FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Can't Be Tamed

Chapter 17

After confessing the truth to Prince Edward, the prince agreed to help Daphne in her goals, and Daphne began to believe she might actually pull off her scheme unscathed. Edward was the epitome of the gentleman during their month-long return to the crystal palace. He was kind and even loving and seemed to be silently rejoicing in the absence of his real wife. The guards were baffled but dared not question the prince's sudden content. Many supposed he was simply drunk and left it at that, for the regular appearance of Daisy traveling back and forth with a decanter of wine was support enough for their theory.

Each night, the procession would stop to make camp, and though Prince Edward was happy to cuddle up to Daphne in their tent, he never took it beyond gently groping her. Daphne found herself enjoying and even encouraging his groping. He would reach up her nightgown, and fingering her with one paw, he could squeeze her breast with the other. She would twist against the pleasure, eyes hooded as the soft lips of her sex swelled against his gentle fondling, as her clitoris throbbed hungrily in response. He would gently stroke her clit with the tip of his finger, wringing gasps and sighs from her that were as shocked as they were delighted, until her sex would clench on his fingers and release.

Daphne had never known such pleasures before and craved them more and more, until she began to fantasize about her new prince-husband thrusting deep inside. The prince was handsome, after all, and very skilled at what he did. Daphne had to wonder why Delilah had been running from him. But lying there in his arms every night, she reminded herself that perhaps Delilah simply wasn't attracted to her husband and was thus miserable for it, locked as she was in an inescapable arranged marriage upon which the hopes and dreams of an entire nation rested.

Daphne became so curious about her sister's marriage that she finally questioned Edward about it one night as they were cuddling in their bedroll. She was surprised when he confirmed her suspicions, that he and his wife had never been compatible, had never gotten along, and had loathed each other entirely. What was more, Delilah simply didn't want to be queen. She was a daydreamer, a romantic who dreamt of running away and becoming a bandit.

Now her dream can come true, Daphne thought, lying there in the prince's arms as she listened to his bitter ramblings.

One night after they had made camp, Daphne found herself panting and aroused as the prince fingered her toward a quick climaxed. Her sex heaved wet and tight on his fingers, and she twisted her back against him as he pinched her nipple, burying eager kisses in her neck. She felt his erection slap her backside, and in a daze of pleasure, she reached back, touched his cheek, and begged him to put it inside her. He kissed her cheek and whispered that he would - but only once they were back at the palace, in an actual bed, where "jealous bodyguards" were not listening.

It hadn't even occurred to Daphne that the guards were listening, and - thoroughly humiliated - she tried to quiet her shrill panting thereafter.

It became exceedingly difficult to keep quiet the first time the prince went down on her, though. He moved his head between Daphne's thighs, sometimes pausing to kiss them before plunging his hot tongue between the swollen lips of her sex. She lay there, blushing and gasping, thrusting her breasts, her nipples hard in his fingers when he reached up to pinch them. He groped her breasts in fistfuls as he ate her out, and when she cried out and released against his face, he continued pinching her nipples even as he licked her moisture away, smoothing his paws all over her body with dark, narrow-eyed delight.

Edward was an incredible lover, that was certain. He was so incredible, Daphne found herself snuggling in his arms whenever she could - something that amused him to no end. He would warn her not to appear too happy in his presence whenever they were in public, as their change to a happy married couple needed to be gradual. As a result, he took to insulting her in public whenever he could, and she - holding back a laugh - would insult him turn. It became a delicious game, and every evening, the second the sun went down, they would tear each other's clothing off in a frenzy of groping and kissing.

One night after supper, Daphne went down on the prince with a hunger that startled them both. She shoved him down on the bedroll, yanked open his pants, and devoured him in long, slow sucks that left him moaning in bafflement. She loved the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him throbbing in her mouth. She loved sucking until he gasped and erupted helplessly down her throat.

Later, as he lay there panting in a daze, she confessed how much she enjoyed pleasuring him, and he listened in shock. Daphne couldn't decide if he thought she was dirty or bad, and when she appeared hurt, he took her in his arms and apologized, explaining that he simply hadn't expected the Purest One - the most innocent filly in the kingdom - to enjoy sex so unashamedly. He further admitted that he was glad and whispered all the dirty things he would do to her later at Aramora Hall. Daphne would listen with a skipping heart, her sex swelling and moistening as his teeth nibbled her ear between whispers.

Daphne simply couldn't help herself: she wanted Edward and wanted him desperately. Not just his body, but all of him. She had anticipated being sexually attracted to the prince, but falling in love with him? She had never seen it coming, and when it came, it came hard. Each night that she found herself in his arms, they would sometimes talk for long hours, and it occurred to her that he was everything she had ever wanted in a mate. He wasn't afraid of helping her take her sister's place - in fact, he was more than happy to cut down anyone and everyone in their way. He was bold. And daring. And wild. And she knew that first time they made love was going to leave her helplessly devoted. She would never think of another stallion again once Edward had been between her thighs.

Edward promised to make Daphne's first time as comfortable and intimate as possible. She was worried by his use of the world "comfortable," for she knew that it sometimes hurt for young fillies that first time. On top of that, Edward was very well-endowed, so his loving assurances soothed Daphne only a little.

Regardless of her fears, Daphne found herself eager for the night when they would finally be together in their bed in Aramora Hall. No doubt it was enormous, canopied, and standing before a great fire. And lying in it, they would finally be alone, far away from the straining ears of gossiping guards. At least, that was what Daphne daydreamed. It was only when they arrived at the crystal palace that she realized there would always be a guard listening.

It took them a little over a month to reach Aramora, until one bright morning, they approached down the road in a carriage pulled by dull-eyed oxen, and Daphne - dressed now in Princess Delilah's lovely pale blue gown -- leaned out the window and gasped at what she saw.

Just ahead, shimmering on a hill above the sleepy town of Aramora, was the crystal palace, Aramora Hall. It was gleaming-white and proud, its jutting towers swept by clouds, its golden flags waving in the ceaseless breeze. Clusters of transparent crystals grew from its walls in scattered clutches, their rainbow sheen winking in the sunlight. Daphne's round eyes passed over the palace's many windows and balconies, over the walls snaked in flowered vines, and she tried to digest the fact that she would be living in such a breathtaking place the rest of her natural life - well, provided no one kidnapped her and took her place. She said as much aloud to Edward, who laughed in genuine delight at the joke and took her paw.

Surprised by such affection, Daphne's lashes fluttered and she looked at Edward fondly. He was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, in tight breeches and a tailored coat, and appeared very relaxed and content. Much like Captain Riley, he was a dark stallion, and it was only later that Daphne would learn Captain Riley was _related_to Prince Edward. Edward even had the same blue eyes as the captain, and it suddenly occurred to Daphne that the captain had simply proven a good replacement-husband for Delilah: all the same good looks as her husband but with a personality the princess found attractive. Daphne couldn't hope to understand her half-sister's taste in stallions: Captain Riley was goofy and sometimes sullen as a child, while Prince Edward was charming and suave.

During their journey to Aramora, Captain Riley did indeed make passes at Daphne, all of which she politely declined. That the captain was expecting sex of some sort slowly became a pressing issue. When Daphne reflected on Edward's comment about "jealous guards," she realized with horror that the captain had been listening to their petting and groping each night. What was more, Prince Edward seemed wholly aware that his wife had been sleeping with Captain Riley, and when Daphne questioned him about it, he made it clear that it had been an arrangement between the three of them.

"The captain is my cousin," Edward said with shrug and took a careless sip of wine. "When it came about that I couldn't get Delilah pregnant, my mother had it arranged that Geoffrey would. She pulled some strings to get him placed as Delilah's bodyguard, and then he set about fucking her with no one the wiser - well, the guards noticed eventually. But no one cared so long as she foaled. Apparently," he shrugged again, "Geoffrey is shooting blanks as well. So if I can't get you pregnant, you and I will have to find some other alternative. Perhaps my cousin in Felbray."

Sitting on a stool in their tent as Daisy lazily brushed her mane, Daphne listened to the prince's careless ramblings in shock. In all her scramble to escape Araton, it had never once crossed her mind that she would have to bear a foal and become a mother. The very thought terrified her.

Also, it was clear as day that Captain Riley had fallen in love with Delilah during their many attempts to produce an heir. He would not be happy about her removal and might reveal them both as conspirators. She couldn't imagine what they could do about him, while Edward had a "let it sort itself out" attitude anytime she brought it up.

Daphne understood that Edward was hesitant because he didn't want to harm his cousin. She didn't want to hurt Captain Riley either but also didn't want to sleep with him just to appease him! And even if she decided to take two lovers instead of one, there was no way Captain Riley wouldn't realize she was an imposture. She thought it a pity: having both Edward and the captain enclosing her with their hard bodies, filling her with their hard cocks, would have been exquisite.

All thoughts of the captain, however, flew from Daphne's mind when she met the king and queen of Oltru for the first time.

The great arched doors of the palace were golden and guarded not by regular guards but by two towering angels bearing golden lances, wings folded neatly behind them. Seeing Daphne and Edward approaching with their guard, the grim and silent angels opened the doors, pulling them aside to reveal a stretching hall, along which more angels stood solemn in white armor.

Daphne walked down the endless avenue of angels with her chin lifted, though she clung with tight unease to Edward's arm. She felt as if they might look at her and know at a glance who she was, that she was the Purest One and was supposed to be in Heaven by now, legs spread for Araton's delight. None of the angels looked at her, however, and Prince Edward rubbed the small of her back when they reached the end of the hall, whispering that the angels in Aramora would not know her: many hadn't been to Heaven nor spoken to Araton in centuries.

"Ready to meet your parents?" Edward whispered with a smile.

Daphne could barely breathe for her nerves, let alone answer. She took a shuddering breath, the swell of her cleavage trembling within the frame of her low-necked gown.

"Don't worry," Edward soothed her. "Your mother will probably be too drunk to notice anything off," he said, startling Daphne, "and your 'father' is such an arrogant asshole, he won't notice a thing if you fawn over him enough. Just say 'Daddy' a lot. He likes that."

Too drunk? Daphne wanted to question Edward, but their escort stepped forward and opened the doors to the throne room, and then it was too late.

The throne was filled with courtiers lining it either side, all having gathered for the return of the prince and princess. They cheered as Daphne and Edward approached the golden thrones side by side, upon which the king and queen were seated in all their majesty. King Athriel and Queen Aurora rose gracefully and descended the stair to welcome Daphne and Edward warmly, though the king seemed to greet Edward with a more than chilly glance. His sharp eyes passed over Daphne and paused with such suddenness, Daphne resisted flinching. What was off? Her demeanor? Her smile? Perhaps he'd noticed the missing rings! Whatever had bothered the king, he simply smiled and fell into easy conversation with the two of them.

Daphne thought King Athriel looked a great deal like Artesda, if not more mature in features given his age. He was a handsome white stallion, with a long mane of white hair and slanted, fierce golden eyes. He was tall and muscular, clad in a red coat and tight tan breeches, with his golden crown gleaming regally upon his head. A wispy white beard twisted from his chin and danced gently whenever he spoke, so that Daphne thought he looked like a majestic white goat. He greeted Daphne with loving affection, hugging her gently and kissing her forehead in such a way that made her ache for her da, but he was completely cold to Prince Edward, asking him snapping questions that were barely disguised as insults.

It was said the royal bloodline was directly descended from Araton, and looking at King Athriel now, Daphne believed it. The king could have easily been one of Heaven's angels. He was even as a tall as them. All he needed was a pair of wings!

The very thought made Daphne furious. Half-angels like Storm were murdered on sight, and yet the bloodline of Aramora was pampered and coddled? In reality, there was no real difference between King Athriel and Storm, except that King Athriel happened to possess a penis. Daphne couldn't escape the feeling that Araton despised the Daughters of Heaven simply because they were the only beautiful mares in existence he could not bed.

Listening to King Athriel snidely cutting Prince Edward, Daphne wondered how she was going to share a castle with this male without eventually stabbing him with a fork. He was repugnant to her in every way, and she couldn't imagine what on earth her mother saw in him.

Queen Aurora was as beautiful as the stories said. She looked like an older version of Daphne: golden fur, hazel eyes, a white stripe cutting up between her eyes. Her golden mane was piled on her head in an elaborate bun, around which her crown hugged, winking with jewels. Her breasts were enormous, sitting high like baking bread in the open window of her gown. She was wearing a flowing ruby-red gown and had a glass of wine in one gloved paw. She seemed unable to keep her balance, though her occasional staggering was hidden very well when she leaned on her husband's arm. She was indeed quite drunk, bleary-eyed, and miserable.

Daphne, looking at her drunken and painfully unhappy mother, felt every violent fantasy of stabbing the mare in vengeance dissolve from her head. She looked at her mother, at this mare who she'd wanted so badly to spit on, and she could only feel pity. But she could not hide her disgust. Her mother had the entire world in the palm of her paw and dared to be unhappy after everything she had done to secure freedom, including sacrificing her own child?

Daphne's greeting to Queen Aurora was stiff and cold, and when her mother leaned in to kiss her cheek, she barely allowed her lips to touch her. When the queen appeared hurt by this, Edward offered the quick lie that "Delilah" had "fallen ill on the road" and was not well. To Daphne's surprise, the queen was quick to buy the lie, however reluctantly, but not the king, who gave Daphne a curious look before pushing the conversation on.

Apparently, there was to be a ball celebrating the success of the Summoning. Daphne was dumbfounded by the king's words and went completely still, her eyes popping as he spoke with slight weariness of the celebration.

". . . so the girl reached the Tower of Calantha, after all," said Edward, trying not to look at Daphne, though he gave her paw a discreet press with his thumb that told her to snap out of it.

Daphne was still leaning on Edward's arm and tried to straighten up, tried to look interested in the conversation. She only felt wretched.

"Oh yes," said King Athriel, who seemed to regret having brought the subject up. "The angels managed to get her there. Now we can all stop worrying about it." He didn't look at his wife as he spoke, but he reached over and wrapped an arm around the queen, giving her a shoulder a hard squeeze that was practically menacing.

Queen Aurora stared unhappily at her wineglass, then took a long and shaky drink.

Watching her mother sloshing down wine, it finally dawned on Daphne why Queen Aurora was drunk: her child had been sent into the arms of a rapist, it was her fault, and there was nothing she could do. Daphne, with a sting of guilt, turned her eyes away from her mother and was startled to meet the furious gaze of the king. He was looking at her with a quiet menace that burned a hole right through her and left her chilled. But he glared at her only a moment before turning his fierce eyes back to Edward.

Prince Edward was making a lighthearted joke that teased the queen about drinking so early in the morning, and as the hall echoed with laughter from the courtiers -- but not the king and queen -- it occurred to Daphne that Prince Edward and the nobles were the only ones in the room who didn't know why the queen was so bitterly unhappy. Daphne, full of pity, wished she could tell the queen that she had escaped, that she was standing right there. It had never occurred to her that Sun Tail might feel guilty for what she had done. She wondered with horror if Storm had taken Delilah to Araton . . . or perhaps someone else had.

After the king brought up the ball, it seemed his mood turned sour, and all conversation after that felt tense and forced. Eventually, Edward graciously excused himself and Daphne, and Daphne was only too glad to escape the king's burning glare. She also wanted to be far, far away from her mother, whose bitter pain left a nasty taste in her mouth.

Daphne and Edward left the throne room together arm-in-arm as they had come. To Daphne's surprise, the second the throne room doors closed behind them, Edward snatched her by the elbow and led her off to a side chamber, where he proceeded to yell at her for sending Delilah to Araton.

"I did no such thing!" Daphne hurled indignantly.

Edward wasn't convinced. "Come now, don't be coy," he sneered. "Just admit what a conniving creature you are!" He shook his head bitterly, and Daphne knew there would be no convincing him. He narrowed his eyes as he said, "I can't believe it. You actually had me fooled. You told me you didn't know where Delilah was and I believed you! I didn't love Delilah, but even she doesn't deserve this level of treachery!"

Daphne took a shaking breath and tears rose to blind her.

"Oh, no," said Edward darkly. "Your manipulations won't work this time! Cry all you want to, cry enough to fill the bath!" He shook his head in disgust, and Daphne dropped her eyes and held back a sob. Just like that she'd lost her chance to know love and happiness. But she stared at the floor and wondered if she deserved love and happiness anyway.

"I suppose there's nothing for it," Edward said bitterly. "What's done is done. Delilah is gone and you are my wife." The last words were so miserable, they stung Daphne.

"Edward, my love," she whispered, "I w-wish you would believe me!" Her lip trembled and she took a pleading step toward him, but he backed away. Daphne bowed her head and wept. There was silence, and when she looked up again, she was surprised to find Edward watching her in sympathy.

"You look so frail and helpless," Edward said. "I almost want to believe you. But I can't know this isn't some manipulation on your part. We'll talk about this later tonight. I'll give you one chance to convince me." He hesitated, as if he regretted seeing her cry, but something steeled in his eyes and he marched out.

Daphne stood there weeping and hating everything. Should she truly be condemned for what she had done? She couldn't decide. Her only alternative was to give herself to Araton, an insatiable god who would rape her for eternity to make angel-sons! She hadn't meant for Delilah to take her place, but it was her fault nonetheless. She stood there, weeping and feeling dismally alone, but she quickly straightened up when someone entered the room.

Daphne went still. A mare she didn't recognize had entered. She looked a great deal like Edward and Captain Riley: black fur, long dark mane, quite tall. But she was an older mare, and her eyes were piercing, green, grim, and cunning. She wore a dark emerald gown as she glided slowly into the room, her paws folded over it, her chin lifted. A male stallion entered behind her, likely her bodyguard, for he was clad in armor and had the dour look of a henchman.

Daphne kept still as the mare approached, stopping when they were face to face.

"I am Lady Omarilla of BraymalenProvince," said the mare regally, her voice deep and stern with age, "and you will address me as such. You are not Princess Delilah, so I will only address you as such if and when we are seen speaking in public."

"Y-Yes, m'lady," Daphne sniffed, too wretched to care that yet someone else, it seemed, had realized she was an imposture. At this rate, she wouldn't be surprised if she was beheaded before sundown.

"You learn quickly," said Lady Omarilla with approval. "If you hadn't guessed by now, I am Prince Edward's mother. I was in the throne room when you arrived. I also listened to your little spat just now, and I have to say . . ." She shook her head. "If you are intent on masquerading as Delilah, you are going to need some pointers in that regard. My son will be of little use to you. He never really knew Delilah, just her body and how it looked unclothed. I knew the little whore."

Daphne looked at the mare in surprise to hear that last word, the way it was spoken with such vehemence.

"Oh, yes," hissed Lady Omarilla and narrowed her eyes as she remembered. "Delilah and I despised each other. I was against it when my son was chosen to marry the filly, but there was little I could do to oppose the king. I made several gracious attempts to get to know her. All of them quickly increased my dislike for her. She was a spoiled, selfish brat, but even I will concede: she did not deserve to be sent to Araton."

"But I didn't send her to Araton!" Daphne insisted, hating the begging in her own voice. She was surprised when Lady Omarilla nodded.

"I know. I saw the way you pitied Queen Aurora. Someone with even an ounce of compassion wouldn't have done so devious a thing to Delilah. The fact remains that you stole her life, however, so there is some level of deceit in you which you and I will put to good use. The court can not afford to lose two Princess Delilahs."

Daphne paused. "Why are you helping me?"

"Why, I thought the matter was clear," said Lady Omarilla sneeringly. "I had no control over who my son married before. Now I do. I've also come to rather enjoy my summer visits to the crystal palace, and I'll not give them up now that Delilah is gone. Play your cards right and I will silently remove every obstacle in your way. You just want to be happy, don't you? You just want my darling Edward to love you?" She paused, giving Daphne a withering look that made her feel like a stupid peasant.

Some small part of Daphne instantly hated Lady Omarilla in that moment, and she thought she understood why Delilah had as well. But she was also smart enough to understand that she would need Lady Omarilla to survive. Lady Omarilla read this in Daphne's eyes and said with approval, "Good. We understand each other. I have already taken steps to have Geoffrey reassigned, and don't worry about Edward," she turned away, "I'll have a talk with him. I'll make him understand. Later tonight, he will come to your bed, and all will be well."

"What about the king?" Daphne called, and Lady Omarilla paused beside her bodyguard to look back at Daphne. If the king figured out who she was, Daphne doubted even Lady Omarilla could help her. So she was surprised when the older mare simply smiled and answered, "You leave the king to me."

Later that night, Daphne waited for Edward with anticipation, rehearsing over and over in her head how she was going to convince her husband to believe her. She sat on her large canopied bed, the silky red sheets soft beneath her, and peered into the great fire. Her chambers were warm and beautiful and everything she had dreamed. It still hadn't quite sunk in that she was rich. No more would she toil on her father's farm in the dirt and the rain. Somehow, she wished she could bring Henry to Aramora Hall and let him live with her there. It seemed so cruel to leave him behind.

Daphne bathed and waited in her nightgown, waited all night, it seemed, before she fell asleep. She awoke again when she felt something click against her teeth. Leather straps tightened around her cheeks and between her eyes as they pulled taunt. Her eyes flew open wide and she felt frantically at her face: someone had strapped a bridle over her head!

"Surprise," said a low voice.

Lying on her belly, Daphne looked over her shoulder and gasped. King Athriel was standing over her at the foot of the bed. His white mane was tousled, his shirt was undone, and his tight breeches were sagging open to reveal the hard, throbbing erection that stood upright from them. He looked down at her with his narrow eyes, the reins of the bridle wound tight around one fist.

Daphne's mouth would have fallen open in horror if not for the bit that rested tight inside it. She managed a wild, panicked grunt instead that made the king chuckle. His eyes glanced down appreciatively, and she realized with shock that she was naked. He looked at her plump backside before giving it a light slap that made it blush red. She winced from the blow, hating that her buttocks was still jiggling long after, that he was still staring at them.

"I'm afraid Prince Edward will not be joining you tonight, as he is . . . indisposed," said the king in a bored voice. He smiled when he saw Daphne's silent alarm. "Don't worry," he said, voice dripping disdain, "your darling coconspirator is still quite alive. I'll need him to raise my heirs, will I not? No one must know who you really are, who your children really belong to, and Eddie is the perfect cover."

Daphne trembled as it slowly dawned on her what the king intended to do. She grunted miserably, even made begging noises, and hated herself for her pleading. The king only laughed.

"No doubt you are wondering how I discerned your true identity," said the king. "It's quite simple: I know my daughter. You are not she. Your little friend, the Lady Omarilla, confirmed my suspicions --"

Daphne's heart leapt with wild fury.

"-- but I came here regardless to examine your body, and lo and behold! I was correct! I thought of having you strung up for the crows," the king's eyes glinted dangerously, "but then I realized it would be quite the shame to leave such fine pussy dangling from a hangman's rope. Why do that when I could put you to work bearing my children? Since you and Edward were so intent on removing my child, my reason for living, I figured why not force you to raise another child of mine? Aramora Hall will have heirs. And since Edward has proven incapable of impregnating my daughter, I will take it upon myself to perform that duty in his place." He smiled. "It's perfect, don't you see? The kingdom gets an heir, and I get a younger version of your mother to fuck when I want, how I want."

Daphne miserably dropped her cheek on the pillow and the king yanked viciously on the reins at once, forcing a cry of shock from her when her head was snapped back.

"Pay attention, whore," King Athriel hissed. "Did you hear what I said? I will fuck you when I want and how I want, and neither of you - neither you nor your simpering lover - will breathe a word about it, or I will have you both beheaded for treason and to hell_with Omarilla!" He swallowed hard, and Daphne couldn't see it when his golden eyes filled with unshed tears. "My daughter is long from my loving arms now. Araton has her and would not believe me were I to tell the truth of who he beds. Ironic, isn't it? Edward doesn't believe you either, does he? And I bet you wanted so _desperately for him to love you!"

Daphne swallowed bitterly.

"You and Edward will pay for your crime, and this is how you will pay." The king smirked. "Perhaps I will have Edward watch the next time."

Daphne shivered, trying desperately, bitterly to hold back tears. She didn't want the king to see her cry. She would die first.

"You understand, whore?" the king whispered. "On your paws and knees. You're mine."

When Daphne defiantly remained still, the king gave the reins another yank. She cried out helplessly when the bridle jerked her head further back, sending a shoot of pain down her neck and spine. He pulled relentlessly hard on the reins, until she was forced to scramble backward in order to gain slack. Her back hit his chest, and then he was groping her front, squeezing her breast in one paw and hefting it experimentally.

"Mm, you have nice tits," the king muttered, watching with narrow eyes as her nipple hardened. "Big and still high." His paw slid down her trembling belly to her sex, and she tensed when he fingered her. His fingers paused in surprise, dipping gently, cautiously. "A virgin, hmm? I thought Edward would've popped you by now. No matter." He gave her a shove in the back, and she fell forward, scrambling to catch herself with her paws. His fist closed around her tail, he kicked her knees wide apart, and then - without warning - his swollen shaft plunged sudden and hard between the lips of her sex.

Daphne's lashes fluttered wide as she was filled for the first time by a hard phallus, and she whinnied loudly, bucked immediately, trying to escape the sudden, snapping pain. Her hymen crumbled as the king kept going, forcing his throbbing way deep, fast and hard, until she felt the hot blood slipping down her thighs. She bucked and grunted wildly, breasts flapping, lovely curves twisting, the deep line of her back flexing, but her defiance only helped the king plunge deeper. He pulled on the reins, laughing darkly all the while, thrusting hard inside, until her buttocks were jiggling with every vicious slam.

"A wild one!" he panted. "Mm, keep bucking! I'm getting so deep . . . shit, you're tight."

"Mm! Mm!" came Daphne's muffled, frantic cries behind the bit. She twisted, sobbed, body rocking on paws and knees as the king slammed into her. Her breasts flapped with each slam, her thighs trembled as his paw smoothed hungrily over her curves, exploring her beauty in silent awe. She lashed her tail at him, hoping to strike him in the face, but he only swiped it aside before smacking her backside hard. The blow jarred her so badly, she fell still, eyes popping. He laughed at her shock and spanked her again, so hard that she whinnied and bucked more wildly than ever.

No, no! This wasn't happening! Daphne tried to scramble away, tried to scurry forward, thinking desperately that if only she could break the bridle, but it was a trap: each time she tried to escape, he yanked on the reins, forcing her back and slamming her hot sex hard over his shaft, until he had plunged her to the base. Before long, he didn't even have to thrust, as she was slamming her sex on him simply by bucking. He had tricked her into fucking him! Defiance burning through her, she stopped and remained still, but this only started the torture over again: he yanked on the reins, started thrusting hard, and then she was back to bucking to avoid it.

"Mmfph! Haven't had . . . mmpfh! . . . such good pussy . . . umfph, in years," panted the king, thrusting his hips so hard that his sack was slapping Daphne sex. He kicked her thighs wider apart and placed his paw on the small of her back, forcing her backside to jut. Legs spread and breasts flapping, her eyes popped yet again as this adjusted position allowed him to thrust deeper inside her.

The king reached around as he was slamming inside and gently pinched Daphne's clit. She felt it throb in response and thought dismally, No! No! The last thing she wanted was to achieve pleasure from this bastard! But his fingers were impossible to ignore. He pinched, fondled, and caressed, until the lips of her sex swelled and her hungry clit became fat and pulsing. She rocked beneath him, wide-eyed and ready to burst, breasts flapping, backside jiggling from each slam, and just when she thought she was going to climax - he climaxed inside her, hard.

Daphne trembled as the king's hot seed rushed to fill her. He slammed himself to the base, and it spilled over, creaming her lips, dripping down thighs and onto the sheets. The king jerked his hips as if to empty himself inside her, and with a satisfied sigh, he pulled his great erection free with a soft squelch.

Daphne's sore sex shriveled up like a defeated thing, and the sobbed gently, trying to digest the fact that she was probably going to foal from the king now. As if the misery had kicked the legs out from under her, she collapsed on her side and wept, ignoring the slight yank she experienced from pulling the reins taunt by doing do.

The king, panting and smiling, sat on the edge of the bed and gave the reins another tug, gentler this time. "Stop sobbing, girl," he said quietly. "This is little more than you deserve. What must my daughter be going through right now? Likely the same thing, if not worse. Tuh. And the nobles want a ball." He sneered at the very idea.

Daphne ignored him. She curled up in a little ball and swept, clutching her paws over her bloody and sore sex. She was surprised when the king stroked her mane.

"There, there," he said. "It'll be easier next time. You submit to me, and I won't have to use the bridle. Come." He pulled on the reins again. "Get over here and suck my dick."

Daphne wept harder and didn't move.

"Get over here," the king growled, pulling so hard on the reins this time that Daphne scrambled up to make the straps stop pinching her mane. She climbed down from the bed, and as she settled on her knees between the king's thighs, she told herself this was what she deserved. She had lied to get Izra in bed with Elohael, tricking her own friend into sex so that she could escape. She had left Artesda probably to his doom. And she had stolen her sister's life, leaving her to be taken by a brutal and insatiable god. She told herself she was lucky it wasn't worse.

"There, there, stop sniffling," said the king, who was wiping the blood from his erection with a kerchief. He tossed the kerchief aside and looked down at Daphne with an affection that surprised her. There in the firelight, he was handsome and mussed, his shirt undone, his slanted eyes piercing the darkness with their golden brilliance. His pink penis was still erect and was large in her face, webbed in veins and even throbbing a little. She didn't understand how he could still be hard after climaxing so violently inside her, and she stared at his punishing cock miserably through her tears.

"So beautiful," the king whispered with narrowed eyes. He lifted his paw, and Daphne cringed a little, but he only stroked her long golden mane, gently, with the back of his fingers. His paw smoothed down her mane to her shoulder, then cupped one of her shivering breasts and squeezed. "By the gods," he whispered and shook his head. "You look just like your mother did when she was young. Same gorgeous tits . . . same fat-lipped pussy . . . same sad eyes."

Daphne set her teeth. She didn't want to hear this.

"Your mother was so happy when she first came here, then . . . it all fell apart," the king muttered bitterly.

Daphne couldn't ignore her own curiosity. She sniffed and asked grudgingly around the bit, "Fwell apar? Why?" She went still when the king glared at her.

"Because of you," the king said in a low voice. "She felt terrible about leaving you behind." He blinked sadly. "She was never the same."

Daphne went still. Her voice was again muffled when she asked anxiously, "Arrr choo goin to twell her . . .?"

"No," said the king with a wince. "And stop talking, for the love of the gods. It sounds awful."

Daphne dropped her eyes.

"Why would I tell her, you dumb whore?" the king whispered, sending a shiver of rage through Daphne. "Here I am fucking you to get a foal from you - she'd never speak to me again! And in case it needs to be said, you and Edward won't be telling her either. Or I'll flay you both alive."

Daphne kept her eyes down and her nostrils flared angrily. Being completely in the king's power was infuriating. She had fought so hard, sacrificed her own soul_to be free, and for what? So she could wind up on her knees before the king of Oltru? She realized with sudden tears that the king and Araton and Izra were all right: she was _exactly like her mother.

"Now," said the king after a pause, "you're going to suck my dick and suck it good. Because I'm the only thing standing between you and the block."

Before Daphne had time to react, the king had tugged on the reins, forcing her mouth over the length of him. She sputtered as the salty taste of him filled her lips, pulling them taunt, stretching them wide until they hurt. The king ignored her frantic gurgling and sighed as her lips and tongue squirmed wet on his shaft. He pulled the reins, forcing her mouth forward and back over the length of him, each time in a slower, longer stroke, and Daphne, helplessly choking, felt her heart skip a beat when she realized what he was doing: he was slowly building toward down plunging down her throat.

No! Gods, no! Daphne thought frantically and clenched her little paws on the king's spread knees, silently begging him not to. The king ignored her, and with narrowed eyes, tugged on the reins with determination, each time forcing himself just a little further down her throat. Daphne sucked helplessly, hating the soft sound of her own slurping mouth. Each time her lips pulled back, his cock was glossy with her spit, until eventually, it was dripping with it.

When the head of his phallus prodded her gag reflex for the first time, her body tensed. She thought she would be sick. She was grateful when he stopped tugging the reins to look at her.

"How much did you eat at supper?" the king wondered aloud. "I had assumed a girl like you would throw up after every meal."

Daphne silently bristled at the insult, and if the bridle had allowed it, she would have bitten down. The king laughed at her helplessness and pulled with sudden violence on the reins. Daphne's eyes popped as her mouth slid fast over the king's shaft and it plunged down her throat, choking her. She gagged when she felt his thick shaft flinching against her throat, sealing off air as it heaved to release. His hot seed bubbled up through her mouth and over-spilled, dripping slippery down her lips as she knelt there, helplessly sputtering.

"Ahh . . ." the king sighed, frowning as he spilled his seed. "Throat's as tight as your pussy. You really are innocent." He looked at her curiously. "We will do this every night," he added, "until your throat is open." Placing his paw on Daphne's forehead, he gently slid her mouth off his shaft. Daphne coughed frantically at once, trying at the same time to spit up his seed and inhale air. Her tongue managed to push most of the white fluid out on the carpet. She hated the sound of her own wheezing, and she bristled in wild fury when the king patted her head.

"There, there," the king said, looking down at her with tired eyes. "I suppose you will bear my foal now. It's all for the good of Oltru . . . you'll see." He laughed softly. "And here I thought you were like your mother. Your mother wouldn't have let me do this to her. Your mother can't be tamed."

Daphne slowly lifted her glaring eyes, and though King Athriel only laughed at her, she silently vowed she would show him how tame she was.