Oregano 18th, 50th year under king Railor

Père and Mère,

I know it’s only been 4 weeks since I left, but it feels like it’s been ages. I miss you guys a lot, especially mom’s sweet rolls! I can almost smell them if I focus hard enough. How is the bakery going? Have you been receiving my wages? Working for the princess hasn’t been too bad. She’s been pretty good this week, rewarding my work by petting me. Oh, and the estate! The summer flowers in the courtyard are blooming so wonderfully, and they’re not even in season yet! I could just sit there for hours. I’m making plenty of friends with the other staff, too. The maids and helpers are all so nice, and always help me when they can, so don’t worry about me not being able to do things, because I’m doing just fine.

Love,                               

Petit                 

Petit dropped the reed pen on the hard wood table, hearing it clattering against his letter, his arms sore from the effort of writing. When the pen was upright, it was as tall as he was, possibly a bit shorter. He brushed his hair out of his face, moving the messy brown locks out of the way to clear his view. He put his hands on his hips and inspected his work, making sure his ‘i’s were dotted, his ‘t’s crossed, and his writing big enough that a normal person could read it, especially someone like his parents, whose vision seemed to get exponentially worse with age. Reading back the letter, he felt a twinge of guilt. He had lied about the princess’ behavior. In truth, she was terrible, much worse than usual, but he didn’t want his parents to worry. Her teasing was incessant, her requests bordering on sadistic. His only reprieve lately had been writing his weekly letter, which he was permitted to do in private, an agreement between the two of them that she had thankfully not yet violated. Satisfied with his work, he kicked his pen off the paper and began the torturous process of inserting the letter into an envelope.

It wasn’t that the paper was particularly heavy, it was reasonably light. It was simply the size. Since Petit stood at a mere three inches tall, it was too long for him to put his hand on either side, so he had to walk back and forth, tucking the individual sides in. He knew Enrika, one of the more personable maids, would have been happy to help, but firstly, he had no idea where she was, and secondly, he was fairly certain she had eaten ritberries recently, and he wanted to stay far away from her until they’d left her system, as ritberries were known to cause bad gas.

Petit finished tapping the top corners in, careful to avoid a paper cut, and folded the mouth of the envelope shut, leaving the letter to be properly stamped and sent by the mail attendant. He made his way off the intricately carved table, using the hanging tassels of the red and gold patterned tablecloth to reduce the distance of his fall, a trick he had picked up in his twenty years at his tiny stature. The hard wooden floors immediately cooling his bare feet as he landed on it with a soft thud. He skittered across the floor and left the room by crawling under the door.

He dusted off his worn clothes. The clothes he was wearing were still holding strong today, with the exception of a single strip of ragged cloth, which dragged behind his leg. He made a mental note to patch that up at his earliest convenience, this being his only set of clothes. Had he known before he would not be given a uniform, or at least new attire, he would have brought more clothes with him from home. The best he got in terms of new clothing was a few scraps from the seamstress when she was feeling compassionate.

With the stride of someone who knew their way around, and the haste of someone who was disinclined to being stepped on, he made his way to the dining hall, where he knew Madam Bleming was waiting for him. He passed the towering ovular windows, which stretched to the arching ceiling and overlooked the lush green courtyard and framed the winding stream that flowed through the property. He made his way through the mazelike corridors, using the number of doors per hallway as a guide. In fact, he had memorized it. To get to the dining hall from the study, the order was: two, three, two, one. Naturally, it would be the opposite order if he were going the other way.

He entered the dining hall. As it usually was, the hall was mostly empty. There was nothing but a long table full of food, with Cortesia herself sitting at the head. In the far corner was the head maid, Sasha, her head hung low, waiting to serve the princess’ whims. Cortesia’s long blond locks draped across the back of the velvet chair, and her piercing green eyes followed Petit on his approach. She was wearing a green morning gown that hung loosely down to her ankles. Per his normal routine, he pulled himself up a thread that hung off the edge of the table and climbed atop it’s surface. He noted the food before him, pounds and pounds of the stuff, all for one person. The food was pristine, spotless, cooked to perfection. Fruit, ham, breakfast cakes, eggs, tarts, rolls, bacon, pudding, bread, covered almost every inch of the table. The loaves of bread, appearing softer than anything his parents could have made; drink at every turn, shining bottles filled to the brim with aged wine.

The twenty-year-old princess gleefully leered at him as he made his way towards her, watching intently as he navigated the field of food before him, giggling softly whenever he stumbled or lost his footing. He sat cross-legged in front of her while she ate, hesitantly grabbing morsels of food when he could. It was usually at this point when she would request something of him. What will it be this time? He wondered. It had been many things before. Sometimes it was bringing her an item, be it a spice dish, cloth, or food that was at the exact opposite end of the table. Other times, it would be menial tasks. One time in particular, she had him climb in a bowl of fruit before pretending like she was going to eat him. Generally, the tasks were not out of her convenience, as he had been led to believe when he took the job, but out of some sort of unusual entertainment.

“Pet,” Petit winced at her title of him, “This bread is so crisp, would you be so kind as to clean off the crumbs for me?” The princess requested, devious intent lurking behind her regal demeanor and colorful language and a toothy grin stretched across her face.

That was a new one. Her ear-to-ear smile told him she was quite proud of this one, too. The both of them knew very well that she could just lick her lips, and that she was simply entertaining herself. She leaned forward in her chair, resting her chin on the table. She had very full pink lips, and at this distance he could make out every detail, every muscle twitch, the subtle curl in her lips that formed her smile. Her breath was hot against his body, and moist enough that it clung to his arms. He looked up at her once again into those big green eyes, alight with anticipation. Apprehensively, he stuck out a hand, and with a sort of sweeping movement, he dusted the bits off her lips. The corners of her mouth were more dense, taking a few hard sweeps to clear completely. He took a closer look to inspect his work, knowing well that if he missed a spot, she’d make him do something else. This task was reasonably tame, but that just made him suspicious that she’d try something.

“Gotta teach you new tricks, don’t I, Pet? Best to keep you on your toes.” She teased, emphasizing her nickname for him. Her warm breath washed over Petit more as she spoke, carrying the floral scent of wine. He watched her tongue move about within her mouth, bulging her lips and probing her teeth. “Seems there is something stuck in my teeth, would you be a dear and take it out?” He was taken aback by the new unpleasant request - wiping crumbs off her lips was one thing, but putting his hands into her mouth was something he wanted to avoid at any cost. On many occasions, the princess had teased him with being eaten, so often that, at times, he had almost started to believe she might actually do it.

“It’s just this piece right here, I just… can’t… get it,” The princess said, using her tongue to point to where the annoyance was. In the spot she had pointed out, a fiber of ham was wedged between her pearly-white canines. Petit stood there trying to find his words. He looked at the princess as she wore the same bratty grin she always had when teasing him.

“What’s the hold up, your princess is waiting,” she further mocked, “I’d hate to have to stop supporting that little bakery of yours.” Petit exhaled deeply. Of course she’d pull that card, she knew his family’s business struggles.

“Okay” he said, taking a step toward the princess’ mouth.

Cortesia closed her mouth and sat up. “Now, now, is that any way to address royalty?” She said, clearly savoring the opportunity to strike down at her servant.

He clenched his fist. “Yes, my princess” he corrected, swallowing his pride. The princess looked satisfied with his answer, and lowered her open mouth back down, almost touching the table. Petit reached out a hand, trying to avoid touching her lips. The air, even at this point in her mouth, was noticeably more humid. Trying to minimize contact with the morsel, Petit reached for it, but it was just out of his reach. he stopped, noticing the princess’ gaping mouth as her teeth seemed to get higher. She’s gonna make me get in her mouth, Petit feared. Taking a deep breath and steeling his mind, he pushed himself up, finding his footing against her bottom teeth. The enamel was hard on his limbs but provided good leverage for him to continue pulling the food out.

The piece of ham was between her front teeth, directly in front of Petit’s head. Grabbing the strand of meat, he tugged at it, trying not to lose his balance. With relative ease, the morsel dislodged, and he tossed it out of her mouth behind him.

“Got it,” Petit announced. He turned his head, ready to get out of the wretched mouth, and saw that he was no longer over the table. Before he could get a word out, or even think, Cortesia swung her head back, causing him to fall into her cavernous maw.

“Oops,” The princess giggled sarcastically. It was cramped, dark, and stank of her breakfast. Petit was coated with saliva as he was pushed around by her powerful tongue and swished about in her cheeks.

The wet interior grew in pressure, so much so that it made Petit’s ears hurt, until suddenly, Petit saw light flood his surroundings as the pressure released, a powerful burst of wind shooting him out of the princess’ mouth. He didn’t spend even a second in the air, before he crash landed into a bowl of azureberries, his head directly puncturing one and covering him in its juices. Petit swiped away the huge berries, trying to clear room for himself, and struggled to get himself upright as he strenuously moved through the berries. The princess laughed hysterically at Petit’s struggles in the bowl, not bothering to help at all.

Regaining his posture, Petit sat up in the bowl, and watched the princess as she laughed. Back in his first days of his employment, he found her laugh comforting and pleasant, but over time his perception grew to associate it with humiliation and torment. She got a particular pleasure from watching Petit struggle to do something anyone normal could do. After some more laughter, the princess calmed herself down.

“Yuck, you taste awful, Pet,” Cortesia said, her devious grin returning. Well of course I do, I’m always on the floor! Petit thought angrily. Of course, he couldn’t say that to her. He knew it would be better to just apologize, and not give her a reason to torment him further.

“My apologies my princess,” Petit said through gritted teeth.

Cortesia looked at Petit, his head drenched in azureberry juice, and her eyes lit up again. “That’s right, I am your princess, and you want to make your princess happy, don’t you, Pet?” Cortesia asked, her devious tone returning, and once again emphasizing the demeaning nickname. Petit shuddered, knowing that she always said things like that before doing something horrible. “Y-yes, princess,” Petit said.

“Good,” Cortesia said, grabbing a white bowl in front of her. “Take off those clothes,” she commanded.

“What?”

“Those rags look terrible, lose ‘em,” she demanded. And whose fault is that? Petit silently remarked. Knowing he couldn’t protest, he took off his worn shirt and pants, leaving him nude except for his underwear, the only part of his outfit that had not needed extensive repair. He had a very athletic build, earned from doing strenuous exercise just to stay alive, but there was still a feeling of embarrassment in being so helpless to her gaze. Cortesia reached for Petit, taking her time, knowing he wouldn’t run away. She lifted the tiny man to her face.

“You know, pet, I had this wonderful full body massage this morning,” Cortesia recollected aloud.

“… Oh, that’s nice, I guess?” Pet replied, unsure why she was referencing this.

“It was nice, but it was missing something. They got every inch of my body so nicely, but you know what? They neglected my poor tongue!” Cortesia complained in a fake sad voice. Petit was still a bit confused on what she was going to do, and why he had to take off his clothes. As she said before, he tasted awful, so she probably wouldn’t want to go putting him back in her mouth.

Without warning, the princess nonchalantly dropped Petit in the bowl below. He splashed into the thick substance, some entering his mouth tasting something sweet with a vanilla hint to it. It was pudding! He waded in the thick liquid, trying to keep his head above.

Before he could acclimate to the situation, the princess scooped up Petit in her spoon, his body fully coated in the thick pudding. His legs dangled off the spoon, droplets of the substance falling onto the table.

“Would you be so kind as to give my tongue a nice message, so it’s not left out?” The princess asked.  Petit was at a loss for words, mouth agape. Cortesia slowly brought the pudding covered boy back into her mouth, savoring every second of seeing his little shocked face. She wrapped her lips around the head of the spoon, and slowly drew it out, leaving it clean, and empty, with Petit in her mouth once more.

“Mmmm...” Petit felt her moan reverberate around him from inside Cortesia’s mouth. Again, she swished him around her mouth savoring his new flavor. If there was anything in here to be grateful for, it was that her tongue and spit cleaned his body of the pudding. Cortesia’s tongue sprang up, pushing Petit against the top of her mouth, as she swallowed the sweet fluid.

With the pudding swallowed, her tongue relaxed, allowing Petit to move more freely in the cramped space. He waited for her to do something, for his torment to continue, but he was left in an eerie calm. After about a minute passed, Cortesia’s tongue started to move about. He realized; she actually wanted him to massage her tongue. The thought was obscene to him, but if it meant getting out of her mouth, he had to do it.

He pushed his hands against the large tongue, the same way a masseuse would. She stopped moving, his efforts seeming to be satisfactory for the moment. He continuously massaged the spongy appendage, accompanied by the princess’ moans and hums. She’s making these sounds to make me uncomfortable, no doubt, he thought.

Petit quickly found himself entirely coated in Cortesia’s thick saliva as he worked. This was taking a while. His surroundings smelled of her breakfast. Suddenly, the tongue sprang to life, and pushed him out of the princess’ mouth. He slid off the tongue, and with a wet ‘splat’, he landed on her plate, in a small puddle of spit. Thankfully, she had done Petit the small mercy of holding her head low, so as to avoid injuring her favorite pet. He spat and wiped away the princess’ saliva, some getting in his own mouth despite his best attempt to keep it out. Above, he could see the princess, wearing that same smug grin that never seemed to leave her when he was around.

She let out a satisfied sigh. “What a great way to start my morning. You did well today, Pet, I might just have you do that again soon,” Cortesia said, reaching for more pudding. Petit laid back down in the saliva puddle, feeling totally defeated. This is still just breakfast, I’ve still got the whole day with this brat, he thought. “Now I’ve got a busy day, so get dressed, Pet.” The princess instructed, popping a few more azureberries in her mouth. Petit slowly stood up, but slipped on the saliva, falling against the princess’ half-eaten muffin.

The princess again snickered at his stumble, and tossed another berry in her mouth. Petit felt his face become hot with embarrassment. He wanted to hit something, he wanted to berate her, but he knew well that doing either would do him no good. He grabbed a bit of the muffin and ate a few handfuls. He tried to move his thoughts to the flavor to calm his nerves. It was good, something he figured his parents could have made. Once he had eaten enough to hold him over, he trudged back to his clothes and put them back on. The princess watched him get dressed, not wanting to miss any of his blunders. When he was done, she stood up from the table.

Cortesia picked him up and went on with their routine, which just made him feel even more humiliated, that she could do that and continue like it was nothing. Cortesia, followed by Sasha, took Petit to her royal chambers. Cortesia held him in her palm, stroking his head with her opposite finger. Once in her room, the princess set him down on her bed, and, facing away from him, removed her morning gown, carelessly revealing her nude form to Petit. Weeks ago, when he would see her, be it a parade or some kind of event, he thought there were none more beautiful than her. Her skin was flawless, her figure angelic, every facet of her pristine and without fault. Yet, after four weeks of being tormented and treated like a pet, seeing her ass filled him with nothing but distain. The princess had yet to show him her womanhood though, saying she ‘wanted to save some things for later’. She got changed into a more fanciful dress, before having Petit decorate her nails, while Sasha braided her hair. Clearly, however, the princess was not in the most amicable of moods, as she was consistently passive-aggressive to the poor woman, and had her redo her work several times.

“Pet,” she had spoken while he was filing her nails to a perfect point, “How do I look?” Glaring at her reflection in the mirror.

Reluctantly, he appealed to her vanity. “Beautiful, princess,” he had replied, “the most beautiful there ever was.” She seemed to enjoy hearing this.

When she was finally satisfied, with the maids work, she and Petit moved to the study, and she began attending to her main work - reading letters. These were letters that were sent to her from other nobles, people of importance, and the common folk of the region.

Petit was not permitted to read these letters. She had told him it was for ‘confidentiality’, but he didn’t believe she actually cared about that. After all, she would often loudly complain to her audience of one about her sisters’ regions, and how she could have handled them better. Petit’s only task at this point in the day was sitting on Cortesia’s armrest as she continuously stroked his head with her thumb. He had initially been very vocal about his disdain for this, but it did nothing but embolden her to continue, remarking on how even the best of pets had to be trained. She idly continued stroking his hair, tousling his already messy mop. He couldn’t see what she was writing from his position, but he could generally tell what she was doing. Sometimes she wrote a response, sometimes she simply crumpled the paper and tossed it, and on a rare occasion, she would store it for later. It made Petit sick – all she ever did was torment him and barely work, and yet she lived in the lap of luxury, while he worked nearly every day of his life, and the only real difference between them was how they were born. And, of course, that she was a complete brat.

He was drawn out of his thoughts when he noticed her pets waver in speed, and then stop. He looked up at her, confused, but all he was given was a shooing gesture with no explanation. Perhaps a very important letter, something she didn’t want him to see? Whatever the reason, it was an opportunity for a bit more time alone, which was always preferable to being around her. Besides, he would likely never get an answer out of her, so what was the use in prying? He got down from the chair and made his way under the doorway. Petit wandered the empty hallways, hoping to find someone to help draw him a bath, so he could wash the princess’ saliva off him. Currently, he reeked of spit, breakfast, and pudding, a constant reminder of the morning’s events that he would prefer to forget and move on from. A warm bath would do him nicely for when the princess went to seek entertainment through him more. On the way, he was reminded of the torn cloth dragging behind him. He sighed. I should just make new ones when I get the chance, he realized.

Continuing down the hallway, he caught a glimpse of the black scullery maid uniform, which extended almost to the floor, completely covering the wearer’s bottom half. It was Enrika, he recognized her short black hair that often poked out from under the cloth she wore over her head. He saw her often, as she bathed later than the other maids, and he himself couldn’t bathe until he was excused by the princess for the night, which was often quite late. He found her more approachable, since she didn’t spend much time with the other maids, and she did many outdoor tasks, where he would often spend his free time.

She was nice, but seemed to be very shy, especially when it came to her frequent gas. Whenever her scent was eluded to, she’d either go silent, look embarrassed, or swiftly exit whatever room she was in. Petit did enjoy her company, and certainly liked her better than the other maids, but he’d be lying if he denied the existence of her bad gas. Of course, everyone has problems, and it was reasonable to assume she had some sort of dietary issue relating to what the maids ate. It was a concern he was happy to ignore, if it meant having an ally, or at least someone to talk to, that wasn’t the princess.

“Hey, Enrika, down here!” Petit called to the maid.

She stopped in her tracks, looked around, and smiled seeing her small coworker. “Hey, Petit,” Enrika chirped, approaching him.

There was a faint, but foul sent in the area, but he chose not to mention it. “Hey, could you start up a bath for me?” Petit requested. “Got messy during breakfast.”

“Sure thing.” Enrika gingerly scooped up Petit, careful not to hurt him. She cupped her hands around him, and held him close to her chest. “So, tell me, what was it today?” Enrika asked noticing how filthy he was so early in the day.

“Just breakfast.”

“Ugh, did she have you feed her again?”

“Something like that” Petit dismissed. They both knew they couldn’t outright insult the princess, that would lead to them being fired, but they both silently understood each other’s thoughts on the matter.

Enrika descended the stairs, and made her way into the bathing quarters. The estate had a fantastic supply of freshwater, thanks to the stream that ran through the courtyard. The employees’ bath itself, while large, was rather drab. The princess had her own personal bathhouse out in the courtyard, so she felt no need to decorate it.

The maid knelt down, setting Petit down beside her on the stone floor. Due to his small size, it was safer for him to have his own bath, in the form of a cooking pot that was usually tucked in the corner. However, if there was one benefit to such a sad accommodation, it was that his pot could be placed above the fireplace, allowing him to enjoy a heated bath. The interior fireplaces were thankfully filled with a special type of wood from the Tyldaen North, known as Merriwood, which would slowly burn for extended periods of time, emanating a sweet fragrance instead of smoke.

Enrika grabbed the pot, and left to the bathing quarters, out of Petit’s sight. When she returned, the pot was filled with water. She bent her knees, squatting down as she carefully set it down atop the fireplace, accidentally spilling a few droplets here and there.

“There you g-” Enrika paused, accidentally letting out a small fart when she was talking. Enrika froze as her face grew red.

The awful smell hit Petit hard, but he tried his best to look unphased, until the smell subsided. Using a ladder set into the side of the fireplace, he climbed up to the carapace above the mouth of the fire, and from his vantage point, jumped into the pot, splashing into the quickly warming water, fully clothed. “Aaaah, thanks Enrika, you’re the best,” He blissfully exclaimed.

“Oh, um, no problem,” Enrika regained her composure, and turned to leave.

“Could you stay for a bit? Or are you busy?”

“No, I’m not busy, just my normal chores, y’know, tending to the garden and stuff.” She idly toyed with a strand of hair that had come out from under her cloth. “What do you have going on today?”

“Just entertaining the princess, like I’ve been doing the last... four weeks.” Petit taking a moment to remember.

“I know how that is. Before you started here, she’d make us all do things like that. She’d have me constantly grab her flowers to bathe with, so I’d run and get a flower, and she’d change her mind and I’d have to run back and forth till she left the bath. It was really tiring, and really, really annoying – that’s probably nothing compared to what she does to you, though.”

Petit wanted to have some humility, and pretend he was intentionally doing some kindness to the others by handling the princess’ torment, but in all honesty, he would have much preferred having it all split up amongst the others. Instead, he just shrugged in response.

“I should go, you probably want to get some proper washing done.”

“Yeah, thanks for chatting with me, Enrika.”

         She gave a warm smile and wave as she left to return to her duties, leaving Petit to soak in his warm bath. With Enrika gone, he took off his clothes and washed until all the smell and saliva had all left his skin. He gave his clothes a quick scrub, and hung them over the handle of the pot to dry. Once he was satisfied with his cleaning, he reclined back and floated atop the warm water. He knew he couldn’t be here long, the princess would be wanting him back soon, but he could take a few more minutes to enjoy the small bit of peace in his up to this point unpleasant day.

         He knew it was time for him to get back to work. He swam to his hung-up clothes, feeling that they were dry and warm. He grabbed his clothes, tucked them under his arm, and descended to the floor. Once there, he dried himself off with a small hand towel, and put on his clean clothes.

         Petit made his way through the mansion and returned to the study, where the princess was reading what he assumed was the last of her letters. He climbed to the top of the table, using the not even noticing his arrival. Petit lightly patted her hand, knowing it’s best that people know where he is. The princess instinctively jerked away at his taps realizing it was him.

         “There’s my Pet, and you got cleaned up just for me? How sweet” she taunted gleefully. Petit saw the papers on the table, sorted into a messy pile, where most of the letters were, and a neat stack of papers facing down. The letter he had wrote was sitting behind the junk drawer. Shoot, usually Enrika can stamp it for me, but she didn’t help me this morning, Petit thought. The princess followed Petit’s gaze and reached for the letter at the corner of the table. “Oh, what’s this? I didn’t see this one.” She took the letter out of the envelope. “Aww, it’s your weekly letter, how sweet.”

“You don’t have to read that” Petit protested. He had a feeling she would do something like this eventually, so he was careful not to put something in there she wouldn’t like, but it was still a gross violation of his privacy.

“Aww, I thought you didn’t like being pet, but you said here, that you do. I guess I better pet you more often. And you like the garden, that’s so good to hear” The princess said, stroking his head with her thumb again.

“I just need it sealed–”

Cortesia lifted her finger off his head. “Now, is that how you ask your princess for a favor?”

Petit clenched his fists again. “Please, my princess, would you seal my letter?”

The princess seemed satisfied with his answer. She tucked the letter back into the envelope and stamped it with the royal seal of the region. Petit was surprised that she actually complied. “This was part of our deal when I hired you, and a princess must keep her promises.” She said, recognizing his confusion.

Cortesia swiftly stood up. “Now, this work was so boring, I’ll wait until tomorrow to respond to the rest. I think I’m due for a good while of relaxing with my favorite Pet, wouldn’t you agree?” She hovered her head over Petit, casting a shadow over him.

         The door opened, the head maid standing in the doorway. She did a curt bow, before speaking. “Madam, your lunch is served.”

Cortesia glanced back at Petit and smiled. “Good” she grabbed the stack of papers and dropped them into the maid’s hands. “Take these to my quarters, don’t read them, oh, and mail this as well,” She requested, handing over the stack of papers and Petit’s note.

“Yes, princess.” The maid took the papers and exited with another bow.

Petit could have sworn he saw a letter with his bakery’s stamp on it somewhere in the stack.