You were no idiot. You knew what awaits you after you deliver the child, son or not.

The commander shrugged off his outer coat, hung his sword and hat, his top knot still neat and in place. He paid you no mind, choosing to pour himself some tea while you fidgeted awkwardly on his edge of his bed.

Your fingers found solace in the cool, silky sheets.

“Don’t you think it’s a good plan?” He raised his eyebrows at you, nursing the hot cup of tea. “Might as well my child. At least the kid would be from our bloodline.”

His shadows danced behind him, bobbing ridiculously as he continued to drink. They loomed menacingly over the chamber walls, over you. Your gaze stayed trained on the puppet-like darkness, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your surrender.

“And she thinks it is easy to just take some child from nobility,” He scoffed. “As if they will stay silent. As if they’d not leak this out.”

Seemingly amused by your lack of response, the commander drew closer to you. “Don’t you think it’s an honour, Y/N?” He tilted your head back, his calloused hand grabbing your jaw.

You yielded, mumbling a “Yes, my lord.”

The commander settled next to you, humming his approval. “I wanted you ever since I saw you.”

Your eyes flickered downwards as his fingers splayed open on your lower stomach, your thighs instinctively clenched close. “I don’t think this is right, my lord.” You tried to shift away from his touch, yet his hold grew tighter around your waist.

“What isn’t? Who are you to tell me that?” Thumb brushing across your cheekbones softly to tip your head further, he placed a light kiss at the slope of your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for a chance.”

He continued sucking at the base of your throat, wandering hands growing bolder as they began pulling you into his lap. You gasped, the foreign feeling leaving your hips involuntarily bucking. “Wait, please stop.”

“You’re going to carry my child. My son,” The commander groaned against your skin, hot breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. The knot holding your robes together effortlessly loosened, falling past your collarbone. He started rubbing circles on your thigh, pulling them apart as you tried to keep them closed with all your might.

“I don’t want that,” You firmly shoved his hands away, pulling up the slippery fabric, securing the loop as tightly as you could. “I’ll do as Her Majesty ordered. There’s no need to resort to this, my lord.”

You trembled, gulping the saliva collecting at the back of your mouth, readying to take your leave. He frowned, standing up tall, his nails digging into the meat of your shoulder as he forced you to sit again.

“Then shouldn’t I be compensated for the kindness I’ve shown you?”

The commander pushed you back down onto the bed, slotting himself between your knees. “Shouldn’t you be a little more grateful that I’m giving your family a chance to rebuild?”

Your pulse thumped wildly against your ribcage, sweat gathering at your hairline as you avoided his searing gaze. The room was hot, claustrophobic despite the ample space; your lungs wheezed with effort to keep your brain functioning. To keep you thinking of a way out.

“All I’ve done for you,” He mused, his fingers making a quick work of your robes again. “I think I’ve done enough all these years.” You writhed, grasping his wrist to stop him going any further, any lower.

“I deserve to have you.”

Tight was the hold he had on your face, forcing you to kiss him back. You considered biting his tongue, but drew back in fear when he squeezed the hinge of your jaw, your mouth dropping open to allow him in. The warm wet feeling of your inner cheeks, your chest brushing and quivering against his, and your hesitant palm resting on his arm; the commander sighed, it was getting harder and harder to restrain himself.

He panted like a dog when his thick digit glided across your slit, teasing your entrance, biology betraying your logic as heat pooled in your lower stomach. The commander noticed the flutter of your pussy the longer he was kissing you.

He sneered. In the light of the flame, you watched him sucked your arousal off his fingers.

“Sure, don’t respond.” He stripped his robes, mockery glinting off his eyes. “Your body tells me all I need to know.”

You were still gripping onto his forearm when two fingers dipped into your heat, pushing past the resisting walls. The stretch was too much for you. A shaky sob escaped you when he pushed it in further than you’ve felt anything went, your upper thighs quaking around his waist.

A contemptuous grin stretched across his features as he began pumping them in and out, drawing out uncontrollable whines from you. You mewled, the pleasure building far quicker than you anticipated when he kept abusing that one spot in you again and again.

“Stop please!” You pleaded. “Stop!”

You finally mustered up enough courage to look at him, the first time tonight, only to find him already observing you. The all-consuming hunger evident in his greedy stare felt like it was stripping you bare beyond your clothes, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. He continued his ministrations, his other hand squeezing your tit, pinching the bud that was stiffening from his touch.

“All you’ve been saying all night is you don’t want this. How true is that?” The commander latched upon a nipple, sucking feverishly, his teeth grazing upon the taut peak. Your pussy reactively sucked him in even deeper, eyes rolling back. You screwed up your eyes, unwilling to look at him when you fall apart.

You shook your head. There was a heavy fog settling in your mind, you couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t think at all.

“No?” He looked up at you, a thin string of saliva connecting his lips to your hardened nipple. You bit your lower lip, attempting to choke back the whimper. You were not going to make this any more gratifying for him.

“No.” You huffed, gritting your teeth. You gasped when he turned his attention to your ear, the moist pink muscle probing and licking the outer crevices.

The new sensation sent you right over the edge, your toes curled reactively, walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers. The commander continued rocking them into you, drawing out every last sound of pleasure from you as long as he could.

You collapsed in his arms catching your breath as he brushed your hair back from your face, a tenderness absent from earlier. He stared at you, drinking in your flushed expression, the hostility swimming in your eyes, your heaving chest.

His.

“Let me go.”

“No.” The commander snapped, pulling in your shuddering body, still affected from the aftershocks of your climax. “Why would I do that?”

You murmured, “There are a lot more ladies more befitting your family. A lot more who can give you what you want.”

“And what of it?” He demanded. “You will be the one carrying my child. Not them. Not anyone else.”

You stayed silent, eyes closed, pretending that you don’t feel him hot and throbbing against the curve of your ass. Pretending you don’t hear the soft grunts as he rubbed himself against you, the deep rise and fall of his chest stuttering when his cockhead slipped through the plush of your glossy thighs.

The lump in your throat doesn’t go away no matter how many times you swallow. “You will kill me after I have the child.” You declared, wiggling away, ignoring the ‘pop’ when his tip is released. He hissed, desperate hands reaching for your warmth.

“Hah…” The commander settled on the fat of your hips, massaging the flesh. “Look at me Y/N.”

Sticky sheets clung to your side, mixture of exertion and conflicted pleasure lingered, a reminder of how far you’ve gone. “Please, my lord.”

“You’re an idiot,” He exhaled in resignation. “I’m not killing you. Just give the damn kid to the queen. I’ll make you my wife,” His hands tangled in your hair, dragging you closer. “We’ll just make more kids after.”

There was nothing you can do when he had gotten your calves hooked over his broad shoulders, his cock bullying its way deep into your gummy cunt, buried to the hilt as you cried out. The slaps you landed on his biceps did not deter him from plunging his hips forward, setting a punishing and aching pace, thorough in reaching every inch in you.

“My lord-,” Guttural, broken, and giddy from the mean, carnal strokes he was sticking in you. The slight burn was driving you mad with lust, ankles locking behind him unconsciously.

Lewd squelching echoed around his chambers; your slick pussy dribbled more, more, and more over him. The commander rasped some words, his voice strained and strangled, “I can’t, I’ve told myself to hold back-,” He pulsated in you, relishing in the way your gooey depths clamped around him. “You feel so good, hngh-”

His forehead rested on yours, messy strands grazing your cheeks, letting out a pleased purr when you drove your nails into his shoulder blades. You were crying, rivulets streaming past your temples, shaking away his thumbs when they came to wipe them off.

You felt the tremor in his hips, the splutter in his thrusts, his bruising grip on your hips.

“Your family will benefit from this too. I’m helping you.” Tight-lipped, pupils blown out with sin. “Do it for your family.”

He came in you a beat later, sinking himself to the full, jaw clenched as hot white spurted inside you. The commander didn't stop, rolling his pelvis against yours, riding out his orgasm despite your sensitivity.

Scooping up whatever leaked out, he eventually pulled out, shoving his cum back in and jamming his middle and ring finger in your swollen hole.

“Gotta make sure you’re pregnant, hm?”

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you dared a glance at your mistress. she was cladded humbly, white lined draped loosely across her thinning frame as a vacant look occupied her delicate features. your gaze settled on the commander, however bowed your head swiftly again when he shot you a quick glare.

the commander turned his attention to his sister, gesturing his sword at her stomach area. "what are you going to tell father?"

a shiver involuntarily ran up your spine. you did not know much, but enough to know that their family clan head is cruel. possibly cruel enough to dispose of his own daughter if he caught wind of her incompetency.

you recalled late nights when the chief state councilor would visit his daughter's palace, hushed whispers always rattled on and on about the queen consort being a curse to the clan's name. whenever she messed up. whenever she did well and it was somehow not enough. when she had lost the child several times before.

the queen finally lifted her stare from the floor. "who says he will know of this matter?"

she gestured for the physician and the court maids to leave the room.

"y/n, you stay," her majesty commanded. you bowed and knelt back down.

the silence was palpable. you swear the pair of siblings could hear your pulse pound wildly against your wrist, against your chest. your throat went dry. more effort was taken into trying to swallow your nerves than to actively listen to their conversation.

because everyone knows.

it is never good news when you're trapped between the both of them.

"the king do not have much time. i don't think you'll be able to conceive before that," the commander started. his sharp eyes found yours as he sheathed his sword. "we'll be losing the throne to the bastard child."

venom dripped from his words as he spat out the crown prince's name. your fingers shook against your lap as the commander started pacing around. the cotton beneath your hands were damp as more sweat dripped down your forehead.

"my dear brother," a light chuckle escaped the queen's thin mouth, but no humour was found in her face. "i will get a child. i will get a child and i will ensure my son ascends the throne."

she pointed a long nail at you. "and you will assist me."

"how so?" her brother demanded. "are you asking her to conceive a child for you? i will not permit that."

this time, the queen consort chortled, her body shaking with each trill she let out. you didn't dare answer. the commander was breathing heavily, his fists tight by his sides. "are you telling her to sleep with the king?" he pressed further.

you knew it was no good thing.

"stupid. she's a lowborn. she will never birth a child worthy of the throne." the queen beckoned you closer to her side. you obeyed like any common dog would. you are a lowborn, a domesticated mongrel living to feed on the scraps of her master's mercy and to obey. to always obey.

"y/n is good to me. aren't you?" she stroked your cheek tenderly. "y/n. i want you to gather some pregnant women from nobility. we'll provide shelter. food. whatever they need till they are of term."

she stood up, pulling you up by the arm. "i will have my son. and you will tell no one of this."

"she will not." the commander grabbed your other upper arm. "i will have her."

the queen hissed, "you're insane. she's a lowborn."

"i am not. i will give her a child. a son." he proposed, dragging you away from your mistress. "i will keep her. and i will give you that child."

you knew it was no good thing.

read part two !

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“Fight back then,” He laughed, eyes swimming with want and malice as he further wrestled you into a more compromising position. You should’ve taken up jiujitsu earlier when offered, now you were completely hopeless off your feet, a mere plaything for the man above you. Rindo’s lips quirked up in amusement, your helplessness and the despair etched onto your pretty face when you realised there was no getting out of the submission made his blood rush south.

You frowned, writhing to free your locked limbs, turning back to glare back at his mocking gaze. One that never failed to make you feel small and incapable, like you were four again, in a large playground full of unfamiliar kids. You felt so small.

“You lost to me every time back then, what made you think you’re gonna win me now?” Rindo manoeuvred your struggling form, needing to see your face clearly. He craved your eyes on him, your anger, your frustration when you know there is no way out, no way you were ever going to beat him. He wanted it all to be directed at him; the control and power you have over yourself, he wanted to have it, to break down a woman like you, a fighter in all sense.

There was just so much gratification out of it.

His calloused hand circled your frail neck, and the fear on your features intensified, making the adrenaline through his veins skyrocket. Feeling his pants shrink a few sizes smaller, Rindo panted in desperation as he sniffed your hair, ignoring your strong shoves at his torso.

“Rindo, please,” Your voice teetered on the edge of frenzy, he could hear each and every crack in your tone, the tremors through your body were more than enough of a sign. 

This was what he was trained for, reading body language and playing mind games with his opponents. Rindo was going to get through each and every one of your defences, each feint and fake, each offence.

You always surprise him, since the first day he met you at the gym. During drills, during fight camps, and during bouts, you always upped his expectations of you. But when it truly mattered, it didn’t shock him when you tried to land a sharp upward elbow at his jaw. It fell short and obnoxious laughter rang in deafening echoes in the small space of his truck.

“You were always terrible at distance management,” He tucked your hair behind your ears. “Didn’t have time to work on it?”

“Fuck off, Rindo.”

Wet kisses trailed down your neck, to your shoulder. Deft fingers pulled the strap of your dress down, your exposed skin was more than he had bargained for. Soft, yet littered with bruises and unexplained scars, there were going to be more left on the expanse after he was done with you.

“More like ‘fuck me, Rindo.” He jeered, pulling lewd expressions, dissolving into fits of giggles at your appalled look.

“Please,” You pushed his hands away as they felt you up, putting them at a range so you could conjure up an attack whenever ready. “Rindo, you’re mad. Stop this. Stop right now.”

Opting for a classic jab didn’t work, instead, your failed shot repaid you with a sharp slap to your cheek. A pained gasp escaped your lips, unable to hold back the stinging in your eyes when a tear dripped down your temple.

Countless opponents you had, countless injuries from broken noses to busted lips—nothing hurt more than his slap.

It wasn’t just the brute strength behind his hit, it was the fact this is not a fighting championship, that there was no referee, no coach, no rules. There was no saviour if you couldn’t save yourself, there was no redeeming yourself if you lost this fight.

You knew he could do more harm if he really wanted to.

Dazed, you barely noticed when he slipped the flimsy dress off. Your cardigan was long-lost in the back of the truck, with the rest of your garments to keep it company while he kept you warm.

Cold pads of his fingers rubbed experimentally against your ribs “Not the ring, sweetheart,” It shifted lower and lower, dangerously close to where you pray he wouldn’t touch. “No one’s gonna save you now.”

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