The Princess Of Cleves 08

My Dearest Princess,

Such a storm around you, fear not, I will soon be there to provide you with some calm. We will speak of your troubles when I return. With my influence, I shall find another payment for Princess Mary to extract.

I think I may be able to shed some light upon the change of heart Diana's had toward you, but you will blush to hear it.

I keep you in my thoughts and prayers,

Your Marechal.

Rosalind had only written the Marechal a few days ago, and already she received a reply. His return could not have been better timed. Her husband was feeling better, and the Duke had visited today. As the Duke himself was still weak from his illness, he had used it as an excuse to linger. He would be there tomorrow as well.

Today, she found herself unable to leave. She tended to her husband while basking in the presence of the Duke, all the while trying to conceal her feelings. She would not be able to do it a second day. Tomorrow, her eyes would find his, and he would see what a ruse her coldness was.

That night she had unsettling dreams. She and the Marechal were in an endless hedge maze, being pursued by the Duke with rasping breath and eyes that streamed with darkness. The Prince and the Chevalier attempted to delay the Duke, but they were both slain. Finally, he caught her and the Marechal.

The two had just drawn their blades when she awoke with a start. It was two in the morning and the house was restless around her. She pulled the covers over her head, and drifted in and out of sleep until it was morning.

The Prince was concerned for his wife, though he did his best to hide it. He knew she used his illness as a means to hide from the court. The way her manner changed when the Duke arrived, she may as well have kissed him on the lips. She became so cold, so proper, when before she had been soft and tender. It could be that she was annoyed at his intrusion, a likely explanation his jealous heart rejected.

Today, she looked haggard, as though she had not slept. He would be worried about a tryst, but there was neither guilt nor happiness in her face, just exhaustion. Later he'd ask the Chevalier if he had heard anything. There were very few rumors concerning the Duke and Rosalind. The court still had not discovered the object of the Duke passion: they resorted to gossiping about the lack of gossip.

There was a flurry of letters between her the Marechal, and it seemed another layer of intrigue had been added, as Diana had a hand in the delivery. The Prince shifted in the bed to hide his growing hardness as he wondered if his wife may have taken another female lover.

She was feeding him broth when the Duke entered. Her eyes did not leave the Prince's face, and after she finished with her task, she excused herself. The Duke was forced to sit there and converse with the Prince, or have his true objective discovered.

The Prince smiled as they spoke. The Chevalier would find his wife, and he would take her out for some fresh air. The rumors were the Marechal would return soon, something which the Prince was not looking forward to. The only silver lining was perhaps she would revive, and he would know the Marechal kept her heart.

The Chevalier had hidden when he saw Rosalind leaving her husband's chamber. Now, he knocked on her door, a small bouquet in his hands. She gave him a wan greeting, put the flowers in a vase, and agreed to go on a walk with him.

As they strolled, the Chevalier was plagued with thoughts of the Prince. Him, making love to Rosalind, his firm buttocks working between her pale thighs, the low moans that would escape his lip. The Prince, lost, staring in a corner--his blue eyes touched with a pensive gray dash--when he thought he was alone. The way his face scrunched up when he spilled his seed. It was lucky Rosalind was lost in her own thoughts, or she would have noted the Chevalier's agitation.

They returned to the Prince together. He was happy for an excuse to spend a few minutes in the company of the Prince. More and more, it seemed his affections were focused on the man whom he had once considered a rival. The mood of the room was very strange. Three men in love with the one woman who sat among them.

Well, at least, he thought he was in love with Rosalind. It seemed like he would fall in love with anyone whom decency dictated he should not.

The Prince ended up sending them all except his wife away. He could not take their agitation.

Rosalind looked relieved to have them gone. He opened up his arms, and she came and lay beside him on the covers.

"Does the Chevalier seem strange to you lately?" Rosalind asked, and the Prince's face blanched.

"No," he said. Ever since he had discovered his secret, the Prince felt him and the Chevalier growing closer with one another. It would be strange, if the Chevalier's passion for his wife led the Chevalier into having an affair with him.

Still, he could not ignore the look in the Chevalier's eyes, nor could he pretend that their relationship was in anyway innocent. Prior to the Prince's illness, they met nearly every day to spy on someone, and then sneak into a room to relieve themselves of their ardor. What had once been a tentative touching of the cheek had led to caresses slipped under their shirts, and finally a few demure kisses. There was a heat in their gaze, and it had grown hotter since his illness had forced their separation.

He noticed his wife looking at him curiously. "The Duke seems to be recovering, although, if you believe the rumors from court, it is unrequited love which has made him so thin and pale," he said.

Now it was his wife's turn to think. Only she was becoming shrewd, and guessed there was more to her husband's words than idle gossip. "Yes, even Princess Mary has spoken to me of this change in him. Monsieur d'Anville watches him closely, and he says the Duke keeps no private meetings," Rosalind said. After her statement, her face became placid.

"Do you think his lady love is aware of his feelings for her?"

Her nose wrinkled before she collected herself. The simplest explanation was before him, she simply did not like the Duke. She began to touch his face, and replied, "I would guess not, as it is rumored no one can resist the charms of the Duke."

The Prince almost laughed. Instead, he took his wife's hand and pressed it to his lips. "That is true, although she might be a woman of great virtue."

As the Prince smiled at her, her eyes brightened. He became aware of her subtle scent of rose. She returned his smile, and kissed him. "How is your strength today?"

"Oh, I am feeling much better. In fact, I think I would have enough vigor to divest a lady of her many garments," he said, his voice low.

Rosalind laughed, and sat up so her husband could undress her. He lay beside her, holding her back to him. He rubbed his sex in the crack in her buttocks until she began to wiggle with impatience. When he placed his phallus between the lips of her sex, they were slick. She grasped the head of his phallus and ground her pubic mound against it, fixing her bud on its tip. The Prince twisted her nipples, expecting her to spasm any second, but she did not.

He slid himself from her hand and into her womb. Her lips were flushed red, her body soft and wet. With one hand, he gripped her breast, the other he worked over her bud, until her womb began to contract and relax. Despite all of the Prince's effort, even a delicate teasing of her anus, he could not make his wife orgasm, and so he came alone.

She was apologetic afterwards, but he assured her that it was no matter. They would make love again, and she would come for him, and he would come for her. After that, they slept until it was time for supper.

The Chevalier was very much troubled by the Princess' lack of orgasm. It was not a difficult task, and in fact at times it seemed she had one after another, until she made the Prince grunt in pain with one last great climax. The sound she made was bestial, and much like the Prince, he would find his arousal uncomfortable, his sex throbbing in his breeches. He would then take the opportunity to break the Prince's only rule, that he restrict his activities to one room. The Chevalier knew his friend would incapacitated for the next hour.

* * * *

The Prince spent his mornings in court, and Rosalind accompanied him. Princess Mary had summoned Rosalind to her inner chambers. Rosalind wore the jewels given to her by Diana. She hoped there was an implication that she was now under the protection of the King's Mistress, and not to be blackmailed. Even better would be to find others assembled there, but she doubted her luck was so good.

She found Mary alone and artfully undressed. She could have been posing for a portrait dishabille, but she was posing for Rosalind. Mary did not speak, but instead motioned for Rosalind to seat herself on her lap. Rosalind's voice was stuck in her throat, and she settled herself numbly in Mary's arms. She took Rosalind's hand and pressed it against her bosom.

"You are so pretty when you blush," she said, then kissed Rosalind. "Let me help you remove that gown." Mary twisted Rosalind's shoulders so she could unlace her dress. She pulled it back from the Rosalind's chest, and the young woman stood up, clutching her gown to her.

"These are not kisses, your Highness," she said.

"Those jewels Diana gave you are lovely. Why don't we make this our last meeting? Indulge me now, and I will never trouble you again."

Rosalind unfastened her panniers, and her gown fell to the ground. She sat on Mary's knee. Rose mingled with lavender.

Mary pulled her chemise down to lick where her breasts swelled over her corset. When she kissed Rosalind, it was all tongue and spit. "Kiss me, fondle my breasts," Mary commanded her.

Rosalind suckled on Mary's bottom lip and pinched her nipples through her chemise. Mary reached down to pull up Rosalind's petticoats, and rudely took her sex. She was using four fingers penetrate her womb, and her thumb to work her little bud. Rosalind threw her arms around Mary's neck, too overcome to remember her instructions. Mary stuck two of her fingers in her mouth, and then worked them into Rosalind's anus. With her two hands working together inside Rosalind, Mary made her come and come again, her hips undulating.

When Rosalind started to push Mary away she was still. She very slowly removed her fingers as Rosalind twitched every few seconds.

Mary helped her to stand in a minute, and led her to a couch. She washed her hands, then brought Rosalind a little wine to revive her. As she rested, Mary stroked her hair.

Rosalind drank, and as her mind became clear, she was troubled by the fact that the Princess Mary had accomplished something her husband had not. She did not know why, but making love with him was different now, she could not climax. There were so many secrets between them, she could not fully give herself to him, and only him it would seem.

Mary was very assiduous in aiding Rosalind to dress. Before she left, Mary gave her a gift, a glittering diamond bracelet. Rosalind blushed, and protested, but she prevailed upon Rosalind to at least try it on, if only to please her. She acquiesced, and when she wished for it to be taken off, Mary refused. Rosalind became angry, as she could not get the bracelet off herself. Mary kissed her, and told Rosalind she was always welcome to visit her private chambers.

Mary had caught rumors of Diana's gift, and she thought there must be an affair. She thought her trinket might woo the young girl's favor. Sticking her fingers in her mouth, she sucked off the traces of Rosalind left on her skin. She retired to her room to fantasize about Rosalind, and play her pretty little Anne. When d'Anville came to visit her later, he would find her well prepared for their tryst.

Rosalind could not even begin to fathom the meaning of the diamond bracelet. She found a bower in a dark corner of the garden where she thought about her position. The Duke would seek her out if she remained at court. The Princess Mary would also be here to tempt her with a lust so pure she felt like Mary was still touching her, and she became wet again. She was not surprised when the Chevalier de Guise joined her after an hour. He sat beside her with a troubled frown.

He fidgeted in his seat for a minute before he spoke. "I do not mean to accuse you, but, there is a certain odor which lingers on you, so strangely like the odor of love. Were your husband to meet you now, he would think Princess Mary had taken you for a lover."

Rosalind became angry. "What are you..."

The Chevalier took her hand to soothe her. "You mistake my intent Rosalind. I want nothing from you, and I say these things to you as your friend." He saw that she was no longer angry. "Come, there is a little brook close to here, and I have a little scent in my pocket." He led her to an abandoned corner of the garden which contained a thin ribbon of water flowing through it.

He was handing Rosalind his handkerchief and sage cologne when they both realized that she would have to undress to wash herself. The two blushed, then laughed.

"I hate to ask this of you, Chevalier, but I am afraid I need your help." Rosalind gathered the front of her skirt in her arms, and hid her face in petticoats.

The Chevalier knelt at her feet, stunned. The sight of her, red and swollen from love and smelling of lust inflamed him. For the first time in is life, he wanted a woman as a man should. "Oh Princess, I do not know if I can do this thing you ask of me. The sight of you makes me dizzy, I shall dishonor you."

Rosalind craned her neck to try and see the Chevalier. She stepped back as he stood. He was holding his sex in his hand, and reaching for hers. "Chevalier, I..."

He froze. "I heard you, I heard you come for Princess Mary, and I want to see if you will come for me. Don't you want to know, Rosalind, if it is only your husband who cannot bring you to a climax?"

Everyone was eager to know the answer to that question, including the Prince who was watching from the shadows. The Chevalier had arranged this for him after they spied on Mary with Rosalind. When the Prince realized what was happening, that Mary was blackmailing Rosalind for the keeping of some secret, the Prince pitied his wife. It was the first time he had thought about what it must be like for her, caught up in the intrigues of the court.

When the Chevalier had suggested this, that the Prince watch the seduction of his wife, he had agreed to it in part because it would ease his conscience. He had certainly sinned against his wife, in a myriad of ways, with his friendship with the Chevalier. Should she be unfaithful, in a situation with no coercion, she will have sinned against him too. He hoped the Chevalier succeeded, and tonight when he made love to her, he would think of Mary and Chevalier taking her.

Rosalind stood in the clearing, the very tip of the Chevalier's finger on her sex. There was something strange, something about the look in eye the Chevalier's eye that she recognized. It was the same gleam she saw when she caught him and her husband talking to one another in whispers with their cheeks all ruddy. They would stop as though she were interrupting some conspiracy, and she understood, that conspiracy was her.

The Chevalier's eyes kept flicking to one dark corner, and no doubt the Prince hid there. She could feel his sharp blue eyes on her. It was as though she had her husband's blessing, and she leaned forward, the Chevalier's finger sliding between her lips.

"Is that a yes?" the Chevalier asked, and she nodded. His clumsy fingers began to pry at her tender sex. She was glad when he began to rub the head of his phallus against her. "Shall I make love to you?"

"Yes, I want you to make me come," she said, caressing his sex. She wondered what effect her words had on her husband. The Chevalier tried to enter her as she stood in front of him. "It might be easier from behind," she said. She positioned herself on her knees so her husband would have a good view of them.

The Chevalier was trembling as he knelt behind her. He pulled her buttocks back against him, and she had to position him so the tip of his phallus entered her. He took her hips and slowly sank his sex into her. He felt his entire phallus caressed, and he stayed like that for a moment, feeling the warm satin of her womb. When he started to move, it was in quick short strokes, which soon became him withdrawing from her sex then pounding his entire length into her. He would have come then and there had he not already touched himself twice today.

Rosalind kept glancing to where she thought her husband hid. The Chevalier's artless vigor soon put out all other thoughts from her mind, and she climaxed. As he felt her womb grip him, the Chevalier came too. He had never imagined how exquisite the sensation of his own seed spilling back over his phallus could be. Rosalind's womb was slick, and as he pulled out, he stared at his sex as though it had gained some magical property.

"I will really need your help in cleaning myself now," she said.

The Chevalier recalled himself, and he wiped her, and scented her pale thighs. The Prince wanted to run to them, push the Chevalier away, and then take her in the dirt. He wanted to feel the Chevalier's seed leaking from his wife's sex as he took her. They would have to retire soon: he would be sick with desire until they did.

* * * *

The Prince ate his supper quickly that night. He claimed to be weak from his day at court, and retired early, taking his wife with him. There, he tore at her laces until she stood before him only in her glittering jewels. He threw them on the table leaving her naked.

"Prince, I don't understand, are you well?" the Princess asked, feigning ignorance as to the source of his desire.

He pushed her onto the bed, kissed her throat, kneaded her breasts. He gasped as he cupped her sex, rubbing her pubic mound. There was an unnatural slickness to her, the trace of the Chevalier. As he knelt in front of her, she tried to push him away, perhaps unsure that her tryst with the Chevalier had been arranged by her husband. He gently pulled her hands away, and buried his face in her sex. His tongue darted everywhere. Rich flavors hid in every fold and he sought them all, moaning into her flesh. So absorbed with his own arousal, the Prince did not notice his wife's tepid response to his love.

Impatient, he did not even undress, but yanked himself free of his breeches, and plunged into her. He thought of her on the Princess Mary's lap, with Mary's fingers deep inside both of her holes. He thought of the Chevalier, taking her as though they were dogs. She was so slick inside, he climaxed quickly, thinking of all the ways she had been touched that day.

After, the Prince drowsy and satiated, Rosalind became thoughtful. The Prince wondered if she were thinking about her new diamond bracelet. He'd stifled his titters at her protests as the Chevalier dragged him away.

Both he and the Chevalier had been spying on her, Princess Mary was attempting to take her for a mistress, and somewhere the Duke was waiting for a moment to pounce on her. Did they hover around her because she had been made for such affairs, or were they compelled to despoil her for some other reason?

"Prince, there is something which I would like to talk about," Rosalind said.

He grew tense, thinking she had discovered his secret. She was quick to agree to a tryst with the Chevalier, and she kept looking to his hiding place, as if she could see him. "Of course my love, what is it?"

"I feel like with my mother to chaperone me, it was appropriate that I should attend court and all its diversions, but now, as I am alone, perhaps it would be better if I retired from Paris," she said.