WARNING: The following story is made for fans of natural &/or modularbody magic / detachment/ disassembling people non-lethally / etc. If you are not a member of that community, I strongly advise that you turn back now. Things will get freaky.

SECOND WARNING: The following story is very, very gay. If you don't like gay femboys, I also advise leaving.

This story was made on commission for Kermragdar, so if you're mad that my first story back after 4 months is unreadable to you because gay... that is entirely my own fault because this was supposed to be done 4 months ago. Please direct all frustration at me. I know I do.

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"Whenever you're ready, Prince Kristov." Said the rabbit eared young man, jostling the vain prince's dark purple hair.

"Ugh, sorry!" Kristov said, swatting the hand away and needlessly patting down his hair despite the tightly braided ponytail keeping everything in order. Despite his apology, he went right back to studying his reflection in the brilliantly polished blade, observing "Dazi tells me this is how all fashionable fiendbloods trim their horns now, but... I don't know, don't they look a bit...?"

"Phallic?" The prince's friend answered, flicking one of the two smoothly polished, gently curved, rounded off pink horns jutting from Kristov's forehead.

"I was thinking 'cutesy', but thank you for the confidence boost, Sir Sabre." The prince grumbled, swatting the hand more harshly this time and wincing as his silk glove failed to match the toughness of Sabre's steel gauntlet.

"May it ease your nerves, Kris, I quite fancy them!" Sabre said, bowing and gently kissing the prince's wounded hand. Before the gesture could be mistaken as sincere, Sir Sabre leered and added "Whether they be cutesy, or otherwise."

Kris playfully backhanded Sabre's nose and tutted. "Keep it in your skirt, good sir knight. We have more than enough horns on display as it stands."

Sir Sabre snickered, playfully pinching the frilly white hem of his mostly black maid dress and curtsying. "You do enjoy keeping me in skirts, don't you?"

"Well I hate being the only pretty one in the castle." The prince said, posing to flaunt his expertly crafted spectacles, knee length purple dress with puffy shoulders, matching lavender colored thigh high silk socks and opera gloves, and the slightly chubby figure filling it all out.

"As much as I love basking in your glory, I'm afraid there's more to do today." Sabre said, rolling his eyes and drawing his sword from a utilitarian scabbard that, to Kris' annoyance, clashed with the maid outfit nearly as much as the metal gauntlets, glistening cuirass, and black cavalry boots. The royal artisans assured Kris that they were working tirelessly to craft more fashion conscious equipment for the prince's guard, but their efforts were hamstrung by his father the king, who seemed to value his favored heir's safety over the cuteness of his bodyguard's ensemble.

"I again ask why father is so insistent I learn swordplay?" Kris again asked, limply lifting his fabulously ornate sword like a soiled washcloth. "I have full confidence in your ability to protect me; if my faith be misplaced, why then should you be the one to teach me?"

Sabre rolled his eyes. "What if we are separated, or surrounded? What if I am sick, or wounded? King Garrett just wants to ensure, if nothing else, that you could give an assassin enough pause for thought for help to arrive."

"Will the assassin pause to laugh as they knock an arrow? Or am I to simply deflect the fiendish missiles until they close to clash blades as gentlemen?" Kris sarcastically asked.

"If you wish to be taught archery, I can schedule lessons with a bowmaster." Sabre joked, tossing his more humbly decorated but identically bladed weapon from hand to hand. "For now, why not start with basic stances. Remove your spectacles, Kris."

"But I can't see without them." Kristov replied, reflexively pushing his thick, round spectacles up the narrow bridge of his nose and magnifying his big blue eyes.

"We can't have them slipping off and breaking." Sabre reasoned.

"Why do you think I wore this?" Kristov huffed, stamping a black shod foot and sending a ripple through his soft figure and the billowing ruffles of his loose skirt. "It won't restrict movement or trip me up, so the glasses won't fall!"

"Oh, quit being childish!" Sabre demanded, reaching for the offending eye wear.

Kristov only wanted to once more smack the guard's armored hand away, this time with the flat of his blade, but the glint of deadly steel activated the hair-trigger reflexes of the hare-like lagos, and his natural survival instincts worked in tandem with training to produce an unconscious yet precise counterattack. Sabre siezed the attacking limb, yanked it aside, and stepped into the assailant with a powerful shoulder check while striking the elbow. The attack knocked the prince onto his plump red ass, his long, black, slender tail buried beneath.

"How dare you?!" Kristov demanded, glaring up at the guard and pointing the sheared off stump of his arm. A second passed before Kris' brain caught up with his body, and he grabbed the stump fearfully with his remaining hand. "M-my hand! Y-you cut my hand off?!"

Sabre raised his hand, now clutching half an arm wearing a long lavender glove. He stared in stunned stupor, only snapping out when he saw tears welling up behind the heavy spectacles that started this. "It's alright, Kris! You're alright! Don't cry!" he assured, sheathing his sword and holding up his hands placatingly. "These are training swords, remember? Blessed by the high cleric? They can harm no living thing!"

Kristov's breath hitched as Sabre brought the detached hand to his cheek and nuzzled it, the prince feeling clearly Sabre's soft, warm skin. He felt his fingers curl reflexively, and he deliberately unfurled them without delay or difficulty. "Reattach it." The prince demanded, lifting his stump.

The guard gingerly took the prince's spongy bicep and peeled away the tattered silk glove to better see the fine details of the prince's immaculate red skin, not wanting to upset the prince further by attaching his arm the wrong way around. Carefully aligning the halves, Sabre pressed them together and let go. "See? Good as new."

The prince flexed and bent the limb, feeling nothing out of place until he gripped his forearm and pulled, causing his arm to pop right off. He glared at Sabre, who sheepishly took hold of the floppy rabbit ear hanging down his left shoulder and stroking it like a comfort blanket. "The effects linger a few days, my liege, but don't despair! This shall pass."

"For your sake, I hope. Father may be a softheart, but even he will not tolerate the mutilation of his favored son!" The prince threatened, holding the severed arm up with his intact arm to point accusingly at Sabre.

"Mutilating?" Sir Sabre laughed, snatching the accusing hand away even as Kris shouted and struggled to his feet. "Don't be dramatic, my liege! I was chopped into so many tiny piece in training, some nights I could've fit in a chamber pot!"

"Give my hand back!" The prince demanded, lunging for his limb and being easily sidestepped. Before the prince had a chance to turn and try again, Sabre slapped him across the ass with his own hand, felling the prince like a tree as his body froze and pitched forward onto his face.

"Forgive me, I may have misheard you. Did you say, give my back hand?" Sabre teased, waving the prince's severed hand at him in a clear taunt. As expected, the prince furiously took up his sword and swung wildly, the lagos evading the attack and severing the offending limb in the same movement. "Now then, would you like to learn proper swordplay so you may vanquish villains like myself, or would you like to keep losing limbs?"

Sir Sabre's swagger evaporated as, rather than rising to his challenge, the prince dropped to his knees and started sniffling. He looked up at his bodyguard, at his friend, and with eyes watering behind his now cracked spectacles, asked "Why are you being so mean to me?"

"I was... I just wanted to rile you up.  Get you itching for revenge, excited to spar. It's how they trained us in the royal guard." Sabre explained, unable to meet the prince's gaze.

"That's just bullying." The prince sniffed. "I know I'm not good at this, so why rub it in?"

"It's just friendly hazing." He answered, wincing as the prince waved the stumps of his arms at his now filthy purple dress. He really should've worn something cheaper for this. "It really motivated us, bred competition! It certainly worked for me! I was a maid before you reassigned me, I'd never held a sword before in my life and the others resented me for not being a born warrior. Spent the first few weeks getting taken apart like a puzzle, but their japes and jibes gave me the drive to see them strewn out at my feet, and by the high gods I did!"

Kris smiled weakly, then frowned. "I really put you through this sort of humiliation? Day after day? For weeks? I had no idea. I'm sorry, Sir Sabre."

"I'm better for it! From mere maid to the most prestigious of the royal guard? Whatever misfortunes I endured, the fortunes were worth it!" Said Sir Sabre, sheathing his sword and striding over to the limb now lying in the grass. "Besides, training wasn't all misfortune. You'd be surprised how many of the men found me rather fetching, in cute, portable pieces."

"Huh?" Kris answered.

Sabre chuckled, staring off into space wistfully. "Oh yes, it's something of an open secret among the royal guard that these swords aren't just useful for sparring, but for other words beginning with 's' too! You'd be amazed how inventive a barracks full of bullheaded young men could get, particularly when those heads kept coming off and getting passed around!"

Kris blinked wordlessly, and Sabre knew he'd crossed the line. While he and Kris were no strangers to risque banter and some facetious flirtation, this was far, far more real than any prior joke. "Uh, I beg your pardon, my liege. That was... untoward."

"It's fine." Kris said, avoiding eye contact as he raised his stumped arms. Sir Sabre silently restored the limbs, trying not to let the prince feel how hard he was trembling. Once again whole, albeit a little more exposed with his tattered gloves gone, Kris flexed his arms tentatively and asked "So... I guess we should start my training? I think you mentioned something about stance?"

"Yes! Stances! The foundation of all martial arts!" Said the rabbit eared man, hopped to his feet and nodding with overcompensating enthusiasm. "A strong offense and defense depend on having a strong stance to attack and defend from. Without that, your attacks feeble and your defenses... uh, are defenseless." He adjusted his footing, struggling to remember the eloquent way the instructor had put it. "While hundreds of practical stances exist, all with situational advantages, we'll start with some basic generalist ones."

Kicking the prince's sword off the ground and catching it, Sabre passed the weapon over and retreated, dropping into a fencing stance; one leg forward and bent, shoulders squared to the prince, and his sword low to protect the lead leg or strike at a moment's notice. His off hand rested on his hip which, regulation or not, made Sabre look a lot sassier. "Copy this."

Kris imitated as best he could, carefully studying Sabre's plump pink lips for twitches of approval or disapproval and making adjustments accordingly, but nothing felt right.  Kris couldn't figure out where to put his weight, what muscles to tense or keep loose, or "What do I do with my tail?"

"Sorry?" Sabre asked, like Kris had switched languages.

"My tail." Kris repeated, the snakelike black appendage rising to eye level and waving its red, spade shaped head. "Unlike your little rabbit tail, we fiendbloods have a proper tail to consider."

"Indeed you do have more tail." Sabre muttered, eliciting an affronted cough. Before the Prince could form his angry thoughts into words, Sabre continued "I don't know, can you grab people with it? That might be useful in a fight."

"And risk having it severed?!" The prince gasped, hugging his tail to his bosom like it were a frightened child.

Sabre rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Very well, then just keep it out of the way as you normally do."

"I don't normally walk sideways swinging a sword." The prince retorted. "I don't want to trip over it, or gods forbid cut it... Wait, that's it!"

"What's-wha?!" Sabre recoiled, his empty hand covering his mouth as the prince hiked up his purple skirt to reveal his big red ass crammed into uncomfortably tight and low riding white lace panties. Uncomfortable for Sir Sabre, that is, for the prince seemed to fancy the fit.

"Cut my tail off. At the base. So it won't get in the way." The prince ordered, the tail's tip pointing to its base above his butt.

"To avoid cutting your tail, you'd have me cut your tail?" Sir Sabre asked.

Kris glanced over his shoulder, slowly blinking in silent retort behind his now cracked spectacles. Sir Sabre shrugged in deference, resting a hand on Kris' hip and feeling the young prince jolt. "Sorry, just trying to get a good angle." Sir Sabre said, hastening to add "For the cut. Don't want to slice anything around the tail area."

"Butt of course." Kris concurred, giggling while trying to keep still.

Laying the blade's flat against Kris' panties, Sabre slid the saber up the curvature of Kris' butt through the base of his tail, leaving naught but a nub. "Got it." He announced. "Now, where shall I put this?"

Lowering his skirt and patting its back into shape, Kris answered "Oh, could hold onto it?"

Sir Sabre gasped as the thumb-thick prehensile tail coiled around his wrists and with bound them with startling strength. Concurrently, Kris spun and slashed at Sabre's neck, an attach that would've cleanly decapitated the Lagos had the heel of Kris' right shoe not sank into the soft earth and thrown him off balance, buying Sir Sabre a precious few inches.

"Cheap trick, good job!" Sir Sabre commended, fighting to free himself from the tail's tight grip.

"You'll find I'm full of surprises!" The prince answered, feigning high and striking low.

"Ha, get that line from an adventure novel?" Sabre accused, lazily parrying low and moving to quite literally deface the prince with the upswing. With his constricted wrists limiting his range of motion, however, he only managed to send the prince's pink horns tumbling off his forehead. Instinctively trying to bat them away, Kris exposed himself a second time in a row, only for a tug to Sabre's wrists and a lucky stumble on Kris' part to reduce the deadly stab between the ribs to a superficial glance to the shoulder. While one of the puffy shoulders of Kris' dress fell away, revealing a lacy white bra strap to match the panties, he was otherwise unscathed.  "By the gods, do you lift weights with this?!" Sabre demanded, shoving a knee between his wrists and pushing.

"A bit? Mostly just snacks and books, or a towel and wash bucket when I bathe. Frankly, I'm as surprised as you. Without my posterior muscles providing leverage, you'd think-"

Sir Sabre cheered as he freed a hand, the tail tightening around the remaining wrist like a bracelet. Kris realized he had but a split-second before the bodyguard slaughtered him, and so lunged into a suicidal attack. Sabre saw it coming and responded with a textbook high feint into stomach slash. Only, Kris had never read that textbook, and rather than ceasing his attack to block the feint he just swung with no thought of his own safety. His attack and Sabre's connected simultaneously, the prince severing Sabre's head right above his maid outfit's frilly choker while the guard tore Kris' torso from his tummy.

Sabre's head rolled far across the soft grass of the secluded courtyard, blinded by well groomed grass, a brilliant sun, and his own floppy ear and singly knotted ponytail. Even after he stopped, the world continued to swirl and spiral for several seconds, leaving the swordsman too disoriented to ponder how in the hell his long hair and dangling ear somehow went unscathed in his decapitation despite either resting on either shoulder. These questions didn't occur to Sabre even as his head cleared, though, as all concentration immediately shifted to keeping his dizzy body from toppling as it logically should've.

"A draw? Well, for a swordplay virgin, I'd say this is a respectable result. Right, Sabre?" Kris asked, searching for his tutor's head and validation. His new vantage point was much lower than he'd expected, his legs comprising much more of his height than he considered. Turning on his stump, he saw his legs were more bare than expected too, his unsupported skirt having fallen to his ankles and leaving his lower half wearing only panties, stockings, and wedges.

"I wouldn't call this a draw. Were I an assassin, I completed my mission. By contrast, if your mission as prince is to outlive your father, you've failed." Sir Sabre answered, clapping his gauntlets together. Both his soft and rigid rabbit ear twitched, and his body turned and took a step towards his head.

"I d-AH!" Kris cried, eating a knee to the chin and falling back into his own legs which buckled and fell with him. "What in the hell, Sabre?!"

"Terribly sorry, I didn't know you were so close in front of me! Are you wounded?!" he asked, his blind body freezing for fear of further kicking his friend while he was down.

Kris rubbed his chinand licked his teeth, finding no blood or chips. "No, I'm... uh..." he blinked uncomprehendingly up at Sabre's body. Up his frilly skirt. Up at "Sabre?"

"What is it, my liege?" Sabre asked, worried he'd hurt him.

"You're hard." Kris said flatly.

"What?!" Sabre asked.

"You... it... you're hard." Kris repeated, watching 'it' twitch at his accusation. "And bare."

"I…" Sir Sabre started, before an unseen blush ate the remaining words. He swallowed, spit somehow traveling through his neck and bulging the tight choker capping the other half. "It allows for greater range of movement. Might as well utilize the skirt's advantages, no?"

"I see." The prince said, seeing very clearly indeed. "And this?" He asked, taking his sword and tapping its tip to Sir Sabre's. The maid jumped back and fell flat on his ass, and from there an awkward silence filled air. Eventually, the prince asked "Sir Sabre, answer truthfully, why are you bare?"

He gulped again, staring at the ground pressed against his burning red cheek as his distant choker constricted with each breath. He closed his eyes, sighed, and replied "My liege, I must confess that those training antics I mentioned... well, it left most of us guards with rather 'exotic' interests. Engaging in such wanton debauchery... it changes you. I could hardly keep my hands at my sides while your father proposed I teach you, the mere idea of playing with training swords again, with you of all people, had me squiring! Had I worn panties today, my mast would've snapped in twain!"

"Me of all people?" The prince asked, his own lower half squirming as ideas filled his virgin mind.

"My liege, you can't even keep your eyes off of yourself! What chance have I?" Sir Sabre asked, feeling an intangible weight lift from his bosom. "Did you really think I just act ostentatiously flirty with every young man I meet?"

"Yes! Because you do!" Kris retorted with cracking voice.

Sir Sabre's headless shoulders shrugged. "Oh. I suppose. Well with you I actually meant it."

"Then why in the hell didn't you say so?! I've been waiting for you to make a move forever! Why else do you think I'd have dad promote you to my personal bodyguard, a position where you'd be at my side at all times?" The prince groaned.

Sabre rolled his eyes. "I shouldn't need to remind you, my liege, that you are the prince, and I a humble peasant. To make advances on you would be most untoward. Dropping hints was the best I could do." With two clicks and a clatter, Sir Sabre's cuirass fell away, exposing the frilled chest of the maid dress that had first excited the young prince so. "So, will you take a hint?"

Kris realized that he could either stay mad, make up for two years lost time. Feeling his own dick raise the ponytail behind his head, he knew there really wasn't a choice.

Shedding what was left of his purple dress so his upper body wore only adorable spectacles and a lacy white bra, the prince sent his halves in opposite directions.  His arms pulled him between the maid's stocking clad legs as they excitedly tapped their feet, while Kris' lower half stood shakily, turned on its heels, and strode generally toward Sabre's severed head. When his torso sat between his Sabre's wide parted legs, Kris turned to check on his lower half. He impressed himself, his legs close enough that with only minor course correction and a stumble, his legs were standing over to the beaming head of the lagos. The rabbit eared young man didn't seem bothered, being kicked and nudged upright, licking his lips as he stared up the thic shapely legs of the prince at his tight, bulging panties.

The prince leaned in and sniffed Sabre, filling his nose with the scent of sweet sweat and rosewater. It was as good as the prince had always fantasized, the intimate scent of a refined man. Sticking out his tongue, he discovered... well, it didn't taste as good as the virgin imagined, much too gamy, but the excited vibrations he felt through the athletic warrior's flesh, that was where the satisfaction was. He licked again, lower, wrapping his hands around Sabre's tensed thighs and squeezing as the warrior's arms twitched, clearly wanting to grab the prince's head and take control but knowing it wasn't his place. Kris smiled, his deep purple lips never leaving Sabre's shaft.  It was cute, watching the maid fight his domineering urges and literally lending his body for Kris to explore.

Kris wrapped his lips around Sabre's tip and began sucking in earnest, simultaneously sitting his big fat butt down and burying the guard in his cheeks. Sabre's legs kicked out wildly, his gloved hands tearing the imported grass out of the ground like each blade wasn't worth his daily salary. He'd certainly had more skillful head than what the sloppy, slow, and unsure of himself prince could give, yet he'd never enjoyed himself more. Two long years of anticipation finally released, Sabre graciously kissed the prince's ass and gnawed at his panties, trying to slip his tongue underneath the tight fabric to show his full appreciation.

Pressure and pleasure rose along with the prince's cock, which was threatening to snap in his rapidly tightening panties exactly as Sabre had feared. The prince stopped sucking and looked back over his shoulder to shout "Bite my drawers!"

Sabre obeyed without hesitation, unsure what the prince had in mind but willing to go along with it whatever it was.  The lagos made a muffled noise as the prince stood, stumbling back and forth as their thighs shuddered violently. Sabre's headless body jerked as his head rose a few feet and fell a few inches, then another few, and as Kris bobbed on the balls of his feet, wiggling his thighs and shaking his wide hips, Sabre's his head dropped all the way down with the taint of the prince's panties still clutched in his teeth.

Sabre blushed as a long, dark shadow fell over his face. The smoothly shaven, deep red organ with its soft pink tip was by no means the biggest he'd seen, but like everything about the prince, it was the cutest. Soft, smooth, upwardly curved, and dripping onto his forehead, the Lagos' tongue fell from his lips in silent plea for a taste. Kris laughed at the ostentatious display, at the long fluffy ears shaking against the grass like twin tails of excited dogs. He knew Lagos' ears moved entirely on their own accord, their own having no say in their actions. Sabre was truly enjoying this, he truly wanted this, and had wanted it for a long time.

Kris knelt down and laid his dick on Sabre's face, the rabbit boy wasting no time in kissing his prince and discovering "Honey? Given your ensemble, I would've expected lilac, or lavender soap. Perhaps cinnamon, if we're going by your fiendish skin."

The prince shuddered as his meat bounced off Sabre's lips and tongue while he spoke, the hot breath leaving the infernal prince sweating. "I like smelling sweet."

"Makes sense. You are a treat!" Sabre answered, before opening wide and allowing the pudgy prince's lower half to face fuck his head into the ground. The prince tried his best to keep up in the long distance 69, but the skill of his partner left him incapable of doing anything more than moaning on Sabre's dick as he squeezed the head between his thighs. Kris couldn't even do anything beyond making a muffled sound and clenching tightly on Sabre's knob to warn his partner he was cumming, nor did he have the courtesy or self control to back off first. Not that it bothered Sabre, whose sharp ears and vast experience gave him all the warning he needed. The guard gently stroked the prince's hair as he had his first ever non-masturbatory climax, the prince shoving himself far enough down the guard's throat that his choker bulged and slid up his neck stump and popped right off. Sabre licked gently and swallowed softly, not wanting to overwhelm Kris' senses as he came down from coming down his throat.

"S-sorry." Kris said, lifting himself from Sabre's rod and resting his head in the maid's lap. "Should've warned you." He looked at the organ blocking out the majority of his line of sight. "And it seems you're not even close to being done. Sorry, again."

As an immobile head unable to dislodge Kris' deflating cock, Sabre answered by continuing to appreciatively suck and nibble the prince, his body stroking the Kris' intricately woven ponytail. He seemed content in the knowledge that the prince enjoyed himself. Still feeling a bit guilty, Kris kissed the shaft's side before turning back to see his bright red backside.

Kris stood up, Sabre reflexively clamped down to stop himself from falling, and the now dangling head realized a fraction of a second late what a horrible mistake he'd made. While 8 to 10 pounds was a meager weight to carry in the hands, suspended from the rod it was a terrible mass. He'd seen someone try this back in training, intending to playfully abscond with a playmate's head while their body perused them, and that poor recruit wound up in the infirmary for a month after taking only one step. Before Sabre could allow himself to drop and spare Kris further damage, the prince casually started walking toward himself, seemingly unbothered as Sabre's chin bounced off his inner thighs and balls. It wasn't until the prince' legs arrived at his torso, which sat up on its cut surface and gingerly took hold of Sabre's sensitive stump and singly knotted ponytail, that the guard opened his mouth and allowed himself to be plucked off Kris' cock.

"Did... did that not hurt?" Sabre asked, staring bewildered into Kris' bespectacled eyes.

"Huh? Oh, a bit I suppose" Kris said, shrugging. "But we fiendbloods are quite durable down there. As I'm sure you can imagine, devils get violently rough during their sinful copulation, and we their descendants have inherited more than just their horns and red skin."

"Ah, so that's how you wear such tight panties. I thought you were simply a masochist." Sabre said.

"I could be. Haven't had the chance to find out." Kris said, bringing in Sabre's head for a kiss. A kiss that ended much more abruptly than expected, as Kris pulled Sabre's head back and spat. "Bleh, is that what cum tastes like?! How can you possibly stand that?"

"You've never tasted your own? Are you certain you're gay, my leige?" Sabre teased, sticking his tongue out as Kris scowled and smacked his lips. "Well, I assure you that it tastes much better fresh from the source."

"As usual, your mastery of subtly astounds me." Kris answered, sitting his big red ass down and twisting his torso back to his unfinished business. He was about set Sabre's head aside to enjoy the show, when a better idea occurred to him. "Say, back in your wild days in the barracks, did you ever try using your head on yourself?"

"Uh, of course? It's the first thing all of us tried after losing our heads, gay or straight or otherwise!" Sabre answered.

"And of course you've tried kissing headless, too?" Kris rhetorically replied.

"...You were there, just a moment ago, right?" Sabre asked, uncertain where Kris was taking this.

"Well, have you ever done both at once?" Kris asked, laying his head on Sabre's silk stockinged right thigh and holding Sabre's head against his left, the guard's package proudly standing between them.

"...I suppose not." Sabre lied, smiling at the Prince's genius. Truthfully, given how obscene the barracks had been, nothing the freshly un-virgin-ed prince could possibly do could surprise him. But, seeing Kris' eyes light up behind his big glasses as he thought he pioneered some uncharted technique was well worth the little white lie.

Kris Giddily shoved his face and Sabre's against the lagos' longer and straighter shaft, their lips meeting and their tongues dancing across Sabre's skin soon after. While nothing new, Sabre's back arched and his dress' frilly shoulders dug into the ground all the same. For all his love of the dress, Kris didn't seem bothered ruining it, nor for that matter his own much more expensive garments. It's not like he'd be footing the bill, after all. That dubious honor was his father's, whoooOO"OOOO!"

Sabre's eyes bulged in their sockets as something hard, smooth, and thick was slowly and unexpectedly shoved up his ass. The something was too thick for a finger, too uniform for several, and couldn't be Kris' cock unless he'd failed to mention that his lineage had extreme rebound speed to compliment their nether region durability. Sabre was utterly baffled, until the prince pulled away from the fellating kiss and asked "Sorry, was that too much? I didn't mean to startle you so, I was just so... horny!"

The smooth, slick, slightly curved object in his ass shifted, and Sabre understood. The prince was fucking him with one of his severed horns! He must've remembered Sabre's japes and decided to pay the maid back. Of course, it was debatable whether this joke was ultimately on Sabre for being surprised by the prince's sexual ingenuity so soon after he dismissed the possibility, or on Kris because Sabre was totally into this sudden twist making any humiliation moot. Neither seemed to care who ultimately had egg on their face, for both were more interested in having something else on their face.

 "Cumming!" Sabre squeaked, his voice kicking up so many octaves that Kris hardly recognized it. Sliding up the length of him and wrapping his lips around the smaller of Sabre's heads as he gave the self-made sex-toy a good twist, Kris was soon struggling to keep his lips around the spraying organ as a long, fast, and powerful series of loads emptied into his mouth.

While Sabre hadn't lied about the best was to enjoy the taste, it still wasn't as sweet or creamy as it had always been described in the tasteful romance novels Kris insisted he read only for the captivating plot and compelling characters. He struggled to swallow it all, a fat glob pouring out into Sabre's lap and onto his face at the base of his dick. But Kris would happily take the taste, in exchange for Sabre's cries, his convulsions, the look on his face as his makeup ran down his burning, sweat covered cheeks, and the multitude details beyond words. All of it was beautiful, and as he took a final gulp and pulled his head away, he hoisted Sabre's head up by the ponytail to see more clearly into his starry eyes.

"You have something on your cheek." Kris said, wiping his fingers across Sir Sabre's messy face and into his grinning mouth. Sabre eagerly licked the fingers clean, his body sitting up and wrapping its legs around Kris' belly. When the maid finished cleaning, he plucked his head away and set it back on his neck, restoring himself. "So, are we calling this a day?" Kris asked, a little disappointmented.

"Hardly! The day is young and the body still fresh!" Sabre announced, grabbing something and falling forward onto Kris's torso in the same motion. Before the young prince could register the something, it was being wrapped around his slender wrists and drawn into a tight knot, binding his hands just as he'd bound Sabre's. Exactly as he'd bound Sabre's, in fact, as the prince realized he'd been hogtied with his own tail. Kris put up token struggle, far too excited to see where his guard was going with this to take the easy way out and simply control his tail to unravel itself. He watched Sabre step over him, discovering the rumors of the Lagos' legendary vigor were quite true as his maid's spit-shined cock was already rising again. Along with this discovery, Kris also witnessed Sabre's swaying shaven nuts, his small fluffy rabbit tail wagging beneath the skirt, and Kris' horn still firmly buried up his tight, light brown ass. Kris craned his head to watch his personal guard stride over to his helpless lower half, which feebly pushed itself across the grass away from Sabre. When his neck strained past comfort, Kris rolled onto his stomach, still pretending to struggle against his mighty tail.

Speaking of mighty tail, Sir Sabre seemed to be after just that, grabbing the prince's ankle and flipping his bottom onto its front to match his top. Sir Sabre grabbed the prince's hefty cheeks in his metal mitts, squeezing and rolling them in opposing circles, his thumbs teasing the crack as it split and shut. Kris was about to ask if it was really a good idea to do this with metal gloves still on, whether or not it might catch on anything inside him, when Sabre showed his hand. Or rather, his horn. Grabbing the second of Kris' severed horns from the grass, Sabre roughly gave the prince his just deserts, shoving the horn in and twisting it just as Kris had.

While Sabre's voice rose at unexpected penetration, Kris' fell, a low and satisfied groan escaping the prince as his halves dry humped the grass together. Happy that Kris took turnabout in stride, Sabre eased up a little, thrusting more gently, only for Kris to order him "Harder!"

Turning from the prince's ass to his all but drooling face for only a brief moment, Sabre called back "So we can confirm now that you are, indeed, a masochist?"

The prince continued to wordlessly grind his hips into the soft grass tickling his groin, only to discover to his annoyance that unlike the lagos, he wasn't ready for a second climax just yet. When no amount of grinding or throwing his butt back into his horn toy would get him to full mast, Kris sighed. He didn't want to call it quits while Sabre was still rearing to go, but at the same time he needed more time to recover.

Seeing the prince's writhing bottom go still, Sabre pat that butt consolingly. "Alright, I can see you're tuckered out. Don't feel ashamed, you haven't built up the stamina I have. If you would like, we can work on that tomorrow. Same time?"

"Actually, I was thinking of doing a late night study session." Kris said, his voice much closer than Sabre remembered it being. He felt two soft hands grip his cheeks, and an instant later his head was torn from his shoulders and tossed into the grass.

"Ah, it would seem you escaped my devious snare." Sabre said, his body sitting perfectly still and offering no resistance.

"Indeed. And while I appreciate your tutelage, I'd like to try some self guided study." Kris said, pulling his top half to the top of his bottom half and pressing the two together, reuniting himself. Standing up, knees buckling and ass quivering around the horn still inside him, Kris stumbled over to the remains of his dress and started digging around in one of the many hidden pockets. "In truth, I don't know whether I'm a sadist or a masochist, a top or a bottom. I never really felt strong affinity for either, in my fantasies. I'd like to try and figure out who I am, if you'd be so kind as to be my subject as opposed to my teacher."

Sabre couldn't believe what he was seeing, what the innocent prince had kept hidden on his person this entire time. He looked up and smiled, his body perking up more like an excited dog than a rabbit. "I would be honored, my liege." He answered, biting his lip.

-

If any of the palace's many guards had taken a wrong turn and stumbled across Kris and Sabre in the secret passage from Kris' private courtyard to his bedroom, they would've gotten quite the eyeful. A headless maid body covered in grass, dirt, and bodily fluids, with a leather collar fixed firmly around its neck stump. Secured to that collar, a long black leash trailed back to the hand of a future king, naked save for filthy shoes, stained stockings, and a tight bra that had once been spotless white. In the prince's other hand were two nearly identical swords, resting casually together on one shoulder. And of course, between the prince's legs, dangled the head of a lagos, one soft and one rigid ear twitching excitedly and his eyes wide and darting wildly around, and his overworked jaw threatening to give out as the prince sauntered down the long hall back to his chambers.

If any guard had seen it, they never spoke a word of it to anyone. The guards stationed outside Kris' room certainly hadn't reported any strange sounds coming from inside, in spite of their multitude.