"The Heir Presumptive" (closed)

[LoriDean12345]

"The Heir Presumptive"

CLOSED

Link to OOC

Link to map of the Continent of Medianna​

Ranna reined in her galloping steed and leaped from it with the skill and agility of a well trained Horse Warrior. She approached her Royal Bodyguard with a purposeful stride. The men had each sworn to protect their Princess with their lives if necessary. As she did a quick head count, finding only eight men, Ranna quickly realized that two of them had. She pushed through them to find the dead, already neatly wrapped in their cloaks for a respectful return to the castle and to their families.

"Who is he?" Ranna demanded as she looked to the bound and hooded man crouched on the muddy ground. She looked to the weapons -- now bloodied -- laying on the forest floor. She said more than asked, "He is an assassin."

"I believe so, My Grace," answered William, the Captain of her Bodyguard. "Shall we castrate him here and now, or pass on that pleasure?"

Ranna understood the Captain's cryptic question. Presuming Ranna didn't simply execute the man here and now, this man was destined for the slave auction at Blue Port. The majority of males sold there were castrated prior to sale. The only Class of slaves not snipped of their manhood were those purchased for the sexual servitude of mostly wealthy Noble women.

Ranna looked the would-be assassin over for a long moment. Women with coin to spend would pay great sums to lay with such a man. Ranna didn't need more coin, though. What she needed were more examples of why you didn't fuck with Ranna, Queen of the Burkinian Empire and Heir Presumptive of the Kingdom of Weston. This presumed attempt on her life would be the sixth, if her count right was correct. Executing him in the Public Square would more than make up for the coin she could get for him in Blue Port.

A screeching from the sky above led Ranna to raise a leather glove protected hand. In a flourish of flapping wings, one of her many falcons landed. Ranna let the bird settle, then fed it a chunk of raw meat. She looked back to their captive and commanded, "Remove his hood. I want him to watch as I personally cut his cock off and feed it to my bird."

There was a chuckle throughout the Bodyguard. The men knew full well that Ranna was capable of doing exactly what she was threatening.

For the last few years, Ranna had had what some called an issue with men. To explain it all would take a full evening and several flasks of wine. The short version was that in 2 years the now 19 year old Ranna would be forced into a marriage with a boy 8 years her junior in order to forge an alliance with the neighboring Kingdom of The Highlands.

Ranna had absolutely no desire to be part of this union, whether for personal or political reasons. As her father's eldest child and Heir Presumptive to the Kingdom of Weston, Ranna would be perfectly happy to and capable of assuming the Crown without a man sitting in an adjacent throne.

But what choice did she have? Ranna had recently discovered that her father was attempting to garner support for having his bastard son declared legitimate. A male heir -- regardless of his junior age to her -- would replace Ranna in the line of succession. And if he married the older sister of the boy to whom Ranna was betrothed, his and his wife's son would then become King of both Weston and The Highlands.

And even if that didn't happen, Ranna had heard rumors that her younger sister had been taking secret meetings with a representative from the most powerful Barony in the recently disbanded Kingdom of Pratt to the east. Legally, neither of her younger sisters could replace Ranna as their father's heir. As she looked to the presumed assassin, she reminded herself They couldn't ... unless I was killed.

As William stripped the hood off the man on the ground, Ranna gently petted a finger over the soft feathers of the falcon's chest. She asked it playfully as she stared at the would-be-assassin, "You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby...? A nice, soft, bloody piece of man flesh to rip apart with your beak ... yes?"

She studied the man as his eyes adjusted and he got his first up close viewing of her...

She could tell from the stranger's reaction that he hadn't expected to see his target dressed as Ranna was. Since the fall of the Burkinian Empire nearly a century ago, such scandalous clothing had been forbidden to one degree or another by most of the Kingdoms now present on the Continent of Medianna.

There were few alive today other than historians, scribes, and select Royals or Nobles who had ever heard of the Queens Garb, as Ranna's current wardrobe was called. It and other such scandalous, scanty clothes had been condemned and outlawed as yet another step to eliminating the memory of the long defunct and outlawed Burkinian empire.

Before that, the leather and carved enamel outfit -- designed and fitted for one wearer only -- had been worn on many occasions by the Queens of the Empire. It had been the expected dress for tournaments, the hunt, and even some Court ceremonies such as knightings, beheadings, and more.

Today, only a couple of dozen people knew a copy of the Queen's Garb existed, and they all were members of the Courts of Princess Ranna or of her grandmother, the Countess Pollania of Riverbrook ... who secretly was the heir to the Burkinian Empire!

Ranna let the man on the ground eye her front side a moment before turning away from him. She passed the raptor to one of the other falconers who had just ridden up. Ranna's backside was even more greatly displayed. The Garb's bottoms barely contained her ass cheeks in their layers of cotton lined leather. Other than that, there were only the straps across her back and neck.

Ranna turned back and studied the man for a moment. He looked almost familiar. She had always been good with names and faces. But she'd met a lot of people in her life and continued to meet a great number of them on almost a daily basis.

She stepped closer to the man, hovering over him in such a way that to look up into her face meant looking through the formed cleavage of the Garb's leather and hand carved garnet stone. She smiled to him politely, asking with a knowing tone, "So, do you have anything you'd like to say for yourself ... before I start cutting things off?"

 

[WatchingCloud]

Baran the Astute conceded he would owe his contact an extra five silver. Martin's information as to the princess Ranna's whereabouts near the Riverbrook Castle had been correct, as had the tip she liked to hunt in the mornings. He'd followed discretely until reaching the isolated area.

To Baran's frustration, however, her guards were both highly skilled and alert. He'd already deemed the castle to be a suicidal place in which to kill her and now even the open spaces of wilderness seemed equally so. The girl's regard for her life nearly equaled his own.

So, acting on impulse and trusting his gut, he decided to get himself caught. He couldn't look like a complete incompetent, though, or he might not survive long enough to get close to her. That led him to killing one of the unfortunate guards by stealth and then a second in direct confrontation while feigning an escape into the woods. That made enough noise to bring three others racing in on horseback with crossbows drawn. Sensibly, he surrendered and was appropriately roughed up while bounded and hooded. They beat him some more while asking questions, but he endured while waiting on the prize.

He listened intently as the princess approached, mentally constructing the scene before him by the jangle of guards' armor, the smell of horses, and the light footfalls of the young woman. She was quick to assume him an assassin. Good for her. She might be as smart as rumor had it.

"Remove his hood. I want him to watch as I personally cut his cock off and feed it to my bird."

Well, that didn't sound very pleasant. Baran didn't allow himself to react, assuming it could just be another ploy to get him talking.

The hood was roughly pulled from his head and he was given his first view of the princess since he'd seen her in the stands at a tournament some three years earlier. That had been a pretty girl in a dress. This was unlike anything he'd ever seen or dreamed of before. Ranna was stunning - thin yet strong, feminine and commanding. And her clothing, if that was even a suitable term, was scandal made tangible. It showed off far more flesh than any but a lover should see and did everything possible to accentuate that fact. Surely she wore it for the express purpose of projecting confidence. It worked. Baran casually took in every inch while she continued with her threats of feeding his manhood to the falcon perched on her arm.

The purpose of his mission to assassinate this princess began to crystallize in his mind. She was seen as a threat, should her arranged marriage proceed. There were few, men or women, who felt so born to lead. With the Baronies in disorder, they would be easy pickings for her unified nations.

She handed her bird off to a handler, giving him a view of her nearly bare backside. Fuck. This was a woman to kill for, not to kill. Such a shame. He could understand why her guards gave up their lives willingly to protect her. Shame he'd never enjoyed such leadership from those under whom he'd served.

He met her gaze through her sculpted cleavage and, again on impulse and against common sense, Baran decided to improvise. He grinned confidently.

"So, do you have anything you'd like to say for yourself ... before I start cutting things off?" She was smooth in her threats, enough so he believed she might actually follow through.

"Well, gorgeous," he said, his voice confident, "my cock is yours to do with as you please. Feeding it to your pet, though, would be such a waste, even if it would keep it fed for a month."

 

[LoriDean12345]

Ranna couldn’t help but smile wide in amusement at the man’s confidence. Or was it stupidity, she wasn’t certain. She looked to William and chuckled. Most of her Bodyguard were already smiling, shaking their heads, or showing amazement at the man. Most of them laughed as well.

“Hood him, and take down his pants,” Ranna ordered as she turned away toward her horse, adding, “Let me get my dull knife … so it hurts more.”

Behind her, Ranna heard the anticipated struggle. It had taken three men to take him down the first time. How many would it take with him knowing he was about to get his cock sliced off? Four? Six? All 10 of them.

At her horse, Ranna peeked over her shoulder to ensure the man was once again blinded. She stripped off her falconry glove and put on her riding gloves instead. Then she walked to a nearby Burn Berry bush and squished a handful of its fruit in a tightened fist.

“Hold him down, secure him!” she said as she returned to the site of the continuing struggle. “I don’t want to accidentally cut something off one of you instead.”

One of her men was nursing a split lip; another was laying on his side, grasping his groin and groaning. And this was in a fight against one man who was bound! Ranna was impressed.

She was even more impressed when a gap in her Bodyguard allowed her to see this cock about which her wanna-be assassin had been bragging. She hesitated a moment, then smiled.

“Well, William,” Ranna said with humor in her voice, “He was telling the truth, was he not?”

“Yes, my Grace,” William said, adding, “It will feed your bird for a week. What a shame. You could get a lot for him at the market.”

“Yes,” Ranna agreed. “Good thing I am already rich.”

She chastised her men again for not securing him well, then nodded to William. Her Captain grasped end of the assassin cock tightly in one hand and pulled it out so hard that it had to hurt.

“If you hold still, I can get this done in one swipe,” Ranna said as she laid the backside of her cold, steel blade against the warm skin of the man’s warm shaft. “Let’s not make more of a mess than we need to, okay?”

With that, Ranna sliced the unsharpened metal quickly along his meat with one hand, causing no damage other than a bit of uncomfortable pressure. She immediately grasped his shaft with the berry juice covered glove. His reaction as the immediate pain as the poisonous oils burned into his skin was as Ranna had expected, causing her to smile devilishly.

“Secure the stump with a line as to prevent him from bleeding to death before we can cauterize it,” she ordered in jest. She stood and walked away, calling back, “I’m gonna feed my bird.”

Behind her, the Bodyguard laughed and make inappropriate comments meant to support Ranna’s falsehood. Then, finally, William punched the assassin's head again, knocking him unconscious.

An hour later, the man would awake in a dungeon, chained to the wall. He was again dressed and -- of course -- still a whole man. And sitting ten feet away at a tiny table, filled with food and drink, sas Ranna. She smiled politely to her prisoner, asking him with a serious tone, “Tell me who sent you. If you do, I will make your execution swift and merciful, as well as have you properly burned, rather than left her to be eaten by the rats.”

 

[WatchingCloud]

Consciousness returned quickly to Baran, though not happily. He'd recognized the scent of Burn Berry just moments before the princess had put a blade to his cock. In the overwhelming agony, he wasn't sure whether she'd actually cut him or not. Perhaps he'd overplayed things a bit with this one.

He shifted his legs a bit and felt that, yes, indeed, his cock was still attached. The oils hadn't completely worn off, however, and it still stung and itched mightily. He'd have given his left nut to scratch down there, but his hands were chained to the wall behind his back.

Baran cracked his eyes and found that he was in prison. Very predictable and it had the feel of a second home. The familiarity of cool, dank mustiness, the smell of rodent shit, the poor or absent lighting. This one was rather homey by comparison.

The princess sat at a food-laden table before him, still dressed in that ridiculously wonderful outfit. How long would it take to get her out of that thing without cutting straps? He couldn't help smiling to himself at the places his mind went at a time like this.

Baran casually looked side to side, taking in the rest of his small cell. His head throbbed for the effort, reminding him of the blow he'd taken that knocked him out. He didn't know which guard had thrown it, but he'd just assume it was that William chap. Half the reason Baran had struggled after they'd replaced the hood was in hopes of landing a shot on that smug asshole, but it seemed he hadn't been so lucky. Next time.

The princess gave him a polite smile. “Tell me who sent you. If you do, I will make your execution swift and merciful, as well as have you properly burned, rather than left her to be eaten by the rats.”

Baran smiled at her offer. He felt around his mouth and was amazed to find the Hoshian dart tube still affixed between his back upper molars and gum. He could still carry out his mission, if she came just a couple feet closer, or he could later use the dart to pick the manacles and likely trade slow death by rat for quick death by guard. He needed a better option that didn't end in his death.

"Ranna, sweetheart," Baran said, "you're a lousy interrogator and even worse negotiator. Since you've got a rep for being pretty smart, I'd chalk it up to inadequate training.

"Now, I'll throw you a bone and tell you that you're asking the wrong questions, and that's even after I concede that yes, I was hired to kill you."

 

[LoriDean12345]

"Ranna, sweetheart..."

As the cocky captive continued, Ranna began slowly rising from her seat to curl around the table.

He continued, "...you're a lousy interrogator and even worse negotiator. Since you've got a rep for being pretty smart, I'd chalk it up to inadequate training."

She had added one new item to her Garb since Baran last laid eyes on her: a dagger strapped to her back, with only the thinnest of leather thongs added about her waist holding it in place.

"Now, I'll throw you a bone and tell you that you're asking the wrong questions, and that's even after I concede that yes, I was hired to kill you."

In a flash, Ranna reached to her back and in a single movement jerked the blade from its sheath and threw it underhand at the man. It stopped with a metal-on-rock thunk in the slight gap between the wall's stones, just an inch from his ear.

The sound had been unexpected by the men in the hall beyond the open dungeon door out of Baran's sight; William rushed in, his short sword already drawn to ensure that his Princess was safe. Seeing the knife sticking out of the wall, his first assumption was that the captive had done something to piss Ranna off. He took the two steps to Baran and pressed the very sharp blade in his hands to the man's throat.

Ranna had already been ambling closer to Baran and now -- hovering over him -- leaned down to retrieve her blade. Being who she was, what she was, and how many people wanted her dead, Ranna knew a great deal about various methods of assassination. But the weapon in her hostage's mouth was an unknown to her. She was taking her life into her own hands being this close and this bold with him. But then, that was just who she was.

"You will address me as My Grace when you speak to me directly," Ranna began explaining with a calm demeanor and a polite smile. "Or, when speaking of me to others, as Princess Ranna."

In many of the Kingdoms, Royals were referred to as Majesty. Your Majesty, My Majesty, His or Her or Their Majesty. But Ranna had never liked the word. The word had a lofty feel. And while she was, of course, at the top of the social ladder in the Kingdom of Weston -- with the exception of her father, the King, of course -- Ranna had never liked thinking of herself as so elevated in stature as to not be accessible by those beneath her, using the word figuratively, of course.

Unlike most across the Continent of Medianna, Ranna was a very down to earth sort of Royal. She spent a great deal of time in the street with the common man, as one of her tutors liked to put it.

One day a week, she shed her fine clothes, dressed as a street urchin, and wandered the alleys, Squares, and other public places to listen inconspicuously to the bitch and moans of the Peasantry. Then, over the course of the following week, she did what she could to cure some of those complaints with a generous application of coin and better-than-average-paid laborers.

Every Day of the Full Moon -- traditionally a celebratory day across the Continent -- Ranna hosted a free feast for the Peasantry, complete with games for the children, a work fair for the adults, recruitment of those ailing from affliction to one of the many hospices her grandmother the Countess Pollania of Riverbrook sponsored, and -- of course -- alms to the poorest of the land.

There were more benevolent activities, of course; it would take all day to explain them all in detail. Granny Polla was the inspiration behind Ranna's generous way of living. Caring for the less fortunate had been the trademark of the defunct and still-outlawed Burkinian Empire, of which Polla was -- unknown to all but just a few -- the Heir Presumptive. And Polla had been teaching Ranna to be just such a ruler since she was a little girl.

William wasn't too happy about all this public participation. Sure, the Peasantry adored Their Grace. Even the Merchant Class and most of the Nobility loved their Princess. But Ranna had some serious enemies, too, as was evident by the man sitting on the cold, dirty, stone floor before her.

Rapidly moving footsteps familiar to Ranna were nearing quickly from down the hallway beyond the open dungeon door. The Princess rose and neared the door in time to meet Freeda, whose face was filled with anxiety. The well rounded, bosomy woman wore the wardrobe common amongst the Merchant Class. She moved up close to Ranna and leaned in to whisper without a bow or even a nod of obligatory respect, a sign of a leveled -- almost familial -- relationship between the two.

Freeda pulled back looking for a response. Ranna contemplated, then glanced toward Baran. Freeda followed her Grace's gaze and studied the captive with an emotionless, calculating expression. Ranna finally said, "Go, Freeda. Take care of it. I'll meet you there."

Ranna moved closer to Baran, nodding William to withdraw his blade. The Captain of her Bodyguard did as indicated, but not without letting its razor sharp edge accidentally slip across Baran's skin just enough to draw blood along a very thin, inch long line. Ranna studied the man's face, even his lips, not realizing that just behind them lay the instrument of her potential assassination.

"I'm very interested in what you consider to be the right questions," Ranna continued as she again knelt before the man who could so easily take her life in an instant. "However, I have things to which I must attend, my friend. Before I go though..."

Ranna looked to the blade in her right hand, turning it this way and that with the business end touching ever so slightly against her fingertip. It caught a ray of sunlight shining down from one of the two tiny glassless windows in the dungeon cell.

"There are two directions which you can take now," Ranna went on as the light reflecting off the blade walked over Baran's face, sometimes striking him in the eye. "You can call me sweetheart one last time ... before I actually cut off your manhood ... leaving it here on the bricks for you to stare at as you bleed out."

She cocked her head a bit, pouting out her lower lip just a bit. "I would find that a shame, of course. It was actually a very nice example of manhood. It would be such a shame for it to simply become rat food."

Above her, William cleared his throat gently. Ranna looked up to her Captain, then gave him an okay, okay expression. Sometimes, Ranna forgot that she was a Crown Princess and began feeling a little too much like the street urchin she pretended to be once a week.

"Or..." she continued, still in a calm, steady voice, "...you can refer to me as My Grace ... or Princess Ranna ... though, I prefer the first ... and while I am away tending to my business, I can have a girl come in and clean that gunk off that beautiful cock of yours. I'm sure that the sting of the berry--"

"My Grace," William cut in. When she looked up, smirking, the Captain reminded her with a bit of a chastising tone, "Your lady awaits your attendance."

"Yes, of course," she said. She looked back to Baran, cocked her head once again, and asked softly, "So ... what do you have to say to me?"

 

[WatchingCloud]

Baran tried not to flinch when the princess threw her knife toward his head. He wasn't entirely successful. He was, however, impressed with her confidence and skill. At least, he presumed she'd intended to miss him.

Before he could bother himself with worrying over whether she wanted him alive or dead, however, he keyed in on her choice of words when explaining how he was to address her. "...when you're speaking of me to others..." That sounded like she had every intention of keeping him alive, which was a very good thing. He decided at that moment the feeling was mutual...even if that asshole William was now holding a blade to his neck.

He watched in mild curiosity as Ranna's servant - he presumed - came to impart some bit of news worthy of interruption and then pulling her away from the interrogation. He'd at least piqued the princess's curiosity about his motives and was pleased to note she seemed concerned for the wellbeing of his cock. He also got the impression that there might be a point at which his insouciance tested her limits.

Baran met her eyes unflinchingly. "I appreciate your concern for the state of my cock, my Grace," he said, drawing out and emphasizing 'my.' "I'll be eagerly awaiting your return."

He ignored the guard's cut on his throat, simply adding it to the man's tally, and waited to get another look at the princess's fine rear as she took her leave. Escape was still an option on the table, but he found he had little interest in it at the moment. The princess was far more interesting than he'd expected, despite all the stories. Those usually got blown out of proportion. If anything, the reality was far more compelling.

 

[LoriDean12345]

"I appreciate your concern for the state of my cock, my Grace," Baran said.

Ranna couldn't help but smirk a bit. Not at the fact that the man had decided to honor her and save his manhood, but at the way he could still somehow maintain a touch of flippancy with a knife so near said manhood.

He added, "I'll be eagerly awaiting your return."

She rose and headed for the door, with William falling in behind. She spoke to him in whispers, causing him to ask in surprise, "Are you certain, My Grace?"

Ranna didn't respond, which was her passive way of confirming she was. She looked to Baran and couldn't help but laugh when the scoundrel gave her a wink. Oh, this one was going to be fun. He might end up a castrated corpse crucified to crossed planks at one of the crossroads leading into the County ... but he was going to be fun in the process.

A few minutes after she was gone, William returned. He checked Baran to ensure he was still secure, then gestured toward the door. Yet another woman entered the cell. She carefully carried a bowl inside of which were a pitcher full of warm water, a pair of towels, and a small container of soap. She hesitated a couple of yards from the prisoner.

"I can't do this with him chained, Captain," she said politely to William. "Could you...?"

William was hesitant, but he had orders. He looked out the door and nodded, and a moment later two more Bodyguard entered and took station flanking Baran. With additional swords protecting him -- he knew he'd pissed the captive off with his treatment -- William sheathed his sword, unshackled the man, backed up to again arm himself, and waved the men out of the dungeon. He gave the woman a moment to begin her work.

"Captain, please," she said after staring at William for a moment. The Bodyguard's chief reluctantly stepped out of the dungeon and closed the door behind him, engaging the lock. The young woman looked to the now free assassin. "My name is Teena. I am here to ... well, you know what I'm here to do."

She pulled one of the chairs out from the table, looked to Baran's groin, and told him, "Please remove your trousers ... and sit here. You may eat if you wish."

 

[WatchingCloud]

Baran took it as a good sign, the smile the princess cracked when he winked at her. Maybe this could work out, after all. He still had to tread carefully.

It wasn't long before the promised serving girl arrived. She was dressed in a simple dress that highlighted her ample cleavage while hiding much of the rest of her figure. Cute. He liked her type. He was doubly impressed with her confidence in the presence of a prisoner - a would be assassin - and her requirement that he be unchained so she could work.

Baran put up no fight as he was unchained and was happy they were afforded some privacy.

"My name is Teena," she said. "I am here to...well, you know what I'm here to do."

"Pleased to meet you, Teena," he said, giving her a slight bow. "I always prefer to know a lady's name before she handles me intimately. Doesn't always work out that way, but..."

She pulled one of the chairs out from the table, looked to Baran's groin, and told him, "Please remove your trousers...and sit here. You may eat if you wish."

"Business and pleasure at the same time," he said, kicking out of his boots and dropping his pants and underclothes without a moment's hesitation. "I'm impressed. Our Princess Ranna runs a tight household."

Baran sat on the edge of the chair, legs spread to allow the lady easy access to his dangling cock. He hadn't entirely been jesting with the princess earlier - he was well-endowed, but hardly to the degree of Ton the Brick. His old lord's blacksmith's assistant was the biggest man Baran had ever seen in every conceivable measurable. Shame he had the intellect of a five year old and no interest in women. Fate had a cruel sense of humor, sometimes.

He turned to the spread on the table and was surprised to find a respectable presentation. A thick lamb stew, fresh bread, and wine. They might be poisoning him, but why when they'd had ample opportunity to kill him? He dug in.

Teena was seemingly all business, kneeling before him with a washcloth, bucket, and soap. She had no compunction about handling his cock and was thorough in getting the stinging oils off. He grew semi-turgid under her ministrations, but nowhere near fully erect.

"You're very good at this, Teena," he said between bites. "Are you often asked to wash the prisoners' balls?"

After she answered his joking question, he said, "I'm Baran, by the way. Which is more than your lady managed to get out of me with threats. Funny how that works."

He had a hunch that little exchange would get back to the princess, which was the point. Didn't matter if it was also the truth.

 

[LoriDean12345]

Teena didn't respond to Baran's comment about her imminent handling of his manhood. This was her job. That's all. Or, part of it anyway. Her duties included many things of an intimate nature, many of them far more personal than simply rinsing a stranger's cock.

The man dropped his clothes as invited. Teena only glanced at Baran's manhood as he sat and she knelt to prepare. Once on her knees with his own parted, thought, the servant got a very close up view. Baran's weapon was a bit more dangerous than most with which Teena had dealt. She gave it a quick look, then turned away to prepare her tools. She filled the bowl from the pitcher, then added and stirred in a thick, white liquid that would neutralize the poison's sting.

"Our Princess Ranna runs a tight household."

"My Lady Countess Pollania is Mistress of this household, sir," Teena responded as she soaked a rag in the milky water. She partially wrung it out, telling Baran, "My Grace is the Countess's granddaughter."

Teena moved further in between Baran's parted knees and -- without hesitation or shame -- grasped his cock and began washing it. She was gentle with it, as would be a lover. And like a woman preparing her lover, Teena expected him to stiffen. She wasn't disappointed. It didn't fully harden, but it did enough to give the young woman an idea of how large it could become if more properly stimulated. She leaned it this way and that, wiping it with the often rinsed rag of warm water. Carefully, she pinched bottom of his ball sack and pulled it forward to tighten the skin to allow her to cleanse the folds.

"You're very good at this, Teena," he said between bites. "Are you often asked to wash the prisoners' balls?"

"I do as My Grace needs," Teena answered plainly. She peeked up into Baran's eyes for a quick flash, then tried but failed to fully contain the smile that threatened her lips. With a bit more humor in her tone, she added, "Today ... it is wash a prisoner's balls."

Teena rinsed out the rag again, then asked the man to stand and part his feet a bit more. She washed him down the front of his legs, then asked him to turn. As she wiped his buttocks and the back of his legs, he told her, "I'm Baran, by the way. Which is more than your lady managed to get out of me with threats. Funny how that works."

Teena dropped the rag into the bowl and began drying Baran's legs and -- after he turned again -- his manhood. She had been sent here to clean him up, relieving the pain Ranna had caused him with her jest. But, she had a second reason for being here as well.

"My Grace is a kind and gentle person," Teena said as she continued drying Baran. She had no idea of the things that had transpired between Ranna and the man who'd been sent her to kill her. Teena wouldn't have believed Baran if he were to tell her the truth. She looked directly at the man's cock again, then up to his face as she gave an example, "She sent me to service you, sir."

She hadn't meant to use the word service in the way the brothel whores did. It caused her to blush for the first time in Baran's presence. She asked the man to sit again and dried his feet. When she was finally finished, she stood before him and studied him a moment.

"My Grace understands the power of threat," Teena continued. "She has had to learn such things. For reasons I do not fully understand, My Grace has many enemies."

Teena glanced toward the cell's door just as William took a quick glance inside, checking on the servant's safety. Her eyes widened in a scrutinizing glare, causing him to turn away, though in not in any hurry. Looking back to Baran, Teena said, "My Grace also knows the value of kindness. She has told me that she wishes to know something that you know ... though ... she did not find it necessary for me to know what that thing is."

She glanced for a very brief moment at Baran's groin before looking back up. "My Grace has told me that I may ... impart some kindness to you ... if you will vow to tell her what she wishes to know."

As if concerned that the man might not fully understand that to which she was alluding, Teena grasped her dress where her hands dangled at her thighs and lifted it just a bit, revealing the lower reaches of her boots' laces.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Baran was reminded by Teena that the castle was, in fact, the Countess Polania's domain. Ranna had simply been the most visible member of the court in recent years, suggesting she was being groomed to replace her. The situation with her betrothal led to dynamics that were beyond his understanding when it came to royalty and succession. All that mattered to him, here and now, was whether seeking Ranna's good graces would be enough to leave in one piece.

He rose when she bade him to do so and was amused at her attempts to remain emotionally detached. She smiled and blushed, clearly seeing him as more than a simply cold-blooded killer.

What struck Baran as she continued to speak was her obvious adoration for Ranna. This was no duty-bound loyalty born of fear, but genuine respect. It wasn't unfamiliar to him, but it was uncommon. Even the bodyguards had seemed both accommodating and loyal.

Teena concluded by admitting that the princess wanted something from him (who had hired him, no doubt). The young woman then appeared to offer herself, likely at Ranna's suggestion, should he vow to answer those questions later.

Baran reached for Teena's wrist and held it gently in place to keep her from raising her skirts any further.

"You would offer this, to a man sent to kill your Grace, out of loyalty? Or is it for fear of disobedience? Because if it's the former, I'm fascinated at what makes Ranna so special. And if it's the latter, the princess disappoints me greatly.

"Tell me the truth and perhaps I'll make that vow, though it would be a difficult thing not knowing all that she would ask of me."

 

[LoriDean12345]

When Baran reached for her wrist, Teena thought it was to pull her into his lap to hurriedly proceed with the kindness being offered him. But instead of rushing her, Baran was actually slowing Teena. That confused her; no man had ever done that before. He asked his question, seeking Teena's reason for being so accommodating.

"I would do anything for My Grace, sir," the servant explained without hesitation or regret. "Princess Ranna of Weston saved me. Saved my family ... my village. She sent troops ... personally led troops to track down and prosecute border raiders who had for months been attacking us. They'd robbed ... beaten..."

Her gaze dropped to the floor between the two of them as she said in a softer voice, "...raped ... without any effort on the Baron's part to stop them."

She looked back up to Baran, her eyes glistening with threatening tears. Then, with a slight smile of delightful recollection she continued, "My Grace did. She brought the raiders to justice. Hunted them down. She saved us. Saved me! She gave us animals and grain ... troops to marry our widowed friends and family and again make our village whole."

Teena stepped a bit closer to Baran, just inches, before adding, "I would kill ... or be killed ... to serve My Grace."

She stepped a bit closer again, attempting to lift her dress further despite Baran's hand's grasping her wrists and preventing such. She continued with the unmistakable offer, "And I would give even My Grace's would-be assassin the greatest of kindnesses ... if I thought it would prevent him from taking her life."

 

[WatchingCloud]

Baran was absorbed by Teena's passion as she recounted in broad strokes her life and what brought her to be in Ranna's service. He'd heard many of the stories, thought it was difficult to know what was true and what was altered by the teller. Perhaps she really was that good a person. Baran, for good reason, was cynical toward nobility in general, but he was willing to be proven wrong.

Teena shifted closer, pressing into him and tugging at her skirt against his restraining hand. "And I would give even My Grace's would-be assassin the greatest of kindnesses...if I thought it would prevent him from taking her life."

"I have to admit, Princess Ranna sounds like a woman worthy of your respect and loyalty," Baran said, sitting back on the chair.

Teena straddled his lap and reached beneath her skirt to grasp him and stroke him the rest of the way to full hardness. It didn't take long. Once he was ready, she positioned him at her slit and began to work her way down. He'd expected it to be a difficult effort, given his girth and the circumstances, but Teena was surprisingly aroused and thoroughly lubricated. Was she aroused by being with a dangerous man, out of a sense of purpose in serving her Grace, or something else? Regardless, it made Baran feel far more comfortable about the arrangement, particularly after her talk of women being raped by soldiers.

"Now I understand why you were so thorough in your cleaning," Baran said teasingly, while running his hands up and over her breasts. "Your kindness is most welcome, but I'm not accepting it because your Grace offers it. I accept it because of your belief in her."

 

[LoriDean12345]

Teena had made her reasons for so willingly mount the potential killer of her Mistress clear. Yet, as Baran's large cock intruded upon her slick tightness, filling her so deliciously, those larger-than-life reasons faded away and a more personal one arose. Of all the duties she'd undertaken for Her Grace over the years, this was one Teena thoroughly enjoyed performing. From the first time a man had rammed his cock so painfully and yet so pleasurably into her then-almost-impenetrable hole, Teena had known that she would spending most of her nights seeking such pleasure.

She reached to the bows at her shoulders, pulling them loose. The tightness of her peasant dress about her bosom relaxed, and with a tug at each upper arm, her full breasts popped out one after the other before Baran's face. She traced a hand down each leg to pull her feet upwards, laying the tops of them upon Baran's thighs. Then, after pushing her groin forward and parting her knees even farther, she wrapped both arms around Baran's neck and head.

In an instant, Teena was rising and falling upon the assassin's cock, taking nearly its full length in and out of her with each thrust. It didn't take long for breaths of exertion to be replaced by moans of increasing volume, only then to become soft cries that became less soft as the pleasure rose within her.

Teena glanced toward the dungeon cell's door -- not intentionally, but done still -- and caught William's face to the crossed bars of iron. Finding an audience didn't faze the servant, even if it was an audience whose cock had also spent some time deep inside Teena's pussy. She stared at William for a long moment until finally he departed, then pulled back to look into Baran's face as she continued to bounce atop him.

Her orgasm -- before, after or with Baran's own -- arrived with her fingers tightly grasping the man's skull, her own head falling back, and -- after a long pause in which she held her breath, feeling the explosion envelope her -- her mouth opening to release one long cry of ecstasy ... that would eventually fade away to dozens of again-soft cries as she collapsed into the killer's arms.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Teena was no stranger to sex and a pleasantly enthusiastic partner. Baran massaged her lovely breasts and held her ass as she bounced herself to a noisy climax. She certainly had no concern about what the guards might think. At one point, he caught her looking toward the door, perhaps at an audience. Fuck em, Baran figured. Actually, he hoped it was that William, having to watch him enjoy himself.

After Teena climaxed with intimate eye contact and a shamelessly loud cry of pleasure, Baran held her and let her down softly. Once she'd recovered somewhat, he stood, lifting her with ease, and laid her on the table, shoving the remainder of the food aside. He raised her legs, holding an ankle upright with each hand, and resumed pumping in and out of the lovely young woman. At this point, there was no holding back - everything was hard and fast to a powerful and long overdue climax deep within her tight pussy.

After the shuddering passed, he leaned forward while keeping his cock buried to the hilt. He kissed her breasts, briefly suckled each nipple, and then leaned over her face and smiled. He almost kissed her, but remembered why that might be a bad idea.

"Finest prison in all of Medianna, I'd say," he said with a grin.

 

[LoriDean12345]

Teena knew where Baran was taking her the moment he stood with her held in his powerful arms. She was no stranger to horizontal surfaces that weren't a bed. She reached her arms out wide to clutch the table's edge as the man continued to pound deep inside her, noticeably deeper than before. The pleasure rose again, differently this time; it was less clitoral, more vaginal. His additional length and girth were enabling Baran to touch her in places and ways few men ever had. Teena's back arched again as she climaxed, this time even louder, even longer.

When she came down, a heavily breathing Baran was leaning over her.

"Finest prison in all of Medianna, I'd say." he said with a grin.

Teena laughed through her gasps for air. She murmured through her sighs, "Finest ... in all ... the land."

She shrugged Baran from atop her, rose, and let her dress fall down about her legs. His cock, losing its stiffness but still pointing out at her. Teena laughed again, kneeling before him.

"Look what we've done," she said touching Baran's shaft and then lifting a finger coated in the mix of their fluids. "Now I have to start all over."

She dumped the milky water from the bowl, refilled it with clean water, and wet yet another towel to clean Baran's manhood and groin. As she reached up under her dress to clean her womanhood and thighs, down which their lovemaking goop had been leaning, she suggested, "You should don your trousers."

William must have been listening in as he knocked on the door and called through the barred gap, "Time to finish up, Teena."

She dropped the towel into the bowl, gathered the others, and then looked to Baran, ready to exchange farewells.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Baran appreciated a satisfied partner, not to mention the second clean up. He hardly felt like a prisoner, despite the surroundings. It was, certainly, the most unusual circumstance he'd found himself in in quite some time.

He donned his trousers as she suggested and waited while she finished and dressed.

"Thank you for the hospitality," he said, "and feel free to stop by anytime."

He gave her a wink, then held up a hand. "One more thing..."

Baran reached into his mouth and detached his Hoshian dart tube from where it was attached to his molars by a glob of sap. At only an inch and a half in length, it hardly looked like a weapon. The poison on the one tiny day was quick and lethal, though, even if it only had an effective range of a couple feet. He handed the tube, little more in appearance than a capped reed, to Teena.

"Give this to your Grace," he said. "Be very careful with it. I suspect she'll understand..."

Understand that both had spared the other's life this day. He felt a little naked, now bereft of his only remaining holdout weapon, but he had a hunch it was for the best. He'd been named the Astute... Now to see if it was an accurate title.

 

[LoriDean12345]

"Thank you for the hospitality," Baran said, "and feel free to stop by anytime."

Teena chuckled and blushed again. It wasn't often that she enjoyed performing such duties for her Mistress; typically, it was the target of Teena's hospitality -- and, indirectly, Ranna's -- who got off with the intensity that the servant had. So, she felt a bit more personal investment in this particular performance.

He gave her a wink, then held up a hand. "One more thing..."

She watched with confusion as Baran removed a small object from his mouth and handed it to her. She didn't immediately understand what it was; she was no stranger to the concept of murder by poison, of course, but she'd never imagined that an assassin could -- or even would! -- conceal such a weapon inside him mouth and thus put his own life in such danger. Of course, Teena knew nothing about Hoshian dart tubes, so how would she knew whether or not Baran had been in any danger?

"Give this to your Grace," he said. "Be very careful with it. I suspect she'll understand..."

"I will, sir," Teena said with a respectful tone. She pulled a handkerchief from her dress's pocket, wrapped the item, and stuffed it away for safe keeping. Then, hoping it would please him, used his name in saying, "I will pass this to My Grace ... Baran ... and, I will inquire as to whether or not she would like me to be of service in the future ... concerning you, I mean."

The cell door opened suddenly, William and a second Bodyguard entering the cell to usher Teena out. She flashed Baran a final, knowing smile before she disappeared.

"My Grace has given permission for you to remain out of your chains," the Captain informed Baran, adding, "Despite my recommendation that you remain chained to the wall."

He gave the prisoner a moment to respond if he wished, then continued as he closed and locked the door, "Someone will bring you food and water ... and wine if you wish it."



Three hours later, the sun dropped behind the distant mountains, and the dim illumination entering through the narrow window slits finally failed. William looked into the cell to ensure the prisoner was at a safe distance, then unlocked and threw open the door. A pair of men from Ranna's Bodyguard entered, taking station to watch their prisoner. A male peasant entered with a huge bundle of straw, tied tight with a rope; a second peasant, this one female, set a neatly folded stack of bedding on the table. She gave Baran a knowing glance and smirk before giving him a bit of a bow and leaving; the word of what had happened between him and Teena had already circulated through the castle's work force.

And then Teena was in the cell again, carrying a large platter of food, including two pitchers, one of water, the other of wine. She waited for the first male to cut the bale loose and generally fluff the straw out into the shape of a bed and leave before she stepped a bit closer to Baran.

"My Grace thanks you for your ... gift, sir," she said about the dart. In a softer voice which seemed to indicate that she didn't particularly want William or the two soldiers to hear, Teena continued quietly, "She wishes you to know that she is considering better accommodations for you. She says her decision would be ... quicker in coming ... if you could provide me with a name that might be of interest to her."

"Time to go, Teena," William said with a soft but serious voice.

She half glanced over her shoulder at the Captain, then whispered, "If you would, sir ... I might be able to persuade My Grace to come back and check on--"

"Time to go," William repeated more forcefully. "It's been a long day, and I'm sure our ... guest could use some sleep."

Teena looked back to Baran with a hopeful expression.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Baran passed the afternoon in boredom, mostly pacing and contemplating his next move. Despite the change up in tactics, he knew he was still in considerable danger. The princess had been nothing if not full of surprises, though, and she was quickly growing on him. He hoped his message would be well received.

As darkness settled in, the guards opened his cell and allowed two servants to bring in bedding. The female gave him a look that suggested word of his earlier encounter with Teena may have gotten out. Good - that could be useful.

And speaking of Teena, his favorite servant entered soon after with a tray laden with food and drink. It smelled good and he wasn't sure whether he was more hungry for the food or the company. She passed along Ranna's thanks for the weapon and suggested better accommodations might be on offer for a name.

William seemed intent on hurrying up their interaction, particularly once she lowered her voice to keep the captain from overhearing.

"Take it easy, Will old boy." Baran shot the guard a smirking smile. He then grabbed his crotch and said, "You can come back later if you want some of the goods, too. There's plenty to go around."

He smiled at the guard's clenched teeth, then leaned in close enough to Teena that his body brushed hers. He whispered in her ear, "Jardin Lopes."

Baran was playing the game straight. Jardin was the man who'd technically hired him for the job, but he was a small time intermediary and a name that would probably mean nothing to the princess without weeks of digging and considerable resources. It might, however, get him a step closer to... What? He still wasn't sure. If he didn't kill the princess, and that was looking likely to be the final outcome, his own life and outlooks were in sorry shape. Opportunity had a habit of presenting itself unexpectedly, however, so he was content to leave his options open.

Teena thanked him, looking genuinely appreciative, and curtseyed before retreating from the room. William followed, giving Baran another dirty look to which Baran replied with a suggestive raising of his eyebrows.

Satisfied, he settled in to eat.

 

[LoriDean12345]

"Jardin Lopes?" Freeda responded to the name, passed on by the servant Teena, who by now had returned to her duties of caring for the assassin. "I'm sorry, My Grace. I'm not familiar with the name. But, my agents and informants will be. I'll make inquiries."

"Quietly," instructed Ranna, who by now was out of the Queen's Garb and in a more comfortable but no less elegant sleeping gown. "I do not with this ... Lopes to know that his man has failed in his attempt just yet."

"Has he, My Grace?" Freeda asked. When Ranna looked her way, the Master Spy revealed her own knowledge of the happenings in the dungeon earlier in the night with, "I am told that the assassin remains alive."

Freeda was the black and white kind of girl; a dead man was no threat, while all others were. She continued, revealing just how much information her contacts in and around the dungeon had her, "I am also told that he has been freed of his chains ... that he has been given access to your servant's pussy ... that even now she makes her way there with food and drink and, likely, a lack of undergarments--"

"You forget yourself, Master Spy," Ranna chastised in a voice that likely carried beyond her thick door to the Bodyguard in the hall beyond her bed chamber. She continued with a lower but still commanding tone, "I did not ask your counsel on this man's confinement. I only asked you to find out who this man Lopes is."

"He is an assassin!" Freeda continued as she retrieved the Hoshian dart tubes from atop a nearby table top and held them before her. "He came to the Barony to kill you! And in response, you let him diddle about in your servant's--"

"Enough!" Ranna called out in a tone Freeda would recognize as being the last step before pulling the knife from the sheath belt hanging from the back of a nearby chair. Ranna fumed for a bit as she continued her preparations for sleep. Eventually turning to study Freeda a moment, she said in a soft, empathetic tone, "I understand your feelings for Teena, and how--"

"This had nothing to do with my past and ended relationship with your servant girl, My Grace," Freeda cut in, trying but failing to fully hide her emotions. "This is not personal. This is professional. This Baran should be killed, immediately ... and after I locate this Jardin Lopes and interrogate him, he and everyone even remotely associated to him -- friends, family, business associates -- they, too, should be killed."

"That's what I like about you, Freeda," Ranna said after chuckling and turning to near the other woman. "You are always willing to take the extra step to ensure my safety."

"It is my duty, My Grace," Freeda responded a sincere tone. "I will do anything you ask to keep you safe from harm."

Ranna moved closer yet, until she was only inches away from the slightly taller woman. Reaching out, she took one of Freeda's hands and lifted it to cup a firm, smallish breast. She asked softly, "And I will do anything to show you my appreciation for your keeping me safe ... Master Spy."

As she squeezed the hand around her tit, Ranna lifted onto her toes and kissed Freeda on the lips. The other woman hesitated a moment, then matched the quickly erotic kiss with her own eager lips. Then, Freeda pulled back, fully out of Ranna's reach.

"Forgive me, My Grace," she said, her gaze shifting quickly to the floor. She said with a firm, steady, and confident tone, "I cannot keep you safe if we become--"

When Freeda hesitated on the last word, Ranna offered it, "Lovers?"

"Yes, My Grace," Freeda confirmed. "I'm sorry. But ... to provide you with the protection you--"

"Yes, yes, I know," Ranna said, waving the spy's concerns away as she turned and then returned to her night time routine. "We've discussed this before. You can serve me in bed ... or you can serve me out there in the dangerous world, but you can't serve me in both."

Ranna dropped her night gown to the floor, revealing her now nude body to Freeda ... and to the female servant who had been standing in silence near the bathtub at the far wall of the Princess's impressive quarters. Ranna signed her desire for help into the tub to the servant who, since a young age, had been deaf, thus allowing her to be present for meetings with such people as the Master Spy. After the half-a-decade older woman helped her Princess into the step-down, tile pool, she shed her simple shift and lowered her also naked body into the steaming water as well.

"Uncover who this Lopes man is," Ranna ordered as the servant began caressing a sudsy rag over her back. "Uncover his aim ... and his associates. Do nothing to or with him without my instruction."

"Yes, My Grace," Freeda said, bowing before beginning to back away.

"Freeda!" Ranna called out before her Master Spy reached the door. When the other woman turned to face her again, the Princess told her in a sincere tone, "I owe you my life ten times over--"

"Six ... My Grace," Freeda cut in. A smile spread her lips a bit as she added, "But ... who's counting."

"I understand your feelings toward..."

Ranna didn't finish her statement; Freeda would know that Ranna was speaking about thanking her for providing such a sacrifice. Freeda responded about the offer of sexual pleasure, "You have no need to thank me in that way, My Grace. You are my Charge ... my Princess. I serve you because you serve me in ways few Royals serve their people. You have no need to ... serve me ... in that way."

Freeda allowed her gaze to settle upon Ranna's firm breasts as the servant silently urged Her Grace with gentle hands to rise for further washing. Freeda's lips spread in a wide, devilish smirk as she finished, "Though ... one day ... should I ever leave your service..."

The two smiled to one another before Freeda bowed and departed. Ranna's mind ran with connecting thoughts as she allowed the servant to complete her work: the thought of making love to the Master Spy; the thought of Freeda and Teena clutching one another's bodies in the sweet embrace of ecstasy; the thought of Teena now in the dungeon with the assassin's cock deep inside her pleasure canal; and -- finally -- the thought of said killer up here in Ranna's own bed chamber, ramming that big cock of his repeatedly into her own depths.

The images were too much for her. Ranna sat upon the edge of the tub with parted thighs as the deaf servant used her mouth and fingers to fulfill one of her other night time duties. After a satisfying release, the Princess went to bed alone with continuing thoughts of what she was to do with the man that she had so enabled to bring an end to her life.



In the dungeon, a sweating and trembling Teena collapsed upon Baran's body, gasping for breath after her third orgasm. She'd brought additional blankets for the prisoner's bed, yet she could still feel the ends of the straws poking at her knees and feet. She laughed through the heavy breaths.

"We have ... to get you a ... more proper bed..." she managed between gasps, "...if we are to continue meeting ... like this, sir."

Teena rolled from Baran's body onto the woolen blanket and clutched at his muscular body with an arm and a leg. She giggled at the feel of their fluids leaking down her thigh. She lifted a knee, reached between her legs, and wiped away a large gob of the mixture ... then, ensuring Baran was watching, stuck the finger into her mouth and sucked it clean. It was her way of informing him Yes, I do that, too. It wouldn't be happening tonight, of course; Teena was spent after their hour together on the dungeon floor. But soon, maybe.

"My Grace is thankful for the name you gave her," Teena began after she had better control over her breathing and, thusly, her speech. "I am to tell you that you have been granted an audience with her tomorrow ... where she hopes the two of you will have more of which to speak."

Teena moved her head closer to Baran's and kissed him on the cheek. She giggled again, recalling what he'd had hidden in his mouth during their first fuck. She kissed him a second time, then rose to locate and begin donning her clothes once again.

"I like you, sir," she said, her eyes diverted by a touch of shyness. That might have seemed a bit strange after what they'd been doing and in so many altered positions. She continued with a tentative pace, "I would hate to see you die anytime soon. By die ... I mean get executed."

Teena peeked up to Baran a quick moment, the back to the ties on the front of her dress. With a desperate tone, she pleaded, "I beg of you, Baran ... what ever My Grace asks of you tomorrow..."

She stopped there, looking up with her clothes now fastened. Teena ogled Baran's incredible body and smiled. He was by far the most Godlike man with whom she'd ever laid. And she hoped to lay with him often in the future. But Teena knew that if Baran didn't give Ranna what she wanted, that incredible cock she had been enjoying would indeed be severed before the man was stung up on a staked cross to slowly bleed out under the hot sun.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Three weeks ago in a nameless tavern on the outskirts of Ransom Glen, a small trade route village in the Barony of Holliken, part of the Baronies of Pratt...

"Baran the Fucking Astute!" The deep voice cut through both the common room and Baran's hangover like a rusty plow. "You're a hard man to track down."

Baran groaned at the sight of Jardin filling the door frame. The merchant was in his usual worn silk finery, dusty from the road no doubt. It couldn't possibly bode well if he was looking for him.

"Not hard enough, apparently," Baran groaned.

Jardin cheerfully crossed the room, empty at this hour of the mid morning, and plopped his prodigious girth into a protesting chair across from Baran.

"You look like shit," Jardin said. "Is drinking your new profession, then?"

"I'm a caravan guard, thank you very much." It wasn't exactly a rewarding job, but it was about all he was good for under the circumstances. "Between jobs."

"Think I'd rather be a drunk. Guess the changing of the landscape wasn't kind to you."

Baran glared across the top of his tankard before draining it and setting it down hard on the table. He didn't dignify that with an answer. Fifteen years ago, someone in King Merion's circle had taken an interest in a miserable street rat and trained him up to be a spy and then leader of a special unconventional squad of soldiers. It had opened doors and ended with the promise of a lordship, the best title available to a non-blooded noble, and a small manor. Baran had been a year removed from the culmination of that remarkable run when the king's support among his barons ran out and he'd been deposed. The king's army was disbanded and Baran's mysterious benefactor with it, apparently. No baron could bestow a lordship, nor would any touch the former king's personal staff for fear of how it would look to the other barons.

"I have an offer for you, on behalf of an acquaintance," Jardin said. "If you're tired of guarding sheep and iron ingots."

Baran rolled his eyes. "At least they don't fuck me over."

"What if your promised title might be back on the table?"

"That's crap. We both know none of the barons will unite behind one of the others. No king, no new titles."

"A Supreme Chancellor could," Jardin said, letting that idea float for a while.

The most powerful of the barons, Cordan, had been the king's Lord Chancellor. He still held his title of Baron because he'd voted in union with the others to oust the king. Everyone knew he wanted the throne. Maybe a Supreme Chancellor title would be a viable compromise.

Jardin leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I see I've piqued your interest."

"Perhaps."

"The title would still require many things to fall into place. But in the meantime, there's money to be made and you'll have something more worthy of your skill set to keep you occupied."

"What do you have in mind?"

Jardin told him. It was big and Baran didn't know enough about the political landscape to quite grasp how it might cause things to fall. But he was intrigued. And, yes, he was tired of guarding sheep.

#

"Think we could just borrow your Grace's bed?" Baran asked in response to Teena's suggestion he needed something better than the straw pallet in his cell. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

Teena didn't reply other than to smile and then reach between her legs to scoop up a dollop of their combined mess. She licked her fingers clean, to his approval. God, such a fun girl. Just the sort he could imagine having married once he'd been awarded his lordship and manor. Neither of those seemed likely any more.

She then informed him he'd been granted an audience with the princess tomorrow.

"Excellent. Tell her I look forward to it. And, perhaps you'd be so kind as to make sure I presentable?"

He watched as she collected her clothing, fully appreciative of her lovely body.

"I like you, sir," she said, her eyes glancing away. "I would hate to see you die anytime soon. By die ... I mean get executed."

Baran rose, unconcerned at his nakedness. "That makes two of us."

"I beg of you, Baran ... what ever My Grace asks of you tomorrow..." Baran was touched by the genuine concern in her voice.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." He smiled, then took her in his arms again and kissed her. "Now off with you. Let me recover some for your next visit."

 

[LoriDean12345]

Three weeks BEFORE three weeks ago.
A few miles from the City of Weston:

The conspiracy's initial meeting would take place in yet another nameless tavern, this one halfway across the continent from where Baran would be added to the assassination plot in three weeks time. Anyone paying attention to the small group huddled in the establishment's far, dark corner might have correctly presumed they were up to no good: they were all dressed in hooded cloaks that hid both their identities and the level of arms; and they repeatedly peeked about the tavern to see if anyone was showing them undue attention.

Anyone paying close attention, though, might have noticed that one of the conspirators was of a smallish size. And when reaching for the decanter that was filled with a far better grade of wine than was being drunk by the others, the hands of said conspirator were obviously of a more feminine nature and included several large gold and jeweled rings that spoke of obvious wealth.

After an hour of whispers, two of the four stood and left through the front door. A few minutes later, the second pair -- including the female -- left through the back. Four more cloaked men awaited them with horses, and a moment later the six were riding away from the small village. It was still early in the day, not even yet noon, when the four men from the alley broke off and headed for the Castle of Weston, now visible just a few miles away.

"This should all be mine, Trett," Victoria told the man who'd remained behind with her. "All of it, and not just some little County down on the Petran River."

She stretched her arms out wide and made eye contact with the Captain of her own Bodyguard. She turned slowly in a full circle, as if to ensure the man that she meant all of the land surrounding them. It was an unnecessary gesture; Trett had known for years that his Charge had grand ambitions concerning her future in the Barony, Kingdom, and Continent.

"And it will be..." Trett told her with a confident tone. He bowed playfully to her as he used the Heir Apparent identifier, "...My Grace."

Victoria looked to her Captain and giggled with joy. "My Grace. I like that. Say it again ... oh, and bow. A real bow this time."

Trett placed a hand upon his belly, leaned forward at the hips, and said with a sincere tone, "My Grace."

Being the second child of King Elrod of Weston, Victoria was only entitled to the identifier, My Lady. She'd always resented that little bit of social etiquette. My Lady was used in reference to women of Noble birth or assumed title. But Victoria was of Royal birth! Why wasn't she called My Grace as was her older sister, Ranna?

"Will it?" she asked Trett vaguely. When she saw his confused expression, she clarified, "Will Weston be mine?"

"The men I chose are dependable," Trett reassured her. "They will find an appropriate man who will--"

"Kill Ranna?" Victoria said with a little too much joy in her voice. She began nearing the man who had been her chief protector since she'd begun her public duties at age 13. "Kill my sister ... and make me Heir Apparent ... as opposed to Heir Presumptive?"

"Yes ... My Grace," Trett repeated with less enthusiasm than did Victoria. "They will succeed, and you will take your rightful place as heir to the Barony ... the Kingdom ... and, perhaps one day, far more."

By now, the slowly moving Victoria was standing within reach of the Captain. She pulled at the bow that held the bosom of her dress tight around her smallish breast, then quickly began jerking the strings out of their eyelets to begin the process of freeing her body for him.

"I need you now, Captain," she growled to her secret lover. "I need you to fuck Your Lady ... like she was your Grace."



Today
The Barony of Riverbrook:

"Now off with you," Baran teased. "Let me recover some for your next visit."

Teena giggled as she backed away. If anyone needed to recoup their energy, it was her. She bid him farewell, knocked on the cell's door, and after the Guard opened it, winked to Baran once more before leaving him.

At the top of the spiral stairs leading up to the castle's main floor, the giddy Teena suddenly stopped and donned a surprised expression at the sight of Freeda standing directly in her path. She exploded in yet another blush, lowering her gaze to the other woman's booted feet.

"What do you want?" Teena asked almost in whisper.

"What makes you think I want something?" the other woman asked. Her gaze remained solidly upon Teena's flushed face. "Perhaps I'm just passing by. Or, perhaps I wasn't ... and just wished to check on you? How are you? How have you been?"

Teena didn't answer, instead looking into the other woman's eyes a moment before looking about for others.

"Did you enjoy your visit with our new prisoner?" Freeda asked.

Teena again diverted her eyes, then said meekly, "I am only doing My Grace's bidding."

"Of course," Freeda responded, the doubt obvious in her voice. She turned ninety degrees and took a step back, freeing the other woman's path. "It was good seeing you."

Teena didn't hesitate to hurry past her former lover and disappear around a corner. Freeda waited a moment, then headed down to the dungeon. She gestured for the pair of guards to join her, unlocking Baran's cell and pushing the door open. After the two had hurried in, short swords drawn, Freeda entered.

"There are two ways we can do this, assassin," she said with a threatening voice. She looked to the shackles connected to the wall, then back to Baran. "You can peaceably allow these two men to put back in chains ... so that you and I can have a talk. Or..."

She lofted the Hoshian dart blower to allow Baran to see it and contemplate her understanding of its danger, then gave the other option, "Or ... you can fight them ... and during that fight, we'll test out your little toy here ... to see if after all these decades, the technology is just as efficient as it once was."

 

[WatchingCloud]

Baran had scarcely gotten his underclothes pulled to his waist when the door banged back open. He turned, half expecting Teena but instead found two guards with swords drawn and a dour looking young woman in clothing a cut above the servant's.

He bit back a quip about her liking her men tied up when she insisted they would be having a discussion one way or the other. There was something about this one, a bitterness, that suggested she wouldn't be up for games. He pulled his pants on and then allowed the guards to chain him (roughly) back to the wall.

"I think I need to set one thing straight, first," Baran said as the guards withdrew but didn't close the door. "I'm not actually an assassin. I mean, yeah, sure, that's what I was here to do, but I've never killed anyone in the capacity as an assassin. Just a soldier, really. Used to taking orders. I'm sure you know how it is."

The woman didn't seem to care, nor did she bother to introduce herself.

"Who sent you?" she demanded.

"Jardin Lopes," he said. "But you already know that. You want to know who he is and who's behind him. Jardin, sadly, is pretty much a nobody who wishes he was a somebody. Not worth the time to torture because I doubt he knows much. To hopefully spare the poor schlub's life, I will tell you that he's loyal to Baron Cordan, so it's not much of a leap to assume the Baron or someone close to him sees your Grace as a threat. But that hardly puts him in lonely company now, does it? Ranna's father's desire to see Weston and the Highlands merge has about half the continent optimistic and the other half trembling. Guess which side's gonna be a bit more reactionary?"

The woman watched passively as he talked. He was confident this wasn't anything she didn't already know.

"I get it, you want more names, but to what end? Say I'm able to confirm this goes to Cordan himself. I can't, but then what? You going to declare war? I'd wager everything they would've paid me for this job that he'd welcome it. Might be what he needs to get Pratt to unite under him."

Baran narrowed his eyes. "No, if you were smart, there's something significantly more pertinent you should be asking."

She scowled and backhanded him across the face. Baran was impressed, she could hit pretty hard.

"I'm the one asking the questions, you impudent assassin. Don't presume-"

"Not assassin. Soldier. Ex-soldier actu-" She backhanded him again. "-ually."

"What question, ex-soldier should I be asking, then?"

He could tell it pained her to pose it, but what choice did she have? Baran smiled, ignoring the sting in his jaw.

"Why I didn't kill your Grace."

Her jaw clenched and unclenched several times, but she didn't strike again. "Enlighten me, then."

Baran sighed. "Much as I'm loathe to admit it, your security around her is too tight for a single person to kill her without considerably more time than I was allotted. It's nigh impossible to infiltrate the staff, the guard is too attentive, and she's rarely exposed. If I had more time and money to hire additional resources, I could have done the job, but I didn't. I had two opportunities to kill her, and yet..."

Baran waited for her to catch up.

"They'd have been suicidal," the woman said. "You're not loyal, just a hired killer."

Baran nodded. "Exactly. And yet there's the one chink in your Grace's defenses. An idealist, one willing to sacrifice his or her own life, could kill the princess. When I come up empty, they'll learn from their mistakes. And that's why I'm worth a lot to you."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Oh really? A failed assassin with no loyalty?"

"You presume. I never said I wasn't loyal. I just have no loyalty to those who screwed me out of my promised future."

Baran leaned back against the wall, as if he was waiting for friends to arrive for a night drinking.

"I doubt I've got many other answers for you and, at this point, I suspect the rest of the negotiations will have to pass through Princess Ranna. If you think otherwise, ask away. If not, I'm tired. Unless, of course, you've heard the other rumors and were really here for something else..."

He refrained from being too cute with his proposition, given her mood. Still, she was by no means bad looking.

 

[LoriDean12345]

"I think I need to set one thing straight, first," Baran began even before Freeda had a chance to begin her part of the interrogation. She had hoped to get in a couple of slaps, punches, or kicks before he opened the mouth that had so recently been suckling her former lover's nipples. He finished with, "Just a soldier, really. Used to taking orders. I'm sure you know how it is."

Freeda didn't believe him, of course. The poison dart had been enough to convince her that the man was a true professional killer. The Hoshians -- who had once lived across the West Sea -- had died out around the same time of the Fall of the Burkinian Empire. Their lands had been conquered and occupied; their fields had been salted and their homes burned; their men had been slaughtered; their women had been raped and then slaughtered; and their young ones -- too young to remember in the years to come who and what they had once been -- were separated into small groups, sold across the known world, divided again, and sold yet again until the once proud Hoshians simply failed to exist any longer.

And yet...! This man possessed and -- better yet -- knew how to safely use one of their most stealthy and dangerous assassination tools. No, this man was no ex-soldier.

"Who sent you?" Freeda demanded.

"Jardin Lopes," he said.

The prisoner went on with his tale. And while his mouth was moving and the words continued to flow out, he wasn't saying much at all. At least, not anything of value to Freeda. She needed details: names, places, plans.

The man was very aware of his politics, though. What he said about King Elrod's plans to merge his Kingdom with that of the Highlands by marrying Ranna off to that King's son; what he said about how others -- particularly the Baronies of Pratt -- not being too overjoyed about Weston and The Highlands merging to become the largest, wealthiest, and most powerful entity since the Burkinian Empire; and -- most frightening of all -- what he said about how that great alliance was most easily prevented, the death of Her Grace Ranna, Crown Princess and Heir Apparent to the Throne of the Kingdom of Weston.

Heir Apparent, Freeda thought to herself for a moment. A shiver forced its way up her spine, causing the skin of her arms to explode in goose flesh. Heir Presumptive is more like it.

Although Freeda hadn't told Ranna yet, the Master Spy had learned that assassination wasn't the only current ploy threatening to remove the Crown Princess from the line of succession. There had long been rumors that King Elrod had fathered a bastard son. This was not an uncommon occurrence, of course; sometimes it seemed to Freeda that every male with hair in his trousers had unleashed his seed in some female not his wife and left her tending to a child on her own ... or worse, under the roof of the slut's husband who only thought he'd gotten lucky and produced a male heir.

Bastard sons born to landed Nobles and Royals could not inherit their father's estates if there were legitimate children birthed to him, of course. But then, there was a big difference between King Elrod and the other Royals and Nobles for whom that law had been adopted: Elrod was King, and if he wanted to change the law he could damn well do it!

Oh, there were roadblocks, of course. The King could say the sky was green and sheep were Gods and no longer a food source. But without a majority of the Nobles saying they believed the same, the King's declaration was of no value or standing. Unless he could get a significant number of Barons and Counts to back his son's legitimacy, Elrod would face the same fate as Merion, the former King of Pratt, who had been deposed and was now being hidden by Elrod in an undisclosed location somewhere in the Barony of Weston.

But, that was another danger with which to deal on another occasion. Add it to the list, Freeda reminded herself as she listened to man before her rambling on.

"No, if you were smart, there's something significantly more pertinent you should be asking."

In a flash, Freeda backhanded Baran. "I'm the one asking the questions, you impudent assassin. Don't presume-"

"Not assassin. Soldier. Ex-soldier actu-"

Freeda reared back and landed yet another and even harder backhand upon Baran's face. She smiled a bit at the sight of blood beginning to leak from one side of his lower lip. Freeda could do this all say long and never tire, particularly with this swinging cock.

He must have tasted the blood as he licked the droplets away before finishing his word, "-ually."

She hesitated a long moment, contemplating whether or not to simply beat on the man for a while before continuing her interrogation. Neither he nor Teena could know it, but she'd been at the Peeping Holes in the dungeon cell's wall for several minutes watching the two grapple on Baran's straw bed. It angered her so deeply to know that the pussy with a delicious taste that she'd come to enjoy so much was now being filled with the seed of a man. Of any man, not just one who had come to Riverbrook to kill Freeda's Royal Mistress.

But the man was right: there was something wrong with the current situation, and it was very possible that Freeda was asking the wrong questions. She forced herself to inquire, "What question, ex-soldier should I be asking, then?"

Baran went on to explain what he knew or thought to be of importance. And then he had the impertinence to suggest, "And that's why I'm worth a lot to you."

Freeda lashed out again, this time with a forward punch directly to the man's nose. His head bounced against the stone wall, which made the Master Spy and not-so-shabby torturer smile, thinking to herself, Double the pain, I like that. She asked him once his gaze settle on her again, "Oh really? A failed assassin with no loyalty?"

"You presume," he responded, the blood now leaking from a nostril as well as from the edge of his mouth. "I never said I wasn't loyal. I just have no loyalty to those who screwed me out of my promised future."

Freeda found herself quickly wondering just what the man had been offered to take out her Grace. Had it been more than Freeda had been promised to keep her the Crown Princess alive long enough to take the Throne of Weston?

"I doubt I've got many other answers for you and, at this point, I suspect the rest of the negotiations will have to pass through Princess Ranna.

Freeda's lips widened again and she even released a puff of air that nearly qualified as a chuckle. She thought to herself, You think we're negotiating?

If you think otherwise, ask away. If not, I'm tired. Unless, of course, you've heard the other rumors and were really here for something else..."

Freeda knew what Baran meant, of course. She would have known even if she hadn't spied on the man pounding that huge cock of his into her lovely young Teena; the tales of the young servant's uncontrolled cries and screams of ecstasy were circulating about the castle like a case of The Stinging in a local brothels.

Again, Freeda's fist flashed forward, connecting with Baran's nose and driving his skull back against the stone wall. She hit him again, then once more, paused until his glistening eyes were able to focus on her ... then hit him again for good measure. She studied him for a moment, looking at the damage: bloodied lip and nose, a cut to the cheek (from where her ring had caught him), and an eye that was already beginning to show signs of swelling.

Then, without a word, she simply stood, turned, and departed. Outside, the Guard could be heard asking, "Do you wish me to remove him from the chains, Mistress?"

The lack of a verbal answer and the closing of the door without the Guard coming inside was more than enough to let Baran know he'd been spending the rest of the night shackled to the wall, within sight of his relatively soft bed and the blankets ruffled upon it.



Baran would remain shackled to the wall for the next five days. William -- flanked by two Bodyguard -- visited him briefly that first day after Baran's night with Teena and, in a manner of speaking, with Freeda. But other than to tell him that his case was being looked into, William offered nothing in explanation.

The Bodyguard had released Baran from all but one ankle shackles, giving him access to his bed, dinner table, and shit bucket. Twice a day, a servant -- notably not Teena -- came in to empty said bucket and set a generous platter of food and a pitcher of wine on the table.

And twice a day, a quartet of men -- Soldiers, but not in the uniform of Ranna's bodyguard -- came into the cell to beat on Baran for a minute or so. It wasn't what one might call brutal; just a couple of punches about the head from the same man, after the other three had secured Baran. And after the prisoner was again let free from the strong hands of the trio, the fourth man always finished with something akin to, "My Mistress Freeda heard the rumors and wanted to be here with you ... but alas, she couldn't be here today, so I came in her stead."

Finally, the evening of that fifth day, William entered again, this time with four of his Bodyguard. They manhandled Baran into wrist and ankle shackles, hooded him, and essentially drug him away through the castle; down this passage, up this stair case, this way and that, down again, and finally around and up one last time. They dropped him roughly to the floor, and through the hood the sound of the ten heavy-heeled boots could be heard moving away, out a door, and down the hall. A moment later, a pair of lighter footsteps hurried up.

"Baran, my love," Teena said with obvious emotion. She hurried to get the hood off him. Her face filled with shock at the sign of his swollen, cut, and bruised face. She kissed him profusely, forgetting that it might hurt. Then, using a key she'd been given, she began unshackling him as she explained, "My Grace is coming to meet with you in the morning, my love. She has told me that you will have your audience ... that she has an offer for you."

 

[WatchingCloud]

Despite the regular beatings, it was still the best prison in which Baran had ever found himself. The food was quite good and...well, the food was good. Okay, the vermin was minimal as well. He'd have given it high marks for the companionship but that hadn't lasted, leaving him to assume Teena's "kindness" had been nothing more than an effort to loosen his lips.

Freeda. At least he'd finally gotten the name of the bitter bitch who'd knocked him around and then sent her goon squad in to make sure he remembered it. He'd like another private meeting with her in which he wasn't chained up.

The hooding was actually something of a relief. Change was usually good. Or he might be getting hauled off to execution. He hadn't given them any bad information, though, so perhaps they'd corroborated his information and were prepared to deal.

He was pushed into a room - small one, by the sound of echoing boots as they departed. A soft set of footfalls replaced them and the hood was removed by Teera. Her looked appalled at seeing the condition of his face.

"Baran, my love," Teena said. The worry in her voice made it sound genuine, which surprised Baran a bit after what he'd feared. She kissed him desperately and passionately, heedless of the pain and the blood. He appreciated the comfort and ignored the pain, kissing back.

As she unshackled him, she said, "My Grace is coming to meet with you in the morning, my love. She has told me that you will have your audience ... that she has an offer for you."

Baran noted the bit about the princess having an offer for him in the morning. That was a good sign. He was more caught by Teena's second reference to him as "her love." He must have really made an impression on the young woman. It wouldn't have been the first time, yet it always made him a little uncomfortable. Why would a woman fall for him? He wasn't exactly the sort of guy a woman could expect to make it home at the end of each day or campaign.

"That's good to hear, I hope," he said, rubbing his wrists. "Are you here to make sure I'm a bit more presentable?"

His clothes were a stinking mess, speckled with blood and days of sweat and grime from the dungeon. His face, no doubt, wasn't any better.

The room, he finally noted, was a small but comfortable guest quarters. The bed looked nice and a cozy fire was already crackling away. A few other furnishings held water and towels and wine. Based on the clicking of the door closing behind Teena, the room was still a prison of sorts. Just an upgrade.

"Yes," Teena said, looking demure. "And anything else my love desires."

"I'll hold you to that."

Teena deftly stripped him of his clothes, tossing them in a corner after declaring she would just find him new for the morning. She soaked a towel in warm water and gently cleaned his face around the bruises and cuts, grumbling about what the guards had done to him over the last few days.

"That Freeda seems to have it in for me," Baran remarked.

Teena looked away quickly and apologized. When pressed, she said there was something personal between her and Freeda and that might have been partly to blame. Baran considered asking further but let it drop.

Teena thoroughly scrubbed and rinsed the rest of his body as he stood in the middle of the room, taking her time around his crotch. His cock found the strength to respond, yet she continued washing him until he was fully clean, ending with his feet. Already on her knees, she eyed him up and tossed aside the towel. She looked up and he gave her the slightest nod.

She leaned forward and placed a tentative kiss on the underside of his cock, causing him to bounce at her initial touch. Teena smiled and kissed him again, planting a line along his length and ending at the tip. She proceeded to lick him, fondling his balls, and then took most of his length in her mouth. Again, Baran was surprised and impressed with her confidence and skill. Days removed from their last lovemaking, he didn't last long, and she eagerly swallowed everything he had to offer.

Baran took her back in his arms and kissed her urgently. If there was any chance tomorrow could end poorly, he was not going to waste this opportunity. Having a loving, enthusiastic partner would make it a night to remember.

In short order, he had her undressed and on her back on the bed. He kissed his way down her body, savoring every womanly curve and lavishing her breasts with special attention. Once she was breathing hard, he slid further down and parted her legs, eager to taste her directly. The castle's cooks had nothing on this fine young woman and he devoured her to multiple orgasms. She finally begged him off, pushing him onto his back where she impaled herself on his cock and rode both herself and him to another climax.

"Do you know what your Grace intends of me tomorrow?" he asked after they'd held one another quietly for a while.

"No, she told me nothing," Teena said. "But you'll accept her offer? I'm sure whatever it is, she'll let you live. I...I can't stand the thought of her executing you."

Baran didn't like the idea of dying, either. He hoped whatever Ranna asked would be something with he could agree or compromise.

"I guess we'll find out."

Teena must have been thinking the same thing he had - make the most of the night in case it was their last. She was insatiable and he lasted longer than he had any right to, given his condition. When she finally relented, he lapsed into a dreamless unconsciousness.

When he woke, Baran was greeted to the sight of Teena's lovely backside. The early light of dawn was just barely illuminating the room enough for her to stoke the fire and place a water pan beside it to warm for washing.

"You needn't dress on my behalf," Baran said when she reached for her dress. "I mean that."

Teena favored him with a smile but continued dressing. "I need to fetch your breakfast and new clothes. And, no, I won't do that prancing around the castle naked. No matter how much you beg."

"Boo."

She hurried off on her tasks while he sprawled out and considered his options. Would he betray his homeland if that was the price of living? It depended on what she asked, he supposed. There were too many unknowns to make plans.

Now it was just a matter of waiting.

 

[LoriDean12345]

"That Freeda seems to have it in for me," Baran remarked.

Teena looked away quickly and apologized. She could have told Baran more than her vague comment about there being something personal between her and Freeda. But how do you tell you current male lover that the woman responsible for the condition of his face had been her previous lover?

Teena couldn't know whether or not Freeda's mistreatment of Baran was personal or professional. But she had her suspicions that it had been more of the former than the latter. Freeda -- by her own admission -- had once slit a Village Elder's throat after he'd found the Master Spy with her head between the thighs of his soon-to-be-married, panting, and writhing daughter. Freeda hadn't been charged because, one, the man had incited the violence by coming at her with a sword; and two, because -- of course -- Freeda was Princess Ranna's Master Spy and Counselor in all things Intelligence and Espionage.

She had been chastised by Ranna, though, for her less than professional actions after the killing. Rather than get the hell out of the house and village, Freeda had calmed the screaming girl down ... then returned to her position between those delicious thighs to drive the girl to an orgasm that included screams nearly as loud as the ones that had left her throat as she watched her father bleed out on the hut's floor.

She tried to make the beating up to Baran by taking his penis into her mouth and driving him quickly to his own orgasm. She was really good at this, sucking cock. She'd had a lot of practice over her sexual years. She'd learned to satisfy a man this way to reduce the need to fuck and possibly come up pregnant.

With the aid these days of Ranna's Alchemist, Teena didn't worry anymore about being with child without the respectability of wedlock. That freedom had allowed her to fuck Baran five days ago as she'd just been coming into her Moon Cycle as well as today while it was as fertile as the river bottom after the spring floods.

She and Baran fucked their way through the night, with him also driving her to orgasm with his head between her thighs. Teena had never before enjoyed sex as she was with Baran, not with a woman or another man. She knew it was nothing upon which to build a relationship, and yet she couldn't help but call him my love several times during the night. Although it was silly, Teena was already planning their next twenty years together; home, children, careers (with hers hopefully meaning that no cock other than Baran's would ever intrude upon her pussy).



The next morning, a few minutes after she'd left, Teena returned with her arms full of clothes and her face full of concern. She nodded her head back toward the door, trying to signal him. But it was too late as -- just steps behind her -- the Princess entered as well, followed by William. Ranna caught sight of the man laying naked atop the bed and smiled. The servant hurried to the bedside and set the clothes down.

"Forgive us, My Grace," she called back toward the door as she hurried Baran to cover himself. "We weren't expecting--"

"Do not worry yourself," Ranna said. She almost added that she'd already had the pleasure of viewing the man's impressive cock. Instead, she casually turned away from the bed and the naked man and walked slowly about the small bed chamber, taking in its modest décor. "I hope you are comfortable in your new Quarters, Baran. It was Baran, wasn't it?"

Ranna would wait until the man was dressed, knowing that William was protecting her from inside the door, with four additional Bodyguard just outside. The clothes were typical, simple Merchant wear, as Ranna didn't want the man attracting any undue attention.

"Sorry for that," Ranna apologized after she was facing Baran and looking at his face. "Freeda has a way of ... communicating."

She looked to Teena, who quickly lowered her gaze out of respect for her Grace's significantly higher station. Looking back to Baran, Ranna said with a smile, "Let's take a walk, shall we?"



Once out on the grounds of Riverbrook Castle, the Bodyguard split up. Two moved 40 yards out ahead of their Princess and the man walking beside her; the other two followed 40 yards behind. William walked side by side with Teena a few yards behind the other pair.

"Freeda's informants have verified the information you gave me," Ranna began, finally speaking after having gotten this far in silence. "They have also told us a little bit about you yourself, Lord Baran."

She looked to the man and smiled playfully. "Oh, I'm sorry. Premature?"

She wondered whether he had a response to that. She continued, "I don't know whether I can fully trust you, Baran. But as I am not laying on the ground convulsing with foamy bubbles coming from my mouth..."

She stopped and half turned to nod to William. Her Captain -- still walking forward -- removed a coin pouch from his belt and handed it out. Ranna took it, then turned Baran by his elbow to continue along the bank of the North Branch. She loosened the bag's tie and opened it to show the significant amount of silver and copper coins inside.

"I would like you to help me, Baran," Ranna continued. "I would like you to return to your masters ... report to them that you made your best effort but just couldn't get to me. That's not too far from the truth, to be honest."

She stopped them and turned toward the water. After making some idle chit chat about the swans gliding so gracefully across the water, she continued, "Tell them that you have learned that I will be vacationing at the Keep at Black Falls in ten days time. Tell them you have made a contact within my Court, and that she will assist you in getting past my multiple layers of security ... but that her assistance will cost them mightily ... 6,000 Pratian Crowns."

She started them down the bank again, continuing, "I doubt very much that your friend Jardin Lopes has access to that kind of coinage. Which means that you may be able to find who is pulling his strings."

Ranna had a good idea that Baron Cordan of Pratt was behind this latest of assassination attempts. She could have given Baran that information. But it might have led him incorrectly down the most obvious of paths, rather than the less obvious and more correct of routes. Again she stopped them, looking directly into the taller man's eyes. "If you can find the man behind this attempt on my life--"

Ranna used the word man, not person, because it just seemed the most likely truth. And it didn't even occur to her that if it were in fact a woman, that it would be her own sister. Of course, even Baran didn't know that Victoria was trying to kill Ranna. And, to be honest, the attempt on Ranna's life that had involved Baran might not even have been the one initiated by King Elrod's second daughter. For all Ranna and Baran knew, Victoria's conspiracy was a second plot.

She continued, "--and you kill him ... I will ensure that you receive the title, property, and wealth you were promised ... and more. You yourself, Baran, cannot rise in station beyond Lord. But as a Lord, you are de facto Nobility ... and your children--"

Ranna glanced toward Teena, smirked knowingly, before looking back to Baran, "--and your children's children can achieve the Noble titles of Count or Countess ... Baron or Baroness. Married to the right people ... they can become Princes and Princesses as well."