Chapter 6: Princess’s Taboo Passion

Princess’s Taboo Passion Princess Ava – Echur, Kivoneth Princedom, Strifelands of Zeutch

I lay panting on the bed, the memory of Zanyia’s giant tongue licking across my pussy and then up my entire body still burning through me. I rubbed my small tits, thinking they should be bathed in saliva. My nipples still tingling from my orgasm.

I shook my head, banishing fully the connection with the statue. I could still feel the proxy in the back of my mind, like I could feel all of them. They were waiting there, little knots for me to untie and open up like a box. Then I could slide my mind into them and control them. Few had the gift of Imbuing. Only those of with the blood of the God Krab, descended from several different demigods he’d bred with human women.

Until my father, we could only control a single proxy at a time. But he had an army of them. Statues of stone that crushed all in their path. In the decade since my mother’s death, he’d conquered half of the warring provinces, seeking to reform the Kingdom of Zeutch.

Two hundred years since High King Peter’s death, and no one had emerged to claim the old kingdom’s crown. But now he controlled half the country. The western princedoms would fall to him. He’d be a tyrant.

I couldn’t believe he’d let his own peasants be taken by Shizhuthian slavers. He had done horrible things before, but this on still shocked me. I thought he cared about his people. He may be a terrible man—he killed my betrothed’s family, save for Kora, just to annul our union, and now wanted me for himself; he wanted to marry his own daughter, to violate all the rules of society—but I still thought he cared about being a good ruler.

It was a horrible thing to hate my own father, to plot against him, but the man who carried me on his shoulders when I was a child, who built me little toys he controlled to bring me such joy, was gone. Now instead of giving me delight, he took them from me.

“Princess.” The dulcet tones of my bedmaid, Greta, came from the doorway to my bedchamber. She stood there, trembling. The buxom girl, younger than me, wore a low-cut dress of black frilled with white lace at the bodice and hem. Blonde pigtails fell about the sides of her face. “Your Lord Father wishes to speak with you.”

I shivered still in my nightgown, the blue satin clinging to my small breasts, the fabric so thin. Would today be the morning he finally gave into his lusts and took me fully.

“Send him in,” I said, trembling as I reached for a robe.

He swept in past my bedmaid, thrusting her to the side. She gasped as she fell onto her backside. My father gave not one whit as he marched towards me, back straight. Ice eyes fell on me, sending a shiver through my body. Everything about him, his blond hair, his fair skin, his eyes were pale, like all the blood had leached out of his body. The satin doublet and hose he wore, both blue and gray, did little to add in color to his appearance. Even the red griffin, standing rampant over his heart, looked leached of vibrancy. The symbol of House Kivoneth should be bright and bold.

“Father,” I said.

“I heard you were sick, daughter,” he said, standing before me as I sat on the edge of my bed. “That you didn’t rise for breakfast.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, looking away.

He took my hands, his fingers corpse-cold. “You look flush.” He breathed in. “Your skin so pink.”

I swallowed, the scent of my fresh pussy wreathing the air. “I...”

“Longed for your father?” he said, his cock swelling the front of his hose, the tight clothing clinging to his legs and crotch. He brought my hands to his dick. I shuddered at the feel of my father’s shaft through his clothing. “Aching for me to visit you.”

I looked down. “Of course not, father.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Ava.” He held my hands against his dick.

I took a deep breath. My hands clenched his dick. Maybe I’d get away with a handjob. “I try not to Father. But you’re just so ... handsome.” I looked up at him. “Strong.” I licked my lips. “And bold. I never see you. You’re always in council meetings.”

“Missing me,” he asked, his dick throbbing beneath my touch. “I miss you, too.” He let go of my hands to stroke through my strawberry-blonde curls. “Such a beautiful daughter. You’ve blossomed into a rose in her full bloom.”

“Thank you, Father.” My hands pulled down his hose. His cock came out, short and thin, the tip beading with precum already. I grasped it, feeling the warmth here that his hands lacked. He wasn’t entirely bloodless.

Which was a pity.

His hand moved down to my cheek as I stroked his cock. His cold thumb slid across my flesh. I tried so hard not to cringe. If he believed me devoted, he would confide in me. I needed more information. Why did he need the slaves? What was his secret behind his army?

His thumb ran over my lips. He pushed it into my mouth, groaning. His dick twitched in my stroking mouth. “Such a beautiful mouth,” he groaned. “Your lips ... so lush.”

I sucked on his thumb, my tongue swirling around it. Precum flowed from his dick. I stared up at his pale-blue eyes, his face twisting with pleasure. I stroked his dick faster and faster. Maybe he’d cum fast. It’s been over a week since he’d stolen into my bedchamber.