The Captive Princess Ch. 02

Which, of course, had been entirely the point.

Over the next few days, during quiet, private moments, she would lift her gown and stare at the collection of angry stripes her husband had left on her hindquarters. The perverse pleasure that she'd feel as she observed the hidden bruises would set her pulse racing and make her freshly-shaved sex throb and drip, and then she'd have to quickly lower her garments lest she give in to the temptation to touch herself. For good or for ill, that was the type of princess that she was, and she was past lying to herself or her lord husband about her desires.

He unhooked the reins connecting the dowel-gag to the beam across which she was bound and with a sigh of relief she lowered her head. The tension vanished from her neck and she tried to relax as from her inverted position she watched her husband walk with measured footsteps around the bench. When he was standing near her, he crouched down and ran a hand along the side of her face. She had a good view of his trousers and immediately spotted his manhood trapped, hard and long, beneath the fabric. At the sight, a fresh wave of desire cascaded over her. Whether it was fore or aft, she needed him inside her both for the pleasure it would bring and also to distract her from the raw misery blossoming in the lower half of her body.

Though she had never seen any other specimens to compare it to, she was of the opinion that her husband's organ was quite large. When she'd confessed early in their marriage that she'd been shocked and frightened when first she saw it, he'd laughed and been flattered at her reaction. He then assured her that while he had nothing to be ashamed of, certainly there were men in the world with with far more impressive examples. Perhaps that was true, but whether he was making use of her sheath or her bottom, his length thoroughly filled her ... if he was any further endowed it might have been too much.

"A thorough lashing was just what you needed, wasn't it?" he asked as he continued to stroke her face.

He wiped away her tears while she nodded her head. Pain and pleasure had always been blurred for her ... now, at least, her husband satisfied her most shameful, darkest cravings in a way that eased her worst impulses.

He ran a hand along one of her straining arms and asked, "I imagine you feel much better now?"

She nodded again.

He reached up and patted her behind with one hand while with the other he stroked her dangling, erect, aching nipples. Each touch seemed to trace a line of sparks toward her soaked cunt and she let out a long, uncontrollable series of wanton moans. Her husband, of course, noticed the state that she was in.

"Penelope," he asked in a voice that was thick with his own lust, "can you possibly already be yet again frantic for relief?"

She vocalized a neighing yes from behind the bit.

He reached into his pocket, a gesture which made her nervous, while in a dry, amused manner he said, "I might think that you were in heat."

First, he compares me to a cow, and now a horse? Perhaps my husband should build that cage we have long japed about so that I might play the part of his farm animal?

She had long fantasized about finding herself trapped in such a way, her hands gripping metal bars while she knelt within a fur-padded pen and stared helplessly upwards.

He pulled a strip of cloth from his pocket and she relaxed immediately at the sight of the blindfold. If it had been a feather, she would have begun weeping. "Are you ready?"

Given the defenseless state she'd been reduced to, her obvious eagerness for his touch, and the reality that her body was always his to use however he wished, the question was so needless that she almost giggled in response. Still, it was immensely reassuring how often he sought from her indications of enthusiasm as opposed to confirmation of mere obedience. After all, he could have abused her submissive nature, played the part of a cruel tyrant, and left her broken and miserable. Instead, he loved her with unceasing devotion. Pleasure, pain, rules, routines ... she'd come to him in shattered pieces and he'd gathered all the tiny, splintered bits of her and forged her into something new. Maybe this was what she'd always needed, or maybe this had just been the method he chose, but either way, she could not imagine life being any other way.

She smiled around the bit and energetically nodded her head to indicate that she wanted him to continue. Sometimes he made her beg and plead for her buggering, but she prayed he would not torment her in such a manner this evening. He chuckled at the fervent response to his question, kissed her forehead, and then tied the soft, black wool of the blindfold across her eyes. An instant later the reins tugged her head back up into position and were once again tied off.

She heard him fiddle with something, which made her nervous, but then his hands began to work a familiar cool, soothing lotion into the bruised, agonized skin of her stretched bottom. Her eyes fluttered beneath the blindfold as with knowing, kind caresses his fingers spread the blessed substance everywhere that hurt, and in short order the fiery pain had dulled into a far more manageable aching soreness. Her eyes then proceeded to flutter for an entirely different reason as he poured a large dollop of the lotion into his hands and proceeded to work the substance deep into the crevice of her bottom. Soon, the smooth divide of her cheeks was slippery and greased, and he took care to pay special attention to the sensitive, vulnerable ring of ridged flesh set right in the middle of her arse.

Soft sounds left her throat and her fingers curled into claws as he worked first one finger, and then two, into her puckered opening. His hands ... which had caused her so much pain only minutes earlier ... were so very careful to wait for her muscles to ease before they pushed their way inside. She could feel his fingers working deep within, spreading the lotion and relaxing her arse, and to be invaded in such a way was as mentally intoxicating as it was physically pleasurable. Not only did the feel of him inside her, cautiously preparing her rear to ensure that she would not be hurt, send a pulsing, white-hot thrill through her core and into her gasping lungs, but the fact that he treated her in a caring manner warmed her heart.

He did not work with any noticeable sense of hurry while he lathered another handful of the silky, thick substance onto her bottom and in particular her quivering ring.

The sounds leaving her throat were beyond her ability to control, her hips made small, shuddering motions as her sex quivered hot and wet, her toes curled, her hands bunched into fists, and it was only when he judged her to be thoroughly loosened and lubricated did she hear the sound of his trousers being dropped to the floor and then kicked away. When he settled in behind her, she could feel his cock bobbing and tapping against the cheeks of her arse, and each such tap triggered a resounding drumbeat against her needy cunt. She wanted nothing more than to lean back and entice him inside, but she was bound far too tightly to do anything besides tense beneath the straps, grunt into her gag, and rhythmically flex the muscles of her legs in anticipation.

When the head of his cock nuzzled against the tight opening of her arse she closed her eyes and tried again to wiggle back back against him. She couldn't move, of course, not so much as an inch, but the pat on her bottom seemed to indicate that he appreciated her attempt. His breathing had grown as ragged as her own and she hoped that his self-control would break soon, for she very much needed to be fucked. He grabbed the oiled, pale globes of her arse, which hurt, as the whip marks were still ragged and raw, and pulled her cheeks apart to give himself more room with which to work.

Though she wanted him to take her roughly, to own her, he was always patient when it came to buggering her. He pushed firmly with the warm, soft head of his cock, and she tried to relax and let herself stretch to accept the intruder. Eventually, with a popping sensation that she was sure was audible only in her imagination, he pierced the puckered ring of her arse and began to slide himself in. These moments were always frightening at first, for he was so much larger than she and his cock felt so huge, but the fear quickly faded as she enjoyed the sensation of her husband sinking into her most forbidden, private place.

She gasped, her eyes opened wide behind the blindfold, and the sensation of his thick, hard length working its way inwards was heavenly. As best she could while bent in half over the beam, she angled her hips and hollowed her back so that he could push himself further inside and inch by smooth, lotioned inch ease his cock deeper. She felt stretched in every way possible, stretched over the bench, legs stretched and bound, and her arms stretched and tied as far as she could reach.

He could have taken her without care and enjoyed his rights over her, but he moved slowly, so slowly, and let the slick grease that he'd worked into her rear help his progress. From time to time he reversed course with small movements, letting her loosen, and the feeling of him rubbing in and out was indescribably wondrous. There was some pain, of course, for the sensation was much like being pried open and speared, but the pain was, for some reason, a pleasure all its own.

When he'd pushed himself deep enough that she felt the weight of his black-haired sack sway gently against her cunt, she fought as hard as she could to thrust herself backwards against him. If only she had a hand free, just one hand, she could reach for her sex and put her fingers to work easing the torment of her need. The pressure in her nub had built to intolerable levels, and if she had the use of even one finger, she could reach down and give herself release. Unfortunately, fidgeting and whimpering were about all that she could manage.

He moved forward, gasping with his own pleasure the entire time, and she could feel the strength of his lower body and the power of his hips as he worked himself to the hilt into her bottom. So deep was he, and so squeezed was she by his weight and by the thick wooden beams upon which she was bound, that she could feel his hardness pressing against the back of her cunt. She was trapped, utterly and completely, in her husband's lordship, in the Nest, in that tower, in that room, by the bench, and by her husband, and there would be no escape, not until he gave it to her. The mixture of pleasure and pain, the trust she had in him to take the care needed to avoid injuring her, the intensity of sharing something so incredibly intimate ... each such night was a transformative experience.

"I love you like this, little one," he grunted as he began to work himself within her bottom. "I know you love it, too. After all, sometimes the best way to keep you focused on being a proper lady is to handle you in this way, is it not?"

Oh gods, I might burst just from what he's saying ...

She grunted in agreement from behind the dowel, jerked her head in the bindings that kept her face propped up, and wriggled against his cock so that he could reach still further into her. She wanted every inch of him inside so that she would be forced to focus all of her thoughts, all of her attention on his thrusting cock. His dangling bits swung against her more vigorously as he moved with slow, steady pumps of his hips, and if they would just brush a little harder upon her sex, she might find relief. She needed release so badly that she feared that she was about to go mad. Madness would not save her, though, for she'd still be bent over the bench praying for her husband to free her cunt from the awful, terrible pressure that had built inside it.

"Right now," he continued in a hoarse tone, as his hands tightened on her cheeks and he began to move more quickly inside her, "you have no worries or concerns or fears about anything besides what is happening to your helpless, shackled body, am I right?"

She nodded again and moaned in happiness while she twisted against the manacles and straps. She was at the top of the Nest, which was itself practically the top of the world, the door was barred, and her husband was deep enough within her that every concern she had ever had in her life vanished from her mind.

His voice was strained and had risen in pitch when he spoke next, and she could feel droplets of sweat drip from his bare, black-haired chest to land on her rear. "My little dragon princess, this is what you need to keep you on your best behavior, isn't it?"

She squealed a chorus of yes from behind the bit and reveled in the sensation of his cock slowly working its way in and out of her most sensitive region, the spot where the hurt was as enjoyable as the pleasure. The way that she was bent kept her from properly catching her breath, and as she grew light-headed, sparks of twinkling bliss cascaded from her bottom, through her sex, and stimulated her throbbing bud. His length plunged deep into her, continued to rub against the rear of her sex, and as his cock slid in and out of the sensitive, tight ring of her arse, she wanted nothing more than for him to plunge himself into every corner of her body and make her his.

Her nub was wet, engorged, and so sensitive that if she could only move her hips forward a few inches she could rub it against the hard padding of the bench and achieve release ... but she had been bound far too well for that. She could do nothing except remain bent and tied, revel in her husband possessing her in such a thorough manner, and hope that he might reach his hand between her legs and grant her mercy ... it would not take more than a few strokes of his fingers, of that she was sure. Her cunt throbbed in time with her heartbeat, dripped arousal onto the stone floor with each of his thrusts, and she grunted in happiness and wished that they could stay this way forever.

He paused then, how he managed such self-control when he was obviously near his own release was beyond her, and held his cock just barely within her bottom. She opened her eyes wide beneath the blindfold and tried to communicate with frenzied snorts and incoherent mewls her dissatisfaction that he had stopped his buggering of her in mid-thrust.

"Do you want me to continue?" he asked, and there was a playful, cruel bite to the words. "If so, tell me how you wish to be treated."

She gibbered and with slurred, unintelligible words pled for him to carry on with reaming her spread, impaled, well-punished arse.

He began again, more urgently this time, and when he removed his right hand from its clenching grip on her behind and stretched his fingers beneath her body she keened a soft cry filled with imploring gratitude.

Please, yes!

"This is what you need, isn't it, little one?" he whispered as with the merciful hand beneath her waist he tapped a finger against the most deliciously sensitive area on her entire body. She could tell from the low rumble of his voice that his own release was close and that knowledge only served to excite her further. "This is what banishes from your mind all notions of doing yourself harm, misbehaving, or neglecting your health, is it not?"

She screamed into the dowel that muffled her speech, fought the leashes keeping her head propped upright, and tried to voice her agreement to his questions. He rubbed his hand along her sex, but not with enough pressure, and she nearly broke down in tears. She was split in two by something that felt far too large and it still wasn't enough.

Yet another question left his lips. "You've been whipped and buggered for your own good, and now I think you deserve a reward. Don't you?"

After she had mewled and begged for a time he reached for the pressed his palm against the folds of her sex and proceeded with the barest of touches to stroke the small, desperate spot peeking from beneath its hood.

OhgodsOhgodsOhgodsOhgods

That pushed her over the edge.

The moment of bliss spread over her entire lower body, each and every muscle tensing in waves while pleasure surged through her ass, up her hips and back, all the way to her breasts and nipples. Muscles that she scarcely knew existed except in moments like this spasmed, and when the clenching ring of her arse milked her husband's penetrating cock to such an extent that he gasped, plowed deep, and twitched his seed into her rear, it was another layer of joy atop the indescribable sensations she was already experiencing. She flopped and screamed and felt her cunt vibrate with blessed relief so powerful that it broke her into pieces, swept her into a current of raw pleasure, and obliterated her conscious thoughts.

When her mind came back to her she was entirely uncertain how much time had passed.

He said some words of affection and praise, though her mind was as of yet incapable of understanding speech, and then carefully withdrew himself from her bottom. After being stuffed and filled for so long, his absence left her feeling hollow and empty, and almost immediately she began longing for him to use her in such a way again.

The position in which she was fixed was an ungainly one that put tremendous strain on her body, and thus he moved quickly to untie the dowel from her mouth and unstrap her hands and waist from the bench. Once those restraints had been removed, he helped her stand upright, and although her legs were still tied it was a blessed relief to be able to take deep breaths and move again.

He pulled the blindfold away, tossed it to the ground, and then kissed her for a long time. It was tender, and so very sweet after his rough use of her, and it almost made her forget that her arse was still a stinging collection of pain and bruises.

Almost.

When the kiss broke off, he unwound the thong that tied back her hair and let her plumage hang free down her back. The silver strands tickled against her back as they fell and she could not help but reach up with a trembling hand and caress them into some semblance of order. She imagined that she was a red-faced, sweaty mess to look upon, and the least she could do was try to straighten her hair for her husband.

He crouched behind her and one by one removed all the bindings from her legs. Feet, shins, knees, and thighs were freed, and then he unclasped the manacles on her wrists and ankles and tossed those aside as well. Without the straps supporting her she felt weak as a newborn kitten, and she wobbled when she stepped away from the bench. Her own emissions leaked down her legs, his seed leaked from her behind, and if he had not caught her with his hands she would have fallen. With smooth, assured movements he hooked his arms beneath her back and knees, lifted her aloft, and carried her to a well-padded chair near the hearth. He sat down with her upon his lap, cradled her against his chest, and reached for a goblet set next to several pitchers on a nearby table.

She was tremendously thirsty, and he made sure she had nearly a full goblet of water and half a goblet of a light, sweet red that was far more to her liking than the overly crisp white she'd drank earlier.

She pulled her legs closer, sat in his lap, leaned her head against his muscled chest, and enjoyed the feeling of not being worried about anything in her life while her husband held her. He smiled and chuckled when she dribbled a few drops of wine as she drank.

He attempted to be subtle as to the wary eye he kept on her, but she could tell that he was waiting to see if she would do something forbidden to her, such as rubbing her hands along her bottom in an attempt to ease the deep, burning ache left by the whipping or soothe her well-satisfied, but also well-buggered and quite sore, arsehole. She knew better than to tempt his ire, of course, but she loved to watch his eyes staring at her.