Chapter 18: Impending Freedom

Note: Thanks to B0b and WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Princess Ava – Echur, The Kivoneth Princedom, The Strifelands of Zeutch

The stables smelled of horse, that earthy scent that always lingered on them. I stroked Delicate’s neck as I tightened the girths of her saddle. It was the first time I had done it, but I had watched the stable boys do it carefully over the last year. In the back of my mind, I always knew it might come down to me having to flee the castle.

Flee my father.

I pushed thoughts of my father out of my mind. This wasn’t the time to get distracted. Already that hot itch filled my pussy. I squirmed my hips, sucking in a deep breath. I bit my lower lip hard, almost drawing blood. The pain flared.

My lusts retracted.

Damn that spell my father had cast on me. If I ever found the corrupted priestess of Luben who did this to me...

I’d have her spanked. Sven would be more than happy to do it for me.

Once I had Delicate’s saddle cinched as tight as I could make it, I filled the saddlebags with the supplies Greta had filched from the kitchen. The mare gave a whinny, her white tail swishing from side-to-side. She was a gift from my mother right before her passing, given to me when Delicate was just a filly and I was still a virgin. We had both grown up together, her into a magnificent horse with a white coat, almost a brilliant ivory, made more so by the black socks of her forelegs.

“How’s it going, Your Highness?” my maid asked. She peeked over the wooden wall from Prancer’s stall. “I’m ready to go.”

“Almost there,” I said. Greta had actual experiencing saddling a horse. She grew up on a farm before she found work in my father’s castle first as a scullery maid and then as my bedmaid. She enjoyed riding Prancer, a gelding, as much as I loved Delicate.

The stable door creaked open.

I froze as one of the stable boys trooped in. It was so early. I wanted to be out of the castle at dawn. Why was he here at this hour? I heard him moving around, greeting the horses in with mumbling words that I almost couldn’t understand.

He paused. “Ees someone in t’ere wit’ Delicate?”

I took a deep breath. This wouldn’t ruin my escape plans. It couldn’t I had every right to be here.

“Nope, I’m in with Prancer,” Greta said. She slipped out of her stall. “Hey there, cutie,”

“Cutee?” the stable boy said, his mouth sounded like it was stuffed with raw fat. “Wot choo doin’ here, maeed?”

“Just getting the princess’s horse ready. She wants to go for an early ride.”

“Coulda done that for choo,” he said. “Be more ‘n ‘appy do it.”

“Mmm, I bet you would be,” giggled Greta. She had such a whorish quality to her voice, purring like honey. “Big, strapping lad like you would’ve gotten done a lot faster, wouldn’t you.”

“Oy would,” he said, sounding so proud.

I licked my lips. If he found out I was saddling my own horse, there would be questions. Princesses didn’t do something so crass.

“But choo a maeed, choos work up eem dem castle. Choo don’t be doin’ such work down heeere. Wot choo really doin’ down heeere?”

“Maybe ... I just wanted a little romp in the hey with such a cutie.”

My cheeks grew warm at the unmistakable sounds of kissing. Greta was improvising, using herself as a distraction. I heard the sounds of their mouths working together, the rustling of clothing. Greta let out such a wanton, soft sigh as hay rustled.

“Yeesh,” groaned the stable boy. “Yeesh, that’s nice.”

“You like my pussy, huh?” Greta moaned. “Ooh, I bet you do. With such a big cock. Mmm, just pump that big dick away in me.”

The hay rustled more. My pussy grew wetter and wetter as I listened to him fuck her. I squirmed my hips. I needed satisfaction. I pressed myself against the stall wall, fighting the urge to masturbate as the hay rustled louder and louder.

Greta squeaked and groaned her pleasure. I imagined her large tits jiggling in the bodice of her dress, her face wrinkling as the stable boy fucked her so hard. His ass pumped up and down in my imagination, driving his dick into her blonde-furred muff.

“Ooh, yes, just work that dick in me!” gasped Greta. “Such a strapping man! Oh, yes! Gods, you are fucking me.”

“Just sweet honee,” he groaned. “Sweet honee pussee!”

“Yes, yes, I have sweet honey!” gasped my maid.

I needed a cock in me. My father’s cock.

I could go to him. I could reach my father and slip into his bad. He would fuck me so hard. He would drive his cock into the depths of my pussy. I’d moan and gasp beneath him. He’d fill me to the hilt. I squirmed against the side of the stall, the lusts surging through me. It would be so easy. He was waiting for me.

He needed to be in me. He needed to fuck me. Only he could satiate me. I just had to go to him. Why was I fleeing the castle? He wouldn’t be able to slip his cock into me and make me cum if I left. I wouldn’t explode with incestuous rapture ever again.

I whimpered.

“Yesh, yesh, work dat honee pussee on my prick! You love me big prick!”

“So much!” squealed Greta.

I could make those sounds for my father. I could gasp just like that. My pussy could make his dick feel as good as the stable boy’s prick. Juices ran down my thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting so hard against them.