The Pit of Despair

by Bluesky

Desidera21@aol.com

The Princess Bride

Pairings: Wesley/ Prince Humperdink

Warning Rape, Torture Bondage Mental Cruelty M/M sex

Author Bluesky

Rated R17



The Pit of Despair
by Bluesky

"Hello Wesley. Have a pleasant day?"

Wesley open his eyes. It was the Prince this time. Must be after supper time. The prince had taken to visiting after his dinner to torture him before he retired. He claimed that it helped him to sleep.

"On the whole, It was not too bad. Between the boredom the tedium and the torture, and the truly insipid thing that you think are amusing."

Wesley had nothing to lose. He hoped that This insane man would soon end his pain. But nothing had happened. Just the mind game, and the small things, like spiders crawling over his skin, and head games.

And the Machine. It loomed large and complicated, with gears and wheels and knobs and levers and bellows. To a person that had no knowledge of mechanic it might have been freighting. To Wesley it was annoying. It just could not do any thing that he could see. He had tried to divine its purpose. Well, that was one of the fine points of torture. To leave someone in suspense.

Princess Buttercup is so excited about the possibility that we might find you. She waxes possibly lyrical about you, all the time. Tonight she told me about the first time that you reveled that you loved her. How Sad."

Wesley was silent. He had made his one shot for the evening. now he could retreat, lose him self in the memory of his love, and tune the nattering and torture of the Prince out. He had gotten good at it.

Then there was a sent of perfume. A rustle of silk. A soft stroke along his cheek. Buttercup! He opened his eyes in confusion and hope.

"Ah. I see that you can be stirred by something. Lovely little doxy, is she not? Such perfection, skin like satin, like silk, like ivory. Eyes like rain drops on bluebells. Hair like the wave on the sea at sunrise, each drop reflecting a hundred shards of light. Arms like fine saplings, smooth and round and perfect. Breast like a Goddess, waist like willow, Hips like a mare, wide and good for breeding. Legs, Did you ever see her legs, so perfect, so strong, and sweet? Thought about them, wrapped around your waist on your wedding night, as you rode her like a mare in heat, Kissing the soft perfection of her warm pink lips? Hands tangled in the cloud of silk shimmer hair, Breathing in the sultry perfume of her, of crushed flowers and grass? Fingers stroking over the firm breast, teasing and kissing the hard pink innocent nipples, tasting and acquiring them for the first time? Biting the hot juncture of neck and shoulder? Hearing her moan your name in passion, 'Wesley, Oh My Darling Wesley, Come make me your own!'

The Prince fumbled in his codpiece, stroking himself with one hand. The other he plundered into Wesley breaches, finding as he knew he would the rampant erection, victim of the Princes words of his love, to the sent of Buttercup on the silk sleeve that the prince had set beneath his nose.

The prince pumped the hard cock several time, cruelly accrete in just what stimulation would bring someone to climax the fastest. It was such an unexpected action, that Wesley had no guard agents it, no defense, as the hand milked him, unasked unwelcome, Raping him of a gift that should only be clamed with love and gentleness.

Wesley's seed spilled out of him, like fire, like liquid pain, his balls aching at the abrupt spilling of need. To his credit, he did not cry out, did not whimper. Did not vocalize any response. It was as though his manhood was acting independently of his brain, a sperate need, paying a sperate price.

The Prince closed his eyes, after watching the hot fountain of seed arch up from the cock that he was milking. He finished himself with in his trousers, only trembling slightly, the only outward show of his completion.

Moments passed. The prince opened his eyes. A cruel smile painted on his far too pretty face. "Tomorrow we begin with the Machine. I just wanted to have a part of you that she will never have." With that he absently wiped his hands on Wesley's pants, and wondered away.

Hours later the albino came to him, and wordlessly cleaned him up, and tucked his shame away.



Bluesky