Labors of Love - Chapter 1 (F+/M)

[kiwi]

This is my first shot at trying out some fiction, please let me know what you think in comments/DM!

In the middle of writing chapter 2 right now, so if you have any tips/suggestions, feel free to reach out!


Chapter 1 - Pinching the Prince - FF/M

It hadn’t been long after they arrived that the scouts had gathered around the now smoldering campfire, passing freshly uncorked bottles of mead and handing bundles of dried ham and other cured meats amongst the voracious travelers. The first few hours of feasting and imbibing around the fire quickly shifted to a raucous carnival of overindulgence as more mead made its way from the wagons to the soldiers. Some soldiers remained by the fire, noisily bickering about past glory, swapping battle stories in a pathetic attempt to distinguish themselves in the presence of Lorde Romel Frynne and his nephew, who was now found himself wrapped up in the alcoholic escapades of the scouting regiment. Three days ago, Romel and his men had been dispatched to the region Southwest of the capital at his brother’s behest. A few farms in the Ryelands had been ransacked, a nuisance just large enough to garner the attention of King Harlon Frynn, who recently had been preoccupied by a more large-scale aggression directly from the Southern Marshlands and House Blacke. The circular camp stretched only about ten yards in each direction from the campfire that now illuminated the comatose figures of the few scouts who didn’t make the trip back to their respective tents. Some twenty yards or so from the edge of camp, just out of reach of the flickering light of the campfire, a shadowy figure watched the soldiers

Rona peered up over the edge of the small dugout her sister and her had dug hours earlier, her head obscured by the velvety black hood that covered her silvery blonde hair. She had remembered the exact number steps to the mark she had found earlier. She recollected the specificity of their clandestine patron during their first and only conversation:
“The mark will be a violet ribbon. Impossible to miss in the clearing…Remember, I want him delivered unharmed and un…molested… I’ve heard such unseemly rumors about your sister and her wandering mind, not to mention her hands….”
The violet ribbon had indeed stood out from the surrounding green grass and golden foliage surrounding the clearing
Twenty paces. That was close. Too close? No… It could work, but finding a lack of tree cover in the clearing, the sisters had quickly adapted by burrowing into the side of the slight downward slope leading up to where the spear had been marked.
Rona was no stranger to an inside job, but this level of and amount of information about the target when going about their typical burglary or kidnapping. The occasional maid or stable hand would look the other way for a few pieces of silver, or even leave doors and windows unbarred allowing for easy entry. But never had she been given a direct line to her quarry, the young Prince Holden Frynn, whom Rona now focused on through the magnified lens of her spyglass.

While watching the scouts slowly drop one by one earlier, she had noticed the prince stand up from his spot around the campfire, his identity easily distinguished by his full head height difference from the next closest ranger. He began to approach, allowing the crouching, concealed burglar to get a better look at him as he began to undress outside of the tent. His ashy brown hair peeked just outside of the edges of his helmet, which he now removed upon arriving at the opening of his tent. He faced away from the fire, his hair now falling to the sides of his face, framing a pair of hazel eyes that burned more golden than green in the twilight. His face wasn’t clean shaven and had a decent length of bristly dark brown hair that adorned his cheeks and jaw,, but he didn’t have the typical beard or goatee seen on the faces of his comrades. The majority of the hair on his face lay in his thick eyebrows, which furrowed harshly as the Prince squinted and put his hand up to block a dying beam of sunlight that had somehow pierced the thicket of trees surrounding the clearing. After removing his helmet, he removed the green cloak with golden trim that had been draped around his shoulders, and folded it over his shoulder before ducking to enter the tent. Rona collapsed the spyglass back into its compact tube and stuffed it back in her black leather satchel that lay draped over her shoulder and rested on her right hip. Resting also to her immediate right, her twin sister Riella lay slumped in the cramped hole, her arms folded and hood pulled down over her eyes as she had dozed off during their initial reconnaissance. She didn’t hold it against her sister since they had been stalking the small scouting regiment of about two dozen men for almost two days before finally arriving at the clearing, just as predicted by their mysterious benefactor.

“Hey….Ri…Ri…Riella!”

Rona kicked her sleeping sister, abruptly rousing her as she let out a startled grunt. Riella sat up rubbing her eyes and flopped over. Now lying prone beside her twin sister, she began rummaging around in her own bag and eventually produced her own spyglass, popping it open and scanning the camp.

“Oh shit, where is he? He didn’t go back to the main camp did he? Please tell me he’s not mixed in with all the others..."

Rona glared daggers into her, causing her grin to quickly vanish.

“Fortunately for you, one of us stayed awake and watched them set up…He went to his tent alone probably an hour or so ago.”

She looked down and opened up her satchel, revealing layers of white cotton rope wrapped tightly into neat little coils, along with a heaping pile of black silk scarves that was stuffed on the other side opposite the worn, white rope. A vial of shimmering violet liquid lay on top the scarves, which she now gingerly raised out of the satchel and into the silvery shine of the moon. Her leather gloved fingers caressed the glass container, casting a slight shadow over the iridescent mixture.

"Do you still have your marsh orchid extract?” She asked, glancing to her right. Rona heard her sister muttering curses under her breath and, as usual, was not shocked to see her disordered sister digging feverishly through her own matching satchel. Riella was franticlly digging through her own satchel that matched her sister's (save for the organization...)

“I swear to the heavens Ri, if you lost that vial, I’m going to drag you by your ankles all the way back to Stoneshome.”

“ It’s in here somewhere!” Riella whispered sharply back, scrounging past loose bundles of rope until she produced her own vial of shimmering purple liquid.

“See! Told you I didn’t lose it! We really ought to find a new apothecary…every time we go back to get more extract, he puts less and less in the vials!”

“He isn’t putting less in there, I’ve told you this a million times…” Rona groaned. “This is a new batch using some orchids further south, down near the Blackthorne Marsh. He’s been tweaking his formula apparently too, he even said this formula was his most potent yet. Supposedly it knocked out a Cliff Cave Bear during his last batch of testing."

“How would you get a Cliff Cave Bear to breathe it in though?” Riella questioned, looking blankly at her sister. The exasperated look from her sister did nothing to stop Riella's continued inquisition.

“Cuz you know, first you gotta get past the claws, no easy feat that…. Then there’s all those teeth and even if you get to the thing’s mouth, ya can’t really get a good seal cuz of his snout, plus they’re so big, and you’d have to balance while riding on one most likely and ....”

Rona snapped, interrupting her chattering twin sister.

“Look! The last batch we bought from him, we were able to knock out those two bounty hunters tailing us at the last tavern and the silk merchant all with one vial. He says this batch is stronger, and we have two. We’re more than prepared.”

She selected a single silk scarf out of the bag and began folding it up into a thick rectangular pad that fit right in the palm of her gloved hand. As she began to gently pour the violet liquid onto the scarf, the seeds of doubt in its potency that had been planted by her sister came to the front of her mind. She would rather have too much than not enough, she thought. So her solution was to dump the entire vial, soaking the top layers of the folded scarf. The bright violet liquid disappeared into the waves of folded silk, releasing a very subtle, but sweet, floral smell wafting up from the surface. She turned to her sister now, tossing the empty vial onto the ground beside her.

“You ready?”

“Hold…” RIella said, once again removing her spyglass.

“You see that wagon over there?”

Rona placed the soaked scarf on top of her knee, snatching the spyglass from Riella and peering through to the far side of the circular camp. Sure enough, there was a large covered wagon, with two horses standing in front, reigns still attached and hanging up on the seat.

“These idiots must have drank too much and forgot to unhitch before they got into that mead huh? It would be a shame if all that extra food and loot just walked off huh?”

“You know Ri, I think you actually have a good idea for once. It’s a bit far to the other side of camp, but we should be able to make it over there. I don’t expect much of a fight with the marsh orchid either way.

As the twins rose and began to advance on the tent, their figures were absorbed into the shadows cast by silver moonlight that bathed the now silent camp. Several velvety black fox skins had been fashioned together into the luxurious cloaks that were now draped over their crouched figures. Underneath the thick furs, the sisters wore silken fur black turtlenecks with sleeves that stretched down over their exposed wrists. They reached up simultaneously, pulling the shirt up to obscure their faces from the nose down, only their piercing gray-blue eyes showing above. The cuffs of their tight leather gloves extended up the rear of their hands, stopping just short of the wrist. Their color matched the sable brown shade of the buckskin leggings that tightly clung to their obscured figures, with thick moccasins masking their footsteps as they approached the rear of the sleeping prince’s tent.
Crouching beside her sister, Riella flipped her cloak back revealing a short, curved dagger protruding from a leather sheath on her hip. As she freed the blade from its housing, her right index finger slipped into the single metal loop at the end of the crescent shaped blade’s handle. She began spinning the knife around her finger, opening her palm to create some clearance and rapidly increase the speed and angle at which the blade was rotating.

“Will you knock it off? For once can we get through a job without you screwing around?” Rona hissed.

Riella threw a scowl at her sister before flipping the back around and pressing the sharp, curved tip against the canvas tent. Riella was to stand by and ensure no-one stumbled over to the tent, but given the overwhelming sound of incessant snoring emanating from the campfire, she did not think that would be necessary. Redrawing her knife from the sheath, she resumed the twirling rehearsal about her finger once more. Upon entering the tent, Rona finally got her first glimpse of the famed Prince Holden Frynn, now lying beneath her shadowy figure. He seemed much less imposing without his typical armor, the lightweight leather chestpiece and spaulders now discarded by the entrance to the tent. The light green linen shirt he had worn underneath the armor laid atop his brown leather riding boots at the foot of where Holden slept, his now bare chest slowly rising and falling.
She made the observation that despite gossip amongst tavern maids, highwayman, and traders alike, the Prince’s figure was nowhere near as domineering as some of the stories made it seem. Rather than a hulking, bristly ruffian depicted as some sort of skull-crushing beast that she could easily see felling a fellow fully armored knight with a single blow from his maul, the bemused burglar instead looked down upon the astoundingly passable physique of the recently knighted Prince Holden. His wiry limbs, their span and proportion rather typical for most men his size she thought, laid folded underneath his sleeping figure. She noted that despite his somewhat willowy impression, she could clearly notice the lean, definitive aspects of his upper body as her eyes adjusted to the dimness inside of the tent. His broad shoulders sported a rounded, muscular shape which rolled down into his triceps. The lean muscle fibers joined together with those in the wide spanning muscular frame that formed his upper back, his torso tapering down drastically to a thin waistline beneath a defined core. His chest, while slightly underwhelming to Rona herself, shared the same muscular pattern of striations seen in his shoulders, extending all the to the sinewy muscle of his arms. His left arm curved in an L shape across his stomach, his lean wrist and hand wrapped around his midsection. Rona also noticed that beneath his hand, a streak of dark scar tissue poked out, revealing what she could only assume was a knife wound, long since healed from one of the prince’s previous trials in combat. As she honed in on the laceration along his rib, she began to notice a few other scars on his chest. A pair of star-shaped scars grouped tightly together in his chest, luckily several inches opposite from his heart’s position, as well as some bruising near his opposite hip, no doubt from a recent tumble off his horse during a tournament. His right arm curled upwards toward his head, his bicep forming a rounded peak as he curled his hand behind his head, reaching his thin fingers up underneath the mass of his coarse umber hair.
Having taken in the Prince’s exposed physique lying at her feet, Rona found her disappointment with his somewhat scrawny figure a bit muted by the fact that her task, to deliver the prince unharmed and unmolested (at the current moment due to Riella’s absence from the tent) would be much easier than what could have been. She crept silently from the rear of the tent, circling to the left hand side of the bedroll. The soft padding of her sheepskin moccasin boots concealed her approach as she produced the essence soaked silk pad from her satchel. Placing it firmly in the palm of her left hand, she squatted nimbly in position, with her knee hovering over the prince's folded arm, ready to pin his arms while keeping a hand free. This would aid her in his sedation. As she had told her sister before, even the strongest batches sometimes take up to twenty seconds to fully kick in.

Rona closed her eyes briefly and rocked back and forth, ever so slightly onto her heels and toes while counting internally “1…2…3..” and lunged forward. Now almost straddling the Prince, she pressed her shin down hard to stabilize herself, pinning Holden’s left arm to the ground while grasping his other wrist with her free hand. She squeezed his wrist tightly, feeling the sudden, strong pulse of blood and energy that came as the sleeping Prince was jolted awake, and pressed her weight into him until his shoulder was rotated back and pinned by her effort. Her free hand rammed downwards, clamping her palm firmly over his jaw, causing the floral-scented fabric of the silk scarf to spill over her gloved hand and block the struggling Prince’s nostrils. The soft smell of rose petals combined with sweet honeysuckle that choked out every other scent, stifling the Prince’s other senses almost entirely with its overwhelming strength. With the smothering scent of the marsh extract, Holden also felt the overwhelming pressure of the hand pressing the pad over his mouth as he awoke to the gloved hand pressing down and firmly pinning the back of his head to the floor. His eyes shot open, immediately settling on his shadowy assailant, who began to let out muted grunts of effort from underneath the mask covering their face. Equally vocal himself, Holden more than matched the effort of the comparatively diminutive Rona, grunting furiously into the thick folded pad as he struggled to breathe. His arms effectively pinned by the full weight and effort of the masked figure, his only resort for escape lay in his lower body. As he started to wriggle his hips and legs, trying to escape, he remembered years of grappling training from a young age, the annual wrestling tournaments his Father had his compete in since he was five years of age. He slowed his breathing and calmed his mind as he recounted years of training and competition, and began to let his memory guide his mind as he began to squirm out from underneath the oppressive pressure from the hooded figure on top of him. Holden crunched his stomach inward, pulling his leg in and extending them up and around Rona as she crouched atop his chest. She was flabbergasted to see his legs hook underneath her armpits and felt herself being thrown back opposite where her weight was pressed. “How the hell is he that flexible?” She asked herself, rapidly jumping up to resume her assault on the alarmingly formidable young man. She had to apply the orchid essence before the Prince could alert the other soldiers, since the sisters were just burglars after all. They had no formal combat training or experience, they were not soldiers, and had neither the intention or capability to combat a party of this size alone. Usually they would have brought additional support from the Guild for a more brute strength approach, but their contact had been adamant about the necessity for stealth, hence why the sisters were hand selected for the task.
Pouncing forward, she shot her hand firmly back over the now staggered and slightly dazed prince’s mouth as he lurched forward, pressing his shoulder hard into her gut and wrapping his arms around her. He launched upward, pulling her back over his shoulder before swiftly returning her to the earth with a crash as he slammed her down onto the ground. The thin bedroll offered little protection as Rona felt her back flatten on the ground, and the full weight of the compelling Prince Holden crashed into her abdomen. Every whisper of breath was driven out of her lungs, eliciting a sudden gasp and squeak from Rona’s mouth as her hands dropped to her sides as she began rolling in the fetal position, trying to catch her breath. Pressing up off the floor to his knees, Holden panted heavily, trying to pull his head out of the fog that he felt himself wading through. His breath felt cold as he inhaled, yet he felt a warm sensation radiate from his chest all the way to the soles of his feet in a rhythmic pattern. The sensation subsided now that he had unobstructed his airways, and he looked over to see the flailing burglar, hood and mask down now revealing soft pale cheeks and panicking gray eyes that briefly met his gaze as they darted around the tent, seemingly joining her lungs in the search for any air. He noticed the river of moonlight silver hair that flipped violently as she writhed about on the ground in front of him.

With his sudden reveal of his attacker came an overwhelming sense of guilt. He had just pile-driven a woman, albeit in self defense, and felt his concern and embarrassment grow, clouding his sedative addled mind. Due to his status as the only male heir to Stewardship of the Narrows, he had long been trained by his father in codes of conduct for knights and noblemen alike. He remembered hours wasted in his teenage years with etiquette and manners training, hours he originally had preferred practicing with his dirk and maul or riding the cliffs near Fjordspire. But it wasn’t until his recent knighthood and subsequent courtship had he fully come to appreciate his father’s efforts all those years ago. After being dubbed the most recent Knight of the Narrows, Holden had been given his choice of many maidens offered up to him, most with power-hungry fathers desperate to further their clan’s standing. But Holden found no interest in these offerings, as he retained his interest mostly in exploring and training, often spending weeks away from the capital at a time, much to the chagrin of his father. But the inherent traits of respect and admiration for women had long been built in Holden from a young age, not only from his Father’s lessons, but also those from his sisters and mother alike. Now hazily staring down at the injured woman before him, he felt an overwhelming urge to reach down and help her to her feet, to offer any sort of aid to help end this discomfort he had caused. His muted thoughts were interrupted when he felt a powerful grip on his left wrist, his arm being pulled sharply behind his back. Simultaneously throwing a sharp kick to the back of his right leg, this new attacker quickly forced Holden to his knees. He winced sharply as theyanked his wrist behind his back, pinning his wrist up near his elbow in an uncomfortable contortion that left his face in a tight grimace. and let out a soft gasp as he felt a thin, cold blade placed lightly an inch above his vocal chords.
“Woah, Woah, Woah there…” a voice tutted in his ear “Ease up there big guy, I can’t carry you all by my lonesome. Be a good boy and hold reeaaaally still, because I really hate the mess this thing makes'' she said, gently applying pressure along the length of the blade, sliding up Holden’s throat, causing him to raise his head up to avoid the sharp curved blade that now sliced thin hairs away from the underside of his chin. The first figure, now curled over on her knees gave a pained reply:

“Ok, I’ll admit it, we need a new apothecary…”

“I told you!” was the snarky retort from the hooded figure standing behind him.

Growing increasingly more lucid, Holden got a better look at the first burglar slowly rising to her knees in front of him. He felt a soft hand reach around his midsection, and a firm palm grasp the hair on the scruff of his neck and yank his head back sharply. A menacing but silky voice hummed in his ear, “Mmm you shoulda knocked her out, then I would have had more time with you…” The hand around his stomach drifted lower, grazing across his crotch as the leather gloved hand brushed his cotton trousers. “Mmm..not to worry though. We have a long road ahead of us and …” He felt the hand return to the center of his crotch as she drew her vowels out slowly, with her hand resting firmly but gently over his manhood. She rubbed the palm of her gloved hand into his shaft, causing Holden to feel the warm pulse of blood return over his body as the smell of honeysuckle lingered. The knife at his throat hadn’t escaped his mind, but he struggled to stay focused amongst the haze of the essence that once again clouded his senses. The hand pulling his hair was released and instead wrapped over his shoulder and across his throat. The mysterious new figure pulled him in tightly, pinning his arm behind his back as the soft fox fur of the figure's clothing tickled his bare skin. His head was now pulled all the way back, his neck craned, arching his throat even higher, which left him more exposed to the curved blade that now danced back and forth across his throat, ultimately gliding away from his skin as he felt her palm pulse hard into his crotch. The rhythmic pressure on his crotch continued, which made his breathing steadily grow faster to match the pace of the pulsations he felt on his shaft. The overbearing pressure applied to his upper thighs caused him to lean forward, slowly doubling himself over when suddenly, the hand disappeared and the sensations ceased. That brief respite from the incessant groping from Riella gave Holden just a slight second to catch his breath before he felt a fist slam into his crotch, sending shockwaves of pain shooting up his stomach through his throat and into a gasp of pain and surprise as he fell forward.

“And that’s for body slamming my sister you goon!” Riella snarled, kicking his leg as he lay there, woozy and twitching in pain below at her feet.
Rona had recovered her breath and now sent a cursing stare towards her sister that seemed to physically cut the air separating the three of them. Holden’s grunts of pain and confusion were the only sound made amongst the trio as the two burglars began the work of restraining their victim.
Rona quickly straddled the prince’s back, pushing him face down into the bedroll as she drew his arms together behind him. She uttered no more words and produced several coils of white rope to bind his wrists first. Laying them horizontally over the top of each other, she encircled his wrists three times and brought the rope back around once more in a loop vertically over the wraps, cinching tightly with the knot tucked out of reach from his fingers. Two more lengths of rope were used to frame his chest, three passes of rope surrounding his bound arms and shoulders just below his collarbone, and another five wraps just below his nipples, where the ropes were cinched off at the crooks of the elbows. This forced his arms to be tightly pinned to the small of his back, enveloping his torso in a tight square package that restricted almost all movement. A final length of rope was wound underneath his armpits and up behind his neck, effectively welding his arms to his back in a tight embrace that caused his chest to poke forward, arching his back slightly. Trying his best to lift his head through the fog of the orchid extract, his eyes sluggishly scanned the room.
“What….are…Where..” He could only muster the first words of each thought that seemed to flood his mind as the word drifted away and the smell of roses returned once more.
“No more talking” was Rona’s gruff response as she pressed the soaked scarf pad back over his mouth. He struggled against her firm grasp, but with the additional help of her partner, the Prince realized that while his upper body was being thoroughly lashed together, his legs were receiving an equally inflexible binding. Multiple passes of rope enveloped his legs at the ankles and shins, with cinched knots he saw poking out in the front of his legs, away from his bound wrists now firmly fixed behind him. Six more circles of rope pinned his legs together just above and below his knees, with the last few wraps cinching off in the middle of his thighs. He strained with what little might he had as he fought and pulled against his bonds, but the miniscule amount of force only elicited a cruel giggle from the second burglar who now crept back around in front of him, knife once again drawn. She rotated her wrist so the blade’s tip now pointed directly upwards towards Holden’s tongue. He instinctively let out a gasp as he squirmed his head upward the best he could given his current predicament. Sensing his discomfort, Riella smirked even harder, pulling the blade underneath the bound knight’s chin, lifting his face up until she was staring into his drooping hazel eyes.

“Still hanging in there, are we your highness?” she taunted, tapping him on the nose with her blade before sheathing it on her belt and produced another black scarf from her bag. She kneeled down and began to methodically stuff the scarf into Holden’s mouth, taking little notice of the Prince’s annoyed grunts and groans as she harshly poked and prodded the soft material deep into the cheeks of the tightly bound Frynn. Her gloved fingers pushed and pulled his cheeks, stretching and contorting his face as she crammed the bunched up scarf in between his jaws, spilling over causing his cheek to bulge. He flailed his head to the side, almost clipping Rona’s face as he frantically tried to dislodge the tight wad from its new home, pressing up against the back of his throat. Rona responded by quickly grasping a handful of his chestnut hair and yanking Holden’s head back once again, his head now pinned back as her other hand gripped underneath his jaw in a tight vice grip. He could feel the smooth leather of her gloves as she worked her fingers deeper into his mouth, pulling his mouth open while pressing his head back into her bosom.
“I expected some fight, but you are quickly making this job more of a headache than it seems to be worth…” She said as she tilted her face to the side, pulling her head away to avoid the still bucking Prince. His muffled screams for help were stifled further as Riella wadded up another black silk scarf and proceeded to stuff the opposing cheek to match. Unable to thrash his head free from the tight embrace of Rona’s grasp, he once again felt both twins’ fingers working the second scarf deeper and deeper into his mouth. In desperation, the Prince suddenly clamped his jaw down as far as the first cloth would allow. The sudden pressure on her finger, although lessened by the large wad of fabric in the Prince’s left cheek, elicited a startled yelp from Riella as she snatched her finger back quickly.

“This little…FUCKER!...” She snapped as she threw another quick kick to the stunned Prince’s midsection, “keeps trying to bite me!”

“Ahh gamp’t mpmhmm gmpph aaht! Was the pained yet muffled response from the Prince who doubled over, sucking in breath through his nostrils. He continued in his desperate effort to break the iron grip of the twins as they tried to wrangle him . A third silk scarf disappeared into what little space remained in Holden’s mouth, with Riella pressing her index finger up against the wad to hold the stuffing in place. Holden felt the scarf push back down his throat, causing him to choke and cough against Riella as she snickered. Meanwhile, her sister approached from behind, another scarf in hand.
“How the hell is he still awake? If you hadn't been rubbing your grubby little paws all over him while I was sucking wind, he wouldn’t be so worked up now and we could have been out of here already!” Rona said, once again straddling the packaged form of their hostage, sitting on his back to further pin his arms down. She pulled the scarf tight over the stuffing in Holden’s mouth, tightly double knotting it behind his head in a tight cleave gag that shoved the stuffed scarf deep into Holden’s mouth. The black material of the scarf peeked over the sides, spilling slightly underneath onto his exposed lips.
Riella quickly rose from in front of the now freshly gagged prince, pointing a leather clad finger down at her sitting sister.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that you couldn't just knock him out in the first place like you were supposed to! You’re lucky I was peeking and managed to come save your ass, otherwise he would have smashed your head in with his little hammer. And even if it were to totally, hypothetically, and in no real way, be my fault…I have a solution that will make us both happy.”
Exacerbated from her sister’s mischief and the Prince’s spirited struggles, Rona sighed, “Well I can’t wait to hear this…” She watched as Riella snatched yet another black scarf from out of her bag and set to folding it up diagonally to create a long, rectangular folded band about four inches in width. Revealing her own bottle of marsh orchid extract, she shrugged looking at her sister. “Well since the first bit worked just well enough to get him this far, this much…”
she said, emptying her entire vial onto the folded scarf, “should at the very least hold him over at least until we get him loaded into the wagon.” she said with a wicked grin. With what little strength he could muster, Holden looked upwards and let out a stifled protest into his gag, barely making enough noise for the sisters to hear.
“Fine. Let’s just get out of here, we’ve wasted enough time. Sun isn’t going to wait for us either and these boys outside wouldn’t like what we’ve done to their little lord here.” Rona took the soaked scarf from her sister and fashioned it tightly over Holden’s face, making sure the wide swath of fabric covered both his stuffed and gagged mouth as well as his nostrils. Holden could just make out the bickering of the sisters as he breathed into the new layer of his gag, inhaling deeply the sweet aroma of the marsh orchid extract. He was now fully helpless as he felt a pulsating sensation start to spread throughout the snug confines of his subjugation to the twins. He thrashed and strained, trying desperately to slide the stifling scarf off of his face. The ropes dug into his bare skin, biting his wrists sharply as he winced. The ropes had been cinched so tight that any struggles against them would only result in an even tiger embrace from the numerous coils that wrapped around his torso. The same cutting tension could be felt all down the lengths of his legs as well as he kicked and bucked against the ropes holding them together. “Hmmmmph……MMMMMPGHM!!” Holden breathed deep, struggling more and more to find the breath to keep calling for help. His pleas were smothered well enough by the layers of silk pressed over his face and the scarf jammed in between his teeth, but as if that were not enough, once again he felt the firm pressure of a gloved hand pressing down over his mouth. As he fought to open his eyes, the last thing Prince Holden saw before he faded into unconsciousness was Riella’s bright grin shining in the darkness of the tent.
“Sleep tight Prince. We’ll be sure to make you more comfortable for the long trip ahead”

[Glovedgirllover]

Great start! Thank you!

[houdinincfm]

Excellent start!

[60Cancer]

An interesting opening.

[Rasle]

Love this!!

Basically one of my favorite fantasy/medieval..ehm, fantasies. Being a knight, kidnapped by female rogues and being bound and gagged by scarves. You got a follower in me!

[LunaDog]

Agree with all of the above posts, a GREAT start!

[El_llama]

Cute little start!!!!!!!!!!! When's part 2 out?

[kiwi]

Cute little start!!!!!!!!!!! When's part 2 out?

Hopefully sometime this week or next!

[houdinincfm]

Very promising start!