#fingrs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xxxtyty · 6 months

Text

Prince-ish (part 1)

(Noncon, power struggle, transman, transphobia, fantasy)

The sun danced lazily through the delicate sheers, casting dappled shadows across the ornate tapestries that adorned the royal chamber. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle wafted in through the open window, mingling with the salt tang of the sea. It was a perfect summer's day, and the Prince sat back in the warm tub of water, toying with the rose petals that floated along the surface

He let out a contented sigh, reveling in the quiet solitude of the moment. It was a rare occasion indeed when he was able to indulge in such a simple pleasure without the constant scrutiny of his advisors and courtiers. His long, thick hair lay splayed out behind him like a dark, liquid curtain, hiding the smooth, supple curves of his back from view.

The royal advisor, Lord Vurren, stepped through the doorway, a look of shock etched on his usually composed features. The Prince didn’t hear him come in, his back to the man, humming softly as the sun shined on his soft pale skin. The advisor didn’t expect to see him like this. But still, he has seen many a royal man in the nude, this was no He stays quiet for a moment, about to speak up, when the prince sits up, stretching out of the tub and pulling at his length of hair. He had more curves than the advisor remembered, and then he saw something he didn’t expect: small, bulbous, female breasts.

Lord Vurren's mouth drops open, his heart racing. The Prince was a woman. He had been deceiving everyone. Turning back towards the tub, seemingly unaware of his presence. Pale skin glistens in the sunlight, and the prince lets out a contented sigh.

The advisors blood boils, anger rising in him. This stupid brat. How long could they claim a ruse like this? DI’d they expect no consequences?

"What do you think you're doing?" Lord Vurren demands in a forced hushness, his voice shaking with rage. The Prince turns to face him, with a look of confusion and fear.

“How long did you think you could hide this?”

The Prince opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He'd never meant to deceive anyone; he felt like a man and rose to his responsibilities.

"You know this changes everything," Lord Vurren says, his voice cold and hard. "You cannot continue to rule as a woman."

The Prince's face crumples, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "But I am a man."

Lord Vurren laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "You really think so?” He asks, swiftly moving closer. The prince tries to pull away, but the bathtub holds him still.

"You may think you're a man, and you may act like one, but you can't change the facts." He leans in, his hot breath on the back of the prince’s neck as he comes up from behind.

“Shhhh… scream and all your guards will find out the liar you are.”

Lord Vurren's hot, moist breath tickles the Prince's ear as his fingers close around his exposed, feminine breast. The Prince arches his back, gasping in shock and pain, but Lord Vurren's grip is unyielding.

"This is what a woman looks like," he whispers, squeezing harder. "This is what you are. This is who you are." His other hand moves down, under the water, between the prince’s soft thighs.

The Prince lets out a strangled cry, more from shock than pain, and Lord Vurren chuckles darkly. "See? That's what a woman sounds like." His fingers part the prince's folds, finding the small, hard bud of flesh within. "And this," he says, rubbing it roughly, "is what a woman feels like."

The Prince tries to pull away again, but Lord Vurren's grip is too strong. "You cannot be our ruler," he says, his voice growing harsher as he forces the truth upon the prince. "You cannot lead us into war, you cannot make the hard decisions, you cannot father an heir."

The Prince's eyes widen, horror filling them. "No, please," he whispers. "I can." But Lord Vurren laughs, a cruel, mocking sound.

He twists the Prince's nipple roughly, hard enough to make the prince cry out in pain. "You think you can lead this kingdom? You're nothing but a helpless, pathetic thing. A woman." His hand slides further down, finding the Prince's wet, exposed flesh. He pushes two fingers inside, feeling the Prince's body yield and accommodate his intrusion.

The Prince's eyes roll back in his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please, stop," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own breath.

Lord Vurren's fingers thrust deeper into the Prince's body, finding his entrance slick with desire and pain. The Prince gasps, arching his back as Lord Vurren forces him further onto the edge of the tub. "You think you're in control here?" he snarls, his voice thick with lust and anger. "You're nothing but a woman. And a woman is a set of holes."

He pulls his fingers out, only to thrust them back in harder, faster. The Prince cries out, his body convulsing around Lord Vurren's hand. "Feel this empty hole, empty womb," Lord Vurren continues, his breath hot against the Prince's ear.

With his other hand, he grabs the Prince's hair, yanking his head back roughly. The Prince's eyes fly open, tears streaming down his face. Lord Vurren forces the Prince's mouth open, thrusting his fingers deeper, harder. The Prince tries to gag on his own sobs, but Lord Vurren is relentless. "This is what a woman is," he growls, his voice raw with lust and anger. "This is all you are."

His fingers find a rhythm, slamming into the Prince's body over and over, driving him to the brink of orgasm. The Prince's hips buck wildly, trying to find some release from the unyielding grip on his hair. But Lord Vurren only tightens his hold, relishing the power he has over the Prince's helpless body. The Prince just told him off the day before, making him look pathetic in front of the entire royal court. Now was his revenge.

As the Prince's orgasm builds, Lord Vurren pulls his fingers away, watching with a twisted smile as the Prince's body convulses and shudders. “Stand up,” the advisor orders.

The Prince, still gasping for breath, manages to obey. Lord Vurren takes a step back, assessing the damage he's inflicted. The Prince's chest heaves, his nipples still hard and sore from the rough treatment. Blood trickles down his inner thighs, a testament to the force with which Lord Vurren violated him. His eyes dart around the bathroom, haunted and lost.

“Don’t you see you’re a woman now?” The advisor mocks.

“You’re a pathetic excuse of a man,” the prince fires back with rage.

The advisor grabs the princes hair, dragging mercilessly to the royal chambers.

He throws the prince on the bed, straddling him. His hand reaches for the Prince's throat, squeezing it tightly. The Prince struggles beneath him, his eyes bulging. Lord Vurren leans down, whispering into the Prince's ear.

“How does it feel to be powerless?” He smiles darkly, slapping the thick breasts of the “Prince”.

The Prince gasps for air, his chest heaving. He tries to squirm out from under Lord Vurren, but the advisor's grip is like steel. He looks up at Lord Vurren, hatred and fear warring in his eyes.

Lord Vurren chuckles darkly, his breath hot against the Prince's neck. "Oh, you think you can resist me?" he asks, his voice cold and cruel. "You are nothing but a woman now, a weak, pathetic thing. A woman."

With one swift motion, Lord Vurren rolls him over and spanks him hard, the sound echoing through the room. Tears stream down his face, but Lord Vurren shows no mercy. He continues to spank him, harder and harder, until the Prince is sobbing uncontrollably.

"How does it feel to be nothing?" Lord Vurren asks, his voice cold and mocking. "To be reduced to this pathetic, helpless thing?" He pauses, grabbing a fistful of the Prince's hair, pulling his head back roughly. "To know that you will never again be the man you once were?" He grabs a fistful of the princes hair, making him look up at the mirror that faces them.

The Prince looks into the mirror, his eyes wide with horror. It was the body of a woman. His breasts are swollen and reddened from Lord Vurren's rough handling, and his body aches from the relentless spanking. He tries to speak, to protest, but no words come out.

Lord Vurren's hand tightens in his hair, forcing the Prince to look deeper into his own eyes. "This is who you are now," he says, his voice cold and merciless. "This is what you are. You are nothing but a woman, a pathetic, dressed up little princess"

The words cut like a knife, and the Prince feels a fresh wave of tears welling up in his eyes. He tries to struggle against Lord Vurren, but it's useless. He's trapped beneath the advisor's strong, cruel body. The mirror reflects his every movement, every tear, every gasp for breath.

Lord Vurren continues to hold the Prince's hair, forcing him to look at his own reflection. "You’re going to feel this like a woman, too,” he teases cruelly as he shoves his trousers down.

The Prince gasps in horror as he feels the advisor's hard cock against his sore entrance. Lord Vurren leans down, his breath hot against the Prince's neck. "Youre going to take me like a good girl," he growls.

The Prince tries to twist away, but Lord Vurren's grip on his hair is painfully tight. He feels the advisor's body press against his, the heat and strength of him. He shudders as Lord Vurren pushes inside, slowly penetrating his body. It feels like a violation beyond anything he's ever experienced.

Lord Vurren begins to thrust, his hips slapping against the Prince's ass with each movement. The Prince tries to squirm away, but there's nowhere to go. He feels tears streaming down his face, hot and salty. "Please," he whispers, "please stop."

But Lord Vurren only laughs, his breath hot against the Prince's ear. "Oh, no, my little princess," he says mockingly. "This is just the beginning."

He begins to thrust harder, faster, his hips slapping against the Prince's ass with brutal force. The Prince cries out in pain and humiliation, feeling as though he's being torn apart. Lord Vurren reaches around, roughly grabbing one of the Prince's breasts, squeezing it cruelly as he continues to pound into him.

The Prince tries to focus on something, anything else, to take his mind off the agony. His eyes dart around the room, landing on the ornate tapestries hanging on the walls, the massive four-poster bed they're in, the gleaming silver chandelier above them. But no matter where he looks, he can't escape the image of himself in the mirror, his body being used and abused by Lord Vurren.

With each brutal thrust, the Prince's body is pushed deeper into the mattress, the softness a cruel irony against the pain he feels. He tries to summon the strength to fight back, to push Lord Vurren off of him, but his limbs feel like jelly, his body numb from the onslaught. The advisor's hips slam into him again and again, each impact sending a wave of agony through the Prince's body.

“You’re my good little girl, aren’t you,”

Lord Vurren pants between gritted teeth, his voice twisted with pleasure and dominance. The Prince whimpers, unable to speak. He feels as if he's been torn in two, his body no longer his own. Lord Vurren's hand reaches between them, roughly fondling the Prince's swollen sex as he continues to thrust. The sensation is almost unbearable, and the Prince feels himself starting to climax against his will.

He looks through the mirror at Lord Vurren, pleading with the advisor to stop, but Lord Vurren only smirks down at him, his eyes cold and merciless. He pushes harder, faster, and the Prince feels as though he's about to explode. His body tenses, and with a hoarse cry, he orgasms around Lord Vurren's cock. The advisor follows suit, letting out a guttural groan as he releases himself deep inside the Prince.

Lord Vurren collapses on top of the Prince, their sweaty bodies pressed together. He rolls off of him a moment later, chuckling darkly. "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The Prince looks at him in horror, unable to believe the words that have just left his mouth. He tries to get up, but his body feels weak and numb. The advisor is pulling on his pants unceremoniously. .

"You're lucky I don't have to tell anyone about this," Lord Vurren continues, straightening his clothes. "Or else you'd be in even more trouble than you are now. Just remember your place, my little princess. I make the decisions for you. No questions. Got it?”

The Prince looks up at him, his eyes filled with hate and disgust. He wants to lash out, to fight back, but he knows he can't. He can only nod weakly.

Lord Vurren smirks, clearly enjoying the Prince's discomfort. "Good girl. Now, why don't you get dressed and we'll get back to work. There are important decisions to be made, after all." He steps away, giving the Prince some space.

The Prince slowly pulls himself together, struggling to ignore the pain between his legs and the stickiness that coats his skin. He dresses as quickly as he can, wanting nothing more than to get away from Lord Vurren and the memory of what just happened. But as he follows the advisor out of the bedroom, he knows that there is no escape. Lord Vurren has complete control over him now.

They return to the study, where several members of the court are waiting anxiously. The Prince sits down at his desk, feeling the weight of his newfound lack of power.

As Lord Vurren takes his seat across from him, the Prince steels himself for another round of verbal assaults. Instead, Lord Vurren begins discussing the day's business in a calm, almost conversational tone. The Prince listens carefully, trying to understand the complex web of politics and alliances that have been woven around him.

He feels a sense of relief as Lord Vurren's attention seems to be elsewhere, but it's short-lived. The advisor casually leans over, his breath hot against the Prince's ear. "Don't think you're off the hook just yet, my little pet," he whispers. "We'll be revisiting our little secret very soon." The Prince feels a chill run down his spine at Lord Vurren's words, but he forces himself to maintain a neutral expression.

When it comes time to make a major decision, all eyes turn to the prince. But the advisor speaks up. “I strongly advise you reconsider peace with the nations to the south. We must send more spies.”

With slight hesitation, he just nods.

“But sire, are you sure?” One man asks terrified.

The prince looks to the advisor, who gives a smirk. He nods back at the advisor. He can feel the blood rushing to his face as he speaks. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it echoes throughout the room. "Yes. Lord Vurren's advice is sound. We will heed it." There's a moment of silence as everyone processes his words.

One man, clearly unhappy with the decision, tries to argue. "But sire, we have made great strides in peace talks! We could be on the brink of something historic!" The prince glares at him, anger and frustration welling up inside him. More arguing, more holding ground… more people that are beginning to turn against him.

Finally, Lord Vurren speaks up, his voice silencing the room. "Your highness, perhaps it would be best to reconsider your choice of advisors. There are those here who are more loyal to the kingdom than others." He pauses, looking pointedly at the dissenting man. "Perhaps it is time for a change."

It was the princes favorite. Lord curren has been against him from the start… now he was attempting to unseat him from his possision. The prince nods solemly, hating what he was doing. “You’re right, lord vurren.”

There are gasps of surprise around the room, but no one dares to interrupt. The prince looks at the man he had grown to trust, to respect. He can see the disappointment in his eyes, the betrayal.

Lord Vurren grins slyly as the guards lead the only uncorrupted man in the room away.

The rest of the meeting passes in a blur. The prince signs the orders, agrees to the treaties, and dismisses the courtiers. When at last the room is empty and quiet, Lord Vurren approaches him once more.

"Well, Your Highness," he says with a smirk, "I trust that was a lesson well learned. Now you understand the importance of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer." The Prince nods numbly, unable to meet his gaze. "Oh, and don't forget about our little arrangement. You wouldn't want me to tell everyone about your... indiscretions, would you?"

The weight of the day presses down on the Prince like an anvil. He can feel his resolve beginning to crumble under the relentless pressure of Lord Vurren's control. The thought of living the rest of his life as a puppet, constantly balancing on the edge of humiliation and destruction, is almost too much to bear.

The next morning, no servants wake him. Instead, he feels a caressing of his ass.

"You're not going anywhere," Lord Vurren whispers into his ear, his hot breath sending shivers down the Prince's spine. "Not until I say so." The Prince tries to move, to protest, but he's pinned down by unseen forces. He feels a cold, hard object press against his asshole. "Now, be a good princess and take what's yours."

The Prince's body tenses, his face flushing with humiliation and rage. But he knows that to resist now would be futile. He steels himself, preparing for the pain and degradation that is to come.

Lord Vurren pushes the cold, hard object deeper into the Prince's body, grunting with satisfaction as he does so. The Prince's eyes water from the intrusion, but he refuses to make a sound.

"That's it," Lord Vurren breathes. "Just relax and take it. You're going to feel so full... so owned."

The Prince tries to focus on breathing through the pain and humiliation, his face flushed and his body trembling beneath Lord Vurren's weight. He feels the cold length of the object inside him, stretching and twisting, filling him up in ways he never thought possible.

“There,” lord Vurren says in satisfaction, the object holding firm inside the prince.

“What… is that?” He asks slowly.

Lord Vurren chuckles darkly. "Why, that's your new sceptre, of course. You'll be using this to rule your kingdom with, from now on." He leans in close, his breath warm against the prince's ear. "And don't you forget it."

The Prince shudders, partly from the cold metal inside him and partly from the realization of what this meant. He was no longer the ruler of his kingdom; he was little more than a puppet. A marionette, dancing to Lord Vurren's twisted tune.

“Now let me feel your little slit…”

Lord Vurren's hands moved lower, forcing the Prince's legs further apart. He felt the cold touch of a finger against his entrance. The Prince tried to close his eyes, to block out the humiliation, but he couldn't help but feel the weight of Lord Vurren's gaze.

"That's right," Lord Vurren murmured, his voice like silk. "Let me see how much you've missed this. How much you still need me." His finger pressed inside, stretching the Prince.

The Prince gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pain and the humiliation. He felt Lord Vurren's finger twist and probe, searching for a spot deep inside him. "Stop," he managed to choke out. "Please."

Lord Vurren withdrew his finger, only to press a second finger against the Prince's entrance. "Ah, you're so tight," he purred. "So ready for me." He pushed his fingers deeper, stretching the Prince's body to its limits. "And you will be ready for me," he whispered, his breath hot against the Prince's ear. "Whenever I want you."

#belonging #kdnprp #fingring #inside #mpreg #story #fantasy noncon #cncnc #prince-ish #ftm girl

11 notes · View notes

xxxtyty · 5 months

Text

Prince-ish (part 3)

(Transphobia, noncon, wedding day, exhibitionism, free use, breeding)

She is awoken early the next morning, drug through the entire parade of beauticians and dressmakers and hairdressers.

Avalie's hand clenches into a fist as they pinch and prod and poke at her, each touch a fresh reminder of the night before. She can still feel Lord Vurren's fingers inside her, his cruel laughter ringing in her ears. She shudders, fighting back tears, as they drape her in layer after layer of silk and lace.

Her wedding dress is the most exquisite thing she's ever seen, a shimmering white gown that seems to glow in the morning light. But it exposes her in a way she doesn’t like… breasts overflowing and legs on full display.

It’s already high noon before she realizes it, and she’s taken to the courtyard outside, paraded past citizens and lower class people who stare at her body.

The sun beats down on her, making her already thin dress feel heavier, sticking to her skin. She clutches the bodice, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Every step she takes, she can feel the eyes on her, judging her.

Through the doors she is greeted by thousands of upper class, from neighboring countries and her own. They seem to smile wickedly at her as she walks down the aisle, lord Vurren right behind her.

She tries not to think about the way he touched her last night, the pain and pleasure intertwined. Instead, she focuses on the man at the end of the aisle, her soon-to-be husband… she can't help but feel that something is off. There's an air of possessiveness around him, like he already owns her.

The ceremony is a blur of ritual and tradition, and she realizes she has never seen a royal wedding before.

All of it seems normal enough, until the officiant tells Sir Gareth to “reveal your bride”. He steps forward, smiling, touching her dress in a way that felt uncomfortable. Finally, he pulls away, revealing all of her private places… nude before Sir Gareth and the entire crowd.

Her face burns with shame, but she forces herself to meet her soon-to-be husband's gaze. There is a darkness there, a hunger that she can't quite understand. As they exchange vows, she feels like she's being swallowed up by him, his words and intentions becoming muddled in her head.

“Now to consummate the marriage,” the officiant says, nodding to gareth. The princes looks confused and moves to back away, only for a few of the groomsmen to hold her down, shoving her to her knees.

“Princess Avalie, take Sir Gareth as your husband, to be your dominion, your dominant, your provider, and your superior.”

She whimpers, struggling against the men holding her, but it's no use. Gareth undoes his buttons on his trousers, revealing a hard erection.

He pushes her face down, forcing her mouth onto him. She gags, feeling his thick length stretch her throat. She can't breathe, but she can't stop herself from taking him deeper. She can feel him throbbing against her tongue, and it's almost as if he's mocking her.

The crowd begins to recite a vow, but she can’t make out the words. Gareth thrusts into her in time with the last words, precum forced to go down her throat.

She feels his hand on her head, guiding her movements as he uses her like a personal fleshlight. She tries to pull away, but he holds her firmly in place. Her vision begins to blur, and she feels like she's going to pass out.

The crowd continues to chant their vow, their words echoing in her ears, drowning out the sounds of her own desperate gasps for air. Gareth's thrusts become more forceful, and she can feel him begin to release inside her. Finally, he pulls out.

The men hold her still as she almost blacks out.

"Now, Princess Avalie," officiant says, his voice cold and unyielding. "You are bound to Sir Gareth. You will obey him in all things. You are his property, his possession. Do you understand these words?"

She looks up at him, tears streaming down her face. "Yes," she whispers.

“Sir Gareth, you will be given the responsibility of this entire kingdom, as well as over the Princess, her property, and her heirs. You are expected to impregnate her. Do you understand these words?”

Gareth looks at Avalie, his smile sly. He nods. "I understand."

The crowd roars its approval, and Avalie is led away by the ladies in waiting. She is shaking, both from the force of Gareth's thrusts and from the realization of what she has just agreed to.

She is led mostly naked to a giant bedchamber she recognizes as her own… when she was Prince. The ladies in waiting bathe her deeply, scrubbing every crevice.

She's given a change of clothes, a silk and lacy nightgown thats sheer and hugs her body, accentuating her curves. It feels like a taunt, a reminder of what she is now. She looks in the mirror and sees the face of a married woman, her features soft and feminine.

She hears the door open and knows it's Gareth. Her heart races, and she tries to calm herself, taking a deep breath. He steps into the room, his expression predatory. She feels a shiver of fear run down her spine. Behind him are almost three dozen courtiers, all excited to watch what happens next.

Gareth closes the distance between them, his hand grasping her hip roughly. He pulls her against him, her body pressed tightly to his. She can feel his erection pressed against her through their clothes. He kisses her roughly, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. She tries to resist, but he's too strong.

“Lay on the bed,” he orders.

She does as she's told, lying down on the soft mattress. Gareth stands at the foot of the bed, watching her. The courtiers crowd around, eager for the show to begin. He undoes his trousers, revealing his erection once more. He climbs onto the bed, straddling her.

He pushes her legs apart roughly, and she feels his thick length press against her entrance. He looks down at her, his expression predatory. "You're mine now," he growls. "You'll take what I give you."

With a harsh thrust, he pushes inside her, filling her up completely. She gasps in pain, feeling stretched and violated. He begins to move, his hips slamming into hers in a brutal rhythm. The courtiers cheer him on, their voices echoing in the room.

She tries to focus on something other than the pain, but it's difficult when he's using her like this. His hands grip her shoulders, his nails digging into her flesh. He growls with each thrust, his face twisted in a mixture of pleasure and cruelty. She can feel him building up inside her, the pressure growing more intense with each passing moment.

Suddenly, he slaps her thigh, pulling out. “Roll on your stomach, whore.”

She does as she's told, feeling the cold sheets beneath her. He thrusts into her again, this time from behind. His hands move down her body, cupping her breasts. He squeezes roughly, pinching her nipples hard. The pain mingles with the pleasure, making her head spin.

The courtiers cheer them on, their voices echoing through the room. She tries to focus on something else, anything else, but she can't help but feel like an object, a thing being used for their amusement. Gareth's movements grow more brutal, his thrusts deeper. She gasps as he hits her spot, sending a wave of pleasure through her.

She realizes suddenly that some or the courtiers have taken to chanting… “breed her, breed her..”

The words jolt her back to reality, and she looks around wildly. Gareth is pounding into her, his breath hot on her neck. The courtiers are close, pressing in on them, their eyes hungry. She feels his hips begin to buck, and knows that he's about to come.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside her, grunting in satisfaction. He collapses onto her, his weight pinning her to the bed. The courtiers cheer and applaud, their approval like a hot brand on her skin. She feels the warmth of his seed trickle down her thigh, and knows that she has just been bred. Her womb sucks wantingly at the seed.

Gareth rolls off her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looks down at her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's a good girl," he purrs. "You'll make a fine broodmare." The courtiers laugh and jeer, the sound deafening in the small room.

It’s only a few moments before the royal physician steps forward with a few guards, who roll her back onto her back and tie her legs up to elevate her body, making the cum seep deeper into her.

She looks at Gareth, feeling a mixture of anger, shame, and fear. He smirks at her, his expression almost sympathetic. "Don't worry, my dear. You'll get used to it." The courtiers chuckle darkly, some of them making lewd comments about what she'll be like once she's been bred properly.

She tries to turn her head away, but one of the guards roughly pushes it back towards Gareth. "Look at him," he says, his voice cruel. "He owns you now. You'll obey him, you'll serve him, and you'll give him children." The courtiers nod in agreement, their faces twisted in sick pleasure.

As the physician continues his examination, she can't help but feel like a piece of meat being inspected for freshness. She tries to find some sign of humanity in Gareth's eyes, but all she sees is cold calculation and ruthless dominance. He's nothing more than a predator, and she's his prey.

The courtiers, on the other hand, seem to delight in her humiliation. They laugh and jeer, making lewd comments and gestures. One of them reaches out to fondle her breast, and she recoils instinctively. But Gareth only laughs, and the courtier withdraws his hand with a satisfied smirk. “For luck!” He declares. “Every member of court, please fondle the princess!”

The command spreads through the room like wildfire, and within moments, she's being touched and prodded by hands she doesn't recognize. Some are rough, leaving bruises and scratches, while others are surprisingly gentle. But it all feels the same: dehumanizing and degrading. She tries to shut her eyes, to pretend that this isn't happening, but she can't escape the heat of their bodies pressed against hers, the smell of their sweat and wine-soaked clothes.

Gareth watches her with a satisfied smile, his hands clasped behind his back. "See, my dear? This is what it means to be owned. I can do anything I want to you.”

The courtiers laugh and jeer, their hands roaming freely over her body. One of them leans in close, his hot breath tickling her ear. "You'll get used to it, little one. You'll learn to love it." She tries to turn her head away, but another hand presses her back into place.

Soon, they’re jeering Gareth, now the prince, to fuck his seed deeper.

The princess looks up at him, hate burning in her eyes. He smiles down at her, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. “We must satisfy our people!”

One of the courtiers steps forward, holding a crude wooden dildo. The princess tries to struggle, but the guards hold her tight. Gareth laughs and nods, granting his permission. The courtier positions the dildo at her entrance, and with a rough thrust, pushes it inside her. The princess screams in pain and humiliation as the crude object tears at her sensitive flesh. The courtiers laugh and cheer.

“Is this what it feels like to be a man, princess?” Gareth mocks.

The wooden dildo is roughly thrust in and out of her, each movement causing her to cry out in pain and humiliation.

“Can she take another?” A courier asks, pulling out a smaller but still substantial second dildo.

Gareth laughs, enjoying the show. He nods, granting his permission. The courtier positions the second dildo beside the first, slowly pushing it inside her as she squirms and writhes, trying to escape the agony.

“She can take two, that whore!” One cries in laughter.

The courtiers surround her, jeering and cheering as the two dildos pump in and out of her, stretching her to the breaking point. She can feel herself beginning to tear, blood dripping down her thighs. She tries to scream, but the sound comes out as a hoarse, broken whisper.

One of the courtiers steps forward, grinning maliciously. "Let's see how she handles this," he says, his voice laced with cruel amusement. He produces a third dildo, even larger than the first two, and presses it against her aching entrance. The princess whimpers in pain as the head of the dildo pushes against her stretched flesh.

Gareth laughs, finding this all tremendously amusing. "Go on, then," he says with a wave of his hand. "She's been such a good little slut. Let's see how much more she can take." The courtier thrusts the third dildo inside her, and she cries out in agony, feeling as if she's being split in two.

The courtiers cheer and jeer, their eyes gleaming with sick pleasure. Some of them step forward, taking turns thrusting their hips against her, grinding their groins against her as they force their weight onto the dildos buried inside her. The princess feels herself being crushed, her body pushed to its limits.

This goes on for hours, until the newly crowned prince waves them away.

#prince-ish #belonging #kdnprp #fingring #inside #mpreg #story #fantasy noncon #royalty kink

9 notes · View notes