I laughed gently, giving her hand a squeeze.
“We never thought you were afraid, baby girl,” I reassured her. “It’s just that you offered yourself to us, and we accepted. It’s that simple. Besides, don’t you want to belong to us?”
And she’d smiled tremulously, somewhat relieved.
“But what about Holt?” she asked slowly, “why am I marrying you, Hayden, and not Holt?”
My twin and I shared a look. This had been a tough one because we’d both wanted her hand. After all, her “dowry” had come from both of us, the twenty thousand lirah split fifty-fifty in her puss and her ass, our claims equal. But like in most civilized countries, bigamy is illegal so we’d had to make a choice.
“Holt and I decided that marrying me is best because I’m older,” I said soothingly. “We’re hoping to have an heir as soon as possible, and I’m second in line to the crown.”
It was true. Because I was two minutes older than Holt, I was Halson’s designated successor with a real chance of ascending the throne. So any baby born to me would likely become King one day as well, leader of our small nation.
And it was clear none of this had crossed our girl’s mind before because she colored slightly, her eyes growing large.
“A child!” she’d exclaimed softly, her hands rising to her cheeks, breathing fast. “You’re thinking of a baby so soon?” she spoke gently, her eyes questioning.
And here, my twin could no longer resist. He caressed her cheek before drawing it down her neck, across the graceful swell of her breast.
“Yes, an heir,” he ground out, “Slovania needs one because Candace is past child-bearing age,” he rumbled. “So it’s on you, honey, and on us. Any baby conceived by you, with Hayden and I as its dads, is going to be in line for the throne.”
And here, Holt was speaking about biology. Because we fully intended to continue our menage, each night would be just as tasty, just as nasty as the nights before. And the best part of being twins is that our DNA is the identical, so any baby conceived could be the child of either Holt or myself – there was simply no way to tell.
“Yes,” breathed Summer, smiling happily. “Yes, I’d like that,” she said again, taking our hands.
And that’s how we came to be at the local Unitarian church. It’d been hard to find a minister to oversee the ceremony, a lot of folks had declined politely when we explained our circumstances.
“King Constantine hasn’t given his approval?” our local rabbi had asked, confused.
“No, he hasn’t,” I said shortly. “Why, is that a problem?”
And the rabbi had shook his head slowly, looking down at his hands.
“Well, you know, we hate to go against the King, seeing that you’re his sons and all,” he mumbled.
“No need then,” I replied. “I understand, thank you for your time.” We left the synagogue, our hopes dashed. And it was like that at a couple other churches as well until we met Karen Hunter at the local Unitarian church. Pastor Hunter was different, that was for sure. About sixty with wild grey hair, she had a tendency to wear tie-dye and what looked like shawls made from assorted colorful rags, haphazardly stitched together. But what she lacked in appearance, she made up for in generosity.
“We welcome people of all races, creeds, and colors,” she stated expansively, arms outstretched.
“But Pastor Hunter, do you understand what we’re asking here?” Holt asked slowly. “Our father, the King, doesn’t condone this marriage. My brother will be going against his wishes.”
The pastor shot us a long look.
“But you are over the legal age to marry, are you not?” she asked.
We nodded.
“Of course,” murmured Summer, “I’m nineteen.”
“And you’re not related?” she asked again.
I took a deep breath.
“We are related by marriage,” I said slowly. “Our brother Halson, the Crown Prince, is married to Summer’s mother. But Summer is her daughter by a previous relationship, so we’re not blood-related.”
Pastor Hunter nodded slowly.
“And you can prove this?” she asked.
“We can,” I said affirmatively. “We can provide blood tests if necessary.”
Pastor Hunter thought for a moment, looking at us speculatively, and reached a decision.
“No need,” she said authoritatively. “I believe that if two consenting adults, who are both legal age, wish to be joined in holy matrimony, then so be it,” she said. “Who am I to question their happiness in the eyes of God? Who am I to act as the arbiter of truth? I’d be happy to conduct your ceremony,” she said with a welcoming smile.
And so that’s how we came to be at the altar of the local Unitarian church, me holding Summer’s hands, Holt on the other my other side looking on as best man.
“Do you, Hayden Halborg, take Summer Miller as your truly wedded wife?” intoned Pastor Hunter.
I was beaming, my chest puffed out, so proud to be standing next to this amazing woman.
“I do,” I growled, looking at her hungrily.
“And do you, Summer Miller, take Prince Hayden Halborg as your truly wedded husband?” the pastor continued.
I saw Summer take a big breath then, touching the corsage Holt had given her before the ceremony, fingering the purple petals and smiling at him before looking once more into my eyes.
“I do,” she said. “Times two,” she added softly.
And Holt stiffened with pleasure beside me, his smile wide as a mile as he watched us exchange rings. Because our girl had acknowledged our three-way in the best way possible. Unbeknownst to anyone but us, she’d had her ring engraved with three letters – “HSH” as a tribute to our relationship, our taboo menage.
And so it was done. Our beautiful girl became a lady of the kingdom … and the future of the Halborg line.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Summer
“Oh god,” I moaned, shivering as I bent over, “More!” I begged, as the shower water pounded down on me. The twins merely chuckled at my pleas before commanding my body, emptying themselves in me with roars of pleasure.
Because it’s been the best honeymoon ever. After our quickie ceremony, Hayden and Holt whisked me off for a mini-vacation, back to where it all started, the Kolstya Mountains.
“Are you sure?” I’d asked dubiously, looking around the sparsely-furnished cabin. “This doesn’t seem like much of a honeymoon spot. I mean, there are rebel troops in the woods, I was kidnapped last time, don’t you remember?”
But Hayden and Holt had laughed it off.
“Trust me, we’re safe,” they said lightly. “We have a couple loyal guards with us, they’ll be stationed at the campsite 24/7.”
And it was true, there were guards … a lot of them. In fact, it seemed like the entire campsite was occupied by military men, dudes in scruffy camouflage outfits and beat-up combat boots. And the weapons they held were no joke. New, oiled, and borne with pride, they looked ready to be used at any moment.
And so I’d shrugged. After all, I was a recently-wed woman and wanted to focus on my husbands, the security stuff was their business.
“Let’s go then,” I said with a coy smile, fingering the ties to my dress.
And with a hungry growl, Holt had carried me across the threshold in his massive arms, depositing me on the big bed where I bounced a few times while laughing, breathless.
“Roughing it is going to be fun,” I giggled. “I like it already.”
“Oh you’re going to like it even more,” growled Holt, “As soon as I get this off you.”
And with a massive rip, he seized my dress in both hands and tore the fabric right off me, leaving me nude and pink on the embroidered coverlet, shock visible on my face even as I colored all over.
“Mmmm, I love seeing her blush, don’t you?” murmured Hayden, staring as my cunt. I only flushed harder, my pussy turning pinker, moistening involuntarily.
“She looks
amazing,” growled Holt, his eyes devouring me, hungry, gleaming.
But I wasn’t going to let them get the upper hand so fast.
“Then come and taste it boys,” I said sweetly, leaning back and spreading my legs the way they liked. To make it extra nasty, I held myself open, my fingers sliding down and pulling my labia apart to expose the juicy pink within. It was so hot, my channel throbbing, pounding visibly, my walls glistening with female nectar, already running to form a tiny wet spot on the bedspread.
And Holt and Hayden were on it immediately.
“You’re always so fucking wet,” rumbled Holt, his eyes never leaving my cunt as a big finger traced over my pussy, niggling my clit, touching the little hole where his dick would go.
I sighed, breathless, my eyes closing momentarily.
“I am,” I breathed, throwing my head back, “I love it double,” I confirmed, and just like that, I was thrown over Holt’s shoulder again, giggling, all jiggly female flesh. Except this time we were headed to the cabin’s bathroom, where a massive shower stall with multiple spouts stood in the corner.
“You like?” rumbled Hayden, flicking a switch. “We had this especially installed for you.”
And I gasped in awe as water jetted like a natural waterfall, droplets flying, the light creating a rainbow even in this small space.
“This is unexpected,” I breathed, dazzled, “I thought we’d be roughing it in the woods.”
And my husbands laughed deeply, taking in my astonishment, my pure delight at the luxury.
“We thought you’d like it,” they said, depositing me inside before dropping their shorts and joining me in the stall. “And there are more surprises,” they ground out, rubbing up against me.
I sighed with pleasure, sandwiched between the two huge men. Hayden and Holt were so dominating, so imposing, and exactly what I wanted. Their shoulders were wide enough that they almost touched each side of the shower stall, their hulking forms making me feel petite and tiny. And best of all, there were two of them, four hands running over me, soaping up my hair, stroking my breasts, running into that secret space between my thighs as water pelted us.
“Oh!” I cried out as Hayden tweaked my nips. “Oh oh!” I squealed as Holt pushed a finger into my vag, my lips sucking hungrily at the penetration, drawing him in deeper for more.
But a finger was nowhere near enough, not even close. I needed donkey and I needed it bad. Bending over, I offered myself, leaning forwards as far as I could while pulling my cheeks apart, showing them my pinkness, everything from anus to clit.
“Take me,” I gasped, begging them. “Put it where it counts.”
And my husbands didn’t hesitate. The twins pushed me down so that I was on my hands and knees in the shower stall, my hair plastering my back, water droplets running into my sweet spaces. Hayden thrust into me doggy-style, invading my pussy, that sweet flesh squelching around his massive dong, struggling a bit as I adjusted once more to that fifteen-incher. He moaned, pushing harder, ramming his hips forward until he was balls-deep inside, his sacs massaging my clit.
“I’m in,” he ground out to his brother. “Your turn.”
And Holt took that as his cue. He straddled me in front of his brother and pointed his dick at my ass. With a bit of probing and then a swift push, he was in as well, my sphincter resisting at first but then giving it up, the tight slide almost too much to bear.
“Aieee!” I squealed. “Aieee! Aieee!”
And I almost collapsed right then, two men riding me, both my holes completely stuffed, maxed out with thirty inches of dong. But the months I’d had of practice served me well, and like a well-oiled machine, my body began to respond as the men drilled in sync, going in, out, in, out, two penises driving it home.
“More!” I squealed. “More, please!” I begged.
And Hayden and Holt used me, used my body until I could take it no more. With a final shriek, my form clenched, my pussy and ass clamping down on the donkey dongs inside, the beginnings of a mighty wave running through my cunny to spread to my nips, my chest, my fingers and toes. I almost collapsed from the sensations except I was locked onto those hard poles, pinned in place as I seized and squirmed.
“Oh!” I screamed, my boobs swaying, electrified as I bucked and pulsed around the donkey dongs lodged inside. “Oh!”
And my twin princes weren’t immune either, the sensations too overwhelming. The incredible feel of my pussy and ass wrapped around them, squeezing them, milking them, made them come and I felt, rather than heard, the men roar simultaneously, spurting their man milk into my channels, the powerful semen creaming against my insides, spray after spray of Vitamin D coating my passages.
“Fuck!” roared Holt.
“FUUUCK!” responded Hayden.
And I really did collapse then, a receptacle for their pleasure, my insides creaming with a mix of my own female juice and their precious cum. My princes rode me until the end, holding my slick, nude body close, pounding, pummeling, as the nectar seeped out from my private parts, sticky, white and oh so virile.
And after it was all over, they stroked me, held me tight, running huge fingers over my sensitive nips, stroking gently through my folds, making me feel good once again. Because we weren’t done, not by a long shot.
“Ready?” asked Holt rhetorically. “Ready for more, princess?”
And I sighed languorously as the sensations began to build, ripples of pleasure ripening in my cunt once more. Because you know what? I was a lady of the kingdom now … and my heart, mind, soul, and body belonged to these two men.
PART FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Summer
“Holt, who is that man?” I asked curiously, indicating a guard who stood about twenty feet from us. He was older than most of the soldiers, grizzled almost, with a sharp, lean face, and a weary look.
Holt glanced up.
“Oh him? Just a dude who’s worked for us a long time,” he said casually, too casually. “I think Barbaro joined the service straight out of military school, isn’t that right Hay?” he asked.
Hayden glanced up as well, frowning before turning back to the campfire.
“Yeah, Barbaro’s been around a long time,” he grunted. “Since we were boys. Want some beans Summer? They’re good for your elasticity,” he winked at me, smiling lasciviously.
And I smiled back, holding my plate forward, but the distraction didn’t work. The middle-aged man was unmistakably familiar, dating back to my time with Operation Smile.
I took a deep breath.
“Hayden, Holt,” I said authoritatively, mustering as much confidence as possible. “I know that man.”
My husbands turned to look at me, eyes penetrating, alert with tense energy.
“What do you mean?” asked Holt. “From the palace you mean?”
I shook my head slowly.
“No, not from the palace, from here,” I replied.
Total silence for a few seconds and then Hayden answered.
“What do you mean, from here?” he asked slowly. “You mean from the Kolstya Mountains? A lot of Slavic men look similar to outsiders, you may be mistaking him for someone else,” he added carefully.
But I shook my head. I’d been noticing strange things happening around the camp and was confident in my belief that this was more than a honeymoon hide-out.
“Your Highnesses,” I began. That made them look up. I usually only call them “Highness” when I’m creaming, my body in the throes of pleasure, or if I had something really important to say. “I know something’s up. You don’t have to pretend that this is just a honeymoon. I see you talking with the men, I see you organizing deliveries, I see how preoccupied you are when we should be relaxing, enjoying nature, having fun in bed.”
Because it was true. Sure, my husbands gave it to me good between the sheets, but they got distracted if a sharp crack sounded outside, any unexpected rustle. I realized that these alpha males were always attuned to danger, al
ert to any threat. And I wanted to know why.
“Tell me,” I said persuasively. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
The twins shared a look with one another before coming to a silent agreement. Hayden began.
“Honey, remember how you were abducted during Operation Smile? Well, not exactly abducted but trussed and tied up in the laundry room with your two friends?” he asked.
I frowned.
“Yes of course. The secret police are on that though, they think it’s because of the civil war, you know, rebel forces and all. They figured some insurgents in the mountains came to our campsite and decided to send a message to the West by threatening a bunch of foreign doctors and nurses. Little did they know, they got three students,” I said wryly. “Why? Have there been any developments?”
Holt and Hayden shared another glance before turning towards me.
“That’s the thing honey,” said Holt gently. “We are the rebel forces. Hayden and I,” he clarified, “We’re leading the guerilla movement.”
My jaw dropped then. The guerillas had been painted as a threat to the crown, a bunch of lowly criminals fighting the current King, intent on dethroning Constantine and everything he stood for. I was dumbfounded.
“But why?” I gasped. “You’re royalty, yet you’re fighting with the rebels? This makes no sense,” I said, shaking my head. “Why?” I repeated again.
Holt was silent for a moment before answering.
“It’s complicated,” he said slowly. “But I’ll try to explain. The rebel movement began thirty years ago, before we were even born. It started as a backlash against the growing inequality in our nation, rich people becoming ultra-rich, robber barons really, while normal people suffered. So there’s always been an undercurrent of unrest in Slovania.”
“But it’s really picked up steam in the last ten years,” he continued. “People have railed against the elites, the aristocrats, and the monarchy. They think that Slovania should be a democracy, that the ruling class needs to be brought down, society leveled and opportunities equalized.”
Daddy's Pretty Baby Page 24