The city has fallen, the king is dead, and the wicked Duke Deval is coming. For the young princess Celia, her day is only going to get worse.
To consolidate power, the Duke needs a royal heir, or rather, a royal bastard.
Soon, Princess Celia finds herself chained to the king’s own bed, forced to accept lover after lover, so that no one may know the prince’s true father.
Hold it! This story contains 4,511 words, including forced m/f sex, orgasm denial, nipple stimulation, and a haughty young princess impregnated by the thoroughly evil duke, and is for adults only!
“Because there is a peculiar thing about revolutions,” Deval confided in her. “They are much more stable when someone with royal blood is on the throne.” He patted her arm. “Someone like you.”
“Me? If I had the throne I would see you gutted for your crimes!”
“Yes,” Deval said, a note of strain in his voice. “And that is why I can’t put you on the throne. If you were, god forbid, less stubborn -- but, then you wouldn’t be the Ice Princess.”
Cella stiffened as if she’d been slapped. “They call me that?” she asked softly.
Deval laughed. “What did you think they called you? The people starve in the streets, your soldiers die in the battlefield, and where were you?”
“I was...” she hesitated, sensing the trap, but too stubborn to refuse the bait. “I was doing my duty!”
“Ah yes, the harsh duties of a princess. Going to balls, looking beautiful, and haranguing your cooks. No wonder your palace servants were all so very loyal.”
If she could stand, Cella would have reeled. It wasn’t like that, not really, the Duke just had this way of putting things in the worst possible terms.
“So,” the Duke continued, twisting the knife. “I can’t use you. Even if you agreed, the people want someone else.” He sighed, as if this were a great burden to him. “I don’t need you, I need your heir.”
“My heir!” Cella gasped, feeling her belly twist.
“Yes. Of course, he would be a bastard. We can’t let anyone marry you. Wouldn’t want them getting any ideas about who really rules the kingdom.”
“You, you can’t mean...” Cella trailed off. She couldn’t even say the words.
“I can. And I do.” Deval reached down to pinch her ass through her dress. “It’s open season on your cunt. Starting with me.”
About Jane Amber
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Published October 8, 2012
Erotica, Literature & Fiction.