by Tara Rose
They uncuffed her but left the blindfold on, and then one of them sat her up and held a cup to her mouth. “Sip it,” said Colton. “It’s just water.”
She did, and when some spilled she started to apologize, but he cut her off. “No need to be sorry. It’s difficult to drink when you can’t see the cup.”
“Thank you, Sire.”
He kissed her gently. “We told you we wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
The tenderness in his voice sent her heart fluttering. She still had so many questions, but these two had taken her to places she’d never gone before, and the more they did, the more she wanted. She hoped they weren’t done yet.
They positioned her on her hands and knees this time, with pillows underneath to support her torso. Her ass was up in the air and she rested on her elbows. She felt them thread the rope through the rings in the cuffs again, and then they pulled them taut, but her arms remained underneath so she still rested on her elbows, and her legs were no more than shoulder width apart.
Her ass still hurt from earlier, but that didn’t stop them from smacking her across it with what she swore was a bamboo cane. She yelped loudly and tried to squirm away, but there was no place to go. “That really hurts, Sire.” It was worth a shot, but as soon as she heard the soft chuckle, she knew they weren’t going to stop at one hit.
“I’m sure it does,” crooned Jarrett. “But do you really believe you’ve been punished enough for your earlier transgressions?”
Oh, what a loaded question! “I don’t know how to answer that, Sire.”
One of them caressed her sore ass cheeks. “That is a very diplomatic try,” said Colton. “But I think you know the answer, Abigail.”
They struck her three more times with the cane, and now it really hurt. Tears stung her eyes, and she shook her head back and forth.
“Have you been punished enough?” asked Colton. “Tell us.”
She bit her lip. “No, Sire.”
Hands slid between her legs, massaging her soaked pussy and swollen clit, as well as her asshole. “I don’t think you have either,” he said. “But we will give you a break from the cane.”
He sunk his cock into her pussy, and then one of them reached underneath her to play with her nipples. She moaned continuously as another climax began to build. She’d never come this many times in a row. She didn’t even know it was possible to do so. And she’d most definitely never had fantasies like this. Not even close.
The man she assumed was Colton withdrew, and then Jarrett’s dick was inside her pussy, fucking her rough and deep. She cried out in pleasure as either he or Colton flicked her clit, and when she came again, all she could do was whimper as the fucking and contractions went on forever.
When he withdrew, they returned to smacking her ass with the cane, and she tried to blink away the tears as they stained the inside of her blindfold. Finally, they stopped, and then something cool and soothing that smelled like peppermint was rubbed into the wounds they’d made.
“Oh…thank you, Sire.”
“You’re welcome,” said Jarrett. “This will work in mere hours. Our apothecaries made it especially for the princes’ women.”
Abigail decided not to say anything. She was too tired to talk about it right now.
“And we are both so proud of you. You took more than we believed you could.”
“Thank you.”
They uncuffed her and took off the blindfold, then each man took a turn holding her and kissing her. They stroked her hair and back, and Abigail melted into their embraces, sated and sore, but also so happy she could barely contain it. Was this endorphin rush normal? Was it from the play, or simply from being held and fucked like nothing she’d ever experienced?
“And now,” said Jarrett, “we have one more thing you’re going to do for us.”
Oh shit… That’ll teach her to get too comfortable with these two. They led her across the room to a straight-backed chair and tied her arms behind the back with soft rope. Then they tied each ankle to a chair leg and stepped in front of her.
She knew what they were going to do, and her pussy grew wet at the thought of it. How her body could still respond after everything they’d just done to her wasn’t something she understood, but it suddenly didn’t matter. She opened her mouth before they asked her to.
Jarrett went first, but he didn’t fuck her as roughly or as hard as she’d imagined he would. She had no clue how these two could hold off their climaxes so long. Their strength and stamina excited her. He withdrew and Colton took a turn.
They alternated their turns until her mouth was so sore she wasn’t sure she could keep going, but what they were doing was also so damn sexy she could hardly stand it. When they both tried to push their dicks into her mouth at the same time, she swore she was going to come again.
Eventually they returned to taking turns, and this time when Jarrett exploded inside her mouth she concentrated hard to swallow every tasty drop. He kissed the top of head, and then she barely had time to recover before Colton took his final turn. She got a mouthful when he came, but swallowed all of it this time, and then they untied her and Colton carried her back to Jarrett’s bed. How he could do that after coming that hard she had no idea.
Abigail drifted off to sleep, curled up against Colton’s hard, warm body, and with Jarrett snuggled up behind her.
Chapter Eight
Abigail woke to find Colton and Jarrett gone, and Patricia puttering around the room. She sat up, and the girl bowed slightly. “Forgive me, Miss Abigail. I was told to wake you by five at the latest.”
“Five?”
“Yes, Miss. It’s just after five, actually. Prince Jarrett and Prince Colton want you to have dinner with them in the Great Hall.” She pointed toward the nightstand. “They left you a note.”
“Five? As in five in the evening? I’ve slept all day?” That would explain the urgent need to pee and the cotton mouth.
“Yes, Miss. They said to let you rest.”
She shook her head. The last time she’d stayed in bed all day was when she had the flu. “Why am I sleeping so much?”
“It’s part of the spell on you that made you cross over. It will wear off in a few days and you won’t sleep as much.”
“And what have they been doing all day?” Fucking more women from other worlds?
Patricia looked mildly shocked. “Well I’m sure I don’t know, Miss Abigail.” She pushed a large, dark bottle toward Abigail, blushing slightly as she nodded toward it. “And you’d best start drinking one capful of this right away, they said. You may drink one tonight and then one each morning.”
Abigail stared at it, and Patricia leaned closer and lowered her voice, even though they were the only two in the room. “It’s to keep you from becoming with child, Miss.”
“Oh. Right.” She poured a capful and took a sniff. Licorice and something else she couldn’t place. Well, it was better than nothing. It’s not that she was against having children, but this certainly wasn’t the ideal situation to embark on that journey. She drank it, grimacing at the sweet taste.
“You’ll get used to it, Miss.”
There were a lot of things to get used to, but right now Abigail wasn’t sure she’d make it through another twenty-four hours without losing what little composure she had left. She needed answers, and this time she wasn’t going to allow those two men to seduce her brain into a swirling fog that made her forget everything except their touch, their scent, and the look in their eyes…
Stop that!
She climbed out of bed and stretched, then realized she was still stark naked. Patricia didn’t seem to care, as she turned back toward the dresser and rummaged in the drawers. Abigail went into the bathroom and sighed at the sight of her tangled mess of hair in the mirror. She looked like someone who had been rolling around in bed all day.
This isn’t real. It can’t be.
“And you need to shut the fuck up because it is real. You’re here!” She q
uickly glanced toward the closed door, hoping Patricia hadn’t heard her. This was as real as anything, and she no doubt had the marks on her ass to prove it.
After she took care of more immediate needs, she turned sideways in front of the mirror, expecting to see bruising far worse than what she glimpsed. That balm must have worked exactly as Jarrett said it would. Score one for their apothecaries.
After she took a quick shower and emerged, Patricia was waiting with an emerald green dress that laced only up the back. The bodice was a lighter shade, made of brocade, and the trim on the hem of the dress matched it. “That’s stunning.”
“I’m glad you like it, Miss.” She laid the dress on the bed and picked up a corset. “But since you’re going to be seen by more than their highnesses, we have to make sure you have on proper undergarments this time.”
Abigail eyed the corset, which she was certain would render her unable to breathe. “I don’t suppose you have anything as simple as a bra and panties?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what those are, Miss.” She picked up a pair of thick tights with her other hand. “Put these on first, and then turn around, face the bed post, and brace yourself against it. Although you aren’t too thick by any means. I didn’t mean to imply that at all. But we always joke that these corsets must have been designed with ten-year-old girls in mind, not grown women.”
Abigail chuckled at that. It was nice to have something to relate to, finally. “My ex-husband thought I was getting fat.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss, but he sounds daft. You’re not at all. And their highnesses certainly don’t think so.”
“Is that so? What did they say?”
Abigail couldn’t see Patricia’s face, but she swore she felt her blush. “Oh, I shouldn’t have been listening to their conversation but I was waiting around to see if you were awake yet.”
“It’ll be our secret, Patricia. I promise.”
“Well, they were talking about your hair, Miss, and how pretty they think it is. And then Prince Jarrett made a very crude remark about the rest of you looking lovely as well, only he didn’t use that particular word. He used a string of them that mean…oh never mind. In essence, what they implied was that they find your body quite pleasing to them, and said it has the perfect proportions to…to hold on to.”
Abigail couldn’t help but smile. Then she realized again how bizarre this whole situation was, and sighed out loud. The experience of having a strange woman lace up a corset for her was as surreal as the rest of the past twenty-four hours. Maybe Patricia would answer her questions, since it was becoming apparent that Jarrett and Colton weren’t going to do it. “May I ask you something?”
“You may ask me anything, Miss.”
“First of all, please call me Abigail. You don’t have to address me so formally.”
Patricia gave another tug and Abigail grunted. This was more uncomfortable than the impact play had been. “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Miss. Leastways not with their highnesses around. And I’d surely forget and slip up around them if I addressed you only by your name when we were alone.”
The corset was finally laced up, and as Abigail took a deep breath, she suddenly understood what people with constrictive lung diseases must feel like every moment of their lives.
“Now the dress.” Patricia held it up. “Step into it. I’ll lace it up for you.”
At least she didn’t have to wear multiple layers underneath, and she barely felt Patricia lacing it up. After that corset experience, this was a cakewalk.
“Oh…I love that color on you. Come and take a look. Then we must fix your hair.”
Abigail sat at an elaborate dressing table and watched Patricia in the mirror. The girl knew her way around combs and ribbons. “So, I heard Colton refer to himself and Jarrett as princes of Ashdown. Is Ashdown the name of this castle?”
“It’s the name of the kingdom. Enfield is to the west, but we’ve been their enemies for centuries. Wythmail is to the east, and although we are friendly with them, there are problems.”
“Like what?”
Patricia held up several necklaces that Abigail swore contained real gems. Finally, she chose one with pearls and emeralds, then fastened it around Abigail’s neck. “Perfect. And you have pierced ears, which makes it easy because this necklace has matching ones. The conflicts with Enfield go back about three thousand years.”
“Is all of this written somewhere, or are they only stories that have been passed down?”
“Oh, no. It’s written in our Council meeting archives.”
“Ah, yes. I met the head of the Council, Sedgewick, last evening. He’s Colton’s father, right?”
Patricia rolled her eyes. “Yes, Miss. He is.”
Abigail laughed. “I take it you don’t like him any more than I did at first glance.”
“I really shouldn’t say.”
“You can say anything to me, okay? Let’s make a pact. What we say to each other in this room, stays in this room.”
Patricia looked at her like she’d just told the girl she’d won the lottery. “Thank you, Miss. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say I can trust you as much as you can trust me. I need someone to talk to. Someone who will answer my questions.”
“Of course you can trust me.” Patricia pulled a chair over. “You look very pretty, Miss. We still have a bit of time, so let me finish telling you about our history. About three thousand years ago, a woman from Ashdown spurned the advances of a king from Enfield. He forced one of their sorcerers to cast a powerful curse on all the females of this kingdom, from the Queen herself down to the lowliest of maid servants, and all our female children.”
“Can’t anyone remove it?”
Patricia shook her head. “Oh, no. Not a curse like that. Only the one who cast it can remove it, and she’s long dead. The king wanted to wipe out our bloodlines.”
“Talk about taking rejection poorly.”
“The kings from Enfield are very proud, Miss. That’s why the wall was built.”
“The wall?”
“Before you crossed over last evening, Prince Jarrett and Prince Colton were out with our border guards, patrolling the wall. The princes take turns each month.”
“How large is this wall?”
“It stretches from the Great Lake to the north, all the way to the Wastelands in the south, and it’s fourteen feet tall. At the top is razor wire.”
“Wow.”
“So the Enfield king tried to wipe out our bloodlines by casting the curse. Unless a female from Ashdown takes a husband from Enfield when she reaches child-bearing age, she becomes barren from the moment she tries to conceive.”
“That’s crazy.”
“But it works, Miss. On all of us. From the Queen’s own daughters to every peasant in the land.”
She stared at the bottle she’d drunk from. “Then why do you have this?”
“Oh, well, there are times when having a child is not in the best interests of the princes, Miss.”
“You mean like when they’re forcing women from other worlds to have sex with them.”
Patricia didn’t say anything, and Abigail mentally chided herself. The girl would never feel comfortable commenting on something like that.
“What about the men from Ashdown? Could they still choose brides from Enfield?”
Patricia’s eyes widened. “They can, but they would never do that, Miss. Once the curse was cast, they became our sworn enemies.”
“So what happened after the curse was cast, and everyone here realized they wouldn’t be able to have children with their own women?”
“We turned to the people of Wythmail.”
“Wait a minute. How did your Queen have daughters, then?”
Patricia blushed again. “She is from Wythmail, Miss. Our King, Atheron, is descended from Reginald, and so are Prince Jarrett and Prince Colton. Theirs is the last true bloodline left.”
“Okay. So let me make sure I get this. When y
our women couldn’t have children with men from this kingdom, they started having them with women from Wythmail, right?”
“That’s right, Miss. But after centuries of our rulers simply taking women from Wythmail for mates and for breeding, their rulers put a stop to it. Now, all males, from our princes to the peasants, must enter into a contract for a woman from Wythmail. As you can imagine, Wythmail began to grow quite wealthy from this, and our own rulers became worried.”
“A contract? You mean like an arranged marriage?”
“More than that. Coin and jewels change hands, and usually property, as well. Since the rulers of Wythmail know what a bind we’re in, they take full advantage of it. Whatever the woman’s family asks for, they usually receive.”
“So the practice of the contracts is still in place?”
“Yes. But lately there is talk of Enfield and Wythmail joining forces. That’s why the wall is patrolled regularly now.”
“Is there a wall between Wythmail and here?”
“No. We are free to cross into their kingdom and they may journey here.”
“Is there a way to reach Wythmail from Enfield without coming through Ashdown?”
“Not unless someone crosses the water, and we watch that, too.”
“What about to the south? You mentioned the Wastelands. What is that?”
Patricia crossed her arms. “A bad place. The outcasts live there. Criminals, subversives, people who are banished. And it’s not done lightly. It’s not a place for a lady, Miss.”
Abigail bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. They lived in their own little secluded world here. It was almost comical, but until she could return to her own, she needed to remember that her fate rested in their hands. “So naturally your rulers want to keep the people of Enfield and Wythmail from getting together to rise up against you.”
“Yes. Exactly. Oh, their highnesses were right about you. You’re an educated woman.” Patricia stood. “And listen to me carrying on. They’ll be waiting for you by now.”
Abigail had more questions, but obviously those would have to wait yet again. As much as she’d enjoyed this morning, she hoped tonight they could slow down a bit and have an actual conversation. But even as that thought took hold, she found herself thinking of their touch again, and the look in their eyes as they had each made love to her.
