As the castle's princess, I had grown used to the occasional unexpected requests from my father, the king. One such request came when I was relaxing in my private quarters, enjoying a rare moment of peace. My loyal personal servant, Samantha, was attending to my needs, ensuring I stayed comfortable and well-cared for. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and before I could even reply, my father spoke up from the other side. "Your Highness," he said sternly, "I need you to come to the attic immediately."
I exchanged glances with Samantha, both of us equally puzzled. The attic? Why would my father want to see me there? But duty called, so I reluctantly stood up and made my way to the entrance hall, where I found him waiting impatiently. "Father," I inquired cautiously, "what could possibly be so urgent that it couldn't wait until morning?"
The king's expression was grave, and he looked me up and down before responding. "It's about your mother," he whispered conspiratorially. My heart sank. We had lost our queen years ago, and the thought of something happening to her still pained us all deeply. But when he pulled me into the darkened attic and locked the door behind us, I knew something else was afoot.
He gestured towards a hidden alcove in the corner lined with thick velvet drapes. As I approached, I heard a soft whimpering coming from within. My heart began to race, fearing the worst. Pushing the drapes aside, I unveiled a small, makeshift privacy screen where my mother once used to change—but she was nowhere to be seen. And then I saw it: a plush, golden throne with a large hole in the seat.
Confusion mixed with horror as I pieced together what was happening. My face flushed with embarrassment, but I knew I had no choice. Slowly, I climbed onto the throne and hung onto its ornate arms for support. The hole in the seat pressed against my privates, but it wasn't until my father came around to face me that I understood why I was there.
"Moan for me," he said simply, his voice carrying a hint of excitement and lust. I snapped my head towards him, shocked. "Father! What are you doing?"
Without further explanation, his hands roamed over my body: down my stomach, up my thighs, and over my buttocks. I shivered under his touch, wondering how far he would go. Then his fingers found their way between my legs, touching my moist mound and causing me to gasp. His hand slipped inside my silk robes and onto my bare skin, massaging my clit as he leaned in closer.
"I need to hear you moan," he whispered hoarsely into my ear. "Let go, my dear. Commune with your body and give me what I need."
Tears stung my eyes, but I obeyed. As his fingers continued to work their magic, my body betrayed me. Moans escaped my lips, and the pleasure was so intense that it felt as though it was coming from deep within. And then, as he began to rub against the most sensitive spot near my entrance, I felt the urge to release.
"Father, I can't hold it!" I cried out, feeling the rush of pleasure and fear mingling into one. "I need to...poop!"
He chuckled darkly. "Oh, let it all out, my dear. For ESP Domain." And with those words, his fingers left my folds, and soon after, the throbbing in my gut subsided. Slowly, the morning sun began to rise, and the castle came alive around us. But all I could think about was the taboo encounter with my father in the attic, the feel of his rough hands, and the shame lingering in my heart.
Samantha awoke me gently later that morning, looking concerned. She had noticed my disheveled state and the fact that I hadn't come back to my chambers the previous night. I quickly changed into fresh clothes and tried to act normal, but I couldn't shake the feeling of violation. As if that wasn't enough, my father graced me with an unusually warm smile that day, as if to remind me of our secret.
I tried to put it behind me, but the memory haunted me. Every time I sat on the throne or entered the attic, I could almost feel his presence, his desire, and his dark perversion. I knew that the kingdom wouldn't survive if anything were to happen to me, but I began to question whether it was worth it anymore. The thought of him hearing my moans as I pooped on his special seat made my skin crawl, and yet, a part of me was still drawn to him.
And so, I existed in a state of fear and confusion, never quite sure who the man behind the crown truly was.
