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The air was thick with the scent of need and all of the props were in place. The brute of the evening clasped a fist full of Princess Tamsin’s curly brown hair and she was spitting venom with her high bred tongue.

“You wretched cur,” the princess growled, “you vile lowborn oaf! You can’t even handle the simple task of a lady’s garments!”

The free hand which had been fiddling with straps and fasteners took up the type of large knife one might use to cut through an animal’s carcass and flayed it carefully along one of the seams. The royal gown split open, revealing small-clothes and a corset as it piled into a heap on the floor. The big man paused and was staring at the next layer of clothing when the princess recovered from the shock and got her second wind.

“That dress … was worth more than your family might make in a generation.” Her voice had gone cold and was quivering with rage. “You privy brain! Don’t you know what-AH!”

The tirade had been interrupted when the princess had been draped over a sizable lap and one shovel-like hand made a thunderclap of sound along her backside. “Language,” the big man rumbled.

“How … dare you,” the princess quavered, “you-AHhh!” The second blow brought a pink shine to pale porcelain skin and her breathing grew more excited as they played.

“Dat’s not nice,” the big man rumbled once more, and he picked her up like she was a child.

Driving her forward, to straddle the triangle of raised wood, knocked the wind out of the princess before she could begin to lash him with words once more. A blanket had been laid over the top of the wooden horse, to prevent chafing and bruising, but some of her hair had come out when he released his grip and her arms and legs dangled uselessly, unable to touch the ground.

Rough calluses stroked her royal backside and made short work of the straps which held her lower garments in place. Soon he was able to gaze upon her noble glory. Puffy lips flared and dripped with excitement and arousal and she twitched in anticipation. The brute dropped to his knees, placed hands on her bottom, and spread her plump cheeks for a better look.

“Lecherous,” the princess wheezed, but her words turned into shuddering gasps as lips and tongue pressed against her backside and tasted all that she was. She squirmed but he held her. Small fists reached to grip the handles which had been latched to the floor and she pressed herself back towards him with pleasure. The man was a barely controlled beast and he drooled and slobbered. Rough stubble chaffed her pale skin and gave it a ruby glow … but this was only the beginning.

Princess Tamsin turned her head to one side and glared wickedly at the naked man who was crucified along a six pointed star of wood and leather. Arms and legs were spread and held firmly in place with leather belts. A ball-gag prevented him from speaking and his manhood was secured with fur covered clamps. Muscles strained in a pleasing manner as his blue eyes took in all of the things that were happening to his fiancé. He could touch neither her nor himself and he could not look away.

“Do you like it, Milton?” she cooed in an unsteady voice. “Do you like watching your bride-to-be getting violated like a mare in a stable?” Milton strained against his restraints and his hips thrust slightly forward in a vain attempt to press his burning desire against something that would allow him release.

“Yeesss,” Tamsin purred, “I see you do. I s-see-heheee.” Voice control became difficult as the rough face and his putrid tongue pressed hard against several of the places she adored. “Oh you slavering beast!” The princess hissed at the man who was still lapping hungrily along her nethers. “Don’t just taste me, you boorish philistine! Fill me up with your base seed! Make me feel it, you low born filth! Useless, loathsome, paltry, fffffuuuutaahhh hhaaahhh!”

Words turned to guttural animal sounds as the flesh of her body was spread wide. Nothing more threatening than fingers had entered Tamsin’s virgin garden but that did not prevent her from being plowed in other ways. To this end the brute pressed all of himself into her bottom. The roughness of his passing chaffed at her cheeks and forced sounds from her hips that could blister ears.

“Oi,” the brute barked as he slapped her bottom, “that gob’s getting’ on my nerves! Give ‘er somtin’ ta fill dat ‘ole!” The obedient lackey blocked out the light as he stepped up to stand before the princess and her eyes grew wide as she stared at his impressive girth. Before a proper protest could form, thumb and forefinger gripped her perfect nose and lifted. This caused her mouth to drop open and a choking mass of flesh was pressed down her throat. A moment of panic caused her to squeal but he let go of her nose and she was able to breathe again.

Pleasure and pain jolted in from both sides as the two big men drove themselves into her. Practice allowed the princess to relax her throat, suppress her gag-reflex, and keep her airways clear. Breathing through her nose, she felt the brut slide forward and back at the rhythm of one who knew. Mangling the face of the royal princess would get him tortured before being put to death and that prospect made him harder and more careful than any other.

In and out … forward and then back. Massive muscles bulged and held her taught, stretching her until she shivered from tiny orgasms that squeezed all of her openings. Eventually the invaders reached their limits and filled her with their filth. Thick ropes seared her innards and caused her to tremble from the shock of their heat. Roars of release shook the crystal chandeliers but then they settled and breathed hard.

Bodies withdrew and Princess Tamsin lay in her wood horse, panting deeply as she tasted the invading flood. Fluid dripped, forming strong smelling rivers until. It took some time for her to be able to swallow once more and then she wobbled into an upright position. The brutes wobbled to their positions flanking the door but they stood at attention. Wearing little more than their guard helmets, the pair waited at their princess’s pleasure.

“Savages … in royal armor,” Princess Tamsin whispered, then she swallowed a few more times. “Knights of the realm could never perform as you two. Your princess is pleased.” Pride glowed on their faces and the princess turned to face her fiancé. “But is my love pleased?”

Dismounting with care, Princess Tamsin sauntered in an unsteady walk over to the crucified man. Milton watched her with a wild expression and he made little moaning sounds from within the ball-gag. The wicked smile returned to Tamsin’s face as she ran her fingers through his chestnut curls. “Are you pleased, my love?” she asked in a voice that was barely a whisper. “Are you … still mine?”

Skilled hands unfancied the straps around his midsection and then she released the clips from their mounting. Swollen flesh fell free and raised, hard and alert. The pulse of his heart caused it to bob and she could see the desperation in his eyes.

“Oh … you poor handsome devil,” she cooed as she knelt near his erection and lightly blew along his length. “My cradle is still safe,” she whispered as she ran one delicate finger along his length. “Virgin walls remain free of pressing invaders and corrupting seed. Only one man will ever have that honor.” She sealed the promise with a kiss, though it was not on her face. Delicate licks of her tongue drew his musk up into her nostrils and then a moment later he peaked.

Muscles bunched together and several squirts of life-giving virility splashed along one side of her face and then splatted uselessly to the floor. “Oh-hoh,” the princess said with a laugh of genuine pleasure. “You poor dear. It won’t be much longer, my love. Soon you will relieve me of my virgin ways … and then you too may join in this play.”