Lady Ellia, the Fiery Princess of Tahir

You decide to meet first with Ellia Kannath, the princess of the small nation of Tahir, one of many under your family's rule. Of all of your suitors, she is the wealthiest; Tahir is a nation of gold and mercantile trade, and none are more wealthy than the Kannath's of Tahir. From what you've heard of Ellia, she is a bit of a hot-head -- one who acts first and thinks later. Luckily, she has the money to squander on it, though you do wonder whether or not such a woman would be fit to serve as queen of all of Kayem...

You wait for her, alone, sitting on the small throne of obsidian glass in the throne room of Night's Vanguard. Meeting a princess requires a certain decorum, you've decided. Thus, you requested she meet you here, while you sit the throne. She does not keep you waiting long. Mere moments after you've sent for her, you hear a gentle rapping upon the door.

"You may enter," you call. You've done away with your own guards, and requested she do the same. A meeting to determine something this important should be done as intimately as possible. Plus, you have your charms. You are not worried that your life is in danger.

The door opens more slowly than you expected; the girl pushed it open with a mild, gentle touch. Your first look at her is through the doorway's widening crack, and even still you find her enchanting. Her hair, the color of flames, falls down the back of her red dress in gentle waves; her green eyes meet yours, but only for a moment, before they stick to the floor with the decorum of respect. She is shorter than you'd thought she'd be, barely over five feet, but the way her breasts pull at the bosom of her dress would keep anyone from mistaking her for a child. Her teeth show slightly beneath her lip, but perhaps that is because she is nervously biting her own lower lip, waiting for you to speak. The door shuts behind her in a soft hush.

"Good morning, my prince," she says with a nervous curtsey. She pushes a strand of her orange hair away from her face to better reveal her freckles. You make an effort to avoid staring at the front of her dress, where her cleavage extends the fabric down so far you swear you can see the hint of her nipple's pinkness. You adjust your robe to accommodate the growth between your own legs. "I have come to ask that you might consider me fore your queen."

Her voice is soft, forcing you to lean in to hear her. She takes this as a sign to step closer with another low curtsey.

"I bring you great wealth, my prince, and the loyalty of all of Tahir," she continues. "And I can promise you that my chastity is in tact, that I have not yet been defiled by the opposite, rougher sex."

"Is what you speak true?" You ask, meeting her eyes with your own. This magic better work, you think. "I have heard tell of your fiery passions; this modesty confuses me. Have you truly never partaken in the pleasures of the flesh?"

"My prince," she says, slowly, her own face seemed confused at her voice, like she was speaking without meaning to. "I did lie; I have partaken, numerous times, and am hoping to again as soon as I might return to Tahir. I have been fucked by man, woman, and certain creatures from the villages surrounding our fine capital. I have felt the warmth of cum on almost every inch of my body; my cunt is so well-used I can barely even pleasure myself anymore. I think of little other than pleasures of the flesh, my prince."

Her hand covers her mouth as soon as she stops speaking, eyes wide in disbelief.

"That is interesting, Lady Ellia," you say. "This falls far better in line with what I've heard of you."

"My prince, I do not know why I said all that, I assure you --"

"Do not attempt to lie to me again," you say, raising a hand to silence her. "Your wealth would make you a find partner for any hoping to maintain power, and Tahir is a powerful nation within its own right, under our rule. Still, I do not know if it would do well to have a whore as queen of an entire nation, no matter her wealth or beauty."

She waits for your decision, her breath held close to her chest. Already you see her arms pressing her breasts together beneath he silk of her dress, her hands sitting just below her waist. You wonder how badly she is dying to press her fingers again into her snatch; you wonder if you make her wait even a few moments longer if she would not surrender all decorum and being to pleasure herself in front of you... the thought hardens you in a way too difficult to hide at your new length -- the tip of your shaft presses above the fabric of your robes, and you do not adjust fast enough to hide it from Ellia. Her lips moisten beneath the bite of her teeth.

"My prince," she says, stepping closer, "perhaps you would like to inspect me? To ensure you... like what you see?"

"Yes," you stammer, "I think -- I think that might be a good idea."

Her hands press her hair back and away from her face, before moving to the shoulders of her dress, slipping off one, then the other, until the dress is no more than a pile of red fabric at her feet. In another quick motion, the corset beneath is stripped, and it seemed she had never been wearing any undergarments to begin with. You cannot help but stare at her heaving tits, free now from their constraints, freckled as her face, rising and falling with each breath. Her nipples were already hard, emerging from wide, pink areolas that looked almost like lipstick stains on her chest, like she had been kissed so much there that only the pink remained. You note, beneath her breasts and in various spots around her waist, small, discolored bruise-marks -- the remnants, no doubt, of a particularly rough fucking, or from many, considering her story.

Even so, you had never seen a naked woman before, and had never encountered a woman so beautiful, so willing, standing at the throne before you. Without thinking, your hand brushes over your cock, stroking as she poses before you.

"My prince..." she says, after a moment. "I know it is improper... but... I would be happy to assist my prince with his... difficulty. Perhaps it will show you what a good queen I might be?"

She approaches the throne while she waits for your answer, though it is so hard for you to think... Should you accept her advances? You could always fuck the princess whore and then send her on her way... Or perhaps she would make a nice queen after all - -you could spend your days with her, in reckless abandon, fucking non-stop?

Her hand presses down over your own, guiding your hand in a faux hand-job as you think. The warmth of her touch makes you gasp, even though she is only pressing her fingers over your own. Your eyes are stuck on the wetness of her lips, the way they seem to be dripping already with drool...