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The Trials of Lady Vicarious
I am Lady Vicarious and this is the tale of my corruption.
I have served milady, the Princess Oralia, since the dawn of my own womanhood. We are separated by only a handful of years. My mother, Lady Tedium, had served before me, and I observed her ministrations closely so as not to displease the beautiful princess.
Our association began with a closeness far beyond that of many dear friends. When the princess was irritable, I would massage her massive breasts until she heaved such a sigh of relief that she immediately required sleep. To my surprise, she would sometimes sneak up behind me while I performed some mundane household task and caress my own breasts until my knees wobbled and I could work no longer. I ask You - - how man princesses do you know who fondle the bosoms of their servants? She was a pearl amid a sea of common pebbles.
I did her bidding without complaint or questions. So, when she asked me to lure Lothar the Viscous to her palace in Orgiastica, I did not balk. Instead, I listened closely to her intstructions.
“Samspaden sends word that Lothar the Viscous and his tribe have camped on the outskirts of the kingdom,” she said with great seriousness as she lay topless on her plushly upholstered bed. Filmy chiffon veils covered her long, luscious legs.
“Does milady fear an invasion?” I queried.
“Perhaps,” she caught my eye, and her brilliant blue irises flashed like icy shards. I knew she was thinking hard.
“Will we send troops to crush them?”
“No, not just yet. I have heard much about this barbaric tribe, none of it good. Lothar in particular is known for his incessant cum spewing. His foes say that his member is so large and constantly erect that he wields it like an iron club, smiting his enemies with blows so wet and sloppy that death by drowning is not uncommon. “ Princess Oralia reached between her thighs and fingered herself absently. It was an adorable habit that she’d had since puberty. Sometimes I would do it for her if she needed her hands free for other activities.
I was aghast at this Lothar and his unorthodox combat methods. And so, as the princess continued, my awe did not abate.
“I do not wish to have my troops blinded or battered by Lothar the Viscous. Rather than fight him, I believe we must capture him and lock him up where he can be a threat to no one but himself. I wonder if he will speak without provocation?” Her hand moved faster and I heard her juices squish about her fingers. Her eyes took on a distant look.
“We shall surprise him with courtesy,” Princess Oralia purred, grinning broadly at me. “I need you to travel to his camp and invite him to Orgiastica on my behalf. Tell him I wish to entertain him and whatever entourage he requires. Emphasize that you come in peace.” She brought her fingers to her mouth now, licking them with satisfied decisiveness.
I confess to some trepidation, I had never seen a male member, let alone one that oozed and smote unsuspecting persons. Never would I reveal my fear to milady, however.
“Shall I alert any of milady’s subjects of this imminent journey?” I inquired, secretly and desperately hoping to learn that a battalion would accompany me.
“Certainly not,” Princess Oralia replied. “You are to appear by yourself, without the implied support that my troops would convey. Lothar must see that my offer is genuine. You will travel alone. Go now and return him to me by nightfall next.”
I had never been so frightened in my young life. The princess helped me dress, insisting that the fabric around my nipples be removed so that they would point plaintively at Lothar when I extend the invitation. I set out on my journey, trembling inwardly, my hard pink nipples leading the way.
Fortunately, the kingdom is small enough to be traversed in less than a day, and so I arrived at the barbarian encampment just before sunset.
Several barbarians shouted and applauded at my entrance, all of them replacing spears in their hands with firm, throbbing penises. I grasped the reins of my horse more tightly so I wouldn’t slide off the animal. I said nothing as I watched hordes of them beat off in oddly syncopated rhythms. I rode toward the largest tent, assuming Lothar would be ensconced there.
As I approached, a mighty roar resounded through the wood, and I instinctively knew I’d found the infamous Lothar. A thin stream of thick viscous fluid flowed by me as confirmation. My horse stepped around it, as if out of respect.
And yet, I was not prepared for the immense specter of a man I encountered. With his guard tied to a tree some yards away, the massive barbarian gripped his pulsing member with both hands, flinging it wildly about and milking an endless rope of come from it’s bulbous head. The guard dripped with the gooey consequences of Lothar’s actions.
In my compromised travel attire, I had not a shield to hold before me to protect myself from Lothar the Viscous. He sprayed me quite soundly even before he realized I was there. Upon noticing my existence, he paused to drool at my exposed nipples. By now, the entire camp had collected around us, eager for a show.
“Big buxom beauty!” He bellowed, aiming his member at me. “Dismount and be skewered!”
I sat frozen, unable to fathom what orifice of mine could possibly accommodate this enormous manpiece. As I considered my prospects, my saddle absorbed the abundant moisture soaking through my skirt. I tried to remember my mission.
“Forgive the intrusion, kind sir. My name is Lady Vicarious and I come in peace. As you can see, I travel alone and mean no harm. Am I addressing the great Lothar the Viscous?”
He spewed a goblet’s worth of his seed at me and winked. I decided against wiping it from my face and hair.
“I am he! What do you want with me if not to enjoy my viscosity?”
“I come with an invitation from Princess Oralia, ruler of Orgiastica. She wishes to entertain you and whatever entourage you desire at her castle tomorrow evening. I am to be your escort.”
“Not before I and my men suck those ample teats of yours, Lady Vicarious!”
I cannot say how many barbarians descended upon me. I was removed from my horse, and my bodice was torn open. My breasts popped out at the crowd like ripe, round fruit. Though each of my breasts is the size of a human head, so many tongues covered them that my mounds disappeared from my view. I had not expected such intense pleasure from this experience, but in minutes I heard myself shouting such indecencies as “Suck me!” and “Impale me now!”
It is my belief that my corruption began at this moment.
They tore the remainder of my clothes from my body before they impaled me on the helpless guard. Oh, the divine cleaving of my swollen maidenhead! I nearly swooned as they raised and lowered me on his manhood. So many times did they slide the fleshy rod into me that I lost consciousness.
When I awoke, I, too, was tied to the tree. The guard, still tied, snored loudly. His manhood, still hard, had been stuffed inside me, and my insides still gripped it tightly. Lothar stood nearby, obviously waiting for me to become conscious again. He cocked his head at me.
“Does Princess Oralia boast breasts like your own?”
“Of course. Such breasts are a requisite of citizenship in Orgiastica.”
“Untie the wench!” He commanded his troops. “We’re going to pay a visit to the princess.”
They rode behind me in relative silence. Lothar directed his viscous emissions at the scenery, rather that at me, for which I was grateful. My clothes, ripped and destroyed beyond recognition, did little to shelter me from the forest air.
Lothar asked only one other barbarian to join him - - his guard. I interpreted this act as a demonstration of trust and good faith on his part. I was proud of my princess for her sophisticated and successful strategy. I did wonder, though, how she planned to restrain and capture the moist and mighty Lothar.
Princess Oralia is renowned for her beauty so it was no surprise when Lothar erupted in particularly vehement spurts upon meeting her. She exuded terror and shielded her face from his sticky onslaught.
“Please sir! I have invited you here in peace. Be mindful that it is only I and my lady – in – waiting, two helpless women unable to defend ourselves against your brute strength and force. I beg of you to restrain your come-spewing!”
I had never seen the princess plead. She must have been truly frightened by the immense barbarian.
He leered at the princess and walked toward her. The guard swiftly grasped the fabric at her luscious cleavage and yanked downward, ripping her lovely gown open. Though she blushed, her eyes flashed in what I could only imagine was challenge. I knew the princess did not like to lose, yet she did not scream or struggle.
“I am appalled by your behavior, sir! If it continues, I shall have to ask you to leave.”
He drew closer, sliding his slippery anatomical club in between her heaving breasts and squeezing them together. His fluid coated her chest in minutes as he held her gaze.
“Nice to meet you, Princess Oralia,” he drawled as globs of come fell from her big globes to the floor. “So, where’s the entertainment you lady – in – waiting promised?”
The princess turned her head to speak, for the tip of the barbarian’s member threatened to impair her speech.
“I thought we would begin with a fine feast of mutton and mead,” she began with uncharacteristic shyness.
He squirted a stripe across her face. “Ha! The only feast I want is you eating my mighty cock!” he thundered.
Retreating to a nearby chair, he pulled her by her big erect nipples. The guard reached under her skirts and appeared to hold her ass in his palms. The princess did not protest. Instantly, she sat at his feet and buried her pretty face in his bulging, sticky crotch. She licked him noisily, lapping at his semen as if it were a tasty meal.
“Guard! Make Lady Vicarious eat you, too!” Lothar commanded.
And so I soon found myself sucking off the man who’d robbed me of my virginity the night before. I did not even know his name.
I glanced over at milady for guidance, for it was clear that she was of no small experience n the art of cocksucking. Lothar’s wet enthusiasm matted her hair and coated her face and neck, yet she was not deterred. She ate him with gusto, which only increased his gooey flow. I tried my best to emulate her and was secretly grateful that the guard did not ejaculate as profusely as his leader.
“Stand, Princess!”
She obeyed.
“Bend over and show me the flower buried between your cheeks!”
“No! Oh, no, sir! You do me wrong beyond measure! I am pure and chaste and unaccustomed to displaying myself so wantonly.”
Nevertheless, she turned and showed him that which he had requested. The guard instructed me likewise.
As Lothar’s seething manhood explored the sopping recesses of the princess. I felt the shame of wetness between my legs. The guard’s manliness spread that wetness all around my engorged private parts.
Lothar rammed his princess with a mighty thrust that nearly upset her balance. She bit her lip as her eyes rolled upward.
“No Lothar! Stop! I beg you!” She gasped, pushing her royal arse toward him. She reached between her legs to stroke her thick folds. When I followed her lead, I discovered the wonderful wisdom of such a move. Between the guard’s forceful slams and my busy fingers at my swollen bud, some kind of explosion took place within me. The room spun, I heard myself shouting, and the walls of my inner canal clutched at the guard’s meaty rod until I collapsed, barely aware of my surroundings.
The guard let go of himself and sprayed me in erratic outbursts that, in my dreamlike state, felt like caresses.
“No, no! You mustn’t!” advised Princess Oralia as Lothar slowly inserted himself up her other, tighter channel. When he began to pound her, she dropped to her knees.
“Stop this instant!” she wailed, now moving her hand to his enormous sack. He slid off the chair and sat on his ankles. He lifted the princess to his lap and bounced her there as he grabbed her great bobbing breasts.
The princess squealed and in my stupor I wondered if she felt pain or pleasure. She threw her arms over her head and wrapped them around his neck. Still he stuffed himself into her with great force.
And then it happened.
A shower of viscous fluid rained down on all of us. I could not see through it. The force of it created great splattering everywhere. The guard held my face down so I could continue to breathe. The storm lasted several minutes. When at last it stopped, I found myself in a veritable pool. Lothar sat slumped against the wall. His manhood, still erect and enormous, oozed nothing. His eyes were closed.
Princess Oralia crawled through the muck to grab my arm, dragging me across the room to the door. When at last we reached it, she stood to pull the lever near the threshold. I watched as the two men, spent and vulnerable, drop through the massive trap doors and disappeared into the dungeon below.
As the days passed and the princess spent more and more time in the dungeon, I asked why we did not punish the barbarians. Or starve them to death.
“It is up to us to sap them of their strength,” the princess explained.
“We must milk the mighty Lothar of all power and end the loathsome come-spewing once and for all. It is the only way we can keep the kingdom safe.”
I must confess, dear reader, that I doubted the veracity of milady’s intentions. Having experienced the sublime pleasure of being deflowered, I knew any woman would seek repeat performances.
Though I had been corrupted, never would I be guilty of insurgence or insubordination. And so I assisted milady by milking the guard of his strength, sometimes several times a day.
I believe we have much work ahead of us.
