Chapter
One
| Prince Sajan
and his retinue crossed the drawbridge, reining in their horses before
the king’s palace. Quickly dismounting, the prince grasped Arabella
about the waist, lifting her from the saddle. He let her body, clad in
the silken folds of her cloak, slide down the hard length of his before
setting her on her feet. The hood of her cloak fell to her shoulders and
her dark, chestnut hair tumbled free, spilling down her back, past her
trim waist. Smiling, Sajan deftly loosened the laces at her throat, whipping
the cloak from her body to reveal the supple, nude form beneath, the cool
morning air kissing awake the small nubs of her nipples. Without taking his eyes off her, Sajan tossed the cloak to one of his men, then drew her to him for a quick, hard kiss. Abruptly putting her away from him, he perused her slim, taut body. Arabella did not shield herself from his gaze, nor did she attempt to shy away from the men swinging down from their mounts around them, who cast admiring glances her way. Such attempts would have been ludicrous. Prince Sajan had recently taken her from the famous stables at Belsoie, where she had been disciplined and trained as a prime mare to serve and pleasure the master and mistress. Her ladyship’s last instructions before leaving, had been never to forget that she was a beautiful, proud mare and that Arabella must be willing to show off her loveliest attributes to those wishing to see her. . . . and to serve her prince well. Now, she stood before him, naked, complacently awaiting his commands, as his sharp, blue eyes traveled over her body with careful appraisal. What he saw was a petite wench with long, shapely legs, a slender waist, slightly flared hips and small, up-tipped breasts, full and firm, each adorned with a gorgeous pink nipple; a graceful throat and oval face with large, dark eyes, complimented by a mane of chestnut brown tresses that fell in thick waves nearly to her ankles. The apex of her thighs was pink and bare, the little clitoris, utterly delectable, peeking out between the silken folds, the diamond clip which crowned it, winking at him slyly. “Until we might prove otherwise, Arabella, you will be considered a commoner by birth.” Sajan informed her in a voice that poured over her like sun-warmed honey. “And thus, you must enter the palace as naked and beautiful as you are.” “Yes, your highness.” Arabella replied with soft acquiescence. “You must follow at a respectful distance behind me as I go to greet my father and stepmother. You are allowed to say nothing in their presence unless they speak to you directly. Afterwards,” he reached up to brush back a tendril of hair that had blown across her shoulder covering one pert breast, “we will retreat to my private chambers, where I desire to enjoy this lovely body of yours the night long. . . . . and at my leisure.” He smiled. “As you wish, Prince Sajan.” Arabella bowed her head in deference, her body blushing at his obvious desire for her. Dismissing his men, Sajan turned and strode through the immense arched doors of the palace, Arabella hastening to keep up with his long-legged stride. In the Great Hall the assembled courtiers bowed at the waist, welcoming home his royal highness for the first time in nearly two years, all of them aware of his banishment from the palace for having slept with his stepmother, the Queen Lucinda. The marble floor of the Great Hall felt cool and smooth against the soles of her feet as Arabella followed in Sajan’s wake. His booted stride echoed their approach as they crossed the wide expanse of floor, passed under the enormous chandelier lit by hundreds of tiny candle flames, pausing before a set of double doors flanked by two guards. Sajan appeared to gather himself, then giving a brief inclination of his head that the guards should open the doors, he strode inside and down the red carpeted aisle to the marble dais, where the king and queen sat upon their thrones. On silent feet, Arabella followed her handsome, arrogant prince, stopping at a discreet distance behind him, as Sajan approached their majesties and made his obeisance to them. “So, you have returned.” King Madoc commented, a hint of gruffness edging his voice, his eyes flicking briefly to Arabella, then back to the tall figure of his son. “You have summoned me here, your majesty, on a matter of great importance. Or so your messenger said. And so,” he bowed slightly from the waist, “I have returned home.” “And your promptness is duly noted. . . . .and appreciated.” The king acknowledged. “We will sup together this eve and discuss this important matter between us, which I expect you to tend to with equal promptness.” Sajan bowed once more. “I am your willing servant, majesty.” He said, masking his disappointment that he would not be able to take Arabella quite at his leisure as he had hoped. “Greet your stepmother.” King Madoc ordered. “Or have you forgotten your manners in your absence!” Sajan placed one booted foot on the bottom step of the dais as the queen rose regally from her seat, proffering her hand, though her eyes sparkled with amusement at her handsome stepson. “Sajan, it is good to have you home again.” She smiled her most charming, beguiling smile at him. “You have been missed.” Sajan took her hand and, pressing his lips warmly against the slender, white knuckles, murmured, “Queen Lucinda, you are even more beautiful now, then when I left.” “You haven’t changed a whit, Sajan!” The queen teased. “You have more charm than the devil allows!” She glanced beyond him to Arabella. “And who is this? A love-slave, you’ve captured and brought to the palace for our amusement?” “Nay, stepmother,” Sajan was quick to answer, “but my lady-love. Her name is Arabella. We were mated together at festival. And I hope soon to make her my princess.” The queen raised one delicate brow in mild astonishment, before glancing surreptitiously at her husband. Madoc tensed slightly at his son’s words, then just as quickly relaxed, waving an indolent hand for the queen to resume her seat, while giving his son an unwavering stare. “Then I trust my fears should be allayed that you will not try to cuckold your own father again within these palace walls!” Madoc commented with brusqueness. Sighing heavily, Sajan turned once more to his father, silently regarding his stern countenance, then, “My apologies once again, majesty. I was young and foolish to let my cock rule my head. Your forgiveness is all I seek.” After a moment’s hesitation, King Madoc relented, and rising from his throne, descended the dais to place his hand upon Sajan’s broad shoulder. “And mine own temper can, at times, rule the head that wears this crown. Let us speak no more of it. What is past, is done with.” “Then all is well between you and your queen?” Sajan asked. “Aye.” The king replied. “She is young and has let her body’s cravings over-rule her better judgement with fool-hardy abandon. We understand one another better now. Your banishment grieved us both.” Sajan placed his own hand over his father’s at his shoulder. “Nay, father. Had you not banished me, I would never have met the fair Arabella. She is my intended bride. And I would have your blessing as well as the queen’s.” The king glanced again at the naked Arabella, his eyes raking down her body, much as his son’s had done earlier. Madoc detected a rosy hue coloring the pale cheeks from his perusal, watched as the chit’s nipples thrust upward and out in reaction to his attentions. He felt the familiar stirring in his loins. Despite their differences, he and his son had always shared an eye for uncommonly beautiful wenches. “We will discuss the matter as we dine this eve.” He answered shortly, returning to the throne. “Then may I ask permission to retire to my chambers? My journey has been a long and tiring one. I wish to bathe and rest before I sup with you and the queen tonight.” “As you wish.” King Madoc assented, with a negligent wave of his hand. “Let me summon one of the servants to escort your Arabella to the Mares’ Hall.” “No, father.” Sajan stated with firm resolve. “Arabella is no longer a mare. She is not for the pleasure of others. But for me alone. She will reside with me in my chambers.” Madoc frowned, ready to remonstrate with his son, but Lucinda placed a restraining hand upon his arm. “Madoc,” she said quietly, “Sajan has only just returned to us. Let him have his way this once.” “Alright!” Madoc growled. “Be about your business then, boy! But expect to dine with me at nine of the clock! Do not be late!” * * * * * * * * * * Prince Sajan strode down the tapestried halls of the palace to his chambers with Arabella hurrying in his wake. After they had left their majesties’ presence, Sajan had not offered to procure a cloak or other covering to conceal her nudity. As son of the king, Arabella surmised within herself, it must be princely protocol that he expected her to follow dutifully behind him until they reached his chambers. The palace was a busy place, with guards around every corner, servants whisking this way and that, in answer to a summons, palace courtiers greeting Prince Sajan, expressing their happiness to have his presence back among them at long last, while eyeing Arabella, who blushed in deference to her superiors’ open stares. But the most surprising of all, were the many naked stallions and mares wandering about the palace halls, either seeking to serve any noble man or lady with their body, or being routinely disciplined with short, wooden paddles or riding crops. They waited upon the courtiers, entertaining and delighting the aristocracy with their erect penises, tender buttocks, and high, full breasts as they wandered among the king’s guests, pouring wine or serving a variety of delicacies upon silver platters. Prince Sajan appeared used to the frenetic activity, paying little heed to it as he made his way to his own private wing in the palace. Before they reached the pair of arched doors to his bedchamber, they were flung open and the prince greeted by a young man and woman, as naked as Arabella herself. “Your highness!” “We were told of your return only moments ago!” “Had we known in advance, we would have had your chambers aired and a bath prepared for you!” Both speaking at once, the pair welcomed him enthusiastically as he entered his rooms, leaving Arabella to follow him inside. The young man swiftly removed the prince’s cloak, while the girl hurried to pour him a goblet of wine. Taking up the goblet, Sajan gulped a healthy swallow, eyeing the two with amusement. “Christophe! Marianna! I’ve missed the two of you! Have you been behaving yourselves! Let me take a look at you!” Immediately, both Christophe and Marianna hastened to assume the proper position, which Arabella was familiar with from her own training at Belsoie. Both the mare and the stallion folded their arms behind their backs, spreading their legs widely apart, keeping their feet flat on the floor, as they displayed themselves quite nicely for their prince’s inspection. “Lovely! Still as in superb condition as when I left!” Sajan commented, circling around them, sipping from his goblet thoughtfully. “And what has the king done with the two of you in my absence?” Blushing, Christophe answered, “The king ordered me to the soldiers’ quarters, your highness.” “And I served in the queen’s bedchamber, Prince Sajan.” Marianna boasted proudly. “And did you serve her majesty well, Marianna?” Prince Sajan paused before her. “Oh yes, your highness! At least, I think so! Queen Lucinda is quite wicked with the paddle, but I was never sent to the Dungeon! Not once in all the time you were away! Unlike Christophe!” She stated triumphantly, as the young stallion cast Marianna a scowl from the corner of his eye. Prince Sajan raised an inquisitive brow at the stallion. “And what sort of mischief have you been up to?” His tone was one that would brook no attempt at deceit or hedging from his stallion. “One of the soldiers decided to ride me like a bull, your highness.” Christophe explained defensively. “He insisted that I play the bovine for him and pretend to buck him off. Only I succeeded too well, much to the amusement of the others. I threw him off so hard, he fell against the kegs of ale stacked in a corner. The keg on top burst open and he was showered with brown ale, your highness.” Throwing back his head, Sajan laughed heartily, and Christophe was relieved that the prince was not going to reprimand him. Prince Sajan was known for his benevolence and his sense of humor, but like all royals, could be temperamental at times with those who served him. “The soldier was so angry, he threw me over his knee and spanked me good and hard.” Christophe continued, smiling faintly. “I thought that was the end of it, until he brought the matter before his majesty and the Dungeon Master was sent for.” “Well, it probably did you good.” Sajan returned, his expression sober, his blue eyes twinkling their amusement. “Mayhap, you will think twice before practicing any of your shenanigans again.” “Yes, your highness.” Christophe replied somberly. Setting his goblet aside, Sajan crossed the room to sit on the edge of the massive bed which rested regally upon its multi-tiered dais. He patted the coverlet with an inviting gesture. Christophe and Marianna immediately raced across the room to scramble up on either side of him. Kneeling on slim haunches, they placed their arms about his neck, pressing sweet, adoring kisses to his face and throat. Sajan laughed again, his hand gently cupping Christophe’s scrotum, exciting the young stallion as he humped himself a little in Sajan’s warm palm. The prince brought his other hand up to fondle Marianna’s small, pert breast, as she shivered delicately against him, placing shy kisses upon his lips. Together, all three looked up to regard Arabella, still standing uncertainly before the door to the bedchamber. Christophe and Marianna peeped at her with shy curiosity, their arms clinging possessively about Sajan’s neck. “Arabella, do not be shy. Come closer.” He urged her. Then, as Arabella moved hesitantly toward them, pausing at the foot of the dais, “These two imps,” he introduced them with a broad smile, “are Christophe and Marianna, my pets and personal servants within these chambers. Now that the three of you will be sharing my living quarters, I expect all of you to get along.” He shared a stern frown between the two on either side of him. “I must warn you, I plan to make Arabella my princess one day soon. So you will accord her the same respect due me. Is that understood?” Both Christophe and Marianna nodded solemnly, casting wary glances at Arabella. Neither of them had ever known someone of their station to cross the well-marked dividing line between master and slave. This was serious indeed! “Good!” Prince Sajan declared, good-naturedly, satisfied that his wishes would be adhered to without question. “Any show of disrespect from either of you and I will send you both off to the Dungeon Master!” He gave a playful swat at their bottoms. “Now, Christophe, prepare my bath! Marianna, you may undress me, then you must find a clean wardrobe for me. I dine with their majesties tonight! Arabella, come,” he gestured to her as the stallion and mare scurried about their duties, “up on the bed. When Marianna has done with me, I intend to ravish your delightful body as I have been wont to do since the mating ritual.” Climbing atop the bed, Arabella waited patiently as the mare undressed him. As Marianna took his clothes away, Sajan fell upon the bed beside her, gathering her into his arms. “And what say you, my dove?” Sajan asked, his mouth brushing against her soft lips, the points of her breasts rubbing against his chest. “Will you reside with me here in the palace as my princess?” “If ‘tis your desire, your highness, then, I shall happily do so. . . . .for you already claim my heart.” Arabella answered him. “Aye, I do desire it, m’lady.” Sajan murmured, lowering her back upon the bed, while preparations for his bath and change of clothes were under way at the far end of the room. He braced himself on his arms above her prone body. Arabella instinctively spread her legs, ready to receive him. Slowly, savoring the moment, Sajan dipped the head of his cock into her, feeling her tightness stretching, widening to accommodate him. Arabella moaned as Sajan took her sweet mouth in an ardent kiss, his tongue dancing with the point of her own, his body arching, moving atop hers. Christophe and Marianna glanced over their shoulder at the two coupling together on the bed. Exchanging amused glances, they laughed softly, then returned to their appointed tasks. Sajan mounted Arabella lustily, oblivious to the two across the room, for he had waited so long to have her flat on her back beneath him. This was not the first time either Christophe or Marianna had been privy to his rompings in his chambers. Nor would it be their last. They were his love-slaves, and both owed their fealty to none but him. Although the stallion and the mare were under his protection, neither were immune to his discipline when he felt it was warranted. Arabella felt him fill her with himself, her nether lips closing upon his organ, drawing him into her body. Sajan raised her hips to meet each thrust as he drove into her, harder, deeper, kissing the tip of one blushing pink nipple as he did so. She arched her body upwards, offering herself to him, but Sajan fought to control his own raging arousal. He was not yet ready to spend his seed so quickly. He withdrew from her, leaving her vaginal opening gaping and empty. He ignored the forlorn little cry that escaped from her, unbidden. He rolled to his side, placing a hand on her flat belly to stay her when she would have made to move closer to him. “Make love to yourself for me, Arabella. I want to see you make yourself cum for me.” Arabella swallowed with difficulty, turning her head aside on the pillow, high color flagging her cheeks. She had never been asked to do this before. At Belsoie, it had been forbidden. Sajan took her chin in his hand and brought her back to face him. “Have you never brought yourself pleasure? Not even for Lord Thayer?” Arabella gazed up at him. “No, your highness. We were not allowed to touch ourselves.” “A woman making love to her own body for a man’s fulfillment is a beautiful sight, Arabella. Do not be shy, nor turn away from me. I would see you pleasure yourself.” With color still heightening her pale features, Arabella let her fingers drift of their own accord to the apex of her thighs. Shyly, she nudged at the little clitoris peeping from between her nether lips, encountering the diamond clip affixed to it, which Lady Xaviera had given her, a parting gift, upon leaving Belsoie. As her fingertips fluttered between her legs, awakening her arousal, Arabella gasped, arching her back, spreading her thighs wider. Never had she known such pleasure could be given by one’s own hand! No wonder the mares of Belsoie were forbidden to touch themselves, however innocently. Their training and discipline would go by the wayside, indeed, if they had been allowed to engage in such pleasant activity. Her eyes encountered Sajan’s amused gaze above her as he watched her with intent interest, allowing his eyes to move over her, fixing on the movement of her fingers against herself and the way her nipples thrust upwards, swollen, aching with need. Softly, he called from the depths of the bed. “Marianna, Christophe, come look at her.” He invited. Both the stallion and the mare approached curiously, watching with limpid-eyed interest from the side of the bed as Arabella continued to masturbate. Lost in the throes of her mounting ecstasy, Arabella was indeed a beautiful sight. Her body spread open for their perusal, writhing upon the coverlet, her arousal building, building, her fingers moving faster upon herself. “Isn’t she lovely?” Sajan whispered. Arabella stretched her body taut beneath Sajan’s burning look, heedless of the two standing at the side of the bed staring down at her in complete and utter fascination. Unless given permission to do so by his highness, they were not permitted to bring themselves to orgasm. Suddenly, like a little starburst, her orgasm swelled, then exploded with sensation beneath her hand. Her vision blurred, and Arabella cried out, hips rising and falling, riding her orgasm to its completion. Her cry was lost inside Prince Sajan’s mouth as he lowered his head to kiss her, his body mounting hers at the same time. His cock reveled in the spasms clenching around him as he entered her. Sajan brought her up against him, her slim buttocks nestled in the palms of his hands as he stoked the hot flames of his passion. With a low, primal grunt, Sajan released the very essence of himself into her warm nether mouth that drew upon him with greedy contractions. Not long after, tired from the day’s journey and Sajan’s demands upon her body, Arabella was fast asleep upon her pillow. Sajan allowed Marianna and Christophe to escort him to the sunken tub at the far end of the room. Bathing their prince with gentle hands, they urged his penis to life again. Teasingly, each tried to mount themselves upon him, but smiling, Sajan put them away from him, scolding the two with mock severity for being so naughty. Afterwards, they patted him dry with warm towels before the fire and helped him to dress. Before leaving to sup with his father, the prince ordered both Christophe and Marianna under the coverlet with the sleeping Arabella, so that she would not wake alone in a strange bed. Flanking either side of her, Christophe and Marianna snuggled close against her to keep her warm. Then, the prince quit the bedchamber to join the king and queen below stairs. |