Far and away in a vast and isolated region, a peaceful land in the midst of a glorious, golden age is under siege. A dormant kingdom has awakened under the rule of a ruthless queen. She commands the unwarranted attacks, seeking retribution for the apparent kidnapping of her stepdaughter, Snow White, the sole heir to the throne. Needing to prove his kingdom had no involvement, William, the lone prince from the victimized land, takes it upon himself to find the missing royal. A young man embodying strong virtues, William arranges a search party and sets out on a bewitching autumn night with his men. He leads them into the dark woods, on the hunt for the beautiful princess who tragically lost her mother a few months previous, and soon after, her father took ill. A land in deep mourning needs a leader to bring hope, and so the king quickly remarried a mysterious woman who handles business with an iron fist. She is a barbarous queen, admired for her great beauty, but feared for her aggressive and sudden military tactics. No one has seen a trace of Snow White, and the rumors are she is dead. There is very little chance of her survival—it's been three weeks since she was last seen on castle grounds. The surrounding forest is known to be haunted and uninhabitable. Rescuing Snow White, if indeed she is still alive, would be a grand opportunity to show a sincere gesture of goodwill and end the pointless war.

The fearless rescue party scours deep into the treacherous forest, until they come upon a secluded area where a shining, glass coffin sits, protected by a gang of seven unruly thieves. Inside the coffin is Snow White, more beautiful than they imagined, even in death. His men are ready to take the thieves by force, believing them to be the group that kidnapped her, but the Prince is suddenly compelled—involuntarily pulled to Snow White’s corpse. Caught in a powerful vortex, he's thrown onto the coffin, and shatters the glass on impact. One of the elder thieves yells out a warning not to touch the princess. The dose of poison she ingested isn't normal, obviously created by a satanic charm. It's what keeps her body from withering, held in a suspended state. Whatever magic spell consumes her is holding the Prince in a trance, too. His face hovers over Snow White’s, dangerously close to her ripe, red mouth, oozing with the poison within. His men try to pull him away, but they are repelled and cast off. Blood rushing through the Prince's veins, heart pounding like mad, their mouths touch. 

Eerily, William feels her lips kiss him back. With a wild heave, her chest convulses under the strength of his, expelling a chunk of the toxic apple she ingested. A breath of life is stolen from the Prince and propelled into hers. With a gasp, her arms fling around him. Caught by an intense soul connection, laced with the black magic dissipating from its victim, the two fall instantly in love. Those watching stand in horror, witnessing the prince lift her weak body from the coffin. He mounts his horse with Snow White in his arms. The horse trots away, and William orders the shocked group of men and thieves to stay behind.

In the clearing, sunlight tingles her pale skin. Snow White is emotional, shaken, trembling in his arms, kissing his neck in gratitude. The Prince tries to calm her, wanting to take her back to her kingdom. She persists, unusual desire growing with every touch, moving her kisses to his face, and his mouth. This is not the nature of the innocent girl he heard splendid tales of before. The wetness of her silky tongue slides in to meet his, hungrily probing and sucking. Caught in a lover’s blaze, he lets her push him down onto the damp earth, straddling his groin, thrusting him into her like a demon in desperate need. 

Aggressively she takes him, grinding with incredible speed, deeper, harder, until she feels his orgasm create waves of unmeasured pleasure within her being. Collapsing onto his chest, they languish in love’s first sex. William runs his hands through her satiny strands of hair, good intentions derailed by lust, falling for this woman he hadn’t met before releasing her from the venomous fruit. He stands, helping her dress, caressing her shoulders. His hands traveling down the length of her spine, trying to fasten her corset. She moves his hands down to her thighs. Her moist, suppleness swallows his thick erection once again. One leg wrapped around his waist, she rides him while standing against an ancient tree. Their explicit acts are viewed by William's men, fascinated and entranced, wishing for their piece of the fair princess, too.

Mounted on the back of his horse, Snow White lets her hands slide under the belt of the infatuated William as they head towards the queen's castle. The brigade of horny men follow behind them and Snow White can feel their wanting. She glances over her shoulder, smiling sweetly, seeing their faces covered in lewd thoughts. With a wink and a playful wave, she blows the men a sultry kiss, arousing their intentions. Rubbing her clothed self against William, she implores him to stop for a romp in the forest. He looks at her face, expecting a lover's gaze, but in her eyes there is a freakish gleam—the look of a young woman in the throes of uncontrollable temptation. 

He obeys her need to stop, directing the men away in order to be alone, but Snow White yells out in protest. She orders William to chose one of his favorite men to join the escapade. Disbelieving, William refuses, dismissing her request as a joke. Snow White demands again. If he can't, she will pick for herself and William will have to simply watch. She parts her ruby lips, singing a song of adoration, beckoning her man to fulfill the command. Reluctantly, he picks one amongst his loyal and fearless men. Snow White is pleased, transforming from darling princess to insatiable mistress in one fell swoop. Ripping the clothes off of her new playmate, she crushes his face into her taut breasts. He laps at her rose petal nipples, and she squeals in delight, laying her back on top of the Prince’s stomach. She wants them both at once, each conquering her tight openings, and as they enter her, she wails for more, not satisfied with just two participants. William pounds her from beneath, watching his fellow warrior release inside his maiden's other hole. Torn between extreme lasciviousness and jealous rage, William shoves Snow White off from his body, causing her and the knightly lover to fall to the ground as one, still connected. William stands with might, fastening his clothes, but Snow White, drenched in the sweat of both men, implores him not to leave. She loves him, and is eternally grateful for saving her life. Let them stay for the night, by fireside, here in the woods. They should all rest and resume their journey in the morning. After all, she will be presenting not only herself, but William as her soon-to-be beloved husband, to her Kingdom. He agrees, against his better judgment, pitching a rest site, and striking a fire.

The weary men fall fast asleep. Snow White, cradled safely in William’s clutches, is wide awake. Not even a day since her resurrection, her body reverberates with unfamiliar feelings. Lucid visions of stripping the men and dissolving the fire with the drippings of her unquenchable desire fills her soul. Wickedness grows within what was once a pure heart, having been fed poison at the hands of her evil stepmother and cast out from her home. The devilish appetite to serve the queen her own toxic juice and turn the tide—drowning the one who tried to destroy her with a lethal dose—takes over. 

But first, she wants what only an unmarried whore can have. Quietly she handles the men, pleased at their growing rods being teased by her fingers. Two, then three, four, five and six! The entire brigade minus her prince, naked in her face, enjoying her mouth. She offers her pristine cleavage and then her creamy loins. Snow White bathes in the nasty orgy, giving, taking, all wondrously in ecstasy. Suddenly, the howls of pleasure are silenced by the sword of her savior. There, in the light of the moon, is William, fierce, enraged, the blade of his might covered in the blood of his men. She panics, scrambling to her feet, letting go of the flinching, dead hands of the men who just satisfied her. Having slaughtered his knights, he takes possession of his naughty little princess, tossing her on the back of his horse, before galloping steadfastly toward her domain.

She pounds at his back with her fists before squeezing his neck to strangle him. He’s nothing but a murderer, like her stepmother. She demands to be freed from his steed. He refuses, continuing to push forward. Nearly at the castle gates, he explains the details of the military strikes and her alleged kidnapping. She hits him repeatedly, not wanting to be a political pawn, having her own ideas about revenge—not peace. William is sent flying from the horse. He skids across rocky dirt, landing with a thud. Snow White goes to his limpness, reaching for a touch, when his hand rockets for hers, spinning her around, and pinning her under his breadth. Swearing his love, he waits for a proclamation of total faithfulness from her. In Snow White’s eyes is the soul of a witch, a demon starving for flesh. He cries as his heart breaks, drunk with a love too new to die. His good-faith mission turned deadly, overcome by a madness that burns through his being. She holds his bereaved face in her graceful hands, letting his tears fall on her lovely neck. As he comes for a kiss, a knife perforates his throat, pouring blood down upon Snow White. The castle guard who mistook the lover’s quarrel for a dangerous fight, protected the princess, before realizing he took the life of an opposing prince. Dead beside her, she wipes his blood from her body. As the guard turns away, she licks her fingers, intrigued by the taste.

The guard cleans Snow White with a suede cloth before escorting her back into the kingdom she was snatched from. As they ascend castle stairs, Snow White feigns affection for her people. They look at her with shock, stained in blood, eyes dark as hell. She enters her domain, every footstep echoing against the cold stone. With a laser-like focus, she asks to be alone, needing to see only one person—the woman who is no longer the fairest in the land. 

Without care she goes to the forbidden chambers of her stepmother. Down in the bowels of the castle is the labyrinth where the poison was birthed. Fast and furiously, she finds her own poisonous recipe in the spell books of the queen. She mixes, stirs, and observes the simmer then pours water over the dried fluids still covering her pretty skin. Gathering what she needs in a vial, she leaves the chambers and finds her stepmother gazing deeply into her magic mirror. The mirror coos to her, soothing her troubled soul, reflecting the loveliness that the vain one must see. But when Snow White’s reflection appears in the glass, she whirls around, seeing the princess standing behind her. Stifling her disgust, the queen embraces the young woman, thrilled at seeing her, thanking all that is good for her safe return. Snow White bows at the queen’s feet, taking the opportunity to show affection. She flickers her tongue at her stepmother’s ankles, tickling her calves, working her way, slowly, seductively, up her luscious legs. The queen strikes Snow White’s face, slamming her to the hard floor, but she doesn’t wince, instead she offers a teasing smile. The bitch bites on her stepdaughter’s flirtations, pouncing upon her young body with her own. 

In a heated, passionate rush they kiss, tasting similar evil spirits—biting, clawing, intertwining with wild heat. In Snow White’s hand hides the vial. Bringing the queen to the very brink of a full-tilt explosion, she throws her head back, and the toxic drink is poured in the stepmother's sexy mouth. It permeates her feminine prowess with hellish intensity. The wicked stepmother shakes violently in Snow White’s arms. Angst eases with every last breath of the bad witch’s reign. Snow White watches her wretched enemy shrivel into dust. She brushes tendrils of her victim from her dress. For a moment, the possessed princess breaths in the stench of toxic brews and female sex, basking in the afterglow. She is the undead, but the crown awaits a new and righteous head to be placed on.

The next morning at daybreak, Snow White bows before her father and people, accepting the crown that she was destined to wear. Sitting atop her throne she exudes power unlike any other before her, ready to be worshiped for all eternity. For she, and only she, lived after death, stole the hearts of men, the soul of the former queen, and now the undying love of her sovereignty. There sits Snow White—her time has come.