The Prodigal Princess (Pt. 3)

[Sarrim]

Thanks for all of the words of encouragement thus far  . I'm glad you guys have enjoyed the stories. After a brief hiatus, I decided to get back into the swing of things, and finish the next chapter. I hope you'll like it.

Three months had passed since the incident at the Harvest Festival, and still Samantha felt like she was constantly on her guard. She couldn't be sure whether the princess' brief kidnapping was one foolish drunken mistake or a political move, but she didn't want to risk it again. Sadly, it had left little time to indulge this new aspect of herself, one unleashed by Amelie's delightful body.

The colder months meant heavier clothes and longer stays inside of the castle, where prying eyes kept them from their play. Still, every once in awhile they managed to sneak away for some fun. Today, however, was all business. The Princess' father was holding court, addressing the problems that were arising through the winter. Namely, mercenaries that had failed to find employment or warmer climes. Stuck in the northern lands, they had turned to raiding and banditry in order to survive this unusually harsh winter. The gentry of these varying counties were now turning to the king, and his currently idle soldiers, for support. Samantha wasn't sure what choice she'd make. From a military stand-point, soldiers need to be at use, else they grow bored, restless, and hostile. And the closer to home they are, the happier they'll be. Still, even in the dead of winter, it wasn't an impossibility that a full-scale incursion could happen. However, three months hovering around the Court gave her the gut feeling that the timing of these complaints, if not the raids themselves, was too off. She left the judgment to Amelie, however, as another feeling in her gut told her that her bowels were full. It had been a few days since she had last gone, and the thought of later made her blood pulse a little. She wore a Winter Guard robe, white with a red sash. It was supported with soft leather, providing some protection and better warmth. Under it, her underwear was a soft white cotton that caressed her perfectly toned ass as she walked.

Next to her, walking in step with Samantha, Amelie was dressed in a gray, fur-lined dress with red trimmings. It was conservative for her style, but also a gift from her favorite uncle, who was in the court today, so she decided on wearing it. Her panties, Samantha had noticed, were a rich silk the color of purple. She had noticed that the girl had begun to blossom into womanhood, reaching her first lunar phase a month and a half ago. In eager fashion, she soon demanded Samantha teach her how to wrap her breasts, which her Guard was only too happy to do. The cotton wrapping peeked just barely above the back of the dress.

"It's a precarious time. My father must show his support for the nobility, especially now, during the hard times. But it is no coincidence that these requests arise now, especially from the southern districts..." The Princess' hair was curled today, falling in bangs across her perfect face. She gave Samantha a slight smile as she talked, one that was undoubtedly meant to be hidden, but still caught by her ever-watchful guardian. "He'll offer help. But I suspect that he'll do it in a way unexpected. If I know him, he'll offer an "amnesty" to the mercenary companies."

"It's a bold move. Good gold can sway most mercenaries. Those that accept will get a free trip to the frozen front, and a ticket for some conscript to see his family. Or maybe use those mercenaries to hunt down the other bandits."

Amelie seemed delighted at Samantha's insights, commenting that she'd fit right in with the scheming nobility, something that gave Sam a slight flutter of dread. "Don't worry, you'd stand out like a sore thumb anyway. Too much integrity. My father does like you though. My mother too. I wanted it to be a bit of a surprise, but he intends to honor you with a rank today."

Samantha smiled back and feigned surprise. She'd found out through the Sergeant under her charge, Hawthorne, a week previous. The man was reliable to a fault, but you could only tell him things that you wanted the front lines to know about within a day. "Don't worry though, you'll still be my guard. Just with a little more authority to back you up. And it'll give my father and mother reason to have a proper conversation with you. They're nice people you know. Despite my occasional comments." Amelie smiled.

"You make them sound as if you were bringing me home as a suitor."

"Would that I could," she said, grinning evilly. An alcove came upon them and the Princess, as at home as she was, ducked into it before Sam even had any idea of what was going on, before being dragged into it herself. A large statue of a hulking warrior blocked any view of them from the main hall.

In a giggling whisper, the Princess grabbed Samantha's breast, immediately hardening the nipples, cooing to her: "I've been so...So uncontrollable with my urges for you. Wanting you, to touch, to be touched. To have your hand here." She guided Sam's hand to the Princess' nether regions, where Samantha massaged the girl softly, eliciting an equally soft moan. This continued for some few seconds before she herself could barely contain her desire, and slid her hand to the break in Amelie's dress, reaching into those delicious purple panties. The girl's forbidden place was warm and soft, engorged and slick with lust, and Sam wasted no time in sliding a finger inside the girl. It was only a minute, maybe two -  time was hard to keep track of – before the girl was gripping Sam like a vice, grinding against the hand, before suddenly tensing and biting (painfully) into the Guard's shoulder as she came. And as she did, a warm wetness enveloped Samantha's hand as golden liquid cascaded from the girl's pussy, soaking those purple panties and running down her smooth, pale legs. Rivulets reached down into the fur-lined boots, immediately hidden and soaked up. Made for snow, a little golden rain would do little to hurt them. However, the patter of urine hitting the stone floor made Sam a little worried that someone might hear, though a quick look back showed that noone was in the hall, miraculously enough.

Turning back, the Princess was just coming out of the throes of passion. A blush had enveloped her face, and pee continued to pour from her soaked panties. She must've been holding herself up from sheer for of will alone. And holding very, very tightly to the stone wall. The hungry look that she was giving Sam said that her own body was not safe, but she knew that they would be late if they did not hurry. And in any case, her need to poop was growing, and she didn't need her muscles spasming for any reason.

Before the Princess could sink her lips onto Samantha's pussy, she drew her away with a deep kiss, before checking for an empty hallway, and hurrying them along. As they approached the central chambers, the petite orchestra was still playing, ensuring that they were, thankfully, not late. The guard admitted them, and they found themselves surrounded with the gentry of the kingdom. Differing styles, differing cultures – they could each be found within the Royal Court. After all, the unified kingdom was relatively young in comparison to the lordships of the counties. The ceremonies were just beginning, and the nobility filed themselves about, seeking seats according to rank and privilege. Amelie briefly greeted varying nobles as she passed, while Samantha followed in the wake of the royal princess. She took her place amongst the head of the honor guard, accompanied by the other members of the official Royal Guard.

Each of the Royal Guard stood out from the rank and file near them. Depending on their charge and their care, their finery reflected their assignment and needs, as well as their own personal styles. There was, of course, Veridis, in all his glory. But the others she had come to know and chat with: Guardian Johan, commander of the South Watch, dressed in a light, white robe emblazoned with the royal symbol. A spear was strapped to his back, the spear that had single-handedly protected Lord Robert de'Conne when traitors attempted to assassinate him. Johan was grim, cold and always serious. Still, Samantha had come to know that he could be charming, if he so chose. He just never so chose. On the other side of fashion and personality was Guardian Griffiths, the Lord Calvary Commander. Armed with a curious combination of a shielded glaive, he taught himself to ride at an early age, and to fight soon after, when the war had first begun. His cunning was said to be matched only by his kindness. Garbed in a pearled ceremonial scale vest and white silken vestments, he was second only to Veridis, and his loyalties rumored to be held first to the people under his care. There were others, of course, but Samantha was distracted. A few days worth of poop pressed painfully against her anus, threatening to cause a disgrace in the woman's wrapped, white cotton panties. With a supreme effort, she managed to fight the cramp off, just as the King began his sermon and service.

Nortmund combined the religious and ministerial aspects of government into a single entity within the royal family. After all, as the King is believed to be descended from divine heritage, so too are his sermons thought to be divinely inspired. However, at the moment his words flowed past her like so much the sounds of nature. Nature, instead, was calling her urgently, a fact that the princess had most certainly picked up on. During the speech, the guard was turned outward, toward the audience, as a precautionary method. But after the speech, she turned to see Amelie staring at her. From the distance, she looking nothing less than a beautiful, young woman. The only aspect that marred the image was the predatory hunger that lusted through the princess' eyes, as she ate up Sam's desperation.

And indeed, it was getting worse. As the minutes wore on, so too did the cramps get worse. Each time, it became harder and harder to keep herself closed up, much less keep her composure. The crowd, for their part, were enthralled (Or at least pretending to be) by the King, and so ignored the "servant guard". For that, she was thankful, but the situation was becoming more dire. Just then, the white noise of the King's voice came to an end, and for one brief moment, she thought that her necessity as an honor guard would be at an end.

No such luck.

"Guardian Samantha of Nortmund, stand forward, and receive the blessing of prestige and promotion." That was the queen's voice cutting to her. The Queen, although Amelie would be loathe to admit, was not merely a figure position within the royal family. Most, if not all of the secondary administrative duties fell to her, and as such, she played a critical part in the ministration of the kingdom. Still, she was second to the King, an idea that made Amelie, and Sam too, chafe. Her announcement continued, and Sam realized with a shock that she had entirely forgotten about the improvement of her rank. She saluted the Queen, and strode to toward the dais where the royal family sat, just as a cramp bore down on her again. She nearly gasped in pain, as her anus puckered out, refusing to close.

Sam cursed her fate at being the first of the ceremony for such an honor. It was, indeed, a great honor to be chosen as the first (Or so she'd been told before), but there were more pressing things on her mind. And body. She removed her weapon and laid it behind her, causing her hole to open even more as she bent over. Try as she might, she could barely hold back the days' worth of poo that was about to exit. Kneeling down before the King and Queen was even worse, and a small log pushed its way into her underwrappings, a precursor of what was to come.

In the background, the Princess Amelie was barely able to contain her own lust, watching her Guardian so desperate, and she surreptitiously she slid her legs together and back and forth, squeezing her thighs as she tried to massage her forbidden spot. Next to her, the Queen rose, with a sash in hand. Unlike the one she wore currently, this was embroidered with marks of rank in silvery weave and base gemstones, denoting a Knight Bachelor of the Guardians. Truly, an honor, it was acceptance into the royal family itself, albeit as a low noble. Even with her desperation, seeing it made her eyes glitter with wonder. She would be the first of her family to hold any sort of nobility. And she couldn't help but wonder who...

Another cramp made her breath catch in her throat. Only the Queen noticed, and her face made no movement, but Sam could see in the woman's eyes recognition...And something else too. All thought, though, were blasted away, and the Queen's speech as well, as the cramp became worse, and Sam began to lose control. Her toned ass separated again, widening as her anus puckered up. A long, thick, firm turd slid out, tenting the woman's underwear, making it bulge. It broke off, but was immediately followed by another, slightly smaller, and then another. Kneeling there, she was thankful for her robe, else anyone would've been able to see her wraps bulge out with poo, and turn a faint brown. With a supreme effort, she was able to close her hole, but much more was wanting to get out. She felt like her wrappings could barely contain what was already there, and she dare not lose anymore. Else, her disgrace would be public. Her problem was compounded by a sudden need to pee, spurred on by her brief loss of control. Thankfully, the Queen was finishing with her speech, and turned back to Sam. Each step was slow, and graceful, and each of those drawn out moments made her desperation worse.

As protocol dictated, Sam removed her sash, and held it for the Queen's taking. In its place, her new one, decorated with rank was placed in her hands. She fastened it to herself, and at the Queen's beckoning, arose, to the entirety of the Guard saluting her. With a roar they raised their weapons into the air, and the nobility itself was then clapping, though in a more conservative manner than the warriors. It was an indescribable feeling, to her so many giving her such respect. She felt warm inside, shocked, almost. Then she realized that warmth wasn't just the overwhelming honor, but pee as well, that had escaped her bladder, and was spurting out down her leg ever so slightly. She clamped herself shut, but knew that time was running out. They wouldn't stop the salute, though, and the Queen moved next to her, waving to them, adding strength to the din. With horror, and before Sam could do anything, she felt the woman's hand glide down to Sam's ass, and feel the bulge that was there.

But there was no recoil of horror. No outburst of disgust. The Queen gave her a sidelong glance, and then completed the ceremony with a kiss to each cheek, staring into Samantha's eyes. So close, Sam realized where Amelie got her beauty from. The Queen herself was stunning, in a more mature way. But then, she was gone, turning back to her seat. As part of the honor, Sam would be attending the royal family's private dinner, which would allow her to get to know her charges better. For the time being though, she was trapped to stand again. Thankfully, her waste had no odor. But with both her water and waste still pressing at both doors, she could only pray it did not take much longer.

How she lasted as long as she did she could only guess, and she attributed it partially to the grace of God. She was the only promotion of the ceremony, and so the rest went to court business, of which there was little in this month. The announcements took the most time, and Sam squirted twice into her underwraps again, and let more than a few farts silently go. It finally ended, however, and the courtiers stood, to chat and converse a little longer before leaving. Sam was finally free to go, and so she did. She knew she wouldn't make it to a privy, but she hoped she could at least make it to a secluded hallway to finish her disgrace. Dodging the courtiers proved a problem though. It seemed that every other one of them wanted to stop and congratulate her, and perhaps curry some favor. She thanked them all, but said that she had martial business to attend to, but to send word later so that they might have more time to discuss matters. Or something to that effect.

She only made it about halfway before she started losing control again. Her anus began to open up again, and another log threatened to push its way out into her overcrowded panties.
A few more steps, and then golden liquid spurted out from her pussy, gliding down her concealed legs. With her hole already stretched wide, holding her pee was even harder, and she couldn't stop the slow trickle.

Almost to the door, she began peeing in earnest, spurting uncontrollably into her panties. As long as she  kept moving, noone would notice her accident in the crowded floor, but her control was quickly slipping away, and her stream growing heavier. She took smaller steps to try and keep any pee from soaking her dress, as rivulets streamed down her muscular legs. She stepped into the hallway, and rounded away from the exiting courtiers, deeper into the castle, toward the royal chambers. Ducking into an alcove, she gave up any pretense of control. What little pee was left within her cascaded out, and poo slid out of her easily, piling into her panties until, with no room left, falling to the floor with dull thuds. The relief was almost orgasmic, and the entire situation had her almost demonic with lust.

As her body expelled the last of its waste, she tried to survey the damage. Her robe was, thankfully, fairly dry. Being heavy as it was, it wouldn't show much wetness anyway. Her underwraps were a disaster though, full of poo. Carefully, she untied the knots holding it together, and let them drop to the ground. Best to let a servant think some noble disgraced themselves. Her pussy was on fire however, and she resolved to get back to her quarters for some much needed relief of a different sort.

However, when she turned around, she found herself face to face with Rosalia Gregorian, Queen of Nortmund. Her face was impassive, her eyes betraying no thought, not even a hint of what she might've seen.

"You look to be in distress, Lady Samantha. May I offer you some assistance?"

End Chapter.

[Sipplewat]

There are no words to describe what heights you have taken the writing of this genre to.

[Serika]

Oh yes, hail to the Queen! It's nice to see another chapter of this. :)