Presently, he found himself standing beside the anabiotic countess' huge four poster bed, whilst one of her chambermaids raised her mistress' depleted form up into a sitting position, the crone fluffing her pillows and clucking away moistly like an old turkey broiler.
"Leave us," commanded the countess weakly.
"But, My Lady," cried the old woman scandalised, "you! alone with this strange knight, in your private chamber!"
Vulkan resisted the urge to throw the interfering old cow out of the window.
"This strange knight saved my life," replied the countess and then with more authority, "wait outside the door and see that we are not disturbed."
As soon as the door latch fell behind the maid, the countess threw off the counterpane and hauled up her nightdress to expose her sex to him. Vulkan sat down on the edge of the bed and allowed her to unfasten his breeches whilst he dipped his fingers into her steaming hot vulva. Despite her obvious exhaustion, the countess arched her back in a violent spasm as soon as she felt his touch.
"I need you inside me now my prince," she hissed desperately as he forced his fingers up into her tract, feeling the incredibly hot and febrile tissues suck and grip at his digits as he slowly manipulated her, "I want to feel you everywhere, my cunt, my arse, please lover, pump me full of your gorgeous spunk," she purred lasciviously.
"Patience bitch," counselled the satyr, pushing her back into the pillows as she reached for him, "the time is not right, old Max is likely to call in after the meeting finishes and you're also forgetting the hag listening outside the door."
"Oh fuck him! fuck them all!" the countess whined, her tongue sliding wetly around her swollen lips, "I need you."
By now, she had succeeded in liberating his erection, which despite his use of self- hypnosis was as hard as a pikestaff. Vulkan knew that he would have to give her something, or risk her disturbing the entire household. Grinning salaciously at her, he slid toward the bottom of the bed and pulled her after him by her hair, which the maid had just brushed out to its full, fiery length.
She understood his intent immediately and allowed him to pull her over onto her back and drop her neck over the edge of the mattress until he could slide his cock into her mouth and on down into her gullet. Vulkan groaned as she deep throated him with comparative ease after undergoing her metamorphosis. The prince remembered at the last moment not to cry out as she sank her teeth into the base of his shaft in her desperation. Her own moans of pleasure were effectively silenced by the massive column of gristle plugging her oesophagus. Even when he stretched over her to close his mouth over her fluttering vulva and began to pump his rod in and out of her gullet, the only sound she made was a soft, rhythmic snorting through her nostrils as he occasionally cleared windpipe.
The couple stayed locked together like that for several exquisite minutes until they spasmed together. She, as his serpent's tongue raked amongst the pulsating folds of her cunt, and he, as she sucked down the endless streams of spunk flooding from the massive balls squashed against her forehead.
As soon as he could disengage himself from her, he slipped a small pill into her mouth and held his hand over her face until he was sure it had dissolved. The potion had an almost immediate cooling effect upon her ardour and she flopped sulkily bag into the pillows, her blue eyes dark and moody as she watched him neck an identical pill.
"What is happening to me?" she asked at last, "I feel like I'm on fire all of the time and just the thought of you…" she shivered, leaving the thought unfinished.
Vulkan decided to be relatively candid with her, as he had already decided that she could be an invaluable asset in his mission.
"When I fucked you, I infected you with a heat, a disease if you will," he told her, "a sort of nymphomania that can only be assuaged by more of the same."
"Sex with you?"
The satyr nodded as he forced his slowly subsiding phallus back into his breeches.
"What about those pills we just took, they seem to have curiously cooling effect, my whole mouth, my belly feel like ice."
"They will help you to fight the urge to copulate. Later, I will teach you another way of controlling yourself, but for now, there is no time.
He dropped some more of the tiny blue pills into her palm. Take one of these if you begin to inflame," he told her, "try to avoid frigging yourself and men who excite you."
"Why have you come to Leopold's Court," she probed, "and don't tell me you're just here to win our precious little Flamia."
She watched him as he weighed her up; she knew he was trying to gauge how far he really could trust her. She took hold of his hand.
"When I said back there on the road that I would be your truest and most faithful servant, I meant it, I have been waiting my whole life for a man like you to show me the meaning of true pleasure."
Vulkan decided to take a chance, but first.
"You are Leopold's cousin."
Only by marriage," she replied shrugging, "Maximilian carries the blood tie. My father was murdered by Leopold's father when I was a child – I have no love for his house."
"It will be very dangerous," Vulkan told her, testing still further, "Leopold will behead us both if we fail."
Jessica looked at him searchingly.
"It's the throne!" she gasped, sotto voce, "you think you can take the kingdom through marriage to the brat!"
"Aye, that and some carefully staged mayhem." He whispered back.
He peered into her eyes as she considered the import of his words, prepared to dispatch her and the crone outside at the least sign of duplicity – the pageboy he could track down later.
Her decision made, she slipped the counterpane down over her knees once again, and spreading her legs and dipping her fingers into the love juice still dripping from her pouting labial folds. Sensuously, she anointed both his lips with her honey, pushing her fingers into his mouth and rubbing the glutinous yield over his tongue.
"I will be ready when you come for me," she said simply.
Prince Vulkan stood in the centre of the field. Before him the huge figure of Count Branco, the king's champion, settled his battered shield on to his arm and hefted his broadsword ready to begin another attack.
The roar of the crowd seemed come from all around, rolling over the field like thunder as the two knights began to warily circle one another yet again. The champion was the favourite of the crowd, to both vanquish the upstart foreign prince and carry off the beloved Princess Flamia.
However, Vulkan had other ideas. The satyr had come to the summer festival as Malpurgo had instructed and easily fought his way through the lists to this final combat with the never before beaten Branco. However, the Champion was weakening after twenty minutes of punishing combat. His best and most powerful attacks had been easily warded off by the unknown prince and for the first time the knight who had never before tasted defeat, began to face up to the prospect of being beaten at the very moment of his greatest triumph!
Summoning up all of his reserves of strength and courage Branco attacked again, his great sword whirling above his head as he advanced. Vulkan parried and blocked repeatedly as Branco pressed home his attack. The clang and clash of their flashing swords echoed around the field as they fought back and forth with a ferocity that had the crowd on its feet, baying like a pack of wolves for blood.
Finally, Branco was forced by sheer exhaustion to cease his attack. Backing off as he sought to rest his aching sword arm. Instantly, Vulkan leapt forward, his own sword whirling above his head to build momentum as he rained down blow after blow upon his opponent's shield arm, crushing and splitting the battered iron as if it were mere vellum.
Inside his helm, Branco screamed as the remains of the shield were ripped away. The knight twisted sideways so as to present his sword arm to Vulkan who continued to press home his attack. The satyr prince raining down blow after blow on to Branco's upraised blade until the sheer weight of descending metal beat the critically weakened knight down on to his knees.
With a final crushing stroke, Vulkan shattered Branco's blade, sending the glittering shards of steel spinning away into the dirt, leaving the decimated knight defenceless.
Vulkan looked toward the royal grand stand, where all of the assembled nobility of Dashane had risen to stand as one. The onlookers silent and overawed at the devastating show of sword-craft given by the erstwhile-unknown prince. Through the narrow slit of his helm, Vulkan's hungry eyes zeroed in on the three fabulous creatures gathered around the king, Queen Amariza, Princess Flamia and Leopold's sister, Princess Lilliphane.
The prince closed his eyes against the red mist suffusing his vision. The incredible violence of the combat, coupled with the imminent propinquity of Leopold's royal bitches was threatening to overwhelm him. Vulkan had been unable to get to the ever-willing countess or any other female for that matter for several days. The urge to fuck something was beginning to gnaw away at the powerful hypnotic barriers the wizard had placed deep within his psyche.
Remembering Branco at last, Vulkan glared down at the kneeling knight, the urge to vent his frustration by killing the defenceless man was also great, but Vulkan knew that his mission would go easier if he showed the king's champion mercy.
"Do you yield, Lord Branco?" he called out for all to hear.
Branco nodded wearily, his voice croaking with the bitter astringency of defeat as he called back.
"I yield!"
Prince Vulkan strode across the field to stand before the King.
"Sire, as final and undisputed victor in this great tournament, I claim the hand of your daughter, Flamia."