Breaking her was his privilege and his duty. He couldn’t believe they’d snatched her away: the pride of her kingdom, the symbol of all they stood for. And he was the one who got to shatter her. He was the one who’d get to tarnish her gleam forever.
Her wrists and ankles were clasped. A blindfold covered her eyes. Her mouth was similarly veiled. Don’t let her look at you, they’d said. Don’t let her touch you. Don’t let her speak. She was formidable, this one. There were fearsome whispers of how she treated disloyal subjects—what she did to those who dared oppose her. Give her even a little leeway, the officers had decided, and she would wreak havoc on all their plans.
Not that he entirely believed those superstitions, mind. He knew exactly what to do with lovely women. He knew what it would take to break a prisoner such as this.
“We’ll have to maim you,” he told her, sighing regretfully. “I’m afraid we can’t keep you intact. That’s on you, love, not us. You’re too potent. As a woman, and as a symbol. If you weren’t as admirable as you are, we wouldn’t have to take nearly as stringent a set of precautions.”
He ran his fingers mournfully up her naked side, caressing her shoulder. “I do think it’s a shame,” he murmured. “And I shall have to appreciate you myself, while there’s still anything of you let to appreciate.”
His hand caressed her throat, and he imagined how lovely it must be as it vibrated with her moans. With his other hand, he found her left nipple, and brushed it with his fingertips; he was delighted to feel it stiffen. He pinched it then, and twisted, and squeezed, and was rewarded with a muffled gasp.
“I can imagine how lucky you would have made your husband every night… but then, you never married, did you? You consolidated your power most impressively, my darling. And you kept your loveliest heaven to yourself…”
He brought his lips to her nipple, and kissed and nibbled and sucked. He couldn’t help himself. It was too tempting to pass up. He brought his hand between her legs, though, and stroked and fingered her—he was delighted to find she was a little wet for him. No sense letting her go to waste when he could just keep her mindless for him with a little teasing, was there?
“If only I could taste your tongue.”
He let himself suck her other breast, too, and then kissed her throat and her chin and even her cheek.
“Oh, you are delectable,” he said. He pressed himself against her, and let her feel the stiffness in his pants. It was shameless, really, the way he rubbed against her, up and down, humping and grinding on her, writhing even. “If only you could hold me,” he said—more like moaned. “If only I could know what it’s like to have you in his arms.”
He pulled away. “But I can’t have that, can I? What a pity.”
For a while, then, he just traced her with his hands, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the way she recoiled against his touch. He knew he ought to start hurting her, start breaking and cutting and bruising… but it was tempting to just let the moment linger. He liked feeling her fear, and he liked feeling her. And he was prone to self-indulgence. One of the reasons they gave him the duty, probably: they wanted her desecration to be complete.
He embraced her, wrapped his arms around her, pressed his body tightly against hers, writhed and writhed and writhed. “If only you could hold me,” he said again. “And maybe…”
There was a long hesitation. Then: Fuck it, why not.
“I’m going to free your right wrist,” he told her. “And I want you to put your hand on the back of my head. If you do, I will leave certain parts of you intact. Grant me this, and I will be merciful—as merciful as I’m permitted to be, you understand.”
He undid the restraint around her wrist, and she obliged. He felt the bliss of her fingers in his hair, the loveliness of her palm pressing him against her. He let her caress him against her cheek and down her neck, and then he let her hold him to her chest as he took her in his mouth, more rapturously than before. Then—and with less pause than was prudent—he let her bring him to his knees, and press his head between her legs, and he offered her cunt a greedy tongue that was glad to readily admit its greed.
Then the hand lifted. He looked up and saw she was fiddling with the cuff against her other wrist. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, and hit her, hard. Her face snapped to the side. It brought a lovely color to her cheeks, so he hit her again, the other way.
“Don’t make me put you back in bondage,” he said, and paused. “Perhaps we’re done here.”
Just imagine, said a traitorous voice inside of him, if she could hold you in her arms…
No, he told himself. No, no, no. He didn’t let himself look at her. He certainly didn’t touch her anymore.
There was a long silence, then. The longer a silence like this went, he knew, the more it said that he’d already made up his mind.
Oh, alright. Fine.
“I’ll let your other arm free,” he told her, “and you are to caress me. No more. After that, it’s back to the punishments you have in store. I will offer you no gentler mercies for this—it is my gratitude for getting to have you, and nothing more. Cherish it. It’s the last you’ll ever have.”
Something about that sounded wrong to him—sounded like a revelation he oughtn’t have revealed—but he put that to the side. If he was being honest, all that he was really focused on was the giddy thought of her arms around him, holding him the way he could all-too-easily imagine being held. All that remained was his anticipation.
And then he freed her arm, and she drew him in and held him close, and in the feel of her chest against his, he realized that he’d made a mistake.
She pressed his lips against her clothed mouth. He kissed, fervently, the gag he’d trapped her in. She pulled his head back, and he stared at the blindfold where her eyes should have been. And then—without ever letting him go—she slipped the blindfold off her face.
He stared, transfixed, at the beauty of her eyes.
She undid the gag, too, and dropped it down around her neck. “My beautiful boy,” she said, and if the lovely pout of her lips hadn’t done him in, the bright softness of her voice would have done the trick. “That’s it. Stare at me. You know you love to look.”
It was hard not to, especially when she took him in her arms once again, and held him to her, the way he’d wanted her to hold him all along.
“My lineage,” she told him, “has always had a strange beauty to them. You enjoy that, don’t you? You love getting to behold me. I’m sure it fueled your resentments, you and all the revolutionaries, not just having to serve the royal family but having to gaze upon us, every day, everywhere you looked? Having to look, knowing you’d never get to touch?”
She didn’t need him to respond, which was good, because he didn’t.
“We’re not just beautiful,” she crooned, and swayed her body against his as she held him close. His eyes never left hers. They couldn’t. “There’s something… entrancing about my beauty, isn’t there? It puts you in a daze.”
Daze. The word swam into his mind and left it. He was having trouble focusing, all of a sudden. Having trouble paying attention to what she said, even though he took in every word.
“The more you look at me… the more you feel me… the more you start to go adrift. Because there’s nothing else worth noticing, is there? Why would you bother to think? I’m so beautiful.”
“Yes,” he breathed.
“I’m not royal because my family came to power,” she told him. “I’m royal because I deserve to be. Nobody made me a princess. They just looked at me… and, if they were lucky, felt me… and their bodies taught them what I was. Don’t you see? Doesn’t it feel right?”
“You can’t just…” He shook his head. Something was in him now, a disturbing but not-unpleasant feeling, and he knew he had to shake it away.
“Oh yes I can,” she said, and brought his mouth to hers, and her tongue taught him a lesson. The lesson was, he wanted her tongue. The lesson was, when he tasted her, there was only the taste of her, and nothing else.
“Aww, your head is swimming,” she said. There was a mock concern in her voice that made him want to crawl. “Poor boy. You can’t remember anything, can you? I’m just so beautiful…”
“Yes,” he said again.
“And when I tell you that, you can’t help but respond, can you? I’m so beautiful…”
“Yes.”
“And you’d do anything I wanted, when I give myself to you. Because I am so, so beautiful…”
“Yes.”
“Good boy,” she said, and kissed him long and deep. “You’re falling for me, aren’t you? You can’t help it—I’m just so beautiful…”
“Yes.”
“You’d do anything to serve your beautiful princess. I am your princess, aren’t I? After all, I’m so…”
“Yes,” he said, “yes, yes.”
She giggled at him. “Silly boy.” He blushed at her words, but when she hugged him closer to her, he found he didn’t mind.
“You’re fucked,” she told him, “aren’t you?” She brought her lips to his ear, and he could feel them brush against him as she whispered. “You’re helpless for me now. You’ll do anything I tell you to. Anything for my beauty…”
“Yes,” he said to her. He felt numb and passionate all at the same time.
“Yes, princess,” she corrected.
“Yes, princess.”
“On your hands and knees,” she ordered. “You’re to undo the bindings on my legs. I must be fully free—fully free to conquer you and take you, fully free to rule over you as you desire.”
The command itself he might have resisted; the promise of what was to come, however, was too much.
He fell to his knees and then his elbows. He fumbled with her ankles as her bindings came undone.
“Good boy,” she said approvingly, and then she took her first step. “Roll over.”
He did as he was told.
“You loved coming to me,” she said. “You loved touching me and stepping back, taking in as much as you could savor, pulling back as you made yourself dizzy on my intoxicating touch. You were addicted to me, weren’t you? Daring yourself to keep going, to come back, not to pull away before it was too late. Not that it was enough.”
She leaned over him.
“But now, my lovesick little subject, you don’t get to choose how much of me you get.”
And with that, she was on top of him.
“Don’t you love the feel of your beautiful princess?” she purred, and pressed herself against him.
He gasped. It was too much. He pressed himself against her, he panted, he squirmed. He struggled against her touch in ways that only brought him closer to her. The sight of her half-hidden by his body was even lovelier than the sight of her in full, bound and gagged. She writhed along him, and the sight of her was like a wave rising and falling. He was transfixed by her every curve and fold, by the way her shifting caught the light. Her body flowed into his, and her every movement was a new kind of softness, a new kind of warmth, a new way for his body to mold itself to the sole duty of wanting and needing and loving and serving her.
“Don’t forget,” she told him. “I’m beautiful.”
“Yes…” he said, as involuntarily as ever.
“You don’t need to think about anything. Just how beautiful I am.”
“Yes…”
“Oh… you need me so bad, don’t you? You love how beautiful I am.”
“Yes, princess…”
“Good boy. Your cock is growing hard for me, isn’t it? That’s your need for me. That’s how beautiful I am. Your cock stands to attention because I’m all you want. I’m all you ever crave.”
“Yes, princess…”
“It’s so hard, for you to be so overwhelmed with how beautiful I am. You really are dazed by my beauty, aren’t you? Almost hypnotized. You can’t look away. You can’t think of anything else. It’s agony for you, to see how beautiful I am, to touch me, and to feel yourself getting more and more desperate for me, even as you have me. You’re in pain. You’re suffering for my beauty. And the more of me you get, the less you think of anything else, and the less you want to do anything else but suffer for me, and be desperate for my beauty…”
He whimpered at that, without her telling him to.
“Oh, that’s it. You silly little thing. You love your beautiful princess… you can’t help yourself. Whimper and plead for me. You can’t remember how to speak… not when all you can think about is how beautiful I am, and how much it hurts to want my beauty more and more and more…”
He was whining for her now. Writhing under her. His mind was on fire. He was panting for her. He was in heat.
“You’re barely human when you need me. When you want me.” Her breath was like a warm, enveloping breeze. “It kills you how composed I am, and how dignified… and meanwhile you’re moaning and gasping with how beautiful I am. And I’m just your prisoner. Naked, battered, exposed. Imagine me dressed up for you, all pretty and immaculate. Imagine my body teasing you beneath a dress. Imagine a crown sparkling on my head.”
He more than moaned. It was a long, drawn-out thing. It was a sermon in one sound.
“You’re a crude little beast when you want me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, princess.”
“You’re lucky that I let you have me. Don’t you feel lucky?”
“Yes, princess.”
“You’d do anything to keep me.”
“Yes, pr—”
She smothered his mouth with a breast, and let him gasp his sudden need into her.
“You’re my puppet,” she exclaimed, delighted. “You’ll do anything for me. And you won’t even think about it. Because you’ll be too distracted by how beautiful I am.”
How many times had she called herself beautiful? They all blended together. He was losing his place in time. She was taking off her blindfold. She was writhing, still-bound, against his touch. He was kneeling for her. She was straddling him. It was all one and the same. She was beautiful. He knew nothing else.
“Open your mouth,” she said.
His jaw dropped open.
“Good boy. Lick the air. Show me how much you want me, my little pet.”
He licked it like it was her. She rewarded him with the briefest taste of her tongue.
“Now unzip your pants,” she told him. “I think it’s time to take your cock.”
That word, take, thrilled him. He fumbled with his zipper, and his cock sprang out of its own accord.
He sank into her like he belonged inside her.
“That’s right, my pet. Show me that you know your place.”
He grunted and moaned and his hips bucked. “I want to serve you,” he gasped.
“Obey me,” she ordered.
“I want to serve you.”
“Obey me.”
“I want t… to serve you.”
“Obey me.”
“My princess.”
“That’s right…” she coaxed. “Aren’t I beautiful?”
“Yes,” he moaned, as if she was asking him for the first time.
“If you want me, you have to serve me.”
“I will obey you.”
“Don’t think,” she cooed. “Your cock knows how beautiful I am.”
“Yes, princess.”
“You were made to serve me.”
“I obey you.”
“And I was born to rule you.”
“Please, princess.”
“This is what makes you common. You were born to serve me. I was born to rule you. This is everything you’ve ever wanted. To serve me… to show me how beautiful I am… to show me how good it feels to long for me…”
“I obey you, princess. I am yours.”
“You only get to cum if you’re mine.”
“Princess…!” he gasped.
“And until you cum, you haven’t served me.”
“No, princess, no, I…”
“What is it, pet?” She looked down at him and pouted, a taunting look of insincere worry in her eyes. “Why don’t you obey me? Why won’t you serve me? Am I not beautiful enough for you? Do you not think that I am beautiful enough to worship and serve?”
“No, princess, please, I—”
“No? I’m not?” Her mocking eyes grew even sadder.
“Please, princess! I obey you. I must serve you. I…”
“You’re my puppet, you little boy.”
“Yes, princess, I want to be yours, I…”
“You know that when you cum for me, I’ll own you forever.”
“Please! Please! Please, princess!”
“When you serve me, I’ll let you cum for me whenever you please me.”
“Yes, princess! Yes! I want to please you! Let me please you! Princess, princess, please please please please…!”
“Look at me. Aren’t I beautiful?”
“Yes,” he sobbed, “yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…”
“Tell me how beautiful I am, my little pet.”
“You’re beautiful,” he gasped. “You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You…”
With every exhalation, he meant it more, meant it in a different way. It was as if he was discovering the meaning of the word—as if he was learning to see her for the first time. With every thrust, with every recitation, his eyes opened wider and wider, and his thrusts grew longer and smoother and straighter, until she was the only vision in his eyes, the only desire in his heart, until offering himself to her was the only thing he could imagine, the only movement he could make, the only way that he could show her…
“Ohhhhhh… princess! You’re beautif… you’re beauty… you’re b… you’re b… you’re b… you’re b… you’re…”
He shook so hard he began to hyperventilate. She leaned down and enveloped him, and granted him the embrace he’d always wanted. He shook and sobbed into her arms.
“Oh, my poor pet,” she soothed. “Oh, my poor, poor pet.”
He cried with how beautiful she was, with how much he wanted her.
“You weren’t ready for that, were you? I told you: a peasant like you isn’t prepared to handle royalty like me. I didn’t choose to be royalty—I was just made this way. It’s why people like me barely look down at people like you: we just know we’d break your hearts. But you forgot your place, didn’t you? Now you remember, and I can tell it’s too, too much.”
She leaned down and kissed him. He felt her smile against his mouth as she sensed the way he stiffened, and she took his cock in her hand, stroking it slowly.
“Now, you know I’ll have to punish you,” she said. “Rather severely. But why don’t you help me round up your co-conspirators first? If you do, maybe I can offer you one last reward before you’re sentenced. Maybe I’ll give you the kind of reward that blows your mind completely. Wouldn’t you love your last thought to be of the ways my body feels against you, and how beautiful my eyes are when I see that you’re devoted to me till your dying day?”
She took her hand off him and sat up.
“Of course… if you don’t help me, then you may just have to watch the way I seduce all your friends, one by one. And who knows? Maybe I’ll give them gifts I didn’t let you see, and let you suffer till your death with the thought that you didn’t earn every last one of my blessings.”
It was the worst thought he’d ever had. He moaned with pain at that, pain and fear and loss and loneliness.
She smiled at him, and the soft twinkle in her eyes was enough to melt his heart. “That’s what I thought,” she said. “Of course, you’ll never get everything I have to offer, my sweet puppet. You don’t deserve it, and you wouldn’t be able to handle it anyway. I simply won’t have enough time to deal with the likes of you. But I can give you more—you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She stood and towered over him.
“Now clean up,” she instructed, “and get dressed. Show me how you go to war to save the kingdom. Show me how you fight, you brave, brave man, to protect the woman of your dreams.”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/nart8d/bdsm_the_crown_jewel