This week - for reasons to be revealed later - I have princesses on my mind, so today's snippet is from the short story Captive Audience, which appeared in my first collection, Cruel Enchantment. Princess Flower of Jade has made her magical golems seize and bind Petrus, a handsome thief who unwisely broke into her bedroom. By the third day she is close to breaking him...
She grabbed his head and tilted his face up to look at her, stilling him. "Petrus," she murmured. "Do you love me, my slave?"
Eyes hooding, he pulled away from her -- though his cock stood like an obelisk; a monument to the tyranny of his lust.
She sloughed the silken robe and stood naked in front of him. "You're the first man to see me, Petrus," she told him. "Can you believe that? The first man I have ever touched. The first ever allowed to touch me."
He laughed in disbelief, so she stooped to bite his lips softly. They tasted of honey. He writhed under her, hot and afraid.
"I'm telling the truth." She posed for him, running her hands up her honey-smeared body and lifting her breasts in crushing, clawing fingers. "I am an imperial princess. I have never seen a man's body. Never had a hard, salty prick pushed between my legs. I am protected. Cosseted. Indulged. But nothing relieves my curiosity. I have made do for years with tickling and dreams and frigging. Even Animus -- " she jerked her head derisively at the caryatid "-- cannot do for me what the filthiest street-sweeper can do for the lowest slut in the bakery. He was cast to look like he has a member, but it is a fake, a blob of metal; it cannot rise to the occasion. Do you know how I feel, Petrus? I am burning with inquiry. I want to find out what a man can do. I am sick of ignorance. If I am to be Empress, then I have to know everything. And you are my instrument, Petrus." She giggled, her breasts quivering.
"I will fuck you till you scream, bitch," he promised.
"No." Jade froze, her hand in her midnight hair now, her flushed breasts titled high, her sapphire eyes aglow. "You will not fuck me, you filthy gutter-crawling thief. You common little piece of shit. You will not fuck me. You will beg me to fuck you."
And Petrus could not reply.
Jade grew straight and proud and cool once more. "Let mi show you, Petrus, how I pleasure myself. Would you like to see that? Because I can keep you chained forever, unable to touch yourself. I can make you watch me grind myself into exhaustion, if I like. Would you like to see me play with myself?"
He said nothing , but his eyes burned and his cock surged like a chained dog.
"I like to use a candle." She surveyed the ranks of fragrant incandescent columns that filled every ledge and surface in the room. "At first it had to be a narrow, smooth taper. But now I like something a little more substantial. Like this."
She chose a waxen pillar and carried it over, still burning, to Petrus. The candle was as thick as his turgid cock and had been moulded with a pattern of flowers, such as would enhance a lady's bedchamber. Since it had only recently been lit, the head was still domed and convex, the wick rising from a little pool of molten wax.
"Would you like to watch me use this?" Jade breathed. "You must be brave." And she tilted the candle over his chest. Hot wax dribbled down on to his nipples, causing him to flinch and shudder -- but he refused to cry out. Jade purred with pleasure and brushed the congealed dribbles from his reddened skin. Then she snuffed out the flame by pressing the wick to the sweat-sheened skin over his navel.
Still he only flinched.
"Now," she whispered, smoothing the wick down into the soft wax. She rubbed the lumpy shaft against Petrus's own teasingly, but not for long. Just enough for him to feel its rigidity.
There was a single piece of furniture in the the chamber; a carved rosewood bench. She went over to it now and perched on the edge, her thighs spread so that Petrus could get a clear view. Gazing directly at him, she rubbed the still-warm tip of the candle against her plump pink sex lips, using the unyielding object to probe between them and open herself up. The candle sank rapidly into the hot depths that awaited it. She began to draw it in and out, rubbing the thick ridges of the decorative moulding against her inner folds. The pleasure of the physical sensation was indescribably enhanced, for her, by the sight of Petrus with his whole agonised attention fixed on the inches of thick wax disappearing into, and then reappearing from, her stretched sex. She let herself whimper with excitement. She could see the sweat gleaming all over him, and his cock jerking with frustration. With her free hand she groped at her own right breast, but she could not divide her attention for long. As the stabs of pleasure grew ever more demanding within her, she raised one foot onto the bench and lay back, both hands reach down between her legs to grip the base of the shaft and pump it harder and deeeper into her hot, wet hole. Petrus made a strangled, inarticulate noise.
Then she came, her voice drowning out his.
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