Author's Note:
Following is the second connecting chapter to the chain story "Enchanted Twelve". Each Princesses' story is being written by different writers here at Literotica. For those reading this series as a group I do hope you are enjoying the tale. Here is a quick reference: Enchanted Twelve 1 is the first connecting chapter, followed by the first chapters of the Princesses' stories, followed next by Enchanted Twelve 2, then the second chapters of each Princesses' story again. This will continue until the chain is complete. Enjoy the tangled web we weave. ~ Red
The Princesses of Westingfield
Ages/Birth order:
25 years ... Danielle
24 years ... Mandy (twin to Millay)
24 years ... Millay (twin to Mandy)
23 years ... Angelina
22 years ... Quinn
21 years ... Robin (triplet to Hazel/Violet)
21 years ... Hazel (triplet to Robin/Violet)
21 years ... Violet (triplet to Hazel/Robin)
20 years ... Merry
19 years ... Aurelia (twin to #11)
19 years ... Ariel (twin to #10)
18 years ... Cecilia
Oarthland
The sound of pleasure rang in Andrew's ears as he tried to pull his gaze away from the couple. Bare skin slapped bare skin. Sounds of slippery fluids seemed to be more pronounced the more he watched. Yet, the cobbler could not turn away. His hands were clenched in fists. His knuckles were white and his jaw hurt from the grip he had on his teeth. Still he stood there transfixed as Danielle's body arched, signaling another climax.
The tears had stopped falling after the first round of sex that the Princess and the young man, Simon had had. It was quickly replaced by anger. The anger was so great at times that he had almost torn off the invisible cloak that Queen Andrea had given him. Only his promise to serve her stopped him from doing so.
He watched now, Danielle rose from her lover in a mindless state, pulled on her dress and held the man's hand as he walked her back to the path they'd trod moments. Andrew followed them, darkness and rage brewed deeper within him. The couple eased into the boat, again he slipped in.
"What was that?" he heard Danielle ask her lover.
Simon however shrugged his shoulders, while one hand fondled the Princess's breast. Andrew pulled his eyes from the man's pawing and over to Danielle's face. He tried to communicate to her that he was there, yet her attentions were drawn away by a pinch that was delivered to her nipple.
The servant rowed them further from shore and soon Andrew was again forced to watch Danielle's mouth swallow the fluids that rushed from Simon's shaft. Only the sound of wood scrapping rock brought Andrew's attentions away from the sight. He glanced up, witnessed an awkward goodbye between Quinn and another. Her face seemed flushed in the emerging morning light. Had she too spent the past hours in the arms of a man? He glanced briefly at the parting figure and wondered what was familiar about the man that had escorted one of the Westingfield Princesses. Andrew shook his head, trying to come to terms with the activities that he had bore witness to.
Danielle's lover; how Andrew hated the term, slipped out of the boat and disappeared into what Andrew could only describe as a thick fog. A part of him wanted to follow Simon, a name he now detested more than the rumors that had long surrounded the eldest Princess. He did not though, instead he sat in the boat and watched as a servant rowed them across the water.
They finally reached shore; Andrew recognized it as the one they had come to upon leaving the castle. He climbed out of the boat after Danielle, hoping not to catch her attention. There was no need for him to worry. He realized, after a brief moment, the silence that floated between the two sisters; nor could he not see both girls were once again in a daze. "Bewitched," he whispered to himself as he stood there in a trance of his own making.
He heard the sound of other couples approaching; boats scrapped the bottom of the river. Footsteps were slightly muffled by grass covered in morning dew. No sounds passed from the lips of the Princesses. Each one held the glassy stare that he'd seen when they first left Westingfield so many hours ago.
A chill crept over him as he saw Cecilia. He should have stayed with her. She was special. She was not like the other girls. Andrew cursed himself for not being able to protect all the sisters and instead focusing on the eldest... the obvious whore and liar of the group. Rage once more surfaced as he watched the girls pair off and quietly make their way back through the woods and into the thick bushes and brambles of the enchanted lands he'd visited. Andrew followed, keeping himself far enough away that his breath would not disturb any one this time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Angora sneered as the familiar, yet long missed magic left her part of Oarthland. Andrea had been there, she'd sensed it, yet there had been no physical sign of her sister's presence. The fragrance of Andrea however had spilled into the air and had drifted to Angora's domain.
By the gods and goddesses, how she hated that smell. Purity. Hope. Love. Things that Angora craved but had lost when Andrea took herself and the man she loved away from Oarthland. Long slim fingers curled around a small sphere as she rose up from her chair and walked over to an worn desk. There she took her place behind it, resting her trim and supple figure on a cushion of black velvet.
Her hands reached for a quill, which she dipped into the crimson fluid of some creature she'd slaughtered. The Princesses had come again, danced again, drank and ate the foods she'd set out before them. But her plan was taking too long and Angora felt anxious, especially now that her sister had seen fit to interfere.
How she'd done it, Angora did not know, nor in the end did it truly matter. One of the Princes of Oarthland had come to Angora and asked her for help. He'd shared with her the dreams he had been having as well as confessed his love and utter devotion to the youngest Westingfield child. He'd begged for her help and of course for the sake of
love
who was Angora to not offer.
Angora reached out and pulled on a cord that hung close to the desk. The sound of a bell rang through the walls of the tower where she spent her days and nights. It was quickly followed by the shuffling of feet. She looked up as the door to her rooms opened and a young woman stepped over the threshold.
"Marie, Prince Cassius will be joining us for supper this evening. He will be bringing a friend. Be sure to prepare a place for them to stay, somewhere in the lower part of the tower. A place that is private." The young girl bobbed and turned away, not saying anything to the witch, then again she could not, for Angora had seen fit to remove the child's tongue when she purchased her several years ago.
The door closed softly on the witch and once more she was left alone. She turned her attentions to a small hand mirror. Her gaze focused on the eyes that stared back at her. They were her own, yet they were also those of Andrea's. "You took all I loved," she whispered to the distorted image of two sisters merging as one, "now it is my turn." A smile rose from Angora's lips as the face behind the glass paled.
~ ~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ ~
Westingfield
Andrew sat on the same chair that he'd been seated in when the Queen of Westingfield had first asked him to look into the mystery surrounding her daughters. Across from him she sat, her hands folded calmly in front of her and her gaze holding his bowed head as if beckoning him to speak. Yet, words would not come to Andrew. He wasn't sure how to answer the Queen's questions concerning her daughters.
He did not want to confess that Danielle had spent her night frolicking between the thighs of some Lord of some unknown kingdom. Nor did he want to confess to her that he'd not protected young Cecilia, or followed the footsteps of the other Princesses, but in fact had no clue as to what any of them had done. No clue with the exception of Danielle. His fists formed into tight clenches and he rose from his seat, anger clearly evident on his young, troubled features.
"I take it the news you have to share is not something you wish to speak of."
Queen Andrea's voice forced him to look back at her and when he did he felt as if perhaps she already knew what was happening to her children. "I could not track them all Your Highness. I followed them from the castle rooms, to your gardens and then down a path that I had never seen before. One that doesn't exist at all, for I went there this morning and no path exists. It was there and yet it is no more."
"It is the portal. The one my sister has opened."
"I assumed as much, Your Highness. We all traveled down it. The girls had no qualms about going forth, no troubles in pushing through hanging branches, or stepping over fallen timber. Not even Cecilia."
"That doesn't surprise me. From what your describing it sounds as if my sister has entranced them all. They move by a will that is not their own." Andrea moved over to the cobbler and placed her hand on his shoulder, gave it a gentle, yet firm squeeze and spoke again, "No matter what it is you saw, or heard, you must remember that they act because of the spells, or at least they act because a part of them yearns for what is happening, a part of them Angora has awoken and they act on basic needs as well as innocent curiosity."
"You speak as if you know what I saw and yet you ask me to tell you of it."
Andrea smiled softly. "My sister and I were close once. We played with spells; we learned how to read people. To see deep within them to a place that they didn't know even existed. If used properly the spell is a wonderful thing, if used wrongly it can harm the one who is under it. You say you tracked one of them? Which daughter did you follow?" Andrea moved back to her seat, reclaimed it and motioned for Andrew to do the same.
Once he did, another deep breath was drawn into his lungs and he launched into the tale of Danielle. By the time he was done, his body showed signs of reliving the erotic scenes the young Princess had found herself involved in. His face was red, from holding back the rage. His hands clenched once again into tight fists and he knew as hard as he had tried he could not hide the aroused state the image of Danielle lying naked and withering in passion had caused him.
Andrea said nothing as she listened to the cobbler speak of her eldest daughter's activities. She could tell by Andrew's voice and the way he moved as he spoke that what he'd seen had caused him great distress on many levels. To her this was a good sign. He was not merely aroused by watching her daughter partake in less than holy activities, but he was angry.
Angry that it was not him? She wondered. She thought of the spell and how it had led her to choose the cobbler as the 'savior' for her daughters. It was apparent to her that he cared deeply for her daughter as well as for the well fair of the other ones.
