Captain Horace lay back in his seat, eyelids fluttering. This evening had not gone as planned.
He'd promised himself he'd keep an eye on Lleva, to make sure she didn't get up to anything to embarrassing in the servant's quarters, didn't have her way with anyone, ask any major questions. He didn't trust that girl. Everyone else in the castle thought that Prince Felic was infallible, but Horace knew that he was like any other young man—and Lleva knew how to work men like Felic.
The trouble was, she knew how to work men like Horace, too.
The Princess's handmaiden had been contrite when he'd burst in and had her get off of that scullery maid, Lania. She'd been the picture of guilt as he'd led her out of the servant quarters, with every intention of delivering her outside the castle, where the damage she could do would be minimal. She'd begged for forgiveness, begged to be returned to her fellow attendants' quarters, to be allowed to show herself out. But Captain Horace wasn't born yesterday. He just ignored her.
And then her tack had changed, very subtly. She'd stopped crying. Stopped begging. And started flattering him. Lamenting how professional he was, how determined he was to do his job. Berating him, but over things he was proud of—his stubbornness, his strong will.
Gradually, he'd started responding to her, just to tell her to be quiet, that he wasn't going to let her work any more mischief. And then they'd started talking—just... talking, about the weather, about the castle, about how cold she was in her lacy nightgown, how cruel he was to put her out in the chilly night air. He'd continued to argue with her, but it had been almost amiable. Almost banter.
And gradually, he'd realized that they were working in circles. That he was lost. Lost in his own castle. And rather than call for the spirits, who were usually quite busy at night, he'd chosen to not admit he was lost. Her teasing was more than he could bear.
He'd decided to take her back to the servants' quarters. Then to the guest quarters. Then, when he couldn't find those either, he'd given up and decided to just take her back to the dungeon. How hard could it be to find the dungeon?
And somehow, he'd found himself wandering to his own bedroom. Lleva had been so flirtatious, so playful then, leaning against him. She was still so cold. Somehow she'd convinced him to give her his coat. Then it had been so easy to let her take his armor. His uniform.
And by then, they'd been in his soft reading chair, and she'd been curled up in his lap, so slight and curvy and soft. And finally warm.
And then she'd giggled. Triumphantly.
And her eyes had sparkled like stars.
Now Horace lay beneath her, gasping as she bounced in his lap. She beamed down at him. "Isn't this nice?" she cooed. "Such a
good
boy. Such an
obedient
boy. As he tried to respond, she rolled her hips and licked her lips, wrapping her arms around him lovingly. "
My, my
," she purred, "you're just...
helpless
, aren't you?"
He cried out in ecstasy as he came inside her, and she moaned in pleasure, quivering, clutching him all the tighter. He was lost in her scent. Lost in her kisses, her tight pussy, her warm embrace, her sweet voice.
"
CAPTIAN HORACE!
" exclaimed a feathery voice.
Lleva's eyes widened, and her face contorted. "Oh,
come o
—"
She went flying off of him, landing in the bed. She tried to rise, but the blankets came to life in an instant, and in mere seconds had her trussed up like a roast pig. Almost as an afterthought, it seemed, the blankets gagged her.
Captain Horace stared, shocked almost mindless at the sight. His cock twitched.
"
Oh, really.
" The voice was frustrated, cold. "
Here!
" The bedsheet rose up and covered her naked form. She gave an annoyed groan. "
Is that better, Captain?
"
Captain Horace blinked. "Um... spirit?"
"
Yes.
" After a moment, the spirit came into view, shimmering ribbons in their vaguely feminine shape, arms crossed. Horace had known the faceless creature long enough to know when they were upset, even if the voice was usually a steady monotone. "
Something is, as I'm sure you can guess, very wrong here. All of Jenne's attendants are in coitus with our servants or the guests of the banquet. They are... doing things. Things I do not understand, because I cannot see half of it. But I can see there is magic afoot.
"
"Magic?" captain Horace blinked slowly, covering himself with a pillow. He still felt a bit disoriented, but sparks of life were returning to his mind now.
"
Petty magic,
" the spirit said contemptuously. "These are minor casters, most of them. Lleva was one of the strongest, and I would favor a Rainvale witch over her any day of the week. But these fools got themselves too drunk to resist a pretty attendant's touches. We are being overrun, and my powers to intervene are limited without the Prince's direct command. Standing orders disperse my powers at night for guard duty—I can't focus unless he tells me I'm allowed to pause in those duties."
"Damn." Captain Horace rose to his feet, somewhat unsteady, and hurried to get dressed. "And the Prince is with Princess Jenne still.
Damn!
"
"
That is the worst part,
" the spirit said grimly. "
This is a Wildflower delegation, there is no doubt of it. But as far as I can tell, from my observations, there
is
no 'Princess Jenne'."
~ ~ ~ ~
Felic was in a haze of crimson lust as the three shortstack imps bounced in his lap, giggling, blanketing him in comforting whispers until a drowsy smile was drifting across his pliant face, his eyes heavy-lidded, leaning in to receive their kisses and praise.
"
So strong,
" gushed the first, covering his face in plump kisses.
"
And he's so big,
" moaned the second, wriggling her hips joyously in his lap.
"
And so resistant to our charms, ain't you?
" breathed a third in his ear.
He nodded happily. He was resisting very well! So well he didn't need to stop. He could just let them bathe him in sensual delights, butter him up with flattery, melt him with their supple, curvy bodies and their batting eyelashes. He could take it. He could stop any time he wanted. He'd learned about honey demons, nectar demons, succubi, dust devils, blue demons, slime demons... and now he was learning about
imps
.
And as they giggled again, he obediently prepared for another volley of sloppy kissing. But to his surprise, it never came. Instead, they dissolved back into smoke, inches from his face. He blinked, coughing slightly.
"Sorry, my sweet Felic," whispered a little voice in his ear. "How are you feeling?"
It actually took him a moment to remember where he was. He turned to Jenne—Princess Jenne—and love blossomed in his heart. He smiled at her. "Good," he mumbled, leaning against her. "Um... good."
She smiled up at him. "I'm
so
glad," she whispered. "I know you're learning
so
much, aren't you? You need to know as much as you can if you're going to help us fight the Succubus Queen. And you want to be a good prince, don't you?"
He kissed her neck. He felt like molten candy, like molten arm candy for Jenne, Princess Jenne, his wonderful Princess Jenne. His bride. "Mm."
