His Princess

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His Princess Page 21

by Sanya Sitter


  CHAPTER FOUR

  Asher pushed the door open while Culver continued to grope her. Touching her ass, cupping her breasts, nibbling her neck. Like he couldn't keep his hands off of her. Like he couldn't get enough of her.

  A light flicked on when they entered revealing a small room with a large bed and two night tables. On the far wall beside the window was a mini fridge. The click of the door being closed and a deadbolt locking made her spin around.

  Both men stood in front of the door. Their amber eyes darkened with passion. Immediately they began yanking off their clothes. She took in the sight of their chiseled bodies.

  Thick arms, abs to die for made her stomach flip and her clit to pulse.

  "Sarah, you are wearing far too many clothes. If you want to be able to wear that dress again I suggest you take it off," Asher said.

  "We're too eager to fill you with our seed to be gentle with clothing," Culver said.

  Hands trembling she undid the zipper on the side of her dress and shimmied out of it. The inadequate strapless bra followed. Her breasts finally free, they bounced slightly, the nipples puckered into hard peaks.

  Closing her eyes, she hooked her fingers in her panties and shoved them down her legs. She opened one eye, then the other to see their expression. Both took a deep breath and fluttered their eyes.

  They advanced on her and her stomach flipped. Her knees went weak. Asher wrapped an arm around her waist, skimming his other hand down her stomach. His fingers settled between her legs. "You are so wet, so hot."

  "The sexual energy radiates off you, Sarah," Culver said. He joined his brother at her side. He kissed her neck while Asher's fingers delved into her pussy.

  Culver moved his lips lower. When he came to her generous breasts he cupped one with his hand and flicked his fingers over the nipple.

  Asher pulled his fingers out of her, then pushed back in. Culver latched onto her nipple and suckled. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Her knees like limp as a wet leaf, she held onto them for fear of falling.

  Somehow they moved to the bed. Her legs bumped against the mattress. Asher urged her lean back on the bed. She stretched out waiting for what came next, hoping it wasn't the two of them bolting from the room leaving her humiliated and wanting.

  She scooted up until her head hit the pillow. Culver continued his attention on her breasts, licking, sucking and nipping at her nipples. Every suck and graze of teeth over the sensitive peaks sent a jolt of electricity through her.

  A low throb started in her pussy. She needed to be filled. Needed to have one of them plunging his cock into her.

  As if reading her mind, Asher smiled, grabbed her ankles and flipped her over. "Show me that ass, beautiful."

  She got on her knees, putting most of her weight on her elbows. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her. Fingers stroked her pussy, spreading her juices all over her lips.

  The first touch of his cock against her pussy made her gasp. She wanted to rock back so he would plunge deep but she waited. He inched into her, the slow sensual torture making her stomach flutter again. When he finally plunged balls deep, filling her pussy she let out a loud moan.

  "Oh shit. Just like that," she said.

  As Asher began a rhythm, pulling out, plunging deep again, Culver gently turned her head to his waiting cock.

  She licked her lips and wrapped her mouth around his hard length. While she sucked him he played with her breasts continuing to flick her nipples.

  Asher plunged deep again, driving harder and deeper with each stroke. The sensation of being fucked in the pussy and the mouth while Culver fondled her breasts shot electricity through her so intense she'd never felt anything like it before.

  The sensual onslaught brought her close to orgasm. She rocked back and forth in time to Asher's plunges trying to urge him to go faster. Asher's groans brought a sense of feminine power. His hands bit into her hips as he held her in place so he could plunge deeper.

  Culver groaned. She licked up and down his shaft, grazing her teeth gently over the head. She pulled him into her mouth again, bobbing up and down his hard length.

  He groaned louder, wrapping his hands in her hair to guide her. When she didn't think she could take anymore of him into her mouth he pushed gently and she went deeper. She wrapped her lips around his shaft as she pulled back, sucking him with increased pressure.

  The more she sucked and the more Asher plunged the more desperate she was to come. Her increased speed on Culver's cock urged Asher to fuck her faster.

  He plunged into her pussy with hard, fast strokes. Tension built in her core. With a few final thrusts the spring snapped. Her orgasm ricocheted through her body in spasms that reached her stomach.

  Her pussy clenched Asher's cock as he kept thrusting. Finally he groaned, shooting semen into her canal. Eager for them all to come now, she reached up a hand to follow her lips along Culver's cock.

  She bobbed up and down as fast as she could. His hands in her hair tightened. A groan fell from his lips and he spurted into her mouth. She swallowed the thick, warm liquid and collapsed on the bed when Asher pulled out of her.

  She turned over, the spasms of her orgasm still crashing through her. A light sheen of sweat covered them and a shiver went through her.

  With one twin on each side of her they moved closer, Asher draping an arm over her stomach. Culver draped an arm over her breasts.

  And it hit her. She loved them both. Wanted to spend her life with both of them. She put a hand on her stomach confident that she was pregnant. She smiled, snuggling into them. her life would never be boring. She couldn't wait to raise their pups and have two husbands to pleasure her every night.

  STRETCHED AND PUNISHED

  PROLOGUE

  Before I started sleeping with Mr. Black, I was an independent woman. A confident, ambitious girl who knew what she wanted and never took any shit from people she didn’t like.

  And I was reckless. A real slut, in fact.

  I’d fuck any guy I needed to if it got me closer to my goals. Even for the smallest favor.

  Once, I sucked a guy’s cock in the bathroom stall of a church just so he’d hire me as his wedding photographer. I was taking pictures of him getting married later that afternoon.

  Of course, he looked like a perfect, happy in love groom, ready to embark on a lifetime of loyalty to his wife. If only my lens could expose the shithead underneath.

  But as a struggling photographer, I did what I had to do. Every action had purpose behind it, even the ones I was utterly ashamed of. I would do whatever was required for success.

  I may have done lots of things I’m not proud of, but it was all on the path toward a greater fulfillment. To realize my dream of being a professional.

  Until I met Mr. Black, the rich and powerful man who now dictates every aspect of my life.

  Now, I don’t dare even to take a shit without his permission. I’ve lost control over my life, my own sense of purpose.

  The old me would still have some form of self-respect. Until Mr. Black came into my life, I was the master of my own ship. Now I’m hardly a deckhand.

  Maybe that was his plan all along. To systematically destroy my will. And I’ll admit that a part of me wanted him to. I can’t deny that I allowed him to do it. I let him sap me of every ounce of dignity.

  Because I am in love with him.

  Because I am his obedient little submissive. And in truth, I like it this way.

  What is there left to fear when every decision in your life is given to someone else?

  Still, there’s a pestering little voice buried deep inside that Mr. Black just can’t seem to stamp out. It urges me to be naughty just for the sake of thrill.

  The tiny remnants of disobedience.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Come in, Delilah.”

  “Yes, sir.” My black heels click against the marble floor of Mr. Black’s office as I step inside.

  “And close the door behind you.”


  “Yes, sir.” With both hands full of the things he’d requested, I move to tuck a manila envelope underneath my arm to free up one hand. The envelope slips from my grasp and tumbles to the floor, spilling its contents of polaroids. For a moment, I just freeze.

  “I’m waiting, Ms. Palmer…”

  “Yes, sir!”I scramble to pick up the mess, regretting my hesitation. “Sorry, sir…” I stuff the scattered photographs back into the envelope, not wasting any time to stack them neatly again before getting up to close the mahogany door. The polished brass of the handle catches the morning light spilling in from the glass wall behind Mr. Black.

  The air of his presence is dominating. When I turn to face him, I have to immediately avert my attention rather than look him in the eyes. The quick jerk causes a stray lock of hair to fall over my glasses, and I pretend instead to be interested in the urban landscape behind him.

  I make a casual sweeping motion to put the hair back in place while advancing toward his desk, trying my best not to blush.

  “I… I have the negatives you were asking for.”

  “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Mr. Black asks, swiveling in his chair before getting up. His glossy black shoes sink into the plush red carpet surrounding the desk. He’s holding something behind his back, but I can’t tell what.

  “Y—Yes, sir.”

  He studies me a moment, letting his eyes rest on my cleavage behind a white blouse. Then he pauses when his notices my peep toe pumps, the glint of red nail polish peeking through at the ends.

  “That color looks ridiculous on you,” he says while his head gives a subtle, disappointed shake.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you really agree, or do you think that’s what I want to hear?” He raises an eyebrow, attempting to catch my gaze before I avert my eyes. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Delilah?”

  “No, sir.”

  He extends a hand with a look of expectation. I stand there a moment, unsure of what he wants. He taps against the polished wood desk, starting to look impatient. Oh shit, the photographs!

  “S—sorry sir! Here they are!” I reach beneath my arm, fumbling with the folder, nearly dropping it again. His eyes squint with a certain annoyance, fixing on me while I spread the negatives across the desk’s surface. He leans over the desk with his arms propping himself at either end while his laser beam gaze makes me self-conscious about my every movement.

  My hands begin to shake as I lay the photos out in order, four by four, just the way he wants. I had been photographing for next month’s cover model, and each polaroid was a different pose. Mr. Black had specific instructions for me to order them by my personal preference. He insisted that he review them in black in white only, and there always had to be exactly sixteen for him to look at once.

  When I’ve placed the last polaroid down, his head tilts down at last to the pictures before him. He scans the negatives, giving each a cursory glance.

  “Number twelve. That will be all, Ms. Palmer.”

  “Yes, s—“

  “Wait.” Mr. Black catches my wrist. “What’s this?” The polaroid I was about to pick up has a bit of extra white border, like there is another one peeking out from underneath. He takes the edge of the polaroid with thumb and finger, holding it with a sort of disgust like it might be contaminated with something.

  His lips curls at one end with a look of displeasure and gives the polaroid a shake. The polaroid stuck to the bottom peels away and falls to the desk face-up.

  I gap and cover my open mouth. My eyes light up, locked on the image before Mr. Black.

  “Ms. Palmer,” he says, planting an index finger onto the center of the polaroid, “would you mind telling me how this filth ended up in my office?” I can’t believe it. But there it is, right beneath his fingertip. The same selfie I snapped in secret the last time Mr. Black was on top of me, fucking me with my legs in the air, my face in a contortion of spectacular orgasm.

  I know I have to respond quickly, but the words won’t come. His shoulders slump with disappointment and one hand moves to the drawer of his desk. The drawer where he keeps the…

  “You should know better.” The drawer slides open and his hand dives out of view to fetch something inside. The sound of him rustling through its contents is enough to make me flinch. “Hand on the table, Ms. Palmer.”

  “But sir, it was a mista—“

  “Now.” His eyes squint with the dissatisfaction of his authority being challenged. The tone of his voice is cold and callous. I immediately regret talking out of turn.

  I lean forward to press my hands onto cool glass of the desk, fingers curled around the sides. The drawer slams shut, but I still can’t see what he has pulled out. My hands are numb and shaking; the color has gone out of them. The blood of my extremities is rushing toward the slick heat between my thighs.

  Mr. Black moves around the desk, keeping whatever he has pulled out concealed behind him. He moves with such powerful grace. The black of his tailored suit carves out the contours of his perfect male frame, broad shoulders and rippling muscles that stretch the dark fabric thin. Even with my eyelids closed I can feel the penetrating stare of those dark green eyes as he moves behind me.

  A soft hand slinks across my skirt, curving over the roundness of my ass as I’m bent over. My weight shifts to one leg as his hand dips between my thighs. A warm wetness seeps through my panties and my insides shudder. I bite down at one corner of my bottom lip, anticipating what was sure to happen next.

  The hem of my tight blouse rides up while I’m bent over, exposing the small of my back and the butterfly tattoo underneath. His fingers creep beneath the waist of my skirt one at a time. The fingers slide along the waistline around to the curve of my hips. Then his other hand slips in at the opposite side.

  “Mr. Black, I…” But my words are interrupted by the force of his downward jerk on my skirt. He pulls the black cloth down to my knees and I can’t help gasping at the bite of cold against my soft pale ass cheeks. Mr. Black insisted that his office be kept at a frigid sixty degrees Farenheit.

  “How many times have I told you to call me Daniel?” He traces an index finger across both cheeks, feeling the course texture of goosebumps there. I lift my ass in the air expectantly… eagerly…

  SMACK!

  The office walls reverberate with the slapping sound of skin against skin like a cracked whip. My hips jut forward and my back straightens as the pain surges up my spine.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “And yet—there you go again.”

  SMACK!

  His palm lands hard against the other cheek, twice as hard. My shoulders slump forward and I have to take a moment to retrieve my breath.

  “Sorry… Daniel.”

  “My sweet Delilah… must you make everything so difficult?” Daniel rubs at the spot where he had just spanked me, caressing it tenderly. “Sometimes I wonder if perhaps you enjoy these little sessions of ours too much.” Then he hooks two fingers underneath the crotch of my panties and pulls back, stretching the thin lace fabric until it rips. My ass shivers to the cold air against the wetness of my exposed pussy.

  Daniel scoffs, “Unbelieveable… you’re practically gushing already. I’m afriad I’ve been far too soft on you.” I reposition my hands at the edge of the desk in preparation for my next punishment.

  My eyelids flutter to the sensation of smooth wood gliding over my skin. He rubs small semicircles with the paddle on the tender spot of my ass, now crimson and raw. I gulp down and shut my eyes tight when the paddle pulls away, bracing myself for the pain to come.

  He hesitates a moment, savoring my tense expression before belittling me further with a soft chuckle.

  SMACK!

  The blow from the paddle is so intense that I can no longer support my weight with my hands. The stinging vibration crawls up my spine and shoots to every nerve. My elbows buckle and my chest collapses forward onto the desk.

  I lie there with the side of my face
against the cold glass, cheeks hot and flushed and tingling with pleasure. The pace of my breathing quickens as warm, soggy juices trickle between my legs.

  SMACK!

  SMACK!

  SMACK!

  My eyes roll back. My ass burns with a searing pleasure, invading my senses and numbing my thoughts. I can’t feel my face.

  “Blacking out so soon?” Daniel grabs a handful of hair and yanks my head back, learning in to whisper in my ear. “Pitiful.” He releases his grip and my head falls back with a thud. My chest heaves against the edge of the desk, the tiny buttons at the bottom of my blouse undone.

  Daniel straightens up to fix his suit and tie. “I really thought you were stronger than that.” As my vision returns, I can see him retrieving something from his pocket in my peripheral. “I’m rather disappointed in you, Delilah.”

 

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