Bad dog butch that hasn’t behaved so they get no treat. Bad doggy that has to kneel at the foot of my bed & just watch while I play with myself. Bad doggy butch that whines when they see my little lace panties getting so wet, but a bad dog can’t have a taste. And they want a taste soo bad. Bad dog butch who promises to be good, please, they’ll be good. Bad dog butch whimpering so sweet when I gently press my foot against the bulge in their pants & say “Sit, doggy.” All their muscles tense with effort, straining to not move their hips while I undo their belt. The way they’d whimper when I take their cock out. Poor bad puppy. Their dark eyes watching me strip, watching me bend over in front of them, bare pussy on display. Bad dog butch who just wants to prove they can be my good boy again. Trying so hard to hold still for me while I slowly fuck myself back on their cock. Bad boy who can only watch while I use them to cum again & again. Gritting their teeth & whining, so eager to fuck me, but a good dog knows how to sit & stay. And you’d do anything to be my good boy again. Right?
You know, maybe I'm into knights for the corruption of it all.
You, the knight, so loyal and chivalrous. You'd never think about putting your hands on the princess. You'd protect her without thinking, lay down your life without hesitation. A princess is the future of the kingdom, and you, though a mighty warrior, are merely her subject.
She's above you, so of course you imagine her on top of you. Your mind is taunted by the image of her arching back and legs spread over your lap. You think about it so much that you can nearly hear the melodic sound of her voice moaning out your name between gasps of pleasure. It's only spurred as you stand guard outside of her room and hear her touching herself.
Your loyalty morphs into near obsession and your chastity and chivalry into deep repression. You tell yourself that the brief moments of eye contact, the brushes of her hand against you are nothing. You grow more tense, and only ache more strongly as you grow desperate for the feeling of her body against yours, unable to find release elsewhere.
You'd never lay a hand on your princess, but when you lock eyes across a ballroom at her engagement dinner, why does it seem like she knows exactly where your mind has been? Why does she follow you secretly when you step outside to do rounds in the garden and get some fresh air?
You know why instantly when you see her eyes in the moonlight. She takes your hand and looks to you in desperation. "I want you," she breathes, barely discernable in the still, night air.
Your fast-beating heart stops short in your chest. "But my lady, your betrothed-"
"I have no intention of saving myself for a husband I've never met." Her pleading eyes bore into you.
"It wouldn't be proper," you force out in defiance of your wants, "You are a princess."
"Yes, I am your princess, and you will not disobey my orders." She places her hand over her breasts, nearly impossible to ignore in the well-fitting corset. "So allow us both this kindness and take me."
You hesitate, but give in to her pleas. Your lips meet hers, and warmth floods into you. Months of yearning rush to move your body unconsciously. You pull her waist closer and deepen the kiss. Her arms are thrown around your shoulders, one hand settling on your shoulder and the other intertwined in your hair. She smells like roses and lavender and tastes like wine.
You only pull away to breathe, but nearly can't as you look at her, wide eyed and desperate for more. She traces her fingers along gaps in your armor and you stare at her in wonder. She cups your jaw and pulls you back in for more.
The sound of her gasp into your mouth as you tighten your grip and pull her flush to your body melts any last shreds of resolve you held onto. You drop to your knees, kissing down her neck and collarbone and breast along the way, caressing her hand in yours.
You look up at her, then pull her closer by the thighs, kissing each of them as you squeeze, finally getting to feel her, to touch her.
"Join me, my lady. Sit on my lap." You take off your armored glove and pat your thigh as you lower yourself to the ground.
You lead her with your intertwined hands, fingers meeting fingers for the first time, alight with the flame of touch. She places herself over your lap gingerly, and you see the hesitation in her eyes.
"Princess, you needn't continue if you're frightened," you assure her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
She nuzzles her face against your neck, then breathes into your ear, "I want this. I want you. As much as you'll have me before I must go." Her hand tightens in yours. "Just be gentle, please."
"Of course." You kiss her neck softly and run your hand under her skirt. Her breeches are open, easy access. "Tell me if you want to stop. Your word is my command, my lady."
She adjusts her hips as she clings to you, trying to get your hand closer. "I will," she murmurs, breathless.
You kiss her neck again, and on her shoulders. As much as you want to leave hickies, you know you can't afford to mark her skin. Doing this at all is risk enough, out in the open air is even moreso. You're deeply aware that anyone who chooses to go for a midnight stroll could easily happen upon you making a mistake you could lose your life for.
But as she presses against you, grinding her pussy against your knuckles, that concern fades into the background. Her hips move and she laces her fingers back into your hair as she whimpers quietly. The feeling of her wetness against your hand coaxes you to press your thumb against her clit, rubbing in small circles and earning a gasp from her.
She's breathtaking, framed by moonlight. She kisses your forehead and cheekbones as you continue to massage her. Her breathing quickens and she tightens her arms around your shoulders, burying your face in her chest. After long seconds, she murmurs in your ear, “I know there's more.”
You run your free hand down her back and she shudders. “May I allow myself, your highness?” Your hesitance hides behind every word. She's too good to be true. You've been dreaming about her for so long that it's hard to believe she's real now.
“Please,” she responds.
The word is barely out of her mouth before her moan interrupts her. You push a finger into her, then quickly adjust to two after feeling how easily her wet cunt accepts you. It earns another, even more lewd moan. Her back arches and her fingers clench in your hair.
Unprincessly language spills out of her as your hips work under you to help her ride your fingers. Her moans encourage you more and more, escalating your pace and ferocity. She nuzzles against your neck with her forehead. She's not too much smaller than you but she feels delicate in your arms. You grunt and huff heavy breaths against her skin as you kiss any place you can access. The hand in your hair moves to your cheek and you kiss her palm, eyes closed. You want to cover her every inch in kisses and show her just how much you’ve appreciated her over the years.
Time stops when you hear voices growing closer. Reflexively, the hand you just kissed clamps over your mouth. Your frightened eyes meet, and your beating hearts echo through your intertwined bodies.
The voices grow louder. Drunken partygoers. You hope quietly that they're not also looking for a secluded rendezvous point for a tryst, or it may be a while before they're gone.
As quietly as possible, you move your arm achingly slowly to pull her closer, as if that would disguise your indiscretion. You can feel her shudder and tighten around you. It makes your eyes flutter. Her hand over your mouth is soft. It smells perfumed, just like the rest of her. Your fingers curl slightly, and you can just barely hear her whimper in your ear as she presses against you.
The voices grow more distant and eventually disappear. For several more moments you wait in harried silence. Your heart hasn't slowed when she pulls away from you and you see the wicked grin on her face.
She kisses you more fiercely, a quick learner. You're mystified by her courage -or foolishness- and are happy to indulge it. Her gasps and giggles intoxicate you and pull you away from better judgement.
On impulse, you roll her onto her back to be over her. She takes it in stride, pulling at the straps of your armor to kiss you more. She only breaks from it as you regain your pace and her soft gasps force her lips from yours. Her fingers, scratching uselessly at your armor or in your hair, tighten erratically.
Suddenly, her body arches and tightens around you. She pulls you close with startling strength as she tenses. You work her through her climax with a soft smile on your face, then pull her back on top of you, holding her close.
Her breathing is still shaky and her body jolts when you say to her, “You should return to your party, your highness.”
She presses her forehead to yours. Her fists are balled against your chest. “When will I have you again?”
You kiss her cheek. “As soon as you wish me, your highness.”
“Perhaps now?”
You chuckle. “Your party, my lady.”
She grumbles. “You disrespect me, greatly,” she harrumphs, but you can tell she's not serious.
“Let me ask you for a parting favor,” you say as you lift and kiss her hand. You lead it to the side of your neck. “Bite here. Softly, and suck on the skin. Just a temporary mark of our time together.”
Unsure and hesitant, she slowly does as guided, then quickly takes to it as you gasp softly. “Soft, my lady,” you wince.
She pulls back after some seconds. The spot is still sensitive. It'll surely leave a mark. You smile as you run over it with your fingers. “There. A reminder of your hold on me.”
Her grin is worth a thousand times your salary. “As soon as I can get to you,” she nips at your jaw. “You'll be mine again.”
“I wouldn't have it any other way, your highness,” you breathe. “Thank you.”
And after that, you can't really help but replay it in your mind stare at her, waiting for the next time she calls upon you.
meaning drag me into a room by my tie, shove me into a wall, mess up my collar and hair, then leave lipstick marks and bruises all over my mouth and neck
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