Princess Playthings

The dragon was getting closer. Princess Ayren could see the glowing horizon from her balcony. Her father, the King, had evacuated the towns in the dragon's path, but that hadn't stopped the great beast from burning them to the ground anyways.

The dragon had appeared three days prior, emerging from the mountains to the north and burning Broad Lake, a small fishing village at the foot of the mountains. It had turned south and blazed a path directly towards the King's City. Nothing had been able to stop it. The knights that had gone out to battle had not returned. At the rate that it was moving, the Dragon would be on the King's doorstep by the following night.

Ayren and her sister, Princess Penelope, had urged their father to leave. Evacuate the city, head East to the sea, and get out. Her father had too much pride for that. He said that no King of their land had ever abandoned their City. In a darker, softer tone he had added that the dragon was twice as fast as their best horses. They wouldn't make it to the sea. Their only chance was to fight it from the strength of a walled city.

Princess Ayren watched from her balcony, knowing that some ancient, powerful creature was bearing down on them. Never before had Ayren felt so powerless. Was this the end of their dynasty?

It was then that Ayren saw the rider. He moved quickly across the plains, coming from the direction of the fires in the distance. At first she thought it might be a surviving knight, but he was clad in black and she could see no glint of steel on him. He rode up the walls of the city, passing out of Ayren's vision. Riders weren't unusual, but most traffic to the dragon-destined city had stopped in the past few days. Also, the fact that the rider was coming from the fires indicated he might have news.

Ayren hurried into her room, finding the appropriate gown. She often wore emerald green dresses that covered her well. As a daughter of the King, chastity was a political issue, so modesty was important for the future of her family's dynasty. she was 20 and her younger sister had just turned 18. As virgin daughters of the King, they were prime for strategic marriages to better the realm. She didn't worry as much about modesty inside of the palace, but it was supremely important outside of her home. Once appropriately dressed, she walked down the corridors, intending to find her way to the main gates of the city. She would take the armed guard with her, of course, as she did whenever she left the royal palace.

Voices from her Father's war room caught her attention. It was her father's voice and another she did not know. Ayren stopped in the door.

The rider was here. Ayren didn't know how she knew it was the same man. Obviously, he wore the same dark clothes, but she hadn't gotten a good look before. She just knew it was the same. There was something about the aura around him, the way the air seemed to interact with his skin, that told Ayren it was the same man. He turned his eyes on Ayren and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

He was a man who comfortably stood in the manner of power. His cloak, tunic, boots, and hair were all solid black, with not even the dust of the road clinging to them. On his fingers, he wore two large rings with blazing red crystals. A dagger was at his hip, sheathed. Such a weapon was rarely allowed in the presence of the King, but he wore it nonetheless and Ayren's father seemed undisturbed by it.

Ayren didn't know how he had gotten to the palace so quickly. She didn't know why he wore his weapon in the presence of the King. She didn't even know who the man was. But as he locked eyes with Ayren, those questions seemed to be less important. He was here and that was enough.

"Oh, my dear," the King said, taking notice of Ayren. "This is Sir Abbott. He has come with an offer to help slay the dragon."

"How would you be able to do that?" Ayren asked, skillfully balancing the accusation in her question against the need for politeness. "Many of our best knights have fallen."

"As I was explaining to your father, I do believe that I possess skills that those knights did not," Sir Abbott said simply. He turned back to the King, apparently resuming negotiations that Ayren had interrupted. "And if I were to fail, then any sort of deal we strike would cease to matter. In light of the present threat, you have very little to lose."

The King nodded, accepting Sir Abbott's presence.

"What, if I may ask, are you asking for in exchange for your service?" Ayren asked.

Sir Abbott turned his attention again to the Princess. This time, his eyes dropped to the emerald gown she wore. Despite the modesty it provided her, Ayren shifted uncomfortably under the man's gaze. It was just for a moment, before his eyes snapped back up to her face, but Ayren had seen his leer.

"I ask for the will of the people for one year," Sir Abbott said.

"I still fail to understand your meaning by that," the King said.

"It's simple," Sir Abbott said, breaking eye contact with Ayren and walking around the great table in the center of the war room. As he spoke, his eyes surveyed the many trophies mounted on the walls. "Every Kingdom rules by the authority of their King. There is a sort of divine magic about that, where the King is given the very will of the people, by which he may use to govern effectively. It's a sort of contract with heaven in exchange for a throne. I am familiar with many magics on Earth. I can disappear in this place and appear in another. I can sustain myself without food or water for near infinite stretches of time. I can make people see and hear whatever I want. But the will of the people? That is a higher magic altogether. That sort of power rests exclusively in the throne of their King. So decrees heaven."

"That sounds like a good sales pitch to me," the King observed candidly. "Nice words, meant to flatter, with very little substance behind them."

"If you believe that, then you have very little to lose by bargaining with it," Sir Abbott said with a small smile.

"I have lived a long life, Sir Abbott," the King said. "I have ruled these people since the death of my father. And never once have I seen anything that would convince me that magic is real on Earth. Nor that I possess some power over my people other than that given to me by the authority of man."

Sir Abbott shrugged. "Again, then you have little to lose. If I am making this up, then in all likelihood I will die fighting this dragon and you will be in no different place than you are. If I tell the truth, you will have saved your people and temporarily surrendered a magic that you apparently weren't using anyways. Either way, that dragon is coming for this city."

The King paused a moment. He looked down at the great table in his war room, with the map of his kingdom spread wide. There were markings where his advisors had told him the dragon had already been and a small, movable tile indicating where it was now. He looked up again at Sir Abbott.

"Fine. I agree. Save my people from the dragon and I will give you the will of the people for one year. Shall I have it in writing?"

"No, no," Sir Abbott said. "The word of the King is good enough." He started towards the door. Ayren stepped aside to let him pass. Sir Abbott paused in front of her and extended his hand. Ayren placed her own hand in his and he planted a gentlemanly kiss on her knuckles.

"My dear, your beauty is staggering," Sir Abbott said. "I shall see you soon." With that, he walked down the corridor, out of view, and was gone.

"Fool," the King muttered. "He wastes my time."

"Who admitted him?" Ayren asked.

"Hmmm?" the King said, raising an eyebrow.

"I said who let him in?"

"I... I don't know," the King furrowed his brow. "I just looked up and... and he was there."

"He had his dagger on. Why didn't some one take it?"

"I don't know," the King said. He frown deepened. "I think I'm too tired, my dear. I don't... I don't remember. I must need sleep."

"Well then let's get you to bed," Ayren said. "You need to be at full strength tomorrow."

The King allowed himself to be guided to bed by his daughter. As Ayren blew out the candles on his nightstand, she thought again about the strange, black-clad rider. There was little about him that she could understand.

Ayren told herself that thinking about Sir Abbott was a waste of time. The thing she really had to think about was the dragon. It would be here tomorrow. It was the dragon that was the threat.

---

The dragon was dead. At first, the King refused to believe it. He was so busy coordinating the defenses of the city, preparing for a battle of stone walls against fire, that he barely registered the words at all. His advisors had to repeat multiple times before it registered. The dragon was dead. Scouts had found its body just a few miles to the north. Apparently it had kept moving through the night. If it hadn't been killed, it would have been upon the city by dawn, instead of dusk. They would have been unprepared and helpless.

The King mounted his horse. Ayren and Penelope joined him, riding across the fields in a royal entourage. Penelope had just turned 18 the month before. Despite being a few years younger than Ayren, she rode much better. The King had to repeatedly call her back to the entourage, lest she charge ahead to the dragon's corpse alone. Despite the joyous news, the King seemed nervous still. Ayren thought he was worried that the dragon wasn't actually dead. This should pass once he saw the body.

They came over a hill and saw the dragon clearly. It was massive, as long as three ships lined up bow to stern. The grass around them had scorched and parts of it still burned. It smelled horrendous.

"Look at that," Penelope gasped. "A real dragon."

"A dead one," the King nodded. His mood hadn't improved.

"Hello!" a voice called. Only then did Ayren notice the movement on the ground in front of the dragon. The man in black, Sir Abbott, strolled through the charred Earth and waved a hand. "Hello, your Highness."

"Father," Ayren said. "He did it. He actually did it." She had written off the man as dead almost as soon as she put her father to bed. Now, however...

"He did. He lived up to his side of the bargain," the King said. If anything, his mood was falling further.

"Well, as you can see, this is one dragon that will not be scorching your City any time soon," Sir Abbott said with a wide grin.

"You killed it?" Penelope said. Her long brown braid tossed back and forth behind her as she looked from the dragon to the man.

"And who are you, my dear?" Sir Abbott said with a smile, approaching the younger princess. He added, "Tell me, your Majesty."

"This is my daughter, Penelope," the King said quickly. He didn't seem to enjoy the statement as he spoke it.

"Well your wife must have been stunning," Sir Abbott said to the King, "to have had two such lovely daughters." He raised an eyebrow. "Just two?"

"Just two," the King nodded.

"And no sons?"

"No sons."

"Hmmm," Sir Abbott nodded. His eyes surveyed Penelope again, then turned their attention to Ayren. While her riding clothes were not quite as modest as her gowns--although still far from revealing--Ayren didn't feel the need to cover herself as she had yesterday. She allowed the man his long, pondering glances at her form.

Finally, Sir Abbott whistled and his horse, a beautiful black mare, rode through the burnt grass and stopped in front of Sir Abbott. He mounted her, turned to the entourage, and said, "Alright. Let's go back to the palace, shall we?" Ayren, Penelope, and the guards all turned their horses and began following. The King stayed a minute, looking at the dragon, and then turned and followed.

Only on the way back did Ayren realize that it was normally the King that gave orders to the entourage. They had all taken the command from Sir Abbott, however. As the thought entered her mind, it left almost as quick.

---

The guards helped the King vacated his private quarters in the palace. He occupied a small guest room in the lower floors. Sir Abbott moved into the royal apartment, where he quickly made himself at home. Ayren expected that if her father was moving, so too would his daughters, but that didn't seem to be Sir Abbott's plan. Ayren and Penelope maintained their rooms.

Ayren expected that a non-family guest staying in the palace would mean that she would need to be extra careful for modesty sake, but strangely she seemed to behave differently. She found herself locking her gowns away in a chest where they would be safe for about a year (why this time period was important to her, she did not know). She found herself looking for more form-fitting clothing or perhaps even more revealing clothing. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to have any. She ordered an attendant to find a seamstress to make her some different clothes.

Penelope, too, seemed to change wardrobe. She found an old gown that she had worn when she was smaller. With a little adjustment, she fit into it, although it was considerably shorter than Ayren might have considered proper. If Ayren wasn't mistaken, Penelope might have actually cut the skirt shorter, because it extended only halfway down her thigh. Also, to fit Penelope's chest, which was much fuller now than when she was younger, she had cut a deep neckline into the gown. She seemed to be bursting out of it.

Ayren made a comment at one point, noting how "interesting" the gown was.

"Thank you," Penelope said. She did a deep curtsy that risked showing more of her than Ayren had ever seen before. "I think it's cute."

"I was trying to find some... uh... different clothes, but I couldn't find any," Ayren confessed.

"Well have some made. It's not like a seamstress would need very much fabric. I'm having more made for myself."

"I ordered some," Ayren nodded.

Both princesses received their fresh gowns within just a few days. To Ayren's surprise, the gown was actually two pieces, each competing with the other to use the least fabric. The top barely covered her breasts, in fact showing the bottom of them from a certain angle. Similarly, she was sure that her butt was visible, sticking out from the bottom of her skirt.

What was even more surprising, however, was how much she liked what she saw when she wore them. She looked great. It was far from modest, of course, but she could wear what she wanted while inside the royal palace, couldn't she? It was her own home.

Penelope looked spectacular as well. Her chest was fuller than Ayren's, so more of her breasts seemed visible beneath the top. Ayren's was a silky green material, complimenting her deep auburn hair. Penelope's was a silky blue. Her long, brown braid slapped against the tiny skirt as she walked.

Shortly after Sir Abbott moved in, the princesses began to serve him dinner. Ayren wondered if she was doing it as a thank you for slaying the dragon, but couldn't be sure. Whyever she was doing it, she was.

Sir Abbott sat at the head of the royal dining room. Ayren and Penelope, clad in their tiny new gowns, brought him each course. They were careful to hold the food in such a way so as to not obstruct his view of their bodies, which the sisters both apparently thought he needed to see as much as possible. Penelope was in charge of keeping his wine goblet full. She frequently pressed up against him as she poured. Sir Abbott seemed to support her so she didn't fall, with a firm hand on her butt--under the silky blue fabric, to get a more stable grip.

Both princesses stood at attention, straight and ready, while he ate and drank. As he finished, Penelope asked, "Is there anything else that we can do for you, sir?"

Sir Abbott smiled, his gaze lingering over their bodies. "Not quite yet. You're still adjusting and I don't... well... I must give you time to adjust, lest you become concerned. No, I don't need anything else right now." Princess Ayren thought this comment was strange, but as soon as her concern entered her mind it seemed to pass away again.

She did hope that she and her sister could find new ways to serve Sir Abbott soon, however. He deserved their thanks.

---

In the days after the dragon attack, the weather of the land seemed to shift. It had been spring, which normally meant lots of rain and even floods in some of the lower lands. Now, however, the storm clouds seemed to break apart in the mountains before they drenched the land. Even without them, gentle rains came in the night and the days were warm and pleasant. The crops were flourishing.

At one point, as Ayren was giving Sir Abbott a sponge bath, she mentioned the beautiful weather and good luck for the crops. As she spoke, she wrung out the sponge over her body, resoaking her skimpy outfit so it clung tighter to her. She wasn't sure where she learned this method for giving a sponge bath, but she was sure it was the best.

"Yes, I did that," Sir Abbott said.

"Sir?" Ayren said, confused.

"The weather. The crops. All of that. That's my magic."

Ayren blinked, processing this. "It's magic?"

"Yes," Sir Abbott said. "You'll also find that the people are more peaceful. You'll find that our neighboring kingdoms don't really care to go to war with us for now. You'll find that trade increases and generally people do well here."

"You... you can do all this?" Ayren was still shocked, even as she scrubbed Sir Abbott's chest with the sponge. She made sure to press her own chest against him, spreading the water that she was pouring on herself.

"Yes," Sir Abbott nodded. "It's really just so there aren't any distractions. I don't want to have to deal with flooding in Broad Lake or something. If everyone's happier, I get to focus more on enjoying myself."

Ayren squeezed another sponge full of water on her chest, making sure to soak her breasts thoroughly. A thought occurred to her suddenly, however.

"Sir, Broad Lake was destroyed," Ayren said. "The dragon burned it down and killed everyone there."

"Oh," Sir Abbott said. "No, I believe you're mistaken."

Immediately, Ayren was sure she was mistaken. Broad Lake was fine. She had eaten fish that had been caught there just last night. In fact, she didn't need to figure out where the dragon attacked. That wasn't important anymore.

"Why don't you take that top off?" Sir Abbott suggested.

"Oh, that's a good idea," Ayren nodded. She peeled the soaking top off. Her--tits? Was that the word? She was pretty sure--tits looked great, still soaked with the water. She pressed them firmly against Sir Abbott as she scrubbed him with the sponge.

Sir Abbott watched her appreciatively. He said softly, "I can't wait to try you out for real. Just a few more days and you'll be ready." Ayren wasn't sure what he meant, but quickly decided it didn't matter.

As she scrubbed her way down his body, she noticed that his penis was very erect, pitching a tent in the small shorts he wore. For a moment, she felt compelled to touch it with the sponge. Then, just as strongly, she told herself to not do that ("Wait a little longer" was the voice inside her mind). Suddenly, frustration and impatience filled Ayren's mind in a way that she couldn't quite understand.

Sir Abbott seemed to be feeling the same thing, because he suddenly stepped back, made a small groaning noise, and shook his head sharply.

"Is everything well, sir?" Ayren asked, alarmed to see him in this state.

"Yes, yes," Sir Abbott said. "Go stand over there, would you?" He pointed across the room.

Ayren quickly obeyed, standing against the wall and facing Sir Abbott. The air was cold on her bare tits, making her nipples sharp.

"Close your eyes," Sir Abbott ordered.

Ayren obeyed, closing her eyes. She heard some odd noises, including a sort of wet smacking noise. She thought she heard Sir Abbott make a few noises, such as soft grunts and heavier breathing. After a few minutes of standing topless with her eyes closed, Sir Abbott said, "Ok. Open your eyes."