Chapter 1

Gretchen was the oldest daughter of the King and she was more like a boy than any young lad scampering around the palace grounds. She could climb the castle walls, swim the slimy moat, and shoot a crossbow with the skill of a palace guard.

Of course, that was not what King Gustav wanted to hear from his chancellor before he even had his coffee in the morning. The fact that his beloved Valentina had given him only daughters was a matter of grave concern, but he was certain none of his greedy relatives had the nerve to usurp the throne from his appointed heir, Princess Gretchen.

The common folk of the kingdom were elated that Prince Charlie from the neighboring land was vying for Princess Gretchen’s hand even before she inherited the throne. He had every expectation of becoming the joint King of both countries, with a powerful army and wealth beyond the dreams of ordinary small country leaders.

Princess Gretchen was not completely sold on the idea, because she had heard many rumors of Prince Charlie’s fetish for “breaking in” the servant wenches the old fashioned way in the basement of his castle. He was infamous for his habit of dunking them in a barrel of water until they agreed to his terms of submissive behavior. It was said that one particularly obstinate young lady had actually expired by drowning in his chamber of horrors.

Then, there was the time that the much admired Prince Charlie had tied her to the whipping post as a “learning tool” for her anticipated union as his future spouse. She was not frightened, but angry instead and lashed out at his sneering face and balls with her feet and hands. He hadn’t actually whipped her, but showed her how it was done with the pretty young thing from the scullery as a demonstration in humiliation. She was close to spitting out her rage at her own treatment because, after all, she was a Princess in her own right and deserved respectful behavior, even in the castle of Prince Charlie.

The sight of the pretty young girl hanging from the chains and being struck from all sides with much laughter and derision horrified her sensitivities and she fell silent knowing it could easily have been her hanging from the chains in obscene degradation in front of strangers and evil-minded guards.

That experience was sufficient to make Princess Gretchen vow that she would never submit to Prince Charlie’s vile demands. She was adamant that her knees would never voluntarily spread open for his degrading tool of evil. Her only problem now was to find a male suitor with the attributes that appealed to her sense of royal propriety. There were plenty of masculine commoners with that level of appeal, but she knew instinctively that only a royal personage would satisfy her people’s sense pride and respect for the royal family.

She thought long and hard about her options for finding a suitable suitor.

Eventually, she had no choice to dismiss most, if not all, of the princely sons of the court, because they were self-centered, boring, or anchored to some vice or other that would bring her grief beyond description.

In her despair, she sought respite in the arms of the royal physician, Doctor Hemingway, a man of some knowledge of the ways of the world and politics, but far too gentle in bed for her liking. Doctor Hemingway always entered her slowly and constantly asked,

“Does that hurt, my dear?”

It was a source of amusement to her, but she was not particularly looking to be amused with her legs wrapped around a naked man’s trunk. The only thing in his favor was that he did not object when she toyed with his nipples or his hairy flanks. Sometimes, she was able to drive him into more vigorous pounding of her royal twat, when she diddled with his private areas, like some rambunctious swordsman showing a need for total control. In retrospect, she recognized it was a detriment for romantic involvement for her to constantly strive for control over her coupling partners. Even the middle-aged Doctor was turned off by her cavalier attitude and he soon parted ways by accepting an assignment in a far distant medical center. She was upset at first, because he was, at least, a ready and willing bed partner and knew how to keep his mouth shut about her lack of virginal character.

Princess Gretchen came to the conclusion that she would have to look for her husband-to be in the ranks of the foreign dignitaries that visited the court for reasons of political relationships. She had noticed that they seemed to be split evenly between the younger variety and the older men who were either widowed or were confirmed bachelors with little interest in feminine wiles.

It was obvious that the younger breed was her selection ground and she constantly scoured the visitors for likely candidates. Unfortunately, she found none, but took heart in the fact that the ranks of the foreign visitors changed often and she hoped one would be arriving any day.

There was much talk of a new British Envoy arriving before the end of the month. He was reputed to be nineteenth in line for the British Crown and had connections with royal personages in other countries. His name was Sir Alistair of Cornwall and he was reputed to be a former Major of Artillery in the King’s own regiment. He had apparently been involved in an unfortunate duel with a competing beau for the hand of the Lady Elaine of Hampton. He was banned from the royal court for a full year at the command of the king. It seemed a silly thing to be banning a gentleman for a duel of honor, but she knew the British were unamused at such matters inside the court for something as inconsequential as an affair of the heart.

She pinned her hopes to the possibility of the new British Envoy, but was wise enough to not anticipate victory, when she hadn’t even met the man face to face.

It seemed a good time for Princess Gretchen to take a short vacation away from the intrigues of the court and the rumors that seemed to follow her wherever she went. She had overheard two of the palace guards wagering about the number of lovers she had taken to her bed in the past year. She almost gasped, when one of them stated with unusual confidence,

“I bet it was at least a full dozen. She is an attractive wench for a high-born and you can see the sparks in her eyes, when she views the young lads in their tight breeches.”

The next morning, Princess Gretchen rode out with her pair of personal bodyguards, Igor and Oscar, staying away from the main roads to avoid any interference. Before they had even reached the wide river separating the farmlands from the forest, the snow started to fall with infinite grace and soon the ground was covered all in white.

It was early for snow, but Gretchen was not upset. She really liked the snow and it seemed to calm her insides that were all jittery because her lover, Doctor Hemingway, had been absent for almost a full month. After all, she was a young, nubile woman and she had her needs just like the common born wenches that jumped into any convenient haystack at the slightest suggestion. They crossed the river which was still not iced over yet on a ferry big enough for six passengers and horses or a small carriage and a team of four. On the other side, she allowed Igor to drape his heavy fur coat over her shoulders making her look like a bear riding a horse. The snow was falling heavily now and she raised her beautiful face up to the grey skies and licked the snowflakes as they fell from the heavens like little messengers from God to his creations below. She hoped God was not angry with her for her weakness in submitting to her basic instincts with the horny Doctor Hemingway. After all, he was just a temporary solution to her problem of finding a qualified mate for life and she had no emotional attachments to the silly old man with an uninspired cock.