The next day, Kylee was too embarrassed to mention her run in with the Prince as she performed her daily duties with Mira. Had the Prince found her virginity so unappealing that he could not even bare to mention it? Even today, when he passed her in the hall, he looked right past her, as though she was not there.
But when she was called to see the prince that night, she had the feeling she would not leave the room with her virginity intact.
She entered the room, wearing her servant's uniform. She held her hands together behind her back, her palms sweating with anticipation. Of course, all day she had thought of him, the way her body so easily betrayed her to his touch. She had been wet all day, distracted with thoughts of him; his strong muscular jaw, his jet black hair, his deep blue eyes. Part of her hoped that he would take her tonight and give her the chance to feel what she had heard in the stories.
She stood there, waiting for him to look at her. He simply sat in the chair by the fire, unmoving. "You called for me Sire?" He lifted his hand and motioned for her to come over. She made her way across the room, taking note, as she got closer, of his furrowed brow.
When finally she sat down, he looked up at her, recognizing the fear in her eyes. "I have never been denied of a woman's body. But you fought me. I had not realized why until it was almost too late to turn back."
She sat, trying to understand what he was getting at. "You think you are so irresistible. You are a pig. And if not for you being the prince, I would have done you bodily harm. You may believe you can have any woman you please, but I assure you, I will never give myself to you freely."
The prince chuckled. She was feisty, this.. this little girl. "You didn't grow up a servant, did you? I bet you were your daddy's little girl. Got everything you wanted? You will come to my bed, willingly or not, and you will enjoy the pleasure I give you there. You belong to me now, and it would do you well to remember it."
She stood and stormed out, half expecting him to follow after her, half hoping he would. She was disappointed to have not felt his touch on her skin. She missed the warm rush she had felt the night before, when he had given her so much pleasure with just his fingers. But he hadn't just crushed her innocence that night. Why did he spare her?
*~*
For the rest of the week it became obvious the prince wanted her. He would watch her move about the palace, and he would brush against her as if on accident when the two of them were near each other. All the servants took note, and it stirred gossip so great, it was being passed al over the kingdom. The queen noticed it too, and when she made mention if it to the king, he was not surprised. "She is a lovely girl. The duke of Gayle sent her with the other servant girls as a gift only a couple of months ago." The queen was unhappy to hear her husband say that he knew of her, but in her unwell state, she could not deny that he was still a man with needs that men have.
*~*
Kylee woke to the sound of screams. She jumped from her bed, and threw on her uniform, running into the hallway. "The queen is dead! Taken by God in her sleep!" The head lady in waiting to the queen screamed. Kylee stood, wondering what this would mean for her. With the queen gone, it was possible that the prince would now claim her as his pleasure slave. Or, with any luck, she might be allowed to leave.
All the queen's maids gathered to discuss their futures before the king appeared and ordered everyone to get to work. "Assume your positions as usual", he said. So, Kylee made the queen's bed, and dusted her chamber. But as she was getting ready to leave, the king appeared in the doorway. A sadness covering his face.
"Your majesty," she bowed, "I am so sorry for your loss". The king looked at her, his sadness transforming into something else. Something more.. Lustful.
"Would you comfort your king? I need to be in the company of another. My son, the prince has helped himself all day to servant girls, and I'm afraid he does not want to talk with an old man about this loss".
She looked down at the floor, and unsure of what else to say, she said, "Of course, highness". He made his way into the room, stopping to sit in the reading chair near the window. He patted the chair next to him, and she sat as well.
"We used to sit here often when we first married. We would laugh and chat during the afternoon, watching the kingdom from the window. You remind me of her. When we first married, her hair was just as yours is. So long and full- like the softest silk."
She immediately felt tense, and started to say that perhaps she should be going, but he read her mind before she could speak. "It would please me to remember what it is to be with a beautiful young woman such as you. Would you give your king such an honor?"
'At least he actually asks before taking what he wants,' she thought. The king was quite a specimen. He was at least 6'3 and had a very chiseled body. He was about 50, but looked not a day over 45. His short brown hair had flecks of grey in it to match his blue grey eyes. She had to admit she was flattered that the king thought her to be so appealing. "Your highness, I know what you are feeling. But I-". He took her hand and stood her up. He pulled her so that she stood between his legs. He continued to sit as he twirled her about, admiring her beauty. He then turned her around and unhinged her dress. She was afraid, and unable to stop the single tear that fell from her eye, hitting the stone floor. The prince would not deflower her after all.
Her dress fell, and he admired her in her shift. "So perfectly you were made". His hands held her at her hips, one hand drifting up to her breast. They were the perfect size, just over a handful of flesh, and so soft. Her nipple became a hard pebble under his touch, and he was amused to see that she was, indeed, responsive to his touch.
Her breathing became uneven as his hands continued to roam her; cupping the curve of her plentiful backside, raising her shift to her waist. While one hand held it, the other pulled her closer. Then he lifted her thigh to rest it on the arm of the chair. "Sire, you mustn't," but she was too late. His skilled mouth descended on her flesh, only now did she realize how moist she had become. He kissed her just above her little nub, then her inner thigh, and back towards the source of her heat. She became anxious, grinding her hips toward him, trying to douse the burning flame.
The king smiled, then gently flicked his tongue across her clit, forcing her to drive her hips further still- nearly falling over in the process. His hand held her, as he began stroking her treasure with his tongue, savoring every drop he encountered. Soon he was ravaging her, pushing his tongue further and further into her tight little entrance, her moans and sighs edging him on.