Chapter 2: Milk for the Prince: Part 1 – Chapter 2

Trixie was awoken to the sound of her door being unlocked and slammed open. Lady Benowith marched in followed by a servant carrying a tray laden with food. Sitting up in her bed Trixie briefly glanced at her employer, and then quickly focused on the tray of food. She was starving. It was rare she had two clients in the same day and the two feedings Prince Wallace had taken from her yesterday left her exhausted. After eating her evening meal she had crawled into the bed, hiked up her skirt, lazily masturbated to an unimpressive orgasm, before passing out.

“You are not indispensable,” the imperious older woman said in a voice that was even toned, but carried heavy implications to Trixie’s bones.

“I’m not?” the sleep-addled whore said. She rubbed her eyes and focused on the food. Her stomach rumbled.

“There are any number of whores I can hire to feed my son. There are any number of wet nurses I could hire for him. You are merely the most convenient. I am willing to get rid of you and exchange less money for inconvenience.”

Trixie was all too aware that getting rid of her wasn’t merely showing her to the door and instructing her never to return. Madame Roussouse would need to find a new lactation specialist at her house.

“I understand,” she said in her most subservient voice.

“You will nurse my son back to health,” the lady of the house said. “Your life is now tied to his. Do not play games with him, do not have false dalliances with him. You’re performance after I left was reported to me by Miss Anna. It was most inappropriate.”

Miss Anna had to have been the cup servant. Trixie restrained herself from snorting in disgust. Trying not to sound superior or snobbish or impertinent, Trixie spoke up. “I’ve been doing this a long time, ma’am. I know how to nurse men but your son is a special situation. If you have a better suggestion as to how I should nurse him, I’m listening. What I did yesterday was best for Prince Wallace. It was under the eyes of all your servants, and guards, and Dr. Rivers. He’s the expert, is he not?”

Lady Benowith sniffed with disdain. “I will see that he carefully observes your activities today,” she said and swept out of the room followed by the nameless servant who had delivered Trixie’s breakfast. If nothing else, she was eating better than she had ever before in her life.

Trixie was fairly certain Lady Benowith wanted to chastise her for spraying her milk onto the prince, but the refined lady couldn’t bring herself to speak the words. She had to play the game of the aristocracy and imply and talk around the problem. Trixie shook her head. That was the main reason she despised the upper crust of the city. They had the money and influence, but far be it for one of them to actually do something unexpected and prohibited. It would mean the end of their political and social life.

So be it.

Trixie had just enough time to consume her breakfast, pee in the chamber pot, and pull on the clean dress and bustier the servant had also delivered before the guard opened the ornate door to her cell—because that was what it was, a cell, not a bedchamber—and escorted her to the prince once more.

His eyes lit up when he saw her.

“Good morning, my prince,” she greeted him, striding across the floor with an air of undeserved authority. As she walked she loosened the strings to her bodice allowing the neck to her dress to open, exposing her tits. There were new guards and more male servants in the bedchamber than the previous day. She wondered how much of that was chance and how much was the scheming of servants and guards letting friends get a good look at the whore’s tits. “Are you ready for your breakfast?”

Her tits were full to bursting with milk this morning. If she didn’t have an early morning client on days like this, Trixie would often hand express her milk. Today that wouldn’t be a problem.

“Yes,” he said eagerly and opened up his mouth. His color seemed better and his eyes were alive with an eagerness that said he wasn’t ready to die, not just yet. He had more life to experience.

She climbed aboard the bed, crawled across the messy bedclothes, and lowered her heavy tit to his mouth. Prince Wallace opened up immediately and started sucking. As always, Trixie’s milk started flowing. She loved that feeling of her breasts actually releasing their goodness. The moment was spoiled when Miss Anna forced herself into their shared intimacy by shoving her cup under Trixie’s slowly dripping breast.

“We can’t waste any of it,” Anna said with her superior tone.

Trixie ignored her.

The feeding went well that morning. Although she had plenty of milk for her prince it took him less time than the previous day to drain both her breasts. Dr. Rivers nodded approvingly as she finished up and pulled her dress back into place.

“Were your breasts full this morning?” he asked her in the dry, clinical tone of too many doctors.

“Yes,” she answered. “Very much so.”

“And the prince fed well?”

She laced her bodice back into place. Trixie would have liked to walk through the manor house with her tits hanging out, but that wasn’t going to happen, not while Lady Benowith was in charge. “Yes. He was quicker than yesterday.”

The doctor nodded. Prince Wallace lay with his head back on the pillow, a grin of satisfaction on his face. It was hard to tell if he was satisfied by Trixie’s milk or his opportunity to suckle on the most wonderful breasts in the kingdom.

After the first few days, feeding Prince Wallace became a boring routine. She would be brought to him every morning where she would straddle his hips, offer her breasts, and he would drink her milk. There were always the lunch and dinnertime feedings, those were scheduled. Sometime the prince would call out for her to be delivered to his bed so he could have a snack or some additional sustenance. Trixie didn’t mind. He was a good and effective nurser. Not too gentle, not too slow, not too rough. She was certain that from all the food she was given and the number of times Wallace suckled her every day—six wasn’t unusual—that her breasts had more than doubled their production. Though she only had the one bustier of her own, she could tell her tits were bigger than before and her milk flowed easily, steadily. It was usually at the sight of Prince Wallace that her milk let down, but eventually she could start leaking just at the thought of him.

And that was wonderful too.

The servants and guards eventually became bored with the routine. Even seeing Trixie’s perfect breasts became like a dull knife: it was there, it worked, but it was hardly exciting to see in action. Their numbers dwindled back to the bare minimum.

The upside of all of this: the routine and near round-the-clock feedings was that Prince Wallace was becoming stronger.

It was easy for Trixie to figure out he was getting stronger. His wasting disease wasn’t going to kill him. He didn’t suddenly start sucking on her tits like he was trying to empty her breast in one pull. No. One day, with great subtlety, he carefully moved his hands on from their previous position on top of the bed covers to under her long skirt so that he could feel the soft skin of Trixie’s legs. She felt his hands on her and she smiled down at him as he carefully continued the nursing of her tits. His finger moved, but just barely, stroking her outer thighs. She wished in her heart that he had been caressing her inner thighs, but one step at a time.

They both kept silent on the issue. There was no need for anyone else to know. They wanted to keep it a secret. It was more fun that way.

Prince Wallace wasn’t perfect, of course, and Dr. Rivers showed he was a masterful physician when he noticed that Wallace suddenly had use of his hands once again. There were celebrations throughout the manor house when this happened, but it was news strictly limited to the house, not the city. If anyone took note of how it affected Trixie, it wasn’t common knowledge. She was now just another servant who could fade into the background of the busy house.

But Trixie knew much more about Prince Wallace than his mother or Dr. Rivers. Every day she straddled his hip so she could feed him. Every day the heat of her quim warmed the prince’s loins. Not a week after the use of his arms returned to him, Trixie noticed that the prince’s sword was no longer a limp lump of flesh.

“I’m a bit stiff, my prince,” she told him as they exchanged sly grins. “Do you mind if I shift positions?”

“You have my leave,” he said casually, as if granting an inconsequential request from an unimportant servant.

Trixie carefully moved her body. No one was watching. One of the guards even yawned. Dr. Rivers was nowhere to be seen. He hardly ever checked in on them any longer. She was an expert at this. Prince Wallace’s cock was hard but not yet rigid. She got it between her legs and shifted her hips just enough to get his length running between her labia. When his manhood slotted in between her nether lips, she knew it not just by the wonderful sensation between her legs, but the way his eyelids fluttered.

From there it was a simple matter. She leaned forward and allowed him to nurse from her tits as normal, as they always did. As she did so, she also rocked her hips back and forth with a gentle rolling motion. It was sly. It was secretive. They both loved it.

Had Dr. Rivers intended this from the start? Surely he would knot that it was just as easy for Trixie to kneel beside Prince Wallace’s body, lean slightly over him, and then allow him to suckle from her tit. She could just move around to the other side of his body when one breast was done, or just lean further other. She didn’t need to ride astride his body like he was a gallant war horse. She didn’t need to…but she and the prince both enjoyed it. Dr. Rivers couldn’t be that naïve…could he?

At this point it didn’t matter. Trixie rocked her hips. The prince did nothing at all other than suck on her big, red nipples. She knew exactly what she was doing. The prince knew what she was doing but she doubted anyone had ever done this for him before. It wasn’t her preference—there was the sheet between them and she wasn’t certain what the prince was wearing that hid his cock from the prying eyes of the servants, but it wasn’t substantial. Of course Trixie wore nothing around her loins. Her clients wanted ready access to her pussy and she was more than willing to give it to them. She liked functionality over modesty. Her wet lips were certainly leaving a smear on the bed. Would anyone notice?

She kept her motions slow and steady so no one would notice. They hardly noticed now as the prince sucked her nipples like a baby to get his daily sustenance since he was unable to eat normal food. It surprised her how much she was enjoying the game they were playing, but then again it had been almost two months since she had been trapped in the manor house. In that time at Madame Roussouse’s she would normally feed over half a hundred men and have sex with nearly all of them. Her pussy missed sex. She missed sex. Her hand was a poor substitute for the variety her body had become accustomed to and now craved.

When her orgasm overtook her body she smothered her reaction as best she could. She was actually forced to bit the inside of her wrist to keep from screaming out with pleasure. One of the guards looked over at her as she squeaked with her pleasure, but barely looked at her for half a second before once again focusing on the window across from his position and falling into a near-sleep.

“Keep going,” the prince grunted softly.

Trixie didn’t need his encouragement. She kept rocking her hips and letting him nurse from her. It was as if she had ascended to the god’s heaven, if she had believed in such tales.

Finally he came. She could feel the pulsing of his cock and the expenditure of his semen. As he came, her bit down hard on her nipple. Trixie didn’t mind. She liked the sudden pulse of pain. It made her cum again.

The prince was sweating. He was exhausted and leaned his head back on the pillow, completely spent. His body hadn’t yet recovered to the point of being able to endure and orgasm and continue to nurse. For appearance she keep her breast near his face for the next five minutes. He gently kissed and nuzzled her tit as she did so. He knew how to play along in this game.

Finally it was time for his feeding to be over. As Trixie climbed off the bed she saw the smear of her pussy juices on the sheet. It was possible the small stain was a combination of her natural lubrication and the prince’s leavings, but she doubted her almost-lover’s cum had soaked through the cloth so quickly. There was little she could do about it. Instead of panicking, however, the prince merely shifted his position a bit, fluffed the sheets and carefully folded the offending stain into a subtle crease next to his leg. His arms were almost fully functioning now and he was well on his way to making a full recovery. It was incredibly shrewd, but Prince Wallace managed a quick wink at Trixie as she watched him do this. She barely caught his sly wink but was certain it had occurred.

Hadn’t it? While she rearranged her skirts and tucked her tits back into her dress the prince spoke to one of the servants. “When was the last time my bedclothes were changed?” he demanded.

“Yesterday, my lord,” the servant replied. He had been woken from a dozing state by the prince’s sharp words.

“Are you certain? They stink!”

“I’m positive, my lord. It was done yesterday when you were out in the garden on your daily constitutional with your mother.” The servant was plainly nervous at the question and his reply. For just a moment Trixie wondered if the servant was lying. It was much easier just to remake the bed and cover any noxious odors with a spritz of perfume. Had they actually changed the sheets?

Prince Wallace lip curled back. “Summon my valet. I’ll be hauled out of this bed and I’ll watch you change them this time so I am certain. When I’m done, you’ll take me to the baths. I feel the need for a cleansing after your bald-faced lies.”

Trixie was led out of the bed chamber by her guard who must have heard the prince’s accusation but took no interest in it. Wallace caught her eye as she was exited and winked at her once again.

He was a sly fellow.

Back in her room she was once again locked in by the guards. Trixie waited patiently and just as had happened every day since her first at the Benowith’s manor house, a servant appeared with her noontime meal. The guard unlocked the door and let the girl inside. Before she could make a quick exit, Trixie had a demand that she said loudly enough for both the guard and the servant to hear.

“I need to be taken to the baths today. It’s been too long for me.” It had been three days since she had been permitted to clean herself in the warm natural springs that filled the bathhouse of the manor. It was a pool not far behind the manor’s gardens. Everyone used it. There was a special schedule that Trixie had been fitted into, but of course the prince and his mother used it whenever they wished. As far as she knew, she would not be allowed extra or special times in the bathhouse.

The servant girl said nothing; she looked at Trixie in bland surprise. The guard at the door frowned. He spoke up. “Didn’t you hear the prince was going to use the bath? There’s no time for you today.” For the guard that should have been the end of the matter.

Trixie wasn’t going to let it go. “Of course I heard him. That’s why I need to go. After him. Do you really think the prince will want to nurse from me after he’s been to the baths and I haven’t?”

The guard paused. There was a certain logic to what the milker was requesting, that he acknowledged, but he couldn’t just bring her to the baths. He needed permission.

“Wait here,” he grunted and jerked the servant through the door to lock it.

“Where else would I go?” Trixie asked the closed door.

She didn’t have long to wait. The head housekeeper appeared with the guard not ten minutes later. “Do you think you are better than us?” was her only question.

Trixie curtsied. “No, ma’am. I just want to serve the prince as best and cleanly as I can.”

The housekeeper considered that and after a long minute inclined her head slightly. “I suppose that would be…tolerable.”

She spun on her heel and indicated Trixie was to follow by crooking her finger over her shoulder. It was a long walk to the baths and when they arrived there, the guard ever watchful of Trixie, the prince was still using the pool.

“You’ll have to wait,” the housekeeper informed Trixie. “I have better things to do with my time than to escort a…trollop all over the manor grounds.” She fixed her authoritative gaze on the guard. “Watch her. See she cleans herself properly and then escort her back to her quarters.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied smartly with a sharp salute. If the housekeeper caught the guard’s leer, she didn’t let on.

As it was, Trixie had to wait nearly half an hour before the prince emerged. Due to the landscaping and design of the bathhouse there was only one entrance and exit. When the prince left, he couldn’t help but see Trixie waiting there for him.

In the previous weeks he would have been brought to the bathhouse in a litter. Today he was in a wheeled chair that was pushed by a burly valet and footman. Trixie’s guard stiffened to attention when the prince emerged. Trixie simply curtsied as if it were a common gesture for her to make. “My prince,” she spoke softly.

Wallace frowned at first, but then smiled softly. “Trixie. I didn’t realize this was your bathing time.”

“It isn’t, my lord,” she said. “But if you have a bath, it is incumbent upon me to bathe as well. You wouldn’t want your nursemaid to be covered with filth, would you?”

“No, of course no.” He indicated to his valet to push the chair forward.

This time Trixie bowed as deeply as possible, showing the prince her cleavage—a sight he had admired many times before—as he moved past. Only then was she allowed into the bathhouse.

The bathhouse was a house primarily in name. There was a structure built around the hot spring and pool, but it was also incorporated into the gardens at the rear of the manor. Trixie had taken her time to carefully inspect the bathhouse when she had used it before. There were open windows and gaps in the walls, purposely put there for air circulation and to stimulate the growth of certain plants and flowers that were kept on the upper ledges of the house. It was easy enough for even a casual passerby to look into the house while touring the garden. It was forbidden, of course, but the prince had no restrictions on his movements.

She gave him enough time and slowly entered the bathhouse where she took off her clothes before checking the windows at the top of the room. She couldn’t see anything other than shadows. The sunlight was bright and blinded her when she looked upward. It was fine, though, because she could see the outline of a man’s form leaning into one of the windows. She smiled, and winked. She couldn’t say for certain who was watching her, but she was being watched.

The water was blood warm. She luxuriated in it as long as she dared. She wasn’t the only one who needed to use the bathhouse today. Still, no one would complain if she was being watched by the prince. Since no one entered as she bathed, she was certain it was him watching.

Floating in the water she parted her legs and allowed her hands to glide down over her slick body and nestle into her cunt. After a sigh and leaning her head back, she started working her clit with one hand and used the other to penetrate her pussy. She had already been on edge because of the prince’s feeding and the play under the sheets. She had cum, sure, but it wasn’t enough. Getting herself off had never been a problem. The show for the prince wasn’t to entice him into something more. It was to show him that she was willing to do anything for him.

She was willing to do anything for him. He didn’t even have to ask.