The Captured Princess

A/N: I'm new to posting my writing, and I decided to start by posting a backlog of older pieces with minimal editing. Hopefully you'll see the quality increase with newer writing! Feedback welcome.

(This was originally part of a larger universe, I've tried to make it understandable without context. The only thing you really need to know is that Beau is a princess that was recently kidnapped by a shapeshifting dragon, and is currently held in a huge dollhouse on a counter in the dragon's lair. Also the two of them fuck.)

~Lacey

***

The fact that Beau's room has permanently uncovered windows so her draconic captor, Xulieth, can look in on her is something she finds unsettling even under normal circumstances. The idea of somebody watching her sleep makes her feel itchy whenever she thinks about it.

She tries not to think about it.

She's usually ended up too, ah...

Exhausted, one might say, for it to impact her sleep, but...

Beau wonders if she'll end up staying here long enough to get used to that.

Probably not.

She's considered sleeping in the closet, or behind the changing screen, or on the couch downstairs, but decided against it. She's not going to sleep on the floor, or even in a common area, even though she lives alone.

She still has her dignity.

The issue of where to get herself off is a bigger problem. That's not something she's willing to just push through discomfort and do in bed. Besides giving Xulieth entirely the wrong idea, she doesn't think she could manage under those circumstances.

Closet? Xulieth might see her go in and be curious about what she's doing.

Bathroom? If necessary, but not ideal.

A guest room? Well... They're private, and furnished, and Beau is kicking herself for not considering sleeping in one of them until now.

She can test the comfort of the beds while she's in there.

Beau nods to herself, and snaps the book she'd been trying to read shut.

"I need privacy, don't disturb me," she says to her personal assistant. She doesn't wait or listen for a response, just breezes past her and upstairs.

She brought her book with her, but she sets it down on the desk of the first "guest room" she sees.

The princess has to get at least a little undressed for this. Even her house clothes, though lighter than the ones she wears out, aren't exactly conducive to this sort of thing.

She unhooks her capelet and drops it to the ground, and her vest follows. Her shirt and shorts just get unbuttoned. The idea of entirely disrobing, even in a place that's ostensibly private, is unfathomable. She isn't planning on doing that again unless it's to bathe or she absolutely has to.

Which. She might have to, at some point. Probably will, if her first escape attempt isn't successful.

Beau shivers, then climbs into the bed.

No more thinking about that right now, it's not helpful.

She leans back and closes her eyes, one hand rubbing her chest, the other making its way down to her pussy.

She's already a little wet, but she can do better.

She starts playing with herself, gently. Xulieth hasn't exactly been handling the goods with care--not that she's complaining--wait, of course she's complaining--

She pulls her hand out of her pants abruptly and lets out a heavy sigh, laying an arm over her face.

Beau doesn't want to be thinking about Xulieth right now at all, regardless of the tone of the thoughts.

Not thinking about her captor was a pretty tall order, all things considered, but still.

Another deep breath, and another, and she gets back to it.

She doesn't return to an attempt to ease into things, she just gets right to it, pinching a nipple and rubbing her clit with the heel of her other hand.

Beau sighs, eyes fluttering shut again. She thinks of past partners, past encounters. Getting eaten out, fucking people, very occasionally getting fucked. All her prior trysts were very different from Xulieth, they were too... tender. Nobody was willing to be rough with a princess.

She hadn't noticed, without the point of comparison.

When she realizes she's thinking about the fucking dragon again, she lets out a frustrated groan, but doesn't stop.

After a certain point, you just need to work with what you have.

She hasn't gotten a chance to touch Xulieth's horns, but she can imagine what they'd feel like in her hands. She imagines holding Xulieth's face against her cunt, pushing up into the dragon's mouth, letting her captor up to breathe for just moments at a time before yanking those horns back down. With her down there, Beau would have both hands free to knead her own tits. Or maybe Xulieth would reach up, looking her in the eyes, dragging even more whimpers from her with rough scales against soft pink nipples.

When Beau comes, she's thinking about cold blue eyes and a long tongue.

She only gives herself a few minutes of laying around, luxuriating in the afterglow, before she starts to pull herself back together.

She saunters into the bathroom, shirt still open, and washes her hands. She doesn't make eye contact with herself in the mirror. Beau doesn't bother to dry her hands, dampening her shirt as she buttons it back up. She'll need to change anyways.

She thinks she might end up fantasizing about her captor even after she leaves, imagining the graze of claws over her back when somebody scratches her with human nails.

Beau wonders if she'll even have the opportunity to test that theory.

Probably--

She shivers, pulling on her vest.

She'll need to change into something a little warmer, apparently.

She hasn't felt this cold since she arrived.