FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Too Tight

Chapter 15

Etienne liked Duke Charles immediately. The white-maned foxhound was soft-spoken and dignified, even when he was angry - and he was very angry. He dragged Jonathan up by the ear and snapped for him to get dressed. Jonathan scrambled to obey under the furious glare of the older male, grumbling to himself as he pulled on his shirt. But when Charles looked at the prince, his eyes softened, and after only a moment's hesitation, he hugged him.

Etienne went rigid with surprise, but he could not shake the feeling that he had known the duke's arms before. His uncle. Jonathan had said Charles was his uncle. He slowly hugged the older male back and felt something in him warm when the duke's fingers curled affectionately in his mane.

"My little Etienne," Charles whispered. He pulled back, and Etienne was shocked and saddened by the tears sparkling behind his spectacles. "Look at you! You look just like your father. But Evelyn's eyes. I look at you and I see my sister's eyes looking down at me." He sniffed and smiled up at Etienne through his tears.

Before Etienne could respond, a maid burst in from an adjoining room - a brown and white hound with a mussed brown mane. Her clothes were haphazardly fastened, as if she'd hastily dressed, and now she stood in the doorway of the adjoining room, staring at Etienne with large eyes. Etienne was a bit flabbergasted to realize she had been just behind the door the entire time. Why she hadn't heard Jonathan's cries and protests was beyond him.

"Elsie --" Charles began but someone else burst into the room, this time through the open bedroom door.

"What the hell is going on? If that boy has brought another of his little bedfellows --" The newcomer halted when he saw Etienne. He was also a foxhound and looked exactly like Jonathan, only older, with worry lines around his eyes. His red mane was mussed and he was wearing a dark red housecoat. His mouth fell open. "My god."

The room went silent as everyone simply stared at the prince. And it suddenly occurred to Etienne that he was taller than everyone there. But then . . . that was always the case.

"Father," Jonathan began, looking with flat ears at his older replica, "I can explain. I was sleeping when he just burst in here --!"

"That's enough out of you," Jonathan's father snapped. "You put on some clothes and - ugh." He gestured at the gaping maid. "Elsie, get the boy some clean sheets, for god's sake."

"Yes, m'lord," squeaked the little maid at once, but she could hardly take her eyes off Etienne as she hurried to pull the coverlet off.

Father and son glared at each other.

"I swear," Jonathan said. "Father, he just . . ."

"That's enough, Jonny," Jonathan's father said with a sigh. "We'll discuss this in the morning. Charles --"

"Go back to bed, Richard," Charles said over him. He hadn't taken his misty eyes off Etienne. "I'll see to our boy here." He took Etienne's paw and squeezed.

Etienne looked into Charles' gentle eyes . . . and felt at ease. He and Charles passed out of the room with Jonathan and Duke Richard staring, and he was surprised when Charles took him not to a parlor or a sitting room, but to the kitchens. The prince sat at the table - which was covered in grimy pots and dusted with flour - while Charles put on a pot of tea.

Charles sat near Etienne and leaned his elbow on the table. He looked at the prince, caught somewhere between amazement and delight.

"If you say 'My, how you've grown,' " said Etienne in a bored voice, "I just might be sick."

Charles laughed and shook his head, still amazed. "However did you find out about us? It was my understanding that we were a well kept secret. A scandal from your past." He looked at Etienne unhappily. "Her majesty will not be happy that you've come here."

"Bugger her majesty," Etienne said at once. "I knew coming here was the only way I'd learn the truth, so I came. I found a letter written by my father to you. It spoke of my mother."

Etienne saw Charles go very still.

"It said he loved my mother . . . that Donica tried to hurt him for it. I found her death certificate. . . . strawberry tarts."

Charles looked at him sadly. "Yes, it's true, I'm afraid. Your mother was poisoned and Donica covered it up. Made it seem a postnatal trauma on Evelyn's part." He snorted angrily. The teapot whistled behind him and he went to it. "Of course, no one would believe me," he went on, reaching into a cabinet for teacups. He poured. "And why would they? I'm the bastard son of some maid and undeserving of my title as duke."

"I'd much prefer wine," Etienne said, peering with distaste into his cup when Charles gave it to him.

Charles laughed and took a seat near Etienne again. "His majesty will find this is not WychowlCastle, where others are expected on pain of death to bend knee to his every whim," he teased.

"Drat," Etienne joked and squinted a skeptical eye at his tea.

Charles laughed, his eyes crinkling up behind his spectacles. He blew on his tea. "Your mother used to joke with me. I'm glad to see a little of her in you." He dropped in two lumps of sugar and offered Etienne one.

Etienne declined the sugar with a shake of his head. He watched as Charles blew on his tea again and took a sip, his blue eyes dancing curiously over the older male. "What was she like?"

Charles smiled. "Headstrong. Foolish. Kind. She and Richard - Jonathan's father -- used to row something terrible. She's the one who started calling Richard 'Dick' all the time. A very unladylike joke. She was scolded roundly the first time. Then everyone was doing it, even his parents."

Etienne laughed.

"Of course, we stopped calling him that . . . when she died . . ." Charles blinked sadly and took another sip of tea.

"Am I really like her?"

"Not really. You remind me more of your father."

"So you really knew my father? In his letter . . . it sounded like you and he . . ."

Charles cleared his throat awkwardly. "Once. A long time ago. It ended once our house was banned from his court. After that, your father and I remained good friends. And he was always good friends with Richard. The two of them were like brothers, and for a long time, nothing could keep Richard from seeing your father. Not even Donica. We would visit him on holiday at his various estates. Eventually, Donica found out, and we stopped. I never did get to see Bastian . . ." Charles sighed unhappily. "One last time."

Etienne lowered his eyes to his tea. He remembered how unhappy his father had been in his last years. Losing his two best friends was probably a large part of it. He looked at Charles and wondered if he knew his father had committed suicide. The letters had never reached Charles, after all. And yet, some small part of Etienne believed Donica may have actually killed her husband. After what he had learned about his mother, he wouldn't put it past her.

"I'll tell you one thing," Charles said with a little smile.

Etienne looked up and realized that Charles had been watching him for some time.

"You run from your problems rather than face them directly." The duke looked away and shook his head. "Just like your bloody mother."

"What d'you mean?"

Charles smiled. "Your mother ran from everything. And she ran all the time. Usually out to Crinnington. Some old hound would be after her paw in marriage, would overwhelm her with an aggressive courtship, and she'd just disappear into the forest where no one could find her. When it came time to marry Richard, she did the same thing. Ran off and wound up in your father's court."

"And they made me!" Etienne said with mock delight.

"Yes," Charles said and looked at his nephew mistily. He hesitated and touched Etienne's long golden mane. "They made you. And you're the best thing your mother ever did. But I hope you can learn from me what Evelyn could not." He closed his paw over Etienne's and looked in his eyes. "Running away will not solve anything, my boy. If you run away, Donica wins."

Etienne laughed dryly. "I don't exactly have much in the way of winning, Uncle."

Charles smiled.

"What?"

"You called me Uncle."

"Oh. I did, didn't I?" Etienne smiled back.

Charles shook his head and set down his tea. "You have more power at your disposal than you have yet to realize. Donica doesn't even have Emerald blood. With your father's death, she might as well be regent. You are old enough to take your place on the throne, to be taken seriously by the court. You go back to Wychowl and depose her, and no one will blink twice."

Etienne stared. "Come now, Uncle. We both know how greatly she is loved." He knew Donica was ruthless, but she was also well loved by her subjects: she kept the foxes under heel, formed solid alliances that kept war at bay, and kept the economy flowing with effortless ease. The dogs of Varimore were happy under her reign. To depose her now . . .

"She is greatly loved, I'll give the munter that," Charles said darkly. "But you are an Emerald, heir of an imperial bloodline and descendant of a god. Your rule is ordained by said god, and your subjects love you more than her. The public needn't know it was you who deposed her. Reveal her darkest secrets, but do so in such a way that no one will trace it back to you."

Etienne sighed and shook his head. "I hate politics."

"Then you have a _terrible_job."

Etienne smiled. "But . . ." He frowned at his tea. "Corene. I can't marry her, Uncle. I can't walk down the aisle and spend the rest of my life kissing her in public and screaming at her in private."

Charles laughed dryly. "My dear boy. Once you are on that throne, you can do what you will. That includes marrying who you will. I heard Princess Isabella Hart is still free." He rose from his chair with a tired groan.

Etienne rose too. "You know about Isabella?" he said wearily.

Charles snorted. "The incident was the talk of the kingdom for years. One could only assume she was removed from Wychowl's court for becoming too close to you."

"And it was Corene's doing. Do you see why I can't marry her? Even if I married Isabella now, it would cause an uproar. The entire kingdom hates her - and all because of Corene. I can just imagine the assassins sneaking in our bedroom already."

Charles took their empty teacups to the sink, and Etienne followed. "That may be," he said heavily. "But once you are king, you could always find someone. If not Isabella then someone else. What happens to Corene would also depend on your word." He blinked and looked off sadly, then shook his head and turned away. "I can't help but feel sorry for that poor girl."

Etienne followed Charles into the hall, baffled by his sympathy. He couldn't imagine why Charles should feel badly for Corene. She had made Etienne's life a living hell, had isolated him further and further each and every time she removed the competition. If he hadn't gone to university, he knew he'd have no friends. And even those were few and far in-between: too many of his peers feared getting caught up in court intrigue.

The duke took an oil lamp from a waiting servant and murmured, "Thank you, Hadly . . ." before guiding Etienne up the stairs.

"You knew Corene?" Etienne asked, surprised as the realization suddenly hit him.

"Well, I don't know if 'knew' is the right word."

They turned up the shadowy corridor, and Etienne realized the apparent Hadly was following behind them. The maid was a light brown Cocker Spaniel with a long, straight, chocolate brown mane. Etienne could tell at a glance that she was older than him but not by much. She was curvy and short, jutting breasts and jutting backside. Her full breasts pressed tight behind her simple dress and apron, and her hips were round, swaying with her every light step. The scent of her was flowery and hot. Etienne could see her tail. Noble bitches always hid their tails under ballooning skirts, for it was ladylike and demure. But bitches of a lower status always had their tails poking out the back of modest dresses, and Etienne found his eyes momentarily following Hadly's tail as she moved forward to open a door for them. She smiled politely when she caught his eye, and he guiltily looked away.

They had come to a bedroom on the second floor, east wing. Etienne realized with a smile that it was _very_far from the room in which Jonathan slept. He followed Charles inside and heard Hadly follow behind them.

"This is where you'll be sleeping for the duration of your stay," Charles said, coming to a stop in the center of the room. "I know it's not as luxurious as Wychowl, but do try not to stain this carpet."

Etienne glanced at the mud on his boots and rubbed his ears. "Right. Sorry about Jonathan's carpet . . ." He eased into a chair and started to remove his boots, but he stopped when Hadly knelt to do it for him.

"Hadly will wait on you," Charles went on. "She will also make sure you don't go creeping off to Jonathan's bed in the middle of the night," he added severely.

Etienne held back the sudden urge to squirm in embarrassment.

"Jonathan is a lot like his father," Charles cautioned the prince. "Enticing, charming, passionate - but also deadly as poison."

Etienne blinked at Charles in amazement. He laughed. "How can you say that about the both of them? Aren't you . . . _with_Jonathan's father?"

"That may be. It doesn't mean I am blind to the duke's many faults." Charles put his paw on Etienne's shoulder and coaxed, "Both of you have a destiny, and neither has anything to do with the other."

"Don't worry, Uncle," Etienne insisted soothingly. "I have no interest in Jonathan. I promise you."

Charles cocked a brow, unconvinced. "And yet I walk in his bedroom to find the two of you kissing . . . and your paws on his backside."

Etienne moaned. "It wasn't like that. . . ." He scowled. "Jonathan is just as bad as Corene. And you see how much I love _her._They're both liars . . ." His eyes darkened as he tried to fight out of his wet shirt. Hadly came up behind his chair and helped him with careful fingers. He saw her eyes trace over the muscles of his chest, his thick neck and broad shoulders. She smiled and lowered her lashes when he caught her eye.

"Yes. . . ." said Charles, who had been observing them. "I see. You do understand, dear boy, that I shall have to write to the queen, yes? We can't let her send mastiffs here with some mad claim that Richard and I have kidnapped the prince. You must return to Wychowl."

Etienne nodded bitterly: so his own family was ready to give him up!

"That isn't to say I shall write immediately," Charles went on. "Perhaps you would like to stay for a while? Enjoy a nice break from the corruption and intrigue of court life?"

Etienne smiled: Charles sounded a little hopeful. "I would enjoy that."

"Good." Charles came to him, and Etienne's lashes fluttered when he kissed his head. "Good night, my boy. I shall see you in the morning."

Etienne smiled fondly at Charles. "Good night, Uncle."

Charles smiled to hear the word yet again and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

When Etienne looked around, Hadly was turning down the bed. She pulled back the coverlet and smiled her polite smile before going to the fireplace and stroking up the dwindling fire. As he stepped out of his pants, she pulled a bed warmer from the fire, her tail lifting at the tip as she bent to the task.

Etienne went to the armoire in search of a nightshirt and realized one had been laid out for him on the trunk at the edge of the bed. He pulled it on haphazardly as Hadly slid the bed warmer under the sheets. She laughed softly at his struggle and helped him. The sweet smell of her was enticing, and Etienne looked down at her with soft blue eyes.

"Thank you, Hadly."

"You are welcome, your majesty. Though the shirt is a bit tight. You might have to sleep in your drawers. We don't have a nightshirt in the house quite big enough for you!" Her eyes crinkled up in a smile.

"Nor any clean clothes, I should suspect," Etienne said with a sigh.

Hadly's slender fingers tugged the laces on the front of his shirt, carefully drawing them tight. "His majesty the king came to visit once and left some things. I dare say you'd fit them. I brought them for you, at Duke Richard's bidding. Your other things are wet, your majesty. I'll have them washed right away."

Etienne was silent. He didn't know how he felt about wearing his father's clothing. He didn't know how he felt about staying at Howlester Manor. Charles was just going to hand him back to the queen, back to the intrigue and betrayal that defined court life - _his_life. He didn't want to beat Donica at her game. He didn't want to play her game at all.

"No, this is too tight," Etienne muttered. "I'll just sleep in my drawers. Where are my father's clothes?"

Hadly's lashes fluttered in surprise but she started unlacing the nightshirt for him. "In the chair just over there, your majesty."

The shirt slipped off over Etienne's head, and the muscles of his strong chest were bare again. Hadly stared at his pectorals and dropped her eyes guiltily. Etienne smiled. He took her small paw and smoothed it slowly over his chest. Her lashes fluttered again. She swallowed hard and suddenly seemed short of breath. He lifted her chin, looked at her lips . . . and kissed her.

She kissed him back, tentatively, her warm tongue slipping in his mouth with careful finesse. Etienne closed his eyes and had slid his arms around her when someone entered the room.

"Beg pardon, your majesty. Duke Richard sent me to fetch your wet things - oh my!"

Etienne looked up to find a young maid standing in the middle of the room, blinking at them. She was a fluffy golden dog with a long curly mane. She blushed bright as an apple but didn't seem able to move. She was younger than Hadly. Etienne would have placed her at sixteen or seventeen. The firm high breasts pressing behind her apron heaved.

"Oh my," she whispered again, frozen in the middle of the room.

"What's your name, my lady?" Etienne asked.

"Brooke, your lord - I mean, my highness . . ." the girl babbled, squirming and flustered to have been addressed as "my lady" by the prince.

Hadly smiled to herself, amused.

"Close the door, Brooke," Etienne instructed. "And come here."

Brooke obeyed.

Etienne sat on the edge of the bed, in nothing but his smallclothes. With a gesture, he bid Hadly to remove the bed warmer. With another gesture, he bid Brooke to remove her apron. Both maids obeyed readily, Hadly glancing over her shoulder once as Brooke let her apron fall in a nearby chair.

"Good," the prince said. "Now undress each other. Slowly."

The maids looked at each other but obeyed. Brooke turned her back to Hadly and allowed the older maid to unbutton her dress. Before long, she was standing completely naked, covering her high breasts with her arms. Her head was down and her long golden mane clung to the shape of her tail and high backside. When Hadly had completely undressed her, she turned to the older maid and unbuttoned her with trembling breasts.

Etienne sat on the bed, getting hard in his drawers as he watched them. Hadly had bigger breasts than Brooke and a little more weight, something that served to give her curves a fullness Brooke did not have. Unlike shy Brooke, she did not hide her breasts but stood with her arms at her sides, her long brown mane a shadow around her slanted eyes.

"Is this well enough, my lord?" Hadly whispered, her long lashes blinking slowly, a smirk on her lips. She stood with paws folded, big breasts like melons and hips full and round. Her sex was brown and cloaked by a curly nest of chocolate brown fur. Etienne looked between her thighs and imagined curling his tongue through that fur.

"No," the prince replied, his paws on this thighs. He was rock hard in his drawers and casting a tent. "I'll tell you when it's well enough."

Brooke giggled and cast a hungry eye over the prince's tight body. She was still covering her high breasts, and one paw was also covering the pink sex between her thighs. Etienne flared his nostrils to take in her sweet scent.

They got on their knees when Etienne instructed them. He pried his hard phallus from the soft fabric of his drawers, and when it stood enormous and veined before their faces, he saw Hadly's eyes flicker hunger, while Brooke's eyes went round. They began licking him without hesitation, their wet tongues alternating up and down the sides of his shaft. His eyes hooded as he watched them. They licked his penis until it was glistening. Their tongues met at the head of it, and after looking at each other a moment, they kissed.

Etienne pulled Hadly up, and after guiding her to kneel, knees spread, over his lap, he pealed her backside apart and clutched it in fistfuls. He murmured instructions to Brooke, who then knelt behind Hadly and carefully ate her out, licking her from anus to clit, her little pink tongue rolling gently against the swollen lips of Hadly's sex.

Hadly's nipples hardened, and Etienne massaged her big breasts, squeezing until his fingers sank in their softness. He hefted one in his paw as if weighing it, then lifted it to his face and carefully suckled. Breasts sucked and sex licked, Hadly knelt over Etienne's rigid penis and panted shrilly, lashes fluttering, the juices of her arousal oozing down her thighs. Brooke licked her wet thighs in long, hot strokes and they shivered as if she might fall. Her tail fluttered up and down, and she tightened her hold on Etienne's strong shoulders.

Etienne carefully bent Hadly back and buried his face in her cleavage. He clutched her backside hard and pulled her closer, moving his face against her breasts as he suckled. His tongue rolled her nipple, his lips pulled and released, and he watched her big breast jiggle before sucking it again. Brooke was still on her knees between Etienne's thighs, still licking Hadly's sex. Etienne reached around and clapped a paw on her head, guiding her mouth over him instead. She sucked hungrily, her slurping and licking loud as her golden head moved up and down in his lap.

Etienne felt himself flinch in Brooke's mouth and guided her back. She sadly pulled her lips from his penis, making sure the last suck was so tight, he almost released. The prince took Hadly by the hips . . . and slowly eased her wet sex down on his throbbing shaft. Her head fell back and she cried out, gasping helplessly as her brown lips were stretched taunt.

The prince slowly pulled Hadly's hips down, watching with narrowed eyes as her hungry little clit pulsed hard against their joined sexes. He lay back on the coverlet, and as he watched, she braced her little paws on the rippling muscles of his belly and began to ride, big breasts jiggling, mouth gasping, lashes fluttering.

Etienne licked his lips, his breath coming short as the heat of her oozed wet over him. He noticed Brooke out of the corner of his eye. The golden bitch was kneeling near him on the bed, watching with large, fascinated eyes as Hadly's tight sex sucked and clenched on the prince's erection. She was gorgeous and small kneeling there, her little breasts trembling, her pink sex swollen between her golden thighs. He drew her close by the paw. She didn't understand what he wanted, and her lashes fluttered in confusion. He guided her to straddle his head. Her curly golden tail flickered up, and he pulled her hips down, closing the heat and moisture of her sex on his face. She cried out. Her pink nails curled on his chest as he ate her. Before long, the females' cries were filling the room.

"Ah . . . ah . . . ah . . . Oh, your majesty . . . your majesty . . ."

"Oh! Oh . . . oh . . . ohh." Brooke melted when Etienne's tongue gave a caress that was particularly pleasing. He heard the females moan and realized they were kissing as they rode him.

"Mm . . . mm . . ."

Etienne's tongue flicked, slapping Brooke's pulsing pink clit until she was wriggling on his face. He squeezed and massaged her backside as he licked her, and with a stifled squeal, she squirted on him.

Etienne watched as Brooke - mortified by what she had done - scrambled across the bed with jiggling breasts. "Oh, your majesty, I'm so sorry --"

Etienne caught Brooke by the tail before she could get away. Hadly eased off him with a soft suck, and he lurched up, grabbing Brooke's little breasts from behind and groping her as his big body overpowered her, dragging her to the sheets. She squealed and sighed, her tail flashing everywhere as his paws explored, as his kisses found her neck. Her soft scream pierced through the room when he kicked her knees wide and punched himself in. Fuck, she was tight. The head of his penis barely got in. She cried out, but whispered for him to enter her. Her sex oozed and clenched on the head, coaxing him to slide in. He braced his knees, then punched in hard. "A-Ah!" she screamed to the ceiling. He barely sank to the middle of his shaft. She trembled and bowed her head, and looking at the swollen lips of her tiny sex, he had to wonder if she wasn't a virgin.

"Make love to me, your majesty," Brooke whispered. "Please . . . take my maidenhead."

Ah. She was. Etienne kissed her neck, squeezed her little breasts, and with a grunt, punched himself in to the base. She squealed and moaned as the width of him pulled her sex taunt.

"Oh! Oh - my p-prince! Ah . . ." Brooke's breasts trembled with her every cry, trembled with every slam of Etienne's hungry erection. He fingered her clitoris carefully and felt it flinching and swelling from his touch. Hadly slipped beneath and licked their joined sexes. Etienne glanced down and saw her massaging her own big breasts as she licked them.

"Oh - my prince! Fuck me! Fuck me!" Brooke wailed, lashes fluttering, slender arms trembling to hold her up under Etienne's weight. She was close to falling down. Etienne pulled her back on his lap, and her hips snapped with every stab of him. He massaged her little breasts and cupped them for Hadly to suck, who made it her personal mission to lick the entire front of Brooke as the prince made love to her.

Brooke's head rolled against the prince's shoulder as she rocked in his lap, little breasts shivering against the air with each thrust. She was getting wetter and deeper with every stab, and Etienne felt himself heaving and flinching with the strain not to come inside. At the last second, he grabbed her by the thighs and pulled her up. Her greedy sex clenched as if to keep him, but he slipped free, and his erection sprang against the air, still pulsing with veins and flinching on the verge of release. Hadly licked her lips and devoured the prince, taking all of him in her mouth. It was incredible. And he released with a cry, watching breathlessly as Hadly choked down his seed.

Etienne let Brooke go, and both females collapsed on the sheets, manes mussed and happily dazed. They lay panting side by side, Brooke on her belly and Hadly on her back, big breasts riding for air.

Cheek on her arm as she gasped, Brooke drew one leg up, pushing her high backside in her air and revealing the pink lips of her sex. Etienne smiled and squeezed her backside. "Oh! My prince . . ." she whispered. Her lashes fluttered and she looked at him hopefully. "Will you . . . again?"

"Go to sleep," Etienne softly commanded.

The females closed their eyes and drifted off. Etienne smiled when Brooke snuggled in Hadly's slender arms. He took up the clothes Hadly had left for him. They were indeed his father's, for he remembered hugging the king once when he'd worn them during an outing: a dark gray coat, black breeches, and a white cravat. They had also brought him a pair of his father's boots, and he decided to put them on, lest his own muddy boots make him easier to follow.

Etienne quietly dressed as the soft breaths of the sleeping maids filled the room.

Then the prince went to the window. He thought of using a sheet to climb down, but the maids were sleeping on them. Much like Jonathan's room, however, there were vines beneath the window. They were just thick enough to support the prince's weight, and if they weren't . . . well, at least he'd had a good time before his untimely death.

Etienne slipped one leg over the windowsill, but paused to ask himself where he was going. All his jewelry had been returned to him: it was in his father's coat when he put it on. Even now, his father's ring with the blue jewel sparkled on his finger, and Corene's ring was in his pocket. The necklace of shells and pearls he'd taken from the archives was also in his pocket, though it wasn't worth anything to anyone but him. He had enough jewelry to leave the kingdom if he wanted. But going north was too predictable: Donica was well aware that he might make a run for Curith or Mocuria. But going south . . . she'd never see that coming.

Etienne looked out the window at the distant treetops of the forest. "Crinnington," he whispered, "here I come."