Enslaving the Princess (Mind Control Breeding) Read Free Page A

tumultuous, to
say the least. There had been an overwhelming amount of evidence to convict
that damned herbalist, Dell, for killing the King.
    Mariana had never
had much love for her father, and in fact was rather glad to see him go. Just
as she knew she deserved her position as Princess, she knew she deserved an
even higher one, as the one Queen of the Realm. But still, punishments had to
be dealt out. Even if Mariana didn't automatically believe he was guilty—and
with his ratty grease-sponging hair and his misshapen face and body, it was
hard not to—there were over twenty eyewitnesses that collaborated the story
that said he had wanted to kill the king for some time now.
    Still, it was
quite odd how all of the witnesses just so happened to be some of the most
gorgeous young women in Fairmount Palace.  And more than that, over half of
them were Mariana's servants. When asked why they hadn't stopped the herbalist
on their own, or why they had not alerted the guards, they simply said they
never thought he was really serious.
    Mariana—the final
decider in these matters, after hearing the prosecution led by Counselor
Victor—felt it was a simple decision to make. She could hardly say all those
gorgeous maidens were lying, after all, even if she knew firsthand that a great
deal of them weren't quite maidens.
    The herbalist
denied it all thoroughly, of course. He was quite vehement about his innocence,
and seemed rather shocked when he had been assigned to the dungeons for the
rest of his life. That wouldn't be much longer, Mariana knew. One could hardly
let a killer of kings go on living.
    She sighed. She
could really use a lay. Only a month ago, that thought would have never entered
her head. She would have never considered calling in one of her handmaidens to
skillfully lick her pussy while she looked down and stroked the dear pet's
hair, cooing softly in royal tones. But now, it was second nature.
    At times, Mariana
found it curious that her sexuality—now that it had finally decided to
bloom—was focused so directly on women. Women were gorgeous, of course,
delicious little playthings for her to admire and enjoy. But it did not seem
the norm.
    In her dreams,
sometimes, she was pinned against a wall and fucked mercilessly by a tall man.
One wearing a crown. She called him King. His shaft riding into her virgin
cunt, throbbing inside her with the pulse of the universe.
    But, every man she
came across hardly measured up to those dreams. One of many disappointments to
stomach as Princess, and soon, Queen.
    She called out to
the servants waiting just outside. “A drink!” she called.
    There was no
response.
    Annoyed, she
called out again.
    “A drink, I said!
One from Camille!”
    The drinks from
that particular servant were the only kind that did the job, as of late.
Mariana did not know what the delectable brunette put in the beverages. She did
not care. She just wanted more of them.
    There was still no
response.
    Ready to fly into
a rage, Princess Mariana strutted back across the marble floor in her
magnificent heels—she had never quite learned to walk without strutting and
showing off how gorgeous she was—and opened the door.
    Camille was right
behind the door already, holding a goblet full of the milky red liquid. Frilly
little green gloves decorated her hands as they held the goblet. The dazzling
brunette was smiling warmly, wearing a green silk dress, the fabric entirely
sheer. It was impossible not to stare at Camille's bulging pregnant belly, her
milk-engorged breasts.
    Camille held the
goblet up in a green-gloved hand. “Your refreshment, my Princess.”
    Mariana snatched
it from her, taking a sip. The euphoria swept over her instantly. Everything
started to feel better.
    “Where are my
guards?” asked Mariana. “The other servants?”
    Camille looked
around. The usual posting of ten armed guards and a servant for each was
nowhere to be found.
    “I believe they
moved down the hall,” said Camille.