Princess Aline's Submission

Aline's hands were trembling, but her feet moved with exacting precision as she completed her dance. She bowed, curtains of raven hair falling to hide the furious blush that had come over her cheeks. It hadn't been perfect. It needed to be perfect if she was going to find a husband at her elder sister's wedding.

The most important men and women in all the Twelve Kingdoms would be there. And, this year, now that she was twenty-one, she would finally be allowed to walk among them rather than hide behind her mother's skirts or peek from faraway balconies. Her father, King Kelini, had expectations for her now. And- Aline looked up, met her father's eyes- she had disappointed him. He was looking at her with such seriousness. She swallowed hard and forced herself to straighten up.

"You will continue to practice." The king's words fell like stone onto the fine marble floors of his throne room.

"Yes, Father." Aline curtseyed, then turned her back on the king and walked out of the room. As briskly as she dared, defying every rule of propriety. She fled. Turned a corner. And crumpled into a ball on the floor.

Servants' feet darted quickly around her as she struggled to wipe away tears. She had failed. The dance wasn't ready. She was nothing like the perfect Crown Princess Cinika. Her sister's courting dance had been nothing short of spectacular, and she'd had her pick of the most handsome princes, lords, dukes, and even kings to choose from. Now, she was marrying the gorgeous King Sutwa, ruler of the Ram Kingdom. A well-built man with muscles bigger than his head, Sutwa was a fine warrior and a lacking diplomat. Cinika would be good for him. She would be his perfect, demure wife, with feet like floating feathers and a mind as sharp as steel.

What would Aline bring? She wasn't as talented as Cinika, wasn't as smart as her mother, wasn't as ruthless as King Kelini.

As she began to spiral into despair, Aline felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw her father's advisor, Chancellor Raingin. A tall, pale, hawkish man with hair of jet and eyes of deep brown, Raingin was often referred to as the Ghost of the Rabbit Kingdom, due to his reputation for stalking around in the dark with a brooding expression.

Right now, though, Raingin was offering her a kind smile and a hand. Aline took it and stood, brushing off her gauzy practice dress.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that, Chancellor," Aline murmured, dropping into a slight curtsey. Theoretically, Raingin was far below her in the kingdom's ranks, and thus unworthy of even the smallest head nod, but he was her father's advisor, and had a certain power that went officially unacknowledged.

Raingin shook his head. "Think nothing of it, Princess Aline. Your father can be..." he hesitated, his angular face contorting with something akin to doubt. "Rude. Abrupt. Brisk." Raingin offered a rueful grin. "Try not to take it to heart. He wants what's best for you."

Aline glared at him. "He doesn't really care about what I want. He just needs to barter me off to a wealthy or powerful husband. Preferably both. If he has to, though, he'll marry me to grouchy old General Tantrim as a retirement gift!"

Raingin snorted, then swiftly schooled his features back into measured concern. "Princess, your father will not marry you to General Tantrim, I can promise you that." He hesitated again, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Aline tilted her head. Was that the hint of a blush on Raingin's impossibly pale cheeks? No, that was pretty much impossible.

"He will not," Raingin concluded, nodding with finality. "Come, Princess Aline. I am to teach your lessons today. Your usual tutor has fallen ill. I will be as exacting as she is, so do not let down your guard!"

Aline smiled, and followed Raingin towards the castle library.

They walked in silence, for the most part. Raingin occasionally stopped to share a few words with a passing courier or scribe, and Aline strode purposefully with her chin held high. She was a princess, and thus was not supposed to make eye contact with servants. They were so far below her station, it was as if they were dirt. Her father had told her that. Had drilled it into her repeatedly, in fact, after catching her giggling with a pair of servant girls when she was only twelve.

They stopped at the library and Raingin held the door for her. Aline nodded her head- surely her father couldn't object, if it was his own advisor- and entered first. The small castle library was entirely empty save for the swirling dust dancing lazily in the afternoon light. Raingin sat down in her tutor's usual chair, but Aline remained standing.

Raingin was the farthest thing from a trusted confidante, and yet... she had not one person she could truly speak to honestly. Her maidservants were rotated monthly so that she could befriend none of them. Her mother was a cold, frigid woman who only cared for politicking. Her father was gruff and often cruel. And the Crown Princess Cinika, her beloved sister, had been so distant since her engagement to Sutwa. Aline was bursting with emotion, and had no place to let it out.

Raingin had been kind. Had looked at her, curled up on the floor, without pity. Had offered a hand. It was small, so very small. And he might tell her father everything she said. It didn't matter to her just then.

Aline swallowed. "Raingin," she murmured hoarsely. "I... I don't think I want to get married."

Raingin's head shot up from the book he had been perusing. His eyes were wide. "Princess, what-"

"I don't want to get married!" She was shouting. She coughed, lowered her voice. "Raingin. I don't want to dance in front of a crowd of old men knowing one of them is going to-" she lowered her voice to a bare whisper- "bed me."

In a fluttering of robes, Raingin was standing over her, looking down his long nose. "Aline. More quietly, or someone will hear." The man opened his mouth. Seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, his jaw set, and he placed a thin finger lightly over her lips.

Aline jolted. His finger was cold, but her lips felt hot where he had touched her. Unbidden, her own fingers rose to her face. Brushed the spot. She felt her face redden. What the hell was she thinking? This was her father's advisor. A twenty-eight year old man. Young for the post, yes, and she had to admit he was attractive in a rather severe, pointy way, but... Aline bit her lip.

She hadn't masturbated in three weeks, since the dance practice had begun. Her bedroom had been filled with new faces, day and night. Maidservants, dancing tutors, seamstresses, couriers, painters. The list went on and on. She was simply pent up, that was all.

"Well?"Raingin spoke, and Aline started. She had forgotten everything she was speaking about. "Aren't you going to continue?"

She looked up, into his face, ready to glare at him, but when she saw the half-smirk he wore, she looked back down. Her cheeks were crimson-red.

"Shit." Raingin cursed.

"Wh-" Aline's voice was silenced as the chancellor placed one cold finger under her chin and tilted her face up so that her gaze met his.

"Princess." His voice was throaty and dark. "Princess Aline, I have been working for your father for only a year, but in that time, I have come to know you as a capable and intelligent woman. You need not submit to your father's will. If you ask me..." he paused once more.

"Raingin, finish your sentence!" Aline snapped, her voice cracking and desperate. The man laughed, low and deep. She swallowed. How had she not noticed how sharp his jawline was, how his throat moved when he laughed? Aline tore her eyes from his collarbone and met his gaze once more.

"Princess, I will finish my sentence." They were standing so close. In the middle of the library, in full view of anyone who would open the door. Aline didn't move. She didn't think she could move her legs. Raingin's eyes were so dark. The darkest brown she'd seen. "Think about this carefully, Princess." His voice was even lower now. Low and dangerous. She shuddered. A pleasant chill ran up her spine. What the hell was happening to her?

"Wh-what?" she stammered. Swallowed.

"I will ensure that no person enters your room tonight. And-" he leaned in closer, lips brushing her ear. She could shove him away. Should shove him away. This was highly improper, for a man as low-born as he. But her arms didn't want to move. She didn't want them to move.

"And, when the clock strikes twelve, you will hear a knock on your door. I will be behind it. If you let me in, your life will change forever. This-" he ran a finger down her arm, interlocking his cold fingers with her warm and trembling ones- "could be consummated. I could introduce you to feelings, to pleasures, unlike anything you have ever known. But-" He pulled away suddenly.

As cold as his touch had been, Aline felt colder with his absence. She shivered.

"But," and now his voice was sweet and crooning, "if you elect not to let me in, the door will remain closed on this forever. The freedom to choose is yours. I advise you to think very carefully." He looked down at her, then let out a short laugh.

"I'll cut lessons short today," he said, suddenly businesslike. "Can't imagine you are in a fit state of mind to learn."

"Rangin-" Aline began. She meant it to sound firm, but his name came out as more of a moan. The man smirked. "I... I must admit I'm intrigued, but my father... and... I've never done anything like this before, I'm completely new, all unspoiled and new, and what if my future husband can tell? I could be hanged."

The man shook his head. "Princess, I assure you that no one will know but us. I have my own ways of exerting influence in this castle. And, knowing something of medicine and anatomy, there is no way of knowing whether a woman has had intercourse or no. Although, if it assuages your worries, I do not intend to take your virginity."

"What?" Aline's voice was so small and pleading. She swallowed. Shit. Did she really want to be fucked by this man that badly? They had never spoken before today, besides small talk! And now, she couldn't help but imagine his cold hands pinning her wrists over her head, his breath on her neck, whispering horrible things into her ear as he moved above her... she shook her head. Rubbed her hands against her hot cheeks.

"Yes. Oh, yes. Sweet princess, there are so many delightful pursuits that do not involve traditional intercourse. He smiled, showing his white teeth, and held up a hand. "I digress. Best not to spoil the surprise." Then, suddenly serious, he looked her straight in the eyes. "The choice is still yours, Princess. Think on it. Think long and hard."

...

Aline had made a decision before she even reached her bedroom door. Of course she was going to let him in. It was probably her last chance to enjoy herself, her last few weeks of freedom. Before long, she was going to be married to some wizened old lord with wizened old ideas about a wife's duties. Her sex life would be blowjobs and numbered thrusts. Something about Rangin told her that he knew how to please a woman. And, if he didn't, she could just end their dalliance. If she was caught, she would be hanged, but the man who deflowered a princess would be torn apart by tigers. He could tell no one, just like her. This affair would happen at her pleasure. Under her control.

Something about that felt wrong, but Aline didn't stop to think about it. She had to find a nightgown to wear. It was the first time a man would see her wearing anything but a gown, and the more she thought about Rangin, the more excited she got. God, she could just imagine his cold fingers on her clit. Rubbing, stroking, sliding, and that damned smirk on his face. She shivered and felt herself clench deep inside. Felt herself twitch, just a little. She wanted to masturbate so badly, but... it would feel better if she waited for Rangin, surely.

The hours passed excruciatingly slowly. At first, Aline tried to practice her courting dance. Something about that felt wrong, though. She couldn't seem to focus on her movements, and as her attention drifted she found herself imagining Rangin's jawline, his thin lips, his pointed nose, his dark eyes and hair. She'd found him attractive the first time they'd been introduced, and upon finding out he was only twenty-eight, she'd definitely given him a few looks. But he'd never appeared to glance her way, and above all Aline was a loyal daughter. She couldn't see herself betraying her father like that. Or her nebulous future husband, she supposed.

Something had changed, obviously, but Aline couldn't quite tell what. Maybe it was Rangin's kindness, or the way he seemed just a little dangerous without actually frightening her. No, that seemed wrong. It was about her. She had admitted she didn't want to get married. And she was horny as all hell. Plus, after seeing her sister wed to a brute like Sutwa, she had no loyalty in her heart for some unknown man she might someday call husband.

The minutes passed slowly, and the hours even slower. Eventually, Aline slept, dreaming of thin fingers and dark eyes. She awoke to a knock on her door.

Her heart leaped out of her chest and she scrambled out of her bed. Looked outside and saw darkness. It was midnight. She smoothed her white nightgown and dragged her fingers hastily through her hair before taking a deep breath. One, two, three. She opened the door.

Rangin was standing there, his face utterly calm. As if he knew she was going to open it. She almost swatted him, almost closed the door in his face, but then she looked down. Rangin was shirtless, and wearing a pair of loose black pants. He had a muscular figure, but with some softness to him. Just what she liked. Aline almost swallowed her tongue. Wordlessly, she held the door open for him.

Her father's advisor closed the door with a careful hand, then turned the lock. "We will not be interrupted," he murmured, dark eyes looking her up and down. Aline shivered. She had the strange sensation that she was being devoured by him, eaten up by his gaze. Somehow, she didn't mind.

"Well?" Aline said. The word was barely out of her mouth before Rangin had pressed himself against her and slammed her back against her bedframe, his lips on hers, his hand cold on the back of her neck. She had never been kissed. Well, okay, she'd kissed a lord's son or two, but those had been pecks, and when they'd tried to lean in for more she had pulled away. Their mouths had smelled, and their hands were sweaty and fumbling.

Rangin smelled like clean clothes and fresh grass. His hands moved delicately and lightly, tracing her jaw. And his tongue. Oh god, his tongue. It was in her mouth, caressing her, leaving her breathless. She heard a woman moan, and in her addled state was surprised to find that it was her own voice. She was breathless. Her nose was pressed against his face, he pulled her closer. She didn't want to pull away. But when her lungs started to burn, she did, panting.

Aline looked at Rangin. He had that ridiculous smirk on his face. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head, feigning confidence that had left her the moment she'd seen him shirtless in her doorway. "Weren't you going to change my life forever?" she asked, her voice holding steady.

The royal advisor simply smiled. "Oh, yes. I just had to do that first. Aline-" he started to say something, then shook his head.

"Rangin, you have got to learn how to finish what you start," Aline huffed. His smirk returned.

"Oh, believe me. I know how."

Aline stifled a yelp as Rangin scooped her up in his arms and lay her down on her bed. "Shall I prove it?" he whispered, his lips at her ear, his cold fingers sliding up her thighs. She moaned. His fingers found her underwear, began to pull it down.

She couldn't help but spread her legs, but as soon as she did, Rangin stopped, looking down at her. "Oh my, Aline. So eager."

"Come on, Rangin, just-"

His expression grew stern. "Now, now, Princess. You may be used to getting exactly what you want, but right here, right now, you are going to listen to me. In fact, I think it's high time you stopped calling me Rangin. That's awfully familiar, don't you think?"

His cold fingers had found her clit, and, through her underwear, began to stroke it. She moaned. Tried to think.

"I asked you a question, Aline." His voice was so sweet. She moaned again. He stopped, pulled his fingers away. "I said I asked you a question."

"W-what should I call you, then?" she breathed, her sense of control completely lost. She tried to grind her hips against his, but he held her down and away. She could see his hard dick even through those loose pants. She bit her lip.

"Hmm, how about..."

She could tell that he was only pretending to think. That he was enjoying himself, looking down at her, her white nightgown lifted to her stomach, her underwear pulled down just enough to reveal a few curls of pubic hair. "Please," she breathed, squirming to get her hips closer to his. She needed to press herself against his dick. He wouldn't be able to resist if she could just manage...

But he held her away. "Very well, desperate princess. I'll indulge you this once. You," he said, placing his left arm beside her head and pulling down her underwear with his right, "will call me Master. Is that understood?"

"I-"

"I said, is that understood. Aline." He rubbed his thumb against her clit, and her eyes nearly rolled back into her head.

He'd said her name. Without honorifics, without titles. She was just Aline now. And he... he wasn't just Rangin.

"Fine! Master!" she hissed, and he plunged two fingers into her thirsty, dripping hole. She couldn't stifle the loud moan that left her lips, and as she reached for a pillow to hold against her mouth, Rangin pinned both her arms back with one hand.

"Good girl."

"I-I- why does that feel so-" Aline stammered, her mind reduced to a quivering mess of neurons and desire. He'd called her good girl. She was his good girl.

"Good? Were you going to say good?" Rangin laughed, and as she stammered and quivered and tried to figure out what to say, he released her arms and lowered his face to her vagina.

"Oh, please, please, please..." she didn't know what to say.

"Good girl. You asked so nicely," he whispered, and his tongue flicked out against her clit. She bit her lip, drew blood, to keep from crying out. One hand reached up and began to play with her nipple, and Aline completely lost the ability to speak.

'Oh- oh- oh-" she squealed, hearing the wet sound of her own vagina as he fingered her, ate her, and flicked at her nipples all at the same time.

Aline normally took about an hour to reach a climax. She had no idea how long it had been, but surely not more than ten minutes.

She came, her hand pressed tight against her mouth. Rangin continued, allowing her to ride the wave of her orgasm until it was wholly finished.

Aline looked up at him. Rangin looked down at her. His mouth was wet with her juices.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

"I- that was amazing, it was amazing, but I still-"

It had been weeks. Her clit, now throbbing and impossibly sensitive, could still handle more.

"Yes. You still. Well, Aline, I have some ideas that will bring us both immense pleasure. But, well, you're going to have to trust me."

"I do." She hesitated. "Master."

Rangin smiled. "There we go. Then-"

He reached into his pocket. "I am from the Dragon Kingdom, as you know. There we have a society of witches. I happen to know one or two of them, in, ah, a certain way, and they have given me a few gifts over the years. One of those gifts is called a vibrator." He took out what looked like a small pink egg.

Aline tilted her head.

"It does just what you'd think it would. Simply activate it-" a very, very faint buzzing sound seemed to emanate from the egg- "and insert."