Thread: Princess Park

Princess Francine Ruler of the Kingdom of Romance The Court of Charlemagne, Knights and Chivalry! Photo Sessions 1115 - 1205 and 215 - 245 daily, 515 - 545 Sat and Sun They walked through the gates, the mist swirled around them. Within it a cloying smell of decay, an emotion of despair and something like hunger that gnawed at him. As the mist wrapped itself around them the Matron, at first holding his arm possessively, her back ramrod straight, as if her pride pushed her to stand that way. They walked through together, arm in arm, then when the mist collapsed around them the Matron stiffened more then went cold. As he looked she had changed back, the lifeless face stared ahead, blank and silent as he looked down. Barely seeing the smoothed rectangular stones under his feet. For long minutes their footsteps echoed in the mist, the path passing by beneath his feet. The mist closing and he could barely make out her face, only the white, cold arm and hand that held tight to his arm. As if somewhere within her was still a presence that needed to keep him close, like an anchor to whatever it was she had been. The despair become suffocating, his breath thick with the mist that filled his lungs but never quite left. It's scent staying within each breath, getting stronger and stronger as he filled his lungs. The cloying smell almost burning within, making his lungs work hard. Breathing became labored as he moved through pure force of will, foot before foot, to get him across the floor. Soon he would be walking out the door. The Christmas song came into his head with the scent of despair in his nostrils, then he only had his father and each Christmas he was reminded of the fact he had no mother, they had little family. Most disowning his father at some point earlier, he knew of family but had never met them. Black sheep of the black sheep. Stain of sin visited upon the sons for generations. It all crushed down on David his head hurting, feeling as if it was shrinking on his brain. Thoughts hurt. Feelings hurt. Smell had color. Everything was confused. Changing. Swirling. Movement, stillness. Colors tasted sweet. Sounds felt prickly. Thought came, mixed, where memory had texture in his eyes. For long moments he was lost in a swirl of senses that were incomprehensible, his brain hurt and when the pain became a thick stab he fell through the mist like a door. Breath came easily as he fell to his knees. Arm jerked upwards as the Matron stood still as a statue. Lifeless for a moment. Her arm holding his left, the touch cold but not painful. Head arched backwards he breathed deep. The mist behind he could see the vague outlines of a gate behind, not that far, but definitely not as far as he had felt he had walked. Gulping in the air, its staleness was the same as the rest of the park, but it was better and less tainted than what he had been breathing in. A shudder passed through the Matron and the color came back, the face turning slowly down to him. A smile slowly breaking out on her face. Been awhile since I've felt that, she told him cryptically. Her arm effortlessly pulling him up. What was that? Turning to look back, the wall of grey just swirled before his eyes. Almost hypnotic. A hand patted his arm. Come, you still need to see Paris. David stopped for a moment unsure if he wanted to pursue the question, the look on the Matron's face told him not to. Sighing he looked down at her as he stood, why are you helping me? She cocked her head and smiled, it was the sort of smile that promised everything, and nothing. Forelocks of dark hair falling over her face suggestively, to help you. Why? Why help me? That's what I don't understand, you help the Princesses and me, that just seems at odds. The smile broadened on her face, as if he was suddenly found to be intelligent. Oh it is, more than you know. I am the Matron, the help. A pause as she considered something, I am THE Help. I help everyone. It's what I do. Her hand waved about as she floated next to him. As he went to open his mouth again she put a finger on it, shush, it will all become clear once you get to Rainbow. As he moved his head away from her finger to say something else she reached over and kissed him, hard. Her tongue slipping into his mouth, roaming over his teeth, tongue, and he swore almost went down his throat. Save all those questions for later, sweetie, her hand pat his cheek affectionately. Looking at her shocked, his arousal coming back as her scent had changed to include a scent of old tea as well as soured milk. About to say something when he put a hand on his shoulder, now noticing the lack of something. His backpack was gone. Oh no! My backpack, as he turned back to look at London something broke through the mist and slid on the stones to stop at his feet. His backpack, the right strap broken. Picking it up by the broken strap, holding it in one hand, damn it. The Matron moved a hand over his, putting the pieces together and before his eyes the threads moved and touched and joined together until the strap was the same as it was. Looking up at her wide eyed, then back to the strap and up again, how did you... I help, she shrugged and then pulled him gently forward as he swung the backpack over his shoulder and they walked down the path the large bushes of thick thorns grew above their heads, the branches thick and twisting. Long, thick thorns with glistening tips looked menacingly over them as the brushes seemed to shiver with their presence, as if sensing him and tensing in order to strike. Something seemed to waken in the air, a small breeze floated through the air. The same miasma of decay of neglect hung heavy, filling his lungs with each breath. The path and the hedges seemed to merge as the air became hot, stifling, the slight breeze at first refreshing it then only made the air worse, moving hot air over him. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck, on his forehead, sweat running down his back sticking to his shirt as the backpack clung to him. Trickles of sweat ran into his eyes, stinging him with salt while the path curved around and around. The hedges becoming more animated, rustlings of dead leaves and branches broke the stillness, but when he looked David could see nothing. A final sharp curve that ended in an archway, a 10 foot tall metal arch, entwined with bare rose branches, that curved around and around the metal poles and bracing. At the top of the arch is cursive letters was only the word Paris. In itself the archway looked normal, decorative. Something about it unnerved David as he stepped carefully up and warily moved through it, small branches falling out of it as he moved through. Thorns and small broken vines fell on him like a shower, the thorns cutting into his skin with light scratches and snagging on his shirt, pants, and backpack. A chittering coming from the arch as he saw small, vague shadows darting within the arch and its maze of vines, the rustlings louder as the sound of tiny teeth chewing and chattering echoed above him. Turning around saw he was in a small rounded area. Circles with two paths that led off into other circular area of similar construction on either side, each one with the same structure. The entrances of the further ones fading away into the dimness of the park. Rounded edges, with short, two story buildings leaning in giving a claustrophobic feel, a cluster of metal wrought chairs and tables before the buildings. Curlicue designs on the backs of the chairs, and rounded legs with the iron work skillfully done to have only rounded shapes, and each one perfectly copied. No sharp edges here. Nothing in the middle of the areas, just a space to walk through and the tables and chairs before the buildings. All of them bakeries or cafe's of some kind. The windows empty, devoid of much more than curtains that opened to dim, dusty shops and the faded aroma of yeast and sugar clinging to the hot air. It almost felt like an oven. Turning, saw the Matron had disappeared. David turned around as he stepped inside the first circle, the Matron was gone. Shrugging his shoulders as he was used to her comings and goings by now, walked a few steps and looking around headed right, no sure which direction was useful at this point. Stepping from one circular area to another, it was like walking through a mirror copy. Each one the same. The air the same hot, stifle that pressed down on him making the sweat continue to soak through his back into the pack, while he wiped his eyes, making the sting of salt worse. Going in a zig-zag from right to left to right, the circles went on and on, as he looked ahead all he saw were more and more of the circles. Oh, who is zis? A voice cooed at him as he turned, hearing something behind. She sat on a chair behind him, in a place he was sure had been emptied a moment ago. This had to be Paris. As she saw him looking she blew him a kiss with ridiculously painted lips, the skin was white but with a faint hue to the make-up. The eyes were blank, the lashes were thick and black, a small, round beauty mark below the left eye. Her lips were slightly colored, with heart shaped lipstick in the middle of her lips. Long, blonde curls were piled on top of her head like a beehive, with a small tiara at the base, and small jeweled drop stuck in the hair in a winding pattern from the tiara to the top. Slowly she stood, the long, slim dress fell tightly around her legs, the material draping on the floor. Thin, calves led to thick, round thighs below a prominent ass, the dress belted tightly just above it, he could see the material of the dress pulled tight over her buttocks, and the way it shifted over her hips made it all suggestive as she pushed herself up with long fingers splayed on the table. The arms sheathed in sleeves of thin, plain lace that led up to a wide, open necked gown. That was where David's eyes rested. The open neck plunged down, in a deep v that stopped just above her navel revealing two of the largest breasts he had ever seen. His eyes hungered as he looked them over, Paris giving him a wide grin as he took in the huge, sloping curves of the breasts that looked to be bigger than his head. A long, elegant finger traced a line from her neck down to the cleft between her cleavage and then over her left breast, sliding under the dress then moving away as she stepped towards him. Each step made the breasts ripple, but they stood out, impossibly erect under gravity and the thin fabric of the dress. Her voice was like the coo of a dove, soliciting him as she moved forward slowly, unlike the others there was no jerk of motion. No missed steps as the other Princesses had moved, Paris was smooth, flowing and all the time drawing his attention to her breasts. A visitor, por moi, the accent was so over the top to be comical if not for the blank eyes and face, or the large breasts that he could not tear his eyes away from. How nice, she took deep breaths, jutting out her chest and sinking it to make them ripple. She was before him, a hand reaching up to his face, cooling and steady, a cloying scent of sweet perfumes that almost made him gag reached his nose. His pants tighter than he had ever felt them, David stood entranced. The hand cupped his chin, a sigh and slowly his head was brought up to her face, it iz so nice to have ze visitor. It haz been zo long, she leaned up to him, pressing her impossibly soft breasts into him, the softness like pillows pressed into him, for a moment he felt his dick feel as if it was going to burst. Come, mon cherie, a little kiss, no?