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TAGS: incest, monster cock
It would not be easy to breach her walls, he thought. While there were a dozen ways he could infiltrate her entourage-for they were poorly maintained and managed-it was still quite risky for him to become intimate. Though overwhelmingly vain and possibly stupid, she was someone he knew he should not underestimate, knowing the strength of her influence at Court.
Such was the predicament of claiming the First Princess of Britannia for himself.
Guinevere de Britannia was a vain, haughty, and overbearing woman, whose position at the head of the female side of the imperial siblings made her almost as old as his mother. And yet, whether through secret chemical treatments or some other means of preservation, she retained a certain amount of beauty, framed by a formidable array of avant-garde garments and courtly pretensions.
For it was not a lie to claim that she was the premiere instigator of the latest fashion in the Empire. She actually owned the many boutique companies and store-chains that ran a monopoly on the Empire's many Areas, and which were a direct competitor to the European Union's own centers of fashion and stylish mores. Her many mercurial shifts in hairstyles, dresses, and manners of speaking were as much an advertisement of the latest wares her companies tried to push in order to garner a massive surge of sales from desperate noblewomen and even lowborn commoners who wished to emulate the pre-eminent trend-setting noblewoman of the Empire.
And while his half-brother Clovis was considered a more appreciable patronage of arts and artistic sensibilities in the Britannian world, it was Guinevere who held an iron grip on the image of a self-righteous prima donna, who with the flick of a finger could cause the bird population in Area Eleven to collapse if their feathers were needed to adorn her latest unveiled creation.
Naturally, for such a public personage, there were also a host of rumors that abounded through the Court, which was a fact-of-life especially for the children of the Emperor. There were whispers that she yet remained unmarried because of an unhealthy appetite for the flesh of young virgins, or that she had a long, ongoing affair with this or that house-maid. Some even turned to the subject of incest, which was understandable because of the scandal that was still fresh in the Court's minds.
By far the most prominent rumor, however, was that Guinevere was prone to hosting debauched parties in her manor and disguising them as simple balls or petite gatherings. And as seemed to always be the case, this one ended up being true.
Lelouch took another glance around him, at all the masked revelers currently enjoying their drinks. It was a party organized by Guinevere: a masquerade where the one sole rule as attested by the invitation letter was to always remain masked. Anything else was entirely optional, as thus proved by the flimsily-attired, almost nude appearance of the invited guests surrounding Lelouch. Smoked incense filled the room as the people lounged on the many soft cushions and smooth rugs, and feasted on hors d'oeuvres amid echoing laughter; while most acted with far more impropriety than was expected by touching each other's bodies without reserve.
Even Lelouch had received his share of attention, as he was also only dressed in long trunks, and a Chippendale-style outfit of bow-tie collar and cuffs. He received coaxing invites from both men and women, which he politely declined by staying silent, like a statue. Thanks to intelligence procured from previous reconnaissance, he knew just this much was enough to deflect these types.
For weeks now he had used an extensive network of surveillance tools and personal infiltration to study his half-sister's bacchanals. He had committed the whole mansion's structure to memory, memorized every staff member working here, had grasped every conceivable form of party etiquette, and had tailored his current identity to better work towards his goals. In the past parties he had disguised himself as one of the help, who were appreciated but were nonetheless forbidden from being interacted with by party rules. Now, he was a guest, and what was more, he was angling himself to become his half-sister's "special" guest.
It was obvious to every other guest looking on what the group of scantily-dressed males were doing in the midst of the party, waiting patiently like statues. From large, muscular-bodied men to lithe, toned bodies like Lelouch's, they all waited patiently like loyal dogs. For these people it was a chance to become one of Guinevere's chosen. Lelouch had witnessed it himself multiple times: from this group a few would be chosen, then taken to her chambers. Whatever they did there excited the party's imagination, but Lelouch knew what really happened.
In there, the chosen few would be ordered to do as the Princess bid, like ancient, naked Knights-errant, and whoever intrigued or fulfilled some hidden criteria in Guinevere's mind would be ultimately allowed to be intimate with her. Though, Lelouch had also witnessed instances of Guinevere becoming bored, or distracted, leaving her "chosen" in the lurch while their mercurial mistress did something else.
As the party dragged on, the spotlight bloomed towards the center of the party, causing a barrage of cheers to erupt. From there a figure came up, clad in near-transparent lavender silks, and wore a mask bedecked by glittering jewels.
Lelouch looked closely at this woman, paying particular attention to her body figure and the finer details on her mask. After a long moment of scrutiny, he reached his conclusion and let his body relax.
The woman spoke in a loud, commanding voice, thanking the guests for coming to "her" soiree, and promising that the mansion was well-stocked to grant them all yet another wonderful night they would never forget. Lelouch paid little attention to the speech and the raucous cheers that rose when she was finished; contrary to what she wanted these people to believe, that woman was not Guinevere, which meant that "plan A" was scratched off from the list of schemes inside his head.
Still, not all was lost. If Guinevere had sent a lackey with convincing voice and body type closely similar to hers come up on stage to take her place, that usually meant she was busy at the moment, and was due to come out soon after the party began in earnest. Amidst the drunken bustle and the sweet stench of sex and arousal that began to waft through the room, Lelouch stayed with his fellow hopefuls and remained in the same position. He was fully confident in what was to come.
It wasn't easy to remain calm in the face of all the scenes of depravity that were quickly snowballing before his eyes. The solution was simple: just give in to his bodily urge. His instant hard-on was no embarrassment in this den of savage delights. It was also a tool he was entirely ready to use.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted movement. There, a woman wearing nigh see-through silks began to examine the line of people waiting like him. She cupped their chins, ran her fingers through their muscles, as if she were sampling slaves at some ancient market. Lelouch, for his part, almost frowned to see that the mask she wore was different: but for now, he was 99% sure this was indeed his half-sister Guinevere, come to claim her boy toys for the evening. Already a small line of those she'd accepted followed along like obedient dogs, eager for a meal. And those whom she'd rejected now melted into the greater party, to drown their disappointment in the pleasures of the flesh.
"And what of you?" he heard his half-sister whisper when she came upon him. "A little lean, aren't you? Might you be a boy-whore?" Lelouch remained placid despite the cruel barb. Though his heart beat hard in his chest, as everything now hinged on Guinevere's decision.
"Let's see now." Without shame or hesitation, she leaned down to cup his crotch, and had a generous feel of his arousal beneath the fabric. She made a sound that seemed approving. Lelouch waited another moment in bated breath before Guinevere nodded, and gestured for him to follow. Breathing out a sigh, he took his place at the end of the line as his half-sister moved on to the rest of the prospects.
He was fortunate yet again at the end of the appraisal, as he seemed to be the last and only prospect Guinevere found amusing. After doing a quick head-count of her chosen, Lelouch's mind quickly calculated his next course of action.
As they left the raucous party behind and followed their mistress into the relative quiet of her mansion, Lelouch sprung into action. Embedded into his mask were a number of fast-acting sedatives delivered through a quick prick of a needle. He jammed the first one into the person in front of him, clamping a hand over his mouth to quiet his cries before dumping him in a side-room Lelouch had scouted out before. Then he rejoined the line without anyone the wiser.
In this way did he methodically eliminate all the other obstacles to his current scheme, knocking them out then relocating them swiftly before anyone could notice. Whether tall or short, well-built or thin, all fell to the fast-acting poison her shot into their veins. And Guinevere never seemed to notice her group was dwindling one by one: perhaps she simply couldn't fathom her loyal dogs not following behind her as she commanded.
When they finally reached her innermost chambers, Guinevere made a beeline for the drinks set on her table. There were only three of them left. Without even glancing at them, she dispatched them off to retrieve an object she had supposedly "hidden" somewhere. This was yet another sort of contest she liked to spring on her toys: granting her ultimate favor to those who triumphed.
While it would be child's play for Lelouch to do so, he had his scheme to consider. And these other two remainders were in the way. He therefore dispatched them in short order, fully taking advantage of their being alone to knock them out without anyone realizing. Afterwards, only Lelouch was left, and he slowly made his way back to his half-sister's side.
"Back so soon?" she remarked, while pulling heavily from her shot glass. "I thought I asked the maids to hide it better—what is that?" She goggled, drunkenly at what Lelouch was holding out. She looked from it to his face. "But that's not what I asked you to—"
Striking as fast as a snake, Lelouch stuffed the fabric onto Guinevere's face, then grabbed her glass from her hand before she could drop it. While she struggled, surprised, he flicked one special dart into her neck, causing her body to slump immediately from the combined effects of the sedating vapor pressed against her nose and the drug he'd injected.
As Guinevere lay slumped, insensate, Lelouch hastily set about to preparing the chamber for his use. Using a special keycode, he informed her guards not to let anyone inside the chambers for whatever reason: a sign he knew she usually reserved for outstanding men she anticipated on enjoying without interruption. The guards would also take care of the party outside, ensuring none of the guests followed through on a fool idea to enter her chambers.
Next, Lelouch set up the various recording devices all around the room. On his last "day" on the job he had secreted it inside a hidden chamber that no one in the household knew about. He was privately thankful that Clovis had not been too zealous in pursuing an investigation of all the Pendragon mansions. Then again, his brother the Third Prince was preoccupied with his governorship in the colonies.
Lastly, he attended to his half-sister. He laid her down on her vast Imperial bed, then stripped her of her skimpy garments. He paused to marvel at her voluptuous body. For so long she had shirked the traditional image of a gracious Princess: no, she was to be the most vivacious, most daring and avant-garde of all. The tattoo of the rose on her breast was proof enough of that, but he hadn't realized that she had also grafted additional marks on her body. The elaborate and sexually suggestive glyph that had been marked over her crotch was one thing he hadn't expected to see. (though he had witnessed her take men into her bed during his surveillance, he drew the line at outright voyeurism of the deed) Turning her over, he was also floored by the additional marks on the small of her back all the way to her plump rump.
All in all, it gave a certain sort of dangerous allure to her mature body. She would never surpass mother in his eyes, and yet with what he saw now of her, he could at least perform well on his duty without feeling like he was fucking some ugly old hag. He tied her to her bedposts, securing her arms twice with linen and rope.
When he was certain that there was no risk of her escape, he prepared the "smelling salts" and awoke her from her dozing funk. She looked around blearily, surprised to find her arms bound up above her, and most of all feeling the cool air blow on her fully naked body.
"Your voice-box has been paralyzed, for now," he announced, from his spot on the chair next to hers. Her gaze hardened when she saw him and she opened her mouth in a shriek—but nothing came out. Her eyes widened in surprise as she tested her voice, which had somehow become quite hoarse.
"It's a precaution," he explained smoothly. "Wouldn't want anyone to disturb our private time."
"Private time?" she asked faintly. "What sort of foolishness is this? Untie me at once! Do you know who you're dealing with? Whoever you are, your life's over, do you hear me? Death won't be a mercy for you!"
"Guivenere de Britannia, First Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire, and well-known entrepreneur and fashion mogul. Your achievements are plenty, but only one thing concerns me and my colleagues." He pressed his hands carefully together, for effect. "We have seen you gallivanting about without marrying anyone, spurning even your father's desire to have you wed. Something needed to be done. Now, something shall indeed be done."
"Hold…" she whispered. Her eyes, once smoldering with anger, faltered when she heard him mention the Emperor. "Are you from my father? Please, this must be some mistake! Allow me to talk to him, yes. He will surely understand."
"It's too late," he intoned, shaking his head. "It is done. Now, though you quail at marriage and think it scandalous, we shall therefore grant you a scandal worth talking about. Do you see these cameras?" he pointed all around. "They are set to record our union, from every conceivable angle." Ignoring her look of disgust, he continued, "This is, of course, insurance, to make you understand your position."
"What position…?"
"That of a mother—regrettably a single mother, and a Princess at that-but a mother nonetheless."
"Are you kidding me?" she screamed, or tried to anyway. "A mother? I don't have time for that! What will they think of me, getting knocked up like some whore!"
"And they'll have evidence, if you continue to act up like that. Especially if you act up like that, endangering both yourself and the child."
"Let me go!" she cried, thrashing on the bed. "You can't make me—"
"Of course, assassination is another possible thing," Lelouch mused aloud. That had the intended effect of causing her to stop. "You have become somewhat of an embarrassment of the whole world. If you choose to ignore our demands, then our colleagues have been authorized to do whatever is possible to sink you. Think on that. In the meantime, relax. The act itself will be as nothing you have felt before. You may find your opinions changing—for the better."
Inside the bag where he'd hidden his equipment he produced a small piece of ointment. He daubed his fingers inside deliberately. Then he began spreading it all over her skin, cupping and squeezing and pushing.
She did her best to remain stiff, her eyes blazing at him. But slowly his slow massage seemed to smooth away her prickles, and her body started to ease into his touch. She was slowly being misled, because although he'd rubbed all over her body, none of it was sexually related, at least, not yet. He hadn't lingered long on her exposed pussy, nor on her plump boobs. She even felt some of her knots unwind, which was a surprise, and therefore she found herself jolting in surprise when his hands began to linger over her thighs.
Lelouch made yet another hushing sound. "We're just getting to it, my lady. No need to get all excited just yet."
She breathed rapidly through her teeth, and suppressed a shriek (though currently she could never have made one so loud) as his hands returned to explore her hairy mound. Her rubbed over there now, causing minor squeaks to escape her mouth. When he slipped his fingers into her pink folds she slammed her legs shut, but realized too late it was actually helping him. Her pussy tightened over his fingers, thereby causing her to feel even greater sensations than before.
Guinevere spread her legs back apart, bit her lip, and willed herself to feel nothing. But it was futile. He rubbed up, down, left to right, tracing figures and shapes over her sensitive mound, aided largely by the burning oil he'd brought—and also her renewed arousal, which spread its hot warmth over his fingers. Lelouch made no comment about it, instead focusing more on his task.
His plan worked. Though she continued to glare at him, her mind could no longer deny what her body was telling her. It felt good. It felt really good. It was way better than any of her conquests before, even during the times when older nobles took advantage of her then-naivety to despoil the Emperor's first Princess. And yet they were as stumbling boys compared to this agent His Grace had seemingly sent to her bed, which pointed to his professional nature.
Guinevere gasped and gagged, her legs thrashing around wildly as he probed and flicked over her sensitive places with earnest fervor, until her body was left a twitching mess, her pussy literally leaking a pool full of quim. With his other hand, he expertly fondled her boobs, stirring up an electrifying wave of pleasure as he worked her nipple like it was a dial, tweaking and twisting it between his fingers as he pleased. When both were fully erect, he pulled on her plump mounds and rubbed her nipples together like he were trying to spark a fire, which did end up working—at least in Guinevere's body.
"I hope you're more relaxed now, my lady," he said, as if he were merely performing something routine. His smooth, baritone voice was quite familiar, and yet was soothing to her ears in its own way. It was like she was really being treated to a world-class massage. "If it pleases you, I believe it is now time for us to move on. We only have tonight to enact our plans, so I will ensure that we shall do this for the whole night if we need to." She shuddered at the implication of being fucked for the whole night; that was impossible for the average male, and yet he had the confidence..?
Unbidden came to her minds the many delirious fantasies she'd experienced over the years, all the way back to when she'd been a newly budded maiden, when she yet thought that the whole world was not just a muck-laden place where one had to take control or lose it entirely. In these fantasies, she thought herself the innocent maiden, trapped in a tower, only to be seduced and slowly corrupted by a rakish man with a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step, who would teach her things even her mother would blush to think of. As she grew older, the fantasy never really disappeared, even when she finally realized she could influence vast swathes of people with but a snap of her finger. Even as she wielded her body as a weapon to ensnare and dominate, a part of her yearned to be taken without quarter, to be claimed by a brutish thing which thought nothing of propriety, who sought only her body to fulfill its own desires.
Lelouch rose, and pulled down his loincloth. His large cock, half-aroused from seeing his half-sister's nakedness, rose to full attention once freed. He bared it all for Guinevere to see. Unknown to her, this was the cock that had brought Marianne the Flash to her knees. And to Lelouch, she wasn't worth the effort of his member, but for his current scheme.
Guinevere's gaze widened in trepidation: for she hadn't ever seen the like. And it was attached to an unremarkable body to boot: a man she would have dismissed outright as a mere boy, and now he sported a girthy, thick monster that was just about to claim her. Lelouch jumped on the bed, propping himself up on his hands. He then lined himself up against her exposed crotch, still gleaming with her liquid and his special oil.
He took full advantage of her helplessness and brushed his hands all over her body. His head leaned down to help himself to her pert nipples, slobbering his tongue all over it while making sure to continue tugging on her other nipple to remind her of the shock-like pleasure. Then he moved his mouth to suck on the other nipple, while then working on the other one with his fingers. In this way he continued alternating, back and forth, until her back arched from the blossoming heat that coursed through her chest and left her breathless.
He moved his way down, leaving butterfly kisses all over, exploring her stomach, her navel, then back down to her sodden entrance. He took a deep breath there, making her body tingle from the feeling of his hot breath against her lower lips. She felt him settle between her legs. She felt his long fingers brush against her folds, parting them, and rubbing them, and then she felt his warm tongue brush against her, tasting her. The many coinciding sensations made her gasp loudly, an explosion of sound that accompanied the rhythmic shuddering of her entire body. When he took her erect clit into his mouth and began to suckle with the same fervor as that of her nipples, her whole body convulsed, quite undone by his masterful technique. Her climax returned with a vibrant roar as juices pulsed from her secret place right onto his mask.
And yet, even in the face of her explosive orgasm, Lelouch never stopped. He lapped up her overflowing sex juices, his tongue rubbing all over her folds relentlessly and stimulating her already frayed nerves. She could do aught but struggle to move her arms from their bound position, while her legs twitched and shook as waves of pleasure pulsed outward from her beleaguered cunt.
Finally, he pulled his head back, smacking his lips and grunting, and leaving Guinevere with an exquisite sense of fulfillment, and a small part of actual longing and lust—which then ended up fueling her desire for more.
"I hope that has sufficiently prepared you, my lady," the man remarked.
Her soul suffused with shame, she could only avert her gaze, her cheeks burning red after his rampant violation of her body. And he did all that all that while refusing her calls to stop, while at the same time finding herself bound and intrigued by his expertise. The man infuriated her, and yet she could not help but feel drawn in by his mysterious allure, as if he were the rakish rogue of her dreams. She could feel his erection, turgid and hot, just hovering out of reach of her moist entrance, as if he were teasing her with its presence.
When he moved to kiss her cheek, she recoiled, a reaction she had made many times before when her previous lovers kissed her. Though she was willing to pleasure a man's cock just fine with her mouth, she drew the line at the vapid act of kissing. Those who tried inevitably drew her displeasure. Yet now she could do nothing, but then she realized that he had only kissed her cheek.
"There are times when one must realize the situation," Lelouch said, misunderstanding why she'd reacted in that way. He therefore positioned himself between her legs, using his arms as leverage while his knees kept her thighs wide apart. From the way his hips were angled, he was lifting her buttocks up ever so slightly, and in this position she could easily see her own overflowing entrance when she looked down. She saw his member fall against her lower lips: a hot, throbbing tower of flesh. He moistened the tip idly against hers, letting him sear her from their point of contact.
She protested once more, but all of it fell on deaf ears. She was only able to watch as he eased himself inside, inch by inch, his face twisting as he met the resistance of her churning, tightening folds. Lelouch fought to keep the stoic look on his face as he struggled to fight down the lightning jolts of pleasure that came racing up his cock as he slowly sheathed himself inside his half-sister. He'd half expected her to be a bit loose due to her many past dalliances—but here he found she was still almost as tight as a virgin! His breathing grew ragged as he concentrated on pushing past the pleasure that was enveloping his cock, and was relieved when he was finally able to completely arrive balls deep inside her.
Her own breathing became hurried—it had not been long since her last, and yet the sheer size of his member was literally making her belly bulge. She had greatly underestimated his size. Now she felt full, and also felt the stirrings of foreboding. For if he felt like this with just one thrust, how would his repeated thrusts feel? How would a long, entire night's worth of this monstrous member feel? Could she even take it?
When he withdrew, she felt herself exhaling a long sigh. His sudden thrust back inside caught her for a breathless loop, as it knocked her body upward against the headboard. He started pumping in and out, using quick, shallow movements to make the tip of his member saw against her sensitive insides, while also repeatedly flicking her engorged clit. This rapid movement quickly brought on a rising fire of pleasure to bloom from her crotch, and Guinevere could only clench her bound fists to keep herself from screaming.
Though being caught and tied up like this while being unable to do anything much about it was humiliating, she nonetheless felt her mind and spirit soaring and exulting in the degradation, like she were a bird finally set free after all this time. Her entire body felt like it was suffused with flame, a pleasurable heat that spread throughout every corner of her body.
She let go. She submitted to his relentless hollowing of her steaming cunt. She lifted her hips to slam against his crotch, meeting his every thrust with a handy squeeze of her velvety insides and a husky groan that reflected the delicious, shuddering desire she was experiencing. With every wet, fat smack into her bottom, her pleasure escalated. Even Lelouch was getting into it, rubbing and tweaking her nipples while he rode her hard, thrusting with deeper and faster strokes into her. As he was no longer a stranger to incest, he didn't feel quite like he was performing something taboo. Rather, he admired her delicious, curved body, which was scarcely affected by age, and was privately thankful for the chance of fucking it.
As he accelerated onward to the eventual release, he berated himself for underestimating his half-sister, while he was yet in the midst of his wonder at how good her pussy felt wrapped securely around his erection. It quite literally made his current job much harder when he realized Guinevere was actually a good lay, and not just someone with whom he'd "do the job" before dropping like a hot brick. His lust made his actions accelerate until he climbed to that high peak of pleasure.
Therefore, their mutual realizations about each other made it easy for them both to reach climax—and even at the same time. Guinevere screamed hoarsely, her muscles tightening all over, her pussy folds convulsing around his length, her legs locking behind him as her release exploded inside her mind with the force of a supernova.
"Aahhhhn! Oh gods oh gods oh gods…!"
Lelouch, unable to bear the squeezing sensation and already laboring close to the limits of his stamina, crashed down on top of her sweaty body, while his flesh rod pumped ropes of white cum deep inside her womb. He hissed through his teeth as he felt his cock run through the pleasure gauntlet of her cunt, so sweet and pleasurable did it feel to pump this woman with everything he had.
Wrapped in his coital ecstasy, he forgot that this was exactly what he was here to do. Still, he could not even attempt to move from above her while his ejaculation continued, helped by her tightly twisting tunnel. When he started to pull away, the sensation of his cock moving through her pussy kept him hard and raring to pump another load inside her, but he remained steadfast, expending all his willpower to not cum again in her amazingly tight hole.
As he stared down at her sweaty, glistening body, Lelouch realized that Guinevere had passed out, probably from her climax. Her legs fell apart, unlinking themselves from behind him, thus freeing him to move. Thinking quickly, he rolled over and off the bed, stumbling onto the carpet with a curse as he hobbled on over to check the recording apparatus. His whole body coated with the same slick sexual funk as her, it took a while to get everything sorted out. Lelouch had to check the guards, to ensure no one came to disturb them, then went over his plan again, restructuring the steps to account for what had just transpired.
When Guinevere woke, a few minutes later, he was already there, between her legs. In the interim, he had wiped down much of the mess on both their bodies, including the copious amount of cum that had flowed out backward from her womb. At first, she checked her restraints, before she then looked down to give him an unamused look.
"So, I assume this little farce is over? You already had your way with me, you sick, perverted man."
"Ah, but you did seem to enjoy it, my lady. Would you like a drink?"
"Hmph." She didn't look like she was denying the accusation, and instead chose to stay quiet. "I'd just like some water, or juice. I'm parched."
"As you command."
"You didn't put anything inside?" she asked, when he proffered the glass of water to her.
"Like a drug? Now why would I need to do that? I have seduced you well enough by myself—and before you mention the oil, it's just normal oil, used to lubricate my little massage."
"You mixed something in it! Some sort of… aphrodisiac that made me… feel things!"
"I'm afraid that is all in your head, my lady," he replied smoothly. "If I may speak bluntly, your reaction to our coupling was perhaps the result of your unspoken desire for more… fulfilling sex, one which only I was able to provide you."
"Don't be so full of yourself. I've had many more wonderful lovers. They were certainly leagues better than you."
"Oh? Well then." Lelouch smiled, then flipped Guinevere over so she was lying prone on the bed.
He turned her face to the side, where she panted, "What are you doing?"
He ran his fingers over her back. "To continue where we left off. And also to complete the massage: I am a poor agent if I did not thoroughly explore every part of your body, my lady."
"No!" she whimpered, as he began to pour oil all over her back. His fingers were the devil's work! She could not endure a second time. But this stranger did not heed her protests. He reached down and spread her breasts outwards, so her nipples could be kneaded from the sides. He used his knees to prop her legs apart, ensuring his easy access to her ravaged tunnel. From there, he went to work.
If it was intolerably humiliating before, now it was sheer, delicious agony. He worked her body like it was an instrument built solely for his purposes, and these purposes he fulfilled with judicious, meticulous attention. A fire quickly spread over the oil-slicked surface of her back, which then spread to other parts. Of course, Lelouch was also keen on stimulating the parts of her that would stimulate her sexual drive: such as her nipples and her dripping cunt. He kneaded her plump butt, teasing her anal entrance with the heated oil.
No matter how much she pleaded, begged or cried, he wouldn't stop. She resorted to cursing him, insulting his skills, belittling his status, threatening a great vengeance for his insolence. And Lelouch responded that this sweet torture would never end, until he saw she was well and truly pliable to be bred completely until she was ready to bear a child.
At this she ranted and raved, all while choking back the mewling whimpers of a woman in heat. But she could not deny she was a woman in heat, currently, being toyed with like a cat and its favorite toy. Many times did Lelouch threaten her with orgasm—and half the time he obliged her, sending her to heaven with but a flick of a finger, and at other times he denied her, making her simmer in torment within the hell of infinite pleasure. He would relent and make her cum, but the pattern would repeat, and she grew to dread the moment when she felt her peak returning, like she were waiting for the axe to fall.
The endless massage hell ended in a big bang, leaving the First Princess an insensate mess. Drool slipped easily from both her upper and lower lips, while her whole body was covered in a second layer of gleaming sweat. Lelouch marveled at how much the scent of her arousal now suffused the room, and tried to calculate if it would end up causing suspicion for the people outside.
After checking up the third time on the systems he'd erected, Lelouch returned to his half-sister's side and prepped her for another bout of penetration. He adjusted her body on the bed, making her buttocks rise a feet or two above the bed to give him easier access to her hole.
He waited for her to wake. When she did, he intoned, "I'm sure you can see the reality of it all now," he said. "I alone can make you drown with pleasure. You wish to resist? Remember then, that denying your body the release it craves will only destroy you from within. It is best to accept it, embrace it, submit to the pleasure our copulation will bring."
She was silent; but then again she also wasn't protesting like before. Her breathing was hard and ragged. In muffled voice, she eventually said, "You're going to pay for this. Someday, somehow, I'll make you pay. But—"
"But?"
"In the meantime, just shut up and fuck me, fool."
"But do you mean—"
"Yes, yes," she said impatiently. "Breed me, if that is your wish. Impregnate me, if you can even manage it."
He tugged on her hair. "We'll work on attitude a bit longer. But it is good to hear your enthusiasm."
"You're nothing special."
"I will personally guarantee you will have no words once I begin."
"What are you—guaahhhhaaahhh! Haaaaaahnnnn!" Her words were interrupted by a sudden intake of breath as her eyes rolled up to her head. Just then, he had slipped his massive girth right back into her defenseless pussy, carving himself out a place in her soppy, undulating insides. He slipped in all the way to the root of his cock, his glans stuffed into her cum-filled womb.
Then he leaned down, as of a beast about to rut its mating partner. "Now I'm going to breed you, old hag," he muttered in her ear, and he could practically see the hairs on her neck stand. Giving her no time to recover, Lelouch swung his hips outwards, then plunged back in with smack that echoed throughout the whole room.
The cameras recorded it all, just as they had been doing from the start. They got a good look, from Lelouch's expert handling of the lighting, at the First Princess's body and face as she was bred again and again by a man she didn't realize was her own half-brother. From the way she reacted, her face twisted in equal parts ecstasy and shame, her tongue lolling out and dripping copious amounts of her spit on her already drenched pillow, her well-kept hair now spreading apart like a wild Medusa, messy and unkempt.
With the oil on her body creating a less frictional surface, it was easier for Lelouch to keep up his cunt-pumping rhythm, allowing him to adjust his strokes in order to tease Guinevere anyway he wished. For example, he would screw into her with the rapidity of a beast possessed by estrus, pounding rapidly into her heated core and building up within her the next, explosive climax. Then, just when he'd sense that she was near, he'd make a full stop, causing her to groan and collapse, her legs flailing about in frustration. He'd torment her almost endlessly with slow, shallow motions of his cock, teasing her sensitive spots (she had many) with the tip. Her juices would leak copiously down her thighs, and he would feel her pussy lips trying desperately to churn around him, attempting to make him continue. She would beg "Please, please," in a whining voice, but Lelouch disregarded that until he felt she'd been tormented enough, whereupon he'd finally give her the release she craved. She would sigh in her relief, as her pussy contracted, granting his cock a mind-blowing vacuuming sensation which he rode with gritted teeth.
The cameras recorded every moment, especially the instances when Lelouch himself reached release. They recorded the ecstasy on her face when he pumped her again and again with his potent cum. He would plug her up with his cock long after ejaculation, ensuring every last drop of his seed would be absorbed into her, before continuing his mating. He ignored her protests for rest, for respite, and gently reminded her he was there to breed a child into her, not be her considerate lover.
Eventually, she did not need to be reminded, and instead shouted joyful screams as he plowed into her, pushing back with her hips on every thrust. He could tell her mind had utterly disappeared, leaving it a pliable, sodden mess.
On the very last time he would cum, he felt her vaginal walls grip him like manyfold tiny hands, rubbing all over him like a sentient thing. By then Lelouch himself was on his breaking point, even with the stamina medicine he'd imbibed. Guinevere was reduced to a wild-haired, glaze-eyed woman, her voluptuous body dripping with sexual juices, all traces of intelligence lost to the stupor of mind-numbing sex. Her pussy contracted instinctively, pushing him over the edge one last time as he filled her up with his white, molten heat. He could not resist leaving a bite-mark on her neck, feeling very much a beast in that moment, who longed to utterly dominate a female he'd bred. He collapsed on top of her, their hearts beating almost as one as their bodies moved and breathed in sync while the last transaction deposited another helpful dose of sperm in her ready womb.
She drifted off again, her reaction after every mind-shattering orgasm. Lelouch fought the urge to sleep, and through heavy-lidded eyes, withdrew from her velvet clutches. His enormous girth exited with a loud pop, which was quickly followed by a fresh surge of baby batter that stained the bed. Lelouch scrambled for another fixer-upper in his stash, his only saving grace being the voice in his head telling him to move, or suffer dire consequences. When he made it, to his relief, he nonetheless took a while to lie there on the floor and contemplate his conquest, utterly exhausted, but thankfully conscious.
He had done exactly what was needed. He had done exactly what she'd commanded. He fished the phone from his pack and dialed one number.
"It's me."
"I know," came a husky voice from the other end. "I was watching the whoooole time, my love. You can't imagine the drawers I have to wash just to leave it out of the nosy maids. You gave me such a show, my dear."
Imagining his mother masturbating to the sight of her son dominating his half-sister was not something he wanted to contemplate—as it made a part of him want to show off to the cameras even more. "I'm glad for that. What now?"
"I've already arranged things on my end. We go with Plan E, my sweet."
He raised an eyebrow. "You want her? There?"
"She will be a splendid play-mate, my son. If nothing else, she's got a better alibi for disappearing than Cornelia."
"Ah," he said, a little guiltily.
This strange quest that Lelouch had embarked upon had not been something he had initiated on his own. It was an ambition that belonged to his mother, Marianne vi Britannia, who had shared it with him upon her return to his side.
"I was raised from nothing," she had reasoned to him. "A flower born with a name that was less than dirt to their eyes. Though I have been given your father's honor, that fact has never changed." He remembered that her eyes had flashed then—dangerous and filled with rancor. "However, I can never forget how they have always treated us, treated you with barely the same respect they give to a low-ranking noble. I did find happiness with Charles, yes, but I would never truly be satisfied until I've managed to wipe off the smile from their arrogant faces. I'd long entertained thoughts and plans, my dear… It is all too common in Court. But to me it all seemed hollow, somehow. And so I waited and bided my time, waited until an opportunity presented itself."
"And that opportunity…?"
Marianne gave him one of her brilliant smiles. She cupped his chin. "You, my brilliant boy. Your brilliant mind, that no one can ever hope to match. You are my greatest treasure, my greatest legacy. I had a plan, once, to make you Emperor. Mayhap it is impossible in my lifetime, but for now, I will settle on a lesser ambition: my vengeance on those who dared look down on us."
And the crux of his mother's vengeance was the humiliation of the various Consorts, whether through leading their children to scandal or outright elimination. The first target, then, was Guinevere, the First Princess. Her mother had long since died of a disease, and so therefore Marianne settled on humiliating her instead. And what better way than to ensure she bear the child of a Lamperouge, to ensure that Marianne's blood would have the last laugh?
Lelouch, acceding to his lover's will, accepted the charge in principle, though he was reluctant to actually carry it out. Due to the need to keep their little conspiracy private, he had to work alone. And that led to the events of tonight.
It turned out that Marianne had already prepared the way for Guinevere's impromptu retiring to the countryside, her whereabouts unknown. Instructions had been given in the Princess' hand to her known associates, telling them to run things without her for a period of several months. Lelouch was frankly surprised that his mother was as meticulous and devious in planning as him.
Lelouch glanced at the woman behind him, who was secured by ropes, and was completely naked and dripping in sweat, her eyes blindfolded and almost every orifice jammed by humming vibrators. The car's tinted windows ensured no one would be able to catch a glimpse inside it, and that no one would realize that the disappeared Guinevere was still just in Pendragon, to be kept in Aries Villa.
When he arrived, he shared a quick, soulful kiss with his lover, and mother. He could smell the stench of sex on her, making his hardon return with a vengeance. Whether or not Marianne noticed his erection, she nonetheless turned her attention to the one in the passenger seat.
She ripped off the blindfold, and matched eyes with a terrified, sex-drunk Guinevere.
"Hello, bitch. Welcome to my son's little harem. You will have the honor of bearing his child, just as I do."
An anonymous commission, thanks.
If you'd like a story commissioned, feel free to contact me here, or on archiveofourown, under "RHoldhous".