The Prince Transformed Pt. 03

Well, he wasn't going to go down without a fight. Perthias closed his eyes so that at least one sense was shut off, and took a firm hold of her wide hips. He thrust into her with slow and purposeful strokes, adding a slight twist to the end of each movement. His motions seemed to have their intended effect—Cythea moaned and writhed in pleasure, scratching his back in passion. He leant down to suckle at her big beautiful breasts, (they were large enough that he could do this blind) laving each erect nipple until his lover was fairly shrieking in ecstasy.

But he was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. Each reaction he elicited from Cythea only served to drive him closer to the brink as well. He could feel his control slipping inch by inch, the thunderous tides of his orgasm building and building until they threatened to overwhelm him. Against his will his eyes flew upon to see his lover smiling at up him, that same naughty grin on her face. Her silver hair was plastered to her sweaty face, but her thighs and hips continued to flex against him fiercely. Meeting his gaze, she reached up to pull him down for a long, lengthy, passionate kiss.

That did it.

With a groan, he began to cum. If he thought that his climaxes were strong before, this orgasm put all his previous ones to shame. He lost all control in his limbs, almost convulsing in pure ecstasy as spasms of pleasure ripped through his rugged body as he came and came and came. It was like he had an entire sea to empty into her, pulsing and heaving in delight. And through it all he was also aware of the clenching of her cleft on his spasming rod, and the feel of her delicious lips on his.

He had lost, completely and utterly. But he had never felt so good about losing in his life. Not when his loss entailed coming his brains out into one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. His orgasm had left him almost insensate, but he had enough consciousness remaining to blink at Cythea as she gently stroked his hair.

"Well fought, my prince." She smiled at him, a winsome smile so like her normal lust-filled grins. Apparently the elfslut could be magnanimous in victory.

"It's all right. I'll tell you anyway." Cythea's voice assumed a singsong quality, almost like she was a bard in a tavern. Privately he thought that her dulcet tones were a match for even the most skilled singer in Erecia, but that might have been his love-struck mind speaking.

"You assume correctly. I was once a princess like your sister, in a realm far away from this one, from a time long ago . . . most probably before you were born. No, don't look so surprised," Cythea said, noting his raised eyebrow. "The same magic that transformed me also halted the aging process. I will not grow old anymore . . . not now, not ever. That must make you happy, doesn't it?" the elfslut said, with a little of her customary giggle.

"But let me continue. My story is much the same as yours, my prince. My kingdom was taken apart by the usurper, much as yours was . . . yes, one and the same—Rampillion, though he went by another name then. We opposed him as best as we could, but our efforts were as naught against his magic. He was weaker then, less shrewd, and we almost bested him on the field of battle, but it was not to be. My kingdom was stripped from me, and after killing the rest of my family, he saw fit to transform me into what you see now."

Perthias couldn't help but start at the blasé way she rattled off that last sentence. He sat up, ready to enfold her in a crushing embrace, to tell her everything was ok and that he would protect her and . . . but Cythea narrowed her eyes and cut him off with a single sharp glance. In that instant, some of her insouciance had fallen from her, and he could see that she was more than just a creature of pleasure.

"Oh, don't start. It was a long time ago, and whatever wounds I've suffered have long since healed. In any case I would have outlived all of them by now. Let us not weep needlessly for bygones."

Cythea closed her eyes, her tone growing suddenly wistful, and Perthias thought to himself that perhaps the elfslut was not as far away from her memories as she would like to be. But he wisely held his tongue, and she continued her recitation apace.

"I believe Rampillion transformed me not out of spite, but more because he simply delighted in seeing the suffering of others. For all I know, I was the first one he ever cast this spell on. He kept me as a slave for a while, much like what has befallen your sister, but eventually he grew tired of me and cast me out."

"I travelled the world for a while, initially seeking a way to avenge myself upon him. But there was little I could do besides spread my legs, and so after a while I grew resigned to my fate. At least I would never need to worry about food or shelter. I had learned during my travels that men will do many, many things for a pretty face."

Here Cythea paused to wink at the prince, and he had the good sense to blush red—guilty as charged. He also found himself irrationally jealous of the many lovers that his princess (his?) must have taken in her travels, but he chastised himself for the thought the moment he had it. If her story was true, they were most probably all dead and buried by now.

"It wasn't so bad of a life. I was free to do as I pleased, and I had none of the onerous responsibilities of royalty to deal with. Even my constant need for fucking was more of a pleasure than a burden when I had learned how to deal with it. I could indulge my desire to see the world, something impossible when I was still a princess. And so, I did, traversing the open seas to lands far away."

"Somewhere I learnt that Rampillion had been caught and sealed away, and I rejoiced. Even if he was not fallen by my hand, he had gotten his just desserts. Or so I thought at that time. So, I continued to live my life without care, trying my best to enjoy what fate had bestowed upon me."

Here Cythea sighed, and Perthias could only imagine what she must be thinking of. Past lovers, perhaps, and the sights and sounds of a vast world that he could only dream of. Come to think of it, he himself had never been so much as beyond Erecia . . .

"But one day I learnt what had befallen your land, and I knew then that Rampillion must have returned. I made preparations to come to Erecia, but before I could, the resistance contacted me. I agreed to help them. How could I not? And . . . you know the rest."

Perthias took a while to collect himself and his thoughts. It was quite a story he had just heard, and he didn't rightly know how to respond. The beautiful elfslut who sat before him also a transformed princess? What were the odds? He had learnt the answers to some questions, only to have more appear. He still had no clue of who or what the resistance was, or how they had gained the power to oppose the usurper.

But one thing was clear at least. Rampillion had made many foes over the years. It was probably safe to assume that the resistance forces were composed of those who bore some grudge against him, certainly Tyzhe and Cythea would attest to that fact. But beyond that, it was once again useless to speculate. When the siege took place, then he would know more.

Cythea must have caught a little of his pensive mood, because she laughed her bell-like laugh and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Don't fret so, my prince. It ill becomes you." She blinked at him coquettishly and traced lines idly over his broad chest. "We have some time to spare before we mobilize. I'm sure we can find a good way to spend it."

How could he refuse an invitation like that? He looked over at her again and his desire returned tenfold. The urges of his muscle-bound body rose in a wave over him, and he surrendered to them gladly. With a savage grunt, he lunged at Cythea, who collapsed laughing into his embrace.

Tomorrow would bring whatever it brought. Today, today was for pleasure.