The Last Consort
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The Prince's Consort Ch. 2 free porn video
Two days later she was strong enough to sit up on her own. Four days, and she could walk to the picture window, allowing her to gaze out on the massive landscape. There was nothing like the mountains and valleys where she’d come from. The land had been flat, expressionless but familiar.
This was new.
Just like being waited on or being cooped up in this stuffy place. When she’d arrived, it seemed large. But once she paced the room a hundred times, it grew smaller until she couldn’t stand it any longer.
Marianne was kind, it seemed. Big-boned, maternal, and gentle. But he seemed gentle too, and hadn’t she learned quickly. She didn’t trust anything that came from him.
Caitlin hadn’t seen him since that last evening, nor seen anyone other than the woman that brought her meals and tended to her needs.
A bathroom was attached to the suite, a luxury only the council’s building had. Everyone else used outhouses on their property. They worked well enough, and the town was too small to have any sort of public plumbing.
When she could stand without feeling lightheaded, Caitlin took a long, hot shower. Stepping out, she toweled herself dry and returned to the suite, only to find a set of riding clothes laid out on the bed. Marianne must have been in, as the room still smelled like flowers.
Was this a request, she wondered, rubbing the fabric between her fingers, or expected? Caitlin could boycott and wear the nightgown she’d come in, or obey, giving him what he wanted. The latter wasn’t going to happen, she upended the clothes to the ground.
Her life wasn’t hers anymore, but she could certainly put up a fight. He hadn’t bothered checking on her, why should she be grateful to him for ruining her life?
Marianne entered after a quick knock, “How is everything?”
“Fine,” She avoided eye contact.
The servant saw the pile of clothes and bent over to pick them up, “Oh, dear. Are you sure you don’t want to go riding? It’s a beautiful day.”
“Not interested,” she answered curtly, wrapping her hair in a towel.
“You were a rider before arriving here, clear as the callouses on your hands. We have a filly in the stables if you change your mind,” Marianne didn’t press further, laid out the clothes in a drawer and departed after announcing tea-time in an hour.
The day prior, Marianne had tempted her with an afternoon stroll. Sure, Caitlin had to get out, but on her own terms. The walks and rides would be monitored.
She tried the door well after Marianne left: locked. It was always locked. And the windows, God knows she tried to smash through the plexiglass, but of course it didn’t budge. None of her rumblings garnered any attention from the staff.
There was a servant bell, but she let it accumulate dust. She wouldn’t give them gratification.
Between the gilded prison and an emotional cage of her own design, she was lonely.
More than lonely.
So, she prayed. She prayed as she did in church, on her knees. If no one on earth could help, she’d have to ask a Higher Power. With her eyes squeezed shut, she mumbled the Lord’s Prayer under her breath… and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…
At the conclusion, she felt deflated, sorry for herself, even.
If the Lord had heard, he didn’t care.
~
“What is he like?” Caitlin asked Marianne as she changed the sheets.
The servant looked up, shocked, “Where is this coming from, young miss?”
Caitlin shrugged, “Bored, I guess.” She lied, “Who is he? He must be important…” She indicated the well-furnished room.
“Well…” Marianne hesitated, “He is… important, that is. His father is the King.”
“King?” She asked in disbelief, “There are no kings in a Democratic Republic…”
“Not of the human realm.” Marianne corrected, “Of their own kind. You and I are the same, they are a different breed.”
“Why do you work for him?” She wondered aloud.
“Sometimes, dear, you don’t get a choice. But the pay is wonderful. Both my sons have a full ride through college, and I have more than enough to retire when I’m ready.” She smiled to herself.
“But why can’t I leave?”
“You, dear,” Marianne sighed as she fitted the sheet, “are a wild card. If stories arose of the Prince in the human world, he’d be in danger. No one is supposed to know his whereabouts.”
“What can I do to prove myself? I would never tell a soul. I just want to see my mom again, tell her I’m alright.” Caitlin pleaded with the woman, she knew Marianne genuinely cared.
“Not on purpose, but it would happen. It’s not possible, I’m sorry.” She scooped up the dirty linen and slid from the room without another word, avoiding eye contact.
“Prince…” she sneered to herself, “Some Prince…” Caitlin drew the curtains open wide, watching the velvety purples of sunset. “Asshole.”
~
As the twelfth day began, Caitlin realized she’d almost lost track of how long she’d been gone. She tore down the wall accents, the curtains, and the decorative art in a fit.
Behind one of the wall curtains, she found a door. There was no handle to grasp, and she couldn’t push it open. She wondered the purpose of a handle-less door behind a curtain, only lewd imaginings came to mind.
Finally, she decided to ring the servant’s bell.
She wasn’t caving, she told herself, it wouldn’t happen again.
After a short wait, Marianne entered, “Oh dear Lord, child! What have you done to the room?”
She was curled up on the bed, wrapped in a shawl, “What is a door without a handle doing in my room?” she glared. Marianne’s face paled as she turned to inspect the woodwork.
Caitlin saw her opportunity, realizing, in the servant’s haste, she’d left the bedroom door ajar. She dashed through as Marianne shouted at her to return.
She would certainly not return of her own volition.
Rushing down the stairs, she found a corridor with many doors, and a narrow staircase. It was not how she remembered, but she needed to go down. She knew that much.
Taking the steps two at a time, she burst through a wooden door at the bottom. Another long hallway greeted her, empty but well furnished.
It was surreal that she ran into nobody as she opened room after room, trying to find the exit. A large door sat near the end of the hallway, it had promise as it was bigger than the rest.
When she flung it open, three people turned to stare at her from a long table.
One of them was the Prince.
She froze as if a deer in headlights, unsure if time slowed, or if he quickened. He was in front of her instantly, a troubled scowl marred his features.
“You should not be here,” he warned, blocking her view of the room.
Marianne’s huffing caught up with them, “I-” she heaved, “I’m so sorry Master. The girl is quick.” Leaning on her knees, she caught her breath.
Caitlin was trapped between two people she never wanted to see again. With a firm hand, he led her away from the room. She craned her head to see the ones he left behind. An older man, self-important with a cropped beard, and a woman of radiant beauty. Was it his wife?
She balked as he ushered her upstairs.
“Let me go,” She petitioned, knowing it fell on deaf ears. “I will go insane if you do not release me.” His hand clenched her forearm tighter as he led her up the stairs.
Wordlessly, he tossed her into the room and slammed the door.
Caitlin’s heart sank.
She had cried on and off for twelve days and couldn’t bring herself to cry again. Curling up in the comforter, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
~
When Caitlin woke, her room stood as if she’d never torn it apart. The decorations had been hung, the curtains righted on the walls. Even the secret door had been concealed again. Upon inspection, it was still there, mocking her.
A single, folded piece of parchment rested on her nightstand.
It said only:
Meet me in the study at sunset. -K
She leaped up and rang the servant’s bell, it was turning into a habit that she didn’t particularly want to have.
Eventually, the door creaked open. Marianne was accompanied by the older gentleman who’d opened the mansion to them when they arrived. Clearly, they weren’t taking any more chances.
“What is this?” Caitlin held up the parchment. “Why now?”
Marianne waddled over and read the parchment, “You’ve been summoned.” She shrugged, “Lord if I know what’s in the Master’s mind.”
“What does the K stand for?”
Marianne and the butler exchanged glances, “It is his decision alone to reveal his name to you. Sorry, miss Caitlin, I cannot answer.”
She would not get any answers from the staff, “Fine, then.” She sat with a huff, “How am I to get to the study if my door is locked?”
“I’m sure the Master has already made preparations if he left this for you.” Marianne glanced at the letter. For the first time, she realized it had not been Marianne that left the note. The fact that her captor had entered her room while she slept made her skin crawl.
“Is there anything else?” Marianne asked, the old man behind her guarded the door.
“No,” Caitlin grumbled, rubbing away goose bumps, “thanks anyway.”
“Lunch will be up soon. You should eat…” Marianne let the sentiment hang in the air long after she departed.
~
The sun blazed in the sky, falling slowly to the horizon before disappearing. Its rays still arched over the misty hills of trees.
Caitlin donned a set of riding pants and a loose-fitting shirt complete with ruffles. Looking in the mirror, it appeared she’d stepped out of the eighteen hundreds. The riding boots they’d given her fit like a glove, but she looked ridiculous.
Adjusting the collar, this way and that, she gave up and clopped to her bedroom door.
Locked.
It was sunset, so why hadn’t she gotten word?
Her heart beat solidly in her chest, she was frightened of this encounter. Caitlin had been in this place thirteen days without really knowing why.
Through the picture window, even the sun’s rays departed from the sky. It was after sunset, and nobody had released her from this box.
But that wasn’t the only door, she nearly leaped off the bed to the concealed door and pushed. It gave, for the first time, opening into a room with a blazing fireplace.
He sat on a couch, facing away, and stared into the flames. “Good evening, Caitlin.” He was beside her then.
Caitlin reeled from the motion. She looked back at the empty couch, and then up at him, “How…”
“They told me you had questions.” He remarked, closing the door behind her, and pacing back toward the fireplace, “It is only fair you receive answers.”
Her embarrassment mounted, this man who had stolen her kisses, her blood… her life, and he stood impassively as if nothing had occurred between them.
“What am I to you?” Caitlin blurted, “Why do I matter so little? But not little enough to be free? I only want to go home.”
“Impossible,” he uttered, almost harshly, then muted his tone, “It’s impossible, you know too much to be free. It is my fault, I admit.”
Caitlin took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Then it’s best you use that blade of yours, sir, because I will not cease fighting at every turn. Set me free or kill me, so we can be done with this. I cannot stand this confinement any longer.”
“Is the food so bad?” He turned, not angry, not bemused. “You have everything one could want, you need only ask.”
“Don’t you understand, I don’t want anything!” A tear betrayed her, “I want my family.”
“I cannot do that, unless you wish them the same fate as yourself.” He turned away. “Sit, and we’ll discuss these things cordially.”
She planted her feet, “I’m done playing by your rules.”
He glanced at her, those kind eyes that haunted her. “My name is Prince Kalen II. I am a vampire, and the son of King Eamon, first of his name. You, are Caitlin Stone, your mother is Janice Stone and you do not know your sire.”
Vampire, Caitlin rubbed her neck thoughtfully. “Should I be afraid of you, then?”
“Are you?” He allowed the silence to linger, “Perhaps you should have been in the grove many days ago. But that has passed. You do not seem afraid, merely belligerent.”
“And you can’t understand why?”
He turned away from her and stared into the flames.
Caitlin groaned and threw up her hands, “This is bullshit. You came into my hometown, kissed me, and took my life away. You asked me to come away with you, and when I didn’t want to, you took me anyway. At what point did I ever have a say?”
He almost mumbled the response, “Sometimes, fate has different plans.”
“Oh, different plans? And what plans were they?” She nearly screamed, head flooding her face.
Kalen sat impassively on the couch, seemingly ignoring her.
“Give me something, anything! How dare you sit there so calmly when you’ve taken everything from me!?” Caitlin screeched, then collected herself, “If you will not end me, then I will.” She stormed into the bedroom and searched the drawers for something sharp, anything that could let a little blood.
In the small vanity near the window, she found a gold letter-opener. It would be painful, but it’d have to do. She moved to slash her wrist when his hand enveloped hers, holding the blade back by a hair.
“You will not draw your blood willingly in this house.” His other arm snaked around her waist as he pulled the letter-opener away from her vein.
He held her hand out until she relinquished the blade, letting it clatter to the ground. Pressed like this against him, she threw her head back against his chest, defeated. “You will not leave me be, and you will not allow me to end the servitude. How am I to live, shackled to you like this?” Conflicting emotions warred in her chest.
Kalen let her hand go, but held tightly to her waist, murmuring in her ear. “Have you gone riding? Have you taken a stroll in the forest? You are only trapped by yourself, here. I have offered you freedoms of which you have not accepted.” He inhaled her scent, “The bell will call the servants-”
“And what bell will call you?” Caitlin turned within his arms, “I am alone up here, Marianne is no companion. You are the reason I am here, you took the blame only a minute ago.”
His eyes studied her, “Your blood sings.”
“What does that mean?” she pushed against his chest, which did not move. “I thought you were a gentleman, the moment I first saw you. Now all I see is a monster.”
“Then your eyes are open.” He let her slide out of his arms and disappeared.
Makenna
- 29.03.2021
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- Supernatural
