Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
She parts my folds as she leans in to place a kiss directly on my quivering bud. Her lips are silky as they close over the hood and linger, pulling back gently.
She leaves me barely able to stand and goes back to her sewing supplies. “You’ll need, oh… three hundred pair, I think.”
“Three hundred?” My desire instantly turns to astonishment. “Stockings?”
“Six hundred, if we’re counting by the stocking. But yes. You don’t want to go to court a pauper,” she says.
I wonder how much she knows about my “transformation” and what it’s intended to achieve. Surely, Luthian isn’t telling everyone he plans to assassinate a king.
“Did Luthian tell you why he’s taking me to court with him?” I ask.
“He plans to win the king’s favor. By making you queen, you lucky girl.” She shivers. “King Arcus is quite inventive, though I’ve never had the pleasure.”
I play along, knowing it is the second prince whose attention I ultimately need to capture. “I just hope I please him.”
“Then you should look the part. Panties.” She waves the needle again and I find myself in thin lace that barely covers me, then in a wisp of silk that slides into the cleft of my buttocks as if I’m wearing nothing at all.
“You may need some without a crotch,” she muses, and flicks her wand again.
The lace returns, this time with a notable difference. “Why wear any at all?” I ask.
“Style. Two hundred pair of each.” She licks the tip of her needle-wand and writes with it in the air, taking an invisible note. “And of course, you’ll need corsets.”
The wind is crushed out of me before I can speak. I’m encased from hips to bust in a tightly laced garment of ivory brocade. It cycles through an entire rainbow before Sarta is satisfied.
Looking to the door, she flashes a brilliant smile. “What do you think?”
I turn to see Luthian there, his night-sky eyes hooded, a slanted smile on his mouth. “You’re a master at your work, Sarta.”
She dips her head, but not before I see the blush on her cheeks. “We were just about to move onto gowns.”
“No, I think she’s dressed appropriately for our lesson.” He vanishes the breakfast tray from the bed, leaving the covers smoothed and neatly tucked.
“Why do you keep that mean servant around if you can just do that?” I blurt.
He shrugs. “Style.”
I see why he and Sarta are friends.
“Now,” he says, patting the bed. “Come here and spread your legs for us.”
Chapter Five
I obey him.
I wonder, as I slide onto the satin coverlet, if a time will come that I do as he says without question because I’m conditioned to, and not because of our deal. Because his tone of voice, the way he moves slowly toward me, enchant me. I could fall under his spell, like the foolish human I am, despite the warnings I heard all of my life.
Of course, my mother fell under such a spell. Thrace’s spell. Luthian is just as dangerous, and I need to keep my wits about me.
But it’s difficult, with the way he looks at me.
Sarta waves her wand and is instantly transformed. Her string and ribbon hair lays in an impossibly long curtain of ringlets against her pearl skin, every inch of which is exposed. Her lace wings are folded against her back, and the two small protrusions from her forehead glimmer with light so pure, it looks like diamonds sparkling in the air.
“I firmly believe that one learns best by doing. And, it helps if one learns from an expert. Wouldn’t you agree, Sartas?”
I frown at the mispronunciation of the name, until the mattress dips and I find myself with my head between Sarta’s thighs, her hands on my breasts, while she also stands beside Luthian.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“I’m very busy. I wouldn’t be able to sustain my career as the foremost designer to the most glamorous court in Fablemere if I couldn’t divide up my time,” the Sarta beside Luthian explains. The Sarta at my head adds, “And while Luthian is extremely skilled at this particular activity, it truly takes someone who owns a cunt to teach the deepest possible understanding in this endeavor.”
“Sarta will use her mouth on you,” Luthian explains. “You will be called upon by many different types of faeries at court, and you’ll need to know how to pleasure them all. You’ll imitate what you feel on Sarta as she demonstrates.”
The Sarta at my head carefully moves my hair to avoid kneeling on it as she straddles my face, and I am confronted with a delicate blue shell, complete with a violet pearl. I’ve been curious enough to peak at myself in the looking glass, so I’m familiar with the parts, but hers are different. Smoother, hairless, and without the frilled inner labia. Still, she’s similar enough that I recognize her anatomy.