Chosen By The Prince

by Calyope Adams

  "Hmmmffff... good... now you may ride me."

  He stared at her juncture, knowing it would disconcert her to watch so blatantly. His hands were still behind his head as she started to move on him, her body undulating gracefully. He watched her sweet mound for a while longer before lifting his eyes to her face.

  Her eyes were closed as she tried to hide her misery and her arousal as they battled within her. She hated being forced to perform for him. It was different when they made love but this was torturing her. He knew it but he didn't care.

  "Open your eyes."

  She whimpered for a moment before obeying him. She opened her beautiful eyes, staring out into space.

  "Look at me. I want you to watch my face."

  She whimpered and dragged her eyes to his face. He smiled at her coldly, then let his eyes wander back down to her slit, knowing she would see him looking at her there, owning her. She was breathing heavily now with pleasure despite her anger.

  "Hmmm... you are close now, aren't you?"

  She whispered something. He looked into her face again as she writhed on his cock.

  "Answer me Jillian. Are you close?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't want you to finish yet. Take me in your mouth again."

  She moaned as she slid off of him, kneeling between his legs. Her head lowered and rose on his cock. He was going to cum.

  "Unfff... yes, hmmmm, I'm going to cum now Jillian. Pull harder... swallow..."

  She sucked him harder into her mouth as his seed exploded from his shaft. She swallowed continuously as he filled her mouth again and again. He grunted as his cock jerked in her sweet warm mouth.

  Finally she lifted her head from his groin and sat back on her heels. She was fighting back tears... he could tell. But he did nothing to comfort her.

  He stood up and crossed the room to the table. As usual there was a bottle of wine for her and a separate one for him. He poured himself a glass from her bottle.

  "This is full of aphrodisiacs, isn't it Jillian?"

  She nodded, watching him. He drank the entire glass and refilled it. He walked toward her, sipping her laced wine. Her eyes widened as she absorbed the implications. He held the glass to her lips, forcing her to drink.

  "I assume it works on men as well. I want to be fully satisfied by morning. You are up to the task aren't you?"

  He let his hand slide over her body possessively as he finished the wine. She whimpered in humiliation and arousal. He still hadn't let her cum. Maybe he would keep her on the brink until morning. Then he'd hold her in his arms while she cried and begged his forgiveness. Or he begged for hers.

  He put the glass down and stood in front of her.

  "Make me hard again."

  He was already started to revive as she slid her mouth over his shaft, her tongue delicately swirling on the tip. She needed release desperately now and it made her perform with more passion than she'd shown earlier. He groaned as he watched her bottom in the mirror on the other side of the room. It gave him an idea.

  "That's enough. Get on your hands and knees. Face the mirror."

  She crawled backward onto the bed and turned, on all fours. The sight of her like that made his cock twitch eagerly. Her smooth haunches gleamed in the soft light as he moved behind her, pressing the tip of his shaft into her wet slit. He groaned as he slid in, resting his hands lightly on her hips.

  "Look at me Jillian. I want to see your face."

  She moaned and lifted her head, staring at him in the mirror. He let his guard slip as he slid in and out of her. His eyes stared into hers desperately. He wanted her to admit that he did not treat her as his whore. Not until tonight.

  "Do you like being treated like a whore, Jillian?"

  She was grunting softly as he pushed into her harder now, forcing the breath from her lungs in short bursts.

  "Answer me! Do you like being used like a whore?"

  "No."

  He smiled slowly and reached underneath her to lightly stroke her clit.

  "Are you sure you don't like it?"

  "Oh, oh, oh, OH!"

  He groaned as her sweetness convulsed around him. He pushed through her orgasm as she squeezed him, extending her pleasure and his.

  "Hmmm... yes Jillian, that's a good girl...."

  He stared at her as he pounded into her now, using her body for his pleasure. She came again as he felt his cock start to pulsate, his seed exploding into her waiting womb. He leaned over her body as they both shuddered their release. Then he got up and refilled his wine.

  She started to rise, her movements unsteady.

  "Don't move. I'll have you again in a few moments."

  She froze, her head lowered as her shoulders trembled suspiciously. She was crying.

  "You may lie on your stomach."

  She did as he asked, laying face down, her head turned away from him. He stared at her and into the fire as he waited for his cock to rise again. It only took a few minutes, due to the aphrodisac and the wicked thoughts he was having.

  He moved behind her, covering her back with his body. He pressed his cock into her sweet hole, thrusting hard until he was fully seated. Her smooth round bottom felt incredible pressed into his stomach.

  He pushed into her slow but hard, extending each stroke until he was nearly out of her body before driving back in again. He closed his eyes and let himself kiss her neck. He had been denying himself too. He let his hands stroke her buttery soft skin as his lips caressed her earlobe. Her soft sighs were like music to his ears. Perhaps they could reconcile now. Admit that they loved each other. He had told her once. But she had never told him.

  He opened his eyes and looked at her in the mirror. Her face was turned to the side, trying to hide from him. She was grimacing in pain. He was hurting her. He'd used her too much, and too quickly. Again.

  He froze.

  "Am I hurting you Jillian?"

  She whimpered, saying nothing. Her eyes were squeezed shut. He braced himself above her and pulled himself out.

  "No matter. I'm tired of this little game anyway."

  He stood and dressed, leaving her lying on the bed. He hated himself at that moment. But he was still so angry at her. She was all that mattered, why couldn't she see that?

  "I suggest you improve your attitude tomorrow. If you need to be reminded of your position again, I am happy to do so."

  He stared at her for a last moment. Then he strode to the door and left her. He paused after the door closed behind him, hearing her sobs. He had never left her like that before. He squared his shoulders and went to his room to brood.

  The next morning he left her alone, not wanting to see the hurt look on her face. He already regretted his performance of the night before. He would be firm but gentle going forward. None of this was Jillian's fault. He didn't want her to be unhappy. He'd skipped lunch altogether, unwilling to sit through a meal staring at her.

  He was walking with Letticia through the grounds, listening to her with one ear, when he noticed her guards were absent.

  "I adore roses, don't you?

  He looked around curiously, finally paying attention to their surroundings. They were in his mother's rose garden. Something was bothering him but he couldn't put his finger on it.

  "Where are your guards?"

  She smiled at him coyly, but there was something dark lingering in the back of her eyes.

  "I gave them the afternoon off."

  He frowned.

  "I suspect they are entertaining themselves with your pretty little whore. I told them they could."

  He felt his stomach drop out of his body as he turned on her.

  "You WHAT?"

  "I told them they could have their way with your whore."

  He grabbed her shoulders roughly. She was smiling, her face full of spite.

  "WHERE ARE THEY?"

  "I have no idea. Honestly, who knew you would get so worked up over a little p
iece of trash."

  She laughed as he ran off.

  "I'm sure they are done with her by now!"

  He was running through the gardens, his heart thudding in his chest. Oh god, if they'd hurt her... He ran faster than he'd ever run before. The castle was up ahead. He ran through the courtyard toward the barracks. His men were gathered in a group up ahead, looking at something on the ground.

  He pushed them aside, staring at three of Leticia's guards. They knelt in the mud. They all looked as if they'd been in a tussle, each bearing several scratches on their faces. He stared down at them.

  "Where is she?"

  His voice was harsh and uneven. The kneeling men flinched. That's when he saw it.

  Her hair. One of them was holding a swath of her beautiful hair.

  "What did you do to her?"

  "Nothing! She got away before we could-"

  "Before you could what? Did you know she was the property of the crown? My property!?!"

  The man nodded miserably.

  "The Princess told us to mark her, to ruin her for you. She was jealous. I didn't want to hurt the girl-"

  The Prince threw back his head and screamed.

  "WHERE IS SHE?"

  Behind her a feminine giggle met his ears. He turned to see Letticia standing with two of her ladies.

  "Who knew a harlot could hold such power over a Prince?"

  He turned his back on her.

  "Please escort this bitch to the docks and put her on the first boat out of here."

  "What? But you can't- the wedding is in two days!"

  He turned back to her, a spiteful look on his face.

  "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last woman on earth. Now leave unless you want to end up like your men."

  "My men? What about my men?"

  He turned back to the terrified men.

  "Did you touch her?"

  The men looked at each other nervously. Finally they nodded.

  "Where?"

  "Just- her bosom and- to cut her hair- please show mercy-"

  "Hold out your hands."

  "No please, your highness."

  "Shut up. Hold out your hands."

  The men held their hands forward. Max took a sword from one of his guards. He stared down at the men, their filthy hands. They'd touched her with those hands. One of them still held her hair. He reached down and pulled the silky strands from his grasp. That's when he noticed that there were small pieces of bloody skin attached. She must have struggled against them... He closed his eyes tightly.

  When he opened his eyes again he wrapped her hair around his palm and grasped the sword. Without a word he lifted it and brought it down on the hand of the man in front of him. It sliced cleanly through his wrist, severing his right hand. The man screamed and fell back. Then he moved to the next man. He took one hand from each of them before dropping the sword.

  "Make sure they live. I'm not through with them."

  He turned to see Letticia leaning on one of her women, on the brink of a faint. She watched helplessly as her guards were dragged to the dungeons, screaming in agony.

  "Be sure to tell your father it was an amicable decision to dissolve our betrothal agreement. Otherwise I will let word get out that you were bedding your guards."

  Her eyes lifted to his, horror dawning.

  "You can't! You wouldn't!"

  "If you were a man, you'd be dead already. As it is, I'm sorely tempted to scalp you."

  He turned and strode through the yard.

  "JILLIAN!"

  His guards trotted to keep up with him.

  "Where is she?"

  "She ran off- that way."

  Another guard joined them from the other direction.

  "She went into the smoke house. I saw her."

  He started running. The smokehouse was at the far end of the castle settlement, bordering the woods. As it came into view his heart dropped.

  The smokehouse was on fire.

  He ran into the burning building, screaming her name. He could hardly see, but he reached out, feeling with his hands. His guards followed him in and pulled him backwards. It took four of them but they managed to drag him from the building moments before it collapsed.

  "Noooo!"

  The hoarse voice calling her name was not his own. The burned hands that clawed the earth were someone else's. The eyes that wept could not be his. He sat there and helplessly watched as the building burnt to the ground.

  When the guards had finally managed to put the fire out, the Prince insisted on sifting through the rubble with them. No bones were found which gave him hope. But then, near the rear of the smoke house, they'd found the circlet of heavy gold.

  Her collar.

  The Prince said nothing. He ordered a search of the surrounding countryside but they all knew it was hopeless. She was gone. His love was gone.

  Six months later Max was sitting at lunch with his father and Sephina. The Sobriquet had been visibly melancholy since the loss of Jillian. It seemed everyone was, even his mother. The Queen was out on a tour of the nation's religious houses, spreading wealth to the worthiest and making note of those that seemed to be languishing.

  He ate sparingly. He knew they were all worried about him. He'd lost considerable weight since... the fire. He didn't like to think about what had happened but he couldn't stop himself. It was his penance for what he'd done to her.

  He replayed their last night together over and over in his head, recalling the way he'd punished her. Remembering the look of humiliation and shame on her face as he'd forced her to perform for him. All he'd wanted was to sink into her arms and tell her he loved her, that he could never love the Princess. But his pride hadn't let him. He'd treated Jillian that way and then avoided her the next day until... He wondered if she had hated him when she died. He wondered if she'd felt pain.

  Jillian.

  Even her name caused physical pain to twist in his belly, like a knife. He knew that she had been hurt when Leticia's guards cut her beautiful hair. He knew that they had torn her dress off of her and touched her body. But they hadn't raped her. He was sure of it because he'd tortured them himself, making them retell their stories again and again. The men were still in the dungeon, brittle shells of human beings. He almost laughed. He was a shell too.