His fingers were so soft, so warm on her skin. It seemed like the Fairy king's hands, not just his words, were silky smooth. Everywhere they touched made Laele feel warm--an itchy kind of warm, the sort that made her feel a little squirmy. He had slid his hands down to caress her stomach and was brushing his thighs, his hands standing out underneath her shirt. When had he done that? "I'm so sorry to hear that," his voice blew cool in her ear. "You must be distraught, since your mother's... gone... like that." There was a strange hitch in his voice, like there was more he wanted to say. But what? His hands were all over her, but they hadn't touched anywhere specific he wasn't supposed to. Was that alright?

Richard waited for the fairy to leave, although he rewarded her with a grunt as she gave him one last squeeze. Then he pushed away and he walked with purpose towards the king's throne. Several Fairies stood vaguely in his way but upon his approach backed away. Perhaps they saw the look on his face, or the way he was half-ready to draw his large sword. He drew closer and closer to the throne as the revelry continued. Drinks were bring drunk and food was being eaten; although several groups were enraptured in dancing, he didn't pay them so much as a glance as he passed them by.

"You'll have to be taught," the king breathed. And there was a bulge growing under her rear, somehow. Was it because of her, or because his hands had roamed to her thighs? He was squeezing them, massaging them and groping them more and more openly. "Everything you're feeling, focus on that. Do you feel warm, tingly, pressure inside?" Finally his hands came up and cupped the girl's little breasts. His thumbs, soft and warm, skimmed over her sensitive nipples. "We can teach you how."