Forced by the Fae Prince

This story is a work of fiction. In no way does the author condone acts of rape or any sex acts short of ones with enthusiastic consent between all involved parties. In fact, the author condemns all forms of sexual assault. Non-consent fantasies should only be explored in a consensual manner between agreeing adults.

That said, this story contains themes of reluctance for those like me who enjoy fantasies of control and power. Please read on with that in mind, and I hope you enjoy!

The heavy metal door slammed open and crushed against the wall of her cell, spraying chips of rock.

Marie gasped and jerked her head up from where she crouched, chained against the back wall. Her thin blue shift barely covered her frame, and she shivered against the cold.

A tall male figure loomed in the open doorway, the guttering torchlight from the hall casting his face in impenetrable shadow.

She curled into an even tighter ball against the rough stone of her cell, her chains chafing her wrists. Fear, cold and strong, had her heart thundering in her chest.

"The High Fae won't hurt me. The High Fae won't hurt me," she chanted to herself over and over. It was the only thought that had sustained her during her journey across the Wall.

"Look at you," he said. A low and rich voice. The figure stepped into the cell, producing a torch of his own to illuminate the frigid space. She had to squint against the sudden light.

The glow revealed his face: a strong jaw, straight nose, clear eyes. The look of a well-bred courtier, so unlike the rough sentries who had captured and imprisoned her here. He racked the torch in the sconce just inside the door.

Hands on hips, he continued, "You're all locked up! And you look like you're freezing. I can't believe they took your cloak." A shake of his head.

Marie looked down at herself and couldn't stop her blush as she saw the physical evidence of the ice in her bones. Her nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric of her gown, peaked against the chill she had endured for two days in the dungeon.

She bowed her head, unable to look him in the eye. "P-pardon me, my lord. I do not wish to offend," she stammered out. Her first words to an actual High Fae.

"No offense taken," he replied with an amused lilt. "And it's actually Prince, to you." She dared glance up again as she heard the squeal of the door being hauled shut.

This was the first she had seen of her cell, having been kept in near-complete darkness. She had barely been able to waddle to the bucket in one corner to relieve herself without making a mess.

Now she saw a ledge of stone to her right, covered in a thin pallet of bedding. Just out of reach of her chains.

That figures.

"Why did you choose to come here?" he asked, turning to her from where he clicked the door shut. She watched as he removed first one thick leather glove, and then the other, simply discarding them on the floor.

"Well, I didn't actually choose to be here," she said, unable to stop herself from making the small joke.

She never intended to wind up in this dungeon. She quirked the tiniest of smiles for him.

The male took a step closer. The air around her warmed a few degrees. "You know what I meant," he growled, sharp canine teeth flashing. "Why did you cross the Wall?"

Fear spiked through her at the flash of those teeth, and she recoiled just the slightest bit, the silver circlets at her ankles jangling like the alarm bells in her head.

"We were starving!" she blurted, before he could display those teeth again. "It's winter, and we ran out of food, and we know the fae lands are a place of plenty. They sent me to seek refuge here."

She trembled anew, despite the warmth returning to her bare toes. Her brothers and sisters in the Circle of Devotion had chosen her as the Winter Solstice sacrifice. It was an honor to follow in the footsteps of the others who had gone before her.

Why was she so scared now, when she had finally reached her saviors?

He strode all the way to her, crouching eye to eye with her. She sucked in a breath at his proximity, his smoke and leather scent washing over her face.

His true otherness was unmistakable then: the radiant skin, the pointed ears poking out from his tousled brown hair, the impossible stillness even as he balanced on the balls of his feet. Her eyes widened in wonder.

He cocked his head to the side as he studied her, his eyes boring into her soul. She was wholly captivated, unable to look at anything but the golden eyes staring back at her.

They glowed with an inner light she couldn't break away from, and she spiraled down and down and down into their depths, gravity shifting, tilting, pulling her into those eyes.

She gasped, gulping in air, and her head smacked against the rock as she jerked back. She had stopped breathing, lost in his eyes.

Marie glared at him, a feral grin now spread across his face. He had done that on purpose! What if she hadn't snapped out of her stupor?

Though he bared his teeth in that smile, the look in his eyes was hard. She could see a predator there, a wild gleam. Maybe this wasn't a protector coming to shower her with comfort and jewels and a place at court.

Quick as lightning, he reached toward her face and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she even had the chance to flinch. "I hate to break it to you..." he paused, eyebrows creased in feigned curiosity, "... I'm sorry, what was your name again? I didn't quite catch it."

"Marie," she snipped back. She could feel sweat gathering between her soft breasts. She no longer felt any cold. Even the stone floor beneath her was warm to the touch.

"I hate to break it to you, Marie," he continued. "But your little friends, the other ones with that silly mortal silver," he wagged his fingers at her anklets, "who have crossed the Wall before have all been fucked dry and left for dead. If they're lucky, they're kept as a special pet. But the monsters on this side of the Wall sure love a good human snack, and we love listening to human screams even more."

Dread punched her in the gut. Bile rose in her throat and she thought she might vomit right in his pretty face.

Her brothers and sisters were supposed to be safe on this side of the Wall. Spared from the harsh mortal realm by High Fae benefactors. She was supposed to be looking for David! He had crossed months ago! David couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.

That feral smile again. Intent now shone in his eyes. "Now ask me why I came here."

That sinking feeling in her gut only worsened. Marie shook her head, lips pursed in determination. Defiance. No matter how sickened she felt.

"Ask me!" he roared, sharp canines bared again. Her chained hands slammed against the wall above her head against her will, held by an invisible force. A scream ripped through her.

"Why are you here?" Marie sobbed out. She turned her face away from the fae male, eyes squeezed shut in terror.

He grabbed her face and made her look at him. His grip was so hard she thought for sure her cheekbones would break. "Because I'm going to do the same to you," he said with deadly quiet.

He released her face and stood. Marie sobbed again as he towered over her. A bead of sweat slipped down her forehead and mingled with the salt of the tears wetting her cheeks.

Her nipples scratched against her shift, forced against the fabric from her bound hands raised overhead.

With a flick of his fingers she was standing, dragged up by that invisible force.

Her head barely reached the top of his chest. She gasped in a breath around her sobs when she noticed his closeness, the sheer proximity of his broad chest to her hard nipples, so embarrassingly visible.

A shiver went through her when she felt his body heat seep into her skin.

"You can't touch me," she said, mastering her tears. "You can't touch me!"

She lashed out a kick, aiming for his knees, his crotch, anything. Another invisible hand caught her leg before she'd even gained an inch. Her heart thundered in her chest.

He held that arrogant grin. His eyes darted to her nipples, and then back up to her face. "Oh can't I?" he asked.

He leaned closer, placing one hand on the stone. Marie recoiled as far away from him as she could, but she was trapped, bound by his magic.

With his other hand he reached up to hover just above her small breast. She could all but feel the weight of its shadow there.

Her chest heaved, breath coming in bursts. She dared to look at him again, unable to stop herself as brown eyes locked with gold. Her stare dared him to continue.

Slowly, so slowly, the fae male lowered his hand to her breast. Marie's mouth popped open when his strong hand closed over the soft flesh, kneading and exploring.

But she didn't break his gaze. And he didn't look away either. Thick fingers massaged first one breast, and then the other, roaming in rhythmic patterns.

She struggled to compose herself. Her stare remained hard, displaying as much hate and anger she could muster for this male, this violator.

This was not the benevolence with which she thought she would be received. The Circle of Devotion believed sanctuary and safety lay on this side of the Wall.

Oh how they had been sorely mistaken.

She gritted her teeth at his leer, his gaze still locked with hers as he worked her breasts.

She had never felt anything like this before. His hand was so big, so much bigger than her own. The scent of him filled her lungs at this distance, leather and smoke and male.

A different kind of warmth began to build in her core. Her nostrils flared as she felt moisture gathering between her legs.

"It sure looks like I'm touching you, little human," the prince crooned. He pinched her nipple for emphasis, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, pulling on it. A cry escaped her lips before she could stop it, electricity shooting through her.

That heat between her legs sparked to a flame.

His hand came to rest at his side, but his large frame still closed her in against the wall. He was so close, his nose just inches from hers. She had never been this close to a man before.

"Would you like for me to keep going?" he taunted, cocking his head to the side.

For a moment, Marie said nothing. And then she simply spat in his face.

The prince reeled back, cursing and wiping the spit from his eyes. "You little bitch!" he roared.

Seething, he stalked toward her again, and she had the good sense to be afraid at the pure rage in his eyes. She let out a scream as her grabbed her bound hands, suddenly free from the chain holding her to the wall but still shackled together, and pulled her to his chest.

"You're going to regret that," he whispered with deadly quiet. Her eyes were wide as he went on, "I'm going to make you beg. I'm going to fuck you so hard you can't see straight. When I'm done, you'll be willing to do anything to feel my cock inside you again. You will beg for me to fuck you again."

His golden eyes burned through her, and all she could do was whimper.

So easily it was like she weighed nothing, he spun her around and pressed her against the stone wall with his body. Her skin burned, scraped by the rocks, and more tears smarted at her eyes from the sharp pain.

"No use in screaming. No one's here to help. Scream, and more will just come to fuck you after I'm done. Is that what you want?"

Her whole body was enveloped by his, smashed up against the stone in a crush that emptied her lungs. She couldn't breathe, and she didn't dare speak.

Every inch of her body was touching his. His chest at her back was a furnace, heat rolling off of him in waves.

She was sweating in earnest now, from fear and the flame in her core and what she could only guess was his warming magic. His breath stirred the hairs at the nape of her neck as he leaned in close, inhaling a long drag of her scent.

One moment his body pinned her against the wall, the next she was bereft from the cold at her back. Magic held her in place where he had once been.

She couldn't see him behind her, unable to move her head to look, but she heard hurried rustling, metal clanking as something dropped to the floor of her cell. Before she knew it, the male was at her back again, crushing her.

She froze. Not from magic this time, but at what she felt behind her. Something hard and warm pressed firmly against the cove right between her legs, with only the thin layer of her shift keeping it from the bare flesh of her mound.

She held back a surprised groan as she felt more juices flood from her.

Two hands landed on her hips and kneaded the soft flesh there. "I wonder if you've ever had any lovers," he mused.

The male shifted at her back, and the pressure on her privates increased.

Was that his... cock? Was he naked? He had taken all of his clothes off! She flushed red and felt the beginning of more tears in her eyes, but they wouldn't fall.

That fire between her legs blazed into an inferno.

She tried to thrash, a frustrated moan escaping her throat, but her bound hands were wedged between her chest and the wall, and any movement only emphasized the hardness pressed against her.

The prince chuckled. She felt his cock twitch, even through the fabric of her gown, and her eyes went wide.

"Maybe I don't care," he whispered, his breath prickling the shell of her ear. He was so close, she, so helpless.

His hand dipped between her legs and she gasped when his fingers pressed against her. The heat of his hand bled through the thin fabric of her slip. It was like it wasn't even there.

She couldn't contain a moan as he slowly, so slowly, circled the sensitive nub at the apex of her sex.

She squeezed her eyes shut as he continued, around and around, with no beginning and no end. She panted fast and heavy, his scent washing over her, the pleasure spreading.

His cock pressed against her thinly veiled pussy lips from behind, and his hand patiently worked her clit. She was ablaze, flush with heat and burning, burning everywhere.

Her nipples ached, and despite herself, she didn't want him to stop. Not in the slightest. She wanted more.

Without thinking, really without her control, her legs slipped near-imperceptibly wider.

The prince growled at the shift, his cock flexing, making them both squirm. "You little slut," he rasped with a low chuckle under his breath. "I know you're soaking wet. You little bitch. You mortals are so weak."

In one swift movement, he pulled her from the wall and threw her on the ledge with the bedding. She plopped on her ass with an oof, her bound hands bouncing against her lap with the force of his manhandling.

She reeled, hot with desire and dizzy from the movement.

She had a vague flash of the pale white expanse of his body looming over her, the light from the torch casting his face in shadow. She caught a glimpse of his clothes piled on the floor, and then his form filled her vision.

There he was, with his monster huge cock in hand.

She couldn't look away. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape in shock. She had never seen one in person before, and now one was three inches from her face.

His member was rock hard, and so thick. It stood out from his body so proudly, she wondered how he could ever hide it under clothes.

His grip tightened at the base, and it somehow bulged even larger.

"This cock owns you now, you little bitch." he said.

Her eyes darted to his face. She just sat there, frozen. Unable to move. Why couldn't she move?

"That's a pretty girl," he crooned, and in one step, the red head of his dick met her lips.

She sat there in shock, afraid to shift in the slightest. Transfixed. Unwilling to move.

Velvet. Warm, soft velvet. That's what his cock felt like against her lips.

He rubbed the head back and forth across her closed mouth, smearing something wet and slick on her lips.

"You're going to suck the tip for me like a good girl, aren't you?" he mocked.

Her eyes locked with his again. She pursed her lips and shook her head.

No.

He gripped the hair at the back of her head so tight tears formed at the corners of her eyes. A slap stung across her face.

"No, look at me, open your eyes, that's right," he coaxed. His eyes bored into hers. "Aren't you?" he asked again, no question in his tone.

In silent answer, one tear slipping down her cheek, she licked her lips and parted them ever so slightly.

"That's a good girl," he groaned, as he pushed the tip of his cock into her hot, wet mouth, holding her head in place so she couldn't move an inch.

She somehow knew to seal her lips around his cock as he worked the tip in and out, in and out of her mouth. It was so smooth, so rich, with some musky scent that reminded her of sweat and power.

His fingers knotted in her hair at the back of her head.

Her tongue joined the dance of its own accord, unable to resist the desire to feel and taste this small piece of her first cock.

Her bound hands twitched in her lap, wanting to reach for something. Surely not wanting to touch him? Look what he was doing to her! He was raping her, plain and simple.

She was conscious of how slick her thighs were, pressed together now that she was sitting.

"I can make this," he let out a little groan, "nice for you, you know." He worked his hips back and forth in the smallest increments, only allowing her the tip. Her tongue swirled over it easily with his slow pace.

"Who am I kidding," he continued, "what would be the fun in that?"

Before she could think to run, he was on her.

Flat on her back, he pinned her to the hard stone. She was trapped beneath him, legs tangled with his, her body vulnerable, her bound hands, just as trapped as the rest of her.

He was on top of her, naked. Her mind reeled at the thought, at the fact she had never done anything like this.

He leered at her, face inches from her own. This close, his breath mingled with hers, his scent filling her nose. She was nearly overcome with the weight of his body.

He grabbed her wrists from between them and yanked them above her head with a strength she couldn't possibly combat.

A metallic click sounded, and one test jerk confirmed that her shackles were now somehow magically secured to the stone ledge. She bared her teeth in frustration.

"Where are your manners!" he growled, breathing hard. "You're so overdressed!"

With a snap of his fingers, she was naked beneath him. Clothes, vanished.

Flesh pressed against flesh. His heat mingled with hers.

Utterly exposed, she would have covered her breasts if her hands weren't bound above her head. Instead, they pressed firmly against his chest, nipples electric with the contact. Heat rushed to her face.

"How dare you!" she seethed, this the last straw to break her stupor. "What's got you so pent up, prince? Your own kind won't spread their legs for you?"

She squirmed and shoved, shackles and silver anklets clanking, doing her best to ignore the way their bodies shifted over one another.

A sharp slap across her cheek was his only answer. He clamped one hand around her throat, and squeezed.

She froze, blood rushing to her face, the pressure building. Her breath hitched, coming in small gasps.

"You think you're so funny?" he seethed.

Wow. She had struck a nerve.

"If you're so tough..." he examined her, head cocking to the side, "let's see what we can do about that begging I mentioned." His voice was soft, but the danger in it had her heart pounding.

She didn't deign to reply. Her gaze burned against his, defiant still.

"Open your legs," he demanded, golden eyes alight with fury.

Like hell she would.

"Make me," she spat back.