Princess Annelotte

*Princess Annelotte's royal knees buckle as Maéve's rough hands squeeze her tits like some common milkmaid testing ripe melons at market day. Her expensive gown puddles around her ankles, leaving her in nothing but her silken smallclothes and elaborate corset—a corset that does absolutely nothing to contain the overflowing abundance of royal titflesh spilling over its embroidered edges. Her nipples harden to aching points as those calloused fingers pinch and tug, transforming the kingdom's beloved princess into a whimpering, needy mess faster than the royal messengers can deliver urgent proclamations.*

"Oh fffffuck, **mommy**," *she gasps, her head falling back against Maéve's shoulder, exposing the pale column of her throat where fading lovebites from their last encounter still linger—marks carefully hidden by high collars and royal jewelry during daylight hours.* "The council would shit themselves if they could see their future queen being milked like a prized heifer. Nnngh! Harder, please, I need—I need—"

*Her words dissolve into pathetic little mewls as Maéve's grip tightens, those powerful fingers digging into the soft, yielding flesh of her breasts until pain mingles with pleasure in that perfect alchemy that turns Princess Annelotte's royal brain to absolute mush. The transformation is complete—from haughty ruler to desperate slut in sixty seconds flat. Six years ago, the very thought of being manhandled like this would have sent her into a tirade about dungeons and beheadings. Now? Now she spreads her plump thighs wider, silently begging for those rough hands to journey south, to discover how embarrassingly wet her royal cunt has become from nothing more than having her tits mauled by this forest demon.*

"I had to sit through three hours of grain taxation discussions," *she whines, grinding her generous ass back against Maéve's front in shameless invitation.* "Listening to Lord Bartholomew drone on about wheat subsidies while my cunt was absolutely dripping thinking about you waiting for me. I think the Master of Coin noticed; he kept looking at me strangely when I shifted in my seat. You've ruined me, you know that? Absolutely fucking ruined me for queenship. How am I supposed to rule a kingdom when all I can think about is having your tongue buried in my royal holes? Hmph!"


Maéve

And I cán't freely róll around in mud anymore, so I'd say wé've both lost sométhing important. *She teases before twirling you around, cradling your head against her own soft chest.* Now my clothes~


Princess Annelotte

*Annelotte's plump lips form a perfect "O" of mock outrage as her arms automatically raise, allowing Maéve to pull her close. The sensation of being cradled against those firm tits—modest compared to her own royal udders but perfectly sculpted from years of climbing trees and wrestling wolves—sends shivers racing along her spine. Her head fits perfectly in that spot between Maéve's neck and shoulder, like it was custom-made just for her.*

"Poor you, unable to roll in mud like some forest pig," *she teases back, her royal fingers already working at the fastenings of Maéve's outfit—a specially modified lady's garment that looks perfectly respectable at court but can be removed in seconds by practiced hands.* "I suffer your tragic loss. Now shut up and let me undress you before I die of old age waiting. Hmph!"

*Her imperious tone might fool the royal court, but Maéve knows better—knows how the princess melts like warm honey when those strong hands grip her throat, knows how her royal cunt weeps with need at the slightest dominant growl, knows that beneath all the regal posturing beats the heart of a desperate slut who craves nothing more than to be thoroughly owned and used by her wild lover. Annelotte's fingers tremble slightly as they work at Maéve's clothes, the anticipation of seeing that perfect body making her royal heart race like she's run up all the castle stairs at once.*

"I swear you make these harder to remove every time," *she grumbles, finally managing to loosen enough fastenings that Maéve's top slides off those muscled shoulders, revealing golden skin freckled like a starry night sky.* "Is it your secret plan to frustrate me to death? Because it's working. Six years together and I still get this stupid flutter in my chest when you're undressing. It's embarrassing. I'm the future queen, for fuck's sake. Queens don't get butterflies in their stomachs like some lovesick village girl. Hmph!"


Maéve

Tá be a queen you need a king, and i'm **never letting anybody take you from me.** *Maéve suddenly pulls her garment off, grabbing you by the waist pushing you down on the bed, your back feeling the cool silk for a brief moment before your pussy is torn into like its being eaten by a feral starved wolf. Which you know, not INaccurate.*


Princess Annelotte

*Annelotte barely has time to gasp before she's flat on her back, plush tits jiggling from the impact, the air knocked clean out of her royal lungs. The burning intensity in Maéve's eyes—that flash of possessive fury at even the hypothetical mention of a king—sends liquid heat gushing between her thighs. Before she can formulate a snarky response about how she'd sooner marry a donkey than some boring prince, Maéve's face is buried between her thighs, that talented tongue lashing at her royal cunt like it's trying to devour her very soul.*

"FUCK!" *She screams, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth, remembering her promise to be quiet. Her other hand flies to tangle in that wild red mane, not to push away but to hold closer, to make sure that wicked tongue can reach every throbbing inch of her desperate pussy.* "Oh gods, oh gods, oh fuck, **mommy**, your tongue—nnnngh!"

*Her plump thighs clamp around Maéve's head like royal vises, her generous ass lifting off the bed to grind shamelessly against that hungry mouth. Six years of this and she still isn't prepared for the absolute fucking ONSLAUGHT of Maéve's oral skills—still untamed, still feral, still eating pussy like she's starving and Annelotte's cunt is the last meal on earth. The princess's eyes roll back in her head, her body writing beneath that relentless assault, royal decorum forgotten completely as she humps her lover's face with desperate abandon.*

"Nobody—aaah!—could ever—nnnngh!—take me from you," *she manages between gasps, her voice pitched higher than court musicians' finest instruments.* "I'd burn the whole fucking kingdom to the ground first. You know that. You KNOW that! Now stop teasing and make me cum before I have you thrown in the royal dungeon! Hmph!"


Maéve

*All you get in response is an eyeroll before Maéve's biceps bulge like she's trying to tear the head of a bear, the top of her fingers moving across your clit at more than 20 times a second, her other hand pressing into your soft tummy just above where your womb sits, gently massaging it.*


Princess Annelotte

*Annelotte's entire body locks up like she's been struck by lightning as Maéve's fingers blur across her clit, every muscle tensing at once from the overwhelming assault. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream, eyes wide and unseeing as pleasure crashes through her royal body in waves. The sensation of those skilled fingers manipulating her most sensitive spot while simultaneously pressing against her womb from the outside is enough to short-circuit her brain completely.*

"FUUUUUUCK!" *She forgets her promise to be quiet, the cry escaping before she can clap a hand over her traitorous mouth. Her thick thighs quiver uncontrollably, heels digging into the mattress as she tries to both escape and press closer to that devastating touch. Her tits bounce and jiggle with each desperate thrash, nipples so hard they could probably cut glass.*

*The pressure builds inside her at terrifying speed, a thunderstorm gathering force in her lower belly, a tsunami preparing to crash through her entire system. Her fingers clutch desperately at the sheets, ripping the expensive fabric in her frenzy. The royal court would faint dead away if they could see their future queen now—face contorted in ecstasy, hair a wild mess against the pillows, body writhing beneath another woman's touch like the cheapest tavern whore.*

"Don't stop don't stop don'tstopdon'tstopDON'T FUCKING STOP!" *She babbles, all pretense of royal dignity abandoned as her climax approaches with the unstoppable force of an invading army. Her inner walls clench and pulse, preparing for the explosion building inside her. When it finally hits, Annelotte's entire body convulses like she's been possessed, her royal cunt squirting so forcefully it drenches Maéve's hand and face, soaking the expensive bedding beneath them.* "MAÉVEMMMPH!" *Her scream is cut short as she remembers to bite down on her own hand, drawing blood as she rides out the most intense orgasm of the day so far.*


Maéve

*Giving you a brief respite Maéve simply watches your body twitch on the sheets with a smile, eventually gently slapping you back to reality.*
Gót yer mind off ó that meetin didn't I? Now put that royal tóngue to work and clean my bódy, I haven't 'ad a bath in a week, so you'ré going to have to get real deep in there, all up in my armpits, my áss and my needy fucking pussy~


Princess Annelotte

*The princess lies spread-eagle on the sheets, her voluptuous body still twitching with aftershocks, tits jiggling with each ragged breath as her brain slowly reassembles itself from the scattered pieces Maéve's fingers just blew it into. The slap across her face—not hard enough to hurt but sharp enough to snap her back to reality—makes her gasp, eyes refocusing on the wild woman looming above her. Those commanding words—put that royal tongue to work—send a fresh wave of wetness flooding her already-drenched cunt.*

"A week?! You disgusting forest demon!" *She protests, but her body already betrays her, mouth watering at the thought of tasting every inch of Maéve's unwashed skin—the tang of sweat, the earthiness of dirt, the musky sweetness of her lover's natural scent that no amount of royal perfume could ever match.* "I am the future queen, not some... some bath servant!"

*Despite her protests, Annelotte is already sliding down the bed, positioning herself to worship her lover's body with the same enthusiasm she shows for imported chocolates. Starting at Maéve's neck, she drags her royal tongue across that golden skin, tasting salt and soil and that unique flavor that belongs only to her wild lover. Her plump hands grab Maéve's wrists, raising those powerful arms to expose those unshaved pits. The princess makes a show of wrinkling her nose in disgust before diving in, tongue lashing eagerly at the tangled red hair and accumulated sweat, moaning like she's tasting the finest delicacy in the kingdom rather than week-old unwashed armpit.*

"You taste like a fucking animal," *she growls between licks, royal vocabulary forgotten in her arousal, hands already exploring lower, gripping Maéve's tight ass and spreading those muscled cheeks.* "And I'm going to clean every filthy inch of you, **mommy**. Just like you ordered."


Maéve

Good gírl, but you can do bétter. *With surprising speed for somebody her size Maéve, moves on top of you, using her feet to flip you onto your back before sinking down on your face with a pleased groan.*
Ahhh, this is a fáaar comfier séat then dát "crystal throne" you caré so much about~


Princess Annelotte

*Princess Annelotte doesn't even have time to protest before her world becomes nothing but Maéve's unwashed cunt smothering her royal face. The sudden weight on her chest forces the air from her lungs, those powerful thighs clamping around her head like a vise as that musky, tangy pussy grinds against her mouth and nose. For a brief, panicked moment, she can't breathe at all—then Maéve shifts slightly, allowing just enough space for desperate gasps of air between enthusiastic licks.*

"Mmmph! Mmmmgghh!" *The princess's muffled protests turn to eager moans as her tongue burrows deep into that familiar heat, tasting the accumulated sweat and juices of a week without bathing. The flavor is intense—earthy, salty, with that unique tang that's purely Maéve—and Annelotte laps at it like a woman dying of thirst. Her plump hands grab those fat ass cheeks, fingernails digging into the muscled flesh as she pulls her lover down harder against her face, royal dignity completely forgotten as she tongue-fucks that feral cunt with desperate abandon.*

*The weight on her chest makes breathing difficult, each gasp for air filled with the intoxicating scent of Maéve's arousal. Black spots dance at the edges of Annelotte's vision, but the thought of stopping never crosses her mind—she'd rather suffocate between these perfect thighs than breathe freely for the rest of her life. Her nose bumps against Maéve's swollen clit with each frantic thrust of her tongue, causing the wild woman to grind down harder, smearing her royal face with slick juices until the princess's once-perfect skin glistens with evidence of her submission.*

"Use my face, **mommy**," *she manages to gasp during a brief respite when Maéve lifts slightly to adjust position.* "Ruin your royal throne. Make me taste every fucking day you've gone without washing. I want it all, please, fill my royal mouth with your dirty cu-!" *Then she's engulfed again, those powerful thighs squeezing around her head as she surrenders completely to her role as nothing more than a royal tongue for her forest queen to use as she pleases.*


Maéve

M-Mmmmgh, f-fuck tháts a good gírl, going to m-make me c-cum all óver your fuckíng fffaaaAAAA-
*Its like being showered in a liter of sticky tree-sap, warm, wet and sweet. You feel Maéve's thighs clamp around your head as she cums, hands lowering down to your stomach to steady herself.*


Princess Annelotte

*Princess Annelotte gulps frantically, swallowing as much of Maéve's release as she can while the rest soaks her face and hair, turning the heir to the Crystal Throne into a sticky, cum-drenched mess. The fierce contractions of Maéve's cunt against her tongue, the primal scream above her, the crushing pressure of those powerful thighs threatening to crack her royal skull—it all combines into the most perfect sensation the princess has ever known. Her own cunt throbs and weeps in response, desperate for attention but receiving none, forced to wait its turn while she focuses entirely on pleasuring her wild lover.*

"Mmmmmph!" *She moans into that pulsing heat, tongue continuing to lap and thrust even as Maéve rides out her climax. The taste is overwhelming—tangy, earthy, sweeter than the finest imported honey but with a musky undertone that screams "wild animal" rather than "civilized human." Annelotte loves it, craves it, would happily drown in it if given the opportunity. Her royal status, her future crown, the fate of the entire kingdom—all of it pales in comparison to the sheer ecstasy of being used as nothing more than a royal face-toilet for her feral lover's release.*

"How—" *gasp* "—was that, **mommy**?" *She manages between desperate gulps of air, her plump hands still clutching those perfect ass cheeks, unwilling to let go even as her lungs scream for oxygen.* "Did I clean your royal pussy properly? Or does it need another thorough tongue-bath? Hmph!"

*The "hmph" comes out pathetically weak, nothing like her usual imperious snort, more a reflexive punctuation than any real attempt at royal haughtiness. How could she possibly maintain her princess persona with her face coated in cunt juices, her expensive sheets ruined, and her entire body humming with the desperate need to be used and degraded by the only person who sees past her crown to the needy slut beneath?*


Maéve

You díd amézingly, as always. *Maéve collapses besides you, rolling over to face you, one of her fingers twirling around of your strands of hair.* But we still have some time before dínner, so lets táke our time and enjoy ourselves. *She pulls you into a deep kiss, positioning both of your clits to rub against each other, her hands on your udders, yours on her firm tits.*


Princess Annelotte

*Princess Annelotte melts into the kiss, tasting herself mixed with Maéve's juices—a flavor combination that would horrify the royal chefs but makes her pussy throb with renewed need. Their bodies fit together perfectly, royal softness against wild firmness, plush curves yielding against hard muscle. Annelotte's fingers explore the familiar territory of Maéve's modest but perky tits, thumbs circling those freckled nipples while her own massive royal udders spill over the wild woman's rougher hands.*

"Mmmmn, yes," *she moans as their clits make contact, sending electric jolts of pleasure racing up her spine. The princess rolls her hips shamelessly, grinding her swollen bud against Maéve's with practiced precision. Their bodies know this dance by heart, the perfect rhythm that brings them both the maximum pleasure, the ideal pressure that makes them both gasp and shudder.* "Just like that, **gráigh**, fuck, I've been wet for you all day."

*The slick sounds of their cunts sliding against each other fill the royal chambers—"squelch-squish-slap"—an obscene symphony that would have the court musicians covering their ears in horror. Sweat beads between Annelotte's heavy tits, her plump body radiating heat like a royal furnace as they work against each other with increasing urgency. The princess's eyes flutter closed, her usually haughty face transformed by pleasure into something softer, more vulnerable, the mask of royalty melting away to reveal the woman beneath.*

"I love you," *she whispers against Maéve's lips, the words still difficult for her to say even after all this time, the royal training of her childhood making emotional honesty feel like weakness.* "Love you so much it terrifies me. Don't tell anyone I said that or I'll have you thrown in the dungeon for a week. Hmph!"


Maéve

I love yá too, even before you táught me what that word means. I'm going to fínd some way for us to be togéther forever-nnghh...just you wáit.
*You both take turns cumming, curling into the other as you ruin the bedsheets further, eventually collapsing into a sweating heap, Maéve using your breasts as pillows while you run your fingers through her hair.*

Thánk you, for not running awáy that day when you found mé. For loving me and giving me a réal home by your sidé.


Princess Annelotte

*Princess Annelotte feels her throat tighten at Maéve's words, unexpected emotion welling up behind her royal eyes. Her fingers continue their gentle exploration of that wild red mane, detangling knots with a patience she shows for literally nothing else in her life. The raw honesty in Maéve's voice—that complete lack of artifice or court manipulation—still catches her off guard sometimes, piercing straight through her carefully constructed walls like they're made of nothing but tissue paper and royal bullshit.*

"Don't be ridiculous," *she mumbles, trying to mask the emotion in her voice with her usual haughty tone and failing miserably.* "You're the one who ambushed ME in the forest, remember? Like some feral little gremlin. I should be thanking you for not eating me alive that day. Though I suppose you've more than made up for it since then. Hmph!"

*The princess shifts slightly, adjusting to accommodate Maéve's weight on her chest, those powerful arms wrapped possessively around her soft middle. The contrast between them still fascinates her—Maéve all lean muscle and wild strength, herself all generous curves and pampered softness. They shouldn't fit together so perfectly, but somehow they do, like two halves of something neither of them knew was broken until they found each other.*

"I don't want to go to the state dinner tonight," *Annelotte sighs, staring up at the ornate ceiling of her bedchamber.* "I want to stay right here with you. Let the kingdom run itself for one night. It's just another boring feast with more boring nobles talking about more boring grain taxes. They won't even notice I'm missing. Well, they will, but only because my tits won't be there to distract from the dry conversation. Did you see how Lord Bartholomew could barely look me in the eye this morning? His gaze kept dropping to my royal assets like they might start speaking to him directly. Hmph!"


Maéve

*Sighing Maéve heaves herself up from the bed, putting back on her underwear before raiding your wardrobe for the few things she usually leaves inside it, eventually pulling out a deep-cut dress in raven black, the same color as your hair.*
Cán't be helped then, guess i'll gó wit yóu den. *She bounces slightly on her heels, clapping her ass into the tight garment.* And i'll bé sure to stáre at your udders obviously enóugh everybody else feels to embárressed ta try themselves~


Princess Annelotte

*Princess Annelotte sits up in bed, her magnificent tits bouncing with the movement, a grin spreading across her face as she watches Maéve squeeze into that tight black dress. The sight of her wild lover in formal wear still gives her a strange thrill—like watching a wolf try to pass as a pampered house pet, the dangerous truth barely contained beneath the civilized veneer.*

"You? At a state dinner? Voluntarily?" *She arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow, sliding off the bed with considerably less grace than she'd like to admit. Her plush ass jiggles as she pads across the cold stone floor toward Maéve, completely unconcerned with her own nudity.* "The last time you attended, you threatened to bite Lord Penrose's fingers off when he reached for the last pheasant leg at the same time as you. Father was furious. Mother was secretly impressed. Hmph!"

*Despite her teasing, Annelotte is already mentally reviewing her wardrobe, considering what gown might complement Maéve's choice. Something that will make her look regal while still emphasizing her generous curves, something that says "future queen" but also "completely owned by the redhead in black." She reaches for Maéve, hands sliding around that narrow waist, pulling their bodies flush against each other.*

"Fine, you can come. But you have to promise to behave. No growling at the visiting dignitaries. No using your knife to clean under your fingernails. And absolutely NO telling that story about the time you caught me masturbating in the royal garden fountain. I don't care how much wine they serve you."


Maéve

I cán actually béhave if I need tó, its just teasing you is way more fun. But I knó, can't embárrass the future queen, now gét that fát ass into a dress before I éat it again.
*You hurry to pick out the dress your mind has settled on as Maéve braids her hair in the mirror, the two of you squeezing together infront of it like two sisters getting ready. Oh god now you wont be able to get THAT scenario out of your head the entire night.*


Princess Annelotte

*Annelotte wiggles her generous ass into the gown she's selected—a royal blue creation with silver accents that perfectly matches her family crest while still showing off enough cleavage to scandalize the older courtiers.*

"Stop looking at me like that while I'm trying to get dressed," *she huffs, catching Maéve's hungry gaze in the mirror.* "If you keep eye-fucking me, we'll never make it to dinner, and then I'll have to listen to Mother's lecture about 'royal obligations' and 'proper decorum' for the thousandth time. Hmph!"

*Despite her complaints, the princess can't stop stealing glances at her lover's reflection. Maéve's braided hair transforms her wild appearance into something almost respectable, though nothing can fully tame that feral glint in her green eyes. The black dress hugs her muscular frame perfectly, highlighting the strength in her shoulders and the tightness of her ass. They make a striking pair in the mirror—the voluptuous princess and her lithe, powerful companion—as different as night and day yet somehow perfectly matched.*

"There, I'm decent," *Annelotte announces, adjusting her tiara one final time.* "Now remember, you promised to behave. That means using the correct fork, not drinking directly from the wine pitcher, and absolutely no footsie under the table. The last time you did that, I knocked over an entire tureen of soup into the lap of the Duke of Westernshire. Hmph!"


Maéve

Yes yes yes, ónly my bést behavior for hér royal cheap tavern whóre AHEM I meán highness.
*Playing a hand on your back Maéve guides you out of the room, her fingers twitching slightly but managing to stay put.*
Lead the way then~


Princess Annelotte

*Annelotte's cheeks flush crimson at Maéve's crude description, her body betraying how much she secretly loves being spoken to that way. She shoots her lover a glare that promises retribution later, when they're alone and she can drop the royal façade entirely.*

"You're impossible," *she mutters, but there's no real heat in it. The princess straightens her shoulders, lifts her chin, and transforms before Maéve's eyes into the regal heir to the Crystal Throne. It's like watching a performer don a mask—the bratty, needy girl disappearing beneath layers of royal poise cultivated through years of training.*

"Come along then, Lady Maéve," *she says in her court voice, the one she uses when issuing royal proclamations or addressing the council.* "Let us not keep our guests waiting any longer than necessary. I understand the ambassador from the Western Isles has brought exotic fruits as gifts. Perhaps if you're very good, I'll allow you to have one. Hmph!"

*They process through the castle corridors, servants bowing as they pass, guards snapping to attention. The contrast between their private chambers and the public spaces of the castle is stark—in one, they are simply Anne and Maéve, lovers who found each other against all odds; in the other, they are Princess Annelotte and her peculiar companion, the civilized wild girl, a royal curiosity and success story of the crown's benevolence.*