Chapter 150: Baroness Bitchface, Round Two
At the dwarven border, the delegation’s parade of caravans roll happily along the rolling hills of the dwarven kingdom’s farming sectors, wheels creaking fast through fields and farmhouses, dwarven engines humming along, birdsong drifting in through open windows, the whole convoy blissfully unaware that its lazy afternoon has an expiration date.
Zora conjures roses to toss at a group of women that ran alongside the princess’ carriage while guards shooed them away.
"Pip’s collecting quite the following." He calls out to no one in particular.
Veena yawns, cracking one eye toward Vuvi as a moan trickles faintly from a nearby. "It’s two hours. Shouldn’t we check on him? Or her?"
Vuvi cracks an eye open too, before immediately sinking further into her cushions. "Mmmm, he’s fiiiiine. How dangerous can a pampered little dwarven princess be?"
"You said that about me too." Veena scoffs.
"That was an insult. Entirely different." Vuvi replies, "Just yesterday he handled twin bunnies. And the arachna-kin. And Mysa, twice. And about twenty other women."
"Twenty-six." Veena corrects her.
"Exactly, he has a perfect track record," Vuvi says, closing her eye again. "He always comes back fine. Emotionally, at least. Structurally... not so much."
Veena just shakes her head and lets it go as another moan drifts past on the midday breeze.
In the princess’s carriage, Kathoril is visibly vibrating in her seat. Not from any of the dwarves’ mechanical massaging mechanisms, but because every muscle in her body has surrendered entirely to the relentless rhythm of Pip’s hips, limbs shaking, her crown long since knocked to the floorboards and completely forgotten, her nails carving trenches into the velvet seats around them as she stutters and chokes through moan after moan of ethereal, undignified, very unregal, bliss, the whole carriage rocking graciously on its axles with every roll of his hips.
[Thrust Output: 80% ... 120% ... 180%...]
[Activating Power Thrust Lv. 3]
His hip servos whine-up like jet-engines before his thrusting escalates, faster, deeper, relentlessly ramming his rod into royalty. Until he suddenly goes perfectly rigid, eyes flaring incandescent, a bright, brilliance flooding the carriage with a wash of pure gold light that pours out through the windows like sunrise trapped in a box.
Kathoril’s back arches, eyes roll white, and her legs shudder clean through the last, longest wave of a mind-melting orgasm.
Then her eyes snap open.
She stares at him like a starving predator who’s just discovered her prey has a second, even more delicious layer of meat underneath the first.
"Did you just..." she gasps, "I-Inside me?"
Pip gives a guilty boop and nods.
She bites her lip and pounces, rocking the whole carriage on its springs as she rides him with reckless, gleeful abandon, thighs slamming against his pelvis with increasing, single-minded almost trance-like aggression. Crown-less hair whipping loose from its pins as she squeals with delight and he lets out an ever more worried string of beeps, structural warnings flickering at the edge of his vision that he doesn’t have the processing power to spare a single thought toward right now as her breasts rubs across his face while their owner chants adulations.
"MORE!!!" she demands, breathless, glowing, eyes beaming with something divine, "I need to know if it does that every time!"
The carriage screeches to a sudden halt, throwing both of them off the bench in a tangled heap of limbs, gasps and giggling, and one startled chirp.
A scream cuts through from outside and Pip immediately tries to rise, but Kathoril grabs his arm, hauls him back down to the floor, and locks her thighs around his hips so tight his servos hitch.
"We’re not finished here..." she grins, eyes wild with lust and desperation.
Sera and Veena burst from their own carriage with blades already drawn, scanning the farmlands around them where a group of wheat-harvesting dwarves peer off into the horizon with expressions of horror.
Vuvi stumbles out a moment later, clutching her Boombuster to her chest, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "What’s happening—"
"THERE!" Raikya shouts from atop Frostlick, pointing, where a massive circular portal has torn open across the road ahead of them, its rim churning and crackling with a deep, crimson light, the air around it warping and rippling like heat off a forge.
From beyond, Syraleth steps through first, grinning wide, a gown of living smoke pouring down her body and pooling around her ankles.
Beside her, two cloaked figures emerge in silence, faces hidden.
Behind them, a procession of mages and monks, chanting low under their breath. Faces carved into solemn and unwavering concentration.
And behind them, rank after rank of soldiers march through in perfect, unbroken lockstep, armor gleaming dark red and glistening gold in the fading midday sun, row upon row, stretching back through the portal further than the eye can follow. An army that keeps arriving long after any reasonable army should have stopped.
The whole team goes dead silent, weapons half-raised, watching the soldiers keep coming, and coming, and coming.
"Ok, that’s... that’s a lot." Vuvi says, watching a battalion unfold into reality.
"I’m sure my mother will be here soon to handle this." Veena gulps at her side.
A portal blinks open beside them, startling both women as Bilorial steps out, straightening the already immaculate collar of his obsidian, three-piece suit. Mika and Xenara materialize at his sides, eyes wide as they watch the army grow before them.
Raenly and Mysa stumble gracelessly out behind them a heartbeat later. Mysa, catching herself on his arm. "I did not realize following Blackthorn would end up like this."
"And yet," Raenly says, dusting off his shins, "Not entirely unexpected."
Bilorial rolls his neck, surveying the field, cracking his knuckles one at a time with unhurried precision before pulling straight his cuffs.
"Looks like it’s going to be a very interesting day." he says, turning to Vuvi, "Generally is with you lot."
Vuvi slams a round of explosive grapeshot into her Boombuster, boots planted wide, red curls whipping across her face from the wind kicked up by the still-churning portal, pointing the barrel dead center at the distant, grinning Baroness.
"Looks," she says, snarling between gritted teeth, "like Baroness Bitchface’s finally came back for round two."
Behind her, the carriage door finally bangs open, and Pip stumbles out with Kathoril draped triumphantly across his chest, both of them blinking at the sudden, army-shaped problem now standing between them and the Dwarven kingdom.
Pip gives one long, resigned beep, the exact sound of a metal man who genuinely thought his day would involve more fornication and less fighting.
His eyes flare gold, and he sets the princess down gently behind him, stepping forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with his maker.