The Captured Princess Ch. 02

"Alani," she purred, softly. "It's ok. I'm pretty. You're allowed to find my body interesting. I like yours."

"I don't. When I've looked at all, it's been at men."

"Then think about men. Think about a man forcing me on to my back, holding me down... watch my pretty body struggle, in your imagination. I'm not strong enough to defend myself, nature has made it so. One of my favorite fantasies is a man who forces me. I'm only allowed to have who my Prince says I can have -- but if I'm forced there is nothing I can do, is there.... Picture me struggling, trying to be good, trying to follow the rules... but that thick cock, slapping against me as I squirm... try to imagine that. So thick and hard, you've felt one now, and it wants to be in. Banging against me, opening me up, and though I try, I try so hard, I can't get away..."

She slid her hand low on my belly, just above my bud, and massaged there, firmly. "Banging and banging and pressing and sliding and I'm trying to close my legs, trying not to raise my hips, trying not to want what I mustn't have. But it's so hard. You know now. They insist, they are so unrepentant and demanding, they make you open your legs, and the wetness, Alani, we can't help it. The wetness says we want it even when we beg otherwise. They know our words are not the whole story, men never listen to your words when they can see your body react. And it's scary to say no to them. No will make him angrier, but if I just... let him... he won't be angry anymore. The need to please sexually, have you felt it yet? When I know a man means it, I get wetter and wetter... look at my nipples again, do you see how hot this makes me? Now look at your own. So full and hard... there is something about imagining another women being made to yield. Is it because we want to be made to, but don't dare admit it, so we imagine it happening to others? But it's really us, isn't it... Picture it, Alani, a man's cock grinding against you, you mustn't open your legs, but you're so wet, so slippery, so hot, and he's so scary intense-"

She was rubbing my bud now, her words filling me, hypnotizing me. I could see her being taken, as I lie there shivering in my half-dreaming state, I could see her fighting to keep her legs together, then fighting to keep him out, then fighting not to take pleasure from it, but the pleasure happens, you can't fight it, I knew because Tir's cock had driven into me and now I wanted more-

"Enjine, stop. Stop Enjine, please stop-"

But she didn't, and a finger dipped into me, and it didn't matter that she was a girl, nothing mattered but the intensity of the image she'd planted in my mind. Everyone here knew what I craved before I did, and I could not resist-

"I believe she asked you to stop, Enjine."

We both froze. How Prince Arj had gotten the door open without us hearing I do not know. I only knew that the impossible fire in me was suddenly ice. He wore leather, accented with red silk, and the silk was tight across an erection my mind refused to think about.

Enjine's knees hit the floor and she crossed her arms over her chest, then put them behind her back, all somehow in a single motion. To my horror -- to my utterly shocked horror -- I followed her to the floor and struck the first pose that came to mind, ass on heels, hands on thighs, head lowered, lips parted -- the pose of a sex slave.

And I knelt there, burning in an embarrassment, no, a deep shame, that I have no words to describe. Where the instinct had come from I had no idea. But now to change my pose would be to offer deep and deliberate insult. Oh moon, your royal daughter is a fool!

I could see Enjine's hand twitching behind her back; she doubtless wanted to correct the flaws in my pose. Then I forgot her, because of the soft, heavy tread coming our way.

The Prince pushed Enjine aside with a thrust of his hip, as he settled between us. I shut my eyes, expecting I knew not what. Beating, rape, mockery.

His hands settled on me, firmly but not cruelly. He shifted my upper arm, pressed his hand into my belly, arched my back; he moved my hair, he inched my thighs apart. He was posing me, wordlessly, and not brutally. I was too full of numb terror to protest or fight; and somehow his touch was ... I have no experience with this. He was commanding and gentle at the same time, and what came to mind, unbidden, was the hours I'd spent as a child watching the horsemen make horses run through their paces, over and over, until they were perfect.

And then, again lightly, again firmly, he placed his hand under my chin and raised my face, and I remembered Enjine's words on this: I was to open my eyes to his.

Oh skies, the fear. The last time he had touched me, in his court, he had somehow conveyed that he was more powerful than I was. I had felt authority in his touch, and once you feel that you can never unfeel it.

He ran his thumb over my labret, and my eyes opened helplessly. I could no longer think. He gazed down expressionlessly into my eyes, in that way that men have. Why is it that when a woman lets her gaze go blank, it is sexy, but when a man does it, we feel fear, and everything in us aches for some trace of humanity to return to his gaze?

His thumbnail pressed against my impossibly soft lower lip, and then stroked along it. I didn't look away from his eyes, not out of bravado -- I had none -- but because I knew I was not permitted to. The slow stroking against my lip continued, and I blushed a deep pink as I realized -- he wanted me to kiss his thumb.

The blush, and the light stroking, set off shivers in me. I was so utterly naked. Not in my lack of clothing, that didn't even matter, but in the manner he didn't let me look away, as his thumb's light caress on my lip look my reason away. I had to kiss his thumb. It was expected. I had to. And every second I didn't, those expressionless eyes would become more empty still, and then, as if from far away, the anger would appear. I shivered again, and then, mercilessly, his thumb moved to my upper lip. My tongue twitched in my mouth; I wanted to taste him. Oh sun and stars, I did.

From the floor besides me, where Enjine lay spilled, came a soft mewing sound. She knew what I was feeling, the urge to kiss his hard thumb with soft, soft lips. Oh gods, his face, handsome and ruthless and cold... and his thumb began to press against both lips in a light, hypnotic movement I could not ignore. Enjine made another soft sound, a whimper, and she lay her hand lightly on my thigh, but I barely felt it... press after press after press after press, there was nothing else...

I licked his thumb with just the tip of my tongue, and then shuddered and kissed it helplessly. My eyes fell closed; I could not keep them open.

"Good girl," he said, soft and deep and dark.

And then he got up and walked out.

I stared after him, and watched the door close.

"What... was that?"

"He made you submit," Enjine said, softly. "That's so hot. He didn't have to speak a word. He broke a princess's will with one finger. Demons below I need to masturbate."

"No, I mean -- I didn't -- he just- it wasn't anything, I just... nothing happened!"

"Look at how aroused you are. Look at yourself! I got you warm -- he got you burning."

"No I'm not- he just- got me confused-"

"Touch yourself. Touch your bud. Touch it!"

"What? No, shut up, that's not allowed, that's wrong, stop, don't talk about that-"

"Right now it's allowed. He won't mind, not this time. Touch it. Rub it. Rub it, Alani! Feel yourself burning. Touch. Touch it! Touch it! Touch it! Good, more! Did you see how hard his cock was under that silk, oh fuck I want that in me and then I want to see it plunge into you -- faster, Alani, yes, rub it harder-"

They'd drugged me, I was sure of it. So much need! I suddenly gasped as feelings flooded me, overwhelmed me-

And then the door slammed open and it was the Prince and there was a rope in his hand, the room spun and I was on my back and the rope was around my wrists, and Enjine curled around my head and shoulders and steadied me and whispered in my ear, "Lift your hips for him." And his hand moved between my legs and fingers entered me, roughly tormenting an already desperate hunger, and I cried out in raw animal need; Enjine moaned into my ear, over and over, "Please him! Come for him! Please him! Come for him! Please him! Come for him, hard!-"

Somewhere deep within me was a little crying princess whispering please no stop, but I couldn't stop. They'd drugged me somehow because I had no idea that I could want like this, and his cock pushed into me and filled me over and over, and Enjine toyed with my breasts and licked my ear and then bit the earlobe- everything tightened, more and more and more and hot and tight and arching and I couldn't breathe, I could only cry out-

Thrashing, undulating, crying... I was a molten puddle of hard used woman on the floor. And he was still thrusting, still setting off impossible contractions in my belly, and then he came, inside me, snarling my name like a curse. I shuddered.

Then he was done, and panting, he stood over us. His hand worked out a last splash of seed, and it landed on us both. "Good girls. Enjine, don't even ask, you need to remember what it is to burn without release. Walk Alani to her room and get her a bath if she likes. No sex play with her."

He walked out, panting and weaving slightly.

My tears started in earnest.