Arma the Princess Whore's Perspective: Audience with the King

I lay tangled with James in a haze of... assuaged lust. Not satisfied, of course, a woman like myself was never 'satisfied' but for now I was... content. It was nice, having a male partner for once. Being able to just sit, and appreciate his body against mine...

"M'lady, his Majesty requests your presence at once. He says it is a matter of national import and, ah, to bring your... companion alongside."

...so of course the moment is ruined, as Daddy-Dear sends one of our cute little servants to interrupt me. One of them probably reported our coupling to him, and now he's out to take out his frustrations with my looseness on my poor boy. Again.

I roll my eyes in vexation and toss my hair.

"Very well," I reply scornfully - perhaps a little more than the hapless woman on the other side of the door deserves. Still, I deserve some catharsis for the end of such a perfect morning, do I not? "Cum," heh, "along then, James."

I stand, not bothering to dress myself or perform any other typical morning routines. Daddy wanted to see me immediately, so he gets to see me immediately. Something about this vindictive shamelessness doesn't sit quite right with me. It feels almost foreign - alien - but the moment passes soon as James stirs, I see his freshly hardened stick, and I remember why I'm so upset.

Turning abruptly away - lest I distract the both of us and we upset Daddy further - I'm halfway to the door when I realize James is too busy admiring my figure to get moving. It sends a thrill of excitement down my spine, which I regrettably suppress. If I'm to save James' livelihood - or at least his life - then we must be as quick as reasonably possible.

"Hurry on, please. Daddy can be ever so impatient." I urge, leaning myself against the wall and admiring James' disheveled figure as he rushes to get dress. Mm. I swallow heavily. The things I don't to keep access to a good lay...

Unfortunately, and yet luckily, James has little trouble sliding into his clothes - unlaundered as they are - and starts toward me only to pause, and turn to start frantically patting down the bedding. What is he...? Oh!

James retrieves his buzzing device and absently wipes it onto the bedding before turning to join me. He tries to step around me to open the door - what a gentleman~ - but I waste no time stepping forward to boldly hold him close to my side. Ah~ we can't resume our activities, but just feeling a man so close to me is enough. For now.

With my erstwhile client locked securely by one arm, I open the door with the other and proceed briskly past the startled maid on the other side. Hm. Cheryl, is it? A nice, kind one. Too chaste for my tastes, but not so judgemental as many of the others. Tsk. I like her enough not to hold too much of a grudge. Did Daddy do that on purpose? Whatever.

"Clean this if you would, Cheryl." I command simply. I may not have the wroth to spare on her for a proper chastisement, but assigning her the mess we've left behind is fair enough punishment I believe. A woman so meek as her would surely be driven half-mad by the lingering magics, after all.

Pity she'll have time to compose herself before we return.

With this, I set the pace just as fast as James can manage and we stride fearlessly through the halls to the throne room. Several knights try to rebuke me, but a stern glare sends the meek louts cowering. As if they'd have the courage to stop me: this predicament is half their fault to begin with, if we trace the roots of blame to the source of my, ah... needs.

And their failure to assuage them. Too loyal by half to my father.

James seems nervous though, to which I can only hold his arm tighter to my bosom. We've no time for verbal assurance, after all, if I'm to succeed at proving him more than a single night of passion. Ah, my womanhood is already moist again. If only we had more time, there are so many closets and corners that look terribly appealing...

...but, alas, we come to the throne room before my resolve crumbles.

My kingly father sits within, as austere and imposing as ever, and his glower tracks us across the room as we approach. No herald speaks: Indeed, I believe Daddy has sent him away, leaving only his loyal champions to hear our coming talk.

We reach the appropriate distance to the throne, and I lead us a deliberate step furhter, when James seems to lose his nerve and startle, flinging his arm up with his strange buzzing device in hand and pointing it to my father. There's no time for me - or the champions - to react to this bout of insanity as a massive wellspring of magic erupts forth and---