Page 3 of Punished and Trained
Viola
The prince’s hand tangled in my hair, keeping my head in place so that he could press the velvet-smooth head of his cock against my pursed lips. “Open,” he said, and I did, with a sob, letting him push into my mouth with deliberate slowness.
As the thick shaft slid deeper, stretching my lips, filling my mouth, something in me shattered. My hands moved of their own volition, reaching behind me to grasp my burning buttocks. With a sob that vibrated around his thrusting cock, I pulled my cheeks apart, exposing the tiny flower of my most private opening to the empty air behind me.
The prince’s grip tightened in my hair. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice tight with pleasure. “Show me how much you want it there. Show me how empty you feel.”
My face burned with humiliation as I spread myself wider, my hips squirming against the bench, desperately seeking friction against my aching clit.
The prince fucked my mouth with methodical strokes, each thrust going deeper until I felt him hit the back of my throat. I gagged, eyes watering, but he didn’t relent. His rhythm was unhurried yet insistent, giving me just enough time to breathe before pushing in again. My jaw ached, my lips stretched wide around his massive girth.
“You present such a lovely picture,” he said, his voice steady despite his obvious pleasure. “Former President Herranofar, presenting her holes like a proper Euporian bed girl.” He twisted his fingers in my hair, angling my face to take him deeper. “Youwilllearn that this is who you truly are—I promise.”
I moaned around his cock, the vibration making him hiss with pleasure. My hips worked against the punishment bench, searching for pressure against my pussy. The burning welts across my bottom only intensified the need coiling inside me.
The prince withdrew suddenly, leaving me gasping. “Picture yourself, you little slut,” he said, his tone amused, yet darkly appreciative. “So desperate for release.” He traced a finger along my jaw, collecting the saliva that had escaped my lips. “I hope you weren’t expecting to climax anytime soon. Your governor is set to suppress your sweet cunny just enough to keep you from orgasm.”
“Please,” I whispered, hating myself for begging.
“No, Viola. Your defiance has consequences. You’ll remain on the edge until I decide otherwise.” His smile was cruel and beautiful. “Perhaps after the reception, if you prove particularly obedient.”
I whimpered, the prospect of prolonged denial both terrifying and perversely arousing. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, how he was reshaping my reality around his control.
“Keep your cheeks spread,” he ordered, moving behind me.
I felt his hand press firmly against my bottom, stilling my desperate movements. His touch was cool against my welts, a momentary relief that vanished when I felt something slick probe at my exposed anus.
“Take it,” he commanded as his middle finger pressed insistently against the tight ring of muscle.
I gasped as he breached me, the intrusion both uncomfortable and shamefully exciting. He worked his finger deeper with deliberate patience, twisting and exploring as if mapping my most intimate territory.
“I’ll take you here tomorrow night,” he informed me casually, as if discussing dinner plans rather than sexual conquest. “After the reception, when you’ve spent hours naked among the Euporian elite, I’ll bend you over and claim this sweet little hole.”
His finger pressed deeper, finding some spot inside that made me cry out. My inner muscles clenched around the invasion, my body betraying me yet again with its eager response.
“Please,” I sobbed, my hips working against his hand. “Please let me come, Sire.”
“No,” he said simply, withdrawing his finger. “Not until you’ve earned it.”
Frustration and need overwhelmed me. In a moment of desperate defiance, I started to squirm again, trying to press my clit hard enough against the bench to trigger my release, notcaring about the further punishment I knew I would receive or what the prince had said about the governor preventing me from climaxing…
Prince Hendren moved back to the front of the bench. Reaching over my back, he took hold of my whipped bottom and held it firmly in place, raising my pussy off the leather surface. I cried out as he squeezed the welts from the naval cat.
Worse, he had his enormous, rigid manhood in his left hand, pumping it rapidly, the purple head a scant centimeter from my eyes. To my horror I found that I had opened my mouth, and that saliva had gathered inside it, as if something inside me were desperate to please my master that way, desperate to have his seed inside me.
I moaned piteously, and as I heard the sound I found myself overwhelmed by a vertiginous series of memories: my sexual history before the Vionian revolt and the coming of the Magisterians… before I had signed the disastrous treaty that had turned me into a captive sexual plaything.
Pleasure, certainly—with men and women, the way a proper Artemisian elite should handle it. Nottoomuch pleasure though, because a woman rising through the ranks couldn’t let herself be distracted. Never… never… neverthat, though. Never my bottom.
Nor had I ever felt the need for a climax as greatly as I did now, as I held my buttocks spread, and the prince gripped me so dominantly there. Never had Iwantedto have a penis in my mouth, my mouth watering as if my master were denying me a delicious treat by keeping it in his own grasp.
His hand moved faster, the slick sounds of his self-pleasure filling the stateroom. I watched, transfixed, as his breathing quickened. My tongue darted out to wet my lips, a reflex I couldn’t control.
“Do you want this, Viola?” he asked, his voice husky. “Do you want me to mark your sweet face?”
“Yes,” I whispered, the word escaping before I could stop it.
Prince Hendren’s body tensed. A grunt escaped his chest. The first hot spurt landed across my cheek, the second across my lips. I gasped, tasting him, as rope after rope of his seed painted my face. My entire body convulsed with need, my sex clenching around emptiness as he claimed me in this shameful way. Tears leaked from my eyes—not from pain or even humiliation, but from the terrible knowledge that I wanted more, that the feel of his essence marking me had pushed me closer to the edge of release.
