Claiming His Baby

by Nikki Chase

  I inch my head toward James’ hand. I want to be so close to him that he’s inside me. But since the only part of my body I can move is my head, this is all I can do. I rub my cheek against his fingers and kiss his hand.

  “You need it, don’t you?” James asks as he places his palm closer and sticks a thumb into my mouth.

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, my voice slightly muffled by his digit in my mouth. I lick and suck the finger like it’s a cock.

  “Do you want it in your pussy or your mouth, sweetheart?” he asks.

  “Anywhere, Sir. My body is yours.”

  “Good girl. That’s the only correct answer.”

  Prince James pulls his finger out of my mouth and gets into a kneeling position behind me. I’m so soaked that he slips inside without any resistance. He rolls the leash around his hand so my head is pulled back.

  This is kind of uncomfortable. But just like that Submissive on stage, I know this is not about my comfort, or even my pleasure.

  As a Submissive, I derive pleasure from being desired and used by my Dominant. I understand that now.

  All that matters is his pleasure.

  As James plunges in and out of me, my pussy makes obscene wet sounds that leaves no doubt as to how desperately I want the prince.

  I pay no attention to these sounds, even though they used to mortify me. To think I was a virgin not too long ago.

  James grabs my hips and drives his rock-hard cock inside me, again and again, fucking me fast and hard, pushing me back and forth on the floor. The carpet rubs against my sensitive nipples, sending another dose of pleasure straight to my pussy.

  I start to shake, even as he continues to pummel into me, my muscles contracting and relaxing rhythmically. When the prince finally erupts inside me, it sends me over the edge.

  I don’t know if this is right or wrong. All I know is I can’t not do this. I can’t say no to Prince James.

  Maybe leaving him will break my heart. But I’m already in way too deep.

  Even if we take sex out of the equation now, is that going to improve anything? Probably not. The Pandora’s Box is open now, and I can’t close it again.

  There’s nothing I can do. I’ll just have to make the best of my remaining days with Prince James.

  James

  Fucking leeches!

  Gossip journalists and the paparazzi. The maggots of society.

  Know what’s amazing about today’s technology? Anybody can call themselves a journalist or a photographer. Anybody with a smartphone and Internet access.

  That’s great, right? Now anyone can tell the world anything. Even the most ordinary cat can become a celebrity without ever leaving the house.

  Sometimes, though, technology fucking turns everything to shit.

  I thought I was being careful, coming to The Dungeon on another Masquerade Night.

  It was already fucked up that I couldn’t go to my own club whenever I wanted. Now it seems I can’t even go at all.

  I glance again at the gossip tabloid that I’ve just thrown across the room, lying on the floor with some of its glossy pages bent.

  On the cover are two familiar figures: me and Rosemary.

  We’re both wearing masks, of course, just like everyone else at the club.

  Normally, when I visit the club, nobody pays me any attention. After all, I could be anybody. Maybe I’m just someone with a similar build to the crown prince.

  But I forgot my black bowler hat last night. I thought it was going to be fine, because the hat had always made me stand out anyway. And we only spent a few minutes in the common areas last night, opting to stay in the private room for most of our time in the club.

  Without the hat, as the pictures show, it’s easier to recognize me. My hair, my profile, and the shape of my face are all visible.

  And I’m caught in the act of buying lingerie and a collar for a woman. In a BDSM club.

  In short, exactly what I’m not supposed to do.

  God damn it, after the previous scandal, I should’ve known better than to indulge in public. I have no one to blame but myself.

  The editors of this particular tabloid have been nice enough to cover our (already masked) eyes with rectangular black bars. However, the headline, in big yellow letters, also says, “CROWN PRINCE BEHAVING BADLY: A NEW VICTIM?”

  Fucking judgmental pieces of shit!

  These people don’t even know me, and they’re sitting there, up on their high horses, judging me.

  It’s highly hypocritical, because these people must’ve done some things that are not perfectly nice and conventional.

  Perfect example? Whoever took our pictures must’ve been in the same club I was in.

  I could tell the press it wasn’t me, of course. This is easy enough to deny.

  It’s even easier for Rosemary to go unnoticed. As long as her father keeps my presence here a secret, nobody should be able to say, with confidence, that it’s her in those pictures.

  But my father and his advisors would’ve immediately figured out that it’s me.

  They’re the ones who told me to stay in Ardglass Palace, so they know I’m close to Malvern.

  And they know I used to frequent similar clubs when I was living in the capital. It’s not too big of a stretch to suggest that I also frequent the local club while I’m here.

  Wait until they hear that I even own the club. It’s just a matter of time now until they find out. And then, who knows what’s going to happen after that?

  I know they’re going to make me pay. I just hope they won’t make me break my promise to my mother.

  “My mother used to do that, too.”

  Rosemary jerks and cries out from the sudden sound of my voice, and the bird that has been feasting on the seeds on her palm flies away to a nearby branch.

  “It’s just me,” I say. Maybe I should’ve tried to walk more loudly so she could hear me. Kick the grass, or snap a twig, or something.

  “I didn’t hear you coming.” She puts her hand over her heart as she turns around to face me, her breathing rapid and shallow through her open mouth. That look kind of reminds me of the expression she wore on her face last night.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I hear myself say.

  But hold on. I didn’t do anything wrong. She just didn’t hear me approach, but that wasn’t my fault.

  The squirrels and birds that have scattered from Rosemary’s cry begin to gather at her feet again, collecting the seeds that have fallen to the ground. “That’s okay. It wasn’t your fault,” she says.

  Exactly. That’s my girl.

  “So, you’re trying to train the wildlife to be dependent on you?” I ask.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re not supposed to feed wild animals, because they’ll be useless when they go back to their own natural habitat. They won’t be able to hunt or gather nuts or whatever they do to get food,” I say. “And yet here you are, dispensing seeds like a drug dealer on a street corner in the bad side of town.”

  Rosemary laughs as she holds out her hand again.

  Seeing the opportunity, a heavy bird slowly flies up to her palm, but a trimmer bird beats him at this race. There’s not enough space for two, so the first bird floats back down.

  I almost feel bad for the little guy. If I were a bird, Rosemary’s hand would be the best place for me to eat seeds from. Why would I want to peck seeds from the dirt when I can get them from her dainty little hand?

  I grab a small handful of seeds from a plastic bag lying on the ground. Finding the bird from before, I crouch down and make my way to him. I hold out my hand, letting him see the seeds, but it flies away, out of my reach.

  “That’s not how you do it,” Rosemary says.

  I look up at her pretty face. The sun casts its light from behind her. She’s glowing.

  “You have to let them come to you. Just open your hand and stay still.”

  I follow her advice and stay in place, crouching with my palm up on
the ground. The animals stare at the seeds, then they take a couple of cautious steps closer.

  Then a breeze rustles the leaves, and they nervously stop in their tracks before they realize it’s nothing to worry about.

  It takes a while, but the big bird finally makes it to my hand. Two squirrels crowd around it too, occasionally grabbing some seeds into their own fists.

  “You said your mom used to feed the animals. She didn’t teach you how to do it?” she asks.

  “She tried.”

  She lets out a gentle, melodic laugh that I could listen to all day. Then, in a voice tinged with sadness, she says, “My mom never taught me anything. She died before I ever met her.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  My second sorry of the day. Do I get a prize if I get to three? Because that has never happened before.

  I already know about Rosemary’s mother, of course. So this detail is not news to me.

  But it does surprise me that Rosemary would open up about something that personal. And it confuses me that I’d feel my heart squeeze at the pain in her voice. I feel like I want to punch whoever caused her pain in the face and shield her from ever getting hurt again.

  Ironic. Because I’m the one who has been making her scream with pain and use that pain to heighten my own selfish pleasure.

  “She died giving birth to me,” she says, again telling me something I already know. “My sisters used to tell me I’d killed her.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I say with unexpected anger. I didn’t know that last bit of information, and it makes my blood boil that anyone would accuse Rosemary of something like that. “You were just a baby. You didn’t do anything.”

  “I know,” she says. “I know that now. But it used to bother me when I was a little girl.”

  “Damn. That sounds like a tough childhood. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “That’s okay. My mother did leave me something. My name. She whispered it with her dying breath.” Rosemary pauses and lets out a big, audible sigh. She laughs nervously. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s old history.”

  “I don’t mind listening,” I say.

  What I’m not telling her is, I don’t know why I don’t mind it. I’ve never cared much about people’s personal lives, much less their childhoods.

  But I want to know all there is to know about Rosemary, and I don’t know why.

  Rosemary

  I watch my own reflection in the mirror. I look like a fuck toy waiting for my owner to come play with me. The prince’s private doll to do as he wishes.

  While he’s away doing important prince stuff, I’m waiting here naked and vulnerable, with a metal cock jammed inside me. In this position, nobody else can touch my pussy without his permission—not even me.

  There are shackles around my ankles, but the chains are loose. What’s really keeping me in place is this… thing between my legs.

  It’s a metal stick with a round base to balance it on the ground. It looks a lot like one of those stainless steel posts that people hang ropes on and use as barriers for lines at the bank or at the movies.

  The difference is, there’s a dildo at the top of this particular post, and it’s inside my pussy.

  There’s a lever somewhere to adjust the height of the post. But I can’t bend down low enough to reach it with the dildo sitting upright inside me, and my hands are tied behind my back anyway.

  The door clicks open, somewhere behind me. I can’t see the door in the mirror, and I’m not allowed to look behind me.

  “You look beautiful when you’re like that,” James says, emerging from the darkness and coming into my field of vision in the mirror.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I say.

  “You seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” he says as he steps closer. “That pole is drenched with your juices.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Did he see me trying to slide myself up and down this pole? My pussy was soaking wet from anticipation, and I couldn’t help myself.

  Prince James walks slowly around me, his eyes roaming all over my body from all angles. He’s acting like a predator circling its prey. “You’ve been good. You were facing the mirror the whole time, just like I told you to.”

  I have no doubt he had a camera or two watching my movements.

  “I want you to see I what I see when I look at you.” He stops right behind me. Staring back at me in the mirror, he says, “I want you to strip away everything from outside yourself. I want you to see yourself without all that stuff weighing you down, until you’re just a body with human instincts. Until all that’s left is how your body feels with those restraints locking you in place and that metal cock inside your pussy.”

  James’ arms wrap around me. His hands look big and dark over my belly. I hold my breath as he drags his fingers lightly down my abdomen, over my mound, and onto my pussy lips.

  “You deserve a reward for being such a good girl,” he whispers in my ear.

  As he kisses my neck, his skillful fingers find my clit. I moan at his touch. More wetness drips out of my pussy and glides down the shiny post between my legs.

  “Fuck yourself with the metal cock in your pussy,” he says as he watches me intently through the mirror. Something hot and hard grazes against my hands, which are tied together behind me. He’s sporting an erection, just from the sight of me.

  My mouth is wide open, letting my ragged breaths and gasps through. My face is flushed red and my eyebrows are pulled together in concentration. I look like a woman in heat.

  The prince knows I’m a goner at this point. He knows I’ll do whatever he tells me to.

  So I do. I lower myself onto the metal dildo and glide back up again, grinding myself against James’ hand on my clit.

  “Come for me,” he whispers as he rubs his hard-on against my hands.

  He strokes my clit more insistently and bites on the flesh of my neck, making me explode at his hand. I shudder and shake, leaning back against his sturdy chest, as his fingers apply gentle pressure on the hood of my clit to prolong my climax.

  I’ve learned to follow Prince James’ commands so closely that I don’t know what has pushed me over the edge. Was it the physical sensations, or was it his words, telling me to come?

  All I know is I want to make him feel good too. I want to serve him and bring him pleasure, to show my gratitude for the orgasm he has just given me.

  I can feel how hard he is through his pants, and I want to touch it. I want to feel it without anything between us.

  “May I please suck your cock, Sir?” I ask boldly.

  I’ve never actually done anything like that before. But the prince has gone down on me multiple times, and it’s time I repay the favor.

  Besides, getting on my knees to serve the prince sexually? I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy it.

  “Of course,” James says, a smile spreading across his gorgeous face.

  He crouches down and fiddles with something on the base of the post, then he lowers it, pulling the dildo out of my pussy. It suddenly feels empty and I crave being filled up again… but that’s not up to me.

  “Get on your knees,” the prince says.

  The metal chains attached to the shackles around my ankle drag over the wooden floor as I adjust my position. The floor feels hard and cold on my knees.

  The prince steps right in front of me, until his crotch is only inches away from my face. When I look up at him, he’s smirking. His hands are deftly undoing his belt buckle and his fly.

  Then, he pulls his cock out. It’s thick and veiny, and I can almost see it throbbing.

  “Stick out your tongue,” he orders.

  There’s a drop of clear liquid that has formed at the tip, and I lick it up. His cock twitches at when my tongue touches it, and the prince lets out a groan.

  “Open your mouth.” He wraps his hand around his cock, shuttling his fist up and down. “And look at me.”

  I do as he says,
and he puts his cock inside my mouth. It tastes like salt and sex. His gaze, usually stern and piercing, clouds over with pleasure and lust.

  With my hands still tied behind my back, I can only use my mouth. My lips slide down James’ shaft as I take him deeper, inch by inch. My tongue darts up and down, feeling the texture of his velvety skin.

  I don’t know what I’m doing, but the prince seems to be enjoying this.

  He’s trapped my gaze, looking down at me like he owns me. With my limbs restrained and his cock in my mouth, I can’t deny it. He completely, totally owns my body. I’m literally kneeling at his feet by my own will.

  He grabs my hair and says, “Stay still and let me fuck your mouth. Open wide.”

  I let the prince hold me by the hair and slide his cock in and out of my mouth. His skin rubs against my lips, wetting it with my own saliva. He gets deeper and deeper with every thrust. “Take a breath and hold it.”

  The prince pushes further, and he pokes at the back of my throat, making me gag. He pulls away just enough to let me breathe, than he says, “Let’s try that again.”

  I take a deep breath and look up at him in submission.

  I trust him. And I want to do this for him.

  He slides inside my mouth smoothly. I know what’s about to happen now, so I prepare myself when he reaches my throat, relaxing my muscles so he can slip inside.

  This feels strange, and I can’t breathe. But the prince groans while his hand pulls at my hair.

  I can do this. It’s not a pleasant feeling in my throat, but I’m getting wetter by the second.

  Being on my knees on the floor while suffering for his pleasure… It turns out this is one of those things that inexplicably cause tingles between my legs. I literally would rather massage his cock with my throat than use it to breathe.

  “Your throat is so fucking tight.” James pulls out of me. I take a few deep breaths before he thrusts back in. He repeats this a few times, groaning every time his cock stretches my throat.