It would take a miracle

"Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dóminus tecum." The Hail Mary had never felt so relevant, this truly was the hour of her need. "Benedícta tu in mulieribus, et benedíctus fructus véntris tui, Iesus."

"That's right, holy child," Henry seemed genuinely pleased by her appeal to the Blessed Mother. "Keep chanting your futile prayers like the dutiful daughter of God that you pretend to be, while I show you a whole other side of life that a good girl like you has never even considered." To her surprise Henry even leaned back and stopped groping her breasts as she finished the first recitation and began the second repetition of the trio. Christine should have felt at least some sense of relief at the brief respite, but although her attacker was no longer groping her, she realized that her fate was all but sealed.

A quick glance at the goblet waiting for her just out of her reach made her realize how ill-conceived her plan had been all along. It had never even occurred to her that her suitor wouldn't even bother trying to charm her, or that he seemed to actually prefer **** to seduction. Henry, perhaps noticing her attention wander even as the comforting Latin words flowed from her lips, reached for the wine-cup himself. All Christine could think was that her plan to escape from this world had been discovered; she was shocked when instead of dumping out the contents, Prince Henry swallowed the entire cup in a single gulp.

"Wait!" She tried to warn the man, but he just laughed at the panic-stricken look on her face. Tossing the goblet across the room he wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve before turning her attention back to her.

"Even the wine in this shit-hole tastes like crap." He declared and roughly pulled the only remaining covering left up over her belly and then her breasts. Christine returned her attention to the Hail Mary, torn between guilt and hope. She had never intended for Prince Henry to be poisoned, but just maybe her prayers had been answered after all. Unfortunately for her, the effects of the sleeping drops would take time, and she was not sure what manners of depravities she might have to suffer through before the coarse man finally passed away. For that matter, a man as big and strong as the prince might not even be affected by a potion brewed for a child a fraction of his size. At the moment though Christine had a more pressing concern, because even as she finished the third Ave Maria and started in on another cycle, her hands were pulled over her head and Prince Henry lowered his mouth to her flesh.

This time, when Prince Henry pressed his face to her bosom, there was not even the flimsy layer of silk between his mouth and her breasts, and he slobbered at her like a puppy at his mother's teats.

"Ow!" She had not expected him to bite at her too, and when he took her nipple between his teeth and pulled at her, she arched her back and yelped in pain. Henry seemed to delight in her response because he repeated the process with her other nipple until the tips of her plump breasts throbbed angrily in time with her heart.

"Once your belly starts to swell with my seed," he smiled with self-satisfied delight, "these little titties are going to fill with milk, and I'll suck you dry every chance I get."Even as Christine struggled to wrap her mind around the disgusting words, she felt Henry release her nipple and kiss his way downwards continuing his wicked monologue. "For now though, let me see if I can taste some of your other juices." Before she knew what he was intending, she found Henry had slid between her thighs and pushed her knees up and apart until she was spread out obscenely as he lowered his mouth to her sex.

"I love the taste of a virgin's honey." Henry's words were muffled by the smooth skin of her thighs, but did they also sound slightly slurred? Any optimism she might have had faded as she felt his tongue lapping at her sex as his fingers plucked at the petals of her flower. It was obscene in a way she had never even considered, and she thrashed in his arms as her small hands rained ineffective blows upon the prince's head and back. If anything, her futile struggles seemed to please the man, because the harder she bucked and squirmed, the faster his tongue moved.