Harry’s Harem

ONE.

 

“I believe my husband has expressed an…interest in you,” Princess Anne said to the woman who would be her rival.

Beatrice didn’t consider herself a rival to the princess. She didn’t even want to be in this position. She had no real interest in the prince, but her family had money and with that money had purchased titles and land, and now her grandfather wanted to secure that position to make the leap from mere jumped-up commoners to actual nobility.

“As you say, Princess,” Beatrice replied coolly. She had expected to do a lot for her family, but she never expected to have to seduce a prince.

“I’m not sure if my husband wants a bastard or is one,” the princess said calmly, using language unbecoming a woman of her fine breeding.

“I…I don’t know what to say to that, Princess Anne,” Beatrice managed to stutter out.

The princess carefully rearranged the hem of her dress so her knees didn’t show. Her knees were never in danger of showing, it was merely a gesture to remind the other woman of the elegance of the princess’s dress in comparison to a commoner’s fancy rags.

“It is an old tradition, for a prince to take a mistress.” Anne paused. “That would be you, of course. You are unimportant to him, other than your family is not that important, but has the right credentials to be appropriate, but not a threat to the order of things. You are nothing more than a breeder. If I fail to give my husband a son, then it falls to you. I am hard to get rid of, you are not.”

“I understand, Princess.” They were in the prince’s residence, in the sitting room, drinking tea. Beatrice had never been invited to a private tea before, and certainly not with a royal. She went through the motions of the tea, but she wasn’t even able to sip at the hot liquid or nibble from one of the cakes. It didn’t matter. The princess hadn’t invited her to eat or drink.

“This is not a romance between you and the prince,” Anne lectured her. “It is a contract to produce an heir, nothing more. And it is only a valid contract if I fail in my duty.”

“Your duty?” Beatrice asked, not knowing what else to say.

“My duty to produce an heir. I can only assume you are not a stupid woman. I have been married a year and I have failed to produce an heir.” The smile the princess gave Beatrice chilled her. “We are in competition with each other, are we not?”

Beatrice didn’t know what to say. She tried to cover for her failure by sipping from a the hot liquid in the china cup, but she wasn’t able to swallow a drop.

“Would you like to meet my husband?” Princess Anne asked after a long, uncomfortable silence.

“That would be lovely,” Beatrice managed to squeak out.

The princess stood up and rang a bell. Two servants appeared immediately, one escorted the two women out, and the other started cleaning the tea and cakes neither had eaten or drunk.

Even escorted by the servant and princess, Beatrice soon found herself completely lost in the near-maze of hallways that made up the prince’s residence. Despite becoming confused, she soon found herself in a bedchamber that seemed larger than the home she had grown up in.

The servant left them alone in the room. Beatrice felt herself starting to have a rising panic. She didn’t know what was going to happen and being alone with the other woman scared her, quite plainly.

With a relaxed sigh, Anne said, “It’s so rare I get a moment alone to myself.” She gave Beatrice a withering glare. “Almost. Take off your clothes, the prince will be here soon.”

“What?” Beatrice gasped.

“You certainly don’t expect my husband to undress you, do you?”

“He’s coming here? Now?” asked Beatrice.

“Yes. To see if you are…suitable.”

“But…”

“You are a commoner, or were before your grandfather bought up all those titles for his children. I assume you know how to dress and undress yourself. You must have learned that as a girl.”

The mechanical act of undressing wasn’t beyond Beatrice. She could do it. She just hadn’t been expecting to…perform today.

“I can, but…”

“My husband has very little time to spare. If you can’t undress, I’ll call a servant to help you.” Princess Anne went to the table where a silver bell sat.

Beatrice stopped her. “No, no. I can do it. It’s just…”

“Yes?” the princess asked expectantly.

“I’ve never…I’ve never…”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never had to do this before,” Beatrice managed to force out.

Anne sniffed. “I should hope so. We are expecting a virgin, not a tramp from the red light district.”

“But now? Right now? Before…before anything else?”

“Were you expecting some special ceremony?” Anne said with mild disgust. “You are to be the prince’s mistress, not his wife.”

Mistress, not wife. And she might not ever be anyone’s wife if the position of mistress worked out for her family.

“Right,” Beatrice heard herself say. “Mistress.”

“It is an honorable position,” said Anne as she seated herself in a chair to watch as Beatrice slowly began to undress. “Elizabeth of Untin was mistress to Gerard III and gave him his only son. The same for Francesca of Lumbardy with Eirik the Bold. You might become an important woman…or you might be forgotten.”

Beatrice tried to ignore Anne’s words. It was hard to untie the stays at the back of her dress, but she managed and from there it was easy to shimmy out of the fine spun woolen dress she had worn. Underneath was her complicated lingerie, but that she could remove herself. The over shirt, the corset, the stockings, the garters, and the culottes. She had just removed the over shirt and was in the process of unhooking her stockings from the garters when the door opened and admitted the prince.

Prince Harry was easily a decade older than Anne, which meant he was older still to Beatrice. He wasn’t old by any means of the word, but he was mature…and deadly handsome to Beatrice’s eyes. She paused in the middle of undressing and tried not to throw her hands in front of herself to defend her small bit of modesty.

Harry’s eyes raked over her body. “She’s young,” he said to Anne, as if Beatrice wasn’t there. “Very young.” Beatrice took that as a compliment.

“True,” Anne agreed, “but old enough. She’ll breed.”

Beatrice didn’t like being discussed like a farm animal, but she didn’t object either.

“Pretty enough,” Harry said, walking up to Beatrice and pushing her hair out of her face. Beatrice’s face turned bright red as he examined her. “Help her undress.”

Anne practically bounded out of her chair at the prince’s command. While he removed his jacket and started unbuttoning his elaborate breeches. Until that happened, Beatrice hadn’t been sure what the prince, and his wife, had been planning. It was obvious now.

Anne finished unhooking the garters from Beatrice’s stockings, but left them on the young woman’s legs. She didn’t react at all when the princess unhooked her corset and slid it down her body. It was strange enough to be half-naked in front of the prince, but stranger still to have the princess undressing her.

When it came time to remove her culottes, Beatrice actually grabbed the princess’s hand, stopping her momentarily, but a single withering glare from her, and Beatrice removed her hand. And then she was naked but for her stockings.

Looking away from Beatrice, Anne looked over at the prince and tried not to gasp as his naked form. He had taken off all his clothes and his cock, though not a rigid spear rising from his crotch, was an impressive red dart that threated to swell to immense dimensions.

“Does she not please you?” Anne asked, surprised at the prince’s lack of excitement.

“I am not an animal conditioned to respond to the sight of a naked trollop,” Harry replied with some disdain.

“I think she can help you,” Anne said, dragging Beatrice forward and forcing her down onto her knees, her face right in front of the prince’s prick. She knew what was expected of her even if she had never done it before. The mere act of opening her mouth was almost too much, but the princess guided Harry’s cock to her mouth and then Beatrice found she was sucking on it.

What surprised her most was it wasn’t bad at all. There was a certain enjoyment in the odd ritual. It was thrilling to find her prince’s cock responding to her attention and all too soon Anne was there, pulling Beatrice off Harry’s cock.

“Very good,” Anne said primly. “Get on the bed.”

“On your back,” the prince said eagerly.

“On your hands and knees,” Anne corrected him. “She is your mistress, not your lover. Use her to breed. That is the best position for breeding.”

“Is that why we do it so rarely?” asked the prince.

He forced Beatrice onto the bed, crawling like an animal. He was in close behind her and Beatrice found herself panicking again.

“Wait,” said Anne. “The girl isn’t ready. We don’t want to do this more times than necessary.”

“We don’t?” Harry asked skeptically.

Beatrice felt Anne’s hand probing between her legs and she gasped as wet fingers explored her cunt. The fingers were wet and sticky. “To ease his passage,” Anne said softly in Beatrice’s ear.

And then the prince’s cock was there instead of the princess’s hand. He probed with his cock. It was hard like a weapon and she didn’t want it violating her, but then he found her opening. Beatrice gasped as he filled her up.

“God!” she cried out. Her fingers dug into the bunched up sheets and blankets on the four-poster bed.

“No deity will help you now,” laughed Anne. “Relax and let your prince have his way. It’s better for you.”

Beatrice found she couldn’t relax, but oddly, that didn’t stop the pleasure that was slowly growing from her cunt.

The prince’s cock felt huge. Beatrice had no way of comparing it to another man’s, but it seemed like the prince’s hard flesh was more akin to that of a bull or horse than a man.

This didn’t stop the pain, but it didn’t stop the pleasure either. Was this what it was like for animals? she wondered. Pain mixed with pleasure. That would explain their need to breed and the awful sounds they made while doing it.

It was humiliating being on her hands and knees, exposed for the prince and his wife to see…but there was a certain pleasure in it as well. Beatrice was reminded of her times as a child, running wild through the fields with her cousins and brothers, just for the sheer joy of it.

When her body was overrun by the climax she was left gasping for breath. She didn’t know her body could do that and she then realized why women were so ready to debase themselves for a man. It was wonderful to have the prince’s cock inside her. It wasn’t just for breeding, it was for heavenly delight and it explained so much to her.

Princess Anne laughed a deep, throaty chuckle. “It’s her first time in more than one way.”

The prince said nothing, but did give out an acknowledging grunt. His hands gripped Anne’s hips as their bodies slapped together.

“I am glad your family sent us a virgin, a true virgin,” said Anne. Beatrice couldn’t say anything. She was panting heavily but fully and happily resigned to letting her body do what it needed. Anne rested her hand on Beatrice’s shoulder, then ran it down and around her body to cup a breast, and then down lower to Beatrice’s cunt, but she didn’t feel where the prince’s cock went into her. She stopped at the top of Beatrice’s slit and gently rubbed her clit. The little pleasure nub that both thrilled and scared Beatrice when she was alone in bed at night.

Anne knew exactly what to do with her clit and shortly Beatrice was screaming out in pleasure again; this time it had nothing to do with the prince’s cock. All the while Prince Harry never stopped shoving his big cock into her. It was all too much and Beatrice didn’t know how prostitutes did this time after time, night after night. If this was what whores did, why weren’t more women eager to bed every man they saw?

Finally—and much to her relief and disappointment—the prince finished. His cock stiffened and then she felt a hot wetness deposited deeply into her womb. A little shiver of pleasure ran through her body because of it. It was over…but Beatrice found she still wanted more. She felt the pulsing of his cock as more and more of the prince’s spunk filled her, but that was no need for alarm. Maybe she would fall pregnant from his use of her body…but maybe she wouldn’t and they would have to repeat this process.