The Doctor's Rough Treatment (Historical Medical Smut With A Side Of Story) by Diana Quippley Page A
Authors: Diana Quippley
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Medical, Adult, Regency, Short Stories, 19th century, Victorian, menage, untouched, doctor, Forbidden, Mysterious, naughty, Erotic Tale, Liquid Passion, pleasure, Endowed, sexual pleasure, Assistance, Tight-Bodied, Lusty Techniques, Colleagues, Naughty Adventure
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guards’
attention outside making them raise a ruckus and now her sleep had been
shattered. Seven days ago she had been kidnapped from the royal guardians of
her father, King Gawain’s summer palace and brought here to this foreboding
keep across the borders of their kingdom. She didn’t know what for, but being a
princess was good enough reason to be kidnapped. She knew her father would pay
any ransom for her, but she was not abducted for the wealth of the kingdom.
Instead it was an attempt to stop her from marrying the prince of another
kingdom to the south, thus making their nation even more powerful and a
possible threat to this one in the east. She had never met this southern Prince
before, never even heard of him and couldn’t really care.
Princess Shania couldn’t give a
hoot for such matters of state and politics. Though she was terrified at the
abduction, she was so far not treated badly by her captors. Perhaps they knew
better than to spoil their only means of leverage, whoever they were. She had
been blindfolded and brought to the Keep to be locked up in the little cell,
about two days ago. They had given her proper food and drink, proper for a
commoner, but acceptable enough to quench her thirst and hunger for the moment.
And now when she finally laid her head down to rest, someone was raising hell
outside.
She sat upright when a loud crash
sounded right above her cell. Voices were raised in anger and the sound of
scuffling ensued. Metal rang on metal, screams of men maimed or dying echoed
inside. Then there was a sudden deathly silence as if nothing had ever
happened. Whoever the fool trying to escape was must have been dealt with by
the guards.
Suddenly the door to her cell
exploded in a rush of splinters as a large man wearing the helm and armor of
the Dark Keep guardsmen came hurtling in headfirst, hit the hard floor and lay
there very still, his glassy stare looking up at the ceiling of the cell. She
stifled a scream, not knowing what to expect, but her heart was beating
furiously. A huge shadow blotted out the torch light coming in through the
shattered door, and then it ducked low to step into the little cell.
Shania screamed this time as the
largest man she had ever seen stepped into her little cell, a huge broadsword
in his massive fist, dripping with fresh blood. He wore some leather and metal
armor and his immensely muscular arms and shoulders bore the marks of many
scars and ceremonial tribal tattoos. The large iron helm on his head had a
visor covering his eyes, his grim lips were a thin line and his powerful jaw bore
a few days’ worth of dark stubble. She pressed herself back toward the cold
wall of her cell, her green eyes wide in terror.
“Her hair be as brilliant as the
sunset, and her dazzling eyes as green as the evening sea, she has the face to
stay the gods and the body to make men kneel before her, ever ready to die.” He
said, in a low guttural rumble that seemed to emanate from his deep chest. “You
are the Princess Shania, of the Western Kingdom… heir to the crown of Gawain,
the King.”
She eyed him warily as he stood
there, not willing to acknowledge him without knowing who he was. He stood
there silently awaiting her response, throwing a furtive glance over his
massive shoulder every now and then. Realizing that she was not certain about
his intentions, he took off his helm. His long dark hair tumbled in sweat slick
curls around his handsomely rugged face and she stared at the steel blue eyes
that looked back at her intensely.
“Princess, I am Cullen of the
Northern Highland Clans, hired by your sire to return you to him.” He said
urgently. “Come, we have to leave before they rouse the main army.”
“Why should I believe you… you’re
just a barbarian of low birth.” Shania composed herself and gave him a
contemptuous look.
His jaw clenched and the thick vein
on his muscular neck bulged. “My manner of birth doesn’t
attention outside making them raise a ruckus and now her sleep had been
shattered. Seven days ago she had been kidnapped from the royal guardians of
her father, King Gawain’s summer palace and brought here to this foreboding
keep across the borders of their kingdom. She didn’t know what for, but being a
princess was good enough reason to be kidnapped. She knew her father would pay
any ransom for her, but she was not abducted for the wealth of the kingdom.
Instead it was an attempt to stop her from marrying the prince of another
kingdom to the south, thus making their nation even more powerful and a
possible threat to this one in the east. She had never met this southern Prince
before, never even heard of him and couldn’t really care.
Princess Shania couldn’t give a
hoot for such matters of state and politics. Though she was terrified at the
abduction, she was so far not treated badly by her captors. Perhaps they knew
better than to spoil their only means of leverage, whoever they were. She had
been blindfolded and brought to the Keep to be locked up in the little cell,
about two days ago. They had given her proper food and drink, proper for a
commoner, but acceptable enough to quench her thirst and hunger for the moment.
And now when she finally laid her head down to rest, someone was raising hell
outside.
She sat upright when a loud crash
sounded right above her cell. Voices were raised in anger and the sound of
scuffling ensued. Metal rang on metal, screams of men maimed or dying echoed
inside. Then there was a sudden deathly silence as if nothing had ever
happened. Whoever the fool trying to escape was must have been dealt with by
the guards.
Suddenly the door to her cell
exploded in a rush of splinters as a large man wearing the helm and armor of
the Dark Keep guardsmen came hurtling in headfirst, hit the hard floor and lay
there very still, his glassy stare looking up at the ceiling of the cell. She
stifled a scream, not knowing what to expect, but her heart was beating
furiously. A huge shadow blotted out the torch light coming in through the
shattered door, and then it ducked low to step into the little cell.
Shania screamed this time as the
largest man she had ever seen stepped into her little cell, a huge broadsword
in his massive fist, dripping with fresh blood. He wore some leather and metal
armor and his immensely muscular arms and shoulders bore the marks of many
scars and ceremonial tribal tattoos. The large iron helm on his head had a
visor covering his eyes, his grim lips were a thin line and his powerful jaw bore
a few days’ worth of dark stubble. She pressed herself back toward the cold
wall of her cell, her green eyes wide in terror.
“Her hair be as brilliant as the
sunset, and her dazzling eyes as green as the evening sea, she has the face to
stay the gods and the body to make men kneel before her, ever ready to die.” He
said, in a low guttural rumble that seemed to emanate from his deep chest. “You
are the Princess Shania, of the Western Kingdom… heir to the crown of Gawain,
the King.”
She eyed him warily as he stood
there, not willing to acknowledge him without knowing who he was. He stood
there silently awaiting her response, throwing a furtive glance over his
massive shoulder every now and then. Realizing that she was not certain about
his intentions, he took off his helm. His long dark hair tumbled in sweat slick
curls around his handsomely rugged face and she stared at the steel blue eyes
that looked back at her intensely.
“Princess, I am Cullen of the
Northern Highland Clans, hired by your sire to return you to him.” He said
urgently. “Come, we have to leave before they rouse the main army.”
“Why should I believe you… you’re
just a barbarian of low birth.” Shania composed herself and gave him a
contemptuous look.
His jaw clenched and the thick vein
on his muscular neck bulged. “My manner of birth doesn’t
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