[The night of the stag hunt, after the cellar crawl]
Princess Margaret shuffled down the dark hall, exhausted. Wine stained the front of her dress and dark remnants of the shade coated her hands and face still. She'd tried wiping it away, but the only substance was so warm stubborn and refused to leave her skin. At least she had made things worse was able to help her friend and seal away another creature...
She sighed, wanting nothing more than a hot bath and to curl up in bed for the night.
Another corner turned, another long hall, but she was almost at her room. Almost done. Her body felt heavy as she trudged on.
Movement caught the corner of her eye and she turned, peering back down the way she just came. Had she passed someone and not noticed?
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I am lost in your words, even though I require a moment to catch my breath. My mouth is removed for a moment, panting hard, but I dare not leave you unattended. I nuzzle into your crotch, making a mess of my face, already wet from the sweat upon my brow and the saliva down my chin.
But hear, I will not disappoint you, my love. How could I, after praise so sweet? Indeed I open wide and dive back in to obey your desires, pushing my tongue into your hole, my face pressed into you so I may take advantage of as much of my tongue's length as possible, before curling it slightly in search of a pleasure spot. Every ounce of strength still in this body I shall sacrifice to make you reach climax. Silently, I vow not to stop until I make you come. Oh, love, I would tear myself apart not to prove your praise unfounded.
- ⚔️ @crossedblade
Your panting does not go unnoticed, and I pet your hair in encouragement and reassurance that you may take a moment should you need it—I’d like not to break you further, my darling.
But just as I am about to speak this aloud I feel your face return to me, and your tongue enter me; I can’t help the breathy gasp which escapes me, and the whispered “fuck… yes please”. My hips move almost on their own as you explore me, curling your tongue in just the right manner, and I’m practically riding your face at this moment.
Gods… my love, you are so good to me. Even broken and beaten you are enraptured with causing my pleasure, with hearing my praises. Would it please you to hear my moans of “good boy”? Would you throb at the way I whimper “yes Aris, just like that”?
Your speed and veracity of your tongue, such skill which I had not before had the pleasure of learning… oh I am soon grasping at your hair, holding you to me, bouncing on your tongue with reckless abandon. It isn’t long before you feel my walls contract and pulse, taste my cum dripping down your tongue, and my thighs clench around your head.
“Fuck… oh, my love, my darling, thank you…” With shaky legs I ease myself off you, and smile dazedly—a hint of hunger is visible in my eyes, however. “Your turn.” I make quick movement to your lower half, kissing your lips and down your body hurriedly, as though I am a man possessed.
Do you shiver in anticipation? Will you praise me just as I did you? I am no selfish lover, you’ll find… I cannot await your own taste on my tongue.
Princess Margaret walked to the stands around the tourney fields. Though it was early, the fields were already bustling with spectators and competitors alike. Some shared friendly banter and some seemed like they were ready to go for eachothers throats. A few competitors sat alone, anxiously looking about and prepping mindlessly for their events.
Margaret's gaze scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces. Finally, she spotted Aris sitting in the stands and hustled over, being careful not to startle him this time.
"Aris!" She shouted and waved as she approached, a smile wide on her face.
Ah, Sir Thorn, am I correct to assume that you shall take part on the Grand Hunt of the Bloodhaven Ball? Might I whet your hunter's appetite? My vassal has requested me to attend, and I gave him permission, on the condition that he amuse me by taking the role of one of the stags. Now, there is a only a chance of one in three that he shall cross your path, but should it happen, I would be most grateful if you provided him with a valuable lesson. You might find your pockets heavy with gold if, oh, I don't know, poor Aris' legs happen to be broken in a few places during the course of the event. His recent wanderlust displeases me, so you would be granting me a most excellent favor. What say you, sir?
You are quite correct in your assumption, I will be participating in the ball hunt. I have my eyes on a certain stag already, but as you say there's but a 1/3 chance it will be the one I go after, so I don't mind an additional challenge. Certainly not one as intriguing as what you offer.
Wandering legs can be quite bothersome can they not? Especially on one such as your vassal. I'm sure he would look wonderfully helpless immobilized for a few months. Should the opportunity present itself, I shall ensure your wish is granted. I'm assuming you'd like him to walk again some day? If so I shall refrain from crushing them under my boot, as enjoyable as that'd be, and keep the breaks as clean as possible.
Normally I would refuse payment for such a thrilling quest, but I've recently commission a rather extravagant blade. Wouldn't it be wonderful if his blood was to pay for it? I would be most delighted to remind him off it, should we meet again on the battlefield
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