by Parker Grey
Belle doesn’t strike me as a virgin, but she does strike me as someone who’s never done anything like the things I’m going to do to her. A good, vanilla, missionary-sex-with-the-lights-out kind of girl.
While I’m anything but.
I grab the shoulder straps of her dress, pull them down her arms until her perfect, round breasts as visible, bouncing slowly as she slides along my cock. Her nipples are hard as glass, pink and round and puffy.
I trace circles around them torturing her. Belle moans again, her hands clutching the skirt around her waist, and I cup her breasts in my hands, threading my fingers around her nipples without touching them.
I know what she wants. I’m just making her wait for it, even though doing this while watching us in the mirror, while feeling her try her best to fuck me through my trousers, is impossibly intoxicating.
I grab her. Squeeze, her back arching and her eyes going shut as my fingers finally shut around her nipples, pinching them hard as her hips move faster against me, bucking uncontrollably.
Belle gasps. She moans, she whimpers.
“Please,” she says, chanting it like a woman lost. “Please, sir.”
I pinch her nipples harder and she cries out. My trousers are soaked through with her juices, my cock wet and slippery despite the layers of fabric between us.
I’m close to coming and I know Belle is right on the brink, because I can already feel the tremors moving through her body as the pearls slip past her sensitive nub again and again.
I grab her hips, force her to stop. Her eyes pop open, her breath coming in gasps, and all she can do is look at me, questioningly.
“Get on your knees,” I tell her, my voice full of quiet command.
She bites her lip, still looking foggy with lust, slowly lets her skirt falls from her hands.
“I haven’t…”
“Come? I know,” I say. “Belle, I promise you that when I do finally let you come, everyone in this kingdom and the next will know. That’s a promise.”
She swallows, brings her knees together. She slides from my lap and kneels in front of me, facing the mirror, her pretty tits with their swollen, bright pink nipples still on full display.
I lean back and unzip my trousers, soaked through with her juices, and my wet cock springs out instantly. In the mirror, Belle’s eyes widen.
“You’re facing the wrong way,” I tell her.
She turns. She can’t even make eye contact with me, only with my massive, swollen cock, already soaking with her arousal even though she’s never touched it.
With her dress down around her waist, I can watch her nipples stiffen even more, so hard that it nearly looks painful. I’ve got nipple clamps in the secret room, and for half a second, I consider leaving to get them because she’d look so pretty clamped, the chain bouncing between her tits.
But I shake my head, knowing I’m not about to leave right now for anything.
Belle swallows. She reaches one tentative hand forward, biting her lip unconsciously, and I let her get a centimeter from my swollen cock before I grab her wrist hard, feeling the delicate tendons and bone protest beneath my strong fingers.
“Ask permission,” I command.
Her eyes flick to mine, a wondrous combination of lust and fear and the wanton desire to be told what to do.
“May I touch you?” she says, and swallows. “Sir?”
My hand tightens, her fingers twitching.
“Touch what?”
Her eyes move down to my cock, the head so swollen it’s nearly purple.
“Your…”
“Cock. Say it.”
She colors slightly, her fingers twitching again, and then Belle looks me in the eye.
“Sir, may I touch your cock?” she whispers, nearly stumbling over that last word but getting through it like a good girl.
I don’t think she’s ever said the word cock before, and certainly not out loud to a man, but dear God I like it.
I like my dirty Belle, and she’s about to get a whole lot dirtier.
“Not with your hands,” I tell her.
She understands instantly. Good. I’m glad that my captive kitten isn’t stupid.
Belle lifts her other hand to my thigh, and I slide my hand around her wrist, pinning both her hands to the tops of my legs as she leans forward.
I can tell she’s still a little nervous, a little unsure about this, but then Belle swipes her tongue softly against the underside of my throbbing head and I forget all about that, a low growl coming from somewhere deep in my chest.
God, she feels good. She takes the very tip of my thick cock into her mouth, sucking at me, swirling her tongue around, and almost instantly I’m lost, barely hanging onto my control by a thread.
“More,” I growl, and Belle complies, her hands still on my thighs, sucking more of me into her mouth, her pretty lips sliding down my shaft so slowly that it feels like every nerve in my body is standing on end.
I swallow. I hold my breath, afraid again that I’m going to lose control. Belle has me teetering on the brink in a way that I haven’t felt in years, if ever.
“More,” I demand again, and now my cock hits the back of her mouth.
She swallows against me, reflexively, holding me there for a long moment before she pulls back, eyes still closed, tongue stiff against the underside of my cock.
I let one of her hands free from where I’ve been clenching them against my thighs and slide my fingers through her hair, stroking her head before I make a fist.
She’s still got the head of my cock in her mouth, slurping and sucking, and the moment I grab her by the hair her eyes go half-shut and she whimpers with pleasure, a totally unconscious little noise that drives me completely fucking wild.
I don’t lose control. Not quite, but I’m close to it as I push Belle’s mouth back down my shaft, groaning as she takes me in her mouth, her hands tightening on my thighs when I hit her soft palette again, hand clenched in her hair, holding her there for a long moment.
She looks up at me, my cock two-thirds in her mouth, pretty lips wrapped around me. Her eyes are starting to tear up and as she blinks, she swallows against the tip of my cock, her warm, wet mouth moving against me.
I exhale sharply and pull her head back, her mouth bright red and swollen as she slurps and sucks furiously, her lips just reaching the tip of my cock before she takes a deep breath and takes me in again, nails tight against my thighs. I’ve still got my trousers on and I can hear the soft scraping noise they make as I hit the back of her mouth one more time.
I push her head down, groaning. She resists me for a split second, a single tear tracking from her eye, and then all at once she swallows me.
“Oh, fuck,” is the only thing I can say as all of a sudden Belle is deep throating my cock, her lips against the zipper of my trousers, her nose in the short, curly hair at the base of my cock.
She doesn’t make a noise, just looks up at me again with those big, wet eyes, and despite having my cock down her throat she’s somehow innocent and beautiful, all at once.
And mine.
Irrevocably mine.
I let her pull her head back, even though I’m struggling to stay in control. Belle swallows me again and again, and even though my hand is fisted in her hair I can feel how eager she is, how much she wants this as I watch her from two angles, above and in the mirror.
I don’t last long. Normally I could do this for much longer, but there’s something about Belle. Within seconds I’m forcing myself not to come, driven on by the tight, warm pleasure of her mouth, of watching her from behind as well as above.
And the noises she makes. Quiet moaning every time she pulls back, almost like I’m fucking her. I’m completely certain that she’s so wet her juices are running down her thighs, that if she thought I’d let her she’d be getting herself off right now as she sucked me.
It only takes a few more strokes before I hold her against myself, cock completely buried, and spill myself d
own her throat. Belle swallows again and again, greedily, like she can’t get enough, until I finally release her, and she pulls away, gasping.
“Lick it clean,” I growl.
Belle has twin tear tracks running down her face, but she obeys me, sucking and slurping my slowly-softening cock voraciously until it’s pristine.
“Good girl,” I say softly.
Chapter Fifteen
Belle
Pull up your skirt,” Julian commands.
I hesitate, just for a moment. I don’t know why I do — I’m afraid for him to find out that I’m so wet for him my pussy juices are running down the insides of both thighs? — but I do hesitate.
Watching me dangerously, he tucks himself back into his pants, zips them. I clench slightly in disappointment, let out a long breath as I force myself not to stare.
“Belle,” he growls. “I’m not telling you again.”
I blink away the last of the tears and tug my skirt up, letting the thin material skim my thighs until I’m exposed.
Julian, still leaning back in his chair, crooks one finger at me. I take a step forward, between his legs, my pussy throbbing and aching with anticipation.
I feel wild, wanton, like I’d let him do anything and do it happily. I’ve never felt this way before, never enjoyed submission like this. I don’t think I’ve ever tried it.
“Sit on my lap and show me how wet you are,” he says without moving.
I look down. His knees are splayed wide, and I bite my lip as I step carefully to the outside of one, trying to balance.
Julian grabs my hips with his firm, steady hands, guiding me until I’m straddling him.
“Drape the skirt behind you,” he commands, and I shove it backward, over my hips.
I’m almost totally exposed to him, the bodice of my dress still around my waist as well, my rock-hard nipples and dripping pussy completely betraying my body’s pure animal desire for this man.
He pulls me forward by the hips and I gasp, eyes fluttering closed with anticipation.
“Put your hands on my knees and lean back,” he tells me, voice lowering. “And don’t move.”
At the same time, he strokes one thumb over my clit and pussy, top to bottom, and reaches into the top drawer of a side table next to him. I moan out loud, completely unable to help myself, toes and fingers curling.
“You like it when I touch you,” he says, the barest glimmer of a smile crossing his face.
It’s not a question, but I answer him anyway.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, my voice hitching in my throat.
He’s got something in his hand, but he closes his fingers around it before I can figure out what.
“You want me to make you come,” he growls. “Did sucking my cock get you this wet, Belle?”
I’m spread across his lap, practically naked. I have no secrets.
“Yes, sir,” I murmur.
He strokes me again, just once, with his thumb. This time he lazily circles my clit in a slick circle, making my hips roll and my back arch.
“And you thought I’d fuck you right now,” he goes on.
I swallow hard, not answering, because I was definitely hoping that.
“You thought,” he says, his voice dropping low, two fingers finding their way to my entrance. “That after coming down your throat, I’d put you on my lap and let you ride my thick cock until I let you come. Or maybe you thought I’d bend you over this couch and fuck you hard while you screamed into the cushions.”
He slides two fingers into me, and I moan, head thrown back. To be honest, I’d barely thought about the mechanics of the act at all — I just wanted it.
“Or maybe,” he whispers. “You thought I’d take you back to my bedroom and make love to you there, whisper some sweet nothings in your ear while I made you come again and again, until you couldn’t come any more.”
He adds a third finger, crooking all three against the sensitive spot at the front of my channel, and my breath catches in my throat.
“I’m not, Belle,” he says, his voice still dangerous. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”
Julian pauses.
“I’m not even going to let you come,” he tells me, sliding his fingers out, grabbing my thigh with his hand.
I stiffen.
What?
He’s worked me up like this, put my pussy right in his face, made me dripping wet and desperate, and now he’s not going to let me come?
I could cry, but I’m frozen, just staring at him.
“Please?” I finally whisper. “Sir?”
Julian looks down, into his hand, opening his fingers around something that looks like a pink silicone egg. I know what it is instantly, and I hold my breath.
He’s going to torture me.
I disobeyed, I tried to escape, and now he’s going to torture me.
“You’ll come when I think you deserve it,” he says, his voice quiet. “And not a moment before.”
With that, he slides his other hand into his pocket, and a moment later the vibrator hums. The sound is barely audible, and I bite my lip and he grasps it between his thick fingers.
Julian slides the vibrator against me and I jolt, starting at my clit and slowly, so slowly, making his way down until it’s nestled between my pussy lips, buzzing and shaking against my entrance.
My breath is coming in quick, desperate pants, my eyelids at half-mast and my toes curling as he moves it up, circles my clit. I buck my hips on his lap, silently begging for more, for my captor to change his mind.
“Please,” I hear myself whisper, my voice barely there. “Please, sir.”
I’m barely hanging on by a thread and he’s watching my face closely. Just when I’m about to go over the edge, just when I’m desperate and needy and feel like I’m about to lose my mind, he pulls it away.
The hum stops, and there’s only the sound of my harsh breathing.
Then, without speaking, he nestles the vibrator against me, pushing it inside me with one quick motion.
I gasp, invaded. The small egg feels strange inside me, pressing against my sensitive spots, and I unconsciously buck my hips, trying to get more.
It doesn’t move, though Julian’s hand in still in his pocket.
“That stays there until I take it out,” he purrs. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a bit more work to do before I go to bed tonight.”
I stand, disappointed beyond belief, still topless but my skirt falling around my feet.
Julian stands as well, towering over me, and runs his hands over my body one last time, rolling a nipple between his fingers.
“You’ve got a press conference tomorrow,” he murmurs, taking my chin in one hand. “Better get some sleep.”
Before I can be surprised, he kisses me softly, gently. It’s not rough and possessive like our earlier kisses, but instead, it’s almost sweet. Loving.
I don’t know what’s happening. Is this the same man who just growled that I’d come when he wanted and not a moment sooner?
Julian pulls back. He runs one thumb over my cheekbone, and then before I can say anything, he’s gone again, striding for a back room in this suite, leaving me alone in the living room, body still tingling from what we still did.
I touch one hand to my lips, gently.
What just happened? I wonder.
Chapter Sixteen
Julian
I don’t lose control. I don’t.
I nearly did, just now, but I don’t lose control.
I open the door to the office in my suite, shut the door behind me quickly. I wasn’t lying that I have more work to do, but I also suddenly needed to get away from Belle before I did something.
Before I took her off my lap, tossed her onto the couch.
Before I lost control and took her hard and fast on the sofa like she was practically begging me to do, before I became a slave to my base desires, someone who can’t resist a girl.
Belle’s hard to resist, that’s for
sure. The hardest girl I’ve ever met, but if I lose control in this way, how else can I lose it? I’m a prince. I’ve got a country to run. People depend on me, and the last time I lost control, people died.
It wasn’t really my fault. Roadside bombs could make anyone lose control, but it still happened. I wasn’t in control, I couldn’t keep my men safe, and I lost most of them along with the sight in one eye.
I imagine a shrink would have a lot to say about the relationship between what happened that terrible day and the fact that now I’ve got a hidden dungeon in my bedroom, but I don’t know for sure. I’ve never asked one.
I just know that I always liked it a little rougher than most people did. That I wanted girls to rake their nails down my back while I pulled their hair, that I liked it best when they were tied up and moaning my name, that I could make a girl come even harder if I spanked her before I fucked her.
And now I’m here, with a St. Andrew’s cross and a wall of floggers, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Past my office door, I can hear Belle’s soft footsteps as she makes her way from the sitting room into the kitchen. There’s the slight clatter of pots and pans as she does something — probably fixing herself some dinner. I haven’t eaten, but I’m not hungry.
I wonder if she’s still topless, or if she’s pulled her dress back up and covered her perfect tits.
I’m sure she can feel the vibrator move slightly with every step she takes, even when it’s not turned on. That’s what the company promised, at least, and I imagine her leaning against the counter, hands balled into fists, as she fights it, juices sliding down the insides of her thigh.
The remote’s in my pocket. I could turn it on right now, make her jump, but I don’t. I really do have work that I need to do in here — and some of it is damage control about Belle’s situation.
I force myself to stop thinking about her, in the kitchen, pussy stuffed full, and turn my attention to the kingdom’s public relations.
Chapter Seventeen
Belle