No Rest for the Prince's Virgin

by Morgan King

  He was impressed by how still Katrine lay. She showed no signs of fidgeting, no suspicion of what might be coming next. Delicately he trailed the very tip of the feather down the inside of her right arm. It jerked immediately. Perhaps he should have restrained her arms as well, but he just hadn’t wanted to deny himself the feel of her hands on his back when the moment came to sink himself inside her.

  “That tickled.”

  “It was meant to.” He also hadn’t wanted to gag her mouth. He would miss the sound of her voice too much.

  The next time he touched the feather to her skin it was on the soft swell of her stomach, which flinched, then relaxed. He was gratified to see her body responding in other places as well. Her nipples became ever tighter, the goose bumps across her skin ever more pronounced. After no more than two minutes every touch of the feather was accompanied by a soft moan, and in under five he had her writhing.

  Time to pause. To leave her to cool a little. She had responded so well to this initial, mild torture that Wilhelm dared to progress. He took two hair clips which he had stashed in his shirt pocket. They were small and delicate, carved from wood and painted to resemble butterflies. Holding out his arm, Wilhelm tested the strength of their pinch on his own skin.

  “Wilhelm?”

  Did she worry he had left her? “I am here. Patience is a virtue.”

  “It is not a virtue I wish to work on at this moment in time, thank you.”

  She was so polite, even when the rest of what she said was clearly sarcastic. “But this is not about what you wish. Right now it is all about what I wish.”

  He wished to make her wait, but also to proceed. His own body was clamouring for attention. He struggled to find the patience that normally made him so virtuous.

  Slowly, so as not to startle or shock, he leaned over Katrine and began to tease her breasts. Drawing circles around one nipple before rewarding its salute with his touch. He pulled it, stretched it, gauging her tolerance to pain. She made no objection, and indeed her moans grew louder in response. Taking the first clip, he pinched the nipple, first with his finger, then the hair ornament. Little by little he released the pressure holding the jaws apart, until the clip held fast of its own accord.

  Katrine let out sharp gasp. Wilhelm quickly moved his hand to hover over the clip in place, ready to remove it if an objection was made. But after a few pants of breath Katrine settled, and her words were not an objection.

  “I have never felt anything so intense.”

  “Brace yourself. I am going to do the other.”

  The second clip went into place.

  “Please touch me!”

  “Touch you where?”

  “You know. Please.”

  Begging gave Wilhelm ultimate pleasure. Not because he was in control and could choose to answer as pleased him, but because in that moment he knew she really, really wanted something from him. Something only he could give.

  He lay down beside her, resting his head on her upper thigh, close enough to see the detail of her pussy, the soft, moist slit shielded by curls. He brought his hand to part her pussy lips. She was drenched, and his hand easily sank through her folds. He explored and petted at his leisure. He rubbed around her clit, teased her hood sliding it between finger and thumb. He teased himself by sending a finger down to her entrance, sliding it in a little way then back up and out. The memory of her tight sheath pulsing around his cock made him groan aloud.

  The “Pleases” flowed thick and fast from Katrine. He didn’t think she could wait if he moved on to the next stage of his plan, and he didn’t want to miss the tipping point where her fall into pleasure would be the greatest, so he moved his fingers to rub direct against her clitoris and moved his head closer so that his tongue could enter the fray. He lapped and rubbed until her hips nearly bucked him off and she came with a hoarse cry.

  Wilhelm kept the fingers inside Katrine moving, his other hand reaching to release the clips on her nipples. He threw them to the side, scrambling to reverse his position so that he could kiss her lips, and swallow her new cries, as the blood flowing back into her nipples heightened her pleasure.

  Gritting his teeth to help stave off his own climax he could not resist taking his hand covered with her juices to palm his cock.

  It was only as eruption became imminent that he stopped. He rolled himself away to stand, his shaking limbs holding him. Just. Well, along with the support of a bedpost they did. He had never experienced anything so intense without letting it go to the moment of climax.

  As he held out his free hand and saw the fine tremor there, he wondered if he was really the one in control.

  “Is everything all right?” Katine asked.

  “Yes, I am just getting my breath back so that we might move on to the next course.”

  “The main course?”

  “No, not yet. I hope you have plenty of appetite left.”

  “For you, yes.”

  It was a good job, too, for Wilhelm’s desire for Katrine knew no bounds. He wanted to do everything to her, and while he had her bound before him he was going to engage in as much sensory play as he could manage, before he reached his own limits. On this occasion he feared he would reach his own limits before hers. It was a heady thought. He was so desperate to be inside her that his power of endurance had deserted him.

  He could last a little longer though, Wilhelm told himself as he moved to the table by the side of the bed. From there he removed a lit candle from its holder, gently rotating his hand to help loosen the dark red wax pooling around the wick. Lifting it up he tilted it just enough that a drop of liquid wax fell through the air landing with a sharp sting on the inside of his forearm. He’d learnt from painful experience not to let it fall where hairs grew. From a slightly higher height he let another drop fall. This time the sting was less sharp. Perfect.

  Moving a step closer to the bed he stretched his arm out so the lit candle was raised directly over Katrine’s stomach, the light from the flame casting a soft glow that rippled out around her belly button. Should he start somewhere less sensitive? He took a moment to consider, watching the rise and fall of her soft flesh, her breath even and methodical. Wilhelm loved having the power to decide his next move, with Katrine safe behind her blindfold.

  As a prince he had never before felt omnipotent, as he did at this moment, granted the privilege of being Katrine’s lover and guide. He could afford some mercy. With only a step, being careful not to jerk the candle, he moved down making Katrine’s thigh his new focus. Mentally measuring the height to be sure the distance matched that during his experimentation on himself he let the first drop fall. The crimson wax was a beautiful splash across Katrine’s milk white skin.

  An indrawn breath hissed through her teeth. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Did I hurt you?” Wilhelm trusted Katrine to grasp the nuance of the question.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  Wilhelm caused another bead of wax to fall. “Do you remember what to say if you want me to stop?”

  “Ahhh!” Katrine gasped before answering. Wilhelm held his breath.

  “I remember, but I don’t want to say it.”

  “You don’t have to say a thing, just feel.” Wilhelm looked admiringly as his work so far then took in the rest of his canvas, still empty. “You’re going to be feeling an awful, or depending how you see it, a delightful, lot.” In a slow sweeping curve he swung his arm leaving a trail of red from thigh to lower right rib cage, the small dots cooling and turning hard quickly.

  When the droplets stopped falling Katrine sighed a perfect sigh of pleasure. At least it was pitch-perfect to Wilhelm’s ears.

  The pause opened the way for her to break her silence. “Do you remember when you lost your first set of teeth as a child?” It was a rhetorical question, and she gave Wilhelm no time to answer. “I do. I used to love it, the sensation of self-inflicted pain that you could keep testing. There was always the reassurance that you could never
go too far, for your tooth would simply fall out if you did. I like this—it is the adult version.”

  She was a delight, provoking Wilhelm to laugh openly. “I think your tooth might have come away long before my wax will run out.” He manoeuvred the candle so that a drop of wax fell onto the soft skin of her areola from a great height, smiling to himself at his accuracy.

  Katrine let out a cry. Not so impudent now.

  Any other plans Wilhelm had thought to indulge in were forgotten as he rained wax across her breasts, fast enough to kiss her skin with a sting but the drops too small to fall like hail. He needed her now. No more play. He needed to be skin to skin, feeling the hard patches of wax between them, not just seeing his mark but feeling the branding he had given his princess, as he buried himself inside her to the hilt.

  With a short sharp puff of air, and a pinch to be sure, he extinguished the candle and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. He climbed onto the bed, stalking up Katrine’s body like the powerful predator he was.

  He stretched the length of his body out against hers, letting his weight press them into the mattress, wanting her unable to feel anything but him. He felt no need to ask if she was ready for him. She was splayed wide for both their pleasure, and he was going to take her.

  Adjusting his hips and positioning his now throbbing cock, he slammed in, in one thrust.

  Still so tight. Oh fuck!

  “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  Katrine’s silence scared Wilhelm. She nodded her head, but it wasn’t enough to reassure him. Shifting his weight to one arm he slipped his fingers under the blindfold and eased it from her head. She stared back at him with wide eyes, the bright green the merest rim around her dark dilated pupils.

  “Are you still with me?” he asked.

  She flung her arms over his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his skin and dragging them upwards scoring his flesh. He might have driven speech from her, but if that was her response it was no bad thing. “Hold on as tight as you like,” he said, withdrawing his hips and slamming them forward again. Not only did Katrine’s nails dig in tight, she lifted up as much as she was able—her ties having loosened somewhat—and pressed her mouth to his chest, sucking hard.

  Wilhelm pounded, all measure of control lost, Katrine’s hips pushing back at him, spurring him on. He never took his eyes from hers. He would see her soul and, completely vulnerable himself, show her his.

  At the moment of climax the ecstasy caused his eyes to roll back in his head. For a split second he was lost as his cum shot out in fierce jets, bathing Katrine’s insides. The tug of her walls contracting round his cock pulled him back to her. They came together, eyes locked for those final moments before his arms gave way.

  He would have wallowed in the luxury of using Katrine as a cushion, except given the trust she had placed in him it would hardly be the honourable thing to do. Wilhelm forced his body to move. He tenderly kissed her, intending it to be brief but letting their tongues dance when she opened her mouth and invited him in.

  “Your body must be getting stiff,” he said, making himself pull away.

  Katrine made a mmming noise, neither confirming nor denying, as if at that moment she couldn’t care. Nevertheless Wilhelm undid her braids from where they had been secured to the bed and encouraged her to move onto her side.

  At some point he really ought to explain that she had been destined for him, that he had been blessed so that she might come to him. Except did it really matter how or why they had found each other as long as they both felt they had found true love in their hearts?

  He curled his body around hers, stroking her skin. When he came to a ridge and felt a disc of wax he gently worked the edges and pried it loose. There was no denying there was something of the caveman in him, and he took pleasure in grooming his bride to be. A pile of wax scrapings lay beside them on the bed. The two lovers barely moved before drifting to sleep in each other’s arms.

  Chapter Seven

  When Katrine awoke she was no longer in Wilhelm’s arms. The first night he had come to her he had left before she woke, but this morning Katrine felt the loss more fiercely than ever. She craved the reassurance of his body touching hers, as if his very physical presence confirmed his love for her.

  She did not know what time it was. Her body felt rested, as if she had slept for more hours than usual. The room was light, despite the heavy curtains at the window, the beams of light creeping around the edges powerful enough in their own right. Katrine sat up hastily. There were no signs that a maid had been to her room. The jug beside the water bowl on her dresser was still half empty. No fresh clothes were laid out for her.

  Climbing out of bed, she headed over to the dresser and poured the remaining water into the bowl. She used a clean cloth to give her face and body a quick wash, wincing when she brushed across a bruise or skin that was still tender from the night before. She hurried into her clothes of yesterday and pulled her back into a simple ponytail just to get it out of her way. She would have to brush it later when she had more time.

  She peered her head cautiously around the bedroom door, initially unable to hear if anyone might be in the corridor. It was eerily quiet. She hoped she hadn’t missed breakfast or seeing Wilhelm before he headed off for his duties that day.

  At the foot of the stairs she paused, hearing a strange noise. It almost sounded like someone crying. Katrine followed the sound. Around the corner of a corridor leading off down to the kitchens she found a maid with her head in her hands, sobbing softly. Katrine went up to the girl and put her arm around her shoulders. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “The king … the king … in the night … it’s so terrible.”

  Katrine struggled to make out the girl’s words, muffled as they were by sobs and hiccups. She looked around for something to give the girl to dry her eyes and blow her nose with. There was nothing to hand, so she carefully lifted the girl’s chin and unlaced the bonnet she was wearing. She folded it into a rough square and pressed it to the girl’s eyes. With a wipe to each cheek she tried to clear some of the stains off the girl’s face.

  “Here, blow,” she said, holding a different corner of the cloth to the girl’s nose. The girl gave a loud undignified blow. At least that would help get it all out. “Now, try again. Can you tell me what’s happened?” The girl looked up, the bottom half of her eyes still swollen with tears. “It’s the king,” she said more clearly. “He’s dead.”

  No! How could this be? Katrine took a step back. “He was well yesterday.”

  “His heart. They say in the night his heart stopped working.”

  Katrine wrapped her arms around her own stomach, shocked. So sudden. Had Wilhelm had chance to see his father before he passed?

  “Where is everyone? where is everyone now?”

  “Making preparations, miss. Messengers have been sent across the land. The queen is in the chapel keeping vigil. The prince is working with the team of boat builders to construct the king’s final resting place, and all the other guests, miss, well either they’re in the chapel with the queen or in their rooms.”

  “Can you take me to the chapel?”

  The girl gave her eyes another wipe and nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

  ****

  “Here, my square is finished,” Katrine said as she tied off the thread and handed over the small piece of embroidery.

  The queen took it from her and brought it closer to her eyes. “Thank you for keeping me company. It is easier being with someone who didn’t know Carlton very well. I don’t think I could bear anyone else’s grief as well as my own.” She added the square to a growing pile, each piece of cloth with a different image stitched on to represent the maker’s remembrance of the king. Later they would be sewn together to form a hanging.

  Katrine was just glad that her largely silent presence was of some use. “I wish there was more I could do, but everyone seems to have it under control.”

  “Yes, for Will i
n particular it is easier to be stoic, to get on and organise things.”

  “But you, you would like to talk, to embrace the grief?” Katrine sensed this was the case.

  “Yes. Talking about him keeps him close, and,” the queen paused here as if to find the best words to describe her feelings, “it also begins the process of letting him go. Accepting the reality that things have changed. I find saying something for another to hear makes the words more real.”

  “You are very wise. I can see why the people trust you with their leadership.”

  “Self-awareness and reflection are important qualities for anyone in a position of power. Equally it is important to have good counsel and people you can trust to support you. Wilhelm may well have to take on more duties. I do not feel I will be able to take on the same level of responsibilities as before.”

  “Maybe you will feel differently given time,” Katrine said, the weight of the ring Wilhelm had given her heavy in her pocket. It didn’t seem right to show it off, in the circumstances, and the way it caught the light it could hardly be missed.

  The queen shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. It is long past time Wilhelm found a bride. It just seems so cruel that Carlton won’t live to see Wilhelm happily settled.” Katrine quickly changed the subject. “When will the sending off take place? What sort of ceremony will you have to mark the king’s passing?” She did not want Wilhelm under pressure to marry her quickly. With the increasing need his people would have of him it was vitally important he chose the right lady for wife. And future Queen.

  Would Katrine give the ring back? No. But timing would be everything. He ought to choose when to tell people about them.

  “Word will already have spread to all corners of the land and anyone who wishes to attend the funeral will be given two days to arrive. The body will be laid in the castle chapel during this time for anyone who wishes to pay their respects. Tonight I will pass the hours in the chapel, and tomorrow night there shall be a great procession as Carlton is carried to the sea. A boat is being made as we speak to house him in his final journey.”