The Warrior and the Petulant Princess (20 page)

“What?”

“I’m not going to spank you, Lizbett, just do as I say. Head and legs on the seat. I want you to be comfortable.”

Gathering up the many folds of material, she undid the knot allowing her underwear to drop, then laid herself out, wriggling over his thighs so her body was as he’d instructed.

“How do you feel?”

“Happy,” she sighed. “I like it here.”

“I know that,” he grinned staring at her splotchy round cheeks, “and you will find yourself in this position a great deal, both for pleasure and for punishment. I will begin your morning spanking after two passages of the moon. It will give your beautiful bottom time to fully recover, but now…now I will make your nugget very happy.”

She let out a grateful moan, and moving his fingers into her slit he found her delightfully wet. Touching where his cock would soon penetrate he pushed forward, and like a flower greeting the rise of the East sun, she spread her legs and her channel opened, inviting his fingers to enter.

“I know you have not laid with a man,” he murmured pushing his finger forward, “yet I find no…”

“No, of course not,” she interrupted. “I’ve never wanted any man to even kiss me, not any man except you.”

“It is because you have been riding astride a horse for so long. That is the cause. It has worn away the thin membrane that allows a man to know you are still a maiden.”

“Oh, no, is that bad?” she asked turning her head to stare at him over her shoulder.

“No, it will make your first time much easier, there should be no pain,” he reassured her, and as he slid his finger further forward she let out a little cry, then laid her head back down.

“Does this feel nice to you?” he asked softly.

“So nice, so very nice. It makes me want more, it makes me tingle, oh, Larian, it makes me feel many things.”

“I will do this a great deal before our wedding night, so when my mighty cock thrusts for the first time you will feel only pleasure, much pleasure,” he crooned.

Dropping his thumb against her tiny, sensitive nub he pressed and circled, then paused to move his finger in and out. She gasped and moaned and wriggled, and as the carriage carried them forward he continued the dance; stirring her nugget, then pumping his finger, alternating between the two, bringing her higher and higher, until she wailed her bliss.

“Larian, it’s upon me, it’s upon me!”

“Let it flow,” he exclaimed, and resting his finger in her cunt he vigorously rubbed this thumb over her swollen kernel.

She gasped, her body stiffened, and the spasm hit. Her head snapped back, and her shrill cries filled the small cabin; he milked her moment, never pausing his attention, until her yowls finally abated and she fell limp. Removing his hand he caressed her bottom for a moment, then pulled her up to curl into his body.

“Larian,” she panted, “I have no words. I feel fresh tears.”

“You don’t need words,” he sighed, “when the feeling is so strong there are none.”

Though his cock was pulsing, all thought was on her; moments passed, then she raised her beautifully flushed face, and her soft mauve eyes sparkled at him.

“I can feel your rod,” she said coyly. “It needs to do that too.”

“It does,” he smiled.

“Do you want me to use my hand as I did before?”

“I would like that very much, but in future you will say, please may I have the honor of pleasing your cock, and I will say, yes or no. Then I will tell you if you should use your hand or your mouth.”

“My mouth?” she gasped.

“Don’t fret, Lizbett, I will teach you, but after our wedding. I mention it now because you must think about it, consider it, dream about what joy it will bring you.”

“My goodness, the thought quite takes my breath away.”

“And doing it probably will too,” he smiled, “but for now you must say the words. Do you remember them?”

“Please may I have the honor of pleasing your cock?” she asked timidly.

“Yes, with your hand.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he murmured stroking her hair.

“It makes me so happy when you say that,” she sighed. “It positively fills me.”

He smiled, then kissed her, showing his approval with his warm, loving, moist lips.

“Now,” he said pulling back, “now you may pleasure my cock. It is eager to feel your delicate fingers.”

She slipped from his lap to sit beside him, but he moved her on to her knees.

“This is the position you will take when you do this,” he said firmly.

“Yes, Sir, I will remember.”

Opening the wooden buttons, she pulled down the flap and found his stiffened cock already oozing tiny, clear drops. She gazed at it for a moment, then wrapping her fingers around the thick shaft she began to stroke, moving her hand up and down in a strong, consistent rhythm.

“Yes, that’s it, good girl, just like that,” he muttered staring down at her, then resting his head back he closed his eyes to sink into the delightfully satisfying sensation.

As he sensed his moment brewing he surrendered to the gentle rocking of the carriage as it joined with her artful attention, allowing the buildup to take its course. He had been well-trained and had control of his eruption, but he decided to allow nature to dictate his release, and for the first time in many moons he exerted no self-control.

It was a marvelous thing…to simply allow it to happen of its own accord…and when it did, when the explosion jerked his cock, he felt the powerful moment surge through his body.

The climax was deep and fierce, the convulsions rippling through him sending shockwaves of sparks, and when the intoxicating moment was finally done with him, and she was tenderly wiping him with her petticoats, he opened his eyes to a thousand tiny lights. He’d experienced the moment hundreds of times, but it was unlike any that had come before.

Utterly drained he barely felt her put him away, replace the flap and settle back beside him.

“Larian, are you all right?” she whispered.

Barely finding the strength, he lifted his arm and pulled her into his shoulder.

“No, I’m much better than all right,” he mumbled,
and I just learned how a small woman can bring a mighty warrior to his knees.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T
hey slept. It wasn’t planned and neither had suggested it; it just happened. The gentle rolling ride lulled them as they drifted, and when Larian was woken by a gentle knock on the carriage door his eyes bolted open.

He was startled that he had napped so peacefully; it was rare for a warrior to simply drift away, and shaking his head he gently pulled his arm from around Lizbett’s body, still curled into him, and moved to the door.

“Commander, we are very close to your house.”

It was Zoltaire, and he knew Larian would not wish to arrive at his residence in a carriage.

“So soon?” Larian frowned.

“We have traveled through the passage of the moons,” Zoltaire replied. “The East sun has just risen.”

Stunned by the news he looked past Zoltaire into the distance, then raised his eyes to the sky.

Zoltaire is right. How can it be? This is astonishing.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “Please bring Thunder but without his saddle. I shall ride with Lizbett. We shall approach together.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Closing the door he turned around to see Lizbett stretching her arms above her head; her eyes were closed, and when she opened them she spotted her undergarments still laying on the floor. Hastily jumping from her seat she snatched them up and attempted to pull them up, but she lost her balance and fell backwards, landing on the cushions she’d just been sitting on. Larian burst into laughter.

“This isn’t funny,” she exclaimed struggling to pull them up amidst her billowing petticoats.

“Do you need help?” he asked unable to suppress his laughter.

“No, yes, no,” she stammered, then unable to stop herself began giggling hysterically.

“I think you do,” he quipped.

Taking her by the arms he stood her up, then told her to hold up her many underclothes as he slid the underwear up her legs and tied off the knot.

“My goodness, what a lot of fluffy finery you must wear.”

“It’s too much. When I’m Queen I’m going change things,” she declared. “I’m going to start new fashions for women. All of this is ridiculous.”

“That will be an interesting time,” he remarked as he smoothed her dress, “I think I’m going to enjoy that part of your reign.”

“Why have we stopped?” she asked, suddenly realizing they weren’t moving.

“We’re very close, and Zoltaire knows I would not wish to arrive at my new residence in a carriage.”

“Oh, so you’re going to ride?”

“Yes, and so are you.”

“But..I don’t have a saddle, Scarlet might get excited.”

“I think Scarlet will be too tired to be excited but it doesn’t matter, I didn’t mean you’re going to ride Scarlet. You’re going to sit on Thunder with me.”

“I am?”

“You are. You and I will approach together. You will be seated as a lady should be, not astride, but with your legs over one side mounted in front of me. Now help me pull the shades back.”

Still thinking about his suggestion she helped open the shades, but when she spied Larian’s big black horse through the window she paused, and looked at Larian with wary eyes.

“He’s so tall and big. Will it be safe?”

“Thunder is a much safer horse than your Scarlet,” he said soberly. “Don’t you remember when we met at the bridge? I could see you were envious of how well behaved he was.”

“I remember…it’s just…he’s so big,” she repeated.

“Lizbett, I would not suggest it if I thought for even one moment there would be any risk. Once we are settled in our married life I will teach you how to ride properly,” he promised, “and how to make Scarlet calmer and happier.”

“Like me,” she sighed.

“Yes, like you,” he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. I will always keep you safe!”

Taking her hand he helped her from the carriage, but when she stood beside the towering horse she felt a ripple of fear. His back was high and wide, his mane was thick and flowing around him, and when his huge head turned and his brown eyes stared down at her she clutched Larian’s sleeve.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, be brave, trust me.”

Then it struck him.

The Lizbett he’d met at the bridge the day he’d returned to Verdana would never have shown her fear; she would have either found an excuse not to get on, or pretended she had no problem at all and pushed past her worry to show she wasn’t afraid of anything.

“Lizbett,” he said softly, dropping his lips to her ear, “I’m very proud of you right now.”

Startled, she turned and gazed up at him, and though she didn’t understand why he was so happy with her, she saw the approval in his aqua eyes.

“Uh, thank you,” she replied with a half-smile. “How am I supposed to get up there?”

“Zoltaire will lift you.”

“Yes, Princess, from the step of the carriage,” Zoltaire said climbing from his horse and moving forward.

With a move that astounded her, Larian grabbed a large chunk of his horse’s mane, leapt from the ground and flipped his legs over Thunder’s back while the horse remained completely still; Lizbett stared up in disbelief.

“How did you do that?”

“Practice,” he laughed. “Your turn.”

Walking nervously back to the carriage she climbed up on the step, and taking her by the waist Zoltaire lifted her easily into Larian’s waiting arms.

“Ooh, it’s so high up here,” she exclaimed.

“Sit back against my chest,” Larian said as he put his arms protectively around her and picked up the reins. “Relax, you’re stiff, just relax and settle in. Thunder won’t move until I ask him to.”

Taking a deep breath Lizbett shifted her seat until she found a spot that felt comfortable, then sank into the horse’s back, and leaned into Larian’s chest.

“There, feel better?”

“Much, wow,” she smiled, “this is kind of fun.”

Larian laughed, delighted with her, and asked Thunder to move slowly forward.

“I love this,” she squealed, reminding Larian that while she was a woman full of passion, there remained inside her a young, exuberant girl.

The caravan picked up the pace, and though remaining at a walk for Lizbett’s confidence and comfort they were soon turning into the drive leading to Larian’s house.

“Larian,” she breathed, “it’s beautiful.”

A two-story pale yellow home stood impressively at the end of the drive. Gardeners were attending a row of flowering bushes that sat on either side of the steps leading to the front door; white shutters framed the windows, and several chimneys told her there were many fireplaces.

As they drew closer she spied a matching stable to the side of the house, with large fenced paddocks, then moving her eyes to the opposite side she spied a wide terrace with white balustrades, and large, round white pots with trailing blooms.

“It’s just beautiful,” she repeated.

“It’s not a castle,” Larian remarked.

“No, it’s not a castle, it’s a home, it’s a beautiful home, a real home.”

He could hear a crack in her voice, and he understood.

“It will be our home,” he whispered in her ear. “The castle will be our place of work, but this will be our home.”

The warriors went directly to the stables, but Zoltaire followed Larian to the front steps and quickly dismounted, then stood next to Thunder ready to catch Lizbett as Larian helped her slide off.

“It’s so far,” she bleated staring down at Zoltaire waiting arms.

“You ran across a castle roof,” Larian reminded her.

“But that was different.”

“You can’t stay up here all day. Just let yourself slide. Zoltaire will catch you. Either that or I’ll get off first and you can-”

“NO! Sorry, no, please don’t go anywhere. All right, here I go. Are you ready, Zoltaire?”

“Yes, Princess, I’ve done this before, I’m ready.”

Larian moved his arms from around her and placed his hands at her waist to help her balance, then putting her hands behind her she gave herself a gentle push; the slide was easy, and as promised Zoltaire caught her as though she weighed no more than a leaf falling from a tree.