The Royal Scepter_A Royal Baby Romance Read online

  “A date?” Bertrand inquires meekly, a little crestfallen and a little angry. “A date with who?”

  “What difference does it make to you, Bertrand? Don’t you have something going on with Kat tonight?” I shrug, clearing the messy gowns and blouses off the stool to my vanity.

  “I don’t know, maybe, I haven’t asked her yet,” Bertrand mumbles, disgruntled.

  “And you’re more worried about who I’m going on a date with than with your girlfriend, and what she might want to do?” I say, my tone scolding.

  “I just wondered,” he murmurs. “Is it with the Duke of Palazza?”

  “No,” I answer back quick and firm. “Absolutely not. That asshole was cheating on me.”

  “What? You dumped him? You were single and I didn’t even know it,” Bertrand laments grumpily. “You still haven’t told me who your date is with.”

  “He’s not anyone you know,” I answer quickly, trying to organize some of my makeup. I have to look my absolute best for him tonight, I wouldn’t want to give him any less - and he has to think I’m a princess.

  “How do you know? I know a lot of people. I don’t want anyone hurting you,” Bertrand grumbles.

  “What, you don’t think I’m capable of taking care of myself?” I sass.

  “I know you are, but that’s not what I meant,” he protests.

  “Why don’t you worry more about my sister, instead?” I tease him.

  “Fine,” he grunts, storming out of the room. Bertrand can never match up to the man I dream about; the man I desire most. The man I’ve dreamed about over and over again.

  I run my comb through long, messy and tangled hair, trying to smooth it out. I have my grandmother’s old golden hairpin, studded with diamond; I make myself look prim and proper, as any princess would, twirling my hair into a respectable bun and stick the hairpin through it, leaving it bedazzled. I gently take the sexy onyx-red dress from the closet.

  “Where the hell did you get that?!” I don’t notice nosy Katrana stepping into the room, wowed by my dress. “How did you afford it?! You didn’t spend all of our rent money on a dress, did you? Who are you trying to impress? Who’s your date with?” she rambles on full of perturbed curiosity.

  “I didn’t pay for it! We’re not going to be low on rent money, stop worrying, go deal with your boyfriend,” I sigh.

  “Was he in here trying to get at you again?” Katrana frowns. “They always come after you, sister. It’s irritating. Olav, Bertrand… even that palace guard I thought was a hottie who asked me on a date.”

  “I’m sure Bertrand loves you,” I comfort her.

  “Who paid for that dress?” she presses me.

  “My date,” I admit, blushing.

  “Who’s your date? The prince of Velune?” she asks in jest. I want to say yes. God, that would be so exciting.

  “No, just some wealthy merchant I met at the market,” I lie. Maybe I’d make good royalty; they always have to put on a happy face when they tell fibs.

  “Well at least let me help you put that thing on, it must have a thousand zippers and buttons,” she says.

  “Just be careful,” I implore her. “It’s really expensive. I want it to look perfect.”

  Estefan

  I see her walk through the door to the royal dining chamber, its dining table grand and tailored in gold and as long as the games coliseum is wide, and immediately all those overwhelming feelings come back. I don’t even want them to serve the three-course dinner; I don’t even want the string quartet I’ve hired to give us music to play a single note. I just want to throw her onto the table and fuck her senseless and listen to her mewl my name and call me her highness.

  “Prince Estefan, presenting Princess Erica to you,” my assistant Ezra announces, bowing to the two of us as she strides in, her lacy black gown clutching her shapely curves. No royal cook could prepare a great feast that has me so close to salivating as I am looking at her sexy strut, her high heels clacking against the manicured tiles of our royal dining room. Dad and I used to spend so many afternoons here, as he taught me what it was to be king - and reminded me how important it is to find the right woman to birth the perfect, strong heir.

  She looks at me with a little sass on her lip and I have to hold back from shaking with desire. She meets me face to face, bowing, hiding the smirk on her lips.

  “Sir, dinner will be served soon,” Ezra reminds me, with a deferential nod of his head. “Can I get anything for you and the lady in the meantime?”

  “No, that’s all, Ezra,” I answer, my voice already thrumming rich with lust. I reach out to clutch her chin as Ezra saunters back to the towering double-doors, lifting her gaze back up to mine. I can see it in her eyes - she’s all I’ve thought about, lusted for, since that night on the dance floor with the date auction, and I know she feels the same for me.

  “I hope you like quail eggs and the most delicious exotic steak cuts, brought by horseback here just for our dinner, Princess Erica,” I growl into her ear, bringing a furious blush to bright cheeks and a coy giggle to her plump and pretty lips.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me I look stunning?” she quips. I lean in, keeping my voice low, so the attendants setting the table and the band lounging in the corner don’t hear me.

  “No, I’m not,” I murmur. “Instead, I’m going to tell you that dress or no, makeup or no - nothing quenches my desire to pin you to a bed and squeeze you all over while I pump my hard cock into your dripping folds and pound you until I drain my hot seed into you and we both collapse,” I tease her. I can feel her quiver.

  “That’s much better,” she moans into my ear, keeping her voice down.

  “I know it is,” I snark with confidence, taking her hand in the demure fashion. I guess we have to play civilized, and hide the hungry animals we are… for now. I lead her to her seat, positioned right next to mine, pulling it out and inviting her to sit. She runs her fingers across my cheek as she dips into the chair. The sun begins to wane through the towering crystalline windows, daylight dying away as the band strikes up a quiet and comfortable, light dinner tune.

  I watch her closely, to see if she’s been taught the etiquette that all princesses learn. She waits with her hands on her lap, as attendants set her fork and spoon and plate out in front of her. The first course comes next - a fig-and-mussel steamed roast. She waits anxiously to be served, my army of attendants giving her everything she wants while I watch in quiet glee. She waits, breaths deep while I watch her. She doesn’t take a bite.

  “Is everything the way you like, Princess Erica?” I quip curiously.

  “I’m not a fan of figs,” she frowns, poking at the meat.

  “I had it steamed just the way they do it in Tyrel,” I tell her with a frown. I had expected fig-mussel meat roast to please even the most discriminating princess’s palate. Unusual, but her tastes are her own - how could I question that?

  “I know, mom… mom used to make it, a lot— err, well, mom, that’s what we called the old woman in the royal kitchen,” she chuckles. I see her mind is on meat other than the slab of roasted beef on her plate. So is mine.

  “Perhaps, if you’re not a fan of the food— we could,” I push the chair from beneath me, offering her a hand. “Dance, instead?” With a snap of my fingers the band picks up a new rhythm, fast and delicate. “That way,” I whisper darkly, “we won’t have to worry about this… gap between our bodies… how does that sound, my little princess?” She blushes brightly, the purr of my baritone voice shaking her like a leaf on a windy tree. She takes my hand, and with the hunger of the animal inside of me I pull her out of her chair and into my arms, bringing a blushing yelp to her mouth. My arms wrapped around the sexy small of her back I dance with her to the open area next to the banquet table.

  “Dancing is nice,” she quips quietly, her lips pressed to my cheek as I lean down to rumble my amused chuckle into her ear. “…but it doesn’t fill me up. I’m still hungry.”

  “Hungry,
are you? So am I,” I taunt her, keeping our lips close and our words quiet so the band, plunking out a lively tune, doesn’t hear our absolutely dirty exchange. “I’ll give you a whole lot of something to eat, my filthy fucking princess-slut.”

  “Is that a promise…?” her voice warbles weakly while we dirty-talk to each other secretly, the band oblivious to the whole thing. “You’ve made me a lot of those.”

  “By the end of the night you’re going to be my begging little Princess Kitten, and you’ll like it,” I growl into her ear.

  “Promises… promises…” she sighs into my ear. Just as that sassy snark flares up in her attitude I silence her with a powerful bite to her neck, quick enough to bring a hot gasp to her lips. I cradle her head as it lolls in my grasp, my tongue swirling around the brand I’ve marked deep into my filthy kitten’s neck. Cupping her pliable body I lay her onto the banquet table, feeling her legs part and wrap tight to my hips, her heat so sweltering I’m already starting to fucking sweat.

  “There’s a lot more for you, waiting…” I taunt her.

  “Waiting for what?…” she quivers. So that’s how she wants it, is it? I snap my fingers to the band, and their pleasant tune stops.

  “We can handle the dinner from here, Smethers,” I nod to the band leader.

  “Oh. Is our music not to your liking, Prince Estefan?” he asks. I sigh in annoyance.

  “Just get out, and lock the chamber behind you, Smethers,” I hiss. A bustle fills the air while the musicians gather their instruments and clear out of the dining room in a messy, clanging blur, the heavy, towering doors slamming shut behind them.

  “Prince Estefan…” she murmurs, enraptured.

  “I can’t stand waiting to get to the bedchambers,” I growl, my body possessed.

  “Neither can I,” she admits, wanting, pulling at my silken jacket.

  “I want to pump you full of my filthy, hot fucking seed right here on top of this table,” I admit, “but… I wonder, first if you deserve it.”

  “I-if I deserve it?…” she trembles, fearing that my hands are going to stop rubbing along her hips; that I’m going to deprive her of all the dirty things I know we both want. My smirk widens, my expression hot and dangerous.

  “I’m not sure Princess Erica has everything I want…” I sigh, facetiously frustrated.

  “I don’t have what you want?!” she whimpers desperately.

  “Does Princess Erica really want me? Does she really want to feel my fat cock pounding between her legs…” I ponder, rolling my fingers along the inside of her spread, exposed thighs, each touch making her body twitch with electric desire. “Does she want to feel my fingers ravage her perfect tits, squeezing them tight in both hands and twisting her nipples until the pain hurts with the purest pleasure she’s ever known…” my hands slide along her stomach, cupping both of her breasts through her expensive, lacy-black gown. “Does she really want to know what it’s like to feel the royal scepter in her throat, in her cunt, in her ass… every single place it can be, in her entire, quaking, wanting, young little body?” my fingers roll along her flanks, gripping both hips, pulling her pink panties close to the bulge throbbing beneath my expensive pants; the table shudders when I tug her close, and she moans, nearly pumped full of me, if only these fucking clothes were in the way. “Does she really know, and want it all?”

  “Yes, god,” she exhales, eyelids fluttering shut, her back arching out to me as I lean close enough to pour my words like hot sugar into her ear.

  “Does she want to feel my seed pump into her luscious pussy, my cockhead pressed against her womb, until her sweet and fertile little body drips with my cum, and she feels herself ready to bear my royal heir?” I challenge her with my lusty voice.

  “Now, now,” she demands; I pull the pin from her bun, letting her wild flow of honey blonde fall across the table. She leans up to try to kiss me; naughty kitten, working against me, I pin her with the strength of my shoulders and my chest pressing against hers, devouring her lips the way I want to, my hands gripping her thighs. This fucking dress, it’s beautiful, but god damn it it’s getting in the way. I pull it away from her tits, and I grab it so hard the fabric rips with a quiet shhllkk.

  “Hey, asshole,” she teases, kissing along my ear, “this dress cost a lot of gold…”

  “I’ll buy you ten more,” I tease, “and if you look as good in them as you do in this one, my princess-kitten, I’ll rip every fucking one of those, too.” Her beautiful breasts exposed I grasp both hungrily with my wanting hands, squeezing the hot and shaking mounds of femme flesh, rolling my thumbs over her stiff, pink sugary nipples, my lips rolling down her throat, leaving bitten marks everywhere on her. I want every fucking prince and duke and old fuck in this entire kingdom to know just who this hot young princess-kitten belongs to.

  “Please,” she begs, the sassy animal in her broken when I touch her just like that and give her all the dirty filth I know we’ve both been dreaming of. I smirk, wanting more out of her tight body than just a quick fuck.

  “You need to learn to behave if you’re going to be my dirty princess,” I growl, grabbing a pair of linen napkins from the table. Tying the two tightly together I grab her wrists; she shakes, unsure of what my dirty intentions are.

  “What are you going to do with those?…” she asks, her voice full of anticipation and a murmur of fear. Pressing her wrists together in front of her tummy, I string the napkins together between her wrists, tying them tight as she aches, her hips pumping towards mine. “What…”

  “I don’t want you touching me, or yourself. You have to learn to behave before you get to enjoy everything your prince can offer your hot young body,” I explain in a heated murmur. “You have to suffer first… and just watch.” Her hands restrained, she’s helpless except for the wiggle of her wanting hips and the straining squirm of her back against the banquet table as I run my tongue down her chin and along her neck, leaving a dewy trail of messy, desiring kisses all across her hot body.

  “This is what you want, isn’t it?” I torment her, pulling my slacks from my body and letting my hard, ten inches of cock throb in front of her. She sees it and mewls, reaching out with her confined hands as I grab the base of my hard shaft in my hand and start to stroke quick and hard, working up a little sweat as I jerk myself. I can feel how hot she is beneath her panties, her breasts bouncing with each wanting squirm she shakes on top of the table.

  “Give me, please,” she pleads weakly.

  “You have to prove you deserve it, first,” I threaten. “Don’t say anything… no noise, no touching… not until your prince-daddy tells you you can… got it?” I instruct her, my fingers cupping my cockhead, rolling around. It feels good, but not nearly as good as her tight cunt.

  “Please, yes,” she says with a struggle.

  “Didn’t I tell you no speaking?” I grin with dark glee. She purses her mouth tightly, her heels clacking against the end of the table as her legs kick and squirm. I jerk myself harder, faster, my breath heating up. “You want this, don’t you?…” she silently nods her head. Good girl. I feel her fingers reaching out, trying to steal a touch against my strong abs; I punish her, grasping her chin, squeezing her cheeks, and giving a soft little slap on her wrist. “Didn’t I tell you no touching?”

  She nods again. Goooood girl. She’s learning. My fingers flex and roll along all ten inches of my shaft, pumping furiously, my breath turning to deep, throaty moans.

  “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?…” I taunt.

  She nods, distress in her eyes as her whole frame shakes.

  “You want to feel all ten inches of my cock pulsating inside of your cunt, don’t you?…”

  She nods again, faster this time; I can hear how furiously she fights against the urge to moan; to scream my name for the entire castle to hear.

  “You want me to let you out of those bonds, don’t you?…”

  To that she nods and squirms her body, trying to free her wrists.


  “Don’t you dare,” I taunt, “or I’ll just have to jerk myself off harder enough that I cum on the floor, and deprive you… you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  She bucks her head back against the table.

  “Good… now you’re behaving like my slutty princess-kitten should… being a good girl,” I growl down at her. Her whole body is blushing bright-red, her pussy so wet her dampness seeps onto the diamond-studded tablecloth beneath her. Still stroking my cock, I can feel it begin to throb, watching her squirm in front of me. I reach out, pinching her nipple with my free hand, and just the sensation of our bodies touching again makes her shudder and moan, though she keeps her lips closed tight to try to suppress the sound she makes.

  “I’ve barely touched you… and you’re already ready to cum, aren’t you?”… I taunt her.

  She can’t stop the moans now.

  “And you keep making noises…” I tease her, rolling my cockhead along the inside of her thigh; she whimpers louder and louder, her squirming shaking the whole banquet table. “That’s not how a princess-kitten behaves…” I lean in close, pressing my body against hers, flattening her tits to my strong chest, my lips nibbling at her earlobe. “A good princess-kitten keeps herself quiet until I tell her to scream my name, while I fill her hot womb with wave after wave after messy, spurting wave of my seed.” She swallows another muffled whimper, eyes wide, trying so hard to make no noise while my palm twists and squeezes every inch of my dick.

  “I’m going to cum,” I snarl into her ear, while she lays still as best as she can. I grab her chin, pressing her lips to mine, our eyes meeting deep and intense. “You want my seed inside of you, don’t you?”

  She nods furiously.

  “Don’t you?” I repeat, my breath growing deeper and hotter.

  She can’t stop the moan when she feels my cockhead tease against her clit.