***AUTHOR'S NOTE***
This work will continue to feature themes of fictional rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, or non-consensual sexual scenarios. All characters are 18 years or older.
Chapter 8: Royal Pain (Part 5)
PREVIOUSLY...
Since the emperor and both his children would be present, nobles were flocking to the party in great numbers. Hundreds of people--maybe over a thousand--would be in attendance. The most powerful families would all have at least one representative coming. After the festival, most families would stay in the city for the next two months or so just to attend parties and otherwise socialize in the capital. 'This is good!' I thought happily. 'More opportunities to rub elbows and build connections after the ball.'
Like that, three weeks came and went in a blink.
NOW...
It was the early morning of the first day of the festival. I startled awake as the prince slammed the heavy doors into my bedroom, loudly singing some bawdy tavern song. That part was unusual, but as it had become our ritual, I selected the OPTION to guide him to my bed. Instead of letting me take his hand when the scene unlocked, he grabbed me by the waist, lifting me and drawing me close to his chest. Reflexively, I wrapped my arms and legs around him, used to the feeling of my body clinging to his. He was in an especially good mood.
Locking his lips with mine, the taste of wine was faint on his tongue as it traced my mouth. He carried me to the bed and playfully tossed me onto the mattress. A jolt went through me as I landed on my guiche piercing, making me squeak in shock. Hubriste laughed at me, quickly discerning the cause of my outcry. Pushing aside my lace panties to reveal my pierced taint, he looped his finger in the ring and gave it a none-too-gentle pull. Toes curling, I let myself fall onto my back and raised my hips. The nerves of my clit and pussy were on fire with each tug of the ring.
What had I become? My body ached for his touch, whether I was overtaken by lust or not. On my own, I tweaked my puffy nipples, regularly hardened since they were pierced. The pain was a stimulating pleasure for my erogenous zones. Hoisting my knees up as high as I could to spread my cheeks wide, I presented my waiting hole for Hubriste, inviting him to take me. I barely spared a thought for Sir Videre, or for the guardsmen who watched me hungrily from the doorway. They may as well have been wallpaper.
"You're a randy little minx tonight," Hubriste teased, wasting no time once I was in position. Spitting a generous glob of saliva on my hole to aid his entrance, he eased his mushroom head inside me, pressing down on my thighs so that my legs spread wider. "Training you every day has been well worth it." He entered me all the way, his pelvis coming to rest flush against mine, pressing the guiche into my body and making my clit and hole twitch. Hovering over me, he was still smiling as he stared into my eyes. "I've made you perfect." Leaning down to kiss me again, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him deeper, unable to refute what he was saying.
He'd made me into his absolute plaything, the ideal toy for a depraved prince. In those long hours of heated coupling, I was nothing more than that. I'd perfected becoming the doll he wanted, both in and out of the bedroom. What had started as a performance to earn his approval and mitigate any punishments had become harder to distinguish from my reality.
He spent in me quickly that morning, not letting me cum. Rolling off me to flop onto the bed, Hubriste yawned and adjusted himself until he was sprawled out and resting his head on my pillows. He looked at me expectantly, but I hesitated. Usually, we fucked until he collapsed on top of me, passed out. He didn't even bring out the jeweled rod, the use of which had become a favorite, near daily, practice of his. On all fours, I crawled across the bed and moved to take his member in my mouth.
Laughing, he steered me to lie beside him on my back instead, idly tapping my hard clit when I was settled beside him.
"I can't be playing with you all morning, my lady. I need to sleep and save my energy for tonight's festivities." Lying on his side, he kissed my ear and rested his hand on my belly, imagining his seed planting inside me, most likely. "Play with your clit until I fall asleep," he commanded, his eyes half-closed.
Thankfully, he was out quickly once I started to pleasure myself.
[LUST: (★★★★★/☆☆☆☆☆)]
When I was sure that he was fully asleep, I disentangled myself from the arm draped over my torso. It was far earlier than we normally ended, but I didn't want to sleep next to him. Being fucked, licked, sucked, and fingered was one thing (or a series of things, whatever), but I'd come to accept that treatment until I could get home. However, I didn't need to indulge in minor forms of intimacy, like sleeping in the same bed as him.
One hot shower later, I felt right as rain, my skin raw and sensitive due to my over-enthusiastic scrubbing. I read my books until Flos came to get me for my lessons with Madam Hera. My routine resumed as expected despite the unusual start.
My dancing at that point was nearly flawless. I flowed around the room like a flower petal on the breeze, lightweight and graceful. The madam rarely had much cause to strike me over the last week, I so rarely missed a step. I excelled in basically everything, save needlepoint, which I managed to be mediocre at after some persistence.
Lunch was a thin bean sprout soup that smelled savory, but offered little in the way of actual nourishment. The most satisfying part of the meal was the three boiled quail eggs. Accustomed to the meager fare, I was nonetheless unsatisfied and hoped dinner would prove more sustaining.
After food, it was on to household management and a rehash of courtly etiquette. Madam Hera was fretting over my debut into high society, so hours were spent on the latter subject daily--not out of some sense of kindness or concern for me, but for her reputation, which would ride on my success or failure.
My routine diverged once more when Flos came to retrieve me for supper. Instead of the typical dining room, I was brought up a long staircase to the fourth floor and down a strange hallway past large alabaster statues of Intacta, paintings of past Saints receiving her blessings, and tapestries showing the goddess in various battles. Parting a sizeable blue velvet curtain, she revealed a large terrace where maids busily set up a candlelit dinner.
Hubriste was standing on the far side of the terrace, overlooking the gardens below, his back turned towards me. The winds blew softly, tousling his golden hair and chilling me. I wasn't dressed for the night air. Wearing a white-colored crop top with a large blue bow at the neck and a matching pleated blue miniskirt, I was downright cold. I was thankful for the white knee-high stockings I wore, though the blue heels hurt my feet after walking and dancing in them all day. Underneath, I had a white lace bra with slits over the nipples, letting my piercings poke through the shirt, and a white lace thong.
