The Warrior's Little Princess

by Sara Fields

  She didn’t fight him in the slightest, enjoying the tenderness of his touch immensely.

  “Stand up, sweetheart, let’s get all that dirt off you.”

  He gave her a hand and she used him for support as she stood tall. She knew she was probably blushing as she moved to cover her breasts and her pussy.

  “Don’t cover yourself. I won’t allow it. Drop your arms.”

  “Humph. You’re so bossy,” she murmured, earning a raised eyebrow from him. He didn’t respond to her goading, instead dipping a small washcloth into the water. He met her eyes and look pointedly at her hands, as he soaped up the piece of fabric. Pouting, she obeyed and put her hands on her hips instead, still fully aware of how hot and sore her bottom was.

  He began to wash her, guiding the cloth over her body. It felt like heaven, his fingers firm and sure, yet soft and soothing. Before long, she was moaning with desire once again. Her breasts felt heavy as he brushed the fabric over her taut nipples, pebbled so hard that they were almost painful. She whimpered when he grazed the scratchy material over the tight buds again and trembled with lust when he circled over them.

  “Please,” she begged, unsure what she was yearning for.

  His lips curved upwards slightly and he moved the cloth downward toward her unquestionably wet folds. She grasped his shoulders for support when he touched her there, working the material there to thoroughly cleanse her. Gasping, she was finally able to breathe when he took the cloth and rinsed it in the water. Before long, the water washed away all the dirt and soap left on her body.

  She watched as he laid a towel out on the floor. He picked up what looked like a long straight razor and she swallowed nervously. What was he going to do next?

  “Darrius?” she asked, her anxiety unable to be quelled.

  “Come, take my hand. I’m going to shave that pretty pussy of yours.”

  Wide-eyed, she couldn’t think of a response and stilled as his arms circled around her. Lifting her, he carried her back in the bedroom and laid her down on a soft fluffy blanket. He picked up her legs and spread her thighs, so that her feet were wider than her hips. Trembling, she watched as he picked up a container nearby and massaged a thick lather onto her pussy. She couldn’t help but quiver with desire at his firm touch and a tiny moan escaped her lips.

  “Why must you do this?” she asked nervously. In response, he smiled gently and rubbed a thumb on her inner thigh. Despite her uneasiness, it felt good.

  “Our healer, she needs to have skin-to-skin contact to assess you. She needs to check you here too, to make sure you are healthy and unhurt. Something could have happened that you don’t remember, and we need to eliminate any possibilities.” He lifted the razor next and looked at her with extreme seriousness.

  “Okay. Please don’t make it hurt.”

  “Listen to me, sweet girl. Don’t move a muscle. I don’t want to cut you. If you move an inch before I’m through, I’ll thrash that bottom with my belt so that you won’t be able to sit down for a week. Do you understand? Promise me that you’ll be good and not move for me.”

  She nodded, her gaze glancing down at the thick leather belt around his waist. She didn’t want to anger him or disobey him. He still hadn’t moved, so she spoke up to assure him that she wouldn’t misbehave.

  “I won’t move. I promise.”

  “Good girl,” he mused with a smile. Patting her right inner thigh, he knelt between her legs. Confidently, he pressed the metal blade against her skin and met her eyes before he scraped it down across her skin. Again and again, the razor shaved across her skin, baring the sensitive flesh of her pussy to his eyes. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head at the feeling of it.

  The whole experience was like no other. She had never felt so taken care of in her life, that she could remember anyway. Her back arched slightly before she recalled that she wasn’t supposed to move. Tensing her muscles, she lay still as Darrius trimmed away the coarse blond hair guarding her secret entrance. Her pussy throbbed with feeling, overly sensitive to every touch. She could feel liquid heat coating her inner thighs and knew that he could see it all.

  He’d know that she was turned on.

  And she needed to experience a release as she did before. She craved and yearned for his tongue to touch her there again, to circle her needy bud and make her come once again, to have an orgasm as he called it.

  She felt a warm cloth brush against her, wiping away any soapy remnants. All at once, he lifted and swaddled her in warm blankets, drying all the remaining water droplets off her body. She shivered, feeling a chill creep over her slightly damp skin.

  Hyperaware of the nakedness of her pussy, her thighs rubbed together in an attempt to get used to the idea. Instead, she still felt helplessly aroused. He sat her down on a nearby stool and began to massage fragrant oils into her scalp. She smiled as she smelled roses and lavender, sighing happily at his ministrations.

  Next, he combed her hair with a thick oak hairbrush, gently detangling out the knots and snarls from the day’s previous activities. All the while, she couldn’t stop thinking about the throbbing between her legs and how sensitive the skin there was now that it was fully bared. Hesitantly, she ventured her hand there, brushing her fingertips against its smoothness.

  He caught her wrist in his hand when she moved her fingers even lower to touch the wetness that had accumulated there.

  “You may not touch yourself there without my permission, little one,” he growled, his voice taking on a slightly dangerous tone.

  “It’s different. I was so used to having hair down there.”

  He smiled with understanding before whisking her back to the bedroom. He sat her down on the bed and walked over to a nearby wooden chest. He opened it and pulled out a muted pink dress, lined with cream-colored lace at both the collar and the waist.

  He placed it beside her, along with a pile of underthings including a corset and petticoats.

  “Get dressed and I’ll go ready my horse. I’ll introduce you to the village of Bragden. This will be your new home until we can find out where you came from.”

  She nodded and he walked out the door. Standing up, she looked at the clothing on the bed with an increasing sense of confusion. Until now, Darrius had done everything for her—putting her to bed, bathing her, brushing her hair—and the prospect of dressing seemed daunting. She lifted an expansive white skirt, which she guessed was probably a petticoat and put it aside. Next, she looked at a corset and a set of drawers, as well as a cotton chemise. Furrowing her brow, she stared at the pieces in confusion. How was she supposed to get dressed when she couldn’t even remember what order she was supposed to put them on?

  Sighing, she sat down beside the clothing and fingered at the pretty pink material of the dress. It reminded her of a bouquet of freshly picked roses and was just as soft. Rubbing her thumb over the velvety fabric, she racked her brain, trying to invoke some semblance of a memory as to how she was to complete her task. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a thing. The longer she sat there, the more annoyed she became. She felt completely useless, and incredibly stupid. How was it possible she couldn’t even do a simple task like dressing herself? With a huff, she threw herself onto the bed and that’s where Darrius found her sometime later.

  “Irena? You’re still naked, sweetheart.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Can’t do what?” he asked, his own brow wrinkling with confusion.

  “I can’t recall how to get dressed. It’s like a blank spot in my head, almost like I’d never gotten dressed on my own before,” she said grumpily, throwing an arm over her forehead with exasperation.

  “You’re cute when you’re angry, little one. Let me help you. Your memory loss is deeper than I anticipated,” he whispered, understanding coming over his features.

  He stood up and knelt beside her, picking up the white cotton drawers first. Slowly, he threaded the material through her feet and up her legs. Helping her to her feet, he smiled
at her. Next, he chose the chemise and guided it up and over her head. Straightening the fabric, he plucked the corset off the bed and circled it around her. Threading the cord into place, he laced up the garment, tightening it enough that that it hugged her frame but didn’t cut off her air supply. He tied the leather thong at the cusp of her breasts and she sighed happily at the feeling. Finally, he picked up the dress and she lifted her arms over her head.

  The outfit fit her like a glove. The dress hugged her small frame and when he tied the sash around her waist, he stepped back and smiled.

  “I knew this would look wonderful on you.” He reached back into the chest and pulled out a pair of leather slippers. Quickly, he glided them onto her feet as she lifted one foot and then the other as she held onto him for steadiness.

  “There we are. All ready to go. Now get rid of that frown before I give you something to be sad about. I won’t hesitate to turn that bottom of yours pink again,” he chuckled.

  Despite his threat to spank her, she couldn’t help but giggle, his good mood contagious. Her bottom clenched thinking about his steady palm smacking her bottom cheeks. Oddly enough, she felt desire pool deep in her core and she had to admit, she hoped she’d be taken in hand by him once again. Surprisingly, she also yearned for him to lick her there again, in between her trembling thighs. Swallowing, she felt herself flush and was thankful for the diversion as he guided her outside into the warm sunshine.

  Looking up, she gasped at the greenery. Surrounded by large pines, even taller oak trees and a wide variety of shrubbery, it was like she was enveloped by nature. Wildflowers grew in a nearby meadow, a rainbow of colors swaying in the wind.

  A dirt road wound through the trees off into the distance. Tied up to a wooden post was a massive black horse, its back rising higher than she was tall. A dark brown leather saddle sat on top of a burgundy-colored blanket, giving the beast an aura of quiet regality. Irena took a step back, looking at the big horse with a sudden sense of nervousness.

  He didn’t expect her to get on top of that thing, did he?

  Almost as if he could sense her trepidation, he grasped her about the waist and swung her way up high on its back. Before she knew it, she was up six feet in the air on the big black animal. He swung up behind her, his chest close against her. And despite her fear, she felt safe in his arms.

  Chapter Three

  Darrius held Irena close. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly protective over the frail girl, even if he had just found her. He didn’t want to lose her either and felt an overwhelming need to take her as his own. He imagined her gorgeous lithe body, gentle curves giving her a womanly silhouette. He grinned when he thought about her small frame over his knees, her pale globes quivering and reddening when he spanked her. His cock hardened painfully and he shifted in attempt to relieve the ache, but to no avail.

  Even her pretty pink nipples seemed to be engrained in his memory, as they hardened under his dominant touch. With a deep swallow, he tried to think about something else, but images of her pussy soaked with her arousal flashed in his mind. She’d tasted as delectable as he had imagined, like his favorite peaches and cream dessert pie that he sometimes bought at the local market.

  He usually had better control, but she seemed to be making him weak. He hadn’t meant to touch her, to make her come under his attention, but he hadn’t been able to control himself. He yearned to take care of her, give her everything she ever needed, and keep her safe from the bad things that inhabited his world, and the magic within him called for her.

  His darker desires were brewing to the surface. He had always wanted a woman who would be submissive to him and his wants, including his need to care for her, guide her, and discipline her when she was naughty. He’d always yearned for the right woman who would be his little girl. His palm itched at the thought.

  Remembering himself, he urged his horse forward, curling his massive body around her smaller one, ignoring the ache in his balls for now.

  “What’s his name?” a quiet and demure voice whispered in his ear. He smiled.

  “This is Regan. He has been with me for quite a few years and is as fierce and loyal as they come. I’ve never met a warhorse with more fight in him than this one.”

  “He’s very handsome,” she said softly and the beast nickered in response. She giggled and the sound was like music to his ears. He flicked the reins and his horse began to canter down the road.

  “This is the outskirts of Bragden. I have a small cottage here for when I am in the area. The other men you met last night, Trey and Zed, live nearby too,” he explained, pointing out their log cabins are he passed them.

  Their bodies swayed in tune with the motions of the horse and the two of them rode the rest of the way in an easy silence. Her warmth calmed his mind yet the ache in his balls never left him. He desperately wanted to take the woman, bend her over and ram his cock straight into her slick channel, but he had to control himself. He would never force himself on her, despite his yearning for her.

  And then there were her sounds. Her soft squeaks and quiet moans of pleasure played over and over in his head. Never in his life had he had such strong feelings for a woman. Probably because they all ran for the hills when he entered the room, but not this one. Instead, Irena looked at him with admiration and unlike everyone else, was entirely comfortable in his presence. She didn’t cringe when he raised his hand or pulled her to him.

  No, she was different. She was special.

  And he would make her his, no matter what it took. He would win her over and make her beg for him. Of that, he was sure.

  A few minutes later, they arrived at the local healer’s hut. He swung his leg over and dismounted the horse, before reaching up and lifting Irena up off Regan’s back. He gripped her hand and led her down the winding stone path, bordered by an abundance of tall sunflowers. His small charge practically skipped down the walkway, but he knew her tune would soon change once they began her examination. He had to ensure she was entirely healthy, unmarred, and most important, capable of producing children if he would even have a chance for taking her as his own. He desperately wanted her to be his girl.

  It was his duty to pass on his abilities as a necromancer onto future generations. He could not allow his bloodline to die out. In the past, men like him would take a woman at will, which was one of the reasons women cowered from him in the first place. It was his right to take whomever he wished, so that his legacy would live on forever, even if that woman was married or a daughter of the nobility.

  It wasn’t only his responsibility, but it was written in the magic that coursed through his veins. Should he not pass on his heritage before he reached a certain age, the power within him would take over and he would lose control entirely, taking woman after woman until a child was sired.

  He would have no control until the deed was done and then the magic would kill him for not carrying on his responsibility. His abilities left him no choice but to choose a woman before he reached that time. If she wasn’t capable, he’d have to find someone else and he knew that would be sometime soon. Already, the magic within him was beginning to stir. He’d ignored it until now, but now that he had a woman in his hands, it was growing stronger and more powerful by the second.

  A gentle tug of his hand brought him out of his head. Irena stood there, pulling him forward. He smiled, realizing he must have paused amidst their leisurely stroll, and continued forward till they reached the healer’s door together. With a deep breath, he squeezed the woman’s hand and she smiled back at him, her gentle trusting nature warming his heart.

  He knocked on the door and it was opened quickly.

  “Necromancer, I’ve been expecting you,” a raspy feminine voice answered.

  “Shayla, long time no see. The honor is all mine,” he answered gruffly as the witch’s face came into focus. Long black hair curled into dreadlocks that hung to her waist. White eyes met his and her red lips curled up with glee. Tanned supple skin wrinkled wit
h delight. She was wearing a simple red dress, adorned only with a golden jeweled sash at her waist.

  Shayla was a witch of the old times. She was the town seer and healer, and had lived for centuries. She looked only about twenty-five years old, but it was the product of the abilities within her. Even he knew to be wary of her skills and made sure to always treat her with respect whenever he had the opportunity to interact with her. She was a powerful conjurer and not one to be trifled with. Although powerful, her magic was based more on the power of the light and dark. Shayla enjoyed the powers of the shadow more than the light, which always made him a tad weary of her.

  “Shayla, this is Irena. I require your assistance and knowledge for a full examination of her. I need to know that she is healthy,” he paused, “and that her womanly capabilities are not compromised.”

  “Ahhhh… the great and feared necromancer has finally found a woman to breed, hmmm?”

  “Just, I need to know if it’s a possibility.”

  “Darrius? What does she mean? What’s a necromancer?” Irena piped up beside him.

  “Well well well… you sure found a naïve, pretty one, didn’t you,” she mused before turning with a finality that only she could muster. “I’ll call for the local doctor to examine her body. I will assess her aura, but for that, I will need your assistance,” she said. With a wave of her hand, a large hawk flew in from a nearby window. It landed on her shoulder and she whispered in its ear before it soared back out the way it came. Shayla guided the two of them to a nearby sitting area and offered them both a cup of tea. Not long after, there was a knock on the door.

  A man in a cream-colored cotton shirt and simple brown pants entered the room. Short blond hair adorned his head and wrapped around to a well-groomed moustache and beard. Darrius recognized him as a traveling doctor by the name of Richard West.

  “Come, get your charge undressed so that we may get the examination started,” Shayla said giddily. Darrius turned to Irena and the look of wariness on her face was plain.