Princess Arabella Chooses A Mate, Part One
by Sonofjack; sonofjackwell@gmail.com
The title pretty much says it all


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Here's a story that I wrote some time ago, but never posted. Let me know what
you think....

Send your comments to sonofjackwell@gmail.com

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It was a day of celebration in the small queendom of Nike. The Princess
Arabella had recently come of age and it was announced by her mother, Queen
Belladonna, that it was time for Arabella to choose a husband.

Queen Belladonna was the supreme ruler of Nike. She ruled with Malcolm the
Gentle, her husband and chief adviser, by her side. It was Malcolm who advised
his queen and lover that their daughter should be allowed to pick from all the
eligible men in their queendom. And so it was that all of the bachelors in the
realm who were within the proper age limits were called together to vie for
Princess Arabella's hand.

Of course, even in a queendom as small as Nike, Princess Arabella could not be
expected to meet and choose from EVERY eligible young man. So a select
committee made up of Princess Arabella's aunts, closest friends and former
instructors was created to narrow the field down to four possible candidates.
Arabella's father Malcolm the Gentle was the only man allowed on this
committee. If the princess rejected all four of the candidates chosen by the
committee, then they would reconvene and start the entire process over again
in six months.

Every single young man of age in the queendom was anxious to be chosen as
Princess Arabella's consort because to be chosen for such an honor meant a
life of wealth and luxury. Besides, though the number of men in the queendom
who had actually set eyes on the young princess were few, she was said to be
half again more beautiful that her mother Queen Belladonna. Though the queen
was a woman in her early fortes, she looked as beautiful as she did when she
was a maiden of seventeen.

After much debate among the members of the select committee, four possible
suitors were selected for Princess Arabella to look over. The largest arena in
all the queendom was selected as the place where the four possible suitors
would present their case to the princess. The arena was filled to capacity
because so many in the queendom wanted to see if Princess Arabella was really
as beautiful as they'd heard.

The princess did not disappoint. She was 5'6" of sheer feminine perfection.
She possessed the most beautiful face that anyone in the queendom had ever
seen and a shapely form that would make dead men sit up in their graves and
take notice. She had long, beautiful hair of golden ringlets and blue eyes
that sparkled like the sun shining on a crystal clear lake. The only thing on
earth that looked softer and smoother that the lovely gown she wore was her
own flawless skin. Young men fainted and grown women wept at the very sight of
her loveliness.

She took her place on a high platform at the front of the arena with her
mother the queen and her father on each side of her. One at a time her four
potential suitors were brought before her. Each suitor was told to bring a
gift worthy of a princess. The order of the suitor candidates was chosen by
lottery.

The first candidate was Doyle the Barbarian, a dark-haired, dark eyed sullen
brute of a man who stood close to seven feet tall. Doyle was packed with
muscles from his neck down to his feet. He was known as a man of gigantic
melancholies as well as enormous mirth.

Even though he was only twenty-four winters old, Doyle had seen much adventure
and slain many monsters in his time. He'd sold his sword and his strong right
arm for hire on more than one occasion, and more than one empire was toppled
as a result.

He happened to be passing through the queendom of Nike when he heard that a
beautiful princess was looking for a husband and he thought, "What the hell?"
Doyle was the favorite of some of Princess Arabella's younger friends on the
select committee who still hadn't gotten over their bad boy phase.

When his name was announced, Doyle the Barbarian proudly walked up and stood
before Princess Arabella and her parents. He was dressed in a loincloth made
from the skin of a bear and matching bearskin boots and little else. He was
bare-chested with ornate metal wrist guards and a thick belt from which hung a
scabbard which contained an enormous sword. Also hanging from the belt were
several smaller blades, a goatskin flask and various other small pouches which
presumably held all of Doyle's worldly goods.

Queen Belladonna looked down at the barbarian and asked, "What gift do you
have to present to my daughter the princess?"

Doyle looked up, threw back his thick, shoulder length black hair, and flexed
his massive arms. The crowd gasped as his massive muscles exploded. "My gift
to the princess is my awesome body," he said, "And as impressive as the parts
of my body that you can see are, it is the part of my body that you cannot see
right now that is most impressive. And I assure you that IT is MOST impressive
if you know what I mean. And I know that you know what I mean."

Queen Belladonna was outraged at the arrogant young ruffian and was ready to
call on her elite guard to forcefully eject him. However, Princess Arabella
who could see the disapproval on her mother's face said in a voice that was
more beautiful that the melody of a thousand songbirds, "Please, let's hear
him out, Mother."

Doyle took the princess's words to mean that she looked favorably upon his
male splendor and said, "You hear that, Queensy, your daughter is digging my
vibe. Why don't we just send those other three guys home and the princess and
I can retire to her bed chambers and seal this deal?"

Malcolm the Gentle spoke and said, "Pardon me, Mr. Doyle the Barbarian, but
I'll have to ask you to not speak so crudely about my daughter and to please
address my wife with a more respectful tone."

Doyle responded, "Shut up, wimp! Don't make me jump up there and pop your head
like a zit!"

Queen Belladonna started to stand up, but Princess Arabella was on her feet
first. She said, "No, Mother, let me handle this," as she jumped down from the
platform the massive barbarian was standing before. "You need to be taught
some manners," she said.

Doyle looked down at the lovely form of the young princess - her ample
breasts, her trim waist, her flaring hips and round buttocks - and licked his
lips. "They didn't lie when then said you were a comely wench, Princess. I
think that you would look very good naked next to me in my bed in the morning.
You clearly like me too. Let's do this thing."

Princess Arabella issued a laugh that was more enchanting than a host of
angels singing and said, "I would not go anywhere near your bed if you were
the last barbarian on Earth. You're arrogant, you're stupid, you're uneducated
and you're loutish. You're also ill-mannered and malodorous which was
something I could detect from way up on my platform."

"I dig you too, baby," Doyle responded with a vacant smile.

"Besides, you're not nearly as handsome as you seem to think," the princess
observed.

Doyle's countenance grew dark and menacing. "Not handsome? No wench talks to
Doyle in such a manner, even if she is a princess."

"Perhaps you'd like to do something about it," suggested Arabella. Doyle
started to raise his hand as if he was going to hit the princess, but he
hesitated when he saw that she didn't flinch. Instead she was smiling.

"I've known women like you before," said Doyle. "You're one of those wenches
who's into being hit, aren't you?"

"No," replied the princess, "I just don't think that you are man enough to
hurt me." That hardly seemed likely however, since Doyle was well over a foot
and a half taller than the princess and outweighed her almost two-to-one. The
barbarian brute looked around.

"Or perhaps you know that if I strike you that your mother will order her
elite guard to attack. I promise that I will take at least ten or more of them
to quell me, but eventually, with their superior numbers, they might slay me."

Princess Arabella looked up at Queen Belladonna and said, "Mother, I want your
word as queen that you will not intervene in any way if Doyle chooses to
strike me."

The queen looked down at her daughter with a knowing smile and said, "You have
my word, Daughter."

Arabella looked back at the rough brute and said, "Go ahead and hit me, tough
guy... if you're man enough." That was it. Doyle's short fuse was all burned
up. He hit Arabella hard across the face with the back of his hand.

Instead of falling to the ground as he expected, Princess Arabella's head
barely moved and the smile never left her face. "I thought you were going to
hit me," she said, "That felt like less than a love tap."

So Doyle backhanded the princess again across the face. "My grandmother hits
harder than that," laughed Arabella, and since her grandmother was part of the
royal line of the queendom of Nike, she wasn't lying. This time the barbarian
hit the princess's lovely face with his fist. When she still didn't seem to
feel it, he hit her again. "Pathetic," was Arabella's one word comment.

Doyle flew into a berserker rage and drew his huge and heavy sword from its
scabbard. He lifted it up over his head and tried to bring it down on Princess
Arabella's head. She brought her lovely, delicate hands together and caught
Doyle's sword between them over her head. Her powerful grip halted the
momentum of the blade mere inches for her head.

The beautiful princess then twisted her hands to one side wrenching the sword
from Doyle's powerful grip and tossed it aside. She grabbed the soldier of
fortune by his belt and lifted him into the air with one hand and tossed him
ten feet straight up into the air. As he was falling back to earth, the
princess balled up her tiny fist, pulled back her lovely arm and punched Doyle
as he passed her on his way to the ground. The punch sent the huge galoot
flying twenty-five feet before landing hard in the dirt.

Princess Arabella then went over and picked up Doyle's sword and started
walking towards where he had landed. When Doyle saw the angry princess
advancing towards him with his sword in her hand, he pulled himself up to his
knees and began begging for his life. "Please, Princess, please don't kill me.
I'm sorry I hit you. Please, spare my worthless life."

When Arabella reached him, he threw himself on the ground and groveled at her
feet. "Please, Princess, please, please, please...."

"I'm not going to kill you, barbarian," Arabella assured him. He began kissing
her feet.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you...."

"But I am going to punish you," she said. She once again lifted the huge
egotist with one hand and draped him over her left arm. She sunk his sword
into the ground while she pulled off his loin cloth with her right hand and
exposed his bare barbarian buttocks. In the process she also revealed that
he'd exaggerated earlier when he talked about how impressive a certain part of
his anatomy was.

Taking the sword back in her right hand, Princess Arabella spanked Doyle's
bare ass with the flat of his own blade in front of an overflowing crowd. By
the time she was finished, the brave and mighty warrior was sobbing like a
toddler.

She set him back down and said, "I'm keeping this sword as your 'gift' to me.
Now... be gone!" Doyle ran out of the arena and was never seen in the queendom
of Nike again.

Princess Arabella then strolled back over to the platform where her parents
were sitting and did an eighteen foot vertical leap onto the raised stand. She
sat back down in her chair. "Show me the next husband candidate," she
commanded.

"That's my girl," Malcolm the Gentle said proudly.

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If you've read very many of my stories you may have noticed that I sometimes
start with "Part One" or end with a "To be continued" and never get around to
the rest of the story. I assure you that I always start out with the best of
intentions....

I do have three other potential suitors in mind for Princess Arabella. If
you'd like to read more, let me know.

Send your comments to sonofjackwell@gmail.com

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