The Valet

“Well-rested?” You look up to see a pretty redhead staring back at you with bright green eyes and a knowing smile on her face.

"Where is Princess Fiona?" You ask nervously.

“Her highness was pulled away, but don't worry, she sent me to fetch you," She answers, "As for me, I serve her highness in a variety of different capacities.” The smile never leaves her face, "Officially, I am her valet, but I also have a number of other unofficial duties." She adds cryptically.

"And what should I call you?" You ask

"Dame Olivia Shetland at your service," she says with a mocking bow, "but that's a bit of a mouthful so just call me Ollie." She arches an eyebrow, “Now... are you going to get out of this pool, or do I need to send the guards in after you?”

Something about this woman’s easy demeanor brings a smile to your face and you quickly climb out of the pool blushing as those intriguing green eyes fall between your legs.

“My my,” she says, “her highness certainly wasn’t exaggerating when she said you were a big one. Perhaps I should have sent the guards in, after all, morale has been a little low of late and I've never met a guard whose day wasn't brightened by a nice hard cock.”

She hands you a towel which you quickly use to cover yourself.

“Show's over ladies,” the valet calls over to a trio of young courtiers that had been angling for a better look at your now-famous manhood. The women redden and pretend to be deep in conversation.

Ollie shakes her head, “Seems like a lot of folks are in need of a good dicking these days.” She mutters under her breath as she leads you out of the bathhouse.

You follow her through a different entrance from the one you entered with the princess and make your way up a winding flight of stairs and into a large hallway. Ornate tapestries line the grey stone walls and small windows on one side of the room overlook a large well-manicured garden with a small pond in its center. Several men sit beside the pond laughing and throwing pieces of bread to a family attentive ducks

“These are the men’s quarters,” Ollie explains with a flourish, preempting your next question. She opens her mouth but cuts off with a grimace as a short balding man dressed in a fine silk robe bustles into the hallway, two white-robed attendants in tow.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” The man asks, puffing up his chest in a vain attempt to make himself look bigger, despite the fact that he is still a full head shorter than both you and the princess' green-eyed valet.

“Lord Caldersmith,” Ollie inclines her head slightly. “I’m here on the princess's orders, this man is to be given a room in the men’s quarters. Did she not send word in advance?"

The man's face reddens visibly at Ollie's words, "She most assuredly did not, and you can be sure that the Queen will hear of this." He huffs, "Bad enough I am held hostage here against my will, now I am to share these meager quarters with this massive oaf of a man? Where on earth did you find such a beast?"

Olivia shrugs, “you know how she is my lord, “she tends to go through men very quickly and figured that this one might hold up a little longer than the last few,"

The man sniffs, and without another word he stalks back into his room, his two attendants shoot you dark looks before scurrying after him.

“What was that about?” You ask.

Helena snorts, "That, my massive oaf of a man, is Prince Caldersmith of Gelderland.” She explains, “he is the eldest son of Queen Evelyn Caldersmith and has been kept hostage here ever since his mother's failed attack on our kingdom last year."

She continues, "Hostage or not though, he still has the rank of prince and as such is not someone to be trifled with. Were I you, I'd keep well clear of him unless you want to wake with a dagger in your back."

You nod. "Anything else I should know?"

"Stay clear of Caldersmith and you should be fine. By now everyone knows not to lay a finger on you without the Princess' express permission, so as long as you stay on her good side you shouldn't have any problems." She chats amicably as she leads you down the hall and through a large wooden door.

Inside is a large but simply decorated room with a large four-poster bed on one side and a fireplace burning warmly on the other.

“The tailor will be in to see you shortly,” Helena says. As she makes to leave she turns to you, a serious expression on her face, “watch your back around Caldersmith male. I don’t know why, but the princess actually seems to like you, and I really don’t want to have to explain why her new toy got killed right under my nose.”

Without a word of further explanation she disappears down the hall, leaving you standing in the room in nothing but a small towel.