A pound of flesh

“That’s what I’m talking about!” the dwarven chief grinned, his gaze sweeping over the two of us with absolute satisfaction. “Nothing better than having a cute little prince and his buxom maid all to myself! Now, how about we get to this forfeit of the flesh?”

He reached for his belt, unbuckling the heavy leather with a sharp snap and letting his trousers drop, making it known exactly what kind of raw, unrefined company we were in. Agnes and I both gasped. The chief stood in his full glory - thick, rugged, and completely unbothered...!

Before I could even process the sheer mass of him, the chief stepped closer, his heavy heels thudding against the stone floor. He looked down at us, his eyes dark with a mixture of drunken amusement and a terrifyingly dominant gravity.

“Down on the stones, the both of ye,” the chief commanded, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through my bare shins. “A forfeit isn’t just about shedding your clothes, prince. It’s about shedding your pride. Kneel in front of me so I can claim my prize.”

Agnes let out a soft, breathless gasp, her hands flying up to cover her magnificent breasts - though it was like trying to hide a Mountain Giant behind a pebble - impossible! A deep, rosy flush crept up her neck as she cast a wide-eyed, flustered look up at me, waiting for my cue.

I knew I should object. I always tried to project a mask of effortless royal confidence, but standing bare next to this mountain of a man, I felt acutely, agonizingly slim. Conflict was the last thing I wanted even though a proud hero would have refused. Yet, as I looked at the shadows of the firelight dancing across his muscular thighs, my hesitation wasn’t just about avoiding a fight. A strange, heavy paralysis gripped me, and a confusing warmth pooled in my gut. My member, already swollen from the sight of Agnes, throbbed against the open air. I told myself I was just trying to keep the peace, but there was something else, too...

“Well?” the chief prodded, a knowing smirk spreading through his thick beard. “Are the royals of Beornia all talk, or are ye man enough to take your medicine?”