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2000-01-01

March 2007 Story of the Month--KallaChapters. 1

Kalla
by Hanes-el

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Chapter 1

It was the first and only day that I can recall that I slept in. It’s not why Iremember the day so, but the day is probably why I remember that I slept in. Itwas her birthday. Her fourteenth birthday, and the day that she was to beinducted as Queen of Kalla. I don’t know why but the dream that pressed me tosleep longer then I should have, was of the day that caused Dakota to soprematurely acquire her duties as ruler.

My eyes broke open in panic with mother shaking me half to death. I wasdisoriented and scared. Mother’s hands slipped from my sweating arms. Realityfaded back to me and when my mind caught sight of light breaking through theglass hole in the wall; my slowing heart broke into a sprint again. I rippedthe sheets from above me and jumped out of bed. Mother’s cries of shame andfear back dropped my frantic race to dress myself; no time for bathing. Skipping from my bedroom attempting to fit my last shoe on, I headed for thekitchen.

Breaking through the swinging doors, I searched in shame where everybody stoodwaiting.

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Why did I sleep in, why today, of all days, the most important one ofher life? Thankfully, two chefs were already waiting by the door for me. Thatwould save me from having to walk between the dozen faces staring down at me. Holding my arms out, the taller of the two chefs placed the highly decorated silvertray in my grip. Speedily, I walked back up the grand staircase to my master’sroom, eyes all around me staring.

Everybody in the palace knew me, at least if they had met Dakota, chances arethey met me as well. And even while working in the palace without ever meetingthe royal family, one would know at least of the highest servants under them,the ones who you must step aside to. I was Dakota’s head servant, my mother washer mother’s, the preceding Queen’s head servant, and a man named Phillip held thattitle for the prior King.

I stood before her door as the shorter of the two sentries before it pulled akey out and unlocked it. I looked timidly at the more handsome sentry whopretended to look away, searching for anything that might attempt unlawfulentry.

Balancing the tray on my right arm as the shorter sentry turned and resumedstaring away from the doorway, I turned the handle and pushed the very heavysolid wood door open. I slipped in and shut the door behind me.

I walked through the small front room and into the bedroom of the Princess. Mychest exhaled a huge sigh of relief. She was still asleep. She also seemeddetermined to enjoy every minute of that twenty-five hour day.

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Every organ in my body freed itself from the tense grip all the other servantin the house put on me. With Dakota, I was always free, she didn’t care if Iwas late or imperfect; she cared for me as a friend, which is what mother saidwas exactly what I existed for. The head servant’s primary goal is to be afriend first and a waiter second; at childhood, she had said, this is the mostimportant rule of all. Since the age of three, I was a subject to the Princess. And at seventeen years, I was soon to become the head servant and best friendto the Queen of Kalla, one of most powerful empires on the planet. I was one ofthe farthest from royalty in the land but I held nearly as much power andinfluence as a royal, at least inside the palace.

I set the breakfast tray on the side table and rushed to the mirror to fix my hair. It wasn’t much more than a minute before I was done. I kept it short andcomfortable. Dakota loved it. I had almost gotten in trouble because of it. Dakota became so entranced in my hair that she once began begging the Queen tohave her own hair cut short. At a younger age with the Princess’s hair cut likemine, we would look very much like sisters, something that the Queen would notstand for. Mother talked to Dakota though and she stopped bugging the Queenabout a haircut. I think that she became more aware of how the Queen begantreating me while she pleaded to her that she wanted to look like her servant,a mere commoner.

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I stood before the side of Dakota’s bed watching the young girl squirm aroundon her stomach in her sleep. As her friend and servant, it was me who wasinstructed to teach the happenings of puberty to the young Princess. I had onlybegun experiencing it a few years before her but mother had said that with myeducation from her, and with my own findings with my own body, I would be thebest candidate. The Queen herself found the topic of sex all too enjoyable forher own being, but felt herself unfit for discussion of the moralities ofgrowing into a woman to her developing daughter.

It was not easy for me to teach the Princess but she made it as easy aspossible. Like the stories mother taught me of the Queen, Dakota followed quitewell in the curiosity of her sexual being. I had learned the entire history ofthe royal family and every quirk of the current one so that I might have bestserved my young master, so rarely was I surprised with inconsistencies inDakota. At first, she felt that I was too smart for her, but quickly enough,she embraced my knowledge and looked to me as the older sister with all theanswers to her life. There were no secrets between us.

Staring down to her small squirming body pleasuring itself in a dream, Ithought of the all the times that she had challenged me with her questions andwithout an answer, she pressed forward for an experiment to find one.

I looked to the large grandfather clock against the wall, the ninth hour itheld. I moved to the bed unwillingly. I didn’t want to be the cause of breakingher dream short. I removed her sheet to her feet with the crumbled and kickedaway blanket. Her face gleamed with the tiniest layer of sweat.

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Dakota had complained before about waking her up in such dreams. I had alwaysdefended myself with what mother had taught me. Dreams are left unremembered ifthey end, waking up during the course of one is what is best, what allows youto remember and cherish them so. Dakota, reluctant to accept such an idea, butknowing after a fight with the Queen after being late one morning from me notwaking her, that if being forced to wake up, at least raise her in a mannerwhich would please her more. Having already the knowledge of both our sexualbeings between us two, I had a pretty good idea what she was hinting at. Twoweeks after that comment, I had acted and was confirmed correct in her truemeaning.

Dakota had clearly been having a whole streak of these wonderful dreams for hercotton night pants had been removed and kicked down under her sheet to herblanket.

Dakota loved the feel of silk but when presented one birthday with a wholewardrobe of silk night clothes, she quickly learned that she did not like silkso much as to have it covering her entire body. The night pants and shirt werethe doings of the King after a year of unsuccessful fighting with her to wearunderwear, or to at least stop running through the palace in the morning in hernightgown. That was a year of tremendous stress for the sentries and servantsof the house. Everyone one feared to even look at the Princess in horror ofwhat the King might assume. Much tribulation was bestowed among the palace whenthe two piece pants and shirt were forced onto the young Princess.

Dakota now chooses to wear undergarments on rare occasions, choosing being theimportant word. Forcing her to do anything will show just how royal she is. TheQueen learned such very quickly when she personally dressed her with underwearfor weeks and received reports after of servants and sentries around the palacefinding the Princess’s used underwear lying around in plain view.

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I set my hand on the sweat of the young Princess’s butt. Slowly I pressed myhand down between her legs and began massaging the tiny slit. An audible moanbroke the room, a sign that surprisingly pleased me. I could please thePrincess more than her own fantasies played out in a second world. Moving mysmall fingers up and down slowly over the heated bulge between her legs, Ibegan applying more pressure. There was more liquid under her butt cheeks thanjust sweat, I could feel that clearly as the prints of my fingers became glazedwith an almost oily substances radiating from the crack below them.

The increasingly heavy breathing from the Princess shifted from her small noisynostrils to her now open mouth. Air flooded through the new larger opening. Icontinued rubbing the smooth untarnished skin. She would wake up soon.

With her mouth open, she accidently moaned herself awake softly. She opened hereyes just slightly and looked at me. She still had the small crusting eyefluids in the corners of her eyes, the light had yet to break fully into her pupilsand break her mind open into the real world. I saw her close her eyes again.

She wanted to play a little longer.

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If she didn’t think about anything, shecould drift back into the dream she just left and live with her fantasy as Ifinished her off.

I climbed as gently onto the bed as I could. It was the softest bed I had evertouched. I hovered over the young Princess and slowly listened for a minute,maybe two, but no more. Her breathing shifted back into sleep. As easily as Icould, I maneuvered my balance to my knees and took hold of her body. Her bodywas royal to every extreme; the softest skin I had ever felt with no blemishes,and all this with her own refusal to touch make up. The most the Princess usedwas a moderate moisturizer on rare occasions. Slowly I turned her body overonto its back.

I set my own body to the right of her and pressed my hand comfortably onto thewhole of her exposed vagina. I pushed my hand into it and began caressing thebare bulge; only few of the softest hairs had grown in. My hand slid easilyover it repeatedly from the lubrication seeping through her crevice. ThePrincess’s breathing quickened again. Without the stimulation of her nipplesand stomach squirming on the sheets, she would wake easier out of her deterioratingfantasy. But I knew how to counter such loss of stimulation while having herwake up in time.

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Her breathing shifted. Bad for me that was. She was reawaking, and on her back,she would receive the full light of the sun in her eyes forcing her into cognitivethought and preventing her from more sleep.

Quickly, I singled out my index finger and slid it over the little nub insideher slit. She was fading from her mental fantasy quickly but her physical onewas just about to peak. I pulled my index finger back and arched it as to restthe tip against the top of her pleasure nub, her personal reference to it. Slowly I drove my finger into her while gliding the length of my finger overher nub. In and out I repeated with growing speed. Dakota’s breathing becamepanting. I had few seconds before she would wake.

I pressed my thumb onto the top of her bulge, squeezing the fatty tissuebetween my moving index finger and thumb. Her vaginal fluids ran down the backof my intruding finger and drained out the tiny opening it made into the openair; a tiny opening it was, but still an opening nonetheless compared to theincredibly tightly closed lips of her vagina.

In the fuzzy world between consciousness and unconsciousness, Dakota’s vocalcords quivered in moans as her hips began shivering. Neither of us two knewwhether she was awake or not but the high of her orgasm pushed her out ofwhatever world she currently occupied and into a black one where the only oneof five senses she used was her touch.

Her small legs squeezed together as her surprisingly strong vaginal musclessqueezed my index finger, almost as if they were sucking me in.

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Her twitchingsweaty legs broke at the knees and began rising a bit as her butt cheekspressed themselves into the soft mattress. The Princess’s head jerked aboutwith her eyes scrunched shut as a constant tone reverberated from her throat. She was holding her breath. Her entire body was tense. I think I might haveoutdone myself today. I wish my birthday started out this well.

Her meek moans became pulses as her little hips bumped up and down. I wiggledmy finger around inside of her. Her moans broke into spurted grunts. Herself-made liquids oozed over my finger as her orgasm peaked. Just to tease hera bit more, I ripped my finger out of her legs; I thrust it back in. She was inclimax and I repeatedly jammed the entire length of my finger inside of her,took it all the way out, and jammed it back in. It was not an easy task; hercontracting muscles sure did not agree with my teasing finger as they foughtfor it to remain motionless.

Dakota’s body began writhing a bit. She was crossing into a second,simultaneous orgasm.

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In and out, in and out; I jammed my finger through herbody and fought against her strong vaginal muscles that gripped and sucked atmy finger. More liquid spilled from her tiniest little slit and down her buttcrack onto her sheets.

One last time, I jabbed my finger into her and pressed my palm into herengorged bulge.

Squeezing my palm into her swollen vagina, I felt her muscles begin relaxing. Her eyes opened and she stared at me.

“If only all my birthday presents were that incredibly great,” she gasped.

“You’re becoming Queen today,” I reminded in attempt to draw attention awayfrom having just masturbated her.

“I’m still Dakota to you,” she cried as I slowly slipped my soaking finger fromher vagina.

Continued. . .

Chapter 2 at this link in the forum http://www. sexstoriespost.