On Vulkan's right hand, Princess Lilliphane, somewhat older and far more sexually mature than Flamia. As dark as Flamia and her mother were blonde, but where mother and daughter, were tall and willowy, Lilliphane, like her brother, the king, was shorter and prone to heaviness.

Vulkan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the heavy bulk of the cock thrust down the left leg of his suede britches ached incessantly at the closeness of the three regal sluts. Especially, at this particular moment in time, the ripe-bodied Lilliphane, who seemed to exude pheromones from every overheated pore, stimulating his heightened senses to fever pitch.

On Lilliphane's right was her husband, Eldred, a thin-faced effete looking man who had drunk far more wine than was wise and who now sat stupefied. Leaving Lilliphane to her own devices, which, as the banquet went on, seemed to consist of flirting with Vulkan. Her green eyes lingering upon his broad shoulders and bulging biceps as she chatted away, occasionally leaning into him and brushing her fingertips against his arm as she accented whatever vacuous point she was making.

For his part, Vulkan could only nod and smile as he silently chanted the spells taught to him by Malpurgo to keep his raging libido in check. He had already decided to fuck Lilliphane later that night, when the royal wanton placed her hot palm on his inner thigh and stroked the length of his cock meat through the soft doeskin.

Vulkan turned his head and faced her. He smiled tightly as she uttered a tiny gasp of surprise when her fingers discovered his extraordinary size. Despite her shock, Lilliphane continued to stroke him under the table, even going so far as to squeeze the bulging glans as she whispered in his ear.

"I sleep in the north tower, on the second floor landing, the door with the rose inlaid into the centre panel."