Nasar hated coming down from his high.
There was something dangerously alluring about filling Philomel up with so much cum that it slowly dripped from her cunt, the thick white slick quick to stain her thighs as a bitter reminder of what he had just done. The sight, the experience, released something truly dangerous from the darkest corners of his heart, something both sacrosanct and abhorrently filthy.
He is not a fool, and he knew how wrong this was, even in the heights of his abandon. He was a monster, perhaps one just as bad as his very loathsome and freshly-deceased father. He had just used the woman he proclaims to love and protect for his own pleasure. How often had he reminded himself not to let his emotions get the better of him? Not to let them incite bitter feelings of jealousy and possessiveness in him? Not to take those feelings out on her?
He is utterly pathetic.
The newly-minted duke tried to ignore the red swelling welts on her skin, rubbed raw by the coarse ropes he had restrained her with, so his princess would not hurt herself in her resistance to a man much stronger and trained than herself. Wrists, thighs, those pretty little ankles, her neck, every inch of her skin bore a splotch of an unseeming colour, a perfect testament to his desperation. His own teeth sunk deep into his bottom lip, his heart thrumming and his thoughts struggling to find ground. His heart, his humanity, wailed with each touch he laid upon her skin, but its cries may as well be empty words.
It had been a reckless spur-of-the-moment decision, as he would have fetched silk instead of hemp-braided ropes used to handle the cattle otherwise. Yet, he cannot help but to feel satisfied with himself, the feeling of a man with his hunger sated. For the guilt he should be struggling with, there was no heaviness in his heart.
Nasar knew he should feel terrible after this. Their future child was another reason to stay, after all, another reason Philomel could not escape. She might not care for Imperial law on custody or even the morality of a whole family in rearing, but survive in the wild pregnant is that much more difficult, and she would not abandon her own with a diseased man like her mother did with herself.
It was not hard to acknowledge himself as a sorry piece of a bastard, but perhaps it was due to his long struggle to get them to this point that he did not feel anything at all, nothing but pure elation. Elated that she would be marked as his, that she will become the mother of his child, his lawfully-wedded wife. Elated she would be forever tied to him.
"Darling, it's over now. You can relax." He whispered with a smile that she dared not return.
Her whimpers and screams had not died down in the slightest, only growing with fervour and tears when he had buried himself deep in her walls and finish yet again. He really did not want Philomel to fight him, she is making this much too hard on herself. It had already been done, his seed had already found its way deep in her cunt, into her uterus, into her womb. Still, Nasar wanted to keep that fire of hers alight, but he would rather not end the night with she drenched in her own blood, cum, and sores from her own stubbornness. It was easier to keep her gagged, too.
It was just easier that way, to whittle down that sweet yet tragically misplaced resolve of hers.
"My apologies, love." He says, sincerely, but not truly regretful.
Truly, not regretful. He does not regret killing his own father when he suggested marrying someone else, for calling Princess Philomel his bastard mistress. He does not regret deceiving emperor and mage alike to believe their beloved daughter was dead. He does not regret pretending he would help his beloved escape the empire, only to become her jailor himself.
Truly, in this light, what is a night of passion?
Philomel, for her part, glared through tears at his honeyed words. She saw right through him, she knew what truly laid in his heart, a lesson that was too late in the making. He was a good actor, a terribly good actor who conned her into believing him a man of honour and took advantage of her time of greatest need for his own gains. She is a fool for believing him, even when forewarned of her impending doom and his wretched role in bringing it about. For believing that she had won the trust and good-will of the gentle and honourable Nasar of Abridon, she is a right fool.
The blond man sighed in her ears and sunk himself in once more, his cock twitching deep against her walls. She writhed and groaned in pain, her eyes widening to a bulge. He had gone so many rounds and he was still hard, still eager to fill her to the brim.
He sighed contentedly, enjoying the feeling of the long-cold sperm drenching his inner thigh. "Apologies again, my love. I've grown impatient of this game we played. You'll indulge me a while longer, won't you?"
Game? What game!?
Philomel been nothing but good, polite, restrained in regards to him! She had played the perfect fiancée, she complained of nothing, asked for nothing, and supported him in all his enterprises, just so he could let her go free when time came, when his passions were swayed away. He was handsome and sweet, to be certain, but she never intended to stay long, never intended to bear his children like he so desperately pleaded. She meant to stay for a week, to recoup from her long travel from the capital.
Alas, that week turned into a month, and that month turned into six. It was close to a year and she had not once stepped foot outside the Abridon holiday home. She is like an animal trapped in a cage, and although he treated her with dignity and respect, he lost all sense of composure when she dared let her guard down.
"I only ever wanted your attention. For you to stay here, with me. Forever." He mewled, running his tongue over his bottom lip in lust. "If this is the only way to keep you, then…"
The princess barked out a hoarse cry, muffled behind the loosening gag, when his hips withdrew only to slam deep inside of her. She hissed, her folds and clit raw from overstimulation, the ropes digging deeper into her skin every second she struggled. A ripple of horrifying pleasure burned across the walls of her stomach, enjoying the feeling of being penetrated and fucked senseless, of being violated and broken apart from the inside.
Nasar had been gentle before, out of sheer courtesy, but he was not anymore, anything but. It is as if… As if the beast lost its patience and took over with a reckless abandon.
"Then so be it!" He snarled like a dog in heat, the nicks of his too-long nails cutting into her and drawing more blood than he had already spilled. "I don't want to hurt you, but I'm not afraid to."
He laughed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip again in desperation. Fingernails clawed down his back, legs kicked from under him, but her strength was next to meaningless under him. Callous, deft, but very pretty fingers pinched at her hardened nipples, pulling them past their limit as he pushed into her hungrily. She felt every twitch of his cock as it slid against her sore folds, but the pleasure far outweighed the pain.
Philomel wonders if she has finally gone insane.
"I'll desecrate you if I must, darling." The man says, with a loving tilt to his voice, a tone dripping in honey, seeming as if he was doing her a great service.
The façade does not last too much longer, and his hold on himself quickly spirals away, baffled by the animal pleasure he discovers within her folds. He leaned forward and throatily moaned, pleasure heightening with each rabid thrust, desperately chasing that high once more. That thin thread he had placed on his restraint had long snapped, and he could not help the dark, arduous chuckles that stumbled past his lips. He looked lurid, crazed, monstrous.
"I'll fuck you like the animal you insist on being. I'll breed you like the pet you are!" He continues, without breaking a sweat, without losing his breath. "There's a place for a bastard princess, and I'll show you where!"
The knot in her stomach snapped faster this time, and he came soon after. Hot seed spilled into her womb and drooled from her cunt, mixing with the stale, cold sperm from rounds prior.
The duke hummed, once again very pleased with himself, savouring the last bit of his high and basking in the way that his beloved princess glowed after sex. She would look wonderful during pregnancy, he could hardly wait to see.
Nasar was not in any rush to remove his cock from her abused cunt, instead pushing himself deeper and resting there like it had become his den. His lips curled upwards, and he ran his tongue over his bared teeth, looking at Philomel as if he was still dangerously hungry for more.
"Don't worry, my beloved. I'll take good care of you and our child." He says, reassuring, as if this was the concern at hand.