Chapter 2

The hardest thing for me when I was young was knowing what to call the Princess. Everybody including the King and Queen told me to refer to her as Princess but the Princess, my master, forced me to call to her Dakota. I was punished repeatedly almost every day for mixing the two up until finally, after Dakota witnessed one of my punishments, an extremely violent temper tantrum convinced the King and Queen to have me refer her as Dakota. Still though, as I think, in hearing her referred to as one and calling her another, my unspoken mind does interchange the two titles very easily.

I brought Dakota’s breakfast to her bed and headed for her personal washroom to prepare a bath. Mother always tried telling me that I was becoming too royal. She said that I took the conveniences of the palace for granted one day when I began complaining about the inconsistency of the running water. Very rarely did it stop, but it did on one particular day when I wasn’t in the greatest of moods. Mother sat me down and lectured me for at least an hour on how only the richest of people in the world can afford such a convenience; I as a commoner should complain about nothing that is given to me in a royal palace. She continued lecturing that her, father, and I were even so blessed to have our own personal water heater, something the other servants had to share.

As I shut the three faucets off from filling the large ceramic bowl, Dakota walked in wearing nothing.

“Are you taking a bath with me today? Your hair is clumpy, you haven’t yet bathed.”

“I woke up late, I’m sorry.”

“Who treated you wrong for it?” she asked, perceptive that whenever I did something incorrect, the other servants always shunned me; as a girl at my rank in the palace, I should be capable of no wrong, they apparently believed.

“Nobody,” I had lied. Everybody had always punished me for my faults, everybody except my own master. They knew that if they would copy my faults, they would be punished harshly yet they had never seen me punished for something of my fault without my master defending me or blaming one of them to save me.

Dakota knew that I would never tell her if someone had wronged me unless I felt it undeserved. She recognized that it would only lead me to more misery if she sought out the perpetrator and reprimanded them, that I would be shunned and avoided by the very people that I relied on to achieve my job.

The Princess had once fought with the King and Queen to relinquish me of my career and grant me a free life in the royal palace as her friend, but the King refused saying that I would become spoilt and lead her astray. As a servant, I would maintain my sense of responsibility and lead as a fine role model for a Princess. I personally was happier as her servant. As a freeloading friend, I would serve no purpose and would always feel out of place.

As a servant, I was paid, received the benefits of being the Princess’s best friend, and lived with purpose and the constant protection of my master. With Dakota as my master, she could protect me from the King and Queen more so than if I were merely at the mercy of their grace as a general friend of the Princess. I did little to no work as it was anyways. I did keep track of Dakota’s entire life and plan every event of every day, but that was all willingly.

Beside such remedial knowledge I already held, I met her with breakfast every morning out of tradition more than anything. I don’t think Dakota would trust anyone else seeing her wake in the morning. Around her I felt like a best friend and older sister, in her general proximity, I felt like her manager, and only with the other servants or mother and father, I felt like her servant. The sentries though, they treated me as either her friend or manager; that’s the way they always saw me treated by her and so they treated me as such with no need of envy or jealously.

The sound from the stream of liquid being squeezed from Dakota’s vagina into the chamber pot interrupted my thought. I looked over at the now fourteen year old Princess using the bathroom in the nude. She looked back at me.

“Take your clothes off, you’re bathing with me, this is a very important day and I need you more than anything; you have to be comfortable and presentable.”

“They’re expecting fifteen thousand people at your swearing in today; maybe we can find us some good looking boys.”

“Haha,” she shrugged, “the council won’t let any boys near me since the attempted usurp.