Pixie Isobella

Summer cried out as Lord Arendt forced his way into her body, finally filling her fully. She felt like he was splitting her open but she knew he had only just begun.

Grunting to himself, his eyes shut, lost in his own utter pleasure, Lord Arendt started to fuck her roughly, his hard erection seeming to drive into every part of her groin, impaling and filling her.

Summer is a princess… But she craves wickedness and depravity. When she agrees to a tryst one night, she doesn’t realise she is being set up for two of the most villainous lords in the Royal Court to torture and fuck…

Summer’s Engagement: Chapter 14

[Summer’s Engagement contains non-consent fantasy erotica, female submission to male characters, erotic torture and object insertion. All characters are over 18. Chapter 1 of Summer’s Engagement is here]

Makepeace watched his master fuck the girl on the floor.

She was crying out and screaming, writhing underneath him, but Makepeace had seen enough unwilling victims to know that sweet Princess Summer, heir apparent to the realm, did not share their number.

The girl hadn’t wanted his master to fuck her but she was enjoying every moment.

Makepeace sneered his satisfaction as his boss pounded the girl’s cunt. He knew that if Lord Arendt had asked her for the pleasure for her body, she would have turned a cold shoulder and said ‘no’ — but forced to accept, the girl was enjoying him well enough.

‘She’s a true slut,’ Lord Marlowe remarked as he re-filled his cup with wine. Makepeace nodded his agreement.

His position with these lords was unusual — obliged to be subservient and respectful, but nevertheless an essential part of the trio. When the Lords’ games required someone to be strong and brutal, Makepeace took the lead, and Lord Arendt had never failed to reward him. He didn’t think either of the Lords had fucked a woman in the last ten years where they hadn’t also eventually invited him to push himself inside her.

He curled his lips. He guessed a more ambitious man would be excited at the thought of shafting the crown princess but he knew that by the time he found himself on top of her, Summer would feel just like any other woman under his hands. With a snicker of amusement, he wondered if she would pull away from him — distressed at the thought of a commoner enjoying her.

He shrugged as he accepted the offer of a cup of wine from Lord Marlowe. Summer’s reluctance would only increase his pleasure, while her acquiescence to him fucking her would increase his poor opinion of the stuck-up princess. Makepeace would enjoy himself either way.

‘I’m sad we won’t be branding the bitch,’ Lord Marlowe grunted. Makepeace nodded again, non-committal. Lord Marlowe’s viciousness was well known to all his associates. Of course, it was always Makepeace himself who heated the branding irons and applied the brand to the screaming victims.

He shrugged to himself again. He wouldn’t have minded seeing Summer with Lord Arendt’s secret sigil branded high on her inner thigh — an inconspicuous block forever marking her as the Lord’s discard — but he was a philosophical man. It would bring more trouble than pleasure in the end.

Makepeace’s cock, obediently quiet until now, was stirring in his breeches as he watched Lord Arendt riding Summer. The man was stabbing himself fiercely into her by now, his breathing hard and fast as he sought his release. The girl herself looked like she was almost fainting beneath him, her eyes wide and unfocused, her body having long since given up moving in time with his violent thrusts.

‘Looks like it’s almost my turn,’ Lord Marlowe drained his cup, grinning with pleasure. He was already hard inside his trousers and he started to quickly strip.

Makepeace nodded again, content to wait his turn. The order in which the men fucked their conquests was well established — the two Lords would go first, of course, whichever Lord had acquired the girl having an undisputed right to enter her first.

Makepeace, as the servant, was always last, but he didn’t mind.

He knew the unofficial, never-to-be-spoken reason that he was always last — simply, he was better endowed than the other two men, and neither of them wanted to feel inadequate going after him. Makepeace knew this was also the reason Lord Arendt used him to bring misbehaving sluts in line — even the most well-bred damsel would get on her knees and start begging when threatened with Makepeace’s considerable length and circumference being inserted into her holes.

—

Summer moaned softly to herself as she felt Lord Arendt cumming inside her.

He hadn’t worn any kind of protection nor had he asked her about birth control. Of course, it didn’t matter. She was well versed with the use of herbs to prevent pregnancy, but it rankled with her, as did the thought of his seed deposited so callously into her.

He’ll still be inside me when my engagement is formalised, she thought suddenly — almost ruefully. The image seemed obscene when contrasted against the personification of purity she was meant to be bringing to King David’s court, and she suddenly felt like laughing hysterically.

Part of her thought it was better this way. It was symbolic in a way of how she felt about the arrangement. She hadn’t wanted to be engaged to King David, she didn’t want to get married. She wanted to just keep fucking forever.

Lord Arendt pulled himself out of her, rising to stand and wrap a robe around himself.

‘She was good enough,’ he said to Lord Marlowe. Summer flushed at his dismissive tone of voice, even though she knew it was probably deliberately chosen to humiliate her. ‘You’ll find her worth your time at least.’

The second man was already hard, Summer saw with sudden dismay, his strong, well-built body disturbingly naked as he stepped around between her legs.

Of course, I’m worth their time, she thought, hating the degrading, patronising way they spoke about her. She flushed as she saw the servant, Makepeace, watching her, his eyes steady. He’s going to fuck me too, she thought suddenly. Of course, she had already known that he would but it felt more real now. She would feel his rough hands on her soft skin, his sun-darkened, work-hardened skin against hers.

Makepeace saw Summer watching him and he winked at her, a lewd grin on his face. The action shocked her — unless it was her very own groom, men like Makepeace barely had a role to speak to her, let alone touch her or show familiarity with her.

I wonder if commoners’ cocks feel any different, she thought suddenly, both terrified and enraptured by the thought. She knew it was illogical but she felt steadily more aroused at the thought of him inside her — degrading her, polluting her.

She wrenched her gaze away from his but she was sure the man had already seen — and understood — the apprehension and dawning excitement in her face at the thought.

Please follow me for more stories! In the real world, remember to always play safely and practise positive, informed and enthusiastic consent that is respectful of all genders.

Have you read my other fantasy story, Serafina’s Gift?

When she receives a mysterious sex toy in the mail, Serafina is too excited to ask questions about who sent it… and why. But her gift bears a supernatural curse – and Serafina can’t stop herself from succumbing to its addictive pleasure. Serafina finds herself descending into a world of rough, degrading gangbangs – helplessly submissive to anyone who wants to use her…

Read the full novel at All These Roadworks or Smashwords!

It’s not a manifesto

I write a lot of M/f non-consent erotica, including enslavement of women, degradation and forced breeding. They are not an expression of how the world should be. Everything I write should stay in the hot world of fiction and play. It should absolutely not become part of the real world.

© Pixie Isobella