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In the sultry haze of Lys, where the air hung heavy with the scent of spiced perfumes and illicit desires, Prince Aerion lounged in the opulent chambers of a pleasure house. The omega prince, his lithe body draped in silks that clung to his curves, had been indulging in the city's vices with reckless abandon. His cunt ached faintly from the earlier romps, but boredom gnawed at him more than any soreness. Spotting a voluptuous courtesan across the room, he beckoned her over with a lazy wave, his voice dripping with entitlement.
"Fetch me wine, wench," Aerion snapped, his eyes raking over her form dismissively. "And make it quick, or I'll have your master flog you for wasting my time." The woman froze, her painted lips parting in shock.
But Aerion wasn't done actually and he leaned forward, smirking. "Actually, on second thought, you're too plain for my tastes. Go peddle your wares to the beggars in the alleys. They might appreciate a hag like you."
The courtesan's eyes blazed with fury, but she bit her tongue and retreated. Unbeknownst to Aerion, she was no ordinary pleasure slave. And her fingers wove threads of enchantment, shaping something lifelike from enchanted silk and arcane essences. It pulsed with a deceptive warmth, its inner walls textured to grip and milk
The next evening, Elara approached Ser Duncan under the guise of a grateful admirer. The alpha knight, broad-shouldered and battle-hardened, stood guard outside Aerion's door, his jaw set in perpetual frustration from corralling the spoiled prince. "Noble ser," she purred, pressing the velvet-wrapped toy into his callused hands. "A gift to relieve some stress from being around that brat of a prince. Use it as you will for it never tires, and it’s for a strong alpha like you."
Duncan's raised a brow, confused but he still accepted it without question.
That night, after Aerion had finally passed out from his excesses, Duncan retreated to his small antechamber. He unwrapped the gift, and he just wanted to give it back to Elara.
“What is this?” The thing looked unnaturally soft, yielding yet insistent, as if begging to be filled.
He shoved it under his bed when he heard footsteps and laid on his bed too quickly, hoping to forget about it.
But in the hour of the wolf, when the palace lay shrouded in silence and the guards' footsteps had faded to distant echoes, Ser Duncan could no longer resist the pull of the enigmatic gift hidden under his.
It was his first time yielding to such a temptation, the enchanted toy cunt a novelty that both intrigued and unnerved him. His chambers were dim, lit only by the faint moonlight filtering through heavy drapes, but every creak of the floorboards or rustle of fabric seemed amplified in the stillness. Heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and fear, he bolted the door, ears straining for any sign of stirring servants or patrolling knights.
Just this once.
He whispered to himself, stripping off his tunic with trembling hands, his broad chest heaving as he freed his aching cock from his breeches.
The alpha's length sprang heavy and rigid, veins pulsing along its thick girth, the tip already glistening with a bead of pre-cum from the day's pent-up frustrations.
With a shaky breath, Duncan poured a generous amount of oil from a bedside vial, slicking his fingers before coating his shaft in slow, deliberate strokes. The oil made his skin shine, and he gave himself a few tentative tugs, groaning softly at the relief, but it was nothing compared to what was promised.
Hesitation gripped him, because what if someone heard? The walls were thick stone, but voices carried in the dead of night.
What if Aerion heard? Oh he would be insufferable about it in the morn.
Still… just this once, biting his lip, he positioned the pocket pussy at the head of his cock, the oiled entrance yielding like real flesh. He pushed forward inch by inch, a low, muffled grunt escaping as the inner walls enveloped him, clenching with rhythmic pulses that sucked him deeper. 'Fuck,' he hissed through clenched teeth, his free hand clamping over his mouth to stifle the sound. It was tighter than any omega he'd known… not that he’d known a lot. He bit his lip as he felt rippling and massaging every ridge, pulling him in until his balls pressed against the plush exterior.
His cock dragged through the enchanted depths, the pulses intensifying with each plunge, milking him toward the edge. Sweat slicked his brow and he gripped the base of the toy with one hand, the other fisting the bedsheets to keep his groans locked in his throat. The pleasure built relentlessly, his shaft swelling inside the clenching heat, balls drawing tight as he hammered deeper, faster, the fear of discovery only sharpening the thrill.
When release crashed over him, Duncan buried his face in the pillow, a choked moan vibrating against the fabric as his cock erupted. Thick ropes of cum flooded the cunt, the walls spasming around him, drawing out every spurt until he was spent and shuddering.
He pulled out with a wet pop, panting in the shadows, the toy glistening with his seed. He wanted to stow it away and just collapse back into the bed but before he knew it his hips were slamming forward again.
Unbeknownst to him, just a room away in his own opulent quarters, Prince Aerion awoke to the curse's cruel echo, his body invaded by the phantom force being used.
Aerion had bolted upright in his bed, a gasp tearing from his throat. His body burned, a deep, insistent ache blooming in his core. "What in the seven hells...?" he muttered, clutching his abdomen. He felt it then, the phantom stretch of something massive invading his cunt, stretching his walls wide.
Aerion's legs splayed involuntarily, his silks riding up as slick gushed from him, soaking the sheets. "Nnn—ah!" He cried out, fingers digging into the mattress. It was as if a brutal cock was rearranging his insides, thrusting deep and hard, battering his cervix with each savage plunge. His omega body betrayed him, clenching around the invisible intrusion, hips bucking up to meet it despite the shock. Juices leaked down his thighs, his clit throbbing swollen and neglected. “The fu— oh!”
He collapsed back, panting, but the assault didn't relent. Wave after wave of punishing strokes hammered into him, the girth splitting him open, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside. Aerion's mind reeled as his eyes rolled back, was this heat? Poison?
But no, it felt too real, too targeted, like a knight's sword claiming territory. His pussy spasmed, milking the shaft and a shameful orgasm ripped through him, cum squirting from his depths.
As the phantom fucking slowed to a teasing grind, Aerion whimpered, body trembling. He didn't know what was happening, all he could do was just gasp and take it.
—
Days blurred into a haze of unrelenting torment for Prince Aerion in the decadent sprawl of Lys.
Each night, as the city lights flickered like distant stars, the omega prince tossed in his lavish bed, his body hijacked by waves of brutal penetration that left his tongue lolling out and begging.
He dismissed his attendants with sharp commands, locking the door to hide the slick stains on his sheets and the way his thighs quivered from phantom assaults.
All because of his knight who’d had to shadow his own whims. He didn’t know that the cock, thick and veined, belonged to his sworn knight. He didn’t know that the knight loved to shoved in with a guttural grunt. He didn’t know that the knight was addicted to the feeling of his hot, wet walls sucking him deep, squeezing around his length like a hungry mouth.
That first afternoon use hit Aerion mid-bath. He lounged in a steaming tub scented with rose oils, his fingers idly tracing his swollen folds when the intrusion struck. His eyes widened as an invisible force speared into him, stretching his entrance wide and slamming against his inner walls. “Now?” he hissed, gripping the tub's edge.
He is glad he sent Duncan away, because this would’ve been humiliating.
Duncan would’ve been watching. He’ll be watching with his eyes wide as the water sloshes over the sides as Aerion’s body jerks, pussy clenching around the relentless nothing that pistoned in and out.
He’d watch Aerion’s clit pulsing untouched. His lips biting to stifle his moans. He’d watch as the thrusts grew savage, battering his depths of Aerion’s pussy until his vision blurred and he squirted hard.
Aerion didn’t know that in the other room Duncan, finished with a low roar, spilling thick ropes of cum into the toy, which Aerion felt flooding his womb like hot seed claiming him.
By this point, Aerion was convinced that some great and terrible calamity had befallen him. No other explanation made sense for why his mornings, afternoons, and especially his nights were now devoted to aggressively gnawing on his own pillows like a distressed hound.
And he isn’t dim. He had observed a pattern.
The affliction only striking when his knight was absent from the room.
So what was it? A curse? Some ancient, arcane spell? Had Ser Duncan, colossal oafish idiot that he was, enlisted a hedge witch to ensure he’ll get Aerion addicted to the size of his massive cock?
How utterly pathetic of the alpha.
But Aerion would, of course, get to the bottom of this.
Thus late one evening, after the prince had berated him for a minor delay in fetching spiced meats, he ordered Duncan to look for Lys’ finest pomegranates. And when he was gone, Aerion entered his chambers. He didn’t even have to look around much because, Duncan the Lunk thick as a castle wall would be hiding it under his own bed.
It’s small, truly, He traced a finger on the slit and felt it right away.
This will be fun.
—
Aerion's cruelty toward Ser Duncan sharpened like a blade in the days that followed, each barbed command a deliberate spark to ignite the knight's frustrations.
“Fetch my boots, you lumbering fool. Must I do everything myself?” The prince's lips curled in secret satisfaction, knowing the alpha's tension would soon boil over in private.
And it did. Every insult coiled tighter in Duncan's gut, translating to forceful drops of his hips against the pocket pussy later, burying his thick cock to the hilt with punishing slams that echoed through Aerion's body like thunder.
The prince savored it all in stolen moments, his body a battlefield of unwanted ecstasy he now craved. During a tedious meeting with a merchant, Aerion felt the first stirrings. Duncan's fingers, phantom and insistent, parting his slick folds, probing deep into his pussy with rough, circling thrusts.
He shifted in his seat, thighs pressing together under the table, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle a whimper. The digits curled, stretching him wide, slick gushing as they scissored and plunged, preparing him for what came next.
Then the cock arrived, hot and unyielding, the broad head nudging his entrance before ramming home in one brutal shove. Aerion's hand gripped the armrest, knuckles white, as the shaft speared him open, veins dragging along his walls with every withdraw and slam.
It fucked him relentlessly there in the chamber, hidden among the scent of ink and parchment, his pussy clenching around the invisible invader while merchant gestured obliviously. He rocked subtly, chasing the grind against his core, heat flooding his veins until his release hit like a wave, juices soaking his smallclothes as he gasped it away as a cough.
But the true indulgence came in the velvet hush of evenings, when Aerion sought distraction in the arms of willing alphas from the court. Just strangers whose touches paled against the curse's ferocity, yet served as perfect cover for his unraveling. One such night, in a shadowed alcove off the great hall, he tangled with a nameless sellsword, a broad-shouldered alpha with wandering hands and a smug grin. The man pressed Aerion against the wall, lips on his neck, fingers fumbling at his laces as the prince arched into him, feigning eagerness.
They stumbled into a private solar, the sellsword’s mouth claiming his in a sloppy kiss, hands roaming to cup Aerion's ass and lift him onto a low table. The alpha’s cock hardened against his thigh, but before it could breach, Duncan's girth shoved into Aerion's pussy without warning, stuffing him full and splitting his walls with brutal strokes. “Oh!” Aerion gasped, the sound raw and startled, his body jolting as if struck.
The alpha paused, brow furrowing in confusion, his hands freezing on Aerion's hips. “My prince? Are you alright?” But Aerion shoved him back with a frantic push, stumbling away to collapse onto a nearby divan, legs splaying as the invisible cock ravaged him unchecked.
It plunged deep, the thick length grinding against his cervix with each savage impact, his belly bulging faintly under the silk of his tunic from the relentless force. Slick poured from his core, coating his inner thighs in glistening trails that dripped to the woven rug below, the wet sounds of his body's betrayal muffled only by his ragged breaths.
The pressure built, coiling tight in his gut like a spring, and when Duncan's release erupted, hot pulses of cum flooding the toy's depths, the enchantment relayed it without mercy, painting Aerion's insides with thick, searing ropes that triggered his own shatter. His pussy clamped down hard, spasming as if milking every drop, his climax ripping through him in silent waves. Juices gushed out in messy arcs, soaking the divan and pooling beneath his trembling form.
The alpha only stared, mouth agape, but Aerion waved him off with a snarled, “Oh, fuck off now. We’re done here!” He raised a brow, adjusting his breeches with a huff before retreating, muttering about spoiled royals. Alone at last, Aerion panted through the aftershocks, fingers digging into the cushions as the last echoes of Duncan's grunts, imagined, yet so vivid, faded from his mind.
He wished he could hear them for real, feel the alpha's hot breath whispering filth against his ear. “Take it, princeling, all of me.” Coaxing him to peak harder, hips hammering faster until his thick cum erupted in heavy, endless pulses.
This secret indulgence became Aerion's vice, a dark thrill he guarded fiercely while Duncan remained oblivious, the knight's loyalty unwavering despite the prince's barbs. Aerion pushed harder, his meanness a deliberate prod like berating Duncan for imagined slights during hunts or feasts, each dismissal sending the alpha storming off to his chambers, cock in hand and toy waiting.
And the prince would retreat to his own rooms, stripping bare and spreading his legs on silk sheets, letting Duncan fuck him senseless. Slow builds to frantic rutting, his body arching and quivering as orgasms tore through him one after another, leaving him drenched and sated in the curse's embrace.
Yet satisfaction soured into yearning. The phantom touches were exquisite torment, but Aerion craved the real thing.
The weight of Duncan's body pinning him, those massive hands holding him down with unyielding strength. The desire crystallized one sweltering afternoon in the tiltyard, where a leering slave owner had dared lay hands on Aerion during a sparring exhibition. The man's fingers grazed the prince's waist too boldly, pulling a yelp from his lips.
Before Aerion could react, Duncan was there like a storm. With fists flying, the knight nearly snapping the fool's neck in a blur of rage, only halted by guards' intervention.
“No one touches the prince.” Duncan growled.
Aerion watched from the sidelines, pulse racing not from fear, but from the heat pooling low in his belly. Those hands, he thought, imagining them splayed across his chest, pressing him into the mattress while that massive cock claimed him. The possessiveness ignited something feral within him, and he knew that he wanted Duncan to hold him down, fuck him raw and real, no magic between them.
That night, Aerion timed it perfectly. He'd felt the stirrings all evening.
The subtle ache of fingers parting his folds, thick digits opening him up with probing twists, slick easing the way as they stretched his pussy wide. The sensations escalated as he opened his door quietly.
Heart hammering, Aerion slipped from his quarters and crept toward Duncan's room, the stone floors cool under his bare feet. The lace robe he wears is soft against his skin.
The door was ajar, a sliver of lamplight spilling out, and he could hear the alpha's low, frustrated rumble. Pushing inside without knocking, Aerion barged in to find Duncan sprawled on the bed, breeches shoved down, his enormous cock gripped in one meaty fist. The veins throbbing along the length, tip flushed and leaking as he lined it up to the toy’s yielding entrance.
“Ser Duncan,” Aerion said, voice husky despite himself, eyes locked on the scene. “Wouldn’t you prefer the real thing?”
Ser Duncan's hand froze mid-motion, his massive cock still gripped firmly at the base, the flushed head hovering just shy of breaching the toy's slick, inviting lips. The knight's eyes widened in shock, face draining of color as he stared at the prince standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the flickering torchlight, he wore lace and his cunt was bare from his own earlier frustrations.
“P-Prince Aerion…” Duncan stammered, voice cracking like a boy's, his free hand fumbling to yank the bedsheet up in a futile bid for modesty.
Duncan blinked, confusion overtaking the fear as he processed the words. Prefer? The real thing? His mind reeled, thick brows furrowing. “My lord, I... this isn't— Please, forgive me, I didn't mean—” He shifted awkwardly on the bed, trying to sit up, but in his haste, his hips bucked involuntarily. The motion sent his cock nudging forward, the broad tip pressing against the toy's entrance with a soft, wet give. It parted just enough to tease the rim, the magic humming to life in an instant.
Across the room, Aerion's breath hitched sharply, a ragged gasp escaping his lips as the pressure mirrored the contact, Duncan's cockhead kissing his own pussy's folds, hot and insistent, sending a jolt of slick heat flooding his core. His knees buckled slightly, hand flying to the doorframe for support, thighs clenching as arousal twisted low in his belly.
Duncan's gaze snapped to Aerion's face, watching the prince's flush deepen, the way his lips parted on that involuntary sound. Pieces clicked into place with brutal clarity.
The toy... the curse... it all made sense.
“Is it you?” Duncan whispered, voice rough with dawning horror and something darker, hungrier. He didn't pull away, couldn't, as his cock throbbed against the enchanted toy, feeling the faint pulse of connection thrumming through it.
Aerion met his knight's stare, eyes dark with a mix of triumph and raw need. Slowly, deliberately, he reached down, fingers slipping beneath to part his own folds, exposing the glistening pink of his pussy to the lamplight, slick already beading at the entrance from the earlier teasing.
The sight was achingly familiar to Duncan, who'd been staring at the toy in his hands for weeks, and the prince's arousal scenting the room with sweet, musky invitation. Aerion nodded once, a sly curve to his lips despite the tremor in his voice. “All this time, Ser Duncan. Every thrust, every drop of your seed, it's been me you've been fucking.”
The alpha's breath came in heavy pants, confusion shattering into stunned arousal as he stared at the offered sight. His cock twitched against the toy, leaking pre-cum that the magic relayed as a warm dribble against Aerion's exposed clit, making the prince whimper softly.
Duncan swallowed hard, massive frame tensing as protective instincts warred with the feral urge building in his veins. “Gods, princeling... why didn't you say? I thought it was just some Lysene witch's trick to ease my head after your barbs.” He reached out tentatively, as if afraid Aerion might vanish, his large hand hovering near the prince's thigh.
Aerion stepped closer, the sound of his quiet footsteps echoing like a seal on their secrets. “Perhaps it is…” he murmured.
The omega shrugged off his lace robe, letting it pool at his feet, baring his lithe body, pale skin flushed, nipples pebbled, pussy still held open by his fingers, dripping with need. “But let me feel it. Hold me down, knight. Fuck me as if I’m just your toy, Ser Duncan.”
Duncan's restraint snapped like dry tinder. With a guttural growl, he surged forward, tossing the toy aside as his hands, those big, callused paws that had nearly crushed a man's throat earlier had wrapped around Aerion's waist.
He hauled the prince onto the bed effortlessly, flipping him onto his back and pinning him with his full weight, knees forcing Aerion's thighs wide. The alpha's cock, freed and raging, slapped heavy against Aerion's belly, leaving a wet streak as Duncan loomed over him, eyes blazing. “You have no idea what your cunt does to me,” he rumbled, one hand clamping Aerion's wrists above his head, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise.
Duncan's free hand slid down, fingers replacing Aerion's to probe his entrance with two thick digits plunging in deep, stretching the velvet heat with rough twists that had the prince keening. Slick coated Duncan's knuckles as he pumped them, scissoring to open him wider, thumb circling the swollen clit until Aerion's hips bucked wildly.
“So wet for me already,” Duncan grunted, withdrawing his fingers with an obscene squelch and lining up his cock. The head notched at Aerion's pussy, fat and unyielding, and with one brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. No toy, no magic this time.
“Yesnnn!” Aerion cried out, walls fluttering around the girth as it split him open, the veins dragging fire along every inch. Duncan didn't pause, hips snapping forward in forceful drops, each slam grinding against his cervix.
The alpha's hands held firm, one pinning wrists, the other splayed across Aerion's chest, fingers digging into the soft flesh to keep him immobile as he rutted like a beast. Grunts spilled from Duncan's lips, hot and filthy against Aerion's ear, “Take it, my prince. All of me, I know you can. I know it…”
He hammered faster, balls slapping wetly against Aerion, the bed creaking under the onslaught. Slick poured out with every withdraw, soaking the sheets, and when Duncan peaked, roaring as his cock pulsed.
He kisses Aerion as he flooded his pussy with thick ropes of cum, no enchantment needed to make it burn and fill.
Aerion shattered beneath him, pussy spasming to milk every drop, his own release gushing around Duncan's shaft in hot waves. He gasped and writhed, but the knight's hold kept him pinned, riding out the bliss until they both collapsed on the bed, panting and entwined.
—
A little later, they lay tangled in the sheets, Aerion draped languidly across Duncan’s chest as though he had personally conquered it. His fingers traced idle patterns over the knight’s collarbone, suspiciously pleased with himself.
“I am sorry, my Prince.” Duncan murmured, one large hand resting carefully at Aerion’s waist. “I should have thrown it away. I did not know it was you on the other end of it.”
Aerion considered this with great seriousness, but “No,” he decided at last. “You may keep it.”
Duncan blinked down at him.
“It was a gift, was it not? Besides, it would be… fun,” Aerion continued smoothly. His lips curved, and his eyes promised nothing short of chaos. “Wouldn’t you think so, Ser Duncan?”
There was a silence heavy with implication.
Duncan, who had faced armored men twice his size without flinching, swallowed. While Aerion settled more comfortably atop him, like a cat clearly satisfied.