Ashley is a cute little innocent, ovulating young woman living on a farm with her mom and dad. When her father takes her to the barn this special morning, he will not only rape his teen daughter but blackmail and force her to fuck the farm’s newest addition – an enormous, absolute unit of a crocodile. Unfortunately, things go wrong, and the girl is locked inside the cage with more than one of these wild, horny animals despite her father’s best wishes.
Lily’s cage was a festering pit, the straw crusted with blood, seed, and her own vomit. The rabid dog’s foam still burned her throat, the boar’s tusks haunted Mia’s screams, and the client’s snuff order loomed like a guillotine. Her body was a ruin—bruises, claw marks, and welts from dogs, wolves, bears, and boars. The collar choked her, a constant reminder of The Kennel’s claim. Mia’s whispers, *We survive*, were a fading pulse in the dark, barely audible over the barn’s new sounds: bleats, grunts, and the clink of chains. Goats, Lily realized, her stomach twisting. The annual gala, Vixen had hinted. A night of excess where no one escaped unbroken.
In this scorching new series, eighteen-year-old Princess Jamie emerges, her breathtaking beauty a prize men kill to possess. The Tournament of Swords rages, steel clashing in a brutal symphony as warriors vie for her hand, promised by the king to the last man standing. Amid the chaos, Robin Hood strikes, his presence a dangerous whisper cutting through the din. Who will claim her first, ravaging the exquisite princess in a storm of lust and violence?
The kingdom of Hollander simmered with rage three days after the Tournament of Swords, the air heavy with the stench of rotting corpses and the acrid smoke of pyres burning the fallen. King Henry Hollander, a titan of muscle and fury, stood atop the castle battlements, his burgundy doublet torn at the shoulder from a skirmish, revealing a chest matted with graying hair. His beard bristled as he roared orders, his green eyes blazing with a father’s wrath and a warrior’s thirst for blood. His daughter, Princess Jamie, had returned, ravaged, her emerald gown in tatters, her golden hair matted with dirt—but alive. She stood beside him now, her hazel eyes hollow yet sharp, her pale skin bruised from Robin Hood’s assault and the village women’s cruelty. Her beauty remained, a defiant flame—lips swollen, breasts heaving beneath a borrowed tunic, legs trembling but unbowed.