The Best Medicine Ch. 06

Trina thought it was the most amazing thing she had ever witnessed. Her friend had completely given in to her lust. For fifteen years, her uncle had made the Princess feel self-loathing for the fantasies that she had entertained, but no one in that mass of writhing lust would think any less of Vanesse for fulfilling her desires, particularly since they were getting to fulfill their own.

"Uhm, I'm gonna . . . you know," Jack said. "Are you going to hurt me again?"

"Big baby," Trina growled. "I just made you hold on for a few minutes."

"Few?!"

"Anyway," she growled, sinking onto him and waiting, "I think we can let you go ahead. Particularly since I'm . . . gonna --" Her last two words were punctuated by short bounces, issuing in her own release. Even through her own vibrations, she could feel him expand inside her, releasing his seed in a massive burst.

Trina allowed herself to ease down onto Jack's body in a rare moment of intimacy. Her hands traced the tattoos on his broad chest, and he trembled slightly under her touch.

"You are a dangerous woman," he whispered.

"Don't you forget it."

Both their sets of eyes were drawn back to where Vanesse was being hammered from all sides. About ten members of the gang had gotten off, and cum was dripping down her chin and onto her chest. A woman had to pull her dick out of Vanesse's mouth so that the recipient of one of the Princess's handjobs could deposit a load of semen into her waiting mouth.

Vanesse's jaws ached, her body was sweaty and sore, and she would not trade a moment of this treatment for anything. Farmer was still hard in her ass, though the matriarch was just laying back and enjoying the pressure while everyone else did the work. Vanesse spurring the lover in her pussy on by jamming her heels into his ass. The woman who was titty-fucking her lost control and was unable to wait until the mouth was free, so she shot a stream of sticky white stuff up from between that substantial cleavage, causing it to splatter on the undersign of Vanesse's chin.

The Princess was feeling energized like never before. Her personal energy stores were approaching critical mass, but she could not bring herself to stop. More and more werehyenas stepped forward to feed her their seed, and each stroke, swallow, or even splash made her feel stronger. She took more and more and more until there was only Farmer left.

"You are a piece of work," the matriarch of the gang said, her voice reflecting amazement and a little pride. She reached around and grabbed Vanesse's now-sticky chest, fondling them vigorously as she begun thrusting her prick into Vanesse's ass.

"That feels amazing," Vanesse said, her eyes closed. She savored each thrust, and she pushed her breasts against Farmer's hands. She loved the way that her lover's lips felt on her neck . . . "What?" she said, opening her eyes. Farmer's head was in the wrong position to provide such oral attention, so the Princess discovered that Trina had come over and was kissing, sucking, and nuzzling her way around Vanesse's skin. She was smelling the residue of all those who had claimed some part of the elf over the course of the evening.

"What are you doing?" the Princess said, as Trina licked across that cum-coated skin. She shivered when she saw her friend's eyes grow dark and her fangs grow long.

"You smell like desire," the vampire whispered. "You smell alive."

"Bite me again. Please?!" The thought of being penetrated by her two favorite people in the world was almost too much to stand.

Farmer thrust hard and then grunted, "This might be a good time."

As the werehyena released into the Princess's abused tush, Trina obliged her friend by burying her fangs into a free spot of skin on the other side of the neck from where she had bitten the last time. Between them, Vanesse quivered like a woman having a seizure. During an earthquake. Driving down a bumpy road. All the excess sexual energy that she had pent up inside her turned inward, causing her to climax repeatedly for almost a full minute.

She finally opened her eyes to see that Trina was staring at her, those mysterious eyes smiling at her with love and acceptance. "Okay, we GOTTA do that again sometime."

"Anything you say, your Highness."

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Several months later . . .

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"But Princess Bellethial, you can't possibly --"

"Revlint, how many times have I told you not to call me 'Princess'? If you don't start calling me Vanesse, I'm going to get pissy. Trina, tell him!"

Trina, who was sitting in a nearby golf cart, was keeping a completely stoic face. "Far be it from me to tell a member of the monarchy, however unwilling, how she should deal with her battle-dancers --"

"Oh pish-posh! You did it all the time!"

"That was when it was me. I was acting in self-preservation mode."

"But Prin . . . Vanesse, is it really necessary for us to play? Shouldn't we be . . . guarding?"

Vanesse raised one eyebrow. "Are you questioning my desires?"

Both of her new battle-dancers, a very attractive young pair of elves named Enestra and Revlint, shook their heads vehemently. Whatever it was that they had been expecting when they were given the assignment of guarding the wayward Princess, this was not it.

Shortly after moving into Lord Stapleton's house as an honored guest, Vanesse had taken up golfing. Shane (as she liked to call Lord Stapleton those days) was fond of the sport, and it was a way for her to bond with him and learn all about the upcoming unveiling and everything else going on in the world. Trina played when she could which was basically at night. Luckily, Shane had installed flood lights over the whole area.

Trina had been given the opportunity to hand-select the new battle-dancers, and she had a different set of criteria than the King did. She had wanted some elves that were young enough to be Vanesse's friends and to have avoided being part of the King's and the Baron's "social circles."

The former battle-dancer had given her replacements absolutely no warning of what they had gotten themselves into. The Princess, once a shy, conservative girl, was anything but those days. She continued to dress in rather tight, revealing outfits, and she expecting those in her employ to do the same. And when she had discovered just how much money she had at her disposal, she put her new debit card to good use. For her and for her new guardians.

Revlint was cut and trim elf fresh out of the academy, but he had gotten higher scores in basic defense and hand-to-hand combat than anyone else. Enestra was a year out, but had difficulty finding an assignment due to her stubborn nature. She and Trina got along famously. She was also an expert marksman, more than proficient with bladed weapons, and was a mean cook. And the two newcomers looked fresh out of a fitness magazine, so they were pretty easy on the eyes.

"Good," Vanesse said.

"But Vanesse, you're only supposed to move the ball when it's on the cart path. Having rolled on the path before going into the rough doesn't count," Enestra pointed out.

Vanesse glared at her, then at Trina. "Just had to pick someone who actually knows how to play the game, didn't you?"

The vampire shrugged. "Just figured it would help with your game."

As the Princess turned to face the ball, she heard, "It certainly couldn't make it any worse" muttered behind her back. She turned again, glared again, then took her 9-iron from Revlint's outstretched hand.

Trina allowed herself a little grin as she settled back into her seat. She openly checked out her friend's gorgeous round ass in the tight shorts she had chosen to wear, watching that butt wiggle as she lined up her shot.

"It's nice to see young people interested in the game," Shane said from the next cart. "Most of today's youth just think about sex."

Trina looked over and grinned openly. Renata, Shane's werejaguar chief of security, was acting as his caddy and driver, and she was wearing nothing but a leather thong, a pair of nipple clamps, and a ball-gag. And she looked pretty damn happy about it. "Good to see that you don't suffer from such mundane urges."

"Absolutely. I'm a respectable member of society."

As Vanesse's swing carried the ball back onto the fairway, Trina checked her phone. She had a text message from Jack, saying that Joker's Wild had just picked up another load of items for Shane and were heading back from Colorado. The werehyena pack had taken a set of jobs from Lord Stapleton, gathering up rare Japanese artifacts from around the country as gifts for Sheriff Banshee in her new compound. Gifts for a job well done. Farmer was still one of Vanesse's closest confidants. She, and the rest of the gang, also made sure to give the Princess all she could handle and more when they came into town.

She showed the message to Shane, and he nodded approvingly. "Excellent. This should round out that collection. Farmer is quite adept at finding things, isn't she?"

"When she's not dealing pot you mean?"

"I have little issue with that particular occupation," Shane replied, "except that they eat us out of snack food whenever they're in town."

"That's not all they eat when they're here," Trina replied, her eyes back on Vanesse's ass.

The two new battle-dancers both blushed a bit. They had been privy to one such encounter, and they had both taken a while to accept what they had seen. Trina had been able to smell their arousal, so she figured it was only a matter of time before they were comfortable watching and/or participating. After all, the Princess needed her power sources. Speaking of which --

"By the way, we're meeting potential donors all next week," Vanesse said, her voice taking on some royal authority, "so keep your schedule free."

"But --" Trina started to say.

"No 'buts'," Vanesse interjected.

"It really is about time," Shane informed her.

Trina sighed. Vanesse had insisted that since Trina got to pick the Princess's new battle-dancers, Vanesse got to pick Trina's blood-donors. Normally, it was good for vampires to develop a network of willing donors because, in Trina's own words, bagged blood tasted yucky after a while. And Vanesse was bound and determined to find a hottie or two for her best friend to suck on. So to speak. And Trina had been hedging at the idea, because shopping for food that you had to talk to first was a bit unsettling.

"Fine, fine. We'll go shopping for talking sandwich meat," she glowered.

"Trina, that's not a good attitude to take," Shane pointed out, sounding just like a father-figure. "Some of the best friends I've ever had started out as donors, as have many of the vampires that I've turned."

"Yeah, yeah," Trina said waving her hand. She should probably be more respectful, but what was she going to do? She "worked" for Vanesse.

Shane got out of his cart and grabbed a pitching wedge. "It's a serious responsibility. Someone is offering to provide you something that you can't live without --"

Vanesse turned and smiled at Trina.

"-- and in return, you have the opportunity to protect them and enrich their lives."

Trina smiled back.

"There's an intimacy in that relationship that is truly unique --"

"Sir," Enestra said, her hand over her face.

Shane continued on. "-- and could very well lead too --"

"Sir!" Revlint said, a little louder.

Shane finished his shot and turned around. Trina had Vanesse pinned up against a tree, her fangs in the Princess's neck while Vanesse's legs were wrapped around the vampire's waist. Lord Stapleton forced himself to sigh, then handed his club to one of the battle-dancers.

"Go ahead. Looks like we're playing through."

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The end . . .