Chapter Six

“You are on time, good. I have always believed that punctuality is the politeness of princesses.” Queen Annarosa commented dryly. “And I will not suffer a laggard for a daughter-in-law.”

After an interminable and confusing journey through the twisting palace halls, Erulia and Idril had been led to an unassuming wooden door at the bottom of a short flight of stone stairs. Behind it they had discovered a large, open studio filled with an alarming clutter of arcane paraphernalia and the Queen Regent standing before an artist's easel in the center of it all.

“Your Majesty?” Erulia inquired. The air in the room was saturated with enough auras and enchantments to make her feel lightheaded. “We have come as instructed.”

“Another point in your favor, girl. A good daughter and wife should strive to be obedient whenever possible. It is a sign of courtesy and respect.”

The snippy Queen Annarosa was the picture of regal poise and bearing, if not exactly dressed like it.

A sleeping robe of the darkest chiffon hung open off her shoulders, so wispy and transparent as to hide little beneath. Sheer embroidered mesh lingerie in midnight black hugged and entwined her mature voluptuous figure in a spiderweb of ebony strings and fine silver chains. A scalloped demi bra lifted and enhanced her ripe motherly bosom while a tiny lace g-string rode high over her full hips before disappearing into the deep crevice of her peachy round rump.

“I agree that courtesy and respect make strong foundations for any relationship.” Erulia hedged diplomatically, shuffling further into the room with her autumn-haired guardian in tow. “Is this your private workshop, Highness?”

The room wasn’t small but felt… busy. Two of the bare stone walls were lined with ancient oak shelves stuffed full of magic tomes and grimoires secured in place by iron bars locked across their dusty spines.

Several scarred wooden workbenches were covered in parchment scrolls, pots of spell ink, mystical implements, animal bones and glowing gemstones, while complex alchemical glassware hissed and bubbled away on others. An actual honest-to-goodness cauldron sat neglected in an inset fireplace and everything was lit under the bright unwavering light of everburning lamps suspended from the ceiling above.

In the middle of it all the Sorceress Queen stood side on to the gawping elves with a brush and mixing board in hand, daubing paint onto a large canvas with a fixed expression of concentration.

“This is my Atelier, girl.” She snapped in reply, never once looking away from her art to acknowledge their presence. “Workshop… bah! They call me the Blood Rose of Bathard, does that sound like the moniker of a common tradesperson to you?”

Erulia could hear Idril’s breath quickening from a step behind her. No doubt the string of petty barbs and crushing magical presence was getting to the overprotective elf. So she spoke quickly to stave off a rash rejoinder from her friend.

“I meant no offense, Majesty.” The Princess said calmly, “I was simply awed by the impressive level of arcane study and comprehension the contents of this… Atelier implies. “

There, a perfect example of grace under pressure. Grinding magical pressure that grated against her innate resistance like a millstone.

The Queen glanced away from her painting to arch a speculative brow at Erulia then jabbed her brush towards a small covered table, neatly laid out like an oasis of order amongst the chaotic hubbub. There were two padded stools set beside it.

“Sit. There. Both of you. We will continue our interview as I… create.”

Moving gingerly through the crowded space and trying not to touch anything, they took a seat and waited expectantly for the furiously painting Sorceress to speak.

Erulia spared a quick glance for Idril, the beguiling wood elf looking stunned. Out of sorts. Blushing and not meeting her crystalline gaze as she squirmed fitfully on her perch. From their new perspective, they could both see all of the ageless matron in her full glory and the bedroom sounds of the night before came rushing back in cheek-burning clarity.

The imposing enchantress howling in sinful ecstasy as her hung human lover pinned her to the bed and pummeled her luscious ass…

That same ass that rolled enticingly as she sauntered over to a benchtop and plucked a pinch of sparkling pigment out of a clay jar to sprinkle over the smeared paints on her mixing tray.

"Are you content with your accommodations, do you lack for anything?" Queen Annarosa asked, returning to the portrait to continue her work. "Speak, child. I would not have it said later that our Bathardian hospitality was found wanting."

"Yes–I mean no. Ummm…"

Which question did the woman want answered? The lightheadedness was interfering with Erulia's usually agile wits.

And what was the Sorceress painting? She couldn't get a clear sight line on the easel from where she was seated.

The gorgeous Queen scowled, pausing to flick her free-flowing raven hair over a shoulder as she turned on the two elves with a stern expression.

“Perhaps it is better for you to be seen and not heard.” She scoffed, looking imperiously down her upturned nose. “I can deduce from your attire that you found the wardrobe without assistance at least. Small wonder. Have you been drinking the herbal tonic as instructed?”

“Y–yes.”

“Good, it has given you a healthy glow to those skinny cheeks.” Her Majesty said, sounding slightly mollified. “Let us pursue that line of questioning since you appear amenable to the subject.”

Which line of questioning? Erulia looked to her handmaiden for some much needed clarity in her discourse with the razor-tongued mad woman. Idril was blinking owlishly and looking about the workshop–Atelier as though lost. She had a warm glow on her cheeks too.

“The subject, Highness?” She hastily asked before the unhinged Blood Rose of Bathard could go off on another rant. “Do you mean the tea?”

“The reason behind the tea, girl. Have you forgotten?” Queen Annarosa asked, giving her a critical once over with her smoky eyes. “It is to prepare you for receiving my perfect son’s blessed seed.”

“The Prince’s seed?” Idril babbled, finally lending her voice to the uncomfortable proceedings.

She sounded half-asleep. Dreamy. The Queen shot her a minute smirk before returning to the canvas and adding a few more dabs of the now glittery paint.

“You elven women are like song birds, delicate and pretty to look upon. That is well enough but I have any number of song birds at my beck and call already. My greater interest lies in the furtherance of the royal line. For that I need brood hens.”

Birds… hens? What in the nine hells was this lunatic talking about?

“My apologies–”

“Children. Heirs. Your ability to carry healthy children for my sweet Seberin.” The Queen elucidated, almost attacking the portrait with her brush in a feverish fit of ardor. “My boy is immensely strong and endowed with more than kingly riches. You elvish maidens may be gifted with wisdom, magical talents and long lives but are slight in build. Frail. My future daughters-in-law must be robust, fruitful, capable of enduring his mighty passions!“

Goodness, Erulia was suddenly feeling warm at all this talk of the handsome Prince and his… fecundity. Hot even. Beside her, Idril was beginning to visibly sweat and rock in place on her stool.

The wave-like crashing of the castle wards was almost audible here, deep in the heart of the Sorceress’s power and the high elf could feel her resistance being tested. She straightened her back and shook her head in an attempt to clear it.

“The existence of half-elves is a long established fact…” She began in a small voice that quavered more than she wished but the Queen was still gathering a head of steam.

“Mongrel trash too rarely birthed from low-born adventurers and street whores. I speak of royalty, girl.” The raving Regent seized the easel in white-knuckled hands and dragged it around to face them. “Look upon his glory and tell me, in truth, that you would not be split in twain upon my brilliant boy’s supreme member!”

Idril gasped but Erulia could only gape at the big reveal. The colors glimmered like iridescent oil in wet swirls and lines forming a heart-stopping whole that was greater than the sum of its mesmeric parts.

An image of the Crown Prince Seberin was displayed in naked glory before their watering eyes, slung sideways across a golden throne with his stunningly gorgeous mother standing proudly beside him and an audience of ravishing, lingerie-clad beauties kneeling with demurely bowed heads surrounding the raised dais.

Every ridge and indent of his bronzed physique was presented in fantastic detail. A rich mane of chocolate hair fell over shoulders broad enough to hold up the heavens. His arms and legs were thick as stocky tree limbs, and the striated muscles of his ripped torso were stacked atop each like slabs of rough hewn granite.

But the point where her crystalline stare fixated was on the massive, ferociously male protuberance extending from the Prince’s bare lap.

“You see now? Bear witness to the foremost man to have ever existed in the history of this kingdom or any other!” Queen Annarosa proclaimed, spittle punctuating every zealous word. “Magnificent falls short of describing his utter excellence. My beloved son is the paragon of masculine perfection made flesh!”

Erulia was busy staring at that flesh.

Diamond hard flesh that was thicker than her wrist and huge. It glistened wetly–or was that just the paint?–and dragged at her mind as though it had an insidious psychic gravity all of its own. An unfamiliar ache began to grow down inside her flawlessly smooth belly. Hungry and persistent but there was an edge of fear too.

By all the heavens, how was she ever going to fit that thing inside her tiny body?

Beside her, Idril panted and moaned like she was on the edge of a panic attack. The stunning star blade writhed within her skin-tight mini dress, her hands shoved beneath the tablecloth and moving in a telling motion.

One didn’t need a hellhound’s supernaturally keen senses to smell her floral dampness or hear the moist noises coming from between her squeezed thighs.

“Your silent reverence is all the answer I need, Princess.” The Queen nodded, crossing her arms under her heavy breasts. Her tone had become unexpectedly calm. Conciliatory. All the fury and emotion gone in a flash. “I can read the despair on your pretty face. You desire my sweet Seberin, as all women do but cannot fathom the sheer physicality of sharing his marital bed.”

Erulia nodded dumbly, her sapphire gaze sliding over to the stately sorceress with all the speed of warm molasses.

She was very beautiful, now the elven Princess came to think about it. Ripe and lush with child-bearing hips, a waspish waist and big, pillowy tits that defied the passage of time. Her olive skin was unwrinkled and glowed with good health, her long raven hair voluminous and unfaded where it tumbled in dark waves down to sweep the top of her thick, firm behind.

How had Queen Annarosa only produced a single heir? She appeared handcrafted by the gods themselves to bear whole litters of infants.

“Fear not, child.” The ravishing woman crooned in a low sultry voice, stepping up to her in an elegant glide that brought them face to overflowing bosom, seated as Erulia was. “I have divined powerful alchemies with which to sculpt the body and rid it of all mortal sickness and deficiencies.”

The Princess could only boggle at all the abundant titflesh a hairs breadth away from her nose as delicate fingers dipped into the golden valley of cleavage and withdrew a thin glass vial of swirling purple liquid stoppered with a miniature cork.

She licked her dry lips.

“You are under no obligation to imbibe this potent catalyst. I will not **** it upon you through custom or contract but know this,” The Blood Rose of Barthard gently seized her small elvish hand in a firm hold and guided it down between the Princess’s shaking thighs. “I created this alchemical solution for myself. Its magic has stayed the march of years and restored me to the flower of my youth. Do you find me desirable, Princess?”

She did. Honored ancestors help her but she did!

“Y–yes…”

Strong fingers pressed against her own and pushed them against the insubstantial lace panties covering her puffy pussy mound. The salaciously small underwear–the most practical she could find that morning from the scandalous selection provided–sinking into her virginal cleft and rubbing against her dewy pearl under the delicious pressure of their joint touch.

Erulia let out a shuddering groan. It was unbefitting her noble station but couldn’t care a wit in the heavily lust-laden moment. The wave-like crashing of the palace wards thundered in time with her racing heartbeat as she nuzzled her flushed face into the Queen’s royal bosom.

“That pleases me greatly to hear, girl. I have toiled without cease and sacrificed much to reach my present position. Would you risk even a fraction of what I did to please my darling boy?”

The soft hand steered her own in thrilling spirals over the engorged button peeking from between her slickened folds and made Erulia quiver like an arrow at full draw. Her mind flashed with recalled images of the studly Crown Prince in his many illustrious depictions.

Tall, handsome, intimidatingly imposing and impressively built. Bronzed and honed and mightily hard.

Her pristine elf pussy clenched at the remembrance and her empty womb rumbled like a sleeping giant.

She released another garbled moan which Idril heartily echoed from beside her. It was so difficult to make such a weighty decision when her whole self was blazing with desire for a man she had never met in person.

“I musn’t… hnnnrgh~! There are other con–considerations… im–important treaties… oh fuck!”

The Queen pulled away just enough to free Erulia’s face from her captivating cleavage and shifted so she could look past her at the picture of ultimate manhood again.

“Considerations, girl? What else do you need to consider but HIM? My darling son…”

Her vision seemed to tunnel, focused on striking facial features, the shining muscles and–most of all–the mesmerizing, adamantine weapon so explicitly depicted in deflowering detail.

“I will. I–I swear it on the moon and stars.” She blathered as the leading hand released her to chase that elusive fruition alone. “Pleeeease~! Give me what I need to endure his manly affections. I want to be able to please his glorious majesty!”

“His glorious majesty!” Idril agreed lustily between gusty breaths and squelching fingers.

“Laudable words of devotion worthy of my Seberin.” Queen Annarosa purred, uncorking the vial. The scent was like an entire field of roses blew through the atelier. “Your frail elven bodies are primed to accept his royal seed but not yet physically prepared to bear his powerful progeny. This draught of fecundity will change that. Steel yourself, Princess, for the effects can be… dramatic.”

Erulia was ready. Past ready if her thrumming elfhood and achingly empty belly were to be believed. Her thumb rolled over her sparking clit as her fingers dipped oh-so-carefully into her drizzling pussy to draw out more lubricating moisture without risking her precious maidenhead.

Her hips bucked into her own hands as she leaned over the table towards the tiny glass vessel in the Sorceress’s grasp. Her little pink tongue extended and curled like a moist sluiceway to receive the purple liquid held within.

The gorgeous olive-skinned woman went to feed her the promised concoction then paused, her dark smoky eyes regaining some of the wicked glee from earlier.

“Oh, forgive me Princess. I almost forgot your precious elven traditions.” Then she turned, yanked Idril’s pretty head back by the hair and tipped the vial’s alchemical contents down the gaping elf’s throat. “Your assassin handmaiden always gets the first taste!”

“NOOooo~!”

Erulia wailed as she watched her hope for a fertile future filled with the Prince’s offspring disappear between her friend’s sagging lips. Queen Annarosa let out a manic giggle as she released the autumn-haired elf to collapse face-down on the table in a twitching, whimpering puddle of orgasmic release.

“Apologies, child. My sense of humor can be gauche at times, I did not mean to cause you any distress.” She said with a smirk, dipping her dainty hand back into the depths of her immense bosom. When it re-emerged, three identical purple filled vials were held between each of her knuckles. “As a high elf your inborn resistance to foreign magic will naturally precipitate the need for a larger dose. Ingest these and I will provide more as needed if the results are not as fulfilling as you desire.”

Her honeyed words barely registered to the moaning knife-eared Princess as she snatched up the proffered potions, tore the corks out with her teeth and guzzled down the florid smelling solution with gusto.

It tasted like rose-water, star anise and something tangy that she couldn’t quite place.

Then Erulia shrieked as her arousal spiked and a climactic lightning bolt grounded itself in her pristine nethers. The world turned fuzzy around the edges, soft and blurry as her spine bowed, her legs spasmed and blessed ecstatic darkness took her into its comforting embrace.

Thanks for reading my latest chapter. If you want to help support my writing or read advanced chapters, please consider buying me a coffee. Cheers and happy reading!