by Lana Hartley
Nathan
I overstepped with Vincent. I’m not one to normally admit that, but I know that I did. The reason I said such a terrible thing, well, the truth is ugly, but I wonder if it isn’t because I don’t know how to deal with the guileless fact of the matter. Vincent and I share a common goal. We both want Isadora to be happy. And if she truly wants us both, what’s wrong with that?
A reasonable, calm person capable of trusting others easily might have taken a more sane approach. Instead, I attempted to challenge the veins in his neck to burst before he could strangle my neck.
I don’t play well with others. But Isadora’s not a game, she’s my future. Our future. So I’m going to have to start getting along with Vincent.
Queen Illeana rises to greet me, a little much considering that Isadora simply nods and smiles at me. There’s a demure nature to her very breathing. Isadora’s presence is intoxicating.
“Morning, Nathan,” Isadora says in a voice that could bring me to my knees. Just that sweet, pure sound is like warm honey from her mouth and down my throat. I want to taste her now, kiss her, but her mother is on me.
The queen runs her hand right down my ass.
“Yes, good morning, Nathan,” Queen Illeana says, almost purring at me. The woman isn’t trying to hide this at all, and it’s just gross at this point. I am betrothed to her daughter. This is not the kind of behavior the princess should expect from her mother. Isadora is smart, but I can tell by the knitted eyebrows she has now that she’s confused as to why her mother is acting this way. I don’t think Isadora wants to accept the truth. I understand that.
I want to jolt away from the queen’s touch, that’s how off-putting I find it. I could normally just play the game, just breathe and play the part, cast aside how much I don’t want the admittedly gorgeous queen to touch me. Instead, I seat myself across from Isadora.
Queen Illeana sits in the seat next to me, and she closes her hand over mine for a moment, meeting my eyes.
But my skin rejects the feel of anyone but Isadora’s touch, and I can’t just push back my reaction. My mind seems to slow down now. That’s not a problem I’ve experienced before. I look at Isadora’s dewy, gorgeous skin. That sweet, pure smile on her perfect lips. I forget that I’m here to figure out what the queen is up to every moment I look at Isadora. I want to taste the songs behind her eyes, swallow her sighs, and hold her in my arms. She brings out the part of me that I pull back when I’m alone and play music, or sketch in charcoal. I can’t be that bare in front of the rest of the world. I certainly can’t be now with the queen here, clearly up to something. As the foremost authority of people up to no good, yeah I know the queen is after something.
I inhale and pull my hand away, attempting my usual charming smile and look at Isadora. “You look radiant this morning. Did you sleep well, my love?” I want to touch her hand, but after the queen’s little display I’m not going to bother. I don’t want to draw any more attention to how I’m mishandling the situation.
“I did, though I stayed up too late reading that Locke you recommended me. That, and the Machiavelli—”
“My princess, apologies, your grapefruit was brought to the dining hall. I brought it here for you,” a handmaiden interrupts Isadora.
Isadora smiles graciously and touches the woman’s arm, taking the plate with the other hand. “That is so thoughtful of you, Elinor. Queen Mother wanted to have tea with one of my intendeds. I should have informed you but as I was saying to Vincent, I read too much last night and didn’t add the item to my phone calendar yet.”
The handmaid curtsies and smiles, and I can tell that Isadora is always kind and thoughtful. “Machiavelli doesn’t seem like your taste, my Princess,” Elinor says, her eyes darting toward the queen and back. “But I suppose the art of ruling requires all preparation.” She attempts to dial back what she implied, and I feel for poor Elinor.
The scorn on the queen’s face is enough to singe the hair off a bald cat, but I generally handle things like this very well when I’m not thinking about how I want each of Isadora’s slender fingers in my mouth instead of the tea I’m about to drink.
“Yes, the breadth of one’s reading can help them through near any situation.” I speak before the queen does and says something crushing to Isadora’s handmaiden. Doubtlessly, she doesn’t enjoy the familiarity and friendliness that Isadora offers the girl, but that’s because the queen treats people like pawns. I’m not so different…or at least, I wasn’t. So I understand this. Isadora makes me want to be better. “Next up, The Art of War?” I turn to Isadora.
“Oh, I’ve read that countless times. It has such clean advice, I think it helps us be direct in all matters.” Isadora smiles warmly at me, her eyes acknowledging that I kept the queen from saying something vile to Elinor.
“G’day, I’ll finish your linens,” Elinor says, scurrying off.”
The queen clinks her sugar spoon down and lifts her cup, but speaks before taking a sip. “To think you’re marrying someone so innocent as Isadora, when you and I both know an ideal match for you would be versed and suited to Machiavelli.” She starts to take a dainty little sip of her tea.
I fight the urge to pull that cup from her hands in a dramatic gesture; I’m so frustrated at her bitchy iciness toward Isadora. “Let’s not pretend you know what I need beyond a political alliance, as far as matches go,” I say to the queen through gritted teeth. “Isadora is intelligent, passionate, and a woman I’m lucky to marry.”
Isadora’s face flushes a little, and I’m not sure how much is from my compliment and how much is from my frustration. I notice her adjusting in her seat, and I want to know what she’s thinking.
The queen raises a single hand in the smallest attempt at showing me she’s retreating from that villainous vein in her tea conversation today. “I don’t dare make an enemy of you, Nathan. I know how dangerous you are.” She takes a sip of her tea again. “Vincent is aware, as well.”
Isadora
“Thank you, Elinor.” I can barely get the words out, and not just because of the tight corseting of the wedding gown. I’m so excited to be walking down the aisle today that I can barely breathe. My stomach is fluttering, and I’m anxious and forgetful. I had no idea just how excited I would be for the wedding ceremony.
“Of course!” Elinor’s eyes are glassy. “You look so beautiful, Isadora. You’re going to be the most kind, most worthy queen any nation has seen.”
I take Elinor’s hands in mine, standing into my heels and attempting to straighten out in this massive gown again. “I will always consider you a dear friend, Elinor, and your words mean so much to me. That’s why I want you as my maid of honor. I didn’t need all those other ceremonies and traditions, but today, I want you there with me.”
Elinor is shocked. I point to the wardrobe, and Elinor’s eyes follow where I’m pointing and back at me before she opens the door.
“Now, let me help you into that, and we’ll finish getting ready.” I picked out a gown that perfectly complemented her skin tone and eyes, something that would make her look elegant and right at home at the wedding. My mother was not thrilled with this idea, but I didn’t care. Servants are not my idea of objects, and I’ve always loved Elinor. She’s been a source of warmth when my mother could offer nothing similar, and my wedding day is supposed to be about me, so why not have Elinor be a part of it?
We both finish getting ready, and I squeeze her hand as we exit my room and head to the palace gardens.
The ceremony is surprisingly short for being one element of tradition our nations are all so invested in. I walk down the aisle to both men waiting for me, and Elinor stands beside Marius, Nathan’s friend who was actually talking to Vincent moments before I began my procession. Have I entered the magical place and time where Nathan and Vincent could actually dare to get along rather than stay at each other’s throats?
The wedding is beautiful. It’s more than just the sight of my two men vowing to spend thei
r lives with me. It’s more than the I love you’s we share. I can see it on the tear-streaked faces of near everyone watching.
Marius and Elinor both look like they’re going to cry, as I struggle to fight back my happy tears. The wide smile spread across my face might actually hurt in the morning, that’s how happy I am.
“Forever,” I lean forward and whisper toward them both. “Forever is a gift to have with you two. Thank you for your alliance, for your love, for your lives.”
I kiss them each on the lips, quickly, because that’s the custom, but then I look at them each again and…okay, so there are some perks to being a princess. Making out with your two hot, new husbands has to be one of them.
I look at Vincent, then to Nathan. They both know what I’m thinking. I circle my arms around Vincent’s neck and Nathan brings his arms around me. Nathan kisses my neck while I kiss Vincent’s lips, and I think I actually hear some of the wedding guests gasp.
I mean, I’m a virgin…but even I have an idea about what marrying two men means.
With the ceremony completed, we are supposed to have a fancy dinner now. Eat more courses than there are hours in the day. My husband’s escort me to our front table, and they sit at either side of me.
My fingers tap over the table so much I know I must look bored. I can’t help it. Sandwiched between my two gorgeous husbands and knowing that the bedding ceremony is next on the agenda…well, how is a girl supposed to focus on anything else? I eat some, but I realize that the wine is much more delicious and suited to my mood right now.
Nathan is looking at me with a look that is so much more than that charming grin he’s always wearing. His eyes are adoring me, and that moody cloud that seems to be ever-present seems to have lifted, the facade faded away to reveal the man behind the mask of who he is to others. For me, Nathan is himself. He’s kind, artistic, and soulful.
Vincent’s holding my hand that’s not fidgeting, almost my firm rock and protector. His eyes are drinking me in, and they’re full of love as well. His happy energy is infectious, making me want to laugh for no reason at all.
“You two are getting along awfully well,” I say, raising an eyebrow and looking at both of them.
“What’s the point in fighting when we both want you?” Nathan says. His words are like molten heat in my veins.
“Yeah. For now there’s no point. There’s a bedding ceremony to look forward to.” Vincent leans in.
“Most bedding ceremonies are boring,” a prime minister from another country says, eavesdropping from down the table. He’s made no attempts to hide the fact that he thinks my marriage to two men is strange. Old pervert, he wants to know what deeds we’re planning to do for the viewing of elite political guests such as himself.
Nathan and Vincent look at each other and laugh.
Vincent speaks first. “Not a chance there, we don’t do boring.”
Raising his glass, Nathan nods. “Yeah, we haven’t waited this long to have our bride to do anything less than put on a show.”
I bring my glass up to clink it with Nathan’s.
Vincent kisses me on the cheek quickly before I drink.
I’m so happy right now my heart could burst.
My mother stands and raises her own glass, centering herself between all the garden tables. “It is time for the bedding ceremony!” she announces.
I can barely breathe, I’m so excited.
“You two better work together and give these people a show as promised,” I say with a laugh, taking each of their hands.
Elinor blushes furiously, and I see Marius trace a finger over her forearm. He’s asking her if they want to sit together in the bedding. Romance in this kingdom is truly getting a makeover, and I think it’s pretty good improvement, don’t you?
Isadora
The room is spacious with enough space for our audience to watch. The bed is on a platform so it hangs in the middle of the room.
“We want to tie you up, is that okay?” Vincent asks. Why? But the thought excites me. The blood in my pussy heats up, and I feel agitated in the best way.
“Yes,” I permit them. I feel the audience grow excited and addicted to what is about to take place here.
I’m naked, my limbs spread so I’m tied to the bedposts. My legs are especially eagle spread, and there’s not a single person in here who can’t see my unmentionables. They can look right at my pussy if they want to. Or my breasts, or my pointy nipples because it’s a bit chilly in here.
I’m completely helpless, and everyone can watch now to see whatever it is Nathan and Vincent plan to do to me.
It appears to be part Bedding Ceremony and part Sacrifice. I look up at Nathan, who is standing on the right side of the bed, gently running his fingers up and down my arm from elbow to the palm of my hand. His fingers go over the knot of rope keeping my wrist bound to the post. We gaze at each other—I wonder what he’s about to do to me, and he’s keeping it a nice secret. There’s something about him touching me and getting to know the touch of his warm, thick fingers all over again as I lie here helpless, that really turns me on.
His hands can roam anywhere they want. My body is a land of flesh for him to explore, intrude; it’s also the same for Vincent.
They study me, they touch me, they smell my sex, and so does everyone in the audience. I struggle, lifting my head to look out at all of them as Nathan continues to haunt me with his fingertips, dragging them over and over again, from my wrist to my neck and back down as he trails them over my tits.
“Oh…”
I shut my eyes as he does this again. They want to see who is going to give me the biggest orgasm. It’s kind of perverted that all these people are about to watch this. I’m comforted by Nathan’s touch. But then Vincent gets on the bed and tries to steal the show.
His hand traces up my leg to my inner thigh, and my leg moves only to pull on the thick rope that has my ankle bound. I can’t move, and I can’t close my legs. I don’t want to, but for some reason this is my body’s reaction.
Shyness takes over. All these eyes on my pussy. Vincent touches it, and my head lifts from the pillow as my wrists pull on the rope.
The audience gasps and enjoys the little but sudden reaction I give Vincent. Nathan watches me, placing his hand on my face and running it along my cheek to my mouth.
I open my mouth and taste his finger.
Another gasp from a few people in the audience.
Nathan tastes nice. He showered before this ceremony, of course. They both did. But for now, I focus on how Nathan tastes. His own skin has that manly salty taste to it, but I can also taste the Lime Ocean Beach brand of soap he uses. I picture him in the shower, suds running down his torso to his cock, and this makes me suck his finger more. I want to suck the taste right off him.
Then Vincent surprises me by slipping two fingers into me, and I accidentally bite Nathan’s finger.
“Hey? Bad girl,” he scolds me.
He holds my gaze and frowns. He’s going to punish me, as soon as Vincent is done finger banging me, which he’s getting pretty aggressive at. He removes his hand from between my legs altogether, and the audience gazes at my pussy.
“I have her open a little,” he tells Nathan. “Would you like to try to open her more?’
I struggle though I don’t know why. I’m getting a great deal of pleasure from all of this, but I can’t get used to everyone being able to see me, to see my pussy. There’s nothing I can do about it. One woman bites her fingernails. I think she wants to be me. Who wouldn’t? Nathan and Vincent are both impeccable, glorious men.
“Yes, I think she deserves it after biting me.”
Someone I the audience says, “Oh boy,” or something to that nature. The bed swings a little as Nathan gets on top of me. His fingers roam freely as I lie there under him, about to get punished. He grabs my face in a startling grip and probes me with a long hard stare. The audience now gets a view of Nathan’s backside, which is a glorious array of muscles a
nd tanned flesh.
“You’ve been a bad little girl, but we’re going to fix it so that tomorrow you are too tired to misbehave or behave or anything.”
The scolding is hot. It sets me on fire down there, and I’m ready for him to touch me. But he feasts his eyes on my breasts. They jiggle a bit in my struggle, and then I just stop moving altogether, giving into this moment, this night. My nipples are like used pencil erasers. He nears my right breast with his stubbly mouth and strong teeth.
“Oh no…” I lift my head as his mouth hungrily closes around my nipple, and he bites. Hard.
He places his hand over my mouth and starts to undo his jeans. They slowly slide down around his cute bubble butt. I can’t understand how anyone in the audience can’t be turned on by this point. I stare at his huge, happy cock. I also glance down at my nipple to make sure it’s not bleeding, because he bit it THAT hard.
He watches me as he enters me; it’s a quick intrusion, and he pushes his girth all the way inside of me without even using his hands. It radiates pain throughout my body, and my legs try to move with no avail.
“OH...”
Vincent is standing at the end of the bed with his fingers around my foot, watching as Nathan delivers his thrusts which, I get by now, are meant to as punishment. Who knows what they’re planning to do to me. Maybe Nathan is going to do things while Vincent watches, along with everyone else in the audience.
Vincent gazes at me as Nathan continues to fuck me.
“We’ve got you,” he boasts for everyone to hear. “How do you like that?”
“I…oh…” Nathan’s fingers are thicker than Vincent’s, if only by a slight margin. I shut my eyes as he slips two fingers in while he plays with his cock.
“Hmm? Can you not answer the question?” Nathan is speaking to me in this authoritative tone.
“I…I…” I look over as Vincent gets on the bed, now they’re both on top of me, their hands exploring me. Four hands. Twenty fingers.
