Princess' Passion

Suddenly, Bull's poise changed, and he took her by the waste. He laid himself over on his side, upon the damp soil, pulling her over as well. His powerful hand took hold of her thigh, and raised her leg up high, painfully high; and with her on her side, leg raised to keep open access to her sweet, beautiful sheath, the ogre shoved himself into her again, again. She could barely hear from the pounded of the blood through her body, but just within her audition she made out the gruff tone of one ogre to the other, "come here, now, she's yet more to be filled!"

Feeling the second hideous brute nestling up behind her, she felt wicked even thinking it, but she knew now what Bull had meant—"yet more to be filled." Frantic, she regained some of her power, and tore at the silent, steadfast Troll's hands. Throwing her weight into her hips she bucked at them, flinging her legs this way and that. Furious that her virginity had been stolen, she would not, could not let them perform such another outrage, to bugger her! Wildly flailing, she connected several times, but other than a slight grunt, she won nothing from her defense but a few sharp slaps across her body. Once more she could do nothing more than submit to sobs, and let them defile her as they willed.

Bull kept himself burried hilt deep within her body, bruising her tender flesh with his over powerful prods. She huddled forward against his massive chest, from the sickening abuse aimed at her little channel, forced to hold herself against the monster and grit her teeth. Behind her, the Rat was to prove mercifully smaller in girth and length than his fellow ogre, as he cuddled up to her and slid himself, none too kindly, up her rear. Her smooth, dry entry was so very sensitive to him, as he pushed himself within. Tightly and uncompromising, she fought against the invasion subconsciously, as her rear portal constricted around his flesh. She knew that her struggle against them would only earn her more pain, but she could not give in, could not be an ogre's whore.

Her mouth, her soft sex, all of her was dry and exhausted; she could not fight any longer nor could her body resist. As she felt her hair tangled into the Rat's fist, and yanked hard as he thunderously impaled her, she shook prone, stretched to her capacity. With one final, futile but protesting shriek, she slumped languid. Her beautiful eyes rolled back and hid, her mouth laid open lipped, and in consequence found itself filled and probed by the rough, forked tongue of Bull—upon the moist, cold and dark floor of the ancient forest, between two panting, frothing ogres, the young Ilyati, princess and adventurer, found the end of her day's exploratory voyage. There on that cold, hard bed, copulating with two beasts of unknown pedigree and nationality, she gave herself up and lost consciousness. . .