Smutfest Day 2: Masturbation Oracular Spectacular
oooOooo
The elongated hallway was cast in dark shadows, green light flickering off of the walls, creating an eerie atmosphere that made Prince Vegeta smile in delight. This was his favorite part of his spacious castle, and walking down the ominous corridor gave him the peace that only washed over him at the end of a long day. Training was exhausting, as usual, and there was nothing he was more fixated on then taking a hot bath. He wanted to scrub the anger and shame that littered him, clinging to the very fibers cast over his skin, reminding him of working with Frieza. Despite his father's coaxing words of approval on the recent merger with the Colds, Vegeta couldn't stand the partnership he was forced to have with Frieza. It left a bitter taste on his tongue, as if he dipped it in acid to cause himself torment, and he hated the fact that he had little choice in the matter. The Saiyans were running low in resources that the Colds could supply, and their agreement was necessary.
Vegeta grit his teeth and ran his fingers through his midnight stained hair, the clacking of his boots against the marbled floors growing heavier. He tried to push past the idea of what could happen with working with them could potentially mean. It was everything about them that was unnerving. Their plastered smiles on their alien faces, their eyes a contradiction to their otherwise friendly nature. A black shadow loomed over them, thick and sinister and deadly, and Vegeta wondered how his father hadn't choked on the poisonous aura yet.
He reached his chambers and pushed open the black iron doors, a vicious snarl curling over his lips. The more he let the Colds infiltrate his mind, the more deadly his anger became. Vicious. He was a rabid dog on the inside, one who was barely being restrained in his neck squeezing leash.
A candle was lit in his private chambers, making him cease in his tracks. Someone was here. His defenses heightened , his breath becoming as silent as the night that stole the outside. The way his anger danced in his chest, he would rip the head off of anyone who dared enter this evening.
He moved stealthily through the hallway leading to his bedroom, his eyes cutting into dangerous slits. He stood just outside of the oval framed door, his figure drowning in darkness, his senses keen.
Dainty feet dangled off of his bed as he looked inside, the flesh paler than any he had seen, and he raised an eyebrow in question. His eyes traveled upwards, finding the feet to be attached to shapely set of legs, the skin as creamy as fresh milk. A woman's. His breathing returned to normal as his eyes settled. So she wasn't Frieza or one of his minions, then. Good. Vegeta would not push the notion that Frieza wanted him dead, and would sneak into the Prince's chambers personally to do so.
He entered the room swiftly, yet cautiously, and let his eyes roam over her. At his entrance, her gaze turned to him, her sparkling eyes carefully looking over him, her lips in a surprised pout. By all standards he would call her odd, with her lack of a tail and her strange hair, color of aqua. She wasn't a Saiyan, if her soft features had anything to say about it, a sharp contrast to his own. He could feel his muscles in his face tighten as he burned his gaze into hers, crossing his arms.
"What are you doing here in my chambers, female?" His voice was low, tight. Dangerous. He expected her to cower at his practiced menacing tone, but instead she sat up, her eyes clear of any emotion.
"I've been sent to you, Prince Vegeta," she said, her accent foreign to his, her pronunciation of the common tongue melodic and soft. "A gift, of sorts."
"Tell me who sent you. " He clipped his words, removing any inflation of his tone. He had tried not to, but there was no ignoring her curves as they spilled over his mauve fur throw, practically naked. A thin material covered her, the fabric colored in copper and yellow gold, and he could almost see the pinks of her nipples. He needed to find out information from her first, and not immediately get lost in her pretty features.
"It's a secret," she brought a finger to her pouty lips, pursing them slightly, as her eyes raked over him, "I've been told not to tell."
"I don't care what you've been told, I demand to know why you're here." He felt his arousal diminish as he listened to her disobedience of his request, his jaw clenching. If she wanted to play games with him, then his patience with her was limited.
She chuckled lowly, playfully, almost as if she were purring, and rose to her knees, resting her weight on them. Her heavy breasts were pushed together and pressed forward, a gesture of enticing on her part, and she bit her bottom lip shyly, running her finger over her lip. "I was told that you were a real hard ass. That you take a lot of convincing. And I like a challenge."
A hard ass.
Did she want to die?
Vegeta felt the heat of his anger coil in his belly, ready to throw his hands around the slender neck if this woman. She had the audacity to insult him? She was bold. A fool, but bold.
She neared the edge of the bed and brought her feet down, her eyes never breaking their intense contact with his. She slowly traced her gaze along his figure, and either she was trained well, or she was admiring him with her eyes. Of which he didn't know, but it was making him slightly uncomfortable.
"You know," she said, meeting his eyes again, "I can make you relax. I was told to make sure I make you as comfortable as possible." She walked sensually over him, her thick thighs moving hypnotically over the other slowly, teasing him with the sashay of her hips. The fabric moved lightly over her skin, giving him a good look at her ample breasts and smooth stomach, the front dangling right over her most private of parts.
She approached him, licking her lips and brushing the bangs out of her eyes. Her hair was short, stopping right over her shoulders, cut in a way to emphasize the attractive features of her face. She ran a finger over his breastplate, tracing the outline of the Royal Saiyan crest that sat right over his heart, and he felt threatened.
"My, my," she whispered, her eyes drawing slowly up his, "You sure are handsome." Her eyes locked in with his, and he became bothered at what they demanded from him. It was as if he were looking into another world, a space and time that did not exist in this galaxy of hell, a world where he was still a young boy and the promise of tomorrows gave him a blissful thrill. It made his mouth dry up, and his brain caused an alarm, warning him to stop her treachery and take control.
He grabbed her wrist tightly, a small yelp escaping her lips, and pulled her close. "Don't you ever touch me without permission, " he said in a deep voice, full of venom. "You are a whore. Behave like one."
Her eyes lit into a flame of fire as she tried to snatch her wrist away, failing to break away from his iron grip. "I am not a whore," she bit sharply, "I have never fucked for any sort of exchange."
His grip tightened as he smirked at her, his expression twisting into a cold. "You're in my chambers and offering me the space in between your legs. Because someone asked you to do so. If that does not make you a whore, than what does?"
Her fire simmered, and she tried to cover her irritation with a porcelain smile. "You're right, my Prince," she said in a poised voice, "I apologize for my slip." Her sultry demeanor returned, although this time slightly unconvincing.
"Who are you?" His tone indicated that he did not buy her cover up, and he squeezed harder on her wrist, feeling her fragile bones bend under his heavy grasp. She moaned in pain and tried to yank free, but he only pulled her closer. "I will ask again, who are you?"
She looked at him hesitantly, the mask of sex dissolving from her features. "My name is Bulma," she admitted.
"Bulma," he let her name roll off of his tongue, sounding as unique as she looked. A perfect fitting. "And why are you here?"
She opened her mouth to speak, and he brought his finger to her chin , gripping it tightly. "Make whatever words that come out of your mouth be the truth. If I suspect you are lying, I will snap your neck."
He had to give her credit for her bravery, her expression never folding. But the thumping of her heart gave her fear away, and it excited him. The dice was being rolled in his favor.
"Frieza sent me as a gift to you," she said, her irises burning with the truth, "as a final merger gift of your planets."
"I see," he said coldly. So she was a spy from Frieza, probably meant to slice his throat as he spilled himself on her. Instantly, he wrapped his hand around her throat. "Then there's no reason for you to live."
"Please," she begged, clawing against his the fabric of his sleeve, "I've come to help you."
He grit his teeth at her, wondering what the hell she meant. Help him? How could a wore help a Prince?
"Please," she begged, throwing her hands around his wrists, her eyes watering. As their skin touched, a blinding light infiltrated Vegeta vision, and suddenly the room and the woman were a blur.
New images invaded his mind and his mouth went slack. A dead body that resembled his father's. Frieza standing on the balcony of the castle, King Cold at his side. Saiyans in chains, even the children, bloody and broken. "What…what is this?"
'The Future.' Her voice smoothed over the images he was seeing, his people rising against Frieza and falling to their deaths, misery etched on their faces.
"What are you?" He asked again, this time in wonderment.
'I am Bulma, as I have told you, Prince Vegeta. I am the last survivor of the planet of the Seers."
"The Seers…"
"Listen to me. This is the only way I can communicate with you. Frieza has captured me and is listening to our audio as I speak. If you don't rise against him now, your planet will meet the same fate as mine. He has his eyes on Vegetasai next, and he sent me here undoubtedly to make you trust him before hand. He tricked my father, who was the king of my own planet."
"I knew it." He grit his teeth at the information, feeling irate. Shame washed over him as he admitted, "I can't beat him. Our strengths are too vast."
"I can help you. I possess gifts you wouldn't dream of."
"Why did you seek me out, female?"
"Because you are the one I've been looking for. The one from my vision."
He swallowed thickly. What the hell was this he was seeing? She had begun to flash him images of her own planets demise, her father buried beneath burning rubble, her planet exploding to a colorful purple as it painted the galaxy in fireworks.
"Please, Prince Vegeta. We don't have a lot of time. He will get suspicious if I take too long. I can meet you outside of his watchful eye, but I need to convince him that I have done as he's asked?"
"How so?" Vegeta demanded, upset that he couldn't get answers immediately.
"Use me for what I was sent for. Otherwise he will consider me a failure and dispose of me."
The golden lights of the room rushed toward him, and his conscience was back in his bedroom, his hands still clasped around her wrist and neck. He allowed her to breathe and she swallowed precious breaths of air.
His mind was clouded with various dilemmas. Frieza was a traitorous bastard, then? And what gifts did this woman possess to help him?
And more importantly, where did he fit in with her visions ?
"Vegeta," she whispered in a hushed tone, speaking so lowly that he could barely hear her, "What I said to you in the vision." She pleaded with her eyes and he understood.
She was asking him to fuck her to appease Frieza.
He threw her to the bed, the fabric sliding off of her flesh, exposing a full breast. He sat in his plush velvet chair across the bed, leaning back in the chair. He watched her confused expression, her blue brow tilted upwards.
The sight of her breast made his imagination begin to wander. She was beautiful, exotic, drastically different than the muscular Saiyan women he encountered daily. No wonder Frieza had imprisoned her, if he were purging a planet, he would keep her as a prize as well.
But he couldn't bring himself to fuck her. For starters, his mind was swimming with the information she had given to him. And she had lied to Frieza to come here, pretending to be on his side. Why should he think that she was loyal to him, and she wasn't trying to trick him as well?
He would oblige in her requests, in his own way. He needed her to live another day, so that he could gather answers from her as promised.
"I need to see if you can earn the Prince's cock," he said huskily, convincingly. He smirked at her, and added, "I want you to fuck yourself."
She stared at him expressionless, wary of his sudden change. He nodded in her direction, his eyes laced with desire, and she couldn't tell if he feigned it. He gestured his hand towards her, "Get on with it, female."
She continued her gaze in his direction, and he was about to scare her with his iced words when a dainty hand covered her breasts, pulling gently on her nipple.
"Like this?" she purred, her voice waltzing in his ears, oozing with sensuality. He nodded, and she removed the fabric robe, a hesitation briefly flashing across her features. He nodded, watching her unveil her neglected breast, her perk nipple hardened at the cool air.
She gasped as she tugged on the other nipple, her hands cupping her breasts as she stared at him. Her hand wandered over her stomach, moving the expensive looking fabric out of the way to reveal a neat patch of blue hair, the same hue as the hairs on her pretty little head, and Vegeta was surprised at how curious he was at where her hand was going to go next. He had stopped breathing, he realized, as a finger dipped in between her lips, playing with the skin that hid what he really wanted to see.
He hadn't expected to be drawn into her, but it was hard to look away from her lidded gaze, her eyes sparkling like sapphires, her lips parted as she gasped. Her creamy thighs were begging to be touched, and she opened them further so he could look at her fully.
"What do you think, Prince Vegeta?" she opened her lips with two of her fingers, revealing the pinkest pussy Vegeta had ever seen, slick with her juices. So she was already turned on, just from squeezing her breasts? Vegeta cock ached dully as he wondered what else turned her on. He didn't like that he was being thrown off guard at the sight of her, but Vegeta was a man, and a beautiful woman was running her finger in tight circles over her clit, and he was becoming lost in the haze of his own lust.
A honey laced moan spilled from her pretty lips, her hand moving faster against her swollen nub. She was soft and fragile, making the whole experience seem poetic to him, as if he were looking at a painting over his father's desk, one that he wasn't allowed to touch.
He wanted to disrobe and mount her, ram into her until she spoke songs of his name, give Frieza a real show. But he was stuck to the chair, his gaze not diverting from her ivory hand rubbing herself.
"Stick a finger inside of you," he said, his tone more aroused than he intended, "I told you to fuck yourself. "
Her eyes hardened like marbles, cursing him without words, and he smirked at how much her reaction enticed him. He had the feeling if they were not being listened in on, she would have choice words for him.
Instead she oblidged, opening her legs further as a finger slipped in the center of her core, gliding in easily. The sounds that came from her flesh meeting her wetness was maddening to him, eliciting a low growl that emerged in the pit of his chest. She threw her head back as she slowly stroked herself, her other hand grabbing her right breast.
Her tiny moans filled the air in intervals as she explored herself, lowering her head to look at Vegeta heated stare. She looked down briefly, bringing her eyes back up to smile at him. Without realizing it, his hand was reaching for his stiff cock, his bulge pressing heavily against the fabric of his pants.
"Here," she mewled, "let me help you with that." She stuck another finger inside of her wet pussy, stretching herself further and she groaned at the intrustion. Bulma moved her fingers faster, her breathing becoming heavier. Panted.
Vegeta fought with himself to not spill himself in front of her, not wanting her to think he was enjoying her. But he was. He enjoyed seeing the her honey begin to pool under her butt as her fingers slammed into her core, her moans growing louder and less apart. "Oh, Prince Vegeta," she breathed, "did you want me to do it like this?"
Fuck.
Fuck.
She moved in and out of herself with such fluidity that Vegeta was barely containing his erection. Never had he wanted to bite into fruit so badly, never had he wanted to fuck the brains out of a woman like he did right now. And then she asked him if he liked it, like it mattered. This was to keep her in Frieza good graces, but damn it all if she wasn't making him feel otherwise.
"Oh my god," her voice became light and airy, her hand movements quickening, her cheeks flushing. She rest her attention on Vegeta, rocking her hips suggestively. She looked at him like she was his prey and wanted to be captured. He held her gaze, slightly embarrassed at how much he loved looking at her, and her body convulsed, the quake of an orgasm beginning to rupture inside of her.
She gasped, panting and moaning as her bottom lip fell, her eyes still in an intense show down with Vegeta. He had never seen anything more hypnotizing. She shuddered as she let out one last moan, throaty and drawn out, her body freezing in her movements. She slowly removed her fingers, revealing them to be wet with her arousal , and smiled, catching her breath.
Vegeta was about to explode in his pants, the need to have her overriding his senses. What was this oracle of a woman? Was she trying to help him or tease him?
Bulma dressed herself in her fabric, her pebbled nipples pushing through the sheer material. She stood, smiling at him. "Should I meet you in your quarters tomorrow night?"
Vegeta nodded slowly, unable to find the words that wouldn't betray him. "I will send for you. Perhaps we shall have a fuck under the moon, " he narrowed his eyes, hoping she saw through his words.
She nodded in response, walking over to him. She bent down to his cheek, kissing it lightly before whispering in his ear: "I'll be looking forward to it, my Prince."
She walked to the iron doors and slipped through, only the smell of her arousal and the throbbing bulge in his pants any indication that she was here.
He ran his fingers down his chiseled face and sighed. So much had been thrown on him this evening, and now he had to figure out how to handle everything, and if he could even trust the blue haired seer.
He would allow himself to marinate over it as he bathed, after he spilled himself free of her temptation.
OooOooo
This was written for The Prince and The Heiress February 2017 Smutfest Day 2: Masturbation.