The Prince's Bride Ch. 03

Prince Felic of Rainvale, son of the famous and infamous Old Bullet, the queen who had nearly conquered the Wildflower Kingdom and kept the Succubus Queen at bay until passing the torch on to him, sat cuddled up against a petty noble of the Wildflower Kingdom, clinging to her, hanging on her arm—and her every word.

His head buzzed with the aftereffects of the sweet buzzsmoke, keeping him awake and fit to run laps. His face was flushed and hot from the deep purple wine he was drinking from Jenne's proffered goblet.

He took another sip and emptied the goblet. It was refilled, and he drank a little more and smiled up at Jenne—beautiful, curvy Jenne, so powerful, so kind and funny.

She smiled back, and giggled. He giggled too, and hiccuped.

"Maybe we've... had enough," she said, giving his shoulder a tender squeeze. "I mean... enough to drink, I mean."

"I... I s'pose so." He nodded. "Yes, Princess Jenne."

She stroked his hair. "What now, my Prince?" she mused, twirling a finger around one of his dark locks. "Perhaps I could show you some of the mystical creatures of the prairie. Perhaps some holstaurs, my Prince?"

Felic felt his face burning, and heard the smile on her lips. The image of the cowgirl maid from her last scry—holding that guard captain so tenderly in her lap, so happy to just let him suckle like a good bull—wouldn't quite leave his mind. "Food!" he blurted.

"Food?" Jenne asked softly.

"I, uh... food." He grinned up at her nervously. "From your homeland. Please, my Princess..." He straightened slightly, but didn't stop leaning against her. "You have sampled Rainvale's delicacies. May I try a taste of the Wildflower Kingdom?"

Jenne considered it a moment, then snapped her fingers three times in his face. "As you wish."

He blinked. With each snap, smoke seemed to pool around them, bright red smoke that smelled sweet and musky. His head lolled and spun as three sinuous shapes emerged, and his breath, half-full of the perfumed smoke, caught.

"Oh, Prince Felic," moaned a writhing, wraith-like woman, swinging her hips in a sensual dance as she held up a gleaming silver platter.

"Hungry, Prince Felic?" hissed a second, wriggling to his left. Her hand brushed by his cheek, and he breathed in almost unwillingly, inhaling her sweetness.

He stared dumbly at Jenne, who giggled.

They were made of mist, like the maids—even more obviously, in fact, for their bottom halves were all-but smoke. Each was dressed like a belly dancer, had hips almost as wide as Princess Jenne's, and wore scant suggestions of glittering fabric. Long trailing ribbons fluttered from them as they put their full bodies on display, smiling at him, their platters laden with wonderful-smelling treats and spicy appetizers. Their long, dark hair spilled behind them like cloaks.

Prince Felic hesitated, then reached out a hand towards the first phantom's platter. She smiled indulgently, slipping into the chair beside him, and held up a colorful treat. "Open wide, my Prince," she cooed.

Felic blinked. "Um—"

That was all the opening she needed as she popped the treat inside. He blinked, then chewed and swallowed. A strange combination of sweetness and spice filled his taste buds with sensation, and his eyes widened.

"Open wide, my prince," hissed the phantom dancer to his right, and Felic turned in surprise—she had slinked between him and Jenne, and wafted before him, her brilliant violet eyes glimmering in wicked temptation as she held up what looked sort of like a cream puff.

Felic hesitated, not eager to be fed like an infant.

"What's the matter?" whispered the third, and he felt her hands trailing over his neck and shoulders. He could practically feel her writhing against him. "Don't you like Lady Jenne's... gift to you?"

"Princess Jenne," he corrected automatically, and blushed bright red as they all giggled—and the dancer slipped the dessert past his lips. His eyelids fluttered at the creamy sweetness, soothing the spice from the last treat.

"Aren't you loyal," Princess Jenne said teasingly.

Felic giggled slightly. "Well, I—mm!" The wraith behind him had put something else in his mouth—something sweet, savory, and even spicier than the last. He almost moaned with sensation, hurriedly chewing and swallowing.

"Here, my Prince," cooed the first wraith, and his lips parted in shock as she wriggled right into his lap, her misty, fragrant form surprisingly warm and soft and... heavy. He blinked rapidly, and was too late to prevent her creamy dessert truffle from entering his mouth.

And it tasted so good, he couldn't really complain. He stared, disoriented, at Jenne, who was visibly covering her giggles with her daintily-painted fingers now. "You, um... have something," she said, gesturing.

He licked his lips, realizing he had some pastry filling on the side of his mouth.

"Is that good?" cooed one wraith—he couldn't keep track of which one at this point, as they seemed to exchange positions, swapping platters around. They moved between each other with a fluid ease as if they had a hivemind, and he found there were now two in his lap, smiling at him with brilliant violet eyes as they each held up a delicacy. "Would you like another?"

"One at a—" He began, vainly, and couldn't help but smile bashfully as they slipped both morsels into his mouth. Sweetness and spice filled him, and he moaned and nodded. It was good. It was delicious.

"You need to stop opening your mouth, my Prince!" Jenne said teasingly.

He nodded, trying very hard not to show how... much they were affecting him. Wriggling in his lap, so supple and soft and warm. At least they made it easy to hide his erection, though their little giggles—and wiggles—made him suspicious they were quite aware of it.

And they approved.

He looked around, blinking rapidly, and found his lips being eased open by a pair of fingers and a new morsel being slipped inside. The third wraith caressed his face, and he caught himself reaching back as she pulled away, longing for the touch to continue.

The two in his lap ran their fingers over him ticklingly, eyelashes batting, offering more. And what could he do but accept? He felt strangely famished, and their treats were so... so good...

"Sugar and spice, and everything nice," Jenne said, giggling openly now as he turned eagerly to accept delicacy after delicacy. "That's what my illusions are made of."

He nodded, moaning in agreement—he tried to speak, but of course, the shades were too quick for him. He was wriggling a little now himself. Even fully clothed, the sensation of the two belly-dancers contorting and squirming was heavenly.

"And... it's also what good little husbands are made of," Princess Jenne cooed softly in his ear.

All four of them tittered as he felt his face blush bright red. His mouth was full of sweetness and prickling spice. His lap was full of supple temptresses, cooing and hissing, teasing, plying him with treat after treat...

"Is that good?" cooed one wraith, and Felic's head spun as he eagerly nodded. "Is it?" She wriggled meaningfully, beaming down at him. She rocked back and forth, lovingly rubbing along his imprisoned cock.

Felic realized she wasn't talking about the food anymore. He stared at her, helplessly horny, helplessly desperate for more touch, more sensation, more sugar and spice. He was surrounded by crimson fog. He couldn't even see Princess Jenne anymore, just three writhing, wriggling, perfectly sexual bodies.

He hesitantly reached out a hand, gripping the soft, firm ass of the phantom who was practically dryhumping him at this point...

"Your Highness," declared a crisp voice.

Prince Felic practically jumped out of his seat. All three phantoms vanished in the blink of an eye, in bright puffs of smoke that left him—and Princess Jenne—coughing.

"What!" he choked out, turning to face the billowing ribbon form of the castle spirit. His face burned bright red as he realized he was instinctively looking at the spirit's curvy form—and that his erection was now plainly visible. He scooted closer to the table.

The spirit stared at him impassively. "While I cannot see the illusions being cast, I was concerned that there was a breach in decorum. I believe we should—"

Felic looked at Princess Jenne, and saw that her eyes were wide, her face glowing like an ember. She was biting her lip.

"It's fine!" he blurted.

The castle spirit could not blink, but they paused. "Is it?"

"Y-Yes." He nodded fervently. "Your help isn't required here. Thank you, spirit."

The spirit stared for a moment. "Your Highness—"

"I request that you leave this room for the night," Felic said. "A-And... that you see to it that we aren't disturbed again." He hesitated. "That's an order. We'll be fine, spirit."

On 'order' the spirit was already vanishing. "Understood. Apologies."

They were alone once more.

Felic turned to Jenne. She stared at him, shocked. "I... wow. They really listen to you, huh?"

"The spirit is practically all-powerful in the castle," Felic said, smiling bashfully. "But, um, they take orders from me, still. Everyone does. I don't know if it's always a good idea, but—"

Princess Jenne scooted up close to him, her smile wide and adoring, and draped her arm over him again. He shivered slightly. He hadn't noticed how cold he'd been. "Don't doubt yourself," she whispered. "This is our night. And this is your castle. If your word is law... well, you must know best, right?"

"... Mm-hm." Felic nodded, his heart beating quicker. "Yes, Jenne."

She raised her eyebrows with a playful grin.

"Princess Jenne," he corrected, grinning back.

She stroked his hair, easing him to lean his head against her neck. He breathed in, smelling her sweet, fragrant perfume. "My Felic," she said softly. "There's nothing wrong with... enjoying yourself a little."

"Mm?" he blinked. His head was still buzzing from the hookah, but it also felt sloshy and liquidy now from the wine and food. Sweet. Malleable. He really hoped Princess Jenne wasn't going to take advantage of that.

And a part of him prayed that she would.

"It's time," she said softly, "to show you what we face."

She scooted away from the table slightly. He followed suit, wanting to keep close to her, wanting to stay hanging on her arm like he was... like he was hers.

He was the Prince. Surely he knew best. And he knew he needed to keep her arm around him, to keep acting like some easy eye candy, to keep making Princess Jenne happy. So... maybe he could stretch decorum a little.

They were closer to the fireplace now. It was warm. Princess Jenne was warm, and her smile was like a bonfire. "I should tell you, my little Prince," she said softly, fingers playing over his coat, "I... I think you might be wrong about me."

"Nn. No." Talking was almost a little difficult, but he shook his head instinctively. "Princess Jenne, you mustn't..."

"No," she said, tracing a finger over his lips. He went silent. "My Felic, I'm not some great sorceress. I'm not powerful. I'm the seventh of seventh, but all I have is illusions. Tricks. Isn't that shameful?" Her big eyes were like amber droplets, shimmering like rippling pools of syrup. He leaned in, breathing her in. She was so much smaller than him, but beneath her arm, he felt like... like...

Hers.

He tried to speak, but he didn't know what to say. So he just leaned in. Sought her scent and her touch.

Slowly, her eyelids drifted. Her bedroom eyes poured into his, and hesitantly, she smiled. Her body language was shy, but it was a sly smile. "I said I had something I needed to show you," she said, pouting slightly. "But... I'm not sure I should, my Prince. It might be too much."

"Do what you think is best, Princess Jenne." He nodded slightly. "We can... do whatever you wish."

A part of him prayed she wouldn't show it to him. A part of him prayed she would decide to show him other things. That they could end this evening together.

But she nodded slightly, and scooted back, and put a hand on the back of his chair to stop him from following. "Then watch closely, my little Felic," she cooed.

And her fingers slipped before his eyes and started to twist and dance.

A sibilant whispering, wordless and insistant, distinctly feminine, filled the air. Mist started to roil around the corners of Felic's vision, started to pour out from her fingers.

Giggling, curvy sirens began to swirl around them, their bodies made of something like water, or glass. Or wine, he realized, identifying their beautiful violet hue. But unlike the maids and the dancers...

There were dozens of them. Each was slightly different—some had wings, others long, pronged tails. Some were shortstacks, some tall and statuesque, but all were women. Beautiful, naked women, smiling at him. Eyes gleaming like twin crimson moons. Lips plump, hands cupping their breasts together, clasping above their heads, hips swinging as they soared and sang in wordless coos.

"Do you know who these are, Felic?" Princess Jenne whispered in his ear.

Felic stared, spellbound. The brazenness of them, and their number as they spiraled around him, around, like he was at the center of their world—the eye of a hurricane.

One of them drifted closer, a woman with brilliant red hair like fire, and Felic was so shocked he didn't even react as she zoomed in, took him in her wispy grasp, and kissed him on the lips. Strange, sparkling pleasure filled him, and Felic reached to grasp her.

She melted in his arms, giggling, and soared away. Felic stared after her, head spinning from her plump lips, her sweetness still on him. "I... they're, um.."

Another came close. Felic's eyes widened, and he barely had time to register her feathery wings and her flicking barbed tail. "They're—" He cut off with a startled squeak as she took him in another, longer, hungry kiss. It felt almost like she was pulling something from him. She moaned against him, her voice musical, sweet and strangely resonant, and then she pulled away as he leaned in, dissolving back into the torrent.

"Demons," he whispered.

"That's right, Felic," Jenne said—but as she said it, a second voice mirrored her words, as a curvy, curly-horned devil spilled from the storm and into his arms.

She giggled. Her massive eyes shone brilliantly as she took him in a kiss that left him gasping. But she faded away as he reached for her, beaming, and fluttered back on hummingbird wings. "Felic," she cooed, and a chill ran up and down his spine.

He turned to Princess Jenne, eyes wide. The world was blurry, swirling, chaotic. More misty demons were flurrying towards him, kissing his cheek, his neck, guiding him to look away from his Princess and into their brilliant red eyes as they kissed him on the lips.

Jenne nodded solemnly, leaning in. "Demons. I say, the demons massing along the northern borders, ready to move in on us. The demons of the Succubus Queen." She caressed his cheek, brushing away one of the phantoms. "This is what you face, my Prince. I wanted to help you understand. What we face."

"O-Oh." Felic's voice was barely a squeak as yet another demon slipped from the storm. This one was different. More solid, almost, her skin a soft, dark lavender, her irises piercing, her lips plump and painted as violet as royalty. Her horns rose from her head like a crystalline diadem, and her hair fluttered as f caught in perpetual breeze, dark and wavy like nighttime rapids. Beautiful crystal jewelry covered her—jangling earrings, delicate chains woven in with her hair, and a set of plain iron collars around her neck.

She smiled at him, and it felt like a blow. She came closer, and she smelled like the last thing Felic ever needed to smell—something so intoxicating and indescribable that he could barely even place it in his mind. It enveloped his thoughts with pure, primal lust.

"Th-The Queen," he whispered, as she came very close, her smile turning coy and playful. Her long, elegant nails traced spirals over his cheek, and he felt himself relaxing, leaning back for her to spill into his lap...

"The Crimson Lady. Moon Temptress. Miss Sweetness. Souldrinker." Princess Jenne was whispering in his ear now, her voice very soft, as if afraid that speaking any louder would bring the illusion to full life. "Lady Love. This is why we seek alliance with Rainvale."

He stared into the Queen's gleaming red irises and nodded meekly. She smiled imperiously, sitting down on his lap, and for what felt like the tenth time that night his cock twitched beneath a very real-feeling weight. She leaned in close, parting her lips for a kiss...

"S-Stop!" he cried instinctively.

But she did not stop. She leaned in closer, her smile triumphant, wicked, and as her lips touched his, he felt molten with desire. Lust took over. He reached out, hands caressing her smooth flesh, his breath coming heavy—

And there was a snap.

She faded into mist, even as he struggled to hold on. The weight left his lap.

"What's wrong, my Felic?" Princess Jenne asked, blinking at him.

"What—" Felic took a deep breath, looking around at the swirling storm. He felt dizzy. Confused. And most of all, horny. "I... I don't know. This feels wrong. Dangerous."

Princess Jenne giggled. "Well, that's because it is, my Prince." She reached out and cupped his cheek.

"Ah?"

She scooted up close, smiling up at him. "Don't you want to understand your enemy?" she cooed. "I want to show you what we face, my Prince. I want to be sure you understand how... important this alliance is to us. How much Rainvale needs the Wildflower Kingdom's help."

Her hand stroked his cheek. Her other hand was on his knee, and Felic found he couldn't quite think of the words to have it removed.

"I just..." He bit his lip. "It feels so real."

"It's pure illusion, my Felic. All I can do is scry and depict." She smiled, wriggling against him slightly. "Obviously, no great danger, of course. An illusion can't hurt you. An illusion can't do anything, can it?"

"I... I suppose not."

"And isn't it important to understand the Moon Goddess? You've got to know your enemy, that's what I always say." Her voice, musical and sweet, lilted through his head like a troupe of harem dancers. "You're looking at quite an opportunity, really. A chance to see her for what she is. A Prince of Rainvale should have nothing to fear from that."

"I..."

"And besides," she went on, giggling, "the fact that you're scared, pardon me for saying, really just goes to show how well you understand this danger. Doesn't that make sense?" She didn't wait for him to respond, putting a finger to his lips. "Of course it does, Felic, of course it does. Rainvale is vulnerable—why, Rainvale could be attacked any day. You've got to be ready for it, haven't you?"

A pause. Felic blinked, noticing the barbed-tail demoness bouncing her breasts suggestively. "I, um—"

"Of course you have!" she exclaimed, giving him a peck on the cheek. Her hand rubbed his knee. "You've got to understand as much as you can. And you can do that. You know, I've never had anyone quite so good at watching my illusions."

"R-Really?" Felic's eyes flitted to the hummingbird-winged demoness from earlier, who was blowing him kisses with a sinister smile.

"I say, your focus is fantastic!" he heard Jenne say. "So focused and determined, my Prince. Doesn't this sound like a good idea?"

A pause. The first demoness with the flame-hair was mouthing words at him. You could be ours, she seemed to be saying.

He bit his lip.

"Felic?" asked Jenne, and he gave a start. He turned to face her. Princess Jenne looked a bit concerned. "I say, are you... if you're actually having trouble..."