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NON CONSENT STORIES

The Princess And The Unihorn

The Princess And The Unihorn

by sanzas
19 min read
4.49 (11300 views)
adultfiction

The Unicorn Princess

A fantasy story set in the world of Dunnis Urrom.

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Dasia encountered The Unicorn on her 21st birthday. It was a warm summer day in the green hills within the Key Cities and she was enjoying a glorious afternoon of being unsupervised. Her "wicked" governess, Brinia had been given the day off and she ought to have been sent to the Riding Mistress for Equestrian lessons--but she'd pre-arranged to have those tomorrow. As it turned out, for several brief hours she was outside the keep walls and away from the tyranny of her parents, governess, and teachers!

She was wearing a gown and a fine chemise under it. Beneath that was the evil ever-present belt her mother kept her locked in when she was going to be doing things beyond the keep walls. She wasn't supposed to be out unsupervised, but her mother had locked her in the wretched thing that morning, as she'd gone out to the township to enjoy her birthday with the townsfolk.

She was only a minor princess--not in line for any thrones or likely to be wed to some Powerful Island Merchant Prince or Desert Warlord to secure political power. No, she would likely be arranged by the Council of Mothers to some man who was of a properly high station. At her age--starting today at 21, the courting would begin and the wicked rule of the belt would ensure that she was properly motivated to appeal to the men (likely) or woman (humiliatingly possible) that was being tried with her to see if the Matchmakers approved.

For her birthday celebration, she had wanted a town spectacle of disciplining peasants and she had traveled with her mother and cousin out to the town square where a grand table was set out for them and she had enjoyed light wines and delicious pastries out on a raised platform where the commoners and the merchants had toasted her health and beauty--and her proper oversight and purity.

Three boys, one rotund and fat, had been stripped of body hair and placed out with muzzrepedes in their anuses, their buzzing bodies and artful legs stroking their prostates ruthlessly keeping them erect. Their erect cocks were locked into penis-pillories and they were forced to stand nude on the platform, their hands bound behind their backs.

She was impressed at their control not to bawl: she was certain she would have been waling had she been brought out in a similar state. The school mistress had been selected to deliver the strokes with a soft whip--and then they had yelped and gasped--until each of them had succumbed to the twin pulls of the lash and the bug--and through the round hole in the post, spat a single white spurt of cum: Their orgasm ruined expertly by the skilful school mistress.

Dasia had requested that their bottoms be rubbed with Isenberry juice which would cause the pink lines to viciously itch for a day or more! She was delighted by their miseries.

Two girls caught in unchaperoned embrace were marched out to the stage Dasia had thrilled to the spectacle of their naked bodies stretched on X-racks, being "painted" with a boiled sap that stuck fast and hardened into a glossy sheen. It caused a minor irritation of the skin and, having it applied all over their nude bodies, hot from the cauldron caused them to give delightful shrieks as the mop like implement, dripping with honey-like gleaming fluid was pushed up into vaginas, between anal clefts, and rubbed sensuously over breasts and bellies.

Then they were placed in a set of "Lovers Stocks" where each girl was spread and her nose pointed at her friend's vulva, the friend's nose against her vulva. Sticky and wretched with the drying sap, itching and dirty (for all the dust and dirt and anything in the air clung to the two bodies--and where they touched each other, they fairly stuck. The Lovers Stocks would flip once per bell to give the girl on top a chance to return any "favors" she had done to her during her time on the bottom (pertaining to any bathroom needs, most likely). The wretched coating of drying sap would be miserable for days and Dasia had thrilled to the expert caning the school marm had delivered.

She was thrilled by several individual gifts that had been sent by relatives from the Key Cities themselves. A clockwork "diaper" that the chosen girl wore, and when sent running, used some kind of internal snapping mechanism to deliver spanks to her sex and bottoms while playing a delightful little tune.

A Nixie in a cage fixed with an Art so that the small female form with butterfly wings and a wasps' stinger could only target subjects through a circular glass lens that could be rotated up or down. A boy in tight leather riding breeches was brought out and she watched with glee as the sulky looking nixie snapped her fingers and twitched her stinger and he gasped and moaned, trying in desperation to get the tight leather breeches off or his hands into the crevice of his anus. She had heard the nasty little Unclean could deliver an honestly Unbearable Itch to various delicate places--knights had removed armor in a panic to get at their sexual crevices.

It certainly looked unbearable! The boy moaned and she clapped, thrilled to see the pick-pocket boy struggle hilariously with the hard to remove leather pants. The nixie seemed to be slightly happier as she let a few more of the bursts fly, causing the boy to wail--unwilling to even try to crawl to privacy, as his hands flew to different areas at his region.

In the end, she giggled as he lay, moaning, legs spread in submission as the nixie tried to decide whether or not to give him another burst.

She had been soaking her panties at the artful use of a set of vulval paddles gifted to her on a trio of female prostitutes convicted of illicit improper prostitution. They were placed on padded creates, legs held spread in a wide V, their sexes pointed at the stage. The girls had cried out--yelping and struggling as, again, the school marm used the set of floggers on the girl's tender mounds, declaring that the pink-leather implements were exquisite! Soft enough to be used well on the tender skin, but made with subtle arts to ensure that the girls would not be using that part of their anatomy for much in the next few days!

It had been a wonderful birthday!

Now, having ducked her Equestrian teacher and exploiting the as-yet-undetected hole in her schedule, she had slipped away to go out past the keep orchard, over the small ancient wall, and under a willow tree, where she waited. If her message had not been intercepted, or simply not delivered, then there would--yes! There! The commoner-boy Lars, the Apprentice Locksmith, emerged from the nearby tree-line, looking pale and shaky. He was cute--and he was skilled--or so she'd heard.

He looked like he might faint. He came before her and knelt, lowering his head. She giggled and mussed his hair.

"Stand up, boy," she ordered him. He got up slowly, like it might be a trick. His eyes darted to the orchard behind her--if she had brought people with her, they might be laying in wait. He swallowed. She was beautiful, and he had stood in the crowd, watching her through the parade of discipline. She wondered if he, like many of the commoners, had been stiff in his pants.

This next bit was going to be awkward though.

"Did you bring it?" she demanded.

The boy produces a wooden box and opened it: a master set of lock picks. She stared, then: "Take off all your clothes--every stitch!"

Where he had been pale before he went red.

She moved her hands to her hips. "That's an order, commoner apprentice. I want to see you nude right now! And if you have any hair at all," she gestured from his neck to his feet. "I'm going to be beastly with you!"

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She could have him punished with only her word. Her mother or father might object later--her governess would punish her if she was caught out--but she could do it--and he knew it. Shaking, and red faced, he began to strip. He got his vest and tunic off and his boots--but then he stopped.

"Mistress," he said hushed, "I can't."

"You can and will," she declared.

"I CAN'T!" His words were pleading.

"Because I'll see your little erection at being forced obedient?" Her voice taunted. "Show me--and it better be stiff!"

He moaned.

"You can do it now--or you can do it with a sore bottom in a moment," she said, repeating one of her governess' least favorite lines.

Miserably he undid his trousers. He wasn't wearing underwear and his erect penis popped out and he moved to cover himself.

"No!" she snapped. "That's a punishment! Hands behind your back!"

He moaned and moved his hands to the small of his back. His cock was frustratingly erect. He wanted to hide or cry--maybe both. She stared at him, looking him over carefully. His buttocks were a little thin--she would've liked them a touch larger so they would jiggle more when she slapped them.

He did a good job of standing still as ordered, his eyes downcast. His humiliation was sweet--but she would enjoy him later--for now, there were things she needed. With a short pause to gather herself, she raised her dress and then struggled out of it, leaving only the silk chemise... and the belt. She hung the dress from a tree limb and then got down to business.

"You'll do this on your knees," she ordered him. "And I'm going to spank you! Hard! And that's IF you're perfectly respectful and DON'T stare." She wasn't sure how he would pick the lock on the belt without 'staring'--but that was for him to figure out.

Could she have him cut a switch for her use? She knew that was something commoners had their apprentices do. But he didn't seem to have anything to cut one with. Hmmph. She ought to have brought an implement. Certainly one of her new vulva-paddles would work on a boy like him? No? Next time she'd bring a whole set!

He obediently got down and she, with reluctance, lifted the chemise so he had access to her belt.

It was a handsome piece. It was done with arts to make it suitable for long-term wear. It had several joints around her hips, a shield in front with a small grid of holes for pee. The front shield was etched with the coat of arms of her family. From the base of her sex, it became a thin, smooth curve that then tucked up between her buttocks (so that her governess could easily spank her with none of the target area being armored). There were two locks--one in front, one in back. She hoped there wasn't an unknown Art involved or she was going to be very, very sorry.

The boy worked at it. When the key was used, she felt a quiver of the mechanism and springs on her clitoris. She felt that again--oh! Then it sprang off. He gaped, apparently surprised he had successfully picked the belt at all. Then he stared directly at her hairless vulva. Her mother didn't allow her any body hair the same as he was disallowed. She waited a beat--two beats--hmmph.

"Someone's staring," she said warningly. He looked down.

"Oh! Mistress, I'm sorry!" She had read a great deal about punishing boys---but with Lars, it appears he was so shaken to be reprimanded, she hardly had to. He'd be fun to spank though. She was going to get to that--however, first things first: The idea of having sex with Lars was tempting--but she didn't think he'd last long.

No, her plan had been to masturbate in the most luxurious way she could imagine. If he was obedient, he could use his tongue on her anus. It was humiliating--but she thought it would be worse for him than for her! At least she hoped it would be. She was trying to imagine how to set things up when she saw it.

It was a Unihorn. Well, sort of.

It was a white pony--pure white with a beautiful mane that had a mother-of-pearl horn coming from its forehead to a point. It had what looked to her like an over-sized set of equine buttocks, and it looked at her--piercingly, with beautiful blue eyes and long, curled and thick lashes. Its eyes made it look female--but she found she was unsure, looking at the pint-sized Unihorn less than a hundred yards away, having just looked up from eating grass.

She didn't move--then she let the chemise drop down and the boy startled and looked up, fearful of her wrath--but then he followed her eyes to the Unihorn.

"Uh," he said an unintelligent sound of shock. Then: "Is t-that a--"

"Yes," she whispered. She didn't think yelling at it could scare it off--but she whispered anyway. Its blue eyes scrutinized her. "It's a Unihorn."

"I thought it'd be bigger," he said.

She almost told him it was a stupid thing to say but then caught herself: She too thought a Unihorn would be bigger--the size of a great mare or stallion. This was a pony--a small one at that. Not miniature--but still.

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She nodded. She was glad the chemise covered her.

Unihorns, she had been taught, were theoretical beings--either Unclean or Sattvan. She couldn't remember. They were either legendary or just exceedingly rare--or maybe extinct? In any event, if this was a very small Unihorn and not something else, it was rare--rare and beautiful, she thought--and it was her birthday.

Of course if it was an unclean... then it was dangerous and could--well, something. Norum Toads, larger than a horse, were known to catch people on their sticky tongues and suck them into their massive mouths where the unfortunate would be housed in the bulbous stomach, subjected to the various intense disciplines of the Toad until it shat them out somewhere poorly able to walk and hopefully wiser.

Lars covered himself, which irritated Dasia--but she supposed she understood: the piercing gaze of the Unihorn was unsettling. Even in her chemise she felt bare before it and nervously pulled down at the hem.

"Princess," Lars whispered, "should we run?"

She almost said yes--but then another thought struck her.

"Go out and present yourself to the Unihorn," she ordered. "Let her--erm--him--whichever--see your naughty erection. Go!" She smacked him on the buttocks.

He looked at her, eyes wide--was she really going to do this to him? Send him to the beast standing out there watching them? She spanked him again, liking the feel of it. She only had handmaidens and she found she enjoyed the experience of spanking a boy! She would have to arrange regular sessions!

"Hands behind your back--don't cover your bottom, and walk up. Give it a bow and stand with your feet apart," she ordered, more confident now that he would obey. She was a princess, after all. He started out through the grass with clear trepidation, but she was pleased he did not move his hands to mask the crack between his cheeks. She could see a faint pinkness where she'd spanked him.

The Unihorn paid little attention to him as he approached. She was sure his erection was still raging and his face was still broiling! He was 30 feet away--twenty--ten. He brought himself up and bowed low. She caught a quiver.

The Unihorn tossed its glorious mane which seemed to light in the sun with highlights of violet, and swung its head to him as though annoyed at his affront in approaching it. He stiffened, and then it blinked. Princess Dasia did not catch what exactly happened, but Lars dropped to his knees, thighs spread, and head bowed. He remained there as it swung its head back to her.

She met its gaze. It was a mistake. It blinked and she suddenly did what she had to--the mental command brooked no resistance. She dropped to all fours and began to crawl through the grass, sliding her bottom back and forth as she went. It allowed contortions of her face, and she blushed and grimaced and tried her best to break its hold--but it was to no avail. She could clench her bottom and vagina--but her arms and legs moved placidly along, in the humiliating, demeaning crawl. Her chemise had ridden up and her rear was now exposed in the sun--the horrible vulnerability of nudity and the ravages of modesty held her as she came up alongside Lars.

She caught a look from him: he had met its eyes and was under the same spell. It bayed her kneel in the same fashion and she did, crossing her arms to draw her chemise over her head and letting it fall. Now she was as nude as the common boy. There was little about her that marked her as a princess.

It didn't allow her to meet its eyes again--but instead, while it had beautiful eyes and long lashes, it had what could only be described as an equine cock. It held her vision on the frighteningly large member. Staring at is cock, her right hand moved to her clitoris and began to delicately trace small circles around her nub. Ugh!

She thought there was a crack in its control--a potential to fight it--to retain some measure of autonomy--but the sensation of pleasure competed with her, and the option drifted away. It stalked around them, moving behind the two. She could see Lars pumping his erection, face a radiant red. She managed a moan, and then a snarling growl when it made her stop.

It stood behind her, and she could feel its control--firm and absolute. Lars went forward on all fours and whimpered.

"Princess," the voice came from inside her head--male, cultured, crisp and authoritative. "You ought to know better than to be out of your belt." Its tone was arch. She swallowed. Her hand moved to gently curve over her sex. She blushed, knowing that this sort of covering herself was prohibited if she were nude and in the presence of a superior! It was making her do it, as if she were acting out her misbehavior.

"No, sir," she swallowed. "I had permission--for my birthday," she said. She knew as soon as she'd said it, it was a mistake.

"Permission," it chuckled in her mind, "from the locksmith's apprentice?"

She squirmed in its mental grip. It walked forward, its stomach brushing over Lar's back. She heard the boy gasp--and then cry out, the discomfort forcing the cry past his lips.

Ohhh! Dasia realized it was taking him! His body moved slightly as the Unihorn mounted him. She could only imagine its massive equine cock sliding between his buttocks. He moaned--a mix of pleasure and pain--certainly massive discomfort and violation. She couldn't see past his shoulders--she couldn't turn her head that far--but she could see the mask of horror and discomfort on his face--humiliation--violation. She was shocked and gratified to be allowed--to be able--to gently circle her clit with the tip of her finger--ohh.

It did not stop quickly--he gasped and whimpered and made sounds like a woman as it continued its rhythmic thrusts. His anus must be stretched wider than her fist! She had seen entries in one of the old punishment books of boys and girls so thoroughly taken that they were incontinent. It had to be happening to him! Her clit felt marble-hard under her finger. Oh! His little defeated cries were a wonderful birthday present! His domination under the Unihorn, his gasping defeat by pleasure, and his humiliation and discomfort caused by the stretching of his most private space. Mortifying. Electrifying. It froze her finger careless of her closeness to orgasm and continued to take him.

"Uh! Uh! Ohh!" He made little noises as it relentlessly fucked him. She wondered how deep that cock drove into him--how wide his buttocks spread. She wanted to touch herself again: no, her finger didn't budge. There didn't seem to even be a way to try to move it. She felt the urge to squirm and it allowed her to do that--to shift her bottom, biting her lower lip in distress.

"I'M FRUSTRATED!" she thought with all her might. Surely it must know!

"Good, Princess," said the Unihorn in her mind. "We are beginning to get started!"

"Started!?" She was surprised. The taking was still going on and she was more than ready to burst! She could try for another once the first was taken care of. "Release my hand!" She demanded.

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