A Cracked Jewel Outshines a Stone

In essence of fairness, Dianthel tore off her practice tunic as well as her remaining padding and sheathed saber, leaving only her tights. She hadn’t replaced her own brassiere with anything—they were purely for public appearance as she lacked definition in her chest. Still, she put herself on display and let the servant explore a view few had ever been granted.

“Are you fascinated with me?” echoed the princess. And when the target of her affections refused to answer, she laid an ultimatum bare. “Speak honestly or I will drag you before my father.”

A wandering gaze traced across her body. “You are.... not what I expected.”

Even though she ordered the reply, it still stung her. For once she tried to put her imagination to rest, because she loathed to see the same person the servant no doubt saw with her torso bare. She shook her head and dove back into the woman’s neck.

“N-no! Princess, please,” she gasped. “My turn of phrase was poor. You’re beautiful. Beautiful.”

Pleasantries meant nothing, despite minor satisfaction that the servant was choosing to lie for her life. She knew the freakish sight she was beholding, deep down. Dianthel didn't attempt to hide her frown as she tore the wrap tied at the servant's back free, while her other hand wandered back to her waist and curved around her thigh. Once her breasts were free, the Princess searched her shorts for the stitch line, only to discover the warm, dampened fabric and streaks seeping down her thighs.

Dianthel traced her palm over it and tested the servant’s hidden lips with a drag of her knuckle. And she shivered. “Well, well. Are you an animal?”

“Please. Princess, I didn’t mean to—”

“This must be your heat. You cannot control yourself when I do this.”

Dianthel pressed her middle finger as far as the cloth would yield. Having never played with this particular part, she surrendered to her curiosity and prodded inward through its lips. The cunt yielded slightly under the miniscule pressure, and a whine crept up from deep in the servant’s throat. Even if she chose to deny it, the servant's hips began to buck into each probe to chase the promise of more. With effort, Dianthel pulled herself away from the treasure to tear the soaked shorts along the stitches and discard them. The cowering girl was nude and offering her everything—if a slut’s gift was worth any gold at all.

Though her cunt should have been hidden by her forest of untamed hair, her lips had swollen to demand attention. And that pungent aroma! Dianthel drank it as it overpowered the other scents. The servant had been spilling all over herself this whole time, and she wanted nothing more than to drink every ounce of nectar that she could squeeze from this toy.

She ventured lower and softly nipped at her areolas as she worked in the direction of her cunt. Her other hand caressed the leathery skin of breasts like a fine baker's dough, kneading and prodding to develop them.

A hand pressed to the back of the princess’s neck to support. The girl said, “Princess—goddess, Princess—I beg of you—”

“Just tell me to stop, simple girl. If you truly hate this, you should say so,” she angrily remarked between shiver-inducing licks of her exposed nipple.

“No, I— I just—”

“You just what?”

“I-I’ve never laid with a woman before,” she uttered quickly as her chance drained away.

Everything immediately stopped, rushed schedule temporarily suspended. Dianthel reared back and watched the woman quietly. “Pardon?”

“Honest!” Her gasps were ones of exhaustion, not desire. “This is only my third— err— I just have no concept of… this.”

She motioned vaguely to the pile of discarded cloth and the broken crown and their dance of exposed figures. 

Suddenly the room felt very cold, Dianthel tore herself away, and she hugged herself to keep in the warmth. Her gaze found the full-length mirror and the flat, broad, curveless figure standing beyond, which immediately made her look away. The urging of her cock to escape her practice tights and waistguard was now more discomfort than pleasure.

For some reason, all her pent-up feelings had vanished and her balance was no longer kingly. Dianthel fidgeted away and stole glances at the mirror over and over, hoping that the image would change.

“I meant what I said,” said the servant, “about your beauty. Please forgive me for implying—”

“Do you believe I am a woman?” interrupted Dianthel.

She didn't have to wait for an answer. There wasn't a point of hesitation, nor a quiet avoidance of that question she had asked over and over to castle staff and her brothers and sisters.

None had answered quite as fast as this girl, who simply said. "As you say, Princess."

A moment of silence passed.

"Is that… not correct?

Ana’s entire mind and body had been pulled inside-out. “Up” wasn’t a clear direction anymore. She was awfully cold, yet awfully hot, and there was fuzz where she should have been able to see and hear.

Jolts of pain shot through her as she was taken apart. Try as she could to resist, she knew better than to fight when she couldn’t win. So she surrendered to the princess and clenched her teeth and waited, waited, waited for it to be over. It was too painful and rough. It was clear that the princess wasn’t working from practice and attacked every part of her without tact or care for her wellbeing.

She suffocated. She split apart. She was screaming through her immolation. And through it all she was sickened at the persistent, pathogenic, irrational side of her.

The Ana that loved this.

When the princess clumsily tested her opening, she silently begged for her to dive deeper. The sensations along her inner walls were loud, drowning out her thoughts. And just as her control began to slip, and her constant inner repetitions of hatred for this woman and her family and her horrible empire yielded to the golden sensations eating at her soul, the pressure vanished.

Ana returned to her dreadful reality, gasping for breath and alarmingly nude. That other side of her whispered that she should have stayed behind. The echo of her heartbeat between her thighs told her what she didn’t want to hear.

“Do you believe I am a woman?” The princess’s pointed question finally broke her stupor.

The royal had stood a tyrannical giant who had filled Ana’s entire vision as she… violated her. But now there was a tiny, wounded girl standing in the center of the room instead. She shivered from her nakedness and tried to hide from the silks and gems and crystals all around her.

Ana pleaded with herself to run. Even though she knew she could have slipped out the door and potentially made it into the subground tunnels, she was inexplicably bound.

Her duty was to appease this woman, or else she wouldn’t survive. She said, “As you say, Princess.”

This was meant to dissolve the situation, but the princess kept stealing glances in her mirror and pacing in place. And Goddess, that heat in her loins wouldn't let her think.

“Is that… not correct?” she timidly asked.

A wicked eye shot to her. “You know of my anatomy, do you not?”

“Y-yes.” Ana had seen the princess’s, err, shaft, as it were, in the waters of the bath, which she wondered now if she was meant to.

The princess was upon her again, and an agonizing, dull pulse shot through her lower half in response. A hand shot past her ear and slammed into the door before she could say more. She retreated between her own shoulders.

“I demand that you call me disgusting,” said the Princess.

“W-wh—” That was just about the most deranged thing she’d ever heard, and she’d heard the dinnertime ramblings of the magic-maddened Prince Halinough. She shouldn’t disobey, not for her own safety, not for the longevity of her family, but even still, she felt horrible to consider that wish. “Pardon my insolence, but why do you want this?”

“Look at me! I have boyish hair and horrible crystal implants in my chest and these scars are unladylike and my shoulders—I am hardly more womanly than my younger brothers who have yet to pubesce! I am simply… simply distressing to behold! And you have to gall to lie to me?”

“What do you want me to say?" she spat, without thinking. Why wasn't she thinking?

"I want you to be honest, servant!"

Her protest wouldn't burn out. She was scared for her life even as the words exploded from her tongue. "My honesty doesn't matter! Nothing I say matters to you, same as anyone else!"

It wasn't the job of a servant to have opinions, or to decide. A servant simply obeyed, and Ana had been beaten into obeying day after day, month after month, year after year by this royal brat and her family.

She held her fist at her side and prepared to defend herself. Now, her mental route to the first level was more concrete, and she would have bolted naked if she had to. But fear was a strong tonic, and that terror deepened when she watched the dispirited princess's dour face turn upward in a wicked smile.

"I suppose servants can be smart." Her voice heralded sweet death, but there was a nigh imperceptive waver embedded within. "You do not matter to me, do you? You are a toy. A plaything."

Most traces of that lost girl searching for help had vanished by the time she wandered over to the edge of her giant-sized bed and sat on its edge. Her legs crossed and her spine straightened, she took the throne of emperor of this one room in a dark corner of the crystal fortress.

Run. Run. Run.

If she left now, she might just make it before the guards were upon her and dragging her to the gallows. Why couldn't she just run, damn it?

The princess reached for the clasps of her waistguard, and pushed it away with her foot when it clattered to the floor. Slowly, she spread her knees to reveal her majesty. The thickness bulged in her black tights, and Ana's nethers involuntarily resonated with each pulse against its thin, fabric cage.

She hadn't played with herself since before being brought to the capital, and she had done everything in her power not to become attached to any part of this place, even people like Kitadani that surrendered beside her. An ache she had long ignored flared up. The womanhood of this awful princess made her dizzy, and caused her legs to tremble with the memory of minutes-old sensations.

The Princess extended a hand and beckoned with her finger. "Come, Servant."

Her legs moved against her mind, even as she tried to convince herself that there was another way out. But she was kneeling before her royal charge with a fog still hanging over her. Her mouth tasted of cotton and her cunt asked, pleaded, begged for more.

"W-what is your request, Princess?" she asked.

"Service me," answered the woman. 

Ana's disgust as an indentured servant, her personal hatred for this woman, her pride as a Yulinean, they all coalesced as she inhaled the intoxicating musk of her throbbing mass. She hesitantly reached out to the waistband of the princess’s tights, only to have her fingers suddenly crushed in the grip of the royal.

“Keep your filthy hands to yourself. Sluts needn't lay their hands on their betters.”

“Then what—”

“Service me!” the woman barked.

Ana held her aching fingers in her lap and raised questioning eyes. She was unsure what path was forward—she wasn’t exactly an expert on all things intimate, especially because her previous experiences were nothing but hesitant, teenage fumblings.

Tepidly, she hovered her face over the primal monster within the fabric, and watched it twitch in anticipation. Wetness pooled at its tip. Why was her throat so parched? Her tongue strayed from her mouth and desperately lapped at the fluid beading through the fibers.

It was strong. Spiced. Almost floral? Beyond all of those things, it was the most delectable meal she had tasted since she was first brought to this fortress in shackles.

Nails raked through her scalp as the princess twisted her locks around her fingers and ground her face against her majesty. Her tongue dragged up the length, which traveled forever like a continent. Its salty, musky flavor filled her senses and muted the rest. For her efforts, she was rewarded.

Out of the princess, she drew a long, heady moan.

There was a primal satisfaction in knowing what she was doing, regardless of why she was here or how she had been forced into her gravity. She lapped at the hidden treasure over and over, successively slower each time—each earning a depraved vocalization—until she grew frustrated at the leggings keeping her from properly performing her duties. She strayed up, hooked her teeth under the princess's waistband, and freed her from her prison.

Her cock sprung free and pointed heavenward. It was thick and pulsing, blush decorating its engorged tip. Its skin was smooth and hairless all the way down to her balls, having escaped whatever event had blemished the rest of her body.

Ana just stared as it hung over her. She had never graced one this close, not even in her secret sessions with Kitadani in the storeroom of her hometown's library. She couldn't even begin to estimate the height of the flagstaff in front of her. Stiff and turgid as it was, it was dying to release all the pressure that had built up inside.

Even though the princess's hand was still in her hair, she didn't need to prompt Ana further—she planted soft kisses along the cock's underside and graced it softly with her tongue. The princess's legs wobbled in her periphery, which revealed the true undercurrent of Ana's cooperation.

She looked up at the woman presenting to her. Even after such simple ministrations, the royal brat was dark across her cheeks, her chest heaved, and her nails dug into the expensive silk sheets to steady herself. Her forwardness couldn't hide her inexperience, nor how overburdened she already was from the sensation. All her pent-up feelings were loaded in the chamber and the hammer was ready to strike.

Ana had waited for a moment like this for years. Forget deniable annoyances left in her wake like wrinkles in the wash or glasses too close to the edges of tables. Forget escapes and elaborate schemes of trolley theft and lawstone magic. Those were mere acts of defiance; small, unnoticeable, unfruitful.

But this? This was her attack. It was her opportunity to take control and throw back in the Princess's face how much she mattered.

So she dragged another pass up its veiny length, slowly peeled back the bunched skin with the gentle grip of her teeth to reveal its ridged head, suckled on the textured tip and tested it with damp lashes, and waited. She waited for an opening—a signal. More flavorful essence pooled at its opening and, for a moment, Ana lost herself in lapping it up like she had just wandered miles to taste the tiniest drops of the desert's lone oasis.

The princess was still far too upright and coherent for her tastes, so she ventured lower, lower, and drew the tight skin of her balls between her lips. She kept herself focused, but she tried to imagine the exalted view from above.

"G-goddess, servant." The princess finally spoke through her soft moans. "Yes. Just like that. Just like that. Just like—"

She slipped away and watched the brat squirm against the sudden, cold void of sensation. All her reserved moans ceased and her muscles clenched tight with need. She was a teen virgin begging for her first release, unsure of the true depth of her physical experience.

"No, no, nonono. Servant, why—" Her words came out as a pitiful whine. "—why did you stop? I d-demand you…"

Now.

She looked the princess dead in the eye, opened her mouth wide, and engulfed the princess's cock from tip to base.

"Heavens!" The princess let out what could only be called an unholy scream and thrashed under Ana's heel. Her nails tore through the sheet fabric and she kicked helplessly at the air.

Ana, meanwhile, was tearing up as the organ pierced her throat and her nose nestled between the princess's trimmed bush. Objectively, this was a horrible idea. However, she suppressed her gag to hold her position as long as possible, even as her face swelled red. She was rewarded twice over as the woman that had held her for so long groaned and whined like a petulant child until her voice died in her throat.

She finally drew herself off the length and caught her breath. But, before the princess could say anything, she swept back down and attacked with a more reasonable, but still relentless, pace. She bobbed her head languidly up and down her cock, feeling every inch and throb and jerk inside her. The princess's hips leapt each time Ana descended towards her base.

She was rutting. Who was the animal now, Ana thought.

She slowly raised her pace until she was working like a machine piston. Though she tried to stay in control, her grip on her own senses was quickly fading—every glide across her tongue, she desperately worked around it to taste more. Perhaps there really was some value in this woman's "royal" name, if all the members of House Garnedia tasted so exquisite.

"S-s-servant," the princess tried. Each stroke forced a gasp, and she commanded with difficulty. "S-slo—ooo—oow down, p-please! You are going too f— too faaaa—"

Please? Had she not been occupied, Ana would have laughed in her face. What putty in her hands. What submission she was hiding behind that mask of hers.

Ana spat in her face and said no. She quickened her pace until the princess was all but being tortured by her slick, visceral assault. The screams bounced around the room. She was forced into her gaudy, expensive sheets with no energy left to keep herself upright or defend herself. She had finally surrendered. She had finally kneeled.

She had finally lost.

Ana was right on the edge herself. She ventured a hand down her stomach and thighs to feel herself. Her cunt was positively alight, and her entire lower half was still soaked. If she wasn't in such a hurry, she would've toyed with herself more slowly, but as the princess quickly approached her finish, she just rolled her clit between her thumb and forefinger—the sparks racing through her made her squeal around the Princess's cock.

She matched each of the princess's trembles with one of her own. She pinched, rolled, pressed, anything to release the unbearable heat. And all the while she still dove up and down on the thick shaft. It started to violently pulse against her tongue. She threw aside the princess's order, wrapped slim fingers around its base, and pumped so that no part of her was left unseiged.

"S-ser— servant!" spasmed the Princess. "I am almost—"

Do it. Do it. Do it do it do it do it do it do it. She commanded the princess this time. She wanted to hear her reply with 'as you say' in that awful, husky voice of hers.

She traced her middle finger across her lower lips and dove inside herself. Her legs clenched around her hand as she lost control of her lower body. A wave of indescribable sensation overwhelmed her. Lightning numbed her skin and her knees gave out, but she held on long enough to make the princess give in.