Author's Comments:
This is a story of an unlikely pair and their thinly veiled lust hidden under layers intention. This story features themes of rough sex, adultery, impregnation, and rather rough behavior in general. Princess Arabelle is a bored royal in a loveless marriage who craves excitement in all the wrong places. When the infamous and murderous barbarian Aldrat is taken captive in her castle, her curiosity gets the better of her.
Aldrat the Despoiler: A Princess' Fantasy
Only the most prolific of stories spread like wildfire throughout the humble Kingdom of Valenholme. No tales burdened in tedium made it more than a village over. While recollections of heroic deeds were some of the most cherished; frightful retellings of cruelty, horror, and violence were the most pervasive.
This proved true with the tales of Aldrat the Despoiler. The brutal man sworn to Carneth, the God of Chaos and Deceit, had a reputation for dark, violent deeds. It was told he had a disfigured form, born of deep scars and rotten flesh. Survivors of his battles told of muscle-bound beast of a man, capable of ripping a foe in two. Chilling recollections of women and children screaming in terror at the sight of his blood-soaked frame charging their village, haunted an entire nation.
Aldrat was leading a campaign of terror across the East Marches, burning whole towns to the ground, at the head of his horde. There was little aim or logic to the bloodshed. The Despoiler simply went from town to town, sowing this chaos with little regard.
Amidst this razing, he left few alive, and few more escaped to tell the story of it. Aldrat cared not for the story, but regardless, it spread faster than his carnage.
Corpses laid in testament across Valenholme, peasants and nobles alike, cruelly hewn by Aldrat and his brigands. Equally as cruel as his soul, was his weapon— a hooked and rusted seax. In battle, he would wave it around his head like a whirlwind of gore, cutting through whole troops of soldiers as they futilely defended their homelands.
But the true horror, that laid in the whispers of his deeds, was the raping. Women were often Aldrat's mark, a reputation built on taking his pleasure with them amongst the chaos. It was told he took the virtue of a town's worth of fresh maidens personally; after, he would discard them, leaving them for scraps with the rest of his men. The stories claimed he collected girls like playthings, until he tired of them. Just a useful set of holes to the barbaric marauder.
Tales and rumors of this collective nightmare plagued the kingdom. Horrific stories like a tidal wave from mouth to mouth amongst the King's subjects. Even as far as Celestidel, the seat of the Kingdom of Valenholme, at the midafternoon tea of one Princess Arabelle Redus.
The firstborn daughter of the King craved stories and rumors. She lived to hear the tales brought to her by knights errant, merchants, or troubadours visiting her father's court. It was about the only thing that kept her living. Every new visitor was a present, the princess insisting they join her for tea. Arabelle was known for hosting lavish brunches in the courtyard, just to listen to every whisper they carried with them. The "Princess' Tales" as they were known amongst the servants of the castle.
Of late, the Princess' Tales had featured a lot of Aldrat the Despoiler. Despite its saturation, she would hear every last detail she could get of his evil deeds.
It was known that the princess wished to be spared no detail, no matter how uncomfortable. Thus, the word of the brigand's inhuman cruelty to his female victims had found the fair princess' ears unwavering and keenly interested. Those who recollected the gruesome details were often more bothered by it than she was.
Much to the dismay of her guests, she demanded to hear about every gruesome fucking, every deflowered maiden, and each slave to Aldrat's cock. Arabelle collected the tales of all the chaos Aldrat spread, relishing in the details as she squirmed in her seat.
Why shouldn't she be enticed by such stories? Life was a bore in the castle of her father. Thus, her favorite stories were always the dark ones. Those tales that went down a rougher path of depraved sexual action, especially made her stir. It was rumored that her marriage to the Duke of Greenham was the source of her boredom. It was no secret that after four years of being wed, the princess had yet to bear a child.
But few knew the cruel truth of it, that he left her entirely unsatisfied. The Duke was more content to go off on hunts or play games of wit with his merry men, than to bed the beautiful Arabelle with his meager sword.
Rumors were all she had. And if she was not hearing rumors, she was spreading them. The court of Valenholme was often festering with salacious gossip. From stable maids to elder noblewomen, no one was safe from the twisting of words fed from the princess' mechanism of tittle-tattle. So deftly she dispersed these tales, be it truth or not, that no one was the wiser as to their origin. Whether it was tales of scandalous infidelity, corruption, or hurtful deceit, Arabelle spread them. Often, she had little reason to do so other than the sheer entertainment of the havoc it caused.
Few suspected she was the culprit of it all. The princess enjoyed most suspicion that couldn't quite be proven. Often, her playful grins made her feel just one step ahead of them all, as their reputations were torn to shreds for her amusement or gain.
Arabelle was jaded with boredom, and little could break her of it. That was until the day word reached the castle, that Aldrat the Despoiler had been captured. The knights of the kingdom shrewdly countered his mindless violence with strategic action.
But the most tantalizing fact was that he was being brought to Celestidel to face judgment.
Upon learning of this, she had every intention witnessing the moment they drug him through the gate. The subject of so many stories that had tantalized her to her core, would be in her very home.
"Your Highness, I must insist you return to your quarters." The knight guardians of her family were irritatingly protective of her. They acted as if the mere sight of Aldrat would strike her feeble, feminine form down.
Arabelle knew she was made of solid stuff, even if she played the part of the fair lady well.
A dismissive wave of her hand ended any discussion of it. The elder knight of the guard huffed, irked by the princess' dismissiveness. Arabelle looked at him from the side of her eye, she was certain she had spread some tale about his wife and her muff-warts not too long ago. It was simple retribution for her snide remark about the late night activities of one of Arabelle's handmaids. She was, at least, protective of her own.
Standing just inside the gates of the keep, she listened to the chainfall before they creaked open. The giant forged gate, made by smiths a millennia ago, soon let what little daylight was left stream through. Sounds of struggle and chain clatter crept into her home.
It took no less than five men to wrangle Aldrat across the threshold of the keep. Chains were wrapped around his neck, arms, and legs as they pulled him. He was a giant, at least half a body taller than the guards around him. His frame dwarfed all other men that Arabelle had seen.
"Your Highness, please back away for your safety!" The older knight put a hand on the bare shoulder above the cutoff of her gown.
It was quickly removed, when it was met with a glance that could pierce all glances. Arabelle's striking green eyes could cut through most men, the elder knight guardian included. But as she continued to watch Aldrat being dragged across the foyer of her home, much to the dismay of her guards; she knew her glance would be nothing to him.
Unlike the tales, he did not have a deformed body of rotten flesh. Each muscle and stretch of bare skin was chiseled, almost like a statue of an old glorified hero. He wore little in the way of clothing, save for a pelt around his waist. She was thankful for that, as Arabelle could drink in the sight of him all she wanted. Her eyes feasted on each stretch of tanned skin he bore. While there certainly were scars, it only added to the aesthetic. He bore many tattoos across his chest, arms, and face. Dark marks of the god Carneth that blessed Aldrat's endeavors as a warrior.
For a brief second, their eyes met. The brutish hulk of a figure standing still in the foyer of her home as they looked at each other. Each feasted on the sight of the other's body, Aldrat being more overtly aroused at the sight of the fair-bodied princess. His sickening grin directed at Arabelle spurning on the guards around him.
"Common yew scum!" One knight struck him on the back with the pommel of his sword. The barbarian hardly flinched, licking his lips as he looked at the princess.
Arabelle held her chin high, watching as they carried him away deep in the dungeon. Their grunts and shouts faded away as she processed the sight of the monstrous man.
Night set in, and the flickering candle in her hand was all the light Arabelle could use to find the rough-hewn stone step spiraling down. She eventually found the torch-lit landing of the dungeon after several long, twisting moments through the damp shadows.
Awaiting her there, two guards stood to attention at her arrival and looked at each other concerned.
"Milady, you must go back, this is not a proper place for you to—"
The clatter of a coin purse in the guard's hand silenced any more talk of 'proper'.
"You both will leave, and never speak of this."
Conflicted, the guards eyed the purse and the princess. However, greed always wins and accordingly they did just as they were told. But it was not before Arabelle had lifted the cell key from the guard's pocket discreetly, the bag of coins distraction enough for her purposes.
After the guards ascended the spiraling steps, Arabelle was content she was alone with Aldrat, who eyed her from across the room.
It was quiet, all the other prisoners had been removed save for the Despoiler. He was kept in the furthest back cell, his eyes flickering in the torchlight as she approached.
Arabelle stood before his cell with haughty pride to her stance. Her pink gown glided across the stone, and her dark hair blended with the shadows.
"Come to see a real man, princess?" Aldrat sneered, standing from his position against the cell wall.
"Hardly, I am married to a real man." She shot back, eager to egg on his response.
"Your husband is a puny fool."
Arabelle lightly gasped, as she saw his large frame come into the light. His visage was, even more, dominating close up, and his presence tantalizing.
"My husband is a fine warrior; he would defeat you on the field of battle." She paced in front of the cell confidently. Her eyes lingered on him, almost long enough to give him a hint of desire.
Aldrat grinned widely. His eyes were full of hatred for her and her kind. Yet there was the standard lust behind it that he was known for.
"I would snap your lord husband in two, given the chance." He japed, as he sat back against the wall, intrigued by the beautiful princess' unexpected visit.
"Hmmm. Perhaps, you would." She clicked her tongue and came in front of the cell.
Aldrat furrowed his brows, coming to the cell bars, a breath away from the sweet fragrance of the noblewoman.
"And perhaps after you snapped him in two, you would capture me. And do things to me." She looked at him intently, still out of reach.
Aldrat didn't say a word, he let her go on.
"You would defile me, use me, Ra*e me until I was of no use that way, wouldn't you." Her tone had a thinly veiled eagerness to it.
Aldrat stayed silent. She had his full attention.
"Is it not true, all those girls you played with? The conquests you took for yourself."
He grabbed the cold iron bars in his hands and leaned forward.
"Why don't you come in here and find out? You have the key." A friendly nudge to let her know he saw the sleight of hand.
Arabelle's breaths were heavy. Indeed, the key was in her palm. It was frustrating, usually she was the one with the secrets to reveal. No one thwarted her in that arena, or challenged her aptitude to surprise.
She held it up before him, letting the brass shimmer in the torchlight as he looked it and her body over.
Committed, Arabelle took one deep breath, and with one hand behind her back, she undid the lace of her gown.
The pink trappings around her body fell away, and she was absent the normal undergarments of a woman of means. Instead, the sleek white skin of her body glistened in torchlight of the dungeon, every curve and dimple of her feminine form playing in the shadows of the dim flames.
A satisfied huff was shared between the unlikely pair. Arabelle stood there willingly, uncovered, unabashed by her nakedness. She was baring in full, her laden breasts and blushing slit crowned with a tuft of dark hair. Her eyes sought his satisfaction with the sight, as she watched his eyes dance around her lower half.
A long quiet took them; only an anxious breath from her, and a satisfied growl from him, came in passing.
She carefully walked closer to the bars. Close enough that the feeling of his large frame and its warmth kissed her bare skin. It was a purposeful distance, intending to let him feel her, and carefully weigh her next move.
Aldrat did not initially reach out. He simply looked down on her. She was three heads shorter and much smaller than he.
"What is your aim, princess? Do you undress for all of your captives?" He gruffed.
Arabelle looked to the side, rocking her upper half so her breasts swayed with the motion, and her nipples slipped along the steel bars.
"I've heard all those stories."
Aldrat chuckled.
"It's no laughing matter." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, the first time she made any effort to conceal herself.
"Oh?"
"You're a monster, all that you did."
Before Arabelle could even cry out, Aldrat grabbed her from between the bars by the throat and pulled her against them. Her hands struggled with his thick claw as he pressed her face against the cold iron.
"And you want a monster. What does that make you?" His other hand groped her, feeling the princess' perky tits. They were unlike any peasant woman's. They were well-fed breasts meant for royal lips, be it babe or prince.
Arabelle didn't answer, simply letting him degrade her from inside his cell.
"I feel your heart." He pressed his palm against her tit, until the panicked thumps of her pulse could be felt. "Use the key, you want to."
"You could kill me."
"I could... but not until I had the chance to fuck you. That's what you want anyways, the danger. A whore through and through. It doesn't matter the richness of your gowns, you women are the same. You crave a beast between your legs. Not all men have that."
He peeled back his pelt, dropping it down his legs. Between them, the most notorious of his weapons rested, half-cocked and menacing. Arabelle had heard tales of cocks so large, but never saw one since the day of losing her maidenhead. It matched his arms in being veiny, and sat atop an engorged sack. She was surprised he kept himself shaved; perhaps, it made it easier to deflower all those maidens that way.
He released her neck, letting her fall back with a cough. Bringing his body close to the bars he put his cock between the iron and looked at her with a grin.
"No words, princess? Not what you were expecting? It's not your lord-husband's sweet, washed pecker, my dear." His chortle made her gulp.
Her eyes were fixed on it; a fact that excited Aldrat, as he stood waiting.
"I'd hate to dirty your regal bod with it." He wrung his hands around the bars as he watched her.
Arabelle didn't need a hint to get the innuendo. Only a second of hesitation preluded her kneeling before the prisoner behind his bars. Eye level with Aldrat's manhood, she prepared herself, clearing her throat and licking her lips. A dainty hand reached out and gripped its half-flaccid length, stroking its grimy skin as she stared it in the eye.
He was quite filthy, but Arabelle was here for it. He wouldn't be known as a barbarian if he was clean. Although, as her mouth opened wide she intended to get him as clean as possible, if only for the sake of the act of it.
"Mm-hmm. Do you nurse your husband's tip like this? Or, is he only as long as my mushroom?"
Arabelle furrowed her brows as he taunted her, taking him past the head and down his length 'til a healthy gag stopped her.
"Hahaha! I can tell just how long he is. I imagine that is why you have yet to be with child, he cannot reach your womb!"
Arabelle adjusted and slacked her jaw, his girth a struggle for her as he hit her across the cheek with it. She didn't know how frustrated to be with him, since he was right about her husband.
"You'll be but a long hall to him after I am done with you." He pulled at her hair as she moaned. All the threats added to her eagerness to take him deeper in her mouth. A few more passes of his cock, and she had made him slick with her spittle, her eyes watering as she pressed herself to go further.
On one such pass, deep along his shaft, his hand grabbed the back of her head and pushed her an extra inch. A long heave accompanied her falling backward in a coughing fit. His cackling mixed with her exertion, as she sat on her bare ass atop the dirty stone of the dungeon floor.
"Like a fine piece of art. A sight to behold, yet brittle. Give me a hardy maiden any day." He turned his back to her, walking away from the bars.
No one turned her back on her. Not only was it an affront to royal decorum, but to her ever-inflated pride.
A metal clatter and an unbearable whine accompanied the opening of the cell door. Arabelle stood on the threshold with the key in hand, shaking both in fear and frustration. How dare he defy her, how dare he turn his back.
"I am not brittle." An unsure string of words shook on her tongue, as her body trembled in fear of what would transpire.
"Oh?" He tormented her with a sideways glare, showing no regard for the unlocking of his confines.
Arabelle's heart dropped, it was like staring into the eyes of a predatory beast, the silence his stalking before the strike.
Like a hunter, he pounced. Like a flash, he was across the cell, his large hand grabbing a wrist of the dainty princess and pulling her into him. Her naked body pressed against his grimy, unwashed flesh and muscles. His cock was erect and pressed against her opulent abdomen between them.
He held her possessively; like a spell, she was frozen. His strength was like a curse to her. It was all inevitable as there was no turning back from his jaws.
Wriggling in his grip, Arabelle fruitlessly fussed with her predicament. Annoyance wrinkled her nose, yet fear lingered in her eyes.
"You are a strange princess." His hand caressed her cheek and sniffed her long, black hair. It smelt of flowers and purity, a sickening aroma for such a man. But unlike most, he associated the scent with a wet prize to be claimed.
"What is it you want, girl?"
Reduced of her royal title, Arabelle was silent. Her naked body glistened in a cold sweat, at the mercy of a thug thrice her size.
"You can forget your title; in this cell, I'll call you as I please."
His hand ran across her skin. Arabelle had a rich feminine form, full of curves and valleys that were interesting to touch. The elasticity of her flesh amused him. Swatting her rear and squeezing her breasts just to see how they bounced back into place.
Reaching between her legs, he unceremoniously slipped a digit into her cunt. Arabelle let out a "Guh" sound at the penetration, his one finger equaled about two of her husband's. A warm and full feeling crept around her core. She wriggled her hips in capitulation, feeling his finger roll along her walls. Moisture trickled down his knuckles as the tuft of hair atop her mount brushed with his leg.
"You are wet for this, girl? Very strange." Was the astute observation of an unread savage. But it didn't take an education and a knighthood to tell what a woman in heat wanted. His cold and murderous eyes only had to look into the mischievousness of her own to tell she was here for the fucking of a lifetime.
Finally, the cloud of her anxiety broke, the princess standing still in his grasp, as she looked up at him with wide regal eyes. Pushing her hips forward, his cock rubbed along her navel, still wet with her spittle from its cleaning.
"You want me to take and use your body like those maidens from villages I razed?" His voice had a low rumble to it, that echoed along the walls. His hot breath prickled her all over, as every little bump on her body stood up straight.
An honest nod confirmed her desire. The princess wanted to be his next plaything.
"You know... some of those maidens were just like you, princess." He twisted her nipple and watched her squirm erotically. "Some of them begged me to use them. They had never seen a man quite like me." He lifted her tit and dropped it to watch it jiggle in several successive swipes.
Her expression was perplexed, it was not quite the stories of horrific pillaging that had reached her tea parties.
A healthy laugh bellowed from his barrel chest.
"You don't want to hear about that, do you?! You're an amusing girl!"
She whimpered as he took a long sniff of her hair, then a hand grasped her chin and raised it to look at him. With a sick chuckle, he licked her from neck to forehead, tasting her flesh and gleefully nibbling on her cheek.
Arabelle winced, yet her slickness flowed.
"You want to hear how I tore their clothes."
She gasped, as he gripped her with his coarse hands and lifted her. The sheer power of it was astonishing, and ultimately arousing.
"You want to hear how I mounted them."
She was far above the ground now, breasts aligned with his face.
"How I ravaged their insides with my cock."
His teeth met her nipples, pulling at them and suckling on them roughly. Arabelle cried out, but the pain melted into pleasure, as her cry also melted into a moan. The sensation was wild, like a gnashing that sent shots of lightning throughout her body.
A faint shimmering caught her eye, around his neck on a hemp band was a pendant of Carneth, a shimmering crest of a fanged beast devouring. It was a boon of the god of Chaos and Deceit, and Aldrat wore it proudly. It was clear he didn't let the guards rid him of it. Few would die just to be rid of a pendant on a prisoner.
Her toes curled as his teeth bit down, and her bosom yielding its boon to him, as her breaths gasped through the waves of its feeling. Soon, she felt his tongue wash over her skin, a warm and slippery mess that poured over her body as he held her there like a doll.
Aldrat dropped her tit from his mouth and grinned at her. His crooked smile, while framed in the visage of warrior glory, was something evil. It had a disconcerting quality, several teeth being sharpened into fangs that made it even more stimulating to the curious princess.
"The very symbol of royal purity and honor, and you want this?" Aldrat's hand scooped her neck and chin, pulling her head left and right as he watched her flush, eager, and frightened expressions.
"Yes..." a girlish whimper answered.
Arabelle yelped as she was dropped to the stone floor. Her knees ached as she landed on all fours in front of him. The Despoiler loomed over her body, as she felt the cold stone floor on her face, watching her next move to plan his attack.
"I'm not grasping you, girl. You make both of my head's spin, heh."
Arabelle hummed, for the first time since entering the cell, a more confident expression sliding over her face.
"I don't want to be all that."
"Hmm?"
The princess turned, rolling her body elegantly with each move, as she faced her rear to Aldrat. A sensual smile was gifted to him, as she rolled her body forward and lifted her lower half high. Soon, her sex was in full view, flanked by widened thighs that held her prize aloft.
"I don't want to be someone else's symbol of purity or the embodiment of my husband's or my father's sense of honor."
Her labia were like gates, gilded in a glistening red blush, neatly closed like they were crafted by master artisans. None of her bits were out of place, perfectly plump and delectable.
"I just want to be ravaged. Taken by the most unholy of the lot. Used, defiled, deprived of any purity or honor that they forced upon me. Those tales of the girls you raped and villages you pillaged, gave me hope that I could have a taste of a life that was not dull. As horrific and fiery as the stories were, I wanted that for me— I wanted to be a plaything for a monster..."
She laid her head on her arms and prepared for the assault on her gates. A few long and purposeful breaths calmed her racing heart.
"...thankfully, a monster was brought to my own home..."
There was a long silence, with Arabelle peeking behind her to see if Aldrat had run off, only to find him staring into her winking slit.
"Humph, your words don't at all make sense, but they are your weapon, not mine. I don't know if you seek to confuse me, girl, but I know a wet cunt when I see one."
Lowering himself to one knee, he grabbed her hips firmly, pulling her whole lower half back to him as he aligned his rod.
"I'll be impressed if your tongue can still dance while my cock takes you."
His mushroom, that Arabelle could hardly suckle, battered her gates, pressing against their smooth flesh and parting them to reveal her pink. But before he could dive in, he couldn't help but pull his cock back and swat her across the ass with it. A true barbarian as he clubbed her cheeks with his ungainly cock, and chuckled as it jiggled up and down.
Arabelle squeaked at the feeling of how weighty he was, just a few short moments and he would run her through with that monstrous thing.
But like before, she was here for it.
Without a warning, like in battle, he thrust his long spear forward with little regard. Unlike battle, blood did not spray at the connection with his foe. Instead, a splatter of her juices decorated both their thighs, as he ran her deeply. Similar to battle, however, there was a scream.
There was no style or strategy, just mindless thrusting. Not unlike his mindless violence.
Arabelle had let out such a shrill cry, it echoed for several moments afterward. She prayed to the gods, that the guards she sent away had gone far enough, less rumor of a wanton princess spread through the court.
But prayer left her mind in a split second, replaced with the soreness of being filled with such a large penis, so forcefully and suddenly. Aldrat didn't regard the pleasure of his females at all, nor their pain during the act. He simply made like a beast and rutted inside of them. There was no exploration or gradual conquering of her passage, simply a deep thrust that took her to the brim, and him to the hilt.
She was so full, it was certain in her mind, that he could pick her up with his cock and let her dangle there. Perhaps this comical fantasy was exactly what drew her to the situation, her slit simply bustling with ecstasy in the act.
Aldrat grunted and growled as he took her. His hand rose and swatted her rear firmly, marking her red with his palm, as she wailed.
"Is this the courtesan's treatment you wanted, girl?"
His hand reached up, grabbing the hair atop her head and pulling it back hard. A visceral whine left her throat as she blubbered like a whore. He pressed her so hard, as he gripped her head and swatted her ass. Over and over, the stinging drove her mad, but it was not yet enough...
"Were... ahhhghhh... you..." she struggled to get the words out through the whines and gasps. "... this kind to all your maidens?"
Aldrat snarled, grabbing her throat from behind and pulling her sharply back to meet his eyes. Her body was like a crescent from his cock to his face.
"You don't know what you ask for, princess." Aldrat was incensed. "You think this a game, princess?"
Despite the discomfort of his skewering cock, his bending her back, and the firm grasp on her throat, Arabelle smiled. It was a smile that further enraged the man known as the Despoiler.
From that second, she had unlocked exactly the treatment she had asked for. From that second, she became afraid of what he would do to her. Her sex drizzled at the sensation of it, regardless.
She was thrown from his cock, the barbaric man tossing the girl across the cell 'til she slammed against the stone wall. The wind left her, and hardly before she could get a breath he had her hair again, lifting her to her feet.
"You want fear to liberate you from privilege?"
His hands yanked her head back as he growled down her neck. He took bites of her sensitive throat, hard enough to make her wonder. All the vectors of pain and terror he pressed upon her were exactly what she was missing in life. The unwashed and murderous man, who held her naked in a cold cell, was not wrong. She had neither fear nor pain in her life, and it was all she could crave.
Arabelle was too panicked and stimulated to respond. Writhing in pain, she simply gasped for air while she could.
"Pitiful." He lifted her higher, grabbed her side and slammed her against the wall, before entering her again. Her long legs wrapped around him and could not even grip him, as he pounded her. Her trilling was sharp, as he used all of his force against her.
The princess' arms found his neck, wrapping around them as she clawed for support as he viciously fucked her. In her clawing, the hemp band of his pendant snapped, and the symbol of Carneth fell from his neck with a clatter on the floor.
"Grrr, irritating girl."
Pinning her arms above her head, he went harder. He bit her neck and shoulder as he fucked her. A sharp and continuous effort that soon saw her sex quake along his rod.
"A simple slut." He stroked as he felt her cumming. Her eyes rolled back and her breaths became elastic. She could have passed out there from the sensation of it all, but Aldrat would have no part in it. He brought a hand down on her face and smacked her twice to wake her. Arabelle yelped, as he still pressed his enormous cock into her, a bump in her lower abdomen a telling sign of just how far his tip was.
"You think your cumming is the end of it, girl?"
Again, she was tossed across the cell.
"Gahhhh!" She groaned and held her ribs as the stiff stone battered her body.
"The end isn't at your cumming. But mine."
Flipping her to her stomach, he put her back in the position she had been, ass in the air. Only this time he squatted behind her, driving his spear at the pace of his desire, while holding her face against the stone floor. She groaned as he ravaged her, her womanhood sensitive from her recent climax. She cried out at the overwhelming feeling of it, but he cared little. He kept her in this position for some time, pounding her and swatting her. All the while he told her degrading things about her body.
"Your little pussy hadn't seen a man until today. Only boys have pecked at its shallowest depths."
"Your tits wouldn't last being suckled by my hearth guard. Maidens I had finished with, often didn't last beyond a night with the scoundrels. You wouldn't last an hour."
"If I let you live, you'll never be able to feel another man, nor would they feel you."
He lifted her, pressing her face against the wall, as she was left to brave against the stone on her knees. The skin of her body was marked in red, where he continued to hit her. Even so, it was there on her knees she came again, Aldrat cackling at the feeling and the squeezing of her cunt that made him slow.
Arabelle was fading, her wails and moans lessening, as she simply let him fuck her like a doll. He would draw it out for a time, she would cum occasionally as he laughed. Altogether, he brought her to climax thrice, the degradation and abuse the biggest stimulant for the pompion girl.
It was on her back, her legs splayed outwards as he lay atop her, that he finally reached his. Arabelle had been silent for some time, limp aside from her spread legs. She dared not lower them, less he be enraged, or worse, stop. He rooted himself inside of her at the end of it, a wash of warm goo filling her as it seeped out between their joined flesh. Her lord-husband had seeded her several times, yet it was just a drop compared to Aldrat's ocean. Wave after wave drained his sack into the princess, carnal grunts from the barbarian and broken groans from the princess, proceeding until the end.
Looking down at her, pulling out his hung cock with a plop, he cackled at her limpness.
"Pitiful." He watched his cum drain from her worn cunt, lips not so neatly closed as they were before their breach. She lay back staring up at him, magnificent green eyes glossed over. The whole act felt like it had gone by so fast, yet in reality, it lasted for over an hour, their fluids coating the cell where he tossed her and took her over and over.
It was a fantasy come true for the princess.
"Don't be sad, princess. One day, my hordes will reach this castle, and I'll visit you again." He cawed.
Aldrat turned his back to grab his dropped pendant and pelt, laughing the whole way about the meek princess eager to be assaulted by the monster, but too brittle to take it.
The familiar clatter of iron and impossible whine of rusted hinges sounded, only this time with greater haste.
Outside the cell, a very un-limp Princess Arabelle stood naked, cum leaking from her slit, twirling the cell key around her finger. An expression of girlish deviousness on her face. Her eyes narrowed, as she looked at the stunned Aldrat. It was just like his campaign of terror along the countryside, with no strategic foresight. It was not chance that she loosened his pendant from his neck, merely a distraction for her plan.
"GIRL!!!" He howled, ramming his body into the bars as he grasped them with his powerful hands.
She had faith in the craft of her father's smiths, hardly flinching as Aldrat went berserk. His hollering was deafening as he flung curses at her, his spittle slicking the few dry spots their love juices hadn't on the stone floor.
"You whore! You shameless heifer! You dare lock Aldrat in this cage! I already own you! I have planted myself in you! You bend to my whim! You are mine to discard!"
His frothing continued for some time, but Arabelle stood defiant and grinning. Her steadfastness only driving the Despoiler to new heights of rage. Aldrat flung insult after insult as he yanked at the bars, hitting them with his fists and biting them with his teeth. He would reach through the cell bars to grab at her, but scarce could touch her plump nipple.
After some time, he exhausted himself enough to let the princess get a word in. She playfully tapped the key on her chin, unabashedly nude before him. His seed still running from her sore slit.
"No... I think from the moment you were brought to this dungeon in chains, I possessed you." A sadistic twinkle was in her eye. "I came down here because I knew what you were, and I knew you were helplessly confined. You were my plaything, because I knew exactly what you would do."
Aldrat snarled, white-knuckle gripping the bars.
"You could have escaped so many times, the door was open, and the guards were dismissed. But like a good toy, you fucked me instead, unwavering and predictable. Just like your battles, there was no coherent plan to it. You simply saw a pussy and dove into it."
The words were landing true on Aldrat, his expression sobering as he looked left and right, evaluating all she said.
"Despite being tossed around the cell like a doll, I knew the whole time you wouldn't leave 'til you finished. And while it was the most intense pleasure of my life- thank you for that- I don't think you'll get the chance again."
She smiled knowingly to Aldrat, who looked at her with a sudden curiosity.
"My father, the king, intends to execute you on the morrow. So you see, you are mine to discard, actually."
"No..." Aldrat couldn't believe what he was hearing, he had been duped by a princess, his lack of vision so striking as he recalled how open the door was when he ravaged her. The truth of it all was seeping into his thick skull, just like his defeat at the hands of the king's knights.
Arabelle gave a confident snicker, before turning her back to grab her gown.
"Carneth!!!! Why! Why have you abandoned me, your servant!" Aldrat sank to his knees and uncharacteristically wailed, his eyes turned to the heavenly plane above him and arms reaching for the salvation of the God of Chaos.
A low chuckle outside the cell brought his attention back to his mortal existence. Looking beyond the bars, Princess Arabelle held out a finely crafted silver pendant of her own that she had retrieved from her gown. On it, the crest of Carneth, matching Aldrat's, shimmered in fine and polished silver beneath her hand.
"Carneth suffers no fools, Aldrat. The God of Chaos AND Deceit will not waste pity on a reckless man. If you cannot grasp your demise and allow yourself to be tricked such as tonight, then Carneth does not have time for you."
The princess, shimmering in the torchlight naked and glorious, wrapped the pendant around her neck and clasped it at her nape. Closing her eyes, she took a long breath as she pressed the symbol of her dark god to her breast. A satisfied smile warmed her, as she relished the fullness of her body.
"Rest now, Aldrat. You meet our lord on the morrow."
Arabelle quickly donned her floor-casted gown and with a grin befitting her devious nature, departed. But before she was out of ears' reach of Aldrat, she put in one last taunt.
"Look who is brittle now."
The blood-curdling screech the barbarous man let out would forever stick in the mind of Princess Arabelle, but not as a haunting memory, but rather the trophy. It was reassurance that she could break even the most monstrous of men with her cunt and cunning.
As the princess foretold, the next morning Aldrat was brought to the steps of Celestidel's keep by the King's headsman. Arabelle watched the event just like the rest of the court from above, no one the wiser to their activities the night previous. Just before the cold steel of the headsman's axe was brought down on him, Aldrat looked for the devious princess in the crowd. When he found her, he didn't look like the same man, his eyes a window into a broken soul, deprived of what he thought to be true.
Arabelle grinned as the deed was done. Her hand was on her stomach as the seed of the monster took root within her. It was just as Carneth promised her.
Little needed to be done to convince her lordly husband it was his seed that took root. The shrewd princess simply instigated their union one drunken night, sure to give her husband an abundance of both wine and pussy. Thrice she would do this, sure he planted his pecker as deep as he could and praised him for it. Though there was no doubt in her mind of the truth of whose baby grew in her womb.
Several decades later, the infamy of Prince Andrew the Dread was known far and wide. The son of Princess Arabelle was known both for his prowess as a mighty warrior and his ruthlessness with his enemies and women. His chaotic persona both in battle and bed, confounded those who knew his father. But his cunning left no doubt of who his mother was.
This product of the union of a princess and her plaything was pleasing to Carneth. The god of Chaos and Deceit smiled upon the kingdom no less sinisterly than his servant Arabelle.
This is a story of an unlikely pair and their thinly veiled lust hidden under layers intention. This story features themes of rough sex, adultery, impregnation, and rather rough behavior in general. Princess Arabelle is a bored royal in a loveless marriage who craves excitement in all the wrong places. When the infamous and murderous barbarian Aldrat is taken captive in her castle, her curiosity gets the better of her.
Aldrat the Despoiler: A Princess' Fantasy
Only the most prolific of stories spread like wildfire throughout the humble Kingdom of Valenholme. No tales burdened in tedium made it more than a village over. While recollections of heroic deeds were some of the most cherished; frightful retellings of cruelty, horror, and violence were the most pervasive.
This proved true with the tales of Aldrat the Despoiler. The brutal man sworn to Carneth, the God of Chaos and Deceit, had a reputation for dark, violent deeds. It was told he had a disfigured form, born of deep scars and rotten flesh. Survivors of his battles told of muscle-bound beast of a man, capable of ripping a foe in two. Chilling recollections of women and children screaming in terror at the sight of his blood-soaked frame charging their village, haunted an entire nation.
Aldrat was leading a campaign of terror across the East Marches, burning whole towns to the ground, at the head of his horde. There was little aim or logic to the bloodshed. The Despoiler simply went from town to town, sowing this chaos with little regard.
Amidst this razing, he left few alive, and few more escaped to tell the story of it. Aldrat cared not for the story, but regardless, it spread faster than his carnage.
Corpses laid in testament across Valenholme, peasants and nobles alike, cruelly hewn by Aldrat and his brigands. Equally as cruel as his soul, was his weapon— a hooked and rusted seax. In battle, he would wave it around his head like a whirlwind of gore, cutting through whole troops of soldiers as they futilely defended their homelands.
But the true horror, that laid in the whispers of his deeds, was the raping. Women were often Aldrat's mark, a reputation built on taking his pleasure with them amongst the chaos. It was told he took the virtue of a town's worth of fresh maidens personally; after, he would discard them, leaving them for scraps with the rest of his men. The stories claimed he collected girls like playthings, until he tired of them. Just a useful set of holes to the barbaric marauder.
Tales and rumors of this collective nightmare plagued the kingdom. Horrific stories like a tidal wave from mouth to mouth amongst the King's subjects. Even as far as Celestidel, the seat of the Kingdom of Valenholme, at the midafternoon tea of one Princess Arabelle Redus.
The firstborn daughter of the King craved stories and rumors. She lived to hear the tales brought to her by knights errant, merchants, or troubadours visiting her father's court. It was about the only thing that kept her living. Every new visitor was a present, the princess insisting they join her for tea. Arabelle was known for hosting lavish brunches in the courtyard, just to listen to every whisper they carried with them. The "Princess' Tales" as they were known amongst the servants of the castle.
Of late, the Princess' Tales had featured a lot of Aldrat the Despoiler. Despite its saturation, she would hear every last detail she could get of his evil deeds.
It was known that the princess wished to be spared no detail, no matter how uncomfortable. Thus, the word of the brigand's inhuman cruelty to his female victims had found the fair princess' ears unwavering and keenly interested. Those who recollected the gruesome details were often more bothered by it than she was.
Much to the dismay of her guests, she demanded to hear about every gruesome fucking, every deflowered maiden, and each slave to Aldrat's cock. Arabelle collected the tales of all the chaos Aldrat spread, relishing in the details as she squirmed in her seat.
Why shouldn't she be enticed by such stories? Life was a bore in the castle of her father. Thus, her favorite stories were always the dark ones. Those tales that went down a rougher path of depraved sexual action, especially made her stir. It was rumored that her marriage to the Duke of Greenham was the source of her boredom. It was no secret that after four years of being wed, the princess had yet to bear a child.
But few knew the cruel truth of it, that he left her entirely unsatisfied. The Duke was more content to go off on hunts or play games of wit with his merry men, than to bed the beautiful Arabelle with his meager sword.
Rumors were all she had. And if she was not hearing rumors, she was spreading them. The court of Valenholme was often festering with salacious gossip. From stable maids to elder noblewomen, no one was safe from the twisting of words fed from the princess' mechanism of tittle-tattle. So deftly she dispersed these tales, be it truth or not, that no one was the wiser as to their origin. Whether it was tales of scandalous infidelity, corruption, or hurtful deceit, Arabelle spread them. Often, she had little reason to do so other than the sheer entertainment of the havoc it caused.
Few suspected she was the culprit of it all. The princess enjoyed most suspicion that couldn't quite be proven. Often, her playful grins made her feel just one step ahead of them all, as their reputations were torn to shreds for her amusement or gain.
Arabelle was jaded with boredom, and little could break her of it. That was until the day word reached the castle, that Aldrat the Despoiler had been captured. The knights of the kingdom shrewdly countered his mindless violence with strategic action.
But the most tantalizing fact was that he was being brought to Celestidel to face judgment.
Upon learning of this, she had every intention witnessing the moment they drug him through the gate. The subject of so many stories that had tantalized her to her core, would be in her very home.
"Your Highness, I must insist you return to your quarters." The knight guardians of her family were irritatingly protective of her. They acted as if the mere sight of Aldrat would strike her feeble, feminine form down.
Arabelle knew she was made of solid stuff, even if she played the part of the fair lady well.
A dismissive wave of her hand ended any discussion of it. The elder knight of the guard huffed, irked by the princess' dismissiveness. Arabelle looked at him from the side of her eye, she was certain she had spread some tale about his wife and her muff-warts not too long ago. It was simple retribution for her snide remark about the late night activities of one of Arabelle's handmaids. She was, at least, protective of her own.
Standing just inside the gates of the keep, she listened to the chainfall before they creaked open. The giant forged gate, made by smiths a millennia ago, soon let what little daylight was left stream through. Sounds of struggle and chain clatter crept into her home.
It took no less than five men to wrangle Aldrat across the threshold of the keep. Chains were wrapped around his neck, arms, and legs as they pulled him. He was a giant, at least half a body taller than the guards around him. His frame dwarfed all other men that Arabelle had seen.
"Your Highness, please back away for your safety!" The older knight put a hand on the bare shoulder above the cutoff of her gown.
It was quickly removed, when it was met with a glance that could pierce all glances. Arabelle's striking green eyes could cut through most men, the elder knight guardian included. But as she continued to watch Aldrat being dragged across the foyer of her home, much to the dismay of her guards; she knew her glance would be nothing to him.
Unlike the tales, he did not have a deformed body of rotten flesh. Each muscle and stretch of bare skin was chiseled, almost like a statue of an old glorified hero. He wore little in the way of clothing, save for a pelt around his waist. She was thankful for that, as Arabelle could drink in the sight of him all she wanted. Her eyes feasted on each stretch of tanned skin he bore. While there certainly were scars, it only added to the aesthetic. He bore many tattoos across his chest, arms, and face. Dark marks of the god Carneth that blessed Aldrat's endeavors as a warrior.
For a brief second, their eyes met. The brutish hulk of a figure standing still in the foyer of her home as they looked at each other. Each feasted on the sight of the other's body, Aldrat being more overtly aroused at the sight of the fair-bodied princess. His sickening grin directed at Arabelle spurning on the guards around him.
"Common yew scum!" One knight struck him on the back with the pommel of his sword. The barbarian hardly flinched, licking his lips as he looked at the princess.
Arabelle held her chin high, watching as they carried him away deep in the dungeon. Their grunts and shouts faded away as she processed the sight of the monstrous man.
Night set in, and the flickering candle in her hand was all the light Arabelle could use to find the rough-hewn stone step spiraling down. She eventually found the torch-lit landing of the dungeon after several long, twisting moments through the damp shadows.
Awaiting her there, two guards stood to attention at her arrival and looked at each other concerned.
"Milady, you must go back, this is not a proper place for you to—"
The clatter of a coin purse in the guard's hand silenced any more talk of 'proper'.
"You both will leave, and never speak of this."
Conflicted, the guards eyed the purse and the princess. However, greed always wins and accordingly they did just as they were told. But it was not before Arabelle had lifted the cell key from the guard's pocket discreetly, the bag of coins distraction enough for her purposes.
After the guards ascended the spiraling steps, Arabelle was content she was alone with Aldrat, who eyed her from across the room.
It was quiet, all the other prisoners had been removed save for the Despoiler. He was kept in the furthest back cell, his eyes flickering in the torchlight as she approached.
Arabelle stood before his cell with haughty pride to her stance. Her pink gown glided across the stone, and her dark hair blended with the shadows.
"Come to see a real man, princess?" Aldrat sneered, standing from his position against the cell wall.
"Hardly, I am married to a real man." She shot back, eager to egg on his response.
"Your husband is a puny fool."
Arabelle lightly gasped, as she saw his large frame come into the light. His visage was, even more, dominating close up, and his presence tantalizing.
"My husband is a fine warrior; he would defeat you on the field of battle." She paced in front of the cell confidently. Her eyes lingered on him, almost long enough to give him a hint of desire.
Aldrat grinned widely. His eyes were full of hatred for her and her kind. Yet there was the standard lust behind it that he was known for.
"I would snap your lord husband in two, given the chance." He japed, as he sat back against the wall, intrigued by the beautiful princess' unexpected visit.
"Hmmm. Perhaps, you would." She clicked her tongue and came in front of the cell.
Aldrat furrowed his brows, coming to the cell bars, a breath away from the sweet fragrance of the noblewoman.
"And perhaps after you snapped him in two, you would capture me. And do things to me." She looked at him intently, still out of reach.
Aldrat didn't say a word, he let her go on.
"You would defile me, use me, Ra*e me until I was of no use that way, wouldn't you." Her tone had a thinly veiled eagerness to it.
Aldrat stayed silent. She had his full attention.
"Is it not true, all those girls you played with? The conquests you took for yourself."
He grabbed the cold iron bars in his hands and leaned forward.
"Why don't you come in here and find out? You have the key." A friendly nudge to let her know he saw the sleight of hand.
Arabelle's breaths were heavy. Indeed, the key was in her palm. It was frustrating, usually she was the one with the secrets to reveal. No one thwarted her in that arena, or challenged her aptitude to surprise.
She held it up before him, letting the brass shimmer in the torchlight as he looked it and her body over.
Committed, Arabelle took one deep breath, and with one hand behind her back, she undid the lace of her gown.
The pink trappings around her body fell away, and she was absent the normal undergarments of a woman of means. Instead, the sleek white skin of her body glistened in torchlight of the dungeon, every curve and dimple of her feminine form playing in the shadows of the dim flames.
A satisfied huff was shared between the unlikely pair. Arabelle stood there willingly, uncovered, unabashed by her nakedness. She was baring in full, her laden breasts and blushing slit crowned with a tuft of dark hair. Her eyes sought his satisfaction with the sight, as she watched his eyes dance around her lower half.
A long quiet took them; only an anxious breath from her, and a satisfied growl from him, came in passing.
She carefully walked closer to the bars. Close enough that the feeling of his large frame and its warmth kissed her bare skin. It was a purposeful distance, intending to let him feel her, and carefully weigh her next move.
Aldrat did not initially reach out. He simply looked down on her. She was three heads shorter and much smaller than he.
"What is your aim, princess? Do you undress for all of your captives?" He gruffed.
Arabelle looked to the side, rocking her upper half so her breasts swayed with the motion, and her nipples slipped along the steel bars.
"I've heard all those stories."
Aldrat chuckled.
"It's no laughing matter." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, the first time she made any effort to conceal herself.
"Oh?"
"You're a monster, all that you did."
Before Arabelle could even cry out, Aldrat grabbed her from between the bars by the throat and pulled her against them. Her hands struggled with his thick claw as he pressed her face against the cold iron.
"And you want a monster. What does that make you?" His other hand groped her, feeling the princess' perky tits. They were unlike any peasant woman's. They were well-fed breasts meant for royal lips, be it babe or prince.
Arabelle didn't answer, simply letting him degrade her from inside his cell.
"I feel your heart." He pressed his palm against her tit, until the panicked thumps of her pulse could be felt. "Use the key, you want to."
"You could kill me."
"I could... but not until I had the chance to fuck you. That's what you want anyways, the danger. A whore through and through. It doesn't matter the richness of your gowns, you women are the same. You crave a beast between your legs. Not all men have that."
He peeled back his pelt, dropping it down his legs. Between them, the most notorious of his weapons rested, half-cocked and menacing. Arabelle had heard tales of cocks so large, but never saw one since the day of losing her maidenhead. It matched his arms in being veiny, and sat atop an engorged sack. She was surprised he kept himself shaved; perhaps, it made it easier to deflower all those maidens that way.
He released her neck, letting her fall back with a cough. Bringing his body close to the bars he put his cock between the iron and looked at her with a grin.
"No words, princess? Not what you were expecting? It's not your lord-husband's sweet, washed pecker, my dear." His chortle made her gulp.
Her eyes were fixed on it; a fact that excited Aldrat, as he stood waiting.
"I'd hate to dirty your regal bod with it." He wrung his hands around the bars as he watched her.
Arabelle didn't need a hint to get the innuendo. Only a second of hesitation preluded her kneeling before the prisoner behind his bars. Eye level with Aldrat's manhood, she prepared herself, clearing her throat and licking her lips. A dainty hand reached out and gripped its half-flaccid length, stroking its grimy skin as she stared it in the eye.
He was quite filthy, but Arabelle was here for it. He wouldn't be known as a barbarian if he was clean. Although, as her mouth opened wide she intended to get him as clean as possible, if only for the sake of the act of it.
"Mm-hmm. Do you nurse your husband's tip like this? Or, is he only as long as my mushroom?"
Arabelle furrowed her brows as he taunted her, taking him past the head and down his length 'til a healthy gag stopped her.
"Hahaha! I can tell just how long he is. I imagine that is why you have yet to be with child, he cannot reach your womb!"
Arabelle adjusted and slacked her jaw, his girth a struggle for her as he hit her across the cheek with it. She didn't know how frustrated to be with him, since he was right about her husband.
"You'll be but a long hall to him after I am done with you." He pulled at her hair as she moaned. All the threats added to her eagerness to take him deeper in her mouth. A few more passes of his cock, and she had made him slick with her spittle, her eyes watering as she pressed herself to go further.
On one such pass, deep along his shaft, his hand grabbed the back of her head and pushed her an extra inch. A long heave accompanied her falling backward in a coughing fit. His cackling mixed with her exertion, as she sat on her bare ass atop the dirty stone of the dungeon floor.
"Like a fine piece of art. A sight to behold, yet brittle. Give me a hardy maiden any day." He turned his back to her, walking away from the bars.
No one turned her back on her. Not only was it an affront to royal decorum, but to her ever-inflated pride.
A metal clatter and an unbearable whine accompanied the opening of the cell door. Arabelle stood on the threshold with the key in hand, shaking both in fear and frustration. How dare he defy her, how dare he turn his back.
"I am not brittle." An unsure string of words shook on her tongue, as her body trembled in fear of what would transpire.
"Oh?" He tormented her with a sideways glare, showing no regard for the unlocking of his confines.
Arabelle's heart dropped, it was like staring into the eyes of a predatory beast, the silence his stalking before the strike.
Like a hunter, he pounced. Like a flash, he was across the cell, his large hand grabbing a wrist of the dainty princess and pulling her into him. Her naked body pressed against his grimy, unwashed flesh and muscles. His cock was erect and pressed against her opulent abdomen between them.
He held her possessively; like a spell, she was frozen. His strength was like a curse to her. It was all inevitable as there was no turning back from his jaws.
Wriggling in his grip, Arabelle fruitlessly fussed with her predicament. Annoyance wrinkled her nose, yet fear lingered in her eyes.
"You are a strange princess." His hand caressed her cheek and sniffed her long, black hair. It smelt of flowers and purity, a sickening aroma for such a man. But unlike most, he associated the scent with a wet prize to be claimed.
"What is it you want, girl?"
Reduced of her royal title, Arabelle was silent. Her naked body glistened in a cold sweat, at the mercy of a thug thrice her size.
"You can forget your title; in this cell, I'll call you as I please."
His hand ran across her skin. Arabelle had a rich feminine form, full of curves and valleys that were interesting to touch. The elasticity of her flesh amused him. Swatting her rear and squeezing her breasts just to see how they bounced back into place.
Reaching between her legs, he unceremoniously slipped a digit into her cunt. Arabelle let out a "Guh" sound at the penetration, his one finger equaled about two of her husband's. A warm and full feeling crept around her core. She wriggled her hips in capitulation, feeling his finger roll along her walls. Moisture trickled down his knuckles as the tuft of hair atop her mount brushed with his leg.
"You are wet for this, girl? Very strange." Was the astute observation of an unread savage. But it didn't take an education and a knighthood to tell what a woman in heat wanted. His cold and murderous eyes only had to look into the mischievousness of her own to tell she was here for the fucking of a lifetime.
Finally, the cloud of her anxiety broke, the princess standing still in his grasp, as she looked up at him with wide regal eyes. Pushing her hips forward, his cock rubbed along her navel, still wet with her spittle from its cleaning.
"You want me to take and use your body like those maidens from villages I razed?" His voice had a low rumble to it, that echoed along the walls. His hot breath prickled her all over, as every little bump on her body stood up straight.
An honest nod confirmed her desire. The princess wanted to be his next plaything.
"You know... some of those maidens were just like you, princess." He twisted her nipple and watched her squirm erotically. "Some of them begged me to use them. They had never seen a man quite like me." He lifted her tit and dropped it to watch it jiggle in several successive swipes.
Her expression was perplexed, it was not quite the stories of horrific pillaging that had reached her tea parties.
A healthy laugh bellowed from his barrel chest.
"You don't want to hear about that, do you?! You're an amusing girl!"
She whimpered as he took a long sniff of her hair, then a hand grasped her chin and raised it to look at him. With a sick chuckle, he licked her from neck to forehead, tasting her flesh and gleefully nibbling on her cheek.
Arabelle winced, yet her slickness flowed.
"You want to hear how I tore their clothes."
She gasped, as he gripped her with his coarse hands and lifted her. The sheer power of it was astonishing, and ultimately arousing.
"You want to hear how I mounted them."
She was far above the ground now, breasts aligned with his face.
"How I ravaged their insides with my cock."
His teeth met her nipples, pulling at them and suckling on them roughly. Arabelle cried out, but the pain melted into pleasure, as her cry also melted into a moan. The sensation was wild, like a gnashing that sent shots of lightning throughout her body.
A faint shimmering caught her eye, around his neck on a hemp band was a pendant of Carneth, a shimmering crest of a fanged beast devouring. It was a boon of the god of Chaos and Deceit, and Aldrat wore it proudly. It was clear he didn't let the guards rid him of it. Few would die just to be rid of a pendant on a prisoner.
Her toes curled as his teeth bit down, and her bosom yielding its boon to him, as her breaths gasped through the waves of its feeling. Soon, she felt his tongue wash over her skin, a warm and slippery mess that poured over her body as he held her there like a doll.
Aldrat dropped her tit from his mouth and grinned at her. His crooked smile, while framed in the visage of warrior glory, was something evil. It had a disconcerting quality, several teeth being sharpened into fangs that made it even more stimulating to the curious princess.
"The very symbol of royal purity and honor, and you want this?" Aldrat's hand scooped her neck and chin, pulling her head left and right as he watched her flush, eager, and frightened expressions.
"Yes..." a girlish whimper answered.
Arabelle yelped as she was dropped to the stone floor. Her knees ached as she landed on all fours in front of him. The Despoiler loomed over her body, as she felt the cold stone floor on her face, watching her next move to plan his attack.
"I'm not grasping you, girl. You make both of my head's spin, heh."
Arabelle hummed, for the first time since entering the cell, a more confident expression sliding over her face.
"I don't want to be all that."
"Hmm?"
The princess turned, rolling her body elegantly with each move, as she faced her rear to Aldrat. A sensual smile was gifted to him, as she rolled her body forward and lifted her lower half high. Soon, her sex was in full view, flanked by widened thighs that held her prize aloft.
"I don't want to be someone else's symbol of purity or the embodiment of my husband's or my father's sense of honor."
Her labia were like gates, gilded in a glistening red blush, neatly closed like they were crafted by master artisans. None of her bits were out of place, perfectly plump and delectable.
"I just want to be ravaged. Taken by the most unholy of the lot. Used, defiled, deprived of any purity or honor that they forced upon me. Those tales of the girls you raped and villages you pillaged, gave me hope that I could have a taste of a life that was not dull. As horrific and fiery as the stories were, I wanted that for me— I wanted to be a plaything for a monster..."
She laid her head on her arms and prepared for the assault on her gates. A few long and purposeful breaths calmed her racing heart.
"...thankfully, a monster was brought to my own home..."
There was a long silence, with Arabelle peeking behind her to see if Aldrat had run off, only to find him staring into her winking slit.
"Humph, your words don't at all make sense, but they are your weapon, not mine. I don't know if you seek to confuse me, girl, but I know a wet cunt when I see one."
Lowering himself to one knee, he grabbed her hips firmly, pulling her whole lower half back to him as he aligned his rod.
"I'll be impressed if your tongue can still dance while my cock takes you."
His mushroom, that Arabelle could hardly suckle, battered her gates, pressing against their smooth flesh and parting them to reveal her pink. But before he could dive in, he couldn't help but pull his cock back and swat her across the ass with it. A true barbarian as he clubbed her cheeks with his ungainly cock, and chuckled as it jiggled up and down.
Arabelle squeaked at the feeling of how weighty he was, just a few short moments and he would run her through with that monstrous thing.
But like before, she was here for it.
Without a warning, like in battle, he thrust his long spear forward with little regard. Unlike battle, blood did not spray at the connection with his foe. Instead, a splatter of her juices decorated both their thighs, as he ran her deeply. Similar to battle, however, there was a scream.
There was no style or strategy, just mindless thrusting. Not unlike his mindless violence.
Arabelle had let out such a shrill cry, it echoed for several moments afterward. She prayed to the gods, that the guards she sent away had gone far enough, less rumor of a wanton princess spread through the court.
But prayer left her mind in a split second, replaced with the soreness of being filled with such a large penis, so forcefully and suddenly. Aldrat didn't regard the pleasure of his females at all, nor their pain during the act. He simply made like a beast and rutted inside of them. There was no exploration or gradual conquering of her passage, simply a deep thrust that took her to the brim, and him to the hilt.
She was so full, it was certain in her mind, that he could pick her up with his cock and let her dangle there. Perhaps this comical fantasy was exactly what drew her to the situation, her slit simply bustling with ecstasy in the act.
Aldrat grunted and growled as he took her. His hand rose and swatted her rear firmly, marking her red with his palm, as she wailed.
"Is this the courtesan's treatment you wanted, girl?"
His hand reached up, grabbing the hair atop her head and pulling it back hard. A visceral whine left her throat as she blubbered like a whore. He pressed her so hard, as he gripped her head and swatted her ass. Over and over, the stinging drove her mad, but it was not yet enough...
"Were... ahhhghhh... you..." she struggled to get the words out through the whines and gasps. "... this kind to all your maidens?"
Aldrat snarled, grabbing her throat from behind and pulling her sharply back to meet his eyes. Her body was like a crescent from his cock to his face.
"You don't know what you ask for, princess." Aldrat was incensed. "You think this a game, princess?"
Despite the discomfort of his skewering cock, his bending her back, and the firm grasp on her throat, Arabelle smiled. It was a smile that further enraged the man known as the Despoiler.
From that second, she had unlocked exactly the treatment she had asked for. From that second, she became afraid of what he would do to her. Her sex drizzled at the sensation of it, regardless.
She was thrown from his cock, the barbaric man tossing the girl across the cell 'til she slammed against the stone wall. The wind left her, and hardly before she could get a breath he had her hair again, lifting her to her feet.
"You want fear to liberate you from privilege?"
His hands yanked her head back as he growled down her neck. He took bites of her sensitive throat, hard enough to make her wonder. All the vectors of pain and terror he pressed upon her were exactly what she was missing in life. The unwashed and murderous man, who held her naked in a cold cell, was not wrong. She had neither fear nor pain in her life, and it was all she could crave.
Arabelle was too panicked and stimulated to respond. Writhing in pain, she simply gasped for air while she could.
"Pitiful." He lifted her higher, grabbed her side and slammed her against the wall, before entering her again. Her long legs wrapped around him and could not even grip him, as he pounded her. Her trilling was sharp, as he used all of his force against her.
The princess' arms found his neck, wrapping around them as she clawed for support as he viciously fucked her. In her clawing, the hemp band of his pendant snapped, and the symbol of Carneth fell from his neck with a clatter on the floor.
"Grrr, irritating girl."
Pinning her arms above her head, he went harder. He bit her neck and shoulder as he fucked her. A sharp and continuous effort that soon saw her sex quake along his rod.
"A simple slut." He stroked as he felt her cumming. Her eyes rolled back and her breaths became elastic. She could have passed out there from the sensation of it all, but Aldrat would have no part in it. He brought a hand down on her face and smacked her twice to wake her. Arabelle yelped, as he still pressed his enormous cock into her, a bump in her lower abdomen a telling sign of just how far his tip was.
"You think your cumming is the end of it, girl?"
Again, she was tossed across the cell.
"Gahhhh!" She groaned and held her ribs as the stiff stone battered her body.
"The end isn't at your cumming. But mine."
Flipping her to her stomach, he put her back in the position she had been, ass in the air. Only this time he squatted behind her, driving his spear at the pace of his desire, while holding her face against the stone floor. She groaned as he ravaged her, her womanhood sensitive from her recent climax. She cried out at the overwhelming feeling of it, but he cared little. He kept her in this position for some time, pounding her and swatting her. All the while he told her degrading things about her body.
"Your little pussy hadn't seen a man until today. Only boys have pecked at its shallowest depths."
"Your tits wouldn't last being suckled by my hearth guard. Maidens I had finished with, often didn't last beyond a night with the scoundrels. You wouldn't last an hour."
"If I let you live, you'll never be able to feel another man, nor would they feel you."
He lifted her, pressing her face against the wall, as she was left to brave against the stone on her knees. The skin of her body was marked in red, where he continued to hit her. Even so, it was there on her knees she came again, Aldrat cackling at the feeling and the squeezing of her cunt that made him slow.
Arabelle was fading, her wails and moans lessening, as she simply let him fuck her like a doll. He would draw it out for a time, she would cum occasionally as he laughed. Altogether, he brought her to climax thrice, the degradation and abuse the biggest stimulant for the pompion girl.
It was on her back, her legs splayed outwards as he lay atop her, that he finally reached his. Arabelle had been silent for some time, limp aside from her spread legs. She dared not lower them, less he be enraged, or worse, stop. He rooted himself inside of her at the end of it, a wash of warm goo filling her as it seeped out between their joined flesh. Her lord-husband had seeded her several times, yet it was just a drop compared to Aldrat's ocean. Wave after wave drained his sack into the princess, carnal grunts from the barbarian and broken groans from the princess, proceeding until the end.
Looking down at her, pulling out his hung cock with a plop, he cackled at her limpness.
"Pitiful." He watched his cum drain from her worn cunt, lips not so neatly closed as they were before their breach. She lay back staring up at him, magnificent green eyes glossed over. The whole act felt like it had gone by so fast, yet in reality, it lasted for over an hour, their fluids coating the cell where he tossed her and took her over and over.
It was a fantasy come true for the princess.
"Don't be sad, princess. One day, my hordes will reach this castle, and I'll visit you again." He cawed.
Aldrat turned his back to grab his dropped pendant and pelt, laughing the whole way about the meek princess eager to be assaulted by the monster, but too brittle to take it.
The familiar clatter of iron and impossible whine of rusted hinges sounded, only this time with greater haste.
Outside the cell, a very un-limp Princess Arabelle stood naked, cum leaking from her slit, twirling the cell key around her finger. An expression of girlish deviousness on her face. Her eyes narrowed, as she looked at the stunned Aldrat. It was just like his campaign of terror along the countryside, with no strategic foresight. It was not chance that she loosened his pendant from his neck, merely a distraction for her plan.
"GIRL!!!" He howled, ramming his body into the bars as he grasped them with his powerful hands.
She had faith in the craft of her father's smiths, hardly flinching as Aldrat went berserk. His hollering was deafening as he flung curses at her, his spittle slicking the few dry spots their love juices hadn't on the stone floor.
"You whore! You shameless heifer! You dare lock Aldrat in this cage! I already own you! I have planted myself in you! You bend to my whim! You are mine to discard!"
His frothing continued for some time, but Arabelle stood defiant and grinning. Her steadfastness only driving the Despoiler to new heights of rage. Aldrat flung insult after insult as he yanked at the bars, hitting them with his fists and biting them with his teeth. He would reach through the cell bars to grab at her, but scarce could touch her plump nipple.
After some time, he exhausted himself enough to let the princess get a word in. She playfully tapped the key on her chin, unabashedly nude before him. His seed still running from her sore slit.
"No... I think from the moment you were brought to this dungeon in chains, I possessed you." A sadistic twinkle was in her eye. "I came down here because I knew what you were, and I knew you were helplessly confined. You were my plaything, because I knew exactly what you would do."
Aldrat snarled, white-knuckle gripping the bars.
"You could have escaped so many times, the door was open, and the guards were dismissed. But like a good toy, you fucked me instead, unwavering and predictable. Just like your battles, there was no coherent plan to it. You simply saw a pussy and dove into it."
The words were landing true on Aldrat, his expression sobering as he looked left and right, evaluating all she said.
"Despite being tossed around the cell like a doll, I knew the whole time you wouldn't leave 'til you finished. And while it was the most intense pleasure of my life- thank you for that- I don't think you'll get the chance again."
She smiled knowingly to Aldrat, who looked at her with a sudden curiosity.
"My father, the king, intends to execute you on the morrow. So you see, you are mine to discard, actually."
"No..." Aldrat couldn't believe what he was hearing, he had been duped by a princess, his lack of vision so striking as he recalled how open the door was when he ravaged her. The truth of it all was seeping into his thick skull, just like his defeat at the hands of the king's knights.
Arabelle gave a confident snicker, before turning her back to grab her gown.
"Carneth!!!! Why! Why have you abandoned me, your servant!" Aldrat sank to his knees and uncharacteristically wailed, his eyes turned to the heavenly plane above him and arms reaching for the salvation of the God of Chaos.
A low chuckle outside the cell brought his attention back to his mortal existence. Looking beyond the bars, Princess Arabelle held out a finely crafted silver pendant of her own that she had retrieved from her gown. On it, the crest of Carneth, matching Aldrat's, shimmered in fine and polished silver beneath her hand.
"Carneth suffers no fools, Aldrat. The God of Chaos AND Deceit will not waste pity on a reckless man. If you cannot grasp your demise and allow yourself to be tricked such as tonight, then Carneth does not have time for you."
The princess, shimmering in the torchlight naked and glorious, wrapped the pendant around her neck and clasped it at her nape. Closing her eyes, she took a long breath as she pressed the symbol of her dark god to her breast. A satisfied smile warmed her, as she relished the fullness of her body.
"Rest now, Aldrat. You meet our lord on the morrow."
Arabelle quickly donned her floor-casted gown and with a grin befitting her devious nature, departed. But before she was out of ears' reach of Aldrat, she put in one last taunt.
"Look who is brittle now."
The blood-curdling screech the barbarous man let out would forever stick in the mind of Princess Arabelle, but not as a haunting memory, but rather the trophy. It was reassurance that she could break even the most monstrous of men with her cunt and cunning.
As the princess foretold, the next morning Aldrat was brought to the steps of Celestidel's keep by the King's headsman. Arabelle watched the event just like the rest of the court from above, no one the wiser to their activities the night previous. Just before the cold steel of the headsman's axe was brought down on him, Aldrat looked for the devious princess in the crowd. When he found her, he didn't look like the same man, his eyes a window into a broken soul, deprived of what he thought to be true.
Arabelle grinned as the deed was done. Her hand was on her stomach as the seed of the monster took root within her. It was just as Carneth promised her.
Little needed to be done to convince her lordly husband it was his seed that took root. The shrewd princess simply instigated their union one drunken night, sure to give her husband an abundance of both wine and pussy. Thrice she would do this, sure he planted his pecker as deep as he could and praised him for it. Though there was no doubt in her mind of the truth of whose baby grew in her womb.
Several decades later, the infamy of Prince Andrew the Dread was known far and wide. The son of Princess Arabelle was known both for his prowess as a mighty warrior and his ruthlessness with his enemies and women. His chaotic persona both in battle and bed, confounded those who knew his father. But his cunning left no doubt of who his mother was.
This product of the union of a princess and her plaything was pleasing to Carneth. The god of Chaos and Deceit smiled upon the kingdom no less sinisterly than his servant Arabelle.
