The head pushed hard against her womb and she felt as if her stomach were being filled by a monstrous snake.
She came almost immediately, feeling her walls clamping down on his thrusting member and a flood of pleasure filling her brain. He continued ploughing into her harder and harder, faster and faster and her orgasm became more and more intense with every stroke.
Then as suddenly as he had entered her he pulled out, and once again she found herself staring into the eye of his beast-like cock. Something erupted from the end and splattered against her face.
Again and again his cock spat its seed down her chin, neck and breasts, it got in her mouth and eyes, stinging and salty, but glorious. He honoured her beauty with the volume of seed he spilled, with the roaring declarations to God and the Devil as he did so. She leaned forward and licked the salty droplets from its end as the final spurt faded to a dribble of white.
‘Good girl,’ said sinking back into one of the chairs beside the fire.
He dressed slowly never taking his eyes off her body as she lay exhausted looking up at him from the ground. His seed was cold on her face and the medicinal taste of it filled her mouth as she gently kissed the leather of his boot.
‘Sit there,’ he commanded gesturing to the rug before the fireplace. ‘Don’t touch your clothes, or clean your face. I shall be back throughout the evening.’
He was, each time taking her vigorously until they had both experienced the ecstasy of the flesh more times than they could count. Like they were catching up for a previous deficit.
Their bodies sought each other like an opium fiend his next fix.
Each time he left her lying satisfied before the gas fireplace which warmed her naked flesh, even as his hot seed seemed to burn in her womb or trickle coldly down her thigh, or dried to a crust on her face.
She did not understand it, every instinct seemed to declare that she should feel ashamed, sinful, evil even. Instead everything about this felt right, as if they were fated for each other.
She loved his power, physical, political but above all personal. He issued commands and she begged to be allowed to follow them. Pleasing him pleased her, and when he took his turn pleasing her, that pleased her even more.
The evening wore on and the music faded. The sound of conversation in the main hall quietened to gentle hubbub. Once a drunk red faced man with huge sideburns and a magnificent moustache stumbled in.
She wanted to run, but the command to remain on the rug echoed in her ear. Instead she stared at the old man who stared back confused, looked over her exposed breasts, smiled, apologised and left again.
By the time the light of dawn was creeping through the curtains, and the clock struck five in the morning the gala seemed over. The prince returned with several servants and it seemed that her fairy tale night was at an end.
Chapter Four
But it was not.
Thomasina did not leave the palace when the ball ended. Instead, the woman-servants the Prince brought with him led Thomasina through the now empty castle to a small room which was almost completely filled by a large four poster bed.
A bath was pulled for her and new clothes laid out. Particular care was taken with the underwear she was provided. The corsets and stockings were of the sort she had seen women wear on stage or outside the whorehouses, rather than her more practical garb.
After she had bathed and slipped into bed naked, the Prince visited her. He brought with him a riding crop which he hung above her bed on a rack that looked like it would usually hold a decorative musket.
‘You are not a lady,’ said the Prince.
‘No, my Prince.’
‘I am to be married to a lady.’
‘Yes, my Prince.’
“But, I am not to marry for love. In time, with training, you might be fit to be my mistress but never my Princess.’
‘No, my Prince.’
‘But you can live like one. You will live in the palace for now. I will give you dresses and a coach, I will keep you as if you were my wife, and use you as if you were my wife. We will love each other and you will bear me sons who will grow up in the palace.’
‘Yes, my Prince.’
‘And when I visit you each day, I will teach you a lesson in being with Royalty.’
‘Yes, my Prince.’
‘And when you do not learn, I will be hard on you.’ He swung his hand as if he held a whip in it. She seized his hand kissed it, sucking on each finger and guiding it down between her legs.
‘Yes, my Prince.’
She pushed his fingers inside her and began to rock back and forth on them, the heel of his palm pressed into her clit and felt wonderful.
‘Teach me now, my Prince.’
He pulled his hands away from her and seized the cords that tied the curtains back on the four poster bed yanking them down. She watched him.
‘The first lesson is that you cannot demand anything of your Prince. Not even what I long to give you every hour of every day. A Prince grants gifts, bestows honours. He is never demanded of and never,’ he smiled knowingly. ‘A prince never succumbs to demands or blackmail.’
He tied the cords to each of her wrists and ankles and bound her to the posts spread eagled and naked. She looked up at his admiring eyes which roamed over her body as if examining the map of an important military campaign.
‘When I decide I want you,’ he said. ‘Then I will take you and give you the pleasure you long for. Not before.’
So saying he took down the whip again. ‘Right now, I am tired.’
He yawned theatrically and turned away leaving Thomasina bound to the bed. She longed to feel his touch, any touch on her naked cunny. She struggled against the ropes but they held her fast and allowed her almost no movement at all. ‘Please, my Prince. Let me sample your pleasure.’
Instead he flicked the riding crop down on her exposed nipple pain and pleasure shot out from the impact site and craning her neck to look down her body she could see the nipple rising to attention rosy red where the blow had landed.
‘Yes, my Prince,’ she gasped.
He flicked the whip again, and then pulling a rag that she recognised as part of her torn petticoats from out her pocket he crossed over and blindfolded her.
Now she was floating in the world of pure sensation, unsure where the next flick of the crop would come from. Sometimes he struck the bottom of her feet, sometimes her delicate fingers, like a school-ma’am keeping children in line. Other blows struck her cunny sending waves of pleasure through her.
This seemed to go on for hours, though in reality could not have taken more than ten minutes. And then the blows stopped entirely and she was left in dark and silence. She cried out again and again, ‘Please, my Prince. Please take me. Use me. Give me pleasure.’
But she received no response. She imagined the servants walking in and finding her like this. Perhaps the male servants using the opportunity to partake of the master’s mistress.
Then she felt the weight of someone on the bed beside her and the Prince’s mouth closed over hers breathing new desire deep into her. His hand cupped her breast and teased her sensitive nipples until she felt that she would cum just from his gentle caress of her breasts.
Then his mouth was replaced by that magnificent rod of his, which filled her mouth and thrust deep into her throat leaving her gagging but desperate to take it into herself further and deeper. This time he seemed rougher, more driven by his desire for her even than before and he fucked her throat with gay abandon, filling her up until she could feel his hipbones grind against her upper lip and the soft fuzz of his pubic hair tickling her nose.
When he came this time, he did not spray it over her but instead buried his cock deep within her mouth pumping his liquid seed into her throat, coating her tongue and her teeth in a gushing torrent of sticky, salty white.
Even as she tried to swallow it all, feeling it stick and cling to her mouth and fighting the gagging against its salty taste, she fe
lt his tongue returning the compliment to her own cunny. In wet hot strokes his tongue massaged lips, clit and opening in delightful playful patterns.
This time she came, she felt her own juices dripping out of her as his tongue thrust into the tensing ring of muscle that was her opening.
She lay there satisfied the sheets damp with her sweat and body drained and sore but satisfied. In the dark of the blindfold she could hear him panting.
He wasn’t done, he never seemed done. Did men ever stop? she wondered as she felt the hammer blow of his cock pressed home into the core of her once more.
Her arms stretched tight by her bindings she felt each blow not just in her cunt which cried out in pleasure but in her shoulders and ankles which were tugged back and forth. Once again she found the slight pain only exaggerated the astonishing impact of the orgasms when they came.
And they did, she came again and again and again and again, thrashing against her restraints in her desire to cleave to him, to hold tight, dig nails in and bury her face in his warm flesh. To taste the sweat of his skin. She felt as if he was part of her, another body that melded with her two minds inhabiting one glorious flesh bound together by a diffuse cosmic pleasure that knew no boundaries.
Eventually he came for the final time that night, threw a blanket over her and left. She slept that night unbound beneath the finest silk covers she had ever slept with.
In the morning the servants bustled about her, laying out clothes and breakfast.
Then when the crowds of people had been and gone, had seen her shame, then and only then did she feel the Prince’s lips on hers.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked, his hand already teasing her cunny below the covers.
‘Yes, my Prince,’ she moaned.
Chapter Five: Epilogue
Everyday the Prince would visit her and teach her something: the piano, Latin, to sing, to memorise poetry, the etiquette of court, and the elegance of a women attending to royalty.
When she got something wrong he would use the riding crop. When she got something right he would kiss her mouth. When she failed a lesson, she would have to kneel before him, knees aching on the hard floor and suck his seed into her mouth. When she succeeded in a lesson, he would kneel before her and kiss her cunny until she came.
Every night they made love.
She was given the pay and title of a handmaiden, but given no wealthy women on who to wait, instead, she found herself simply entertaining herself, reading, or taking short trips to see her old friends in the city outside the palace walls.
In time the Prince married the daughter of the Polish King who lived in his apartments and whom everyone at the court loved apart from Thomasina who found her role in court much diminished by the necessity of keeping the Prince’s mistress away from his wife.
She was jealous of the new Princess, jealous of the time her Prince spent with the other woman. But while the Royal marriage remained barren, Thomasina gave the Prince four sons.
The eldest of whom was naturalised and took over the Kingdom when his father died, keeping his dowager mother in the same apartments of the palace she had lived in since that first glorious night at the ball.
When the Prince went about the country to visit the aristocracy, or to holiday in the Alps, or even on diplomatic missions, he would bring Thomasina along.
In this way she fulfilled her wish for a good husband in all but name, and her desire to see the world beyond her horizons.
Story 23
In a time where your birth place is held with more importance than your own merit, than your own character, or even your own life... young, untouched Emma finds herself wistfully longing to rise above her meager station in life.
To find her status elevated above the gutters where she was born – a seemingly impossible task.
And as luck would have it, one day the youthful lass receives a special package from a very handsome, well-endowed royal member and her life is forever changed... That is what happens when you are... summoned by the king!
Not all days can be extraordinary. Not most, in fact. But then again... there are those days, those rare, unexpected days when something quite magical happens.
You'll never know when it's coming before hand – but make no mistake, when it arrives... the feeling is unmistakable! Especially for a shy, reserved lass who had long-since thought that life held no good fortune for her. That she would always be a lowly kitchen maid or dirty scullion. Something upper class society simply spat upon. Born in the gutters, forever destined to float among the muck.
But, you never know when lady luck might strike in your favor... and the pretty damsel would soon discover that some days do hold wonder beyond our wildest dreams... and passionate thrusts along with it!
***
Nobody said virgins couldn't be adventurous, even the shy ones. And that is precisely what Emma was. A good girl with a bad side. The kind your mother would see and say, “Oh honey, you should find a girl like that!” Aside from the fact that she was dirt poor and supposedly unfit for proper company, that is... However, for the lower class men, she certainly seemed to be quite a catch. Or at least fetching enough to want to ram their cocks into her untouched slit!
But, given her cherubic face and calm demeanor, no one would never suspect Emma's lingering desires of passion and lust. The girl hid it well, even to her best friends. They all tried helping the 20 year old, thin Emma along – by arranging little gatherings or putting together some kind of match-making scheme... stupid things that Emma could only laugh at, after blushing a bit of course. She knew her worth was beyond what these meager fellows could offer. Why settle for such riffraff simply because everyone else did?
Harboring this intent did nothing to deter her sex-happy friends though...
As a result, she'd been surprised more than a few times by random men being placed in front of her at the most awkward of times! Apparently brought over by her friends, as if they were attempting to get some wild, rare creatures to finally mate at last... Those incidents turned out to be ittle more than graceless denials for the comely girl. She would be forced to politely decline the ruffians, fake an illness, or sit through what would invariably be a tedious, boring ordeal. And all of this courtesy of her good pals...
They didn't understand the beautiful girl, not at all. She certainly wanted to find a man. That much was true. But it couldn't be done on anyone else's terms... only hers!
Or so she thought – and then one day it showed up...
***
The day had started as normal as any other. There was nothing that would indicate today would hold any more meaning than those before it. Emma was used to living these kinds of days. The average, common, bland. Everyday life, walking about her errands without a care in the world. Showcasing her tempting virgin body as she went down the dingy streets... The sexy woman was fond of dressing to present her figure whenever possible. Never in a slutty fashion, however, not at all.
She simply preferred to look good. Emma spent a good deal of time trying to make her appearance as presentable as possible. Being a fan of many high-end ladies, the girl had an easy time of keeping up with the current hot trends and flashy attires. This led to much jealousy and envy from her friends... and many stares from horny men! Don't you remember that the good girl held more than a few lusty longings?
But of course...
There was a reason she loved presenting her body in such immaculate clothes, at least that she could afford. The poor girl was forced to wash and clean them for hours on end, just to appear presentable. Emma wasn't dumb, alright. She was coy, but not dumb! The enticing lass knew exactly what each article of clothing would do for her svelte body. Like a carefully planned battle assault – predicting her opponent's every move, three steps before they could even think it. And so, when she ventured outside while wearing a tight dress, accentuating her pert tits... it was all but certain!
How the men would turn and stare, with mouths agape, drooling ov
er her comely breasts. How her physique held such wide hips, yet possessed such a narrow waist. It was a dream body! Those juicy thighs and her succulent rump! Emma's figure certainly wasn't the problem in securing a man. It was her own inhibitions which prevented her from letting go and being free. A case of the body is willing, but the spirit is not.
Even though she harbored endless forbidden desires and naughty fantasies – generally about the gorgeous men she would see devouring her body with their eyes... the girl couldn't bring herself to commit to any of these fun-filled sex adventures! Some inner reservation, centered somewhere deep in her heart wouldn't allow it. Maybe it had been her upbringing. Maybe it had been because of a book she read some years back. Nobody knew... not even dear, sweet Emma herself.
All she did know was that her southern slit ached to be filled! Knowing so many others were enjoying the carnal pleasures life had to offer... it plagued her endlessly!
And luckily for Emma, today was actually quite a special one, despite her thoughts to the contrary. It would mark the beginning of her sexual liberation. And in the most taboo, unimaginable manner she could never have fathomed...
***
You see, Emma worked as a cleaner for a rather well to do company. She would pace at the front dusting and cleaning, and greeting potential clients as they entered the building – addressing customers as they walked in the door. A rather tedious job, but it paid the bills and supposedly gave her an inside look into the business, for what that was worth. A damsel like Emma stood very little chance of ever elevating her status beyond a meager cleaning woman. She herself felt that the piggish employer had hired her on only for some eye candy satisfaction...
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