An explanation, and an interruption

"Now Francesca, there's one more very important thing you should understand about how to be a proper noble." Your father says, clasping his hands together. "We all know what happens behind closed doors. And in many, in fact most ways, we do not shy away from this understanding. Formal attire, paraphernalia, and more, are indeed often designed to celebrate our noblewomen and their nature. But there are still two significant exceptions, one much more serious than the other."

"The first serious exception is speech. When you are in polite company, you never, ever are up front or explicit about what goes on between the men and women of the nobility. Women especially are expected to control their tongues when in public and present themselves with dignity and grace at all times. I know this might seem at odds with the rest of what is expected of you, but please heed this warning seriously. Anything but the most subtle discussion of sexual acts in polite conversation will see you quickly and irrevocably turned into a social outcast."

He waits for you to acknowledge this before moving on, so you nod, and raise your eyebrows. "Don't talk about sex. I think I can manage that." You say dryly.

He frowns gently, but then continues.

"Secondly, there are rather specific social dynamics surrounding semen. This is a rather unique time to be trying to explain these dynamics to you though, because due to a delightful new substance that has recently become available to those with wealth, they are currently in a rather significant state of flux. Things that were once unwomanly are starting, by some, to be considered fashionable. But essentially, until things settle down, I would say it's still mostly safer to follow the old rules. Namely, when in polite company, you should be neat, tidy, and clean. And not, for example, sitting at the dinner table with your cheeks plastered with your chef's semen."

You squeak as you understand what he means - over the course of your meal and your 'drink', your chin and cheeks have become coated in more than a little semen.

You quickly scour the table for a napkin, but do not find one. And before you can ask for something to clean your face with, the maid who guided you to your table this morning swings open the door to the dining hall, and rushes into the room, her high heels clacking loudly and quickly on the polished wooden floor. When she speaks, she sounds breathless and panicked, as if she's running horribly late for something.

"Announcing... His royal highness, the Crown Prince Indi!"

Your parents gasp and leap to their feet, silently gesturing urgently for you to do the same. No sooner are you upright, than a young man wearing surprisingly casual, comfortable clothes strolls into the room, slapping the maid hard on her ass as he walks by, causing her to yelp involuntarily, before clasping her mouth shut with her hands.

He has a deep frown on his face as he marches towards you three, hands clasped behind his back, his dark brown hair almost hiding piercing, fierce eyes.{if images > 1}{if images != 3}

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He looks all three of you up and down with that extremely serious expression on his face, and the tension in the air is so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

And then, all of a sudden, his expression lifts, and he smiles widely.

"Lord Alfonso! Lady Marisa! How are you both keeping?" The young man clasps their shoulders, and greets the couple who are significantly older than him, as if he was their older brother.

You see your father relax as his name is spoken, and your mother do the same. "Your highness, we had not expected you to arrive so soon! I'm so sorry, there should have been an entire reception-"

"Nonesense, nonsense. I arrived early specifically to avoid all that unnecessary ceremony. I'm not here to be officially hosted, I'm simply here to meet your lovely daughter." He turns to face you. "My my, what a lovely face you have. You see, Alfie? I can call you Alfie, can't I. If I hadn't arrived early, I would have likely missed this opportunity to see your lovely daughter testing out the newest fashion trend."

You squirm uncomfortably as he surveys your cum-covered face, and you notice that he enjoys seeing you squirm.

"Well, my lovely 'cream tart', if you can't clean up your shame before your prince arrives, you can at least tell me your name, can you not?" He continues, unnecessarily teasingly.

"Introduce yourself to his highness, sweetheart." Your mother encourages you softly.

"Your highness, I am Lady Francesca. It is an honor to meet you." You give a little curtsey, hoping that this gesture means the same thing in this world as it did in your original one.

"Very nice, very nice." The prince says, looking you up and down, drinking in your body's curves, not hiding in the slightest that he clearly considers you nothing more than an object, and one that can be sexually conquered.

Almost immediately, he turns back to your father, now completely ignoring your presence, and your mother's as well.

"My sweet Marisa, why don't you show me to your daughter's chambers." He suggests politely, but with the air that it's actually a command, and not a suggestion.

"Of course, your highness."

As your mother leads the prince from the room, it dawns on you what's happening here.

As much as tonight is about the prince enjoying some sex with a new young noblewoman before anyone else gets a chance, it's also about establishing dominance over your parents - making himself feel strong and powerful by making another powerful family, and especially the lord of the house, feel weak and powerless to stop their own daughter from being deflowered under their own roof.

I can already tell I'm not going to like this prince.

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