A Princess Raped
The daughter of one of the King's most trusted advisors, had not expected to stumble across a scene of such depravity. When she heard a moan float down the corridor to her she had followed the sound, concerned that someone was in pain. She had tapped the thick wooden door with her fingertips, calling out softly to whomever might be in the room, not wishing to startle the poor woman. When the only answer was another uttered cry, Alwyn released the latch and gently opened the door enough to peek inside, not wanting to intrude.


Instead of the scene she'd expected - a woman bed-ridden by sickness or disease - she discovered two naked human figures on the large bed that dominated the chamber, cavorting and writhing together in wild abandon. The woman - the source of the moaning - lay on her back beneath her lover, laid bare and open to him as he covered her body and thrust within her. He gripped her wrists above her head and his features contorted as he shoved himself inside her, over and over. It was Prince Damien, the man her father had brought her to their lord's castle to meet.


Alwyn barely restrained her gasp; only her mortal embarrassment kept her from calling attention to herself.


She knew about the act of love, of course; she knew how children were made...at sixteen years she was no simpleton, nor was she naïve to the ways women must please a man. But she had only heard of it. Once, she had seen a bawdy illustration crudely engraved onto a plank of wood recovered from one of her father's damaged ships, but she had certainly never seen actual naked people before, doing...that.


Heat sprang to her face and neck; she felt the flush and its move down across her chest. She stood frozen in mortification, fearful of being discovered, but bound by a sort of helpless fascination. The woman certainly appeared to be enjoying what the prince was doing to her, and Alwyn couldn't help but wonder what it felt like. If all went as her father hoped - if Prince Damien chose her to be his bride out of the dozen or so ladies who had come to the castle for his twenty first birthday - she would find out ere too long.


Alwyn ducked back into the hallway, shutting the door silently against the increasing volume of the sounds of their lovemaking. She could hear Prince Damien, now, grunting from his efforts, and suddenly found that parts of her body were tingling, for some reason. Her breath was coming shorter, and she found herself unable to leave the door, and the sounds behind it. Abruptly they rose in pitch and urgency, as both the prince and the woman he was bedding called out simultaneously in seeming rapture, before falling mysteriously silent.


He had spilled his seed in her, Alwyn knew, and she wondered who the woman was. She didn't have the cultured look of one of the noblewomen currently living in the castle to vie for the prince's favor, which meant she must have been one of the castle staff. A cleaning woman, perhaps, or the daughter of one. She had barely been older than Alwyn herself, after all.


Alwyn remembered the way Prince Damien's gaze had raked over her upon their meeting at the banquet the night before, and the way he'd pulled one of the serving women into his lap. Though it was hardly proper behavior, no one had appeared to think it odd, or out of place.
PART-2

The banquet had been a jovial affair - full of many sights and sounds that were new to Alwyn, who had been raised on her father's expansive rural grounds - but there had been an undercurrent of cattiness amongst the noblewomen. Princesses and ladies and duchesses, all, each jostled for Prince Damien's attentions. And he'd been more than obliging. His cool manner and arrogant disposition were betrayed by the heat that came into his countenance when he let his eyes rest on Alwyn's bosom. Truth be told, that expression - his intense attention - had frightened her a little, as he had when he'd danced with her. Though he'd done nothing overtly untoward, it seemed to Alwyn that his hands had strayed more than they should have from their appropriate positions. That he had held her much more closely to him than decorum allowed. Numerous times she had blushed and stammered as his knuckles brushed against the swell of her chest, or his lips touched her neck. Each time this happened he would meet her eyes again intently, as if gauging her reaction. And as he gazed into her eyes, she was certain that the hunger on his face meant that he wanted something from her.


That same awareness and discomfort seized her the day after having witnessed the prince bedding the cleaning woman when she encountered him in the corridor after having just finished the morning meal in her chambers.


She heard him before she saw him; his quick, purposeful step behind her caused her to turn. "Lady Alwyn," he greeted her, catching up. "How fortunate. I had hoped to speak with you. Have you eaten, yet?"


"Just," Alwyn replied, linking her fingers properly together in front of her as she continued on her way. "I was about to walk about the gardens."


"I've a better idea," the prince countered. "I thought of it the night we met, when your father mentioned how much you enjoy riding. As I'm sure you're aware, the royal horses are the best in all the land. I thought you might enjoy going out this morning."


Though he discomforted her, Alwyn's pulse spiked at the thought of riding one of the magnificent horses she knew were stabled on the castle grounds. She'd caught a glimpse through the carriage window two days before, when she and her father had arrived. And she could ride better than most men she knew; surely there would be no harm in accepting the prince's invitation? She was there, after all - they all were - to present the prince with a selection from which he was to choose his princess. If she were to be in the running with the other young women - more glamorous and educated than she, all - then it would behoove her not to turn down the chance to spend some time getting to know him, and letting him get to know her.


Two hours later, however, Alwyn regretted her decision. The ride had started out well enough; her mount was a beautiful mare named Roan, and she suited her well over the gentle hills and wide plains. They traveled for the better part of an hour, making idle conversation, over wide expanses of land framed by the edges of forests. The palace guard that had accompanied them had remained silent, leaving Alwyn the entire focus of the prince's interested questioning.
PART-3

When they happened upon a stretch of mulberry trees, the prince suggested that they dismount and pick some, saying that a break would do them good, and have a chance to become better acquainted. All was well...until he suggested that the guard, the man Alwyn had come to think of as their unofficial chaperone, go for a short ride and leave them alone for awhile.


Alwyn's nervousness returned full-force as the prince sat uncomfortably too close beside her on the cloth he had laid upon the ground. He watched her unnervingly, eyes bright with some unknown purpose.


"You are very beautiful," he said, brushing a lock of chestnut hair from her cheek. "I think you may be the most beautiful of all the ladies."


Alwyn blushed and looked down, cursing the fair skin that made her so obvious. "As your highness pleases. But certainly I am the least gentle. I've had schooling, but not as much as the Duchess of Burgundy."


"Ah," the prince countered playfully, "but the Duchess of Burgundy is a dreadful bore. A very displeasing woman. You, however," he touched her again, the pad of his thumb tracing softly once over her lips, "are courteous and proper. You know your place, and are fresh and eager to please. I find that appealing."


"Very appealing," he murmured as he took her chin in his fingers and turned her face toward his. Before she knew his intention, his lips were on her own, and his tongue had gained entry to her mouth.


She startled, unaccustomed to the new sensation, and pulled back instantly. "Please, sire. It is not permitted."


"It is, if I say," Damien disagreed, and leaned in for another kiss.


Again Alwyn pushed him back, turning her head away from him. "It is not seemly, sire. Not for a lady."


"But you are not just any lady," the prince claimed, trying a grin. "You are the most beautiful lady, and here to see about becoming my wife, are you not?"


Alwyn's eyes widened. "Are you saying that I...that you..."


The prince's eyes sparkled at her. "I'm not saying anything, yet. But I certainly know which way I'm leaning. And certainly it could not hurt to become better acquainted with the woman who may soon be my wife, could it? What would a few kisses hurt, if you are to someday be the mother of my children? To the heir of the crown?"


Alwyn paused, uncertain. His words made sense, but she still felt as if something were not right. But surely he was correct? No harm could be done by a few simple kisses.


Perceiving her silence as acquiescence, the prince leaned very close to her...so close that their bodies were touching, and fastened his mouth upon hers again. This time Alwyn submitted to the kiss, allowing his demanding tongue entrance. Her nerves grew more apparent as the passion of his kiss intensified, and she jerked back a third time when she felt the tips of his fingers skim across the swell of her cleavage. "Sire!" she objected.


The prince grinned unrepentantly. "Forgive me, milady, but you are far too beautiful for your own good. I am but a man, and could not help myself. You are so fresh, and so innocent." He kissed her again, pulling her against his chest and encircling her with his arms.


Alwyn felt suffocated by his embrace, but also...impassioned. She felt the way she had the day before, upon witnessing him with the cleaning woman. Her body felt warm, and suddenly too tight within the confines of her gown. Her breath caught with excitement as he crushed her to him. When he touched her again, she permitted it, gasping as his hand trailed down to cup and gently squeeze the full breast contained by her dress. "You are so beautiful," he murmured against her neck after breaking the kiss. His hand firmed again on her breast. "So sweet."


Sucking in air to combat the dizziness that suddenly assaulted her, Alwyn leaned back, away from him. How had things gone so far, so quickly? How had they graduated from a simple kiss to him fondling the shape of her through her dress? Why had she allowed it?


To her mixed relief, the guard chose that moment to return. He helped the prince stow away the ground cloth and the berries they had picked while Alwyn averted her eyes and fervently hoped that what had just happened between the prince and herself was not apparent to the guard. He waited while Prince Damien moved to help Alwyn up onto her mount.


"Hold a moment," the prince said, holding up a hand as he inspected her horse. "It appears as if Roan has a sore leg. Her shoe has come loose, and a rock is embedded. She should not be ridden."


Accustomed to problems of this nature, Alwyn took Roan's reins. "I will walk her, then."


"Nonsense," the prince said. "We've an hour's ride back to the castle. You can't go all that way on foot. Here, you'll ride with me. I wanted to show you some ruins nearby, in any case. Gerald there can take Roan back, can't you, Gerald?"
PART-4

The guard gave no indication as to whether or not he thought the order odd. He never batted an eye; simply uttered an obedient "Yes, sire," before taking the mare's reins and heading off.


That quickly, the situation had turned and Alwyn now found herself again alone with Prince Damien. He boosted her up and then settled himself behind her, surprising her with a strong arm wrapped around her waist. She supposed it was meant to make her feel secure; instead all she felt was trapped. Trapped with a man who had exhibited no qualms about taking a woman who was not wed to him. Even more disturbingly, trapped with a man for whom her body stirred in new, baffling ways.


They had traveled another quarter of an hour before the prince abruptly pulled on the reins, signaling a stop to his steed. He made no move to get down, however, and Alwyn looked 'round in confusion. "Where are the ruins, sire?"


"I'll confess," his voice breathed into her ear as his chest rumbled against her back, "I did not intend to take you anywhere but further away from any who would interrupt us. There are no ruins. I merely wanted to get you away, alone to myself for awhile. No - don't be startled. I simply wanted to get to know you away from the prying eyes of the royal court."


Alwyn tried to tamp down the sudden alarms that were sounding in her head and tingled along the very edges of her skin. "I would converse with you freely anywhere, highness, and just as easily back at the castle. It's nearly mid-day, and your father the king will surely be continuing the festivities."


"Yes," Damien agreed, murmuring suggestively, "but I much prefer other festivities."


Alwyn gasped when both of his hands reached up to grab her breasts. "Sire!" she slapped at his hands.


"Be calm," he commanded. "Don't yelp, so." Her slapping hands had no effect on him. He squeezed her breasts firmly, as if testing the ripeness of melons, and then he slid them up, over the frilly edge of her bodice and across the smooth white skin of her cleavage. "You are so soft," he said, nuzzling against the side of her head from behind. His hot mouth affixed to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, applying suction. Alwyn moaned at the sensation, then gasped as Damien's hands skimmed down again - this time into the bodice of her dress so that his fingertips traced over her nipples before continuing on to the underside of her breasts so that the whole of his hands covered her nakedly, skin to skin.


Alwyn struggled for breath. "Sire...Prince Damien, please, sire...this isn't appropriate. It isn't right."


The prince never paused; his hands fondled her breasts beneath her bodice, and his mouth traveled up and down her neck, sucking and bringing heat to the surface of her skin. Her poor, confused body responded to his caresses even as she struggled to be free of him. "What is inappropriate?" he wanted to know. "You may well be the future queen of this country. What does it matter if I touch you now, or then?"


"It is not set!" Alwyn said, scandalized by his behavior. "Sire, it is only for my husband to touch me. Only if you become my husband can I allow this. It is not right for a lady to allow herself to be compromised, and a gentleman would not think of it."


The prince laughed, perhaps at the thought of himself being held to gentlemanly standards. "You needn't worry about what others will think. I shan't tell them. If you don't tell them," he whispered in her ear as his fingers paused to play with her nipples, "no one ever need know. It can be our secret."


Alwyn panted, knowing this was wrong, all of it, but finding it very difficult to think past the feelings this man was evoking in her body. His hands were doing previously unimagined things to her; he didn't stop even when she struggled. Indeed, it appeared to excite him further. Her will meant nothing to him other than to increase his arousal. His own breath came harder in her hair, and his hands grew rougher. He withdrew one to reach down and grasp the bunched material of her dress at her hip. The hem of her dress shifted, creeping steadily up her leg. Alwyn cried out in protest, slapping at his hands again.


The prince merely laughed. "My innocent Alwyn," he said affectionately, wrapping possessive arms around her torso. "Hold a moment."


He slid down off of the horse, then pulled out again the ground cloth upon which they had rested before. He flung out its edges, allowing the blanket to float evenly to the grass, then he turned to offer her assistance. Alwyn shrank back, unsure of his motives, but he only laughed again. "My dear lady," he said, looking up at her. "Either you come down here with me, or I start on your skirts, again." With that he began to glide his hands up her leg under the heavy fabric of her dress, prompting alarm to shoot through her veins.


"All right!" she cried, and allowed him to help her down.


Once settled, he drew her to him for another heady kiss, holding her firmly to him despite her resistant squirming. Alwyn found herself backed up against the solid, warm side of the horse as his lips traveled down the column of her throat and lingered briefly over her collarbone before descending to feast on the swell of her bosom.


Alwyn gasped, dizziness invading and clouding her mind as her head fell back, exposing herself to him helplessly. The prince took full advantage of her temporary surrender, licking and nibbling and sucking at her tender flesh. An electric tingle shot through the very core of her when she felt the moist, silken tip of his tongue dip below the line of her gown, teasing first one nipple, then the other until both were stiffened, aching peaks that matched the sudden throbbing between her legs. "Sire," she pleaded breathlessly, "please."


"Mmm," Damien said when he raised his head. He licked his lips as if he had been tasting the sweetest ambrosia. "You need not beg, milady. I will give you freely what you desire."
PART-5


He stepped back, tugging on her hands to pull her reluctant form with him. Panic seized her when he brought her to the ground cloth and pressed her down to sit upon it. His intentions seemed clear, but surely he wouldn't? Surely he couldn't think to steal her maidenhood here upon the plain, without her permission? Surely he would listen to reason?


"Your highness," she said a bit desperately as he moved to kneel behind her, "Please, you must not do this. Not until I am your wife should you touch me, so! It is wrong."


"It is wrong to deny how we feel," he countered, his tone persuasive. "You cannot pretend that you feel nothing when I caress you. I hear your cries of pleasure. I feel the heat of your skin, and the skip of your heart against my chest. You can hide nothing from me. You will not. I won't allow it."


While she struggled frantically to fight past her terror long enough to regain her breath and protest further, he slowly pushed the material of her gown over and off her shoulders, sliding it down her upper arms to bare her torso, leaving her lovely, pert breasts naked to the still slightly chilly air. They tightened further, and the prince reached around to stroke them possessively. When Alwyn's head fell back against him, helpless, he fastened his hot mouth on her shoulder, sucking and putting his marks on her.


Alwyn uttered a high-pitched sound - a faint, light breath of vocalization caught somewhere between objection and pleasure. Truly, what he was doing to her body felt wondrous. Sensations that she had never known coursed through her, now, like a hot, gushing river carrying her toward the brink of a waterfall. But she knew just as certainly that it was wrong; evil of him to do it; shameful of her to enjoy it, even a little.


One of his hands left off its caressing to entangle itself in her mass of hair, pulling gently but insistently until her head was tilted back enough to grant him access to her lips. He plundered her mouth, igniting a new, passionate urgency between them.


Alwyn felt that he was everywhere. His mouth on hers, his tongue invading her, his hands caressing her in intimate places that no other man had even seen. He commanded her body fully, and she felt powerless to resist his mastery of her. His dominance.


As if sensing his imminent conquest, the prince groaned into her mouth and shifted, his arousal pressing against her back as he leaned forward to again grab hold of her heavy skirts, dragged them up to reveal long, slender white legs.


The lady struggled anew, trying to twist away from him, but his hands were insistent. "Sire...oh! Please!" she cried again desperately, but it was to no avail. The lustful prince was touching her, now, there, where only a husband was permitted to, and she felt ashamed, and dirty, and afraid.


And glorious.


The way he rubbed his fingers against her womanhood forced her to writhe now not in resistance, but from unbearable pleasure as he inserted one of his artful fingers into her. Her breath came quickly, in hitches and sobs as he manipulated her and his other hand played with her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. "Oh," she sighed, "Oh, Sire, I...please, you mustn't."


"On the contrary," he murmured. "I must have you. I cannot stay myself."


He shifted again, pushing her down so that she lay on her back, the top of her dress bunched down around her ribcage and pinning her arms. Quickly, before she could form a statement, he pulled his tunic off, over his head, and was bare-chested before her, also. He moved to lie atop her, but Alwyn hastily twisted her legs away, twitching at her skirt to cover herself.


Prince Damien wrestled her back into position and again roughly yanked up the hem of her skirt. She felt his hands on her bare legs again, skimming up to the top of her thighs.


"Open to me," he said.


Sudden tears filled Alwyn's eyes as she mutely shook her head. She couldn't believe this was happening. That this was about to happen.


"I am your lord," the prince said. "You will obey me. Yield to me; embrace me as you would a husband, or I shall inform everyone of what you have already permitted me to do. Imagine the shame in your father's eyes, Lady Alwyn. Wish you that he think you unchaste? A morally loose woman?"


"He need never know," he whispered into her ear as she finally relented - choking on her tears - and parted her legs for him. The very center of her was laid bare to this man, this virtual stranger who was poised to rob her of her only true possession. And she had no recourse to stop him. No power of physical strength or right to fight him. She was his to command, and it seemed that it was her lot to be used by this man, against her wishes.


He settled between her thighs and reached between them to unfasten the cords of his breeches. Alwyn bit her bottom lip and stared up at the clouds above them as he pinned her to the ground, prepared to enter her. A moment later she felt him - the tip of that hard, long flesh of him - against her moist opening. And then it pushed into her, sliding, gliding in. Intruding. Invading. He took her.


Alwyn cried out as her body jerked, breasts thrust upward as her back arched. There was a twinge of pain, inside, but not as bad as she had been expecting. The ease of his entry surprised her, and in a sudden rush she understood that that was what all of his caresses had been for...to prepare her for him. It was the sensation of feeling him within her that caused her to cry out in such a fashion. The intrusion was a shock - a shock to feel a man inside her, a shock that it was this stranger, this man she scarcely knew.


When he was fully embedded within her, he withdrew in order that he might penetrate her all over again. He groaned upon entering her body, and leaned over so that he lay atop her, his skin to hers with the soft swell of her bosom between them.


Burying his face against her neck, he began to move in and out of her, thrusting as if to an excruciatingly slow rhythm only he could hear...one that drew out his pleasure and allowed him to luxuriate in the ecstasy of ravishing a woman who had never before known a man's touch.


Alwyn lay beneath him, unable to escape the sensation of him working atop her, inside her. She could feel every hard inch of him as he drove himself into her body, over and over. She felt his muscles bunch and relax as his body strained against hers, sparking yet more delicious sensations, even as she burned with mental anguish over the loss of her morality and reputation.


For an indeterminable time she lay beneath him, suffering his forced love as he plunged into her. Her body rose and fell and shuddered beneath him, powerless in the shadow of his virile power. It seemed like hours that her body was a slave to his as he thrust within her, unrelentingly.


Before it was over, his pace quickened...became jerky, harder. Each stroke was long and deep, and the fog of sensuality that had surrounded her from the moment he'd first touched her swirled more thickly. A need began to build up inside her...an indescribable feeling that made her want...something. "Oh," she gasped, flustered and bewildered by the rising sensations. "My Lord, I..."


Seemingly further excited by her words, the prince re-fastened his lips to hers, kissing her with urgent passion as his hands roamed her body. When he took his head away from hers he brought it then to her breast. His mouth closed around the nipple, suckling hard and licking the tip inside his mouth.


Alwyn moaned when the sensation shot straight to where their bodies were joined. The pressure continued to build as he moved faster inside her. Harder. Faster. Then frantically.


He pounded harshly into her as he lay flat out atop her again, his face buried in her neck as his weight pressed her down. His moans mingled with her own as that pressure built to frustrating new levels before finally cresting, breaking, falling, and then there were stars that she saw in the sky, not clouds, bright flashes of light, and a rapture moved through her, into him so that he shuddered and jerked in spasms before collapsing atop her small frame.


He withdrew from her and rolled off, and Alwyn lay gasping for long minutes before making a move as if to rise.


"Don't cover yourself," he ordered, pulling her back down to the ground, making her blood run cold. "I'll want you again before we go back."
PART-6

Alwyn trembled as he drew her to his hard body, regarding the prospect of being taken by him again with equal parts trepidation and shameful anticipation.

He raped her twice more before allowing her to re-dress in her wrinkled gown. As her fingers fumbled with the laces her face had burned with mortification at the things he had done to her in the hours they'd been alone together on the plain. The clouds had continued to roll in whilst he occupied himself with her body, and now rain threatened.


Dreading the ride back to the castle - a ride wherein she would again have to endure being trapped in his embrace - Alwyn fervently hoped that her father had not tried to seek her out and was even now wondering where she was. Nothing could hurt her more than the loss of her father's love, and she feared that the prince was right; if her father knew what she had been a part of that day, he would disavow her and banish her from his house. She could not bear the thought of it, nor of being cast out of their home. She could not bear to think of the ways in which she might be forced to earn her living were she left alone and penniless.


There was no choice as to recourse for a woman in her position; her only hope was to do as the prince had commanded: keep it a secret, tell no one, and hope that he chose her to be his wife. It was the only way that she could see any sort of reputable future for herself, and her family. Ironically, her salvation now lay with the very man who had imperiled it.


He dismissed her with scarcely a glance upon their return to the castle; the event that had changed her entire life was obviously of little consequence to him. Stunned, feeling more than a little lost, Alwyn returned to her chambers. She dismissed her lady-in-waiting - God! Were she to guess from looking at her mistress what had happened! - and bathed slowly, muscles trembling from previously unknown exertion and fatigue.


By the orange glow of the setting sun - in no small amount of shock - Alwyn painstakingly fastened the buttons of her dressing gown with shaking hands and crawled beneath the coverings of her bed. Like a child, she pulled them over her head and hid beneath them, nearly numb in withdrawal. She fell asleep with hot tears on her cheeks.


And awoke with a hot mouth affixed to her breast, a heavy body atop her own.


Alwyn's pulse jolted, her limbs seized. She opened her mouth to cry out, but a large hand covered her parted lips, pressing down as the body of her molester forcing her down into the soft bedding. What sound emerged was muffled and weak.


That seeking mouth found her nipple and sucked it into its moist heat before bathing it with its tongue. Her nipple puckered and tightened in response, even as she struggled against the man in her bed.


Suddenly some of the weight was displaced; her lungs expanded, gratefully inhaling deep breaths of air. A moment later a light emerged - a lit candle that had been sheathed in a tall cylinder.


In the dim glow provided by the flickering candle, Alwyn saw the face of her attacker: Prince Damien leered at her, grinning mischievously as if this were all some farce, and she should find it as amusing as he.


"If m'lady promises to remain quiet, I will remove my hand," he said in a low voice.


Alwyn's vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears, but she nodded in acquiescence. If there was one thing she had learned that day, it was that she had no choice about her own fate, where this man was concerned. He held all of the power. He could give her a future, or he could take it away in an instant. She was powerless to do anything but his bidding, and let him do with her what he would.


The prince lifted the offending hand, tracing it across her cheek almost tenderly before he let it skim down her throat, and beyond. Only when his trailing fingers reached the end of their path of skin at her abdomen did Alwyn realize she was laid mostly bare to him. Her nightgown had been unbuttoned to the bottom, creating a large "V" of exposed skin between the edges of the fabric. Her breasts were unrestrained and naked to his sight, and the skirt of her gown had been hiked up so that she could see the skin of her thighs where they rose on either side of the prince, whose own naked body was firmly nestled between her legs.


Horrified, Alwyn realized that he must have lain next to her in the dark, stealthily working at the fastenings of her gown before exposing her to him. He had maneuvered himself into position to take her while she slept, and only when he was ready - and there was no way she could fight him off - had he awoken her.


"You are unbelievably soft," the prince mused. "I lay in my chambers for quite some time tonight thinking about how soft you are."


He stroked a big palm up and down her body, pausing frequently to fondle. "I hadn't intended to lie with you again until tomorrow - I thought surely I'd have been sated by our time together on the plain! - but it seems that I simply can't rest without having you again tonight."


The prince leaned down to kiss her lips, demanding entrance with his tongue...entrance she was powerless to resist. His hands roamed her body, caressing and squeezing and stirring more shameful sensations of the kind she had experienced before.


Her own hands lay limp above her head, where he'd released them at the same time that he had relinquished hold over her mouth. She wanted to raise them, push at his chest, shove him away, but she knew that his strength was much greater than hers, and she feared his revenge of any resistance.


But it appeared that her lord was not to be satisfied with a passive lover, this time. "Put your arms around my shoulders," he commanded, and she reluctantly complied. His skin was warm and smooth under her hands.


"Hold on," he said, and shifted.


For the fourth time that day he mounted her, squeezing himself into her with short, probing thrusts until he was fully sheathed within her tight, wet passage.


She was sore, and the penetration hurt more than the first had. A whimper escaped her lips as he started to rock inside her. Her hands began to slip from his shoulders, but a sharp command from him had her tightening her forced parody of a lover's embrace.


Once more he ravished her, plunging into her again and again so that there was no escape from the force of him. He tangled one hand in her long tresses, gripping tightly against the scalp so that her head could not raise from the pillow. He held her immobilized as he moved over her body, the weak flame of the candle casting long shadows over their coupling bodies as he slid in and out of her at a pace that became quicker and quicker as he grunted with effort.


Finally his breath caught and he lost his rhythm as he jerked in wild spasms. He let loose a groan of ecstasy as he spent himself inside her, and there...where he was...she felt him hot and throbbing with release. He moved slowly in and out of her a few more times, wringing every drop of pleasure from her body before he withdrew and rolled over onto his back next to her.
ENDING

The prince sighed in satisfaction as he brought her against him. "Yes, my lady, I think my choice of bride is becoming quite clear."

Trapped against him, loathe to imagine a future with a man who would so unrepentantly use her, but more afraid of the alternative, Alwyn shivered.


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