Enslaving the Princess (Mind Control Breeding) (2 page)

She had closed her
eyes when she came, but when she opened them, the crystal was right there.

“Princess Mariana
should serve me.”

“Princess Mariana
should serve you.”

Camille licked her
lips. Mariana wasn't the only one who should serve Victor.

“You serve
Princess Mariana.”

“I serve Princess Mariana.”

“You should serve
me.”

Camille's hand had
snaked up his robes, gleefully finding the lack of any impediment to his
already completely hard cock.

“I should serve
you,” she purred.

“I am your King.”
His voice getting ragged now.

She made her
strokes long, using her thumb around his cockhead to spread the precum around.
Before long, his entire shaft was slick.

“You are my King.”

He pushed forward,
his cock right in front of her face now.

“My cock is the
only one you need.”

“Your cock is the
only one I need.” Her voice breathy, hot, tinged with the need he prescribed.

“You want to be
filled by my kingcock.”

“I want to be
filled by your kingcock.”

Drool was sliding past her lips, running down her chin. She could not help but
lick his perfect shaft as he spoke. It tasted an awful lot like the substance
from the goblet. How wonderful.

“You want to be
bred by my seed.”

“I want to be bred
by your seed.”

Victor grabbed her
by her incredible volume of hair and shoved her forward on her cock. She had no
say in the matter anymore, no control. He slid her back and forth, up and down
his shaft, and she simply complied like a good servant. One of his hands still
held the crystal over her eyes, completely transfixing her.

“I am your King,”
he said. “I am your Master. I own you. I own your cunt. I own your womb.”

She moaned out
affirmatives each time. Her hot lips stayed slick on his shaft, and she made
sure her tongue was actively adoring every precious inch of Master's flesh that
she felt. He was so good to her.

He was so
delicious and perfect. She was his. He owned her. Her MasterKingOwner. He was
so perfect.

Her big, lovely
tits were mashing up against his knees as he fucked her pretty face. He wasn't
slowing down. She didn't care. It was so hot how she didn't care how hard he
fucked her face. She was his plaything. He could do whatever he wanted.

“When I cum, you cum,”
he ordered.

“Mmmhmmm!”

She was so close
anyway. Her cunt juices had already ruined her dress. She had no idea how she
was going to walk back to her quarters without being called out for being a
slut. She didn't care. She was
Master's
slut.

She felt his balls
tense up, his every muscle tighten. Then heaven arrived in her mouth in liquid
form, every Divinity singing out the praises in her mind of this Masterful Lord
and King who owned her. Her orgasm frolicked across her body, burying her in
pleasure, even as his seed buried itself deep in her tummy. Its taste was
transcendent, the feeling euphoric. The thick hot wetness slid hot down her
throat, each inch of it sliding so perfectly inside of her young, willing body.

Every hot new
spurt was just dirt on the grave of that silly thing she had called a will. It
made her so happy to not have to worry about any thoughts but her Master's
thoughts from now on.

All the bliss must
have knocked her out, because when the waves of bliss finally subsided, she was
on the floor, and he was walking around naked, preparing mixtures. She watched
him cum—almost as if by his own will—into a flask, and then pour that into a
goblet with a few other tinctures. Camille pouted—she wanted to be the one to
make him cum.

He set down the
tray on a stool in front of her.

“Make yourself
presentable, dearie,” he said. He pointed at the tray. “The goblet goes to the
Princess, that's your second trip. Your first trip is to take the bottle to the
King.”

“The imposter
King, Master?”

He smiled. “That's
right, pet. You tell the guards it's from Dell, the herbalist. For the King's
cough.”

“This will cure
the King's cough?”

Master smiled. “It
will seem to make the symptoms subside, for about six hours. And then all of a
sudden, he will not be able to stop. He should die within the week. Do you have
a problem with that?”

She shook her
head. Of course not. The imposter had to be punished. Master had to assume his
proper position. And Princess Mariana should serve him as the Queen.

All of these things
made such perfect sense. She was so lucky Victor explained them to her.

––––––––

M
ariana, finally,
was back in her quarters. She loved her Royal Tower—its enormous chain of
bedrooms, the voluminous bath that was the size of some common people's houses,
the enormous outdoor garden that had its flowers changed out three times a day.
The size of it, the opulence, the wealth dripping off the walls—these were all
just reminders to her that she absolutely deserved her exalted position.

The numerous
mirrors she had positioned on every wall were similar reminders. The multitude
of her reflections were, of course, each fabulously stunning. Be it her thick
mane of gorgeous golden blond hair, her vibrant emerald green eyes, her
sensationally trim form with such perfectly shaped breasts, her exquisitely
long legs, or even her face—so perfectly angelic and haughty,  ideal for her
station—all of these were just reminders that she deserved her place at the
top.

Furthermore, they
were reminders that, if she was not one of the Seven Divines in human form (as
she was so justifiably starting to believe as she grew in beauty each day), she
was at the very least chosen by them to be their prophet of beauty and power to
the Kingdom of Elysia.

As Mariana went,
so went the Kingdom of Elysia. The Princess had heard the saying. It was quite
a lot to live up to, but she felt more than up to the task. Tomorrow, she would
be coronated as Queen with the ceremony on the Ten Thousand Steps, and the
belief in her as the divine ruler of the country would be solidified ever more.

Her outfit
certainly wasn't doing anything to disprove that belief. Today, she had on a
rich crimson gown trimmed with golden chain. Her delightful breasts were on
full display by the cut of the dress. Long, wide slits in the fabric started at
her hips and ran the length of her scorching hot legs. Tall stiletto heels
decorated her feet, with golden ribbon wrapping upward from the heels on each
leg to her thighs. Her ornate crown rested perfectly in her perfectly arranged
volume of golden hair, the diamonds there sparkling with every move.
Elbow-length gloves, decorated again with golden chain, completed the regal
look.

She was glad to be
back in these quarters, alone once more. The morning had been tumultuous, to
say the least. There had been an overwhelming amount of evidence to convict
that damned herbalist, Dell, for killing the King.

Mariana had never
had much love for her father, and in fact was rather glad to see him go. Just
as she knew she deserved her position as Princess, she knew she deserved an
even higher one, as the one Queen of the Realm. But still, punishments had to
be dealt out. Even if Mariana didn't automatically believe he was guilty—and
with his ratty grease-sponging hair and his misshapen face and body, it was
hard not to—there were over twenty eyewitnesses that collaborated the story
that said he had wanted to kill the king for some time now.

Still, it was
quite odd how all of the witnesses just so happened to be some of the most
gorgeous young women in Fairmount Palace.  And more than that, over half of
them were Mariana's servants. When asked why they hadn't stopped the herbalist
on their own, or why they had not alerted the guards, they simply said they
never thought he was really serious.

Mariana—the final
decider in these matters, after hearing the prosecution led by Counselor
Victor—felt it was a simple decision to make. She could hardly say all those
gorgeous maidens were lying, after all, even if she knew firsthand that a great
deal of them weren't quite maidens.

The herbalist
denied it all thoroughly, of course. He was quite vehement about his innocence,
and seemed rather shocked when he had been assigned to the dungeons for the
rest of his life. That wouldn't be much longer, Mariana knew. One could hardly
let a killer of kings go on living.

She sighed. She
could really use a lay. Only a month ago, that thought would have never entered
her head. She would have never considered calling in one of her handmaidens to
skillfully lick her pussy while she looked down and stroked the dear pet's
hair, cooing softly in royal tones. But now, it was second nature.

At times, Mariana
found it curious that her sexuality—now that it had finally decided to
bloom—was focused so directly on women. Women were gorgeous, of course,
delicious little playthings for her to admire and enjoy. But it did not seem
the norm.

In her dreams,
sometimes, she was pinned against a wall and fucked mercilessly by a tall man.
One wearing a crown. She called him King. His shaft riding into her virgin
cunt, throbbing inside her with the pulse of the universe.

But, every man she
came across hardly measured up to those dreams. One of many disappointments to
stomach as Princess, and soon, Queen.

She called out to
the servants waiting just outside. “A drink!” she called.

There was no
response.

Annoyed, she
called out again.

“A drink, I said!
One from Camille!”

The drinks from
that particular servant were the only kind that did the job, as of late.
Mariana did not know what the delectable brunette put in the beverages. She did
not care. She just wanted more of them.

There was still no
response.

Ready to fly into
a rage, Princess Mariana strutted back across the marble floor in her
magnificent heels—she had never quite learned to walk without strutting and
showing off how gorgeous she was—and opened the door.

Camille was right
behind the door already, holding a goblet full of the milky red liquid. Frilly
little green gloves decorated her hands as they held the goblet. The dazzling
brunette was smiling warmly, wearing a green silk dress, the fabric entirely
sheer. It was impossible not to stare at Camille's bulging pregnant belly, her
milk-engorged breasts.

Camille held the
goblet up in a green-gloved hand. “Your refreshment, my Princess.”

Mariana snatched
it from her, taking a sip. The euphoria swept over her instantly. Everything
started to feel better.

“Where are my
guards?” asked Mariana. “The other servants?”

Camille looked
around. The usual posting of ten armed guards and a servant for each was
nowhere to be found.

“I believe they
moved down the hall,” said Camille. “To give you your privacy on this tiresome
day.”

Mariana had
already stopped listening. Tiresome. It was all so tiresome, that was exactly
the word. She had no mind to keep track of the movements of servants.

The gorgeous royal
teenager strode back inside her quarters, and found the nearest couch to slide
her luxurious body on. She sipped away at her drink, enjoying its thick
texture, the constant state of euphoria it spread through her hot body.

“When did you get
so pregnant?” she asked.

Camille had
followed Mariana, sitting at the edge of an adjacent couch. Mariana was resting
deep in the pillows, almost flat, and Camille was looking down at her. The long
tresses of the brunette's sparkling, soft hair tickled Mariana's face
pleasantly. Everything was so pleasant.

“Oh, not too long
ago, Princess. My Sir . . . his seed is so strong. I won't be pregnant for much
longer.”

Mariana giggled.
“That doesn't make sense, dearie. I'll have to educate you sometime about how
it all works.”

“I'd love to have
you educate me, Princess.”

Camille placed a
hand on her shoulder. Soft, small. It was only inches away from her breast. So
daring. So bold.

“Do you think I'm
pretty, Princess?”

Of course she
thought Camille was pretty. What a silly thing to ask. Even though she was
enormously pregnant. Maybe even partly because of that. Camille was positively
glowing. And her breasts, formerly delicious little morsels, had turned into
amazing feasts for the eyes. Perhaps for more than just the eyes.

“Oh yes,” said
Mariana.

“It's just that,”
Camille opined. “You've never let me lick you like you have the other girls.”

“Really?”

Certainly that
wasn't true. Mariana took a deep gulp from the goblet. Camille was so very
gorgeous, and Mariana had never slept with her? That was akin to blasphemy.

“Really, Princess.
And I understand if you don't think I'm attractive. It's just . . . I would
very much like to.”

Mariana took
another deep gulp, the warm euphoria washing over her. What a novel idea,
having Camille lick her. What a fun little task for the day. She sat up a bit
on the couch, spreading her legs.

“Why don't you
start, then?”

Camille's face lit
up. She had such a gorgeous young smile. “Wonderful! Thank you, Princess!”

She got into
position between Mariana's legs, started to move downward, and then stopped
suddenly.

“I'm sorry,” she
said. “My necklace here is getting in the way. Let me move it.”

She pulled out
from her expansive cleavage a shiny, bright crystal. Mariana could not stop
staring at it. The crystal shone and shone, pouring out blue light into the
expansive quarters.

“Do you like it?”
asked Camille. “Master gave it to me. The same man who impregnated me. He's so
very good.”

“ . . . very good .
. .” said Mariana, her eyes caught on the stone.