Roll: Willpower vs Challenging (15)
Result: 3d6+4 (1, 6, 5 + 1) = 13, fail
The princess does little more than murmur to herself as you carefully lean across the bed and hover over her. When you cave to your urges and kiss her, there's even less resistance. Her lips are... soft, and warm, and ever so slightly sweet from the mead she had imbibed in your absence. So close to her, you can feel the heat off her body, smell the subtle, feminine scent that wafts off her. That beautiful, silky hair. The smooth skin. Her huge, palm filling tits, still so shapely despite their size. Her narrow waist, leading into those wide, child-bearing hips. The curve of her ass, the thickness of her hips, those long legs... It's too much. You find yourself deepening the kiss, parting your muzzle to claim more of her for your own. In her delirium, she easily acquiesces, parting her lips to allow your tongue entry, allowing you to dominate her own. Her murmuring becomes the softest, gentlest of moans, perhaps on instinct alone, and you feel her wriggle beneath you as the moments tick by, her heavy chest brushing against you just often enough to reveal a growing arousal, the swell in her dress now peaked with hard little nubs.
In that moment, you could hardly think of her as royalty any more. In that moment, Ophelia... no, Yufie, was just a woman.
Your woman. She was your wife, and you were her husband, and a husband had duties to his wife. A duty to fish out the big, knotted cock now painfully tenting your breeches, spread her legs, and rut her into the bed until she was screaming your name in lustful, blissful agony, driven to ever greater heights of pleasure unknown by the man who had claimed her for his own. Only once you had left her sore, and satisfied, and emptied the heavy ropes of cum bloating your balls and muddying your mind could you feel shame for the instinctual need to breed that Yufie's perfect, vulnerable body filled you with.