Chapter 1: The Vampire Prince and the Werewolf King
Tags: huge cock (50cm~ tops), sounding/docking, cumflation, feminine (read massive) penis, BDSM, ryona
It said a lot about the inhabitants of Mount Doremval's Manor that despite the servants outnumbering them by a factor of ten, they still managed to find ways to bother the helping hands with inane requests and demands.
Really telling, however, was the fact that easily the majority of these tasks were given not by a hundred nobles, nor by a mere ten but by a single haughty man. That man being the Prince.
This illustrious guest wasn't actually named Prince but when faced with the absurd quantity of his mostly self-appointed titles most people defaulted to this simple moniker; he didn't even mind! All the better for everybody involved.
That was perhaps the only point of note where the immortal being tolerated some leeway though.
Because the Prince was a vampire after all. Indeed, like most of the guests of the castle at the top of the mountain, he was separated from the common riffraff of the servant castes by a multitude of eons of actual unlife. There were ghouls, mummies, ghosts, zombies, more even but vampires were few and far between in this illustrious establishment, a distinct aristocracy until themselves.
And he - oh mighty and grand he be - was the favorite of the mistress of the Manor; the dreaded Night-Terror Melicia.
Having been rescued from despicable squalor in his youth and turned promptly into the fanged beauty's kin, the Prince had just as quickly forgotten where he came from and gotten far too acquainted with the luxuries his rank afforded him. Though he would never dare - or even think - to strike above his station and usurp the one who had given him his current unlife, his ego had grown unchecked and festered into a kind of domineering pride that seeped maliciously onto those below him. Now everybody knew to give him a wide berth lest some tiring tirade spew from his lips about "not recognizing the privileges he gifted them, the poor wretches" or "if they'd be so kind as to send for more help to his chamber, the 'amorous' kind" despite his interlocutor quite often not having any bearing on the situation at hand.
Because the fact was that despite being a "Prince", he presided in name only. And over what, you may ask? A glorified vacation resort!
Though quite ancient and certainly distinguished enough to be considered part of the history of the country, the castle's main claim to fame was being a retreat of sorts for all the immortal beings that were growing tired of being chased from their abodes by uppity adventurers and mobs brandishing pitchforks or torches. You could escape your besieged mansion through a secret passage, come linger to the manor for a few years or so while your traps minced the intruders, and just come back refreshed as if nothing had happened! It wouldn't salvage your mansion, sure but it would allow you to let things quiet down on their own whilst you sipped a fine vintage or perused the library.
Some had even grown so tired of this repetition that they had chosen to simply move in the manor, foregoing any headaches about having to salvage precious items and such from frenzied hordes of perilous peasants.
To get back to the matter at hand, Prince was thus something of an oddity in this carefully crafted abode of peace and quiet. After all, he hadn't been an archmage or a warlord before being transformed into his present form; he had just been a random orphan that Melicia had taken a shine to. And there he was, old as he may be, trying to order around primeval kings and hellbound liches.
Most of the times, the injunctions were received in good humor if only for the sheer novelty of it all and accompanied with a quick sign to the personnel at hand to come fix the situation quickly. Other times though...
"
Prince, I hope you won't hold it against me in my old age if I ask you to clarify what you just said. I know it may be tedious but sometimes you say the oddest things and I catch myself wondering if I just imagined it all.
"
"
Of course not, of course not! What I meant was, and do forgive me for being quite a bit more succinct this time, that I was graciously offering you the opportunity to reconvene at my chambers this evening, to 'mingle' so to speak in private.
"
Though the image of a young lad attempting to woo one of the most powerful cryomancer of all time must have been comical to say the least - the earnest look of haughty satisfaction on the boy's face the jewel of this scene - the waiting staff could however only stare in horror as the temperature quite literally started to drop. And Prince, ever the fool, didn't notice a thing.
"
My lady, too long have I seen you wander these hallowed halls alone in your misery and, though I wager it might not be easy, though to take it upon myself to alleviate your wearyness. After all, exercise does wonders to old bones doesn't it?
"
It took half a day to carve him out of the ice block as Melicia was unwilling to dispel it herself, insisting that it would prove to be a lesson. It barely took him an afternoon to offend someone again. And that was after he pestered the staff to go kill a cockatrice so he could adorn his new hat with colorful feathers. Or his numerous indiscretions with the maids and butlers which, while minor, would prove to be the starting point of this particular sordid tale.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It was late in the evening and midnight found him enjoying a bath in the hot springs deep in the bowels of the mount. He didn't often come here, complaining that the walk down was too tedious but once in a while he managed to find it in himself just enough motivation to make the traipse -usually atop a small palanquin - to the inviting pure waters. But since he was going to spend the time there he might as well make it an occasion, right?
That was how a small procession of servants made its way, in various states of undress, down to the increasingly sweltering cellars of the manor. Of course, not just any servants were required for such an endeavor as Prince barely tolerated the presence of those uglier or less fortunate than he.
And truth be told, that was something he had going for himself; what nature had seen fit to take from him in common sense it had given back in beauty, in spades.
Even now as he was lounging in the shallow waters, posing for a painter that labored in expressing all the little details, he had that kind of effortless grace and handsomeness that models the world over could only desire.
His long silvery hair, flowing softly in luscious locks, framed an angelic visage with pearly blue eyes, a delicate nose, a mischievous smile and just the right amount of prideful bravado. He was clean shaven, both on his face and his body but the wiry sinew underneath his pristine pale skin was more than enough proof of his age. Though his nails were painted in a beautiful crimson hue and earrings dangled from his ears, the impetuous way he lounged - both to accentuate his covered manhood and to delineate the curve of his muscles- spoke of a man confident in his appeal and charisma.
And indeed, the various servants propping him up with their own naked body for the painter to immortalize were all in various states of adoration at this ephebe adonis.
Here a busty maid clutching his hips possessively but subserviently, there a butler dutifully brushing his thigh with a silk towel. A plate of crystal glasses held up to him by a flustered and blushing servant, a fan shakily waved around by another with her bodice almost ripped open.
And in the midst of this entire tableau, a single pretentious noble.
"
Are you done yet, my good man?
"
"
Ah... my lord, I haven't had the time to yet really portray your elegance."
"
What? Really? But you must know how tiring it is for me to stay in such a pose!
"
"
It has scarcely been fifteen minutes, barely enough time to sketch your posture my lord... I- I need more time to properly bring out your noblesse on this canvas.
"
"
Hmph. I should have known better than to expect excellence from someone beneath me. Nonetheless, it shall do.
"
"
Of course my lord!
"
There was a small pause as the Prince relaxed and the painter continued his craft dutifully. But the silence didn't last.
"
Tell me painter, I don't suppose you could make a small adjustment to this painting, hmmm?
"
"
Of course my lord, your will be done.
"
"
Magnificent! Then if you don't mind, Clarabelle over there will come relieve me so do be kind enough to cover with whatever embellishment your kind are prone to using so as to keep my modesty intact.
"
"
I-um, what? How so, my lord? Do you mean-
"
It was barely an instant before another attendant had cleaved the waters before him and was pawing at his covered groin. Not a moment later, her prize was unveiled, the pristine and smooth flesh of the sizable appendage nuzzled against her cheek before she started sucking on it. From his point of view, the painter couldn't quite exactly discern what she was doing but the lurid squelches of her gagging motion gave him something of a hint. She was accomplishing her task with great enthusiasm indeed.
"
My lord, I'm sorry but I can't-
"
"
You can't what? It seems to me like I have been a generous host and even have condescended to this tortuous ordeal, under the SOLE condition that you give me a mere depiction of my regal countenance in the midst of my most trusted servants, to serve as a reward and mark of their dutiful service.
"
It was a credit to the prince's countenance, indeed, that he was able to monologue with such exact diction while his servant busied herself choking on his cock, thought Rizuelli. He, who had originally been hired by Dame Melicia to freshen up the Manor's aging murals with frescoes of his own design, had been now waylaid by this pompous dickhead to do anything else but the job he'd agreed to do. The worst was he wouldn't have minded this painting he was doing - really! - if not for the infuriating demeanor of the Prince... and the fact that he risked getting beheaded by Melicia if she learned that he was not doing what he'd actually been contracted for. She was generous, truly she was, but she matched that generosity with an equal attentiveness to detail. And sat as he was wasting time there was no way he was going to be able to finish the frescoes to her standards, let alone his own. No, he had to do something!
"
My lord... I am sorry to inform you I won't be able to concede to your request then!
"
There was a beat, a stillness in the air that spread even as the admiring servants kept attending their liege. Though Prince was not as powerful as any of the other guests by any means, he was still a vampire and that meant Rizuelli was treated to a prime view of the inhumanity tinting the creature's face as all traces of its previous cheer faded away.
"
What did you say?
"
"I
meant that, uh, that I-
"
In an instant Prince had thrown to the side poor Clarabelle, wrenching her face away from his crotch and leaving her to flail into the spring. The moment after, Rizuelli was pinned against a rough-hewed wall by his throat, barely managing to breathe through the concussion he had just received.
"
You would refuse ME?!
" hissed the vampire. "
Me, who rules over this manor and lets you live through the grace of the Night Terror?!
"
Had Rizuelli been able to speak more than a gurgle, he might have been able to recant these grave accusations but as it stood he had to settle for holding himself in the most non-threatening manner he could. Not that he needed to. It started with a soft whisper. The wind murmured anxious curses and a gust roiled through the spring before settling on the shoulders of all those present like a lead weight. Deep in his rage, Prince wouldn't recognize these signs - or perhaps due to his vampiric blood - but he was able to recognize the absolute mind shredding power that emanated from the presence slowly going down the steps. His hand still holding up the painter against the wall he turned back to welcome the one he considered his mother.
Melicia, for all the legends that surrounded her, didn't look like a monster. She also didn't look like someone who could boil the blood of an entire invading army - as she had done multiple times - but that was instead reflected in how she bore herself:
