high femme princess with an image to uphold. she's prim, proper, and well-mannered. her stone butch knight, loyal and devoted, is always by her side.
as the princess's personal knight, they have special permission to enter her bedchamber. they rouse her in the morning, where she gives them a little sleepy smirk. "good morrow, sir," she greets as she rolls onto her front, dragging her sleeping gown up as she brings one knee up to her stomach. her knight assumes the position they take daily, leaning down and pressing their face against her snugly-fitted pantalettes, eagerly huffing her loud, bassy morning gas.
at midday, she studies in the royal library. her knight sits obediently on their knees under the table, chin resting on the wooden seat of the chair, the princess's thighs caging their head on both sides, and her long gown draped over them. keeping them comfortably trapped under multiple layers of velvety fabric. they inhale the consistent musk emanating from her crotch and any raunchy, potent farts that bubble from her, all of the odors mixing and marinating in the trapped space.
in the afternoon, the princess goes riding on her horse. after a lunch of pork and bean pie, an almond, fig, and cheese platter, and a glass of wine, her guts are complaining that it has fermented in her long enough. alone in the stables after she returns from her ride, she orders her knight to their knees in the corner of a stall, hiking up her riding gown to press her sweat-soaked ass into their face, letting them muffle and absorb the sheer amount of long, sputtering farts that ease out of her ass in a magnitude that put her horses to shame.
after a luxurious multicourse dinner and stuffing herself beyond carrying capacity, the princess has to attend citizen hearings. her external face was impeccable, perfectly trained into an amiably neutral expression, but her dearest knight could spot the smallest discrepancies. faint crows feet when she winces uncomfortably, lip pulling back just slightly, brows briefly furrowing. they knew what she had eaten, how much, and just how furiously it was disagreeing with her stomach. like their princess, they keep a controlled face as they stand guard, but something swirls in their loins at what they knew would come.
when she stands up and respectfully bows after the last hearing, she heads straight towards her knight and grips their hand, squeezing a little tighter than usual, before whisking them off towards a discreet alcove down a vacant passageway. her knight makes quick work unlacing her corset behind her to ease her bloat before dropping to their knees.
"oh, thank the lords for you, sir," she sighs, airy with relief. "but who else would be so eager to be my cushion but you?"
"most women in the queendom i wager, your majesty," they jest before hiking her skirts up, her undergarments swampy and smelling staunchly of musk from the day's activities, the fabric clinging in between her crack. the princess sighs and leans forward, and her knight takes that at their cue to nudge their face into her princess's ass.
she unleashes the fermentation that had been brewing in her gut since supper, burbling out hot and loud into her knight's face. they shuck off their gloves and bring their calloused hands up to massage and fondle the princess's cheeks enveloping their face, moaning quietly after every deep, shuddering inhale through their nose. the cleavage of her ass warbles with seemingly endless pungent and humid farts, rumbling hotly against their face, making their salivary glands gush and their thighs rub together. the princess groans with relief, letting her guts deflate freely with the confidence her most beloved knight will be there to sniff every last bit of gas that bubbles out of her
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