by Shallow Grave

The man in clanking armor trudged with choked breath up the long turret stair, through the clouds of thick smoke streaming from the Dragon’s slack jaw.

The Princess had listened to the battle rage from courtyard to tower; heard the crash, the rattle, the groan as the Dragon had collapsed, defeated, at the foot of the steps. She watched through the window as the smoke billowing through the arrow slits of the stairwell subdued the bright light of the fires burning through the mountains, casting her chamber in a soft, warm glow. 

The Dragon had overplayed its demise as usual, but the Princess adored her companion’s flair for the theatrical.

The Princess giggled as she heard the labored steps of the Knight nearing the door. She sat gracefully on the narrow bed, pulling closed the gossamer curtains, and smoothing her thin shift down over her body to accentuate her soft curves. She let her hair fan delicately around her face to catch the light of the flames dancing through the window. Such an angelic vision, she thought, stifling another giggle. Perhaps, she mused, she should keep some of these would-be suitors alive; they would make such good pets for her and the Dragon.

But not this one. It had been too long since she had had any fun.

The Princess shook herself out, willing her limbs to appear relaxed, letting the fabric of her dress slip between her thighs where she was already growing wet with anticipation. 

The Knight leaned heavily against the door.

She closed her eyes, set her small pink mouth in a gentle smile. The sort of smile the sweet, innocent girl she was pretending to be might wear while dreaming of the handsome prince come to rescue her with true love’s first kiss.

Such trifles did not bring this Princess peace. She preferred to envision a troupe of knights she might someday collect, set to play at mock battles by her and her Dragon. They would be her dolls to chase around, her Dragon roaring at her side. 

Or even better, hot and smoldering between her thighs.

The Princess scrunched her eyes shut more tightly, trying to rid herself of the fantasy. Stick to the Knights, she told herself. Stick to what is safe. The Princess let out a slow steady breath, allowing herself to sink into the soft bedding beneath her.

The next one, she decided, she would spare for further torment. She could watch as he quaked beneath the Dragon’s glare, hear him scream as the Dragon sunk its sharp fangs into his soft flesh.

But not this one. This one was hers.

The door creaked heavily on its old hinges as the Knight shouldered through.

The Princess listened to the clang of his shifting armor as he approached. The heavy rattle of him lifting off his helmet to set on the table by the bed.

She felt the shifting of the air as he gently pulled back the curtain. Heard the catch of his breath at the sight of her lying still, clad in nothing but her sheer nightgown.

The Princess remained motionless as she listened to the Knight rip the gauntlets from his hands to clatter onto the stone floor.

The Knight traced the arch of her brow, her cheek. He pressed a soot-stained thumb to her lips, parting them to rub against her teeth. The Princess felt warmth flare in her belly, and her cunt twitched expectantly. 

Every fiber of her will went into remaining perfectly still, refraining from the urge to open her mouth wide. She wanted so badly to let him slide his thumb deeper into her mouth, to press against her tongue, and towards her throat; to feel him reach as deep as he could and feel the drool well up to spill from her lips. The Princess kept perfectly still and imagined how when he was ready to pull his hand away she would snap her teeth shut tight: drink the blood spurting right into her mouth, sucking more from the wound, lose herself to the screams echoing off the stone walls as the Dragon roared its pleasure in the distance.

The Princess let him withdraw safely from her mouth. She had waited so long for this prey, she wanted more from him than a finger.

He sat beside her on the bed to continue his exploration. He petted her hair, pressed along the lines of her throat, trailing his hands down to cup her breasts, circling her nipples through her dress and pinching gently; he rubbed at her ribs, over her belly, but avoided her sex as he massaged down her thighs, stopping to cup one delicate foot in his large hand.

He is afraid, the Princess realized. Smart man.

She felt the Knight rise from the bed to kneel beside it. He bent down over her face to press a hard kiss to her soft lips. He tasted of sweat and soot, of victory and fear. It was delicious.

The Princess allowed her eyes to flutter open as he pulled back to peer down at her waking face. “My Prince!” she gasped. “Oh my love, my savior!” She threw her arms around his neck to pull him down into another kiss, “You have freed me from this slumber, these years of torment!” She kissed her way across his cheeks, down to his neck where she licked delicately at the trails of battle grime. “I am yours completely! In everything, I am yours!” she whispered into his sweaty skin.

The Knight pulled back from the Princess to stare into her wide innocent eyes, “Mine? Truly?”

“Yes, my Prince, all of me.” She lowered her gaze demurely as she parted her thighs ever so slightly.

The Knight leapt up in disbelief. He stared down at the lovely Princess stealing shy glances of him through her dark lashes. She knew what he was thinking—that if this was but a dream, he would see it through. But he hoped it was real, hoped that this beautiful girl was all his.

He unbuckled his sword, propping it gently against the bed-frame, and began to hastily shed his armor.

He undid the ties of his pants to reveal his straining cock, hard from the caresses he had stolen from the sleeping girl. He pushed the Princess’s knees apart and slid her skirt up to her hips. He traced her lips with his fingers, spreading them apart gently, and dipping his thumb to spread her warm slick around. The Knight pulled back and lined up his cock, shoving himself inside with one firm thrust.

The Princess kept her face perfectly adoring, but inside her mind she scoffed. He was happy to pet and touch and tease when he thought I was asleep. But I tell him I’m his in everything, and he goes right to that. No matter; it felt good to have him stretch her open so abruptly, to have his suffocating weight push her into the mattress. Let him have his fun, and then I will have mine.

He groaned low and deep into her neck. The Princess wrapped her legs around his hips, hooking her heels beneath his ass for leverage so she could grind herself against his thrusts, her clit pressed against his pelvis, his cock rocking against that spot deep inside. She let her head fall back with a whimper.

It was all too much for the Knight. He had fought a Dragon and won, he had found this lost princess of such otherworldly beauty and awoken her with true love’s first kiss, and now he was wrapped up in her arms and her wetness as she moaned her pleasure. He shook and whimpered as he came, unable to hold back his orgasm. The Knight grunted against the Princess’s neck, his thrusts erratic as he worked through his release, coming deep inside of the Princess.

He looked down at her and smiled, softly petting her cheek. No doubt he assumed his long-sleeping beauty would not know any better. He believed her act, the Princess knew, believed her to be the sweet and innocent thing she was supposed to be, with no comprehension of the pleasure he had taken from her. As he gazed so gently down at her, he was no doubt imagining how he would return this pleasure again and again through their long and happy life together.

He has forgotten his fear, the Princess thought. What a fool.

The Princess smiled sweetly up at him. He pulled out, and rolled over to lay on his back beside her, smiling dazedly.

Before he could catch his breath she was straddling his hips, rubbing herself against his softening cock. He held her hips still. “Not yet, sweetness. Give me some time to truly appreciate your beauty.”

The Princess shook her head and leaned over him, kissing him deeply, sliding her hands to reach beneath the pillows. “No, my Prince; there is much else I would rather do.”

In one swift motion, the Princess sat up, pulling a dagger from its hiding place, and stabbed it into the Knight’s throat.

The Knight tried to gasp, to shout in shock, but it came out choked and garbled as blood flooded his throat. He kicked up in shock, eyes blown wide with pain. They searched her face frantically, full of fear and confusion. His hands scrabbled at his neck, at the dagger imbedded there, and the Princess’s small hand holding it firm.

She smiled at the desperation in his eyes, watched his lips struggle to form his pleas for mercy, and pulled the blade free in a spurt of blood, panting heavily in time with the gush of red. The Knight tried to gasp for breath that would not come.

The smell choked the already thick air with the reek of rancid iron. Hypnotized, the Princess watched the flow begin to slow, felt as the Knights feeble kicks subsided.

The strangeness of the light from the window, a blend of moonglow and dying flame, cut through the shadows to flicker restlessly in the growing pool of blood. So lost in the beauty of the blood, she gasped a breath of shock when the pool reached her, tickling sticky and warm against her bare knee. She shivered violently. 

Her thighs squeezed the dying man beneath her; the pattern of her dagger’s hilt dug into the flesh of her palm from the tightness of her grip. Her toes scrabbled against the soft linen of the soiled sheets as she readjusted her weight. A roar ripped through the night, as the scent of death lured the Dragon closer. Flames flashed, lighting the room more brightly as the Princess rocked forward and slammed her blade down into the Knight’s wide-blown eye, stirring it in deep as her hips collapsed back to roll against the Knight’s pelvis.

The Princess hunched over to suck greedily at the blood trickling from the Knight’s pierced neck, rubbing against the corpse in tandem with each swallow. It isn’t enough! She sucked harder at the wound, worrying the Knight’s flesh between her teeth, scraping her teeth up his neck to lap at the rough stubble along his jaw. 

The Dragon roared again, just beyond the window, urging the Princess to move on from her lazy grinding. The crash against the stone walls told the Princess that the Dragon was perched just outside of the window, watching her at her play.

Slowing her breathing, the Princess sat up, appraising her work. She wrenched the blade from the Knight’s eye to lick it clean of brain and blood, savoring the taste as her Dragon would.

A growl through the window lanced through her body, her cunt clenching tight against nothing. The Princess plunged her dagger into her Knight’s belly. She pulled it out, only to slam it back in again and again. She fucked him like that until she was sure he was dead, and she was breathless.

The Princess released her hold on the dagger and collapsed onto her haunches between the knight’s splayed knees. The come that had dripped from her cunt as she stabbed the Knight was swirled in with the blood. It reminded her of cream melting into a pie. She felt the drool well up in her mouth.

The Princess dragged her fingers through the mess and slurped them clean, the taste metallic and bitter with something warm and salty underneath. It was delicious. She sucked hard on her fingers, shivering with want as she swallowed. She dragged her fingers again through the still warm mixture of blood and come, and rubbed the wet against her swollen clit. Her other hand reached into the gaping wounds on the Knight’s torso; she thrust her fingers in and out, as she rubbed and pressed against her clit. 

It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She slid two fingers into her cunt, rocking back into her hand so that her palm rubbed against her clit. 

It still wasn’t enough. 

She pressed her fingers deeper into the narrow slits in the Knight’s flesh, spreading them to rip wider gaps. She pushed until she could force her whole hand inside of his belly, and feel the heat of his insides. She pressed two more fingers into her own slit, straining her wrist to reach deeper and deeper, stirring her further into her frenzy. She pressed her hand deeper into the Knight’s body, reaching up through the viscera to search for his heart. Her fingers slid along liver and kidneys, reaching under the hard shell of his ribcage, searching, her arm sucked in near to the elbow in her desperation, her nails scraping against the hard wall of his diaphragm as she tried to push in deeper. She wanted to squeeze his heart until it burst in her hand.

The Princess shuddered as her orgasm washed over her, letting out a rasping moan. But it was still not enough, not nearly enough. 

She groaned in frustration and withdrew both her hands. To reach his heart she would need to cut him open, pry open his ribs. What good was his heart to her anyway? Better to leave it for her Dragon.

She rubbed at her face, spreading the Knight’s blood and her own slick across her cheeks.

The Princess looked about the room. When her gaze fell on the knight’s sword propped against the bed, she felt the drying blood crack and crinkle with her grin.

She picked up the sword, pulling it from its sheath, smoothing her hands along the flat of the blade, admiring its sharp edge. The Princess reached into the Knight and scooped up his blood to coat the hilt from crossbar to pommel. 

Laying beside the corpse of the Knight, pillowed against his shoulder, the Princess pressed the handle of the sword inside of her needy cunt, gripping it by the crossbars, pushing it in and out of her sopping and bloody hole, grinding against her motions to reach that spot deep inside.

She turned her face to hide in the embrace of the dead man, biting his sticky and cooling flesh to stifle her moans. She squeezed her legs around the bare blade, the cold metal biting into her soft flesh. The pain only added to the Princess’s ecstasy; she shook violently as she pulled the sword in deeper, grinding her hips viciously as the blade sliced into the meat of her legs, crying out harshly as finally her pleasure reached a true peak, the wet from her cunt dribbling in to merge with the wet smears of her own blood.

The Princess lay still for a time, catching her breath, the putrid stench of death all around her, the sword still held inside.

A gentle growl through the window called the Princess back into her body. When she moved to pull the sword free, the Princess noticed the gashes from where the blade had bitten into her thighs, her calves, the arches of her feet. Lazily, she tore down the gossamer curtains to staunch the bleeding. She would treat them properly later. This whole room would need to be cleaned out once the Dragon was finished eating the body, or the whole castle would reek.

It would need to be fit to trap the next knight—the knight she planned to keep as her pet. 

Wounds sufficiently wrapped, the Princess leaned back on her elbows to admire her work. The mattress was a soggy, stinking heap of blood, sagging beneath the weight of the gutted Knight. He seemed more shadow now than man, his torn clothes stained with blood, the hole in his belly gaping wide. One side of his face remained clean of the carnage, the only proof that he had ever been anything more than this heap of meat.

That would not do. She was going to get all she could from him before the Dragon came to eat what remained and burn the gore from the room.

The Princess pulled her dagger from where she had left it in the Knight’s chest, and pressed it slowly into his still-intact eye, leaning in close to watch as the soft jelly dipped against the press of the dagger before splitting around its sharp point. Her blood thrummed at the smooth slide of the dagger as she drove it in as deep as it would go. She petted his cheek softly, admiring the sluggish ooze of fluid from the burst eye. The Princess sat up, the blood drying on her fingers leaving faint smudges as she pulled her hand away. 

The Princess dragged her exhausted body up to kneel over the Knight’s face and lower herself slowly onto the hilt of the dagger. It was so different from the Knight’s sword. That had been thick and heavy, made of smooth steel and soft leather; the hilt of her dagger was slim and textured, swirling filigree patterns in the metal, inlaid with smooth stones that caught the light prettily.

She could feel the grooves grinding against her walls as she rocked herself back and forth, the blade stirring weakly through brains, kept in place by the confines of the Knight’s eye-socket. The Princess slid her hands into the Knight’s blood-soaked hair, holding his face still between her thighs, his nose digging into the joint at her hip each time she sunk down onto the jeweled hilt. 

Her shift was sticky and cloying with blood and come, distracting her from her pleasure. The Princess pulled it off, smearing the mess more thoroughly over her sweat-slick body, rocking up and down more quickly.

The breeze through the window tickled at her damp breasts; she moved a hand from the Knight’s hair to pinch at her nipples with a sigh. 

She could feel the Dragon watching through the window, feel the heat of the Dragon’s breath warming the chilled night. She refused to meet the Dragon’s eye, preferring to pretend she did not notice her friend watching her calmly as she took this simple pleasure, her chest burning under its attentive gaze. 

Her fingers clung more tightly to the dead knight’s hair, pinched harder at her nipple, as her hips moved faster and faster. A slight rumbling growl from the window had her moaning more desperately, imagining the Dragon’s claws were the ones scraping against her breasts. The cuts in her thighs, her calves, her feet that stung so sharply where they pressed against the Knight’s face and shoulders, made instead by the Dragon nipping desperately at her flesh as it knocked her thighs wide, long serpentine tongue plunging hard and deep into her cunt, swirling there as small flames leaked from the Dragons wide mouth, the fire burning and tickling her thighs as she came hard on the Dragon’s tongue. 

The Princess cried out as she sank down hard one final time onto the hilt of the dagger, grinding back and forth deep and filthy as the Dragon roared through the window, its breath hot against her ear. The Princess gasped, not realizing how close the Dragon had gotten, so lost was she in the intensity of her pleasure. The Princess whimpered, eyes clenched closed in fear, though she was desperate for the Dragon to know that it was the thought of its tongue and teeth and claws that brought her over the edge.

The Princess felt another hot gust of breath as the Dragon chuffed its amusement, and then the cold breeze from the emptied window as the Dragon flew away.

Shakily, the Princess rose. Her legs ached from the strain, and the wounds. She was in desperate need of a bath, to scrub the gore from her skin, and clean out the cuts leaking through her makeshift bandages.

The Princess glanced down at the corpse of the Knight. Her sweat and come had cleaned his face of blood. He could almost have been pretty, she mused. 

She tugged her dagger from his eye and strolled from the room, leaving the corpse to feed her friend.