The man sitting at the table was adorned in what Abigail could only describe as royal clothes. He sported a brown vest that covered a black shirt with intricate ruby-red floral patterns. There were gold-covered buttons that adorned the front. A black belt wrapped around his thin muscular waist, holding together brown slacks that hung just above his black formal shoes. The man had slicked-back black hair, a well-groomed mustache, and a finely shaped short beard.

He was in the middle of forking a modest amount of food into his mouth as they entered. He gently placed the fork beside his plate, a soft clanking sound announcing its return to the table.

“Ah, I see we have guests,” the man spoke softly, his voice a subtle roar in the elaborate dining room.

“From the looks of it, you all have had quite a journey here,” he punctuated his statement with a sip from a partially full wine glass. A dark red liquid gently stained the rim of the cup.

“Where, ugh…where exactly is here?” Jacob posed the most obvious question. His voice sounded small next to the regal man's demeanor.

“Here is castle Moria!” The man rose abruptly, pushing the massive chair back from the table as he made the announcement, the sound of the heavy wood grating as it dragged on the marble floor.

The man swiped up the abandoned wineglass from the table with his left hand. He grasped the stem between his middle and ring fingers. The red wine lurched in the glass, maintaining its form without spilling over the rim. He thrust both hands outward, bending gently at his waist.

“And I am prince Reynauld,” looking up from his bent posture, he met both of their gazes. “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

Abigail and Jacob were frozen in place, unsure of how to respond to the prince. Their village certainly had nothing approaching royalty. The closest thing it had to the regality of the prince, were the elders. And while they were respected, they weren’t exactly treated like anything approaching royalty.

This man commanded authority, respect, and obedience. His clothing and mannerisms espoused cultural refinery. Abigail couldn’t take her eyes off him. She was drawn to his mysterious demeanor, lured to his royal attitude and svelt muscular frame. Not for the first, nor last time that night, she felt a growing spark of desire building in between her legs.

Reynauld met her gaze, fierce eyes a brilliant jade green. She melted as he flashed a wicked, suggestive smile her way.

“But where are my manners? You all must be terribly hungry. Was your trip through the forest difficult?”

The prince spoke as he moved closer to the pair. He gently drew two chairs away from the table, inviting them to take a seat. He raised his right hand, snapping twice.

From an entrance at the far side of the room, a red curtain parted as a woman emerged from its folds. Her sudden appearance took Abigail by surprise.

The servant wore a black leather mask obscuring the top part of her face. It was shaped like a fox's face, complete with sharply pointed ears at each end. The mask completely covered the woman’s eyes, with only two small pinpricks at the eye-holes center. Her lips were bathed in a blood-red lipstick that glistened wetly in the lantern lights of the dining room. Sandwiched between her lush lips was a silver metal ball gag, half extruding from her mouth and dripping with her saliva. The gag was attached to a leather harness that wrapped around her face, disappearing behind a head of brilliantly red curly hair that hung down to her chest. Drool slowly congealed at the bottom of the ball, dripping long thin strands that landed on her bare breasts. Her nipples dripped wet, slick with her spit and saliva.

The woman's top was enclosed in a black leather corset, with an open chest, framing her large exposed breasts. Her erect pink nipples were pointed proudly out, each pierced with a silver ring. From that hung a small metal chain with a weight pulling and bouncing on her sensitive tits as she made her way to the three of them.

Twin black leather belts, studded with small metal spikes were strewn around the thin waist of the woman. Below that she wore a sheer black micro thong. Little more than a string that wrapped around her hips and threaded over her ass before becoming an almost transparent screen that revealed the smooth round folds over her young wet labia.

Abigail also noticed that the string that rested between her ass cheeks was barely covering the sparkling crystal end of a butt plug! The anal device popped in and out of her ass hole as she sashayed across the room.

The maid's outfit was adorned with long black leather gloves, studded with crystals over her hands and spikes around her wrists. Knee-high black boots complemented her wardrobe, clacking noisily on the marble floor as she walked. The spikes of the heels were at least five inches long, shrinking from a large circular heel to the point of a needle as the tips hit the floor. The heels arched her feet into a dramatic curve, thrusting her butt up and out, her chest pointing forward as she walked. She unashamedly displayed her ass, vagina, and perky nipples to everyone in the room as she approached the two newcomers.

Clack-clack Clack-Clack Clack-Clack Clack-Clack. Her footfalls grew louder until finally, the form of the young woman was beside the guest’s chairs. In her hand were two plates, stuffed to overflowing with food. Abigail spied steak, mashed potatoes, corn, and plump round buttered biscuits in the pile. The maid placed both plates before the guests with a gentle THUD.

The woman turned on her heels, her breasts swung with the weights hanging from her nipples. Her hips shifted with her weight as she regained her balance from the turn, the butt plug sucking in and out of her eager ass. She began to make her way back, past Reynauld. But faster than Abigail thought possible, Reynauld's hand snaked out from his sides, stopping the woman in her tracks. He savagely grasped the weights dangling from her nipples, tugging gently and stretching her tits out and away from her breasts.

A loud moan escaped the woman's lip, and a sudden gush of drool spilled from her mouth, splashing on the floor. She was bent forward, balancing precariously on high heels. Her breasts were stretched away from her chest, pulled along by the chains attached to her tits.

“Now Marigold, do you not think perhaps our guests may be thirsty? They have traveled a long and treacherous journey here," Reynauld’s voice was a smooth baritone, chastising but not in a harsh tone. There was a hint of danger, pleasure, and passion in his words. He quickly placed his own wine glass on the table, scooping up the guest’s cups and placing them on the floor directly below the woman.

With this done, he released the woman's nipple chains. The weights swung from her breasts, pulling and stretching her nipples as they returned to their original place. The woman moaned desperately in sexual release, her body quivering in excitement. Abigail was shocked at the maid's response. Unable to understand how the woman so clearly relished in the pain and pleasure that her master had initiated.

Following her Master's desire, Marigold now squatted down over the cups. She slid her micro thong aside, her knees spread wide. Her posture revealed an outer labia that was positioned just above the glasses.

Deftly, using her gloved hands, she gently spread her outer vaginal lips. With her labia and wet inner folds revealed, she unabashedly showed the entirety of her womanhood to the two guests. She pressed gently at the top of her vagina, pushing her urethral hole to the clear view of her captive audience.

Abigail and Jacob couldn’t look away, as the maid released a stream of liquid, splashing wetly into the two glasses. Her muffled voice exploded in a moan of unexplainable pleasure. The ball gag bit into her mouth, stifling her screams of ecstasy.

Only, Abigail realized the liquid wasn’t urine. She saw that it was dark red and almost clear. Abigail couldn’t believe her eyes, it was the same substance as the wine that the prince had been consuming.

As the last drips of the mysterious liquid spilled out of her opening, the girl moved the fabric mesh back into place. A bead of wetness pooled in the lower mesh of her thong, covering her mound in a puddle of the still dripping wetness. With her task now complete, she grasped the two wine glasses by their stem, gently lifting them to the table and placing them beside the stunned duo.

She turned to leave, and the Master’s hand whipped out quickly, striking her right butt cheek with a startling SLAP. She buckled at the sudden impact, her ass turning red from the prince's hand as a fresh new moan escaped her throat. A wet strand of excitement escaped from her mound, spilling down between her legs as her body responded to his fresh abuse.

“Very good. That is all,” his voice was approving, kind even.

He had awarded her the gift he thought she had earned. Indeed it seemed to be what the girl had wanted. Abigail couldn't help but notice the generous amount of the girl's love juices that dotted the floor as the maid completed her exit from the dining room.

Jacob unceremoniously picked up the glass closest to him. He spun the liquid around, observing its color and shape against the dining room’s glowing lights.

“Amazing,” he declared. Lost in thought, mesmerized by the swirling substance.

“Do you think me cruel?” Reynauld suddenly asked Abigail, looking straight at her, his face demanding an honest answer.

Abigail was taken aback by the question.

Truly she was having a tough time digesting all that was happening, least of all the sight of the fetish maid. But she had to admit that Reynauld’s display toward the woman had her questioning his true intentions. Was he really the strong, regal prince that he presented? Or was there a darker side, lurking just beyond its surface?

“It seems like she enjoyed your...play,” she suggested, carefully selecting her words. She didn't want to risk angering the mysterious prince. She wanted to keep the conversation neutral, to see what she could glean from him.

“Indeed she does,” he showed a playful smirk as he continued.

“She chooses to wear the bondage fox suit. It brings her pleasure to be commanded, to be controlled.”

“Oh wow!” Jacob’s voice sliced through the tense conversation between Abigail and the prince.

Turning to Abigail, he insisted, “You have to try this!”

A thin coat of red stained the boy’s lips as he delicately removed the drinking glass from his mouth. He had drunk the mysterious liquid from that girl!

Jacob sighed relaxing back into his chair. A content expression was painted on his face.

“It’s as if I haven't been just trekking through woods for the past several hours. I feel wide awake, but also at ease.”

Abigail picked up her wine glass by the stem, cautiously eyeing it as if it were a vial of deadly poison. She tipped the glass slightly, observing the liquid as it temporarily coated the inner rim in red.

She caught a glimpse of Reynald, spying on her through the clear part of the glass. How would he react if she refused this wine, this gift? Was it worth the risk to abstain from the drink, or should she dare try it? The conflicting thoughts fought in her mind. A warring conflict was brewing in her head, threatening to drive her crazy with the weight of her future decision. Each side presented valid arguments. But alas she was here, far from home, and with little choice but to do as her guest desired.

With her thoughts finally settled, she tipped the glass gently to her lips. A flood of sweet wine bathed her tongue. She relished the surprisingly sweet flavor and the tingle of pleasure that sparked in her mouth. Abigail cautiously swallowed the red liquid. Her throat was electrified in a smooth warm fire. The embers continued to burn as the liquid passed down into her stomach, simultaneously warming her and causing her face to flush a hot red.

Abigail found that the words Jacob had spoken were true. She felt energized, and reinvigorated. She also couldn’t help but notice a burning desire that flamed deep within her chest. The bright, colorfully lit room began to blur a bit at the corners of her vision. The hues of the room, bathed in the soft light of the chandeliers, began to bleed ever so slightly together. She felt excited, happy, and ravenously hungry.

With a new-found hunger, she dove into her meal. Tearing apart her steak, potatoes, and bread. In between packed forks full of food, she took long swigs of the sweet, erotic liquor.

Abigail had not been one for drunkenness before. At the village, she hadn’t had but a few sips of wine in the past. She vastly preferred instead to keep her wits about her. Was this what the drunks who stayed well past midnight at the village tavern felt? Was this the feeling of being drunk, inebriated beyond the point of no return? If so, she could certainly appreciate the drunkard’s passion for drink. She gave herself to this new feeling, taking gulp after gulp of the wine, stopping only to shove more food into her mouth.

By the end of it, her plate was clean, and her glass was empty. She collapsed back into her chair, a satisfied smile on her lips. She turned to her side to see Jacob already finished with his meal, waiting patiently for her to be done as well.

Abigail looked back to the head of the table but noticed Reynauld was missing. Suddenly alert, she quickly spun her gaze around the room, searching for any hint of the missing prince. It wasn't long before her eyes fell on the door they had entered through, now with Reynauld holding it open.

“Now that you all have had your fill, may I suggest some ...entertainment for the evening?” Raynauld suggested as he held the door for them.

Abigail and Jacob quickly stood up from their chairs, dabbing at their faces briskly with their napkins. They discarded their empty plates, then proceeded through the doorway, returning to the expansive lobby.

As they walked along the red carpet the prince continued to talk.

“Food is but one of many things my residents enjoy in this place. All are welcome to this castle, to the food and fun that I provide. Did you not notice the empty streets? They are all here! Enjoying my hospitality, my food, and my wine!”

With this final statement, Reynauld threw open the heavy white doors that were at the other end of the enormous foyer. Music and loud chatter assaulted Abigail’s senses. Squinting, she gazed into a grand ballroom.

It was unlike anything she had ever seen.