It’s been over an hour since I managed to get Sam to retire to the bedroom for the night, and I’ve been hobbling about on this damn injured shin of mine ever since. When that fearsome Princess kicked me she really meant it and put a lot of her super-strength behind it. It’s throbbing like no one’s business. Does that damned brat really want to share my bed with me so badly?

Gods, I just don’t understand any of this for the life of me. How did I even get here?

None of this situation that I’ve found myself in makes any sort of logical sense, although I suppose I figured that out when my cock doubled in size and my load shot out with the force of a geyser. What an... eventful day this day has been.

Out of apprehension for the young, nubile girl lying in wait above me on the second floor, I take my sweet ass time doing the dishes and then do the same with my paperwork. For as long as possible, I avoid going up to meet her, although I know I can't wait forever. The menial distraction of filling out the proper reimbursement forms and generic quest reports helps a modest amount for getting my thoughts off Sam.

Still, as soon as I’m done, my mind drifts straight back to my new, problematic adventurer and her uncountable flirty advances.

Just what is she possibly after here? Is the most straightforward answer really the correct one, and Sam just happens to think I’m cute? I’m not used to being told I’m attractive, so it’s hard to imagine it being true. I’m not particularly ugly, just... rough-looking at best and intimidating at worst. I try to compensate for this by presenting myself as slick and well-groomed, but even then. Far be it from me that I pretend to know what women find hot, though.

After finishing the bureaucratic work on my plate all the way down to dotting the last 'i' and crossing the last 't', I bundle them all up in an envelope and put in the slime cores, which serve as the proof of kill. I drift on my throbbing leg over to the mailbox outside. Tomorrow, the Mailmage can pick them up in the morning and ship them out to the Association. We'll get our pay later in the day once it's processed, and I'm looking forward to it no matter how meager our haul will be.

Finally, I head over to the cleaning closet in the east wing to sate my curiosity and quickly take inventory. I'm not actually planning to clean anything up at this moment, mind. It’s just one more thing I can do to stall out my time. Not only that, but Sam’s efforts to rouse me to work on myself have gone and gotten me thinking about actually, maybe, potentially even, getting some work done on the Guild itself, so I do genuinely want to take stock of what I have.

Cleaning, though? Cleaning... it’s a daunting task, and frankly, I don’t want to do it.

While it’s not the veritable fortress that is the Perlshaw Adventurer’s Guild, the Dewhurst Guild is a very large building with three separate wings, a large basement, and a second floor on each wing. That's all well enough on its own, but it's not even mentioning the backyard. There's a sizable training area there, as well as a filthy, onsen-styleonsen-styled bathhouse that has fallen to ruin, and lastly, we have some worn-down sheds, too. My neglect has led to my own chambers, the kitchen, and my office being the sole relatively well-maintained rooms, and even then, I'm not convinced they're all that much to write home about.

Beyond trying to somehow scrounge up some more adventurers if this stuff with Sam works out, my first order of business is to get her running enough quests to the point where we're actually able to start saving up enough funds to hire actual cleaning staff. Live-in maids would be my preference, but Gods only know how much that would cost me. Dreaming about such things is all lovely and all, but that won’t happen for a long time. The only reason I’m dwelling on it so hard is that there's no way I can clean this entire Guild myself- I tried.

That's how it got so bad in the first place.

Look at me, though, staring at a cleaning closet because I'm terrified of what may or may not happen when I set foot into my own damn bedroom...

Eventually, there comes the point where I run out of things I can do to delay the inevitable- no matter how hard I try. If I hesitate any longer, I get a distinct feeling that Sam will run out of patience, march down the stairs, kick my other shin to bits, and carry me off herself. While I can certainly think of worse fates than being whisked away by a Princess with amazon-esque strength, I resolve myself as best I can and walk to the stairway on my own two feet for now.

I look up at the creaky wooden pathway leading up to the second floor. There are full bedrooms up there for the Guild’s nonexistent staff and important guests, in addition to the master suite where I make my dwelling. Come to think of it, it probably smells like years of a lonely erotica enthusiast enjoying his favorite hobby up there. I’m used to the scent, but I highly doubt Sam is... just wonderful.

As if I needed any more excuses not to want to share my bed with her.

Taking one step forward and then another, I drudge myself up like a man walking to the gallows. Considering that that's something that may very well happen to me in my future if I do anything uncouth to a certain Princess, I better startstate getting used to this unique and unsettling feeling of persistent dread.

Once finished with the most anxious stairway ascension I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing, I look over and see the door to my room in the same spot it's always been. Only now, instead of a comfortable gateway to safety and reliable comfort, what lies beyond it is only uncertainty and what I believe to be a blonde brat who is as unbearably horny as she is unbearably hot. I close the distance, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, and I knock on the wooden door leading to my bedroom.

Making sure to avoid the off chance that she's changing or otherwise indecent, I ask, “Are you good in there, Sam? Can I come in?”

“Yeah, hold on, Daddy, I’m almost done touching myself.” The girl replies right away with a teasing and sarcastic tone.

“...Right. Well, I suppose I'll just wait here patiently while you're done, then.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms, trying my best to avoid picturing the very same image she just skillfully implanted within my impressionable and overly erotic imagination.

“I’m just fucking with you, Boss..." Sam has herself a hearty laugh at my expense before continuing on, beckoning me to join her with, "Come on in! It’s your room, after all, you total nerd.”

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, I enter what used to be my personal sanctuary. Only I know that without a doubt, the once hallowed room is a sanctuary no longer- it’s been transformed into a damn battlefield.

At first glance, I see that Sam has gone ahead and made herself at home without waiting for me. She's snuggled up tight under my blanket. The only visible part of her body is her head, poking out adorably underneath the covers. Nearby, Sam's bikini armor is shoved onto my nightstand, making them look even more like a stripper's garments or some sort of cheap fetish wear.

The Princess’s long, blonde hair has been freed from the confines of her spunky twintails, and they’re now free to fall all over the place. Given how rough and rowdy her untamed locks were beforehand, Sam now looks almost like some sort of sensual Goddess of bed-heads. It’s a look that works astonishingly well on her, and I once again find myself drawn to just how cute the girl is.

I push the thought out of my mind, knowing if I don't set some mental boundaries here, then there's no way I'll be able to resist her advances.

Only then, our eyes meet, and I see a slight blush on her cheeks that quickly fades. Sam smiles upon seeing me, and it's a genuine smile. Wholesome, even. Seeing just how weirdly pleased she is to see me prompts me to give her the same treatment right back, despite my anxiety. For a moment, we just stand there looking at each other and grinning for a reason neither of us can explain until we both snap out of it.

So much for resisting, I guess. Just looking at Sam is enough to give me a damned heart attack...

Sam is quick to cover up her own embarrassment, grumbling, “Geez, it took ya long enough, you slow-ass! Was the paperwork really that bad, or were you just stalling your time out so you could avoid me?” 

I make a slightly annoyed expression brought on by being caught red-handed, and the Princess giggles once she finds out for sure just how right she is.

“A bit of both, although the paperwork really did need to be done. It's important I get the papers sorted out so that they get mailed as soon as possible.”

"Is it?"

"You want us to get paid, don't you?"

"Well, yeah!"

"Then I have to do the paperwork." I sigh, leaving the doorway and further entering the room.

As I approach my humble bed, the surreal feeling of seeing a girl lying upon it for the first time in my life overtakes me. There really is a girl on my bed. I'm not just hallucinating. As if trying to verify her existence, I stare, perhaps lingering a little too over-long.

Then, I raise an eyebrow and sigh. “I suppose it’s not even worth trying the whole, ‘well, I can sleep on the floor, and you can sleep on my bed’ routine, is it?”

She snorts right away at that suggestion. “Not if you want your other shin to stay niiiice and safe, Daddy."

"I thought as much..."

"You gonna get comfortable or what? I already changed.” She smirks.

“Patience, you brat,” I shake my head while teasingly clicking my tongue at her in a mocking fashion. Next, I head over to my dresser, intent on picking out a pair of pajamas for myself.

“Oooh, I like it when you call me that!” Sam replies with friendly sarcasm and more than a bit of naughtiness in her voice. To quell her, I throw a spare shirt from out of the dresser directly at her face. Sam laughs and continues laughing as it hits her, but it falls off as soon as she rolls her head back.

“Of course you do,” I shake my head yet again, stepping into my personal restroom to quickly change out of my prim and proper attire and into my sleepwear- a plain white cotton shirt and simple boxers.

Typically, I don’t ever go to bed this early. I’d spend a few hours reading one of my erotic tomes or, in better times, some sort of Guild reference book, but... it’s been a weird day. Might as well make it a weird night, too, and turn myself in.

“All ready?” Sam asks, right as I poke out of the bathroom. Someone sure is eager to have me lay beside her, though I guess that’s no surprise given everything she's said and done.

“Yes, yes. Scoot over. You're laying on my side.” With my hand, I motion her to the opposite side of the bed.

"Well, if you came to bed with me, you could've told me that sooner!” Sam giggles a bit, retreating under the sheets and burrowing her way to the proper side I indicated. Her head pops out as if she were a sexy little mole, which gets a small but genuine laugh out of me. For the shortest of moments, I find myself thinking I could get used to this... then I remember I still actually have to get in the damn bed with her.

I turn off the arcane tech lamp by the side of the bed, darkening the room through the lack of its dim light. At long last, the moment of truth has come. Sam looks at me with a smug smirk, excited for me to stoop down to her level and join her. With great reluctance, I slip under the covers while Sam watches me with devious curiosity.

“You gonna sleep with these things on?” Amid the darkness, I feel Sam’s finger tracing against the rim of my magical glasses. With her strength and her recurring clumsiness, Sam is extra careful not to knock them off by accident.

“No, I was about to switch them off for my sleeping mask, actually.” I reach over to the nightstand on my side of the bed. As I slide open the drawer Sam continues speaking and she says something that grabs all of my attention.

“Why? You could look at me just fine earlier when you weren’t wearing ‘em. Should be fine as long as you don’t take your eyes off me, right?”

My heart stops, and it feels as if the bratty Princess here just sucked all the air out of the room, leaving nothing but an anxious, disquieting void. She's right. Amidst everything going on with me today, that little detail must have somehow slipped my mind. As soon as she brings it back up, I instantly recall in vivid detail what it felt to look at Sam without my glasses. I remember her beauty, the way her emerald eyes glimmered like proud, defiant gemstones, and the warm glow of her youthful skin free of blemishes besides the freckles on her cheek.

Even more than Sam's physical beauty, though, I remember how it felt to see things so brightly and clearly after nearly two decades of knowing little more than a dimmer, darkened version of the world around me. It was serene, graceful, and calming... and it was all because of her.

“You mean you noticed?” I say, rather dumbly. Of course she noticed. I just uttered something to fill the awkward silence, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Well, duh,” Sam scoffs at my admittedly brainless comment. “It was kinda hard not to notice, dummy. What with the way you were gaping at me, and all. That look on your face was... like... hmm. I ain’t exactly ‘well-spoken’, ya know? If I had to try and phrase it, it’s like you were a blind man, but you weren’t always blind, then suddenly you weren’t blind anymore... and I was the first thing you saw after getting your sight back. Is that kinda close, or does it not make sense? Like I said, I’m not good at this.”

Damn. We really are on the same wavelength. “No, that’s... a fairly apt metaphor. More or less, you could say that's exactly what I felt, I suppose...”

The bed shifts under Sam’s weight as she moves across it. Her voice gets closer, and the warmth of her breath begins to blow against me as she speaks. In a hushed whisper, the girl asks me softly and sensually, “And? Did you like what you saw?”

My heart just about stops beating from shock. She's so close, I can almost taste her. Gods, I can smell her... even after all that slime slaying, she smells... wonderful.

Sam is obviously trying to escalate things, and I need to at the very least try and put a stop to it even if I’m unable to succeed. I don’t know what’s going to happen from this point on, and a cold sweat begins to form on my brow as my mind instinctually runs through the most negative possibilities it can dream up.

“...Sam, look. I’m not comfortable with this. There are too many things at play here that make this wrong on oh-so-many, many levels. I just met you today, for one, and the two of us need to work together professionally from now on... not to mention you’ve only just become an adult, and on top of that, you’re obviously a pr-”

Her face becomes panicked, causing me to sigh. I don’t know why I indulge her in this little game of hers, but it’s just easier to pretend I don’t know her true identity.

“...etty lady. All I'm saying is that it's just too fucking much, alright? Contrary to your thoughts, I don’t believe that you’re here for some clandestine reason. Even if by some chance you are, it certainly doesn't involve sleeping with me. I'm asking you one last time to please, just... stop this nonsense.” I tried my best to lay it all out for her, but when I motion to begin turning over away from her, Sam’s hand reaches out to my shoulder and pins me down. Her grip is powerful, and I can’t do a thing about it.

The runaway Princess removes my glasses straight off my face, then finally emerges from under the covers, throwing them off behind her. She delicately places my all-important seeing aide on the bedside table before hiking her legs over my hips and straddling me with confidence. Sam looks down straight into my eyes with a severe and determined expression. No teasing, no ‘daddy’, and indeed, no bullshit.

The room may be dark, but through the cheap curtains drifts in a precarious amount of sensual, springtime moonlight. The ambient blue glow shines upon Sam, revealing a simple truth that I had suspected but dared not verify myself. She’s been naked this entire time- and now she’s not only naked but mounted atop me and pressing down on my hardening groin.