by Amelia Wilde
Pride grips me around the ribs and squeezes. Fuck, she’s something else, fuck, fuck. I give chase down the grand staircase, knowing that no one downstairs will help her. The princess has reached the castle gates, but they won’t open for her—they won’t open for anyone without the code to punch in. She flails, struggling, hitting numbers, and that’s when I grab her by the hair.
“You’ve earned the belt for that.”
Luckily, I’m already wearing the belt.
I drag her into the living room, ignoring the cascade of excuses. I got scared, she’s saying, and I don’t care. I had to at least try.
“Try, try again.” I take her over to a low footstool and tug her by the hair until she’s over it on all fours, hands shaking, body shaking. I undo my belt. “Three of the best. Head down.”
She lowers her head to the bench, which has the lovely effect of arching her back and putting her ass on display. Her glistening pussy. She likes a chase, then.
So do I.
I undo my belt and snap it between my hands, making her jump and cry out, and then—I can’t wait. Fuck, I can’t wait. I bring it down hard against her creamy flesh and she jerks up off the footstool. “Ah, ah,” I tell her, and push her back down by the neck. “Two more.”
“No,” she weeps. “Please, it hurts so much.”
“Then you’ll learn something from it, won’t you, little princess?”
“I won’t run again.”
“Oh, I know.” And then I bring the belt down again. This time, she screams, and the bright red line flushes deep across her ass.
She screams, but she doesn’t break her position.
“Last one.”
I don’t give her any time to prepare. I deliver the last blow and a choked sob spills out from her. I’m hardly here. I’m more animal than man now, lube shoved into my pocket, and I move behind her with an inhuman growl.
“Reach back,” I tell her, and when she doesn’t obey right away I deliver a slap to her ass. Head pressed into the footstool, she reaches back, still sobbing, hands hovering in midair. “Show me.”
She doesn’t understand, and then she does, fingertips digging in hard to spread her ass.
Fuck.
Fuck, she is perfect, she is perfect in every way. I uncap the lube and let it hit her smallest hole. It’s cold, and she jumps, but I don’t care.
My finger comes next.
My little princess lets out a shocked gasp when I shove it in to the knuckle, then father. There’s no time for delicacy. There might have been, if she hadn’t run, but now I consider this part of her punishment. “It’s too big,” she whispers. “Your finger is too big.”
“But look at you taking it,” I coax, and push it in the rest of the way. Her hole clenches around me, tight tight tight. “Breathe. You’re doing very well, little princess. I know this is hard.”
A tear slips down her cheek and she takes a shuddering breath. Fuck, I love this. I love watching her struggle and yet still obey me. I’m punishing her, and she’s taking it, she’s taking everything I have to give. “I’m adding another finger now.”
“No,” she sighs, but she takes another breath and does her best to relax while I work in another finger.
It’s difficult. Very difficult, judging by how she squeezes her eyes shut tight and takes big, uneven breaths. “You’ve got two thick fingers in your ass now.” I fuck them in and out to demonstrate. “How does it feel?”
“I—I like it,” she admits. “It hurts, but I like that you said I was doing well.”
It cracks my heart wide open.
Wide.
Fucking.
Open.
I take my fingers out of her hole and add more lube. I need a thousand years of this and this alone. Her eyes fly open wide when I press my tip to her hole, her mouth opening in a silent cry. “Relax,” I murmur. “Take a deep breath and relax. I’m taking your asshole now, little princess, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Just relax.”
I shove the tip in and her eyes scan the room. She’s looking for other people, I realize, other people who might witness her great shame.
And my fucking ecstasy.
She’s so tight, so hot, and even an inch inside of her has my mind reeling. Turning over and over. I thrust in another inch and she sucks in a breath, a high-pitched gasp. “You need to take all of it,” I tell her. “You’re such a good girl. Look at you, with my cock in your asshole.” A single tear streaks down her cheek but she doesn’t take her hands off her asscheeks. She doesn’t close herself off to me. One breath at a time, she relaxes, her asshole stretching. I trace the stretched opening with a fingertip. “It must feel so big.”
“It does.” A half-cry, half-sob. “It does, it does. Too big.”
“But you’re doing it so well.” The praise has an instant effect—it opens her to me and I slide in another inch. It’s an agonizingly tight fit but who the fuck cares. Worse would happen to her on the mountain. Much worse. My cock throbs, and I finally, finally seat myself, my balls bumping against her slick folds. I fuck in and out, drawing little ah ah ahs from her lips, and then I slip my hand around and search out her clit with my fingertips. Then I bury myself deep, deeper than ever, pressing her body into the footstool.
“You’re going to come with my cock in your ass, and if you’re very good, I’ll take it out.”
“Forever?” she whimpers.
It makes me laugh. “We’ll see, little princess.”
“It’s so embarrassing,” she whispers. “I don’t want to come like this.”
“But you will.”
Slow circles, at first, increasing in pressure. My little princess can’t get anywhere. She can’t run, she can’t hide, she can’t even move—I’ve impaled her with a thick cock, trapped her with it. Nothing left to do but grit her teeth and rock against me. It doesn’t take long until her hips move back against mine, until they’re swaying side to side, until I can feel her little grunts and sighs.
And then—
Magic.
She comes hard, her entire body clenching around my cock, and fuck—fuck. It makes me spill inside of her, filling her up with come, my own muscles firing and firing and firing. It’s so tight. It’s so fucking tight, hot, hot, hot, no, fuck, I’ll never live without this, never, never.
When it’s done I rub her through the aftershocks of her orgasm until she’s breathless and red-faced and teary-eyed.
I keep my promise.
I take it out.
“Don’t move.”
Her hands shake but she stays where she is, the evidence of what I did to her on full display.
I take my time in the bathroom. Cleaning up. Because I need my entire focus on what’s going to happen next.
8
Desiree
I want this.
I want this, and it’s so sick, it’s so wrong. It’s so awful. No one should want this. No one should walk out of their school and get caught in a dark nightmare and like it. No one should be shivering on a footstool, waiting for the man who has just fucked her ass to come back and take her last virginity. No one should be waiting with anticipation.
But I am.
I don’t dare move, don’t dare get more of the belt, and yet part of me wants to disobey him on purpose so he will. I want that bright flash of pain and the way he rubs a hand over it to soothe it away. I want the cruel laugh and the way he won’t let me up.
I want the way he knows I can handle it.
I’ve never thought of myself as a person who can handle it. Joining the drama club was just a way to hide the fact that I’m scared, I’m so fucking scared, of everything. I’m scared of not fitting in. I’m scared of not having a future. I’m scared that I’ll make a wrong move and spend the rest of my life paying for it.
With his hands on me, I’m not afraid.
I know that’s wrong.
But when he buried his cock in me, I felt something I’ve never felt before.
Powerful.
And when he said I was doing well I thought I’d die from the pleasure of his words alone. Who does that? Who deals with the ungodly stretch of a thick cock in their ass by melting from a few kind words?
Me. I’m that person.
I never knew I was that person. I was so naive. I was so blind.
Now I can see, and it’s like I’ve been walking around my entire life in pitch dark. The light can be painful, but at least it’s real. At least I know something for sure.
He’s gone so long that I start to worry he’s an illusion of a fucked-up mind. That maybe I made all of this up in my head. That I’ll discover in a flash of insight that none of this was real. Not the mansion, not the SUV, not even the school play. My hands are starting to cramp from keeping myself spread open like this, and the steady drip between my legs is even more mortifying. That feels real. That can’t be a hallucination.
The air shifts, bringing the clean manly scent of him with it, and a profound relief squeezes at my heart.
“Ah, my little princess,” he says. “So obedient.”
I flush at that. “My hands hurt.” This time, I let a little whine in at the edges, just to see what he’ll do.
He steps behind me and spanks me hard, twice, once on each cheek.
That, then.
“Take your hands away.” I do, my shoulders sagging with the sweet relief of being able to take some of the pressure off my head. In the next moment, there’s a clean cloth at the back of me, dipping and cleaning, rubbing small circles until the sticky mess is a thing of the past. “Down on the floor.”
I see where he means right away. A thick rug decorates the floor in front of the fireplace and I tumble down onto it, still on hands and knees. This earns me a laugh. “On your back, little princess.”
I turn over and gasp.
Because he’s different.
He’s the same man, yes, but his pupils are blown black with desire, and there’s a certain color in his face that wasn’t there before. Every cell in my body leans toward him, leans in, and it’s like a whisper of fate in my ear. Reach out for him.
I do.
Maximus Prince comes down into my arms, and another shift in the air makes me feel like I’ve crawled inside his soul. He drops his head to my shoulder and kisses me there. Kisses the side of my neck, my cheek. He bites at my lip, and then lower, nibbling and kissing his way down the front of me until he reaches my pussy.
He gives my clit a long, dirty lick and meets my eyes. I’m speechless, out of words, at the depth in his gaze. We’re playing an ancient game, I think. One that’s been repeated over and over. One that will be repeated until the end of time. He’s stolen me away, but maybe I belonged to him before this. Long before this.
An emotion I can’t name flickers through his eyes and disappears. “What is it?” I manage.
Was it regret? “Nothing. Spread your legs.”
He does it for me, opening me wide before him, and looks.
And looks and looks and looks. He curses under his breath, then drags two of his fingers over my soaked opening. “You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. My little princess,” he says, and then he pushes the fingers in hard.
“Oh,” I cry, and it’s half pain, half pride that I can even stand it. But there’s not much to stand. I’m already wet and ready. He takes his fingers out and pops them into his mouth, sucking on them like candy. It’s the dirtiest thing I’ve seen a man do, and it makes me even wetter. He covers this desire with his mouth and strokes me with his tongue, again and again and again. There’s no part of me he leaves untouched.
When he said he would ruin me, he meant it.
I could cry.
I could cry, because no matter what happens tomorrow, I won’t ever feel this way about a man again. There’s no man like Maximus Prince. No one at all, no matter who has bought me for debt settlement.
His skill with his tongue makes it hard to think, hard to feel the crushing weight of disappointment. God, what is wrong with me? Who gets disappointed that her kidnapper is going to give her up?
“Stop that,” he commands, and I look down at his dark head between my legs and blink the tears out of my eyes.
“Stop what?”
“I can feel you thinking about bullshit,” he says, and he’s so beautiful and irritated that I laugh at him. “Stop thinking about that. All that matters is right now.”
It’s a bold-faced lie, but he makes it convincing by virtue of licking me again, up and down the hot center of me, and I arch back into the rug and cry out.
“Wet enough,” he declares, and then he climbs over me and rolls on a condom. My breath hitches in my chest. This isn’t how I pictured losing my virginity. I thought it might be one of the less popular kids from the football team behind the auditorium, something clinical and cold, and this—
This isn’t that.
I’m trembling again, and it’s not because I’m afraid it will hurt. I’m intimately acquainted with his size. It’s going to hurt. But once he’s done it—once he’s ruined me once and for all—I’ll have to live without it.
He crushes his mouth to mine so I can’t speak and lines himself up with my opening. Oh, god, I thought it was huge before. I still think it’s huge. It’s not any less intimidating now. I break the kiss with a panicked, “Go slow!”
“No,” he says, and he thrusts home, tearing through my virginity with a vicious thrust.
I let out a scream, but by the time the sound has made my throat raw the sensation of him stretching me and tearing me is already changing. It’s already becoming a heated, sick pleasure. My body wants him. It wants him so much.
My heart wants him, too.
I’ll need several years to sort out why these changes in the air make me thirst for him so much, but in the midst of my thoughts I have a moment of clarity.
It comes from his voice.
It comes from the things he’s murmuring to me, in my ear, as he fucks me and fucks me like I’m not a newly broken-in virgin. He fucks me like I belong to him, like I always have, like he’s been waiting all his life to do this. Like there’s nothing else he’d rather do.
Like he knows I can take him.
It changes something in me, that thought. I can take him. I can take this, and I can take anything, as long as it’s with him.
Muscles I didn’t realize I could control relax and tighten again, gripping him, squeezing him, and he lets out a desperate groan. “Oh, my little princess, it feels so good. You feel so tight, you’re so—you’re so fucking good.” His words slip, some of them dropping, and it doesn’t matter that I’m the one beneath him, pinned to the floor. I feel an intense power, like our souls are fighting against one another and instead of one winning and one losing they’re merging.
I feel his desolation.
Oh, god, no, no, it can’t just be today that we have. I can feel the emptiness in him, without him saying a word. We haven’t had time to say much to each other, and I want to say things. I need to know things. I need time to ask him all the questions I have. What made him this way? Who made him this way? He fucks me with such a clean power that I know he’s been waiting.
He’s been waiting.
How do I know this? I think wildly. I don’t know. I don’t know, but I need more time. Tonight, when he puts me in my bed, I’m going to ask him to stay. I have plans, so many plans. At least plans for the night and the morning. I’ll stay awake all night.
There’s a sound, low and humming, and I ignore it. No one has disturbed us so far and nobody is going to. His servants, wherever they are, aren’t here. He fucks into me and I find so much pleasure in the taking, a sick pleasure, to be sure, but it’s still pleasure. I’m going to come.
I’m going to come.
I’m going to come from the pain and the way he feels inside me.
I’m going to come from the stretch and the burn.
I’m going to come from the concentration on his face, on the utter focus he has. Th
ere’s nothing else in the world for him other than me.
He makes one last thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and I lock my ankles around his back, drawing him in another millimeter.
My orgasm pulls me under but I don’t let it have the final say. I keep my eyes on his face while I watch him come, muscles tensing, a low grunt tearing from his throat. His whole body rolls with it, hand strong on my throat, the other hand pinning one of my wrists to the ground. Even in this moment of complete vulnerability he’s still in control.
I want him to be in control always.
And yet.
And yet.
It’s not going to happen.
I shudder out my own orgasm around him, looking down at the last moment to see the root of his cock decorated in blood.
My blood.
I marked him.
I did that.
The sound is getting louder, more insistent, and when he opens his eyes I see the desolation there, plain on his face. “What is it?” I whisper. “What is that noise.”
He climbs off of me and hauls me up to my feet, emotion bleeding from his eyes until it’s gone. “Time’s up, princess.”
Outside the window, I can see a helicopter landing on a wide stretch of lawn. His hand circles my wrist and I look up at him, my heart breaking with the betrayal. “You lied to me. You said—you said this was happening tomorrow. You said it wouldn’t be over until tomorrow.”
He shrugs. “It’s over now. Here’s your last choice: put on a shirt or go naked.”
9
Maximus
She shrinks against the seat in the helicopter, half-dressed. The only reason she looks presentable at all is because I sent someone in to do her hair this morning. Make it indestructible, I said, and the woman did my bidding. Even the fucking hasn’t managed to disturb my princess’s hair.
She won’t look at me.
I can’t stop looking at her.
There’s no point in explaining.
The messages this morning came one after the other. Yes, I knew he was coming.
