His Pet Princess

by Loki Renard

  “Good little fuck toy,” he whispered. “Such a nice hot cunt.”

  She gasped, her pussy gripping him tight as she came closer and closer to coming in the ultimate show of erotic capitulation.

  “You like getting fucked like this, pet? Everyone seeing what an eager toy you are?”

  “Yesss…” she moaned against his mouth.

  “And are you sorry for running away? For being a bad pet?”

  He slapped her exposed bottom with his right hand and kept fucking her, slapping and thrusting over and over again, turning her exposed cheeks bright red. Her position was so totally vulnerable, her legs so far back her bottom was in easy range of his hard palm as he fucked and swatted, the juice from her well-fucked pussy trickling from between her lips and making its way down the crevice of her ass, coating the plug in her bottom hole in creamy female desire.

  Maxim pulled out of her pussy before she could come, slipped the tail out of her anus, and slid into her bottom in one smooth thrust. There was another gasp from the crowd, who were now seeing the once untouchable princess be fucked in her well-trained bottom. Isodor’s chuckle of appreciation was notable as Maxim worked in and out of her hot spanked ass. Standing taller now, he no longer slapped her bottom but instead pinched her nipples and swatted the full underside of her breasts.

  There were cries of surprise and bold exclamations as Sabine was truly defiled, every part of her sweet royal body marked and taken by the man who had made her his pet. The tail now lay discarded on the plinth. It had become an unnecessary prop, for there was not a person present who would have doubted that Sabine was owned and as for Sabine herself, she knew it to her very core.

  She gasped as he punished her, every pinch of her nipples sending jolts of excitement down to her empty pussy. Wild with desire, Sabine slid her hand down her stomach and pushed her fingers into her slit. She needed to have her cunt filled as her ass was fucked, she needed to rub her greedy clit as her breasts were spanked with swift little slaps that made them bounce.

  She climaxed like that, her cries echoing through the chamber as Maxim pounded her through one orgasm and then into another, pushing her hand aside and spanking the raised erect bud of her clit to stimulate her into multiple climaxes, one coming after the other as she writhed on the hard cock buried deep in her ass.

  She begged him for release, for climax, for pleasure, for pain, for forgiveness. Her whimpers and moans were near incoherent as he looked down at her with that masterful green gaze and thrust forward again and again, working her anus with rough strokes until he uttered a rough cry and drew out, his cum spurting over her spread bottom and pussy, up over her stomach, all the way to the pink-tipped rise of her breasts, marking her as his for all to see.

  “It is done!” he declared, his voice hoarse. “You have all seen what happened here today. You have seen the princess make her choice, submit herself to the ritual of mating. None shall oppose us, in this world or the next. Do I hear your voices?”

  The crowd let out a roar of approval, a lust-filled cheer. The display had whetted their appetites and there was no doubt that much seed would be planted in wombs that night.

  A look passed between Maxim and Isodor and a short nod of assent from the king concluded proceedings.

  Maxim helped Sabine from the plinth and settled her at his feet, on her knees. He took her leash in his hand, and holding it high, escorted her from the dais. In one final display of total carnal control, he walked her down through the crowd. There she was, the princess of Ere, her lust-smeared loins on full display as she was walked through the halls of the royal palace on hands and knees. She could not meet the eyes of those they passed, she could only see their feet: guards clad in metal boots, lords in leather, ladies in satin slippers. Each and every one of them was looking at her sex-shamed form, but at her master’s side, she could not have been more proud.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Life began in the palace anew for Sabine, but she no longer sat on any thrones, or at the head of long receiving lines. She wore a collar and leash at all times and was never more than a few feet from Maxim at any given moment.

  As far as she knew, their return to the other world was being planned, but she was not privy to the details. Maxim dealt with anybody who spoke of matters of state in front of her very harshly indeed. She was his pet princess, nothing more and nothing less. It was his strict decree that she be treated in Ere much as she had been in Centillion territory, and those around them did their best to comply.

  After weeks of hardship, she was quite grateful to be able to forget about the affairs of the greater worlds and wallow in the luxury of both worlds combined. After living rough for some time, she appreciated each and every extravagance all that much more. The beds were softer, the sheets were like cool silk against her skin. Food, cooked with rich spices and in plentiful amounts became something to savor when given to her a little at a time from her master’s fingers.

  Maxim and Isodor seemed to have settled into an uneasy truce but there was tension in the palace, tension she was not supposed to notice and pretended not to, lest the noticing lead her into trouble. She was in plenty of that already.

  “When will we be able to leave?” She asked the question as they sat in the upper library, a place that had once been her father’s preferred refuge. It also had the benefit of being one place Isodor did not tend to go. The walls were stacked with scrolls and tomes. There was a weight of history there, none of which interested the new king. He was invested in his legacy, not the past, action rather than reading.

  “There are negotiations to be entered into, pet,” Maxim reminded her. “We cannot simply slip back into the other realm. Isodor has created a climate of war. I am not taking you into an active battleground, so you must be patient. Truly patient, this time. You understand?”

  “Yes.” She blushed as he held her gaze sternly. The display before the nobles had made a distinct impression on her. He had but to reference it mildly and she felt herself tingle all over, embarrassed heat making both sets of cheeks blush at the memory.

  * * *

  Maxim was not at all certain that his pet had learned her lesson. She would likely always be impulsive and headstrong. It was simply her nature, part of her very soul and in order to truly break her of it, he would have to break her—and that he would not do.

  “Ah, my brother.” Isodor’s dark rumble imposed upon their conversation. The king swept into their presence, clad in black satin and leather and a long cloak trailing behind him. Isodor was becoming something of a one-man event. Every day that passed brought with it more drama.

  In the beginning, Maxim had determined that he and Sabine should leave as swiftly as possible, but Isodor had ordered that they stay for their own safety until a true truce could be settled with the other states. The Nile Corporation was still rather hostile, demanding their territory be returned. Isodor of course refused to do so and so Nile had taken to shelling the area almost daily, driving floods of refugees through to Centillion territory, which had irritated Centillion as well. In short, Isodor had made himself wildly unpopular and, as Maxim had previously predicted, powerful forces were moving against him.

  Maxim was doing his best to offer trade, but Centillion and Nile representatives both expressed doubt that the trade routes could be secured, much less upheld. It had taken but a few months for Isodor to poison his reputation. It was entirely possible that no return to the other realm would be allowed, in which case the truce itself was at risk.

  Sabine thought she was being kept at his side because of her own reckless behavior, but the truth was he did not trust Isodor not to harm her if she were out of his line of sight. Peace was delicate and if they did not broker a treaty soon, it would shatter.

  “Isodor,” Maxim greeted him.

  “I’m afraid I have bad news, brother,” Isodor drawled. There was a peculiar set to his mouth, a glimmer in his eye. Maxim felt his stomach sink and his heart begin to pound. He knew in an i
nstant that their alliance, as brief and tenuous as it had been, was at an end. There was no warning, not even a hint of a warning, but brother knew brother.

  “Sabine,” he said, his voice deep with calm urgency. “Get behind me. Now.”

  “No point issuing orders to her,” Isodor said with a merciless smirk. “There is nowhere safe for either of you. Not here, not anywhere.”

  “He’s got a knife!”

  Sabine’s gasp did not inform Maxim of anything he had not already been aware of. The glint of the long blade was quite evident, even though Isodor tried to hide it in the folds of his cloak.

  Maxim pulled his own blade from the scabbard, but a nasty surprise awaited him. The hilt came free with barely an inch of steel below it. The blade had been sabotaged and was less than useless.

  “I wish I had a mirror, that you might see your ridiculous visage,” Isodor laughed. “You sleep too deep, brother. Far deeper than any man with regal aspirations should ever slumber.”

  “Why are you doing this!” Sabine’s horrified question only served to play into Isodor’s plan for his own amusement.

  “The notion of an alliance was an interesting one, but I’m afraid you’re truly of no more use to me now than you were in the beginning. The other world is repelling our forces, pushing us back so fiercely that soon we will not be able to exist in their realm. And that, dear brother and princess whore, means that there is no place and no purpose for you here. Ere does not need two kings.”

  “I have no desire to be king,” Maxim growled.

  “And that is the reason you are about to die,” Isodor spat with disdain. “You are pathetic, brother. You are weak. You were born with the same capacity for greatness as I and yet you have always shrunk away from what could be.”

  “And you have always destroyed any opportunity that might lead to love.”

  “Love,” Isodor smirked. “As far as I can tell, an entirely useless concept. I do not care for feeling, but before you both die, I will grant you one final courtesy, that of knowledge.”

  He drew himself erect and a smug expression came over the half of his face that was still visible. Maxim braced himself, knowing that what was about to come out of Isodor’s mouth was more poisonous than the venom of a thousand vipers.

  “Sabine,” Isodor said with that sick lopsided smirk, “your father did not die of natural causes. He died because he opposed me. I wished to enter the gate the moment I learned of its existence. He took me to it after you had gone, told me what it was and where you were. I told him I would lead an army to retrieve you and he refused. Hours later he choked on poison.”

  The words were chilling enough, but the dead-eyed malice with which Isodor made his triumphant confession made Maxim’s stomach churn. He felt no satisfaction at having been proved correct. He saw Sabine looking at Isodor with tears of pure rage clouding her beautiful gaze, her hands clenched into two small fists by her sides. She did not understand that her misery fed the monster. All Isodor wanted was to hurt them. And he was not yet done. His one good eye focused on Maxim as he opened his disgusting maw and spoke again.

  “It was the same poison that I fed our mother and father, dear brother. The very poison I would have fed you on the very same night, were you not too stubborn to refuse the meal.”

  Maxim stared at him blankly, refusing to give Isodor the satisfaction of a reaction. No matter the rage he felt inside, he controlled it with everything he had. He had to maintain his composure. If he lost control then their lives were truly lost.

  “Is there anybody close to you you haven’t killed?” Sabine asked the question, pure scorn and disgust in her tone. Maxim reached out and thrust her behind him, as she seemed to be on the very verge of throwing herself at Isodor in pure rage.

  “No,” Isodor smirked. “I suppose not. I abhor weakness, and sentiment is the ultimate weakness. I tried to dally in it, but even at the cost of a kingdom, I cannot abide your presence. You should have stayed away. I would have sent hunters eventually, driven you into the forest and run you down on my finest steed, but still you would have lived a little longer.”

  “Monster!” she cursed him.

  He pulled the mask from his face and cast it aside. “I thought this might make it easier for you to tolerate me, princess,” he said bitterly. “But best you see my true face in the end. The last thing either one of you will see will be this spoiled visage.”

  Isodor was enjoying himself to a level that was difficult to describe. He did not know common pleasure, simple pleasure. He needed pain and angst so deeply and loved it so much that Maxim could see the tent in his pants. This was not a mere matter of essential homicide; it was something Isodor took true pleasure in.

  “I’ll kill you first, brother, and I’ll taste her before she dies,” Isodor promised Maxim. “I’ll make sure she screams my name at the end.”

  Maxim felt Isodor’s eye on him, scanning for the emotional response. The man was a pure sadist.

  “You’ll not touch me,” Sabine said. “I’ll tear the rest of your ugly face off with my bare hands.”

  She was shaking with fear and anger. Maxim could feel it from behind him. He could not reassure her. He could not risk taking his eyes from Isodor for even a moment.

  “Finally you say something worthy of a princess,” Isodor smirked. “I will enjoy baiting you before the end. You will say so many things, do so many things… my brother has not begun to defile you as I will.”

  Maxim understood the game that was being played. Isodor was not content to kill them. First he wanted to make them as evil and twisted as he was. Sabine was among the sweetest and most naive of all the women in the land. He didn’t want to fuck her and defile her body. That was not nearly enough for Isodor. He wanted to destroy her very soul.

  “Why are you doing this?” Sabine gasped the question again. “You could have had everything. You could have had two worlds, you could have had a brother, a family…”

  “He has never had a brother,” Maxim growled. “Not really. He was born without heart, Sabine. He only feels when he is hurting, whether himself or others, it doesn’t matter.”

  She didn’t understand, because she was not twisted. He understood because a lifetime of knowing Isodor now led him to a single conclusion. He was not a man ruthless enough to do terrible things in order to claim conquest. He was a man who did terrible things and conquest merely followed. Isodor’s entire life had been a process of greater and greater reward for increasing cruelty. And now he was poised to commit the final act of a sick soul. He had already killed his own mother and father, and more recently, Sabine’s father too. Now he intended to wipe the entirety of his family from existence, and to end the royal line of Ere as well. Two great bloodlines were about to fall to his blade.

  “I grow bored of this. You have lived thirty years too long,” Isodor declared. “Time to die, brother.”

  With that he lunged forward, the knife held high. It was a deadly weapon in the hand of a practiced warrior such as Isodor and Maxim did not have any weapon to hand to defend himself with, but he had years of practiced reflexes and something Isodor did not—someone he loved enough to protect.

  As Isodor charged forward, blade stabbing toward Maxim’s heart, Maxim took hold of his arm and kicked at his knee. Isodor crumpled and his momentum took them both backwards, crashing through the chair and table onto the floor in a shower of paper and parchment, leaving Maxim flat on his back. Isodor landed atop him, the knife clutched in both his hands as he pushed it down with all his weight and all his might.

  The knife was a mere fraction of an inch from Maxim’s heart, driven with the full force of Isodor’s malice, but Maxim held firm and with gritted teeth pushed up and back, tiring the weightier brother. This was a battle of strength and will. They were locked in position, neither able to retreat, neither able to win. Maxim had the harder task, but his body bore it with a ferocity Isodor could not match. As the seconds passed, sweat beaded on their brows, their teeth ground
audibly and they grunted and snarled like wild animals.

  He might have lost if Sabine had not joined the fray. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her struggling with the weight of the heaviest book in the library, her knuckles white with the strain as she swung it against Isodor’s marked head, catching his temple with the weight of the tome. It was a small assault, but it was enough to tip the balance of conflict.

  Maxim felt Isodor’s grip weakening, his hand slipping. The struggle had made their hands wet with sweat and as Isodor wrenched to the side, the momentum of Maxim’s force on the knife made it twist and then spin, the blade moving almost of its own accord.

  Time slowed to a near halt, and Maxim could only watch as the physical forces that commanded them all took the sharp blade and sent it skimming between them, the turned point now toward Isodor’s chest. Maxim let go and tried to twist away from the inevitable, but there was no time. No time to stop what was going to happen. Not even enough time to look away. Even his eyes did not close before the knife caught on Isodor’s robe and slid neatly through the cloth as if it were not there at all, finding its place between his ribs as if they were its natural sheath.

  Isodor died directly, a curse on his lips in death as it had been in life. He became instantly heavy, a dead weight of misery that Maxim pushed and kicked off him. He had no time for the corpse. Isodor did not matter. The only one who mattered was Sabine.

  She was standing still as a statue, looking at the meat that had once been Isodor with an expression he had not seen on her pretty face before. There was no sweetness there. No sorrow. No fear. She was looking at the self-slain man with the very contempt he had regarded her with, and had so often accused her as being incapable of.

  Just as Maxim reached her, the guards burst through the door. From the looks of it, they had been ordered to hang back and clean up after Isodor had slain him. Instead they found the corpse of Isodor, and Maxim standing over it.