The King's Mistress (Underconstruction/Editing)

Chapter Nine (EDITED)

(Aya)

His touch does things to my body that I never thought possible. The dress I'd been forced into wearing that night now lies discarded. I stand before him, wearing nothing but my shift and corset. He circles me like a predatory might his prey. A shiver runs down the length of my spine. Is this a mistake? Despite the circumstances of our meeting, I cannot deny this pull I feel towards him. When he looks at me, he does not see a woman sullied. He sees me for what I am, broken. Does this make me a fool? Probably.

He moves to stand behind me. The palms of his hands rest against the tops of my shoulders for a moment, silently asking if he can continue. I say nothing. He takes my silence for what it is: permission. He carefully begins undoing the laces that hold my corset in place. With each gentle tug, I feel the pressure on my legs ease. The fluttering in my stomach remains. Despite my uncertainty about what is unfolding, I am powerless to stop it.

"Remember..." His breath caresses the back of my neck, "If at any time you wish to stop, tell me. I will not force your hand, Aya."

I believe him. Though a virtual stranger to me, I trust him in a way I never thought I would trust another human being again. His touch is one of comfort, his words offering a kindness that no one ever has before. It's an intoxicating feeling, to be wanted in such a manner.

When I am free of the corset, he allows the material to drop to the floor. His hands return to my slip. He undoes the knot at the top which allows the top part to fall open. I know what he must see. I bite back a whimper of pain as his fingertips delicately trace the gentle lines that scar my back.

"Your beauty is simply astounding." He murmurs.

Flames enter not only my cheeks but lick at the center of my stomach, just beneath my belly button. I shift, attempting to rid myself of the uncomfortable sensation. The King, or Wesley as he's asked me to call him, chuckles.

"Something the matter?"

"N-no." I stammer even though I know those words are a lie.

"Shall I continue?" I can do nothing but nod my head. "I am going to remove this now." He speaks again, referring to my shift.

He carefully pushes it down off my shoulders. I do not fight him. The room is lit only by the soft flicker of dying candle light. Even still, my flesh burns at the idea of a man laying eyes on my naked flesh for the first time. When I feel the material start to glide from my skin, I cannot help but dig my fingers into the material. I clutch it against my chest, fear getting the better of me in that moment.

He says nothing. He presses against my backside, stubbled face pressing into the side of my neck. His lips trace a fiery path of delight towards my ear. I shudder as he takes the lobe of my ear between eager teeth. A gasp slips past my lips which prompts another amused chuckle from the man behind me.

"Sensitive?" He inquires.

"Hm..." I cannot help but moan, squirming slightly as he continues to bite and nibble on that tiny piece of flesh. HIs body hardens behind me. I stop. His arm moves around my waist, pulling me tighter against him.

Part of me wishes to resist these....urges that currently ignite my flesh. I do not want this. Or, at least, I didn't. Now, I am not so sure. Wesley is not the cruel, merciless man I'd feared him to be. Instead of taking me by force, he is offering me the freedom to decide my own fate.

I'm still clinging to the last remaining shred of dignity I have left. The fabric between my fingers shields my most intimate parts from him. When I find myself releasing said fabric, I know what is to come. I willingly give myself to this man, to this stranger, to use as he sees fit.

To my surprise, he does not immediately seek to take advantage of my current nakedness. He takes his time, devouring my flesh with both mouth and hands. When one hand begins travelling to the intimate area nestled between my quivering legs, panic sets in. My fingers grip at his wrist, refusing to allow his touch to travel lower.

"I....I'm not ready for..." I find myself stuttering.

"No need for explanation. As I said before, we shall only go so far as you are willing." His touch travels upwards, fingers brushing against my navel. He reaches the bottom part of one breast, thumb briefly grazing a nipple. He's testing me, seeing what my reaction will be. When I offer no words of denial at this touch, he takes it a step further. His moves the palm of his hand against my bare breast, offering it a light squeeze.

I find myself arching not away from the foreign touch but into it. This pleases him. "Aya. Look at me." He demands. I do. His dark eyes watch my face, relishing in the my face contorts as his gifted hands pleasure my body. He twists one said nipple between gentle yet firm fingers. My lips part, a soft gasp falling from between them.

He takes this opportunity to cover my mouth with his. His tongue immediately demands entrance. I accept. The hand not currently occupied buries itself in the locks of my hair. I do not realize we are even moving until I feel something bump against my legs. It's the bed.

I hesitate. Is this it? Is this the moment where he takes what feels he is owed? He sees the indecision on my face. He plants a kiss against my forehead. "Remember. All you must do is say no." He reminds me yet again.

I do not. Instead, I lower myself to the sheets. He guides me further. I find myself suddenly pinned beneath him, fingers locking my arms above my head. He kisses me again, heavy frame settling itself between my legs. He is still clothed from the waist down but the desire he feels for me is quite evident. He is massive.

"See what you do to me?" He half whispers, half groans. He rubs his massive bulge against my center.

"Wesley!" I gasp. It takes me a minute to realize I have said his name. I open my eyes. He is pleased. He repeats the motion. I am lost in a sea of pleasure, unable to turn back now that we have begun. His touch drifts, fingers finding their way between us.

He touches me for the first time, there, in the most forbidden of places. My back arches from the sheets, only to be greeted by the sensation of his lips wrapping around a bare nipple. I cry out, unprepared for the onslaught of pleasure that courses through every fiber of my being. I lose track of how many times I cry his name.

By the end, I am hoarse and unable to speak further. I rock my hips against his touch, eagerly approaching the pinnacle of my desire. He guides me there without words, without taking what I do not freely offer. He does not seek his own release but, instead, allows me the freedom of obtaining mine. 

(Some of the newer chapters won't be titled as I have not settled on a name yet. If you have an idea, feel free to mention it!)