by Jade London
Oh, this game, this teasing…I am not immune to it; I’ve teased myself as much as him. I’ve felt him inside me, felt him fill me, just a little. Felt his hands on my waist, felt their power, their rough possession. I’ve felt his gaze, and now I want to feel his touch. Feel his mouth. Feel his weight over me, feel his massive cock filling me completely, over-stretching me to blissful fullness until I’m breathless and groaning and wild.
I have desires. I have needs.
He may be king, but my body doesn’t know that, nor does it care, just as his mind and soul may be king, but his body is that of a mere man, one with needs.
I turn in place, facing him. Curtsying deeply, bowing my head. “Have I proven myself, sire?”
He laughs, a dark, amused, sultry sound. “Oh, you temptress.”
He rises from his chair, and I can’t help watching his dick sway as he crosses the space between us. He notices this, too. Stops when only a hair’s breadth separates our bodies. I could touch him, but I’ve done that already. I could tease him, but I’ve done that, too. If I’ve done everything right perhaps now he will touch me, tease me, tempt me.
He touches a fingertip to my chin, drags it down my throat, over my breastbone, and down between my breasts. “I believe you have.” He traces the perimeter of exposed flesh, following the curve of the bodice, dipping his finger between flesh and fabric. “I wanted you the first moment I saw you, you know. But now…now it is more than mere desire. Now it is…need.”
“What is it you need?”
He steps away from me, across the room, to the suit of armor where a dagger in a sheath is strapped around the waist of the armor; he withdraws the dagger and returns to me. He places the cold, wickedly sharp point to the flesh between my breasts. A drop of blood beads, despite his feather light touch.
“What is it I need?” he repeats. “This damnable dress off of you.”
And with that, he draws the dagger downward, the razor edge parting the chiffon with terrifying ease. Down between my breasts, over my belly, between my thighs, to the floor, slicing through the fabric without so much as a touch to my skin.
A brush of his hands, and the dress falls open, drifts off of my shoulders, floats to the floor.
And now, just like that…I am naked.
And at his mercy.
..
After a long, hot, hard gaze into my eyes he pivots, returns the dagger to its sheath, and then remains standing by the suit of armor. He’s staring at me hungrily, as if he can’t decide what he wants to do to me first. I merely stand and wait. I’m aching, throbbing between my thighs, dripping desire, my eyes devouring his gorgeous, naked form. Waiting, waiting, waiting for his touch.
He does not disappoint.
Four stalking, panther-smooth strides, and he’s in front of me. His huge hands go to my waist, above my hips and, for a beat, they remain there. Holding me. Palms fitting to the upper bell of my hips so perfectly, as if his hands were formed to cup me there just so. And then his hands slide down and he grasps my buttocks, caressing the generous swell of them, then smoothing around to the front of my thighs, fingertips now pointing at the floor, dragging his touch upward from kneecap to hipbones, trailing electricity along my flesh. To my belly, then, his touch roams, and from there he teases the mound of my pudendum, all ten of his fingers tickling and teasing and not quite touching me where I am most sensitive. I stifle a sigh when he traces the seam of my cunt with a fingertip. I clamp down hard on the urge to thrust my hips into his touch, resisting the need to beg him to touch me.
That teasing, torturous touch, his middle finger sliding up my slit ever so slowly, dragging along the slick, tender, plump lips of my labia, not penetrating at all, only teasing. Not slipping through the keyhole entrance to brush against my clit, not piercing into my channel. Not giving me what I need.
He smirks at me, a sly, predatory curve of his lips, then steps away from me, leaving me shaking and frustrated. He gestures at the chair. “Sit.”
I cross the room, pivot, sit in the chair, knees pressed together, thighs quaking, gut churning, blood racing. He approaches slowly, cock swaying, his eyes raking over my body. He stops, his knees bumping mine.
“So many things I could do to you.” He slips his hand between my knees, spreading my thighs open then drags his finger through my cunt, coating his finger with my juices. “I could just…touch you, until you came apart. Or I could tease you, like you did me. Touch, but not let you reach climax.”
“You asked me to prove myself,” I say, in protest. “I meant only to—”
“Quiet, girl,” he snaps, his voice low and snarling and brooking no argument; his is a voice you simply must obey. “You’ve had your chance. Now it’s my turn.” He grips his cock in one hard fist, straddles my thighs and rubs the silky-soft head against my cheek, across my lips. “I could tell you to finish me. You would look rather fetching, I think, with my seed all over your lovely face.”
“Would I?” The thought does not disgust me.
Not at all. I would tilt my face to take his cum on my lips, on my cheeks, on my chin, I would open my mouth and swallow it and lick it away.
I run my tongue across my lips, stare up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Is that what you want?”
He wedges his thumb between my teeth, tugs open my mouth, fits his cock between my lips. He stares down at me, arrogance on his features, then thrusts with his hips, filling my mouth, my throat, and then withdraws. “Or I could just fuck your pretty mouth, and watch you struggle to swallow all of my seed.”
I hum a moan around his cock because, right now, with his thick hard warm shaft in my mouth, tongue fluttering against his flesh, tasting him, feeling him, I would like that, too. Watching him come, watching him lose control.
“What else could you do to me?” I ask, when he pulls free, stepping back.
He scoops me up in his arms, lifts me from the chair with effortless ease and fits my thighs around his waist. I curl my legs around him, feeling the hard massive presence of his erection nudging my entrance. I cling to his shoulders, bury my face in his throat, ready for him, aching to be pierced by him, filled by him. He walks across the room, his hands on my ass, pulling me apart for him. He leans forward so I fall backward onto the bed, spine on the mattress, ass in the air, my legs still around his waist. He grips my hips and pulls me to the edge of the bed, lines his cock up with my cunt, notches the broad head into my opening…
But he doesn’t push in.
“I could fuck you here, just like this.” His voice is husky, raspy, his words whispered harshly; this is what he wants. “I could fuck you until you’re so sore you can’t walk. I could fuck you senseless.”
“Oh god…” I can’t help the words from whimpering out of me. “Please…please.”
He leans closer to me, giving me another stretching, beautiful, teasing inch of his cock. His hands carve up my torso to cup my tits, caressing them, squeezing them, pinching and twisting and flicking my nipples until I’m breathless.
“You would like that, would you?”
I nod, arch my back to shove my tits into his hands. “Yes—oh yes. I would like that very much.”
“You know…that’s what I want most myself.” There’s an odd note to his voice, and my eyes fly open to meet his.
“Then fuck me. Please. Fuck me until neither of us can move.”
He pulls away from me, out of me. “Not yet.”
I groan in frustration, emptiness. “Why not?”
“I want it too much. I’ve desired you for so long that now I have you, I want to prolong the pleasure of taking you.” He pushes between my thighs, wedging his body between them, against mine, his erection against my belly. So close, yet so far. His mouth laves my breasts, laps at them, licks my nipples, suckles on them, cups their weight and pushes them together so he can take both nipples in his mouth at once. “Of all the women in my kingdom, of all the women at my disposal in this castle, none of them make me so crazy as you.
I don’t know why, or what it is about you. But you will be mine, and I’m going to take my time.”
His mouth moves down my torso, his tongue flitting into my belly button, tickling, teasing, and then he’s kissing my hipbone and the hollow between hip and thigh, his hands under my ass holding me aloft, lifting me to his mouth. He kneels, then, in front of the bed, pushing my legs apart so my thighs press against my belly, spreading my pussy wide for him. His thumbs stroke my labia, and then gently they pull the tender, swollen lips apart, opening my folds like the petals of a flower. His nose nudges my clitoris, and his tongue flicks against my opening, and I gasp at the first warm wet touch of his mouth. I shiver, quake, and my thighs involuntarily close around his head, but he shoves them apart again and returns his touch to my cunt, opening my petals for his mouth, lapping at my entrance, then flattening his tongue against my hard, needy clit. I’m gasping, writhing because he’s devouring me now, hungrily, eagerly, skillfully.
I’m confused, though. I thought I was already his? A prize won in battle…weren’t those his words? A peace offering?
My thoughts are scattered as his tongue slathers and slithers into my cunt and against my clit, over and over, wildly, desperately, and then his fingers squelch into my slit and fuck relentlessly in and out, noisily, messily. The juices of my need are dripping and dribbling out of my pussy and down my taint, his fingers fucking me in a delicious rhythm, yet it’s still so far from what I want most, but almost…almost enough to push me over the edge—
Then his mouth suctions around my clit and the sensitive bundle of nerves scrapes past his teeth and he adds a third thick finger inside me and his pinky prods against my asshole, wiggling and worming and digging until his fingers fill me. Now the rhythm of his fucking fingers and the suckling force of his mouth on my clit is all I need…it’s just enough.
I come with a loud groan, my back arching off the bed, my fingers digging into his thick black hair and gripping those silken inky locks with desperate strength as he forces the orgasm out of me and milks the waves until I’m trembling and gasping and whimpering.
He rocks back, stands up, and his fingers are glistening wet and his mouth is shiny, and his cock is still hard and straight.
I gasp for a moment, and then gather myself to sit up. I slide off the bed and sink to my knees in front of him and stare up at him. “Let me give you release, sire.”
He doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw flexes, his fists clench and release; he’s warring with himself. “I spoke an untruth earlier.”
“You lied?” I remain on my knees in front of him. “About what? And why?”
He turns with a frustrated sigh and paces away. “You aren’t here as a peace offering. I didn’t win you in battle.”
“Oh?” My mind is blank, no recollections of anything beyond the courtyard and the journey to this room. “Then what is the truth, sire?”
“You are…my captive.” He turns in place, some feet away now. “Held for ransom. There was a battle, and my forces did win the day. But the war…? Well, suffice it to say the war is not going as well as that battle did. You are betrothed to your king. And I…stole you. He prizes you above anything, and I cannot afford a prolonged war. I have not the men nor the capital nor the desire to pursue the conflict. If I hold you, perhaps your betrothed can be persuaded to sue for peace, on the promise of your safe return.”
“Then why did you—?”
“Because we’ve met before, you and I. Your husband-to-be, we were both protégés of the same master-at-arms, long ago. We trained together, learned together, fought together, bedded the same tavern wenches and servant girls.” He lets out a deep breath. “We received our knighthood together, rose through the ranks together. We were assigned to the cohort of guards protecting the king. He was weak, that king. No sons, his wife long dead—in childbirth with you—as a matter of fact.
“Charles saw this as an opportunity. I opposed the plan, but Charles wouldn’t listen. He recruited a troop loyal to him, stormed the throne chamber, felled the king in a single blow, and claimed the crown. Claimed you as his bride. But…it is not so simple. You and I, we knew each other, in the halls of that castle. You were the king’s daughter, and I a mere soldier, then. When Charles began recruiting men to his cause, I knew I could not be part of it. The king was not a bad man, only weak from long illness, and without a male heir to take the throne. But he was no poor king. He loved his subjects. He loved you. Charles…he’s always been greedy. He lusts after more, always more. More power, more wealth, more women. He desired you almost more than the crown itself. But you wouldn’t have him. Perhaps you didn’t want me any more than you did Charles. But Charles was the one with the army, so he claimed you.”
“So how did I come to be here, and how did you gain your own crown?” I ask.
“That is a longer story,” he says, “but the short of how you came to be here is that Charles grew arrogant, having the superior force and greater numbers. He brought you to witness the battle. To witness my downfall, he assumed. It did not go that way, however. My men won the day, and I fought my way to you. Fought him sword to sword, and won. I hadn’t the heart to kill him, though I knew should have. Instead, I took you. Locked you in the tower and tried to tell myself I couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t have you.”
“Why couldn’t you have me? You make it sound as if I’ve been given little enough choice in any of this.” I pause to think. “I wish I could remember any of this, but I confess I recall nothing.”
“I am not the sort of man to force a woman to my bed. She will go willingly or not at all.”
“You are playing games with my mind, I believe.”
“A hazard of politicking, I fear.” He sidles closer to me, and the closer he gets, the harder his cock becomes; his erection had faded some as we spoke, but now it is regaining its fully hardened glory. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since my days in the castle Charles now calls his own. Since you were a nubile young girl, with barely budded breasts, and desires you barely understood but could scarcely control. How I managed to resist you those years, I still do not know. But now you’re here, a woman grown into her body…and I desire you more than ever. And you, it would seem, do not suffer a lack of desire in return.”
“I do desire you. I cannot hide it, and don’t see any need to.”
He stops when he is inches from me, towering over me as I kneel on the carpet-covered flagstones, sitting on my heels, hands on my knees, hair draping to almost-but-not-quite cover my breasts. “If I am to sue for peace, to offer you back to him in return for a truce, then I must return you to him unsullied. Already I have pressed beyond all boundaries. But yet I have not bedded you, not in truth.”
“I am not asking you to bed me. Only let me offer you pleasure, as you’ve given me. We could agree that all that has occurred in these chambers…remain secret, between us. No one else need know.”
“I would know. I would know the taste of you, and live the rest of my days tortured by knowing your taste—of having had a tantalizing glimpse of what it would be like to have you as mine…but, in truth, not having you. That would torture me beyond comprehension. To know the feel of your hands on me, the sweet sugar of your juices on my lips, your essence coating my fingers…to know the heaven of your lips on my flesh…but not to know the truest, deepest perfection of sliding between your thighs and falling into screaming bliss with you.” He grips his cock, strokes himself. “Such would be a perfect marriage of heaven and hell, my lady. It would drive me mad.”
I lift up onto my knees, and reach for his erection. “Then let us descend into madness together.”
He groans. “Temptress, thy name is cruelty.”
I sink my mouth around him, lick him as he slides between my lips and into the wet heat of my mouth, my throat. Back again, until he’s free of my lips and throbbing in my hands and wet with my saliva. “Does that feel cruel to you?”
“The cruelest temptations feel the sweetest until they’re t
aken away.”
“What if told you I wanted to stay here?”
“It would mean years of war. It wouldn’t be fair to my kingdom.”
“Surely there must be a way,” I murmur, and wrap my lips around him once more.
“Fuck…fuck!” he snarls as I take him deep into my mouth, swallow around his thickness, my tongue moving all over him, backing away only to gag myself on his cock all over again. “My seed rises, lady. Be warned.”
“You have tasted my climax…now let me taste yours.”
I back away and run both hands up and down his length, smearing my slick saliva over him, twisting my fists around his head and plunging them down, staring up at him. I flick my hair behind my shoulders to bare my breasts. He groans at the sight of them, so I lean closer and crush his erection between the heavy globes, rise up and sink down, tilt my chin to my chest and take the plump tip of his cock into my mouth as he appears from between the mounded flesh of my breasts.
I do this until he begins to groan and grunt, and his hips flex, thrusting harder against me.
“Soon…” he growls.
“I’m ready,” I whisper. “Let me taste you. Let me feel your seed on my skin.”
He’s breathless now, cock pushing harder and harder, and I close my fists around his erection at the base and let him thrust into my hands, into my mouth. Let him take my mouth, fuck my throat.
“You want it?” he demands.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Now?”
“Now.”
His hips flex forward, and his cock throbs between my lips. I back away until he slips free of my mouth with a pop, and stroke him root to tip with both hands, one fist above the other, eyes on his, staring up at him. He reaches up, slips the simple band from his hair and tosses it aside. His hair falls loose into his eyes, his chest heaves with deep, gusting breaths, his cock pulsates in my hands, and his fists flex and tighten at his sides.