Sword of Anzul

The decapitated princess could only watch from her head's admittedly-comfortable perch upon a large pillow as the nude red-haired northerner meandered around the various torture devices in the massive chamber. With severe dread, she anticipated where the foreign beauty was headed, and was all too correct:

...her own naked, decapitated body, chained to a large, heavy, unnaturally-cool table.

Even worse, it seemed as if the cold woman was humming softly to herself as she approached the princess' body. As the foreigner stepped ever closer, the headless body struggled more and more, fighting against the heavy chains securing her wrist and ankle cuffs to the various points on the underside of the heavy tabletop. And, as her body fought the futile battle far across the chamber, the princess' head breathed heavily, loudly, gasping between her futile pleas for the foreign young woman to go away, to leave her headless body alone.

Yet, in the back of her mind, in the deepest recesses of logical thought, she knew that, by the best science known in this world, she should have died long ago from a severe loss of blood. Therefore, the fact that she was still alive – and especially the fact that she was not in any pain from the remarkably-clean break through her neck – was proof that her betrayer indeed held the legendary Sword of Anzul in his possession.

At last, the foreigner stood at one end of the table, between the captive woman's well-secured feet. She gently brushed a single fingertip along the sole of each foot, and the princess gasped as a chilly shudder flashed up each leg, up her torso, out to her hands, and up into her brain to seemingly make her hair stand on end for the briefest of heartbeats.

...yet that should have been logically impossible, given the great distance between her body and her head at the moment.

Slowly, like a wild tigress silently approaching her unsuspecting prey and ready to pounce for the kill, the strange northern woman climbed upon the table and settled between the captive's restrained legs. Knowing that pleading to be left alone was now futile, the princess simply cried, and gave up on trying to fight the bonds. Yet, as horrified as she was at this entire situation, the princess watched – but this time, however, it was not because magic forced her eyes to remain open.

Fear, trepidation, horror, and several hundred similar emotions flashed through the beheaded woman's bewildered mind as she watched the foreigner's mouth slowly lower to the junction of the restrained legs. Then, suddenly, inexplicably, illogically, those cool lips pressed against her, sending another chill through her body and severed head. The cool hands stroked her thighs, sending additional chills coursing throughout her beheaded being. Between her tears, the princess gasped loudly from the cold, and, despite herself, a soft plea escaped her lips.

...only to be replaced by a loud gasp of surprise and shame as a warm tongue slowly licked up the smooth, well-manicured folds. Only the betrayer's very male anatomy and (on very rare occasions) her own fingers had ever entered her here, and, instinctively, the princess knew it was only a matter of time before the tormentor slipped her tongue – or her fingers, or both – between the feminine petals.

This is so wrong!!! That single thought repeatedly flashed through the princess' mind, seemingly adding to her shame and embarrassment and humiliation. Of course, there was nothing to be done to rid herself of this woman, and the tears came rapidly, flowing like springtime waterfalls.

Then, seemingly out of the blue, her own pleasure came rapidly, redoubling her shame and embarrassment and humiliation. Between her sobs of defeat, cries of carnal joy escaped her lips as her body fell limp. And when she opened her eyes once more, she saw the northerner staring directly at her severed head, the foreigner's eyes ablaze with desire and her lips curled into an ill-intentioned grin.

Then the red-framed face descended between the spread legs once more, not rising again until well after many more waves of forced gratification had taken their collective toll upon the restrained, blushing, sweat-covered body, leaving the dejected princess spent and even further mortified.

Now, no legitimate prince shall ever want me, she sighed with a sad resignation. Her eyes closed, she continued to cry, albeit not with pleasure. She could not free herself and flee this terrible ordeal, and if magic was used upon her, she could not even control her own body unless the spellcaster wished it.

How she wished that the betrayer was the one inflicting illicit pleasure upon her royal body. At least her one intimate time with him had felt right – after all, she had been taught from a young age that as a member of royalty, these types of activities are only to be shared between a man and a woman.

"Your broth is indeed tasty, Princess," the foreigner said just loud enough to be heard at the great distance between the head and its associated body. The princess opened her eyes to see the strange woman slipping back off the table, standing, and using an arm to wipe away the copious fluids dripping from her smiling face. "Your broth would certainly be popular among the men in the garrison for their daily soup in the cold season!!!"

For just an instant, to try to tear her thoughts away from the sight before her, her mind considered how "the men in the garrison" would likely collect her "broth" for their daily soup.

That thought instantly sickened her.

"You have such a petite, beautiful mouth," the princess was told as the other woman slowly approached her disconnected head. "I like your small, thin, dainty lips, and I am positive that they could be put to very, very good use."

Thinking of what the northerner had just done to her restrained body, the illicit feast between her legs, the princess began to struggle violently again, the vilest of obscenities spewing forth from her "dainty" lips as the tears fell anew. The tormentor simply stopped for a moment, turned to look at the struggling body with admiration and desire, then returned her attention to the screaming head and continued to approach.

Once she stood before the princess' head, the foreign woman picked up the severed head, cradling it to her chest as if it were a newborn baby. The princess knew exactly what was expected of her in this situation: She was expected to suckle from the northerner like a hungry infant.

Instead, she bit the foreigner, hard, biting around the left nipple with all the force her jaw could muster.

Her efforts were met with a satisfying yelp, a barely-strangled scream of surprise, as the cool fingers curled in her hair, the fingernails scratching roughly at her scalp. The princess somehow found it within herself, within her jay, to apply even more force to the bite. She tasted blood, and felt a strong sense of triumph at the fully-unleashed scream of pain coming from above her. She felt the redhead drop quickly to her knees, yet the stranglehold on her head did not loosen, nor was there an effort to push or throw her severed head away in an effort to end the pain.

With her jaw aching, the princess released the breast from her mouth. The taste of blood both sickened and thrilled her – sickened because she had never liked the sight of blood, and thrilled because it marked her first great act of defiance against this strange woman and the betrayer.

Yet, even before she could inhale a full gulp of air, the princess found her head suddenly thrust at the foreigner's other breast. Confused by this act, she simply reacted as she had moments before: She bit the foreigner again, harder.

This time, the scream was in the foreigner's native tongue, and thus incomprehensible to the princess, but the tone of glee and joy was unmistakable... and utterly perplexing. Blood again passed between the two women, and a tear splattered against the princess' forehead. It was clear that even this act of pain-inflicting defiance was in vain, as this mysterious creature of the north seemed to actually enjoy receiving pain.

Moments later, as the door to the torture chamber suddenly burst open, the princess felt her head released, then falling, and there was nothing she could do to protect herself. The impact with the stone floor was violent, jarring the princess' mind and causing her vision to be filled with bright white sparks as the pain of the unwanted contact flashed through her head with the swiftness of a lightning strike.

Once her head came to a standstill, the princess looked up in a spark-filled daze to see the betrayer's woman stand on shaky legs and turn to face the oncoming guards. Her breasts were visibly bloodied, and as she and the guards conversed in yet another language, the princess realized that the same blood also coated her "dainty" lips. That realization caused her to faint, just as one of the guards approached her and bent down to pick up her severed head.