- education of his own will and endurance, because he was not used to dealing with girls who needed to be pleased, despite their flighty temper and temperament. The temptation to immediately turn her into a slave for low-lying comfort was very great, but it would hardly be a sensible decision in terms of politics. Still, in her face he needed an experienced strong ally, not a pawn. However, this was still far away, but for now he could fully enjoy her innocence.

“I am completely at your disposal, my queen,” he said, smiling slyly with the edge of his lips and slightly receding from Chantal, as if transferring all the initiative into her hands. His painfully sweet voice, mocking and arrogant tone agitated and irritated her imagination, her nerves, her sensations. He did not force her to anything. He did something with her that made her herself subordinate to his wishes, not allowing her to come to her senses, come to her senses, stop.

Verlaine placed her trembling hands on his chest so that her fingers lightly touched his nipples, allowing her to examine his body. With cautious curiosity, Chantal studied him all, only after a careful examination allowing herself to touch his skin. Here she touched a short transverse scar on the left between the ribs, lying in the frightening proximity of the heart. Here her fingers slipped along a large curved scar on a flat, strong stomach, just above and to the right of the navel. His muscles seemed to her steel, and aristocratically pale skin soft, smooth and defenseless. A long, even scar from a deep gliding injury wound around his athletic torso from the side almost from the shoulder blade to the lower abdomen. Chantal studied him as well, until her hand touched a strip of soft black hair over the tight velvet pantaloons that were tight against his narrow hips. The Duke waited patiently, admiring the royal beauty of his young student. When her hand inadvertently touched his tight member through the tight, tight fabric, he slightly closed his eyes from bliss, allowing her to explore this curious subject.

“I want you to undress too ...,” she finally decided to say, in a slightly breaking voice.

“Not yet time,” he snapped, caught her in his arms, twisted her curls into a thick bundle, pulling at them, threw her head back and began to torment her sensual mouth with her lips with greedy rough caresses. His second hand clenched and stroked her full breasts. Every time he touched her protruding nipples, she quietly moaned and instinctively bent her camp, clinging to his naked torso, like a lustful street cat ready for intercourse, and not a proud queen, the heir to the throne from the oldest kind of Wafat, ruling in Valararing over several hundred years.

Verlaine threw Chantal on the bed, firmly pressed his lower abdomen against her stomach, rubbed about him with an excited member, and showered kisses on her neck, shoulders and breasts. Gradually going lower and lower, he caressed her flat stomach with her tongue and lips, her feminine rounded thighs, and finally bent over the pristine flower hidden between her modestly folded legs. White plump petals with a pink bud that had not yet blossomed gleamed from nectar, but he stubbornly avoided them, kissing the smooth delicate skin of her elastic legs and enjoying the delicate aroma of her excitement, while the girl was restlessly waving on the bed and nervously trembling from each of his sensual touch.

The Duke patiently waited until her fever became unbearable, and her leg muscles relaxed from his skillful touches. Leaning on one elbow, he slowly stroked with the tips of his fingers the inner side of her thigh from the very knee to the sensitive fold in the groin.

“I see you like our game, my queen,” the beautiful duke purred, catching Chantal’s gaze and smiling with his most charming and treacherous smile. On his anthracite shiny hair lay a ray of the warm summer sun, which had broken through the gap between the drawn curtains. On his strong shoulders and beautiful arms, elastic muscles rolled with every movement. Chantal just now noticed that the skin on his hands, too, was covered with whitish scars. These traces of past wounds from some unknown battles to her absolutely did not fit in her head with all his secular elegant appearance that she had known since childhood. Is he really as dangerous as they say about him? Now his blue eyes hid half-lashed eyelashes, and Chantal could not quite understand what his eyes were hiding. God, of course, she liked everything he did to her! Only all these caresses and kisses at the end of her tormented, and he seemed not to stop.

“Verlaine ...,” she said, trying to restore her strayed breathing, “probably already noon ... they’ll catch me soon ... We can be caught here ... You know what this means?”

- What, my careless young queen? He whispered sweetly, suddenly slowly running his thumb over the wet little bud between her legs. Chantal twitched from the bliss that pervaded her, raised herself on her elbows and wanted to narrow her legs, but the duke did not allow her to do this, pushing her knee with force away.

Without knowing why, she complied and stood still, impatiently waiting for new touches. Their eyes met again. The duke slowly ran his tongue on the finger with which he had just caressed the girl.

“You ... you ... you understand,” she swallowed nervously, fighting with her own anxiety, “that I will have to accuse you of rape if we are caught together ... You will be executed for this.” You are lower than me by origin, we are not married, and you have no right ..., - Chantal did not finish, because Verlaine's hot tongue slowly slipped through her blooming from uncontrollable passion flower. The girl often breathed, flinging her crimson lips, and mournfully muttered: "Please stop ...".

- I will be executed only if you sign a decree about my execution ... I am sure that you can sign it? - calmly whispered smugly Verlaine's smirking lips and clung to the pulsing pink tubercle between her puffy white petals. Chantal moaned softly, scattered electric sparks ran across her skin, her body was seized with weakness, and she lay back on the pillows, unable to resist anymore. Any movement of his lips and tongue made her wriggle with impatience, then freeze from dizzying blissful tension. She dug into her thin sheets with her sharp, clawed hands, fingered her silky curls, pressed trembling hands to her lips so as not to cry out from her ecstatic delusion. Verlaine was unhurried, cruelly unhurried. His movements were lazy and prudent, because now the young ruler, who until now considered him to be her humble servant, would allow him to cross any facets, would have cost him only to wish. Her smooth, warm skin, soft plump lips and a little quivering bud, pulsing, hot, shamefully moist and incredibly sensitive, stirred his imagination, and her taste seemed to be absorbed into his blood, causing her to boil and turning him into a ruthless predator. For only a few seconds, the duke interrupted his caresses to gently insert a finger into her pristinely sensitive and tender crack.

- Oh, please, Verlaine, spare me! - Chantal cried out in horror, but then she fell silent, biting her lower sponge and throwing her hands behind her head in impotence: Verlaine again began gently sucking her bud, occasionally tickling his tongue and slowly moving her hand between her legs, caressing her from within. After a few seconds, he felt, not without pleasure, how the thighs of the queen, seduced by him, were restlessly moving towards his movements.Her passion, her sensuality, her beauty, her insatiableness started him up more and more, he accelerated the pace, making the girl in rambling delirium blissfully repeat his name and swear love to him again and again.

“Little fool ... because this is only the beginning ... What will happen to you later?” He thought smugly, pleasing ... Read more →