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The sound of the door to the prison slamming shut makes your heart sink. A visit this late at night can only mean one thing, and as sporadically as they occur, you've been trapped here in your cell so long now that it's become just another, slightly less dull part of the routine.
Not that you won't hate every second of it. Your chamberpot needs changing, though. You need your captor's favour.
It's a struggle to get your body to move, your nudity and the thin sheet on your cell bed offering little protection against the winter's biting chill. By the time the slow footsteps of her ridiculous spiked boots against the stones has reached the bars of your cell, however, you're already there at them to greet her. Already on your knees, so she won't get to see you fall to them.
"What has happened?" you ask her, almost a demand, although you know by now not to expect an answer. "I heard rioting again."
"Nothing to trouble your pretty head about," she answers. "You're not their princess anymore."
Yet your beautiful and very expensive tiara is the one adornment she has let you keep, even not allowing you any underthings. You suspect the tiara somehow makes this better for her, that she takes some twisted, tyrannical pleasure in defiling the daughter of these lands' former rulers.
You've worn it proudly for every last second you've been trapped in here, regardless.
A breeze blows in through your small square window, caressing your bare form to leave your skin shivering, and goosepimpled. "Please, I need a blanket."
"And I need my most precious prisoner's mouth around my cock." The woman tosses her fantastic dark hair and smiles down at you with a sneer, already moving to undress herself of her tight-fitting warrior's pants. "If you... make me agreeable, perhaps something can be arranged."
You nod wordlessly, and try to make yourself smile back. The time for being precious about her nighttime visits has long since gone, just like the warmer weather. You've not taken one mote of pleasure from putting your lips on the penis of your captor, this usurper, but you've noticed the effect you can have on her. This time as well, her golden-eyed gaze catches on something in your smile. So weak to basic charms, to a pretty girl. Yet she's the one on that side of the bars.
Truly, you despise her. You might bite the horrid thing off if you dared give yourself the taste of blood, and were happy to risk the inevitable reprisals against your peoples.
She unlaces her underthings, and pushes that most ignoble part of her between the bars of your cell. A sheltered life as a princess has given you little to judge with, but she's not particularly large. You are more concerned with the ugly, swollen veins that run up along her shaft, the way it will feel throbbing inside of your mouth, the taste of the vile liquid it will eventually shoot out and that she's begun demanding that you swallow.
Your lips move to it anyway, trying even harder to keep your face pleasant as you part your jaw, and bring a first bit of her into your mouth. She groans, but then her fingers dig into your hair and she pulls you forwards, gagging you with the sudden intrusion of her at the entrance to your throat. The brute of a woman knows only conquest and subjugation. Even with you "willing", she cannot help herself. Rarely can.
You taste flesh, and a salty hint of her arousal. She's so warm, too much so, and your enflamed head is already the only part of your shivery body not feeling the cold.
"Mmmmmph! Mnnnssph!" Your whimpers as she fucks your pretty face probably only arouse her further. They certainly don't earn you any mercy, and she ravages your mouth for minutes at a time, her free hand grabbing one of the bars of your cell for leverage while she force-feeds herself to you through them. The woman pauses for only brief moments to catch her breath, and you sure do steal it from her. She's downright noisy about how much she enjoys this, utterly unashamed of the other prisoners knowing what she's doing.
You even try to put your pride aside, and help bring this to its end. The sooner it's done with the better, especially since your jaw has come to ache. So you tongue her in your clumsy approximation to how you imagine the backroom girls at a questionable tavern would. You try to remember what little you gleamed from the times this tyrant Queen just pushed herself through the bars and had you do most of the work.
"Ngggh, Princess," she growls, her hips only bucking at you more greedily as your tongue presses keenly up against her gyrating shaft, and tries to swirl around its sensitive end. "Pretty thing... swallow it when it comes!"
You can't know when, all her loud vocalisations masking her moment of orgasm. You squeal in muffled complaint and surprise as her thick spend coats your tongue, ribbon after ribbon of the hot, unpleasant-tasting liquid jetting from her tip. There's so much, and its texture is repulsive, and a princess should never be taking another's private part into her mouth in the first place, let alone its vile secretions.
You need her favour though, not another flogging. Struggling immensely, gagging in the process, you take several reluctant swallows to get all her salty semen into your belly. Your throat convulses, prompting fresh tears to slip from your big beautiful eyes, not that she cares.
"Hunh. More like that and I might have you out of here and in my bed. Would you like that?" she asks you, as she withdraws through the bars and re-laces her underwear.
"I... I'd like a blanket."
She scoffs, but when you turn your pleading eyes up to her, you find hers on your body, her thoughts surely on the possibility of enjoying more than just your mouth.
"If anything warms that beautiful body of yours, it'll be me." She smirks at you, and you despise her all the more, glaring daggers at her back as she walks off back toward the stairs, leaving you with no blanket, and no fresh chamberpot. Just a sticky mouth still struggling with the astringent taste of your conqueror's seed.
Back in bed, you curl yourself into a ball and double your thin sheet over, clinging it tightly to you. The night only grows colder, and one of the other prisoners calls out, protests that they'll freeze to death. The possibility doesn't feel so remote for you, either.
You survive, but the morning light comes before sleep does.