Chapter Text
Prince Callan awoke with a smile on the day he was to receive a delicious new prize. Life had been good to the prince these last few years, ever since he had led the people’s rebellion against that cowardly democratic excuse for a government. Strange how installing oneself as the leader of a nation could do so much for one’s quality of life. Nowadays, he enjoyed only the cream of life, and he ensured that every man in his kingdom had the opportunity to do the same.
It was a shame he couldn’t call himself the “king,” as his ancestors once did. Such a position required him to be wed, and—more importantly—put far too many restraints on his… extramarital activities. As it was, he had plenty of options to choose for brides; ever since he had led the fair Kingdom of Altemir in prioritizing military supremacy, it seemed that kings from all over the known world were eager to wed him off to their various daughters, in hopes of gaining a powerful ally (and, of course, pacifying a possible foe).
Today marked the scheduled arrival of yet another suitress: the Princess Aaliya, daughter of some worthless monarch from the far east. Per the reports, she was as prudish and cold as she was beautiful, and Callan had been counting the days until her arrival. He intended to have some serious fun at the poor woman’s expense.
Callan stretched, sitting up in his opulent bed. Turning, he found his servant Anna, still standing beside his bed as she was when he went to sleep. She was a gorgeous young woman, one he had hand-picked years ago to serve as a fixture in his chamber. Though almost entirely flat (he had hoped the girl would have developed at least a little during her latter teenage years), she had an undeniable beauty to her. Shining blonde hair framed an innocent face; were she not royal property, she would have fit perfectly as the gem of some rural town, the beautiful yet untouchable daughter of some neighbor or farmer.
“Good morning, Anna,” he said through a yawn, gesturing for her to approach. “News?”
“Good morning, my lord,” the girl said in her usual bubbly tone. “Nothing unexpected! Word came in an hour ago: we expect Princess Aaliya to arrive before noon. Preparations for her arrival are complete, and the celebratory ball is currently being set up for tomorrow evening.”
“Wonderful as always, Anna. Now if you don’t mind…?”
“Of course, my lord. Which hole?”
“Mouth.”
With no further discussion, Anna pulled back the sheets, uncovering the prince’s naked form. His cock was already halfway hard, a result of a pleasant dream about the day’s festivities. Anna climbed onto the bed, straddling his legs, and took his member in her mouth. Her golden hair fell about Callan’s hips as the servant met his eyes, her soft lips and warm tongue a welcome sensation.
Smiling down at the girl, Callan released his bladder directly into her mouth. Nothing made for a better urinal than a woman of Altemir; he may have used this particular object dozens of times, but it was never a sensation from which he tired.
These were the things that made Altemir great. These were the traditions that had given him such pull with the people, all those years ago. In the historic past, the females of Altemir had been considered nothing more than objects. Callan had heard foreigners talk of the tradition as if it were a black mark on the nation’s history; he had never understood the cause for this. Girls were objects, yes, but they were celebrated objects. Prized communal possessions. Items of entertaining value, or a multitude of convenient uses. Taking the people’s objects away—pronouncing the girls of Altemir to be human—had been the first and greatest failing of the now-dead democratic regime.
Thank the gods things are back on track, Callan thought to himself as he pissed down the servant girl’s throat. He remembered a time in his youth when the people were forced to pretend such acts were profane, when the use of women against their so-called “will” had to be done in secret. Those had been dark times. Not only had the cunts deigned to consider themselves worthy of self-determination, but many had further abused that autonomy to flaunt their bodies, their scantily-clad figures used as taunts against the natural rights of men.
This is why he was prince.
Now, and for the last decade in which Callan had reigned, things were back to normal: females, regardless of age, were once again objects (had they ever really been human?) and men no longer needed to cower in secret or jump a pretty girl in a back alley just to live the way men were meant to live. Now the men of Altemir had this; they had Anna.
Anna made pleasant little gulping sounds as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of her lord’s morning piss. It was always hard to tell with the thick shaft of his cock forcing the servant’s lips into an “O,” but Callan thought he could see her smiling. And why shouldn’t she? She was performing one of her basic functions. This was the reason why she was stationed by his bed each night; if ever a urinal was needed in the early hours, her holes were mere feet away.
And damn was she good at her job. Many of the kingdom’s objects were still reluctant, still requiring force to remind them of the old ways. Not so with Anna. In the five years since she had become a fixture in his bedchamber (Callan could barely believe she was already turning eighteen), she had done her job diligently. The precious little cunt had even surprised him from time to time by getting new, often virginal objects for him to use alongside her own body. The model of a Altemiri woman, that one.
His stream beginning to subside, Callan popped his cock out of her mouth, allowing the last jet of piss to spray across her face. She grinned up at him as he smudged her makeup with urine, visibly enjoying the treatment.
“Hey!” she giggled. “I had chores to get done today.”
“And now everyone you meet will know you to be a piss-pot.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “As if they couldn’t already tell. I coulda swallowed it all, y’know.”
“I have no doubt,” Callan said, wiping his dripping cock on her cheek. “Which is exactly why I did it. You can’t leave my chamber looking too put-together.”
“Then you coulda at least gotten my hair too,” Anna said, faking a pout.
Callan laughed. “How did I find such a model woman? I should have you giving lessons to some of the commoners.”
“Well, you know what they say, my prince. Golden hair, golden… uh, personality.”
The two shared a grin as the girl straightened herself up.
“Anyway, thank you, sir. Can I do anything else for you today?”
The prince considered for a moment. No matter how many times he put this pretty young hole to use, she always seemed to satisfy. But today…
“No, no, I don’t think so. I have a long day ahead of me, and a man only has so much seed.”
Anna looked mildly crestfallen, but she would recover quickly enough.
“I understand, my prince. In that case, perhaps it is time to prepare for Aaliya’s arrival?”
Callan nodded. “I believe new robes have been prepared for the occasion?”
“Oh yes! I saw the tailor bringing them in; they’re quite lavish. I’ll send them in.”
With that, the bubbly little blonde hopped out of bed and strode from the chamber, leaving Callan to his thoughts.