Go to the well

Her first task of the day was always to fetch water from the well. Her father was already working the fields, so it was her duty to fetch buckets. She bent to pick up the yoke and buckets and felt her ample breasts shift against the rough material of her working dress. Jolts of pleasure rippled through her body and she shivered. She glanced around and then adjusted her ample cleavage. It was harder and harder for her to dress modestly as her breasts grew and her dresses stayed the same. Picking up the buckets, she began down the road to the well.

Passing the river, Aryn hear hoofbeats behind her. She turned her head and saw an ornately decorated carriage. The top half of the carriage was drawn back and seated within was a young, black haired noble.

As soon as she saw the crown upon his brow, Aryn dropped her buckets and sank to her knees. She placed her brow into the dirt, not wanting to offend the royal. Aryn did not know what kingdom this man was from, but she knew that he would have few qualms about murdering a lowly peasant.

The rattling of the coach continued, but it stopped just before Aryn. She whispered under her breath, "Oh gods, oh gods, Ycana bless me with life, Aforen give me strength." She was almost in tears when the man stepped out and stood before her. His boots, were just in front of her face. Her long tied-up hair fell in front of her eyes obscuring her veiw as she lifted her head slightly.

"Well?" requested the royal, "Does a king in your country not get his shoes shined? Lick my boots you dirty slut, show me the respect I deserve from a whore like you."