The exalted King John reclined in his throne with a sigh. Nobility was good. Victory over one's foes, even better. But the finest things in life tended to be the simplest ones, so the great rat king had learned in his forty-odd years. John savored the little things: good meals, dirty sex, and the screams of a feline.

He stroked the paunch of his belly. Another fine meal digested in his gut. Though rats were viewed as filthy scavengers, rat chefs were among the most sought-after in all the land. They were veritable miracle workers, able to make delectable meals out of the most unlikely ingredients. He belched, then chuckled. According to those uppity felines, being in his court was a lesson in endurance. His stench was mighty, his manner boorish. Contrariwise, he saw the feline royals for what they were: pretentious and cruel despots intolerant of anybody who did not groom and nap the days away.

Disgusting a feline royal was another pleasure in life, now that John stopped to consider it. He had to smile at last week's encounter. The feline queen herself, kneeling before his throne. How terrible it must have been for that bitch-queen to plead at such a disadvantage! Her country and people, starving; her honor, tarnished. Nostrils scrunched in distaste, eyes pointedly avoiding the hefty, pinkish sack of his scrotum as it dangled nude over his throne's edge, for King John wore only his crown and an assortment of rings.

"I beg of you, not for my crown, but for my countrymen," she had pleaded. "Our farms are barren. We will trade. [i]I[/i] will trade, King John. Anything."

And oh, he had noticed the subtext. Anything, she cooed, as she spared a glance at his hefty scrotum. Anything, meaning her. He could have fucked her rotten in the throne room while her aides watched helplessly. It would have been recorded by his scribes, the yowling cries of the feline queen made part of his records.

Yet King John, for all his deviancy, was not about to take advantage of a fellow ruler's needs so coldly. He had leaned forward, smiled his yellowed teeth at her.

"Anything, dear queen?" he had asked, a well-forged note of sympathy in his tone.

"Anything," she had said, and tears fell from her eyes.

His demand was simple. Reasonable, really. Her reaction had been one of barely-contained hatred. Her claws, he saw, had come free of their sheaths.

"M-my daughter, my first born," she had spat.

"For the lives of your countrymen," King John had said, soothingly. "The life of one little kitten for the lives of thousands..."

In the end she had capitulated. The aides she'd brought along had whispered in her ears, no doubt agreeing in their cold, logical ways with King John. And so the agreement was made. King John's bountiful harvest would be shared with the feline kingdom, and the princess would be delivered to him in one week.

The week passed, and the court guards announced the return of the feline queen and her entourage. Among them, visibly unnerved by the odorous musk in the throne room, was a flawless female kitten. Like her mother, she sported white fur and blonde hair, though her locks had been styled into curls. A regal dress covered her and made her look like a miniature version of her own mother, whose face was a mask of sorrow.

King John stepped out of his throne. He loomed above every member of the feline's entourage, but especially over the child. He grinned down at her and said sweetly, "Hello, little Elizabeth. Do you like it here?"

"Not particularly," said the girl in her refined manner. "Mother," she primly began, turning her head, "why have I come with you?"

"Because," the queen said with frayed composure, "Elizabeth, my darling... I must leave you here. With King John."

Before the horror could truly dawn on Elizabeth, the rat king said, "As a show of good faith, the first deliveries will begin immediately, good queen. You may go now, and I shall get acquainted with this little bit of diplomacy." He brushed the hair from Elizabeth's face, and the girl snapped at him, then recoiled towards her mother.

"Mother-!"

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," the queen lowly said. "I wish there were some other way."

The queen and her entourage made to leave. Elizabeth, beginning to cry, tried to chase her mother but John caught her by the back of her dress and pulled her near. She gave into hysterics by the time her mother left the throne room. She bawled and clawed at John's arm. "Let go of me! Leave me alone! I want my mother!"

Unmindful of the weeping cuts, the filthy, chubby rat pulled his prize toward the throne. It was a short walk made long by her thrashing and theatrics. By the time he had brought her before his throne, she was at the end of her tantrum, her protests reduced to sobbing and hissing. King John's arm was badly scratched, but he had never been prone to fussing over small injuries. Clawed flesh was a given when dealing with hated felines.

"Hate you," the little cat hissed, eyes red from tears, nose running. "My mother won't leave me here..."

"She will, unless she wishes her country to starve," King John chuckled. "Now, Elizabeth," he said as one of his aides went to work disinfecting the wounds on his arm, "let me offer you a chance to start this off amicably. Take off that dress." He saw the defiance flare in her gaze and held up one bejeweled finger to hush her. "If you do not, I'll simply cut it off of you, and you can spend the rest of your days naked." What he did not tell her was that she would never see the dress again anyway, but when dealing with children, one had to omit certain truths in order to make headway.

Elizabeth seemed to weigh her options. It was a good trait to see in a child, that ability to consider a situation and choose the least objectionable path; certainly being the child of a royal made her slightly more intelligent than the common rabble. She was still, however, a vapid feline. She folded her arms across her narrow chest and planted her feet. "I will not," she said defiantly.

"So be it, little kitten," said John, smiling warmly. Several of his aides approached, burly rats, all of them. They seized the girl who began to shriek and claw, but these rats wore leather armor. Her claws raked into the sturdy hides and did nothing but tucker her out. While she fought and screamed, one of his female aides took a pair of tailoring scissors and cut the child's dress at the neck. She slid the scissors down and the edge slid through the fabric as if it wasn't there at all. All that remained then was to remove it. The armored rats pulled the ruined halves of the dress off of her arms.

Elizabeth was left nearly nude, dressed only in frilly white panties and stockings which rose nearly to her loins. She fell to her knees, covering her nipples, sobbing one moment and screaming the next, "I hate you! I hate you, foul rat! I want my mother! I want my mommy back!"

"Most unfortunate," said John, who then dramatically mimicked her sobs. [i]"Boo-hoo-hoo! Boo-hoo! Where has my mommy gone? Boo-hoo!"[/i]

"Stop-, [i]stop it!"[/i] Elizabeth screamed. "Stop imitating me, rat!"

King John laughed. His aides and guards joined in raucously. Elizabeth snarled and hissed, glaring all around, but the laughter and her indecency made her tremble and sob.

When he felt the child had been humbled enough, King John pulled her close and said softly, "I will allow you to keep your panties for a short time, my little kitten." She met his gaze and a low, hateful yowl rose in her throat. In a frigid tone the rat king said, "You [i]will[/i] temper this attitude, child, or I shall have your claws removed."

Her gaze didn't soften but her eyes welled with tears. "Our claws don't grow back," she said, aghast.

"I know," answered King John with a sudden grin. "So. You may sheathe them yourself, or I will do it for you. Permanently." Without warning he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close. He crushed her snout into the bountiful, fleshy curves of his scrotum. The girl shrieked and her paws flew to his belly. Rather thrilled by the notion she might claw him, King John said, "Now now, kitten! Mind your claws and draw deep breaths!"

Elizabeth cried out and sputtered. "You smell terrible! I hate it! Stop!" screamed the kitten, but King John kept her close. Her claws prickled his gut but she resisted, however narrowly, the urge to rake them in and to claw at his balls where he was most vulnerable. The thought of her fingers without claws was a sobering one. She had seen this mutilation performed as punishment in her mother's court. She pleaded with the rat, "Stop, please! [i]Please!"[/i]

His penis, a fat and burly thing, stiffened above. Precum trickled from the pucker of its foreskin. It stained her hair and made her stink of his masculinity, and while she screamed and begged, King John said coolly, "The sooner you calm yourself and accept this predicament, kitten, the sooner I'll be gentle with you."

It surprised the rodent that Elizabeth started to calm herself. She was still blubbering and snuffling, true, but the hysterics tapered off. All that was left was her nose against his scrotum, tucked into the space where his penis met his balls. Softly he said, "I will let go of your pretty little head, my kitten. You will stay close."

"Yes-, ye-yes. I will," Elizabeth sniffled.

John released her - and she kept close, nose to his balls, unwillingly drinking in the odor of his unwashed genitals. The rat grinned with his yellowed teeth and said, "You'll find this will be far more pleasant if you simply obey, kitten. Of course, even my own daughters had to learn some harsh lessons before they'd serve me."

Elizabeth whined. "You-, you would make your own children do this?"

The rat chuckled. "Yes I would. Oh, but little kitten," he caressed her head, and his touch was so repulsive that she chose to push into his groin to try and mitigate it, "at your tender young age, you don't know the half of what I plan to do to you. What is your age, little girl? Seven?"

"Eight," said Elizabeth, quivering.

King John sighed wistfully. "Ah, sweet youth. I've so much to teach you. I look forward to filling you with knowledge. Among other things." He giggled at this and so did his court. "How do you like my scent, kitten? Be honest with me. I do not suffer liars in my court."

The girl closed her eyes and shivered, this despite the humid warmth of the throne room and of King John's corpulent form. "You are vile," she said lowly.

"Vile," repeated the rat, smiling. "Hmmm, [i]vile.[/i] I'll accept that from an uncultured outsider such as yourself. Not to worry, kitten - you'll come to enjoy it."

"I will not," Elizabeth tartly replied.

The rat smirked. "She will not," he repeated to one of his aides, who joined him in a gentle chuckle. "The folly of youth. Your life has barely begun, and already you're set in your ways. Well, it's an adventure we all must go on." He nudged the girl back. She shuddered as she breathed in relatively clean air away from his groin. The rodent then reached for his hefty scrotum and hoisted it, one testicle in each hand. Without prompt, an aide pushed the child forward. With a shriek, Elizabeth found herself under the king's balls, her nose mashed against the terrifically ripe bud of his anus.

King John waited for hysterics, but the girl only whined and groaned. He listened to several gags and waited for her to vomit, but she maintained some composure, much to the rat's surprise. He was so pleased with her constitution that he laughed and said, "My, but this kitten is a natural - even my own daughter retched upon first smelling my anus, didn't she?" His aides chuckled along with him.

He released his scrotum. It buried much of Elizabeth's head, its flesh sweaty, pink and smooth save the odd pubic hair. In letting it go he trapped the kitten in a crucible of his musk so that all that Elizabeth could smell was his anal scent. Against her involuntarily snuffling nostrils, his anus winked and seemed to express more of its fetid musk. He slid his tongue over his lips and overbite, and said with a shiver of pleasure, "Give my anus a kiss, little kitten. And, please - droll as it might be, don't balk. How I would hate to tan your hide with a leather strap..."

From below his balls, King John heard a plaintive mewl. He thought he felt tears, though it could have just as easily been the salty sheen of his own perspiration. He was about to both censure her and call for the strap he'd used to adjust the behavior of his own children, but Elizabeth pecked his anus with a kiss. It was shallow, brief, but promising. The rat smiled enormously. The fleshy whip that was his tail slithered over the child's clothed sex and coiled around her thigh like a friendly earthworm.

"Good girl, Elizabeth," he cooed. His penis stood fully erect now, an entire foot of dripping ratflesh. He deigned to touch his penis, slid back his foreskin, and clutched the naked knob of his glans. With a shudder he squeezed it. Copious amounts of precum oozed through his fingers.

"More kisses, kitten," he said. "Harder ones. Suckle like you did at your mother's teat."

A whine rose from the girl, muffled but not hidden by John's prodigious scrotum. The kisses she gave were perfunctory, all her efforts going into touching her lips to his anus as briefly as possible. For the moment it pleased the rat who smiled and slowly masturbated, completely unashamed of lurid behavior before his court. He gestured to an aide and made a scissor-snipping gesture; to another said aloud, "Wine and cheese. My appetite is not merely sexual."

"At once, your majesty," said the aide he'd verbally addressed, a male rat no older than Elizabeth who departed at once.

The aide with the tailoring scissors knelt behind Elizabeth. She sensed the rat's presence and began to pull away from King John, but a guard pushed her head back in, crushing her nose into the rim of the king's anus. She mewled and whimpered; the king said lowly, "You do not stop unless you're told to do so, kitten. This first infraction shall be forgiven only by my grace. Next time, you will be punished."

Elizabeth, her world made dark by King John's heavy balls, reluctantly resumed her kisses on the rat's smelly pucker. She felt the touch of the scissors on her back and tensed. They slid down, cutting through her panties, brushing her virgin loins as they snipped all the way to the other side. The aide then pulled her bisected panties off and handed them to King John who took them with a devious smile.

"Why, look at [i]these,"[/i] he tutted. He nosed into the two halves of what had been the seat and indulgently sniffed. His nose wrinkled in displeasure. "Hm! Hardly any musk, just powder and soap. And not so much as a stain of sweat." He tossed them away like the rags they were. "Not to worry, Elizabeth - soon you'll come to smell as foul as I do."

The girl whined, but continued to reluctantly kiss his anus. The rat king said, "And where are my suckles, little kitten? Did you believe I forgot? I'm afraid I must punish you."

A flurry of activity took place. A tray of wine and assorted cheeses was brought for King John; a muscular, armored aide lifted the child who had begun to cry and fuss about her poor claws; and another aide came bearing a leather strap, textured by many beatings over the years.

King John treated himself to a stack of cheese slices - cheddar, gouda, and brie - and washed them down with a sip of red wine. Still with penis throbbing, he directed his guard to lay the child across his lap, and the guard did so in a way that left her soft belly grinding against the king's erection.

"Please-, please, sir," Elizabeth sobbed. "Not my claws..."

"Indeed, not your claws," said King John soothingly. He patted her head, then took the strap from his aide's waiting hand. "I'll not maim you. Not yet, at least. It is my personal belief, however, that children are given extra padding," he patted her bottom and made her yelp, "to permit some corrective action."

Elizabeth, as King John correctly believed, had never been punished. It was so unlike feline royals to punish their children despite their tendency towards censuring and torturing dissidents; such hypocrisy was yet another reason to despise the felines, as John saw it.

Smiling devilishly, the rat king lifted the child's tail and swung the strap hard enough to produce a crack when it struck her bottom. Elizabeth screamed. The strap came down again. The child yowled and clawed into the throne. The strap bit her flesh again, and again, and again, until the stinging redness of Elizabeth's bottom showed through her fur. Her humiliation was complete enough that she bellowed, "Please-, please, no more! I want my mommy! I want my [i]mommy!"[/i]

The rat king returned the strap to his aide's hand. He savored more cheese - this time, the brie alone. He turned the girl and righted her so that she sat in his lap, back against the turgid stalk of his penis. He could smell his anal musk on her snout; he basked in the odor which stained her lovely face. To make a feline princess stink of his anus was a sublime pleasure.

"The next time I command you to do something, Elizabeth, you'll do it. Lest I give you [i]ten[/i] lashes next time." He leaned closer and nosed her chest. His overbite ground against a nipple. The nub was pink, stiff from the excitement of terror and humiliation. Her paws flew to cover her nipples, but then she seemed to think better of defiance. Her blubbering never stopped.

"Want-, want mommy," she whimpered, then sucked snot. "Ple-e-ease..."

"Hush now, little kitten," cooed King John. He pulled her into his arms and cradled her like a baby. He kissed her musky lips and added his foul breath to the blend, and he crudely molested her virgin loins, feeling soft cuntlips and thin fur. She pushed her thighs together but this was no deterrent to the rat's determined fingers. He grinned and asked her, "Do you know where kittens come from, my sweet?"

Elizabeth trembled in his arms. "From-, from-, it's something mothers and fathers do, privately..."

"You have so much to learn," King John cooed. "How I'll delight in teaching you." He stood and carried her effortlessly through his castle's halls. Upon reaching his royal quarters, he said to the aide stationed outside, "I'll be making a proper lady of my sweet young kitten." Which was his way of telling his aide to disregard the shrieking. He locked the door at his back and laid Elizabeth on his large, red-hued bed as though she were his bride. She looked at him fearfully, her appearance disheveled yet still lovely. Well, that was simply good breeding for you; even felines could be beautiful with the right genes. Not as beautiful as John himself or his progeny, but they could be attractive.

For the moment John simply eyed his newest acquisition, a lurid smile on his snout and penis stiff. The heavy dribble of his precum spattered on the stone floor. Outside, as if in accompaniment, rain was beginning to trickle off the peaks of the castle and patter on the stone windowsills. John walked to his royal vanity below the window. On a wooden stand he set his crown, and then took a moment to brush his curly brown hair.

As King John groomed, Elizabeth snuffled and sobbed. Her dread for her situation gnawed at her until she cried, "What will you do to me?"

King John set aside his brush and turned to face Elizabeth. His smile was devious, as rat smiles tended to be, and he joined his prize on the bed. Her body language plainly told John that he was unwanted but her behavior remained obedient - no doubt terror on her part. He slid a hand up her thigh, the flesh creepy but the rings equally unnerving. He slipped his ring finger - ironically the least decorated on his right hand - into her young sex and fingered the fibrous membrane of her hymen.

Elizabeth cringed and whimpered, her muscles tightening. "Wh-what are you doing!?"

"Merely appraising what is mine," said John lowly. "A virgin. As I'd expect, of course." He smiled, leaned close to her face, and pecked a kiss on her lips. She took it passively, too afraid to even cringe away from his cheesy breath. John grinned and kissed her again, this time forcing his tongue into the tight cavern of her maw. Elizabeth's eyes shot open and her paws clutched his shoulders, claws pricking but not digging. As John tongued her mouth she groaned and gagged; John thrust his tongue against the entrance to her throat and she gagged again, harder, nearly retching.

John pulled back his tongue and finger. A rope of slobber linked their maws. Elizabeth lay shivering, still crying. "You're repulsive," she managed to say, defiance undermined by the quiver in her voice.

Her attempts at disparagement made John smile. He tickled her chin with his fleshy fingers and cooed, "Why thank you, kitten." For just a moment he drank in her deliciously petite form, her taut young legs clad in white stockings, her naked loins and terror-stiff nipples. With a shudder of anticipation, he kissed her chest then slid his tongue over a nipple. Elizabeth whined, squirmed, but did not try to evade him.

"Unspeakably lovely. Even for a feline," said King John. He straightened up on his knees and towered over the prone child. His eyes glinted in the candlelight, green like emeralds but devoid of soul. He clutched his penis and presented its hard stalk to Elizabeth by allowing it to hang over her belly. He pulled back the hood of the foreskin and a shot of precum spattered onto her face, making her gasp and sputter.

The kitten pawed at her lips then frightfully asked, "What have I done to you, rat?"

"The daughter suffers for the mother's sins," said King John wistfully, as he wielded his cock and touched its bared glans to her labia. "Sad but true."

Elizabeth's mouth worked as she tried to make sense of his words and behavior. Then he penetrated her. The girth of his shaft was that of her bicep. Elizabeth, who prior to John's finger had never been so much as examined, screamed as her vagina was forced open. The lips split at their edges like seams and began to bleed, and the pink channel beyond them was forcibly dilated by John's girth. His penis touched the fleshy wall of her hymen, and like a weapon of siege, brutishly pushed through it. The kitten's face curled into a toothy rictus and the tears poured down her cheeks. Blinded by the pain, she raked her claws down his chubby gut and opened many wounds.

Although John grunted at the pain, it was minor in contrast to the pleasure. He grinned hideously as he watched his penis enter into the cat, the blood staining his member. He draped himself over her, hands gripping the headboard, gut hanging over the child who yowled as if being skinned alive. She raked her claws over him again and again, screamed slurs against not only him but all of ratkind, and promised that she personally would kill him. Such filth from a child, but the honesty of her fierceness was a thrill to the king rat.

A subtle lump emerged in Elizabeth's smooth belly. The pain was unspeakable and her hateful screaming began to turn to pleading. "Please, King John, [i]please!"[/i] screeched the very same child who had just cursed John and his people to mutilation and death.

The king rat knew from past experience with children that he was now touching the orifice of her cervix. King John, who wished to use this girl as breeding stock, tempered his efforts and pulled back; he couldn't breed that which was destroyed. He said lowly, "One day, little girl, you'll be able to accept the full magnificence of my cock. On that day, you'll be grateful."

Elizabeth believed that the worst was over, and that now he would pull out of her. She hissed, "Never! Never!"

"So mercurial you are, kitten," tutted King John. He rocked back on his knees and gripped her thighs, vanishing huge tracts of them under his greasy hands. He held her lower body aloft and began to brutally fuck the child. She cried out in what seemed shock, then began to plead and beg again as the pain returned in spades. King John raped her hard and quick, ever mindful of her cervix, but the urge to bury his penis and rearrange her guts was a mighty one. He pinched his lower lip in his underbite and moved his hips as hard as he could but only as far as he dared. The magnificent, nearly melon-sized bulks of his balls swung against her lifted bottom, lightly spanking her beaten ass cheeks.

The rat indulged himself with a lap on her foot. The claws were out, the toes splayed, and oh how lovely her little feet were, though John was not hungry for feet so much as he was a lover of children. He intended to savor every part of his pet princess. He spoke to the child, voice booming above her screams, "What a tight child you are, Elizabeth! My, but so beautiful and snug, a most perfect feline!"

"I hate you, rat!" Elizabeth screeched. "I [i]despise[/i] you!"

King John broadly grinned. Sweat was breaking out all over his mighty form, oozing through his fur and amplifying his odor. The greasy reek of his armpits alone was nearly enough to gag the kitten, but the more earthy stench of his anus was beginning to fill the room as well. He imagined her rough tongue on his musky bud and shivered with anticipation, for King John did so love to have his anus polished after intercourse.

Still the kitten screamed and cursed, but John was lost in pleasure. He threw back his head with a shudder. His bountiful balls were tightening, wrinkles appearing in flesh which glistened with sweat. He hugged the child's legs to his chest and gripped her hip savagely enough that his fingers bruised her delicate childflesh. This elicited another braying cry from the child who gripped his hand and raked in her claws; John barely noticed the cuts. He shuddered and, with a groan, came into her immature sex.

Befitting a male with such enormous balls, King John's ejaculations were tremendous affairs. Thick white seed gushed into the kitten, full of microscopic life seeking an egg. Elizabeth clutched the bed in her clawed paws and hissed, for the salty seed burned the many tears and wounds the rape had inflicted upon her. Her back arched and a deep, hateful yowl rose out of her throat.

King John held fast to her young body as he came. Again and again his balls throbbed and his penis twitched, and each time he gave an enormous burst of semen. It poured into her and, with nowhere to go, quickly spurted free alongside the imperfect plug his cock provided. When his orgasm began to taper off to a heavy drool, he let go of her legs and fell back on his knees, panting harshly. Elizabeth pulled herself away from him, dislodging his cock which by then was falling flaccid. The sheets beneath their coupling was a swamp of semen.

Elizabeth had no frame of reference for what had just happened. She curled up and sobbed, knowing only hate and pain, She both dearly missed and resented her mother. She mewled, "Hate you, rat..."

"Now now, kitten," sighed King John, who moved to sit at the head of his bed. He parked his plump bottom on a pillow; he intended to make the kitten use it, but was not at all opposed to smelling his own behind as he rested. "Come now. Relax with me."

With some effort, Elizabeth sat up. Her bottom stung still from the strap but her young sex radiated pain. She dared not look down at herself. Timidly, "Relax?"

The rat smiled. "Yes. Relax. Closer now."

Elizabeth, sniffling, neared the rat. John then lifted his balls, baring the exceptionally musky tract of his perineum. The kitten stared at his wrinkled anus dourly. After a moment she met his eyes. His smile widened and he cooed, "Go on, kitten."

The child nuzzled beneath the great pink curves of John's scrotum. His anal musk was intense after such exertion; its odor gagged her, but she persevered until her nostrils touched the pink bud. His balls dropped upon on her head, and then her entire world was John. She inhaled his scent, gagged; inhaled again and weathered it better. She was trembling, crying, missing her mommy, but she began to lick the salty sweat from the rodent's anus.

King John reclined and smiled. He thought Elizabeth had done well for her first time. He touched the weeping lines on his belly, fingers coming away red. Yes, she had taken it surprisingly well. And for that, he thought, she deserved a reward. Her mother, perhaps.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Good kitten. [i]Very[/i] good."