The Princess and the Court Jester

There’s a new business down in the village, and the Princess’ faithful companion in filth and friendship, the Court Jester, has landed her a position. But this job is no ordinary clerk in a store or laborer in the fields – oh no, not for the Princess! This position is one uniquely suited to our decadent one-day-to-be-Queen – flat on her back with her legs in the air, her face hidden behind a thin wall – the wall of her very own glory-hole!

Yes, at last, the Princess may finally have all the men she desires, and without her prudish father, the King, finding out what she is up to. But wait – what about the poor Jester? Won’t he be bored watching over the Princess while she indulges her most primal needs?

Not a chance. Turns out watching the Princess interact with her subjects is the Court Jester’s favorite pastime. Good thing, too, because he’ll be doing plenty of it!

But who’s that, now, the foul newcomer lurking on the horizon? Could he mean the end of the Princess’ antics – and of the kingdom as well?

Hurry, Princess! And have your fun while you can! Because for a Princess, there is no escape from her duties. And even the raunchiest Princess may tremble when she discovers to what depths of depravity she must descend to safeguard her kingdom…

The second release in the Raunchy Royal Revelries series, The Princess and the Court Jester is a full-length erotic romance novel that is both stunningly filthy and surprisingly sweet. Read on for an excerpt!

Chapter 1

“POP-POP-POP-POP-POP!”

The sun was beating down furiously upon my naked body, making me hotter than I’d ever been – and in more ways than one. I couldn’t help myself; I glanced downwards, my eyes traveling over the curve of my breasts, past the sweet, sexy bump that was my stomach, and on to that mysterious, wonderful area that I couldn’t quite see. Beyond the protective tuft of dark, bushy hair, my legs were spread in their favorite stance – wide. And between them was…

Huh. This was a new one. Its owner unseen, a disembodied hand was probing my nethers, holding fast to a –

“Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!”

“What the –??” I tossed back my wavy golden-brown hair, sprinkling my entire body with its sheen of sweat.

It was a man’s hand. A gigantic, would-cover-one-of-my-buttcheeks-all-by-itself hand. The hand was clasped onto something stiff, straight, and hard. Not the usual type of stiff, straight and hard thing that inevitably found its way between my thighs, but something else. Foreign, but somehow familiar. Something I had seen before, at the festivals down in the village. Something that was popular after the harvest. Some kind of food product, maybe?

“Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!”

I don’t know what made me do it. Instinct, I suppose. But surely Nature hadn’t intended this?

I did it anyway. Maybe it was because my vagina felt full – so very full. And warm – so very warm. Tightening my favorite muscles, I dropped my hands to my thighs and squeezed, pressing my knees together and then apart, like a silent accordion. Except that it wasn’t silent.

“Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!”

That was when I finally looked. Spread my legs even wider and inclined my neck until I could see the stream of puffy white balls hurtling, spewing forth from between my thighs. I snatched at a piece and tossed it, unthinking, into my mouth. It was light as air, yet delightfully crunchy, and as I chewed upon this unexpected delight, the hand slowly withdrew, still clutching that something stiff, straight and hard. And as the hand turned toward me with a friendly wave, I finally saw what it was holding. An ear of corn, now stripped of its kernels. Why, it was nothing but a common corncob! Then what in my father’s kingdom was making that noise?

I sat up straight, letting loose an avalanche of fluffy white. “Popcorn!” I heard myself yelling.

“Well, you’re certainly hot enough to pop corn…” a mellow masculine voice responded.

My eyes flew open with a pop of their own. The Court Jester was perched at the edge of my bedside, blowing gently into one of my ears while he shook a small bottle marked “Royal Apothecary” up and down in the palm of his hand.

“Good morning, Princess!” he hummed, leaning in to nibble my earlobe.

Both he and I knew that the quickest path to my pussy was through my earlobe, but I was still distracted by the strange dream, and also a bit curious. Was my pussy really hot enough to pop corn? Or would I have to shove the cob up my asshole?

“Yecchh!” I exclaimed, grimacing at the idea of it. In general I wasn’t opposed to having things shoved up my ass, but a corn cob was surely beyond even my limits.

“Aw, is somebody cranky this morning?” the Jester pouted, taking my earlobe between his teeth and growling at me like the feral weasel he was.

I blinked and turned my face towards the window. The sky was still the purplish-black of pre-dawn.

“You call this morning?” I grumbled, rolling away from him onto my other side.

“Tsk, tsk!” he chided, nestling his warm cheek against my cold shoulder. “Was someone up too late with her lover?” He pronounced it “luh-vuh.”

That was the Jester, all right. Always thinking he knew me better than anyone else. Delusional, that’s what he was. Except for when he happened to be right.

“Lovers,” I corrected him, turning my head to blink blearily over my shoulder at him. “Lovers.”

“Oooh, I stand corrected,” he chortled, shooting me his wickedest grin. “I did not realize that the Princess was entertaining multiple parties. Who were these two fine young men?”

“Three, actually,” I said casually, ducking my head under my shoulder so he would not see me blushing.

Okay, fine, so I was lying. But it isn’t as though it was my fault. I’d wanted to do all three of them, really – in fact, I’d spent half the day persuading them that sharing would elevate the experience to some spiritual level. That was no mean feat under my father’s strict eye – even my eyelashes were tired from all of that clandestine winking. But in the end, as always, I’d lost my nerve. Not out of bashfulness or modesty, mind you. No, as with most people, my deportment was modified by fear of reprisal. Given that I was still an innocent virgin in my father’s eyes, getting caught with one lover would be bad enough. But I just couldn’t shake the image of the King finding me at the center of a cluster of erect, horny men, laughing hysterically while they poked and prodded my every bare inch. In the end I’d given up on the ambassadors all together and had sex with the squire – a swarthy young fellow who didn’t speak English. Finally, someone who didn’t ask too many questions.

“Three? Oh, my, my… I did not realize the Princess had progressed to gangbanging… I must be out of touch with the castle gossip…”

He was studying me with the intensity of a Royal Inquisitor, his grin growing even wickeder, and I felt my gut wrench, taking my better parts with it. Why did I even make up these stories? And what now? Tell the dull truth, or proceed with the lovelier lie?

“Anyway, they were hardly young,” I rushed on, steering the conversation towards firmer ground. “Members of the Duke’s entourage.”

“But not the Duke?”

I shrugged.

“No, of course not,” he murmured, licking his lips with a tongue that promised the moon and nearly always delivered. “We all know how the Princess prefers to go slumming when she takes a man into her bed.”

At that I sat up, accidentally-on-purpose forgetting to cover my bare breasts as the blankets cascaded down to my lap. The Jester’s mouth fell open in an unmistakable leer and drool began to form at the corner of his full, red lips. My nipples immediately rose in response. Darn him. I could not afford to let my mind wander now.

“What do you mean, we all know–?”

“And where are these fancy lovers of yours anyhow?” the Jester went on, interrupting my question. “Surely they wished to spend the night with my Princess?”

The vision hit me like multiple whacks on the ass, sending all other thoughts flying. Me, crowded into one bed with three men, their burning-hot bodies ranged all around me, pressing into my flesh on all sides, spreading my legs one by one as they pounded me one after another, taking turn after turn. The fantasy that had haunted me all throughout my adult life. A gush of saliva rushed into my mouth, and I swallowed, emitting an audible “Guh!” If only!

The Jester was gazing at me curiously, scanning my face with his penetrating, far-too-perceptive eyes. Time for distractive measures. I leaned back and arched my chest forward. The subtle gesture was not lost on my companion, whose drool escaped his lips and began running down the length of his chin.

“I didn’t do them here, dummy!” I scoffed. “In my own chambers, right next door to the King?”

“Seriously?” The Jester laughed, a great, booming laugh that echoed like an avalanche all around my stone chamber. “You don’t think your father knows what you get up to?” With the tip of his finger, he wiped the sticky saliva off of his chin and then reached out to pinch my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Of course not!” I replied, slapping his hand away and hoping that would keep him from noticing the ecstatic shiver that had just rocked through me. “You know what a prude my father is. The idea of his little girl… Why, it would never even occur to him!”

It had occurred to me, however. With alarming regularity. My father, walking in on me with the Jester. My father, paying an unexpected visit to the Royal Gardener, or deciding to take a walk down to the Royal Stables. Or wandering down to the throne room at midnight to find –

“I don’t know, Princess…” the Jester said thoughtfully, shaking his mane of thick dirty-blond hair so that his belled cap tinkled. “I’ve heard rumors about what your folks got up to before your mom passed away. If even half of them are true, your gift for filth may come courtesy of yon patriarch.”

He nodded his head towards the wall, in the direction of my father’s apartments, as I strove valiantly to suppress a chill. My mother had died in childbirth, so I had never known her. But naturally, I, too, had overheard the occasional whispered remark regarding my mother’s antics and my father’s prowess. Even so, it was hard to reconcile the mental image of a studly young prince with the stately and dignified man the King had become. In any case, I was usually too busy worrying about whether my father could hear what went on in my chambers to spare a thought for what he might have done in his.

I snorted my disbelief, dismissing the assertion by lightly slapping his cheek. The Jester grabbed hold of my hand and licked two of my fingers, making me wish it was my ass he was grabbing and the folds of my vagina that he was licking.

“You’re right, Princess!” he agreed. “Surely libidinousness like yours must skip multiple generations. How else would your ancestors have found the time to build such a fine kingdom?”

I shifted uncomfortably even as I stuck up my nose and stared down at him, the picture of haughtiness. A posture I often adopted when I felt guilty. Perhaps my ancestors had labored diligently to erect and manage our little nation, but this was not true of the current princess. In fact, now that my formal schooling was finished, I had been rather lackadaisical in continuing my preparations for assuming control of my father’s kingdom. It seemed I continually had better things – or more specifically, people – to do. However, since I’d come of age five years before, it had been increasingly difficult to persuade myself not to dally overlong in my gardens of earthly delights when my father was barely past forty and his reign promised still to be a long, fruitful one. Perhaps this was another reason – besides his cherished belief in my chastity – that I did not wish my father to know how I spent the bulk of my time. Not that I would ever lie to my father. Just the other day I had told him I’d spent the day in the Royal Library reading up on the law. He did not need to know that I’d spent it with my ass in the air and my face hunched over a massive legal tome while the Royal Librarian plumbed the depths of my knowledge. He knew also that I had taken especial interest in horticulture, and was never surprised when I told him I was meeting with the Royal Gardener. I never explained, however, that the frequency of these meetings was owing to the fact that I simply adored the manner in which the Gardener trimmed and watered my bush.

“And speaking of dirty – where exactly did you do these three fine fellows, anyway?”

I felt my face coloring a splendid shade of deepest mauve. I would have to remember the hue and have a dress made.

“In the castle,” I mumbled, noncommittal to the point of suspicion.

“Well, duh!” he answered, rolling his scheming brown eyes almost up to his forehead. “I know it wasn’t here, so where was it, exactly?”

“Why do you want to know?” I shot back at him. “Does it matter?”

“No, no, it doesn’t,” he said, smoothing a wrinkle in my bedcovers down with his hand before letting it travel possessively up onto my thigh. “But I am curious as to why you don’t want to tell me.”

I was a little curious about that myself. While I never exactly bragged about my exploits to the Court Jester, I had never balked before at sharing the details he always seemed so eager to hear.

“Because it’s none of your business,” I replied, wincing at how pathetic I sounded. How old was I, ten?

“Fine,” he said, reaching out to give my nipple another enticing pinch. “I’ll just ask around. Maybe your father truly doesn’t know about you, but you can bet your life all of the servants do.”

I heaved a lengthy, frustrated sigh. This was undoubtedly true. Too many of them had been called upon to arrange or conceal my secret trysts for me to assume that even the blindest, most elderly butler did not know where I’d been the last evening. And if I didn’t want the Jester to find out the whole truth…

I sighed again, excruciatingly aware that this confession would completely negate my argument as to why I wouldn’t take my lovers in my own chambers. Because if there was one place my father was even more likely to catch me…

“All right, fine,” I blurted at last. “We did it in the throne room.”

“The what?” The Jester languidly cupped a hand to his ear as if he hadn’t heard.

“The throne room!” I repeated, louder, clapping my hands to my cheeks so the Jester wouldn’t see the flush that was flooding my face. “In my father’s throne room!”

“Oh yeah?” the Jester answered skeptically, projecting an aura of disbelief that we both knew was feigned. “Whereabouts in the throne room?”

“On the – on the red carpet,” I replied, hoping the Jester hadn’t noticed my split-second’s hesitation.

“Oh, really?” he said again, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure you didn’t do it someplace else?” He paused for dramatic effect – one of his favorite tactics. “Say… on the King’s throne, perhaps?”

That gargantuan, gloating grin was back. How I hated that grin. How it made me want to slap his face and slap his balls against my goodies in the same instant.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I spat. “I would never –”

“Because I can just picture you perched up there on your father’s chair,” he interrupted, his eyes dancing a gleeful two-step. “Your legs spread apart while they took turns ravishing you, your fingers clenched to the rows of gold inlay, perhaps thinking already of the day you will be Queen. I can see you now, with your face wet and your eyes closed halfway, imagining that the entire court was present and ranged about, watching you get pumped by three of your daddy’s friends…”

“They weren’t his friends!” I protested, unsure why this distinction mattered. “They were part of the Duke’s –”

“Entourage.” He nodded sagely. “Yes, of course. Funny how you always manage to get involved with your father’s visitors from out of town…”

I leaned forward swiftly, my breasts swinging like miniature pendula over my chest.

“That’s because there’s no one fun left to do in the castle,” I retorted pointedly, glaring at him with all of the malice my fair face could muster.

The Jester chuckled and turned to glance out the window, where the night was finally giving way to the oncoming dawn. For a second my attention was diverted as my gaze followed his, and in that second he leapt up onto the bed and pounced upon me, ripping the bedclothes from my naked form as he did so. He pressed his pelvis hard between my legs and I fought back a moan. One quick glance and my eyes confirmed what my thighs already knew – that a massive erection was fit to burst from under his tights.

“No one?” he whispered, his silky voice penetrating my deepest innards in a way his erection could not.

I swallowed noisily. “No one,” I croaked in reply.

He laughed softly and stretched his thighs over my legs until he was straddling me. Then he drew himself up over my body until his bundle of joy was poised directly over my face. I felt my head tilt involuntarily upward and he backed away slightly, keeping the bulge just out of reach of my lips.

“Not now, Princess,” he murmured, bending his face towards mine until I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. “You’re going to need to conserve your strength. You see, I’ve found you a job.”

“A what?!” In my consternation my eyes left his fine package and sought his even finer face. Its expression was decidedly sinful.

“That’s right, Princess – a job. Don’t you think it’s time you earned your keep around here? Granted, I suppose you do your bit for diplomacy… keeping the Duke’s men entertained and all…”

He leered and I pursed my lips, longing to purse them against something more solid than the electrified air between him and me.

“Ha ha,” I scoffed, even though my mind was burning with enough curiosity to doom several cats. “Seriously, though, you know I can’t get a job. Even if I wanted to, the King would never permit it.”

“Oh, he’s going to permit it,” the Jester said in that superior tone I always found so maddening – and so tough to resist. “He’ll permit it because he won’t even know about it.”

“What makes you think I won’t tell him?” I demanded.

“Because you are not going to want him to know. Because then he might make you stop, and once you start this particular job, you will want to work it forever.”

He arched his eyebrows and shot me a smile that could have melted Mount Everest; my cold stare didn’t stand a chance of surviving under its glare.

“Uh-huh,” I answered weakly, already losing my ability to feign disinterest, even though I suspected the Jester was, as he so often seemed, full of shit. A job, indeed! What kind of job would it be? My entire life I had been raised to one task and one task alone – that of being the Princess and then being the Queen. It was a job with only one opening and only one applicant – although heaven knows I had certainly made the most of my opening. The notion of any other employment was ludicrous. “And what is this amazing job you’ve found for me that I will risk suffering my father’s wrath over and that I will never want to leave? Fry cook? Bar maid? Perhaps you imagine me mucking out the horse stalls with the boys in the stable?”

He rolled his eyes and then rolled off of me onto his side. “Don’t be silly, Princess. Everyone knows it’s the stableboys’ job to muck out your stalls.” He picked up the apothecary bottle he had deposited upon my bedspread when he mounted me. “See this?”

He gave the small bottle another quick shake, flooding me, for an instant, with a vivid recollection of my popcorn-dream.

I reached out and held his hand fast to put a halt to the noise. “Yeah – so?”

He jerked the stopper out of the bottle and tipped a few pills into his fist.

“Recognize these?”

I examined the big blue tablets closely where they lay in his large, callused palm, trying not to recall the delicious feel of that rough skin on my soft bottom. “They look sort of like my ‘safe’ pills. You know, the ones I take to make sure I don’t get pregnant or catch any diseases?”

“Exactly. The development of those pills was the pride of the Royal Apothecary, as it should be. These pills are what have made it possible for you to freely live the life of wild abandonment you enjoy so immensely today.” He smirked at me. “These, however, are even more powerful than your current prescription. Because these, my Princess, are peasant-strength.”

My forehead wrinkled, curving my eyebrows together into a V even as my legs involuntarily opened into the same shape. Maybe my mind couldn’t grasp what the Jester meant about the peasants, but my nether regions had already made a good guess.

“Why would I need peasant-strength pills?” I queried, biting my lip to keep from grinning or spitting at him.

“Well, as you know, all that manual labor makes the peasants – how shall we say it politely – less sanitary than those of us who live high on the hill. It also evidently makes them more potent, which is why this special formula –”

“No, I mean, when am I ever going to be called upon to pound peasants?”

I said this as if the idea of a princess prostrating herself before a peasant were patently absurd, but in point of fact, I had always harbored a fair amount of curiosity about the lustful delights to be enjoyed at the hands of the less refined members of our local community. Somehow even the lowest-ranked members of the various personages who came to visit at court failed to fulfill my recurring fantasy of being plowed in an open field by some sweaty laborer who would toss me to the ground and have his way with me while his equally sweaty friends watched, drooling and laughing, nearby.

“Because there’s a new whorehouse down in the village,” the Jester answered me smoothly. “And you, my dear, are going to be its star attraction.”

All at once, the appeal of the fantasy flew out my open window and into the departing night. I was so incredulous as to be nearly offended. A common whorehouse? What was he thinking?

“What on earth makes you think I would want to work in a whorehouse?” I demanded. “Spreading my legs for unwashed strangers for a few pennies to throw in the poor-box… Why, I’d rather work in the fields!”

“Oh, you will, you will, my sweet,” he cackled. “You’ll work in the fields of pleasure! This is no ordinary whorehouse, you see. There are no ladies decked out in suites waiting for their masters-of-the-moment to come up for a frolic while they make pretty talk and feign regard for the poor chaps. How dreadfully that would bore one such as you!”

He let his eyes rove lasciviously in zig-zags all over my body.

“No, you, my saucy little dish, will like this setup much better. For you see…” He cast an eye towards the King’s wall and lowered his voice to a whisper. “This whorehouse lacks chambers at all. Strictly speaking, there are not even beds. No, this whorehouse consists entirely of… glory-holes!”

He uttered this last so softly I wasn’t sure I had heard him.

“What?”

“Glory-holes, Princess, glory-holes! Surely your non-virgin ears have heard tell of that wonder of wonders, the ultimate resort for those whose inclinations lead them to the pinnacle, the epitome of sex for the sake of sex – completely and utterly anonymous sex!”

He rubbed his hands together so fast I half-expected to see flames flaring up.

“Picture it, Princess! Your upper half hidden behind a wall… and your better half extending into a room filled to the rafters with hot-to-trot men… Imagine it! Men gathered all around you, all of them waiting on line to take a turn with your pussy… your ravishing, insatiable, delectable pussy! Hours of man after man worshipping you in the way you want to be worshiped, without you ever once having to bother with those niceties and formalities that merely interfere with your pleasure… Winking! Flirting! Making lame conversation! These are but wastes of time to a woman like you.”

A jolt of electricity shot down my spine, jittered through my thighs, and finally expunged itself through the tips of my toes. So it was true… I had heard rumors that such places existed. I dreamed of them often, when I tired of traipsing about the castle, making my discreet one-man seductions. How tedious it grew, having to sneak around while the King wasn’t looking. How bored I became with all the flirtations, the constant need to cajole and corral my newest lovers. How uncomfortable I felt when those I did take prostrated themselves, begging me to see them and spree them again, and how it annoyed me to have to pretend that each man was somehow special, unique… when the only part of them that mattered to me was neither very special, nor very unique. At last, at last! I could have all the men that I wanted… men ‘til I dropped… and yet not one of them would know who I was! My vision of an unholy gangbang could at last be achieved… Finally, finally! A sexual adventure that was all about me, me, me, me!

The Jester leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the bed so that his fingertips were just out of reach of my breasts.

“I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” he crowed, his eyes glittering with unconcealed mischief. “I’ve seen this place. I inspected it personally, on your behalf. The women there aren’t merely behind the wall, lying prone on a table with their legs outside it. Oh, no. They’re strapped in. With their legs up – shackled to the wall over their heads. Their legs spread wide with their pussies all on display.” He formed his hands into a V by way of illustration. “They can’t get out of it, Princess. They’re stuck there for the duration. And anyone – and I mean anyone who has two bits to spend – can walk up and stick his dick between their plump thighs. And as soon as he’s done? The next one steps up to take his turn.”

At this I shivered so violently that I didn’t even endeavor to hide it. The Jester had used my most magic words. All my adult life I’d imagined it so – me at the center of a room full of men, playfully holding me down so I could not escape them, each stepping up one after the other to take his turn. His turn with my flesh, his turn with my ass, his turn with my gregarious, good-natured pussy. All of which would be there for anyone who wanted a turn with them, and was bold enough to just take it.

I wanted it. I wanted to be pinned down and strapped in, reduced to a pair of mouthwatering thighs and a pussy to match them. I wanted to have many men, more partners than I could even count, and I wanted all of them to receive my finest gifts. Gifts that I could at last freely give, because my face would be hidden, my identity secret. I could fuck until my insides were red and raw and the King would never be any wiser. At last, at last, perhaps I could sate the lust that never quite left me – a lust that, even now, was making me cast greedy eyes upon my companion.

“No, no, my Princess,” the Court Jester growled, swooping in swiftly and biting my nipple before leaning back to gaze at my face, his eyes flashing hungrily back at mine. “I know that look, and you know how much I like it. But you’d better save yourself. Your goodies are in for a very long day.”

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