There were once two beautiful princesses
…who lived in a castle by the sea. Both were lovely young ladies, but there was a vital difference between them.
One was a princess by birth, blood-borne daughter to the King.
This was Princess Greta. She was petite and beautiful, with pale blonde hair that fell in ringlets to her tiny waist. She had a small, delicate face with enormous blue eyes and a voluptuous figure.
Greta was a pleasant girl, happy and self-assured, loved by her father and always kind to her subjects. The people of the kingdom adored her.
The other, Princess Sophie, was a princess in name only, her mother having married the king after the death of his first queen.
Sophie was kind and also very beautiful. She had long, shining chestnut hair and big velvet brown eyes.
Sophie’s father, a nobleman, had died in battle when Sophie was very young. An only child, Sophie had grown up under the strict, watchful eye of her mother, Queen Maeve.
Queen Maeve, for all that she was beautiful and of noble blood, was a calculating woman. She had had a string of husbands after Sophie’s father. All had died.
Maeve knew that the king had married her for her family’s political connections. The king had adored his first wife, Greta’s mother. Maeve was a queen by marriage of convenience, and she knew it.
Where Sophie was only a royal stepdaughter, Greta was of the king’s true blood. When it came time to marry, Greta would marry a Prince, while Sophie would have to settle for a mere nobleman.
Maeve had spent enough of her life hopping from husband to useless husband. She didn’t want this for her daughter.
Maeve’s ambition was for Sophie to marry once to a powerful royal, to secure her future. She knew this would never happen as long as Greta was around. Any powerful prince, if given the choice, would prefer the princess who bore the king’s own blood.
Maeve badgered Sophie day and night to come up with a way to outshine Greta. There had to be a way to ensure that Greta was no longer eligible to marry well.
Then the day came when a prince appeared and offered for Greta’s hand.
Prince Randolph came from a land far off across the hills. He arrived one day in early spring with an entourage of knights and ladies to ask the king to allow him to marry Greta.
Maeve watched Sophie standing by the fire in the great hall, all but ignored by the Prince’s party, and lost all hope.
Her daughter was far too accepting. She would never fight back against Greta to claim a lofty position in the kingdom. Even worse, Maeve suspected that Sophie and Greta may even like each other, as absurd as that seemed.
There was nothing she could do to remove Greta from her favored position and provide for Sophie.
Then one day, Maeve had an idea. She would buy a potion for Sophie, one that would make the prince fall in love with her. In a flash, Maeve was off to see the old witch who lived in a hut at the edge of the forest. The woman was renowned for her magic, and Maeve was betting she had just the thing.
Once she had obtained the potion, Maeve found Sophie and gave it to her.
“Here,” she hissed, sidling up to her daughter and shoving a bundle into her hands. Sophie jumped back in surprise, looking down at the package in her hands.
“What is it?”
“Shhhh!” Maeve shook her a little, looking around as though afraid to be overheard. “It’s a potion.”
“A potion?” Sophie asked, suspicious. “What’s it for?”
Maeve couldn’t stop the look of triumph that swept over her beautiful features. That look terrified Sophie. “It’ll make Prince Randolph fall in love with the bearer of the potion– put it in his wine and once he drinks it, he’s yours. He’ll never think of Greta again.”
“That’s awful!” Sophie exclaimed. “I can’t do that!”
“You can and you will,” her mother thundered. She reached out to spin Sophie around and shove her up the circular staircase that led to the prince’s tower room. “Right now he’s in the lists, practicing his swordplay. You’ve got all the time in the world to do this, and if you don’t I’ll marry you to the old Earl of Seymour. He’s wanted you for a long time. I guarantee, girl, this is preferable.”
Sophie made her way up the stairs, terrified. All she could think of was if the prince caught her, she’d be doomed. “It’s a bad idea,” she told herself, dread building like a weight in her chest.
At the top of the stairs she shuffled into the prince’s room, eyeing the casket of wine on the table in front of the fire. His servant had obviously set out for when he returned from the lists. She withdrew the potion from the pocket of her surcoat and, opening it, began to pour it in the prince’s wine.
“What are you doing?” A voice rang out from behind her and Sophie jumped, spilling the potion all over herself and the floor. Maeve would be livid, and she wasn’t sure what was worse- her mother’s anger or facing the wrath of this giant behind her.
“I’m… I’m…” she babbled.
“I can see what you’re doing,” he shouted, moving toward her like a thundercloud. “You’re trying to poison me!”
“No!” Sophie cried out, eyes wide. “Never that! I was just.. I just.. Oh, Maeve made me do it!”
“Maeve,” the prince said, voice tinged with anger. “That woman is a nightmare.”
“She bid me give you a potion, so that you’d love me and not Greta. She wanted us to marry.” Sophie sobbed in despair. “I told her I didn’t want to do it, but you don’t know what she’s like when she gets on about something!”
“Well, now you’ll answer for it,” the prince snarled as he advanced across the room.
“Please,” Sophie begged, eyes wide. “Don’t do this. Don’t put me in this in this position.”
“You put yourself in this position,” he spat. He closed the distance between them and put both hands on her shoulders. Sophie balked in terror. Holding her in place with one hand, he reached out with the other to stroke her nipples through her gown.
Sophie gasped
She’d never felt anything like it.
Randolph smirked, staring down at her. “You like that, eh?” He reached out to grip her hand in his, and forced it up against the bulge in his britches. “Have you had anything like this before, girl?”
Fascinated, Sophie felt her face flush with embarrassment even as her fingers explored. Beneath her skirts, she felt a stirring, a curious wetness. Before long her pussy dripped with desire.
“Ahh, you do like that.” Randolph began grinding against her hand, eyes traveling down the front of her gown. His eyes took in generous breasts confined beneath the rough material. She was long and slender, and he groaned at the thought of seeing her naked. “Take it off.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. Visions of Maeve crashing through the door only added to her confusion. What if someone caught them? She’d completely failed at her simple mission- Maeve would be livid.
“I can’t,” she protested, trying to back away. He held her hand tighter against him.
“You will,” he ground out. He released her hand with such suddenness that she stumbled back a step or two. Randolph pounced, springing forward with busy hands. Before Sophie could react, she stood naked before him, gown discarded on the floor beside her. “You’re beautiful,” he said, greedy eyes all over her. He reached around to fit one hand into the small of her back, pulling her forward as he probed her pussy with the other. “And you’re so hot and wet.”
Before she knew what was happening, Sophie was down on her knees in front of him as he stripped off his tunic. She’d seen bare-chested men before, but none like this. The prince was beautiful. A delicious smattering of white-blonde hair covered his powerful chest.
Sophie swallowed as she stared up at him, and the prince smiled. Reaching down to hook his thumbs into his britches, he began to slide them down over firm, muscular thighs. Within seconds he had released his cock, and it stood at attention inches away from Sophie’s lips. She could smell it– the musky scent of his lust. The desire to taste him made her moan out loud.
Reaching down to touch her thick, chestnut hair, held her head in place with both hands. He moved his cock against her soft, pliant lips, smearing the salty taste of his excitement over her. “Suck it,” he said, watching her tongue dart out to lap at him.
Sophie took him in her mouth, hearing his sharp intake of breath. It was heaven.
She loved the smooth feel of his cock in her mouth. She explored everywhere with her lips, her tongue, her fingers, then her breasts. Rising up on her knees, she took him out of her mouth and began rubbing the end of his cock against her nipples. The prince watched her and groaned as her breasts glistened with pre-cum.
Once she had finished playing, she put him back in her mouth
…and began working him with her tongue again. On all fours now, she wriggled with need as her pussy tingled with the desire for him to fill her.
Prince Randolph noticed her delectable ass grinding and stopped. “You’re loving this,” he said, staring down at her with wonder. Sophie stared back, brown eyes wary. Had she done something wrong? “Here,” the prince said, taking a step back and holding out a hand. “Get up.”
Sophie took his hand and jumped to her feet, hoping he wasn’t upset with her. “Turn around,” the prince ordered, taking her by the shoulders and spinning her so that she faced the bed. “Get down on the bed,” he muttered behind her, voice thick with need.
Sophie sank to her hands and knees on the bed, her sweet little ass up in the air. Behind her, Randolph seized her by both thighs and pulled her back hard against his mouth. Sophie gasped– she’d never felt anything like it.
Randolph’s tongue was hot and wet. Sophie thought she’d burst with feeling as it glided over the soft, silky folds of her pussy. Behind her, the prince was making curious noises, slurping and moaning. As he tongued her, the oddest sensation began to build, like a fire in her belly.
She groaned with delight, pushing back into his face hard, and lowered herself to her elbows. Randolph reached under her belly and took both breasts in his hands. He played with her nipples as she ground herself against his face. His tongue was like heaven.
“My god!” she cried out, as the intensity continued to build. “Oh, yes!”
Looking back at him between her parted knees, Sophie caught sight of his massive cock. The swollen head glistened with desire, and the sight of it made her pussy gush. As her brought her closer to the edge, she cried out, “Randolph, I want your cock!”
The prince slowed for a beat or two, before tearing his tongue away. He stood and moved her ass back toward him. Sophie, sensing what he wanted to do, folded down into a crouch with her cunt hanging over the edge of the bed. She was at the perfect angle.
Randolph licked his thick middle finger and inserted it into her pussy, probing. He was gentle but Sophie wasn’t expecting it, and she jumped. “That hurts!” she exclaimed, trying to spring forward, but he held her in place with firm hands. “It hurts!” she wriggled against his grip.
“Shh,” he whispered, soothing her with his voice. “It won’t hurt for long, I promise.”
Sophie stilled at his tone and settled back into her crouch, trusting and wanting. The prince took a few more minutes with his fingers, probing and playing in her lush wetness. Sophie was once again wild with desire.
“It may hurt for a moment, but it will be over fast, I promise,” he told her.
Sophie, who only wanted something to fill the need that had been building inside her, nodded. The prince held her by the hips, and guided the head of his cock to her opening, thrusting inside.
She was so wet, he slid right in– she was so ready. Sophie jumped a little, eyes wide with shock, and then he began to fill her in the most delicious way. He slid in and out with exactly the right amount of pressure.
She moaned, quietly at first, then becoming louder as he moved faster and faster inside her. She could feel him working himself up to a fever pitch– Sophie thought she would explode. Then he cried out, and froze, clutching her to him as he spurted his hot, thick cum up inside her. The sound of him coming was enough to send her over the edge. Her body clenched around his cock over and over again in waves with her wild orgasm.
It was several moments before either was able to collect themselves.
“That was wonderful,” the prince exclaimed, looking down at her with a sense of wonder. “I’ve never had an experience quite like that. You must marry me– I have to have you!”
“You are betrothed to my stepsister,” Sophie reminded him, eyes downcast. It had been so delightful for a few minutes, being with him and forgetting their situation.
“You know, I know Princess Greta quite well.” Randolph cleared his throat, a trifle uncomfortable. “She’s quite adventurous you know, and not a bit possessive.”
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, confused.
“I doubt she’d be at all opposed to you coming to live with us.” He stopped here, watching for her reaction. Sophie sat very still, features composed into a mask that gave nothing away.
“Live with you?” she asked.
“Yes.” Randolph smiled, a bit sheepish now. “I mean, that is– well you’re not exactly a virgin anymore. It may be..”
“Difficult for me to marry well,” Sophie finished for him.
“Or at all,” the prince conceded. He hung his head a little, enough to show her that he did feel at least a bit guilty about deflowering her. “And it’s most likely better than remaining here to face Maeve’s wrath for the rest of your life.”
“This is true,” Sophie said, tilting her head to one side as she considered. “I’ll do it! That is, if Greta will allow it, I’ll do it.”
Prince Randolph’s handsome features broke into a wide smile.
Later that evening the prince ran it by his betrothed, Princess Greta, that her sister should come and join them in their matrimonial home. Greta, suspecting that Randolph and her sister may have a relationship of a sexual nature, thought this would be very handy when she wanted to devote her sexual attention to some of Randolph’s burly knights.
Greta agreed readily, and everyone lived happily ever after.
Picture source: flickr.com
