The Princess, the Pea, and the Night of Passion
Copyright 2014 Rosetta Bloom
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
About the Series
Introduction
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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About the Author
Also By Rosetta Bloom
About this series
Many of our favorite fairy tales from childhood, such as The Princess and the Pea, Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella, originated centuries ago. Over the years, they’ve been told and retold by different authors in different media, each retelling adding its own spin. Here, we take these classic tales and give them a spin that is full-on sexy. While these tales are not the bedtime stories you would ever read to a child, they are definitely meant to be enjoyed in bed. These retellings preserve the base of the story, but add new twists and include passion, lust, and the fulfillment of carnal desires. I hope you enjoy them.
May your love always be in bloom,
Rosetta
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Introduction
Most people have heard the story of the Princess and the Pea. The traditional version made famous by the brothers Grimm revolves around an old queen who would be happy with nothing less than a “true princess” for her son, the prince. A maiden shows up on the castle doorstep begging for shelter and claiming to be a princess. The queen does not believe her, so she uses a test she thinks will prove the girl a liar: placing a single pea under 20 mattresses. Only a real princess would feel such a thing. In the morning, the princess complains of something the size of a boulder beneath her mattresses. The queen, satisfied the maiden is a real princess, allows the girl to marry her son. That is the sanitized version for boys and girls. The real story involves the pea, the princess, and so much more. It is a tale too risqué for children’s books, but I’ve presented it to you here.
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Chapter 1
Prince Richard was feeling randy. He was trapped in the castle tonight, as the weather outside had turned unexpectedly nasty. He’d just been looking out the window, marveling at the wind whipping through the trees and the force of the rain. It was late fall, so he’d expected it to be getting cooler. Still, to be so cold rain so forcefully was unusual. He pitied any soul caught out in this torrent.
The prince was wandering the castle, looking for the butler’s daughter. Old Lionel, as Richard tended to call him, had been visited by his daughter earlier in the day. The girl was supposed to return to the village this evening, but the prince hoped the servant had changed his mind after seeing the weather. He hoped he’d suggested his daughter spend the night at the castle, rather than risk getting caught in a storm.
Richard had seen the girl earlier today, with her wide hips and full round breasts. She was reputed to be quite loose for someone betrothed. He wouldn’t go out in this storm to chase a girl, but he was feeling frisky enough to ask Lionel if the girl had gotten home before the storm started, or if she’d taken a spare bed in the servants’ quarters. If she were still here, perhaps she could cure the hard-on forming in his trousers. He wanted someone tonight. Someone he could spend hours toying with, not just a quickie, as he often found himself having.
He wanted someone who had a libido as strong as his and who didn’t mind screaming out his name, and grabbing his ass to pull him tighter into her. He missed the comforts of a woman, a real woman. Not the trite princesses his mother brought for him to court. The queen was obsessed with royal lineage. Richard didn’t give a damn about that. All the princesses he’d met spent their time being proper and offended at the slightest suggestion that they were women, that they had breasts, plump and warm, waiting to be fondled, waiting to be squeezed and licked. That they got wet when he slid his hand onto their asses or whispered dirty words in their ears. He hated every single one of those princesses, and the thought of being married to one of those wenches felt like a prison sentence. It was why he had adamantly refused to court any of them. Yet, that had only made his mother more zealous.
She made it hard for him to go anywhere, made it hard for him to slip away and find someone to have a dalliance with. He’d hoped to slip away tonight, but the weather meant it wasn’t to be. His only hope was that Lionel’s daughter was indeed here, and indeed as loose as her reputation suggested. She wasn’t the prettiest girl, but it wasn’t her face he was interested in.
Richard walked through the castle, looking in the obvious spots Lionel might be so he could inquire about the daughter. He’d checked Lionel’s room, but no one had been there. Now, he was heading to the kitchen; Lionel liked to chat with the cooks. When Richard arrived, he saw the rear door open and heard a woman saying she was a princess. A princess coming to the kitchen door, where the servants entered? That was a princess he had to see.
“I’m sorry, miss. You’re going to have to leave,” Lionel was saying.
“Lionel,” the prince snapped. “Let the princess in.” The butler wasn’t facing the prince, but Richard watched the old man stiffen at the command, then step aside to allow in two women. The woman who entered first was dripping wet and her white dress clung to her body. Through the dress’ saturated fabric, Richard could see her supple breasts. They taunted him, like small, tender melons, ripe and waiting for him. The nipples were hard, pushing the fabric out, and he could see the beautiful dark areolas, too. He imagined them in his mouth, the way he could suckle them. He started to salivate.
The woman had long black hair that hung to the middle of her back and smooth, olive skin that clearly suggested she was foreign. Her almond-shaped eyes were beautiful, a rich brown color that suggested vibrance and heat. Her petite frame was curved in all the right places: succulent hips, legs made for spreading and a bottom that looked perfect for grabbing. He felt himself harden as he thought of the wonderful things he could do to her.
The second woman who entered was wearing a blue dress and was tall and very thin, with a slight hunchback. Richard tried not to grimace at the sight of this one, who was equally drenched. If he strained, Richard could have seen her bosoms through her soaked top, but he didn’t feel it was worth the effort.
“This lady,” Lionel said, breaking the prince’s train of thought and Richard pulled his focus from the woman. The old butler tipped his head toward the smaller woman, “said she is a princess from another kingdom who seeks shelter.”
Part of him was astonished. An amira. A princess. His tutor a few years back had been a widely-traveled man, one who’d been to the Sudan and even seen the Egyptian pyramids. He’d said they called the princes over there amirs. At the time, Richard had asked sullenly, “Whenever would I need to know such a thing?” And his tutor had said, “Prince Richard, perhaps one day an amira — that would be a princess — will walk right into your life.” And here it was, happening. Perhaps. This woman could be lying. There was nothing remotely royal about her dress, a simple white frock, but something about the way she spoke, confident, assured, and clear, reminded him of royalty.
“Amir,” he said, his eyes trying to train on her face, yet he couldn’t help glimpsing her lovely large nipples as they pressed against the wet fabric. “That is the Persian word for ruler?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice floating out like a melody. She smiled at him bashfully, and dipped her head in apology. “I should’ve used the words of your language. I am Princess Adara Tafweek, daughter of King Salim Tafweek of Bastalia.”
He walked closer to her, ostensibly to show courtesy, to be a gentleman, extending his hand to her. She slipped her petite hand into his, and he felt a spark of heat as he held hers. It was almost magnetic the way her hand felt in his, like it belonged. He looked down at her hand in his liked the way its darker color looked pressed against his. He kissed her hand and said, “Of course, princess. You may have shelter here.”
Knowing it wasn’t socially acceptable to hold onto her any longer, he released her hand and looked at her luscious, curved body, determined to figure out a way to see it when it wasn’t swaddled in wet fabric. “We need to get you out of those clothes.”
She licked her lower lip, and he imagined how his tongue would feel gliding over his skin, teasing him, pleasing him. He couldn’t take her eyes off her tiny mouth and that gorgeous pink tongue. Her lips started moving again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “What did you say?”
He looked her over once again, lingering now on her skirt, trying to glimpse any pubic hair pushing against her soggy cloth, yet he could see nothing. “You’ll catch your death if you stay in these clothes, princess.” He smiled at her.
She nodded. “Of course,” she said, her voice deferential. “You are a very wise prince.”
Richard smiled at the compliment and turned to Lionel. “Please show these ladies to the guest quarters and find them something clean and dry to change into.”
Lionel led the ladies away, and Richard watched, savoring the sway of Adara’s hips as she sauntered down the hall. As they rounded the corner out of sight, the prince took off running in the opposite direction. He knew a spot in the guest quarters where he could hide and listen to the princess and her girl’s conversation. He’d have to hurry.
Chapter 2
The moment Lionel left them alone, Nassi wanted to talk, but Adara shushed her, and they dressed in the dry clothes without speaking. When they were finished, Adara checked the door to make sure Lionel wasn’t standing outside eavesdropping.
When she was sure they could have a private conversation, she said, “Nasiha, you wish to say something?” Adara tended to always call the girl by her nickname, Nassi, but using her full name was a reminder that Nassi was in fact a servant, and should temper the ill comment Adara was sure she was about to make.
Nassi frowned and took a deep breath. “Princess,” she said, becoming equally as formal. “I just wonder if it was wise to tell them the truth.”
Had it been wise? Adara wasn’t sure, but it had been the only thing she could think of. “Nassi, he wasn’t going to let us in if he thought we were beggars. If he hadn’t let us in, we would have frozen to death. Your lips had turned blue, and I was so cold I could barely move. I still feel cold, even though we’re in dry clothes.”
Nassi didn’t say anything, just nodded. Adara shivered, thinking about her ice-cold limbs and the wind that had sliced through her wet clothes. She’d been flooded with relief when they finally arrived at the castle’s side door. But her fear of freezing to death returned the moment she’d seen the pinched face that opened the door. That man was never going to let in beggars. She’d known it immediately, and made the decision. Even after she’d told him the truth, he hadn’t wanted to let them in. Thankfully, the prince had shown up. His voice had been commanding when he spoke, so she had expected him to be regal. She hadn’t expected him to be handsome: a swath of curly brown hair atop his head, tall and muscular, with eyes as blue as the sky. He’d saved her from freezing in the icy drizzle, and she supposed that it was made her feel drawn to him. Why she’d felt a heat pass through her when he’d taken her hand and kissed it. Just remembering it now, she could still feel the soft, plush touch of his lips on her hand, and for some reason that elated her. She looked down at her hand, half expecting to see where he’d left his mark.
Nassi was glaring at her, she realized. The girl needed reassurance. Adara had given up their identities. She had known it was a risk, but it had been a calculated one. Nassi said tightly, “If your father’s men find us, they’ll take us back. You will still be sent off to marry your sultan.”
Adara shook her head. “Nasiha, you know I don’t want that. I’m not going back!” she said loudly. Too loudly. The thought of that wrinkled old man with his dirty, leering eyes made her cringe. “The man already has five wives, and he’s 60 years old, for heaven’s sake. I won’t go back and be doomed like that. Not to a loveless marriage, not to being a woman who has to share her husband with a bunch of other women. I want one man who wants me and me alone.”
Adara wanted the love of one man who burned with passion for her, who listened to her, who yearned for his body to please only hers. Sometimes she thought about what it would be like to be with a man, to have him pleasure her in bed. Shamefully, she’d thought about briefly when she looked at the prince tonight. The way he looked at her, like he wanted her, like he was entranced. There was something peaceful and almost hypnotizing about the prince’s eyes. It was a calming blue that made you feel safe. She’d never experienced that at home. And she never would, if they were caught and returned home. Not with the man her father had promised her to. Her betrothal to that vile man had been a punishment, and she was not going to be punished like that.
“We fled together, Nassi: you and me. My father has 18 daughters and 40 sons. He will forget about me eventually, but I have to live with my choices forever. I don’t want that marriage, and you want a place where you can do more, too.” Adara didn’t say the girl was likely unmarriable back home, due to her station and looks. Also, it had been dangerous for her there. Adara’s mother, Safina, had taught Nassi to read and write. It wasn’t done with servants. No one but Nassi, Safina, and Adara had known. But, if Adara’s father had learned of this, he would have had the girl executed. Though, it would be hard for her father to learn the truth about that. The more likely problem is, if they were caught, Adara’s father would have Nassi executed for helping Adara. He might even have Adara executed for leaving, for shaming him. But Adara didn’t want to think like that. That was the worst case scenario, and saying it, especially to Nassi, would not help.
“If they find us...” Nassi said, her words trailing off and her face crumpling from fear.
Adara felt just as afraid, but she couldn’t show it. She had to get Nassi to calm down. If she couldn�
��t calm Nassi, they were doomed. “Nasiha,” she said sharply, hoping to get the girl to remember her duty was to serve Adara. Even though they were long past those days when Nassi was Adara’s servant, old habits died hard. “We are going to be fine.”
Adara took a moment to think rationally about the facts. They’d been out at the market when they heard people talking about a foreign caravan in town. They’d gone to look and seen her father’s men from a distance, and fled unseen. Adara took a deep breath and tried to infuse calm and certainty in her voice.
“We saw my father’s men, but they didn’t see us. We were able to get our few belongings from our room at the inn and clear out. My father may be looking for us, or the visit may be coincidental. We don’t know, but either way, they don’t know for sure that we’re here. We just need to stay here tonight, dry out and then be on our way tomorrow. The king and queen won’t know I’ve escaped my father. Even if my father’s men are looking for us, they are not going to come out looking for us in this weather. We just have to get through tonight, and everything will be alright.”
Nassi took a deep breath, and nodded, looking like she was trying to reassure herself rather than Adara. Adara pulled Nassi into a hug. “It’s going to be alright,” she said, patting Nassi on the back. “I’m going to have dinner with them, and then we’ll get a good night’s sleep and be off in the morning.” Adara let go of Nassi, then looked her in the eyes. “My father’s men, if they are actually looking for us and have tracked us this far, know we’ve been traveling as peasant girls. They’d never think to look here. They’d never think I would admit to my title. It will be alright.”
The Princess, the Pea, and the Night of Passion (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 1) Page 1