FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Creamcake

Chapter 62

"Ahhh! Ahh! Ahh! Oh, Jonathan!" Princess Alexandria cried breathlessly. She was riding Jonathan's thick erection as the sun streamed through the slender windows and across her naked body. Jonathan clutched hard on her hips, watching her white breasts slapping, watching her pink nipples rolling and wanting to suck them. He could see the bulge of his penis pressing through her slender belly, and he watched with narrowed eyes as her moisture oozed through her clenching lips and down over his erection. Her head fell back, and she leaned back on her paws and rolled her hips on him, sending him to Heaven.

Jonathan couldn't take his eyes off the princess the moment she appeared at court. She heard him speaking before all the court to her father and appeared from the side hall, where she stood in the doorway and watched him with a small smile. The king welcomed Jonathan to his home, and after he called the audience to an end, Alexandria came to the young marquis and graciously introduced herself as the princess of the land.

Jonathan was a bit flustered but hid it well. Princesses always had a way of flustering him. Once when he was a boy, he saw the princess of Krodor and was beside himself for days. Charles said he wouldn't stop talking about her the entire journey home. But princesses, they were always worth talking about. And Jonathan hadn't been able to resist lovely Alexandria.

Upon arriving in Curith, the king was quick to inform Jonathan that Corene was perfectly happy living at Wandourg with him, and he smiled like a shark as he expressed his sympathies that Jonathan had made the journey for nothing.

And Jonathan believed King Louis. Queen Donica's letter had made it plain: Corene was in Wandourg because she wanted to be. And he thought of all the times he had asked Corene to stay with him, and all she could talk about was serving Etienne, her prince and future king. And he, Jonathan, was just a marquis. Which made him unworthy. Which made him beneath her. He stood in the king's court as the nobles laughed and asked himself why he had bothered. All Corene had ever wanted was a king, and now it seemed she finally had one.

Jonathan was leaving the throne room, angry and morose, when he found himself face to face with sharp eyed and seductive Princess Alexandria. She was flirtatious and sweet-smelling and seemed ready to pounce him, and he wanted to be comforted, he wanted to forget his heartache and bury himself between her thighs.

And that's exactly what he did. For about two weeks. Though he kept asking the king if he couldn't at least see Corene. He had made such a journey to retrieve her, and he told the king he didn't want to leave without at least speaking to her.

The truth was, Jonathan really wanted to yell at Corene. He wanted to yell at her for making him love her and then ripping his heart out and stamping all over it. And why? Because he wasn't good enough for her. Because he wasn't a king. He thought of Elsie, whose heart he had broken with his carelessness and snobbery, and he understood for the first time just how much he had really hurt her.

Jonathan finally got his wish when the king announced at supper that he would allow the marquis an audience with Corene the following morning. Alexandria's lips tightened to hear her father's words, but she didn't protest, and Jonathan knew she was afraid. Over the past few weeks, she had come to have real affection for Jonathan -- even while knowing that he was simply taking comfort in her arms -- and she did not want him rekindling the flame with Corene. And no matter how many times Jonathan assured her otherwise -- that he in fact hated Corene and simply wanted to hurt her for hurting him -- she remained distraught. After supper, the princess went with Jonathan to his bedchamber, and they had sex all night. And in the morning when he awoke, she wanted sex again. Though he knew she was just trying to stall the inevitable. Still . . .

"Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!"

Jonathan moved his hips against her, thrusting up and in as she rode him. His eyes traced over her soft, beautiful body and he wanted to lick every inch. Her red mane was down and tumbling, bouncing as she snapped her hips on him. Her fur was red but for the fur on her chin, breasts, belly, and sex. That was white. As were her inner thighs, which Jonathan loved to kiss and lick when he was going down on her. She was gorgeous and she was all his. Though it frightened him, that starry love in her bright green eyes.

Snapping her hips faster, harder, Alexandria leaned down and slipped her tongue in Jonathan's mouth. Her soft breasts crushed against his chest as her slender fingers caressed his cheek. They kissed hungrily, and he thrust himself harder against her with every coaxing stroke of her tongue. Suddenly ravenous, he rolled over on top of her, and hooking her leg in his elbow, he slammed himself in until her moisture splashed, his muscular back flexing in the twisting sheets.

Her screams intensified as the ferocity of his slams shook the bed and sent her sliding in the sea of her own red curls. Jonathan closed his mouth over hers to silence her and kept going, her supple breasts slapping his chest as he humped.

"In . . . inside," she gasped, curling her nails in his back.

She wanted him to come inside, but he knew better. She was trying to trap him in a marriage, and while it would have been ideal to marry a princess, some part of him still ached for Corene. And still held out hope.

He could feel himself heaving and flinching and pulled free with a soft suck. She moaned a complaint and tried to stop him, locking her free leg around his back. He grabbed her leg and pried it off, still holding the other aloft as he shot his white semen on the sheets. They panted into the silence, and he leaned on his elbow and looked at her, the sunlight tickling warm across his muscular chest and strong shoulders. His red mane had tumbled in his face and he pushed it back, looking down at her with soft eyes. She lay there naked and wreathed in red curls. He wanted to kiss her.

"You bastard," she complained and pushed him away by the face.

Jonathan laughed as he was shoved over on his back. He reached for his cigar on the nightstand and lit up, drawing one knee up as he lay naked on the bed. She lay beside him against the pillows, pulling the white sheets up to cover her heaving breasts and slender body.

"Well?" the princess demanded as Jonathan smoked. "Aren't you going to trot off to your little tart?"

Jonathan frowned, not looking at her. "What have you got against Corene anyway? Is she stealing Daddy's affections?"

"Shut up," the princess sulked.

Jonathan laughed softly. "You're cute when you're pouting. I can tell he never threw you across his knee. Not once. Is that what it is? He throwing Corene across his knee and not you?"

"Like I care what Daddy does to that whore. I keep telling you she doesn't want you. He does such nasty things to her, and she enjoys it."

Jonathan laughed flatly. "I'm almost afraid to ask how you know this." He tapped ashes in the ashtray on the nightstand and glanced at her in amusement.

The princess made a face. "The very suggestion is disgusting. Don't be a prick."

"How can I help it when you keep giving me all these sordid details?" Jonathan said tonelessly and took another puff. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and glanced around for his pants.

"The slaves tell me plenty," Alexandria insisted, glaring at his muscular back.

He could feel her frustration like a burn. It had always frustrated her, the fact that she could not bully him, manipulate him, or otherwise wrap him around her finger. He was completely in control, would not bend to her every whim nor let himself get swept away by emotion, and she hated that couldn't make him love her and worship her. He felt her little paw smooth down his tail, coaxing him back to bed, but he ignored it and grabbed his pants. Her sigh of frustration made him smile around his cigar.

"The pathetic thing likes_being here and _likes the abuse. You're wasting your time going to her."

"Then I'm wasting my time," Jonathan said, the cigar wagging in the corner of his mouth as he stepped into his pants. He picked up his shirt.

"She doesn't _love_you," the princess insisted, somewhere between crying and throwing something at his back.

"This isn't about her," Jonathan said, buttoning his shirt. "It's about me. . . .shit." He missed a button and had to start over. He was helpless without Ben.

Not that Jonathan hadn't brought his servant with him. With Akbash slaves about to do everything for Jonathan, the marquis gave Ben some coin and told him to have fun in town. Ben spent most of his days in Norwich (which was the town in which WandourgCastle was situated), getting drunk and screwing around in brothels. At the end of each week, he would return to check on Jonathan and see if he wasn't ready to leave. Jonathan was expecting him back that evening, after he had spoken to Corene. It was the pending conversation with her that would determine whether or not he stayed another week in Wandourg.

"Fine," the princess sulked. "Run to your slut and get your sloppy seconds. See if I care."

"No," said Jonathan sarcastically, "you don't care at all." He kissed her on the cheek, and when he turned away, he knew she was smiling. "I'll see you later, love."

"Get out," she snapped, which meant she wanted him to stay. "And don't come back!" she added as he went out the door, which mean she wanted him to come back.

An Akbash slave was patiently waiting for Jonathan at the end of the hall. She led him to Corene's chambers and bowed him inside. He entered alone, and as the door closed behind him, he stopped and looked around to find himself in shadows and gloom. All the curtains were shut against the sun, and the balcony doors were also shut with curtains drawn over them.

Jonathan stood a moment to let his eyes adjust. He could smell Corene somewhere in the room, though where she was wasn't readily apparent. Finally, he noticed her sitting at the vanity. She was trying to apply makeup and had made some sad attempt to dress herself and brush her mane. She didn't seem to have a slave helping her, and Jonathan thought it baffling.

He came up behind her as she wept and fussed over the many bottles and creams on the vanity, and he took up her brush and quietly started brushing her mane. She went still when she felt him brushing. Their eyes met in the mirror and she smiled sadly. Jonathan smiled back, though his heart ached to see her so tousled and strained. She had circles under her eyes, and her nails were irregular, as if she'd been biting them.

"Where," he said, dropping his eyes to her mane as he gently brushed it, "in bloody hell is your handmaid?" He heard a sniff and glanced up, saddened to see fresh tears had started to her eyes. Her eyes were red from crying, and he realized she had been crying long before he'd come. The pregnancy must've been tugging her emotions back and forth. The king had told Jonathan it was unhinging Corene and that he should expect to find her in a state.

"Jonathan," she whispered hoarsely, "you shouldn't have come here."

Jonathan scowled and dropped his eyes to his work again. "Apparently not," he said darkly. "Since you're so happy with his majesty."

She didn't challenge his assumption, and the fact made something in him crumble.

"So it's true," he said heavily. "You're carrying the king's pup." He shook his head darkly. "Couldn't even wait to sink your claws in him. Or was it the other way around? Guess it doesn't matter. You let him squirt one in you, and now he'll pamper and spoil you the rest of your life. And really, that's all you've ever wanted. To be some king's kept whore." Jonathan glanced up again and saw how tight and solemn her face had become. Her chin was lifted defiantly, but she was crying.

"Say what you want," she said coldly. "Then get out."

Jonathan blinked angrily. "You're a fucking slut," he said flatly.

He waited for her to react, for her face to contort with tears, for her to sob and satisfy his bitter need to hurt her as deeply as she was hurting him. But she remained solemn and composed. The tears kept slipping down her cheeks, but she was otherwise emotionless.

With a heave of his chest, Jonathan slammed the brush on the vanity and stormed out. He had gotten half down the hall when he turned back, and without knowing why, entered the room again. He halted when he heard Corene crying. She was sobbing so loud and so _hard._He saw her sitting hunched at the vanity. She had dropped her face into her arms and her shoulders were shaking. He swallowed hard and went to her, and after a moment's hesitation, he touched her head.

She jerked upright and blinked, embarrassed to find him there. "J-Jonathan . . . don't look at me . . ."

"Shh," he said soothingly, and kneeling beside her, he took out his kerchief and started wiping her face.

She sniffled quietly and kept her eyes down. He could tell she wanted to hide.

"Tell me what's going on, Corene. Tell me what's the matter, and I'll fix it."

Corene laughed through her tears and looked at him gratefully. "Don't be foolish. You can't stand up to the king." She dropped her eyes and swallowed hard. "Not even for me."

"Tell me what's going on," Jonathan insisted and closed his paw over hers. He frowned sadly when she took a shuddering breath and blinked out more tears.

"Oh, Jonathan, everyone is dead, and it's my fault!" Her face contorted. "My f-fault . . ."

"What are you on about, love?" He dabbed her fresh tears away.

"That _whore_had Flavia killed because I loved her --"

"Oh god. What whore? Who? The queen? Hush now. Tell me." He wiped her tears again, and she blinked and swallowed down her sobs.

"N-No, not the queen. The princess -- Princess Alexandria."

_That whore,_Jonathan thought, frowning darkly. He kept wiping Corene's tears. "It's alright, love. I'll take you away from here, I promise --"

"N-No," Corene said, clutching his arms, "there's m-more. Jonathan, Etienne is dead!"

Jonathan stared at her. "Are you daft, bitch? He's alive. I just saw him weeks ago."

Corene slowly shook her head. "No . . . that's impossible."

Jonathan looked at her anxiously. "Maybe you'd better lie down. These ravings of yours --"

"No, Jonathan, listen to me!" Corene protested, but Jonathan scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he lay her gently on the coverlet. "Jonathan!" she protested again.

Jonathan straightened up, regarding her sadly. "I'll fetch the doctor then. Maybe he'll have something for --"

"I'm carrying your child!" Corene wailed.

Jonathan halted. "Alright . . ." he said slowly and sank on the edge of the bed as if his knees had given out. "Now you've got my attention."

"Or it c-could be," Corene stammered. "I don't know. I only know the king won't kill me as long as he believes it's his."

Jonathan stared at the clock and said nothing. He didn't know what to say. Finally, he looked at her and said in earnest, "What do you want me to do?"

Corene blinked, surprised by the devotion in his eyes. He was sitting very still, waiting for her command. "Hold me," she whispered. "I'm afraid."

Jonathan climbed into bed with her at once and slipped his arms around her. He smiled sadly when she snuggled against him, and he held her tightly, thinking she was still so soft and pretty and helpless -- like a bird with a broken wing. And he was the only one who cared enough to try to mend her wing.

"What are you _doing_here?" Corene demanded wretchedly. She was still crying and sounded like she had a head cold. She touched his red mane and looked into his eyes, and the softness in her gaze made him want to kiss her. Maybe she did care after all.

"They told me you ran away from Wychowl, that you decided to insert yourself in the king's court here. King Louis is a right bastard. I came to save you."

"They?" Corene repeated.

"Donica."

"Oh, Jonathan . . . Donica's dead."

". . . what?" He looked down at her and simply stared.

Corene shook her head against him, and her massive curls rose against his nose. "I k-killed her myself, Jonathan --"

"So it's finally happened," Jonathan said tonelessly. "You've _actually_gone round the bend --"

"Jonathan, please! It's t-true --"

"Corene, she's alive._Blokes have bloody _seen her in Wychowl, chopping off heads and prancing about as usual."

". . . that's not her," Corene whispered. "It's a fox."

"Alright, love," Jonathan said wearily.

Corene scowled. "Don't placate me!"

"Well, what should I do? You're asking me to believe you over hundreds of eyewitnesses."

She glared at him.

"Alright . . . I believe you," he said quietly and was glad when she looked away.

"How's the duke?" she whispered after a while, and he knew she meant Charles. He was well aware that she hated Richard. And she sounded very worried. "I heard about raids in Varimore --"

"You heard right. Etienne is escorting Uncle Charlie to Rorchester, love. It's alright. He promised me he'd look after him until I could catch up. I'm catching the train there after I leave here . . ." He leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Come with me?"

"Oh, Jonathan . . . the king will never let us go."

"We don't need his permission. We'll just leave."

"I must stay here until the child is born. He thinks it's his and will have me guarded round the clock. I can't imagine how you expect to sneak me out."

Jonathan sighed heavily and rubbed his paw over her swollen belly. It suddenly occurred to him that he might be a father. And soon. He squeezed her tight in his arms, and she nuzzled herself under his chin. He closed his eyes, relishing in the smell of her.

"So Etienne is alive?" Corene whispered happily.

Jonathan closed his eyes. "Must we talk about bloody Etienne all the bloody time?"

"But how is it possible?"

Jonathan stared into space. "I don't know," he realized. "But I do know he spent a lot of time with those savages in the forest. Maybe they found his bullet riddled corpse and did some ritual to bring him back."

"Did he mention me?"

"Corene. He's_not_ in love with you," Jonathan said angrily. "I'm in love with you. I'm here, risking my neck, risking everything to help you! I abandoned my bloody father -- I mean, my Uncle Charlie -- to come here and --"

"Jonathan --"

"What? D'you think I came all this way to listen to you harp on about how much you love Etienne and not --" His words were muffled to silence when she kissed him.

She pulled away, smiling up at him through her tears. "Say that again," she whispered.

Jonathan hated the fact that he was blushing. "Say what?"

"That bit about you being in love with me." She looked at him, and her eyes were practically glowing.

"I love you, Corene," he said softly, and he leaned close . . . and kissed her. He could feel her melting into the kiss, and he twisted his head and slipped his tongue in her mouth. She was kissing him back when she suddenly grabbed his shoulder, and bunching the fabric of his coat in her little fist, she jerked him back.

"Corene -- what --"

Corene's eyes narrowed. "Princess Alexandria," she said angrily.

Jonathan sighed and dropped on his weight on his elbow. "What about her?"

"Don't you play innocent with me!" she cried and poked him in the chest. "The king told me! He told me you two --!"

"I'm not going to marry her."

"But you _slept_with her! You slept with her, didn't you?!"

Jonathan dropped his eyes. "C-Corene . . ."

"Ugh. You insufferable -- why do I love you?!"

Jonathan blinked. ". . . you love me?"

"Did you sleep with Etienne as well?" Corene demanded and pulled herself up with difficulty. She tried to move past him, but he grabbed her shoulders. "How _dare_you -- let go of me or I'll scream!"

"Would you bloody listen to me?"

"I've heard enough!"

"Corene --"

"I said let go!" she sobbed.

Jonathan let go and watched as she wept bitterly into her paws. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her big breasts heavy behind her nightgown, her round belly jutting, and he sank to his knees between her thighs and peered sadly into her face.

"Don't cry, Creamcake," he whispered.

She blushed to her mane to hear the old nickname. He had called her Creamcake once, when they were alone together at Howlester. They were in bed, and he was sliding his fingers in her sex, and she was so wet, she creamed every time he slid them in, until the lips of her sex were frothed in the juices of her arousal. He would lick the cream away and dip his fingers again, fondling her until she creamed another time. And he told her she was so sweet. Sweet like icing on cake.

"Please, don't cry," he whispered and touched his forehead to her knee. "I'm sorry." He felt her hesitant paw stroke his mane. "I'll do anything you want. I'll never look at her again."

"Don't be foolish. She'll kill you if you reject her now. The only reason the king hasn't made you his newest amusement is because Xandria wants you. He thinks to marry the two of you, so he can get a hold of Howlester."

"What do you want me to do?" Jonathan whispered to her little feet.

"Pretend to carry on with her -- but don't sleep with her again."

"Yes, love," Jonathan whispered and kissed her little foot. She wasn't wearing slippers, and he massaged her toes, kneeling humble as a slave at her feet. He couldn't help but smile at the anger in her voice. She was jealous. It made him indescribably happy.

"You will go to the forest outside Norwich," Corene went on. "Hunt a fox. And bring it here to the princess. As a gift. Say it's to replace Flavia. I can't imagine Xandria or the king would object."

"At least the Hunt is still legal here. I'll send for Ben and go immediately."

"Good. The fox you bring will help us escape Wandourg. So make sure you have some antidote for the tranquilizer. It will need the ability to use magic. And we'll just have to hope it speaks something besides savage babble."

"Yes, love," Jonathan whispered again. He kissed her ankle, then her knee. His paws smoothed back her nightgown and he kissed her bare thighs.

"J-Jonathan?" she protested softly.

But he didn't stop. His nostrils flared. He could smell the hot scent of her sex, and god, it was a scent he had missed terribly. With burning eyes, he spread her thighs and looked at the lips of her pink sex. They were clinging tight together. He spread them carefully and could see her fat little clit peeking at the crown. She stammered his name again, but he ignored her, carefully sliding his fingers into the hot sheath between her thighs. He curled them in a gentle caress that made her eyes hood, and he leaned forward and gently licked her clit.

"Oh . . . oh Jonathan," she whispered as his head moved between her thighs. She trembled. And as he sucked with slow hunger on her clit, she creamed over his fingers with a helpless cry. He ate her moisture away with a passionate tongue, tasting her and smelling her as he whispered, "Oh, Creamcake. . ."