Page 59 of The Princess Tied

He meant to put his cock in her, with all of them seeing her doing this.

John took both her breasts in his hands. “Up. You will go up then come down on my cock and you will sit all the way down.”

“Wait.” She breathed. She thought.

It excited her, immensely. It was awful to do so, to want this, but she did.

“Up.” He encouraged her to rise, using her breasts as handles, pushing her higher.

So she rose on her knees and pretended it was all his doing, and opened her eyes in time to see his studying her face just as her cunt met the head of his cock, just as she began to feel her lips parting down there, swallowing him.

Slow.

Slow.

Oh, the ecstasy that bloomed, shivered in, ran wild through her.

She sank, not once releasing her gaze from his, knowing they joined, that she was impaled on him.

Her little sobs on the way down, had her heart kicking at her, made desire swell, and when he began to revolve his finger around her sore but somehow happy nipples, she gave a loud cry and shoved herself lower, then, only then, did she arch backward.

The slide, the large thing penetrating her. It was…

It was exquisite. Miniature orgasms seemed to burst through her, and she sat on him stuck, impaled, fully penetrated but still for a few seconds.

Then he made her rise again and then lower herself.

His thrusting began. The saltshaker in her rear hole flowered whole new feelings that merged with what was done to her pussy.

Soon she was sobbing and crying out with every sink and rise and, if she paused, John drove upward into her.

Caught in an immense wave of desire, muscles stiffening, her head thrown back, she squeezed onto him and rocked. In that moment, he found her clit and stimulated it. The sounds as she was speared, the wet sounds added to the carnality, the awesomeness. Soon, soon, he wrought a final shattered whimper from her as she orgasmed onto his cock. The saltshaker felt impossibly hard, as she clamped down, taut, shaking, coming.

Coming…

She panted, clutching at the man before her, hands slipping down his rocklike shoulders, bowing forward. Spent.

Limp, she let him turn her as he stood and then bend her over the table, shoving her, breasts squashing down and sliding. He fucked her then, jarring the table as their flesh banged into it, coming inside her, with the tablecloth bunched and sliding, the dishes rattling, and the crowd cheering them on.

It was only in the aftermath, as she lay struggling to catch her breath, with John wiping her down with cloths, and her knees aching from hitting something below, did she hear the prince say words that brought silence from the others.

“I am curious as to where you learned to fuck like that, and also to play chess as you did, John.”

Why were they quiet? She turned her head to hear better.

“My brother, lord. He is very good at both.” John sounded unmoved by either the sex or the silence, or the question.

“I have heard, a few days ago, of two brothers, who are known to the princess of our neighboring country, Bitzocoin. One is supposedly her fiancée and lost, abducted, while the brother has himself stolen away Princess Pollianna, a lovely redhead like your slave girl you just fucked. No relation?”

“None whatsoever, lord.”

“Good. For if I thought you were related, I would make enquiries. Especially seeing your name is also John.”

Fuck. She swore that under her breath, into the napkin next to her mouth.

A princess should never swear in public.

A new rule was needed, she decided, while also wondering when her arms and legs would decide to let her rise.