tagTransgender & CrossdressersThe Blood Pact Ch. 15

The Blood Pact Ch. 15


I'd never been in the royal wing on the palace before. The white stone arched high overhead in feathery carvings that seemed to defy gravity. Vast rays of sunlight shone down though the huge clerestory windows, sparkling off the gilding which seemed to cover almost everything.

Despite Sir Ruvano's fears of being late, we arrived along with all the rest of the guests. I'd never seen so many nobles in my entire life. They were dressed in a dazzling array of colors that I never could have imagined. From their stylish garb, as well as their attitudes, most were clearly foreigners who'd never set foot in the castle before today. Others I recognized as members of the previous king's court. Survival must have trumped any of their former alliances.

The chapel where the actual coronation was to take place was rather dark and low-ceilinged compared to even the hallways which we traversed to get there. The dais at the far end which supported the grand alter was surrounded by a semi-circle of windowed panels but the rest of the chapel was in darkness; no doubt intended to add some mystery to the proceedings that took place there.

Custom actually called for the coronation ceremony to take place at the cathedral in the city, but in this instance the holy men were brought here. Space was tight for the gathered nobility, but everyone's location had been carefully mapped out ahead of time. Sir Ruvano and I were given a prime location quite close to the dais. He must have indeed been very well-placed in this new government.

An oppressive austerity filled the air as we stood in silence waiting for the ceremonies to begin. As the wait grew long, I was left with little else to do but examine the crowd. I could not deny that Sir Ruvano had been right about me: I was indeed the most beautiful woman in the room. Most of the others were matronly old hags and the rest were stern-faced, straight-backed, and harsh. They were the wives of soldiers who'd spent their lives following their husbands from battle to battle. They'd probably seen as much war as the most seasoned knights. In their presence, I felt as if their harsh glances alone might shatter me.

When the ceremony itself eventually got underway, I was rather disappointed to see just how bland it all was. Vows and proclamations and holy mandates drew on and on. Duke Rosenthall was a large man, wide-framed, but powerfully built. His bearish appearance was only emphasized by a shaggy head of sandy beige hair and a full beard of the sort which had not been fashionable in these parts since my father was a young man.

The most interesting part of the entire affair proved to be his behavior. Though he apparently put a great deal of stock in formality, he smiled at the most inappropriate times and occasionally waved at people in the gathered crowd. At one point he even winked right at me. As the crown was placed upon his head, he chuckled like a bully flaunting his victory on the playground. The nobility did not seem to take any offense at his childlike impertinence, however, and they all played their roles in the drama as if it were all perfectly normal.

A procession through the city was traditional after the crowning, but on this occasion it consisted merely of the new king crossing the hallway to his throne room and ascending the stairs to his gilded throne with the queen at his side. Sir Ruvano had been right about her as well. She was a scarecrow of a woman: thin and pale with skin pulled tight over sharp, angular features.

The throne room was a lavish conglomeration of columns and arches and gilding and balconies and stairways; level upon level of finery all overlaid on each other until it was impossible to tell just how big the chamber really was. The thrones themselves stood at one end of the room at the top of an impressive set of stairs.

As our newly crowned rulers sat in repose, orderly lines of nobility filed past, offering their best wishes. Sir Ruvano kept me at his side the whole harrowing climb to the top of the stairs. It was a constant fear that I might trip on the hem of my dress and spoil all these elaborate proceedings. Unfortunately, even once we reached the top, I knew we would still have to go back down again.

When his turn finally came, "Count" Ruvano was announced with all the pomp and ceremony I'd only ever heard about in stories. Fortunately, my own name had not been included. I was already receiving far more attention than I would have liked.

Sir Ruvano bowed to the king and queen while I did my best to curtsy, relieved that I was at least able to make the gesture look somewhat passable. I was still mystified how women were able to do anything the least bit gracefully in these entangling garments. Sir Ruvano and the king bantered for a time like old acquaintances. I felt all but forgotten until the king suddenly inquired about me.

"The Mistress Stephanie, sire," Sir Ruvano said.

I was simply grateful he had spoken because I would not have been able to do so on my own. Still unsure of what exactly I should have been doing at all, I offered another fumbling curtsy, this time staying low for a long, respectful time. Rising to find the king's eyes on me and a lustful smile on his lips, however, I wished I had lingered a little longer.

As my face burned red, the queen glared at me with a fury that suggested her husband's impertinence was somehow my fault. Luckily we were able to make our exit at that point. As we descended the stairs, I hardly thought about tripping on my dress since I could still feel both the king's and the queen's eyes on my back. It seemed as though I was indeed helping Sir Ruvano make an impression.

With those formalities out of the way, Sir Ruvano had to leave me for a time so that he could attend to secretive matters of state. Those other nobles who'd already paid their respects to the king were carrying on in small groups, speaking in hushed, refined tones. Each tiny cluster was like a private conversation to which I was not invited.

I thus found myself drifting to the edges of the room and sampling a few choice appetizers from the tables of food that had been laid out there. My hope that something to eat might help quell my nervous stomach proved false. Though it was all of the finest quality, I hardly tasted a thing. I had no right to be at a gathering like this. I was an outsider here.

Nearby, a group of women were simply standing apart from the rest of the guests and examining the party with haughty expressions plastered across their faces. They didn't look the lest bit personable but maybe I could blend in with them and avoid any further notice until this nightmare was over.

As I inched closer, however, they all turned in my direction, practically demanding to know what I was doing in their presence. Small talk seemed like the best defense.

"Um, hello," I said. "It's all quite impressive, isn't it?"

"Humph," one of them said. "The midsummer eve festival in Koskof is more inspiring than this."

"I've seen more elaborate celebrations in military camps," another added. "During the Lantiarion Conflict, my husband staged a full coronation for the young king Vincent in his command tent. He had it decorated to perfectly match the grand cathedral in Driggam and, I swear, I could not tell the difference."

"That...must have been a large tent," I said. The looks they flashed left me feeling like a lame horse which was about to be put down for its own good.

"I don't think any amount of decoration would improve these chambers much," one of the other women said. "A kingdom as small as this one is fortunate, I suppose, to even have a great hall."

"I'm certain that Duke -- my apologies -- King Rosenthall will help to change their fortunes."

All of the women tittered demurely at the slip, hiding there fake smiles behind the lacy fans they carried. All I had was a goblet of wine and a small appetizer. In order to hide the redness rising into my face, I shoved the hors d'oeuvre into my mouth and downed the wine in a single gulp. I needed to get out of there before I made an ever bigger idiot of myself.

"Excuse me. I really need to take a piss."

All of them put on wide-eyed scowls and drew back as if I'd just insulted their mothers. So much for making a graceful exit. Instead I slunk away like a whipped dog. I never should have let Sir Ruvano talk me into coming here. The bastard couldn't even give me the support of his company. If he was merely planning on leaving me on my own all afternoon, I had no reason at all to stay.

As I neared the door, however, the last of the well-wishers finished delivering their required courtesies to the king. Suddenly, he leapt up from his throne and clapped his hands twice, instantly silencing all the various conversations filling the chamber.

"Let the feast begin!" he announced.

On cue, the doors to the great hall swung open and in marched an army of liveried servants, instantly cutting off my escape. Tables were brought in and arranged in a long line down the middle of the room. Simultaneously, table clothes were arranged, place settings laid out, and centerpieces put on display. Moving with the precision of a dance troupe, not one of the servants once came close to colliding with another. They must have been practicing all morning. In mere moments the hall was transformed.

Amidst that orchestrated chaos, Sir Ruvano somehow found me and guided me nearly to the head of the table before I could even think of offering any resistance. While everyone's place had been determined ahead of time, there seemed to have been some last minute changes at the request of the king. Invoking a few more venomous stares, I was informed that several high-ranking nobles had been displaced just so I would have a seat nearer the king. Even having Sir Ruvano seated right next to me did nothing to help contend with the harsh looks I kept getting from the queen.

I lost track of how many courses were served or how many different dishes were laid before me. They all looked exquisite but because of the constant conversation, it seemed as though I never had a chance to take more than a nibble or two at each before they was swiftly replaced by another of even greater decadence.

After the feast, there was more polite conversation, and Sir Ruvano proved to be my only ally in the entire room. Though I knew he had not been born into this life like the rest of them, he handled himself as if he had. Most of the men seemed intent on seeking me out, always giving their sincerest-sounding regards to Sir Ruvano before casting long, shameless looks to me. Though the women talked amongst themselves, they always grew quiet whenever I grew near. Did they too envy my appearance as the servant women had, or did they see right away that I had no right to be at an event such as this?

However, with Sir Ruvano at my side, guiding me though that social morass, I realized I had nothing to worry about. I was indeed nothing more than an accessory to him, following where he lead and laughing politely at his jokes, but at least I no longer feel adrift. I was even able to start taking in all the majesty that surrounded us, for the first time realizing that I was witness to history in the making. Finding time leftover to worry about the hateful scowls and the lustful smiles seemed unimportant.

In conversation, Sir Ruvano made mention on several occasions that security concerns in the city were the reason for the modified coronation ceremony and procession. I suspected it was more so the new king would not have to wait as long before indulging in the celebratory wines. As they flowed freely, he became increasingly jubilant. Protocol, however, demanded that he remain at the head of the room for the majority of the celebration.

Several times I saw his wife or the clerics admonishing him for attempting to sneak off. I was grateful he never succeeded for very long. I would have had no idea how to respond to any more of his antics; especially if they were directed, as I feared they might be, against me.

Night was beginning to fall and lamps had been set out to illuminate the soaring chambers when the musicians moved from the side niche where they had been performing, to a gallery overlooking the center of the great hall.

"Stephanie, the dance is about to begin," Sir Ruvanos said, taking my hand and guiding me into the very center of the room.

"Dance?" I stammered. This was just perfect -- as if I hadn't embarrassed myself enough already.

With the majority of the revelers migrating to the edges of the room and only a small number of us heading toward the center, I felt more than ever as if I was on display for all to see. In the past I'd been told by plenty of women that I was a good dancer, but as the partners took their place on the floor, I realized this was not going to be one of the jigs or reels I was familiar with. Never mind the fact I was already fumbling in those stupid skirts with each step I took. In something of a panic I took hold of Sir Ruvano's arm.

"I don't think I know this one," I hissed as the band played the introductory cords.

Sir Ruvano, however, simply took my hand in his as he bowed to me like all the other men on the floor. "Simply follow my lead and I am sure your grace will make up for any lack of experience."

It took several attempts before he was proven correct but the steps were not that hard to figure out. Soon I was gliding along as if I'd done so many times before. In fact, if I'd known that dancing would have helped me find my feet at last, I might have insisted on doing this before now.

Occasionally I caught sight of those women from before laughing at me behind their fans, but not one of them dared to set foot on the dance floor. They probably had two left feet in addition to their dog-like faces.

However, such cares swiftly drifted far from my mind. I danced, I drank, I laughed. One dance blurred into the next, as did the goblets of wine. Sir Ruvano occasionally loaned me to another man for a dance or two, but always returned before too long. He was my best partner throughout the night, nimble and dexterous, his every move complementing my own.

The festivities continued late into the evening. As the king finally stumbled off to retire for the night, he needed the assistance of both the queen and his chamberlain to walk anything remotely close to a straight line. With his exit, the celebration was called to an end and everyone left the throne room with a resounding cheer for the newly crowned sovereign.

"Oh, I had so much fun!" I said, twirling into Sir Ruvano's chambers. Earlier I might have been ashamed to admit such a thing, especially to Sir Ruvano, but the wine helped allay my resistance.

"Didn't I tell you as much, my dear Stephanie?" he said. "And you were beautiful, as well. You should have been the queen up in that throne."

"Not if it were beside King Rosenthall!" I laughed.

Sir Ruvano slipped in behind me and wrapped his arms around my narrow waist. "No," he murmured in my ear. "I hope you'd reserve that honor for me."

Having his hands on me, large and masculine against my thin, feminine body, undercut just how different I'd become. I was a frail thing in his grasp, but his touch was gentle. He nuzzled my neck and ran his hands over my belly, just barely brushing against the undersides of my breasts. I melted into him, my nipples becoming stiff and a warmth growing between my legs.

I turned to face him and our lips met. It was strange to kiss a man, but apart from being on the other side, it was really no different. There was still one pair of soft, plump lips pressed again one rough and strong. Our tongues still danced in each others mouths and a single feminine whimper was heard as we parted.

Taking my hand in his, he started toward the bed chamber. "Come with me, Stephanie," he said.

I knew what was to come, but I did not resist. Whether it was the drink, fatigue, or some other factor, I went willingly; eagerly, in fact

At the foot of his bed we kissed again, longer and more passionately. His hands roamed freely over my body; squeezing my ass, cupping my breasts, undoing the laces of my dress. Likewise, I removed his cravat and reached into his shirt, feeling the firm contours of his chest.

He eased the dress off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving me in little more than a shift of the thinnest silk. He cast aside his jacket and shirt and kicked off his boots before sitting me on the edge of the bed and kneeling before me like an attendant to remove my own. I hadn't realized how uncomfortable my feet had become until they now had a chance to stretch again. He cradled one and rubbed the arch. It sent a tingling mix of shock and rapture up through my bones.

Sir Ruvano embraced my legs as he worked his way over my calves and past my knees. Under my shift he went, up the inside of my thighs. I spread my legs and he hooked his fingers into my panties. With a tug, he pulled them down and I lifted my ass so that he could remove them entirely.

When I felt his finger caress the outer edge of my pussy, my whole body quivered. I might not have realized it until now, but I'd been waiting for this moment ever since he'd touched me this morning.

He toyed with me for what seemed like hours, using his fingers and his mouth to bring me right to the edge of ecstasy but always backing off at the last moment. I didn't know how much longer I could stand it. My pussy was dripping wet by the time he finally stood and helped me out of my shift.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, panting slightly, my eyes were right at the level of his waist. Deliberately, he unfastened his belt. As his pants joined my dress on the floor, his cock sprang loose. It pointed from his crotch toward me. Even only half-erect, it was still longer than most mens when fully aroused. It twitched in anticipation and bobbed as he stepped between my legs.

I was exposed, completely and totally naked with a man who was every bit as undressed as myself. Just a day ago I would have felt nothing my shame, humiliation, degradation.

Now, I reached out and took hold of his cock in my soft hands.

It was stiff and warm. My hands seemed smaller that they already were as I stroked him gently, up and down, twirling them around the head. I kissed away the bead of pre-cum that my actions had squeezed out. It tasted just as intoxicating as it had the last time. Wrapping my red lips around the head, I sucked hard and then slowly let it slid back out, a trail of saliva connecting it to my tongue. His breathing was deep but steady. I loved how his scrotum bounced in my hand as I played with his cock.

It was standing proud now, the perfectly shaped head resting on my lips without me even needing to touch it. I kissed it again and looked longing into his eyes. He met my gaze and returned the smile.

Our eyes remained locked on each other as he leaned over me, easing my only my back. I shimmied into the center of the bed and he remained over me the whole time; his cock bouncing against my stomach, occasionally nudging my pussy.

I opened myself to him and he lowered himself over me. His cock hovered precariously close to my smoldering hole without even touching it. For several long moments he remained frozen there, his eyes burning into mine. What the hell was he waiting for? I wanted this so badly, I didn't care who he was or what he'd done.

"Stephanie." His voice was smooth as silk. "I promised you could use the wand after accompanying me to the festivities. You were nothing but wonderful this evening, and I would be remiss if I did not uphold my end of that bargain. If you'd like, I could get you the wand right now."

Now!? But...we were so close...we...

"No don't," I said, my voice a pleading whisper. In a panic, I tried to grab his arms, his body, anything to keep him from leaving this moment unfinished.

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