Chapter 39: The Princess’s New Distraction

Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this!

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

I hated waiting.

“How long will this take?” I demanded of Greta for the dozenth time as I walked in the small room the priests of Rithi provided me, my hands clenched behind my back.

“They said it would take hours, Princess,” Greta said, she sat with a dainty poise on the bed, her legs crossed. She looked regal, like a princess should. Not pacing back and forth wanting to claw out my hair.

“Hours...” I almost screeched. “Hours to find out if Rithi will even save their lives.”

“Of course she will,” Greta said. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because...” I hugged myself. “I’m terrified of losing Sven. Of losing them all. I wanted to share you with them so much. To have them love you like I love you, Greta.”

“Princess,” she said with a blush, squirming on the bed.

“I just ... I’m tried of waiting. I’m wrung out.” It took two days to get my family to the temple. Two after Radiant Gertrude and I arrived. The wagon took longer to leave the temple and find us then to take my family back to Az. “I just need to know that they’ll live or that...”

She didn’t say it. If they died, at least she could grieve. At least she could fall apart into melancholy. But so long as they lived, so long as she didn’t know their fate, she was torn between the two states. She couldn’t be happy or sorrowful. She oscillated between hope and despair, trapped in a cycle of tension that stretched and compressed her body over and over again.

She couldn’t take much more of it.

Hours!

“I hope they finish soon,” Greta agreed. “Everyone in the temple knows who we are. They know who Sven and Kora are. What if... ? What if your father finds out where we are? That we fled to Sven.”

Heat exploded in my pussy.

I cried out as a great, writhing wave of passion surged through me. I hadn’t made love in five days. I hadn’t had an orgasm in all that time. My worry for Sven and his women had suppressed my desire, but hearing mention of my father’s name spoken aloud awoke that damned curse inside of me.

I let out a wanton moan of need. My cunt ached to be fucked by my father. I needed his cock in me, satiating these lusts right now. I didn’t have Sven to use as a proxy now. I couldn’t lose myself in his masculine passion, reminding myself that I loved Sven as much as I lusted for him. That I had something better with him.

“Princess?” Greta asked.

“I need it!” I whimpered, my hands shoving to my crotch, pressing my skirt into my pussy. I rubbed at my hot flesh.

“Need what, Princess?”

“Cock! My father’s cock! I need it fucking me! I need his cum spurting into me right now!”

“Princess, that’s just the spell!” Greta bounded to her feet. She darted to me. “You don’t actually want to fuck him.”

“I know that!” I hissed, my pussy drinking in the sensation, my juices soaking through the fabric. “But that doesn’t change anything. I have to fuck him right now!”

“I’ll eat your pussy!” Greta fell to her knees before me, her golden-blonde pigtails dancing about her youthful face.

“That’s not enough!” I cried out. “Five days of no sex. A week without fucking my father. Oh, Pater’s cock, I need him in me right now!”

My head cast about the room as the frustration boiled through me. I wanted to somehow appear in my father’s study, to throw myself naked at him, to revel in the incestuous bliss of his cock filling me to the hilt. I had to do something before the lust drove me mad. Before I charged out of the temple and ran back to Echur on foot.

The wicker feyhound lay in the corner of the room, looking like it almost slept, a dog curled up on the floor. I shuddered. It was a male form. Surely I wouldn’t feel the need to be fucked by my father in it. I could escape my lusts.

I let out my soul.

Greta gasped as I opened new eyes in time to see my body fall to the ground before my kneeling bedmaid. She squeaked and leaped to her feet as I sprawled before her. She whirled around and spotted me rising in my four-legged proxy and...

The lusts still gripped me. Only ... it was different. I didn’t need to fuck. I had to ... do the fucking.

Something hard throbbed beneath me. I felt it thrusting out of a sheath, thick and long and ... Aingeal carved a wooden cock for her feyhound. I remembered seeing her fuck her last one, Cú Mheá, watching her take that thick, polished shaft in her cunt as the animated construct fucked her hard.

And now ... Now I needed to fuck. I growled and charged at Greta. She squeaked and stumbled back, tripping over my prone form. My bedmaid fell onto her rump, her legs draped over my unconscious body. I breathed in, smelling two different hot pussies.

My own and Greta’s.

“Princess!” she squeaked as I buried my muzzle beneath the blue skirt of her dress. “What are you ... Oh, Princess!”

My wide tongue, made from a broad oak leaf, lapped at her tight slit, gathering her tart juices. Unlike any other proxy I inhabited, the feyhound could smell and taste. I let out a rumbling growl of delight, my new cock aching and throbbing so hard as I licked and lapped at her muff, her silky pubic hairs caressing the woven wicker of my muzzle.

It felt so different eating pussy with such a wide tongue. I could swab across so much more of her vulva and for longer. I savored the taste of her, my tail wagging as I worked my leafy tongue up and down her snatch.

Then I probed it into her hot flesh. She bucked and moaned, crying out in such delight as I feasted upon her. She squirmed on the ground, her hips humping from side-to-side as I ate her delicious, juicy snatch.

“Oh, Princess,” she moaned, hauling up her skirt so she could watch me devour her snatch. “Oh, wow, that feels so different. Ooh, yes, yes, lick my pussy.”

I did.

I shoved my long, leafy tongue so deep into her pussy. I reached farther than I ever had before, feeling her silky walls clench and relax about the proxy’s organ. This was so exciting. It made my wooden cock ache and throb, eager to bury into her hot depths and fuck her.

I shuddered, my four-legged form shaking like a hound, the woven wicker creaking. I would fuck her. I would experience the delight Sven received when he buried into a woman’s cunt. I whimpered, swirling my tongue through Greta’s depths.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” she whimpered. “Oh, Princess, that feels so good.”

Her silky thighs tightened about my wicker muzzle. She groaned and thrashed, smearing her wondrous, hot flesh against my muzzle. I lapped so hard, running my tongue over and over her muff, even slipping between her butt-cheeks and tasting her sour asshole, making her squeak in delight.