The doors to the royal bedroom crash open with the force of the hero’s thunderous kick, and in steps the armour clad knight. His full plate-mail, once gleaming like early morning sunlight dancing atop a calm ocean, was now unequally filthy. Blood was splattered in large abstract sprays across the chest, and the leg plates were coated in mud. Deep scratches were dug into the steel, looking like they’d been caused by swords, claws or possibly both. In his hand he held a long, dangerous looking sword of his own, that was still dripping with the blood of the two guards who had been defending the door. He struck a truly impressive visage standing there at 6’6”, and despite there only being one other person in the room with him, the knight looked ready to take on an entire army. Which is why it was so surprising when the battle-clad warrior let his sword drop to the stone floor with an echoing clang.

He surveyed the room, making sure they were truly alone, before one gauntlet covered hand reached up and hooked under his helmet. As he drew the battle-worn headgear up and off, he revealed to the room what may be the very epitome of male perfection. Long golden hair, normally coiffed and layered in soft silky sheets, now fell down to his metal shoulder plates in damp ribbons that dripped with sweat. His face? Well it looked like it had been carved from marble by the greatest sculptor of our time. Wide jaw, high cheekbones, a chin cleft so pronounced that it could be mistaken for a particularly shapely ass (were it five times bigger and located in a different part of the body). His eyes were such a pure and soft shade of shimmering baby blue that they made you want to strip down and dive into them as if they were a hidden lagoon with particularly enticing water. And it was those eyes, those perfect, large eyes, that locked on to the equally gorgeous, dark haired woman splayed out elegantly on the large bed, a goblet of the finest wine held delicately in her soft fingers.

“Alright you devil woman.” The knight finally said, his voice deep and purring, filling all the space in the room with his rumbling baritone.

“Who, moi?” The woman replied, looking around the room with faux-surprise, and running the back of one hand down the rolling curvature of the black silk dress she was wearing.

“Silence!” He roared, his distaste for the beautiful Queen readily apparent. “I waded through your vile mud pits” he grabbed the leg plates that were indeed caked with thick chunks of dried mud, and pulled them off. The metal dropped to the floor and sent both wet and dry mud spraying from where it had landed.

“You poor dear.” The Queen said with a sarcastic smirk, sitting up in the bed now.

“I traversed the thorny wall.” He pulled off his metal gauntlets, that were indeed covered in small but deep scratches that could only have been caused by thousands of thorny vines, from which one scratch on bare skin would most certainly spell a slow and agonising death. The gloves too dropped to the dark stone of the floor.

“You must be very tired.” She said, taking a sip of wine and sliding closer to the end of the bed.

“I bested your army of skeletons,” Off came the shield he had hooked on his back, adorned with large marks where swords had uselessly struck at its impenetrable frame. “…I slayed your corrosive bog-beast,” He discarded his shoulder pads, one of which indeed looked like some acidic substance had eaten away at a chunk of it. “…And I ran my sword through the neck of your elite guard.” He lifted up his heavy chestplate with a heave and then threw the steel armour aside with a thunderous crash; stripped down now to nothing more than a tunic that was cinched at the waist.

The Queen, instead of looking troubled by the thinning out of her entire defensive force, seemed positively delighted. She stood up from the bed, allowing the knight a proper look at her magnificent form. The silk robe laid like a soft sheet over her plump breasts and small stiff nipples, before thinning to hug her slim waist, and widening once more to accentuate the hourglass that was completed by her hips. “How very brave you are.” She said with a flick of her ass-length, raven hair. “And why, pray tell, would you go to all that trouble?”

“Do not play games with me, you witch!” He replied, completely unfazed by her vision-like body, or her calm demeanour. “You have terrorised our kingdom for long enough. Too many of my loved ones have been sacrificed to appease your unquenchable desire for carnal pleasure. Too long have our people suffered under your callous rule. Too long have we lived under the dark shadow cast by this debaucherous tower.”

The Queen was practically dripping with anticipation at this point, having always known that one day this very moment would come; that she would eventually meet her equal.

“My name is Reven Parnasus, son of Borril, third of his name, first knight of the resistance, champion of the Kingdom of Sovereign, and tonight, in the name of my people…” Reven uncinched his waistband, grabbed his knee-length tunic in both large, rugged hands, and lifted it up and over his head. If his face was a statue, his body was a fucking monument. His thighs were like tree trunks formed of the most impressively dense wood. His biceps were large, bronze orbs, with distended veins supplying such swollen muscles with the precious blood flow they needed. His stomach was adorned with abs that looked like perfectly risen knots of bread, not a shred of unnecessary fat to be seen anywhere. But most impressive of all, was the orcish club of a cock that hung between his thighs. Thick, dark, destructive; a baby’s arm holding an apple. Behind it, two swollen balls the size of fat, ripe oranges. And as he spoke, a glistening marble of pre-cum formed at the tip of his flaccid cock like it were the jaws of a salivating predator, before dripping to the stone floor and landing between his large feet with a splllt! “In the name of my people,” he repeated for emphasis, before continuing, “I’m going to tear. That. Ass. Up.”

The Queen beamed with malicious joy, throwing her cup of wine over her shoulder with girlish glee. She brought her small hand up to the connecting strap of her dress, fiddling for just a second with the area where it looped and adjoined at the back of her neck, until some magical clasp was unhooked and the entire silk garment fell from her body like flowing water, landing in a pool by her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it aside, her pale, unblemished skin as equally perfect as her male adversaries’.

“Do your worst, Sir Knight.”

So you know the evil step-mother, or dastardly Queen, from all those Disney films we love? Yeah, this is that… but with really rough anal, sloppy face-fucking, big cocked creampies, and a whole lot of hate-fuelled dirty talk.

You can either go with my description of the queen or make one of your own, I’m happy either way. Also feel free to give the Queen some witchy fantasy powers if that’s something you enjoy. Prompt is written in 3rd person, but I would probably prefer to play this in 1st.

Limits: Snuff, gore, torture, bathroom stuff, underage characters, celebrities, feet, heavy bondage, lazy writing.