Legend has it, if you stand in front of a mirror, shuffling an enchanted deck of cards, you can open a doorway between dimensions.
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Prince Teodric of Springport remembers the promise he made his father: to *not* try to reenact the legend of dimen...
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I knew, deep in my gut, that my times of frolicking and acting like a carefree prince were coming to an end.
I'd known after Mother's death, almost five years ago; and I knew as I witnessed Father's gradual but atrocious decline.
Since the night where he'd nearly caught me in the nude, shoving myself into my most recent serving girl conquest, he'd gotten progressively worse. But it was such a slow, painful deterioration that most folk didn't notice it as well as I did.
Being King Baines' only son, only child, only heir, had its advantages and its consequences. For instance, I was allowed nearly free rein for whatever I wanted to do. Parties in the ballroom after hours. Secret gambling games in the basement with the kitchen staff. Inviting pretty maids to my room to introduce them to all manners of naughty fun. Those came without consequence—as long as I wasn't discovered.
Father, in his better days, when Mother was still around, would have had me whipped for my un-princely behavior. He would have taken me aside and scolded me. He would have thrown me onto a fishing boat and sent me out at sea to teach me the value of my position, of my birth. To remind me what was at stake by acting so immaturely, so irrationally.
But was it immature? Was it irrational? I never hurt anyone. The festivities in the ballroom never left a trace of anything having ever happened. I helped with clean-up, and never showed up late to court sessions or meetings the next day. I might have had a few bags under my eyes and difficulty sitting up straight. Any money I won during card games, I restituted to whoever I'd gained it from. Servant wages were low, and I knew better than to take from them; but if they won, I let them keep the winnings.
As for the girls in my bed...well, they never refused. Some even insisted, determined to showcase their talents. It was a rumor passed between them. From the cook's aides to my mother's own former personal maid, the women couldn't keep away from my chambers. If their gaze ever met mine and I raised my brows at them—the signal, they called it—I knew I'd find them in my sheets that very night.
They didn't complain, and neither would I.
I relished in their mouth and tongue work, melted at their wetness when I slid myself inside them, groaned as I grasped at their hefty, jiggling breasts and thrust into them. These were beautiful women of all shapes and sizes and colors, with all sorts of accents. Springport Castle was the biggest castle in the area, so it was loaded with staff. And yes, I'd fucked more than half of that staff.
If Father knew...no, he didn't. He couldn't. In his earlier days, he'd have picked up on our signals and stomped into my room while I was in the middle of the act, but not anymore. He was too busy losing his mind, going on nightly excursions while rambling about magic and spells and dimensions. He used the word—so scientific, I thought—and corrected anyone who sought to make him use the word worlds, instead.
