Captured Princess

All the winged beauties turn and look at the two of us. At first I'm afraid, suspecting some kind of incoming attack. But as we get closer, I can see they're not actually looking at us.

They're looking at him: at Vincent.

Their eyes are full of desire; they want him. Their breasts heave in their tiny, sheer outfits, letting out heated breaths with the lust for his presence. They continue the song, more passionate than ever, eyes locking on his armored form.

A king, I think dimly. They're singing for a king.

It's then I realize we've made a terrible mistake.

"Darling," I gulp and grab his hand. "I think we should go, actually."

"Go? We're here." He points with his sword. "That's her? You said she was ugly."

She's obviously anything but. We're about twenty feet away from the throne and Sybille and all the girls now, and it's obvious that she's doing some kind of toying with us.

"Y-yes. It must be an illusion to trick you. We should go and as soon as possible, a-and—"

He keeps walking forward. I tug his arm as hard as I can, but he's so strong and I'm just a weak little girl, a pathetic little know-nothing princess who thought she was special somehow and—

I shake my head. Where are these thoughts coming from? I'm so confused. I'm so turned on. I'm horny, as Jocasta would say. It feels scandalous to admit, but I'm burning with that special, deep, penetrating need for a special deep penetration—and I'm deeply aware only Vincent will be able to satisfy me.

"Go ahead," he says. "She's hotter than I'd like to kill, but use your phylactery thing. Turn off her magic stuff."

I whimper. All I have to do is crush the phylactery and its effects will be known. The old woman at the fair promised me. I try and try to crush it, but I'm just not strong enough.

Vincent is. He's strong enough to do anything. I'm so lucky to belong to him. Or be betrothed to him? Or something? He's so strong, it's so hard to think. I'm just a silly girl. A silly, pretty girl with weak hands and a weak little mind.

I put it in Vincent's hands. "D-darling, would you?"

Sybille stands and cuts off the singing with a glance, as if she was waiting for me to do exactly this.

"Ah, she's given it to you. At last."

I'm confused. Everything is so confusing and Sybille is so pretty and gosh, do I want to fuck her too?

"What?"

I barely recognize my own voice; it's so light and breezy, bracketed with giggles and heavy, ready-to-drool saliva. The drool gathers more and more; soon it will be forming a puddle in my cleavage.

"Silence, girl. This is between myself and your handsome 'rescuer.'" She steps down her chair and toward Vincent, sliding her gloved arms around his neck. "May we please speak, Your Highness?"

He looks down at the phylactery and then back at her.

"I don't know. I'm supposed to break this thing and kill you. You're secretly ugly, right?"

All the angels behind Sybille start laughing; Sybille joins them for a moment and it's even more beautiful than the singing just moments before. Seeing all their smiling faces, my pussy throbs and sings, aching to cum. It's so hot to see sexy women happy.

Sybille settles finally, rolling her eyes and wiping a joyful tear from the corner of one.

"Of course she would tell you that, my King. She wants me dead because her whole family has wanted me dead for a generation."

"She said her father rejected you."

Her ethereally gorgeous face contorts with laughter once again. "Rejected? A mortal man, rejecting me? You can't be serious."

Up close to her incredible beauty, I can see what a ridiculous story it was. But my father told me it was so. Why would he lie?"

"I rejected him, that stupid square-headed poltroon. He couldn't get over it. Not having me drove him rather mad, actually. And he's hardly the first. I've been waiting for a real man. I've been waiting for you. So no, this is no illusion—this is who I am. What I am. Here—take my hand. Feel me...as much as you desire."

I try to protest, but my voice comes out only in a startled, muffled squeak and then a helpless giggle as I squeeze my tit and slide my nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

Vincent takes off one of his armored gauntlets and takes her hand. Her skin is obviously smooth and soft to dizzying extremes. He takes his time caressing her, feeling her up her arm and all the way to her delicate, pointy shoulder bone.

"As much as you desire, my King."

She takes his hand and slides it down across the front of her body, dragging his fingertips across her plump breasts and down farther across the bones of her pelvis before dragging it back up to her face, slipping her lips over his thumb and nipping it just slightly.

Somewhere in all of this, I've fallen to my knees. It just feels like such a good place to be when I'm in front of Mistress, I mean Mistress Sybille, I mean my Mistress, Sybille Le Fane.

Why oh why can't I just call her what she obviously is, a terrible, terrible, terrible...

As I stare, she looks down and smirks at me, giving Vincent's thumb one last lick from a perfectly formed tongue.

Terribly sexy woman I'm totally crushing on?

"Seems real to me." Vincent's voice is coated in lust.

"I am. We all are, as a matter of fact." She waves to the smiling, gathered angels all around. "I've gathered the most beautiful girls in the lands to be ready for you whenever you finally made your appearance."

"You what?"

The gathered angels pull in tighter. They seem hesitant, but not out of apprehension. Rather, they stare, overwhelmed with lust, hardly able to move forward without their pussies exploding with orgasmic pleasure at the presence of their man. Twelve pairs of gorgeous, heavy, milk-filled tits jiggle with excitement behind sheer lingerie and tiny dresses as they inch closer and closer and closer, oohing and aahing in soft supplication.

"The girls here, and of course the girls you passed on the way here? They all belong to you. I gathered them for you. I fucked up their minds on you. On your image. Your scent. Your voice. Your cock..." her hand grips his codpiece—but I know he can feel it much more intimately than when I touched it. "...they want all of it. Need all of you. They're obsessed with you. Romantically. Erotically. Materially. Their whole lives revolve around your happiness and your hard cock. They can't remember a time when they were anything else, that's how much I've fucked their minds. And naturally...they seemed so happy when I did it to them...well." She gives him an eager, aching look. "I just had to find out for myself how it felt to want someone so badly. And I'm so glad I did."

"You..."

Vincent gazes at her, at this harem gathered for him, in disbelief. There's a glint to Sybille's eyes he only just seems to notice. A maniacal eagerness, an unending circle of desire and lust and obsession in her countenance as she hangs her emotions on his every last reaction. She knows she's hot—but it's only because he knows she's hot that such confidence runs through her veins.

"You did this to yourself?"

Sybille shrugs. "It's lonely being an immortal sorceress. I wanted someone to share the power with. But power is so fickle...and it can only be owned by one. So the choice was simple, after all my centuries of research. An eternity alone with immense power, or an eternity in service to my love beyond all loves, who himself is immensely powerful? I tried being alone. I was awful at it. And falling in love with you was magically simple, after I completed the right rituals. Now I belong to you..." she pushes herself against him again. "...body, mind, and soul...if you'll have me."

"Uh." Vincent is mostly looking at her tits. They're gorgeous. "Right."

"I know this feels spur of the moment to you, my King. You wanted to come here to prove yourself, show that you're a real man. And mmmhmm, are you ever. Isn't he, girls?"

"Yes, Mistress!" they all chorus.

Not fair! I would have said it too if I had known that was the thing to do. I try to make up for it by saying it over and over to myself, looking at pretty pretty Sybille being so completely pretty as she talks with my darling betrothed:

Yes, Mistress.

Yes, Mistress.

Yes, Mistress.

"But...well, I may have had a hand in influencing you to come. I can do that—influence, corrupt, convince. I'm quite good at it. Aren't I, girls?"

"Yes, Mistress!"

This time I join in. Both Vincent and Sybille look at me and raise an eyebrow.

"See? I knew all about your coming into this world. I followed you intently for a long time. I helped your diet and exercise along. I made sure you bedded all the girls you lusted after. I wanted you cocky, fit, and headstrong. You can think of me maybe like a third parent...although one you want to fuck only slightly more than your other stepmother."

Vincent's back stiffens at that little revelation. I don't see the big deal? We're nobles; we keep things in the bloodline; it's perfectly natural. Besides, what woman wouldn't want to drop to her knees and worship at Vincent's altar of cock? He's so handsome. I'm so rather deeply in love. I think—

"Hush, Princess," says Sybille. "The adults are talking."

I gulp, having had no inkling that I was just speaking out loud.

"Yes, my darling," Sybille continues. "I know about that. I know everything about you. I know you want your father's kingdom. I know you have a filthy large libido." She's behind him now, guiding his gaze to the gathered angels. "I know you need to fuck woman, after woman, after woman, after woman after woman after woman to be satisfied. And even then, you need more. I know you found a special root to help you focus so you wouldn't just fuck the princess the moment you found her, whether she consented or not."

Her hand slides across his armor, and the ties holding his codpiece disintegrate. She quickly is stroking his massive, thick naked cock, obviously indicating that she would have been just fine if he'd had his way with me regardless of if I consented.

Me too, to be honest.

The angels, watching him being stroked by Sybille, moan. A few drop to their knees, unable to help themselves at the sight of his hard cock. I know that my own fingers work furiously against my crotch, rubbing and aching. I've never really masturbated before, but I'm so incredibly wet now, looking at my Mistress and my prince, my King, my KING...

"And," Sybille continues, stroking him urgently, her voice become disastrously dark, "I know the root is wearing off, my King, and that you're all out."

"You keep calling me that. I'm not the king."

"Well...not yet, perhaps. But soon. If you want. Your incredible martial prowess. My magical power at your side. Guiding you. Helping you in all your endeavors. How would you not become king?"

"King..."

He's considering it.

"That's right." Her hand strokes him so ably. She is back in front of him know, letting him stare down her dress, his massive cock sandwiched up against her tits. "King, with a harem of angels to delight and appease and breed for you. A sorcerous queen who will worship your cock like the totem of virility it is. A kingdom that will last the ages, revolving around the beautiful women who will stop at nothing to bring you pleasure...all you have to do is smash that little vial there."

She taps the phylactery is in hand.

"That won't uh, like, rob your powers?"

"No, no. That was the illusion. I sold that to our princess here for a hefty sum. I used it to fund much of my travels while I went out and enslaved fresh new virgins to adore you when the time came." Her stroking slows to a deliriously hot, glacial pace while she explains. "I could have just given it her, she was so desperate to have it, but I thought she would trust its supposed efficacy more if she paid a lot for it. Besides, I thought it was absolutely delicious that she pay a kingdom's ransom for a bit of magic which both funded more girls for the harem of the man who would take everything from her and would make her that man's slave."

"My slave?"

He looks at me now, biting at one lip. Considering.

Considering...what?

Adrenaline bursts into my veins. My thoughts slide back to me. Considering making me...?

He can't be considering! How dare he! I'm a princess! A princess of a great and noble house!

I try to insist that he dare not do any of this, not him or his big hot muscles or his massive beautiful cock, but it comes out only as a simple, happy giggle. Words failing me. My body failing me. I try to run away, and instead I just grab a tit, giggle, and feel a gaping, desperate need in my silly little bimbo princess pussy.

Two other angels hold me by the shoulders, pinning me in place. Visually announcing to Master, I mean, my King Master—that is to say, my King Master Vincent that I'm his to take as he likes, no matter how fucked or unfucked my brain is. Nothing and no one can stop him—and in fact this entire castle full of gorgeous women will actively encourage him!

"I don't know," he says, while Sybille dissolves off more of the ties holding his armor in place. His body, soon naked, is exquisitely muscled from head to toe. "She's hot and everything. And so are you. For sure. Hotter than her, even, and that's saying something. And all you other girls, you're real pretty too. But..." he shrugs. "Seems wrong, doesn't it? Enslaving girls. Fucking slaves. Binding people with magic."

"Morality is for the weak, my love, which you definitely are not." She holds him close, stroking his now-bare chest. "Besides, we hardly have to stop with this princess. What about that beautiful stepmother who doesn't seem to pay you enough attention, who's all caught up with that silly little father of yours?"

The sorceress, waving her hands, begins to weave the scene with illusion. The air shimmers.

We find ourselves in a bedroom that must belong to the Prince. It is furnished in a heavily masculine way—the heads of great beasts on the walls and heavy furs on the floor. A fire roars on one wall.

Two of the angels step forward, puppets under Sybille's expert control, perfectly sliding into the illusion before the Prince. The two very real slaves look up at my Prince with the faces of the two women he covets most—his beautiful young stepmother and her adopted daughter. But royal tradition dictates that he knows them entirely as his mother and sister, Rebeka and Aileen.

Rebeka is blond, busty, with fiery blue eyes and a gorgeous matronly face; she reminds me of what I'll look like when I get older. Aileen looks quite similar to her, in fact, but has darker hair and her eyes are a much icier shade of blue. Despite shifting their appearance to look like the Queen and Princess, these two angels still wear the delicate sheer lingerie from before—only their faces change, and it's clear that Vincent sees them exclusively as Rebeka and Aileen.

"Fuck." He gulps. "You can...them too?"

"Why not? I've got all these other girls, haven't I?" She snaps her fingers, and Rebeka and Aileen kneel down next to me. "I fucked up the minds of so many girls for you, my King. Beautiful, beautiful girls. Of course, I had to experiment. Does that excite you?"

It does. His cock spurts out a jet of precum as Aileen and Rebeka slide their hands over his thick shaft. They need both their hands to reach all the way around his massive girth.

"Some girls had to die for me to figure out the process. Others were driven insane. Insane with lust for you. They didn't last long either, poor things...dying so in love with you and without knowledge of your perfect cock..." she giggles wickedly. "Hundreds had to perish before I perfected the process that brought these girls before you now. I think that's rather hot. Don't you?"

She guided Aileen's mouth over his cock and he gasped, nodding. "Yeah. Fuck. Yeah."

Sybille seems truly excited by this admission. "Truly? You don't mind that my morality is a bit...spotty?"

"It's not spotty." He takes Aileen by the end and slides deeper in, looking deep in the eyes of Rebeka. "So...so real..." he gasps, clearly taken aback with the head-swimming lust of fucking what completely appears to be his sister with his mother encouraging him. "...your morality is black as night."

"And?"

Sybille looks at him with open vulnerability; for the first time, I truly see all the obsession on her face. She has been corrupted entirely by her own spell in her love for Vincent, but that doesn't mean who she was is gone; it just belongs to him now, whether he will have her or not.

"And it's so fucking sexy," he growls, pulling out of Aileen's mouth and shoving into Rebeka's. "Fuck. You're going to fuck up their minds for real for me, aren't you?"

She crushes herself against him with abandon. "Yes, my King!"

"Fuck up their minds forever?"

"Yes, my King!"

He loses control, emptying his load inside of Rebeka's mouth completely. She takes as much as she can, but he is cumming load after load of intense, Sybille-fueled lusty seed, and it's clear that even a supernaturally-gifted girl can only take so much of my Master King's perfect seed.

I'm so fucking lucky to witness this. His cock is mere inches from my face. He pulls out from Rebeka with a heavy schlucking sound and shoves back inside of Aileen, emptying the rest of his available seed into her eager, eighteen year-old throat. Sybille, watching his madly lustful orgasm, whimpers with eager orgasmic glee, cumming several times to his one just from watching him cum.

I still haven't cum—though I want to horribly. I can't seem to make my fingers do it right; I get the feeling I'm being prevented from doing so by Sybille. But, she is my Mistress, so I must trust her; all her decisions are beautiful and amazing. That's why I love kneeling before her and why I love absolutely everything about her. When I'm married to my Prince, I shall make sure she has a place of high honor.

Finally, when Vincent stops twitching and settles, he pulls out of Aileen's mouth and examines her closely from one side to another. He does the same to Rebeka, trying to find the flaw in the illusion. The illusion of his bedroom has gone away, replaced with the throne room. But for the girls appearing as his mother and sister, for now, at least, the transformation is total and final.

He pulls out the phylactery from the pile of his discarded clothing. "So just crush the thing, and that's it?"

Sybille tilts an eyebrow my way.

"Then you have to fuck her."

My heart nearly bursts from joy.

"Fuck her...not you?"

Sybille bites a lip. She is clearly tempted.

"When I am your queen, I shall service you nightly with my mouth or the mouths of anyone you desire, my King. My cunt shall be your personal property. I cannot wait. I'm aching for it. I dream of it and have dreamt of it for nights and nights and nights and nights and nights...but..."

"But what?"

She smiles at me, an evil thing. "I must be your wife first. You wouldn't respect me if I just threw my virginity away at the first chance, would you?"

The adrenaline pumps back into my head, my entire body.

No.

No!

She's taking this too! Taking my fairy tale! Taking my story! My dream of being fucked brutally and completely on my wedding night. Not only will I not get it, but the bitch who is taking it from me is the one who will? This is too much!