Serving the Princess (4/4)
Chapter 4
Note: The last chapter! This story was my first fill for Disney Kink and I hope to do many more. :)
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That night…
Jafar was reading the Agrabah Risala when Aladdin returned to the men’s chamber. He glanced up briefly from the parchment as the street rat flung himself down on a large cushion and let out a contented but slightly gruff sigh.
“Problems, mongrel?” he asked with disinterest, furrowing his brow as he read. Apparently the princess’s hare-brained scheme to update Agrabah’s irrigation infrastructure was seeing results - the date harvest was expected to double that of last year.
The little slip of a girl was just lucky, that was all.
He’d already forgotten that he’d asked the question when Jafar heard Aladdin give the answer. “She’s with Mozenrath.”
“You had your time with her, didn’t you?” Jafar asked, not caring to once again get sucked into the emotional trials and tribulations of the young.
“Yes…”
“Then I advise you to get over it,” he fairly sneered. These young men he was forced to cohabitate with - really. They wouldn’t know masculine dignity if it bit them on the bottom.
“But-“
“Just be quiet and be happy you got to…” Jafar paused and lowered the scroll. “What did you do with her?”
Aladdin couldn’t help the satisfied twitch of his lips. “Got sucked.”
Jafar let out a little huff of a laugh and settled back into his reading. “Good for you, then, child. Be happy.”
“What do you mean?” Aladdin bristled. “What did you do with her just now?”
“I’m not going to indulge your jealousy,” Jafar yawned, slitting a glance toward the door as one of the princess’s handmaidens let in their roommate. “But I have a feeling he will.”
Mozenrath was smirking as he strolled over to them. He didn’t spare a glance at Aladdin as he flopped down on the arranged cushions and reached for a platter of food that the handmaidens had brought in his absence. He lifted a leg of camel and began devouring it as Aladdin glared at him balefully, knowing too well the most likely reason that the other man was famished.
“Don’t you two even start,” came a warning growl from by the window. Razoul was propped up against a pillow, sharpening his dagger. It was a curved weapon, and serrated, so the sharpening was quite a task. But it was what the burly guard enjoyed doing most. “I am in no mood for your nonsense.”
Aladdin and Mozenrath glanced at each other and smiled, temporarily on the same side.
“What’s the matter, Razoul?” Mozenrath chuckled, keeping his voice deliberately light as he reached for the grapes that went surprisingly well with camel.
“It sounds like someone’s just jealous that Jasmine isn’t interested in seeing him,” Aladdin teased.
Jafar rolled his eyes and hunkered down, intending to fully absorb himself in his Risalla.
Razoul just laughed. It was a harsh, grating sound. If laughter could sound brutal, Razoul’s would have been. He turned his dark, beady eyes on the two young men. “Don’t you two worry about my time with the Princess.”
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The night passed uneventfully - almost. Mozenrath devoured most of the food on the plate, which angered Jafar and Aladdin, and a brief ruckus ensued until the handmaidens heard the commotion and brought more food. After the sunset prayer, the men sat down to eat, but only after admonishing Mozenrath not to take more than his fair share. That led to ribald remarks from the young man about why his appetite had increased in the last few hours, which led to sarcastic remarks from Aladdin, and Jafar was once again stuck playing peacemaker to two ill-bred imbeciles that he couldn’t believe he was forced to share living space with.
Then it was time for the dusk prayer, and after that Jafar usually read aloud from a new serial novel that had just been published, called One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. Rumor had it that there would be a few stories in it that were based on Agrabah, and the entire kingdom eagerly awaited every new publication.
And then it was time to sleep, and Razoul still hadn’t been summoned. The men retired to their individual bedchambers, set off in the corners of the large chamber with private adjoining rooms for their ablutions and dressing and other matters. When the moon was high in the sky and the night was still and deep, there was a soft knock at the door. A handmaiden entered, advanced to where Razoul lay propped up in his bed, unsleeping, and beckoned him to follow.
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Razoul didn’t sleep much. And he didn’t mind.
It was usually nighttime when the Princess called him. Not dusk - it was the dead of night, just a few hours before the morning prayer and the rise of the sun. Everyone else was always fast asleep, and that was when he was called. It suited him just fine.
The idea was usually the same - what he was called to do with the Princess. But he improvised every time, finding new things that would shock and test her, pushing her just past her limits, just out of her comfort zone. It kept things exciting and interesting and it kept her happy.
She was asleep in her richly appointed canopy bed - asleep or pretending to be asleep. It could have been either, based on how they had conducted their liaisons many times in the past. The moonlight streamed down on her, making her thick hair glow glossy and almost blue, bathing her skin with cream. Razoul noticed that she wore her clothes under the thin sheet, and the corners of his mouth turned downward with displeasure.
Without any preamble, he gripped the silk sheet and yanked - hard. Jasmine gasped as the cool air hit her bare arms and shoulder, her fingers curling in the bed sheets. Razoul stripped the sheet away and threw it to the side, then pounced onto the bed to join her. Jasmine’s eyes flew open as the bed dipped from his weight, jostling her a little.
Razoul leaned over her, his beady dark eyes gleaming in the darkness, and his rough, calloused hands skirted over her bare midriff as he straddled her thighs. Jasmine’s eyes widened but she didn’t have time to make a sound before his hands grasped her top and he ripped, tearing her bodice from her body and leaving her breasts bare.
His hands molded to her, squeezing and shaping her firm breasts against his rough palms. Her nipples popped up between his fingers, starting to pebble, and Razoul tightened his fingers, trapping them there and making her moan.
He leaned down and kissed her roughly, his thickly corded thighs trapping her legs between them as he began to grind down on her. She felt his cock, thick and fleshy, just barely starting to harden as it hitched against her feminine core. Jasmine groaned as his lips brutally captured hers, trying to twist away. But Razoul grabbed her wrists and held them pinned above her head in just one of his large hands. He used the other to tweak her nipple, twisting it and rubbing it as he kissed her. His tongue swept into her mouth, greedy and hot and demanding, and Jasmine was trapped.
She twisted some more, bucking her hips, but that only inflamed his desire further and pressed her up against his burgeoning arousal. Jasmine gasped for breath as his mouth moved on to her neck and throat, pressing hot, wet kisses there as his teeth scraped against the sensitive skin. He moved lower, capturing one turgid peak of her breast in his mouth and sucking deeply, mercilessly. She sobbed and twisted, and he moved on to the other one, repeating the action and pulling her into his mouth.
Her stomach quivered as he moved lower, releasing her hands. Razoul licked into her navel, his tongue tickling her there in a gesture that was uncharacteristically … sweet. And then he pushed himself up, kneeling on her bed, and managed to quickly divest himself of his trousers.
His cock sprang free, thick and dusky with a large, throbbing head that made her gulp. He wasn’t fully hard yet, and with the way he was leering at her, it was clear that he intended that she help him with that.
Razoul prowled over her, like a large, feral cat. “Get me hard,” he all but growled.
Jasmine nodded and gingerly reached for him, wrapping her fingers around the base of his shaft where his cock protruded from a nest of dark, curly hair. She leaned closer, puckering her lips, and delicately kissed the head before swirling her tongue around it. Razoul’s hiss signaled his pleasure, but the low growl that followed also indicated his frustration.
A large hand found her bare chest, shoving Jasmine back onto the bed. She fell flat on her back and he was straddling her before she could blink. His cock jutted out in front of her eyes, his large, bulbous testicles hanging right over her.
“You’re too slow,” Razoul all but purred, the sound smooth as silk, but as dark and dangerous as the Captain of the Guards was. “I can see I’m going to have to teach you how I want it done if you’re to do it right.”
With that, he grasped her chin, and Jasmine’s lips parted. Without pausing a beat, Razoul thrust his cock into her mouth, ignoring her startled gasp. Jasmine’s hands flew up to grasp his hips as he thrust forward, into her wet, welcoming heat. Her fingers grappled at his hips and tears sprang to her eyes, but Razoul didn’t pay her any mind. His hands gripped the headboard and as soon as he was assured that she wouldn’t suffocate, he began to thrust steadily.
Jasmine’s hands worked around to his bare ass, gripping the cheeks to try to control the pace a little, but it was futile. Razoul controlled the depth of his strokes and their frequency, and it was all Jasmine could do to keep drawing breath as his cock plundered her mouth. He slid deeper each time, pressing against the back of her throat before she forced her muscles to relax and draw him in deeper, the way he liked it.
Sure enough, Razoul groaned and let his hips sink deep, causing her lips to close around the base of his cock as his pubic hair brushed her nose. He stayed that way for a moment before pumping in a series of short, shallow thrusts, enjoying the way he was seated deep in her throat. His breath was coming faster and Jasmine squeezed his ass, her carefully manicured fingers digging into the muscle there. Her lips worked furiously around his base, her tongue rubbing against his silky-soft skin as she made little moans and hums that she knew reverberated and pleased him greatly. She wondered if he’d come in her mouth as he had many times before, but just before he was about to shoot his load, Razoul withdrew with a curse and heaved himself off her.
Panting hard, he glared at her in the darkness. Jasmine drank in the sight of him. His barrel chest heaved with each breath, his muscles corded and impressive. He was so hard that his cock was pointing straight up, as if plastered against his flat stomach. Razoul gave it a rough jerk with his fist without taking his eyes off her, then passed it over with his hand against, and it bobbed and throbbed in a way that looked almost painful.
“C-Can I-“ Her voice failed her and Jasmine licked her lips and tried again. “Can I help you with that?” she asked, gesturing to his impressive erection.
“Oh, you will,” Razoul promised darkly. And then he pounced.
He was on her before she even saw him coming, and Jasmine almost screamed when he roughly grabbed the band of her silk pants and tugged them all the way down her legs. He threw them to the side, not caring where they landed, and situated himself between her legs, spreading her knees wide so that she was completely open to him. Jasmine stared up at him, the barrel-chested Captain of the Guards kneeling between her legs and staring so fixedly down at the most secret part of her.
Razoul didn’t waste any time with gentleness or finesse. As his dick jutted and twitched, he parted her folds and thrust two fingers into her, deep. This time, Jasmine did scream. It was a hoarse, throaty sound, born of surprise and the shock of two thick, rough fingers probing her slick channel deeply.
“Just as I thought,” Razoul glowered, his dark eyes assessing her shrewdly. “You’re so wet for me. So very, very wet.”
Jasmine felt herself flush all over, and her hands fisted in the bed sheets, her hips bucking up, as Razoul stroked deep, touching and rubbing against some deep, secret part of her that set off a firestorm of sensation throughout her entire body.
Razoul stroked her again, grinning cruelly as she keened and strained into the conduct. His thick fingers in her tight channel were stretching her wide, and Jasmine felt the loss acutely when he abruptly withdrew. But the disappointment was quickly replaced by shock as she was grasped roughly by the waist and flipped over, her face pressing into the mattress. Her fingers grappled with the sheets as she was yanked backwards, and Jasmine felt his cock poking against the back of her thigh as Razoul positioned her.
He wasted only scant seconds with the positioning as his large, meaty hands gripped her backside. His thumbs pulled her lower lips apart slightly and that was all he needed. With one swift, deep thrust, he impaled her fully on his thick, throbbing cock, pushing in deep and hard until he was fully seated.
Jasmine let out a full-throated scream, her hands fisting in the bedcovers. She tried to pull away from his brutal invasion, but Razoul wasn’t having any of it. His hands were anchored to her thighs, his fingers branding her with his touch, as he thrust into her again and again, moving her as he needed to establish the most satisfying pace.
Jasmine screamed and groaned and sobbed, but to no avail. Razoul was pumping like a madman, using her as little more than a rag doll, a receptacle for his imminent release. Her nails scrabbled for purchase, but it was useless: she was at his mercy, at his disposal, at his whim.
He rubbed her in all the right places, and she choked back on the pleasured moans that threatened to spill forth. Her back bowed and she knew it was coming. It hit her with nearly unprecedented force, and the world exploded in color and heat around her. Her back arched powerfully, her hips thrusting back into his unrelenting pumping, and Jasmine collapsed from the unbearable lightness of her release.
Razoul paid her ecstasy no mind. It never mattered to him, according to the game they played. He pumped her right through her orgasm, her clenching muscles squeezing his thick cock, focused only on his own release. With her trembling, constricting body’s assistance, it found him quickly thereafter. He let out a mighty roar and spilled his release into her tight channel, his hips thrusting forward powerfully and pushing Jasmine’s face harder into the mattress. A few last clenches of her delicate muscles milked him dry and Razoul began to sag, slowly.
He lowered himself down on top of her, unable to do anything more, and they were both resting flat along the bed, his large, heavy body mostly on top of her, his softening cock still buried inside her. His chest rose and fell, pressing against her back, and Razoul’s lashes fluttered as his breath fanned out, hot and heavy, against the back of her neck.
After that brutal taking, Jasmine could hardly sleep. She lay where she was, listening to his breathing deepen, feeling him go fully soft inside herd, smelling his musky, male scent covering her, surrounding her. She felt deliciously sore and warm inside out.
Long moments passed, and Jasmine began to feel restless under the heavy man that pressed her unthinkingly into the bed. His breathing was lighter now, so he was probably just dozing. They never slept long in between their bouts of raw, animalistic fucking, and that suited her just fine. Usually, by the time he was done with her, she needed the whole next day to recover from his taking.
Jasmine squirmed a little, trying to wiggle her hips out from underneath him as she levered her shoulder and upper body out as well. Razoul sighed gruffly, and his rough, meaty hand found her waist, skimming up to harshly cup the underswell of her breast, keeping her anchored to him. But his hips did give way slightly, turning to the side, until they were almost but not quite spooning, though with most of his weight still deliciously pressed atop her.
Jasmine wiggled some more, trying to extricate herself from him, or at least have him pull out, but Razoul’s breath hitched. Jasmine froze, and his large hand skirted down along her body until his thick fingers found her center, where they were still slickly joined. His fingertips played idly, rubbing her clit, and Jasmine had to bite her lip against a moan.
He kept up his ministrations, slow and lazy, and Jasmine squirmed again. Her hips bucked against him briefly, and her bottom pressed back into his groin. When this was answered by a low growl of need, Jasmine new she was in trouble.
She could do little more than gasp before she felt Razoul pull swiftly out of her, leaving her with a peculiar feeling of emptiness. He slid out with a wet pop and turned to sit on the side of the bed, his legs thrown off the mattress. Jasmine found herself grabbed, once more by the waist, and dragged over to where he was. Resistance was useless, and she was soon arranged on his lap without ceremony, naked and sprawled face down with one of his large hands on the small of her back, pinning her down, and the other resting with deceptive calmness on the backs of her thighs.
“What have I told you about disturbing my rest, Princess?” he asked, low and cruel. His hand rubbed her smooth thighs from behind before his fingers found her slick core and, quickly separating her lips, Razoul plunged two fingers into her swollen entrance once more with little warning.
Jasmine bucked hard against his invasion, her muscles tightening against the unwanted digits, but Razoul didn’t care. Razoul never cared. He stroked hard and deep, testing her wetness, and pulled out just as she was starting to get used to him.
“Randy little whore,” he whispered, his words almost a growl. “Can’t leave a man in peace, can you, my slut?”
Her eyes bugged in surprise when his hand came down with a swift, hard crack against her ass. Jasmine let out an affronted shout but that didn’t save her. Razoul spanked her again, hard, watching as her sensitive flesh reddened and quivered from his abuse. He spanked her again and again, delighting in her pleading whimpers and the way his handprints were seared onto her skin. Over and over his hand came down, abusing her bottom until Jasmine was sensitive even to a light breeze that caressed her cheeks. She trembled from the indignity of it, and Razoul finally decided that she’d had enough.
“Now that you’ve succeeded in waking me, you won’t be off the hook until I’m satisfied,” he purred, grabbing her waist and rearranging her on his lap.
Jasmine found herself straddling him, and balanced her hands on his hard, muscled thighs to spare her still-stinging bottom from the pressure of being seated there. Razoul grinned down at her and reached for the basket she kept by the bed. He withdrew a bottle, poured some oil into his hand, coated his thickening shaft.
She watched, mesmerized, as he proudly stroked up and down until his cock was hard and ruddy, jutting angrily upward, ready to mate with her. He was as thick as ever, glistening in the moonlight, and Razoul watched her with beady little eyes as he stroked up and down, up and down.
“You know what’s coming.”
She did.
He grabbed her and threw her back onto the bed. Jasmine glanced up at the curtained canopy that hung from the four posters, barely having a chance to suck in a breath before he was on top of her. Razoul grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders, so her the backs of her thighs were pressed against his chest. She was open to him now and he braced one hand on the mattress at the side and with the other reached for his throbbing cock.
An evil grin stretched his lips as he stared down into her wide, pleading brown eyes. Razoul aligned himself with her tiny, puckered star and pressed, his intent unmistakable.
“This is what I want,” he growled, his dark eyes boring into hers as she choked and spluttered. “This is what you will give me.”
Jasmine groaned and grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to push him off of her. Her fingernails scored his shoulders with half-moon prints.
“That won’t help you.” Razoul pushed harder, beginning to stretch her boundaries despite her vehement resistance. “This is what I will take from you. This is what you give to only me, isn’t it, Princess?”
Her only answer was a sob as she pushed futilely on his broad shoulders.
“This is mine,” he growled, pushing so that she widened enough to take in his bulbous head. Jasmine squealed and bucked, trying to escape the onslaught. “This belongs to only me, doesn’t it, my sweet?”
She was sobbing now as he pushed deeper, the oil making his passage easier, and Razoul watched her as he pushed all the way into the tightest, most secret part of her until he was seated to the hilt in her trembling, softly resisting body. He sat there for a moment, relishing the almost painfully tight feeling of her, the fact that no one else had ever treaded into this part of her. This was theirs alone; this was why she summoned him to her in the darkest part of the night.
He began to thrust, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Sometimes he tried to make this good for her, too, but usually, he didn’t. She liked it better that way - she got off on his selfishness, and that suited him just fine.
He pummeled her soft body, stretching her beyond belief, almost beyond capacity, with no sign of letting up. His stamina was a blessing and a curse, and sweat dripped off of his body and onto her chest as Jasmine moaned and groaned and panted and wept underneath him. His cock battered her, subdued her, reduced her to a trembling ball of nerves and nothing underneath the powerful bucking Captain. She was no longer the respected princess of the land; she was his toy, useless to him as soon as he was done with her.
His cock twitched and throbbed as he continued to pound into her, and Razoul gritted his teeth, feeling the familiar swell of release well up inside him. He did his best to ignore it, to prolong the incomparable feeling of thrusting into her tight, dark heat, but it was upon him before he could hold it off.
Razoul let out a trembling shout and spurted his seed into her ass, his body jerking and convulsing as he poured himself into her. Jasmine let out breathy moans and pants as he pressed down into her, her knees being pressed to her shoulders as Razoul’s orgasm flagged.
Her legs slipped off his shoulders and down his arms, and he sagged down onto her chest. His face found the column of her throat and he rested there, and Jasmine crossed her ankles behind his back. Razoul only rested for a minute before he propped himself up and pulled out of her slowly. Her body clung to him, making the withdrawal difficult, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when he slid out at last.
Razoul gazed down at her as Jasmine collapsed, limp, back onto the mattress, and then lowered himself to press a hard, greedy kiss to her mouth. Their tongues battled and their teeth clashed and by the time he finally pulled away, Jasmine was gasping for breath.
Exhausted, Razoul nevertheless maneuvered himself out of bed and stood, looking down at her naked body. He picked up the discarded sheet and spread it over her, and Jasmine sighed.
“You’re going to be very sore tomorrow,” he reminded her softly.
“I know,” she murmured, starting to drift off into sleep. “I always need a full day to recover after we’re together.”
“Goodnight, Princess,” he replied after a moment when it was clear that she was no longer fully coherent. “Don’t wait too long before you send for me again.”
And with that, Razoul pulled on his trousers and padded across her chambers and out into the hallway, returning to his own room where the others slept on, unaware of what had transpired - or had ever transpired - in his secret time with the Princess.
The End.
Note: The last chapter! This story was my first fill for Disney Kink and I hope to do many more. :)
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That night…
Jafar was reading the Agrabah Risala when Aladdin returned to the men’s chamber. He glanced up briefly from the parchment as the street rat flung himself down on a large cushion and let out a contented but slightly gruff sigh.
“Problems, mongrel?” he asked with disinterest, furrowing his brow as he read. Apparently the princess’s hare-brained scheme to update Agrabah’s irrigation infrastructure was seeing results - the date harvest was expected to double that of last year.
The little slip of a girl was just lucky, that was all.
He’d already forgotten that he’d asked the question when Jafar heard Aladdin give the answer. “She’s with Mozenrath.”
“You had your time with her, didn’t you?” Jafar asked, not caring to once again get sucked into the emotional trials and tribulations of the young.
“Yes…”
“Then I advise you to get over it,” he fairly sneered. These young men he was forced to cohabitate with - really. They wouldn’t know masculine dignity if it bit them on the bottom.
“But-“
“Just be quiet and be happy you got to…” Jafar paused and lowered the scroll. “What did you do with her?”
Aladdin couldn’t help the satisfied twitch of his lips. “Got sucked.”
Jafar let out a little huff of a laugh and settled back into his reading. “Good for you, then, child. Be happy.”
“What do you mean?” Aladdin bristled. “What did you do with her just now?”
“I’m not going to indulge your jealousy,” Jafar yawned, slitting a glance toward the door as one of the princess’s handmaidens let in their roommate. “But I have a feeling he will.”
Mozenrath was smirking as he strolled over to them. He didn’t spare a glance at Aladdin as he flopped down on the arranged cushions and reached for a platter of food that the handmaidens had brought in his absence. He lifted a leg of camel and began devouring it as Aladdin glared at him balefully, knowing too well the most likely reason that the other man was famished.
“Don’t you two even start,” came a warning growl from by the window. Razoul was propped up against a pillow, sharpening his dagger. It was a curved weapon, and serrated, so the sharpening was quite a task. But it was what the burly guard enjoyed doing most. “I am in no mood for your nonsense.”
Aladdin and Mozenrath glanced at each other and smiled, temporarily on the same side.
“What’s the matter, Razoul?” Mozenrath chuckled, keeping his voice deliberately light as he reached for the grapes that went surprisingly well with camel.
“It sounds like someone’s just jealous that Jasmine isn’t interested in seeing him,” Aladdin teased.
Jafar rolled his eyes and hunkered down, intending to fully absorb himself in his Risalla.
Razoul just laughed. It was a harsh, grating sound. If laughter could sound brutal, Razoul’s would have been. He turned his dark, beady eyes on the two young men. “Don’t you two worry about my time with the Princess.”
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The night passed uneventfully - almost. Mozenrath devoured most of the food on the plate, which angered Jafar and Aladdin, and a brief ruckus ensued until the handmaidens heard the commotion and brought more food. After the sunset prayer, the men sat down to eat, but only after admonishing Mozenrath not to take more than his fair share. That led to ribald remarks from the young man about why his appetite had increased in the last few hours, which led to sarcastic remarks from Aladdin, and Jafar was once again stuck playing peacemaker to two ill-bred imbeciles that he couldn’t believe he was forced to share living space with.
Then it was time for the dusk prayer, and after that Jafar usually read aloud from a new serial novel that had just been published, called One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. Rumor had it that there would be a few stories in it that were based on Agrabah, and the entire kingdom eagerly awaited every new publication.
And then it was time to sleep, and Razoul still hadn’t been summoned. The men retired to their individual bedchambers, set off in the corners of the large chamber with private adjoining rooms for their ablutions and dressing and other matters. When the moon was high in the sky and the night was still and deep, there was a soft knock at the door. A handmaiden entered, advanced to where Razoul lay propped up in his bed, unsleeping, and beckoned him to follow.
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Razoul didn’t sleep much. And he didn’t mind.
It was usually nighttime when the Princess called him. Not dusk - it was the dead of night, just a few hours before the morning prayer and the rise of the sun. Everyone else was always fast asleep, and that was when he was called. It suited him just fine.
The idea was usually the same - what he was called to do with the Princess. But he improvised every time, finding new things that would shock and test her, pushing her just past her limits, just out of her comfort zone. It kept things exciting and interesting and it kept her happy.
She was asleep in her richly appointed canopy bed - asleep or pretending to be asleep. It could have been either, based on how they had conducted their liaisons many times in the past. The moonlight streamed down on her, making her thick hair glow glossy and almost blue, bathing her skin with cream. Razoul noticed that she wore her clothes under the thin sheet, and the corners of his mouth turned downward with displeasure.
Without any preamble, he gripped the silk sheet and yanked - hard. Jasmine gasped as the cool air hit her bare arms and shoulder, her fingers curling in the bed sheets. Razoul stripped the sheet away and threw it to the side, then pounced onto the bed to join her. Jasmine’s eyes flew open as the bed dipped from his weight, jostling her a little.
Razoul leaned over her, his beady dark eyes gleaming in the darkness, and his rough, calloused hands skirted over her bare midriff as he straddled her thighs. Jasmine’s eyes widened but she didn’t have time to make a sound before his hands grasped her top and he ripped, tearing her bodice from her body and leaving her breasts bare.
His hands molded to her, squeezing and shaping her firm breasts against his rough palms. Her nipples popped up between his fingers, starting to pebble, and Razoul tightened his fingers, trapping them there and making her moan.
He leaned down and kissed her roughly, his thickly corded thighs trapping her legs between them as he began to grind down on her. She felt his cock, thick and fleshy, just barely starting to harden as it hitched against her feminine core. Jasmine groaned as his lips brutally captured hers, trying to twist away. But Razoul grabbed her wrists and held them pinned above her head in just one of his large hands. He used the other to tweak her nipple, twisting it and rubbing it as he kissed her. His tongue swept into her mouth, greedy and hot and demanding, and Jasmine was trapped.
She twisted some more, bucking her hips, but that only inflamed his desire further and pressed her up against his burgeoning arousal. Jasmine gasped for breath as his mouth moved on to her neck and throat, pressing hot, wet kisses there as his teeth scraped against the sensitive skin. He moved lower, capturing one turgid peak of her breast in his mouth and sucking deeply, mercilessly. She sobbed and twisted, and he moved on to the other one, repeating the action and pulling her into his mouth.
Her stomach quivered as he moved lower, releasing her hands. Razoul licked into her navel, his tongue tickling her there in a gesture that was uncharacteristically … sweet. And then he pushed himself up, kneeling on her bed, and managed to quickly divest himself of his trousers.
His cock sprang free, thick and dusky with a large, throbbing head that made her gulp. He wasn’t fully hard yet, and with the way he was leering at her, it was clear that he intended that she help him with that.
Razoul prowled over her, like a large, feral cat. “Get me hard,” he all but growled.
Jasmine nodded and gingerly reached for him, wrapping her fingers around the base of his shaft where his cock protruded from a nest of dark, curly hair. She leaned closer, puckering her lips, and delicately kissed the head before swirling her tongue around it. Razoul’s hiss signaled his pleasure, but the low growl that followed also indicated his frustration.
A large hand found her bare chest, shoving Jasmine back onto the bed. She fell flat on her back and he was straddling her before she could blink. His cock jutted out in front of her eyes, his large, bulbous testicles hanging right over her.
“You’re too slow,” Razoul all but purred, the sound smooth as silk, but as dark and dangerous as the Captain of the Guards was. “I can see I’m going to have to teach you how I want it done if you’re to do it right.”
With that, he grasped her chin, and Jasmine’s lips parted. Without pausing a beat, Razoul thrust his cock into her mouth, ignoring her startled gasp. Jasmine’s hands flew up to grasp his hips as he thrust forward, into her wet, welcoming heat. Her fingers grappled at his hips and tears sprang to her eyes, but Razoul didn’t pay her any mind. His hands gripped the headboard and as soon as he was assured that she wouldn’t suffocate, he began to thrust steadily.
Jasmine’s hands worked around to his bare ass, gripping the cheeks to try to control the pace a little, but it was futile. Razoul controlled the depth of his strokes and their frequency, and it was all Jasmine could do to keep drawing breath as his cock plundered her mouth. He slid deeper each time, pressing against the back of her throat before she forced her muscles to relax and draw him in deeper, the way he liked it.
Sure enough, Razoul groaned and let his hips sink deep, causing her lips to close around the base of his cock as his pubic hair brushed her nose. He stayed that way for a moment before pumping in a series of short, shallow thrusts, enjoying the way he was seated deep in her throat. His breath was coming faster and Jasmine squeezed his ass, her carefully manicured fingers digging into the muscle there. Her lips worked furiously around his base, her tongue rubbing against his silky-soft skin as she made little moans and hums that she knew reverberated and pleased him greatly. She wondered if he’d come in her mouth as he had many times before, but just before he was about to shoot his load, Razoul withdrew with a curse and heaved himself off her.
Panting hard, he glared at her in the darkness. Jasmine drank in the sight of him. His barrel chest heaved with each breath, his muscles corded and impressive. He was so hard that his cock was pointing straight up, as if plastered against his flat stomach. Razoul gave it a rough jerk with his fist without taking his eyes off her, then passed it over with his hand against, and it bobbed and throbbed in a way that looked almost painful.
“C-Can I-“ Her voice failed her and Jasmine licked her lips and tried again. “Can I help you with that?” she asked, gesturing to his impressive erection.
“Oh, you will,” Razoul promised darkly. And then he pounced.
He was on her before she even saw him coming, and Jasmine almost screamed when he roughly grabbed the band of her silk pants and tugged them all the way down her legs. He threw them to the side, not caring where they landed, and situated himself between her legs, spreading her knees wide so that she was completely open to him. Jasmine stared up at him, the barrel-chested Captain of the Guards kneeling between her legs and staring so fixedly down at the most secret part of her.
Razoul didn’t waste any time with gentleness or finesse. As his dick jutted and twitched, he parted her folds and thrust two fingers into her, deep. This time, Jasmine did scream. It was a hoarse, throaty sound, born of surprise and the shock of two thick, rough fingers probing her slick channel deeply.
“Just as I thought,” Razoul glowered, his dark eyes assessing her shrewdly. “You’re so wet for me. So very, very wet.”
Jasmine felt herself flush all over, and her hands fisted in the bed sheets, her hips bucking up, as Razoul stroked deep, touching and rubbing against some deep, secret part of her that set off a firestorm of sensation throughout her entire body.
Razoul stroked her again, grinning cruelly as she keened and strained into the conduct. His thick fingers in her tight channel were stretching her wide, and Jasmine felt the loss acutely when he abruptly withdrew. But the disappointment was quickly replaced by shock as she was grasped roughly by the waist and flipped over, her face pressing into the mattress. Her fingers grappled with the sheets as she was yanked backwards, and Jasmine felt his cock poking against the back of her thigh as Razoul positioned her.
He wasted only scant seconds with the positioning as his large, meaty hands gripped her backside. His thumbs pulled her lower lips apart slightly and that was all he needed. With one swift, deep thrust, he impaled her fully on his thick, throbbing cock, pushing in deep and hard until he was fully seated.
Jasmine let out a full-throated scream, her hands fisting in the bedcovers. She tried to pull away from his brutal invasion, but Razoul wasn’t having any of it. His hands were anchored to her thighs, his fingers branding her with his touch, as he thrust into her again and again, moving her as he needed to establish the most satisfying pace.
Jasmine screamed and groaned and sobbed, but to no avail. Razoul was pumping like a madman, using her as little more than a rag doll, a receptacle for his imminent release. Her nails scrabbled for purchase, but it was useless: she was at his mercy, at his disposal, at his whim.
He rubbed her in all the right places, and she choked back on the pleasured moans that threatened to spill forth. Her back bowed and she knew it was coming. It hit her with nearly unprecedented force, and the world exploded in color and heat around her. Her back arched powerfully, her hips thrusting back into his unrelenting pumping, and Jasmine collapsed from the unbearable lightness of her release.
Razoul paid her ecstasy no mind. It never mattered to him, according to the game they played. He pumped her right through her orgasm, her clenching muscles squeezing his thick cock, focused only on his own release. With her trembling, constricting body’s assistance, it found him quickly thereafter. He let out a mighty roar and spilled his release into her tight channel, his hips thrusting forward powerfully and pushing Jasmine’s face harder into the mattress. A few last clenches of her delicate muscles milked him dry and Razoul began to sag, slowly.
He lowered himself down on top of her, unable to do anything more, and they were both resting flat along the bed, his large, heavy body mostly on top of her, his softening cock still buried inside her. His chest rose and fell, pressing against her back, and Razoul’s lashes fluttered as his breath fanned out, hot and heavy, against the back of her neck.
After that brutal taking, Jasmine could hardly sleep. She lay where she was, listening to his breathing deepen, feeling him go fully soft inside herd, smelling his musky, male scent covering her, surrounding her. She felt deliciously sore and warm inside out.
Long moments passed, and Jasmine began to feel restless under the heavy man that pressed her unthinkingly into the bed. His breathing was lighter now, so he was probably just dozing. They never slept long in between their bouts of raw, animalistic fucking, and that suited her just fine. Usually, by the time he was done with her, she needed the whole next day to recover from his taking.
Jasmine squirmed a little, trying to wiggle her hips out from underneath him as she levered her shoulder and upper body out as well. Razoul sighed gruffly, and his rough, meaty hand found her waist, skimming up to harshly cup the underswell of her breast, keeping her anchored to him. But his hips did give way slightly, turning to the side, until they were almost but not quite spooning, though with most of his weight still deliciously pressed atop her.
Jasmine wiggled some more, trying to extricate herself from him, or at least have him pull out, but Razoul’s breath hitched. Jasmine froze, and his large hand skirted down along her body until his thick fingers found her center, where they were still slickly joined. His fingertips played idly, rubbing her clit, and Jasmine had to bite her lip against a moan.
He kept up his ministrations, slow and lazy, and Jasmine squirmed again. Her hips bucked against him briefly, and her bottom pressed back into his groin. When this was answered by a low growl of need, Jasmine new she was in trouble.
She could do little more than gasp before she felt Razoul pull swiftly out of her, leaving her with a peculiar feeling of emptiness. He slid out with a wet pop and turned to sit on the side of the bed, his legs thrown off the mattress. Jasmine found herself grabbed, once more by the waist, and dragged over to where he was. Resistance was useless, and she was soon arranged on his lap without ceremony, naked and sprawled face down with one of his large hands on the small of her back, pinning her down, and the other resting with deceptive calmness on the backs of her thighs.
“What have I told you about disturbing my rest, Princess?” he asked, low and cruel. His hand rubbed her smooth thighs from behind before his fingers found her slick core and, quickly separating her lips, Razoul plunged two fingers into her swollen entrance once more with little warning.
Jasmine bucked hard against his invasion, her muscles tightening against the unwanted digits, but Razoul didn’t care. Razoul never cared. He stroked hard and deep, testing her wetness, and pulled out just as she was starting to get used to him.
“Randy little whore,” he whispered, his words almost a growl. “Can’t leave a man in peace, can you, my slut?”
Her eyes bugged in surprise when his hand came down with a swift, hard crack against her ass. Jasmine let out an affronted shout but that didn’t save her. Razoul spanked her again, hard, watching as her sensitive flesh reddened and quivered from his abuse. He spanked her again and again, delighting in her pleading whimpers and the way his handprints were seared onto her skin. Over and over his hand came down, abusing her bottom until Jasmine was sensitive even to a light breeze that caressed her cheeks. She trembled from the indignity of it, and Razoul finally decided that she’d had enough.
“Now that you’ve succeeded in waking me, you won’t be off the hook until I’m satisfied,” he purred, grabbing her waist and rearranging her on his lap.
Jasmine found herself straddling him, and balanced her hands on his hard, muscled thighs to spare her still-stinging bottom from the pressure of being seated there. Razoul grinned down at her and reached for the basket she kept by the bed. He withdrew a bottle, poured some oil into his hand, coated his thickening shaft.
She watched, mesmerized, as he proudly stroked up and down until his cock was hard and ruddy, jutting angrily upward, ready to mate with her. He was as thick as ever, glistening in the moonlight, and Razoul watched her with beady little eyes as he stroked up and down, up and down.
“You know what’s coming.”
She did.
He grabbed her and threw her back onto the bed. Jasmine glanced up at the curtained canopy that hung from the four posters, barely having a chance to suck in a breath before he was on top of her. Razoul grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders, so her the backs of her thighs were pressed against his chest. She was open to him now and he braced one hand on the mattress at the side and with the other reached for his throbbing cock.
An evil grin stretched his lips as he stared down into her wide, pleading brown eyes. Razoul aligned himself with her tiny, puckered star and pressed, his intent unmistakable.
“This is what I want,” he growled, his dark eyes boring into hers as she choked and spluttered. “This is what you will give me.”
Jasmine groaned and grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to push him off of her. Her fingernails scored his shoulders with half-moon prints.
“That won’t help you.” Razoul pushed harder, beginning to stretch her boundaries despite her vehement resistance. “This is what I will take from you. This is what you give to only me, isn’t it, Princess?”
Her only answer was a sob as she pushed futilely on his broad shoulders.
“This is mine,” he growled, pushing so that she widened enough to take in his bulbous head. Jasmine squealed and bucked, trying to escape the onslaught. “This belongs to only me, doesn’t it, my sweet?”
She was sobbing now as he pushed deeper, the oil making his passage easier, and Razoul watched her as he pushed all the way into the tightest, most secret part of her until he was seated to the hilt in her trembling, softly resisting body. He sat there for a moment, relishing the almost painfully tight feeling of her, the fact that no one else had ever treaded into this part of her. This was theirs alone; this was why she summoned him to her in the darkest part of the night.
He began to thrust, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Sometimes he tried to make this good for her, too, but usually, he didn’t. She liked it better that way - she got off on his selfishness, and that suited him just fine.
He pummeled her soft body, stretching her beyond belief, almost beyond capacity, with no sign of letting up. His stamina was a blessing and a curse, and sweat dripped off of his body and onto her chest as Jasmine moaned and groaned and panted and wept underneath him. His cock battered her, subdued her, reduced her to a trembling ball of nerves and nothing underneath the powerful bucking Captain. She was no longer the respected princess of the land; she was his toy, useless to him as soon as he was done with her.
His cock twitched and throbbed as he continued to pound into her, and Razoul gritted his teeth, feeling the familiar swell of release well up inside him. He did his best to ignore it, to prolong the incomparable feeling of thrusting into her tight, dark heat, but it was upon him before he could hold it off.
Razoul let out a trembling shout and spurted his seed into her ass, his body jerking and convulsing as he poured himself into her. Jasmine let out breathy moans and pants as he pressed down into her, her knees being pressed to her shoulders as Razoul’s orgasm flagged.
Her legs slipped off his shoulders and down his arms, and he sagged down onto her chest. His face found the column of her throat and he rested there, and Jasmine crossed her ankles behind his back. Razoul only rested for a minute before he propped himself up and pulled out of her slowly. Her body clung to him, making the withdrawal difficult, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when he slid out at last.
Razoul gazed down at her as Jasmine collapsed, limp, back onto the mattress, and then lowered himself to press a hard, greedy kiss to her mouth. Their tongues battled and their teeth clashed and by the time he finally pulled away, Jasmine was gasping for breath.
Exhausted, Razoul nevertheless maneuvered himself out of bed and stood, looking down at her naked body. He picked up the discarded sheet and spread it over her, and Jasmine sighed.
“You’re going to be very sore tomorrow,” he reminded her softly.
“I know,” she murmured, starting to drift off into sleep. “I always need a full day to recover after we’re together.”
“Goodnight, Princess,” he replied after a moment when it was clear that she was no longer fully coherent. “Don’t wait too long before you send for me again.”
And with that, Razoul pulled on his trousers and padded across her chambers and out into the hallway, returning to his own room where the others slept on, unaware of what had transpired - or had ever transpired - in his secret time with the Princess.
The End.