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.
"Save yourself, Lord Branco," she said firmly and when he failed to move, "I command it!"
The champion reluctantly began to turn the hand crank. Slowly at first, his eyes averted from Amariza's pensive face hovering only inches away and then more quickly as the grull hurled in another bucketful and the water rose to his lips.
Branco tried to close his ears to the enormous grunt the queen expelled when the fat leather spike plunged up into her vagina for the first time.
"Don't worry about me," she gasped as the knight faltered at the sound of her distress, "keep going, I command you."
"How touching," laughed Vulkan mockingly, his bright eyes dancing.
Amariza expelled another tortured grunt as the cock rose again to force its way into her sex, the delicate organ squelching and still slick with the satyr's spunk.
Branco gritted his teeth against the overwhelming sense of shame and helplessness and continued to crank, the crude pump slurping and belching obscenely as it pushed the small stream of water up to the reservoir above his head.
The old iron mechanism rumbled around merrily, the cock rising and falling as the helpless noblewoman grunted rhythmically in time to the inexorable motion.
The torture continued until Branco had managed to get the water level down to his nipples at which point Vulkan called a halt. Both the queen and the knight slumped on their seats, each grateful in their own ways for the respite.
Vulkan pointed to the yoke holding the leather cock.
"What's that second socket for?"
"Oops! nearly forgot about that."
The grinning gaoler fetched a second, slightly re-curved cock attachment from a nearby chest and fitted it into the yoke so that there were now two fearsome implements ready to be plunged into Amariza's lower orifices.
Vulkan reached up and turned the spigot on the reservoir, grinning down at the helpless couple as the water began to pour down into the tub.
"Now that you've both got the hang of it, lets see what the pair of you can really do."