The Young King and his Court

[Claret_Dreams]

Dorian sat in the deep-seated throne that was situated behind a heavy layer of blue velvet curtains. Bored and a bit irritated he leaned against his knuckle and spun the point of a decorative sword which was fashioned for ceremonies; in it’s history it had been used twice, one to honor the new dynasty and the other to announce a war. Whether or not it he wielded it for one of these situations, who knew? Though it would be found out soon.

Several minutes passed and outside cheers and outcries of what seemed to be a massive crowd, but as it set, he was not amused and it showed by the way he easily brushed off the advances of one of the servants who was dressed in a purple loin cloth trimmed with silver fray, purple top that seemed to crush her breasts together producing a massive amount of cleavage, while on her wrist the sign that she was chattel was all too clear by a tight metal bracer. When she was brushed away, she had fallen onto her rear, the chain that held her connected to a thick steel rod clattered against the ground. He responded with a nonchalant tone, “Leave me be whore.”

Standing up from his seat, he slung the dulled edge of the blade onto the protruding shoulder protection of his silver armor, releasing a cloud clank when metal hit metal. “Enough of this idle waiting, what am I waiting for anyway!” He shouted, hand grabbing a handful of the tactile velvet curtains, opening them only a peek before an advisor ran up and wrapped his wrinkled and frail digits around the matching silver vambrace on his left arm, “Sire you mustn’t go out there before-“

With another headstrong thrust, he shook his arm violently trying to cast the elderly man away. When he did, he walked up to him, taking a handful of his fine tunic, bringing his face to his own while the older male was against the cold stone tiles of the floor, “How dare you place your hands on me, I am royalty, that means you don’t lay a hand on me unless I prompt it! Understood!?” He demanded, only receiving a whispered answer, “Yes sire.”

“Coward,” Dorian said, releasing his grip and grinning a wide sadistic grin.

Ducking his head, he slipped from behind the curtain, letting the velvet sway. Once outside the cheering of the crowd was heard, he basked in it with a haughty stance: eyes closed, chin lifted pridefully, and hands placed over the end of the handgrip. When he grew weary of it, he raised a hand, it did nothing; this irritated him immensely. The ideology that he had grew up with, practically becoming his religion was that he was chosen by God; better than them, thus they must worship and obey his EVERY command. A growl began to grow under his breath, knuckles turning white as anger raced through his frame, then he released one hand and raised his voice, lifting the sword with a precise and masterful wielding, pointing it towards the crowd, “I asked for your silence now you will give it to me.”

The crowd grew silent.

Lowering the sword to rest as it had been on his shoulder, he paced the tiny expanse of the balcony, “Friends, servants, and loyal supporters; you have gathered her in a most dire circumstance. It seems that the Fort Balton has been conquered.” He stopped and turned to the crowd, “This will not tolerated! Now I will keep this short because time is of the essence, “The Kingdom of Sorcal believes we are weak, they say our power comes from our slaves, but they are wrong! I trust that everyone of you will aide me in crushing our foes. It is our time to shine, let us rally and conquer!”

Thrusting the sword into the air, he let the jade pools wander over the audience, he continued while his hand was raised, “This sword has only been presented only two times in the past, one for peace and the other for war; this is neither. I present this sword is in the result that it will bring on our Golden Age, now rise with me!”

Then he let his other hand raise, eyes shut while the paled sun beat down onto the armor, causing it to send vibrant light off the armor so that it gave him the appearance of a god. Turning his back to them now, the long cloak silver cloak fluttered in the wind that caught it, body slipping behind the curtains.

***

OPEN AGAIN!

 

[Claret_Dreams]

Remaining in the small antechamber of the palace throne room which was in most cases the palace’s own version of the “Hanging Gardens,”situated near a fountain that sprayed a small stream of water into the air, falling and becoming collected in the shining pool beneath. It was his usual spot for writing - yes while he was cruel, he did have a human side to him, this was writing - in this case he was writing on what seemed to be a continuation of a previous work; Green Waves, a fiction written in the point-of-view of an Admiral of a nation’s army.

Feet propped up onto a lower wall, he let his hand dance across the page, the point framing every letter flawlessly onto the paper. He hummed then, adjusting the diadem on his head so that the jagged points didn’t pierce so harshly into his long black tresses.

***

Name: Dorian Xel Gael
Age: 19
Position: King (of Gale Kingdom)
Traits: Long black hair, green eyes, and pale skin.

 

[Claret_Dreams]

A dwindling interest in his own writings were apparent in position he was propped up; that is with his wrist laid against his chin, knees lifted, one draped off the side of the wall. He had been scribbling on the surface of the pages, leaving a series of recurring dots until he slammed the book shut and hopped off into a field of ferns where he temporarily disappeared. Above him, the twin moons had come up, and were at the point where they seemed to overlap over one another - this was a phenomenon that occurred every night; marveled at because of the aphrodisiac effect that it had on the planet’s tenants.

When he resurfaces from the grove of ferns, he brushed the silver tunic off and bundled the cloak around his figure; hiding the dagger which was jammed into the purple sash that was tightly wrapped around his waist. Once out of the antechamber, he emerged into the throne room where he furtively followed a shadowy trail behind the wide pillars that were uniformly put along the outside circumference of the room. Dorian followed this trail until it emptied into a chamber where common folk were allowed in; adequately named "The Commons".

 

[Claret_Dreams]

Dorian’s eyes scanned the region for any notable figures, yet when he found nothing, he merely scowled and leaped the short distance of two stairs and crossed a young couple who had been taken in by the moon’s inviting effects while he on the other hand merely passed by, dodging other occupants as well before reaching the large wooden double doors near the back; cracked to let it’s occupants in. Once out, he found himself staring at a vast field, segregated by a clam river, and close by the bridge to cross that.

 

[DaisyBuchanan]

She was the picture aristocratic beauty as she moved across the bridge with graceful dignity. Her hair of honeyed red-gold spilled over her shoulders and down her back, the heavy waves held from her face by silver bands set with blue jewels, her dark-lashed blue eyes were filled with the innocence of the sheltered and cherished, while her chin gave hint of a willful streak common among the pampered and indulged. Cut and sewn by an expert hand to flatter the delicate curves of her petite figure, her pale blue gown was of the finest silk and matched the gems in her hair and around her neck. Only the faint rise of color in her cheeks gave clue that something was amiss.

Lady Arbella Rancal was anxious; she knew there would be trouble when her servants discovered she was missing. It was her hope that they would think to search for her at her favorite spot on the bridge instead sounding an alarm or notifying her father.

She had escaped the confines of her quarters, eager for a few moments alone, a few minutes away from watchful eyes and suspicious glances. Life at the Court of the Kingdom of Dale had recently become very uneasy for Lady Arbella, she was from Sorcal, and she was a cousin of its King. He father, the Sorcalian ambassador to Dale, had her join him many months ago and she had been a frequent and popular sight at court events until her country attacked Fort Balton. Since then her father has kept her confined, for her own safety. Although it was for her own protection, imprisonment was hard on an active 18 year old accustomed to being at the center of courtly activities and focus of much masculine attention.

She halted her walk at the apex of the bridge; it was her destination. The calm flow of the river, the gentle sound of moving water, and the soft glow of the reflecting moonlight always brought her peace. Perhaps it reminded her of home or perhaps because it was simply a beautiful site. She knew she should return to the castle before someone spotted her but she could not tear herself away from the beauty of the moons, not yet, not until she found the tranquility she needed to continue her opulent imprisonment.
***
Name: Lady Arbella Rancal
Age: 18
Position: Courtier
Traits: long honey-red hair, blue eyes, fair skin

 

[Claret_Dreams]

Dorian had been locked up in the castle since the attack, listening to the esoteric language of his dull military advisor while he plotted the attack on the Sorcal border. The only humor he got from their daily meetings was the Laurie, the eldest of his seven advisors, whom had been around for a long time, since Gale and Sorcal had been united into one country. What made him funny was not his age but his speech, he mispronounced words all the time, included in this was Sorcal. Several times in a meeting he would be speaking and the word would come up, ‘we must protect the border from the Soarka,’ and he usually got offended when one of the others snickered under their breath and corrected him by punctuating each sound, ‘Soar-k-ale.’

Though that was behind him, Dorian, wrapped in the white cloak, he let it go and get caught in the wind. Tossing into the air, his ebony tresses floundered in the air while he pushed against Whispering Plain’s strong gust of wind - there was a reason why the walls on this side of the fortress were fortified. When the wind died, it relinquished it’s hold over his cloak and locks, letting them set into place. Minutes passed before he approached the bridge, the bright light of the sun that beamed into his eyes in full effect when it hit the horizon, blinding him momentarily while he stared at what seemed to be a silhouette of a human figure.

Regardless, he let one hand slip under his cloak, digits wrapped around the dagger at his side in case she was an assassin. Heavy footsteps were heard when he got onto the creaking bridge, the same sound occurring as if an army was crossing the bridge, while he reached the zenith of the bridge. He stopped then, blinking and turning to look at her lavished figure, lofting a brow as he spoke clear and informatively, “You know it’s not safe to be here at night, several women have been reported missing near this area; and I thought I put a curfew for women?” He stopped, remembering the law he had put into motion a few days ago, looking up at the sky to determine the time, “And it seems it’s past curfew.”

Grinning then, he approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder while the other one remained tautly clasped onto the hilt of his dagger, “You’re under arrest, I will accompany you to the castle to receive punishment promptly, but until then you will give me good company on my jaunt.” He said in an official’s tone of voice, a smirk rising on his lips while he practiced the laws that he had set in place for a reason, and no one, regardless of how beautiful was exempt.

 

[DaisyBuchanan]

Arbella thinks of home as she looks out over the slow moving water of the peaceful river. Lacking any political experience, she never expected there would be violence between the land of her birth, and the one she has lived in so happily. It frightened her even more that her father could give her no justifiable excuse for the outbreak of the war. Lord Rancal knew of no reason for the attack beyond the avarice and ego of a young King. One new to the throne and eager to make his name one that would go down in history, even if that meant paying the brutal cost of war in blood and treachery. She knew her father felt the stress of the situation. Indeed, how could he defend his homeland or his family when his own King kept the truth from him? His own King was his own wife’s nephew, his family.

The echo of footsteps on the bridge, an army of them by the sound, roused Arbella from her reverie; she drew back in fear as she felt a sudden panic lurch her in chest. She had hoped to avoid discovery outside without a duenna, it was a breach of etiquette likely to effect her reputation. In her naive innocence, a violation of courtly protocol was the worst that she could imagine happening. Still, she was relieved when she saw the noise was made by only a single man, a well-dressed gentleman, not a soldier or a peasant. She was ready to turn and flee back to her quarters as he approached but he spoke in a familiar voice, one she could not quite place and she remained to hear his words.

“You know it’s not safe to be here at night, several women have been reported missing near this area; and I thought I put a curfew for women?” He paused briefly, as if some new wisdom occurred to him. “And it seems it’s past curfew.”

Her unease returned a thousand fold, as she recognized who addressed her. Although the handsome young king grinned, anxiety settled like a rock in her stomach. There would be no running away now, and no way to keep her indiscretion from the court. In her mind’s eye, she could see the look of dismay on her father’s face as she added social scandal to the political catastrophe he was already trying to resolve. She tried to observe the few social niceties that remained to her. As he reached for her and placed his hand on her shoulder, she sunk in a graceful genuflection. Her knee scant inches from the dirty wood of the bridge floor and her head bowed in respectful submission, for a moment it looked as if she was kneeling at his feet.

As she rose, his words struck true fear in her and she saw her previous concerns were nothing compared to what she faced. “You’re under arrest, I will accompany you to the castle to receive punishment promptly, but until then you will give me good company on my jaunt.” His cool official tone and smirking lips only intensified her fears.

She kept her head bowed in the presence of the King but looked up at him from beneath her dark and heavy lashes, “Your Majesty, please forgive me. I knew nothing of the curfew. I assure had I been aware, I would never have left the security of my quarters. Please, allow me to return, I vow I will not violate your will again. I swear it.” The beseeching words pour from her in a voice both sweet and smooth, and carrying the underlying richness of true fear.

 

[Claret_Dreams]

“Your Majesty, please forgive me. I knew nothing of the curfew. I assure had I been aware, I would never have left the security of my quarters. Please, allow me to return, I vow I will not violate your will again. I swear it,” she blabbered to him, attempting to get out of her predicament. When she fell to his knees, his apathetic green eyes looked down at her’s and then darted to stare at her shoulders, finally replying with a stern response, “If I let you get off then others will too. Though your punishment will be worse if you keep pleading the way you have been.”

Reaching down to grab her small wrists, he brought them together with a tinge of force, thinking she would resist. Then he reached into the sash on his hip, fingers retrieving a silk rope from it’s contents and bringing the rope around her wrist. Loop after loop he expertly bound her wrists until the only thing left was the dangling excess between her wrists. Using the excess, he wrapped it around his wrist, holding it tightly in his palm when he jerked against it to make her body lurch forward. “To your knees, girl,” he said coldly without giving her the respect of facing her.

Brows furrowing, he looked at the surroundings in front of him; there was nothing, yet he continued what seemed to be soul searching on his part. Looking down to her when he had forced her up to her feet, he grinned and pointed towards an opening in what seemed to be a tiny grove, “There, that is where we will be heading to for now.” Then without another sound, the Young King carried himself forward, hand pulling her along by the leash on her wrists.

Not a word came from his lips as he escorted her to the grove, taking ten minutes on the dirt pathway. Though by the looks of him, he was stressed over something and still he had no idea who she was, now did he ask until they reached two strangely bent trees, “What’s your name, girl?” He addressed her, a purr heard when he pronounced girl, the only explanation was that the effects of the moons had gotten to him due to the stress of political matters.

 

[DaisyBuchanan]

“If I let you get of then others will too. Though your punishment will be worse if you keep pleading the way you have been.” His voice went from cool to cold in reply to her pleas and she bit her lip to silence her desire to explain or implore him further.

She was stunned into stillness when the King grabbed her wrists. She thought of resisting, trying to pull her small hands from his but she knew any attempt would be a vain act of futility. He was far stronger than she was but as he wrapped and knotted the silken rope around her wrists, she wished she had run when she still had the chance. She had hope at first, her bones were small and delicate; perhaps she could slip out. No, so many passes around and around, too tight a knot, she would not even be able to twist them loose, let alone slip free. The young King wrapped the free end around his own wrist and held the remainder in his hand. With a sharp tug, he pulled it, and jerked her shapely body forward. Arbella stumbled, nearly falling, and she cursed herself for her lack of grace and forethought as the pain in her wrists brought her to sharp attention. She would remain focused, did not wish to be caught off guard again.

“To your knees, girl,” his cold voice commanded. She stood for a moment, motionless in her in confusion; no one had ever ordered her to do anything. Ever. In her life. Not as the cousin of a king, not as a lady of the court, not even as a dutiful daughter. She felt her hackles rise but was too frightened to refuse compliance. Her hands bound in front of her, Arbella gracefully sank to knees before the King. Fear and anger brought additional color to her cheeks, and her chest softly heaved in agitation as she attempted to control her rising emotions.

She watched silently as his eyes scanned their surroundings. She wondered what he was searching for and nearly asked him. Her lips opened to form the words but she closed them without making a sound. She realized he would not appreciate her offer of assistance. Whether he found what he was looking for or not, she could not determine but he seemed satisfied and brought her to feet again.

Grinning down at her, the handsome King pointed to a small stand of trees, “There, that is where we will be heading to for now.” The trees meant nothing to her; she had never strayed from the path. She did not know what was beyond path or in the trees but had no option other than to follow him as he pulled her by the silken rope.

For ten minutes, she followed him down the dirt path, small stones and dust making harsh work of her dainty shoes but she did not complain. She took pride in her ability to remain silent, her chin lifted high as she walked, keeping pace only to deny him a reason to tug at the rope again. She only wished she could see his face and have a chance to read what he was thinking.

Her wish was granted soon enough, when he stopped between two odd trees. “What’s your name, girl?” There was purr in his voice as he asked the simple question that sent a shiver through her body affecting her more strongly than his commands.

She straightened her back, and raised her chin to stand as proudly, and gracefully as she could while humiliatingly bound. “I am Lady Arbella Rancal. My father is Lord Rancal, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Sorcal to the Kingdom of Dale, Your Majesty.” She swallows heavily before she continues. “I meant no disrespect to your laws, Your Majesty, it was a mistake. Only that.”

 

[Claret_Dreams]

“I am Lady Arbella Rancal. My father is Lord Rancal, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Sorcal to the Kingdom of Dale, Your Majesty.” he heard her state proudly, tacking on a formality when referring to him. Pride ran through his veins then as he stuck out his chest and lifted his chin, “Sorcal shall fall to their knees just as you did to me on the bridge soon enough,” he stated while the same haughty grin clad on his lips.

They had gone far from the bridge where they had met; it seemed that it the castle was only a speck on the horizon, but the truth was that the treetops blocked most of the towers heights. The crossing that they had stopped at was where most travelers stopped and gazed at the various types of terrain that the paths lead to: East leading through the Great Forest, East to the rolling landscape of Pelot’s Ridge - named after the Dynasty before his - and north towards the border of Gale and Sorcal.

Looking north, he stared distantly, “To think that in a few days this road will be clouded with dust from our horses...” then he turned his head to look behind her, “Sorcal scum like you deserve to die, and when we do go on our war trail, we will kill everyone that opposes us.” Then his body turned completely, brows furrowing in anger. Twisting the silk lead around his wrist so that he could jerk her violently towards her, he caught her body with his, hand with the lead wrapping around her waist while he cupped her cheek.

The twin moons were at their zenith now, their aura it’s strongest! Against his chest, he looked down to her, moving his hand on her waist down and cupping her rear, then pushed her lower body closely against his. “Mmm, but I suppose that in every war there is pleasure and pain, and right now I desire the former of those,” he whispered while looking down at her; it was then that this spot, which seemed like an undesirable place, seemed full of opportunity.

It was a risky move, but one that he wanted more than anything; he had been official with her capture, while what he had told her was true, he was never that punctual when it came to enforcing policy of punishment - usually he just killed them right there. It was only when the firm bulge of his erection against her cloth covered thighs was felt that his intentions were made obvious.

 

[DaisyBuchanan]

“Sorcal shall fall to their knees just as you did to me on the bridge soon enough,” Arbella remains silent and looks down to her feet. She cannot defend her country, they were the aggressor, but his haughty grin frightens her far more than his words do. War is men’s work; if not over one thing, then it is over another. It seldom lasts for long and almost never affects the women. Court life goes on, faces change but life continues as usual. That is war, distant and impersonal, but his smile was another matter. She could tell the darkness in his smile was focused directly on her.

She lifts her head and watches him scan the landscape, and see his gaze settle in the direction of Sorcal. “To think that in a few days this road will be clouded with dust from our horses...” then he turned his head to look behind her, “Sorcal scum like you deserve to die, and when we do go on our war trail, we will kill everyone that opposes us.” The ferocity of his words scared her so, that he once again caught her by surprise but this time the pulling jerk of the rope did not make her stumble, instead her body collided with his, and he kept her from falling to the ground. Her fear glowed from her eyes as he further bound her by wrapping the silken rope around her slender waist while his other hand brushed the lead against her hotly burning cheek.

“Mmm, but I suppose that in every war there is pleasure and pain, and right now I desire the former of those,” She tried to twist away as his hand on her rear pushed her body harder against his, she shook her head in denial as felt the throbbing bulge of his flesh through the fine silk of her gown. She fought the panic she felt growing in her, as her fear brought blood to her cheeks, flushing her neck and chest, her breath, driven by her pounding heart, came in sharp heaving gasps, and her knees grew so weak she remained standing only through force of will. It was now her turn to scan the landscape, she was searching for help, someone to call for assistance. But there was no one, not even in the distance. And nearby, the ugly, twisted trees seemed to mock her, and like the King, take pleasure in her fear.

She pleaded for his mercy before and received none, now she could only struggle to escape. Her bound hands pushed against him, as she tried to twist from his hold, but her effort were useless against his strength, and he expended little energy keeping her imprisoned against him. Even without the rope, she was helpless against him.

"Please." she begged of him.

 

[Claret_Dreams]

When the girl squirmed in his hold, he twisted her back, pressing her back into his chest. A soft breeze was coming in from the west, causing their loose garments to flutter around them. “Please,” he heard her beg, in almost a whisper. Suddenly his body grew stiff and he stared at her, if not for his impassive stare, one might think that her words had affected him. The strange silence lasted for what seemed an eternity along the continuing breeze, but both ended promptly.

Dorian continued to look into her eyes, his facial expressions still stoic, and finally his face began to contort: head tilting to the side, eyes lit up by the moon, and lips turning to that sinister smirk. “No,” came the curt response that marked the beginning of the raping of poor Arbella.

Twisting her body around with his hands placed on her hip and shoulder, he pushed her roughly towards one of the fence posts. The post felt like a brick wall when it slammed into her stomach; if she could move at that moment, then she would get away because a split second later crackling of the footsteps on dirt road was heard. He had her at last! Hands were felt on her shoulders, slowly slipping down to her wrists where he lifted her bound hands over the thick fence post, slipping it down so that they were stuck unless she was given the time to lift them up and over it.

At this point, his skillful hands changed it up, one hand pressing against the back of her neck while the other reached for the pearl handled dagger at his waist. Her head was flung downward so that her cheek pressed threatening close into the splintered end of the post.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, letting his lips press to the bareness that was the nape of her neck, then just as he warned her, came the disheartening sound of ripping; it was her dress! The silk parted without must coaxing under the sharp edge of the dagger, causing the tearing that she heard, it ended when the knife reached the small of his back where he would push the dagger back into his sheath in his sash. “There we go,” he said in a breathy voice while he stared at her fair skin. It caused him to lick his lips.

How could someone of noble birth be doing this! This was something that only peasants and rogues did, and he was neither. The dress was torn more, yet not fully when he gripped the frayed hem that the knife had created, and jerked. Now torn to back of her knees. Touching her shoulder with the his freed hand he slipped the strap of the dress off of her shoulder, followed by the other; the straps getting caught at her bound wrists, yet her dress fell lower, pooling on the ground under her.

“You look just breathtaking, Sorcal whore. You should feel honored that my prick is pounding for you,” he said with a light chuckle. Staring at her bare back, her ass shaped rear faced him, round breasts just begging to be groped. A shiver came from Dorian’s lips then as he stepped closer, letting his hand remain at the back of her neck, though now it slipped to the center of her back, nails curled to drag down her spinal column while the other began to loosen the laces of his trousers.

Within a few short moments, his trousers were lowered, yet still hung on his figure. Revealed what his engorged and erect phallus, just waiting to attend her figure. Poising it with his hand, he prodded her nether regions gently, and through the endeavor, he managed to slap her clitoris once; then he found her entrance. Wet or not, he prodded her sex with his phallus’s head again, managing to wedge the head into her confined hole.

Gripping her hip then, he let his breath blow over her back as if the wind, “Like I said, prepare to be punished like a common whore.” Then his hips violently bucked, the girth of his erections shaft stabbing into her warm sex. It hugged his violating cock with opened arms, in fact he commented on her, “If all the women of Sorcal feel like you then my army shall love taking over your country.” Reluctantly he pulled out, the shaft glistening with her womanly juices. Cupping her opposing him with the hand on her neck, he clutched her waist tightly, driving her back down into his impaling erection, his hips buckling with her thighs when they met.

It wasn’t long then that another gust of wind traveled over the hills, blowing over her naked body, the breeze even caused him to shiver, but it only lasted before it was cancelled by the surging heat running through his veins. Dorian pulled out again, the head remaining buried in her folds. Removing one hand from her waist, he struck her plush derriere, daring her to resist with perverted insults. “If only you could see just how wet you get when I fill your cunt with my cock, just like this,” he said while he smirked, pulling slowly out and pushing every last inch back into her, letting his heels raise to let his cock stab deeper. Then he pulled back out, letting that hand that had slapped her rear slip between her thighs, trailing down to catch her by her inner thigh.

Lifting her leg and separating it so that only foot remained planted firmly (if that) on the ground, he began to gyrate his hips fluidly, letting the eight inches of his manhood continue to piston mechanically into her. Gradually his thrusts would acquire more ferocity to them; until his thighs could be heard making a boisterous slap the back of her thighs. Though the only sound from his lips were the constant jeering of her and the guttural, soft groans from his mouth.

 

[DaisyBuchanan]

Time stood still for Arbella as she waited for the King to answer her final plea. He stood motionless, staring at her, as if considering allowing her fate to follow a different course than the one he implied. His face remained impassive while he was looking into her eyes and hers searched his for a sign. She felt hope rising in her breast. Without a sign or a signal, his head shifted to the side and his impassive expression changed to one of cruelty, and his lips smirked and he answered her.

“No.” It was all he said but it was enough for Arbella, she felt the single word rip her last precious piece of hope to shreds and for a moment was too defeated to see what must come next or what she should do next.

While in her temporary apathy, he twisted her around and shoved her against a fence post. The force of the impact pushed the breath from her lungs and she struggled for her next grasp of air. She was regaining her breath as he ingeniously secured her to the post with the silken rope.

She felt his strong hand at the back of her neck and she struggled against him. She was a Daughter of Sorcal, she would not give up without at fight, but her grace was no match for his power. He forced her head down, and she could not suppress a whimper as the sharp end of the post approached her smooth cheek. Fearful of what it could do to her delicate skin, Arbella squeezed her tear-filled eyes closed and abruptly ceased her struggles.

She felt his warm breath on her neck as she heard him whisper, “Don't move.” Then his lips were gently pressing against her neck and she felt something unfamiliar, a warmth …but any feeling was interrupted by the sound of ripping silk. She did not want to believe it was her dress being torn but she felt the cool night air blow across the bare skin of her back and she knew for certain what had happened. She wanted to scream but she knew the time for that had passed. On the bridge, it might have brought her help but now they were too far away from everyone for there to be any hope of help for her. She realizes it would not have mattered, even if she had screamed, no one would have helped her. No one would be foolish enough to defend her against the king. No one would risk his wrath. He became the master of her fate the moment he stepped onto the bridge.

“There we go.” He said with a new and frightening quality to his voice. She felt his hand tug at the remaining silk of her gown and then the coolness of the night air against her bottom and the back of her thighs. He then slid the straps of her gown off her shoulders. The straps caught on her bound wrists, but the gown fell away from her, most of the torn silk pooling at her feet, leaving her body entirely exposed to him. Naked and vulnerable, Arbella now fought back her tears.

“You look just breathtaking, Sorcal whore. You should feel honored that my prick is pounding for you,” he said with a chuckle that sounded sinister to her ears. He stepped closer and she winced as he dragged his nails down her back.

It is too much for her to stand in silence, “I am not whore, and I am not your enemy. I am a noble woman, a lady. You have no right to do this to me. You can’t do this, it is wrong.”

She felt his member move between her legs, warm and firm, probing gently at the outer layer of her sex, finding its way through one pair of lips. Moving and searching for the way in. She softly whimpered as she lifted her small body on to her toes, in an attempt to escape the prodding of her private parts. She whimpered again as the slap of his tool against her, sent a shock that was both painful and not… She shook her head, sending her honey-gold hair flying around her, veiling her face and blanketing her cheek from the jagged post. Despite her efforts, his probing determination found her tight little hole. She bit her lip to keep from screaming as he forced his way into her.

“Like I said, prepare to be punished like a common whore.” The pain of his forced entry, could not prepare her for the pain that came next as he violently stabbed his hot tool into her. His hips bucking, he forced his way past her maidenhead into her tight, warm tunnel. She squeezed tightly in an effort to expel him but only gave him pleasure as her inner walls contracted around him and a moan escaped through her bitten lip. “If all the women of Sorcal feel like you then my army shall love taking over your country.”

He pulled out and Arbella relaxed and sighed with relief, believing it was over. She screamed her surprise when he pulled her back, impaling her tiny body on his cock. The passage was easier, made slick by her blood and fluid. Although virgin tight, he stretched her to accommodate him in a glove-like perfect fit. Her body writhed with each bucking thrust, and she was unable to decide whether to pull away or push back against him.

The young King pulled out of her again, leaving only the head of his shaft buried in her. She did not relax, she struggled to calm her panting breaths and slow her racing heart. The sharp crack of a hard slap filled the air and Arbella cried out as the pain radiated outward for the center of his blow.

“If only you could see just how wet you get when I fill your cunt with my cock, just like this,” she shuddered at his language and only guessed at is meaning. Slowly and forcefully, he pushed his way into her; he ploughed open the farthest reaches of her sex, filling her tunnel with one deliberate and dynamic drive. She felt full, filled, and heavy and she moaned freely as his cock smoothed across the secret spot inside her.

This time she whimpered when he pulled out of her. He lifted her leg, splaying her for use, freeing her entrance for him to maneuver and now he truly fucked her. First, he moved with the hard, full-measured thrusts of a man in control seeking to satisfy his need, swiveling his hips to increase the range of pleasure. Arbella mewled as his gyrations brought him to the special spot, again and again. As his thrusts quickened to a fierce pace, driven by barely controlled lust, he plunged into her hard and fast, roughly. Giving pain and taking pleasure. Arbella groaned and vainly tried to brace herself against this assault but there was nothing for her bound hands to hold on to and she could barely stay upright on one foot. She was totally dependant on him. His powerful thrusts jerked her like a doll on a string, her breast bounced, her hair flew, and tears flowed down her cheeks.

 

[Claret_Dreams]

Strike after strike his hips slammed into her thick thighs; pushing her body forward and then being pulled back into it’s stationary position. Hypnotically her breasts bounced over her chest with each violent thrust, and each thrust became faster with an even more aggressive thrust afterwards. Breath growing rigid, phallus pulsing her in virgin folds, and groaning louder, his instincts pushed him along the lusty trail of their intercourse.

Releasing her hip, his hand reached underneath her; caressing her large globe like chest in a vigorous manner; the vivacious rotations that he brought one of her breasts in soon stopped when his finger came to pinch the head of her diamond-like nipple head. Tugging hard; sensations jolted through her chest, down her spine, and filled her entire body. Gritting his teeth when the electricity reached her damp netherregions, he prepared himself, and then it happened - her tunnel seemed to collapse for just a moment, hugging the length of his cock helplessly; “Ugh, so fucking tight!” he growled through gnashed teeth.

The position that they had been put in made it so that his thrusts lacked any form of power behind them, yet he still continued, but in slow and drawn out pushes. Relaxed and appreciative for the stress hat he was relieved from, he slowly pulled out. Though the main delight of her body that he had relished in was now disconnected, he let his other hand release her inner thigh, pushing against the small of her back so that her thighs slammed against the hard wood.

“Mmm, I can’t just let you off that easy, I have to make sure that you’re body never forgets who I am,” he chuckled breathlessly, loins still pulsing with extreme strain - he had been close. Against her thighs, his prick; covered in her virgin lovejuices and blood, seemed to pound excruciatingly, yet he still managed to find her neglected breast with the freed hand. Both of her breasts now rested in his palms as they massaged them, pressing them against her chest while the pits between his fingers created a vicegrip on her nipples. With the added attentions her nipples had become blood engorged and tighter.

Rear pushed into his thighs when he pushed her breasts closer to her chest, he pushed her body against his while he sandwiched her between the wood and himself. The erotic sensation of her round flesh against his own manhood caused him to breath hotly into her ear, “You might as well just enjoy because if you play your cards right I just might spare you and you’ll live longer when I’m done with you.”

Restless, his lips pressed momentarily to her shoulder before searching for her lips, and even though he had to stretch to reach them he did. Lips finding her own lips, he kissed her, letting his tongue slip from his mouth to violate her own, finding her own pink muscle and caressing it with a frustrated grace. Meanwhile, one hand released her breast, coming to slip around to his thighs and grip the fluid covered shaft. Pushing back slightly, he made enough room for him to angle the head against the pink bud of her rear. Luring his thighs forward, the head seemed too big to fit, but with the coaxing of a hard thrust, the head managed to spread the pink entrance wide. Soon the lubricated shaft followed she was greeted with the clap of flesh, shaft sinking completely into her; and into their kiss, a groan was heard.

 

[DaisyBuchanan]

Arbella moaned as the pinching and tugging of her nipples sent shocks of burning heat through her body. Now, instead of fighting the King, she struggled to control her body’s reactions to his forceful touch but she was powerless against him. She could not command her body to be still, he was stealing it from her. More and more she was becoming his to use, against her will but with the grow cooperation of her disloyal flesh. Her mind screamed no but she couldn’t stop, as her pushed back against him as the muscles of her inner sex tightened around his cock, grasping and holding him inside her.

“Ugh, so fucking tight!” he growled through gnashed teeth.

The sound of his voice both terrified and excited her. His words and his tone were filled with passion, pleasure, and dark power; it struck the womanly chords of her body and mind. With a tentative desire to please this dark lord, her body moved with his slow deep pushes, attempting to draw out his pleasure until he pulled out from her. With a sudden and surprising action, she felt a jolt of pain as he shoved on her back and her thighs received a punishing slam into the hard wood.

“Mmm, I can’t just let you off that easy, I have to make sure that you’re body never forgets who I am,” he chuckled breathlessly.

She tried to hold back another aching moan as his hands returned to her breasts and his massaging touch sent the burning heat through her again. Shamefully, she writhed in his hands as she found pleasure in his rough treatment of her luscious breasts. Nevertheless, her writhing moans turned to a groaning whimper as his grip on her tender pink nipples took on a vice-like intensity and sent fierce waves of pain shooting through her. His brutal groping continued until, over-whelmed by the sensation, pain became pleasure to her body and mind; and with a deep, throaty sigh, she undulated against him.

Bound by the silken rope, fingers unclenched and unclenched uselessly, as they searched for hot flesh to hold on to. His flesh, the Kings flesh. As her body took control, all thoughts of the humiliation of his punishment were lost for now; all that remained was her body’s natural attempts to satisfy a growing need for carnal gratification. Between his firm body and the fence, all she could do was try to get closer to him, push her warm skin to his, rub her ass against him, shamefully and shamelessly, like a bitch in heat.

“You might as well just enjoy because if you play your cards right I just might spare you and you’ll live longer when I’m done with you.” His words were spoken hotly into her ear; she felt his weight pressing against her back and his lips on her shoulder.

If she had wanted to die, she could have impaled herself on the fence when she had the chance, but she allowed him to impale her with his cock instead. She wanted to live, she suffered to live, and would continue to want to survive. If to live, she had to please him then that is what she would try to do. She gave up the struggle to control herself, as mind and body served one purpose, the King’s Pleasure.

She felt his lips move up to her neck. Pinned as she was, she could only move a little but she did. Feeling the rough fence hard against her belly, she twisted until his lips found hers and his tongue forged into her mouth. She was seduced by the soft caresses of tongue teasing hers, a sensual kiss; it was an island of peace in a brutal rape. Hesitantly, her tongue responded, tasting his lips and his tongue. She was barely aware he let go of her breast, she was too engrossed in the kiss.

She was too distracted to notice his preparation to mount her ass. She became aware only with his first painful shove as he lurched his body against her, pressing against her too tight hole. His mouth held her captive, she couldn’t scream as the hard thrust burst through the delicate ring and soon he drove himself completely into her. Their kiss continued through groans and whimpers, as her body relaxed and accepted him inside.

 

[Claret_Dreams]

The place where he took her was uncommon but that was another aspect that fed his wandering desire to take her. He loved it, then again he had also been taught not to worry about his surroundings, but now the had the young girl where he had always wanted. Sure he had taken others in private, but now he was doing it in public. Basking in the erotic sensation that was her body, he felt her warm entrance seem to hug his stabbing length. Unlike before, where he had fed his cock into her warm cunt, he was put in the situation of her rear. The entrance he had chosen was tighter, and the initial thrust caused his shaft to twitch in her with every inch he buried in her.

Curling his toes when her ass’s pink bud had encompassed the girth of his shaft, he let out a long groan; it all felt so good, and more so when he listened to her moan. Hands clasping and hooking his fingers into her inner thighs, he pushed her back, letting that familiar clap be heard once more, slowly at first but soon occurring more with each long push of his hips. Inch after inch he fed and removed from her, all the while increasing the speed in which he did this.

“So fucking tight,” he managed to stammer as he rammed into her pert rear, causing the post to ram into her belly. Breasts swaying, nipples hard, and erect; he decided to tease her with them. Fingers tugging occasionally as he contained the bestial mindset, “Huh, you like that little bitch? Taking your royal highness in your tightest of orifices?” He had noticed how tight her sex was, now draining with her womanly fluids and blood; she had been a virgin. Now though, her other hole was deflowered and he loved it. After a couple more tugs of her nipple, he brought his hand to rest at the bare small of her back, nails digging into the small of her back as he felt wave after wave of pleasure crash over him. Young and hormone filled, he knew there would be more to follow after this, so he rose it out.

Harder he fucked her, hips bucking rowdier and with less constraint, managing only to spread the back entrance wider with each slap. It was there!

“Oh god!” He gasped out when both hands clasped firmly to her waist, holding her rear against his thighs so that quick, short thrusts could be given to her. Pounding her back entrance as the first drop of pre-cum drained into her, branding her forever, he continued the thrusts. Within moments he was at the apex of it, and then it happened; hips slamming down into her while he drove the entire length into her body. Phallus twitching, eyes rolling in the back of his head, the heavy climax was upon him. Ribbons of cum shot from his spasming member, filling her tight orifice and creating a weblike look in her. Continuing to relinquish his spunk in her, he pulled away, giving one last push to smear them inside of her before he pulled out. With a sigh, he felt the cool air hit his shaft, covered in his own semen.

Moving his hands down to her rear, he spread her cheeks and teased the swollen ring of her ass with his head, watching as cum flowed from her. A loud crack was heard as his hand fell roughly onto her ass, speaking through gnashed teeth, “Mmm, does my little slut want more, DOES SHE?” He inquired with contempt.