Chapter o2 ~ the lion's bite

warning: explicit sexual content and rough depictions of sex

"Wake up."

Bulma opened her eyes and saw a stoic Vegeta staring down at her. Her chest tightened. He got up before me. Shit!

He nodded toward his private bath. She rolled out of the bed. The first step she took sent pain through her core. She groaned and tried to walk as best as she could to the bath, but still ended up waddling like a duck. Vegeta's laughter filled the room. "Shut up," she retorted, causing him to laugh harder. He took her five times before being satisfied last night. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll invite me to his bath. Before last night she was already sore, but now she wasn't sure she could handle even walking. Please, be merciful and don't make me travel by horse.

She started a fire in the water heater and started pumping water into the tub. Her body protested with every move. Once it was filled halfway, she added some scented oils and arranged several towels. She waddled back to the room. "The bath is drawn."

He got off the bed. "Let us go, in that case."

Lucky! Once he entered the bath, she joined him inside and began pouring water over him. He looked every bit the warrior he was. His body was littered with scars, some large, some small, and every bulge of muscle showed in perfection. She took a bar of soap and rubbed it in a cloth until it was sudsy then began rubbing it over his back. There was a tender eroticism about cleaning him. She enjoyed gazing at his body and reading the stories his scars told her. Some leaders preferred to stay behind the lines, but not Vegeta. He was at the front with his men, probably reveling in the bloodshed he caused. She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his slick back, reaching around him to rub his chest.

The warm water eased her soreness and replaced it with arousal. She kissed his neck, lightly nibbling up to his jawline. He stood and she continued washing his body, running the towel over his tight abdomen and watching the streams of suds wash down his body. She washed his legs next, taking care to avoid his growing erection.

When she finished washing his legs, she reached for his erection. He took her wrist and stopped her from soaping it. "Use your mouth."

His command was gentle, not harsh like it usually was. She dutifully opened her mouth and took his head in, swirling her tongue along the ridges. His precum had a light salty taste that she adored. She worked her way down his cock, licking every bit. He sighed and pulled her away, pointing at the bar of soap. "Clean yourself."

He leaned back and began stroking his cock. She took the rag and lathered it up and began washing her arms. She worked her way down to her breasts, covering them in lather. She set the cloth aside and rubbed her nipples, pinching them and squeezing them together. She kept her gaze focused on him, watching as he stroked his long member. His panting breaths filled the small bath.

She licked her lips and took the rag in her hand again, rubbing it down her abdomen. She balanced one leg on the crest of the bath and opened her legs. With her free hand she pushed her finger inside then took it out and licked it. She lazily fingered herself, licking her fingers occasionally, enjoying the power she held over him.

She ran the cloth over her leg and pointed her toes at him.

He took them in his mouth and sucked. She pulled them away from him and lightly kicked his cheek. He half laughed and tried to move forward, but she pushed her foot against his chest, shaking her head. She traced the ridges of his abdomen and lightly ran her toes up the length of his shaft. She lowered herself back into the water and raised her legs up. She cradled his shaft between her feet and followed his hand up as he stroked himself.

She rubbed her clit with one hand and pinched her nipple with the other. His moans spurred her on. He tried to stand again, and she shook her head, pushing herself out of the water. She turned around, spread her legs apart, and leaned forward, putting her butt in the air. "Wash me."

He took the rag next to her and ran it over her cheeks. His fingers grazed her entrance, and she cooed, but he didn't enter her. He continued washing up her back, occasionally drifting his fingers around her to brush against her breasts. She tisked her tongue, playfully chiding him, guiding him back to his task. He washed off the suds and she stood and faced him, teasing him with a smile. She put her hand around his erection and stepped out of the bath.

He followed her out and waited as she arranged towels on the floor. She laid down and opened her legs, gesturing him to come close.

He dropped to his knees and gently pushed inside. She hissed as he entered. In her arousal she forgot about being sore. He took her slowly, gently rocking his hips. She hated how she felt like a true lover, not a slave. When they played their games the line was clear. But now, with the gentle caresses and tender kisses, she didn't know where she stood. Were they true lovers? Did she really want to kill him? Or did she force herself to hate him?

He interrupted her thoughts with a kiss. She allowed herself to let go and enjoy the sweet love he gave her. Her orgasm wasn't an explosive burst, but rather a slow buildup that left her breathless. He pressed his forehead against hers, panting. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Come inside me, my prince."

He groaned and his body trembled. She could tell he wanted to go faster, but he withheld himself. She kissed him with tenderness, easing him back into the same sweetness in which she came. "Bulma," he moaned as he came.

Her body froze in shock. He never called her by her name. She wasn't sure if he even knew her name. She barely felt the kisses he gave her in the aftershocks of his orgasm. He kissed her cheek and pulled out, standing over her.

"Clean it."

If she could do anything in shock, it was follow commands. She sat up and took it in her hands, gently licking up the shaft until every inch of was cleaned.

Once she was done, he patted her head. "Go change and meet me back here."

The next moments were a blur. She could hear him saying her name over and over in her head, driving her into a rhythm of madness. She walked down the hallways naked to her room. She squeezed into the pants she never wore and put on the thin shirt that barely covered her breasts. She grabbed the makeshift satchel of her jewelry and walked back to his room. He had his armor on, and gone was the kindness she knew that morning, replaced with the cruel gaze of one about to go to war.

He eyed her attire with a skeptical eye. "How old are those?"

She shrugged.

He sighed. "Those will only serve to ruin my men. Get over here." He took her to his closet and took one of his robes out. It dwarfed over her tiny frame, but he continued tying it around her. "Wear that for now. I will get you some robes before you leave."

On him, the robes were a powerful reminder of his strength. On her, it looked more like a dress than anything else. It hid most of her figure, something she wasn't used to seeing. She hoped whatever robes he chose were more form fitting. She wanted to show off her body. It was the small bit of control she could have in this place.

"You're going to travel in my private carriage," he said as they made their way to the back of the palace. "I usually travel on horse with my men. You will be alone."

His words brought relief to her, both hearing that she would be alone during the day and that she didn't have to ride a horse. They came to the exit and the carriage was waiting in front of them. He opened the door and she climbed in without a word.

When the door locked behind her, she situated herself and went to sleep.

She woke when a particularly bad pot hole jolted her out of position. She moaned and rubbed her sore neck. She looked out the window and saw the forest that lied outside the castle. She leaned against the window and watched the scenery pass by. Despite her years trapped in the palace, everything looked the same. Fifteen years, huh?

Bulma sat next to the table on the dirt ground. They tossed scraps down to her for her meal, but she had no appetite. All she could do was stare at the men who took her captive, laughing and celebrating her clan's demise. She was powerless for now. But in the future, if they let her live, she'd kill them both. Starting with that spiky haired man who took her.

Nappa licked his lips. "Let me have a go with her, Prince Vegeta."

Vegeta glared. "She's a child. Go have fun with those other girls. Listen to the commotion out there. I bet there's a group going at it right now."

"No, she looks like she'll be more fun."

"This is my slave and if you so much as lay a finger on her I'm going to slit your throat."

"If you want her first, fine. I'll take seconds."

Vegeta put down his drink. "I'm not a sick fuck who likes children."

Nappa scoffed. "Then why keep her?"

Vegeta glanced down at her. "Beauty like that is rare."

"You're full of shit," Nappa replied and took a huge bite out of his turkey leg. He chewed with his mouth open. Bulma wanted to gag, but she knew better than to make a peep in front of these people.

"A pet, Nappa. If she loses her beauty like the other mongrels she can be tossed with the livestock. But for now, I'll raise her."

Nappa laughed. "You, raise something?"

Vegeta chugged the last of his drink and threw the mug down to her. "Fetch, mongrel."

Bulma huddled into the thin scraps of cloth given to her as a blanket. Vegeta put her in a barn after they ate, saying animals belonged with animals. She arranged the hay in a makeshift bed and struggled to sleep.

The doors creaked open. The animals stirred. "Where are you, little girl?"

Her blood ran cold. It was the voice of the man with Vegeta, Nappa. She crawled to a dark corner and held her breath.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are."

She closed her eyes and tried to make herself as small as possible. She heard his footsteps coming closer. Tears welled in her eyes.

"There you are." He grabbed her arms and pulled them off her face. "Vegeta may not appreciate you, but I do. And you're not going to say anything, are you? You're going to be quiet. Otherwise I'll force you to be quiet." He lifted her up. She squirmed and kicked her feet. "I should have known Vegeta liked the feisty ones."

He whipped her body to the side, banging it against the wall. She coughed and sucked in air.

"You're going to be quiet." He put her down on the ground. She kicked her foot up and nailed him in the nose. His bones crunched. He growled in pain and dropped to his knees. She screamed Vegeta's name over and over.

He slapped her. "You little wench! I'm going to kill you!"

She screamed again. His fist hit her stomach. She coughed as the world flickered between black and white.

"What are you doing here, Nappa?"

Her heart jumped hearing Vegeta's voice.

"Vegeta. Just checking up on her."

He looked at her then back at Nappa. His brows furrowed. He walked over to Nappa and punched his stomach. When he doubled over, he grabbed his head and slit his throat in a clean movement. Blood rained on her body. Nappa's gurgled cries filled the small barn, agitating the animals.

He threw his body on the ground. "And you." Vegeta grabbed her chin and pointed her face to Nappa's dead body. "Do you see that? He was one of my best warriors." He turned her face to look at him. "You better be worth more than that." He grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the shack. "You're going to sleep on the floor beside my bed. If you make one sound I'll punish you too."

Even now, Bulma couldn't decide if that was a good deed Vegeta did for her. But it did give her enough sense to follow his orders without protest for several years. Once she entered her teen years she became more discontent. Then they discovered another outlet for those outbursts.

It was a short history to think about. She went from being his human dog to being his human toy. If she played her cards right, a new chapter of history would start soon. She may be able to escape before a battle. Vegeta had an army to run, after all, and that left her plenty of time to be alone. She watched the scenery out of the window. As soon as they stopped, she would make her break.

Bulma ran through the woods. Getting out was easy enough. She told the guards she had to go to the bathroom and they left her to go on the edge of the woods. So long as she went in a ways and ran left along the road they walked, she could end up somewhere near civilization. Or at the very least, run into a merchant caravan that would give her a ride in exchange for goods.

She ran until her lungs burned and her legs turned to mush. She leaned against a tree and caught her breath. Surely that gave her enough of a head start that no one would find her. She took slower steps and began getting a sense of her surroundings. She ran up about a minute, and then only to the left. So, if she went down then she would surely come back to the edge.

With each step she took, the lighter she felt. This is what freedom feels like. She grinned and began skipping. A twig snapped behind her. She stopped and listened. She heard the crunch of steady footsteps. Her heart stopped. She started running. The steps were fast behind her.

Something grabbed her arm and pulled, crushing her in its arms. She didn't need to look to know who it was. She knew this embrace very well. "Vegeta."

"There you are."

"My Lord," she whispered.

"Were you trying to run away? After I graciously let you accompany me?"

Bulma swallowed. "N-no, of course not. I simply got lost in the woods."

"Did you? And what were you doing in the woods in the first place?"

Her body trembled. The ire in Vegeta's eyes was something she hadn't seen in years. "I wanted to go to the bathroom, but your men were nearby." She took a shaky breath. "I was scared they would take me while you were away." That seemed to calm him a bit. If she was lucky, she could direct his anger to another outlet. She put her arms around his neck. "You are my sun and moon. I promised not to leave you."

He reached at his hip then grabbed her arms, pushing her back to a tree. He took rope and bound her by her wrists to the tree. He caressed her cheek and sighed. "You're forcing me to do this." He pulled down her pants. "I can't let this go unpunished." He drew the riding crop at his side. "Turn around."

She closed her eyes and followed his orders. He pushed her braided hair over her shoulder. She felt his leathered hand rub her butt then the harsh sting of the wooden crop against her skin. She muffled a cry. He kissed the back of her neck. "Good girl. Don't be too loud in this place."

She gasped as the crop smacked her again.

His hand rubbed the sore spots, sending a cooling tingle through her body. "I know you're lying," he whispered. The crack of his crop made her cry out as fire-hot pain whipped through her body. "Where were you trying to escape to?" The crop hit her again. She pressed her forehead against the bark of the tree, taking short breaths to try and breathe through the pain. He kissed her shoulder blades and rubbed the places he hit her. "Tell me, and I may be merciful."

"I hate you," she replied. "I wanted to get as far away from you as I could."

He laughed. "You say you hate me, but you love this, don't you?" The crop made a snapping noise as it hit her skin. She sucked in a breath. "It doesn't hurt anymore, does it? You like it." She felt the crop poke around her lips and he pushed a bit of it inside her. He pulled it out and put it in front of her lips. "Lick it."

She pursed her lips tight. He smiled and spanked her.

"Mmph!"

"What was that?" he mocked. "Tell me again."

The crop hit her skin, sending a sharp stab of pleasure through her. She couldn't stop the moan from leaving her mouth.

He kissed along the back of her neck and cupped her breasts in his hands. "Why are you the only one that likes this?" he whispered in her ear.

The deep rumble of his voice sent shivers through her. She felt his erection press against her as he squeezed her breasts. "You made me," she gasped. "As twisted as you."

He chuckled and nibbled on her earlobe. "As twisted as me?" The crop slapped against her. She gasped out a moan. "Are you calling your prince twisted?" The crop hit her harder this time, mixing pain with pleasure. She whimpered. He forced her to turn around and face him. He slid the crop down the valley of her breasts to her mound. "You, my slave, have the nerve to call me twisted?"

She knew what he would do if she told him the truth. She did it anyway. "Yes," she replied, staring him straight in the eye. He slapped the crop across her mound. She cried out as sharp pain went through her then eased away to an aching pleasure.

The soft leather of his gloves slid between her lips, rubbing her sensitive clit. "What makes you think you can leave me?" She closed her eyes and enjoyed the tingling sensations his hand brought. "Do you think any normal man will want you?"

The sensations flowing through her made it hard to speak. "E-every man desires me."

He smiled. "But will they do this to you?" The crop slapped against her sensitive lower lips. Her voice sounded like something between a moan and cry of pain. She could see his erection straining against his pants with a dark spot at its head.

"They won't," she whispered.

"Why leave, in that case?"

She took a shaky breath. "Freedom."

"Freedom," he mocked.

The crop slapped against her lips. She cried out and hung her head low. Her legs trembled.

"What is freedom? I give you everything you could ever dream of."

The crop rubbed against her clit. She struggled to remain standing. The ropes dug into her wrists.

His gloves soothed her aching mound as he rubbed her. His lips trailed kisses down her breastbone to her breasts. "Are you going to run away again?"

"Yes."

He slapped the crop across her swollen clit. The sensation made her dizzy. She lost her balance and started to fall down, yanking the ropes around her wrist. She yelped in fear. He caught her around her waist and held her as she regained composure.

She knew he didn't have to do that. He could have let her fall and injure her wrists. But when they played their games like this, he always seemed to know the moment she hit her limit and he stopped. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, enjoying his earthen scent. He stroked her hair. When she felt strong again, she kissed his neck, prodding him to continue. He held her at arm's distance, letting her steady herself, before letting her go.

He unhooked his belt and pulled down his pants. His erection bounced in front of her, head glistening with his precum. "You want this, don't you?"

Her cunt ached for relief. But she couldn't give into him. He wanted to hear that she wanted him. "No."

He smiled. "You don't?" He picked up her leg and she hooked it around his waist. He rubbed himself at her entrance. "Your body says something else."

Despite the throbbing ache between her legs, she continued to defy him. "I don't."

"No?" he questioned, lightly nipping her lips.

"No," she replied in a half breath.

"No?" he repeated, pushing his head inside. She shook her head. He smiled and pushed in a little more. "No?"

Having him inside brought relief but she continued to defy him. Giving into the pleasure he brought her only undermined her attempted escape. He asked her again, slipping more of himself inside, smiling as she told him no, as if he could see that her protests were out of stubbornness and sensed her fulfillment of having him inside.

When their bodies touched, he cupped her chin and asked, "And if I make you queen, would you still run?"

"Yes," she replied firmly.

He pulled out and slammed into her, seeming to vent his anger at her reply through their coupling. The tender skin that was hit by the crop came alive again, amplifying each stroke. She struggled to hold her moans inside.

He slapped her. "You ungrateful bitch." He grabbed her breasts and squeezed.

The leather on her nipples sent shivers of pleasure through her. She panted through his ministrations.

"Will you run away again?"

"Yes," she cooed.

He growled and put his hand around her neck. "You are mine."

"No," she gasped. He tightened his grip around her neck. A fierce orgasm took her. She squealed. He released her neck and took her harder, not letting her die down from her high. The euphoria killed any sort of sanity upon her lips. In that moment she was irrevocably his and she relished each second.

"You are mine," he hissed.

"God, yes, Vegeta! Yes!"

He slapped her. "Lying whore."

"I am yours," she cried.

He pulled out and turned her body around. He rubbed her sore cheeks and kissed her shoulder blades. He entered her again and pulled out, just barely keeping himself in at the tip. "Show me," he commanded. "Show your prince how much you want him."

She rocked her hips over him, smoothly taking him all in, enjoying the delicious way he stretched and filled her.

He slapped her cheek. "Lying wench."

She sped up, bouncing her ass over his cock. "Keep doing that," he moaned. She pulled him out to the tip and swirled her hips around before lowering herself. His panting breaths seemed to echo in the empty forest. She could feel him becoming harder and knew he was close. Shit," he gasped, grabbing her hips and dictating his own pace.

He roared as he came, sending a shiver of satisfaction through her. He leaned over her, breathing heavily, lazily trailing his lips along the back of her neck. After his breathing returned to normal, he released her and turned her around.

He put one arm around her waist and untied the ropes from her wrists. Her arms fell down naturally over his shoulders. He lifted her up and carried her to a small boulder and sat, cradling her in his lap. She hated the feeling of contentment running through her body. She despised how natural it felt in his arms, how much she enjoyed their couplings, how twisted she'd became to fully enjoy the sex of an angry prince. She tried to remind herself of all the horrible things he'd done in his life, tried to recall the fear and hatred she had of him, but it all died as he stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

"I was serious."

She glanced up at him. He stared into her eyes. "I want you to be my queen."

Her heart stopped. "I'm a slave," she whispered. "I could never be queen."

"I am a prince, soon to be king. I can make you whatever I want."

"No," she shook her head. "I am a slave, and I want freedom. I want to be away from you. I hate you."

He kissed her with the tenderness awarded to a lover. "I know."

Then why are you telling me this?

He said nothing further and continued to hold her. After a long moment he stood and gently put her to her feet, helping her stand. He held out his hand. "Take it. You're going to trip."

She knew what taking his hand meant. She knew her defiance became part of their elaborate game, nothing serious, a simple thing she did to amplify their mutual pleasure. When his fingers wrapped around hers she felt a sense of calm within her tumultuous emotions.

A/N:I am so happy everyone is enjoying this. :) Feel free to leave any criticism, too. I'm happy for any thoughts or comments on this. :)