Chapter Thirteen
"Do you have a moment, Miss?"
A complete change had come over Kenrick.
"There are a few things I need to ask you."
"You seem to be a dumb person, Mister," the woman replied, still peering at him through the cow's udders.
Her eyes were spitting fire.
"First of all, I'm a married woman, so please address me as 'missus'..."
The prince just stood there and smiled.
"And second, I already told you I'm busy. I have not a moment to spare. You could be the king's son himself for all I care, but not now. If you come back after eleven, I might have some time for you."
With that her sexy face disappeared behind the cow's lush, full, pink udders. That looked like a promising portend for Kenrick, chuckling to himself at her inadvertent reference to 'the king's son'.
"Okay, Missus," he agreed, not turning back.
"I guess I'll drop by after eleven."
She didn't answer. And he did not go away. This was not the usual Kenrick, waiting around for a bird. But then, she was not the usual woman either.
He hung around on the property, nibbling blades of grass and throwing pebbles on the water surface in a small lake nearby. The cool countryside, pretty as it was, bored Kenrick. And the morning felt heavy, refusing to budge an inch.
There was a tingling in his loins. He had a vague anticipation of something adventurous happening. But how was he to kill the next three hours doing nothing but waiting for this milking damsel?
He had no clue.
*****
Sometime after eleven, he heard some rumbling at the back of the house. Maybe she was coming out; he stiffened, set his hair, tucked his shirttails inside his trousers, and was ready.
Then he realized: He never, ever did things like these for anyone. What, had he already installed this woman on a pedestal? Or was it the sexual famine he had been experiencing for the last two days – ever since he set out on this wretched study tour? Oh hell, it was not so wretched after all, he told himself; there was plenty of potential here.
It was her. She emerged with a wicker basket holding dry cow dung cakes in it, and she was a sight to behold. Her clothes were stained, there was cow dung on her face, in her hair, on her hands and legs. But none of that took anything away from her curves or from her fair skin or from the oozing oomph in her personality. She was dirty, she was dazzling.
The fire in her eyes had not subsided. She looked at him with those red-hot pupils – they were blue and transparent, but he imagined a reddish tinge in them. She went inside, calm as a cucumber, with her wicker basket resting on that slender waist.
"Hello," called Kenrick. She gave him the royal ignore.
A minute later she came out, now with another sack in her hand. It was clear that she had plenty of chores to do.
"May I now ask you a few questions?"
He was politeness personified.
"You can see that I'm up to my neck with work, boy. But I gave you my word. So make it quick. I'll place this in the granary first."
With every word she spoke, and every move she made, Kenrick was going crazy. He knew that under that garb of dirt, under that mess, was a treasure to be had. A treasure like he had never seen before. And he had to have it, right now.
She went inside another door, which was perhaps the granary. Kenrick had no idea. In fact, he was not in his senses anymore. The woman had mesmerized him, and he had to take her right there, right then.
He rushed after her into the door. It was, indeed, the granary. She was standing with her back to him, emptying the sack onto a heap of wheat.
Kenrick stopped for a moment, watching her figure silhouetted by the light from a far window. Then he jumped on her from behind and embraced her tight, his strong hands squashing her ample breasts, while his huge tool was straining to find a slot between her shapely buttocks, through her coarse fabric.
She was caught unaware. The sack fell from her hands on the wheat heap. Kenrick expected her to scream, so he cupped her mouth with his free hand, forcing his fingers across her luscious lips.
She did not scream. She did not try to wriggle out of his grip. She did not move. She was just having a hard time breathing, that was about the only thing she conveyed.
She grabbed his hand and tore it away from her mouth. Quietly, without a fuss, without speaking a word. Then she held his other hand from her bosom and pushed it away. She turned around and confronted him.
"Mister," she told him, her voice even.
"I knew that this was the question you wanted to ask me."
Kenrick was stunned. He had seen countless girls, and taken countless girls. But this was the first time ever it had turned into an anticlimax. This simple rural girl, with her courage hardened by everyday drudgery, had beaten him at his own game. He had expected gratitude, being royal blood, but in turn he was bowled over.
"All you had to do was be frank," she said, and turned away.
Kenrick stood there like a statue, wondering what to do. He looked at her as she was going out of the room. She stopped and asked:
"Can you wait till I wash up?"
That only added to her mystique. He could wait till eternity for her. Then again, he could not wait another minute for her. This was Prince Kenrick, the colossal cock machine.
He waited. And waited. And waited.
Chapter Fourteen
"May we come in, Princess Adelaide?"
A strong baritone and the unusual emphasis on her title kind of warned her on who the visitor could be.
Addie felt sick in her stomach.
"Yes, please come in," she answered, hiding the panic rising inside her.
"So gracious of you, Your Royal Highness." The voice continued before showing its owner.
She looked up towards the door.
She had been with Kate, it was almost evening, time for her best friend to go. And now this unexpected intrusion.
From behind the curtains emerged Kenrick Royce, the one she had seen fleetingly on the day of the ceremony. And the one she had seen hundreds of times in the newspapers and on television. The heir apparent to the throne, Prince Kenrick Royce.
"Please forgive this interruption," he said, as if reading her thoughts.
"We were extremely troubled on hearing about our princess's serious indisposition."
Addie gave a start. She had forgotten all about that reply and the reason she had given in it. It was the last thing she had expected, a royal visit to check on her health. And she did not appreciate the 'we' in his speech.
She stood up, in spite of herself, and Kate followed suit. That was when they saw another young man emerge from behind the curtains. He walked in, timid, and joined the prince who, by now, had entered and was seated on one of the ornate chairs in the living room.
"By the way," said the famous baritone.
"Meet Mr. Phillips Longfellow, an intimate associate of mine of many years. Mr. Longfellow, this is my stepsister, Princess Adelaide Royce."
They exchanged their hellos with each other.
No one spoke. Mrs. Bradley, who was dutifully standing in a shadow, slipped away. She did not want to witness whatever was going to happen there.
"Please sit, Mr. Longfellow," instructed Kenrick.
Phil sat at this.
"Our princess is indisposed and could not be expected to remember her hospitality."
The prince looked around the room, his eyes settling on Kate.
"Ah, who do we have here? An intimate associate of yours, I suppose? Am I right or am I right, Princess Adelaide?"
"Er, I'm sorry, yeah, please be comfortable," she responded hesitantly, to the earlier complaint of the prince.
"Yes, this is my friend Kate, Catherine Furlough. Miss Catherine Furlough."
"Pleased to meet you, Your Royal Highness," provided Kate, as was taught to her.
Kenrick didn't bother to respond. He was studying Addie with his patented microscopic vis
ion.
Not bad, he said to himself.
Not bad at all.
That evening of the ceremony, amidst the crowds, he wasn't able to gauge her appropriately. This here was a surprise packet. So, we'll see, he said to himself.
"As you can observe, Mr. Longfellow," his baritone boomed in the room.
"My stepsister is still highly indisposed – we feel the need to summon the royal physician at once."
"Oh no!" came quickly from Addie.
"I mean, Your Royal Highness, I… I'm fine now. My headache… I had a severe headache… it's gone. Yeah, completely."
"Oh?" he replied, looking at Phil.
"We didn't expect it to go so soon, did we, Mr. Longfellow?"
Phil just looked from him to Addie and back. In between, he stole a glance at Kate. To him, it seemed he had seen her somewhere. He could not place where, though.
"In that case," Kenrick got up, gathering all his dignity.
"Our business here is over. We do not need to delay any more, do we, Mr. Longfellow?"
Phil merely looked at him. He knew that any reply from him was not expected in the least. He was just an appendage to this enactment of drama. A sidekick.
The prince was now up, ostensibly surveying the room.
"Our princess may have forgotten her courtesies, but we haven't," he said with a kind of calm arrogance, looking Addie straight in the eye.
"We trust everything is to your satisfaction here, Princess Adelaide?"
"Oh yeah… I mean yes, Your Royal Highness."
"And we hope you have all that you need, including stewardesses and servants to attend to your every desire."
"Yes, Your Royal Highness."
"We know that these things take some time getting used to. Especially when you come from your kind of background."
Suddenly there was a heavy silence in the room. Addie, who had been too courteous till now, felt no need to continue that way. But she kept her cool. It was her mother's reputation at stake, not hers.
"We would appreciate an answer," came the prince's voice again.
The royals just do not let things be, thought Adelaide.
She took a deep breath.
"Your Royal Highness," she said, not a quiver in her voice.
"I have everything that I need here, thank you. And if I need something, I'll send you a letter on royal stationery."
Kenrick could not believe his ears. Was someone really saying this to him – a commoner to boot – or was he dreaming? Surely, he could not countenance such insulting behavior. He turned towards Addie, his eyes sharp and spewing steam.
"Thank you," he said, suddenly changing his demeanor.
"We appreciate it. After all, we're here to take care of you, or we would be failing in our duties."
With that quicksilver change, he took an about-turn towards the door. His coming down must have made an impression – exactly the kind he wanted. Phil got up and joined Kenrick.
"But before we go," he turned back, training his sights on Addie again.
"We invite my stepsister Princess Adelaide to our humble quarters, towards east of this palace complex. We hope and trust my sister would accept this invitation and grace us with her august presence."
He paused the royal pause. Then:
"Please visit us anytime convenient to you, since we're here for the whole of next week. All you do is send me a message – on royal stationery, if you please – about your arrival."
Addie was a statue. She never expected this to turn out this way. And she certainly never meant to dishonor the prince's intended visit; she just wanted some time to get accustomed to the royal ways around the palace. But now it had transformed into something lethal.
"We hope by then our princess will be in the pink of health," continued Kenrick.
"Failing which we'll be forced to employ the services of the Chief Royal Physician. Good-bye, Princess Adelaide."
Chapter Fifteen
For the next five minutes after Prince Kenrick had left, there was silence in the chamber. The two young women in the room could very well have been statues.
"Well?"
It was Mrs. Bradley, who had walked in from the anteroom. Neither of the girls had heard her come; it seemed the ever-gentle Mrs. Bradley was light with her footsteps as well.
Addie looked at Kate. Kate looked at Addie. Neither of them spoke. What was there to say?
"Now the matter is getting serious, my child," informed the governess.
"I never expected Prince Kenrick to arrive in your chambers on receipt of your note. That was most unusual of him."
A LOT of unusual things are about to happen, said Addie to herself, as if foreshadowing a future she never dreamed possible.
"What if I refuse to go, Mrs. Bradley?" the girl asked.
"Is that also a breach of protocol?"
"My dear!" Mrs. Bradley let out a shocked exclamation.
"No one disobeys Prince Kenrick! He's the future king of this country, after all."
There was silence again. Kate exchanged a quick glance with the old woman.
"Anyway, it's next week," offered Kate, injecting excitement into her voice.
"That's far away, so let's not worry about it now!"
She got up and sat next to Addie.
"Remember we have our Annual Day before that!"
"Oh yeah," Addie seemed to brighten up.
"That's going to be fun."
"And what about your poetry recital?"
"Good Lord!" Addie bit her tongue.
"I completely blanked out on that."
"Addie, you've not a moment to waste," Kate added quickly.
"The big day is on Wednesday."
"Yes," Addie fell into brooding.
"And I've got no time to waste, either," announced Kate, getting up.
Addie looked at the heritage clock at the far end of the room. It was a quarter past six.
"Any more delay and the tube will be crowded."
"Kate," said Addie, almost berating her.
"Whoever said you're taking the tube?"
"Oops, I forgot. That's not how things operate around here…"
Kate looked at the governess.
"Mrs. Bradley."
"Yes, my dear."
She went towards the house telephone.
*****
That evening, Addie was disturbed.
The looming visit to meet Prince Kenrick was on her mind, of course; and with that, her impending poetry reading at the university's Annual Day. The first one was a kicker; the second one she could manage. But both together were creating a mini storm inside her head.
She spent an agonizing half hour struggling with these two issues. Then she saw her kind friend walking by.
"Mrs. Bradley!" she called her.
"Yes, my child?"
The old lady came and stood near her.
"Why don't you sit, Mrs. Bradley?" Addie requested.
"Oh no, sweetheart. I'm quite fine just standing here."
"Mrs. Bradley. Beverly. You're older than my mother. And you want me to sit while you keep standing? No way."
She pulled on the governess's hand and made her sit in the chair next to hers.
"There's something I want to ask you," the princess said in a mock whisper.
"Yes, honey," replied the old woman, sitting on the edge of the chair, as if she were doing something wrong - as if she weren't worthy.
"Bev, how do you manage when there's too much work to be done?"
The governess thought for a moment.
"I do what's important first."
"And if there are two things that are equally important?"
"Even if both are equally important," replied the gentle woman.
"You can do only one at a time."
"So?"
"So you do any one, usually the more important of the two."
"But…" Addie stopped.
"Yes, I know, my child," whispered Mrs. Bradley.
BDSMing the Brat: ** 20 Book ** Taboo BDSM MEGA BUNDLE Page 49
