Princess Khamsin stretched her body against
the soft satin sheets of her bed and luxuriated in the sensation of her skin
sliding against the fabric. She repeated
the motion and relished the tactile banquet offered by her blankets before she
finally lay still upon them.
With a wide yawn, she
rolled onto her side and looked across the cabin to the row of portholes. She stared blankly at the blue sky and its
sporadic patches of curling white.
Khamsin’s mind darted
with unfinished strands of thought before concentrating more devotedly on
prurient fantasy. The tease of the bed
and the warm haze from having just awoken inspired a lustful attitude that she
was powerless to resist.
After flicking some
of the golden strands of her shoulder-length hair from her shoulders, she
closed her eyes and let her fingertips trail along her slender form. Picturing the hands of a random member of the
crew, she imagined one of them just entering the cabin and casually helping
themselves to her body.
As the fantasy
continued to develop, her hands parted company.
One of them migrated to circle and brush her nipples while the other
descended between her legs.
Letting her finger
trail through the tangled forest of pubic hair, she felt the dampness of her
lust and smiled broadly to herself.
Etching small swirls upon her clitoris, she continued to play with her
teats and release soft mewling gasps of pleasure. Her mind swarmed with pictures of a male form
thrusting his length into her, his muscular physique pinning her down and keeping
her captive beneath him.
The warm bloom of her
orgasm continued to flower, spreading and bringing her to a tensed crescendo of
pleasure. Snorting and jerking from the
eruption of bliss, Khamsin bounced on the bed as she tried to endure the rapture. Her senses were beset with the contradiction
of continuing her play to gain more or stop because it was too much to
endure. She drank of the sensations for
as long as she could and then finally relented.
With her skin flecked with a slight shimmer of perspiration, she dropped
back and relaxed.
Breathing via deep
steady pants, she embraced her own form and mulled the fantasy over in her
mind. The release from her frustrations
soiled her erotic mental pictures with the truth of her situation, allowing
reality to creep back into her mind and curse her with undeniable fact.
In just a few more
days, she would be condemned to a living hell of banality and all because she
had suffered the misfortune of being born into a noble family.
She knew that the
peasants and even her own servants dreamed of being royalty, envying her as a
princess of birth and standing.
Nevertheless, Khamsin would instantly trade it all away to be free of
such obligation. She wanted to be able
to do as she wished, to be able to indulge her heated libido whenever she
desired and with whomever she might wish and not be constrained by duty,
decorum, social rules and etiquette.
Now she was to be
handed like chattel to some pedantic weasel of an Endien bureaucratic who
preferred the intricacies of a ledger and the acquiring of profit to the
exploration and indulgence of sexual gratification and yet there was nothing
she could do to stop the marriage. Once
she arrived, the ceremony that was to damn her would ensue within just one day.
After leaving her
home kingdom of Kfornah, the route across the Sific Sea had followed the
standard overtly southbound arc to evade proximity to the dreaded Isle of
Hroth. A storm had forced the ship even
more drastically southwards to avoid it and although the detour had made her
several days late, she was still unfortunately on time to make her wedding.
Dragging herself from
the bed, Khamsin tugged on the bell rope.
The simple action brought a selection of handmaidens who scuttled humbly
in so that they could attend their princess.
Acting without the
need for orders, they began to dress their mistress in clothes that were of the
same mode as their own, but Khamsin’s were far more exaggerated and opulent
than theirs. A laced bodice flowed into a
trailing skirt that concealed her low-heeled shoes. The incorporated sleeves and gloves hid her
skin and the entire pastel gown was embellished with silver and diamond
jewellery that caught the sun and made her shine radiantly. The women then set clasps about wrist and throat
before attending her hair. They span it
expertly and fixed it with elaborate clips to successfully pin it back and keep
it from her face. Touches of makeup were
added to the unveiled visage with utmost care.
expensive treasures of the Lost Age were a limited resource that only the most
elite of all royalty could afford.
People still used various equivalent cosmetics, but nothing came close
to the wonderfully engineered products of the lost masters of this medium. Their identities were as mysterious as their
ancient craft, people known only by a bizarre surname or sometimes by just an
equally enigmatic number.
Khamsin brushed the
servants from her. Their fussing was
becoming annoying because they kept going over their work, checking it,
preening obsessively. They bowed and
retreated before following in her wake when she wandered out of the suite and
towards the deck. The group was a
perpetual ghost to her movements and they limited her time alone to some token
minutes out of each day.
Exiting into warmer
air, Khamsin trekked pensively to the guardrail. After taking a moment to watch the sea
lapping upon the sides of the ship, she looked out to the skyline and let her
mind drift with her unfocused gaze.
stretches of deep blue sprawled to each horizon. They were vast and full of mystery as the sun
winked upon the crests of the lethargic peaks.
A soft wind wafted passed and lacked the strength to properly fill the
two huge sails of red canvas. The flap
of the stern fabric and the shuffle of the idle crew were the only noises to
contradict the soothing tunes of nature.
tanned and muscular forms of the crew lounged against the barriers and the
masts, their duties minimal with the lack of wind. Instead, they took the opportunity to laze
about, drink and play various uncouth games that steadily cheated them out of
looked across the ship and wondered as to the marvels that the Lost Age had
bestowed upon it. Much of what had once
been was now gone. The metal shell had
been converted to hold the sails and a couple of ranks of oars for emergency
propulsion. When she had first been
brought aboard, she had been given a tour by the captain and had seen the
strange convoluted metal pipes and wheels, cables and machines that had once
served the ship to negate any reliance on the wind. Today such intricate creations were little
more than ballast and spare scrap. The
crew removed and reused it as required with no clue as to even the most basic
concepts behind the antiquated but massively superior technology.
like this one existed now. Most were
much smaller and formed from wood that copied the design of the relics from a
long lost era. Sometimes they could
employ the strange fibrous rigid plastic from the Lost Age that was
irreplaceable and because of its strength and lightweight nature it was also
paid no more attention to the vessel because she was absorbed with her own
thoughts and with the eternal majesty of the sea.
she hated the long ocean voyages that carried her from continent to continent
on her various diplomatic missions.
However, after the stresses and strains of her vain fight to escape her
marriage she needed time to let her mind empty itself of turmoil.
passengers were below decks, availing themselves of the shade and the luxuries
on offer in the various function rooms.
Khamsin decided to decline bothering with them. The sun was warm and pleasant and the effete
Kfornian nobles with their boisterous swaggering, inflated egos, and lack of
any charisma or charm were not tempting her into their company. She had never felt so alone, so surrendered
to the whims of chance. If only there
were a way to evade her monstrously dull and indomitable destiny!