Dragon Princess Liberated

Forja had not yet broken, had not yet yielded, clinging to hope with all of her strength, and she would continue to do so, to hold onto her final hope even by her teeth if she had to, until she was gone from the world.

Such was the tenacity of a dragon, no, beyond even that, the tenacity of a woman who refused to allow a single elf's machinations to destroy her. However, she had long since learned the virtue of patience, and how to swallow her temper. Her treatment was better if she pretended to be meek and demure, and she was hardly too proud to pretend submission.

King Borick entered her prison cell looking high, mighty and smug. "It's time," he said. "You're gonna get to breathe clean air and see the sun, isn't that fantastic?"

Forja spat on the ground. "Pity, I was starting to get accustomed to this dank and dark prison."

"The fact that you're still willful will make your final submission all the sweeter," he said, giving her a grin. Behind him, a procession of people in thick, white and body concealing robes entered the cell, quickly circling her. Several of them held staves, some held wands, and two carried incredibly heavy looking chains attached to manacles. 

Four she counted. First, however, the people carrying staves raised them, and the gems set upon the tip of their gnarled wood weapons quickly began to shine uncomfortably bright, as they muttered something in an arcane language that didn't bode well for Forja.

Her body felt light, for a moment, and then felt no more - she was numb, paralyzed, utterly and completely. She couldn't even protest, even her mouth and throat had been made stiff. She could not even breathe, and just glared impotently at the King, who watched with a vague smirk on his face.

As she was paralyzed, the wand carrying spell casters wove their own spells into the air, intrincate symbols drawn with glowing energy, and then she felt cold race through her body. Her wings folded by force, and she felt piercing pain as they retracted into her body. It felt like she was being frozen over, her back covered by glowing symbols as the spell was put into place, forcibly altering her form.

Her tail was next, and she felt her spine twist, uncomfortable contracting, shrunken down to a fraction of its true, magnificent width and length. She glared at the King, who grinned.

"Can't have that in the way," he said, showing her his teeth. "When I gift you with the glory of being the King's bride."

She could not respond, but he clearly didn't care.

"Are we done?" the King asked.

"Almost, Your Majesty," the man with the most decorated robes of the lot, with golden trim around the hood and a religious symbol dangling from his neck, spoke, as he approached Forja, touching his hand to the ground. 

Almost like flowing water, the chains warped, moved, and broke - releasing Forja from their draining hold for the first time in what felt like an eternal nightmare.

Yet it was not to be, as she could not even feel the brief respite of freedom, quickly replaced by  the biting cold of even stronger bonds. The numbness went away almost as soon as the chains were snapped into place on each of her limbs, her ankles and her wrists feeling unbelievably heavy. Despite the potential freedom in being able to move around, she felt more restrained than ever.

She tried to move a little, but found she couldn't really do much, the chains kept her hands firmly behind her back, as they had twisted her, and connected her ankles to her wrists very tightly, the chain pulled taut only allowing her short, halting steps.

Without her wings, she could not even fly, and with her tail shrunken to uselessness, her balance was more than a bit shot.

"She is ready, Your Majesty, the spells are cast, she is prepared to receive your glorious royal seed!" the priest said, saluting his king with his fist against his chest.

The king grinned. "Excellent. Take her to the ritual site then!"

Forja was kicked from behind by  one of the other men in robes. "Move, beast!" the rough voice of a woman growled, fierce and angry. 

Forja was forced to get acquainted with her bonds very quickly, as she was taken from her dank and uncomfortable cell through the tunnels that would lead her, for the first time in so long, towards the open. As she was moved through the tunnels, guided from behind by increasing physical violence, she could only think towards the future, could only focus on the final hope she had to cling to.

The sun's rays burned her skin, the crips air felt like it was icicle shards tearing down her throat, and shredding her lungs. She breathed her first clean gulp of air, and it tasted of freedom, as she exited the catacombs she had been locked into and was taken through the castle's courtyard, towards the temple that sat at the tip of the mountain the castle was built against. She barely even remembered the shape of the castle, so little attention she had paid, but mountains almost made her feel nostalgic for home.

Forja was kicked, a heavy boot leaving an impression of dirt on the small of her back, where her wings should have been, and roughly, they commanded for her to continue walking, as she followed the white robed individuals up the mountain trail, her feet feeling like she walked on enchanted steel with every step, digging at her, reminding her of the weakness she had been reduced to.

Her muscles burned by the time they made it up the spiral path into the temple set at the peak of the mountain, a rather ostentatious building, clearly the seat for the kingdom's religious leaders. It was a massive structure and one that was decorated and befit even for Draconic Royalty. 

Most importantly, however-  it was clearly  set up to create a mocking facsimile of a wedding venue. Flowers, white cloths, golden statues, and enchanted ice sculptures dominated the entrance, and she was taken through the mocking and insulting elven nobility, as each of them took a moment to lord their perceived superiority.

She was led past all of the merry guests enjoying themselves at her expense, and towards a large, rotund elf, standing behind a stone slab. The rotund elf was dressed in extremely ornate white robes, held a golden scepter set with a gigantic ruby at its tip, and had a large white hat trimmed with golden decorations.

He was, no doubt, the country's religious head.

King Borick approached, as well, dressed in neither the usual practical outfit he wore as her torturer, or the ornate robes of a king. Instead, he wore a cloak over a ruffled shirt, and simple pants, all in purple, with gold buttons. 

"Ah, high priest, so glad you could find the time to attend the ceremony!" King Borick said, smiling widely.

"Yes..." the High Priest said, his voice feeling like pure grease poured through Forja's ear.

"Come on, men - set the bride at the altar, put her in her place!" the King said, and many laughed at his order.

Forja was forcibly pushed onto the slab, and it seemed like each of her chains split, then, and attached themselves seamlessly to the slab, pulling her into place, naked, legs spread, unable to move anything but her neck. She glared defiantly at the King, then.

"I'm going to enjoy turning you into my obedient pet wife," the King said, baring his teeth at her.

"I will show you your place, lower life form..!" she hissed at the King.

The high priest cleared his throat. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of our esteemed Lord and King, the noble King Borick the Fifth, Ruler of all Elvendom," he intoned. 

Forja thought, then, of biting her tongue to end her torment, but she was patient. She was ready. She would endure. She would not break.

"Our gracious king has chosen to take this Dragon as his bride, and through the blessings of our Gods and in particular the Great Sun God, Father of the Elves, we may yet see this dangerous beast tamed, and turned into a force of good, a force of defense, for our fair nation!"

Good?

It would make her laugh if she wasn't furious! They were evil, monsters even!

The high priest began to chant in the tongue of the gods, and the spell began to take shape. Divine works always took time, and Forja could barely open her eyes, as the light was growing more intense, emanating not just from the sun high above, but also the high priest's staff, searing her eyes, and even burning her flesh, or at least feeling like it.

She felt the magic digging into her, carving pathways through her body, she felt it settle, prime, as if it was a coil, wound up around her womb. This was it. This was the moment of truth. Forja shut her eyes, screwed them shut, and clenched her jaw as hard as she could.

"Now, your majesty, consumate your marriage, bless this creature with your child, and redeem her as a bride of an elven King!" the High priest shouted, winded from just the speech alone.

Forja felt the king lean over her. The man clearly had no shame, disrobing before his people. She didn't think he would, but she was almost hoping that he would have performance anxiety. Elves, it seemed, were no stranger to this sort of disgusting spectacle.

The King had managed to climb on top of the slab, and now wearing nothing, he exposed his form with great arrogance. He was hard. Terribly so. His cock was an almost angry red color, and it seemed to be throbbing, pulsing, shaking in place. He had clearly taken some sort of enhancing potion or cast some sort of spell.

He was bigger than she ever remembered him being, and it was clear that he had come prepared.

He intended to impregnate her. Intended to complete the ritual. Intended to destroy her mind and render her a slave. This was it. The end. The final moments she would ever have within her own mind, as herself. Forja closed her eyes.

"Oh, look at it, the beast is crying!" the King crowed. "Don't worry, after this, you will only know the happiness and joy of being my lovely pet dragon!"

He leaned his pelvis forward, and close to her crotch, and she felt him sit on the lips of her pussy. She was dry, but of course, he didn't seem to care. He never had cared about her before. With a powerful thrust, he split open her insides, and she screamed in pain, in horror, and in agony, as she was forcefully taken.

He was a fool, in doing it like this. She was a dragon! Pain was nothing ot her! She grit her teeth and settled her mind and gathered her will, and only a sob escaped her before she marshalled herself to regain control, feeling the strong pain that emanated from her pussy in waves.

The King laughed. "Yes! YES! This is what I wanted! This tight dragon pussy, this virgin cunt, I'll tear you apart, and remake you into a proper slave!" he screamed, thrusting his hips powerfully, to the cheers and adulation of his imbecilic nobility, each of them chanting, screaming encouragement, and insults at her.

The man's hand came to her breast, a few fingers gripped onto her nipple and twisted it, the combination of that pain with the still furiously agonic thrusting into her crotch forcing a scream out of her mouth, involuntary, as he continued fucking her, alternating laughs and moans.

She opened her eyes and glared at him. "You'll pay for this..! You will pay for this, even if I have to crawl all the way back from hell, I will rip you limb from limb and burn your kingdom to ash, you hear me!?" she screamed, voice trembling.

"You will be this kingdom's greatest weapon and whore!" he shouted, slapping her across the face hard, then one of his hands wrapped around her neck, pressing her against the slab, restricting her breathing, making her unable to respond as he redoubled his thrusting, the combination of blood and her body desperately trying to ease the pain lubricating his thrusts to make it easier for him, and less painful for her, though she could do nothing about the fact that she was slowly running out of air.

And even worse, her body was submitting, betraying her, letting the elf have his way, as he furiously and even more determinedly fucked her pussy like a man possessed. His cock throbbed and pulsed and seemed to grow bigger by the second, and her already laboured and interrupted breathing only became harder as his hand squeezed harder and harder, until she could breathe no more, and instead felt the oxygen deprivation start to affect her, making her vision swim, her thoughts wander, and the pain to begin fading, leaving only the disturbing feel of pleasure as her body was reaching its threshold.

She was going to cum.

She was going to cum as King Borick fucked her into a stone slab, and even worse, so was he, she felt it, she saw him, his face twisted as he clearly found himself in immense pleasure.

"That's it, squeeze my cock harder, you little whore! Your pussy is the tightest, warmest hole I've ever fucked, and you're gonna use it to further this kingdom's glory! FOR GRANDLEON!" he screamed, cackling as he thrusted desperately, so fast his hips were almost blurring, blood and juices squirting out of her cunt from the sheer strength of his thrusts, until he thrust with all his strength, so hard she felt almost as if he had punched the most sensitive and weak part of her entire body, as if he had stabbed directly through the reverse scale at the base of her tail.

Not even a second after the pain shattered her mind did the pleasure obliterate whatever was left as she was taken through the most absurd, painful and pleasurable experience she had ever been put through, the pain of torture combined with the pleasure of sex, as her body, drugged by magical effects and the power of the ritual, was elevated into pleasure beyond imagination.

The torrent of cum from the elven king's enchanted balls flooded her deepest part, like a waterfall, like a river, flowing and eroding all opposition, filling her fully and completely quickly and easily, and yet somehow, her body expanded and welcomed even more, and she understood now - not only was he using spells to reinforce his fertility, but the spells also enhanced hers.

The King, panting, took a few moments to collect himself, then pulled his dick out of her, a flood of fluids of combined reds, whites and every shade of pink inbetween, poured out of her and onto the slab. 

The light of the ritual shimmered, then exploded, particles of light falling down.

"My king, your majesty Borick, I have the pleasure of declaring you man, and wife!" the High Priest intoned, as the two elves looked down with amused faces at the Dragon Princess on the slab, still, quiet, only a vacant expression on her face, eyes gazing into the distant skies.

There was quiet, broken only by the characteristic sound of the elven prince's footsteps on stone, as his solid sole boots made quite a bit of noise in the serenity of the afterglow.

"It is done, then, brother?" Boricker asked, idly. 

Borick grinned. "That it is!" he crowed. 

"I believe it's a bit gauche to keep your wife nude and chained to the altar, yes?" Boricker asked, idly. "She should join us in the celebrations, do you not think?"

Borick hummed. "Yes... I believe she should. Release my wife!" he commanded.

Boricker turned to look at Forja, an indescribable expression on his face.