Helga's Servant

Helga's Servant

Helga's carriage clattered to a halt outside the grand gates of her castle. The journey from the distant kingdom had been long, and the weight of her royal duties pressed heavily upon her shoulders. As she stepped out onto the cobblestone courtyard, her eyes scanned the familiar surroundings, searching for the one face that could ease her weariness.

"Princess Helga, your highness!" Amira's eager voice pierced through the air, and Helga's heart quickened in response. She turned to see her servant rushing forward, wide-eyed and breathless. The afternoon sun highlighted the contrast between Helga's pale complexion and Amira's rich, dark skin.

"Amira," Helga murmured with a hint of relief, reaching out to grasp Amira's hand for assistance getting down from her carriage. The warmth of Amira's touch steadied her, a silent promise of comfort. Without another word, Helga tugged on Amira's wrist and led her through the winding corridors of the castle, their footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls.

Arriving at the royal bath, Helga released Amira's hand and began to peel away the layers of her travel-worn outer-attire. Amira moved with practiced grace, setting about her task of drawing the bath. Steam rose from the water as it filled the ornate tub, perfumed oils swirling into delicate patterns on the surface.

"Undress me," Helga commanded softly, her voice carrying an undercurrent of impatience. Amira's fingers worked quickly, unfastening the intricate clasps and laces of Helga's remaining gown. The fabric fell away, revealing the princess's dainty and pallid form. Helga stepped into the bath, sighing as the warm water enveloped her.

Amira stood at the edge, waiting for permission to join her mistress. Helga's blue eyes flickered with a mixture of anticipation and authority. With a nod, she granted Amira access, and the servant undressed quickly, then slipped into the bath, positioning herself at Helga’s feet.

As Amira began washing Helga's soles, Helga kicked the sponge from her hand.

"Relieve me," Helga demanded, placing her milky white legs over Amira's dark shoulders. There was no hesitation in Amira's movements as she leaned forward, her full lips pressing tender kisses against Helga's lower belly and thighs. Each touch was imbued with a deep-seated devotion.

Helga's breath hitched, the sensation of Amira's lips on her sensitive skin sending shivers down her spine. Amira's ministrations were tender, almost worshipful, treating the princess's delicate alabaster flesh as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Helga closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lost in the sensations that Amira's touch invoked. The tension of the journey melted away, replaced by the mix of desire and fulfillment.

The warm water danced under Helga's porcelain skin as Amira's full, black lips trailed languidly along her inner thigh. Helga reveled in the contrast—the eager tongue serving her and the strong, calloused hands of a working woman caressing her delicate body. Each touch was electric, sending shocks of pleasure through her.

"Keep going," Helga murmured, her voice edged with a mix of command and need.

Amira's body began to ease into the ritual, her movements becoming more fluid, almost relaxed. Helga felt the shift and frowned. Without warning, she lightly kicked Amira's back with her heel.

"Sit up straight," Helga barked, her tone sharp. The servant instantly corrected her posture.

"Forgive me, Mistress," Amira whimpered, her eyes downcast but her hands never faltering in their worshipful task. One hand slid up Helga's torso, pausing just below her chest. The fingers splayed out, feeling the rhythmic thud of Helga's heartbeat beneath the pale flesh.

Able to judge the state of Helga's body, Amira pressed soft and slow kisses on the pink of Helga's vulva.

"Good girl," Helga breathed, her eyes closing again as she surrendered to the sensations. Amira pressed her palm firmly against Helga's chest, attuning herself to the rhythm of the princess's pulse. She moved with precision, bringing Helga to the very brink of ecstasy, then pulling back, hovering at the precipice.

"Come on," Helga finally gasped, her control slipping. "Now."

With her mistress's permission, Amira's lips wrapped around the rosy, pink center of her mistress, her tongue slipping between the folds and pleasing, lapping up the precious gift of this white woman’s arousal. Helga's breath quickened, her body tensing as the waves of release began to crash over her.

"Amira," she whispered one last time, her voice breaking. She squeezed her thighs around the servant's head and grabbed her hair, then succumbed entirely to the overwhelming flood of pleasure that her loyal servant so expertly delivered.

"You've done well," her voice still tinged with desire. "Clean up and attend to my chambers. I'll need you again later tonight."