The Captive Princess Ch. 04

CHAPTER FOUR

Bred

Her husband's preparation of the room yet again while she waited, quiet and still, went on forever. First, he re-attached the circular candle holder to the still-dangling black chain that had previously captured her wrists and pulled it to its original height with long, steady pulls of the clanking mechanism. Once that had been fixed in place, he stored all of the manacles, towels, shaving supplies, tables, and assorted other paraphernalia that he had put to good use. Though he had intended to re-stoke the hearth, the wood had run low and he muttered to himself at the necessity of retreating into one of the other chambers in order to fetch more. That could wait, though, as there were far too many candles still lit that had to be blown out.

It was not lost on her that it might have made more sense to bathe after they had tried for a child, but judging by her husband's earlier comments, he apparently feared the effects of hot water on conception. Her moonblood had come and gone two weeks before, and if the maesters were to be believed, her womb would be fertile and receptive. After so many years of him spilling his seed upon her belly, atop her back, or in her mouth ... or giving her bitter moon tea on the rare instances when he had mistimed his body's emissions ... this was the first night in which they would try for a child.

Standing in a calm, composed manner with her body still and her eyes locked on empty stone had seldom been so difficult, and it became even more difficult when the dew of her arousal began to drip down her inner thighs. Shifting her stance and thereby subjecting her already-sore bottom to another round of punishment would spoil the mood, so she kept her stockinged feet firmly planted side by side on the rug, her legs pressed together, and her wrists crossed behind her. Unfortunately, despite her best efforts to maintain a ladylike solemnity, she tightened her small, wool-gloved hands into fists before she had even realized what she was doing.

"Penelope ..." her husband chided her from across the room.

No ... oh, no ...

She unclenched her hands, let her fingers hang limp, and tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she despondently waited for him to pronounce the punishment that she would receive. Her husband had dressed her beautifully in many of her favorite things, he had been so kind to her in the bath, and the last several days had frayed her nerves to the breaking point. This was a truly painful moment, as she had not wanted any mistakes on her part to spoil the rest of the evening. Her chest heaved as she fought to keep from sobbing.

To her surprise, one of his arms reached around her body to hold her tight while the other grasped her grateful fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. So lost had she been in her own crushing disappointment that she had not even heard him approach. "It is alright, little one," he informed her as he reached up, wiped away the drops rolling down her cheeks, and then wrapped his arm back around her body. "My love, I am not upset in the slightest ... in fact, I am happy to see you so excited that you cannot control yourself. You have been having a difficult time as of late and tonight is a special night for which allowances must be made." He kissed the top of her head and she smiled and clutched at his hand while her heart filled to bursting. "I am almost finished," he assured her, "and you can stay here or move if you need to." He gave her another kiss atop her head and then separated himself with quick footsteps and resumed his work.

He knew that another punishment would be too much ... gods, I love him.

While he had left the decision to her, there was never any question but that she would stand in her corner, as unmoving as she could manage, until he had returned. She appreciated him recognizing that this was one of the rare occasions when she needed a respite from the consequences of her missteps, but she also would have to remind him on the morrow that the fewer decisions he required her to make, the happier she was. For now, though, she had other matters on her mind. Beneath her gown, she was slick with wet desire and her nipples had hardened into two pebbles that she could feel poking into the silk.

Denied a view of what her husband was doing, she listened as he fetched wood from the neighboring solar, stoked the hearth, extinguished a few more candles, and arranged the bed to his liking. Her mind could not help but drift, placid and detached, in moments like this, and the extinguishing of all worry and doubt was a joy all its own. Still ... she hoped he would not be too much longer in releasing her from the corner in which she waited.

When, at long last, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her away from the stone, she shook with relief. She clung to his arm while he fondly rubbed her back through the silk of her gown, reminded her of how beautiful she looked, and complimented her on how far she had come. Her husband could tell that she needed to be held for a time, so he eased her near the warmth of the fire and hugged her close until her breathing had slowed and her heart had ceased to race within her chest. When she'd calmed, he stooped to kiss her cheek, encouraged her towards the inviting blankets and pillows piled on the blankets, and helped her climb atop once she'd reached the mattress. A large, fluffy white rug had been placed on the middle of the bed.

He must have been worried about her because his cock ... which had been hard as an iron bar when he'd locked her collar around her neck ... had gone flaccid. She suspected that she would be able to quickly remedy that issue, and as if he had read her thoughts, her husband put her on hands and knees on the bed so that she could use her mouth to excite him to rigidity. He ran his hands along her body and took special delight in caressing the red, angry slashes criss-crossing her naked behind. Oddly enough, the tingling pain his fingers sparked on her rear did more to increase her arousal than his gentle strokes of her silk-covered breasts and shaved, exposed sex. When he judged her sufficiently excited, he ordered her to turn in place and then positioned himself at the foot of the bed with his waist proffered towards her in an expectant manner.

She smiled, arched her back, and crawled with sinuous movements across the blankets. Her eyes drifted to her husband's crotch and were rewarded by the sight of his manhood quivering beneath his trousers. The thin fabric of her nightgown rose to expose her pert, upturned, whip-marked bottom, which she imagined he found an entrancing sight, and when she reached his waist she reared back onto her knees and with nimble fingers untied the drawstring of his pants. Once they were loose, she bit her lower lip in anticipation and let the garment slide to the floor. At the sight of his sizable, erect cock waiting for her touch, her own sex throbbed, wet and swollen, as it peeked from beneath her gown. She could not get her mouth on him fast enough, and in short order her entire world became her lips wrapped around his member.

He grasped her hair and guided her along his length while she wrapped her lips around his shaft and alternated between licking and sucking. His hand stroked her soft, hollowed cheek and then his fingers traced a line along the edge of her lips while her head bobbed back and forth in an easy, swaying motion. Groans of pleasure escaped his mouth as she worked her mouth on him with swirling caresses of her tongue. Slurping noises escaped her lips while with one hand she grabbed the back of his thigh and with the other, she grabbed a tight hold on the base of his cock as if to keep it from escaping. From time to time she gently lapped at the underside or tip in a teasing manner, and all the while the steel lock dangling from her collar swayed in a counterpoint to her movements.

He grabbed her hair as his hips began to shudder and guided her deeper along his length, deep enough that she had to trust that he would show her mercy before she began to gag. As was generally the case, however, he sensed when those moments were near in arriving and would allow her to ease back and catch her breath before once again drawing her mouth further upon his cock. She longed to reach down and stroke her sex, which ached between her legs as she worked, but she very much doubted that his good cheer thus far that evening would extend to flagrant rule-breaking of that sort. Well before his release, he removed his grip on her hair and patted her cheek while with a reluctant murmur, he instructed her to stop. This did not come as a surprise ... after all, his seed was needed elsewhere.

"You cannot imagine how you make me feel," he growled down at her with love and affection beaming on his face, and her heart felt so full she wondered if it might burst in her chest.

She smiled up at him as best she could with the width of his cock resting on her tongue and the tip tickling the back of her throat. He ran a hand down the side of her head, told her what a good wife she had been that night, and reminded her of how lucky he was to have such a beautiful princess sharing his life. While he spoke, she continued crouching on hands and knees, stared up at him with wide, loving eyes, and tried to control her own desire.

We will make a child tonight, I know we will.

When her need for his touch had built to such a fever pitch that she had begun to shake, he withdrew himself from between her lips, helped her sit upright, and had her drink half a goblet of pure, clear water. The corner of her lips curled up in a grin as he eased her towards the white rug lying on the middle of the bed. Once she was in place, he slid a cushion beneath her head and then a second, much larger pillow beneath her hips. As her nightgown rode up and exposed the bare, freshly-shaved part of her body he'd soon be making good use of, she half-lidded her purple eyes, spread her legs open to welcome him inside, and briefly regretted that he had been unwilling to stretch and tie her limbs to the corners of the bed frame ... trying for a child meant a great deal to him, he had informed her, and he preferred her unbound.

He knelt between her legs, with gentle hands stretched her knees wide apart, and she was so ready that he did not even have to guide himself inside. Her eyes opened wide, the candlelight in the room threw everything in stark relief, and a gasping moan left her mouth as her smooth, wet sheath clamped down tight upon the cock that was stretching and filling it so thoroughly. She threw back her head, gasped from the joy of it, and angled her hips so that he would rub just so against the upper wall of her sheath. His dark eyes gazed down at her and he smiled lovingly as he planted his hands on either side of her shoulders to hold her in place.

They had made love countless times, in an endless variety of positions, but this was different. The pleasure was there, of course, and the feel of him thrusting deep within her body was glorious, but this was more than that. They had a purpose tonight, and that added a frisson of specialness that exhilarated her in ways that she had never experienced before. He bred her with slow, deep movements of his hips, letting himself linger deep inside, and from time to time he caressed her breasts through the silk or stroked the collar about her neck.

When he noticed her trying to work her hands beneath her back so that she could pin them to the blankets with her own weight, he issued a gruff, hoarse command to place her arms above her head. A wave of tingling pleasure shot through her sex in response to the harsh tone the order had been voiced in, and when he used the strong, grasping fingers of one of his hands to trap her wrists against the blankets, the excitement of the moment pushed her to the brink.

"Husband ..." she croaked as her wrists twisted and writhed in his implacable grip. The room seemed to close in upon her as the muscles of her lower body gathered.

He kissed her and with his other hand, he reached down and stroked the sensitive nub that was throbbing and quivering with want just above where he was working inside her. At his touch, her release swept over her, she gasped his name, and she clamped her legs around his buttocks to hold him tight. His own pleasure came shortly thereafter, likely in response to her cunt spasming and clenching about his cock, and he sighed her name while he pushed himself deep. When she felt his manhood twitch and saw his eyes roll back while he shook and shuddered in his own moment of pleasure, she imagined a child, smaller than the eye could see, forming at the junction of his body and hers. It was a poignant thought, and she had to blink away the tears welling in the corner of her eyes.

If every attempt is to be as enjoyable as tonight's, I would not mind if we have to make many such efforts before his seed quickens inside me.

"I love you, Penelope," he whispered.

So overcome was she by the joy of the moment that it was difficult at first to speak, but after a few seconds she managed to croak a response similar in spirit. He leaned down and gave her a long kiss while he lingered inside her, and the moment between them was so beautiful and pure that she felt whole in a way that she seldom managed outside the bedchamber. Eventually, though, he released her wrists, broke off the kiss, and patted her legs. Reluctantly, she unwrapped her thighs from his body so that he could fetch a towel, clean her and then himself, and then had her drink of the water again. After they'd caught their breath, he rolled the rug upon which she'd been laying into a neat bundle and placed it within an oak basket near the door.

When he turned back to her, she was already sitting at the edge of the bed with her red-stockinged legs extended. He laughed, she grinned happily and wiggled her feet at him, and then he stooped, grabbed the soft, thick rope he had placed under the bed for this purpose, and began binding her ankles together. He wound the cord many times and then gathered the loops using a broad cinch. This way, he had explained, the force was spread evenly over the lower length of her calves and he need not fear interrupting the flow of blood flow to her feet.

The instant her lower legs were tied, she flipped over, laid upon her stomach, dangled her legs off the end of the bed, and clasped her palms together behind her back. Her husband maneuvered her wrists several inches apart so that she had room to flex and squirm, then wound the ropes up each arm and across to the neighboring limb in an interwoven pattern, all the while ensuring that the bindings remained loose enough so as not to cause strain or discomfort while she slept. When the web had reached nearly to the top of her gloves, he cinched it in some clever way so that the entire arrangement was taut and secure. He patted her shoulder and she grinned and twisted her hands to ensure that she could not squirm free. Once he'd given her enough time to assuage her fear that she might be able to twist loose, he helped her to a seated position and slipped her sleeping blindfold over her eyes. Handkerchiefs and strips of cloth had a habit of coming undone while she slept, but the wide band of wool-padded leather he buckled tight around her head would remain securely in place until he decided to remove it.

Blinded and bound for sleep in the way that she liked, she sighed with happiness as a warm glow suffused her body. He pulled back the blankets, lifted her, placed her on her side of the bed, and then curled next to her. She reveled in the warmth and feel of his body as he pulled the blankets back over them. Perhaps it was her imagination, but his seed felt warm within her core as it glided ever deeper into her body. He cradled her close, whispered again that he loved her, a sentiment that she returned, and she could tell that he was ready to sleep.

Not yet ... there is something we must speak of.

When he'd first brought up the suggestion that it was time for them to have a child, she'd been enthused at first ... and then when she thought about the changes an infant would bring to their lives, a fear-fit came on so fast and strong that the terror overwhelmed her thoughts and robbed her of the ability to speak. It was the worst one she'd experienced in a long time, so long in fact, that she couldn't specifically remember another that had been so vicious and unrelenting.

She had shaken in fear, bit at her lips while her teeth vibrated so hard it was a wonder they didn't shatter, and if she didn't have her husband nearby, she didn't know what she would have done. Pull her hair out, maybe. Perhaps gouge fresh scars in her skin to match the many existing faint ones beneath her armpits. Worst of all, search for something sharp.

That had been six months ago, and he'd talked to her every night since about how they could manage a child without changing too much of the routine she had grown accustomed to. Eventually, she had felt ready ... or as ready as she was ever likely to be. They both knew she might never be fully prepared to be a mother, but something was driving him that he did not speak of. Whatever it was, it made him anxious to see her with child, and that in turn made her anxious as well, even though she did not know the cause for his concerns. He demanded honesty from her, yet she knew he hadn't been completely truthful.

There is something he is not telling me.

It had been a truly spectacular night, but she did not wish to go to sleep with her worries unvoiced. "Husband," she finally whispered.

"How are you not tired?" he asked with a voice overlaid with a current of mirth.

She ignored his question, which was very unlike her. "I want to talk to you about the child we will be having."

She heard him sigh and felt him stiffen. The blindfold shrouded her sight and made things easier, so much easier because she did not have to look upon his brooding face and feel herself cowed into an obedient silence. "Please tell me that you are not still fearful," he said. "We have talked about this ... many times ... and while life will change, much between us will remain as it is."

He then broke into a familiar litany that she always found comforting, though she was determined not to let it distract her from her purpose.

"When your belly is too swollen for the bench," he assured her, "I will tie you spread-eagle on this bed, stack pillows beneath your bum, and torment you for hours until you do not even have the strength to beg." She giggled while he continued. "A hot bath does much to ease sore feet and backs which ache from the rigors of pregnancy, but I can assure you that water will not help you wriggle free of chains or enable you to dislodge a gag from your mouth."             

Her giggles turned into laughter at the imagery his words conjured up. "When I am fat," she said, "and my body has changed, you will not desire me as you do now." He had reassured her on this point countless times, but still she feared.

"This again?" Now it was his turn to laugh for a while. "Such silliness. I know that you are merely trying to provoke me into saying what you wish to hear."

"Then say what I wish to hear!" she exclaimed. "Please!"

He held her close and stroked her arm. "You are my beautiful, smart, kind princess, and you always will be. Besides, men find their wives even more beautiful when carrying their babies, and they are most lovely of all as mothers of their children."

"That is difficult to believe," she informed him in a prim, disbelieving tone.

"It is true."