Plaything at the Royal Wedding: An MFMM Royal Romance

by Lana Hartley

  Part of me really does. In fact, largely I hate him because when he touches me, it is almost impossible to remember I hate him and at the same time any thoughts I have are tinged with those truths. He bought me. He owns me. But when he touches me, I come alive in a way I never have before. If I'm honest, I fear that no one will ever make me feel what I feel when he touches me. I didn't know it could feel like that. Orgasms I'd have from my own masturbation were like pale whispers in a winter wind compared to the storm he summoned inside me. The man was a god of sex, and he fucking knew it. I could see it now in the self-assured look he was giving me.

  Jacob looked at me while he loosened his tie. Removed it. Unbuttoned his cuffs, his shirt buttons, and pulled that off. There was something achingly sexy in how his shoulders rolled as he took off his collared shirt. His undershirt removal was sexy too. He grabbed the shirt with one hand, in between his shoulder blades, and pulled up, revealing every chiseled, defined inch of his abs. My mouth was watering, and I felt like my whole body was sweating already. He hadn't even touched me. Jacob wasn't even naked yet. The part where I hated him for owning me was burning right along with the fire he stoked in my belly knowing how he would touch me. I fucking needed what he was going to give me. I hated myself for feeling safe in it. I wanted to be able to resist. I didn't want to resist, though. I struggled with how I felt when he fucked me. But I never said no. I might scream in my mind that I wished I were anywhere else, but my torturous body silenced my mouth. I would say no such thing. I wanted no such thing. I was a prisoner because the way he made me feel erased my resistance when I might have offered.

  I was going to get away. Far away. Somehow, I'd erase every feeling he created in me, and I'd stoke instead the flames of hate I had for him touching me, owning me, knowing what my body wanted and giving it to me even though I wanted to be on my own.

  He slowly unzips his slacks, and he's wearing silky boxer briefs that outline every inch of that bastard's perfect cock. Fuck, it feels like heaven inside me, and I'm in hell with how much I want him. I swallow several times, unable to keep myself from getting nervous. Anxious. Fuck, who am I kidding? I'm desperate. I'm frozen in space, in time. I'm lingering on the thought that I'm not going to take my own clothes off. I can't help but be disappointed when he leaves just his boxer briefs on. I want him naked. I want him naked, and I want him to take off my clothes. I don't want to do a goddamn thing to make this happen. If he wants me, he'll have to take me. Not that I don't want Jacob to fuck me. I've never wanted anything more.

  "Jacob," I say, breathing out the words. I didn't mean to say them. But the way that he looks at me, with such hunger, such desire, I want to say his name again if the words can elicit that response. I feel...treasured. I shouldn't. I'm a treasure to him, all right, but as a bounty and not as a person. Except, my mind races with how he's looking at me and I want to think, no, he really cares for me.

  How could he?

  What would it matter?

  "Get undressed for me, princess." Jacob isn't asking. He's telling me, in a soft voice that is still firm, commanding.

  But despite how much I want him, or how defying him is worthless, pointless, maybe even stupid, I'm going to. This is my line in the sand, and I've decided that no, I will not. If he wants me naked, he'll get me naked.

  "No," I say. I'm grateful that my voice isn't a fragile, shaking sound like I thought it would be. I sound strong. Firm. I detect I even sound flirty, which is accidental. At least it wasn't consciously flirty. I can't help but suck in a breath at the idea of him tearing my clothes off of me.

  "So far," Jacob says, closing the distance between us and putting his hand to the back of my neck and keeping me utterly captive, not just in this move but in wondering what he will do. "I have not asked but one rule of you. Are you going to earn more rules? A punishment?" Jacob smiles, a laugh of pure joy coming from him like it is a sound he doesn't make often. It does something I can't name to my heart, to my mind. "When I think I'll walk with you, I'm running. What are you doing to me, Leah?"

  I groan. "What am I doing to you? Whatever you want. You own me." I'm getting scratched by the consequences of my line in the sand, but I can't help it. I have to resist. My urge to fight is stronger with every second I feel how much I want him growing. I'm so wet right now, and my nipples are so hard. My body is desperate for him. I can't stop looking at his lips and wishing they were kissing me.

  Pulling back away from Jacob's touch, I want space for this war in my mind.

  His hand drops and pulls me back to him almost instantly. He doesn't want space, and he'd already stalked over her and put his hand on me to express the ownership he has. I stumble at his grasp, falling against his bare chest. My hands grab him to regain my footing, but his blazing eyes make my knees weak.

  "Leah, don't pretend like you don't want me. You're so wet for me, baby girl. You could tell me to stop..." He leaves the air hanging between us on what he hasn't said. I break my hands away from him, and he grabs both of my wrists, backing me into the wall, past the bed. "You want to ask. I won't stop."

  Fuck. There it is. He's slammed me against the wall and told me he's not going to stop.

  So why is what should signal my body to stop the very thing that makes me want to rip my own clothes off? Still, I want to push him more. "You want me naked; you undress me. You're going to punish me? Do it." I can hear how thick my voice is with lust, betraying how much I want him to do just that.

  "You're so spoiled, baby girl," Jacob says, laughing. He releases my wrists and steps toward his dresser. The image of him reflected in the mirror takes my breath away. Every angle of him is more perfect than the last. What is he doing?

  He opens a drawer and pulls out a bar with cuffs on it. There's an intricate red lacy trim over it and an equally striking crimson red rope over it for the cuffs. Metal with something softer, so it won't hurt as much, I guess, when it doesn't relent at all when he restrains me. Why does that make my pussy clench with anticipation? I should be fucking angry, not practically panting and desperate to run to him, begging him to touch me.

  "Spoiled?" I register what preposterous words he's said to me.

  "Yes." Jacob turns on his heel, a slow spin, and he lets this instrument smack against his thigh as he closes the drawer. His eyes pin me to the wall. His stride is somehow stronger, bigger. He seems like he could be an extra foot taller, and he's already at least that much taller than me. Jacob's shoulders even seem broader.

  I remember what he told me. He's kinky...and whatever we're about to do is going to be just that. He's pinned my wrists. Tied my hands together. But Jacob Renaud isn't going to fuck me with training wheels on this time.

  Or maybe this is still the training wheels? It all has my head spinning. I'm barely breathing, and my heart is hammering in my chest. My stomach is fluttering. What is coming? Why do I need it more than anything? My mind is a hazy mess of every consideration. But each step he takes closer to me, and I'm starting to be able to focus on nothing but him. The way he's a predator. I'm his prey. I'm in his trap, and I can't think of anything else but what his capturing me means.

  "You're spoiled because I have gone so easy on you. Let you come so much. Not today. I'll punish you with pain soon enough, but first I want to show you just how much punishment the pleasure can be."

  I gulp. I remember how much I came when he licked my pussy so much before he even took me to his house. I was so exhausted from all the orgasms...I couldn't take it. Now he's going to torture me with not letting me come? I'm terrified. I'm exhilarated. I couldn't even have conjured such a fantasy, and now I'm desperate to be led down the hallways of the dark desires he springs up in me.

  "This is called a spreader ball. I had this made for you. I knew that the red against your beautiful porcelain skin would be goddamn divine." I can't breathe. I can't. Not with how he's looking at me now. I can hear my heart beating. He walks toward me and balls up my dress in his hand, making a fist at my stomach. Dropping to
his knees, he hovers in front of my now-bared panties. I can feel his breath on my pussy and want to knock my legs up and put them on his shoulders and ride his face until I scream out an orgasm. He manhandles me, and that's what he does to my mind. Jacob creates fantasies in me, desires...things that are unbidden and new to me, and at once all I can thinking about. I need him. I'm desperate for his touch. Torturously, he kisses my pussy in almost chaste way, through my panties. He knows what he's doing to me. He's doing this on purpose. He stands, his grip on my dress even firmer. I feel the fabric giving. He tears it up, and Jacob exposes my breasts to his gaze, the air around us, and hopefully his touch. I'm trying to get closer to him but he's holding my torn dress to the wall, and it is enough to keep me against the wall. Fuck.

  Jacob's mouth. That spreader bar. Jacob's growing erection. I can't decide where to keep my eyes, and I'm so totally overwhelmed. If I feel this way now, how will I survive when he touches me?

  He releases his grip on the dress and tears it down me, and then my underwear. The movement is so quick that I circle my arms around his neck to make sure that I don't fall over. Keeping my balance was impossible with the yank, and now that he's trailing his hand up the juncture of my thighs, from my ankle to my aching pussy, and I'm shivering at his touch. I hate myself. I hate him. How can I want him so much? Was I not just horrified that this man owned me? That he was going to tear orgasms from my traitorous body? Now he touches me, and I'm not trembling out of fear. At least not out of fear that he will fuck me so much as the fear that it might not happen fast enough.

  Torture by pleasure? How apt a punishment when I'm struggling with every second of this. His fingers connect with my clit, and I whimper.

  "Oh, maybe you see how spoiled you are?" Jacob says, bringing his mouth to hover over the clit his finger is laying against. He's not doing anything to me, but my legs are trembling. His warm breath. That lazy touch and weight of his finger. I'm desperate for him to do something, anything. I realize that was a question. He's waiting on a response.

  "I..." I have no clue what to say. I guess I could go with honesty? Begging. I don't know. "I have no context for any of this," I say, frantically. That's the truth. I'm not sure what to make of any of these games.

  "Oh, princess, you don't have to play the virgin card with me. You know, experience or not, what's happening now. What's been happening. You've come enough with me to know you're getting it really damn good, baby girl."

  Jacob's smug words make me start to back away from him, but the instant I move away from his breath and his touch, I regret it. I need him to touch my clit, to feel how slick my pussy is for him. "I...I just don't know what you want me to do," I say. I am so uncomfortable with every word that comes out of my mouth, but I'm terrified into speaking. I feel so nervous to say anything, but I'm bolted into speech for fear he'll stop touching me entirely if I don't say something. And I need him to do something, anything to me.

  "That's so humble of you," Jacob says, his voice revealing nothing. Is he being sarcastic? Is he serious? Am I supposed to say something else? I feel like I'm taking a test I didn't study for. Like my pussy is under pop quiz right now. The silly thought breaks out some of the tension I have right now.

  Jacob extends his hand to me, and I take it. He leads me to the bed, and I feel so much calmer. "Turn around." For some reason, the simple fact that when I do means that I won't be able to see his face makes me skittish, but I don't dare hesitate now. I turn around.

  As soon as I'm not facing him anymore, he grabs me and sets me on the bed.

  "Put your arms under your stomach and put them out for me." He guides me, grabbing both of my thighs from behind and pushing up until my ass is in the air, and then clasps my ankles and wrists together. I'm bound on the bar so fast, and I can't catch my breath. I feel myself so naked and splayed for him. "So wet for me," he says. I'm desperate to see his face. I wanted to see him tell me that I'm wet for him, even though my face is heated and I'm nervous. "Do you want me to taste how wet you are, Leah?"

  Fuck, I really do. I want to beg. But something in me, exposed liked this and totally helpless, I can't say anything. Whether I wanted to say something sassy or I wanted to be able to beg him for exactly what I want, neither words are coming. I am frozen. I can feel every hair on my body standing up, my skin all at attention. I'm not cold, but I've got an uncontrollable shiver. I think he'll spank me; he'll walk away, he'll do something for me not answering him. I remember that he said that he was going to punish me with pleasure...what does that mean?

  I feel his hand slowly pet down my spine until he reaches my ass. Jacob slowly runs his thumb down my ass, veering to the side and not touching my pussy but next to my slick opening. . I inhale and hold my breath; I can't take the waiting for what will come next.

  "Breathe, and it will all feel so much better. Focus on your breathing," Jacob tells me. It is a relief to have something to focus on. I try to listen. Defiance has no place in my coping strategy, and I know that's what this is. Will it feel good? That will help me cope more. But my mind is racing and being bound like this has me more terrified than I've ever felt in my life. I have to get a hold of myself, or I might have an actual heart attack. Delirious with desire as I am, my first fear in having a heart attack now is that I won't come. Oh please, I need to live long enough for Jacob to make me come. Is he going to torture me with pleasure? I've never wanted it more. I exhale and on the note of my next, deep inhale, on which I'm trying to focus, his hot breath is the one-second warning before he sinks his teeth into my other thigh, on the opposite side of where his hand is resting. I moan loudly and try to return to my breathing. Inhale, exhale. I'm moaning with every press of his fingers, the sinking in of his teeth and then his lips, his tongue, all touching me so close to that place where I want him most, but not there. Fuck, after the way he licked my pussy before, I know I want that. But how can he make this feel almost as good...yet still not quite what I need? How can a man drive me mad with pleasure? Not just any man. That's my fear. When I'm finally free of Jacob Renaud, I'll be forever trapped in the memories of what he could do to my body, and what that does to my mind.

  "You have no clue," Jacob groans. He slides three thick fingers into my pussy. I know it can't be one or two because the instant fullness is shocking and I'm gasping, my breathing so uneven in reaction. I squeeze my inner walls around him. "Just how fucking bad I want you, Leah. Having your perfect body on the bar like this is better than Christmas. Fuck, I could spend all night licking every inch of your perfect body, but my cock never will endure that again. I need to be so deep inside you, baby girl, until you're screaming my name." His mouth is over my clit, and the breath against it makes me shudder against his fingers, which he pumps deeper and faster into me until I'm nearly crying, I need him so badly. "Do you know how badly I want you to scream my name, so sweet like you do?" His mouth closes over my clit and his fingers stroke my sensitive, swollen g-spot. My whole body is an extension of where his fingers and his mouth are. I'm desperate for every sensation and I press myself against him as much as I can. I'm panting his name, yes, fuck, anything that comes from my mind to my lips with little thought process. Every hitch in my breathing at the sensation he's creating reminds me that I should focus on my breathing, and each inhale/exhale partnership soars my pleasure higher and higher.

  I'm there. I'm about to come. His tongue laps so fully on my clit and his fingers are fully focused on my g-spot, and that's it. I am going to explode around him now.

  And he stops.

  "Not yet, Leah. You're getting punished. You'll come when I say you can," Jacob says, his voice dark and dangerous. He knows exactly what he's done to me, and he means to. I cry out at the agony, and he catches the sound in a kiss, closing his mouth over mine. His lips capture mine, and I taste my pussy on his tongue. I love the way I taste in his mouth, how he kisses me like he's out of control and needs me more than anything. Jacob holds my breasts and locks me into this kiss. I want him to let m
e come, but there's something about how passionate this kiss is that it is actually keeping me on edge. I moan into his mouth, and I feel his own groan in my mouth. It is so fucking hot how much he wants me. I know it is fucked up, but in the space of just this moment and just this pleasure, I’m so gratified that anyone wants me. I don't think my whole life anyone has cared so much for me, desired me so much in any way. To Jacob, in this moment, I'm everything. Not a distraction or a pawn. I'm the goal, the game, the target. I'm thrilled. And just in this moment, I want to be everything he wants. If he wants to torture me and not let me come all night, I want to give him my body. I know how badly he wants me. I wonder how long he can go without letting me come. But I realize he's probably very capable of being pleased and holding out on me, and now my kisses are transformed into pleas. If he can feel how much I want him, will that make him more susceptible to give it to me, or to withhold? I don't know, but I have to keep kissing him regardless. I need his mouth on mine, his tongue's sensual moves against mine, more than I need air. Even more than I need to come.

  Our kiss breaks for air, and we're both staring so intently into each other's eyes. I don't realize that he's going to slide his fingers back into me now, and when I feel them inside of me, and he's not breaking his eye contact at all, I have to keep looking into his eyes. I want to kiss him, and I'm sucking in my lower lip to taste him lingering on my lips still. But looking at him while his fingers pump into my oversensitive pussy is making me so wet that I feel my thighs getting stickier. I feel the wetness from him touching me dripping onto my hands attached to the bar, and I gasp.

  Jacob looks and sees and for the longest two seconds of my life, his fingers are gone. He was pulling off those cursed boxer briefs because I feel his cock pressing into me and I'm choking for air at the sudden fullness. He slides his cock all the way into my pussy, filling me up until his balls are pressed against me. I feel like I'm the lock and he's the key, the way we interlock so perfectly. His cock is filling me so deeply, and he's taking a moment to let my body stretch to accommodate him. And I am, my body fluttering to squeeze him and stretching with the fullness. I can't help a few erratic wiggles of my hips, and Jacob's finger touches my palm. I realize he's sopping up some of that sticky arousal that got everywhere. I don't realize why at first, just enjoy the sensation of his fingers running up and down the lines in my palm.