Retired S-rank father becomes a teacher

The castle would be ready in a week. That's what my papa said and it made butterflies appear in my stomach. I was so excited. Finally we would cross that boundary of being just father and daughter and I could have him as my prince. My naughty prince who would ravish me in our own castle. My panties were soaked just dreaming of it.

But now wasn't the time for lewd thoughts because I was on a date with papa and I had to behave like a proper princess. The country air blew through my hair and the sky was clear and blue.

The Medieval Festival of Provins, France. It was the perfect place for a romantic date with my beloved father.

The smell of fresh grass and hay was everywhere and I could see the stone walls of the castle in the distance, making my heart flutter.

I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the entrance, my other hand holding my pink dress up so I wouldn't trip. Papa laughed, his voice deep and soothing to my ears.

We bought our tickets and I pouted because he could have easily teleported us inside for free but he said we should respect the event and pay. The old man at the gate smiled and told us to enjoy our time.

Walking through the entrance, we were immediately surrounded by the medieval atmosphere. There were people dressed as knights, merchants and jesters, the sounds of lutes and flutes were playing a cheerful tune. It was like stepping into a different time.

No one used any magic here. The rule was to keep it a historical event and magic didn't exist in medieval times. So in that time witches were definitely burned for no reason. Pope Innocent III would crawl out of his grave if he knew magic existed now.

I looked up at papa, who was dressed as a prince, his hair was slicked back and he wore a white linen shirt with a black leather vest and brown pants. His boots were dark and reached his knees.

I giggled at his appearance.

"Papa you look like a pirate."

He rolled his eyes and kissed my forehead. The warm touch of his lips made my face hot.

"I am not a pirate. I am a dashing prince who will sweep his princess off her feet," he said with a smirk.

My heart was racing in my chest. Yes, yes! I wanted to be swept off my feet by him. He grabbed my hand and led me to a stall where a lady was painting portraits of couples.

She looked at us with a smile, her brush already wet with paint.

"What a beautiful couple. Please sit down on the bench." She gestured to a wooden bench in front of a backdrop of a painted forest.

We sat down and she started to paint us. She was a good painter. Her eyes were focused on her work but I couldn't help but feel like she was staring at papa more than me—which I understood because he was the definition of perfection but still. He was mine and no one else could have him.

I stood up and the painter stopped, confused.

"Let's change pose," I said, smiling sweetly at her.

Papa raised an eyebrow but played along.

I sank deeply onto his lap, my hips settling perfectly flush against his strong thighs until the rigid, thickening length of his bulge pressed directly between my thighs. Without a hint of hesitation, I pulled his heavy forearms around my waist, anchoring his large, warm hands tightly just below the bare, soft swell of my breasts so the painter could capture exactly who owned him.

His warm breath grazed my neck, sending an exquisite shiver down my spine as his lips brushed my ear.

"Is this better, princess?" he whispered and I nodded, trying not to moan at the feeling of him.

The painter was blushing as she continued her work. I didn't care. I just wanted this portrait to show everyone that papa belonged to me.

His length grew entirely unyielding beneath me, the slow, rolling friction of my hips shifting against his lap drawing a deep, heavy throb from his core. I proudly ground my weight down, my skin flushing with delicious heat as my heavy wetness soaked straight through my silk underwear, leaving a dark, damp mark on his trousers for the world to see.

He was such a tease, letting me feel every inch of his need.

After she finished, we looked at the painting. It looked beautiful and I was so happy.

"This might be my best work of a couple yet," the painter said with a sigh and handed it to me.

"Father and daughter," I corrected with a sweet smile, taking the parchment from her hands.

Her eyes bulged and papa laughed, grabbing my hand again as we walked away.

We explored the festival together. The smell of roasting meat was making me hungry and the sound of a blacksmith hitting his hammer on metal was a nice background noise. Papa bought me a flower crown made of daisies and I put it on my head, feeling like a true princess.

I dragged him to a small tavern where rows of wooden tables and benches were filled with people. We sat down in a corner and papa ordered me a juice while he drank ale.

The sound of people laughing and talking filled the tavern, making the atmosphere lively. I took a sip of my apple juice and looked at Silas. He was so handsome. The sunlight coming through the window made his black hair shine and his violet eyes looked at me with such love that I wanted to cry.

"What is it princess?" he asked.

My heart clenched in my chest—This was real; I wasn't dreaming. I was on a date with him.

"Nothing papa," I leaned in closer across the table and grabbed his face, kissing his lips softly before parting them wide, diving deep to claim his mouth with the wet, eager stroke of my tongue. Papa didn't pull back; instead, his large hand locked onto the back of my head, anchoring me into the deep, hungry slide of his mouth. Shocked murmurs rippled through the tavern as onlookers realized what we were, but I only wrapped my fingers in his hair, drinking my prince in deeper.

Eventually a waiter came and coughed. I pulled away with a satisfied sigh, a thick string of saliva connecting our lips.

Papa's face was flushed and his eyes looked predatory. The waiter awkwardly asked us if we needed anything else and we shook our heads. I couldn't wait to get to our castle now—the heavy, possessive way my papa was looking at me made my womb ache, certain that his seed would claim me the very moment he finally came inside me.

We left the tavern and the air was cold against my heated skin. Papa held my hand tightly. Then I saw the archery range and I wanted to compete with him.

"Let's go shoot arrows, papa. I bet I'll win."