The Arcane Ing

She gazed out the window of the stone tower, the view of rolling green hills and soft clouds against a blanket of blue sky lost on the princess as her mind traveled elsewhere. Off in the distance church bells rang, beckoning the citizens to the royal castle for a wedding-her wedding. She wondered if they would welcome her as their queen or cast her aside as a foreigner. Her sigh echoed against the stone walls.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the knock at her door-her handmaid she was sure. She did not answer it, and yet her handmaid entered anyway. So be it. Her life was now a series of moments when people acted without regard for her opinion or permission. The handmaid beckoned her to a chair on the opposite side of the room and began to intricately weave forest green ribbons into her flowing, ginger red locks. When she finished, the foreign princess was asked to stand and a corset was tightened around her naked form, pressing against her bosom and creating voluptuous cleavage on which a gold necklace inlaid with large emeralds was placed. She had not requested to be adorned in green, but it seemed her mother had on her behalf. After all, it brought out the soft green of her eyes and complimented her hair like a sunset against the rolling hills of Ireland, the home she longed for so dearly in this moment.

Just as her handmaid collected her ivory gown for her dressing, the door burst open. Before them stood King Gregory. The handmaid gasped and mumbled something about the princess's chastity. The King gave her a glare so chilling she ran out of the room with tears in her eyes. His stare returned to the princess.

"Your Grace," she whispered as she silently considered how one curtsies without a gown on. His voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I made an oath to marry you for your father's army and a treaty between our lands. I do not break oaths."

Her brow furrowed and her breath grew shallow as he slowly stepped forward, his deep brown eyes never leaving her own. She felt the temperature of her body rise as he finally stopped, standing so close the heat of his own form radiated against her bare skin.

"I do not break oaths," he repeated slowly. "I only wanted to get a glimpse of whom I am forced to share my bed with for the rest of my days."

Then his large hand raised up and rested on the curve of her neck. Her breath caught in her throat as his touch traveled down her collarbone and onto her breast. A sigh escaped his lips as he groped her cleavage. Then his hand slid down her corset, accentuating the curves of her waist, and found her arse at the end of her corset. He groped her arse once, twice, and then suddenly his other hand reached around and pulled her body against him with a moan. Her arms instinctively flew up to his chest to protest such inappropriate behavior.

"My Grace," she objected breathlessly.

"I know the laws," he responded, then groaned as he nuzzled his face into her bare neck. "We shall not kiss or consummate until we are wed." His right hand withdrew from her arse and slipped down between her thighs. "And I will do neither to you now."

Suddenly his rough fingers were moving up her inner thighs. Her head tipped back as the room spun. No one could last so long without air in their lungs, she thought as his fingers found her mound of curls and sought to part her lips. His groan echoed deep in the chambers of her body as he found her wetness awaiting his fingertips. He slid inside her ever so gently, so as not to deflower her, as was his promise. Her gasp of surprise was quickly replaced by a soft moan in response to his presence within her. His eyes met hers at the sound and the hunger in his gaze told her his oath could not be kept much longer.

He lifted her with one hand-the other still pleasuring her-and carried her over to the bed in the center of the room. Careful to miss the wedding gown, he tossed her back onto the mattress and spread her legs. She began to protest, but he put a finger to her lips.

"I made a promise," he said firmly and then lowered himself onto his knees before her.

The feeling of his hot breath against her curly ginger mound sent shivers up her body. Her mother had taken her aside to prepare her for the wifely duties she would be expected to perform after her wedding. Her mother had most assuredly not mentioned this particular act.

Her back arched as his tongue found her most pleasurable place and massaged it rhythmically. She began to pant and moan, as his fingers, still within her, joined in rhythm with his tongue. Her heart raced, her breath quickened, her hips began to buck though she understood not how her virgin body knew how to respond to this unknown act. Suddenly his mouth covered the source of her pleasure and he sucked on it, creating an unholy crashing of pleasurable waves within her. She cried out, "My King!" as her body shook and convulsed against her will. He lapped up her juices like a thirsty dog at its water bowl, and she caught her breath as tears slid down her cheeks.

He stood suddenly and wiped his sleeve across his face. Then his stare found hers as she attempted to find the strength to rise from the bed.

"You shall do, I suppose," he announced stoically.

Then he turned and marched out of the room, slamming the wooden door behind him.