The door to her chamber slammed open. It was early in the morning. Sunlight was angled so low that it barely illuminated Trixie’s room. She knew that being woken by a slammed door was never a good sign in the Benowith manor house. She blinked her eyes a few times and saw it was Lady Benowith who was accosting her. It wouldn’t have been Prince Wallace. He would have slipped in quietly and fucked her while sucking on her nipples, pulling every precious ounce of her life-giving milk from her tits.
“Slut!” the lady of the house declared looking disdainfully at the barely dressed Trixie. Any other woman would have clutched the bedclothes to her body, hiding her partial nudity—the nightdress did nothing to hide her form, but Trixie while smart was never very wise. She sat up brazenly.
“I’ve been called worse,” she said, speaking before thinking.
If Lady Benowith heard the words she gave no indication. “Hold her down,” she ordered the two guards accompanying her. They weren’t men Trixie recognized, not that it mattered. She doubted Joseph or Herman would have disobeyed their mistress. She allowed the guards to pin her down to the bed and briefly wondered if she was to be raped. It was a harsh punishment but certainly not unknown to prostitutes and other women of no status.
“Doctor Rivers, please perform the exam,” Lady Benowith said in her usual imperious tone. The doctor had slipped into the room with a frown on his face.
“This is hardly the way I like to see my patients,” he said softly to Lady Benowith.
She gave him a withering glare.
Rivers turned to Trixie and indicated the guards should pull up her sheer nightdress. Pinned on her back, nude for all in the room to see, it was obvious what the good doctor had been called in to examine. Showing his professional demeanor and excellent medical training he palpated the prostitute’s abdomen and did a quick visual scan. He didn’t bother with a full pelvic exam, not in front of the lady of the house.
“She is definitely pregnant,” he told Lady Benowith.
“Thank you, doctor. You are dismissed.”
He hurried from the room.
“Let her up.”
The guards let Trixie go and took a few respectful steps back from the bed. Trixie took her time pulling down her nightdress over her bulging belly. It wasn’t big, not yet. It was partially hidden by her weight gain from the rich food she had been eating to nurse the prince, but even untrained eyes could see her condition.
“You aren’t a stupid girl,” Lady Benowith began. “I can only surmise you are smart enough to not have bedded a random servant or guard in your time here.”
Trixie said nothing.
“Are you carrying my grandchild,” she asked when Trixie offered no response.
Trixie had been brought up to always answer a direct question from a superior. She couldn’t help herself. “Yes.”
Lady Benowith nodded. “I haven’t decided if it’s better for your sake if it’s a girl or a boy.”
Again, Trixie said nothing.
“You have complicated my plans for my son.”
Trixie remained silent. The wrong reply could easily result in her death. Lady Benowith did have that much power and she certainly wasn’t above murder of a worthless whore if it came down to that.
Abruptly the older woman sat down in the wooden framed chair opposite the bed. In the space of a few minutes she had apparently aged twenty years. “Leave us alone,” she said to the guards and waited as they exited the room. She might be an older woman but she was hardly in danger from a pregnant one.
“I would have been happy for you to have your dalliance with my son. You nursed him—literally—back to health. You kept him happy during his recovery. You provided services that none of the female members of my staff would have. Oddly, according to Dr. Rivers you gave him exercise he needed. Even right now he is leading a contingent of our men in a tournament. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Trixie said as she looked down at her hands.
“But you went too far. You couldn’t resist. Or maybe he couldn’t resist your charms…which I will admit are ample. You made him fall in love with you.”
“I did not such thing, my lady,” Trixie protested.
She held up a warning hand. “It is one thing to actually have intercourse with him…but when he put his face…” she trailed off, unable to say the words. “But when he put his face between your legs—oh yes, it was witnessed, I do have complete control over my house you know—when he did that, it was too much.”
“My lady, I could not stop him. He wanted to do that!”
Lady Benowith’s face soured. “Only a man in love does that for a woman. I can’t have my son in love with a common whore.”
The worst side of Trixie’s nature took hold of her tongue. “Would the king not kiss your pussy when you asked?” The insult was crude and shocking.
For a minute Lady Benowith didn’t react. Then she stood up, quickly crossed the room and slapped Trixie across the face. Trixie gasped at the blow. Four red lines bloomed on her cheek and that pleased Lady Benowith.
“You are a cheap whore and worthless to us. I don’t know who you think you are, but you will be returned to the house of ill-repute we plucked you from and your bastard will be surely the death of you.”
With that Lady Benowith whirled around and exited the room. Trixie held her emotions in check a minute, more than enough time for her tormentor to be well out of earshot, before she broke down in tears.
Her return to Madame Roussouse’s house was without announcement. Though the overweight woman who had taken in Trixie was surprised to find her wayward employee suddenly on her doorstep with a bulging belly, she wasn’t turned away. Some men enjoyed nursing from a pregnant woman more than one with a flat tummy.
The reunion with her employer was a happy one, but it was with another resident of the house that Trixie had most looked forward to.
“Mama!” Little Hera bounced out of the private apartments where Madame had been keeping her safe, her blonde curls bouncing around her head in a halo of tangles. “Are you finally back from your trip? Did you see the world?”
Trixie kissed the top of her daughter’s head and said, “Yes, I’m home. And I saw part of the world, but not all of it.” She turned to Madame. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”
The older woman dismissed the gratitude with an audible psht. “I took her upkeep from your pay.” She arched a knowing eyebrow. “And the pay continued to come every week. I was impressed. I thought I was going to have a new scullery maid in a few years. I wasn’t sure if you would ever come back.” The wise madam looked at Trixie’s full form and bulging belly. “And I certainly didn’t expect you back with another bastard in your belly.”
“Neither did I, Madame,” she said in a flat voice, attempting to keep the sadness out of her words.
The professional procurer smiled softly and beckoned her employee to the back rooms. “Come, tell me all about it. There is a purse full of gold that might make you feel a bit better.”
The gold was nice, but it wasn’t enough to keep Trixie from literally crying on Madame’s shoulder.
After her summary dismissal from the house of Benowith, Trixie kept busy with clients new and old. Many were intrigued with her condition, and all were happy that they weren’t the father. No one pressed her on the issue. It was a common enough occurrence for any active working whore. Some men paid extra to drink Trixie’s milk and then fuck her silly. Those that did always had hands roaming from her ass to her tits and then to her belly. She wasn’t sure what thrill those men received in knowing they were fucking a pregnant woman. Maybe it was because the child she was carrying wasn’t theirs.
A few weeks after her return to her house Madame announced to her after the midday meal, “New client in your private bed, Trixie. Cute one too. You’d probably fuck him for free.”
The other girls in earshot laughed at Madame’s teasing. Trixie smile d and shook her head as she began to ascend the stairs up to the working rooms. She had just entered the part of pregnancy where it was starting to get hard to walk up stairs. She wasn’t waddling. Not yet, but she was getting there.
She entered her room where the client awaited. He was standing next to the bed, one hand resting on a walking stick as he looked out the window. His face was in profile and he didn’t turn to look at her right away.
Trixie paused for half a second and then said, “I was wondering when you would show up.”
“Am I so predictable?” Wallace asked without taking his eyes from the window. “You have a beautiful view of Victory Park from here.”
“Madame believes it makes our place classier than the other whorehouses. And yes, you are predictable, but I expected you earlier. I’m disappointed.”
“I didn’t mean to disappoint you,” he said with all sincerity.
“I got over it,” she said as she unlaced the top of her dress. Her heavy breasts tumbled out and she pushed the garment over her hips and belly, letting it drop to the floor. Underneath she wore stockings and a simple pair of briefs hiding her pussy from plain sight. “Are you here to nurse or to nurse and fuck?”
The corners of his mouth turned down in a brief bit of anger. “I’m here to talk.”
“Talk or suck or fuck, it all costs the same,” she said.
He knew she was trying to annoy him. It was working. But Wallace controlled his anger. “How is our child?”
“Are you going to acknowledge it as yours?” she asked him. “Are you man enough to claim fatherhood to a bastard of a whore?”
The silence between them told her all she needed to know.
“I thought so.”
“You know this is difficult for me,” he began.
“Do you want me to suck your cock?” she offered.
“No, I want you to listen.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
“It didn’t take me that long to find where you were, but I couldn’t come to see you right away because of my mother. You know what she’s like.”
Trixie sat down on the edge of the bed, still naked from the waist up, and said nothing.
“Then I wanted to find out more about you. I wanted to know why you were working…here.”
“In a whorehouse? Because I have no skills, my father disowned me for getting pregnant, and then I realized I did have one skill that men would pay dearly for. I knew how to fuck. And as luck would have it, they liked sucking my milk as well. Everyone wins. I’m one of the best paid whores in the city.”
“Pregnant?” he asked, a bit stunned.
She patted her belly. “This is my second. I hope you didn’t think I was a virgin when you fucked me. Would you like to meet my daughter? She’s downstairs.” Trixie started to rise but Wallace shook his head. It was a noble gesture but largely unnecessary because she couldn’t easily get off the soft bed without assistance.
“I didn’t know…”
“Why do you think my tits were lactating in the first place?” she asked him sharply.
He didn’t answer that question. “You surely can’t have been the first farm girl to get pregnant before marriage. Is your family strictly religious?”
“Ha!” she barked at him. “I’m no farm girl.”
“Are you from the city?” he asked not knowing what else to say.
“I’m from the north. I’m no slattern farm girl. I’m Lady Gertrude St. Virth. Maybe you’ve heard of my family? We have holdings up north.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course…I didn’t realize your father had a daughter.”
“It’s my grandfather who is the current lord, but you probably didn’t know that. It matters not. I was a black stain on the family reputation. I ran away to the big city. I had my child. They think I’m dead. End of story.”
“But this solves our problems,” he said, his face lighting up with joy. “You’re of the right station to marry me.”
“No, I am not. I’m a whore. I’ve fallen too far. My milk and my cunt are yours, but my hand in marriage…never. You are close enough to a bastard yourself. Your mother has worked too hard to put you on the throne to see you marry a slut…a whore with an illegitimate child.”
“But…” he started to insist and then realized she was right.
Trixie flopped back on the bed and sighed in frustration. She wasn’t upset with the situation. She had never wanted to marry Prince Wallace. She wasn’t sure what she had wanted. To seek respect of her family…but that was never going to happen. To earn enough money to sail far away and never return to the kingdom…that was a possibility. To perhaps live her old life among the nobility…no, she had given that up long ago. “The best I can be is your mistress. I have some money now. You can probably get me some more and set me up as a proper lady of ill repute. Maybe I can meet your future wife one day. We can talk and become friends. Our children can grow up together.” It was a sick, twisted fantasy. Many noblemen had mistresses I the city but their bastards were nothing to them.
Prince Wallace knelt down on the floor between Trixie’s legs. He reached up and pulled her briefs over her hips and down her legs, exposing her cunt. Her dark curls were already moist with anticipation. Although she sometimes hated her position in life, there were times she didn’t mind being a slut. The son of the king pushed his face into her pussy and licked and kissed her there.
She gasped a little and then placed one hand on the back of his head and the other on one nipple. Her milk was already flowing. Quickly she brought a finger to her lips and tasted her essence. It was still sweet. It was sweeter than the day he had her taste it from the cup. She wanted him to nurse from her tits, but he needed to eat her pussy first. He was in love with her, even if she wasn’t in love with him. It wouldn’t be so bad to be the mistress of the prince of the city. She could have other men on the side as well. That would slake the thirst of her loins. And maybe she could keep nursing the prince, keeping him under her thumb.
His tongue slipped up into her pussy and she pinched a nipple as hard as she could. The pain was intense and wonderful. Wallace licked upwards, searching for her clit. It wasn’t hard to find as engorged as it was. He glanced up at his love. It was impossible to see her face over her belly and tits. That was fine. That’s what was most important to him anyway.
