Premium Guest Star Story: A Knight’s Oath

“My Lord, I have word from the southern colonies that High Knight Cornelius’s body has been found on the shores.” A big, bulky, and muscular lion knelt down across from a salt and pepper-haired tiger who stood over a large oak table that had seen better days. Gouges ranging from claw marks to holes from arrowheads adorned the table, and no matter how many times the King’s wife, Queen Cassandra begged him to have it sent to the woodworker and have it patched up, he simply refused. “It’s intimidating,” he’d say. “And what are we to our enemies and allies if we are not intimidating.”

To his sides, at both ends of the table, stood a pair of dalmatian twins, one male and the other female, no more than 25 years old. “Yin and Yang”, as they were known, were his top advisors. Despite looking nearly identical, they had polar opposite opinions on how the tiger emperor should respond to the rebels in the south that threatened to overthrow everything he, his father, and his grandfather before him, had built. The twins and King Marx turned to look at the lion as the sound of his metal armor scraping the stone floor echoed in the now silent war room.

The tiger king raised his tired war-torn brows and stared at the knight in mud-soaked armor with an expression that was difficult to read. He looked neither shocked, nor concerned, but the way he tapped his clawed fingers against the table showed that he was feeling something under the almost impeccable image of a strong leader that he had cultivated. With the room in complete silence, the sound of the King tapping his claws on the oak table was like heavy cannons being fired at a distance.

‘Thck.’

‘Thck.’

‘Thck.’

‘Thck.’

‘Thck!’

Yin, the female of the twins, looked to her male counterpart, only to see him looking right back at her with the same exact expression; widened eyes, furrowed brows, and grit teeth behind a pair of sealed lips – one of those expressions that screamed “do something!” so loudly without tipping the decibel scale. The twins stared at each other as if they were telepathically arguing over who should be the one to break the silence. With a roll of her eyes, Yin turned her attention to her king.

“Your Grace, if I may interject. If they killed High Knight Cornelius, that would be an-.” Yin was cut off before she could finish her sentence.

“An escalation.” The lion muttered under his breath. He did not return either of the dalmatian’s gazes and instead stared at the large map that was spread out on the table. The yellowed map was almost as worn down as the table was with curled corners that refused to stay flat without some sort of weight on them, stains from mulled wine and mead, and the occasional unexplained blood splatter that was always passed off as wine whenever the Princess asked her father what all the stains were. Although it was worn, the map was the most accurate that the king and his council had. It had won them wars prior, too, and one of King Marx’s many redeeming qualities, according to those around him, was that he was sentimental. That was probably why he hadn’t taken that old worn table to the carpenter; the old tiger didn’t want to lose the memories that were attached to it.

And why would he want to forget the time when he was ambushed in his own war room by archers who riddled the table with holes until they were out of arrows and were thrown out of the window by the strong king one by one.

Ah, those were the days.

“They’re sending us a message. A very clear one.” The King’s tired eyes shifted to the area of the map furthest south that was adorned with small red-colored figures. A castle, soldiers on horseback, and archers; all neatly organized in a relatively small area defined by a red-dotted line that had clearly been moved around more than a few times. It was rebel territory, and it was bigger than it ever had been before. They hadn’t encroached on King Marx’s territory yet – but those barbarians left a trail of death and destruction wherever they went. With Cornelius’s body washing up on the shores of the southern colonies at the hands of them, it meant they were gaining ground quicker than they initially thought. As the King stared at the map, Yin moved a single archer from the army of red to the shores of the southern colonies.

After letting out a sigh, the King turned his attention to both of his advisors, one at a time. First to Yang, then to Yin. His eyes lingered on her for around six or seven seconds longer than they did on her brother, but when he got nothing but silence from the both of them, he took his hands off the table, pulled his claws out from the new holes he dug into the oak, and undid his mantle. He turned around, dropped his fancy purple accessory down on the chair behind him, and stared at it as he repeatedly clenched his hands into fists.

“Rise, Knight.” The King called out to the lion who was still knelt down on the other end of the room. The lion’s round ears flickered and his armor clinked as he jumped ever so slightly. He rose to his feet and bowed his head. “Your Grace,” he replied.

“Have High Knight Cornelius’s body sent to his family for funeral arrangements. Inform them that I will be attending and that whoever did this, will die by my sword or fist.”

The lion, who was clearly intimidated by the King’s presence gulped when he heard his orders. His gulp was loud enough to raise the eyebrows of the twins, but luckily, the king still had his back turned to him so he had no idea whether he heard it or not. “Yes, Your Grace.” The lion bowed his head once more before he clinked the heels of his boots together, turned around, and marched out of the war room, leaving the King and his advisors alone.

When the metallic clinks and clanks from the knight’s armor were nothing more than ambient noise, Yin looked at her brother again and nudged her head in the King’s direction. But before either of them could cut the tense silence with their claws, it was the royal himself who cut it with his teeth.

“Cornelius was a good man,” the tiger murmured.

“Your Grace, this is a clear escalation from the rebels,” Yin spoke up, interrupting the old and sentimental king’s reminiscing. “We need to respond.”

“We don’t know that for certain, it could have been a mistake. Cornelius could have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Yang argued.

“I grew up with that bastard,” King Marx chuckled and continued reminiscing, ignoring the twins as they bickered behind him.

“High Knight Cornelius is not an idiot, he wouldn’t have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Yang. Listen to yourself. We can’t be soft. They need to pay.” Yin rolled her eyes at her brother.

“Yin, this is a potential war we are talking about. Mass casualties. We need to be slow and methodical about this.” Yang had a stern and serious look on his face, compared to the sadistic grin on his sister’s, it seemed that he was the saner of the two.

“You act all high and mighty despite the fact that you are well aware that war is the only language these barbaric imbeciles understand.” The twins continued to argue with each other the way siblings often did. Had they not previously proven themselves to be competent strategists, or twins (which were believed to bring good luck) King Marx would have recruited more mature advisors who didn’t fight over toys like children. But when they weren’t fighting over who got to play God with the King’s army, they were good. Coming up with a battle strategy that brought victory at 15 years old? Prodigies, they were.

“He’s right, Yin.”

The female dalmatian twin looked offended when the king, who usually agreed with her, agreed with her brother instead. Being young and fatherless, both the twins had daddy issues and looked to the King as a father figure in an almost unhealthy way. The disgruntled look on the dalmatian girl’s face was hard to shake off, no matter how much she tried. The way her brother looked at her as he grinned with pride only made it worse for her.

“We need to be slow and methodical,” the silver fox of a tiger smiled. He still had his back turned to the twins, but the two canines were able to hear the old cat’s lips part as they curled into a grin full of mischief and chaos, fitting for an orange cat. He brought his left hand up to his face and inspected his claws that had just dug into the oak table. Small curly wood shavings hung from the claws on four of his five fingers. With a gentle blow from his mouth, the wood curls flew from his fingertips and he did the same thing to the claws on his right hand. He inspected his claws once more before he turned around and put his hands on the war table again. The twins were staring at him with completely different expressions on their faces; a look of slight anger from Yin, and a smug smile from Yang.

The King tapped his claws against the hard wooden surface of the table again, exactly five times before he stopped and stuck his claws into the very same holes they had made earlier.

The smile on Yang’s face only got wider as he waited for what the king had to say.

King Marx had trouble keeping himself from digging his claws deeper into the already worn table – the more he thought about Cornelius, the angrier he became. His fingers tensed up as all the effort he put into not showing anger on his face resulted in his frustration going to his digits. The oak table creaked as the tiger sunk his sharp claws into it and made both of the twins’ ears flicker at the exact same time in the exact same way.

“Slow and methodical, to make sure those bastards feel every bit of pain and suffering.”

The smile on Yang’s face faded and Yin started to smile instead.

The King turned to look at the twins, Yang first, again, and then Yin. He kept his eyes on the dalmatian girl as her smile slowly turned into an excited grin. The tiger grinned, too.

King Marx pulled his claws out from the table with a loud crack – a good chunk of the oak table came out with them. With a soft scoff, he shook the wood chips and chunks off his hands and turned back around to grab his mantle from the chair. He put his royal cloth back on over his shoulders and brought his hands up to his face to inspect his claws again. They were still sharp, without a single chip or hairline fracture in sight. Satisfied, he put his hands down and turned back around to face the war table.

“We’ll make them beg to see God.”

---

Being part of the royal family wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows the way fairytales and folklore led most to believe. Sure, there was the glitz and glam of balls, galas, and feasts that could feed nations and flexibility stemming from wealth and riches, but it also came with a long list of limitations on what one could and could not do as a royal. Appearances mattered when you were the only daughter of the ruling king. Do this, say that, don’t do this, don’t do that.

Alex liked the dresses and corsets her mother and father ordered the seamstress to make for her, but sometimes, she wanted to try wearing pants when she went out, they seemed more practical. Whenever the Princess voiced her frustration with the restrictions put forth onto her by her surname either to her friends, the palace staff, or to herself in the mirror, she realized how out of touch she sounded. But still, she always wondered what it would have been like had she not been born into such a noble family.

Maybe then she’d be able to wear whatever she wanted.

“Mother, surely you trust me enough to agree that having a Knight babysit me is a preposterous idea. I’m an adult, the war is happening far out in the colonies, the most danger I face is tripping over these ridiculous gowns that you insist I wear.” Alex let out a soft squeak as air was forced out from her lungs from her mother tightening her corset. With her father and brother out at war seeking revenge for the death of High Knight Cornelius, the palace was almost eerily quiet. And without her husband around to keep her company, the Queen had decided that having her daughter try on every single dress that she had in her wardrobe was a good idea of something fun.

“Your father insists that we both have one Knight with each of us, at all times.” Alex’s mother, Queen Cassandra, said with a smile as she tied off Alex’s corset and looked her in the eye through the reflection of the large mirror that they were both standing in front of. The dress that Alex found herself in was one of Cassandra’s old ones, one that she wished she was still able to fit into, but as with everyone, her body changed with age. She wasn’t a young woman anymore, but her daughter was, so there was no reason that her perfect dresses should go to waste collecting dust in a wardrobe. Alex’s mother tied the strings on the back of the corset together before she hid the ends and put both her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Your father just wants us to be safe.

We’re at war, and if your father’s enemies want to hurt him most, they might come for his family, us.” The motherly, middle-aged tigress smiled at her daughter as she looked at her through the reflection in the mirror. Despite the heavy topic that was coming out of her mouth, that woman’s smile had that motherly quality that made even the worst of sentences sound like a good thing. She was the best at delivering bad news, it worked a lot better when Alex was younger, though, when she didn’t know that a smile could be faked.

“And if you ask me, I don’t mind having a big strong man around keeping me safe. Have you seen the new uniforms they wear for speed and agility? It looks to me like one of your father’s war advisors has a really big thing for men with very little clothing.” The queen tigress chuckled and gave Alex’s shoulders a firm squeeze.

“Mother! I don’t want to hear how much you fancy shirtless Knights!” Alex rolled her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror. The dark blue frilly dress looked ridiculous on her, but the way her mother smiled as she admired how the dress looked on her daughter made her feel a little less ridiculous in it.

A chuckle came from the older tigress and she pressed her snoot into her daughter’s cheek. She puckered her lips and gave her a smooch before she pulled away and rested her chin on her shoulder. “You look just like I did the first day I met your father.” Cassandra smiled and looked at her daughter with pride in her eyes. Alex got a lot from her momma, her hair, eyes, and facial structure were dead ringers for a younger Cassandra – when her surname was still Hüller and she was still a commoner.

“Thanks, mother, I am your daughter, that is how it works.” Despite the sarcasm in her tone, Alex’s lips pursed into an itty-bitty smile as her mother complimented her. She did look nice in the dress, and if she stood in front of the painting of her mother that was in the long corridor that led into the throne room, she could easily pass it off as a painting of herself as long as whoever she was trying to convince didn’t look too closely at the lack saber teeth on the canvas. Alex was the only one in the Marx family with large, long, and sharp teeth that protruded from her mouth. It was a mystery how she got them, but there were theories – from the tigress being an illegitimate child to just the genetic lottery. Some of the more “spiritual” commoners believed that Alex, because she had those teeth, was the second coming of Christ and would be much more suitable to take the throne than her brother. Everyone, including Alex, thought they were crazy. But she would have been lying if she said she never imagined what it would be like if she were a ruling queen. Would she be cruel? Would she be kind? Would she ever take her citizens to war? Would she call herself a king and surround herself with women like her brother would and will when he eventually takes his seat on the throne?

The mother and daughter duo stood in the middle of Alex’s bedroom and stared at each other through the mirror in complete silence for a few seconds when suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

‘Knock, knock, knock.’

“Your Majesties?” a small voice came through the closed door, muffled. It was one of the maids, although Alex wasn’t able to tell which of the 30 maids it was. Upon hearing the knock on the door and the small squeak of a voice come through, Alex’s mother pulled her chin off her daughter’s shoulder and turned her head towards the voice.

“Come on in, Margaret,” Cassandra said. How her mother was able to recognize which of the maids it was through a door that muffled and distorted their voice, was impressive. The door to Alex’s bedroom swung inward to reveal a petite calico mouse lady, in a dress not too dissimilar in style to the one Alex was in, frills, and all. The maid’s dress was a lot shorter, though, was black and white instead of what Alex’s mother described as “ocean blue”, and had an apron built into the front of it.

The mouse looked nervous when the door opened and the two tigers inside turned their heads to look at her. A natural instinct for a rodent. After almost a decade of working for the royals, Margaret still got shivers down her spine whenever she was outnumbered by the members of the Marx family. With a gulp that she tried to keep incognito, she stepped into the room and walked up to the mother-and-daughter duo with her hands firmly clasped together in front of her. She stopped once she was about two feet away from them and bowed her head slightly before she spoke. “The Knights are here, Your Majesty. We’ve just finished briefing them on the palace grounds, would you like to meet them now?”

The mention of the Knights seemed to get Alex’s mother a little more excited than what Alex would have considered normal. A clap, a skip, and a purr over the idea of having someone watch over your every move every day was a bit much and raised eyebrows – specifically Alex’s eyebrows. Her mother’s joy over having a hunky man around her 24/7 made one of the theories about how the tigress acquired the gene for saber teeth a little more plausible, but she didn’t really want to think about that. With a slight shake of her head and a scrunch of her nose, the possibility of her mother’s infidelity was erased from her mind.

Cassandra walked up to Margaret and placed her hands firmly on the maid’s shoulders. “Excellent, please, take me to them.” The Queen said with excitement that she could barely contain anymore. A bunch of gross thoughts entered Alex’s mind and she really tried her best to think of anything other than her mother fawning over a shirtless hunk. With an eye roll, Alex turned her attention back to her reflection in the mirror only to be called upon by her mother.

“Alex, darling, are you not coming? I’ll let you have the first pick if you want.” Her mother waggled her eyebrows at her in a very un-royal, commoner-like way. Maybe Alex wasn’t the only one who had been looking forward to doing unroyal things with the patriarch out of the house. As happy as she was to see her mother so excited, she did not want to accompany her to the meat market.

“Send whoever you don’t pick up here for me, Mother.” The tigress shook her head. “I think I’d like to try on a few more things.” She continued. The princess’s mother shrugged and used her hands that were on Margaret’s shoulders to turn the mouse around and marched out of her daughter’s room. Margaret let out a squeak as she was turned around and pushed out of the room and Alex watched as her mother did what she always did and left without closing the door behind her.

“Close the door… Mother…” Alex’s words fell on deaf ears, as her mother and BFF were long out of earshot by the time she said it. With an eye roll, Alex shook her head and reached her hands behind herself to grab the string of the corset that her mother had tucked away.

---

“You think we’ll get to see any of the action on the front lines?” Marcus’s best friend, a seven-foot-tall alligator with scales thicker than the rather revealing armor that he was in, nudged the wolf in the waist as they sat almost shoulder-to-shoulder in the barracks where they had been sleeping with hundreds of other men. The smell in there was like a dirty sauna with all the sweat and testosterone, it was almost sour and would make any outsider who walked in through the doors scrunch their nose and squint their eyes. But once you’ve stayed in it and contributed your own scent to it for as long as they have, you get used to it.

Marcus was in the same type of armor as the gator, as were all the other Knights who hadn’t been called to the battlefield where the risk of getting an arrow to the chest was a lot higher. The wolf’s gator friend didn’t just have thick scales, he was a little thick in the head, too, having not realized that none of them were going to the frontlines, not the way they were dressed.

“Not a chance, Croc. Look at us. If I were to guess, one of us fumbled something, pissed someone off, and now we’re all being punished as a group. We’re not wearing war armor.” The wolf chuckled and shook his head as he looked down between his legs at the pathetic cloth pouch that barely kept his manhood under wraps. “This is flaunting armor.”

“It’s for speed and agility,” Yang, one of King Marx’s war advisors who had suddenly become specialized in battle armor over one summer, said. And while field tests proved it to be true, Marcus couldn’t help but think that the dalmatian lad overlooked a lot of what armor was supposed to do and instead focused on how the knights looked in them. Rumors surrounding the male dalmatian twin had been circulating for a while purely based on his polite and well-kempt demeanor, and while Marcus wasn’t one to participate in spinning the rumor mill, he couldn’t help but raise his brow at what looked, to him, like concrete evidence that the dalmatian war advisor was a fruitcake. Not that it was any of his business, people liked what they liked.

“How many times do I have to tell you that my name is Broc and not Croc?” The gator turned his long face to look at the wolf, his expression full of annoyance that was uncharacteristic for an airhead like him who always had a positive outlook on things. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

A wide grin spread across Marcus’s face and he let out a chuckle that was just as big to match. His pearly white teeth shined through his toothy grin and he turned to look at the slightly agitated gator. His two big saber teeth stuck out even more than normal when he grinned, which made him appear just a little bit goofy. “What? It’s almost the perfect pun,” he nudged his friend in the side with his elbow playfully.

“But I’m Broc, not Croc.” The annoyed expression on Broc’s face faded into one of genuine confusion. The joke was good, he just didn’t get it.

“No, it’s funny because you aren’t a croc, you’re an alligator,” Marcus tried his best to explain the joke to his cold-blooded friend, but the look of confusion on his face only intensified the more he spoke. “Get it?” the sabertoothed wolf made on last-ditch effort to guide his friend toward understanding his pun; but na-da. The gator continued to stare at the wolf with his confused expression, eventually blinking and turning away as he lost interest.

“Rise, Knights!” shouted a voice from the front of the barracks. Immediately, all of the knights in the room hopped onto their feet and puffed their chests up in a somewhat ridiculous stance. With all the knights standing at attention, the dalmatian, whom Marcus had just been thinking about, walked in, alongside their commander, a weasel, who probably would have deserted his duties if he were ever sent out onto the battlefield. It was no wonder why he was left here while the other High Knights were out fighting alongside the King and the Prince. Marcus wondered why the dalmatian war advisor was there. But once the commander reached the podium, it became clear why he was – to ogle.

“Listen up, Knights. I know you all are very eager to go out into battle and help your brethren bring home victory, and to those of you who are relieved that you are still here in the capital, you’re a bunch of cowards.”

Laughter echoed through the barracks, which was quickly silenced by the commander when he cleared his throat. “Even though you aren’t fighting the war, you still play a big role in the safety and security of the kingdom. And today, I have your assignments.”

The barracks erupted into a slush of applause and cheer. Assignments, finally. Anything was better than constant training followed by doing nothing in the barracks all day long. Marcus wasn’t one to cheer at such a simple thing, but he couldn’t help it. He was tired of sleeping in a room full of sweaty men, any place where it didn’t constantly smell like another dude’s ballsack was an improvement.

The cheers from the knights didn’t last too long, as names were called and assignments were divvied out – not many people would still be cheering if their name was called and they were assigned to “sewage management”, which most of the knights were, except for two.

“Knight Broc, Palace Personnel.”

“Knight Marcus, Palace Personnel.”

“HOLY SHIT MARCUS, WE’RE GOING TO THE PALACE.”

---

Marcus hadn’t felt more like a piece of meat in his life than when Queen Cassandra came down to the dining hall to take her pick between him and Broc. The way she eye-fucked him, ran her hands over his exposed chest, and made him kneel down in front of her made him question what exactly it was he and his gator friend were to be doing as “palace personnel”. The assignment description was vague, but their commander assured them that they would be the envy of all their fellow knights. He wondered why at first, but he was slowly starting to get it now.

“You, come with me,” Queen Cassandra said with a smile as she pulled her hand away from Broc’s chest. Broc, thick as ever, was confused even by just the simplest of words. As the Queen walked away, he turned to look at Marcus with raised brows. Marcus nudged his head in the direction of the Queen as she walked further and further away and the gator bounced her through the long hallway of the dining room. A few seconds later, Broc and the Queen disappeared behind a large door that slammed shut.

That left Marcus with Margaret, the mouse maid who was supposed to fetch the Queen and the Princess but only returned with the Queen behind her. The mouse shyly stepped in front of the scantily dressed wolf and tried her best not to look in between his legs at his large, loincloth-wrapped, and hard-to-miss manhood. With a gulp that interrupted a squeak, the mouse clasped her hands together and spoke.

“Knight Marcus, you will be attending to the Princess. Please, follow me.”

The wolf wondered what the mouse meant by “attending to”, but he didn’t ask. Like the good, loyal, well-trained knight that he was, he just nodded and followed his orders.

---

It took Alex a lot longer to get out of her mother’s old dress than she thought it would. But once she was free of the dress and its impractical but admittedly beautiful corset, she stood naked in front of the mirror in her bedroom with her hands on her hips as her chest rose and fell from heavy breathing. It really was a struggle for her to get out of the dress – if she really wanted to do it quick, she could have ripped it, but as much as she often said she hated wearing such formal dresses, her mother had great taste, and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin a perfect dress and break her mother’s heart.

The tigress spent a few minutes catching her breath. Once she was all caught up and the tiredness from getting out of an extremely tight corset was gone, her eyes lit up and she walked to her wardrobe. She flung the doors open, got on her tip-toes, and felt around the thick fur coats on the very top shelf. She swiped her hands left and right and dug around in the messy pile of winter clothing for around 30 seconds before she let out a satisfactory “A-ha!” and pulled out a small wooden box that looked handcrafted and had a little heart carved into the top of it. Alex was careful not to pull out the pile of winter clothes with the box, and once it was securely in her hands, she slowly lowered herself from her tip-toed position, turned on her heels, and walked over to her massive king-sized bed. With her knees smooshed against the edge of her bed, the tigress turned the box upside down and dumped all of its contents out. Metallic clinks caused the Princess’s ears to flicker – whatever was in that box landed on the bed with a loud ‘poff’ and made the tigress grin wide enough to make anyone think she was planning their murder if they saw her.

---

Marcus knew that the palace was big, but he wasn’t prepared for it to be so big that it would take him 10 minutes to get from the dining hall to the west wing where the bedrooms of the members of the royal family were. For a family of four, it was much too large, but with the over 100 palace personnel, it was still much, much too large.

After ascending stairs, upon stairs, upon stairs; some grand, some spiral, and some allegedly (according to Margaret) made out of solid gold, the wolf felt a very slight burn in his legs. Prancing the palace walls must have been a leg day workout on its own. As he followed closely behind the mouse maid who seemed completely unphased by the distance they had covered and how much elevation they had gained, he wondered how such a petite little mouse stayed so petite and wasn’t jacked as fuck from the waist down. Maybe she was; her maid uniform made it difficult to tell with how puffy it was.

Sweat started rolling through the Knight’s thick coat of fur as he pitter-pattered barefoot further and further through the palace. His large paws left prints in the shape of his pads from sweat as he transitioned from wood to carpet, to marble, none of which let his beans breathe very well. After walking through what seemed like an endless corridor with doors to rooms on both sides, Margaret finally came to a stop in front of the only set of double doors he’d seen so far.

Thanks to his sweaty feet, Marcus slid a few inches across the marble floor before he came to a stop. Thankfully, he missed bumping into Margaret by just a few inches, too, at the very least his legs did. The bulge between his legs that was wrapped up in a pouch, however; was a lot more than a couple inches, and pressed very gently against the mouse, right against her neck-shoulder area.

“We’re….!!!” the mouse maid paused mid-sentence when she felt something press against her. The entire time she had been guiding the two scantily dressed knights around the palace, she tried her absolute hardest not to stare. But when the thing she had spent hours trying not to pay attention to was pressed up against her neck so firmly that she could visualize its shape and size in her head, it was considerably more difficult to ignore. Marcus, who had gotten used to wearing the “armor” was none the wiser – he’d had his junk squished against a lot worse things. With raised brows, he looked down at the small mouse, who he towered over by at least a few feet, and smiled.

“Here?” The wolf finished the mouse’s sentence for her.

“Yes! This is the Princess’s quarters; she should be inside.” Margaret, redder than a tomato, quickly answered and took a step forward to pull away from having the wolf’s crotch pressed against her. The small mouse raised her arm up and knocked on the door using the large tiger-shaped door knocker.

She knocked in sets, three knocks each, thrice.

‘Knock, knock, knock.’

“Your Grace?”

‘Knock, knock, knock.’

“I have your Knight with me, as appointed by your father.”

“Princess Alex?”

‘Knock, knock, knock.’

The mouse pressed her ear against the door to listen for any sounds from inside the room, but she didn’t hear anything, not even the light pitter-patter from the royal’s paws that she usually heard as she approached the door.

She knocked again, but there was no response from the Princess.

With a disappointed noise, she pulled her large circular ear away from the door, the mouse clasped her hands together and took in a deep breath before she turned around to face the Knight. “Hrmph.” She tilted her chin up slightly to avoid looking at the wolf’s bulge that was previously pressed against the back of her neck. It was clear that she was struggling with it, as her eyes constantly darted down toward it, just to dart back up as her sense of self-control returned.

“It would appear that Princess Alexandra is not in her quarters. She should be back momentarily, so please kindly wait for Her Majesty inside.” The mouse’s red-faced-ness faded to a soft pink, only to go red again once she finished her sentence and looked straight at that big, bulbous, and bulgy cock-pouch. With a squeak that she quickly silenced by turning around and pushing the double doors open for the wolf. She hurriedly gestured for the Knight to step inside before she closed the big heavy doors behind him. The doors closed with a loud locking click and Margaret turned to lean her back against it. She let out a heavy sigh as her red face got redder and redder. After she caught her breath, the mouse straightened herself out, brushed her hands on her frilly dress, cleared her throat, clasped her tiny little gloved hands together, and continued walking down the endless hallway to continue her palace maid duties.

---

Marcus didn’t put much thought into the odd behavior from the maid toward the end of their interaction; he brushed it off as her being in a hurry to get to her other duties. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t think that she was cute. He wasn’t completely unaware of his dick smooshing against her back earlier, either, he just thought it would be easier to pretend like he was, just to keep their interaction the least awkward as possible. When the double doors closed behind him with a loud click, the wolf’s ears flickered and he turned his head to look at them. He let out a soft chuckle, turned back around to face the rest of the room, looked down at his dick-in-a-pouch, and chuckled a little more.

“For speed and agility, what a load of bollocks,” the wolf sighed and turned his attention to the room that he was in; the Princess’s quarters. The size alone dwarfed the average single-family home, with a bunch of empty and unused space. The double doors were about 20 feet away from the bed, which to the Knight, who was used to sleeping in a cot in the barracks surrounded by other knights who were at most an arm’s length away, the room looked ridiculous, frivolous, and unnecessary. But that’s what all the whispers and murmurs about the royal family and the ultra-wealthy were about. If Marcus had more gold than he knew what to do with, he’d probably have himself a massive palace with a bedroom larger than the average single-family home, too.

To his left, as soon as he entered the bedroom, was a large wardrobe that had one of its (many) doors left open, and a little deeper into the room from there was a closed door that led to what Marcus assumed was the bathroom.

The wolf was hesitant to step any further into the room – everything in the room was either lined with gold or crafted completely from it. A part of him screamed at him internally to grab whatever he could, dash through the balcony doors with his spiked shoulder pad, land in a conveniently placed pile of hay, and run off with his new riches to start a new life as the unknown nobleman who just suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He doubted the knights would try to look for him, especially when most efforts were out toward the war that they were in the midst of. He stared at a particular gold chalice that was on a dresser to the right of the room for a lot longer than he should have. And the longer he stared at it, the louder the voice of temptation tried to convince him to grab it and go.

With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, the wolf snapped himself out of it and turned his attention to what looked like a dress that was in a pile on the floor directly in the center of the room. He took a couple of steps toward it and crouched down to take a closer look at it. The dress was one of those big puffy, layered, and frilly ones. The ones Marcus had seen the Princess in a few times. It took a few seconds, but then it clicked in his head that the Princess must have been trying on her dresses before he arrived. But with the dress discarded on the floor and the Princess nowhere to be seen, he started to get a little suspicious. Had she snuck out of the palace grounds? Had she been kidnapped? His mind raced to a million different scenarios, none of them good, before he returned to his senses and concluded that she probably just went somewhere in the massive palace to do something. He was here to be part of the palace personnel, so maybe it was a good thing that he was already a little bit concerned for the Princess even without having met her yet.

After staring at the dress for a minute, Marcus shrugged his shoulders, carefully picked up the dress from the floor, stood back up, and found the hanger that the dress had been taken off of. He put the dress back on the hanger, walked over to the wardrobe, hung the dress inside, and closed the wardrobe door as gently as he could as if the Princess were sleeping in the bed behind him. Having managed to close the wardrobe door without even a creak from the hinges, Marcus smiled at his reflection in the mirror next to it proudly before he proceeded to flex, pose, and check his fit.

If picking up after the Princess was all he would be doing, it was no wonder the other knights were jealous of him and Broc. This was going to be the easiest assignment of his military career.

The wolf slowly paced around the room, looking at the different pieces of furniture, the linen used on the curtains on the floor-to-ceiling balcony doors, and even the linen on the massive bed. He walked up to the fortress of a bed and gently ran his fingers over the sheets, blankets, and pillows. The Princess’s bed was the softest thing he had ever touched; almost magically silky and smooth. It felt like he was running his hand over a block of ice, just warm and without all the wetness that came with doing such a thing. As he trailed his fingers over the royal’s bed, his nose picked up a sweet scent. It was the smell of perfume, soaps, and a little bit of sweat. It was a good scent, fruity, almost, but with that specific tiger aroma that he had become familiar with from his fellow knights who happened to be of the same species as the members of the royal family. ‘That must be the Princess’s scent,’ the wolf thought to himself as he continued to take in the smell with his rubbery nose. He could feel the voice of temptation creeping up on him as his nose wiggled and danced and he imagined what type of person she was like outside all the public appearances that she made. After close to a minute, he stopped sniffing and shut out the temptation to bury his nose into the bed and drown himself in that sweet sweet smell.

Marcus let out a sigh and looked around the bedroom one more time before he sat down on the side of the bed. His legs had gotten a little tired from walking through the palace to get to the Princess’s quarters. His armor clinked as he sat down and he let out another sigh as he waited for the Princess to come back from wherever she was.

---

Princess Alexandra Marx didn’t go very far from her bedroom – she was still within her quarters, just in the bathroom with the door closed. The tigress needed to fix her hair after pulling herself out of her mother’s dress, and she needed a little bit of water to do that. Once her hair was tucked into a quick braid that looped under both of her ears, the tigress fit-checked herself in the large mirror that spanned the entire length of the bathroom’s north wall and smiled.

Then, the tigress heard the door to her quarters open and close. She furrowed her brows, turned her head toward the bathroom door that was closed, and stared for a few seconds to see if anyone was going to burst into the bathroom, too. When she didn’t hear anything else, she assumed it was just one of the maids dropping off linen or the refreshments she requested just before she went into the bathroom to fix her hair.

The Princess spent ten more minutes in the bathroom adjusting the outfit she put on, with soft metallic clinks and clanks coming from the gold accessories that adorned her wrists. Once she was all done, she did one final fit-check in the mirror, before she walked to the bathroom door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. What she saw when she opened the door was peculiar, but wasn’t much cause for alarm. A wolf knight, sitting on her bed, staring at the wall as if he was bored out of his mind. The tigress did go a little wide-eyed at first, but when she put two and two together, her slightly surprised expression turned into a coy grin. At last, someone she could show her new attire to that wasn’t her mother.

Marcus sat on the side of the bed closer to the double doors that he entered the room through, and did not see Alex when she emerged from the bathroom, nor did he hear her as she walked over toward the bed. Just as the tigress walked to stand right in front of him, he coincidentally tilted his head down to look at the bulge in between his legs. While he didn’t see her directly, he did see the shadow of someone walking by him and got that uneasy feeling you get when someone is uncomfortably close to your personal space. The wolf looked up from his crotch to see her standing right in front of him.

There she was, Princess Alexandra Marx, in the flesh and fur – standing right in front of him. The tigress had a smile on her face, not the reaction that the Knight was expecting. Something akin to anger or disgust was more what he had in mind since he had just been caught sitting on a royal’s bed, dressed in barely anything, no less. The wolf bounced onto his feet as fast as he could, his dick-in-a-pouch bouncing up and down with him as he gave himself a second of airtime from his jump.

“Ah! Your Grace! My apologies, your mouse maid told me to wait here for you to arrive. I was not aware you were here. Please forgive me for taking a seat on your bed.” Marcus bowed his head as he spoke to the tigress. Similarly to the mouse maid, the wolf towered over Princess Alexandra, however, their height difference wasn’t as significant. If he bumped into the tigress the way he did with the maid, his junk would press against the tigress’s lower back.

The smile on the tigress princess’s lips only got wider when the wolf bounced onto his feet and apologized for something as simple as sitting on the edge of her bed. She really didn’t care about having her bed sat on but decided to have a little fun with it. She forced her smile to fade and furrowed her brows together as she stared at the wolf who hung his head low in shame.

“You know, sitting on my bed is an immeasurable invasion of my personal space… I could have you sent to the trenches for that.” The Princess tried her absolute best to look intimidating, but there was still a hint of a smile that she couldn’t wipe off of her face even if she tried. Her eyes wandered from the wolf’s face, and once they did that, well, it became difficult for the tigress to really focus on looking and sounding like she really meant what she was saying. The tigress’s eyes went from the wolf’s face down to his toned chest to ogle at his pecs, then to his abs where her gaze lingered for ten seconds longer and her slight smile turned into a soft lip bite, and finally down to what could have, should have, and would have caught her eye first had she not been busy trying to look like she was going to send the Knight to the depths of hell for daring to spread his commoner filth onto her Egyptian cotton bedding; his big fat bulge.

The beige fabric that hung from a thick belt that was loosely tied around the Knight’s waist wrapped around his package in a way that left very little to the imagination. Even while flaccid, the tigress was able to get an approximation of the size of his balls, his girth, and what type of dick he had, whether it was canine, equine, feline, or the kind those fur-less creatures that came from the north called “humans” had. It looked taut, tight, and uncomfortable, but what would Alex know, she didn’t have to deal with having dingly-dangly bits in between her legs – maybe the jockstrap-esque attire was comfortable. It was eye-catching, that was for sure, and it had the tigress staring at it like a giant bag of catnip. The fabric was breathable, at least, that much Alex could tell, as the smell of the wolf’s dick and ball sweat wafted through the air from his jock right up into her nose. And wow did the smell of commoner dick smell good.

Marcus, who had only ever seen the Princess from a distance during her public appearances performing her royal duties throughout the Kingdom, had no baseline to go off of to be able to tell whether she was serious or not. So, to him, her threats of sending him “to the trenches”, whether as a soldier to the ongoing war or as a cadaver, was as serious as a cease and desist from a Japanese playing card company. He kept his head low to show his respect and remorse for his actions and shook his head repeatedly.

“Your Grace, please accept my apology, for I meant no disrespect. My legs had become tired and I was merely looking for a place I could rest as I waited for your arrival.” Marcus felt cold, even though he had been sweating not even half an hour prior. The thought of being punished for a crime against the royal family was a terrifying one. While no one outside of the palace walls really knew what those punishments entailed, there were rumors of a dungeon in the lower levels of the palace, hidden underground, where no one would be able to hear the blood-curdling screams. The fur on Marcus’s shoulders stood up and a shiver ran down his spine just thinking about it.

He stared at his feet as he waited for a response from her. When he noticed that she had gone silent for an unusually long time, he slowly tilted his head up to look at her. Before he could even tilt his chin back up all the way, he felt something grab firmly onto his crotch. He froze for a split second as he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, the tigress’s soft and white palm gently caressed his bulge and curved to match its shape. The warmth from her hand transferred to his dick through the thick cloth and made him jump just like he did when he got caught sitting on the Princess’s bed. His eyebrows shot up halfway into his forehead and the sweat that had built up in his brow flew off of his face. He leaned back slightly, brought his hands up in a very awkward stance, and froze again.

“Hhhwha?”

Alex may have jumped the gun a tad by grabbing the Knight by his bulge, but she was the Princess, laws didn’t quite apply to her in the way they did to everyone else. What was he going to do, desert his palace personnel duties? Alex knew the Knight’s Oath by heart, having heard her father recite it over and over as he reworked it to perfection.

“At ease, Knight. It’s just my hand, not a dagger.” The tigress chuckled and looked up at the wolf with a singular raised eyebrow. The gold bracelets that adorned her wrists clinked together as she gave the wolf’s package a firm squeeze. Her nose wiggled and danced as she took in the smell of his sweat and inched herself even closer to him. The Knight’s package was firm, yet still soft to the touch, it felt like she was fondling a peach from a particularly productive peach tree. However, peaches didn’t tend to get that big, or get bigger the more she squeezed them. The tigress’s tail whipped and waved behind her, and the cloth that kept her modest flowed through the air with each step that she took to get closer to the alarmed wolf. She stopped just shy of pressing herself up against him, as she still wanted him to see what she was wearing.

There wasn’t much in terms of fabric on the Princess, but the red silk that was there highlighted her figure well. Two strips of silk wrapped over and under her breasts and connected to a collar with a gold ring right in the middle of her chest. Her nipples were completely covered, while the sides of her breasts were left exposed as a little tease. Her bottom half had a similar getup, with two (much longer) strips of the same red silk draped over a gold link chain belt that fit snugly over her hips. One strip of silk in the front to cover the entrance to her front garden and one to cover the entrance to her back patio. Her outfit left very little to the imagination, too.

Marcus, still in shock, didn’t hear the Princess command him to be at ease. Even if he did hear her, how could he be at ease when a member of the royal family had their hand on his junk? His heart raced and he tried his best to calm himself and not get hard in the tigress’s soft and nimble caress. But when she squeezed the tip of his dick through his cloth and he came to realize that she was dressed a lot more like the women he’d see in a disreputable bathhouse than a princess, he couldn’t quite keep the blood pumped by his heart from going straight to his manhood.

He started to sweat profusely as the tiger continued to fondle his jewels. His dick was sensitive, as all dicks were, and he felt even the slightest bit of movement that she made. She started to squeeze his dick-in-a-pouch harder, which in turn made his dick get harder, too. As his cock grew, the fabric it was wound in stretched, and the wolf started to panic. Was he still going to be punished for sitting on the Princess’s bed? Was this the punishment? He felt a flood of different emotions all at once, which made him freeze for a lot longer than he wanted to. When he was finally able to shake himself out of his state of shock-induced paralysis, the tigress had brought her other hand to help cup the growing bulge as it became far too much for just one hand to hold. Her hands were placed together side-by-side as if she was scooping water out of a desert oasis to drink.

His cock throbbed and his balls tucked upward as the warmth from having both of the tigress’s hands cupping his crotch spread far and wide. His gaze, which had been locked to his crotch and the Princess’s hand, traveled upward along the tigress’s scantily-clad figure – from her navel to her chest and up to her face where he locked his blue eyes to her emerald green ones. He was about to speak, but the tigress began squeezing his dick and balls through his cloth with both of her hands. Her palms held his dick as it grew and her fingers held his balls as they churned and tucked to her touch.

“Aaaah, Your Gra..Grace… I-I…” Marcus struggled to get his words out, which made it an opportune time for Alex to interrupt him.

“You may refer to me as Alex, Knight. Or Princess. Your Grace is far too formal.” Alex chuckled as she made eye contact with the Knight. Marcus nodded and his cheeks flushed a soft pink, which Alex found amusing, as she’d never seen a Knight blush before. They were all very tall and intimidating men, so seeing one blush and stutter was a treat.

“Y-Yes, Princess,” Marcus trembled. His legs felt like jelly, soft and mushy, while his dick was harder than the steel that made up the sword he carried on his back. If he were to fight another Knight with nothing but the dick he was gifted to by genetics, he’d win, by a schlong shot.

“That’s much better,” Alex said with a smile before she redirected her gaze down to the fruits in her hand. The wolf’s dick had grown so much from its flaccid state that the fabric that wrapped his manhood was starting to tear at the seams where it looped around his belt. When the Princess saw the fraying fabric, she pursed her lips into a disappointed frown before she looked up at the Knight’s face again.

“What’s your name, Knight?” she asked him.

“Marcus, Princess.” The Knight replied through a heavy exhale.

“Do you like what I am wearing, Marcus?” Alex tilted her head to the side and raised her right eyebrow.

“Yes, Princess,” Marcus answered with a nod. He wasn’t lying, he did find the getup that the Princess was in attractive. He wasn’t much of a fan of those frilly dresses that he often saw the other royals in. To Marcus, there wasn’t anything wrong with showing a little bit of fur. And in the case of Princess Alex, he thought her stripes were a lot more beautiful out on display. It was like comparing a painting behind a cloth drape and a painting behind glass – one was clearly better than the other.

Hearing the Knight say that he liked what she was wearing was exactly what the tigress wanted to hear. “Good,” she purred and pulled her left hand away from the wolf’s bulged-out jockstrap.

“Then you’ll have no problem getting me out of it, no?” the tigress grinned and pushed the claws on the hand she had just removed from the wolf’s junk out. She stuck her index finger up and swiped it along the already tearing seam of his crotch coverings. It all happened so fast that Marcus didn’t even have time to react to such a sharp claw coming so dangerously close to his breeding bits.

‘Swwwwsh!’

‘Qwrrrrk!’

The cloth that kept the wolf’s cock and balls under wraps was begging to be relieved of its tautness – when the tigress sliced her sharp claw through it, the tension caused the fabric to whip downward as the wolf’s cock and balls flung free from the confines of its breathable fabric prison.

Marcus watched as the tigress sliced his jockstrap clean off from his belt and stared at his junk as it flopped out in between his legs. His vision showed everything after the tigress cut his cloth in slow motion.

Alex watched, too. Although she seemed a lot more excited to see the Knight’s dick than he was. The wolf’s dick throbbed and continued to grow once it was freed.

11 inches.

12 inches.

13 inches.

The wolf’s pink fleshy dick poked and prodded against Alex’s thigh as it grew. Once it had reached its maximum length of 15 inches, it throbbed, the tip of the wolf’s sensitive dick brushing up and down along the tigress’s inner thigh as a result.

“Princess…” Marcus spoke up through a heavy pant as the soft fur of Alex’s inner thigh brushing against his dick made him feel tingly all over. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m a commoner…”

Alex, infatuated with the wolf’s dick and how massive it was, listened to him, but didn’t look at him. Her ears turned in his direction and took in what he had to say, but it wasn’t until he mentioned that he was a commoner, did she glance up at him.

“So was my mother.” The tigress smiled, grabbed the wolf’s shaft, and guided it toward the thin silk curtain that kept her pussy hidden from view.

“Besides, you are a Knight, you are supposed to as I ask.” She continued. Her smile was sweet and innocent at first, but it shifted and morphed into a mischievous grin in a matter of seconds.

“You swore an oath…” she whispered and dragged the wolf’s dick further up her thigh and behind the red silk cloth. Once his dick tip was behind the cloth, the wolf felt a warmth and wetness in the Princess’s soft inner thigh fur – warm and freshly squeezed pussy juice.

"Hear me now, oathbound and steadfast, I do pledge my solemn vow as a Knight.” Alex began to recite the Knight’s Oath that her father wrote as Marcus gritted his teeth and let the tigress have her way with him. His dick throbbed faster, harder, and stronger the further up the tigress’s thigh it went. The warm and wet pussy juice that had run down Alex’s leg was like fuel to the fire of his arousal.

“By the old gods and the new, by all that is sacred and true, I swear to uphold this pledge. As a Knight, I solemnly swear to protect the Kingdom and its people, under the command of the Royal Family. In the face of peril, I shall stand resolute,” she continued. Her grip around Marcus’s dick tightened as his tip came within inches of pressing against her warm and wet royal tiger pussy.

“In the shadow of doubt, I shall bring clarity.”

The closer she dragged his dick tip to her cooch, the warmer it got. Marcus closed his eyes as the pleasure took over his rationale and things became clearer.

“With honor as my shield and duty as my sword, I shall serve, protect, and obey the Marxes without question or hesitation.”

He was ready to give her what she wanted. Obey her without question.

“With unwavering loyalty.”

He was ready to show her loyalty.

The wolf’s dick tip dragged over the tigress’s wet slit, scooped up the pussy juice that was in abundance in her fur and along her labia, and stopped right at her clit.

“Aaaaah…” Alex let out a soft moan, and let go of the wolf’s dick before she brought that very same hand to cup his left cheek. Marcus opened his eyes when he felt her touch – his beautiful blue commoner eyes had a glint to them that Alex had never really seen in someone before. The look of concern was gone, the blush, too. What was left was a slight smirk on his face and a look in his eye that when Alex saw, she knew he understood what he had to do.

“May the gods bear witness to my words," Marcus continued the oath; his dick throbbed one more time before he pushed himself against Alex and slid his dick inside her.

“Hnnnnnng… For I am bound by this oath forevermore.”

---

Art by Twinkle-Sez

Guest Starring Marcus by RichardElmer

What did you think of the story? Let me know in the comments below! It really helps a lot to have your feedback! Thank you!