Thank you for reading my story. This novel is heavily inspired by, if not a love letter, to the fanmade module "A Dance with Rogues" that was created for the game Neverwinter Nights. You don't need to have played the module to enjoy this novel, as important plot points will be explained - and if you HAVE played the module, several original storylines and content will be added, as well as modifications being made to the original story, so it isn't strictly true to the source material. If you have played the module, for example, you'll note the introductory scenes with the MMC are quite different. Nevertheless, it is still a homage to the module in itself and I hope you enjoy this story!
Neither the FMC or MMC in this story are particularly "good" people and it very much fits the "I can make him/her worse" trope.
There are themes of fantasy/romance, orgasm denial and edging in this story. Other tags may be added later.
Chapter One
A line of kisses trailed down the planes of her stomach, rough stubble teasing at her bare skin as those lips dipped further, further. Inching towards her hips, her inner thighs, her sex.
Iris sighed and fluttered her eyes shut. Craned back into the pillows as her fingers twined around her guard's short honey blond hair. He licked at her hip bone. Nipped gently at her skin and then nuzzled into her flesh just below her navel.
A quick flick of his tongue against her clit drew a sharp little gasp from her throat, and he chuckled and repeated the motion until she squirmed breathlessly under him. He sat up on her pretty four poster bed and pulled her towards him until her legs splayed over his bare thighs. His hard cock dragged up her sex, slipped through her wetness but never entered her and only teased his reddened tip against her clit.
"I love your pretty shaved cunt," he said, and thrust up her slit again. Rubbed her bundle of nerves once more until her breath caught in her throat in a soft little moan. His crown was weeping with each movement, mixing with her own wetness until every jerk was slicker than the last. "Most girls don't bother."
"I'm glad you like it," she replied. Craned her head down to watch him slowly slide his cock through her folds and against her aching clit, each bump against her nerves sending her higher and higher. Clambering for that peak that was just out of reach.
Nevertheless it was a lie. She didn't care if he liked the way her cunt looked. If anything, the fact her king father had always forced their servants to remove all her body hair had grown unbelievably tiresome over the years. No explanation had ever been given, other than she had to be
clean
. Youthful. Pure. All those things he claimed would get their kingdom a better political marriage.
Because she had no other worth beyond her purity and her fertility. Her older brother would be king one day, and she would be relegated to being whisked away in a loveless match to an invariably older husband. She would squeeze out a few heirs to some foreign ruler, and then live the rest of her life in a pretty gilded cage. Bored, but cared for and pampered. And all those things that were expected of her... she really didn't give a shit about them in the slightest, otherwise she wouldn't have her latest guard currently thrusting his hard cock against her slit.
He wasn't the first. Just one of many in a long line of lovers she'd enjoyed and toyed with over the years since she started to realise she could use her body to get what she wanted when she was eighteen. But he was the most insistent on trying to convince her to let him fuck her cunt - the one thing she couldn't risk or compromise. All the others had been content with her ass, mouth or hands - but this one, Theo, he was
persistent
. He was younger than the others, perhaps that was why. He was in his mid twenties, only a couple years older than hers of twenty one.
"Come on, princess," he said, and nudged his crown against her entrance. "Just one time? You finished your cycle two days ago, the risk of me putting a baby in your belly is so low."
Iris flashed him a stern look, the heat that had been building in her body filtering away. "You know the priests bespelled my cunt to bleed profusely the second someone penetrates me deeply for the first time. The servants will find out when I stain the sheets, and even if they don't - whoever my father forces me to marry will realise the night of our wedding when he takes what he feels is his. The political ramifications would be
quite
awkward."
Theo scowled but relented anyway and returned to rubbing his slick cockhead against her clit. "I just want to feel you entirely, princess. Your ass and mouth are fun, but it's not the same."
"Then you better get used to it, or I'll find someone else to play with," she said. Let the tiniest bite of a threat linger in her words.
He wouldn't be the first guard she had dismissed for annoying her and pushing for more. It wasn't difficult. Her maids were crafty - a single well placed expensive piece of jewellery and she had many previous lovers arrested and thrown out of her father's guard. The ones that threatened her with revealing the things she'd done in bed had met less pleasant ends than simply becoming disgraced mercenaries for hire. A vial of well placed poison in a cup did wonders for silencing anyone who dared out her. The last one was still a gibbering wreck who couldn't even control his own bladder, let alone spill her secrets.
Theo huffed a sigh, but dropped the subject, his thrusts quickening. That familiar heat built within her again and she craned back into the bed sheets once more. Curled her hand into his hair when he bent forward and suckled her breasts in time with his cock rubbing her clit until she shattered.
She came with a soft little sigh, her back arching and her lips parting as she held him tight to her chest. He passed his hand along his shaft in a few quick motions. Spilled himself seconds later over her belly in thick sticky ropes as a groan rumbled in the back of his throat, his release pooling in the dip of her stomach. It was easier to clean up than when she let him fuck her ass, at least.
When her high faded, she rolled out from underneath him and grabbed a washcloth, then wiped away his seed. He slapped her ass and grinned as she paraded around her magnificent bedroom entirely naked, then shrugged into a pretty silken dressing robe.
"Tell my servants to draw me a bath, will you?" she told Theo as he tucked himself away once more and did up the laces of his trousers.
"I thought you liked being covered in the stench of me," he teased.
She gave him a flat look. Rolled her eyes. "There are many things I like about you, but the smell of your cum definitely isn't one of them."
And all of the things she did like could be summarised entirely by his physical form, because his personality was sorely lacking. But his tight ass, considerably endowed cock and broad muscular chest excused much. She hadn't slept with any of her guards over the years for any reason other than physical attraction or her own personal gain. None of her father's men were remotely intelligent or interesting to converse with.
Theo threw a hand against his forehead. "You wound me, princess."
"Yes, I'm sure. Now hurry up, I'm tired and I want to sleep when I'm done bathing."
He bowed graciously and left her room. Her servant joined a few minutes later and prepared the bath she'd requested, filling it with lavender oils, scented soaps and that special shampoo the healers had always prescribed for her for her sensitive scalp.
When she was done and her servant brought her a cotton white nightgown, the first of the crashes in the distance rumbled through the brickwork of the palace.
Iris frowned, and then she heard the banging on her door and the panicked shouts growing louder with each passing second.
He expected there to be more screaming, more panicked people rushing through the corridors. But there wasn't.
The Dhorn's takeover of the city - and castle - had been swift and brutal, Betancuria's army barely stood a chance. There were only mangled corpses in the palace corridors as he stalked through them. Most had their throat cut, a few less fortunate victims and had been disembowelled or slit from hip to clavicle. But all of them were long dead. Even the king, queen and crown prince were little more than bloody bodies strewn across the marble throne room floor. Which was a shame, because Vico had been looking forward to gutting the king himself.
There was no other reason why he had broken into the castle that night. The second he realised Betancuria's army was failing against the Dhornish invasion and the castle had fallen, he found his way in through the servant passages. Prayed that maybe the king would somehow still be alive for him to take his vengeance. But he wasn't, and with an irritated glower painting his features, Vico turned to leave the massacre in the throne room and return home where he intended on getting thoroughly drunk - until he saw a shadow move in the corner.
He had come across a couple of Dhornish stragglers on his way in and dispatched the lot of them with a swift swipe of his blades. One had put up slightly more of a fight and managed to nick his cheek with a tiny cut. But whoever was hiding in those shadows right now wasn't an invading soldier. A lucky servant, maybe?
Vico stepped closer. Wiped at the bloody cut on his cheek until his palm stained red, and peered behind the throne.
There were scorch marks set deep into the stone, he wondered how long they'd been there for they seemed to carve inches into the brickwork. Didn't really matter though, because it was there, hiding in the shadows, that he found her.
Luscious blonde hair spilling down her back, green eyes and skin smelling sweetly of lavender. The daughter of the man he hoped to kill peered back at him - the daughter of the tyrant king. A king who had inadvertently killed so many of Vico's friends when he waged war on Dhorn, their neighboring kingdom, without a care in the world for how it would affect the common people caught in the crossfire. So many people had died in the streets tonight alone when the Dhornish armies enacted their brutal and swift takeover of Betancuria.
Vico had seen the princess a few times before in the streets accompanied by her guards. Seen her pictures. Paintings. Heard the folk tales. She was impossible to mistake, and even more beautiful than the portraits they made of her.
And he hated her.
