9. Aldric
ALDRIC
Ifinished in my pants like an inexperienced stable hand touched by his first scullery maid. How can I face my little intruder again? I’ve been lost for her since the moment she entered my home, and now she will not only think me hideous, but a terrible lover as well.
There’s a cot in this turret, and I’ve been using it since Clara occupied the master bedroom.
That is when I wasn’t watching her sleep, getting as close to her as I dared.
Close enough to take in her scent of elderberry and basil.
I slump on it now, wincing when my soggy pants press against my softening cock.
She did want me. Despite the scars and missing flesh, the parts of me that are stitched and held together by a prayer, she looked at me with curiosity and desire.
Her purple-hued eyes grew darker with lust, and her plush lips parted for deeper breaths.
Her nipples were pebbled under the soaked underwear, begging to be sucked.
And then… then there was wetness on my fingers that had nothing to do with the bath she took.
She was hot and slick for me, her pussy ready to be fucked.
Groaning, I unbutton my pants, letting my cock spring out, finally free from the sticky confines of my clothes.
It’s already hard again, despite orgasming mere minutes ago.
I wrap my fingers around the base, hissing when the sensation makes precum leak from the tip.
Slowly, I stroke from root to head, the motions eased by my previous ejaculation.
The piercings massage my palm as I imagine my intruder’s soft hand on my rod instead.
Though there was nothing soft about it when she pinched my nipple.
I throw my head back. What is she doing to me? There were dozens of pretty servant girls in this castle over the centuries, plenty willing to tangle the sheets with its master, and yet I never reacted like this to any of them. Only my Clara makes me perpetually hard and aching for her.
Thinking about the sound she made when she came in my arms, I start stroking faster. My breathing grows harsher, and soon I’m pumping my hips, fucking my fist. The cot creaks underneath me as my movements grow uncoordinated, my rhythm faltering the closer to orgasm I am.
My balls draw up, every muscle in my body tightening, my breath stopping in my lungs as I—
“Ah, fuck! Clara!”
I fall back onto the cot as ropes of cum paint my fist, my pants, even my shirt. I’m beyond caring about the mess, still lost in the fantasies of my little intruder.
She might think she’s disgusted by me, but I will play her body like a fine instrument, inundate her with pleasure until she craves my touch every waking and sleeping moment. Soon, she will be begging me for my cock, begging for me to fill her.
My cock twitches against my belly at the thought, and I reach for it once more.
Next time will be different. Next time, Clara will come so many times she’ll be sobbing for mercy. And only then will I allow myself to follow.
I’ll be ready for her.