Royalty Brought Low Pt. 02

The Prince stared around impassively at his new home, a dark, dank cell lit by one solitary floating orb. He had been aware of the existence of dungeons in his ancestral castle, but had never experienced one first hand. He hadn't known how the damp seemed to seep into his very bones, or how the stones seem to leech the warmth from his skin, but still radiated the same amount of cold back. The glowing green manacles had faded to black and were secured to the walls, with his hands held above his head. It was deathly quiet all around, there were no wails of despair echoing from the outside corridor to indicate any other prisoners. Innumerable plans had been devised, contemplated and discarded to while away the hours, none with any sound strategy against magic. But there was one thing he had to hold on to, he was still alive. And that gave him another chance to succeed and correct his failure. Surely the harlot would be down soon to check on her newest plaything, and he could wait for the opportune moment.

Just as he was thinking this the cell door swung open, and the Queen entered, waving the door shut with an ominous creak. Instead of sitting back and calmly assessing the situation, he took one look at that insufferable smug grin on her face and saw red.

"You evil witch!" he yelled, tugging at his restraints in a futile effort to wrap his hands around her throat, "My time here has only increased my desire to eliminate you!"

The Queen waited patiently for his rants and anger to abate, and when he slumped back against the wall panting she continued as if there had been no interruption, "Now I have some free time in my schedule, its time I devoted my full attention to your torment."

"Do your worst, pretender to the throne," he scoffed, but once again, with a subtle gesture she drew his attention towards her attire. This time the Queen was only wearing a loose fitting black cloak, which was open at the front leaving a long line of exposed flesh, framing the round swell of her breasts, dipping down to her navel, and revealing a small wisp of fabric that barely covered her sex.

The Prince swallowed audibly before replying in a strained voice, "No torment can be greater then the knowledge that I have yet to destroy you."

"I would conclude your imagination is sadly lacking," she jested, "Fortunately mine isn't."

With that enigmatic statement she boldly removed her panties with a sudden snap of the gossamer fabric, bringing it up to her face and inhaled its scent. The unexpected display wiped the Princes mind blank, and his gaze immediately looked down as he stared at the fine red hair not quite disguising the shape of two lips pressed together.

"Shameful harlot," he growled, but there was no bite to his words, as his twitching cock was an obvious reminder that his body held no objection.

The Queen sauntered over and wafted the panties under his aristocratic nose, "Tell me what you smell. You see, all my pets smell something unique, something personal that they love."

"It's..." The Princes asinine comment faltered as the scent hit his senses with the subtlety of a two handed broadsword. Not only was it more alluring then the most floral of perfumes, it conjured up scraps of his memories. There were swift dalliances in pantries and back corridors with the more attractive serving wenches and chambermaids, who were in awe of his status and handsome features.

"It smells..." he tried again, expecting to say sinful, or decadent, but then another older memory surfaced and he forgot everything beforehand. That first time, in his chambers, with a skinful of ale in his blood and the noblewoman riding him like he was her prized stallion. And he, an inexperienced boy on the cusp of manhood, completely in her power.

"...like surrender," he groaned, his eyes going wide as he realised exactly what he had let slip. The Queens expression turned predatory, like a cat discovering a much more fascinating prey.

"Interesting," she purred, her emerald eyes gleaming, "I think you need to smell a little more...surrender."

With that ominous proclamation, she backed away to the rooms very centre, with a brief finger snap and a flash of light a comfy red velvet chair was conjured for her to sink into. With no preamble, the Queen spread her shapely legs and with one hand began to stroke her pussy.

"Gods!" the Prince exclaimed, the sudden turn of events sending a surge of blood shooting to his groin, which quickly transformed his half hard member to full erection.

"Mmm..." the Queen moaned at the stimulation of her hand and the effect her antics were having on the Princes physique. As her arousal heightened and her fingers became coated in her juices, the sweet smell of her musk began to fill the dungeon air. It felt like that heady brew he had drank on his coming of age celebration...

"No, stop it!" The Prince cried, a genuine note of panic injected in his voice, as it finally sank in that he was in serious trouble here. The Queen seemed to ignore his plea and pushed the cloak aside to reveal one full breast, which she began to tweak and squeeze the pink rosy nipple.

"Please stop," he moaned, his head swimming, instead of the stone wall against his back he could feel the crisp sheets and soft yielding of a feather mattress, "I can't-."

"You're in no position to make demands," the Queen interrupted harshly, "You will realise that you're helpless to do anything except surrender." With those words pounding in his ears, she slipped two fingers into her sex with a wet sucking sound.

The imagery was too much for the Prince, as he recalled his first lovers snatch impaled on his shaft. "Oh yes, I am," he agreed in a whisper, a wet mark appeared on his tunic above his cock as reality and fantasy began to merge in his mind.

The Queen read his lips and saw the change in his expression as he succumbed to his own desires.

"Then say it!" she ordered, her fingers beginning to pick up speed, and her juices dripped down to stain her chair as the balance of power shifted in the room.

"I'm helpless, ohhh, to do anything, yesss, except surrender," he repeated, his gaze mesmerised by the speed of her fingers buried in her soaking pussy as his mind replayed the feel of his cock engulfed and surrounded by hot wetness.

"Again!" she demanded, her breathing came in short gasps as her hips rose up to meet the brutal pace of her hand.

"I'm helpless," he cried, "To...must...surrender." His mind was unravelling quickly as his hips unconsciously kept pace with his tormentors. The fantasies merge became complete and now it was the Queen riding him, using him, dominating him.

"Scream it for me!" she shrieked, teetering on the brink as she sank her nails into her breast hard enough to draw blood.

That one savage act caused something primitive to be let loose in the Prince, he wanted to bite her, kiss her, promise anything as long as he could taste her.

"I SURRENDER!" he screamed holding nothing back.

The truth and sincerity in his words pushes the Queen over the edge and she climaxed hard, her body shaking and juddering in the grip of orgasm in full view of her captive.

The Princes face softened into something resembling childlike wonder, "Oh, my Queen," he whispered reverently.

As the Queen recovered, she just caught on the edge of her hearing his words, and gave him a smile that for her captive was like the sun shining after a great thunderstorm. After she recovered her composure, the enchantress gracefully walked towards him with her glistening fingers outstretched.

"Now, normally when one of my pets pleases me, they get a reward," she told him, passing her fingers just under his nose, and was pleased to see him breathe deeply to inhale as much of her scent as possible.

"However, since you're not yet wholly devoted to me, you will have to earn that reward," she concluded, and sucked her fingers clean. A genuine whimper of distress escaped the Princes full lips.

As she vanished the soiled chair and turned to leave, her prisoner cried, "Please! I will do anything to taste you!"

The Queen turned around, and gave him an appraising look, "Anything?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. This time when she removed the enchanted blade he held perfectly still, and with a couple of precise cuts his jerkin fell to the floor. The Prince hissed as the cold air hit his exposed member, that was still standing erect and proud.

"Anything," he repeated, anticipation shining in his clear blue eyes.

But instead of laying her hands on his naked form, the Queen gripped his chiselled jaw and stared deep into his eyes as if reading his very soul.

"And would you renounce your kingdom? Or your beloved Princess?" she asked.

"My...Princess?" he repeated confused. What Princess? Hadn't the Queen just taken his virginity? Now that her scent was dissipating in the room, his head felt clearer, as bits and pieces of the last half hour came drifting back into his memory. He visibly paled and flinched, the things he had said! This beguiling witch had exposed a black stain upon his valour, a weakness that she had ruthlessly exploited for her own ends.

"Hmm I thought so," she mused, "I would have been surprised if you'd succumbed so quickly. Either you'd have been lying, which isn't very valorous, or you had a very weak will."

The Prince gasped, it hadn't occurred to him to tell this seducer precisely what she wanted to hear. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

But what the prisoner hadn't realised yet was he was inexperienced in the art of schooling his face to hide his thoughts. The Queen chuckled and began to stroke his flagging erection, "You could have attempted flattery, but you didn't."

The Prince moaned at the feel of her expert hand pumping his cock, he had always enjoyed a woman attending to him. Maybe with a few choice words he could persuade her to take him into her mouth, and shift the balance of power between them in his favour.

"How can my weak will ever compare against your expertise, against your all eclipsing magnificence, my Queen," he complemented, setting his face into a look of boyish charm. But whilst he had been concentrating on his honeyed words, he had failed to observe her other hand tracing strange symbols in the air. So when she stepped back he felt disoriented as her hand expertly ministered to his erection. Then she held up both hands and he finally comprehended, glazing down he couldn't see anything but could still feel her fingers ghosting along the shaft to tease its head.

"It's so cute to see you try, but really you will never win," she grinned, "Now I have business elsewhere, so my spell will keep you entertained. Though you will find it extremely difficult to reach fulfilment without my help. When I return we shall see what you're prepared to do to achieve an orgasm."

As she opened his cell door the full perversity of her spell began to dawn on him as the pressure in his cock wasn't building.

"No! I beg you don't leave me like this! My Queen, my Queen!" he shouted as the door swung shut leaving him alone.