The wizard's smile was corpse-like as he relived the disagreeable encounter.
"On that day, confident Leopold's largesse, I had neglected to forearm myself with sufficient care and my magic failed to save me – a mistake I will never make again."
The wizard shook his head as if to banish the memory for good.
"You, my royal prince, will teach Leopold's court the true meaning of perversion, foolishness and pain in full measure."
"Where are my men," asked the prince, "I had a dozen hand picked men at arms in my escort."
The wizard gestured absently, as if the matter were of no consequence.
"Gone back to your flatulent father with their tails between their legs. Doubtless spewing forth some cock and bull story about how they were overcome by insurmountable odds and robbed of his precious taxes," the wizard smirked, "I doubt that old Harken will shed any tears over your disappearance my disappointing prince, although the loss of his tribute will probably cost your men dear."
At a signal from the wizard, the ever-present grulls stumped forward and unfastened Vulkan's many bindings. The prince stepped down from the table and flexed his newly acquired musculature, his hand going automatically to grip the huge phallus. Without a trace of self-consciousness the satyr pumped his fist up and down the length of rapidly solidifying meat in front of the watching wizard and his dim witted grulls. Masturbating hugely until the desperately needed orgasm crashed through his rippling belly, hurling countless fierce pulses of red-hot semen high into the air. The changeling collapsed to his knees grunting harshly, the tightly bunched shoulder muscles shaking violently as he continued feverishly milking the final exquisite sensations from the quivering cock.
And whilst Prince Vulkan sat crouched over his throbbing member, the air in the sepulchral chamber was rent over and over by the harsh, cackling laughter of the Arch Thaumaturge, Lord Malpurgo of Gliss.
Prince Vulkan stood dressed in a suit of glittering mail and plate armour that served to gird and accentuate his new and powerful frame. At his side, a broad sword fashioned by Malpurgo himself, hung in a finely tooled leather and brass scabbard. The prince accepted a fur-collared cloak from one of the ubiquitous grulls before mounting his warhorse. Once in the saddle Vulkan walked his snorting steed over to where the wizard waited on a first floor balcony.
"The Kingdom of Dashane cherishes fighting prowess above all else," the wizard told him, "in little over a week, at the midsummer festival called to celebrate Princess Flamia's sixteenth birthday, many brave knights and all manner of princelings from both minor and major houses will congregate to fight for her hand in marriage. In my laboratory, I have used the powerful Crystal of Pesch and my sorcerer's skills to give you the stature, physical strength and speed of reflex to best them all and claim the young Flamia. When you win the contest, Leopold will be honour bound by ancient custom to accept you as his prospective son-in-law and take you into the palace. Once inside, you will have all of the time you need to reek the full measure of my revenge upon them all."
The prince leant forward in his saddle. "Fear not my lord wizard, for I swear that I shall fuck all that are willing and ravage all that are not and at the end of my time in Leopold's palace there will not be one blue blooded lady who has not felt the full length of my great cock in all her intimate passages and the harsh caress of my scourge across her back."
"But remember!" Malpurgo counselled Vulkan to caution, "whilst more than a match for any handful of skilled men-at-arms in open combat you are not invulnerable. Find yourself trussed and helpless on the headsman's block, or caught up in a burning hayrick with a loose-legged goose girl and you will die like any lesser man. Disguise your sybaritic appetites from public view at all times. Use the mental routines I have taught you to control your urges. Masturbate as little as possible as such empty stimulation will only serve to agitate your mood, for only women's flesh can assuage your carnality. In the small chest are powders and potions that will help you subjugate, confuse and kill; I have planted knowledge within your psyche so that you will know how to use them when needed."
So without further ado, the lone prince cantered out over the drawbridge and spurred his coal black steed toward the distant ribbon of hills beyond which lay the wealthy and fabulous realm of Dashane.
Malpurgo visited the buxom serving wench he had previously put to Prince Vulkan each morning for three days following the satyr's departure. On the first morning, he found the woman tossing and turning on her narrow bed in the grip of a ferocious fever, her body flushed and running with perspiration as she battled with violent delirium.
On the second, her fever had broken and she lay comatose. The sluggish rise and fall of her chest almost indiscernible, even to his expert eye as her exhausted body struggled to recover itself.
On the third, Malpurgo entered the cell to find the woman once again sweating and febrile, but now her hazel eyes were clear, bright, and filled with a fierce intensity as she looked at him. This time cause of her fever was very different from that of the first day.
"Where is he?" she demanded, rising up as far as her wrist and ankle chains would allow. Her bitten and bruised body squirmed fretfully as she ground her broad rump into the straw filled mattress.
"Bring him to me, I need to feel his great cock inside me now!"
Malpurgo placed his hand lightly upon the wench's upraised knee. It took only the merest touch to make her thighs fall wide open, a soft hiss of anticipation escaping her lips as she exposed the sopping, overheated vulva with its turgescent labia gaping slackly and the clitoris, thickened and standing proud – aching for stimulation.
Malpurgo dipped his fingers into the steaming tropic; his smile broadening as the woman pushed her pelvis steeply upward, grunting huskily as the wizard reamed the entrance to her vagina with his long, thin fingers.
After a few moments, Malpurgo removed his hand from the wench's sucking sex and reached over to release the shackle restraining her right wrist. Instantly, she wrenched her hand free and plunged her fingers into herself, ramming in all four digits in up to the palm. The wench moaned desperately, her belly pumping in and out as she forced the solid width of her knuckles past the entrance until only her thumb remained on the outside of her cunt to massage the bulging clitoris.
Malpurgo beamed in a dread sort of approval as he reached into his robe and withdrew a length of dark green kracx horn, intricately carved by some long forgotten artisan to represent a huge curving phallus. The wizard hefted the solid length in his palm and smirked down at the straining woman, saying sarcastically.
"His Royal Highness Prince Vulkan apologises for his absence and asked if I would give you this until he returns."
The wench withdrew her hand from her streaming sex and snatched the dildo from the wizard. She plunged the thickened length into herself, puffing out her cheeks in a loud gust of appreciation as she began to ram the dildo in and out. Desperately seeking to emulate the monumental thrusting she had experienced from the rapacious prince.
Malpurgo watched patiently until the wench screamed and shook with her fourth consecutive orgasm before turning to leave the tiny chamber. The sinister, vulpine countenance uplifted after witnessing the confirmation of the final aspect of his terrible plan – the wench was infected with the satyr's hellish gift… Nymphomania!