Realising that she did not have the strength to resist him any further the girl allowed her lips to part. She whinnied like frightened foal as his tongue pushed its way into her softly yielding mouth and began its serpent-like exploration of her sweet palate. At the same time the Prince walked her slowly backward until she stood knee deep in the hay pile and then he bore down on her, tripping her with his foot behind hers so that she fell backward – legs akimbo. He fell with her, landing neatly between her thighs, his urgent glans already butting up against the tightly sealed entrance to her nether mouth.
"Please sir," the girl whispered against the side of his neck, her voice breathless with her panic as he took hold of his stiff shaft and began to force the head between the tightly drawn curtains of her outer labia. And then, the final pathetic entreaty, "have pity noble lord – I am a virgin."
To the corrupt Prince Vulkan, the heady combination of the girl's manifest fear of him, her unblemished youthful pulchritude and finally, her anguished confirmation that she was virgo intacta was a totally intoxicating mix. As such, it could only served to aggravate his already galloping sexual appetite. The young nobleman levered himself up on to his right arm so that he could look down into her face.
"What a priceless little slut you are my dear," he murmured and pursing his thin lips let fall a long strand of spittle on to the tip of her upturned nose, giggling with delight as the clear liquid coursed down over her pink cheek. He hung there, savouring her terrified expression, the quivering vermilion lips, the flushed complexion and the soft brown eyes – huge and brimming with tears.
"Absolutely priceless." As he uttered the last mocking syllable, he thrust forward as hard as he could. Embedding the first third of his shaft in the girl's incredibly tight sheath, wrenching a tortured wail from her as her hymen was ripped away. Quickly, he took hold of her shoulders and transferred his entire weight to his arms, pinning her torso down into the hay, pumping his hips until he was fully embedded within her. Again he paused to enjoy her expression: now one of total desolation as she turned her face to the side and closed her eyes to the pain. Her small, white teeth buried in her lower lip until the blood ran and her tiny hands clutching at his forearms as he began to batter madly at her sex. He was heedless of her pain as his lean, hard hips bruised the softness of her inner thighs as he sought to quench his desperately selfish need.
The prince was neither a powerful, nor a long lasting youth and soon attained his climax. Grunting out his pleasure in a few short, sharp gasps as his thin semen jetted out to fill the girls small, brutalised vagina. His fluids blending with the thin streams of blood issuing from the shredded flesh of her sundered hymen.
With a satisfied groan, the now sated youth rolled off the girl and settled back into the hay, his cock soon becoming flaccid and useless. As his ardour cooled, the youth clasped his hands behind his head and regarded the girl closely from beneath his closely drawn eyelids. He was looking for any signs of mockery on her part, for in truth he knew that he was not well endowed and to that particular shortcoming he had an over developed sensitivity. A sensitivity rammed into him over many miserable years by the taunts of his three bullying half-brothers.
All of the older boys took after their father, the heavy bodied King Harken. Whereas Vulkan favoured his mother, a small boned, flaxen haired creature that the king had taken as his second wife after the death of the old Queen Helga. His father had married Vulkan's mother only because of the land she brought with her as dowry and neither she, nor the skinny Vulkan had ever enjoyed the king's fullest favours. Hence Vulkan was detailed to spend most of the year travelling around the small kingdom, collecting his father's taxes and partaking, whenever the opportunity arose, of perks like those offered by the common little slut now weeping miserably beside him.
Satisfied that the girl had been suitably impressed by his vigour, Vulkan closed his eyes and began to doze off. A small smile of contentment playing across his lips at the sounds of his men's laughter drifting over from the cottage where the girl's mother was continuing to provide sport.
As the inattentive prince slumbered carelessly, a cloaked and hooded figure stole surruptiously from the forest edge to make its way to the barn, behind the backs of the troopers who were intent only upon taking their turns to rape the hapless miller's wife.
Once inside, the mysterious interloper worked quickly and silently, casting a fine sleeping mist over the girl, as she lay shocked and trembling in the hay. The potion stifling her scream before it could rise in her throat to rouse the slumbering prince. Next he wafted a tiny glass bottle under the youth's nostrils and began to whisper in his ear in a strange sibilant tongue, until presently, the young prince arose slack jawed and heedless of his nakedness to follow the mysterious figure back into the forest from whence it had come.
With infinite slowness, the arch thaumaturge, Lord Malpurgo of Castle Gliss, turned the tiny crystal valve between forefinger and thumb. Thus, introducing the final element of the complex combination of drugs he had been carefully feeding to the helpless Prince Vulkan for the past month of his confinement.
The pale, pink tincture flowed out of the apparatus and disappeared into the silver cannular embedded in the young prince's tightly bound wrist. The wizard drew forth the powerful Talisman of Pesch from the folded depths of his robes and clutched the gently glowing stone in his bird-like fist, feeling the faint heat seep into his aged flesh. Finally, he began to utter the mysterious incantation that would forever fix the frightening metamorphosis deep within the youth's maladapted physiology. For several tense minutes the tall, hunched figure of the wizard hovered over the still form; examining, watching, probing, until he was certain that his labour of many days was well done.
Satisfied at long last, he spoke the simple phrase required to bring the docile prince out of the hypnotic trance that had constrained him throughout the long course of his diabolical treatment. Malpurgo gestured to the squat figure of the patient grull waiting nearby, instructing the dwarf-like creature to swing the heavy examination table into the vertical position so that the awakening prince could look around the room.
Malpurgo's pale lemon orbs watched, as Prince Vulkan acquainted himself for the first time with the dark interior of the wizard's laboratory. The youth's red rimmed eyes widened with fear, as they moved reluctantly across the many shelves and benches, all stacked high with ancient leather-bound tomes, unknown chemical agents and mysterious preparations. His horrified gaze rested reluctantly here and there upon the many strange machines and scientific instruments of his captor's preternatural trade.
Finally, the stupefied Vulkan looked down at his own body, which was naked save for the heavy leather straps binding his arms and legs and the immovable broad iron band encircling his waist.
"What have you done to me?" the prince croaked thickly, his mouth sticky and suffused with the bitter taste of copper after so many days of drug-induced somnolence. He moaned in disbelief as he gradually became aware of the changes that had been wrought upon his erstwhile slender, pale-skinned figure. His skin tone had deepened considerably, with dark, freckled patches spreading out from his armpits and crotch. His body mass appeared to have more than doubled; his shoulders had broadened, his chest deepened and the once slim arms and legs now bulged with corded muscle that strained against the creaking bonds and beneath the girdling band his belly was as hard and unyielding as a stone pavement.