"The Heir Presumptive" (closed)

Leo's eyes bulged as she placed his hand upon her bosom - clothed or not! He'd never...

He knew he should pull away, but he couldn't. His curiosity was too great. He felt the gentle curve under the fabric and squeezed softly, wondering all the while what she looked like underneath.

She started undoing his belt and he snatched his hand back and grabbed her wrists. He wanted to do badly, but...

"Your husband! He'll kill me if he comes back and...sees...us."
 
Caitrin knew she'd moved too quickly when Leo jerked his hand back and insisted, "Your husband! He'll kill me if he comes back and...sees...us."

She tried to politely take the young man's hands again as she reassured him, "No, Leo, he won't. He doesn't care. Have you heard of brother's prerogative?"

It was obvious from his expression that he hadn't. And hell, even if he had, Caitrin was using it far out of it's appropriate, cultural context. "Rollen won't care. In fact ... it's the reason he left us alone ... so we, you and I ... could be together."

As she'd been talking, Caitrin was hurried untying her bodice. Once the thongs allowed it, she pulled it and her blouse down off her shoulders, exposing her breasts and lower rib cage to him.

"Touch me, Leo," she begged, stepping closer to him slowly. "I want you to touch me."
 
Her husband wanted the two of them to...fool around? The concept was almost as astonishing as it was unbelievable. Was he whoring her out? Was that their thing? She didn't seem the type, and yet the way she was coming on to him. Had Freeda told them who he was? His nobility? Maybe she just assumed he was worth the effort.

And what was a brother's prerogative? He had no idea.

Before he could protest further, though, she had her bodice untied and pulled down to her waist, revealing her pert little breasts. Her nipples were full and appeared to be very hard, pointing straight at him. He couldn't help but lick his lips.

"Touch me, Leo," she said, stepping close enough he picked up her sweet scent. "I want you to touch me."

He yearned to do just that. And while he still didn't entirely believe her claim that her husband wanted this, it was an easy to latch onto it.

Leo tentatively reached out with his good hand and laid it gently atop a breast, feeling for the first time a woman's bare chest. It was soft and firm all at once. Forbidden and exciting. Her nipple poked into his palm and he felt her tremble slightly under his touch.

Her smile prompted him to reach out with his other hand and take her other side. Slowly, he worked up the courage to rub them, then touch and stroke her nipples specifically.

Caitrin reached again for his belt and this time he didn't resist. She soon had it undone and set aside, then lifted up his tunic. He had to briefly take his hands off her breasts while his top came off, but immediately went back to touching her.

Within moments, the tie on his hose was undone and she was pulling it down far enough to reach his cock. He was embarrassed by his state of arousal, despite telling himself that it was exactly what she was after. That first contact of her fingers brushing along his length as it came free...heavenly! It twitched involuntarily as if dancing for joy.
 
Knowing now that Leo was going to go along with her, Caitrin backed him toward a nearby couch and essentially pushed him down into it. She laughed at both his reaction and at how his now exposed erection bounced to and fro against his belly a couple of times before once again pointing almost straight up toward the ceiling.

She wriggled quickly out of her dress, revealing her young, tight body. She was just a simple country girl, not a sexual servant of one of the local brothels, so at the meeting of her thighs was a thick bush of dark brown curls. She moved forward to the couch, quickly straddling the young man's thighs and -- high on her knees -- reached down to take command of his cock.

"I want you to remember this forever," Caitrin said, stroking his generous length with tightly grasping fingers. Her excitement level was high, so much more so because she knew that she was to be Leo's first. She'd never been a man's first before. "I want you to remember me."

Suddenly, Leo's cock leapt in her hand. Caitrin looked down in time to see a second great glob of thick cum follow the first, landing very near to its predecessor high up on the young man's chest. Caitrin's eyes widened as volley after volley laid down a trail of his seed from pectorals to penis.

"My god, Leo," she exclaimed, looking to his ecstasy-filled face. She giggled with delight, saying, "I think you liked that."

As she watched the aftermath of what she'd done to him, Caitrin snatched up a cloth -- it was a scarf, those whose she didn't know -- from nearby and wiped up his goopy mess. Then, she moved into place, toyed him at her sopping wet hole, and lowered her weight.
 
To Leo, laying on his back with Caitrin astride his waist, she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Oh, he's seen prettier girls before, but there was more to her than that. It was an inner radiance and unabashed glee she showed for him.

His attention dropped to where their crotches nearly touched, her womanhood buried somewhere beneath that dark mass of curls. Her hands were wrapped tight around his cock and within moments, he climaxed all over his stomach and then chest. He'd gotten himself off more times than he could recall, but it was nothing like having someone else do it. He just wished it had lasted longer.

She giggled with joy. "I think you liked that."

"Oh, my, yes," he said. "I didn't think it would..."

He wanted to explain, but she didn't give him much chance. She snatched up a scrap of clothing and wiped him clean, then tossed it aside. He wondered what he was expected to do next, but she took charge by grasping his cock and stroking it again. He hadn't yet softened from the first climax and was startled that he was able to remain hard under her touch.

She smiled at him, then lifted herself just enough to position the tip between her legs. She settled her weight on him, enveloping his cock in a dream of wet, hot, smooth, nerve-explosive perfection. He couldn't believe how much better this felt than using his own hand. No wonder so many of the boys and men around the keep seemed so obsessed with bedding women.

Caitrin's expression suggested she was enjoying every bit as much. She began lifting and falling on his shaft, changing her pace and depth of penetration to suit her mood. Leo reached up and fondled her breasts again, which seemed to please her, and she leaned forward and kissed him. That felt oddly intimate, even under the circumstances. It was only brief, then she returned to a more upright position and focused on riding him.

Leo thrust his hips up into her, matching Caitrin's pace while savoring every moment. It was several minutes - maybe ten, maybe twenty - before he felt another climax coming on. She seemed to sense it and upped her pace. Her hand reached down between them and fingers flicked back and forth rapidly, inducing heavy breathing and moaning from his partner.

He came again, this time deep inside a woman for the first time. As he passed the peak and moving into a period of almost uncomfortable oversensitivity, she kept grinding and rubbing until gasping with a shriek he feared might be heard down the street. Her pussy clamped down on his flagging member and then she, too, collapsed on his chest, breathing as heavily as he was.
 
Meanwhile, back in Riverbrook Castle...

Trett wasn't pleased with Pollania requesting private time with Olean, but he was unable to come up with a suitable reason to refuse on the spot and let it drop. The handmaiden knew some dirt, including his relationship with Victoria, but surely the Countess's spies already knew that. She didn't know anything of the conspiracy.

He bowed and took his leave, considering whether he should test the limits of hospitality by wandering the grounds or just leave well enough alone. A servant had been promised, but Trett had no intention of availing himself of a girl likely selected for whatever disease she'd picked up spreading her legs for drunk soldiers. If he was that desperate, he'd summon Olean later.

A short while later there was a knock at his door and he called for the servant to enter. He remained at the window, his back willfully turned to the servant.

"Refreshments, m'lord," a tentative voice said.

He couldn't help but turn, finding a gorgeous young woman dressed in a white gown that pushed her modest breasts up to magnificent effect. Pollania had gone above and beyond to keep him distracted. Such a tasty morsel was tempting.

The girl, having already placed a platter of food on the table, bowed her head to avert her gaze.

"Is there anything else m'lord needs? Or desires?" Her voice practically trembled as she said the words.

Trett almost felt sorry for her. "What's your name, girl?"

"Anya," she said, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"The Countess sent you here to spread your legs for me?" His voice was firm, blunt.

She sniffed, clearly fighting back tears. "If m'lord so desires, yes."

Trett frowned, not that she would see. The girl was clearly terrified, and he had no stomach for rape. So, Pollania had found yet another way to fuck with him, by using this poor girl. Better to send her away.

"I don't want a crying girl," he said. "You can leave."

Anya sniffed again and took a tentative step toward the door. In a voice almost too soft to hear, she said, "I volunteered, m'lord."

Trett cocked an eyebrow. "Come again?"

She looked up, nervous but also...hopeful?

"I volunteered," she said, vice slightly stronger. "I heard about you and hoped maybe..."

Trett crossed the room, considering her, and poured two glasses of wine. He offered one to her which she refused until he insisted. She took a sip and held the glass uncertainly.

"Hoped what?"

Anya blushed furiously, made all the more obvious against her white gown. "I was brought here a slave. They...don't treat me well, even though I do all they ask. The Countess, she demands her servants avail themselves to the men, the guests. I don't want to and have never..."

She hesitated and he realized what she meant. A virgin.

She took a deep breath. "I hoped maybe you would be an honorable man, one who could take me from this awful place. Maybe I'm a fool to have such dreams, but I see you in person and I think maybe this is possible. You're a true Lord, like the stories."

Trett was still suspicious, but she sounded so painfully earnest he was inclined to believe her.

Getting no response, she pressed on. "I wanted to save myself, but here that won't happen. I'd rather give myself willingly than be given away my that...bitch.

"If you'd have me, m'lord. It's all I have to offer."

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked back at the floor. She certainly had the pure innocence of virginity about her. He didn't trust Pollania enough to buy this, but there was a way to test part of her story...and he'd never taken a girl's maidenhead before.

"Your tale pains me to hear," he said, setting his empty glass down and moving beside her. She smelled of flowers. "Perhaps we can find a way to help each other."

He ran his fingers up a bare arm, hesitated at her shoulder, then continued across the upthrust expanse of bosom above the gown's low neck line. She shuddered at his touch but didn't move back. His fingers continued across her other shoulder as he walked around her backside. So petite, small hipped, fragile.

Trett undid the top of a line of buttons down the back of her dress. Anya remained perfectly still as inch by inch her back became exposed. Her skin was flawless and he leaned forward to kiss between her shoulders.

Button after button followed until he reached the end. He gave the straps a slight nudge and the entire dress fell, pooling at her feet. Her top was naked and only white smallclothes covered her bottom. She shivered. Her nervousness emboldened him and the last wisp of clothing joined the rest.

Trett slowly walked back around to her front side. Her breasts were of a similar size to Victoria. Even her height and build were similar. Had that been intentional? Or was it merely coincidence and Anya really had volunteered for this duty?

She looked up at him, nervous, almost covering herself but clearly fighting back the instinct. "Do I please m'lord?"

He smiled. "You will."

She stepped out of the clothing when he offered his hand, then joined him as he led her toward the bed. Standing, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Anya was tentative but receptive. His hands roamed her body, first finding her butt and then moving up to her breasts. Her kissing became more confident.

Trett broke it off, stepped back, and stripped. He studied her response to the sight of his chest, his solid physique, and then his erect cock. She was clearly nervous but also fascinated. Exactly as he would expect. Just as he thought Victoria must have looked when...

Memory took him back to that time when his young charge had become fascinated in sex, thanks in large part to that Olean. She'd ordered him to take her to a brothel catering to wealthy women, where she bought a Hashian slave and let the vermin take her maidenhead. He'd been forced to wait just outside, listening to every cry of pain and then lust. He'd loved Victoria, even then, and it had devastated him that she would seek out a man like that for her first. Two weeks later, she'd seduced him (with little effort) and they'd been secret lovers ever since. Yet still, even now, he resented her for that. Perhaps worse, she'd made him execute the man afterward to keep the secrecy. The first time he'd taken a life.

The memory consumed him as he stared at the naked young woman before him. So much like Victoria must have been that night. His cock swelled with mighty anger.

Anya must have sensed the change in him, her demeanor less certain. He pushed her back until she fell upon the bed, legs spread with him between. He ran his hands over her breasts, down her waist, and across her clit. She gasped. He fingers her...not as wet as Victoria, but good enough.

Trett positioned himself at her hole and began working his way inside. So tight, yet finally yielding. Anya closed her eyes, fighting back tears. It might hurt now, but she'd come to enjoy him. He continued until he felt resistance and pushed through. She whimpered but took it. He glanced down as he pulled back. Well, he thought, at least that part of her story was true.

He proceeded to bless her with the seed of nobility, finally fucking the virgin he should have had two years ago.
 
Last edited:
Caitlin pushed Leo toward his second orgasm, holding back her own climax; she wanted desperately for him to cum again before she did. When she saw that his explosion was imminent, she reached to her sensitive nub and manipulated it, trying to cum with him. She'd been so close, too. She screamed out in delight as the pleasure overwhelmed her, eventually falling forward upon Leo's naked chest and into his arms.

She simply lay there against him for what seemed an eternity, not wanting to dismount. Leo felt so good inside her, and he didn't look like he was in any hurry to be rid of her either. Caitrin sat up taller finally, looking into Leo's eyes as she purred, "That was ... very good. You're gonna make some ... young Noble woman ... very happy in the--"

A sound to her right caused instant and deep panic in Caitrin. She leaped off of him with unbelievable athletic skill to find Baran standing in the back hall of the let home. His eyes seemed as big as Caitrin knew hers were as she rushed to find her clothes.

"I think I heard Freeda call us from out back, Rollen," Baran said, turning to push his friend back out of the house just before the younger man had gotten a glimpse of his naked wife and the mostly naked man she'd just driven to ecstasy. He was out of the still heavily breathing peasant girl's view as he continued, "C'mon, my friend, let's go find her. She promised me a bottle of Pratian wine."

Caitrin rushed to don her clothes, then moved up close to Leo. She was nervous as she told him with desperation, "I think maybe we should keep this between us. My husband ... well ... I may have told a bit of a fib."

She laughed as she backed away, tying her bodice. "He didn't give me permission to be with you."

She held an extended index finger up to her lips, shushed him, smiled while blushing deeply, then turned to rush to the little room off the kitchen where a tub and hot water was available for her to clean off the smell of Freeda's brother.
 
Riverbrook Castle
Antechamber, Countess Pollania's Bedchamber
Several minutes ago:


Pollania sat in her tall backed chair, watching as a pair of Chambermaids prepared the young beauty for what could very well be the performance of a lifetime.

"No, no," the Countess said, gesturing toward Anya's head. The servants were about to thread the stems of small blooms into the braid at the back of the girl's hair. "No flowers. We want her to appear as if an Unwanted."

The term Polla used was meant to describe slaves or indentured peasants who a Noble or Royal was more than happy to be rid of. "He has to believe that we do not care for her presence anymore."

"A nice bruise across the cheek bone would help with that," a second female voice sounded from nearby. Anya looked up in shock at Princess Ranna, who quickly laughed off the suggestion. "Well, she surprises easily. That should play well for Trett."

Ranna spoke the man's name with true disdain. It only seemed appropriate for the man who'd been fucking her little sister out of wedlock for two years, possibly even more. If it wouldn't break Victoria's heart, Ranna would have Trett stripped, crucified, and relieved of the cock he enjoyed ramming inside her sister.

Of course, if she'd had better placed spies within her sister's household, Ranna would have known that it had been Victoria who'd initiated the relationship. Of course, that was the reason for which she and her grandmother were preparing Anya.

"You understand what we are asking of you?" Pollania asked from her chair atop the dais. Anya nodded respectfully. The Countess stood and descended to stand directly before the young beauty. "Tell me."

"I am to--"

"Look into my eyes, Anya," Pollania said softly. She reached out to lift the girl's chin. "To Lord Trett ... to other Nobles or Royals ... even to the staff of Lord Trett's Household ... you are nothing more than a servant ... a slave unless given your freedom. You will show them the appropriate respect, keeping your eyes down and your voice low. You will do for Lord Trett ... and for anyone to whom he offers your services ... anything asked of you."

She smiled broadly as she laid her hands softly upon Anya's upper arms, adding, "But to me ... you are a woman to be respected. You are as noble to me as is any woman who bears that title. You will look into my eyes when we speak ... speak as equals. You are not a slave in my presence. Do you understand?"

Anya couldn't help but lower her eyes again, her cheeks exploding with a blush as Polla once again lifted her chin, chuckling. "Do you understand?"

Anya managed a simple, "Yes, My Lady."

Polla asked again, "Do you understand what we are asking of you?"

Anya recapped the duties her Countess and Princess had given her, asking at the end, "Is that right, My Lady?"

"Yes, Anya," Polla confirmed. "And do you understand what we are offering you--"

"I have not asked for anything, My Lady," Anya cut in with a quick pace. She couldn't hold her gaze into Polla eyes and again looked to the floor. After the Countess yet again raised her chin, Anya said with a sincere tone, "I do this for the Burkinian Empire ... and for my Queen."

"That is the last time you will say that!" Ranna chastised from nearby. She stepped around such that Anya could look into her face and stressed, "You will never mention the Empire, the Queen, the Diaspora ... ever again."

"It isn't safe for you to speak of such things, Anya," Polla said with a softer tone, trying to alleviate the sudden fear that she could see in the young woman's eyes. She reached a hand out to Anya's sternum, pressing her fingers softly between the firm breasts boosted by the very tight fitting dress. "Your love for the Empire and for your Queen ... it shall stay here in your heart ... and only here..."

Polla reached up to press those fingers upon the girls lips, painted with a flavorful , naturally colored oil that tasted of Sweet Blossom nectar. She finished, "...and never here."

"I understand, My Grace," Anya said after the Countess lowered her hands. She drew a deep breath, exhaled, and -- when asked by Ranna -- confirmed, "Yes, I am ready."

She was escorted to the Countess's personal scullery where she was given a tray of only the best foods and wine, then sent on her own toward the quarters where her test was to begin.



The pain between Anya's legs was excruciating. Lord Trett had ceased his intrusions upon her innocence and stood over her, and yet the pressure still seemed to be there, as if he'd been able to disconnect his manhood and leave it within her womanhood ... reserving her canal for future use.

Trett invited Anya to move farther up into the elegant bed. She hesitated a moment, fearful of what was to come. Sitting up, she inconspicuously glanced to the Lord's semi-flaccid cock, seeing it reddened with the fluid of her now-torn hymen.

"Please, my Lord," Anya said softly, her gaze on the floor as she stood. "Let me clean you."

She crossed to retrieve a bowl, fill it with water from a pot over the fire, and set it on a table near the bed. She cooled the contents with cold water from a pitcher, dipped a rag and wrung it out, then turned back to Trett.

"May I clean you, my Lord?" she asked, stepping nearer. She was hesitant to take Trett into her hands. She'd never touched a man's penis; the first time one had touched her was only moments earlier. But she forced herself to take hold of the man's cock, lifting it, turning it, lowering it; the rag wiped over and under his shaft, lower about his sack, across his inner thighs and through his curls. "I would like to clean myself, too, my Lord."

Once the last of her destroyed cherry was only found on the rag in the bowl on the table, Anya moved to the center of the bed, asking, "How may I continue to serve you, my Lord?"



Trett was gentler with Anya the second time around. It seemed to her that he was trying to pleasure her as well as himself. But the continuing pain -- lessened as it was the second and third time he fucked her -- was just too much for Anya.

When finally he was done with her -- hopefully for the entire night -- Anya again asked for permission to clean them both again. She did her best to hide the grimaces caused by her movement about the room. But Anya was sure Trett caught her showing her discomfort a few times. After she'd cleaned her own groin a second time, she retrieved her undergarment, stepped into it, and tied it again around her waist. She wished she could hide her breasts, but that would have meant donning her dress. She was hesitant to ask permission to do such, so -- unless Trett himself gave her the word -- Anya would instead remain topless.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath, my Lord?" she asked looking to the tub. "I will need to heat additional water, or go for some. Their is a scullery on this--"

She hesitated, looking to the floor and blushing as she remembered that she was still topless. She instead offered again to heat more water, already available to the room via a small cistern in an adjacent closet.

Anya would spend the next moments, minutes, or hours serving Trett in what ever way he needed. He wasn't a brute, as Princess Ranna had claimed; but at the same time, he wasn't ... sweet, as Anya would one day like to find in a man she could love for the rest of her life.

Their entire afternoon together, the young woman looked for the right time to question Trett about her future with him ... or lack thereof. Finally, after she'd pleased him with something she'd done, Anya felt the time right.

"My Lord, I wonder, if you would permit me to humbly ask of you," she said tentatively, gaze mostly on the floor and only peeking up for very brief glimpses of his reaction to her. "Have I pleased you this day?"

She listened to Trett's answer, which was positive enough for her to continue, "Humbly asking to continue, my Lord ... as I told you earlier, I ... I am but a slave ... a lowly slave ... an Unwanted in My Lady's household."

Anya didn't explain what the word meant. She doubted she had to; nearly every sovereign State, Nation, and Culture on the Continent of Medianna had its version of the Unwanted. Still looking to the floor, Anya continued, "And now that I am Impure ... my station ... my lack of station ... will only worsen."

She glanced up quickly, a sincere expression of fear in her eyes before she again lowered her gaze and clarified, "I do not blame you, for this, my lord ... this shame. Please, my Lord, do not misunderstand my meaning. I only mean to say that ... I pleaded with my Lady to allow me to serve you this day ... on the hopes that you would consider taking me from this place ... of buying my life from My Grace."

Anya hesitated a moment before adding, "If you choose to honor me in this way, my Lord, I vow you will never suffer regret for your decision. Or ... if you choose ... choose not to save me from this place..."

She let the thought go, instead only staring at the hardwood plank floor, awaiting Trett's response. And respond he did, though, not with what she'd expected. Anya had expected a yes or a no; she hadn't imagined a maybe. Oh, Trett didn't actually say maybe, of course. He'd simply made it clear to Anya that surrendering her innocence wasn't going to be enough for him to put out a significant amount of coin for a sex slave.

"Princess Ranna is not in The Highlands," she said after a moment of contemplating her options. Her gaze remained on the floor as she continued tentatively, "She is in the castle. Or ... she is on the estate, I mean to say. I saw her in the stables this morning. She and some of her Bodyguard were preparing for a ride north ... though, I have no information as to where exactly they are going."

She glanced up for Trett's reaction, then took a step closer to him. With a hopeful tone, she suggested, "I ... I could ask ... if my Lord would pleased with such information."

She took one more small step closer, looking up into Trett's face.
 
Riverbrook Castle:

Trett found himself of several minds and realized he may have backed himself into a bad position. Anya had provided confirmation of Ranna's presence, at least as of this morning, but that didn't do much to help his cause. The castle and grounds were expansive enough he wouldn't be able to search for her, certainly not without raising a stink. Likely, she'd left temporarily just to maintain their game with him. That she was hiding, evading him, spoke volumes. The king would like to hear of this, though explaining just what he was doing in Riverbrook would take some finessing. He had a week's journey back to figure it out.

Anya. Very sweet girl and after softening his approach with her, he began to imagine she might make a suitable consort. She certainly lacked Victoria's zeal for sex, but there was an attraction to that change of roles. Victoria liked things a certain way, liked being in charge. Anya was the exact opposite.

How to explain it to Victoria? She'd have to provide better information than what she had thus far in order to make that sound like a reasonable explanation.

"Go," he said at last. "Find what you can about Ranna's whereabouts. But be subtle. Inquire only among the servants, particularly those furthest removed from her service but who might have seen or overheard something. And don't ask too many, or it might draw attention. If you're stopped, tell them I asked this of you because I have a message of a very...personal...nature that I most desperately wish to give to her in person before I leave.

"Understood?"

Anya nodded and quickly donned her dress. Trett realized she would be unable to reach all the buttons on her own and offered to help. His fingers lingered on her neck and he kissed her softly when he finished.

"Come back when you're done. We can discuss your future by the value of the information you can find."
 
City of Pratt:

Baran saw naked bodies fleeing from his view just as he cracked the door and froze. Oh shit, you damn fool girl.

He froze and cocked his head, pretending to hear something. "I think I heard Freeda call us from out back, Rollen."

He placed a hand on Rollen's chest while pushing the door closed softly behind him. "C'mon, my friend, let's go find her. She promised me a bottle of Pratian wine. And if that's what this is about, then we won't have to share with the young'uns. Between you and me, I don't think either of them could hold their drink, anyway."

Rollen gave him a dark look, but nodded and followed around the side and back of the house. There was no Freeda, just as Baran had expected. He even called out into the dark softly. Nothing.

"Crap," he said. "Maybe she was inside and I misheard. If so, hope they didn't drink it all already."

Rollen grabbed Baran by the shoulder as he tried to pass by. "What the fuck is going on, friend? You're acting all out of sorts, Freeda disappeared, and this whole thing stinks. There's something between Caitrin and that friend of yours she won't tell me and now I'm convinced she's doing things behind my back every time I turn around.

"Everything went to fucking pot the minute we bumped into you back at that inn."

Baran felt sorry for the guy. Rollen was right about nearly all of it and didn't deserve this.

"Yeah, it kinda seems that way, doesn't it? Look, if you and Caitrin want out, I'll pay you now and you two can walk away. Find somewhere nice and quiet. Forget about this."

Rollen scowled. "Somehow, I don't think it'll be that easy."

Without giving him a straight answer, Rollen stalked to the door and let himself in. Baran was quick to follow and found a very uncomfortable looking Leo sitting on the couch, doing his best to not look flushed and disheveled and failing miserably. Caitrin was doing something in the adjacent kitchen nook.

Rollen placed a hand on the hilt of his dagger. "Would someone care to explain why it smells like sex in here?"

Oh shit.
 
City of Pratt:

No, no, no, no NOOOO...! Caitrin's mind was screaming as she heard Rollen in the other room pitching a fit. She'd dropped her clothing again and leaped into the bath tub of already-once-used-water, her body exploding with shock as the barely lukewarm water flooded over her body. She stood tall again and gave out a cry of surprise, when forced herself back down into water.

"Rollen honey, will you come wash my back?" she called out, hoping to distract him from whatever was going on out in the parlor. "Rollen, dear."

What was happening in the other room was not good. The young and inexperienced Leo was wide eyed with panic. The horrifically angry husband of the woman who'd just claimed his virginity was nearing him slowly, demanding, "Would someone care to explain why it smells like sex in here?"

Without hesitation, the young man leaped from the couch and moved rapidly to the opposite side, away from Rollen. He blurted out, "She told me she had your permission! She said you let her do that with other men! She SAID so! "
 
Riverbrook Castle
Lord Trett's Guest Quarters:


"Go," he said at last. "Find what you can about Ranna's whereabouts."

Anya listened to Trett's instructions, nodding her acknowledgments at all the right places. "I understand, my Lord. I won't fail you."

She donned her dress with Trett's assistance. She cringed a bit at the lingering feeling of his fingers on her neck and the kiss that followed. She wasn't really that affected by the unwanted affection, but she needed Trett to believe that she was almost as reluctant to be his sex toy as she would to be that of some as-of-yet-known master who might be even worse.

"Come back when you're done. We can discuss your future by the value of the information you can find."

"Yes, my Lord," Anya said, giving him the same curtsy she'd presented upon entering the room before he'd violated her. "And ... thank you, my Lord."

Anya headed out to casually ask random people questions about Princess Ranna, William, the Bodyguard, and others connected to the former. This was all done to ensure that if Trett had eyes within the castle, word got back to him that Anya had done what he'd tasked her to do.

Ranna knew that there were spies and informants all about the County and even in the Riverbrook Castle. Some of them were from outside the Kingdom. And some of them were from within. Ranna was sure that her father, his Chancellor, his Counselors, and powerful Nobles ran some of those spies. Oh, none of them meant her any ill intent, of course. But -- as Freeda often reminded Ranna -- information was power, even if that information was about the ones you loved.

Ranna had no reason to believe that Trett meant her any ill intent either. Sure, if she was to die, her sister -- Trett's lover -- would be Heir to the Kingdom of Weston; and if Trett was to wed Victoria ... well, that would elevate the man to heights of which he couldn't otherwise even dream. But while Trett might have eyes and ears in the castle, they were surely here just to keep an eye on what Ranna was up to during her self imposed exile from her father's castle. Information is power.

After a couple of hours of casually gathering meaningless information, Anya made her way back into the castle and through the Servants Kitchen. There, she slipped inconspicuously into a narrow hall, took a circuitous path she'd practiced often, and arrived at a seldom used passageway guarded by one of Ranna's Bodyguard. The man snuck Anya through a secret door into a winding, candle-lit passageway, and a short time later she knocked at the back side of a thick, wooden door.

"Come in, Anya," Ranna said, opening the door to the secret passage that accessed a private office available only to her. "How did everything go with Lord Trett."

"It went well, My Grace," Anya said, her gaze naturally going to the floor near the Princess's feet. "He says that--"

"Raise your eyes, Anya," Ranna said with a friendly tone. When Anya did so, hesitantly, the Princess told her essentially the same thing Polla had. "Here, with me ... you are with a friend. You are not a slave in my presence ... ever."

Ranna asked Anya an uncountable number of questions about the encounter, many of them of a very personal nature. Anya didn't understand why the Princess would want to know such things as how many times the Nobleman ejaculated, whether he'd asked for the girl to use her mouth on him, or in what positions they'd performed their coitus. But she knew that there had to be a reason, and so she answered every question with the requested detail, blushing an also uncountable number of times during the interrogation.

"You have done very well, Anya," Ranna said with a sincere tone. "Your family will be very proud of you."

"I didn't ask for what My Lady offered, My Grace," Anya reminded. "I did it for the--"

She didn't finish, remembering the chastising she'd gotten earlier for mentioning the Empire. But Anya felt guilty that she'd been offered so much for so little. Oh sure, she'd sacrificed her virginity to a man she didn't know; and -- if all went well -- she'd be relocating to a distant land where she knew no one, to become the play thing for a man who could slit her throat at any moment without fear of consequence.

But in return for that, her family -- which had been destitute and without hope before coming to Riverbrook -- was to be deeded 400 acres of productive land on the north frontier of the county. Her older brother would be given the title of Lord, and his son -- born just four months ago -- was already betrothed to the now-2 year old daughter of a Count on the eastern border near Pratt. Anya's nephew would become a Count! From the depths of poverty to nobility! That was certainly worth a little pain between the thighs and an indeterminate time of spying on a Weston Lord.



"My Grace is leaving during the night," Anya reported when she got back to Trett's room. She was repeating the intelligence she was claiming to have gathered but which was actually discussed by her and Ranna prior to returning here. She continued, "A scullery maid -- who is a friend -- said she overheard Princess Ranna telling one of her Ladies-in-Waiting that she was traveling first north, to one of the Countess's country houses in Yorn. They will use one of the secret tunnels to get out of the castle. I am sorry, My Lord, but I don't know where these tunnels are or where they come out, nor do any of the castle staff from whom I might get such information."

She glanced up to Trett for just an instant, lowered her eyes again, and continued, "One of the groomsmen ... he told me that they are preparing the Bodyguard's horses for a lengthy ride ... westward ... toward the capital. He also told me that Lord William, the Captain of My Grace's Bodyguard--"

Anya already knew that Trett was well aware of who William was, but she wanted Trett to think there were in fact some things of which she was ignorant. She continued, "--will lead a hunting party out to the West Woods at dawn, just for sport. But...! I spoke with the Game Keeper's servant, and he knows nothing of a hunt tomorrow."

By now, Anya was actually beginning to show a little bit of excitement in her report. She was showing pride in what she'd accomplished for Trett as she continued, "So, I went back to the scullery to speak to one of my friends who's ... friendly with one of Lord William's Sergeants ... and she says that her lover had her wash some hunting clothes for him to wear tomorrow ... and then pack his uniform away, in a saddlebag."

Anya raised her gaze a bit more, looking more steadily though still respectfully to Trett as she said with a growing smile, "I think the Bodyguard is sneaking out of the castle tomorrow ... to meet My Grace on the Riverbrook-Weston Road. Another friend told me that a coach left on that road to the west just this afternoon ... a coach carrying bags -- Princess Ranna's bags -- with four of her bodyguard dressed in the uniforms of Countess Pollania's Guard, not their own uniforms to hide their identity."

She toned done her excitement before she continued, not knowing how he would take the next part of her report. "One of My Grace's Chambermaids says ... My Lord, I don't want to offend you, but ... I know you would want to hear this. She says My Grace is doing this ... sneaking out and meeting Lord William and the Bodyguard, likely in Green Haven ... to, um ... to avoid you."

She hesitated, eyes looking to the floor, fearful of looking up and seeing Trett's reaction. "She, my friend, says Princess Ranna is fearful that you carry a message from her father ... about the wedding treaty with The Highlands ... that you have come to pass on that message ... that she will not like what you have to say and ... and, therefore, has decided not to allow you to pass such Royal news to her."

Anya hesitated again, then added barely loud enough for the man to hear, "My friend, the Chambermaid ... she, um ... she says ... she says that My Grace Princess Ranna ... well, My Lord ... she says the Princess doesn't like you because ... because you are bedding her sister, the Princess Victoria."
 
City of Pratt

Baran's inner curses turned on the young Leo, who panicked into making things worse.

Murder flared in Rollen's eyes as he drew his dagger, but after taking a step toward the young noble he sneered and turned toward the side room from which Caitrin's voice had just come.

"Rollen, no!" Baran reached for his friend but had to jump back to avoid a swipe of the dagger that was not a warning.

Rollen's lip curled. "Why? You need another tumble with the cheating slut? Don't worry, she'll just have a couple more holes the both of you can fuck." The enraged man glanced briefly toward Leo.

"She loves you, Rollen," Baran said, keeping his eyes squarely on Rollen despite Caitrin appearing in the doorway behind her husband. "You just introduced her to a big new world. One you have to help her exp-"

Rollen lunged, dagger first, for Baran's chest. Ready for it, Baran sidestepped, grabbing for the dagger arm, and used the man's momentum against him. Rollen pitched forward awkwardly and cracked his head into the brickwork around the fireplace. There was a sickening crack and Rollen went limp instantly in a heap.

"No!" Baran had heard enough breaking bones on the battlefield to know what had happened. He dropped at Rollen's side and rolled him over. Blood oozed from the top of Rollen's head, but there was no breathing. He felt for a pulse, but that too was gone. "No, no, no..."

He looked up at Caitrin, tears welling up in his eyes.
 
City of Pratt

Caitrin couldn't immediately see the action taking place in the let home's parlor. She knew it wasn't good, and she knew it was likely to get worse.

Then, "Rollen, no!"

The newlywed leaned over the edge of the wooden tub for a view of the parlor ... and found her armed husband, staring at her with murder in his eyes and a dagger in his hands!

She leaped out of the tub, searching for her clothing and an escape from imminent death. And while she found the former, pressing her dress and undergarment against her chilling, dripping front, the latter simply wasn't available. She was trapped, and she was going to be killed. And all over her lust for a young man's innocence.

Caitrin heard the argument raging in the parlor but didn't really register what was being said. And then ... there was silence. She called out meekly, "Rollen...? Baran...?"

She nearly called to Leo as well. But it was probably better at this point not to increase the presumed knowledge she had with Freeda's brother. "Rollen...! Baran, is every thing..."

Caitrin hesitated. Something horrible had happened; she knew it. She headed tentatively toward the kitchen's entrance. She found Leo against a far wall, his eyes wide with horror. She followed his gaze as she stepped into the parlor ... and found Baran standing over the unmoving body of her husband as he begged, "No, no, no..."

Baran looked up at Caitrin, tears welling up in his eyes. Caitrin just stared, though. It ... it just wasn't registering in her mind. The man who had saved her from the streets and took her as his wife ... laying on the floor in the hands of his good friend who had become her second lover ... while steps away, a third man -- also Caitrin's lover -- was starting to murmur to himself in rising panic as (unknown to Caitrin) he envisioned the bloody death of his father just weeks earlier.

Then, Rollen's head slumped to the side in Baran's grasp ... and the profusely bleeding wound came into Caitrin's view. The horror peaked, and she rushed forward, dropping her clothes as she practically pushed Baran out of the way to get to her first and only love. She screamed in horror, already knowing that her life was over; pulling Rollen to her bare chest, she clutched him tightly, continuing to scream as his warm blood began painting her the wet flesh of her bosom and lower body.
 
Last edited:
Chloe took the hand offered by the Riverbrook Guardsman as he helped her into the coach. With their faces just inches apart, she practically purred to him, "Thank you, sir. You are a true gentleman."

He smiled wide, too, knowing that that wasn't entirely true. Walton had been with Countess Pollania's Guard for nearly four years. And for the last annum, he'd been working hard to achieve the rank of Sergeant. It hadn't necessarily been because Walton was eager for advancement in and of itself. He had another goal in mind. The rank of Sergeant brought with it the right to court Ladies in Waiting. Ladies...? No. Lady, singular; the Lady Chloe of Pram Valley.

Chloe had been destined to marry some Lord or Count or maybe a Baron's son. But one look at Walton -- and one from him upon her -- and she'd known that her future lay with a lowly soldier instead. They'd pleaded for the right to court, and finally after a year of hard work on both of their parts, Walton's rank had come through, as did their dream.

Everything had been on track for a wedding in the near future and with it a night of naked bliss. Then came the lightning storm ... and Chloe getting caught out in it ... and Walton coming to her aid ... and the straw pile at the back of the barn ... and ... well ... things change. The passion between them had been like a winter storm: impossible to hold back. It was no secret, of course; there were so very few of those in Riverbrook as it was. The Countess had claimed to be disappointed that the pair hadn't been able to wait to consummate their relationship on their wedding night. But in reality, even Polla had doubted that the passionate pair could have waited that long!

Looking in at the woman whose identity was hidden by a hooded cloak, Walton asked with concern, "Are you sure you have to do this, my love?"

"Yes, my love," Chloe answered with a kiss blown from her lips out the door to him. "Someone needs to play the part of the Princess Ranna, and I am her only Lady in Waiting who, for the next two weeks, does not already have public engagements that, if canceled, would lead those with prying eyes and open ears to believe that I was traveling in my Grace's stead."

"You did have engagements with me," Walton pointed out, knowing that the pair of them would have found some time alone over the next few days to repeat their nights of passion with one another.

Chloe laughed and reminded him, "Then it's a good thing that you are escorting me to Castle Weston."

"Pull down the shades and be quiet," Walton told her. As she followed his instructions, he did some reminding of his own. "Remember, the story is that the Princess will meet up with the coach in two days time. You are to remain invisible until then, in this coach, silent! We will make stops as necessary, but unless you are told it is clear, you are to remain hidden until it is time for you to play your part. Understood?"

Chloe smiled flirtatiously, reaching down to her dress to pull it above her knees and reveal her undergarments. "When will we be--"

Walton only laughed as he slammed the door shut, warning the 8 years younger woman to be silent. A few minutes later, the coach pulled out of the privacy of the Royal stables into the Inner Courtyard. Here, it would be seen by some of the Castle's staff ... and some of the informants who served unknown masters. A few moments later, with a 4 man protective contingent of Castle Guardsman wearing the outer garments of Ranna's personal Bodyguard, the coach was on its way.

For the first few miles, there was nearly always someone -- peasant, merchant, or noble -- who could see the passing coach and the pennant that identified it as belonging to the Kingdom of Weston. There was little doubt that spies were already formulating their reports and hurrying to their horses.



Three hours later, the coach took its first break, pulling off the Riverbrook-Weston Road to water the horses and feed the Guardsmen at a tiny Inn on the edge of a small lake. There, Walton let it slip to the Innkeeper that he and his men were protecting the possessions of the Princess Ranna as they rode west to meet up with the Royal and her even larger Bodyguard. If anyone came around asking, Walton was sure the Innkeeper would let the lie slip once again ... for a copper or two, anyway.

They made two more such watering stops along the way, each time letting confidential information slip to people who likely had loose lips. Finally, just before sundown, they reached their first nighttime stop. By now, Chloe -- who had only been let out of her traveling cell to relieve herself once in the woods -- was desperate for a bath and a hot meal. She got neither, being hustled off by her beau to a tiny hut where she was to remain quiet yet again until they got on the road before sunrise.

"Will you make love to me at least, my love," she begged, again lifting her dress to entice Walton to stay. But when he told her he couldn't, Chloe pouted out her lower lip and told him, "This isn't turning out to be the adventure I believed it would be."

The next day began, proceeded, and was about to end just as the previous one had. Chloe was becoming desperate for company -- and for her lover's cock -- but found the only entertainment offered her was the ability to peek out through a gap in the shades at the passing countryside.

The lack of excitement ended, though, when they entered a thick, vast, untamed wood near the border of two Counties that had reputations for being lawless. A second force of Guardsmen were to have been provided by a local Count, yet when Walton and his men arrived at the forest's edge, they found no one but a wandering shepherd who knew nothing of armed soldiers.

"We proceed," Walton decided after waiting for two hours. He told his men, "Caution is advised. Watch yourselves."

They'd been in the woods less than an hour when they were attacked.
 
City of Pratt:

Baran was heartbroken, first by the loss of his friend and then by Caitrin's breakdown as realization dawned on her. This never should have happened and he knew he'd try to bury the guilt in alcohol. But today wasn't that day.

He clamped a hand gently but firmly over Caitrin's mouth to stifle the screams. He tried to hold her and Rollen and make everything right by sheer will. It wouldn't happen.

"Hush, Cait, hush," he whispered as her screams devolved into sobs. "We can't risk drawing attention from the neighbors or the guards."

Baran looked to Leo, but the young man was nearly as distraught at the turn of events. He'd be nearly as useless as Caitrin. He needed Freeda but had no idea where she was, nor was he likely to see her before morning.

Anger bubbled up in Baran. He wanted to lash out at someone, use his sword to mete justice to everyone who'd wronged him or his friends, his Brothers. He wanted to blame himself for his role, even if he hadn't initiated it, in drawing Caitrin down a path that led to Rollen finally snapping. Wished he could have told his friend all of the truth and been confident in it being the right thing.

"Uh, Baran, sir," Leo said, uncertainly. He'd withdrawn to the corner back by the window while Baran had stayed at Caitrin's side. "There's something going on at Jardin's."

Of course there is. Baran, reluctantly, let Caitrin go and hurried across the room to peer out the curtain. A carriage had just pulled up in the dark and there was a large man at Jardin's open front door. Words were exchanged but too quiet to be discerned. Jardin waved his arms and then joined the man, closing the door behind him before they both boarded the carriage.

He didn't want to leave this situation, but this might be the break they needed.

"Stay with her," Baran said to Leo, his voice brooking no dissention. "Find something to wrap the body and make sure she gets cleaned up."

He looked to Caitrin, still crying softly. "Give her time," he said, softer.

Baran cracked the door, waited for the carriage to start moving, and then slipped out into the street's shadows to follow.
 
Deep in the Wailing Woods, Eastern Westin

The squeak of wooden wheels cut through the morning hush that usually enveloped the Wailing Woods. Kitts smiled as he clenched his crossbow tighter, savoring that nervous energy that preceded an attack. He lived for the thrill more than the loot, perhaps opposite the motivation of most of his band, but no one complained as long as he kept producing results and kept them alive.

From his concealed vantage behind a thicket, Kitts saw the carriage round a bend on the narrow road. The overgrowth brushed both sides of the carriage, forcing the guards to ride two in front and two behind. Princess Ranna's colors were in evidence, just as Elloise had tipped him. Doubly thrilling to Kitts was the chance the princess might actually be in there. Even if not, whoever it was had to be valuable.

"None of Count Warrick's men," Gauld whispered at Kitts' side, stating the obvious. It just meant the firebombing of the Count's barns two hours earlier had produced the desired distracting effect.

Just after the carriage passed their position, with no sign of the band being detected, Kitts whistled in a passable mimicry of a Westontail Swallow's call - the sign to begin. Seconds later, the snap of crossbows being launched cut through the air, followed immediately by cries of warning and pain. Kitts had already targeted one of the rear guard and his bolt took the man in the back between the shoulder blades, toppling him from his horse. Gauld, beside him, took the other rear guard in the leg. The results of the attack on the front guard was less clear given the obstructions, but the carriage driver was slumped backward and the team of horses in front panicked and began running.

"Finish the rear guard," Kitts shouted to Gauld even as he kicked his own horse into action and raced out of his cover and onto the road after the carriage. He had to jump one of the fallen foreguard who'd taken a shot to the chest and looked well on his way to bleeding out. The other foreguard had dodged the initial attack and was now trying to engage Miggs and Silas hand to hand. Kitts didn't like that, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He pressed his horse faster and soon managed to catch the runaway carriage. The team had little choice but to move straight forward, hemmed in by the woods, so their movement was predictable. In the tight quarters, though, Kitts couldn't get alongside. He urged his horse as close to the back as he could and then crouched up on his saddle. It was dangerous business, balancing so precariously, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Timing his horse and the carriage, Kitts leapt forward and caught the back of the carriage, his hands clasping the top's baggage rail. It stung, but he was aboard. From there, he pulled himself up, climbed over a few chests, and relieved the clearly dead driver of the reins. In short order, he had the team of horses slowed to a stop.

What Kitts didn't know was who was inside. It was very possible there was a guard in there. The smart move would be to wait on his companions to join him, but that just wasn't his way.

He swung himself over the side to the door, withdrew the shorter of his rapiers, and popped the door open (ready to jump aside for attacks, if necessary). Inside was but one passenger, a stunningly beautiful young woman in a practical dress against the chill morning air. His heart leapt - Princess Ranna herself! Or was she? He wasn't sure. He'd seen the princess once, from a distance, at a summer faire. Well, they could sort that out later.

"Good morning, fair maiden," Kitts said, reversing the grip on his sword, pressing it to his heart, and bowing deeply. "Highwayman Kitts, at your humble service. Ordinarily, we only relieve the wealthy of unnecessary baggage, but when we're feeling particularly magnanimous, we also dabble in kidnapping. This is your lucky day."
 
Last edited:
City of Pratt:

"Hush, Cait, hush,"Baran whispered.

She couldn't help herself, though. The terror ripping through her was overwhelming. Her husband of less than a year was dead in her arms, his blood still spilling out upon her bosom.

What would happen to her now. Her future was gone. Her life was over. Although the thought hadn't come to her yet, it would soon: Caitrin was going to end up a whore in a brothel outside the Chancellor's castle, servicing a dozen or more soldiers and Guardsmen a day until one day she was no longer pretty and energetic enough to gain their interest. She'd be casted to the street. She'd beg for a while, to fill her belly ... then she'd catch the Gray Flu or be murdered while she slept in an alley. One way or the other, Caitrin would be dead within a decade ... maybe less.

As her world continued to fall apart, Caitrin found herself lifted from the floor ... covered by a cape, probably Leo's ... soon she was standing at the tub again ... watching hot water being poured inside ... Leo helping her into the tub ... pouring water over her bloody skin ... her hair ... how did she get blood in her hair?

Somehow, Caitrin ended up dressed -- a man's tunic maybe? -- and in bed. Some time later, Freeda -- smelling of ale and pussy -- was curled up with her, consoling her over her loss. She was being reassured, "I'll protect you, Cait. You're going to be fine. I promise."

The night and tragedy enveloped her...
 
The Wailing Woods
Eastern Weston



Chloe had fallen asleep, a victim yet again of the combination of boredom and the coach’s constant jostling over the barely maintained roads of the frontier between the Baronies of Parse from which she was coming and Weston into which she was arriving.

The first sign she’d received that they were under attack was when the driver of the suddenly accelerating coach cried out in pain. She’d been told not to look out beyond the shades until they’d gotten to the evening's stop, where finally she could begin pretending to be the Princess Ranna and be seen in public ... disguised of course.

But then there was an angry call from one of the men that Chloe interpreted as a challenge. And a moment later, a crossbow bolt passed through the coach’s wall and lodged with a thunk into the cabin’s frame just inches from her head. They were undoubtedly under attack!

Peeking out, Chloe saw nothing but the passing forest. But she heard cries and moans of men, and -- from her year of service as a battlefield nurse during the Burning Oak Invasion -- she recognized them as the sound of dying men.

Then the coach suddenly jerked in a very different way, and Chloe knew it had been boarded. She presumed the assailant had come from the front or side, as to do so from the back would be impossible. A man capable of such a feat wouldn't be a man at all but would be ... Chloe couldn't have even imagined such a mystical creature if she'd had the time to contemplate it.

The coach slowed, then stopped. Chloe waited for the Guard to tell her all was well, but instead a man she didn't know popped the door open, brandishing a long, thin blade ... a rapier she thought she remembered. He gave her a quick once over; he probably thought it an innocent enough survey, but to the frightened Lady in Waiting who was already imagining herself being stripped and raped by any number of savage woodsmen, it was the most horrific of hungry ogles.

"Good morning, fair maiden," Kitts said, reversing the grip on his sword, pressing it to his heart, and bowing deeply. "Highwayman Kitts, at your humble service. Ordinarily, we only relieve the wealthy of unnecessary baggage, but when we're feeling particularly magnanimous, we also dabble in kidnapping. This is your lucky day."

With her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears, Chloe saw the point of the man's sword respectfully turned away, as to not frighten her. In a flash, she whipped out from a gap between the seat and the wall the long dagger Walton had given her for protection, despite telling her, "You won't need it so long as I am here to protect you.

"You will keep your distance, you ... you ... you...!" Chloe couldn't come up with the right word to describe the man. The dagger before her shook violently in her trembling hands. Finally, a word came to her, and she blurted out, "BEAST!"

As soon as she said it, she felt like an idiot. She was trying to figure out what else to say when another highwayman appeared just beyond the first -- beyond this Kitts! -- with one of her disoriented and injured Guardsmen in his hands. Chloe's eyes swelled large and her mouth fell open as the Guardsman's head tilted back and his face come into view: Walton.

"You unhand him!" Chloe commanded, the tip of her dagger moving back and forth between the two men, neither of whom seemed to concerned about it. "If you harm him, so help me!

Walton had been about to say The Princess Ranna's coach is... something something, official sounding. But all he got out before the second Highwayman hit him in the back of the head with something heavy, knocking him out, was "The Princess Ranna--"

Chloe cried out in panic at her lover falling to the ground. She moved the blade to and fro again, attempting to present a danger to her. She grasped the blade's handle with both hands, hoping to still the trembling. It didn't work.

A third highwayman appeared near the door, each seeming more scary looking and ghoulish to the young things who could already feel her insides being torn apart by beastly cocks. He studied Chloe for a moment, asking, "It that her? Is that the Princess?"

The second shrugged, saying, "How would I know? Do I look like a courtier?"

They both looked to Kitts for his response, then back to the scared woman. And suddenly, Chloe realized about what they were inquiring: they thought she was Princess Ranna of Weston. She looked to the ground near the coach, to her unconscious lover ... and lied with feigned confidence, "I am Princess Weston of Ranna, Heir to the Elrod, King of this land! Harm me or my escorts and my beheaded will have you fathered and...!"

It took Chloe a moment to realize how horribly she'd mixed up the words. But before she could correct them, the two ghoulish men laughed aloud. And wandered off to do ... whatever.

Chloe just stared at the man who was less ghoulish. Actually, she found him quite handsome, in an if I'm going to be raped to death, I'd prefer you were the one to do it, maybe even twice if you have the time and energy sort of way.
 
Kitts had to give the woman credit for courage, waving that dagger around like she meant to use it. She probably did, but was shaking so badly she was more likely to injure herself than one of his band.

His men caught up and speculated as to whether this was indeed the princess or not. At that, she tried to project an aura of confidence and regal authority. Her performance would've gotten her pelted with rotten fruit at the faire. Still, marks for confidence. Besides, he'd heard rumor that Ranna was, in fact, quite competent in handling a blade.

"Your Highness?" Kitts played along, finding it amusing and still curious as to her business in the princess' carriage. "My apologies for inconveniencing you on your no doubt vital business. Perhaps on your way to seize the property of a farmer behind on his taxes? Or to cut off the hand of a man for poaching a deer in the king's wood to feed his staving child?"

He looked back at the unconscious guard on the ground.

"At least you have a concern for your men," he said, nudging the guy gently with his boot. This one was just unconscious while the others were likely dead. Perhaps best to keep her ignorant of that. "Shame they're little more than the executors of indifferent nobles."

He frowned for a moment, realizing he'd succumbed to his past at the expense of the moment. Performance!

"Drop your little poker, there, Highness," he said, more cheerfully. "Play nice, come with us, and you have my word I won't touch your men. Well, any further. Deal?"

He didn't threaten her with his blade, but neither did he sheath it.
 
"Your Highness?" Kitts played along.

Had it worked? Had he believed her? Chloe couldn't be sure. She was riding in the Princess's coach. She was traveling with her possessions. And Ranna's Bodyguard. Well, the Castle's Guard in the Bodyguard's uniforms anyway. But she'd sounded like such an idiot speaking to the Highwayman.

No, he hadn't believed me for an instant, Chloe told herself.

After the attack itself, the next twenty minutes or so were the most frightening of Chloe's life. She'd never realized before how peaceful and safe a life she'd lived until now. Kitts had made a deal for her weapon, then helped her out of the coach so that his Band could pillage the coach. They even robbed the dead Guardsmen, taking their purses, weapons, and other possessions.

When it was time to leave, Chloe looked to Walton -- gagged, hooded, and bound -- and demanded, "Cut his ankles loose. Give him the chance to walk out of here. You promised not to harm him, and leaving him here to the wolves and Mountain Cats..."

Chloe was surprised and delighted both by Kitts agreement, and a moment later they were heading off. Chloe had demanded to be alone on one of the Guardsman's horses. But the first time she was nearly knocked off the mount by a low hanging branch, she ended up on the front of Kitt's saddle.

She cringed at the feel of the man's arms around her waist, keeping her on the horse's back. Only one man had ever held her in this way; Chloe had expected that only one man ever would. And yet, the feel of the highwayman's front side against her backside -- much like the last time Walton had been inside her -- caused Chloe to become excited, even wet down between her thighs. The feel of the saddle pressing against her womanhood didn't help her in fighting off the erotic feel.
 
Kitts supervised the scavenging with the men doing most of the work. Disappointingly, there was little money or food. Plenty of fine clothing that would be impossible to sell and impractical to give away. "Keep the warmer stuff," he told the guys. "Granny can probably find some use for it."

The other guards, as he's surmised, had died. The unconscious one was bound and hooded. Their "princess" pleaded for them to leave his legs untied to give him a chance against the wolves or mountain cats.

"Nah, the banshee would get him first," Miggs said in his deep voice. Silas laughed aloud with his high pitched cackle.

Kitts smiled and nodded toward the guard and Silas cut the bindings on the man's legs.

With their loot secured, Kitts apologized to their captive for having to put a hood on her. Preserving their secrecy and all that. She insisted on riding her own mount, which he allowed using one of the guard's horses, but that arrangement lasted all of about fifteen minutes. She kept nearly falling off and a hostage with a broken arm or worse wasn't what he'd bargained for. Definitely not Ranna, for the princess was also a renowned rider.

He called for a quick halt and moved her to his horse, gentle but strong hands helping get her seated while she remained blind. Then he sprang up behind her and settled in. It was a snug fit in the saddle for two, but hardly unpleasant. Miggs and Silas smirked and he gave them a cheerful smile in return.

The ride resumed and Kitts held the woman in place around her waist. The steady rocking of the horse with his crotch grinding into her ass had him perpetually on the edge of becoming erect. That she smelled vaguely sweet and was the first woman he'd touched in far too long didn't help matters.

"Don't worry, Highness," he said softly in her ear. "I don't hold with raping women. Such a disgusting act. Not noble like proper highway robbery. Now, if you were to ask nicely, though... Well, I'm nothing if not a gracious host."

He chuckled softly but not condescendingly at his own joke.

"First time being kidnapped? And just where, might I ask, were you off to?"
 
"Nah, the banshee would get him first," Miggs said in his deep voice. Silas laughed aloud with his high pitched cackle.

A shiver had run up Chloe's spine at the man Miggs's reference to and the other man Silas's mimicry of the Banshee. She'd heard stories all her life about the Banshee and of how the Wailing Woods had gotten its name for the creature. Others had told her the Banshee lived in the Highlands. Others had told her the creature was a myth. With these men, Chloe just couldn't be sure.

After they'd been riding together for some minutes, and after Chloe had tried repeatedly to keep what she was sure was Kitt's cock from touching her between her ass cheeks, the man said to her, "Don't worry, Highness ... I don't hold with raping women. Such a disgusting act."

That, of course, was a relief. But, could Chloe really believe Kitts? She doubted it. After all, he was a man, after all. And living out here in the wilds of the Wailing Woods, he probably didn't have many options when it came to satisfying his manly needs. Chloe tried to imagine within her dark hood just how ugly and horrific the women of such a place must look. At one point, she almost laughed, thinking to herself, It's why he had a hood handy. He probably has to hood his lovers and imagine someone more appealing, just to 'get it up'.

She had no idea how wrong she was about the women of the Wailing Woods. When Kitts finally stripped the hood from Chloe's head, the first woman upon whom her eyes fell would startle her with her beauty. It wouldn't be the first of her beliefs about the band to be dispelled. And it wouldn't be her last either.

Kitts continued with his inappropriate suggestion that Chloe would ever contemplate the possibility sexual interaction with him, "Now, if you were to ask nicely, though... Well, I'm nothing if not a gracious host."

"I will NOT ask nicely!" she contradicted firmly from within her head covering. "And gracious or not, if you were ever to touch me...!"

Chloe hesitated, trying to recall whether or not she'd decided to abandon the story of her being Princess Ranna or not. Hell, Kitts already knew she wasn't, of course. He'd continued to call Chloe Her Highness, but always with a conspicuous tone of sarcasm. But, he was no idiot. Chloe thought back to her wielding of the blade and lack luster performance alone on the horse. And it hadn't been because of the hood! She just didn't ride horses!

She continued her threat with a tone that began confident but then faded away toward uncertain, "If you touch me in a way that is in any way inappropriate ... anyway not Noble, as you yourself have said ... well ... then ... all I can say is ... is ... is that any respect that I or others might have for you would be ... well, they would be ... well, there would be none, no respect!"

Chloe wasn't entirely sure what all of that had been meant to ... to mean. Kitts was a highwayman, and now was a kidnapper. Was he respected by anyone of importance? What would prevent him from raping her repeatedly, then simply gutting her and feeding her to his dogs ... or to the Banshee? (Do Banshees eat the innards of young women? she wondered.)

He chuckled softly, "First time being kidnapped? And just where, might I ask, were you off to?"

"That, my less-than-good-man ... is none of your concern," Chloe responded. She shook her head, trying to break free of a loose string that had attached to the wetness of her lips. She demanded that the hood be removed, but when Kitts didn't even respond, Chloe instead continued from the near darkness, "And yes! This is my first time being kidnapped. No one who I know would sink to depths so low that would allow them to take AGAINST her WILL one of My Grace's Ladies-in--"

Inside the hood, Chloe's eyes widened in shock as she realized just what she'd begun to say. Had she ceased her rampage in time? No. Obviously not. Too bad, too. She was sort of enjoying being called Her Highness.
 
Kitts got a kick out of her sputtering about "if he was ever to touch her," overlooking the fact they were a couple scant layers of fabric away from being very familiar with one another and he had his arms around her. He was half tempted to slide a hand up higher, to see how she'd react, but refrained.

She didn't take overly well to his teasing, either, refusing to answer his questions while demanding he take off the hood. He could play that game, if she didn't want to cooperate. She did, however, let slip that little tidbit about "My Grace's Ladies..." That sounded far more plausible than her being the princess. Didn't answer what she was doing out here, of course, but it might help establish her value in random. Still, would be a shame to give up a lovely lady at any price. They were hard to come by out here.

The next two hours passed mostly in silence. He asked a few more questions, but got little in the way of answers, and she largely sulked to herself. He daydreamed about he and his passenger doing this ride together, but naked. Bodies pressed together, his hands wandering, nuzzling and kissing her neck. A strong erection came on before he could help himself. He inwardly cursed and then tried to blame her for all the wiggling.

It occurred to him that she probably wasn't a horse rider. She'd be feeling the hours in the saddle. To give himself and her some relief, he called for a short break and dismounted. Before getting her down, he removed her hood.

"Five minutes," he said, helping her. "Stretch and relief, and don't try to run. Gauld is somewhere behind us and he's part ghost, part wolf. Can't escape him and you'll never see him coming." He gave her a wink, then wandered into the woods to relieve himself.

When they mounted back up, Kitts didn't replace her hood. Between the dense forest and slate gray sky, she'd never be able to retrace her steps anyway at this point. They rode another hour, most of it in a steady, cold drizzle. He hiked his cloak up higher and wrapped it around the both of them. Almost like spooning in a warm bed with a lover. Memories, wonderful and painful, flashed through his mind. Too long ago...

The finally reached the Thicket.

"Home sweet home," Kitts said, though it looked no different - impenetrable woods in a hilly land. "Nineteen of us, though half belong to Miggs and his wife. You've met Silas, and Gauld is always around but you'll probably never meet him. Granny's in charge, we've adopted three communal orphans, and..."

"Hey big brother!" A feminine and enthusiastic voice called out from just ahead.

As Silas moved his horse out of the way, the trail opened upon a small clearing where a tiny stream emptied into a modest sized pool with wisps of steam curling off the surface. In the middle of the pool with the water barely reaching mid-thigh, stood his very naked sister.

"...my sister Zee." Kitts sighed at her utter lack of modesty. What a way to welcome their guest.

"I see you found someone," Zee said wading closer and checking out the newcomer. "Guess that means you found the mark."

"Indeed, and a...princess."

Zee grinned and mock curtseyed. "Welcome, highness."

"We'll be inside," Kitts said, nudging the horse on past the pool, "when you're done and dressed."

The trailed curled around a steep sided hill and again emptied into a small clearing with a small wooden shed for the horses and a wide-mouthed cave entrance into the side of the hill. An old woman tended a cooking pot over a fire pit in the cave entrance while kids of all ages scattered around, either helping with chores or playing games. Many ran forward to greet the band, most calling "daddy!" to the burly Miggs. Two young girls went wide-eyed at their hostage, whispering to one another.

"Looks like we're just in time for lunch," Kitts said, again helping her dismount. He couldn't help but smile at her reaction to...everything.
 
The ride seemed to continue forever, partly due to the whole kidnapping element but also to the being hooded atop a horse thing. Chloe had never like being horseback. Walton had taken her for a ride twice, putting her on front of his saddle, sitting side saddle unlike the way she was sitting now with Kitts, one leg over each side of the horse with her dress pulled up almost to her knees to allow for the parted thighs.

Both times had scared the hell out of Chloe, and the second time -- which would become the last -- she'd slipped from the saddle while attempting to dismount and very nearly landed on her head. That had been enough for her! (Ironically, the intimate way in which he'd caught and held her body to prevent her from breaking her neck had led to their first kiss, first grope, and -- once they got out of sight -- first fuck.)

Kitt's occasional questions about her, her duties in the Riverbrook Household, and her princess were both a relief -- making Chloe forget about the ride -- and a burden, as she knew that she should not be telling this scoundrel anything about life in the castle. Without actually saying so, Kitts had made it clear that he did not believe her to be the Princess; at the same time, though, he occasionally continued to call her Highness whenever she pushed back on his inquiries too hard.

It was actually beginning to cause Chloe to smile beneath her hood.

Once again, she came to feel what had to be the kidnapper's erection pressing against her backside. Chloe did nothing to entice it to stiffness -- at all or further. Yet ... at the same time ... she did nothing to pull herself forward to prevent its pressure against the upper roundness of her buttock cheeks and the small of her back, where the sometimes rough ride and shifting of their bodies on the changing terrain put it from time to time.

They stopped at one point and dismounted, and Chloe was delighted to hear Kitts tell her the hood was coming off. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light, despite it being diffused by the canopy of the tall, thick woods surrounding them.

"Five minutes," he said, helping her. "Stretch and relief, and don't try to run. Gauld is somewhere behind us and he's part ghost, part wolf. Can't escape him and you'll never see him coming."

Chloe's eyes grew with true fright at the warning. She had become less concerned that she was going to be brutalized by this man or his band of outlaws; yet at the same time, she was in a situation with which she'd never had experience or even contemplated as far as that went. She didn't know where she was, so she couldn't run for safe haven; she didn't know who she could trust if she did find help, having heard stories about how the rural folk were all friends with one another and enemies with all others; and -- only confirmed by Kitts warning -- she didn't know what these men would do to her if she did indeed try to escape or fight.

Then ... Kitts winked. Chloe clenched her jaws in anger at his toying with her. He was toying with her ... wasn't he? She watched him disappear into the dense forest to take his relief, and Chloe suddenly realized that she, too, needed to do exactly the same. But as she stood there, one man after another rode by her in a slow walk. Each looked down to her, making some mock gesture of nodding his head or half bowing in the saddle.

"Your highness," most of the said with sly smiles.

After the fourth or fifth man, she diverted her eyes ... and then fought to hide the smirk that threatened to spread her lips. This is no time for humor! Chloe chastised herself softly.

"I need to ... take a stroll," Chloe said cryptically when Kitts returned. "I would appreciate some privacy and discretion."

The highwayman again gave her a soft warning about Gauld, to which Chloe asked with an accusing tone, "How do I know he isn't -- won't be -- watching? Where is he? I demand he join you here on the trail!"

They dickered back and forth about privacy and security, and while Chloe didn't get the full result she'd wanted, it was enough. What she would have preferred was for each and every one of the men to be standing on the trail with their backs to her and a black hood over their heads. What she got was assurances that so long as he didn't hear he attempting to flee through the forest, Chloe would have all the privacy she needed to get her business done.

It seemed to take forever for her to find an appropriate place to relieve herself. The foliage and low lying, sometimes grasping shrubs seemed to reach out to take hold of her dress's fabric, and each time she did find a spot that might serve her, Chloe either found an ant hill or heard the buzzing of what might be a bee hive or heard a rodent or bird scurrying or flapping through the increasing darkness.

But eventually the pressure to empty her bladder forced her to take the very next spot available. Chloe had never in her life peed in the forest, not even as a child. It was awkward and embarrassing, and although there was no way she could see him or he could see her, Chloe kept looking back through the thick foliage expecting to find Kitts -- or Gauld! -- watching her with great interest.

With her business finally completed and her wet flesh dabbed clean with a relatively clean bit of her undergarment, Chloe made her way back to the trail and Kitts. Another highwayman was there speaking with the man she'd come to learn was somewhat of their leader. After the man had given Chloe her Your Highness nod, he pointed to the Lady In Waiting's backside and told Kitts, "You might want to get that before..."

He left his direction unfinished as he turned his horse to continue up the trail. Chloe didn't understand, until Kitts reached past her shoulder, then pulled his hand back to reveal the creature that had been about to attack her, to bite her, to fill her veins with poisonous venom, causing her to swell up in odd colors and die gasping in the...

Actually, it was little more than a salamander. But that didn't prevent Chloe from suffering a bit of panic before Kitts made it clear that it presented her no harm. He helped her step up onto a fallen log to make her way to his mount again, and she murmured with a bit of sarcasm and playfulness both, "My hero."

His Noble treatment of Chloe continued as the ride continued. She found herself physically closer to him when the rain began and he held it back with his cape wrapped about them both. She knew she should have shrugged him away, should have either denied his protection or insisted he give her the cape exclusively and gotten soaked to the bone himself. And yet, Chloe leaned back into him instead.

"Home sweet home," Kitts said when they reached what she would understand was their Wailing Woods hideout.

He explained there numbers, which both intrigued and surprised Chloe. There were children all about, something she hadn't expected at all. And the woodland inhabitants' ages ranged far wider than she'd expected, from infants to elderly.

Chloe's eyed widened and her mouth fell open when she turned her attention to the sound of an unashamedly naked woman with a bountiful body. "Hey big brother!"

The woman was like no other Chloe had ever imagined before. Chloe was no sex slave or peasant house servant; she didn't bathe in nearby streams or even in the Riverbrook Castle's Common Room. Sure, she'd seem a few naked or mostly naked Ladies in Waiting while they'd been changing clothes or preparing to bathe in actual baths. But ... this! My god, this was ... this was ... well, honestly, Chloe's mind couldn't have explained her issue with this show of ... this ... this show of bountiful womanness if she'd asked it to.

"...my sister Zee." Kitts sighed.

That only caused Chloe's surprise to switch to a shocked look back over her shoulder into Kitt's eyes. Chloe's first thoughts would have been that this woman was Kitt's lover ... or ... maybe some sort of camp whore. But his sister? As she looked back to the voluptuous woman for a moment, then diverted her gaze to the trail before her, Chloe wondered what was a woman doing showing off her bountiful curves in such a way ... to her brother?

"I see you found someone," Zee said wading closer and checking out the newcomer. "Guess that means you found the mark."

He responded, "Indeed, and a...princess."

Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe saw the naked woman give a mock curtsey. "Welcome, highness."

Chloe's gaze remained forward as she realized that her face was burning with fire. She'd never experienced such openness of body and soul before, and she simply didn't know how to respond to it.

"We'll be inside," Kitts said, nudging the horse on past the pool, "when you're done and dressed."

Though she had no reason to want to do it, Chloe found herself glancing at the woman again as the horse began forward. It was only during this second glance -- which led her gaze to fall lower on the woman's body -- that Chloe noticed more than simply a very womanly form. This ... Zee was shaven in an interesting way at the meeting of her thighs. Chloe knew that some women -- from sex servants to Royals (including Princess Ranna, to be fully truthful) -- performed some form or hair removal in their pubic region.

The Alchemists promoted it as an element of personal hygiene for the Upper Class women they served. And while one of the men -- and sometimes women -- who served as doctor, herbalist, and more would have said shaving would have the same positive result for a woman of the lower classes, the real reason it was pushed -- particularly by brothel Madams upon their young sex slaves and servants -- was because it often made the girls seem more innocent and naïve and younger ... indecently younger at times.

And adding to the shaving, Zee has an impressive tattoo in her ... private region. Chloe didn't get a good look at it, but it seemed to be a flower of sorts. Again, Chloe knew women sometimes decorated their bodies with ink art. But she'd only seen it once before, on the neck and shoulders of a servant of one of the Highland Counts. (Chloe had heard that the woman was a Hoshian, a long destroyed nation of islanders from across the Western Sea. She'd wanted to speak to the woman more, to learn more about that exotic people, but she'd never gotten the chance.)

They continued onward to a cave, which Chloe would learn was the primary housing for the band. As old woman she would learn was the Granny of whom Kitts had spoken cooked, a multitude of children flocked all about them. Many went to the various highwaymen, some asking if the men had brought them back any presents. Chloe saw one of Princess Ranna's less impressive scarfs handed off to a little girl, who ran off with it, being chased by another girl who almost appeared to be her twin.

"Looks like we're just in time for lunch," Kitts said, again helping her dismount.

Chloe caught his reaction to her own reaction to the camp. She hadn't had any idea of what to expect here ... but this certainly hadn't been it! A pair of beautiful young girls -- a bit dirty but still physically stunning -- didn't hesitate to engage Chloe about what it was like to be at Court. The questions came faster than she could even hope to answer them, still reminding herself that she was a hostage and shouldn't say too much. But she gave a lot of yes, no, sometimes, and other such vague and sometimes shallow answers. Still, the girls seemed absolutely entranced with Chloe, and for the first time since being kidnapped, the Lady in Waiting actually found herself laughing.

The next couple of hours would be the strangest she'd ever lived ... well, except for the couple of hours that had immediately preceded them, of course. She was given food and drink, and while it was primitive compared to that of the Castle, it was probably the most delicious meat, roots, and juices of which she'd ever partaken. She was asked to identify which of the looted goods were hers personally, and Kitts allowed her to keep most of those. She'd tried to claim that one little box of mostly inexpensive jewelry was hers, but apparently she'd been unconvincing.

The children were the best part of the afternoon, of course. Chloe had always loved children, and as a Lady In Waiting, she'd often been tasked with entertaining the children of visiting Lords and Royals while they themselves were off doing business with the Countess or Princess. They took to calling her Highness as well, or sometimes Princess Chloe, after she'd let her true given name slip.

And often, Chloe found herself looking for Kitts. She knew she shouldn't be enjoying herself as much as she was while a victim of kidnapping; she particularly knew she shouldn't be seeking more of the company of the man who had kidnapped her, too. And yet, any time Kitts' movement about the camp brought him near, Chloe found herself looking to him with a slight smile.

"That's very dangerous," a female voice said from behind her at one point.

Chloe stood tall and turned to find the previously naked woman approaching her, smiling softly. She was dressed now, wearing a simple gown that reached down to the ground and to still bared feet. It wasn't particularly tight fitting; there was no bodice as Chloe herself was wearing. And yet the woman's generous bosom continued to be eye catching, only emphasized further by the colorful braided rope tied about her waist.

"What is very dangerous?" Chloe asked with a bit of a challenging tone.

Zee continued forward and aimed just a bit away from Chloe until she stopped pretty much to the hostage's side. She nodded her head off toward the departing Kitts and explained, "Falling for my brother."

Chloe looked over her shoulder at the handsome rogue. She was already understanding that Zee was probably right. She said, "I am not falling for your brother. I am his prisoner. I have no interest in him in ... in that way."

"Good," Zee said, looking into Chloe's eyes with a humorous expression. "It would be very hard on you ... and on him when you finally left."

"So ... I will be leaving?" Chloe asked with a hopeful tone before she'd even considered the question.

"Of course you will," Zee laughed. "You didn't think Kitts brought you here to become his wife, did you?"

As Zee turned and headed back the way she came a few steps, Chloe found herself looking to Kitts again. And to her horror, she actually found herself entertaining the fantasy of being a highwayman's bride. She was jerked out of her reverie by the calling of her name.

"Come with me," Zee demanded. She continued with Chloe, then hollered beyond her, "You need to clean up. Kitts! I'm taking the Princess to the pool. Keep your boys at bay!"

Zee gestured Chloe to follow, and reluctantly the latter did. She didn't understand exactly what the other woman had meant until they arrived at the pool at the base of the falls again. "Strip. You need to bathe ... get all that city smell off you, before it begins attracting bugs."

Chloe tried to argue that she didn't need a bath and that she wasn't about to get naked out here in the woods! But Zee showed her a more private area with thick shrubs on the shore and tall reeds in the water. Chloe ultimately found herself naked and hurrying into the water. She'd expected to suffer the coldest bath of her life since her pre-Court childhood. But instead, she found herself in warm, relatively clear water, heated by several cracks in the bottom of the pool that were releasing thermally heated flows.

"So, who are you, really?" Zee asked from her perch on a rock near the shoreline. "I think we've established that you aren't Princess Ranna. Besides, I met the Princess a few years ago, and you are certainly not her."

Chloe explained her true identity, and when urged to explain her trek, lied that she had simply been escorting some of Princess Ranna's private possessions back to the King's castle in the City of Weston. Zee asked, "And the Guardsmen who were killed this morning. Who were they to you? Was one of them ... special?"

"No," Chloe said without hesitation. She tried to be inconspicuous in turning her back to Zee, knowing that she was going to cry at the thought of Walton out there on that trail, injured and hooded, in danger of harming himself further than he was. She added tentatively, "No ... they were just my escort. I didn't know any of them well."

Zee tried to get more personal information out of Chloe but failed. The Lady In Waiting simply wasn't going to tell her -- or the others -- anything more about her right now. Then Zee asked boldly, "Are you pure of body? A virgin?"

Chloe was horrified at the question and turned her head, revealing wide eyes. "That is a very personal question to ask of a stranger don't you think? Are you pure of body ... a virgin?"

Chloe spoke the last aggressively, with challenge. She didn't actually expect a response but she got it, preceded by a long, loud laugh.

"No, your highness ... I'm not a virgin. I haven't been for a very long time. But then, you probably already expected that. You probably think I'm a whore who gives her body to any man with a coin in his hand."

Chloe felt her face explode with fire again, and she turned her head to hide her reaction. After a moment she murmured, "No ... no, I ... don't think that."

"I have, though," Zee continued. She didn't say more until the other woman pushed herself to look back at her. In a softer, less combative tone, Zee explained, "I care for my brother ... and for my people. I would do anything to help them ... to protect them. A woman like me ... a woman who looks like me ... but who is nothing more than a peasant ... sometimes the best I can do for my people ... is to part my thighs and please a man of higher station. Does that surprise you ... your highness?"

Chloe looked away again, feeling ... feeling guilty now about her first impressions of Kitt's sister. She murmured softly, "We all must sometimes do that which we don't want to do ... to serve those who are of importance to us."

"Is that so?" Zee asked. "And what have you done that you didn't want to do ... to serve those who are important to you?"

Chloe contemplated for a long moment, then looked back to the other woman with a playful smirk. "I ate a bug once."

Zee laughed and asked for more. Chloe went on to explain how she'd once been dared to eat a bug in exchange for a loaf of bread. The two women laughed as the story continued, then more as they moved on to other tales from both of their lives. By the time she'd finished her bath, dried, and dressed in a simple dress Zee provided, Chloe had almost forgotten she'd been kidnapped.

Almost.
 
Back
Top