Fingers plunged, first one and then two, wet and wickedly talented to pressed deep inside the girl tied upon the bed. She screamed, at first in pain as those fingers ripped with little concern through the thin membrane that at one time had protected her innocence. And then with pleasure as a wide thumb rubbed with slick finesse against her swollen clit, strumming taut nerve endings until pleasure burst through her system, seeming with no end as her body tightened and pulled at the bonds that held her bound.

The prince, a man too lazy to provide for his own pleasure, to incompetent to be left to his own devices, stirred languidly against the soft pillow upon which he rested, his body too plump to rise on its own power. He watched as the girl, her name he'd forgotten, was pleasured by his manservant, and thought of how she'd fought so valiantly in the beginning. It was almost tiring, her attempts to preserve something that held such little worth as proof of virginity for a commoner such as she, but this girl had bit and kicked in the attempt.

He yawned, barely able to cover his mouth, and glanced up as the trumpets swelled and all fell to their knees as his mother entered his chambers, her mouth pursed in displeasure as she noted that it was Glendon, his servant and not himself who was now most vigorously planting his cock into that once virgin cunt.

"My son," she exclaimed, spreading her skirts and regally dropping down to the pillow next to him, making sure that her slim, well toned body was well displayed in its drapery of satin and lace. "This must stop. You are now allowing others to debauch wenches for you instead of doing the deed yourself. How will you ever make something of yourself if you can't even plunder a village wench, and one of such beauty as that which I found for you?"

Reginald, the prince, spared his mother a glance before returning to his perusal of his servants hairy ass as it worked over the girl's writhing body. "I'm sorry mother, I did not realize that you wished me to do such drudgery myself." He patted his round, jiggling body. "Perhaps next time you could leave a detailed instruction upon what you wished for me to do." He hid the snide smile behind another yawn, this one contrived.

"The court doctors must be wrong, my son. There must be something physically wrong with you to allow yourself to fall into such a state of sloth. Look at your father, he is tall and handsome, firm of frame and stately of cock. Tis said that his cock at one time held the debauching title for all the neighboring kingdoms. Why cannot you be as he, my son? Why cannot you be wenching and drinking your way through the lands, begetting bastards to work the fields? Why must you be as you are?" The queen smoothed her hand down over her lush breasts and over her slender waist searching for the linen square of her handkerchief which her lady's maid, the only one of the three who wasn't enraptured with the sight of the studly Glendon plowing his cock into the maid, handed her one.

The queen used the small cloth to wipe at eyes that were curiously dry. "Please, my son. Tell me what your father and I can do to change this, to make you better."

Reginald glanced over at his distraught mother, noting that her sobs had sent her luscious breasts to jiggling under the thin gown. He felt a tingle in his cock, an unfamiliar feeling that had him reaching his hand to his groin to investigate. "This is strange," he murmured, though it was only to himself. But his mother, her attention attuned to her son who had become quite the embarrassment, heard.

"What is strange?" she asked quietly, moving the hankie from her face.

"It is growing," Reginald said, stroking his hand over the lump of flesh that had never seemed to show much interest in anything but sleeping contentedly against his flabby thighs.

"It is? Let me see," his mother said, pushing his hand away and rolling to her knees, flashing an indecent amount of trim shapely leg to her son.

Reginald groaned, in appreciation and in pain for his cock, so long dormant, had sprung to life, growing excruciatingly hard against the heavy fabric of his night shirt. It tented the fabric to an amazing degree, causing his mother to gasp at the display and for her lady's maids to turn from watching Glendon and gape themselves.

With a somewhat timid hand, the queen reached out, grasping the material of his night clothes with two trembling fingers and slowly pulled the fabric up until she could flip it onto his stomach and expose that which had once been nothing more than a flaccid piece of useless flesh. Now it was turgid and full, the head purple as a plum and about the same size. The shaft was long and thick, veined and red, standing almost defiantly erect from the fleshy belly of the prince.

The queen let out a shuddering sigh of appreciation, gazing with almost erotic intent upon the princely scepter. "Ohh," she said, clasping her hands under her unfettered breasts and making them jiggle more, "my son, that is wonderful."

"Oh, mother," Reginald said in the same dulcet and syrupy tones that the queen had used, "do that again. Your breasts are quite wonderful in their own rights."

He watched as her face seemed to pale as she understood what he meant, her hands creeping up to her throat as if to hold back a fear so terrible as to be spoken. "You mean," she whispered, swallowing before she could speak again. "You mean that this is my doing?"

Reginald reached down, stroking the hard staff, feeling the dripping of moisture as his own juices slipped freely from its tip. "Yes, mother. You did this to me. Now bring the royal cunt here and finish what you started." Reginald heard the words come from his mouth but couldn't believe what he was saying. He didn't speak to his mother like that, or to any woman in the castle. It was not only that he was somewhat shy, but he was also too lazy to be interested in casual conversation of any kind.

With a gasp of outrage, one of the lady's maids stepped forward. "Ma'am, please, allow me to help your son in this his time of need," she simpered, her eyes lewdly gazing at the long, thick shaft that quivered in the Prince's slowly stroking fist.

"Yes, yes, do so and quickly," the queen declared, for what Reginald wanted was beyond her to give. The royal cunt, as he'd so derogatorily described it, belonged to the king, and the king alone.

Reginald gazed at the young beauty who stepped eagerly forward, his eyes disinterestedly scanning her numerous charms, only heating when he gazed upon the luscious swells of his mother's most impressive bosom. "No, she interests me not, mother. If not you, then I shall just have to be content with watching my man debauched and pillage for me." He sighed, drawing out the sound until his mother, her hands worrying the small lace kerchief she still held, let out one of her own.

"I know not what to do," she moaned, staring around the room at the numerous servants that waited for the least of commands.

"Perhaps, mother, if you'd expose your... breasts to me, I might be able to properly fuck another," Reginald suggested, his eyes still gazing with avid lust at the tempting swells.

"Glendon," the queen commanded, waiting until the man quit his rutting a top the once virginal maid. "Untie the wench and bring her to my son, then all but you may leave us."

Glendon pulled his hard cock out of the quivering maid, his flanks straining with the urge to ignore his queen's words and continue his fucking. He'd been so close to creaming the wench that his cock twitched with the need for relief. But he reached up, faithfully untying the straining girl and pulled her from the restraints, half carry, half dragging her over to the prince.

He held her there, his cock sliding between her plump bottom cheeks, rubbing in the softness of those enticing swells as he awaited the next command.

The queen waited until all were gone, her lady's maids tittering behind their hands, and comparing notes on the size of the prince's royal scepter. When the last had left, she reached down, slowly untying the front laces of her gown before letting the royal bosom free.

Reginald sighed, his hand now furiously stroking over his cock, which had grown even more, a soft wet sound coming from his hand as a steady stream of clear liquid dripped from its straining head. He stared at the plump, firm mounds of his mother's breasts with their royal ruby colored nipples that grew taut under his gaze. "Beautiful," he whispered.

"Now fuck the girl," his mother commanded her son, her fingers itching to pull on her nipples as they had grown aroused by the lascivious gaze of Reginald and Glendon. "Help him," she commanded the stalwart servant.

Glendon pushed the poor maid to the prince, forcing her to straddle the pasty white thighs of the seated royal. With a sigh, he reached under the maid, grasping the princely scepter in his hand and pointing it into the right direction.