The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“My Lady, please come away from there. It is below your station to snoop.”

Princess Erulia Gadarel, third scion of the noble house Gadarel of the Mithril Spires waved a placating hand at her handmaiden Idril as she leaned in to better inspect the small figurine of a mounted knight captured mid-canter in bronze.

“Do you suppose this is him?” She asked her oldest friend and faithful protector as she marveled at the fine detail worked into the polished metal. “The soon-to-be King, I mean.”

A long suffering sigh rose from behind her. “I have been at your side this entire time, Princess. I know as much as you do.”

Erulia straightened and looked about the antechamber. It wasn’t a large but luxuriously appointed space that she suspected was meant to convey an intimidating sense of wealth and power to those waiting to be announced to the royal court of Bathard. The furnishings of rare lacquered wood inset with leaf of gold and silver had to be the life’s work of master craftsmen while the hangings and upholstery were of the most exotic fabrics and furs.

It would have reeked of typical human ostentation and vanity, offending her delicate elvish aesthetic, if she hadn’t known exactly who this elaborate display represented.

His royal highness, Crown Prince Seberin De La Sol, heir to the throne of Bathard.

The knife-eared Princess had tried to learn all she could of the human male who could soon be her betrothed on the three week ocean journey from the enchanted Spires. Her esteemed father had seen fit to requisition a sleek naval corvette to fly her on Gaia’s blessed winds to the neighboring Kingdom of Bathard but not give her overly much insight into the royal personage with whom she might entertain a courtship.

“It’s like everybody knows who he is and has heard some mention of his accomplishments but there are no details about the Prince himself.” Erulia mused, straightening up and smoothing out her elegant moonsilk gown with a brush of her soft hands. “How can someone be so famous, yet entirely mysterious at the same time?”

“Do not concern yourself with rumors, my Lady.” Idril chided, patting the embroidered cushion beside her in an invitation to sit. “There is little sense in asking questions that patience will soon answer.”

The Elvish Princess groaned inwardly at the truism. It was one of her father’s favorites but accepted the wisdom behind the words nonetheless. Still she couldn’t comprehend how her ever-present companion could maintain her air of aloof calmness right now.

The carriage ride from the busy port to the castle had been an exciting and eye-opening experience.

Erulia had never traveled outside of her Sylvian homeland with its serene ways and slow natural flows in tune with the seasons and ancient verdant forests that had nurtured her people millennia. Then suddenly she was plunged into the frantic, frenetic world of human life. The port had been teeming with people bustling to and fro, shouting and pushing each other as they sought their fortunes under the warm summer sun, generally smelling like sweat and dry fish.

A royal escort had been provided; thirty bold women of amazonian proportions outfitted in form-fitting studded leather armor, mounted upon fleet steeds with bucklers and swords belted at their muscular hips. These warriors had parted the toiling crowds with expert ease to guide the carriage up to the soaring marble and granite edifice that loomed over the expansive capitol like a guardian sentinel looking down on its charges.

The castle was set high on the crest of a hill, encircled by high walls of dark stone with jagged crenelations jutting out over the wide moat and overlooking all possible approaches. The structure itself was bulky and brooding when compared to the twisting minarets and spidery arches of the Mithril Spires Erulia was so familiar with but also spoke of the indefatigable power and indomitable strength that the Kingdom of Bathard had grown synonymous with within the blink of two short decades.

It defied all of Erulia’s wildest imaginations.

“These humans, they are like squirrels rushing about before the winter snows set in.” She enthused, clapping in excitement. “As though they are constantly aware of their brief mortality and are attempting to cram every moment as full of life as possible.”

“Take care with what you speak, Princess.” Idril warned in a low tone. “This fortress is heavily warded with powerful magic, can you not sense it?”

Erulia paused, caution tempering her youthful exuberance. Now that her childhood companion mentioned it, she did feel the background thrumming of foreign magic. It saturated the stonework surrounding them and was rooted in the very foundations of the castle itself.

As a high elf, she was both sensitive and resistant to the arcane ebbs and tides but these human workings of enchantment were alien to the pointy-eared noble. But if a wood elf like Idril could feel them too…

A cunningly concealed door opened in the polished wood paneling, immediately attracting the attention of both of them. A buxom human maid with curly red hair dressed in a frilly black and white uniform that showed off entirely too much skin bowed politely to the room in general. Her full, freckled chest almost spilling out of the low scooped neckline of her lacy servants dress.

“Her Majesty; Annarosa Beauchêne, the Queen Mother and Regant is ready to receive you now, Highness.” She said in a dull formal tone with a sweep of her white-gloved hand towards the hidden passage. “Please follow me to the royal gallery where she is awaiting your presence.”

Erulia blinked in confusion at the odd request, unsure what to say. Idril was quicker to respond as she shot indignantly to her feet.

“The gallery… through there?” Autumn-haired handmaiden asked, aggrieved. “Proper protocol would demand that my Lady is presented to the Crown Prince and the court soon upon arrival—”

“Her Majesty has informed me that the terms of your pending betrothal to his Highness are contingent on two days of interviews with her royal self before being presented to the court on the much-anticipated day of King Seberin De La Sol’s coronation.” The provocatively dressed maid servant stated coolly before adding in a notably warmer voice, “May his glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years!”

Interviews for what?

Erulia had been assured that this match was one of political convenience rather than anything remotely romantic. News of the crushing Bathardian victories against the warmongering orcish hordes from the Burning Wastes to the south had spread to far off lands. The tales of the Prince’s martial prowess on the battlelines reached even further.

An alliance sealed by holy matrimony between the Mithril Spires and the human kingdom would be unquestionably advantageous to both nations, joining the military might of the human kingdom with the ageless wisdom and high magicks of the elvish homeland. So what purpose would the proposed interviews serve?

…And with the infamous Sorceress Queen Annarosa, The Blood Rose of Bathard, no less? Erulia suppressed a nervous fluttering in her stomach.

This was her duty, she would not shame her noble family line by faltering in performing it. Besides, if even a quarter of the rumors about the Prince were true…

“Peace, Idril. We will meet with her Majesty and pay our respects.”

Erulia squinted against the bright sunlight as she was led out of the dingy servants passage into the royal gallery.

The room was long but not wide, lined with tall marble columns that held up a domed glass ceiling. The noonday sun was filtered and refracted through the panes of stained glass in a kaleidoscope of colors, dazzling her crystal blue eyes as the elvish princess took in the carefully crafted splendor.

It was undeniably beautiful. A rich burgundy carpet edged in gold thread ran down the viewing hall with aromatic floral arrangements set upon gleaming silver stands at precisely measured intervals along its length.

Huge, life-sized portraits in golden frames were hung upon the immaculately white walls. Fantastically detailed works of celebrated artists that would have drawn her attention if not for the stately feminine figure seated at a quaint covered table. She was being served tea by one of the identically attired and buxom maids standing at parade attention scattered strategically throughout the room.

“You have arrived at last,” The woman sniffed, shooing the overly-curvy blonde servant away with a lazy flick of her fingers. “I have heard it said that a wizard is never late—self-aggrandising old windbags that they are—but apparently the same platitude does not extend to the high elves of the vaunted Mithril Spires.”

The tall, olive-skinned and devastatingly gorgeous woman could only Queen Annarosa; The Blood Rose of Bathard and a sorceress of no small, if dubious, renown.

She was as sinfully alluring as the ballads of the traveling bards suggested, a forbidden fruit—past ripe for the plucking—oozing sexuality in a clingy nearly see-through black dress that conformed like a second skin to her thick heavy tits, as her full heart-shaped ass pressed against the sheer dark fabric.

Her presence was potently powerful and Erulia could detect a dense aura of magic washing out of the stunningly beautiful ruler as the noble woman tucked a glossy lock of raven hair behind her rounded human ear and slipped at the fine china teacup. All while shooting a disinterested grimace in her direction. The room had fallen silent except for the sound of a fountain tinkling in the expansive gardens outside.

“My humble apologies, your Majesty.” The elven Princess took her cue to speak and curtsied demurely, hearing more than seeing Idril do the same behind her. “We came as soon as we were bidden. No expense or inconvenience was spared to see our expedient arrival to your fair capitol and exalted presence.”

“At least elvish courtesies are still as florid and polite as ever.” The Queen Mother harrumphed, setting her cup down upon a saucer and rising gracefully to her feet. “Come girl, let me measure your worth as we begin the discussions concerning your… suitability as a future wife for my precious Seberin.”

Girl?!

Erulia could practically hear her wood elf companion’s grinding teeth at the bald-faced insult so casually given. But she was no stranger to the eternal game of the spires, the sniping gossip at high society gatherings and political posturing of those who believed themselves in an advantageous position at any given time. She had grown up with it, was weaned on her esteemed fathers brilliant insights and cunning machinations within the high council’s cloistered chambers.

She was a daughter of the house Gadarel after-all and no mere mortal human, for all their sorcerous power and mature allure, would crack her resolve or poise with such ham-fisted attempts at offense.

“Certainly, your Majesty.” Erulia answered calmly with another calculated curtsy, not quite as low this time. “I place my noble self in your royal care.”

There. Not quite a slight but a gentle reminder of their respective positions. She was still a Princess of the Mithril Spires and the Queen was beholden to the laws of hospitality to treat her as such or face the damning ramifications of breaching the time-honored custom.

She didn’t miss the disgruntled side-eye that earned her and hid a pleased smile with a subservient bow of her pretty head that caused her long starlight hair to fall, covering her grinning face.

“Very well, child.” Annarosa conceded with a huff. “Walk with me and we will discuss the finer terms of your potential betrothal to my beloved son.”

“May his glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years!” The many scantily clad maids intoned in vehement voices, echoing throughout the cavernous hall.

The unexpected refrain almost made Erulia jerk in surprise and she caught the slight quirk in the sorceress Queen’s lips as they glided together towards the first of the oil paintings to begin the interview.

It was a portrait of a beautiful dark-haired girl kneeling as she was presented before a crowned man, richly garbed and seated upon a raised golden throne. The girl was clearly the same royal personage standing beside Erulia but lacking the lush curves, mature charms and unshakable air of confidence that the current incarnation possessed. The King, presumably Gustavos De La Sol, looked like a thuggish sort gone to fat from years of easy living as he leered down at the bowing young sorceress from the dais.

“Fitting that we should begin here with my own day of betrothal. I remember it well. King Gustavos wanted to bind the magic of the Beauchêne bloodline to empower his royal line for generations to come.” The Blood Rose of Bathard said in a voice heavily laden with distant memories. “So he killed my father, then held my mother and sisters hostage until I—the youngest and fairest of my family—agreed to marry him and birth his heirs.”

That sounded awful to the Elvish Princess but the statuesque woman standing beside her didn’t seem the slightest bit upset at the remembrance. Simply a little… wistful?

“That must have been an emotional day for you.” She replied neutrally.

“Not at all, child. Power must always be tempered with pragmatism, I understood that from an early age. All I had to do was give that cruel man my virgin womb and in return he gave me the second highest position in the nation, shielding my sisters and I from deadly persecution as witches.” The Queen said, waving airily as though the dreadful exchange was of little import. “You too are young and fair, as I was. Have you experienced your first moon blood yet?”

Idril let out a barely audible grunt from behind them at the bluntness of the uncouth question. But Erulia was already clued into the other woman’s interrogational shock tactics and had schooled her expression to implacable elvish serenity.

“I entered the bloom of womanhood two springtimes past and before you ask, my virtue remains as pure as winter’s first snowfall.”

“Good, I would not see my sweet Seberin promised to some pointy-eared tart who cannot keep her legs closed but, at the same time, whoever he takes as his bride and future Queen must be physically able to produce many healthy progeny to continue the royal lineage immediately.”

Immediately?

Talking about children so soon sounded like putting the carriage before the steed to Erulia, who hadn’t even met the human princeling yet.

Her calm facade must have shown a crack because the Queen Mother was beckoning one of the under-dressed maids over. She was carrying another delicate china tea cup balanced atop an equally fine saucer.

“The well documented fertility and birth rates of elves troubles me in this instance. Your people may have centuries to grow and nurture the smaller families they favor but we humans do not.” Annarosa stated matter-of-factly as she took the steaming cup from the brunette servant and inhaled its steaming contents with a sigh of satisfaction. “Consequently, you will imbibe this herbal tonic at least three times a day until you are either chosen as my darling son’s consort or have been excused from the selection process. You are waifish in build and troublingly thin, this tonic will heighten your body’s readiness to receive his perfect seed, if and when that time comes.”

By the spirits, there was a lot to unpack in those presumptive remarks.

Even by Elvish standards, Erulia knew she was a rare beauty with her shiny platinum hair, exquisite crystalline eyes, fine featured face and petite wind dancers body. She might not have been as tall as the other noblewoman or as… richly endowed as the fat-chested maids flanking the room but she was a lithe, graceful diamond of elvish youth.

…and she was sure as Titania’s tits not going to drink anything this clearly deranged sorceress was offering her.

“I fear I must decline—” She began as politely as possible but trailed off at the stormy expression twisting the gorgeous ruler’s visage.

“Would you shame the Mithril Spires by breaching the binding terms of the betrothal contract?!” The Blood Rose of Bathard shrieked, her mystical aura flaring and exuding a dark, malevolent pressure that buffeted Erulia’s magical senses. “You would throw all my kindness and generosity back in my face? After I allowed you entry into our innermost sanctum, permitted you to bring a starblade assassin into my home and graciously considered you as being somewhat worthy of my perfect boy’s blessing? Faithless fairy trickery!”

Princess Erulia reeled backwards under the explosive tirade blasted at her from point blank range.

Around them the previously ridiculously dressed maid servants were suddenly armed with viciously curved daggers and loaded hand crossbows that they had apparently pulled from nowhere, dropping into practiced martial stances with angry snarls on their pretty human faces.

How could the Queen possibly know that Idril was a trained starblade? That was a closely guarded family secret.

“Stay your temper a moment please, your Majesty!” Her wood elf guardian cried, raising her empty hands in peaceful supplication. “This is a simple miscommunication!”

“Hold!” The sorceress Queen ordered, raising a delicate forefinger sharply into the air. It crackled with sparks of elemental lightning. “Explain yourself and be quick about it.”

“My Lady Gadarel only meant to say she must decline the drink until I, her loyal protector, has sampled it first. Surely your Majesty, a person of lofty station, understands the need for this traditional practice?”

The world seemed to pause for a short eternity as Annarosa chewed this over before finally relaxing into a radiant smile that utterly belied the murderous tension saturating every inch of the royal gallery.

“While I dislike the implication, I cannot deny the wisdom such precautions represent.” She mused, gesturing for the ostensibly armed serving girls to make their weapons vanish as mystifyingly as they first appeared into their outrageously revealing maid uniforms. “You may taste the herbal tonic, starblade. Then apologize once you comprehend the level of your foolish paranoia.”

The teacup was still held steady in the Queen’s hand, not a drop spilled, despite the flurry of furious action of the last few seconds. She offered it to Idril with a contemptuous smirk. The autumn-haired elf accepted it without a visible ounce of reluctance and took a long sip.

Erulia watched in fascination as her life-long friend swallowed, paused and then handed her the steaming cup with a sight nod.

Still feeling shaken from the all-too-recent events, she drank it down in a single long pull. It tasted of fresh spearmint, spring honey and earthy dwarven licorice. A delightful shudder tickled up her spine at the warmth of the aromatic beverage.

“Our apologies—” Idril began dutifully but the raven-haired monarch waved it away dismissively.

“Let us put all that… unpleasantness behind us as though it never occurred and continue with our match-making interview.” She interrupted imperiously, moving down the line of paintings to stare intently up at the next portrait with wide, adoring eyes. “Ah, yes. This one was commissioned after the celebrated birth of my precious baby boy. I knew from the first moment I held him in my loving arms he was destined for greatness the likes of which the world has never seen.”

“May his glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years!”

Erulia was ready for the chorus of worshipful voices this time and maintained a brittle smile as she appraised the piece.

It was another master-work oil painting featuring the royal couple posed upon the dais with the Queen proudly holding a swaddled infant in her arms, standing beside King Gustavos who was slumped bonelessly in the gleaming throne looking pale and flabby with exhaustion written large upon his sagging, jowly face.

“Why haven’t I seen any menfolk within the castle interior?”

The question burst out of the elven princess unbidden, surprising even her as it spilled forth from her rosy lips. It was something she had noticed in passing but not given thought of giving voice to until now.

Fortunately the Queen Mother did not seem overly bothered by the abrupt inquiry.

“No man besides Prince Seberin is tolerated to reside within these hallowed halls. They may come to pay him due homage and dwell a short while in his unrivaled magnificence but ultimately the men of the court stay in the noble quarter outside the castle walls.” The Sorceress replied casually, still staring up at the painting. “Many find his masculine presence… overwhelming if they witness it too long.”

At least that explained the entirely female staff and all-woman amazonian royal guard but the answer only raised more questions…

“You will remain here in the palace for two days as I assess your suitability as a potential bride for my sweet Seberin.“ Annarosa continued and it didn’t sound like a request. “You will receive treatment and accommodations as befits your station but will not wander the palace without an escort. You will make yourself available to me at any time, anywhere, over that period within reason as was agreed upon in the betrothal contract.”

Just what in all the nine hells was detailed in the agreement her father accepted on her behalf? Erulia could almost hear Idril grinding her teeth behind her and silently vowed to herself that she would find and comb over a copy of the infernal contract.

“We have brought gifts, Highness. Along with our personal effects and accouterments…” She began again but the Sorceress had already moved onto the next painting further down the hall.

“My late lord and husband was something of a toad, but he honored his nuptial vows and rewarded my loyalty with our beloved son before succumbing to the wasting sickness.” The mature beauty mused dreamily, ignoring the elven princess and looking up at the framed canvas with a dreamy expression. “I realized instantly that we would never be parted from one another. Every day of his young life, I charted my perfect boy’s path to glory, guided his growth and cultivated his many strengths as a true, loving mother should.”

Erulia stepped cautiously up to her side again and glanced at the painting. It featured the Queen, not looking a day older than she did now, dressed in a sumptuous gown of midnight satin that hugged her full fertile curves and barely contained her thick breasts as she looked adoringly down at a gangly preteen with unruly brown hair and grin full of crooked teeth standing at her side.

That was the Rock of Bathard? The champion of countless tournaments and terror of the battlefield? Hopefully he had grown into something more admirable in the intervening years…

Erulia hardly noticed as one of the ever-attentive maids refilled her teacup before taking a thoughtful sip of the calming brew.

“Surely not every day.” Idril piped up, from behind her. “It is no secret that the Crown Prince has spent months away from home on campaign, engaged with the orcish hordes to the south and combating the pirates fleets of the Opal Isles.”

The autumn-haired elf was cradling a cup and saucer of her own now.

“Would you accuse me of lying, little sprite?” Annarosa spun on her with a haughty sneer on her enchanting face. “I was at my precious Seberin’s side for every blood-soaked skirmish and battle. Shoring up his victories with my magical talents and supporting him in any way I could.”

“There were numberless nights I wept motherly tears over my brilliant son’s wounded body even as he demanded that I heal him so he could return to the fight at dawn. Do not question my devotion to an avatar of pure perfection such as him!”

“May his glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years!”

Betrothal arrangement or no, Erulia was just about done with this gorgeous mad woman and her insane cult of skimpily clad followers. The Mithril Spires could endure, as they always had, without an alliance to a human kingdom which was clearly under the thumb of a power-crazed lunatic and her mollycoddled princeling.

But the infamous Blood Rose of Bathard must have read some hint of the Princess’s flighty intentions in her horrified expression, because the older woman seized her slender wrist in an iron grip and dragged her up the length of the gallery to the final, largest painting of them all.

“Wa-Wait, unhand me!”

“Look, look!” She cried, gesticulating wildly up at the grandiose portrait. “Gaze upon my darling boy and comprehend his flawless magnificence!”

Despite her alarmed instincts Erulia did glance at it and her fine angular jaw dropped open like a trapdoor. The steaming tea cup fell forgotten to the crimson carpet and rolled at her feet.

A life-sized armored conqueror was displayed before the platinum-haired Princess in classic profile. All shining bronzed muscles, impossibly broad shoulders, wavy chocolate hair and lantern-jawed chin holding a bloody great sword over his handsome head. He was standing atop a dusty hilltop with a broken war camp burning in the distance behind him.

“Is he not the most amazing male specimen you have ever looked upon?” The Queen gushed, dark eyes taking on a fanatically gleam and clutching her hands together beneath her heavy bosom. “My pride and joy! My sweet Seberin!”

“May his glorious Majesty rule for a thousand years.” The warrior maids moaned in breathy unison.

Erulia could feel a force pushing at her innate magic resistance but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the lifelike image of the Crown Prince. His intense amber glare had that trick some master artists could employ where the painting seemed to be staring right back at the viewer and he was skewering her to the spot like a frightened rabbit.

“Y-yes… very handsome…” The elven Princess stammered out. “A masterpiece.”

Her lips and throat felt awfully parched and she wetted them with another sip of the herbal tea as a fresh cup was pressed into her trembling hands. It shook in her delicate grasp and Erulia spilled a little down her dainty chin.

“You are very kind to notice that, dear girl.” Queen Annarosa crooned in a pleased voice as she reached out and swiped the dribble of liquid off her face with a long finger. “He is my finest achievement. I think that we may get along after-all.”

Erulia had been talking about the portrait, hadn’t she?

But the subject of the artwork was also very imposing. Manly in that human way that spoke of boundless energy and the unstoppable drive to leave their mark on the world in the brief time they existed. It was very much at odds with the male elves she had grown up with who tended to be contemplative, slow to take action and might be described as pretty rather than whatever this magnetically attractive Prince was.

By the heavens, it was just a painting and where was Idril? Surely her guardian protector should be doing something about these decidedly odd circumstances they had been thrown into like lost lambs…

With a heroic effort of will, Erulia dragged her eyes from the entrancing image and looked around for her friend.

The beautiful wood elf was still a step behind her but with a wide unblinking hazel stare fastened onto the picture and her soft lips sagging dumbly apart in astonishment.

The golden-haired Princess felt a mild pang of jealousy. Idril was here to defend her, not ogle her prospective husband like a damsel at her first solstice ball.

“Come girls, I will show you to your apartments. They are in the royal wing next to my own.” The Queen Mother purred, her mood clearly raised by the visceral reaction both elves had to her obviously pre-arranged display. “You have the afternoon to settle in after your journey and bathe. Take the evening to rest before we continue the interview tomorrow. You will need to be at your best in the morning if you wish to impress me.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

They both answered at the same time and Erulia shot her friend a puzzled frown.

Surely Idril didn’t presume the Queens’s instructions were directed at her?

“By the Sacred Grove, this reads more like a trade agreement than a betrothal contract.” Erulia groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she glared down at the dense leather-bound tome filled with conditions and stipulations open on the reading desk before her. “How could anyone possibly unravel this tangled mess of unreasonable demands and confusing sub-clauses?”

Admitted, it was a very nice reading desk. A silver inlaid construct of ancient walnut varnished to a mirror finish.

The accommodations she and Idril had been led to were sumptuously appointed. Two adjoining rooms of lavish size with large soft beds, warm owlbear fur rugs, rich spider silk draperies and every other conceivable convenience magnanimously arranged for their comfort. There were even tall handcrafted wardrobes filled with luxurious dresses, expensive gowns, daring underclothes and fascinating footwear from the finest artisans the Kingdom of Bathard had to offer.

Which was fortunate because no trace of their luggage or particulars had made an appearance since they arrived at the capitol.

“The Queen makes quite the first impression.” Idril remarked, holding up a stiff pair of transparent heels for closer inspection. “Who would wear slippers made out of glass? These are just a crippling accident waiting to happen.”

“Oh, you noticed her Majesty did you?” Erulia drolled sarcastically, flipping furiously through pages of illuminated text. “I thought you may have been distracted by the portrait of the Crown Prince, since your tongue was basically lolling out of your mouth at the time.”

Speaking of the heir apparent, several more framed likenesses adorned the marble walls of their noble quarters in a multitude of poses and settings.

Prince Seberin astride a thoroughbred stallion galloping down a sandy beach with his long chocolate hair flowing in the wind wearing only tight fitting leather breeches and polished boots, his bare muscular chest glistening wet with ocean spray.

Prince Seberin seated in council with his advisors—all stunningly young and feminine, dressed in scandalously scanty court attire for some reason—as he ponderously rubbed at his stubbled jaw and looked off into the distant future with a weighty expression on his chiseled face.

Handsome Prince Seberin extending a noble hand to help a wounded comrade in arms to their feet amidst a raging battle with fallen foes and broken weapons littering the blood-soaked ground surrounding them. He was portrayed shirtless there too, though it made little sense on the field of war, but detracted not at all from the stirring mood of the captured scene.

“The artistic rendering of the Prince was…” Idril’s bashful blush darkened her tanned skin all the way down to her neck, “Distracting, like you said. No, wait, that isn’t the right word for it.”

“Bedazzling, maybe?” Erulia suggested, looking up from a paragraph detailing strict requirements of the platinum haired Princess’s body measurements be sent in advance of their imminent arrival. Ludicrous. “Idril, this whole castle is practically humming with wards and powerful enchantments. I know you can feel it, I can practically hear it!”

It was there on the very edge of her heightened elvish hearing. The slightest whooshing sound that could easily be mistaken for the distant ocean waves breaking on the shores far below them in the port city.

It was more than a little concerning. Erulia took another sip of the herbal tea as she tried to puzzle out the nature of the magic only to find her cup empty. Fortunately one of the attentive maids had left a full pot on a walnut side table.

“Maybe, I don’t know, my Lady. Despite my martial training, I do not have your natural aptitude in sensing subtle sorceries. Should I send for your circlet of protection?”

The wood elf only used her title when in public or feeling particularly nervous, and hearing it now made Erulia feel ashamed. She took a deep steadying breath and rose to take her friends hands into her own.

“There is no point. Contractually; we are not allowed magical artifacts while within the palace walls. Or any of our own belongings apparently. We are to be provided for.” She said with a sigh and an apologetic bow of her pretty head. “I am sorry for speaking so harshly, Idril. I fear we have been dropped into a hornets nest here with only each other to lean on for support. We must stick together as we always have, forgive me?”

“Of course I do, Erulia.” Idril replied with a tremulous smile then looked about at the many portraits covering each wall of the apartment. “They are certainly trying hard to make him appear as appealing as possible though, aren’t they?”

“Perhaps a little too hard? As though Prince Seberin might be compensating for something?” The Princess whispered and they both giggled like naughty damsels.

“Don’t let the Blood Rose hear you say that, she’s obsessed with her own son and would probably curse your lovely ears to fall off!”

“It should help in the interview. All I have to do is praise the human princeling and she’ll melt like warm candle wax.”

“Shhhh~! Her room is right next door, remember.”

That just made them both giggle all the more, the tension between them draining away as though it had never been there at all. They briefly hugged, their toned, slender bodies pressing together before parting again as the good friends they had always been.

“Well, I am fed up with reading for today and exhausted from the journey here.” Erulia stated firmly, then looked at the large empty bed with a mite of anxiety. This would be her first time sleeping in an unfamiliar place so far away from home. “Would you sleep in my room… with me tonight? Please, Idril.”

“Of course, Erulia.” The autumn haired elf agreed, with a gentle smile. “I don’t think I want to be alone tonight either. Shall we have one last cup of tea to soothe the nerves and help us sleep?”

That sounded like a fine idea. Erulia nodded her agreement then sat on the edge of the lavish bed as her guardian and lifelong companion went to pour them each a steaming cup.

Had the Queen insisted they both drink the tea or just her? The pointy-eared Princess couldn’t rightly recall. It had been a busy day filled with many unexpected twists, shocking reveals and rude confrontations. The finer details hardly seemed important as she yawned and accepted the sweet-smelling cup from Idril.

They were drinking the tea as instructed regardless, that was all that mattered. Nobody could fault them either way.

Erulia was kneeling before a shadowy figure seated upon a grand golden throne.

More accurately, she was pressed up between the wide spread legs of the faceless masculine presence with her knees butting up against the base of the royal seat as her flushed cheeks rubbed against the tight breeches covering his incredibly muscular thighs.

A brutal bulge was testing the tensile strength of the form-fitting fabric only mere inches from her beautiful face and her nostrils flared at the pungent intoxicating scent of warm man flesh.

The Princess’s silently working mouth watered and a searing spike of hot arousal racked her small virginal body as the stark outline of an enormous male member uncurled and thickened towards her. Every pulsing vein and hardening ridge of it visible through the stretched thin fabric.

“Is this what you want?”

The voice was deep and gruff.

Erulia’s faint heart was beating a mile a minute as her moist pink tongue flicked past her pursed lips as though to taste the phallic protrusion on the air like a cock-hungry baby basilisk. Her dainty hands were clasped behind her back to give the mystery hunk an unobstructed view of her young nubile body and budding breasts as she extended her slender neck to meet the elongating lump halfway.

“You know it is, Baby. Tonight and every night, until you are utterly spent within me!”

The jubilant reply came in a husky, breathy tone that sounded nothing like her own. Erulia’s voice was high and clear, like the crisp morning air on an early spring day chasing away winter’s frost. This other voice was rich and sonorous as dark melted chocolate, pouring sweet wicked promise over every hissed syllable.

Her confusion was allayed as a rough hand—calloused by many years gripping a sword hilt—ran through her white-gold hair and formed a meaty fist around the intricate braids banding her long flowing tresses back from her beautiful face.

“Pl-please…” She begged in a hot whisper, sounding more like herself. “Please, I need… I need…”

What did she need exactly?

Erulia wasn’t uneducated in the base mechanics of physical affection but had no practice in the marital act. She was pristine, untouched and wholly unprepared for the fiery tumble of emotions that seemed to accompany the carnal moment.

She was excited—no, she was aroused. Awfully aroused if the wet heat gathering in her unsullied elfhood was any indication. Also a little scared, frightened by the undeniable might of this masculine presence and her anxious desire to please him despite her woeful lack of experience.

By the heavens, she was naked too, Erulia just then realized. Naked and slick with a feverish sweat that coated her pale little body as the strong hand palming her pretty skull dragged it up against the rigid prominence tenting enshadowed figures’ breeches.

“Then take it, take it all!”

Moaning like a two copper doxie, the Princess smeared her moist lips and velvet-soft cheeks against the shrouded shaft. The radiating heat of it baked her blemishless skin through the too-tight clothing and she could almost taste the salty savour of it on her lapping tongue. She kissed her way up and down the side of girthy bulge, only stopping at the knobby end to try and vacuum more of the heady flavor out through the overtaxed fabric.

The tight grip in her lustrous golden tresses guided Erulia. Pulling roughly and pressing her harder against the engorged outline until her cute nose was buried in the thick muscle of his thigh. It made her feel frail and terribly breakable to be manhandled easily by such a powerful figure.

The knife-eared Princess could feel wet lines of her hot honey trailing down her quaking thighs as she shook like a storm-blown leaf in a short, sudden fit of release.

The unexpected rush of sinful sensation made Erulia groan around her not-quite mouthful of rock-hard manhood. She hadn’t even touched herself, cumming from the prurient pleasure of being used so forcefully and somehow knowing that, if she continued to please this masterful male, she would receive even greater erotic rewards in the future.

She had a taste, a sniff, a single sparing sample of licentious delights and she was already hungry for more.

Much, much more…

“Yes, yes! Give it to your Queen. Ruin me with that perfect dick, mark my womb over and over with your molten masculinity!” The rich, husky voice wailed ecstatically.

Queen?

Was Erulia this man’s queen already?

There was the shining throne and the towering figure was seated on it. So, if she was here—naked at his feet and worshiping his huge kingly cock—it only made sense that she must be married to this royal stud. There was no other reasonable explanation for the lust-driven way she slurped and mewled for more of her husband’s noble manhood.

Anything else would be unthinkable. Untenable. She was a princess after all…

Her trembling body began to shake again but not from the building pleasure. Someone was jostling her shoulder.

“Princess Erulia, wake up.” A distant but familiar voice whispered. “Please, you have to wake up and hear this…”

Erulia awoke in a tangle of silk sheets and messy starlight hair.

A single light source illuminated the dark room, an enchanted crystal tulip that glowed with a faint rosy hue beneath a glass dome set on a bedside table. It was enough for her to make out Idril crouched over her with a nervous expression on her arresting face.

What was going on?

There was the usual confusion and displacement from waking in strange surroundings but it was quickly banished as the memory of recent events returned to the sleepy elven Princess.

They were in the Kingdom of Bathard, guests of the mad sorceress Queen and had fallen asleep together, wrapped in each other’s comforting arms like they hadn’t done since they were children.

Except they weren’t children anymore and Erulia was shocked to realize her hands were buried between her sleek thighs as though she had been touching herself in her sleep. A lingering warmth smoldered like dying embers in her core and her fingertips were wet…

“Whaaa—” Erulia’s mouth and throat were dry as desert sands and she had to work some saliva over her leathery tongue before speaking again. “What is the matter, Idril?”

She badly needed a drink to wet her parched lips.

Her friend didn’t look any better than she felt. The wood elf’s copper and mahogany streaked hair was sticking to her tanned skin with perspiration and a distinctly musky aroma filled the air, making it feel close and stifling.

“I think someone is having… sex in the room beside mine.” Her faithful handmaiden gasped, looking hot and bothered and sleepless in one of the modest satin slips they had chosen from the closet to retire in. “I can hear noises coming through a small ventilation grate in the connecting wall.”

The room beside… hadn’t Queen Annarosa mentioned that her royal apartments were next to their own?

Erulia felt about her bedside table until she nearly knocked over a cup resting there. Lifting it to her lips, she lubricated her dusty throat with the lukewarm flavors of spearmint, honey and licorice.

“Show me.” She rasped, once she could comfortably speak again.

Idril slipped out of the bed with natural-born grace and flitted across the large room, passing through the silvery beams of moonlight lancing in through the arching windows like a silent shadow. She paused in the adjoining doorway of their two apartments to press a warning finger to her lips and beckoned for the Princess to follow her.

Erulia crept after her guardian on bare feet, her tip-toed footsteps swallowed by the lush furs and thick rugs covering the cold stone floors.

Soon the two elves were crouched over a small brass grill set low into the marble wall of Idril’s hither-to unlived-in apartment. The quiet grunts, moans and wet clapping sounds might have been nigh inaudible to human hearing but were clearly, lewdly distinct to their blushing pointy ears.

“Say it again, what do you want?” The gruff voice demanded in a muted growl.

“I want you, Baby. Only ever you, to stretch my royal pussy into the shape of your amazing cock and fill me with your potent seed. I need it!”

Did Annarosa have a lover? Someone she enjoyed in private as vehemently as she lauded her beloved son in public?

Erulia’s crystalline blue eyes met Idril’s hazel orbs as the alluring wood elf chewed on her lower lip and squirmed in the silky nightwear they had donned before retiring. Her tanned skin glowed with shameful heat as beads of perspiration dotted her blemishless brow.

This was unseemly. No matter the Queen’s poor etiquette and disturbing behavior the day before, this was a decidedly private moment and it was beneath both of them to intrude upon it like skulking voyeurs.

Even as she had those thoughts, the shining diamond of elvish nobility found she was squeezing her toned thighs together and rocking in place like an over-excited maiden exploring the flower of her elfhood for the first time.

Her elegant fingers coasted up and down her slender sides before gliding over her taut stomach, until they rested just above the juncture of her shapely legs and pressed into the satin shift covering her thrilling loins.

“Then you’re going to get it! I’m going to stuff your slick cunt so full of my hot cum that it’ll leak out for days, then flip you over and dump another sticky load in your fat Queen Mother ass.”

“Yaasss~! I want that… I want it so badly, Baby! Use me, use me, use me—”

“Oh, fuck! Here it comes…”

There was the muffled sound of someone screaming into a pillow and a throaty strangled groan as the carnal drumbeat of fleshy percussion slowed for a salaciously drawn-out moment before resuming with a rustling of sheets, an elated feminine squeal and wet slorping noise.

“You asked for this, now spread those fat cheeks for me. I want to see my big dick split that royal hole wide open.”

“Nnnnurrgh~! Yes… please…”

Erulia felt terribly warm and a mild sense of disassociation swept over her sleep-addled mind. This couldn’t be real. She, a high elven Princess of the Spires, wasn’t hunched like a sweaty gargoyle over a grate. Listening to the gorgeous Regent of Bathard getting rutted like a sow in heat and… touching herself?

But she was, Erulia realized, as she slid a single exploratory finger under the short hem of the insubstantial nightgown and into her dewy virgin cleft.

Her soft lips parted in a silent moan as the first sparks of forbidden pleasure singed her delicate nerves and buzzed along her perfect porcelain flesh. She couldn’t remember ever being so responsive to a single touch and gave her slickening folds a few gentle strokes to test the uncharted waters.

“Hhnnnmph~, how are you so fucking tight? It doesn’t matter how many times we do this, it still feels like I’m stretching out your beautiful Crown butt for the first time.”

“I’ll always be magically tight and beautiful for you, Baby. Forever and always for you and only you. Now pound my royal asshole raw and make me scream your name!”

By the gods, why was that so exciting? The very idea that the haughty, wicked sorceress Queen was reduced to acting like some cheap strumpet and being ass-fucked into a wailing banshee of bliss by some hung human stud was sizzling hot and Erulia’s slippery fingers began to move a little faster.

She could clearly imagine the austere witch naked and pinned face down to the mattress with her glossy midnight hair splayed messily out on the sheets around her flailing head. Her heavy tits would be mashed into the bedding and her thick thighs spread wide to prop her luscious rear up for her undoubtedly handsome consort to ravage.

“My—my Lady…”

He would likely be some noble-born lazaro or knight of fabled renown. Tall and sturdy, muscular and dangerous in an irresistible blend of illicit temptation and roguish charm. Probably with flowing chocolate hair, sun-bronzed skin and piercing amber eyes that stared straight into your soul.

She shuddered as her curling fingers brushed against the membranous barrier just inside of her engorged slit and let out a small groan of frustration.

Her thrice-damned maidenhead…

“Princess, take care!” Idril hissed, grabbing her pumping wrist before she could damage the sacred tissue.

Erulia nearly jerked her hand away in shock. She had completely forgotten where she was and who she was with in the steamy lust-charged heat of the moment. Fluttering her lashes like a damsel awakening from a dream, she looked into her closest friend’s bloodshot hazel eyes and noted the wood elf was fairing no better—if not worse—than she was.

Idril’s cascading autumn locks were stuck to her tanned neck and slim shoulders by a sheen of perspiration. One of the flimsy straps of her modest shift had fallen down her arm, exposing much of one firm perky breast and the hint of a stiff brown nipple. The deadly starblade’s free hand was hidden beneath the bottom hem of her silken sleepwear but had frozen in place as she recognized her Princess’s horny plight.

Had they both been kneeling here, obliviously fingering themselves under the sway of the sexually-laden circumstances they found themselves in?

“Oh, Idril.” Erulia gasped, coming back to herself in a rush of shame that stained her pale cheeks scarlet. “I—I find myself experiencing a bout of distemper…”

“I feel it too, my Lady.” Idril whispered, as they pressed their sweating foreheads together and painted warm breaths onto each other’s parted lips. “There is foul magic at work here but we must resist. Let us retire back to bed and I will tend to your pressing needs.”

The platinum princess nodded her eager accent then surged forward to kiss her lifelong companion with a hungry passion she had never felt before. Their tongues tangoed and sticky hands roamed each other’s lissome figures, pulling at their slinky night clothes and teasing the taut, sensitive flesh beneath.

Neither of them were strangers to the realms of sapphic delights. Highborn elven women were expected to defend their precious virtue from those of the male persuasion and often sought carnal gratification within their noble sisterhood instead.

Idril wasn’t merely her cherished friend, confidant and protector, but Erulia’s sometimes lover as well. This time was different though, more feverish, more driven. Overshadowed and serenaded by the orgasmic cries filtering from the Queen Mother’s residence next door.

“Here it comes! I’m going to fill your fantastic ass to overflowing with all my princely seed!”

“Yes, Baby! Ooooh~ Yes, do it. Fuck me so full that I drip for days!”

The amorously entwined elves spun gracefully across the fur rugs and polished floors like nimble wind dancers, utterly lost in a tangle of ardent lips and groping hands. When they finally spilled together upon the plush mattress and Idril sunk down between her Princess’s nectar-soaked thighs, Erulia arched her toned back and bucked her sodden pussy against the stunning autumn-haired maiden’s talented probing tongue.

Then her rolling crystalline orbs settled on a striking portrait of the Crown Prince Seberin she hadn’t noticed before, set on the ceiling directly above the sprawling bed. He was standing atop a mighty mountain peak with his ruffled shirt opened to the navel and his mane of rich chocolate hair streaming behind him on an invisible breeze.

There was a nation’s wealth of hardened, bronzed physique on display and that intense amber gaze snared her like a fish on a hook. The distant crash of the castle’s wards were like ocean waves upon a rocky shore, tantalizing the edges of her magical perception as Erulia writhed and squeezed her knees together around her pointy-eared lover’s skull.

“Heavens, yes… nyaaa~!”

Thrashing and spasming in the greatest climax of her young life, the writhing elven Princess soaked Idril’s fabulous face in a breathtaking deluge of her gushing juices.