\u00e2\u20ac\u0153My dearest Duke Dashington,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d you say, your voice suddenly huskier than before, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153you are entirely forgiven.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n
And then, before he can speak, you sink to your knees beside him upon the carpet \u00e2\u20ac\u201c after carefully, but swiftly, putting the zathwop bladearm aside where it can cause no accidental injury \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and give in to your earlier temptation, running your fingers through Dashington\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s jet-hued curls. <\/p>\n
His single eye closes, dark lashes fluttering, and his lips part softly as he whispers, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153please, call me by my first name. Call me Rogu\u00c3\u00a9.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Rogu\u00c3\u00a9!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d you exclaim lowly. And before you can say more, Duke Rogu\u00c3\u00a9 Dashington has seized you in his masculine arms and has captured your lips in a soul-searing kiss. <\/p>\n
As Rogu\u00c3\u00a9\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s lithe and powerful tongue conquers your mouth, his strong, firm fingers caress your skin under the top of your space-pyjamas, stroking ever-closer to your lush, perky breasts. Moaning, you lean back to give him access to your womanly charms, and he responds by licking the hollow of your throat as he rolls one pert nipple between his ducal fingers.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153O, Rogu\u00c3\u00a9!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d you pant. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I long for you to master me as you would an untamed duchy suddenly given the form of a young and lissome princess of the House of Dorg!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n
He moans, and releases you abruptly. Before you can be offended, you realize that he has only let go of your feminine flesh so that he can divest himself of his clothing as rapidly as possible. Gratified, you turn eagerly to the fastenings on your space-pyjamas, and toss the garment aside with far less care than you used when discarding your zathwop blade, since there is very little fear of pyjamas going off on accident and killing someone, generally.<\/p>\n
While you were pondering the combustibility of pyjamas, the Duke completed his disrobing unobserved. Catching sight of him as he moves towards you again, gloriously nude, you lose all interest in pyjamas, completely captivated by his naked virility. His body is as sculpted as the body-sculptures of Adonisalia II, though his pale skin looks far smoother and more inviting to the touch than the cold stone of those carvings. And his manhood, proudly rampant, is certainly more interesting than any of the inanimate facsimiles you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve ever encountered \u00e2\u20ac\u201c even the special purple one (the one with the sparkles) that you keep in your bedside drawer at home.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Lie back, dear Xanastasia,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Rogu\u00c3\u00a9 murmurs, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153that I might do to your body that which you have done to my heart.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Okay!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d you squeak, flopping back at once. The floor of the Duke\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s suite, though nicely carpeted, is not the most comfortable thing you have ever reclined upon, but you decide not to mention it, being fairly certain that you won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t care in a moment.<\/p>\n
And, indeed, as the dashing Duke Dashington presses an open-mouthed kiss upon your tender nether-lips, you find that the floor is quite comfortable enough. As Rogu\u00c3\u00a9 moves his tongue tenderly across your delicate folds, you tangle the fingers of one hand in the silken curls of his hair, urging him to continue, while you lightly pinch your nipples with your other hand. Rogu\u00c3\u00a9 slides his palms beneath the rounded globes of your buttocks, raising your hips off the floor as he thrusts his tongue into your womanly center. Your hand tightens in his hair, and you try to make yourself relax, concerned that you might be causing him pain, but at that very moment, Duke Dashington grazes your sweet pleasure-nub with his teeth, and you climax with a scream.<\/p>\n
Rogu\u00c3\u00a9 tenderly lowers you to the carpet once more, then brings his body above yours, nuzzling at your neck while you catch your breath. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Are you ready, Princess?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he murmurs. And at your only-slightly-dazed nod, he pushes your arms above your head, pinning your wrists to the floor with one masterful hand, and parts your feminine folds with his manly apparatus. He thrusts forward powerfully, groaning, and then pulls back, only to thrust forward again! There is more thrusting! Soon he is gasping and trembling above you, and with but one lift of your hips at the right moment, you bring the exercise to an entirely satisfying climax.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Well,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Rogu\u00c3\u00a9 says, a few moments later, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153shall we do it again?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That would be lovely!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d you exclaim. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But I think we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d better take a break for now. I should put some clothes on and call my parents on the holo-phone to let them know where I am and that I am safe.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d <\/p>\n
The Duke nods, collecting his own scattered clothing. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Very sensible. You may use my holo-phone, of course.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
But you have only just finished dressing when suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, Byron bolts into the parlour. “Duke Dashington! Mysterious stranger!” he cries.<\/p>\n
“Actually,” Rogu\u00c3\u00a9 mentions. “This is Xanastasia, Princess of the Royal House of Dorg.”<\/p>\n
“Duke Dashington! Princess Xanastasia!” Byron amends, bowing to you in apology. “Mercenaries attack!”<\/p>\n