Massage therapy.

A twinkle forming in her eye, Madeleine darts off to her private library, rifling through a selection of scrolls until she alights on a particular one. Staring overlong at the title, the princess eventually decides it's what she was after.

"Here." Madeleine says offering it to you. "Massage techniques, developed by the Amazons. They may provide you with some relief from the discomfort of your condition."

"T-that's very kind, Madeleine, but I've tried many approaches. Exercises, diets, sleeping positions." You kept quiet about the minotaur "liqueur". The middling increase to your mobility and stamina levels hadn't been worth... that. "Nothing seems to help."

"With respect, Edward." Madeleine begins. "You've tried... continental methods. Itherian ones at that. The Amazons may have some preposterous, backwards views when it comes to their gods, their society, not to mention bringing women onto the battlefield, but the savages do understand a good deal about the body, anatomy."

"Let me demonstrate. I can almost guarantee you'll feel an improvement." Madeleine insists.

"...Very well." You ultimately relent.

"Brilliant!" Madeleine says, enthused. "Now then, if you could just undress..."

"I'm sorry, what?" you respond, an eyebrow cocked.

"Why, if I'm to massage you effectively, I'll need to make contact with your skin, yes darling?" Madeleine states.

"That hardly seems... proper." You slur, still taken aback.

"Edward, I'm not some shrinking violet." Madeleine insists. "Besides, to hear the songs tell it, you've little to feel shame about."

Part of you burns with shame upon hearing that. You revelled in your sexual exploits, but to have folk across Motania sing of one of them? That was new to you.

Deciding again to go along with it, you remove your opulent attire, laying down on Madeleine's table in only your smallclothes.

The princess looks you up and down, taking in your body, the healthy, normally developed left half, and the spindlier, tensed-up rightmost extremities.

"You know, Edward. You really are fascinating." Madeleine intones, running an hand down your right arm, brushing past your thighs. "Think about it. There are but a handful of monarchs on the continent. You just happen to be one of them. You also just happened to be born with this condition, the like of which is so rare as to only occur in one in every several hundred of the population."

"You're a real rarity, Edward." Madeleine says. Something in her tone unsettles you. As if she sees you less as a person, a peer, and more another potential oddity, a specimen to keep alongside her collection of freaks, the twins, the goblin and the peace-loving pirate.

"I am as the gods made me." You offer, a little unconvincingly. Madeleine scoffs.

"If you ask me, the gods have nothing to do with it." the Sinnabarrovian smiles, leaning over you. "The real reason, I couldn't possibly say, but I suppose that's why us natural philosophers inquire as we do. Now, let's get started."

Turning, the redhead hands off the scroll to her handmaid.

"Ellie, since Benjamin's otherwise occupied, you shall have to read for me." Madeleine murmurs to the blonde, who takes the scroll and does as she is bade.

"Now Edward, I must tell you... this... won't be comfortable." Madeleine chuckles.

With Elodie reading aloud from the scroll, describe techniques and methodologies, Madeleine gets to work. She's far from gentle, kneading the stiffest, sorest parts of your body with her hands. What the princess lacks in stature and strength, she makes up for in knowledge and sheer tenacity. Madeleine brushes your arm and leg, pressing down at the frail portions of your body with her knuckles, just as the technique describes.

Despite yourself, despite wishing to project an aura of strength, you find yourself letting out a few gasps of discomfort as Madeleine massages you.

"I warned you, Edward!" the royal says, her posh voice tinged with just the slightest tremblings of delight. "This is an Amazonian technique, from what I hear, those ladies are far from gentle!"

"S-still, the treatment threatens to be worse than my condition!" You protest.

"I know a method of relief." Madeleine says, her heavily painted lips curling into a devious smile as her eyes alight on your crotch.

"Ellie! Put that scroll down. I want you to provide King Edward with some... relief." Madeleine tells her servant.

"Your Excellency, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with-" the nervous blonde begins, only to be interrupted.

"Now, Ellie!" Madeleine snaps, raising her voice. She's still hard at work on your massage. If anything, her irritation has lent a little more... **** to her ministrations. "I didn't ask you bitch, I told you. You're a fucking servant, so get over here and serve!"

At the princess' outburst, Elodie drops any pretence of defiance. Silently, the blonde sets the scroll down and trudges around to the other side of the massage table.

"That's better." Madeleine remarks, as if nothing ever happened. "Now, Edward, just lie back, try to relax. Ellie's going to help you with that..."

Slowly, furtively, Elodie's hands reach into your underwear and take out your cock. The blonde's hands are soft, and if her **** perturbs you at all, the delight her softly squeezing your prick brings makes that feeling lessen.

"Not bad." Madeleine notes, glancing down at your length. "I've... seen bigger, but I was watching a minotaur dissection at the time!" she chortles.

"Ellie. Ellie, look at me!" Madeleine demands, snapping her fingers in front of the other woman's face. Elodie had presently been taking a committed interest in observing the flagstones. The sheepish young woman looks up, trying to avoid staring directly at you or your member.

"Ellie, what do you think of King Edward's cock?" Madeleine asks playfully.

"It's... very nice, Your Excellency." Elodie says quickly, quietly.

"It is, isn't it? But how does it compare? To... other cocks, any you've... seen before." There's a snickering, mocking tone to Madeleine's words, though to what she's referring, you're not sure.

"As I said, milady, it's nice." Elodie protests.

"You hear that Edward? You've an admirer!" Madeleine laughs, digging her hands into your lower thigh. "Ah, but I bet all the commoner women must idolise you in Itheria."

One thing you feel for sure is that Elodie knows how to work a cock. The pleasure from Elodie's timid, almost unwilling handjob and the pain from Madeleine's massage intermingle. The joint sensations put you in mind of being used by Jarl Hjordis, or nights with your mother, when she simply didn't care how sore you were feeling.

Bucking your hips up against Elodie's fingers, you groan out your satisfaction as your seed flies free, not into a cunt this time, but falling down, painting Elodie's hands. Though her job is done, Elodie continues to stimulate you. She knows it's not worth angering her mistress.

Madeleine, for her part, massages you for a few more minutes, before bringing it to an end.

"There. Sit up, Edward. How do you feel?" the princess asks, studying your every reaction.

You push yourself up, trying to move your right arm and shift your left leg. Sure enough, despite the pain still lingering from Madeleine's forceful techniques, the usually pain and stiffness in your right side does feel somewhat lessened. You can even manoeuvre your arm a little wider than your normal range of movement with it.

"Not bad." You tell Madeleine. "There may be something to these Amazonian techniques."

Delighted, Madeleine looks from you, to Elodie, then back.

"Care to put that to the test?" The princess asks, a sly smile forming on her face.