spoiled fat prince

its critical that i teach you to never let yourself be pinned down. if the opponent manages to restrain you, you're as good as dead - especially a delicate thing like you. but you don't seem to be taking that concept as seriously as you should. nothing i say or do drives the point home. we're only in a lesson, and you can't seem to get past that mental block. deep down you feel safe, so you won't put in your true best effort.

one day towards the end of a lesson, i throw you to the ground, once again pinning you easily with my weight. i watch as you grit your teeth, gasping and struggling, helpless against my strength. at first i see you mentally review what you've learned, but you rush it and it doesn't work. as you begin to panic your technique gets messier and messier, and your strength is no match for mine, let alone enough to force your way to freedom.

as i wonder how i'm supposed to teach you this and let you find a way out on your own without coddling you, my thigh settles between your legs and suddenly, i see your pretty eyes go wide.

my lips curl in a smirk. i press a little closer, my grip on your wrists tightening. don't panic now, i warn you, my voice heavy with false innocence. you seem flustered.

slowly, i settle my thigh more firmly between yours, my knee driving gently against you through the layers of fabric separating us.

the friction of your clothed cunt on my thigh has an instant effect. you fall still as if frozen in panic. a slight blush warms your cheeks.

go on, i encourage you. you think i'm gonna let you go so easily? at least try to escape.

you bite your lip, staring down at the space between us, your eyes still wide with panic. i nudge my thigh into you, earning a little flinch.

"sir..." you breathe, your chest rising and falling with shuddering breath.

what is it, your Highness? i ask, feigning concern. something the matter? do you give up?

your eyes shift up to mine. you suck in a breath, trying to steady yourself. "no, sir."

perfect. then keep going.

slowly, you obey, shifting under me, but with a hitching breath you quickly realize that any struggling will drive you instantly against me again, the friction hot in your core. the urge to rock your hips and grind against me makes you twitch. confused, you lay there helplessly.

do you really plan to lay there and take it? i taunt. there's a way out if you keep trying.

your pretty lips part to complain, but your words die on your tongue. you glance down and back up to me, and you realize. you know i'm doing it on purpose.

now your gaze is hot, with equal parts horror and desire. "let me go," you demand, but your heart's not in it. just like your heart isn't in any of your attempts to escape my hold.

i smirk down at you. what kind of a teacher would that make me? i ask. if you want freedom, you'll have to work for it, sweet prince.

your eyes are wide in a silent plea. your blush deepens as i press into you, earning more friction. you release a little gasp and involuntarily grind against me, your hips rolling. then you suck in a breath, trying again to focus yourself.

the more you struggle, the harder you're forced against me, the better it feels. you could, of course, admit defeat, as you sometimes do when i've got you hopelessly caught in my stronger grip. but that would be too serious a blow to your pride, especially considering the humiliation you're already enduring.

you rock into me, panting as your cunt throbs against my thigh, whining low in your throat. my grip on your wrists tightens and you flinch.

"i'll report you to the guard," you threaten halfheartedly. your voice trembles with pleasure.

i smirk down at you. we're pressed so close i can feel your heart slam against my ribs. for what? beating you in a fight?

face flaming with embarrassment, you rock against me again, tentatively. you release a little sigh of bliss. you build a slow, careful pace, which i match by pressing my thigh into you, and soon you're trembling, pleasure pulsing through you in waves, not intensely enough to get you off, but enough to make you sweat and whimper.

i lean down, whispering in your ear as if to give you a hint. just like that, pretty boy. that's exactly right. keep going and i might release you after all.

you whimper into my chest, rocking harder against me. finally shamelessly pleasuring yourself in my thigh. i know it's mortifying, but you can't seem to stop, you're so desperate for it. i'm tempted to flip us over and let you hump my leg if that's what it takes to satisfy you, but i know that would be all too embarrassing.

finally your little whimpers rise into whines and moans that you muffle in my chest, and i mutter in your ear as you fall into the monotonous rhythm that means you're so close, you'll cum soon if you keep going like that. that's a good boy, i say. a sweet thing like you would win every fight. no one could stand to hurt you.

with a gasping moan, you gush in your trousers, soaking your boxers with cum. your lashes flutter, your chest rising and falling frantically against mine with stuttering breaths.

i nuzzle my nose in your neck as you recover, my grip on you softening. good boy, i say again. my pretty prince.