyes had sparkled like stars.

Now Horace lay beneath her, gasping as she bounced in his lap. She beamed down at him. "Isn't this nice?" she cooed. "Such a good boy. Such an obedient boy. As he tried to respond, she rolled her hips and licked her lips, wrapping her arms around him lovingly. "My, my," she purred, "you're just... helpless, aren't you?"

He cried out in ecstasy as he came inside her, and she moaned in pleasure, quivering, clutching him all the tighter. He was lost in her scent. Lost in her kisses, her tight pussy, her warm embrace, her sweet voice.

"CAPTIAN HORACE!" exclaimed a feathery voice.

Lleva's eyes widened, and her face contorted. "Oh, come o—"

She went flying off of him, landing in the bed. She tried to rise, but the blankets came to life in an instant, and in mere seconds had her trussed up like a roast pig. Almost as an afterthought, it seemed, the blankets gagged her.

Captain Horace stared, shocked almost mindless at the sight. His cock twitched.

"Oh, really." The voice was frustrated, cold. "Here!" The bedsheet rose up and covered her naked form. She gave an annoyed groan. "Is that better, Captain?"

Captain Horace blinked. "Um... spirit?"

"Yes." After a moment, the spirit came into view, shimmering ribbons in their vaguely feminine shape, arms crossed. Horace had known the faceless creature long enough to know when they were upset, even if the voice was usually a steady monotone. "Something is, as I'm sure you can guess, very wrong here. All of Jenne's attendants are in coitus with our servants or the guests of the banquet. They are... doing things. Things I do not understand, because I cannot see half of it. But I can see there is magic afoot."

"Magic?" captain Horace blinked slowly, covering himself with a pillow. He still felt a bit disoriented, but sparks of life were returning to his mind now.

"Petty magic," the spirit said contemptuously. "These are minor casters, most of them. Lleva was one of the strongest, and I would favor a Rainvale witch over her any day of the week. But these fools got themselves too drunk to resist a pretty attendant's touches. We are being overrun, and my powers to intervene are limited without the Prince's direct command. Standing orders disperse my powers at night for guard duty—I can't focus unless he tells me I'm allowed to pause in those duties."

"Damn." Captain Horace rose to his feet, somewhat unsteady, and hurried to get dressed. "And the Prince is with Princess Jenne still. Damn!"

"That is the worst part," the spirit said grimly. "This is a Wildflower delegation, there is no doubt of it. But as far as I can tell, from my observations, there is no 'Princess Jenne'."

~ ~ ~ ~

Felic was in a haze of crimson lust as the three shortstack imps bounced in his lap, giggling, blanketing him in comforting whispers until a drowsy smile was drifting across his pliant face, his eyes heavy-lidded, leaning in to receive their kisses and praise.

"So strong," gushed the first, covering his face in plump kisses.

"And he's so big," moaned the second, wriggling her hips joyously in his lap.

"And so resistant to our charms, ain't you?" breathed a third in his ear.

He nodded happily. He was resisting very well! So well he didn't need to stop. He could just let them bathe him in sensual delights, butter him up with flattery, melt him with their supple, curvy bodies and their batting eyelashes. He could take it. He could stop any time he wanted. He'd learned about honey demons, nectar demons, succubi, dust devils, blue demons, slime demons... and now he was learning about imps.

And as they giggled again, he obediently prepared for another volley of sloppy kissing. But to his surprise, it never came. Instead, they dissolved back into smoke, inches from his face. He blinked, coughing slightly.

"Sorry, my sweet Felic," whispered a little voice in his ear. "How are you feeling?"

It actually took him a moment to remember where he was. He turned to Jenne—Princess Jenne—and love blossomed in his heart. He smiled at her. "Good," he mumbled, leaning against her. "Um... good."

She smiled up at him. "I'm so glad," she whispered. "I know you're learning so much, aren't you? You need to know as much as you can if you're going to help us fight the Succubus Queen. And you want to be a good prince, don't you?"

He kissed her neck. He felt like molten candy, like molten arm candy for Jenne, Princess Jenne, his wonderful Princess Jenne. His bride. "Mm."

"Good boy," she said, stroking his hair. She guided him down, down, and he found himself lying so he was gazing up at her, his head resting in her nice, big, soft lap. She smelled so good. Her eyes, wide and bright and inescapable right above him, were a gorgeous, heart-melting, syrupy amber. Her breasts jiggled. "And you want to see more, of course. You'll need to see more, naturally, because I have one more servant to show you!"

She put a finger to his lips, but he hadn't been about to speak—just moan, as he dimly realized that one of the illusory demons was licking his cock again through his trousers, and he desperately needed Jenne to stop them, but not as bad as he needed to come, not as bad as he needed to listen to what his Princess had to tell him.

"This is a special servant," she said sweetly. "The most important in the world. So you'll need to see it, of course, won't you?"

He nodded, trying not to squirm too obviously, trying desperately to hold in his needy whines. The illusory demons were playing with him, teasing him, tormenting him. Princess Jenne just smiled down at Felic, clearly oblivious to his torment. He couldn't even tear his gaze away to look at the temptresses torturing him, for her sparkling eyes held him captive.

"There's just one problem," Princess Jenne said with a sigh. "We have to stop and go to bed now."

Felic's lips parted in horror. Down below, it seemed even more demonesses were gathering, kissing and licking and sucking him through the cloth, running their hands down his trousers, up his shirt, just out of the Princess's kind view. But her words, too, horrified him.

"I know!" she said sadly. She leaned close, and he breathed in her scent helplessly, eyes locked on her jiggling breasts directly above. "I'd like to keep this up all night—so much to learn, you know, and so little time, it's honestly a real shame—but it seems your servants are coming to interrupt us."

"W-Wha—"

"Isn't it a shame?" Princess Jenne whispered, as his squirming became harder to hide, as his breaths grew shallower. "I mean, honestly, we're doing important work here. But they wouldn't understand. You know how it is." She leaned in very close. "My kind Felic, my sweet prince... only you understand. Your servants just don't get it."

Felic nodded along. No. They didn't get it. They didn't understand how important it was to let these sweet sinful maidens ply him with treats, sweets, wine. How necessary it was to let them give him heavenly lapdances, to let them pleasure him with their soft, curvy bodies, charm him with their sparkling eyes, their sweet lips, their loving caresses, their intoxicating whispers and moans.

He knew it was necessary. He knew best. Didn't everyone always say?

But... did he? He frowned, biting his lip. "I-I," he began, every word feeling like a physical struggle, pushing a boulder up a quicksand hill, sinking deeper with every bit of effort, "I think... I try to l-listen. They... might know... something."

"Oh, my sweet Felic." She smiled adoringly. "So kind. So generous. But a strong Prince does as he wills! A wise Prince knows what's best!"

"B-But I..." Felic's head was sinking fast beneath the surface, the boulder rolling back towards him. "I, um... at least I try to understand... I don't always know... best?"

A pause. He blinked up at her, uncertain.

Princess Jenne beamed. "And that is why I love you," she cooed. "You're so right! You need to try to understand."

"I... yes." He nodded hesitantly, relieved. Relieved that Princess Jenne agreed. That meant he didn't have to argue with her, which felt impossible. He could just go along with her.

"So you agree, "she said, booping him on the nose playfully, "that you wish to understand the Succubus Queen!"

Felic blinked. He tried to make sense of that. "I... but I was..." He squeaked as the demonesses down below started toying with the buttons of his trousers.

"And you don't always know best," she breathed, "do you? Oh, my sweet Felic..."

He stared up at her, a faun in the wisp lights.

"... so you'd better do exactly as your wife tells you," she declared, smiling. "Isn't that right?"

He blinked. Twice.

"Yes," he whimpered.

"You need to understand more."

"Yes."

"You need just a little more... alone time with me," she husked, helping him sit back up. He leaned helplessly against her, hanging on her arm, her every word.

"Uh-huh," he squeaked, as the demonesses suckling at him faded away.

The storm settled. The shadows were gone. The chamber was dimly and warmly lit. It was just him and Princess Jenne. He felt a bit more clear-headed, without the touches down below.

But then Princess Jenne giggled and rose up, climbing to sit right in his lap. She beamed down at him, wide-eyed, and cupped his chin.

"Then," she cooed, coming closer for a kiss, "let me tell you what to do. Okay? Do you want that?"

He bit his lip, needy, eager for that kiss, and nodded.

She smirked. "Your wish is my command."

~ ~ ~ ~

"You had better hurry," the spirit said, as Horace raised down the stairs three-at-a-time. "I can't... hold Lleva forever.

"What?"

"She has magic, too. And my magic is too weak when I am dispersed. I will have to release her soon. And it is likely that she has already informed her co-conspirator of my—"

There was a pause. The spirit's form seemed to flicker slightly, the ribbons losing some of their body. "My—my—"

Captain Horace paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Spirit?"

"I... I am..." The spirit flickered again. "I understand."

And then the spirit made a sound Horace had never heard them make before in his life.

They gave a girlish giggle.

"Goodness," they purred, wafting ahead to hover before him. "I... I seem to be compromised, dear."

Horace stared at them, his heart racing. "Stop it. Snap out of it!"

"No," the spirit said, and he could hear the smile in their tone. "I... I think not. In fact..." Their ribbons started to snake out, tickling his neck, "I think I would like to—"

Captain Horace slashed straight through the spirit—he barely even registered drawing his sword—and leaped through them as the ribbons spilled lifeless to the ground. He raced down the stairs and bolted down the hall.

He had to get to the Prince. Had to get to the Prince, had to make the fool -

"Captain Horace!"

A slender form came racing from an open doorway and tackled him to the floor. He thrashed against it, only for two more to join the first. Desperately, he raised his sword...

And realized that the figures who had tackled him were people he knew. Petal, Lania and Nuali. The three scullery maids held him down with their sheer combined weight.

"Petal!" he spat, thrashing—but he was out of shape, and tired from his... exertions. And they were heavy. It was a common joke among the staff that the serving maids ate half of what they delivered, and these three buxom ladies certainly had the softness, the nice, warm weight... "Lania! Let me go!"

Nuali shook her head. Her eyes were wide. "The spirit told us you're trying to disobey the Prince!" she said urgently. "You mustn't!"

"But he's—mmf!" Horace's eyes widened as smooth, silken ribbons slipped into his mouth, gagging him completely.

"Good work, girls," the spirit said slyly, wafting up from behind. A feathery finger caressed Horace's forehead. "The Prince is happy with what you've done for him. You are faithful subjects."

Captain Horace shook his head desperately.

"The... the Prince does know what he's doing, right?" Petal bit her lip. "This... it doesn't feel right, spirit."

Horace stared at her, pleading with his eyes—even as he felt his arousal growing beneath their lush forms.

"Captain Horace is suspected to have been... compromised," the spirit said softly. "Your wise Prince realized this, and knew you could keep him busy. The lady Jenne will be available shortly to break his enchantments."

Captain Horace's struggles dampened, slightly, as the meaning sunk in. And he could see, in Nuali's and Lania's eyes, a certain... sparkle.

"Should we... tie him up?" Petal asked, looking uncertain.

"The prince's orders are, and I quote..." The spirit's voice shifted to that of Prince Felic, and Horace could hear the hoarseness, the slurred tone, of a drunk. Or of someone entranced. "Keep him... d-distracted... yes... please, please, just... whatever you need to d-do! Do as Lleva says! Yes! Whatever she says!"

Captain Horace's heart sank. The maids were nodding already, a disturbing mix of understanding and excitement in their eyes

"If.. if the Prince orders it," Petal said softly, a worshipful note in her voice.

Horace shook his head.

"The Prince knows best," Nuali said, licking her lips.

And then came a voice from behind, and Horace's cock twitched so suddenly that Petal gave a little yelp.

"Hey, girls," purred Lleva, advancing around to smile down triumphantly upon him. "I think I know what we can do to... distract him. For the Prince."

She ran a hand over Petal's forehead, and her eyes seemed to widen.

And she smiled and started to bounce.

~ ~ ~ ~

Felic quivered and stared into Princess Jenne's eyes as she stroked his hair, stroked his bulge. "You've been so very, very good," she purred, pressing against him with a giggle. "Really, Prince, a very wise move, making sure your retainers couldn't interfere. You didn't need their help, did you?"

"Um." He shook his head uncertainly, slightly, unable to take his eyes from hers.

She giggled coquettishly and wriggled in his lap, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Of course not! You've already got everything under control here."

"Under... control..." His eyelids fluttered as he felt her sliding down his trousers, and a whimper escaped him as his cock sprang free.

Her fingers delicately stroked it, and she licked her lips. "That's right, my little husband," she cooed, as he whimpered and whined with every little pump along the sensitive head of his cock. "Nice and under control. The Prince always knows best."

"A-Always..."

"Always knows best," she cooed. "We must trust a royal, after all, mustn't we? Royals are so wise, so good and kind." She planted more kisses on his cheeks with every word. He could feel the lipstick stains as the buxom little Princess writhed and squirmed in his lap, easing the moans from his quivering lips.

"I... oh..."

"What do you want me to show you next, my Felic?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. She pressed her bosom against him, giggling. Her fingers slowed to slow, steady pumps along his shaft. Almost like she was... was... milking him. "Don't you want to see anything more?"

"M... more..."

She leaned in close, husking in his ear, "What do you wish for above all else, my sweet boy?" Her fingers tickled beneath his chin. Like he was a favored pet. "My husband may have anything he desires. Oh, is there anything he desires?"

She pulled back and locked gazes with him.

Her eyes spiraled gold and red. Her smile was wide, adoring, full of love and affection and amusement and... triumph.

Felic clung to her, his fiance, his... his wife, his Princess. His beloved. His everything. He stared helplessly into her eyes and felt himself being drawn into them, and a needy moan slipped out of him. He wanted whatever she wanted, but he couldn't quite get the words out. He was wordless with lust, desperate for her to keep doing whatever she was doing to him.

Her fingers slowed until they were barely touching the tip of his cock. She was so warm. Her eyes made him feel even warmer. "Please, my husband," she whispered, licking her lips. "Your wish is my command!" She kissed him lightly on the lips, barely a peck. "Anything you want." She wriggled her hips. "Anything you need. You need only ask your Princess. Doesn't she know best?"

"I... I..."

"You just need to listen to what your Princess says, my husband," she said with a giggle, caressing his cheek. "Doesn't a Royal always know best?"

"I... ooh..." He leaned helplessly into her touch, the very picture of the naive, lovestruck waif, covered in her kisses and desperate for her mere fingertips against his skin. His cock twitched. His breath was shallow. "P-Please..."

"My Prince," she sighed, "you must make a wish! Do you want to see more of the flower maidens?" She snapped her fingers. He smelled fragrant blossoms, felt sweet kisses against his neck. "The holstaur maiden, perhaps?" Snap. He heard girlish giggles, suckling sounds, smelled wonderful milk and musk... "Ooh, perhaps he desires to be teased by more pretty belly dancers?" Snap. Felic whimpered and whined as he felt warm bodies pressing against him, writhing against him, felt wispy kisses dotting his shoulders, tickling fingers slipping his shirt away from him...

12
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