Prince and charlatan on the lam.

Nude, utterly mortified, and handcuffed with their own clothes… yeah, this is quite the pickle Roxanne had gotten them into.

Prince Candyfloss looks at her muscular arms and pillowy chest, and feels his heart flutter with a confusing attraction; Roxanne looks at his skinny frame and big cock, they both look at the sea of horny peasants running their way, and break into a sprint— body parts bouncing and jiggling in the chilly autumn air as they run for their lives… or at least, for their dignity.

After a 300 meter dash, they know the only real option to avoid a thorough groping is to hide until they can untie the clothing binding their hands, though Roxanne herself is ready for another 300 meters across the forested riverside. It’s not like Alder is out of shape, his naked body certainly looked fit (if a bit thin) it’s just that a bandit knows how to run.

The well-hung prince huffs, scared breathless at the thought of all the peasant women chasing him getting their rapacious hands on his ass, and turns his gaze around his long enough to lose track of his girlfriend. With his eyes fixed on the small army of hooting, laughing perverts, the nude man doesn’t notice the solid wall of bushes in his path until he rushes straight into it. Nearly laid flat by the bounce, Alder gets on his backside and tries to run away from his abhorrent admirers by scooting beneath the foliage.

Prince Candyfloss gets most of the way under the shrubbery, but can’t seem to wriggle farther away from the wolf-whistling hussies chasing him down. It soon dawns upon him why exactly he’s stuck, and the reason makes the naked, bound ex-royal gulp in dread.

“Oi! Gretel, get over here!” Cries an excited, almost hysterical milkmaid from over his crotch, “I’ve got this boy by the dick!!”

Yup. That’s a woman’s hand clamped around his penis. And she’s calling for backup.

Goddammit.