She trembled.

Her whole body was lying there, crouched, kneeling, crying with tears that would not stop. She looked up into his eyes. They were dark. Warm. Inhuman. She slowly parted her lips. Her tongue peeked out. It was pink. Wet. Hesitant.

She licked the tip.

The first touch was a shock. The taste was salt and iron and something else — something that made her womb clench. Her tongue dragged across the slit. The clear bead broke against her taste buds. She shuddered. Her eyes closed. She felt the weight of him on her tongue. The heat. The impossible size.

She pulled back.

Her breath came in short, hitching sobs. She looked up at him. Her face was a mess of blood and tears and his seed.

"So," he said, looking down. "You have not taken a cock in your mouth before."

It was not a question. It was a statement. A claim. He reached down and gripped her hair. He pulled her face closer. The cockhead bumped against her nose. It rested against her forehead.

She trembled.

"How can someone as you," she whispered, her voice cracked, "talk like this?"

He chuckled.

His fingers tightened in her hair. He pulled her back until she was looking up at him. The cock hung between them, swaying slightly, the veins throbbing.

"Can a handsome man not be like this?" he asked. He dragged the shaft across her cheek again, leaving a wet trail. "Can a beautiful face not hide a demon? You are looking at me like I am a prince. I am not. I am the thing that fucks princesses. I am the thing that ruins queens. And right now, I am the thing that will use your throat."

She trembled.

Her hand moved. It was still wet with her own blood from her torn cunt. Her fingers were sticky. She reached up. She gripped his shaft. Her hand could not close around it. She had to use both hands. She wrapped her blood-stained fingers around the girth. The heat burned her palms. She looked into his eyes and started to lick.

SLRRRP—

The sound was wet. Obscene. Her tongue dragged from the base of his cock upward, following the thick, pulsing vein that ran along the underside. She licked slowly, her eyes locked on his, her tears still falling. The taste was overwhelming. The smell was intoxicating. She felt her pussy twitch beneath her, a wet, shameful pulse that had nothing to do with the blood.

"Look at you," he murmured. His hand petted her hair. "A mother. A thief. A cunt. Licking my cock with your son asleep in the next room. Do you know what you look like right now?"

She did not answer. She licked again. SLRRRP. Her tongue circled the head. She kissed the slit. She suckled the precum. She was crying while she did it. The tears ran down her cheeks and mixed with the spit on his shaft.

"Now tell me," he said, his voice dropping. "What is the truth? Your story. I want to hear it while you worship this cock."

She pulled back.

Her mouth was open. Her lips were swollen. She looked up at him. Her hands still gripped his shaft, pumping slowly, smearing her blood and his precum together.

"I was—" she gasped. "I was a maid. In the Northern Palace. In the Citadel."

She licked again. SLRRRP. Her tongue dragged up the vein. She paused at the head. She suckled.

"The First Queen," she continued, her voice broken. "She was pregnant. She was carrying the heir. The prince."

She opened her mouth wider. She took the head inside. Her lips stretched around the crown. The girth forced her jaw wide. She suckled gently, her cheeks hollowing. The cockhead throbbed against her tongue.

SLRRRP— GLK—

"Go on," he said. His hand gripped her hair. He pushed her down slightly. Another inch entered. "Do not stop. I want to hear every filthy detail while you choke on me."

She moaned around the shaft.

The vibration traveled into his cock. He groaned. His hips shifted. His hand tightened.

"I was pregnant too," she said, pulling back. The cock popped free of her lips with a wet sound. Saliva connected them. She gasped. "I was carrying my husband’s child. I was three months. I was happy."

She licked his balls.

Her tongue dragged across the heavy, swollen sac. She licked one orb, then the other. She took one into her mouth. She suckled gently. Her eyes looked up at him. He looked down at her. His eyes were dark and pleased.

"Then the tea came," she said, her voice muffled by the ball in her mouth. She pulled back. "I was serving the First Queen. Her morning tea. I brought it to her chambers. It was— it was warm. But not hot. Not scalding. She wanted it burning."

SLRRRP—

She took the head again. Two inches. She suckled. Her tongue swirled.

"The Queen threw it," she gasped, pulling back. Spit ran down her chin. "She threw the cup. She screamed that I was trying to poison her. That the cold tea would harm her baby. She was mad. She was always mad. She grabbed me."

Raven’s hand moved to her tits.

He gripped her heavy, sagging breast. He lifted it. He let it drop. The flesh slapped against her chest. He pinched the nipple. She cried out.

"Continue," he said.

"She pushed me," Surbhi sobbed. She licked the shaft again. SLRRRP. Her tongue dragged from base to crown. "I fell. I fell backward. There was a balcony. A lake below. I hit the water. I sank. I couldn’t swim. I was pregnant. I lost my baby. I miscarried in the lake. I bled in the water. I lost my husband’s child."

She took more of him into her mouth.

Three inches. Four. Her jaw ached. She bobbed her head slowly, her hands gripping the base, her eyes looking up at him with tears streaming.

"The Queen’s child," she said, pulling back to gasp. "He was born a month later. I was still in the palace. I was still serving. I saw him. I saw the prince. I looked at him. I thought of my baby. My baby who died because she threw a cup. Because she was cruel. Because she was a monster."

Raven groaned.

He pushed her head down. Four inches. Five. Her throat bulged. She gagged. Her eyes watered. He held her there. His cock pulsed in the tight heat of her mouth.

"And you stole him," Raven said. His voice was thick. He pulled her back. She gasped. "You took the prince. You ran."

"Yes," she sobbed. She licked his balls again. Her tongue was desperate. She bathed them in spit. "I waited. I planned. I took him in the night. I ran. I ran for days. I found this village. I became a flower seller. I told them my husband died. I raised him as my own."

She took him deep again.

Five inches. Six. Her throat closed around the head. The bulge was visible in her neck — the thick, round shape of his crown pushing against her skin from inside. She gagged. Her eyes rolled back. Her hands gripped his thighs.

SLRRRP— GLK— GLK—

"Fuck," he groaned. "Your mouth is tight. Even for a thief. Even for a lying cunt. You suck cock like a virgin. Like a scared little girl. Look at your throat. Look at it bulge."