Bound by Honor

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“Are you not the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire?” Prince John said in that lazy way of his.

It was not a question; he knew full well to whom he was speaking. His eyes were darker than ever in the dimness of his private chamber, but they were hooded with heavy satisfaction. “Methinks there’s none who knows the king’s Forest of Sherwood as well as you.” He stretched his broad shoulders, and gave a little, almost effeminate shudder.

“Indeed, my lord, I am quite familiar with the forest,” replied Sir William de Wendeval, keeping his voice even and his attention from the generous breasts of the serving wench who was. . serving. . the prince at the moment, and had no doubt caused his shiver of pleasure.

Her lips were red and swollen, her jaw stretched wide as she accommodated her liege’s well-used cock. Large breasts hung and swayed with each movement, her nipples threatening to brush the floor. She was breathing hard from exertion, her face red and glistening with sweat.

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