For mindbreakings

[sockjockey]

The day has come to put all his careful plans in motion. For three years, he has labored in the dark, starting with the poisoning of the Sultana and the heartbreak of the Sultan not long after. Their young princess- young and beautiful and innocent- had been declared his ward until her 21st name day, when she would take over as reigning Sultana of the kingdom of Coram.

And so Vizir Acheron el Kinaz had bided his time, slowly replacing the guards of the palace with his own servants and sycophants. From scullery maid to her highness's personal guard, each and every person in the palace belonged to him. All, that was, except for the Princess's personal nursemaid.

And now that she was a young woman, fully blossomed at 18, there was no need for the woman to stay around.

She had been dismissed in the mid-morning, before the celebratory banquet that the Vizir would throw in the evening, all the preparations complete. The smallest detail had not been overlooked- a new set of clothing for the Princess had been ordered, cut in a way to hug her curves, the clothing easily removed with the right pull of a button, but otherwise much like the rest of her finery. The meals had been seen to- and the entire day long, he had requested that her handmaid slip small vials of an aphrodisiac inside of her drinks. Not much, not the powerful potions he had in store for her later, but enough to keep her on edge and wanting by the time he would give her her surprise.

And of course there was the matter of the necklace.
It was a masterpiece of jewelry, the filigree gold woven with spells that would help ensnare the girl's mind and body alike to do his bidding. The jewel set at the base of the throat was a focus to try and make her more pliant, as well as protect her from siring an heir until the time was right. And the clasps- well, the clasps were enchanted. Only he would be able to remove the collar from the princess.

All well and good. He didn't plan on removing it until she was thoroughly broken from his indulgences. It is this he thinks on as he gently pushes the door of the Princess's room open, standing on the precipice as is custom.

"Your Highness," He bows, his long braided hair sliding over his shoulder as he stands at the edge of her room.

"I had hoped to give you a gift prior to the celebration. Something more fitting for a woman newly blossomed." He holds out the small cedar chest he has placed his enchanted collar in, a soft smile on his face, the rose hiding the viper beneath.
"Would you do me a kindness and wear it this evening?"

Comments

[1001brainwashings]

The death of Omaira's parents had been a tragedy, for the kingdom as well as for her personally. But even through the grief and how she misses them still, she's led a blessed, comfortable life. She's wanted for nothing, living in the lap of luxury and carefully kept sheltered by the Vizier.

Ordinarily, a princess her age should have been learning statecraft from her father, taking on responsibility and education so that she could one day ably command the country. Of course, Omaira had done none of these things, and anyone who had been in a position to point out that the vizier's treatment of her was suspicious at best was sent away or met an ignominious end somewhere else.

As a result, she knows little of palace intrigue, she's kind and naive, trusting that those around her have her best interests in mind. She eats the food she's given without a poison tester, she wears the pretty clothes she's been sent. She rarely leaves the palace, but she rarely has need to.

She's sitting in her lavish bedchambers, brushing her long, dark hair, when the door opens. She turns and her face brightens up when she sees the man who's been like a father to her ever since her father had passed, the one who's made her life so comfortable. "Vizier Acheron," she says, with a warm smile, setting the brush aside and standing. She takes the box and opens it. Her dark eyes go wide.

"Why... it's lovely! Wherever did you find it?"

She holds it to her chest. "I would like nothing more than to wear your gift, my faithful servant."

Even as he was regent, even though she was a sweet girl, she couldn't help but treat people in a slightly patronizing manner. It was just her station, after all. She was superior to everyone else in the country, as the last of the royal family. Even their able vizier was, to her, just a servant. Right?

[sockjockey]

One might say the Vizier has been neglecting Princess Omaira’s education, keeping her sheltered inside of the palace walls. If anything, her education had simply been altered. True, the Vizier had hired tutors for the Princess for basic subjects, but instead of giving her responsibilities and rule it was simply something to pass the time, to fill her head with ideas of womanly virtues and domestic responsibilities befitting her station.

Of course he had hired a tutor for her to teach her all about sex, at least in a textbook sense. Not just the usual intercourse but anal, oral, and everything in between.

No, if anyone was to claim her virginity, it would be him. Which is why during this last year, he has slipped things into her dreams. Woven spells over her to make her have dreams that would hopefully leave her subconsciously attracted to him as more than a father figure.

The smile on his face doesn’t change at her casual condescension, and he merely answers her questions.
“I had it commissioned from the finest jeweler in the kingdom, a special gift for a special young woman.”

His eyes rake up and down her body, and he certainly likes what he sees. She has grown into a beautiful young woman, and it will make corrupting her all the more pleasurable.

“The new outfit certainly suits you, dear princess. You must be thrilled to show it off at the party.”

[1001brainwashings]

She sees nothing strange in the education she's been given, of course; she has nothing to compare it to. But doesn't it make sense for her to learn how to one day satisfy her husband? Even if she'd be Sultana and her husband would be Prince Consort, matters of marriage are surely important for a queen to know. It's quite bizarre to think about, though - who knew that people could make love in so many different ways?

The spells he's cast on her in her sleep have had some effect, often in conjunction with her education. For instance, if she wonders what it would be like to do some of the acts her tutors told her, the man she imagines often has a face very like Acheron's. But why would she think anything of it? He's the man she knows best, after all.

She thinks nothing of the way he looks at her. Many men have looked at her that way, though with men outside the close palace staff, she is usually veiled. "Thank you, my friend. I could not be happier with this gift. I will be sure to wear it and show off our country's artisanship. Who will be attending, if I may ask?"

[sockjockey]

"For tonight? A more intimate gathering. Only those closest to you should partake in the feast to celebrate you maturing into a young woman. Tomorrow, you will greet the people as the soon to be Sultana, rather than a child hiding behind the curtains of the palace." He smiles as he takes the necklace from her hands and moves behind her, carefully brushing aside some of her hair to fasten the clasp and place the spell upon her.

Oh, the plans he has for her tonight. Seated at her right hand, he will certainly have access to her drink, and he has prepared quite the potions for her. Already, he is dreaming of it, ripping off her top right there in front of all of the palace guards and advisors, having her spread her legs so they can all watch as he plays with her, teases her, makes her finish on his fingers before taking her virginity for the rest of the palace to see.

And then he will hand her over to the crowd to do with as they please. Toy with her and have her suck off every guard in attendance, or to offer her body for the feast for them to suck and grope and take as they please. And come the morrow? All of it a single happy dream, and the princess none the wiser.

"Come now, my dear princess. We are already late as it is. Are you quite ready for your feast? Your handmaid hasn't been giving you too much wine already, has she?" He offers his arm to her, a signal that he will escort her to the dining halls.

[1001brainwashings]

Her hair is soft, luxurious, the hair of a princess, of a pampered child. She closes her eyes, enjoying the prickling on her skin beneath his fingertips as he pushes her hair aside, as he closes the necklace chain around her neck. "I can scarcely believe it," she murmurs. "Do you think I am ready?"

But there is little time to think of that now. She has a banquet to attend. One must not disappoint her people.

Though his question makes her laugh, a little titter as she reaches to her vanity, grabbing her veil - a loop of cord with transparent cloth on the front - and settling it over her ears, over the front of her face before taking his hand. She is not Sultana yet, after all. "Do I seem inebriated to you, my loyal servant? I have had naught but some very light honey wine earlier."

Her face is still pleasantly tingly from that drink, come to think of it. Odd. Ah well, she won't question it too much. "Then let us be off."

[sockjockey]

(( Gonna just fast forward a bit here… ))

Acheron takes Omaira’s arm and it isn’t long before they are at the banquet. It is a lavish meal, no expenses spared to serve all the Princess’s favorite dish. And the crowd that is gathered are only those that would be considered close to the princess in some way. Her personal guards, her tutors and instructors, and those other advisors of the palace that fall in line under Acheron.

And why shouldn’t they? Each and every person in the palace now belongs to him. Knows exactly what he is planning in some capacity. He can see the almost ravenous looks on some of the guards as they look Omaira’s up and down throughout the feast, and he cannot help the smirk as he slips a potion into her drink halfway through.

It is a powerful one, an aphrodisiac that is meant to drive a woman half-mad with lust. To spike her pleasure in such a way that she can finish multiple times. To leave her body wanting more and more.

He watches her closely for the effects- dilated pupils and flushed skin, a more rapid rise and fall of her chest, nipples hardening under fabric, patient for his concoction to take hold before he makes the next move.

[1001brainwashings]

She may have grown up sheltered, in the lap of luxury, but the princess is indeed an excellent host. She is charming in her innocent way, talking to all in attendance - albeit still with that innocent air of condescension, the fact that she is superior to all of them contained in every word. She does not notice them looking at her as they do. She does not notice the vizier pouring a little vial into her drink midway through the meal.

She does, however, start to feel warm several minutes after drinking the potion. She murmurs to one of her servants, asking for him to open the windows, but the night breeze, usually so refreshing, does little to make her feel any cooler. Her heart is fluttering, the nipples of her small breasts stiff and now clearly visible.

She leans in to the vizier, and whispers, "I think I may be feeling slightly ill... will it be a problem if I retire to my quarters for the night?"

[sockjockey]

“Of course not, my princess. Allow me to escort you to your room.” It is here he weaves his magic, the gem nestled in her necklace glowing softly as he takes her by the arm.

And then sets in her throne, pulling her onto his lap with powerful hands.

He has set the stage to change her memories so what is to come is but a dream, and with her body held tight against his, he raises a cup and calls everyone’s attention.

“Friends, associates, those of the select inner circle charged with guarding and protecting this precious gem of a princess. I have called all of you here tonight to give our lovely Princess Omaira a welcoming to her blossoming womanhood.”

The hand holding her against him reaches up and yanks her top down to expose her breasts.
“Such a fine flower, isn’t she?” There are laughs and jeers throughout the hall as all eyes are on the Vizir and the princess now as he pinches a nipple between his fingers and takes the drought to her lips again.
“Drink.“ He orders of her in a voice low and harsh and brokering no argument.

He will have her begging for more by the time he is done toying with her.

[1001brainwashings]

Omaira stands, letting her trusted servant take her arm, expecting to be led to her chambers.

She is not at all expecting him to sit in her throne and pull her down on his lap. She gives a very unladylike yelp as she's tugged onto his lap, her balance off-kilter. She's completely taken by surprise - the vizier has never dared touch her like this before. "Wh- what are--" she says, more confused than angry at the time being, because this impropriety is absolutely unheard of.

And yet, he's not letting go of her. It's not an accident or a mistake. He's holding her tight, like she's seen men of the court hold dancing girls, and the confusion - even through her growing arousal - turns into sudden, flashing anger. "Unhand me at once!" she demands, sharply. "You... you should know your place!" He should know he could be thrown in the dungeon or executed for this, surely.

And then he tears her top down. Omaira hadn't realized that the garment was designed to break off like this, and again she yelps as her breasts are bared. She's not particularly curvy, her body still more girlish than womanly, her breasts small and pert. Her dark nipples are stiff, achingly so. Omaira's eyes go wide. It's hardly unheard of for women to walk around topless in their culture; many of the maidservants prefer it when the weather gets warm. But for a princess to not just be exposed, but by force? That's unthinkable.

"What are you doing, Acheron?!" she demands. "Have you lost your mind? Guards, seize him at--"

He pinches her nipple, and the princess can't stop the little whimper that escapes her mouth. She immediately gasps in shock. How had that felt so sensitive?

When the glass is presented to her, she starts obeying reflexively at first, but realizes what's going on after a heartbeat and tries to stop, coughing as some of the potion spills out of her mouth. Why haven't the guards arrested him yet?

[sockjockey]

The cup he forces against her lips is the potion, undiluted by wine or water, tasting of sweet honey and something sinful. His hand holds her breast tight, trying to keep her pinned against him as the crowd of guards laugh and jeer as the little princess tries to worm her way out of the grip of the son of an ifrit.

He will not let her go, let’s her sputter and cough up liquid so it spills down her chest. Setting the cup aside, he reaches down to her skirts and yanks at the drawstring, letting the heavy garments fall away.

“Vadim, hand me your dagger.” He hums in pure excitement, his fingers pressing into the curve of her lower lips through her small clothes.

“I believe it’s time this palace whore learns her place. Wouldn’t you agree, men?” He laughs as Vadim, the Princess’s own personal guard, hands him the dagger from his belt.

“Now hold still princess, I don’t want to leave a mark.”

[1001brainwashings]

It's sweet, almost sickly so, and as she coughs out some of the potion - still some finding its way down her throat - the princess feels her head spin as the remaining liquid splashes down over her breasts, over his hands. She's a slender girl, and even before the drugs she'd have been hard pressed to worm her way out of a grown man's tight grip.

"Let go of me!" she orders, her voice slightly panicked. "If you don't let go of me, I'll have your head--"

But he's not letting go of her, and then all of a sudden, his fingers are touching her in a very private place. Omaira freezes, suddenly getting the threat she's under in a very sickeningly real way. "Vadim, you will do no such thing," she says imperiously. "In-- in fact, why haven't you arrested him yet? Guards, seize this man!"

Why aren't they moving?

[sockjockey]

"Awe, the little princess thinks she's still in a position to give orders." Vadim's gruff laugh echoes with the others of the chamber, from tutor to lowly guard, and he reaches out to grab her chin and make her face her.
"When Acheron's finished playing with you, girl, I'm going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours. You won't be so keen to give orders with a mouth full of my cock."

Acheron only smiles as Omaira tries to worm her way from his grip, reaching out with one hand to take the dagger and slide the blade under her small clothes. Slowly, slowly, they rip to expose her most intimate areas to the entire gathered crowd. A wild jeer goes through the men, and some even raise their cups and laugh a toast to the prettiest cunt they've ever seen.

"Now now, Vadim. You'll have your turn." Acheron discards the dagger on the table, and his hand returns to her breast to pinch and squeeze at the nipple there, his other hand dipping low to play against her slit.
"But first..." He nudges down to whisper into her ear.
"Spread your legs, girl, and show everyone here just how much you love them looking at your body."

It's another command, coupled with a teasing press of his thumb against her clit.

[1001brainwashings]

The words from her faithful captain of the guard - or, the captain of the guard that she'd thought faithful, at any rate - strike Omaira like a hammer to the chest. She looks at him, stunned into silence, and it is only now that she realizes just how much trouble she's in.

Her gaze sweeps the room. Vizier, captain of the guard, all the guards, all the palace staff who've been caring for her for years... none of them are coming to her aid. They're all leering at her. Almost like... they'd known Acheron would do this? "Y-you," she stammers, but her expression is now afraid. "I'll have you... all of you thrown in the dungeon! You can't treat me like this--" her indignant, terrified orders are cut off in a wailing gasp as he slices her smallclothes off, leaving her effectively naked.

As it happens, in this fantasy kingdom, waxing is known and quite common, especially among wealthier women. So the pussy that's exposed is one with just a little bit of hair on top of it, a practically dainty-looking vulva. Immediately, Omaira tries to struggle and keep her legs closed, but the vizier's hand forces its way between her legs; she throws her head back with a groan as the sensations from the potion make her entire body flood with heat.

Naive she might be, but she is proud, and at his order he can feel her thighs tremble, but she resists for the time being. "N-no... I won't... I am the Sultana, I give the orders... Nnn.... you don't tell me what to do," she insists, but her voice is trembling and weak - far from decisive or intimidating.

[sockjockey]

She resists his orders, and Acheron only smiles in amusement. The hand at her breast moves up to her throat, holding her tight against him as his fingers curl slightly against her slit.

He does not enter her, not yet, but he does play with her clit, fingers carefully exploring the little button.

“Does it feel good, my princess? Being exposed to so many men, all of them watching you?” Another stroke of his fingers.
“Looking at your breasts, your thighs, your sweet little cunt.” Another stroke, only this time he pushes a little harder.

“Show them how wet you are. Spread your legs.. I won’t ask a third time.” He warns, looking at the learning Vadim.

If his princess needs any more “encouragement”, he’ll have the guards hold her down and force more of that aphrodisiac down her throat.

[1001brainwashings]

It's strange. It's like she can hear a voice in her head, sounding like her own inner monologue - her own voice - yet distinctly not her thoughts. Just open your legs, it says. Let him touch you. It feels good, doesn't it? You should obey him. Just obey him. Open your legs.

And it does feel good. She's no blushing child; she's touched herself, of course. But this feels different. Perhaps it's the potion or perhaps it's his skill, but the touch, the friction drags waves of sensation up and down her body. She's flushed, her breaths coming hard. It feels nice. The voice tells her to obey him, and it'll feel nicer. She's a naive young girl, after all.

But no. She may be sheltered, but she is still the princess. And even through the little gasps, her fingers dig into his wrist and her thighs clamp around his hand. Because she still has her pride. "I... will... not--" she bites out, clearly having difficulty with the words. "Let... go of me--" she exhales, but she hasn't given in. Not yet.

[sockjockey]

“No?” Acheron tilts his head in amusement, feeling her thighs clamp around his hand, the way her nails dig into his wrist.

“My, but you are a stubborn one, aren’t you? More prideful and willful than I expected from a valid little flower like yourself.” He digs his fingers into her cunt, pushing one inside of her.
“I’m going to break that of you.”
Finger still inside of her, he pushes her forward onto the table and motions to Vadim to take her hands.

“Vadim, why don’t you help our princess get more comfortable?” He asks as he keeps working his fingers across her slit, thumb playing with her clit while he pushes a finger roughly inside of her.

“With pleasure.” Vadim sneers, grabbing a fistful of the Princess’s hair to force her face up slightly. He’s dropped his pants to his knees already, hard dick in front of her face as he forces her to look at it.

“I’ve been saving up my seed for this, princess. Now open wide.”

Other guards are getting up from their seats to draw closer, some sitting on the edge and others laughing as they look at the spectacle. One even reaches over to grab at her hand and drag it to their own crotch. Another reaches across to pinch at her nipple.

And Acheron adds a second finger, pushing all the deeper inside of her.
“Since you want to be stubborn, princess, I’m going to give you a choice.” Another push of his fingers, trying to find that spot inside of her to make her legs shake and her body cry out.

“You will spread your legs and take my cock, or I’ll let your guards take you every which way they please.” He fully intends to do both.

[1001brainwashings]

She can clamp her legs together all she wants, but ultimately, she is a teenage girl and they are grown men. She tries to keep her legs closed, she tries to ignore that voice in her head going obey, obey, listen to him, she tries to keep her pride. But it is a trivial thing for him to lift her, to push her across the table they've been dining at, knocking over plates and goblets of wine. The princess shrieks as she falls, only to have her hands grabbed - it's easy for Vadim to grab both of her slender wrists in one of his thick hands.

She struggles, she squirms, she pleads with the courtiers, with her guards, for help. But none come to her aid as her head is wrenched upwards by her beautiful hair. "Unhand me, that's an order!" she grits out, but it clearly means nothing as an order anymore.

And all of a sudden there is a man's... well, the books had illustrations, and her tutor had brought in slaves to show their anatomy but purely from an academic level. But she's never seen one like this, in her face and so stiff, and Omaira recoils in reflex. Or at least she tries to, but she can't really go anywhere.

Then the finger penetrates her, and she winces, because she is still very much a virgin, and the penetration is uncomfortable, even as wet as she is. And suddenly their are hands on her. Let it happen. It feels good. You want this.

"No!" she shouts, both to her vizier, her guard, and the voice in her head. "I will not! I am the princess, I will be Sultana! I will have you all killed!"

But it does feel good. The voice isn't wrong.

[sockjockey]

There’s another round of laughter as she kicks and screams about how she’ll have them all killed, and between Vadim and Acheron? She’s rolled onto her back so she can face her treacherous vizier.

He hums as he languidly fingers her, thumb brushing her hard little clit as he slowly picks up the pace. Vadim holds her head still to face him, and he leans in close.

“I am going to make you scream with pleasure by the time these men are through with you. You are going to take every cock in this hall whether you want it or not, little princess.” He takes his fingers out of her and wipes the slick down her taught stomach. One hand moves to the belt of his trousers and he slides them down just enough to expose himself.

“Because that’s all you’re good for in the end. Being a tight little cunt to fuck.” Vadim holds her head still, and two other guards hold her arms down. And without another word, Acheron plunged into her, head to base in a single thrust.

He doesn’t care if she bleeds. As a Virgin, he expects nothing else from her. But he will be the first to claim her- the rest can have her for seconds.

Barely has he sunk into her that others are letting their own lusts take them, and two men have their cocks out next to the princess, grabbing her hands and leading them to their pricks. Vadim meanwhile is trying to force the princess to drink more of the aphrodisiac, pinching her nose so she’s forced to open her mouth and take it.

[1001brainwashings]

This feels like a dream. No, not a dream, a nightmare. Whatever potion they'd given her is taking effect, and the world is starting to feel hazy, but Omaira's pride demands resistance. She kicks, she yells, she screams, but at the end of the day they are bigger than her, and they are stronger than her, and she has been drugged and they haven't. So it is a trivial thing to roll her on her back; her legs twitch as he touches her clit, a gasping cry mixes in with her ineffectual threats.

Surely this is a nightmare. This can't be real. Her trusted retainers would never do this to her.

The sensation of the fingers sliding out of her pussy is an odd one, leaving her feeling empty for a moment, and a heartbeat's hope lets her believe that maybe it's over.

And then the Vizier's cock slams into her. It's big, far bigger than the fingers, and even as wet as she is she is still a virgin. The princess screams as pain flashes through her body, Acheron's cock coming away smeared with red.

Her hands flail, trying to push everyone away, but there is simply no way for her to get away as the vizier rapes her. With her screams, it's easy for Vadim to pour more of that elixir into her mouth, though she only swallows about half of it. The rest winds up being coughed up, spilling down the sides of her mouth. Still, it should be more than enough.

[sockjockey]

"There we go, that's it, drink up girl." Vadim laughs, wiping his thumb across her lips and pushing himself closer to her mouth. "Drink it all down so you'll be cumming all night."
Some of the other guards laugh as they guide her small hands around their shafts, forcing her to stroke them as Acheron keeps up a quick pace with her. He is not neglectful of her needs- no, he wants her, or, at least, her body, to enjoy this. As he fucks her, his thumb roves over her clit, trying to rub against her to pleasure her as well.

"Does it feel good, princess? Look at how many people want you. Your body, your breasts, your sweet little cunt." Acheron reaches forward with one hand and pinches at her nipple again, trying to keep her aroused.
"All of us wanted to welcome you to womanhood. To let you know how good you feel. How much you please us with your beauty. Now. Why don't you do what we all want and show us how much we please you?"

He smirks as Vadim adjusts her head, trying to get his cock in her mouth as two other soldiers come near, stroking their own members and playing with her tits.

[1001brainwashings]

If the men guiding her hands to their cocks are expecting expert handjobs, or any handjob whatsoever, they're going to be disappointed. Omaira's hands still squirm and tug, trying to get out of the iron grip on her wrists (albeit fruitlessly). She more or less just winds up pushing their dicks, though her actions become increasingly desperate, increasingly weak.

For what on earth can she concentrate on but the pain and pleasure in equal measure as her trusted vizier takes her maidenhood? His cock slides into her once-virgin pussy with ease, thanks to how wet the potion has made her. It hurts, but the cries and whimpers that leave the princess' lips are not solely ones of pain.

Overwhelming. It's overwhelming. The sensations is simply too much. She can't pull away as Vadim slides his cock in her mouth, his heavy balls hanging against her forehead. She is, however, going to gag on his cock, choking on it more than giving any sort of actual head.

It's overwhelming. She could lose her mind, she fears.

[sockjockey]

Her pleasure, her participation, her consent are all unnecessary as far as everyone else is concerned. Everyone, that is, but Acheron.

He wants her pleasure. Wants her to cry out in pleasure as she gives in to the aphrodisiac he’s poured into her body. He wants her to succumb, to make the memory easier to manipulate into one where she remembers the pleasure and the pain is all but temporary.

So he keeps playing with her clit, fingers stroking the little button as he slows his pace inside of her to help ease her into a rythym of his cock inside of her.

Vadim and his soldiers take no such care. The choking seems to make him harder on her tongue, and he pushes as deep as he can inside her throat, grabbing a fistful of her hair to force her mouth to move along his length.
“There we go. Take it like a good little whore.” He sneers as his soldiers keep playing with her hands and her tits.
One even bends down and takes the form little bud between his teeth, tongue leaving over the flesh as He sucks hard enough to leave a mark.

Acheron meanwhile pushes again. He feels like he might have her on the brink, and so he tries his magic one more time.
“Doesn’t it feel good? How many people are taking pleasure from you? They all want you to feel good as well. Why don’t you show them? Cum.”

[1001brainwashings]

Omaira isn't really capable of responding, at least not with speech; Vadim's cock in her mouth is preventing that. She wants to bite down, to tear that horrible violating member off, and yet something prevents her. Something prevents her, stoppnig her from shearing that cock off with her teeth. He can fuck her mouth all he wants, though the deeper he pushes the more likely she'll gag.

Tears stream down her face - or up, rather, given the position, trickling off her forehead. How can this be? How can she be betrayed like this?

This time, the voice in her head is deafening. This time, she can't resist. Her body tenses and quakes in a very unwanted orgasm.

[sockjockey]

There’s a ruckus of laughter and cheers as the little Princess’s hips lift up off the table and Acheron can’t help the groan that splits his lips as he feels how her body tenses around him.

He himself doesn’t last much longer, hands grabbing at her hips as he pushes deep inside of her- once, twice, and on the third and final thrust he spills his seed deep inside of her.

One of the guards has spilled across her chest, and another has come to take his place as Vadim continues to fuck her mouth.

“There we are princess. Didn’t that feel good?” Acheron can’t help the soft pant in his voice as he slowly pulls out of her.
“Don’t worry about my seed taking root in you. I’ve already taken measure to make sure you don’t get pregnant. Every soldier in this room could fuck you, and you would only have their seed spilling out of you. Nothing more.”

He gives another pinch to her clit before he leaves her, allowing another to come and take his place. One of her tutors, an older man, slips between her thighs and sinks in with a soft groan.

“In fact… I think that’s what everyone here should do. Keep fucking you until sunrise, and see how many times you cum.”

[1001brainwashings]

It's hardly the first time she's orgasmed. She's a teenage girl; she's touched herself to a quiet, tense, shudder beneath her bedsheets quite a few times by now. But she's never had someone else make her orgasm, she's never orgasmed from penetration. And thanks to the potion he's slipped her, she's never orgasmed that hard, either.

She feels him twitch inside her throbbing no-longer-virgin pussy, blood leaking out of her along with the semen. Something hot and sticky splashes over her breasts, but she can't really think of much beyond the pain and humiliation and the cock currently fucking her throat.

What's it he's saying? Every guard... no, no, this has to end, this has to end! Omaira screams, muffled by Vadim's thick rod, trying to struggle again. The defiance hasn't yet been fucked out of her.