The inn keeper looked slightly askance at the party before him. It was not that he didn't appreciate seeing a beautifully naked young woman or even that he didn't often deal with Royalty; for he immediately recognised a Prince of the Realm when he saw one. But a man dressed as a woman? That you didn't see every day. Gods be thanked, if this specimen was anything to go by.
'Good evening Sire, how may I be of service?' he enquired, trying not to stare at the man...lady... whatever.
'We'll be requiring two rooms good Sir,' replied Lucius, 'And I hope for your sake that you don't sleep anywhere near them.'
The inn keeper, schooling his puzzled glance fairly quickly, ran to sort out the arrangements. The Prince didn't seem like a man who liked to be kept waiting.
*
Rosalind looked down at herself. She was stiff, sore, frustrated and filthy dirty. As soon as they'd left the Castle gates, Lucius' fingers had become much softer and delicately teasing in their ministrations. They'd left not an inch of her untouched and it had set her whole body on fire. A delicious heat she hadn't known existed had poured itself through her blood like molten lava, but instead of exploding, she'd been left to simmer gently. AARRGHHHH.
It hadn't been enough to even remotely satisfy her and when she'd tried to bounce at a heavier pace, rubbing herself along the saddle, he'd held her immobile and laughed. The Bastard had laughed. She gritted her teeth tightly. Ah dear God she needed hot water and if she had to beg for it she would. Bedamned if she would beg him for an orgasm. She'd rather join a nunnery.
'Please, Master, may I have a bath?' she whispered tightly.
She knew she stank, with clumps of mud or worse manure flaking from her skin and bits of hay stuck in her hair.
'Yes, you may,'replied Lucius.
Rosalind breathed a sigh of relief.
'Byron you can help the slave bath,' said Lucius.
Byron sighed and took Rosalind's hand. He started to move towards the welcoming heat of the inn door.
'Where are you going Byron?' asked Lucius.
'To get your slave a hot bath,' said Byron, thinking that was a very stupid question. Royalty weren't always as sharp as they appeared.
'No, dear boy, the river will do quite well. Slaves have to earn privileges, such as hot baths, with much sucking, begging and generally pleasing behaviour. But mostly sucking,' said Lucius as an afterthought, nodding to himself.
Rosalind stiffened horribly. As well she might, because Byron knew it wasn't much more than 10 degrees outside. Brrr.
'She's not to come inside until she's clean either and nothing but a good swim will do. I entrust your head firmly in her care, if you know what I mean, so don't lose her,' said Lucius just before disappearing inside the very warm and comfortable looking inn.
Bloody hell! Byron had been looking forward to putting his feet up with a nice pint of ale, whilst perusing the latest employment vacancies of Servants Wanted Weekly.
*
Unfastening the Princess' hands from behind her back, Byron tied one of her wrists with his. She was not going out of his sight as he quite liked his head firmly attached to his neck. Thankfully the river was only 200 yards behind the inn, so it wasn't going to be a long walk and soon enough they were perched on the edge of it.
Rosalind looked at her reflection in the pristine water and shuddered; what she wouldn't do to that Prince if a sharp implement was ever put in her reach.
'Right, bath time,' said Byron in a cheerful type of tone, 'sooner you get this over with the better eh?' He made encouraging noises and started to untie his hand from hers.
The Princess stared back at Byron with a somewhat unfriendly expression. She dipped a toe in tentatively and screeched, hopping madly.
'God almighty, it's bloody FREEZING,' she yelled hopping backwards in such a rush, she unbalanced Byron and sent him flying. Unfortunately he went flying the wrong way.
Even more unfortunately, Rosalind found he hadn't quite managed to free her hand from his.
*
She joined Byron, who looked much like an upside down mushroom with petticoats floating everywhere, desperately trying to free his arms in order to enable himself to swim. It took some time before the bedraggled pair made it back to the edge of the river bed.
'Sorr,' tried Byron before he was cut off quite abruptly.
'Don't talk to me. DO NOT talk to meeeee,' said Rosalind, most annoyed at how her teeth chattered on that last word.