Kalla: Ch. 2

Kalla: Ch. 2

Chapter 2

The hardest thing for me when I was young was knowing what to call the Princess. Everybody including the King and Queen told me to refer to her as Princess but the Princess, my master, forced me to call to her Dakota. I was punished repeatedly almost every day for mixing the two up until finally, after Dakota witnessed one of my punishments, an extremely violent temper tantrum convinced the King and Queen to have me refer her as Dakota. Still though, as I think, in hearing her referred to as one and calling her another, my unspoken mind does interchange the two titles very easily.

I brought Dakota’s breakfast to her bed and headed for her personal washroom to prepare a bath. Mother always tried telling me that I was becoming too royal. She said that I took the conveniences of the palace for granted one day when I began complaining about the inconsistency of the running water. Very rarely did it stop, but it did on one particular day when I wasn’t in the greatest of moods. Mother sat me down and lectured me for at least an hour on how only the richest of people in the world can afford such a convenience; I as a commoner should complain about nothing that is given to me in a royal palace. She continued lecturing that her, father, and I were even so blessed to have our own personal water heater, something the other servants had to share.

As I shut the three faucets off from filling the large ceramic bowl, Dakota walked in wearing nothing.

“Are you taking a bath with me today? Your hair is clumpy, you haven’t yet bathed.”

“I woke up late, I’m sorry.”

“Who treated you wrong for it?” she asked, perceptive that whenever I did something incorrect, the other servants always shunned me; as a girl at my rank in the palace, I should be capable of no wrong, they apparently believed.

“Nobody,” I had lied. Everybody had always punished me for my faults, everybody except my own master. They knew that if they would copy my faults, they would be punished harshly yet they had never seen me punished for something of my fault without my master defending me or blaming one of them to save me.

Dakota knew that I would never tell her if someone had wronged me unless I felt it undeserved. She recognized that it would only lead me to more misery if she sought out the perpetrator and reprimanded them, that I would be shunned and avoided by the very people that I relied on to achieve my job.

The Princess had once fought with the King and Queen to relinquish me of my career and grant me a free life in the royal palace as her friend, but the King refused saying that I would become spoilt and lead her astray. As a servant, I would maintain my sense of responsibility and lead as a fine role model for a Princess. I personally was happier as her servant. As a freeloading friend, I would serve no purpose and would always feel out of place.

As a servant, I was paid, received the benefits of being the Princess’s best friend, and lived with purpose and the constant protection of my master. With Dakota as my master, she could protect me from the King and Queen more so than if I were merely at the mercy of their grace as a general friend of the Princess. I did little to no work as it was anyways. I did keep track of Dakota’s entire life and plan every event of every day, but that was all willingly.

Beside such remedial knowledge I already held, I met her with breakfast every morning out of tradition more than anything. I don’t think Dakota would trust anyone else seeing her wake in the morning. Around her I felt like a best friend and older sister, in her general proximity, I felt like her manager, and only with the other servants or mother and father, I felt like her servant. The sentries though, they treated me as either her friend or manager; that’s the way they always saw me treated by her and so they treated me as such with no need of envy or jealously.

The sound from the stream of liquid being squeezed from Dakota’s vagina into the chamber pot interrupted my thought. I looked over at the now fourteen year old Princess using the bathroom in the nude. She looked back at me.

“Take your clothes off, you’re bathing with me, this is a very important day and I need you more than anything; you have to be comfortable and presentable.”

“They’re expecting fifteen thousand people at your swearing in today; maybe we can find us some good looking boys.”

“Haha,” she shrugged, “the council won’t let any boys near me since the attempted usurp. They say that anybody who shows an interest in me is a threat to the empire.”

I didn’t mean for her bring the attempted usurp up. I looked away. I think that she noticed my discomfort.

“You never wake up late; did you have a really good dream this morning?”

I never did wake up late. Neither did I have near the amount of fantastic dreams I often found Dakota in with the rising sun. The dream for me this morning was all but fantastic. I think it showed why the attempted usurp affected me more than it did the Princess.

I was with father in my dream, as was it that distraught day. We were accompanying the King on a political venture. It was mid-day when we heard a trumpet’s horn. It was what they used to coordinate the attack. At the sound, the sentries surrounded us all and began pushing us into a near building.

That’s when the arrows came, so many arrows, from all around us. Men in dark green clothes flooded our street from the alleys. My father, one of the King’s highest sentries, told me to run away, get as far away from anybody that I remembered seeing that day. I listened and obeyed; whether father or the King’s personal sentry, he’s not someone to disobey. I ran from him, the sentry’s, anybody that I recognized; the only people that I recognized were the people who worked for the King.

I didn’t want to run too far so I stopped and looked back. Father saw me but ignored me, he acted like I didn’t exist; he just protected the King. That was the last time he looked at me, even though I was in his line of sight. He didn’t look to make sure that I was safe, even though he knew I was standing right there. Even when father was on the ground but still moving, he looked the other way; he knew I was watching, all he had to do was look at me and I would yell out and run to him to comfort him, anything, I knew he was going to die but he ignored me so I did nothing. The men in green attacking with swords fought long and many died, but they were too many. They killed everybody near the King.

The men searched about. They looked at me for a second and then at some more of the few other commoners looking at the dead. I waited in that town for two days before over a thousand soldiers showed up; they imprisoned everybody and burned the entire village down. Such was the punishment for not being ever vigilant to protect the empire. Mother held priority to search the dead. Every male and female below the age of twenty was to be displayed to her. She was worried that they might mistake me for a boy; if I survived and changed my appearance to assimilate, they would not know what to look for. She fell to her knees when she saw me in the line and cried.

I woke up then to mother shaking me half to death. I saw father die before me. Dakota was at the Royal Palace when she was escorted into her room and put under surveillance at all hours until it was deemed safe. It was not long before she figured out why she was being guarded so, and she began demanding to see the King and Queen. She received no answer. She demanded to see me. She received no answer. Then she remembered that I was with father and father was with the King. For one day she laid on her bed crying under four sentries’ eyes.

Mother was sent to her. Mother could barely speak but had too. She was with the Queen when they were bombarded with arrows. The Queen was struck with two. The swordsmen came but lost. Many of the villagers fought with the sentries there. After mother told Dakota, she preferred the sentries’ silence.

Dakota never saw a thing, only heard. She only witnessed the Queen asleep in a casket. The sentries and council treated her like royalty. They questioned me like a criminal. Where did they take the body? What did they do to it? How did he die? Who fought the hardest to protect him? Why didn’t they kill you?

Three quarters in the year would be the time between the end of one King and the new Queen, 278 days. On her fourteenth birthday. She would be fit then. No reason for reaching to less immediate family. Everybody was a suspect in the attempted usurp. The council themselves where suspects and would have been investigated more but they readily agreed to relinquish their total power over the empire to the Princess in so reasonable amount of time. Though, even with giving her the power over the entire kingdom, they tried as hard as possible to influence her. Since the death of the King and Queen, Dakota has met nobody new and everybody she did already know was extensively investigated.

When I came back into reality, Dakota was stepping into the hot soapy water.

“Back from daydreaming I see.”

Dakota had come to live with those terms. She respected me and sometimes found it fascinating that at the strangest of times, I would go off into tangents and leave my waking reality for another one. She had said once that I was the opposite of her in that way, I dreamed in my waking and her in her sleeping. I didn’t bother to try to explain that what I think about while awake is quite different than what she does in her sleep. I followed her comment with removing my clothes.

Unlike the bathtub in the washroom between mother’s bedroom and mine, Dakota’s is one fit for a Princess. It easily fit Dakota and I with much room to spare, though in its downsizing, we were just two teenage girls.

“You know when I woke up earlier with your finger in me,” she worded almost as a peculiar question, “I would have given almost anything for you to have been a boy and you just kiss me when I opened my eyes.”

“Well, if I was a boy, I don’t think I would kiss you anyways because I don’t really like girls that way,” I stupidly replied.

“Oh, you can make me cry in pleasure but you can’t even kiss me?” she responded sarcastically.

“Kissing has emotions in it, touching is just fun.” We both knew that, we had touched each other a lot, experimenting all the time. I was suppose to know everything and teach her it all, but a lot of the time, I learned stuff from her and from what she did to me by just playing.

“You better wash that hair really nice,” Dakota began setting me up, “you’ll be right next to me all day, even while I’m being crowned. Bring your head back to me and I’ll wash it.”

The last sentence signaled me to question her intentions, but I was willing. I scooted between her legs with my butt locked between her ankles and leaned back dipping my hair into the water; I used my elbows for support. All I could do was stare up past the tiny bulging breasts and into the Princess’s face.

Diligently, she ran the soapy water through my hair. She got it as clean as she decided upon and quickly moved her free hands to my nipples. A quick gasp mixed with an audible moan escaped my mouth.

So, you really think that mine will be this big one day.”

“My breasts aren’t that big.”

“I know, but there a lot bigger than mine and I don’t really want those big ones other woman have; yours are just perfect.” Her cupping hands moved back and forth over my breasts.

Before I could thank her for the compliment, she let free my breast by tensing her fingers backward and began encircling my nipples with her tightened palms. I responded by rolling my eyes into the back of my head. She continued the gentle caressing for a while longer before she told me to sit up and scoot back to her. I obeyed with curiosity in what she was planning next. Before I could finish pulling back, she showed me the answer by cupping my vagina in her palm.

“I don’t know how you made this morning so intense but I want to try and show you what I felt.”

“Good luck, I don’t even know how I did it.”

At the direct end of that sentence, I felt her index finger drive its way into my vagina. The surprise of it gave me more pleasure then I thought it would. He little finger found its way to rest at the bottom of my vagina with her knuckles holding at a mere inch from my butt hole.

Slowly, with her entire finger in me, she raised it up my slit, gently pressing my vaginal tube to the side like a wave running against my body. She stopped when the finger pressed against the top, the little padding at the joining of her finger to her palm rested against my clitoris. Then I felt it pull out and up slowly as so her entire finger’s length rubbed against my pleasure nub.

“I bet that you can’t make me cum without sticking your finger inside of me.”

“I’ve done it before a long time ago, I know I can do it again.”

“Prove it, let’s see how good the new Queen is at carrying out old ways.”

That got her hyped. Dakota loved when I challenged her; so did I. Her mind would move to new heights to spite me and my mind would be blown away with her creativity. I figured that if she wanted to come close to matching what I did to her this morning, she would have to try something new.

Not since we first experienced the pleasures of sticking fingers inside of ourselves, did we find masturbating so easy without such. I sat still with Dakota’s finger rubbing up and down the skin of my slit as she sat behind me deep in thought.

I figured that she would play on her cumming. Either one of us seeing the other experience so much pleasure and oozing our cum onto her bed sheets would always double or triple the pleasure for the one watching. This played into the hand that masturbated the other as well, feeling another’s orgasm was simply incredible. Would she rub me as she made me finger her to her peak and hope that that would be enough?

“Turn around, I got something really good and new.”

I pushed myself away from her grip and turned. Dakota pushed one of her small legs under one of mine and scooted the other over my other. She slowly pulled me closer to her. It was a weird position. Was she going to kiss me maybe? I didn’t understand until my vagina spiked in sensitivity as it smooshed itself against her pulsing hot vagina.

“Now we rub together.”

Wow, feeling my vagina touch another was so taboo, so wrong but good. If mother had only knew that her seventeen year old daughter was pressing her shaven vaginal lips to the fourteen year old Princess’s, I don’t know, but it felt so good.

Dakota began pushing up and down, left to right, just trying to find what felt best. My bulge was flaming. I stared down at the small naked body of the Princess gyrating her hips into my slit. She was staring down at my vagina with her lower teeth clamping her top lip as she moaned slightly. She worked so intently at trying to get me off. The sheer devotion she showed to me and my vaginal canal was amazingly pleasurable.

My orgasm was building up fast. Dakota’s moaning almost sounded like crying as she worked so hard on me. Her moaning grew with my pleasure. She was about to explode on me.

“Ooooooooh,” Dakota groaned as she jammed her hips into mine. With our two vaginas squeezed together, I could feel the little muscles inside of her shivering. She won. As her girl cum pulsed out of her vagina over my slit, I exploded with no control. Her cum was going slightly inside of me as her lips pressed mine apart. I bucked into her as I spasmed my own cum out into her slit. Dakota could not control her moaning.

I grabbed the Princess and pulled her into my arms and hugged her for leverage; she returned with equal pressure on my back with her arms. Our hips pounded and vibrated into each other as our cum smeared together between. Dakota was settling down but was determined not to leave that as the finale.

She pushed me back and we unraveled our legs. My body was a ragdoll to her power as I still floated down gently from my orgasm. My neck came to rest on the curling edge of the tub. Dakota sat on top of my body and began grinding her overly lubricated reproductive organ into mine.

“If this turns out to be as good as I think it will be, you going to have to try it on me sometime.” Dakota pushed and humped into me. She was clearly going crazy with enjoyment. Up and down she slid her tiny heated slit into mine. She began jutting and moaning again.

“I already won,” she gasped out catching a breath, “so this,” another breath, “doesn’t count.”

She stuck her arm back behind her and I felt her stab her index finger into my canal. She had also pushed her thumb into her own body and search out the source of her girl cum. Her juices traveled down her thumb and journeyed over her index finger deep into my vagina. I could feel the steaming cum originating from deep inside her vagina ooze far into my body, dripping from her occupying finger. Her boiling liquid stimulated my organ deeper than I thought possible and I lost all control.

My muscles clamped and sucked at Dakota’s finger. My own cum splashed into hers and our two juices were meshed into one between my hot pounding vaginal walls.

Her pounding chest fell onto my body and she pressed the side of her head into mine while she gasped for air, speechless. I held no different in the ecstasy of the situation.

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