The Best-Laid Schemes of Mice and Men [lasciel // Dark Prince]

[lasciel]

The Crown Princess...​	...Her Trusted Handmaid

​

"I'm going to put your powers of logistics to the test", Charlotte had warned Samantha, her deceptively innocent-looking hazel eyes wide with excitement as she'd made her proclamation. But the handmaid knew better than to be fooled. Ten long years of service had taught her that when the princess came to her with such a look in her eye, it was in her best interest to discourage the woman as forcefully as possible. Unfortunately, ten very long years of service had also taught the woman that when the crown princess of Keryss got a wicked idea in her head, not even a team of draft horses could hope to drag it back out.

So Samantha had merely sighed in resignation, neither encouraging her charge to further elaborate on her idea nor daring to tell her to let off with it, because after all, her husband-to-be was arriving in two weeks and what sort of nonsense could possibly be a good idea to get up to now? Of course, it was the timing of Charlotte's suggestion that already gave her handmaid the warning signs of an anxiety-induced headache. The princess was due to be married in less than a month, or as the way she told it, doomed to an eternity of near-chastity with no fucking more inventive than that of the average hog.

(Which wasn't being very fair to the hog, Sam had pointed out. At least hogs wouldn't try to fuck you through a hole in a bedsheet, as they were both convinced Charlotte's future husband would try for how pious and chaste he'd presented himself as in their correspondences.)

Only when the handmaid had finished weaving her fingers into her mess of loose black curls in an unintentional display of pending exasperation did her friend and princess drop the first slipper.

"You're going to arrange a kidnapping."

She was sure her heart had briefly stopped. Charlotte had come up with many a bad idea that she'd, ah, coaxed her handmaid into aiding and abetting. But kidnapping was new. And who in the five pits could she possibly want to kidnap? Samantha's mind rapidly carded through the options, but besides a few political annoyances nobody came to mind. Oh, the crown princess had plenty of people she didn't like, but kidnapping was a serious offence. The crown hadn't had anyone "disappeared" in over a century! Such crude practices had long since been left behind in Keryss, and to kidnap someone on what sounded to be a whim no worse--

"Oh, stop looking like you found a lizard in your soup, Sam."

And then, the other slipper dropped. As did the handmaid's jaw, when Charlotte announced so sweetly,

"You're going to kidnap me."

---

The Golden Cockatrice was among the better taverns operating in the shadow of the marble throne. In this case, "in the shadow" was not just a figure of speech, for the lively tavern like most establishments on the "wrong" (or more politely, leeward) side of Ves spent a good portion of it's day in the mountain-like castle's umbra. The surrounding neighborhood was known colloquially as the "no-sunrise district", in reference to the days before kinner globes decorated every street corner and alley in Ves to help broadcast the sun's radiance on the wrong side of the marble throne and even when the sun was on the wrong side of the planet. (Keryss scholars, after all, had long since determined the earth was round. Even if some of their neighbors still refused to believe them.) But while modern marvels had erased much of the gap in the quality of living on sunward and leeward sides of the city, and even while the Golden Cockatrice was among the better taverns operating in it's area, it would still be a balmy day in the pits before any lady higher-born than merchant's daughter would patronize such an establishment on purpose.

At least that was what Sam had assured her. The Golden Cockatrice was further down the Vesren than she normally ventured on her own, which excluded it from the normal miasma of self-pitying second children floating in from the court to drown their sorrows in reasonably-priced ale and less-reasonably priced busts. And the kinner globes were not polished to the high shine that those at the foot of the marble throne, and the street not quite as tidy, with the occasional missing tile filled with murky water that never quite evaporated for the lack of true sunlight. But despite it's relative crunchiness, Charlotte still couldn't help feel that at any moment some familiar face would come waltzing in through the heavy wooden door, and then she'd have to abandon all of Sam's carefully-worked plans!

That had been her agreement. "If you see anyone you even think you'd once seen in a dream, then you come back here." Sam had been very stern on that part, and her friend didn't blame her. A kidnapping that all the relevant parties were in on was all good and kinky fun, but she was still the crown princess, and the last thing she needed in the run-up to her wedding was some misguided rumor about her being dragged away and raped in her own capital city!

But the problem with places where the clientele don't recognize me is that they also don't recognize the value of good time-keeping! The Golden Cockatrice lacked even the bulkiest and simplest sen, the magical devices nearly ubiquitous as kinner globes in the taverns on the sunward side of Ves. Charlotte of course owned her own pocket-sized sen (several, really, including one she'd built from parts), but bringing something so expensive along with her to even one the no-sunrise district's better taverns was practically asking to be pick-pocketed. So instead she was forced to glance awkwardly at the colored glow of the nearest kinner globe reflected off the humidity-slicked cobblestones and in through the foggy and warped glass that made up the tavern's windows and guess the time.

As it had been the last fives times she'd looked, it was half-past-who-the-fuck-knew?. It wasn't as if the crown princess had ever needed to worry about telling the time without a sen at-hand! But nothing in the warm hues of the globe's reflected light had changed, at least not as far as she could tell, so she merely huffed in pouting dissatisfaction and took another long draw of her chilled sweetwine.

Besides her beverage (which proved to be the most expensive item in the tavern's rather limited selection) and her obvious lack of patience, however, Charlotte was otherwise doing a reasonable job at "blending in". The royal blue cotton overdress, ivory blouse, and matching skirts had all come second-hand from one of the castle's maids who was all too happy to trade worn but serviceable clothes for enough money to buy two sets of new ones (and her silence). She'd styled her hair simply, a gathered plait that kept her otherwise thick and unruly hair confined to a wrist-thick coppery rope which (she hoped) would keep it out of the way during her more vigorous planned activities, simple enough that she could redo it at the end if she needed to. And while she drank the most expensive wine on the menu, Sam had loaded her up with the kind of small change a working woman would tend to carry, enough crystal to make her pocket-belt sag beneath her overdress.

But the none-too-modest touches of make-up she wore, emphasizing her large hazel eyes, the redness of her pouty lips, and the color in her high-boned cheeks, suggested exactly what kind of work had graced her with so much oddly-valued currency. The tightness of her dress, too, suggested something about her occupation. The garment had been originally made for someone shorter and slimmer than she was (and Sam could only do so much in quick alterations), and hugged every subtle feminine curve on her graceful body and managed to push her modest bust up enough that she'd originally blushed when she'd seen herself in her mirror back in her bedroom. Certainly she could've turned a trick or two, if she'd put her mind to it; attracting the interests of the opposite sex had never been a difficulty for Charlotte.

No, the problem was in whose interest she had attracted. Though she supposed she hadn't actually had much to do with the match at all. One Lucas Undyre, whose reputation proceeded him as a man as pious as he was boring, cousin to the king of one of Keryss's far less enlightened neighbors to the south. Though their country was bigger than her own, both in size and in populace, their gross domestic product was only half of Keryss's. Of course, their army was nearly three times the size of her own country's, which was why (she supposed) her parents had pushed so hard for a union that was clearly so mismatched. By the pits, they didn't even let their women hold or pass on titles of nobility, and what she'd heard of their sexual mores made her glad that her husband-to-be sounded about as lukewarm on the prospect of their eventual coitus (or any coitus at all) as she felt about the whole arrangement. Fucking once a month through a hole in a sheet for the purposes of producing an heir was better than some of the things she'd heard.

Her thoughts had drifted again, to that dim and gray place where sexual fantasies went to die, and Charlotte reigned herself in with effort. Lucas wouldn't be arriving in Ves for another week, and their wedding wouldn't be for a week after that. Sixteen glorious days were all she had left of her carefree bachelorette days, and she intended to make the best of them in fucking her way across the city and back again. Starting in the Golden Cockatrice. If her kidnappers would do her the favor of arriving already. She'd asked Sam to pick her some fresh meat, men not in her regular rotation (and if a crown princess couldn't have her own rotating cast of preferred himbos, then what was the point of being crown princess?). The leeside of that was now Charlotte was stuck taking surreptitious glances towards the door whenever it so much as creaked, taking stock of each new male face that entered and imagining what it would be like to be ravished by such a fellow.

Which wasn't so bad, all in all. She knew Sam knew her tastes, so her overactive imagination didn't bother adding those faces not to her tastes into the fantasy scenes in her head. And if the more handsome specimens made her turn away and blush furiously into her drink for the images that bubbled up in her thoughts and heated her loins, well, it wasn't if they knew her inner dialogue. It was all a bit of harmless fun, a way to pass the time until the man (or men, gods she hoped it would be men) who Sam had hired did her the pleasure of showing up and fucking her!

 

[Dark Prince]

Prince Lucas...​	...His Trusty Manservant

"Blue dress... blue dress..."

Lucas Undyre was murmuring the words to himself as he stood before the doors of the Golden Cockatrice. Those were among the final instructions his trusty manservant Samuel had given before the young prince had spurred his mount to a gallop towards Ves. In truth, he'd been so eager to get underway that he'd missed most of the other instructions, but the name of the pub and that she'd be wearing a blue dress were all the cocky Prince felt like he really needed. The other stuff was likely Sam's typical nervous admonitions, the kind of overly protective prattle his manservant had increasingly been spewing as the Prince's final months, now weeks, of bachelorhood were drawing to an end.

While Lucas was fond of Sam, and certainly viewed him as more than a manservant, the strain of keeping an eye on the increasingly reckless Prince had been wearing at the man over the last year, and he'd begun to sound more like Lucas' overbearing mother than the carousing and wenching companion the Prince preferred. And carousing and wenching had become the primary focus of Lucas' attention recently as the clock had continued ticking on his days of freedom.

There had been a time years ago, albeit brief, when the idea of being betrothed to the Crown Princess of an exotic and wealthy, but minor, Kingdom, or Queendom in Kyress' case, had been an exciting prospect. As the second son of the brother of the King of Skaycia, Lucas had been fated to be a political pawn from birth; noble enough to be important, but with no natural estates and titles to inherit of his own. All things considered, being a Queen's Consort wasn't that bad of an outcome, but as the years had gone by and he'd grown into a lusty young man, the letters and paintings he'd received from Charlotte, his future wife, had grown less and less appealing.

It was clear Charlotte was the "matronly" type, ready to produce a brood of Kyressian heirs and seriously devoted to her womanly arts, such as stitching, gardening, and studying religious texts. That last bit had been the most alarming, as he'd heard Kyress was a much less Priest dominated country and he’d hoped for some escape from the endless ceremonies and temple lectures on morals he’d endured since childhood. Combined with the snide remarks from his peers about how women "wore the pants" in Kyress, the last couple of months had felt like his final chance to sow his oats and be a real man, before he'd become at best a glorified stud horse, but more likely an overgrown lapdog kept on a very short leash.

And so, as his procession had slowly crept towards Ves and the looming prospect of endless days of pre-Wedding formalities, Lucas had enlisted Sam to procure, discreetly of course, a string of prostitutes and innkeepers' daughters designed to slake his ever-growing lust. It had worked, to some extent, but the side-effect was that Lucas' tastes had grown only more depraved and forced Sam to scour the countryside for increasingly dirtier whores. The rumors of the sexually progressive Kyressian womenfolk, always in the back of Lucas’ head, had also grown to legends in his fevered mind, and as they approached the border he'd begged Sam to find the kinkiest and dirtiest whore in all of Kyress to give him a final night, or two, of truly debauched pleasure as a climactic send-off before he started his matrimonial prison sentence.

"I’ve found her,” Sam had told him yesterday with a proud grin. He’d been working for days on the request and it had taken some difficulty to confirm. “She’s as skilled with her mouth as a Pharian courtesan, but with a welcoming ass like a Thalian street walker. She has no limits, at least none you’ll come close to testing, and will introduce you to acts that you didn’t know were even possible, or are outright illegal in most civilized countries.”

“A-and her looks?” Lucas had asked, taking a dry swallow.

“She’s like an angel, a face so pure and beautiful you’d think she was a noble lady, and a body so luscious and perfect that sculptors could use it as inspiration.”

Sam had provided the alibi, a multi-night hunting trip for just the two of them, and they’d ridden fast, getting days ahead of his slow caravan by using spare mounts. A quick swap of clothes, exchanging his fine and rather foppish doublet for Sam’s more plain dark green one, and then a final reckless gallop into Ves itself on a fresh mount had brought Lucas at last to his destination, and even earlier than he’d planned.

Truth be told, Ves had been more impressive than Lucas had expected, with the country’s rumored wealth evidenced by the expensive kinner globes that shone their magical light on every street corner, even in the more squalid quarter that was the location of his tryst. The massive castle complex, the home of his future wife, towered over the streets of this neighborhood, looming in a menacing fashion above the ramshackle buildings and half-paved roads, almost as if looking down upon this pocket of vice with scorn. His mind however, was on other things than what Charlotte would think of his behavior, and the Golden Cockatrice appeared reassuringly like the kind of seedy establishment that he had slummed within many times over the last year.

Giving his lathered mount to the stable boy, Lucas took a moment to examine his appearance in a barrel of water. His curly brown hair was a bit askew, but that was easily straightened, and his strong jawed face, with the aquiline nose that was a trademark of his family, was a bit ruddy from the ride, but otherwise he looked handsome. Not that his looks mattered for a whore, of course, but he still cared. The green doublet fit his broad shouldered frame well, hinting at the muscles built up from his years of training, and he’d chosen a plain and unadorned sword that paired with Sam’s simple hunting dagger to give him the look of a common cad, the kind of slightly dangerous scoundrel that would be found having a cup of mead at the ‘Cock before he robbed someone, or perhaps kidnapped someone?

Lucas’ pulse quickened at that dirty idea.

As a Prince, he’d always found a rebellious thrill in behaving in the exact opposite fashion that a man of his breeding and status should, and in particularly had always enjoyed pretending to be a base and dangerous criminal in his carousing hijinks with Sam, even starting bar brawls at times with the gentler class. If he was going to be truly depraved tonight, what better way to start the fun than kidnapping a lady at the bar and taking her back to his room to force his way upon on her? He was sure a whore of this woman’s caliber would pick up on his cues and continue the charade in a way that would make the ensuing bedroom action even more exciting! Thinking quick, he grabbed a saddlebag from his mount which contained some rope, and other potentially fun items, and slung it over his shoulder.

Into the tavern his strode, muttering “blue dress” to himself, and was pleased to find it as disreputable inside as he had hoped. The other guests were an oddball assortment of mostly men, ranging from drunkards in rags to better dressed merchants and tradesmen. Most were armed, and all gave him curious gazes as he walked through the crowded common room, but he doubted they'd try to intervene if he kidnapped a whore. The few women in the establishment were always with a man, and most appeared to be older-in-age practitioners of the oldest profession, which made Lucas frown in consternation as he noted one or two blue dresses amongst them.

What if Sam had been misled, and they’ve given me some crone?!

The he saw her, for it could only be his whore sitting alone and wearing a blue dress. Lucas felt his pulse quicken, and he paused to give the girl a brazen once-over with his hungry eyes. A grin appeared on his face, unbidden, as she was even more attractive than he had hoped. Her face was true in its features and fine boned, despite the rather garish makeup she’d applied, and she was young as well, no more than Lucas’ age at best. That made his grin widen, as he stretched his dirty mind to wonder how a woman so young could be so well versed in all the depraved acts that Sam had hinted at earlier. Her clothes were clearly that of a whore’s, a simple dress cut to reveal a dangerous valley of cleavage. Those mounds were, perhaps, a bit smaller than Sam’s description, but her slender frame and ample curves more than made up for it in Lucas’ final judgment. All in all, he was quite pleased so far, and his blood was already running hot at the thought of the skills that Sam had promised would be forthcoming once she was in his room.

“Sam was actually right about how pretty you are,” muttered Lucas under his breath as he strode up to the woman.

He slid a chair out from her table, without asking her leave, and lounged into it, giving her a rakish grin. He pulled his dagger out, the well honed blade glinting in the dim light of the tavern’s dingy kinner globes as he idly picked at a fingernail with its point. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, a surprisingly subtle and delicate aroma for a whore.

“What’s a fine looking wench like yourself doing all alone in this bar?” he asked, giving her a wink. His voice was casual, but held a hint of menace that matched his eyes as they flicked from the blade to her face. “I’m Lu—Luther, that is. Don’t you know the 'Cock is the kind of place that a pretty girl could get into a lot of trouble at, especially with the wrong kind of man?

He placed the knife on the table, point facing her, and leaned forward so his face was near her own. He gave a grin again, this time one he knew was full of the hungry desire that was filling him, and he reached out to catch one of her wrists in his hand.

“And I’m the wrong kind of man.”

 

[lasciel]

The door opened again, and as she had each time before Charlotte half-glanced over. Quick eyes and a quicker mind took less than a breath to take in what she needed, turning her face back into her drink and taking a long swig. What she'd seen had made her mouth go dry, and even as she sent a prayer to whatever lewd gods were listening, her rational mind knew the man who'd entered had to be Sam's chosen escort.

After all, for while the men (and occasional woman) in the Golden Cockatrice wore saps or the occasional knife, nobody in Ves save for actors and the nobility wore swords. Oh, there was the occasional very confused mercenary from out-of-town, but they tended to realize the local customs pretty quick, and if they didn't, their business didn't last very long anyway. But the gentleman who'd sauntered in looked to be pulled straight from the pages of a bodice-ripper, strong-in-jaw with wind-tousled curls and a hungry look in his eyes, and the sword only helped sell the bit. He was alone, which left Charlotte a little crestfallen, but she quickly rationalized that his lack of company here did not preclude a lack of company... wherever he would be taking her.

Sam had been particularly tight-lipped about that detail, and the mystery had left her near-sleepless with anticipation the night prior. Now, seeing the (first) man in-the-flesh, she found she no longer cared. Sun and stone, he looked good enough that she would've been pleased even if he'd bent her over right across the bar top! Except, of course, there was always the risk that someone in attendance would later recognize her as the crown princess and try to blackmail her with the knowledge. No, it was better to keep her activities discrete.

But that didn't stop her imagination from taking the thought and running away with it. Especially as she dared a second glance, noting the full-looking saddlebag slung over one shoulder. Oh, what sort of fun could that contain? Rope, if she was lucky. The good stuff, thick and hempen and scratchy, though Sam would chide her for days if she chafed her wrists so close to the wedding. Perhaps even she'd get a chance to turn the tables on her "captor". From what her handmaid had mentioned they were certainly paying enough for him to indulge her in whatever she wanted! And her keeper knew well enough to not select a man (or men) who'd squirm and shy away from the princess's more abstruse preferences.

Oh, he's coming this way! Act surprised, Charlotte thought to herself, taking another sip of wine to steel herself and stop the fluttering in her stomach. The best way to stop butterflies in one's stomach was to drown them, her grandfather had always insisted. So caught up in her own thoughts she was that she missed whatever the stranger muttered as he'd approached her, but she assumed it was relevant to their bit and turned to face him as he sat down so as to not miss anything else.

Her hazel eyes went wide at the sight of the dagger, so unabashedly displayed on the bar top. It was handsome in a raw and unadorned way, much like the man wielding it, and she had to stop herself from reaching out to pick it up to inspect. That wasn't part of the game, and spoiling the act wouldn't be very fair of her. Instead she rolled her eyes back up to look at his face, head still tilted slightly down so she watched him from beneath a mascara-darkened curtain of long lashes.

And then had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to not burst out laughing. She'd never even considered that colloquialism for the tavern's name. It took her several long moments to bring her expression, and her diaphragm, back under control. "Luther"'s near-slip was forgotten entirely. Her focus instead moved to the knife now pointing at her and the electric heat that tingled up her arm from where his hand wrapped around her wrist.

Though I do wish Sam had given you some more inspired lines! Oh well, can't have everything. In Luther's line-of-work, Charlotte knew, you could pick two of the three of looks, wit, and talent. (If one had all three, of course, they had other avenues of work available to them.) If her handmaid had given him such a basic script, then she knew which area he'd given up on. Which suited her just fine. Even if it didn't give her very much to work with, the princess knew her acting wouldn't be under any scrutiny.

"You don't look like the wrong kind of man," the princess replied in an unperturbed alto, taking her time now to look him up and down. So close, she could catch the masculine scent of his skin, sweat and soap and a hint of horse. The last surprised her, but maybe that meant he'd be taking her somewhere farther away for the "ravishing". Oh, she hoped to be slung over a saddle and carried off! "Exactly the right kind, by my measure. However--" setting her drink down she placed her other hand over his, patting his knuckles. "My mother did warn me to not talk to unfamiliar men in taverns. And we are not familiar, Luther." The look in her eyes suggested an unsaid, not yet anyway.

 

[Dark Prince]

"You don't look like the wrong kind of man.”

Her reply gave Lucas pause for a second. He expected a whore of this woman’s repute to know exactly how to play this scene, and do so unabashedly for his benefit. Sure she'd gone round eyed when he'd pulled his dagger, but he had hoped for some mock fear, a bit of swooning, maybe a few “oh dears”, and then a half-hearted beg for mercy. Anything but her almost teasing correction, as if she was toying with him. That combined with her earlier chuckle, laughing a bit too hard at his use of the word "cock", as if she’d never heard people casually use vulgar innuendos, were little off-notes in an otherwise excellent first impression.

In fact, up close, she proved even more beautiful than afar, which was a rare trait for a whore. While the makeup was still garish, as should be expected, her face almost glowed with eagerness, or was it her hazel eyes that sparkled in the dim light and made the rest of her seem to glow? Either way, she was both far prettier than her depraved reputation deserved and apparently far more excited for this tryst than the typical jaded whore might be, and Lucas felt his loins begin to warm in anticipation of sampling her delights.

"Exactly the right kind, by my measure.”

And just like that Lucas felt like they were back on track. Sure, she wasn’t quivering in fear, but he sensed now the act she strove for, a confident, assured, and likely “progressive” Kyressian woman, who’d take his threats and even brandished open blade as some form of courting banter. He’d have to work a bit to truly scare her, but he liked her attitude as it hinted at a similar confidence in the bedroom that would no doubt be part of her charms.

“Listen, wench,” he said, giving her another wink. “I’d rather you not bring your mother into this, but if she’s half the slattern I suspect you are, I may be willing to accommodate her tonight as well. In terms of us getting familiar, you can start by telling me your name, not that I’ll make much of an attempt to remember it.”

It was always fun to freely talk dirty with a woman like this. Lucas normally chafed under layers of protocols and manners he had to mind while at Court or with his entourage, where he could hardly say "Good Morning" to a woman without causing a scandal. Tonight, however, he could be as vulgar as he desired. He pulled her wrist towards his face, and considered the back of her hand, pursing his lips as if he were about to give her a gentlemanly kiss. Instead, he licked her, his long tongue snaking out and flicking against her quite delicate skin and leaving a sheen of his saliva.

“Not bad for my first taste,” Lucas said, feigning a shrug of indifference. “But I’m sure I’ll be able to put this tongue to better use in other parts of your body, once we are more familiar that is.” He grabbed his knife again, and held it near her wrist, twisting the blade to make it glint as he turned her arm to expose the soft skin underneath. “Now, let’s cut to the chase. I plan on taking you out of here, willing or not, and using you like the cheapest and filthiest whore in all of Ves. You can either go meekly, at my side, or roughly, over my shoulder and screaming. And if you are thinking about running, have no fear that I plan on pricking you tonight, either with my knife now, or actual prick later. So, what'll it be, will you be quiet?"

Lucas ended his question by giving the woman his best cruel sneer. Inside, he was nearly giddy with excitement at uttering the words, as this was turning out to be much more fun than he'd even imagined. Oh, what he couldn't wait to do to this saucy little minx!

 

[lasciel]

Enough with the winking! And really, must you be so vulgar to the queen?

Charlotte would've thought that Sam would be forthcoming with who her hired escort's client would be, but she supposed it was easier to cover her trail when everyone involved knew as little as possible. Still, the princess couldn't imagine any upstanding Kyressian knowingly speaking so rudely of the queen, especially not a man of Ves! Who did he think her, then? Probably some daughter of the high nobility looking for an extra turn of fun before a boring marriage, a story not too different from her own. The tale was common enough that the princess was sure she'd read her own life in fictional form more than once while going through the bodice-rippers she'd developed a fancy for in her teenage years.

Perhaps if she was lucky Lucas was merely ignorant, rather than dull. Maybe there was a hope for expanding his sexual horizons once they were wed and they'd done the most important duty of producing an heir and a spare. Or at worst, finding a comfortable agreement by which he would simply overlook her indiscretions. Not that she was eager to engage in any behavior that could give his family cause to cry foul on their agreement. Really, she was stuck with the man, and if the portraits she'd been sent were any indication he had about all the power to make her blood run hot as a warm glass of milk.

And it hardly felt fair to consign herself to such drudgery when men like Luther walked the earth. Just the little ways his lips quirked as he watched her and pondered his next move were enough to send her heart racing. Or the subtle twitch where his own pulse hammered in his neck. What would it feel like to press her lips over that spot and feel his heart beat frantically while she pulled his cock free from his trousers and--

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden tug on her arm, pitching her forward so she had to put out a hand to stop herself from going face-first into his lap. Her palm slapped flat against his chest, noting with surprised satisfaction how it was much like slamming into a brick wall. If a brick wall smelled pleasantly masculine and radiated warmth. She looked up, cheeks tinting with the beginnings of a blush as he considered the freckle-dusted expanse of her wrist and hand. That faint pink glow blossomed into a hard flush that reached her ears as rather than graze his lips across the backs of her knuckles he licked her.

"Sunlight!" The word escaped her in quiet surprise, followed by a whole-body shiver. Realizing as if for the first time that she'd put her other hand against his chest she snatched it back with a look down at herself as if she had done something improper. But her eyes snapped back up to Luther's handsome face once more as he went on, all-but-detailing the depraved acts he intended to indulge her in once they were elsewhere. Had she not already been red to the hairline of her forehead no doubt he would've coaxed her into flushing further, but as things stood he'd already made her as red as she could get.

Over your shoulder and screaming, you handsome scoundrel, but as much as the thought pleased her she knew Sam would have her head if she caused a scene. The other attendants of the Golden Cockatrice were not in on their game, and while some rough handling would be overlooked Charlotte was less sure that the screaming and sobbing theatrics she could bring to bare would be so quietly tolerated. Though on the leeside of the city it was still Ves, and she had a hard time imagining an entire tavern full of citizens simply overlooking what appeared to be a serious crime in-progress.

Right?

It was best not to risk it, at any rate. Worse yet he may take her struggle as an encouragement to throw in even more puns, and the last thing she needed was getting herself tossed out on her ear from the tavern for walloping this fool over the head for his taste in humor!

"Y-yes," she stammered, and the tremble in her voice had not been intentional. Though her rational mind knew she was in no danger from his brandished blade the way he toyed with it gave her lizard hind-brain pause. "I mean, I'll come quietly." At least as far as the stable. Once they were there she felt far more comfortable making a ruckus. The gleam in her eyes as she tried and failed to look innocent and sweet as she blinked up at him telegraphed just how long her quiet "compliance" would last.

 

[Dark Prince]

"Sunlight?" Lucas repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He shook off the question that was forming in his head as to whether she was serious. It sounded more like a milquetoast curse than a name! Well, he'd put her on the spot and he guessed she'd tried to think of a new name rather than give him the likely whorish sounding trade name she used, perhaps she went by something cliché like Sabine, Theodora, or Jezebel with her typical customers. None of those would work with the abduction of a "reputable" lady roleplay he'd started, so Sunlight would have to do. Besides, it's not like he'd be crying out anything other than wench or slattern while he fucked her later tonight!

Still, he wondered what kind of depraved whore has "Sunlight" pop into their head as the first name they can think of?

Lucas was quickly distracted from thoughts of her name by the feel of her hand on his chest, a chaste touch that still made his pulse quicken. It might have been his imagination, but she seemed to almost grope him a bit to get a better sense of his muscles, as if feeling out a wrapped present to get a clue for what might be inside. Whatever her motive, he didn't mind the inspection and in fact found himself tightening his chest to give her more to feel, until she suddenly snatched her hand away as if scalded.

Even more exciting for Lucas, Sunlight's acting skills were far better than he imagined as the sweet blush on her face, and those big round hazel eyes, gave a picture perfect rendition of an embarrassed woman of gentle breeding being shocked by his vulgar behavior and aggressive words. It was mind boggling to think a woman with her depraved reputation could also pull off a sweet and innocent act so well.

Truly, Sam had outdone himself by finding this whore! Lucas fought back a happy grin of delight as his mind raced ahead to what would definitely be an epic night of debauchery to end his bachelor days. With any luck, he’d have her again tomorrow night as well as he'd twisted Sam's arm a bit and gotten the nervous manservant to admit he could likely extend this "hunting" trip another night if needed.

Her reply to his ultimatum was also pitch perfect, Sunlight giving him a cute stammer that matched the subtle quaver in her voice, and Lucas, for half a second, almost believed her and grew worried she was truly scared. Had she not caught on that he was acting?! Only a mischievous twinkle in her hazel orbs, which glinted as he grinned at her, reassured him that she was definitely in on the act, and that subtle hint sent another surge of lust through his already far too eager body. Unfortunately, it also meant he craved an escalation in his behavior, and the idea of a meek and quiet escort out of the tavern suddenly seemed a bit... boring.

"Good, you'll go quietly, then?" he said, giving her a hard look designed to show he wasn't to be trifled with. "Giggle and smile merrily while I carry you out of here like the wench you are, or you'll feel my dagger!"

Now, Lucas knew there were risks to the approach his horny brain now demanded, but he was a keen student of seedy tavern culture and thought it worth the gamble. Sheathing his knife, and slinging his saddlebag over his shoulder, he stood up and grasped Sunlight by her hips. Pulling her to standing, he scooped her up and tossed her over his free shoulder with surprising ease, one hand holding her thighs while her head dangled down his back.

"Well, I'm off to fuck my whore, lads," he yelled out as loud as he could, slapping Sunlight's ass for good measure. "She's a fiesty little one, but I say pay for quality over quantity with women, am I right?"

While they received plenty of stares, most of the patrons had likely seen stranger things and the woman he carried at least wasn't openly crying for help. A few of them gave lusty shouts of encouragement, and some made vulgar inquiries about whether she'd be available later that night. The scattered whores working the room had sour expressions, no doubt worried that their customers were going to expect to be able to carry them out like a sack of potatoes as well.

Lucas had a grin on his face as he burst out of the tavern and turned to the stables by the side. A fetching woman, quite voluptuous he noted, wearing a tawdry blue dress was forced to detour around them, and Lucas offered her a wink and brief apology. He gave Sunlight another hard spank, before depositing her inside the stable doors.

"Now, Sunlight, we don't want you running away, do we?" Lucas asked, holding her by the waist tightly with one hand while fishing with the other in his saddlebag for the rope. Off the main road, and shadowed from the nearest kinner globe, it was just dark enough to be even bolder. "So I'm going to have to tie you up. You understand why of course? Not that you have much say in the matter…”

 

[lasciel]

Had she misspoke? Or perhaps he was new to Ves and had never heard a lady swear before. Oh, she'd told Samantha to avoid the "usual suspects" she favored for her dalliances but her handmaid had really outdone herself if she'd found someone from far enough afield to--

Wait. Did he think that was her name?

He had asked me my name. I think. Charlotte was no longer sure, and denied the opportunity to find out as Luther continued onward with his script. He'd paused for a moment, perhaps trying to remember what he was supposed to say if she agreed. Did Sam really think she'd cause a scene? That would make things messy. The last thing the princess needed was enough commotion to give the common folk a reason to remember her face or presence.

...except nobody had told Luther that, for the man promptly seized her by her hips and slung her over his shoulder like rolled-up tapestry! (He had said something about carrying her out of here, but she'd assumed he was being rhetorical.) Despite herself, the princess yelped, halfway to a shriek that she only barely managed to choke off as the air was driven from her lungs by the sudden incursion of his shoulder into her stomach.

By the pits, he is strong! Nobody had hoisted the princess like that since she'd been a small child, gods forbid the offending party find themselves thighs-deep in paperwork and fines for all the laws they'd violate. Luther did it with ease, and no apparent concern over the fact that she was the crown princess of Keryss. Well, either Sam had beat into his pretty head that he was to treat her as any common tavern slattern, or he really didn't know who she was. Given his... limited skills of creative acting (she couldn't imagine him choosing such lines if he could've come up with something better), she assumed it had to be the latter.

Good, she thought smugly, regarding the room from over Luther's shoulder as he carried her away. Now it was her turn to offer one of those silly winks, letting those who'd bothered to look up at the commotion know she was in on the act and that there was no need to summon the constabulary. Not that anyone seemed to be rushing to react. Maybe her act had been less convincing than she'd thought?

"Hey!" Charlotte yelped a second time, and thumped a fist on Luther's back for good measure. Slapping her ass and calling her a whore was a bit far. Especially in front of others! Did he really not realize that discretion was tantamount here? She'd have to have a word with Samantha about properly informing new employees of the value of subtlety. Except, the thought reminded her, there would be no new employees. That took the wind out of her sails, and she slumped glumly against Luther's back right up until he spanked her a second time.

"Be gentle with the goods, boy, I'll need to sit on that rump tomorrow." The princess huffed once she was set on her feet, her own indignation overriding whatever sense of fear Luther tried to instill in her. And he apparently did think Sunlight was her muddy name, which proved funnier than it should've been. She had to fight back laughter, looking away until she could smooth her face back into some semblance of "terror-stricken bar wench". It was a rather good impression, she thought, given that part of her was very much afraid at the moment, even knowing it was all an act.

But her fear, real or imagined, didn't stop her from pressing her body more thoroughly against his, appreciating the unyielding firmness of his chest and thighs. Could she coax something else to unyielding firmness before they galloped off into the night? "Oh no, Luther, you don't need to tie me up, I'll be good I promise!" She breathed, twisting in his grip to bat long and painted-dark lashes up at him around wide and innocent-looking hazel eyes. The relative darkness of the stables hid her building blush, but he could still see the little tremble she put into her lower lip. And no amount of shadow would hide the feeling of her small but shapely ass pressing into his crotch. "Please sir, I'd be so afraid," she added as she gripped his bicep, wondering after she'd said it if it was a little too much.

Well, at least I'm not winking like I've gotten sand in my eye!

 

[Dark Prince]

Lucas had loved carrying his “wench” off in full view of the entire bar, even knowing she was a paid whore didn’t diminish the masculine and taboo thrill he’d felt at that public display of ownership. Sunshine had done a decent job of acting, he’d almost sensed some real annoyance in her curses and true frustration in her futile blows against his back. The final spank had seemed to set her off again, as she broke character briefly to reprimand him. She ultimately seemed to find the whole thing amusing, at least for a brief second, before sculpting her delicate features into a deliciously terrified look.

“Oh no, Luther, you don't need to tie me up, I'll be good I promise!”

The damned rope was hard enough to fish out one-handed as it was, but Sunshine was making it even more difficult by squirming against him in a manner that was definitely not an attempt to escape, but rather solely designed to distract him with all the curvy delights her dress hid. Her distressed expression was also tempting him, not to mention her batting those far too innocent eyes, and combined with the angle into her décolletage his position offered, it all conspired to make him want to tie her up and get her somewhere private as quickly as possible.

By the Great One’s sweaty balls she was pretty!

“Oh, I know you'll be good. But, tying you up is for your own protection,” Lucas answered. “For otherwise I might be tempted to ravish you right now… the ropes are there to make it tougher for me, my little wench.”

The rope was out of his bag finally, a good ten foot length of quality hemp, and he looped one end around her wrists as he nestled in behind her. That seductive rear was rubbing in exactly the right spot and a delicious tingling warmth was growing in his loins. As if on cue, he could feel himself hardening, his length growing down the leg of his trousers as she seemed to expertly burrow against him with an ass that apparently had a horny mind of its own.

“Oh, you are an eager little slattern… aren’t you?” he murmured in her ear, his voice a little thick from his growing lust.

It was too much and Lucas was suddenly far too distracted by the tempting little vixen that wriggled in his arms. He liked playing the cad and a lecherous desire filled his head as he savored the idea that she was truly helpless. The thought crept into his mind that could do any vulgar act he wanted to her right now, anything, for she was his to plunder as he saw fit! Although, he also knew he'd have to temper his cravings somewhat if he was going to make it out of the stables.

Finishing a rough loop around her other wrist, the rope still untied, he lowered his face and gave her a hungry and quite aggressive kiss. Those full lips were too beckoning a target, and he quested in with his tongue almost immediately after locking his mouth with her own. It was a bit brazen for a first kiss of a respectable lady, of course, but she was his whore after all, and this would be a nice reminder that he could do anything he wanted to her. By reflex, he brought a hand up to her bosom to give one her breasts a thorough grope. While smaller than he’d hoped, that soft mound felt more than large enough for his needs and he squeezed it with satisfaction as he let his fingers try to find a nipple to pinch through the layers of her bodice.

What he wouldn't give for a private room off the stables right now!

“If you keep teasing me, I’m going to have to saddle and ride you right here!” He whispered the words directly in her ear, then gave her lobe a lecherous lick for good measure. "And trust me, it'll not be a gentle ride."

It was only a joking threat, although his eyes scanned the stables for an empty stall just in case. The stablehand was apparently in the back, or politely hiding, so it could be feasible… but no, he shook his head, it was better to enjoy her properly, and at a more leisurely pace, for his first taste of pleasure tonight. He tugged the rope tight around her delicate wrists and tied a hasty knot, then nodded towards his saddled horse.

“Come, it’s time to ride off with you and give you what you deserve.”

 

[lasciel]

"“For otherwise I might be tempted to ravish you right now..."

Oh yes, please! The stables looked empty enough. It was still a little more public and exposed than Charlotte would've otherwise considered, but for her last romp she was eager to push her limits. There wouldn't be another chance, not unless her husband-to-be did her the favor of dying after giving her a heir and a spare but before she was too old to enjoy it. But given Lucas's utterly boring slate of hobbies that seemed muddy unlikely. Not like Luther, who clearly knew his way around a leeside tavern and had no compunctions about slinging a princess over his shoulder. She could see him dying in all manners of exciting ways!

She felt her wiggling and writing have it's intended effect from the new outline her rear felt forming in his pants. The lad was well-equipped by her (limited) measure, and either genuinely eager to ravish her or good enough at his job to convince his body to play along in-time. It didn't hurt that Charlotte was objectively good-looking, a fact more than one of the companions Samantha had hired her in the past had remarked upon at the end of what often proved for the employee a surprisingly vigorous night.

I wonder how far can I push him?

"I'm not the only one who is eager," Charlotte hissed in reply as he re-positioned her wrists before her to loop looped the rope around them. The tightness of her dress over her bust was only further emphasized by the position, helped by the way the girl breathed into her chest and twisted her neck to keep watching him. "Oh!" She squeaked as her ass found his stiffening rod again. "I thought you promised no pricks if I was good!"

Rather than reply to her uninspired pun he kissed her. Not all men Samantha hired did kissing, and fewer were any good at it by her measure. But as his lips met hers, and more of that delightful electricity sparked between them as it did whenever they touched, Charlotte knew her handmaid had found something truly special in him. He was bold with his tongue, but was met with one of equal skill that sparred with his eagerly. Her mouth still tasted faintly of the sweet wine she'd been drinking, and he hadn't gotten around to ordering anything at all, leaving him just pleasantly himself, which proved to be a man of good oral hygiene and a very dexterous tongue. Oh, if he could be so good with her mouth, how would he feel parting and invading her lower lips with that same muscle?

"Ah!" She couldn't help but sigh in arousal and slight disappointment as he pulled away after only a few moments. You couldn't just kiss a woman like that and stop! But the feeling of his tongue against her ear more than made up for the loss, causing her to arch further into his rough grip on her bosom.

"You scoundrel, you wouldn't dare!" Charlotte replied in the hopes of goading him into doing just that. But he seemed fixed on his goal of riding off with her into the sunset. Well, if he didn't want his sword polished before they headed out she wasn't going to make a stink about it. Especially given that he seemed itching to stick with his schedule, she wondered if there was some sort of surprise at the other end that was time-sensitive. The kinner globes in the street had begun to go red-gold, signaling that sunset was soon, even if the leeside remained wreathed in shadow.

With her wrists cinched firmly her he gestured towards his horse. She followed, not really being given a choice in the matter anyway (not that she was objecting), then paused at Luther's side as she waited for him to throw her saddle. When he didn't she shrugged, reaching up with her bound hands and hooking one foot in the stirrups to expertly vault herself into the saddle, both legs on one side and pushing forward until her hips hit the horn to give him space to mount up behind her. With her wrists tied as they were she certainly couldn't hold onto him, and it would be far less obvious to onlookers that she was tied at the wrists if she kept her hands on the horn, partially hidden by her skirts. Skirts split for riding, or pants, would've been her favored garment, but she felt certain she could manage a short ride side-saddle as they were. It was better than being hefted again like a sack of potatoes.

"Well. We're going, yes?" Charlotte asked as Luther stared at her, wondering if he meant to hoist her after all. Maybe she was supposed to fight back a little more? But oh, she was eager to be off so they could get to the really fun parts. " To the ravaging?"

As they made ready to leave another man entered the tavern, tall and handsome with bright blue eyes and dark-blond hair that curled slightly at the ends, dressed up in a green doublet that fit scandalously tight across his broad and well-muscled chest. He was flanked, loosely, by two other men who could be said to be overdressed for the Golden Cockatrice, their clothes like their companion's in being a little too new-looking and tightly fitted versus what a proper working-class man would be likely to own. None carried swords, all three carried blunt knives that couldn't prick so much as poke, and their leader fixed his lusty eye on the girl in the tight blue dress sitting at the bar sipping wine only a moment before his fellows.

"What is a pretty girl like you doing in a leeside dive like this?" The lead prostitute hissed, coming 'round close to the woman who matched his curly-haired employer's description like matching sens. And the way she eagerly looked up at him and his companions in reply - these would be the easiest three months of income any of them had ever earned!

 

[Dark Prince]

"You scoundrel, you wouldn't dare!"

Oh, Lucas would dare, and he hesitated at Sunshine’s words as his resolve faltered yet again. The stables were rather quiet and the stall nearest them did appear to be empty. Perhaps a quick little fuck in the hay, or even standing up against the wall with her skirt hiked up, would be a nice way to relieve the growing tension that was straining down his pants leg as her pert ass wiggled against it?

He shook his head to clear it and steeled his resolve.

“No, what I intend to do to you can’t be done in public.”

Great Light, this sweet little whore was driving Lucas simply mad with lust! He was barely able to think straight as he was so eager to take her to bed. It was her enthusiasm he decided, as she seemed almost as genuinely excited to get his cock inside her as he was to give it to her. He’d had eager whores before, of course, but even with the best of those he’d always detected a subtle undertone in their act that hinted at rehearsed moans and scripted entreaties. With Sunshine, however, the encounter already felt more like the playful and ego-stoking trysts he had with amorous ladies that were seeking his cock solely for their own carnal desires. It was intoxicating, as if he’d somehow gotten this jaded whore to be genuinely thrilled to fuck him for reasons beyond the gold that Sam had showered upon her.

Strange that he’d care about a whore actually desiring him, but he could already tell Sunshine was like no other whore he’d ever been with. Even now, tied up and impatient, Sunshine stepped up to his horse and, before he could grab her waist, reached up and mounted the saddle herself with what looked like some expertise. Lucas’s eyes widened in pleased surprise as she adjusted herself sidesaddle to give him room.

How had a whore learned to ride?

“Uhh… Very well, good that you know... your place,” Lucas said as he stared up at her, still slightly bewildered.

With a shake of his head, he grasped the horn by her hip and swung himself up behind her in an easy motion. Sunshine was snug against him, her warm body pressed into his chest and one hip nestled against his groin. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, feeling her breasts nuzzling into his left arm, and took the reins to back his horse out, before spinning it towards the stable doors expertly. The stable boy appeared, he’d likely been skulking in a stall and spying on them, but whatever words he shouted Lucas didn’t hear as he kicked the horse into a gallant lope outside and onto the cobblestones of leeside’s hard-scrabble streets.

Lucas’ horse sensed his urgency and its iron shod hooves sparked and skidded on the rough stones. The slippery road was potholed and tricky to navigate, but Lucas simply vaulted the larger puddles that formed in the gaps of the patchwork cobbles. The kinner globes cast an odd reddish glow, reminiscent of the sunset in the sky above, though the dark shadow of the castle edifice still gave this part of town a nighttime feel. It was an exhilarating ride at first, with Lucas dodging cursing pedestrians, mule drawn carts, and laborers carrying bags as he tried to canter down the narrow lane, but he was sadly forced to slow to a bouncing trot as they turned onto a wider, but busier avenue.

“Sam said you’d be beautiful,” he murmured. He regretted breaking character for that brief second, but with her soft body this close, the thick rope of her coppery hair rustling against his face, and the scent of spiced wine and perfume filling his nostrils, it was almost as if his mouth was speaking his inner thoughts on its own. To fix his error, he added with an evil chuckle, “Unfortunately, beauty won’t save you from all the horrible things I’m going to do to you tonight.”

As fun as this abduction ride was, and Lucas was very much enjoying bouncing along with a helpless Sunshine tight in his arms, he realized that the goal was to find an inn and he belatedly started looking. This larger avenue he’d taken them down seemed to have more businesses than the sleepy lane The Golden Cockatrice had been tucked into, and he turned at random into what seemed to be a likely establishment. A sign out front branded it The Queen’s Heart Inn, with a faded coat of arms hanging above that depicted a stylized profile of a crowned lady resting on a red heart from a deck of cards. It wasn’t the sort of place Lucas would ever stay, but compared to many of the inns and taverns in leeside it at least seemed to be in decent repair and had a full stable attached.

The irony that he'd be fucking a whore in an inn called the Queen's Heart while he was slated to marry the Queen's daughter in a week was not lost on him as he handed the reins to the stable boy. That little reminder of his impending sexual doom made him frown, but he took solace in the fact that there would be no chance of him running into Princess Charlotte at this kind of second-rate inn, despite its name.

“Mark your words, wench,” Lucas reminded her. “My dagger is ready if you try to shout an alarm.”

Swinging down, Lucas plucked Sunshine from the saddle lightly and led her after him into the common room. Too late he realized she was still bound up, and he was forced to give a nervous chuckle to the plump innkeeper, whose eyes flicked to Sunshine’s wrists before narrowing to examine Lucas skeptically.

“My good, Sir,” said Lucas, offering the suspicious man a slight bow. Feigning a slight Krandian accent, those hill folk were always viewed as savage hicks, he continued, “We are newlyweds, I’ve tied her in the tradition of my native Krandia, as you can see, and we require your finest room to consummate our marriage.”

Lucas opened his money bag and thrust at the man some of the Keryssian currency Sam had given him. Lucas hadn’t any notion of the value, he barely knew his own country’s coin let alone how much a room might cost, but the man’s eyes seemed to widen and whatever hesitation he had earlier was gone as a big smile appeared.

“A quiet room,” Lucas added, as the suddenly obsequious man waved at them to follow him upstairs. “With a big bed…”

“I have just the one, the Queen's Chambers on our top floor,” the innkeeper reassured. Then, he lowered his voice and whispered to Lucas, with a knowing grin, “And I’ve got a goat in the stables I can have sent up as I know you Krandians like them on wedding nights. Don't worry, I won’t ask why!”

“N-no, I think.. we… maybe later on the goat. I’ll ring you.”

 

[lasciel]

“No, what I intend to do to you can’t be done in public.”

Oh but those words did make her heart skip a beat and her sex throb in it's place from the anticipation. And the way he said them, as if he would've had any shame bending her over then and there for everyone to see. She supposed Sam may've found one of the less forthcoming prostitutes to be found in Ves, as like with any profession the qualities of those who practiced could vary widely. Shy wasn't often a feature, but Luther could've been the practical sort who knew better than to make her scream in pleasure where so many ears could hear and so many eyes could see a face some may find familiar if they stared long enough. Or perhaps he was just really good at acting. The last stood in sharp contrast to all the damn winking he'd done before, but it wouldn't be the first time a male escort had found a secret thespian reserve after actually meeting and interacting with the wanton princess.

Whatever his acting chops, she had apparently thrown him for a loop in hopping up onto his steed so adroitly. Maybe he was worried he'd disappoint her with his riding skills. She was still impressed that Sam had found a prostitute who knew how to ride, moreso one who felt confident enough to take her along with. And after a moment, and with her gentle reminder, he seemed to remember what he was about and vaulted up alongside her. Nestled as they were she could feel that he was still very eager to be moving along with the script, so she held on as best she could and braced against him as he brought their mount around and went loping off into the evening.

"Oh!" Charlotte's expectation had been a spirited trot at most, but Luther demonstrated startling skill and aggression in how he weaved his mount in-between pedestrians and vehicles and around the infrastructural failings of the leeside's streets, across puddles of gray water that never fully evaporated and around the occasional pile of dung that some draft horse or oxen had left behind. It was a wild ride to be sure, but besides her initial squeal of mixed fear and delight Luther's captive was quiet. It was a stunned, anticipatory silence, eyes wide as she strained to guess where they were going before they got there. Would there be more men waiting for them? Were they going to a rented room at a brothel, or perhaps a shady inn? Or perhaps Sam had even gone so far as to rent a dingy flat with the windows boarded up. The possibilities were endless!

But Luther neatly broke up her thoughts with his lusty murmur, reigniting the blush he'd drawn before which had only just begun to die down. It wasn't the first time a prostitute had complimented her, but he did sound far more genuine about it than most. Well, Sam was supposedly paying him a king's ransom for the privilege of fucking her. He'd better think she was beautiful! But the way he course-corrected a moment later, trying to put his remark in context, suggested to the princess that his little slip had not been some mere line (or if it was, that his earlier acting had been a ploy to convince her of her current hypothesis).

With that, their wild ride seemed to reach it's conclusion. Charlotte was relatively sure they'd made more loops than strictly necessary to get from the Golden Cockatrice to their current location, but she wouldn't blame the man for not knowing about her abnormally keen spatial memory. It wasn't a skill she advertised, and if Sam hadn't told him then he was in the rights to think a few loops would be all it took to disorient her. Not that The Queen's Heart was a familiar inn to the princess, but she was confident she could've placed it on a map based on where they'd started and the route they'd took.

She has my great-grandmother's nose, she thought with a sniff as she eyed the stylized portrait hanging above the entrance. But the massive rack the artist had added to the cartoonish image prevented her from looking much more like Queen Sabrina than a distant cousin. Still, the princess suspected the sign was an omen, and a good one - this would be just the kind of leeside joint that wouldn't look twice at two or three or five men taking to a room with a lone woman for the better part of a day. Hopefully it was upmarket enough to not give her fleas, but there was a whole week before she was supposed to meet her husband-to-be anyway to get that sorted if worst came to worst.

"Your dagger seems eager to prick me regardless of what I say!" She hissed in reply, suppressing the urge to giggle. The smell of slightly-stale hay and old horse urine did little to dampen her spirits, and she was so giddy she was certain she'd have floated away if Luther's grip on her waist as he took her from the saddle hadn't been as sure as it was. But that didn't stop her from rubbing her hands against his crotch as he set her on the ground, maintaining an innocent expression all the while as she found her balance and turned away to be marched into the common room.

She'd not thought much of still being bound, assuming the innkeep here at least would've been warned that something was afoot. So she walked where Luther thrust her, and only paused when she realized he'd stopped walking, too, turning to watch the exchange. And her jaw nearly fell to the floor at his explanation.

What in the damp pits?!

On the verge of cutting in herself to explain that, no, she was in no danger and no, they were not Krandians (not, she added in her head, that there was anything wrong with being Krandian), but Luther finally made the smart move of pulling out what had to be a coin purse Sam had given him for such emergencies. He fisted an impressive sum of (presumably) her money and offered it to the man, and her worry changed from him calling out his backstory to growing suspicious of the massive bribe he'd just offered. Too big a bribe was more suspicious than no bribe at all, hadn't he read any bodice-rippers?

But the innkeep seemed mollified all the same, greed overriding common sense as the man's skepticism as he acquiesced to Luther's demands. Fine. They would be "Krandians". It didn't much matter as long as they got what they wanted and he didn't try to sell them on--

"And I’ve got a goat in the stables I can have sent up..."

It took all her effort not to moan in exasperation as she heard the innkeep whisper. Thank the light Luther had the sense to cut that off at the pass!

Her only acting role fulfilled she followed the other two upstairs, awkwardly gripping her skirts in her bound hands at one side and trying to hike them high enough to not trip over the hems as she traversed the uneven risers. Whenever The Queen's Heart had been built, it must have been a time when post-construction hadn't yet been required to receive an operating license, as the staircase was certainly not level and at least two of the steps were several fingerwidths above regulation height. She nearly fell twice, each time catching herself against Luther's firm chest with a small squeak and an apologetic look. It was his damn fault though for leaving her hands bound and not having the manners to carry her up.

The term "Queen's Chambers" was accurate only in so much that, like her mother's bedroom in the marble throne in that it occupied the top floor and was possessing of a massive, four-poster bed. The bed looked like it could've been as old as the marble throne, the carvings in the dark wood worn smooth with repeated cleanings and oilings, the mattress stuffed with new rags but still sagging a little in the middle for where the slats beneath had warped over time. The gauzy curtain surrounding the bed was more holes than lace, and the rest of the bedding had obviously been mended more than once in it's lifetime. But everything looked surprisingly clean and well taken-care of, and if the sloping roof led to some awkwardly short spaces at the corners the room was still spacious, and there was even a real hearth rather than just a portable brazier which connected to it's own little chimney.

Charlotte smiled at the innkeep pleasantly until he left. Then she turned her large, liquid eyes back up at Luther and batted her lashes enticingly. "Now, I believe, you were going to threaten me with your dagger again?" Her words came out as a breathy whisper, and her innocent look faltered as she flashed a lusty grin. But it was gone in a heartbeat, replaced by a quivering lower lip and a look of two thirds fear, one third anticipation. "Oh Luther, please don't hurt me, I'll be a good girl and do whatever you want..."

 

[Dark Prince]

Lucas was in such a fever that the closer he got to his goal, the more time seemed to dilate and slow, stretching his patience to the limit. Even the little delay with the innkeeper, quickly solved by gold and a lie (one that he hoped wouldn’t come back to haunt him in the form of livestock in their chambers), had seemed interminable. Fortunately, Sunshine seemed almost as eager as Lucas himself, and that long climb up the slightly crooked staircase at least provided Lucas with ample opportunities to touch and grope the tempting whore as she "lost" her balance and required his assistance.

At last, the innkeep was shooed away and they were in their room alone. Lucas hardly glanced at the furnishings, other than noting that the bed was satisfactorily large, although he noticed Sunshine giving the room a quite thorough assessment that seemed to meet whatever standards she required. With all of her experience, he had a sudden sordid thought that she might be looking for furniture and accessories that could be used for acts that Lucas couldn't even conceive of yet. As if he wasn't eager enough, he practically slammed the door in the innkeeper's beaming face, then latched it securely with the deadbolt from the inside. When he turned back, he found Sunshine smiling at him, those large eyes batting in a manner that set his already warm loins to burning.

"Now, I believe, you were going to threaten me with your dagger again?…” Sunshine cooed, then continued with a delicious expression of fear. “Oh Luther, please don't hurt me, I'll be a good girl and do whatever you want...”

For a second, Lucas could only grin in amazement. The words sent a dirty thrill through his jaded mind and, while he knew it was all a paid act, for a moment he felt the sweet satisfaction he imagined a true kidnapper would feel at having snatched this pretty little girl out of a tavern and absconded with her to a private room in a seedy inn. His heart skipped at the realization that she would be subject to any of the depraved fantasies that were now flooding into his mind, a veritable torrent of lewd images of her in various positions and reluctantly performing filthy acts on inappropriate parts of his body.

“This dagger?” he asked, a cruel sneer appearing on his lips as he settled back into his act. Luther had returned, the evil cad and notorious ravisher of women. He drew his knife, then seized her arm to pull her close to him, nestling her hip against what was an unmistakeable and hardening bulge in his trousers. The dagger he rested above her bodice, the blade dangerously close to her pulsing neck. “Or perhaps you think I’ll be easy on you and give you a different one? But, do pray tell, what kind of slattern looks forward to getting pricked by her captor?"

He leaned down and caught her mouth in a hungry kiss. There was no exploration this time, just an aggressive and passionate assault that was designed to show her that he could do with her as he pleased. The strong hand on her arm and sharp knife at her throat were added physical reminders to emphasize that she was his captive, and he was now in full control.

“Now, let’s see what you’ve been hiding, shall we?” said Lucas, after breaking the kiss to take a deep breath. He spun her around and pushed her back against the latched door, a knee pushing between her thighs to part them. He slipped his knife under one of the shoulder straps of her blue dress. “Remember, keep your voice down or this blade may cut more than cloth.”

Two easy snips with the well-honed blade and her overdress fell from her shoulders. He slammed the knife point first into the door by her head, then reached down to first unbind her wrists, and the give the dress a final tug that left it pooled on the floor by her boots. The complexity of lady's clothing was a perpetual source of frustration for Lucas, and Sunshine’s white underdress, while more form fitting due to her waist-clincher, hinted at still more hidden layers beneath, all maddening barriers protecting the bare flesh that Lucas desperately sought to finally expose.

“I’m going to rip your clothes off,” Lucas growled, his fingers curling under the bodice of her underdress and pressing against the tops of her soft mounds. With a grunt, he gave a savage tug to what he thought would be flimsy cotton, trying to rend the garment apart with his hands and literally rip her bodice open. “What the—”

Whatever this damned garment was made of, the surprisingly sturdy material refused to budge in the slightest!

With a sailor’s curse of true rage, Lucas was forced to grab his knife again and cut a slight notch into the hem. Only then, with a stronger grip and some repositioning of his body to better use his back, was he able to tear her dress open, the cotton ripping loudly down to her waist-cincher and exposing her jiggling breasts to his hungry gaze. What they lacked in size, they more than made up for in form, and the sight of her pink areolae against her pale skin made him lick his lips in anticipation. Continuing his motion, he pulled the top halves of her dress down her arms, leaving bare from her mid-riff up.

“Now, time for me to properly have a taste,” Lucas announced as he leaned in again for another kiss.

This time his lips gave hers only the briefest of brushes before his mouth worked down her jaw, then her neck, before at last plunging recklessly into the valley between her soft breasts. While his lips and tongue teased, slathering her mounds in licks and kisses as he orbited around her nipples, his hands moved behind her back, finding the ties on her waist-cincher in an effort to loosen that last bit of armor that clasped her underdress to her hips. It took a while for his fumbling fingers to undo the many knots, which was made tolerable as his mouth was more than happy leaving her breasts a glistening mess in the meantime, but when he did undo the cincher, he finally caught a neglected nipple in his mouth, and began suckling that nub and urging it to harden to its full potential.

His blue eyes glanced up to stare at Sunshine, gauging her reaction as his lips gave way to teeth, grazing her nipple and tugging it lightly. Would she like it rough, he wondered? Well of course she would, she was that kind of whore! But how rough? And why did he even care what she liked given all the money Sam was paying her? The better question, of course, was what did he like!

“Don’t worry, my eager little whore,” Lucas said, once he’d finished a reciprocal set of teasing on her other nipple. He straightened, rising up to give her another savage kiss. His hand replaced his mouth on one of her nipples, rolling it between his thumb and fingers idly. “I’ll not be the only one sucking tonight.”

There was an evil glint in his eye as he broke the kiss to stare deeply at her limpid eyes. His cock was raging in his trousers, fully hard and straining to be free, and she had to feel it as their bodies pressed together. His hand slid up her back and clasped firmly around the nape of her neck.

"On your knees, girl," Lucas ordered, his voice firm. He gave her nipple a sharp pinch to accentuate his command. "Hurry, don’t make me have to spank you.”

It was time, he had decided, for him to treat her like the whore she was.

 

[lasciel]

"Oh!" The squeak of surprise and fear he received from Charlotte was genuine, her eyes widening a fraction more as he pulled her against his body and threatened her with two different hard lengths ready to pierce. But it was the one glittering at her neck that caught her attention, and made her pulse hammer and the muscles of her jaw and throat work as she dryly swallowed and tried to stay as still as possible. Back in the Golden Cockatrice she had admired it's sharpness and simple design, but she knew from her anatomy studies just how quick that edge could leave her choking and flailing on the floor as she bled out from her carotid artery over the course of ten to fifteen seconds. Not only would that be awkwardly inconvenient for her, but the thrashing Sam would deliver him would be a sight to be hold!

She gave no further reaction as he questioned her, knowing his remarks rhetorical and being really and genuinely afraid of the dagger. Why hadn't he brought something duller if he'd intended such aggressive play! What some men did for "realism"... well maybe she would hold it to his throat later and see how he felt about the arrangement. But Charlotte's anxious thoughts were swept aside by the sudden press of warm lips against hers, firm enough to make her arch backwards in his grasp and, thankfully, take the blade a little farther from where it could do the most damage.

Though Luther was clearly attempting to assert his dominance Charlotte gave as good as she got, her tongue quick and strong, writhing like a constrictor against his to explore the new territory of his mouth. He'd showed his skill the first time, and now she was eager to demonstrate the same and see what new heights of talent and skill she could coax him to. Men who kissed like Luther did, she knew, enjoyed something of the act above and beyond the coin it earned. She wanted to coax that insistent length in his pants to it's full size and see how long he would suffer the constriction at the mercy of her abilities. And as they kissed she felt that delicious sparking electricity again and wondered idly if he felt the same.

"Nothing you deserve to-- oof! --see." Charlotte declared, finding herself thrust more firmly against the door than she'd expected. Sam really had found a prostitute willing to manhandle her all right. Because he didn't know who she was, or because he was paid enough to not care? But despite the rough wood catching against her dress as she tried to find her balance as her legs were roughly shoved apart she had to fight the urge to grin from ear to ear. At least until she felt cool metal between the layers of cotton at her shoulders, and stiffened in an instinctive urge to not be sliced.

His very sharp blade made quick work of her overdress, and Charlotte couldn't say that she cared. It was a little too snug for her likes and Sam had paid it's original owner well for it's use. As long as he'd brought something else for her to wear at the end. Certainly he'd stocked the trunk in the room before arriving. Though the innkeep seemed surprised... perhaps his companions would come bearing more? Or in the saddlebags he'd left hanging along his horse. Plenty of room in those for some simple vestments!

Even with the straps cut the outerdress required some coaxing to work from her waist over her hips, but once he'd freed her wrists the princess was all to eager to assist. That left only another, oh, dozen or so layers in-between Luther and his prize, and Charlotte in her thoughts urged him towards the very same course of actions he was now considering. Her attempts to contain her grin faltered as he growled the declaration she'd been waiting for, and she arched her back away from the door to press her bosom more firmly into his fingers in response.

And then grinned more widely as Luther learned of the quality workmanship of even a simple woman's clothing. Her expectation was for him to simply try harder, but he surprised her by taking the smarter approach and notching the hem. Far better than trying to drag the blade down her body (which would've ended very poorly), and she wondered how often he'd been hired for this sort of gig before.

Knowing it was expected of her she made a distressed moan as her torso was laid bare, pressing her ribcage out a little more to really push her breasts into his field of view. Already her nipples were stiff little peaks from their dirty talk and groping and kissing. Another bud, similarly flushed with anticipation, pulsed between her thighs as he kissed her again, then slid his lips down her jaw and neck in an electric trail that made her sigh and moan involuntarily. He'd put her hands against the door but not pinned them and she reached up to grip his biceps once more as he wrapped his arms around her to work the closures of her waist-cincher. She'd been tempted to reach up and force his head down a little lower where he could attend to her nipples, but thought better of it.

"Luther!" She squealed when he finally did indulge her, his name coming out a sigh rather than an admonishment. By the time he'd finished with both nipples her cheeks had gone rosy pink once more, a similar flush creeping up her collarbone and neck, and when he kissed her again her response was even more enthusiastic than it had been before. Despite his rough act he really was good with his mouth and fingers, using both to give her just enough stimulation to make her damp and tight between her thighs without making it feel like he was breaking his act by catering to her needs.

And his own needs had been well-stoked by all the fun, she could tell, from how rock-hard his length felt in his trousers where it pressed against her thigh.

"W-why do you want me on my knees?" She asked, lower lip trembling as she resisted the urge to bite it in anticipation. But despite her inquiry Charlotte complied, sinking to her knees atop a bed of ripped garments and underskirts. It helped to pad from the roughness of the wooden floor, which she was grateful for, as she anticipated spending much time on her knees over the next several hours. Though her positioning in front of the door still felt a little awkward. Will his companions be coming in through the window?

Of course, she was unsurprised as he freed himself from his trousers, knowing exactly why he'd put her on her knees. Even before he'd finished fishing out his throbbing member she'd leaned forward and put one hand on his wrist, sliding it to his shaft as he took his own hand away. Shuffling forward a little to help her angle she bent at the waist to go the rest of the way, breathing a moist and heated breath over his swollen cockhead but not quite touching it. Those big hazel eyes of hers rolled up, watching from beneath a curtain of dark lashes, as she brought her tongue out and touched the tip to the underside of him, dragging it back towards the slit pressing along the place where shaft and head met at the frenulum.

Charlotte wanted to see him shiver.

Then she wrapped her hand more tightly around the base of his shaft and began to stroke, diving in with her mouth in earnest to wrap her lips around the area just behind the coronal ridge and lavishing him with her tongue and a goodly amount of saliva. With her other hand she reached behind and gripped one firm buttock, pulling him forward so she could take more of him into her mouth, demonstrating how easily she could ignore her gag reflex. When she had him where she wanted him her hand came 'round front to delve into his trousers beneath his cock and bring out his balls as well, fondling them gently as she continued to suck and stroke his length.