by Lana Hartley
Those breasts. That heart-shaped ass.
This whole damsel-in-distress scenario is making my cock grow harder by the minute, and by the look on Lucien's face, I'm guessing he's also stiffer than a new pair of leather boots.
"Here, take this," I say, removing my coat and draping it over her shoulders.
"You know Prince Gladrell?" she asks, looking at us both, wondering whether or not she can trust us.
"Yes, and we also know your father. I'm Richard," I say, extending her my hand. "And this is Lucien."
Lucien gives her the hint of a smile and extends his hand as well. She shakes it, but I can still see the skepticism etched onto her face.
"We're Freedom Fighters," I say. "Your father, King Guy Avondale is a friend of ours. And what's happened to him is a shame."
Snow nods her head. "I want my father back in St. Carlta. Moira won't get away with this."
"And that's why we've pledged our loyalty to Prince Gladrell," I say. "As Freedom Fighters, we're here to help bring democracy to St. Carlta and restore King Avondale to power."
The tension in Snow's body seems to dissipate as she takes this all in, and I watch as she wipes a tear from her eye. "Thank you," she says, just above a whisper. She seems relieved. "I never thought I'd be running for my life."
"Neither did all of us," Lucien says.
"All of you?" Snow asks. "Are there more of you?"
As she says this, the rustle of leaves can be heard in the near distance and the soft crackle of boots stepping on dry branches truncates the silence.
Then, Snow sucks in a sharp breath and she turns to see five other men emerge from the forest.
"Yes, all of us," I smile. "We are the Seven Freedom Fighters, and we're here to protect you Princess Snow."
Derek
"If I'm being totally honest, I'd fuck that ass—right here, and right now. I mean, look at it."
"You're kidding, right?" Nicholas says, shaking his head. "Show some respect man. This is the Princess you're talking about."
"Pfft, whatever," I say, because even I know he's just being a pussy. He knows he'd like to fuck that ass as much as I would, but he's too much of a coward to admit it. Nick's always been the good guy of the bunch. He's every mom's wet dream.
He's the guy every mother wants her daughter to marry.
He says things like "yes, ma'am" while tipping his fucking hat.
He'll open a woman's door, pull her seat out for her, and pay her tab, even when he knows he doesn't have a fucking chance with her.
He's fucking chivalry reincarnate.
Don't get me wrong. That's good and all, but if I could give him one piece of advice, it'd be to grow a fucking pair of balls every once in awhile.
Sometimes, women want a guy who can fucking take charge.
"Seriously, look at her," I say, motioning toward Snow. We've been walking through the forest, back to our camp, and the whole fucking time, my eyes have been glued to her ass. Even in the darkness, it's lighting my path like a full moon.
"Is that ass not perfection, or what? Now that's one perfect peach I can sink my mouth into."
I can't help but undress her with my eyes. I can imagine slapping a hand against each cheek and taking her from behind.
Nicholas stops walking for a minute and turns to me. "Are you forgetting why we're here?"
"Spare me, Nick," I say, rolling my eyes. "I get it. We're Freedom Fighters. We're here to save St. Carlta, blah, blah, blah."
"You think this is a joke, Derek?" Nick says, pointing one finger at me in an accusatory way. "This is serious. Pull your head out of the gutter. This is bigger than you, me, or even the whole Avondale family. And this is definitely bigger than the needs of that cock of yours."
I shake my head. "Since when did you get so serious?"
Nick and I start walking again, and he continues to drone on and on about the high and mighty role we're playing here—and I get it, I really do—but c'mon, there's a hot woman in my line of sight, and his words are going in one ear and missing my brain completely. Can't Nick lay off me for a fucking minute?
"Here we are," Richard says, showing Snow the camp. It’s a stopping off point till we reach the fortress and it’s a simple affair. She doesn't seem too impressed at first—it isn't the fucking castle—but given the alternative, she'll take it.
I watch as Richard offers her a drink, and she sits down.
"Thank you," she says, and she looks up at all seven of us, thanking us each with her eyes. "Without you...well, I don't know what would've happened to me by now."
"It's an honor, Snow," Richard says. "As we said before, we're here to help. We all want to see the King's power restored."
"The current political climate isn't good," she continues, pushing a strand of her raven-black hair behind one ear. "Things are going downhill fast. Moira had this all planned. I just wish I could've done something sooner...before she screwed my father over like she did. Maybe if I would've skipped a few Pilates classes or something..."
"You can't blame yourself. She won't get away with this," Lucien says, nodding sympathetically. "We won't let her."
"I appreciate that," Snow says, "but I don't think you guys know how bad things have gotten. It's bad enough that Moira's had my father removed from power, but now the Queen has seized control of all the Royal bases, and what's worse is that she's having all media censored...TV, newspapers...even Internet media sites."
I instinctively touch the cell phone in my pocket when she says this and someone asks, "What about social media?"
"That too," she says, looking down into her cup. "You can't even check Facebook anymore. Access to those sites has been blocked. She's too paranoid to let anyone see what's really going on. But people are scared. They aren't stupid. They can feel their freedoms slowly being ripped away, and it's creating fear. A lot of fear. People are staying in their homes instead of going outside. Businesses are shutting down. I don't know what's going to happen if the Queen stays in power...but it won't be good."
A tear zigzags down her cheek and Lucien hands her a napkin. She thanks him, and dabs it underneath her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara. Then she stands up, and as she does, the napkin falls.
I watch it flutter to the ground, and as soon as Snow notices, she bends down to pick it up, giving Nick and I a clear view of her incredible ass.
Even Nick can't look away this time, and I give him a smile, nudging him with my elbow.
He shakes his head, as if it's an Etch-a-Sketch and he's trying to clear his mind of the image. "Almighty God, wow," he whistles under his breath, half to himself.
"I told you," I say laughing. "Pretty great, right?"
"She's more than great," Nick says. "She's perfect."
I nod in agreement.
Having Princess Snow in our midst should be interesting...
Malcolm
On one hand, I'm surprised our hideout has never been found. Given its close proximity to town, it's a wonder no one has stumbled onto us. Some days, I can even hear the nearby traffic of planes and trucks. But on the other hand, the Lost Wood isn't an easy place to navigate. This forest is thicker than a refrigerated jar of molasses...and that's being generous.
Good luck to anyone who dares to traverse these trails.
As our group approaches the clearing, our fortress comes into view. It's a large bunker, and while it may not look like much from the outside, most people are impressed when they step inside. It's amazing what we've amassed. We have enough provisions to last years holed up in this place.
And looks are deceiving. It's much bigger than it looks from the outside.
William walks out of the bunker holding a clipboard and a pen.
He's always been the serious and organized one of the group, which probably explains why we made him the administrator.
With his deep-set eyes and chiseled jaw, he plays the role perfectly.
"Welcome to our camp, Snow," he says, ushering her inside of the bunker. We all follow th
rough the doors and shut it behind us.
I see he's really turning on the charm for her.
"In case you don't know, our group's mission is to overthrow Queen Moira, bring freedom back to St. Carlta, and bring back democracy and the King."
His voice seems to echo off the concrete bunker walls.
Snow's listening, but she still seems skeptical. There's clearly a part of her that's still in disbelief, and I guess I don't blame her.
"Lofty goals, but given what we're up against, do you really think it's possible?" Snow asks. "Queen Moira has the entire country on lockdown. People suspect something isn't right, but she's making sure to keep them in the dark as much as possible. What they're seeing in the news is no longer a true representation of what's really happening in the country."
"Princess," William says, "not only is this possible, but it's a given. We're called Freedom Fighters for a reason, and we won't stop until the King's power is restored. That much, we promise. We take this promise seriously."
Snow seems to take these words in as she looks around at each of us, and I can see her faith in our mission restored. Her body is less tense, and she seems to visibly relax on some level.
"I trust you...all of you," she says, her eyes ablaze in hope.
I can't help but notice how each man is looking at Snow. Now that I think of it, I don't believe we've ever had a woman in this bunker before...and definitely not a woman as beautiful as the Princess. Despite her torn dress and disheveled hair, I don't think I've ever seen a woman quite as beautiful as her.
Just having her standing here, in front of us, is making each man experience a new kind of hunger. And I can guarantee that every man in here is stiff with want, whether he'd like to admit it or not.
And I'm guessing none of us wants to admit that...except maybe Derek. When it comes to women, his mouth is looser than a wizard's sleeve.
Snow covers her mouth in a yawn, and I look at my watch. It's been a long night. I didn't realize how late it was already.
William notices too. "We have quarters prepared for you in the west wing of this fortress," he says.
"Thank you," she smiles. "I could use a bed about now."
For some reason, hearing the word 'bed' tumble from her lips makes my cock twitch, and I try to suppress the desire that's creeping through me as I picture her slipping her body in between her sheets tonight. Does she sleep naked? I find myself wondering.
I can't be thinking about fucking the Princess.
Not now. There's a job to do.
"But what happens if Queen Moira's soldiers find us?" Snow asks.
"This place is impregnable," William says. "We've made it impossible to breach. Rest assured that not a single soldier is making it through these walls. And should they find us, or have us blocked in, we have enough provisions to last five years without having to so much as open these doors a crack to the outside world."
"Impressive," Snow says. "How did you know to create this hideaway?"
William smiles. "We've been doomsday prepped for this very moment for a while now. We never trusted Moira. We could always tell that she was up to something bad...we just didn't know how bad exactly.
"No one did," Snow mumbles, wishing she had a better explanation.
I see a new expression on her face. Is it regret? Guilt?
"At least we're safe...for now," William says. "This bunker will give us the leverage we need to remove the Queen."
"Thank you again," Snow says, and then turns to the rest of us. "All of you. This means more than you all know. Tomorrow's a new day. I take comfort in that. Until then, I better get some sleep."
We all nod in agreement and William points her in the direction of her sleeping quarters with the wave of his hand. But before she leaves, he says, "We will restore the throne to its glory, Princess. You can count on us."
Once again, her expression changes and this time I can see that all of her sorrow has been replaced by something new.
She's visibly impressed.
Snow
Falling back on the mattress, I sprawl my limbs and take a deep breath. Just a few hours ago I was in the palace, safely hidden inside my bedroom, and now here I am, somewhere in a fortress deep in the Lost Wood.
Not that I can complain; despite the military austerity of this hideaway, I’ve been given chambers that rival those of the palace. Maybe my father kept this place just because of a situation like this, a hidden camp where he could regroup in case something happened to the kingdom? That’s probably why I’ve never heard of it.
Sitting up on the bed, I swing my legs off the mattress and look at the door to my side. It’s open, and it seems to lead into an ample bathroom. On the walnut chest at the end of the bed, someone left me a folded cotton towel, pants, a shirt, and a jacket. Well, it seems that my days of beauty pageants are over—out goes the princess dress, in comes the Rebel outfit.
If the situation wasn’t so dire, it’d be almost funny to think about what happened to me. Princess one day, running for my life the next...Well, at least I have the protection of the Seven Freedom Fighters, probably the most handsome men of the Kingdom. I wonder if being as handsome as they are is a kind of prerequisite to enlist in the Special Forces, or wherever the hell these guys came from.
“I’m so screwed,” I whisper to myself, sighing heavily as I remember the situation the country’s in. And, really, how wise is it for me to put my life in the hands of seven men I barely know? Sure, they’re hot and all that, but you can’t read political intrigue from a man’s chiseled jaw.
I have to admit, though, all this adrenaline kinda makes me excited...Sure, beauty pageants and parties might be nice, but it all gets a bit tiring after a while. But this...this is new and dangerous. Yeah, it’s one mess of a situation, but at least I’m trying to look at the bright side.
Thinking of the way Richard held me in the Lost Wood, I throw myself back on top of the mattress. God, I threw my fists against his chest and it felt as if I was punching a concrete wall...a very sexy concrete wall. I know it might be wrong to think of stuff like this right now, but I can’t help it. After all, my betrothed interrupted my moment of relaxation back at the palace.
“Mm,” I sigh, replaying in my mind the moment all seven men encircled me in the Lost Wood, the long shadows of the decaying tree branches making them look like wild creatures. But, more than wild creatures, they looked like Men—and yeah, the capital M is on purpose.
Broad-shouldered and with a serious expression, they came for me silently. If they hadn’t jumped out the shadows, I’d have ran past them without ever noticing them. But they grabbed me and, Jesus, I was terrified when it happened. Even when Richard told me who they were, I couldn’t dispel that terror completely. I mean, there I was in the middle of the woods, surrounded by seven men I didn't have a chance of overpowering...They could've done anything they wanted to me, and all I’d be able to do would be to protest, which between you and me, I might not even have done at all.
God, I must be crazy to even think like this...but they’re so hot, I simply can’t control myself.
Biting down on my lower lip, I slide one hand down the front of my dress and, without a moment’s hesitation, press it against the wetness growing between my thighs. “Mm,” I sigh, flicking my wrist and moving my hand back and forth.
Imagining the way the seven of them would handle me, I then slide my hand under the hemline of my dress. The moment I feel my fingers brushing against the drenched fabric of my thong, I simply flick it to the side. With two fingertips now pressed against my clit, I start rubbing it while my mind starts spinning at full speed.
Would I even be able to handle the sight of seven naked bodies like these? No, my brain would probably explode the moment the clothes left their bodies. But, ah, even if that happened, wouldn’t it be such a sweet way to have my brain explode?
Now moaning, I slide one finger inside my wet pussy, pushing it past my inner lips. Fingering myself while I keep my thum
b firmly pressed against my clit, I let a parade of sinful images waltz behind my eyelids. I imagine their naked bodies surrounding me, their large hands tearing my dress apart, their big cocks standing up to salute me...
“Oh, God,” I whisper, my voice strained. I already feel my muscles tensing up, my breathing becoming more ragged with each passing second...And my fingers are moving faster now, hard at work.
I finally snap when I slide one more finger in, curling it upward until it meets my G-spot. Once that happens, my tense muscles start to twitch, and my eyes feel as if they’re rolling in their orbits. There’s a wildfire raging inside my head and, God, it feels so good!
Panting, I slide my fingers out of my pussy and, still with my eyes closed, I try to catch my breath. My lungs are working overtime to get the air in, and even my heart seems to be working a double shift right now. I’m an experienced gal but, even though I just used my hand, this was probably one of the most intense orgasms of my life.
It kinda makes you wonder what would happen if the real thing happened, doesn’t it?
Funny thing though, Prince Gladrell was nowhere to be found in my fantasy. I guess that even a prince doesn’t stand a chance when you have seven sexy gods at your disposal, huh?
Tyler
I look at the supplies in front of me—a cast iron skillet, aluminum foil, potassium nitrate, and sugar. Four simple ingredients to cause confusion. Four ingredients to potentially save the Princess' life and our lives, and distract Queen Moira—no, not queen...she'll never be my queen—she's just Moira...and anyways, this should keep her soldiers away. These ingredients will create a smoke bomb that'll sting the eyes and blur the air faster than a topsy-turvy carnival ride.
The foil crackles beneath my fingers as I fashion it into a boat. Then I place the cast iron skillet atop an open flame and combine the other ingredients—potassium nitrate and sugar.
The flame burns blue as the heat intensifies and I stir the white concoction, watch it change from a fine, white, mountain to a sticky, brown, puddle.
It starts to smoke at its edges and I turn the flame down. If I'm not careful, I'll burn this and start a smoke bomb right here in the fortress' dining room.
