“If I have to spend another day in court with my in-laws I will walk off the nearest pier with an anvil.” Cass chuckled at the mink despite her serious tone. Helen, future Queen-consort of the future king but current Prince Gellen, scowled at the naked bovine woman sharing her bed. “You don’t think I’m serious, do you?”

The ox woman shook her head. “Why should I? You always overreact.”

Her wounded pride demanded a playful push against her bedmate. The wall of meat that was her bodyguard didn’t budge. “Name me one time I’ve overreacted.” 

“When you got news of the arranged marriage you tried convincing me to sail away with you on a merchant ship to a land of oranges and honey.”

In her defense, it sounded good at the time. They did get as far as the docks before the stench of fish and salt turned the mink away. “Name me another.” 

Her friend instead climbed over her, their naked bodies embracing as they had earlier and would later. “No, Your Highness. I think one is enough. Besides, you couldn’t lift an anvil.”

“You could.” Helen dragged her hands over Cassandra’s biceps. At a glance they were solid as rocks, making the spongy feeling they had to the touch a delightful surprise no matter how often it happened. The hardest thing about her bodyguard was her cock, but it needed rest after the first round. 

Cass chuckled behind her lips. “You think too much of me, my lady. I’m strong enough to protect you, but not carry an anvil.”

“And what if I’m assailed by anvils?” 

“Then we have much bigger problems than your death.”

Again Helen lightly slapped her friend. Cass caught it, wrenching her charge’s grip free to lay soft lips on the back of her hand. Just two fingers clamped down on her wrist, two fingers locking her in place. The mink could pull away if she wished to. She rarely did. 

“Fine,” she sighed, kissing the hand her lover embraced. “But the courts are hell.”

“Enlighten me as to why,” Cass lounged in a way to let her fat breasts lay atop one another. Helen pursed her lips at the sight of them. She’d always been cursed with a higher drive of passion, opposite to her fiance who seemed more interested in his models than her cunt. It took a great risk to share a bed with her bodyguard. If it were anyone else, she’d fear their inevitable betrayal. But not Cassandra. The ox woman had been her close friend since childhood. A squire turned protector. 

Helen sighed. If only barbed words could be deflected by the oxen’s shield arm. “You’ve met Marian and Vivian. You know how snippy they can be.” 

“I’ve seen them, but I’ve never met them.”

“What?” the mink blinked. “You’ve been present in conversations.”

Cass pointed to her charge, “Conversations directed at you. They’ve not once addressed me. I may as well be your shadow.”

“Then you agree.”

Cass shrugged, “Your conversations seem pleasant. There’s always a compliment.”

Of course, they seemed pleasant, that was the point. Not that Cassandra would understand. Helen vented her frustration with an irked sigh before rolling out of bed. Like the lavish luxuries of her chambers, from the silk thread pillows adorning both bed and couch, to the balcony view of the kingdom, they were illusions. Every compliment her fiance’s mother and sister handed her was but a backhanded strike to anyone trained in rhetoric. Explaining that was another matter entirely. 

And from the oxen’s confusion, Helen discovered she’d rather not make the attempt. 

“Are you sure this isn’t stress about something else?” The ox woman asked. 

Helen watched the ox woman move after pouring herself a drink. There were no grunts of pain or pangs of exhaustion. Despite the hours they’d shared the bed Cassandra looked ready to go ten more while the mink’s desire to keep moving faltered after she attained her drink. That seemingly unending energy was but one of the many things she liked about her friend. It was the first come to think of it, long before the ox became her official bodyguard. But not before her unofficial lover.

“It’s not,” Helen lied. She leered at Cass’s grin. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Is that an order, your highness?” 

The mink threw her head back, groaning like a weary child. “Cass, please. Not here. Not when it’s just us.”

“I can’t help it, your highness.” Cass’s demeanor and tone hardened despite her smile. She stood tall, letting her muscled body tower over the mink like a pillar of flesh and fur. Arms clung to her sides as if her weapon wasn’t resting next to the basin. “If my lady wishes to keep her secrets at an arm's length, then I must respect that decision as her guardian.” 

“Cass…” The ox did not move. Helen sighed, taking a moment to observe the small breasts of the ox followed by the fat hog between her legs. “Yes, I am worried about that trip. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Cass’s shoulders relaxed. She plopped next to Helen hard enough that the mink almost spilled her drink from the bounce. “Now tell me why.”

“You know why.”

She nodded. “But I need you to say it, else you’ll keep ignoring it.” 

Helen didn’t know what was worse, that Cass kept pressing or that she was right. “How am I supposed to feel about a month-long trip without my bodyguard? How can my body be made safe by you if you are not present?”

“I’ve fought alongside Sir Rason. I’ve spoken with him at length in the past. He’s a good man, capable.” 

“But he is loyal to the power of the crown.”

Cass pressed in, “You are to be with the crown.”

“Just because Prince Gellen is to wear it doesn’t mean he’ll be holding the power. I would not be surprised if his mother ordered assassins to slip past Sir Rason.”

“And why would she want you dead?” 

“Why indeed.” Helen pondered her inlaws' animosity towards her since arriving months ago. Their houses were loyal, and the marriage saw to it that both would prosper. Yet any room she was in felt colder whenever Marian or Vivian entered. The highlight of her trip was that neither queen or princess would be joining. Just her and Prince Gellen, off on a trip to negotiate peace.

“Don’t tell me you’ll miss me,” Cass jeered. 

“Of course I will,” Helen rolled her eyes. Her fiance wasn’t a bad man, but his lackluster habits in bed made intimate moments a dull affair. He lacked stamina and patience, one of which Cassandra had to spare. “Better it is that you don’t come in that case. I doubt we’d have the privacy to enjoy ourselves. The uproar upon our discovery would be disastrous.”

“Unless they make it an open secret, like your father’s invitation towards any knight who fancies his wife.”

In lieu of hurling, Helen hit her friend’s shoulder. It hurt her more than the ox, who laughed it off. “Do not talk about that. At least not here.”

“Of course, of course. It would be worse for you, I suppose. The kingdom is always hard on its women.”

Quickly wanting to avoid politics Helen changed the topic. “Are you sure you’ll be fine without me?” The mink asked, raising her brow with the tangentially related question. “I’ve seen how you get when you’re…backed up.” 

Her lover looked away to hide her blush. “I will survive. Whores are cheap and, if you’re against that, my hand will suffice.”

“See that it does.” With haughty pride at Cassandra’s surprise, Helen got up and opened her dresser to the myriad of gowns she had. Cass donned her outfit and armor while the future queen-consort weighed her choices. She’d found none by the time Cass was dressed. “Be a dear and fetch one of the maids to assist me. Then wait until I have need for you.”

Cassandra bowed. Each slipped their public masks back on. Helen’s weighed on her the more she thought about her trip. “Just a month,” she told herself, “Just a month.”

***

The month had passed without a hitch. Sir Rason was just as Cassandra described him, and Prince Gellen had been so preoccupied with his travel models that she’d scarcely seen him in the bedroom. So upon seeing the towers of their home, Helen felt the burning need to see Cassandra in her chambers. 

Queen Marian turned that need to ice. The older fox woman was adorned in an emerald gown that brought out the orange of her fur. It was dull compared to her daughter who stood beside her. Vivian’s fur glistened in a glow matched by the princess’s eager smile. A wonderful mask in Helen’s experience. Her lady-in-waiting, Talia, stood in the shaded space behind Vivian, all but her eyes shrouded by a dark veil. Those yellow orbs pierced Helen’s chest like an arrow.

“All that’s missing is father,” Gellen said, not noticing the silent war being waged between the four women. After a hug for his mother, a peck on his sister’s cheek, and a bow from Talia, he asked for his father’s whereabouts, “Surely he can’t be sleeping at this hour.”

“Of course not, dear,” Marian hid her subtle laugh behind her hand. “He’s waiting for you in his champers. He’s quite eager for your report.”

“So eager to not let me and my love rest?” the prince asked. Helen heard little conviction when speaking of her. She didn’t take it personally, given that she felt similar to him. 

The queen frowned, “I’m afraid so, my dear. But do not worry, we have much to discuss with Helen about her role and responsibilities. It’s all very tedious, so we won’t keep you.”

Helen did her best to subtly reach for Gellen’s arm. She missed by a hair as the fox left with a nod in a smile. His mother and siblings watched him go while Talia kept her eyes on Helen. Those slitted amber orbs never sat well with her. She gathered it was because Talia was no more than a whore before her status as a lady in waiting. This lowborn whore saw fit to stare at her not only as an equal but with contempt. Helen made a note that, as queen consort, she would see fit to get rid of Talia. 

“He leaves so quickly,” Marian said, stepping over to her daughter-in-law. Vivian circled the right and Talia the left, leaving Helen surrounded by the three women. “The youth today have little loyalty it seems.”

“Would you prefer him loyal to me or his king?” Helen put on her most polite smile. She could not move without brushing the others aside, and even doing so to Talia would be a grave offense to the queen and princess. Vivian’s smile grew wicked as if she read Helen's thoughts and challenged her. 

“To father, obviously,” Vivian said, “But a husband, even if yet to be wed, should show a little resistance when pushed. You must do little to keep him by your side.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Helen raised her brow. 

“Oh, don’t mind my daughter’s bluntness, dear.” Marian tilted the mink’s head back to her gaze. “It is easy for her to judge as she is without consort.”

“Mother!” Vivian snapped. Marian chuckled softly. Talia remained silent, her beady eyes drawing Helen’s concern like a moth to flame. 

“That is all very well and good, your ladyship. But I must be elsewhere.” Helen bowed and made an effort to move. None stepped aside to let her squeeze through.

“Helen, please. We have much to discuss.” Helen clutched her shoulder as she leaned in, “And you will not find Cassandra at your door.”

Her blood turned cold. She felt her neck crack at the slow turn to the fox’s masked smile. “W-Whatever do you mean?” Helen smiled to play it off but deep down she knew it was folly. Knew that these three had done something to her guard. Her lover. “Is she on assignment somewhere else? Without my knowledge?”

“Something like that,” Vivian butted in. Marian gave her a quick look that told her to be silent and the fox shrank down, comforted by Talia’s paw along her shoulder. It was the first time Talia’s focus shifted in the conversation. Helen knew why, the rumors were only such because anyone who spoke openly of it mysteriously vanished. A power that the mink wished she had when it came to her relations with Cassandra. 

Helen clutched her arm. She needed the ox here, standing between the three foul witches. “That is unacceptable,” she tried to speak up but her authoritative tone was squandered in their presence. “Cassandra is my guardian from my household. She is not yours to command.” 

“Is that any way to speak to your husband’s mother?” Marian chided. The fox inched closer, whispering as though looping a noose of silk around the mink’s neck. “Everyone in this castle is mine to command, dear. I know you’re smart enough to know that means your guards…and you,” a delicate finger flicked the mink’s ear. “While your station gives you an air of importance, you are still within a hierarchy.”

“As is Talia,” Helen swallowed, clasping her hands together to calm the shaking, “Yet that whore looks at me as if she is above me. So if you have a point, my queen, I suggest you get on with it and tell me where my guardian is.”

For a moment, long enough that Helen felt the sweet rush of pride, Marian looked taken aback. Then she smiled as if answering a challenge. “Why don’t we take you to her?”

Talia directed Helen by her shoulder. A glance from the two foxes told her to keep quiet, even as the panther’s claws cut into her dress. She made a note to tell Gellen what Talia did, hoping the prince would find a fitting punishment for the former whore. 

The quartet traveled through the castle in a tight pack. To any outsider, it would appear as a gaggle of women enjoying themselves, not a prisoner being escorted by her cruel family. Once they reached the tower where her room resided they traveled down, deep into the dark where sunlight was replaced with flickering torches. Marian took one and lit several others upon their descent, revealing barred doors and thin fingers that scrambled into the darkness upon sight.

Helen’s heart raced with worry. She told herself that they’d just stationed Cassandra as a guard here at some cruel post. Spending her days pacing without the sunlight cast down upon her. But the deeper they went the fewer guards were present until there were none. 

She tried to speak on the nature of the dungeons but Talia clamped her maw tight. Vivian inched closer to whisper, “Best be quiet now, sister,” she said with sadistic glee, “Else you’ll disturb the guests.”  

The queen produced a key from her bosom, unlocking the latch of a thick wooden door. Helen held her breath, eyes like saucers at the display. Furniture with restraints dotted an expansive dungeon space, with cuffs hanging from the ceiling and the wall. Tools of torment adorned a single corner, from thin wooden rods to harsh whips and strange metal devices the mink did not recognize. 

In the far corner sat a cell built into the wall. The flickering flames of torches beat back the darkness as they drew closer, revealing a single inhabitant. The queen clamped Helen’s mouth shut and whispered she keep quiet. “Better to keep her in the dark.”

Chains rustled as a muscled figure moved to a kneeling position. Iron cuffs hung from their ankles and wrists, with a matching metal collar and belt. A mask of leather engulfed their entire head, leaving holes for horns, eyes, and mouth. A blindfold of matching material blinded the prisoner, whilst a thick rounded gag stuffed their maw. Helen’s nose twitched at the sight of the thick brass nose-ring locking the hood in place. Large breasts heaved with every controlled breath and the cock…

Cassandra. Helen knew it instantly but the sign of her lover’s shaft locked by some strange metal cage hammered it into her. Regret swelled tears in her eyes. “What have they done to you?” she thought. 

The hooded ox waited on her knees while Vivian and Talia changed their outfits. Gone were the proper dresses of court, replaced by corsets of leather that let their breasts breathe, matching gloves, and long boots. Talia wrapped her head in cloth but let her mouth free, her sinister smile rivaling the fox’s as they unlocked the cell door. At the hinges creak Cassandra pressed her nose to the ground. 

“Raise your head, slave,” Vivian commanded. Talia led Cassandra out by her nose ring. Though the ox towered over all the women her presence had been nullified by her bondage and submission. The strong arms Helen missed were crossed at the wrists as if bound. 

“Kneel,” Marian commanded, signaling Talia to remove the gag. “We have brought a guest. They are a servant of the crown, one you have no doubt crossed during your service. Introduce yourself.” 

Helen’s throat tightened. The bovine grimaced and spat at the floor, then straightened herself to speak. “This slave is known as Cassandra when in service. Cassandra is the bodyguard of Princess Helen, fiance to Prince Gellen. This slave’s purpose is to satisfy their betters and has no rights. While the feelings of this slave do not matter, this slave is grateful to kiss the boot of the queen, her daughter, and this slave’s trainer.”

Her heart sank. Slave? To kiss the boot? Cassandra was never one to bottom in the bedroom, yet here she was, naked and hooded, acting as though this were her normal state of being. Vivian’s praise of “Good slave,” was met with a soft scowl from Cass as she patted the ox’s head. 

“They will be watching this session, slave,” Marian said, keeping Helen close, “Do you have any objections?”

“This slave cannot object,” Cassandra spoke like she was reciting a mantra. “This slave can only serve the desires of their owner. There is no greater purpose.” 

Helen’s eyes swept around the dungeon. She made a narrative of every tool of torment used in breaking Cassandra’s spirit. As if reading her thoughts, Marian laughed softly and directed her back to the oxen. “Do you think she hates this?” the fox whispered. “Do you think those twitching muscles are from fear? Sweet dear, do you not know the difference between fear and excitement?” 

Talia hoisted Cassandra’s arms over her head, locking the cuffs to a hook. With the strength of a nearby pulley system, they suspended the hooded bull woman to the tips of her hooves. Vivian, having been playing with a leather flogger while she watched, dragged the tool’s tails along the bovine’s back. The first strike was light, almost gentle. Cassandra thanked her for it, as she did every strike that came after, each increasing in intensity. The mink’s ears furled at the snaps echoing across the dungeon floor. 

Vivian tossed her toy unceremoniously aside in favor of a thin wooden rod. She circled to Cassandra’s front. Talia took the rear, wielding a wooden paddle with six holes drilled through it. It hissed through the air, clapping against the Amazonian oxen’s cheeks like thunder. “Thank you, Mistress!” Cassandra cried out. Vivian thwacked her rod against Cass’s fat breasts as Talia pulled back. They built a rhythm of pain that their slave thanked them for until her voice ran dry. 

“Pay attention to her cage,” Marian pointed to the metal prison dangling between Cassandra’s legs. Helen watched it sway with every strike, puzzled by what her matron meant. Then she saw the precum. The torchlight made the fluid almost invisible, but it flicked droplets before turning into a thin stream. Helen grit her teeth. 

“Take pause, Vivian,” Marian said, much to the puppydog eyes of her daughter. The queen handed Helen a pitcher of water. “Remember that the slave must be hydrated to sing your praises. Let the servant care for her.” 

She tensed her grip to keep it steady. They lowered Cassandra to her knees and angled her head up to the queen consort. Helen saw a smile with her lover’s heavy breaths. Revulsion, anger, and betrayal swelled in her. With care, she tipped the pitcher into the ox’s waiting maw. She drank greedily. 

“T-Thank you for the water,” Cassandra said, her lips wet and dripping to the puddle on the floor. 

“Did you forget something, slave?” Vivian asked, yanking the ox’s head back.

Cassandra bit her lip and looked up to Helen, her eyes hidden by the leather hood. “This slave was unsure if they deserved the same title as you all.”

Marian laughed the way only a haughty noblewoman could. “The slave has a point, dear Vivian. Slave, you may refer to anyone who isn’t us as Servant unless we say otherwise. Is that clear?” 

Cass nodded, “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how do we show our thanks?” 

Cassandra tensed, letting loose a heavy shuddering breath. Pushing herself to stand, the ox thrust out her crotch, cage and all. “As thanks, please abuse this slave’s balls as you please, servant.” 

Helen would have backed away if not for the queen’s tight grip. “Don’t be scared. This slave doesn’t want you to think she’s better than you. Just a few swift kicks. That’s all.”

Vivian whispered to Talia. The pantheress nodded, crouching down to unlock the ox’s cage. “Since she’s been a good paintoy, why not let her cock out to breathe?” the younger fox said. 

Helen was acquainted enough with Cass’s shaft to know when she was enjoying herself. The fat rod hung at half-mast, steadily growing to erection before her eyes. A small but surprised smile made its way across the oxen’s lips. “T-Thank you for your generosity, Mistress Vivian.” 

By god, she wanted this. Cass, her bodyguard who refused to take any insult, enjoyed being under their heel. Tears stained her cheeks. “It is cruel, yes,” The queen whispered low so Cassandra couldn’t hear, “I’ve known you cheated on my son with this harlot for quite some time. But did you know she saw others? Talia still speaks with the brothel whores she once worked with. They love her visits. Just think that whenever you were without her, she was busy burying that heavy rod into some cheap harlot.”

Helen’s first kick failed to carry her betrayal. It was soft, timid to little more than a tap against the oxen’s balls. Vivian said it didn’t count. “Harder, servant,” she commanded with rictus. 

“She loved it,” Marian added, “There was resistance at first, some of it still bubbles to the surface, but it took only a day for your lover to kiss our feet. All it takes is a few switches, a few reminders of her place and, well, you can see the results. We don’t even keep her down here for long. She’s not been to the brothel since.”

Her neck kick was swift. Cass clenched herself, refusing to buckle from the pain. “Thank you, servant. May I have another?”

Another? Helen grit her teeth. She kicked out, harder than the last. Cass winced but stood strong, as she did for the next. The fourth kick made her buck forward, but Talia and Vivian helped her to stand. By the fifth her rod exploded thick streams of seed forward, blanketing Helen’s dress and feet. Talia pushed the slave down to lick it up. Vivian kept her there under her boot. 

“I don’t remember permitting you to cum, slave,” Marian said, letting Helen go. She didn’t need to hold her anymore, not when the mink was too stunned to watch her lover’s talented tongue clean filth from the floor. 

“Apologies, Mistress Marian,” Cassandra said through bated breaths, “This slave has been–”

“Nor did I ask for an excuse. It seems I’ve been too lenient. Vivian, Talia, please remind the slave that we don’t take the cock out for their benefit.”

Helen watched as Cassandra let the two women gag and direct her away as if the ox couldn’t snap their arms like twigs. They strapped her back against a stretching table, arms, and legs locked on all four corners. Her cock, despite the pain and humiliation, or perhaps because of it, stood stiff as a nail. 

Talia laid out a line of thin metal rods. Vivian held up to the smallest on her left, mouthing, “Three,” with it, then “eighteen,” with the largest on her right. Helen bit her lip at the frightful moans Cass made when the smallest rod circled her cockhead. 

“Shh,” Vivian shushed the ox woman. “Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this. I bet Talia can feel your heartbeat through your cock.” The pantheress nodded, holding the fat phallus steady for the tiny rod. Vivian silenced the gagged moans with her chest, suffocating the ox woman while her torture partner slowly slipped the rod down the urethra. 

A hole was a hole but some holes seemed forbidden. To see the pantheress violate one so easily, with the princess cackling as their victim struggled underneath, was too much for Helen. Marian clamped her mouth shut. “Keep looking,” she whispered with a growl, “Watch as your slut gives into perverse pleasures.” 

Talia swapped out the rod for a thicker one, twisting it around as she pulled it up and down the shaft. Helen had never heard Cassandra wail as she was now but knew deep down it wasn’t a wail to stop. It was a perverse pain. Like picking at a scab despite knowing better. 

“She is addicted to this now,” Marian whispered, hand trailing down her daughter-in-law’s crotch, “Talia tells me there are days where she begs to be tormented, not that she cares to admit in person. It’s almost a handful. Tell me, daughter, did you do anything like this with her? Or were your private sessions just simple thrusts?” 

Loss for words, Helen nodded. The fox let her go, circling the collapsed Mink. With a smile, she spat at her. “This is my castle. Your husband is my son. An insult to him is an insult to me. But I am not cruel, I know the failings of the men in this family. If you had asked my permission I would have allowed your coupling, but I do not blame you for not. How could you know? After all, I’ve disliked you the moment I met you.”

A hand shot out before Helen could speak up, “And that lack of communication is why I am granting you a mercy. Your lover, Cassandra, will still perform her duties. She will be your guard, your companion, and your friend, rather than spend the rest of her days as our pain doll. But she is, above all, ours first. Do I make myself clear?” 

Helen looked at the ox woman, now wincing at Talia's compressed squeeze around her sack. She nodded. “Good. I hope you’re smart enough not to let Cassandra know it was you in here. It would break her heart to know you saw all of this.” 

“I won’t…I won’t tell her.” 

“Then leave,” Marian waved her away, “I grow bored of simply watching and I’d rather not trust Vivian to keep you silent.” 

Helen left. First, a quick walk then a sprint up the stairs until she collapsed into her bed. Exhaustion from the journey and what she’d just witnessed pulled her to slumber. When she next woke she hoped it was a dream. Upon seeing Cassandra and kissing her, she almost thought it was. Then the ox pulled away when the mink reached for her cock.

“N-Not today, Helen,” Cass looked away, sheepishly. “I’m too tired from, well, guarding.”

“Guarding…of course.” Helen thought back to the screams in the dungeon below. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I did,” Cass smiled. “It’s my duty, after all."