Agate Boyd - Revenge of the Satyr

"I don't know what kind of hellish hole in the ground you crawled out of chimera," he growled vengefully, "but I'm going to send you right back down there."

The prince looked quickly about; there were no weapons to hand and without at least a sword, or some length of steel he knew he could not withstand Branco's imminent assault. He looked briefly for the fat dungeon master, but Gargo and his little grull seemed to have wisely faded into the walls.

Vulkan was on the verge of grabbing hold of the queen and threatening to snap her neck when the countess appeared in the doorway behind Branco. Jessica immediately summed up the situation and stepped into the chamber, creeping up behind the knight on the toes of her boots. Vulkan smiled at the champion, speaking quickly and loudly in order to cover the countess' approaching footsteps.

"Well, well, well," he crowed, "if it isn't the king's champion. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I kick your sorry ass last week? Didn't I make a donkey's dick of you in front of little Princess Flamia? I hear the king couldn't stop laughing about it for three days."

Jessica had only the multi-thonged scourge Gargo had given her the previous day, but she hoped that would be enough as she whirled the long falls above her and brought them slashing down around Branco's head, the sharp leather ripping into the knight's eyes and blinding him. Vulkan leapt forward, rolling under the expected blind sword lunge Branco made and bowled the knight off his feet, standing back as the countess broke a heavy stool over the knight's head and shoulders. Branco roared like a bull, slashing out with his sword, coming within an inch of eviscerating the nimble countess as she sprang back out the way. However, Jessica had given the super-fast satyr prince all the time he needed to hop in behind the knight and bring him down with a string of vicious chops to the neck.

Princess Flamia finally made it down to the dungeon level after taking more wrong turns that she could remember. The strangely attired Countess Jessica, who passed bye unseeing at one of the many intersections and whom she followed, maintaining a discreet distance, finally guided her in the right direction.

Now Flamia stood, heart pounding, behind the half open door and watched the final few seconds of the struggle between the hateful Vulkan and her beloved Branco.

The teenager had to jam her fist into her mouth as she took in the sight of her mother and aunt dangling from the dungeon walls and the hugely endowed satyr hauling brave Branco's unconscious body about as if the brawny knight were a mere child.

As the enormity of Prince Vulkan's ghastly treachery became obvious, Flamia slowly slunk back into the dark and began the long ascent to her mother's chambers. Her horror at what she had seen in the dreadful dungeon threatened to break out of her in a fit of uncontrolled screaming at any second. Flamia clamped her tiny hand over her mouth as she climbed, terrified that she would hear the pounding tread of the frightful satyr behind her at any moment.

The princess burst out into the daylight and slammed the bookcase quickly closed behind her. She stood, chest heaving for a minute as she regained her breath before racing off to find her father – he would know what to do she told herself.

Leopold was rolling on the floor with the wolfhounds when Flamia ran into the throne room. Around him stood a handful of footmen, all wearing expressions of consternation as they watched the king 'acting the idiot' with the dogs – as he had been for the past hour.

The princess hesitated when she saw the seneschal and two of the old dukes lounging vacantly in the three royal thrones, one of the dukes was drooling from the mouth as he played idly with his penis, something she never would have imagined could happen in the throne room.

Her father giggled inanely as she knelt to tell him about the terrible goings on in the dungeon, wagging his finger at her.

"Now, now, now, Flamia," he spoke as if she were a naughty child, "you know there are no dungeons in papa's castle, mama made him seal them all up before you were even born."

Flamia looked up at the senior footman.

"What has gone on here?" she asked, fear once again tugging at her entrails.

The footman shook his head, backing away nervously, "witchcraft Highness," he breathed quietly, "all gone missing, or mad – it's a curse!"

Flamia tried again to make her father listen, but he seemed stubbornly incapable of rational thought, preferring to wrestle with the hounds rather than listen to her.

With tears of panic and frustration running down her face, Flamia ran from the throne room and out along the empty halls. With almost all of the knights and men-at-arms out of the castle searching the countryside, the once safe and secure keep now seemed empty and daunting. Without thinking where she was running, the princess soon found herself in the stables, where her gentle gelding stood patiently in his stall.

Quickly the princess threw on her saddle and bridle; she would ride to the nearest of the outlying keeps and alert the lord there – he would know what to do.

Vulkan stood over Branco who was gradually re-awakening to find himself lying hogtied and defenceless.

"Two nil to me," the prince grinned down at the knight.

Branco rolled over on to his back and looked up at the queen.

"Forgive me Majesty," he said his voice heavy with shame.

"There is nothing to forgive my noble Lord Branco," replied the queen solicitously, "for indeed you are the truest and bravest of knights."

"Well said," laughed Vulkan heartily, clapping his palms together, " a truly brave knight but bested by a woman all the same."

The prince put his arm around the countess who immediately melded her body to his and began to fondle him lovingly, rubbing herself against him like a cat, giggling as his cock swelled in her clever hand.

"What will you do with him now?" asked Jessica, rubbing her swollen crotch against Vulkan's hip as she gazed down at the handsome Branco.

"Why don't you put the pair of them in the loving-tub?" suggested Gargo, artfully.

"What the fuck's the loving-tub?" asked Vulkan intrigued.

A heavily gagged Branco soon found himself lowered into a large tub that occupied one of the adjacent chambers. The sides of the tub came up to the top of his head. He was naked save for a broad leather waist belt attached by short lengths of chain to the stout plank he sat on, so that he could not stand up.

The queen was similarly secured outside the tub, facing her unfortunate partner at a distance of only a few inches, but unlike his, her seat had a hole cut out exactly below her crotch.

Bolted to the inside of the tub at chest height, was a hand driven crank connected to a 'gulper' pump that vented into a reservoir barrel mounted on top of the apparatus. A spigot in the bottom of the barrel allowed the pumped water to be dropped back into the tub at whatever rate the torturer desired.

The hand crank also drove a simple lever affair that passed through a well greased leather grommet cut into the front of the tub and arranged so as to drive a hugely ridged, leather covered spike, via a simple set of eccentric gears, up through the hole in the queens seat and into her exposed groin.

When the little grull began to fill the tub with buckets of water the purpose of the 'loving-tub' became perfectly clear; Lord Branco could either crank and save himself, violating the queen in the process, or he could sit still and drown.

Predictably enough, the stubborn knight refused to crank and the water was soon lapping at his chin as Vulkan, Gargo and the countess looked on with baited breath.

Amariza knew that the knight would rather die than violate her body and she also knew that she could not let him throw his life away in such a noble, but essentially futile gesture.