Diaries of a Dar Princess

24

th

Day of Moonfall, Year 879 of the Age of Shadow,

Dear Diary,

Everything has gone splendidly!

Rather than lay out what has happened in my usual entirely objective and overly clinical manner, allow me to tell you an entirely unlreated story. A story about a feeble and pathetic little girl by the name of... Sinistoria.

You, Sinistoria, are in a good mood. Despite the fact that you are merely a paltry priestess- which isn't a real job, at least in comparison to, say, sorcerous princess; despite the fact that you work for a madwoman who's silly schemes never work; despite the fact that you are consumed with envy every time you lay eyes on Princess Feera, your physical and intellectual superior in every way- you are happy. Gleeful, even. This is because you are a vile voyeuristic spy, who has observed said beautiful princess being, erm, attended to by her bodyguard- the so-called Bruticus- in the poison garden.

Quite vigorously being attended to, in fact.

In fact you no doubt stood there, eyes wide, a strange and terrible awe filling your mind as you observed the bodyguard's great and potent phallus driving into the Princess's delicate and dainty little opening. Did your breath grow ragged as you watched her bountiful breasts bounce? Do you wish it was

your

body being plundered amidst those toxic blooms and tainted leaves? Were you transfixed by the princess's beauty, her erotic charms, her glorious fecundity and- even in the throes of passion- her regal bearing?

Well

obviously

you were. You are merely mortal, after all.

Still, you retain enough coherence in that cretinous mind of yours to flee after he has burst his fertile seed into her welcoming womb the second time. You scuttle off, your nethers no doubt burning with painful desire, to your mistress.

"Hello Princess Terra," you say, bowing low. "I have urgent news to communicate."

Your mistress turns to you and fixes you with a vacant smile. "Oh hello Sinisti," she says. "I can't even properly remember your name because you see I am an idiot who thinks making glass golems is a smart idea. So tell me what you've learned so that I can plot against my much prettier and smarter sister, Feera, who I secretly know deserves to be Dark Empress instead of me."

"I have watched the beautiful and dangerous Princess Feera, who's name makes me secretly tremble in fear, engaging in secret and incredibly epic intercourse with her bodyguard, Bruticus!"

"That is important news," she replies, managing to pay attention for once in her life. "Tell me, was the Princess Feera prettier than me?"

"Of course," you reply, your body still heated from the sight of her perfect body. "Compared to her you are just some ancient hag! Her breasts are bigger, her skin is smoother, and her hair is far more luscious than yours could ever hope to be! In the act of intercourse, she is obviously both skilled and naturally talented! It was all that I could do to stop myself from weeping with shame at being the minion of such an inferior sister!."

"I knew it," your miserable mistress murmurs, her face contorted in despair. "Well, my course of action is obvious. I must spread filthy rumours about Feera and deny her the exultant sexual pleasures that she so obviously deserves! Continue to spy on her, so that I may gather more information and perhaps even link the entirely innocent Bruticus to the so-called Hero of Prophecy that no-one has been able to find despite the fact that he is clearly right under our noses."

"But wait," you say. "Princess Feera is a brilliant and cunning adversary. She will no doubt expect me to continue to spy on her, not the least because the sight of her in the throes of passion has unleashed my own overwhelming desire for her nubile body. Won't she plan a subtle and brilliant trap for me?"

"Bah!" shouts your mistress. "Bah, I say! Neither of us are smart enough to even consider such a possibility! Now go and stumble towards your erotic doom!"

***

And so it is that you find yourself shadowing the Dark Princess Feera. It's hard, to watch her from the shadows, to stare at her glorious beauty; hard not to break from your stealthy position and fling yourself at her feet, begging forgiveness and offering your eternal service to her as is right. No, you watch and you wait as she strides through the depths of the halls, sneaking behind her in a way that is painfully apparent to anyone- say, a lithe beast-women assassin paying the closest bit of attention for example. And so it is that when she murmurs something to her silent hunky bodyguard and moves towards the poison garden, you drift like an imbecilic shadow and carefully open the door.

What you see is a feast for your eyes. The beautiful dark-haired princess had disrobed, and you gaze longingly at her pale skin, her full and pert breasts, her plump and fulsome rump. She kneels before the mighty Bruticus and you find yourself shocked that she should kneel to anyone, so obvious is her majesty. She gives a throaty laugh as she undoes his codpiece and reveals his erection.

And that, even if you don't know it, is when you are lost. Your eyes focus on that beautiful, perfect tool; that glorious phallus that blends sublime beauty and masculine potency into one long and powerful length. Your throat dries up even as your inner depths grow moist. Your knees tremble with desire as you shuffle closer, supposedly to report back to your mistress but in truth- because you know that you need to see every last detail.

The Princess looks up at her bodyguard and gives his divine erection a long, delicate lick. And then another. Long and slow and gentle and almost loving, her tongue darting out to taste the hot, throbbing skin with a clear and obvious relish. Her movements aren't the sloppy, urgent movements of a woman desperate with need; no, this is the slow, considered movements of a woman who intends to savour her pleasure slowly with great relish.

Slowly, carefully, her tongue and lips explore the length of that beautiful length, leaving long, slick trails of saliva across the skin. You- watching from the shadows- find yourself unable to look away from the picture. You lick your lips, your own tongue trailing longingly over your flesh. Oh, how you wish it was your tongue, pleasuring that beautiful phallus! Oh, how you wish to be on your knees beside the Beautiful Princess!

She wraps her lips around the bulbous head. His hands move to touch her head and for a moment you think- will he force her to take his whole length? Will he brutally fuck her mouth, taking his pleasure in rough, desperate strokes? No- instead he gently strokes her black hair. He murmurs something soft and sweet beneath his demonic mask; whispered words of affection. She in turn stares up at him with soft eyes even as profane sounds emerge from a mouth stretched over his massive tool.

The scene continues; the worship of his mighty phallus is a slow and dedicated affair, one that seems to consume all of their attention- and yours. For by now all of the elements of the scene- the hypnotic passage back and forth of her lips along his erection, the gentle tenderness of their movements and the erotic allure of the two perfect bodies in front of you... it has cast a spell around you, every bit as subtle and as enthralling as a ritual enchantment or witch's curse. How long do you spend, watching those two gorgeous paragons of sexiness pleasure each other? How long do you sit there, aching to join them? The need between your legs grows and grows until it is a fire; an impossible furnace that begs- no,

demands

release. You forget your mission. You forget your mistress. You forget everything but the scene in front of you and the need that it creates.

And so, when a shadow slithers next to you, when a soft voice murmurs into your ear, when a hand moves to touch your shoulders, it is an effort to break away and stare at the figure beside you.

You see the woman-slim and beautiful, a cat beastkin- and for a moment you recognise her. The dangerous and beautiful Shadra, the silent thief and assassin in the service of the raven-haired goddess in front of you. And a terrible fear cuts through the fog of desire. But then you notice she is utterly, gloriously naked. And the confusion is enough that you do not flee. She is smiling and her green eyes brim not with cold death but sweet mischief and a twin to the lusts that rage in your own heart. And she murmurs, "They are beautiful, are they not? Especially her. Don't you wish you could join them?"

You find yourself pushed forward - gently though, an offer rather than an order. You stumble closer, desperate to escape but even more desperate to stay.

The raven-haired, ivory skinned beauty (with perfect breasts) turns to you and smiles. Her divine glory is too much and instead you focus on the still-beautiful but not-quite-as-perfect erection in front of you- a foolish, if understandable mistake. You drop to your knees, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. The glorious dark goddess smiles knowingly at you. Is this the moment when you appreciate your failure? The moment when you grasp just how badly you have been played by an intellect far in advance of your own? She is talking to you about how this was a trap but you- arrogantly, stupidly- do not listen to her.

You murmur instead in a hushed voice something about shards of divinity; about old gods reborn; about new scions, about primal power- raw and strong and unshielded by time and ritual- in front of you, which does not make any sort of sense and really only indicates that you're actually as stupid as you look. But the gorgeous princess is kind and benevolent, and so she allows you to witter on for a while about the birthmark on his todger and how its apparently very important or something.

Eventually of course her endless patience is exhausted and she gently pushes your head forward. Miraculously, you manage to get the hint and your tongue darts out, just like hers did (but without her grace and erotic talent) to taste the throbbing erection in front of you. The sensation is too much for your weak mind and soon enough you are licking and sucking away, staring up at the fearsome demon-faced mask as though seeking its approval.

The demon mask is pulled away and you find yourself staring at a face; tanned and blonde and smiling with the certainty of the simple-minded. He speaks, his voice good natured. "Well that worked a treat, didn't it Miss Feera? I reckon she's all friendly-like now."

A delightfully throaty laugh from behind you reminds you of the nubile naked body not inches from your own. "What would one expect? This witless fool went straight for you! She clearly has failed to appreciate the far more interesting and tempting body behind her!"

There was a murmur from the naked cat-girl. "Oh please don't be upset, Mistress. Your plan did rely on her being entranced by Samuel's phallus."

A sniff reaches your ears, dulled as they are with your desperate lust. "It is the principle of the thing. She has a naked peasant boy with an acceptable phallus and a naked Princess in all of her gorgeous glory; and yet what does she do? Drop to her knees and crawl right over to the overgrown farmer's son."

"Well if it helps Miss Feera, I think you're a right pretty sight to see. No matter how often I get to see you in the altogether, it still makes my heart all fluttery-"

"Why thank you!"

"-and my todger all hard and ready."

"Erm- thank you for that as well-"

"This is very sweet," speaks the sultry beastkin sex-pot, "but perhaps we should strip her?"

Dazed as you are, you do not challenge the hands that ease you up and remove your clothes. Bit by bit your body is revealed; imperial alabaster skin; generous breasts capped with stiff pink nipples; slim hips punctuated with the same red hair as on your head. You stir for just a little while, looking around you as though remembering where you are; but instead of having anything intelligent to say you murmur something about Green Gods and how they cast a spell of lust on all who partake in their gifts. Graciously you are ignored as two strong arms pull you closer. A masculine voice rumbles in your ear. "Now you be sounding like you might have some second thoughts there, Miss Sinistoria." You are pressed against him, shuddering as you feel the whole burning length of his power nestled against your ass. "Miss Feera here was all set on going on but my mum didn't raise me to take no Liberties that weren't wanted to be taken so you just say the word and we'll let you go."

There is a moment of truth. Where it all comes back to you. Your safety; your dignity; your devotion and duty to your mistress. All of it flickers before your mind even as hands gently stroke at your skin, as your ass lovingly rubs against his beautiful tool. Flickers as your gaze falls on the ivory skinned goddess in front of you. Flickers- and is then forgotten. A passing thought; nothing more.

You moan and press all the harder against the man who's arms encircle you, even as the woman who's trap has caught you steps forward. She kisses you and of course you kiss her back, tongues eagerly dueling. Her breasts press against your own and her hands move down to delve between your legs. You are sopping and ready. The man behind you mutters something; the feline assassin, one hand moving down between her legs, chuckles and mutters something in return. You are too lost to pay attention, sandwiched as you are between a perfect feminine body and a very nice but not as perfect male body.

The midnight-haired seductress eases herself away before murmuring softly into your ear, her voice laden with erotic promise. "Silly girl. We're going to do things to you that will bind you to us forever. Make you my creature, fill you with need for me- and the peasant boy, I suppose. And it will be the most wonderful, most fulfilling thing you have ever experienced." And then she kisses you with a ferocity that speaks of a hunger equal to your own.

You are eased down into a blanket that has been placed amidst the greenery. "Watch the doors," the buxom beauty with the face of a sly and sensuous succubus murmurs to her servant; said servant pouts, clearly upset about missing the show, but then darts away to where her clothes lie. The dark goddess turns back and kneels down before you. You- fool that you are- aren't paying attention but are instead staring longingly at the rude peasant erection, which- while glorious to contemplate- is still (slightly) less sexy than I am. I mean, her. The Princess.

Anway.

After a pause to allow you to appreciate the glory in front of you, the naked Dark Princess merely clucks her tongue. "Very well," she says, reaching down to caress your lewdly flung legs, "if you so desperately claim my lover's great erection, I may be willing to share... so long as you show the appropriate politeness. So beg! Beg for my boyfriend's cock!"

A vast masculine rumble from above the phallus. "I'm your boyfriend now?"

The bustily brilliant babe between your legs may look like she is panicking but it is entirely a charade, meant to lure you into a false sense of security. She says in a calm, unhurried tone, "It is the best term to use to describe you, is it not? And anyway, I believe that you are distracting dear Sinistoria from her chance to beg for your manhood." She turns the full focus of her attention back to you and you are struck once again by the pure perfection of her body. "So? I believe you were begging."

You pause, uncertain. You stare into her eyes. Your mouth works and you spout more rubbish about how she's acting utterly out of character; how she's clearly been charmed, changed- corrupted- somehow, she's acting like a happy, horny breeder instead of a ruthless ruler-to-be. What nonsense! It must be a relief to you when the bobbing presence of that mighty phallus and the gentle, clever, cunning hands gently stroking at your nether lips and cunny finally break you. Moaning with despair at her mastery, you tell her. You want it. You need it. You beg for it.

And so it is given to you.

His first thrust is slow and gentle; and yet you still arch your back and scream as it slides in. The only reason your voice doesn't reverberate through the entire palace is because the Dark Princess- clever and cunning and prepared- has swooped into to kiss you passionately so that all you do is moan into her mouth. She takes the opportunity to massage your breasts even as you pant and thrash underneath them both. And so no-one hears you as the virile man thrusts into you, his strokes growing in strength and force; no-one comes to spare you as explosions of pleasure wrack your body; no-one saves you as you succumb to the sexual power of two perfect lovers.

You collapse. You drift into a warm, happy state of bliss; a post-orgasmic gift from a rival most generous in her victory.

(And also the means by which a simple charm spell is placed upon your person.)

The end.

***

Ah diary, my cunning collection of clever thought-keepings! You have no doubt ascertained that my story was not, in fact, a piece of fiction!

Yes, it was I, the Dark Princess Feera all along! Drawing the so-called subtle spy of my silly sister out with the strategic use Samuel's potent penis, where- like a fly caught in a spider's web- she was no match for my raw eroticism! And so it was that stage one of my perfect plan was complete. Onwards to stage two!

Which involved casting a simple hypnotizing spell to turn the treacherous temple-girl into a silent somnambulist who sleepily obeys simple suggestions. Not something that would normally work on a powerful priestess such as herself- which was just as well that she was blissed out of her mind at the time. I dressed her- and myself- as quickly as possible, throwing a cloak and hood around her head to disguise her features from any onlookers. It was Shadra's task, then, to murmur soft instructions into Sinistoria's ear during our journey to the safety of my bedchambers. Samuel merely contented himself with returning his codpiece to its concealing state and placing his helmet back on his head, covering his face (smugly smiling in celebration of my

supposed

use of the b-word) with that terrible scowling demonic visage once more.

Dressed and prepared, we set off through the hallways of the palace. It was a short walk, thank the dark powers of the abyss, and it was reasonably late so I did not expect to run into any sort of difficulties. Truly this was a glorious plan- simple and yet infused with a deep cunning, the sort that none of my enemies could ever hope to stand against-

"Good evening, your Dark Grace."

I blinked at the pair of guardsmen that were passing us in the halls. I gave them the slightest tilt of my head as we passed. Even if they were spies for my sister, what would they report? That they had seen me with a robed figure? By the time she had a chance to act it would be too late-

"And good evening to you, Sir Bruticus!"

Wait. What?

I stopped and turned. "You there," I said, "Might you explain precisely why you greeted my sworn bodyguard in such a familiar manner?"

Their expressions took on the despair of men that knew they had upset their betters- even if the comprehension of

how

they had upset her was beyond their simple ignorant reasoning. "Well, he comes to the guardhouse sometimes, your Dread Dominance. He's great company down there- always buying people a cup of wine or getting a laugh."

"He's terrible at cards, mind," says the other guard in a tone that suggests that this is not, from their perspective, necessarily a deficit.

"But he cannot talk. His tongue has been removed." I said this while shooting dear Sir Bruticus a glance that made it clear that if this was up for debate I would be happy to provide them with clear evidence- even if said evidence was unaccountably

fresh

.