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She was so small, and helpless, and the look of terror in her eyes made him ache. And she was all his. Just like her castle. Just like her kingdom.
Only a few strides and a flimsy dress stood between him and his prize. Through it, he could see the spare curves of a girl in the first flush of womanhood, soft, silky, and untested. She would make a fine plaything, once he broke her in, got her used to submission. He could see it, already, in the way she twisted away from him and subtly displayed the lush lines of her body, in the way she covered her breasts so that they were pushed up, almost popping out of that ridiculous gown. In the way that her gaze showed fear, yes, but also wary curiosity.
Ganondorf, in any case, did not hide his interest. He strode lazily into the room, feasting his eyes, lingering on her legs, her breasts, her long, swanlike neck. Piece by piece he stripped off his armor, dropping it to the floor. Her eyes tracked his movements. When he was down to only his greaves, he glanced up, and caught the moment that she saw him. Really saw him, half hard in his skin tight leathers, not a demon, not a monster of legends, but a man. A man who was going to fuck her.
He stepped forward, and she flinched back. Ganondorf clicked his tongue.
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, princess.” He said the title with a sneer.
The girl drew herself up. “You’ll never break me,” she hissed. “The hero will defeat you. Rape me, beat me, kill me, it doesn’t matter—he will be the last one standing.”
Ganondorf snorted. “I find that unlikely. It will be much easier for both of us if you heed these words: Hyrule is mine. You are mine. If you submit gracefully, I shall treat you gently. If you fight, you will pay the price.”
Zelda scowled. “Fine then. Do your worst.” She sat up on her knees and spread her arms. “I am ready.”
Every moment they spent talking, she grew more defiant. That would not do. Viper fast, Ganondorf snapped out a hand and struck her across the face.
It was not a hard blow, but Zelda reeled back, shock blooming across her face along with a red mark. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Ganondorf smirked.
“Mouthy. But I’ll train that out of you.” He knelt on the bed, leaned over to cage the princess between his arms. The reality of the situation seemed to sink in then, because her eyes widened with panic and began to brim with tears.
“Ah, don’t cry. I said I would treat you gently. If you behave.” He smoothed a thumb over a pale cheek, and Zelda flinched, but did not pull away. “Look, you’re already learning,” he said with a giddy smirk. Zelda’s eyes squeezed shut, and she drew in a shaky breath through her nose, exhaled through her mouth.
That was as sure a sign of cooperation as he was going to get at this point, Ganondorf figured. He trailed a hand down the princess’s slender throat, pausing at one of the diaphanous straps of her silk gown. He was tempted to tear it, but the dress was very pretty, and he liked her in pretty things. So he slipped each strap down carefully, baring her shoulders, then her breasts.
What a sight. Small, apple-round mounds, tipped with sweet rosy nipples that tightened upon contact with the air. He blew on one, just to see it tighten further, and he didn’t miss the tiny hitch in the princess’s breath. He smiled as he engulfed the little bud with his mouth, swirling his tongue over the butter-soft skin. He rolled the flesh slowly, tantalizingly, between his lips, scraped it with his teeth, and oh, was that a moan he just heard? He raised his eyes to see the girl’s pink face twisted into a grim mask, her knuckle clamped between her front teeth.
He gave the breast a final lick and then moved on to its twin. He groped the soft flesh hungrily, drawing back once both breasts were thoroughly debauched to knead them with his hands. The princess was panting now around her knuckle, the flush in her cheeks spreading down her chest, to her belly and lower.
Ganondorf grinned and followed the path of flushed skin, peeling the princess out of her dress until she was bare beneath him, soft and pink, like a ripe peach. Her legs were crossed, and he pulled them apart, revealing her slick, dark core. Her scent hit him, sweet and musky under a haze of sweat. He licked his lips, his cock becoming tight against his leggings.
He lowered himself between her legs and inhaled. The first blossoms of spring, the unfurling of womanhood. Such a sweet perfume. The princess whimpered as she felt his hot breath on her flushed, slickened skin.
It was as if she could not help her surprised moan as he licked her. He wandered his tongue over the hills and valleys of her sex, the fleshy petals that bloomed under his touch. He reached her clit, which peeked out from under its hood, and flicked it delicately with the tip of his tongue, grinning at the princess’s sharp inhale. He swirled his tongue over it, slowly, winding her up, then slid down to lap at her entrance. The princess wriggled, her juices smearing over his lips and nose.
Ganondorf lifted one slender leg and draped it over his shoulder, a better angle from which to work. He glanced up. She was open-mouthed panting now, her hands clenched at her sides, flushed breasts heaving. He kissed her soft center, dipping his tongue inside. A tiny, strangled sound erupted from her throat. Her hips stuttered, like she would mash herself against him but for her lack of leverage. He suckled gently at her clit, provoking a fully-body tremble. Good. He could feel her resistance melting away with every stroke. Soon, he would bury his cock in those delectable folds and claim her as his own. His princess, his prize, his kingdom made flesh.
Ganondorf enveloped her with his mouth, buried his tongue deep inside, used it to press at her plush walls. A mewling whine broke through her stony panting, and she brought her hands up to knot in his hair, to push him away, or to pull him closer? He licked and sucked, moaning deep in his chest, the taste of her as intoxicating as wine. He gripped her thigh, pulled her harder against him. Every lick, every kiss, every flick of his tongue drove her higher, provoked more desperate, trembling cries. He growled hungrily, pressing the meat of his tongue against her clit, and the princess gasped, suddenly going rigid, her hands yanking at his hair. The flesh beneath his lips trembled, twitched, and a new gush of moisture dripped down his already slick chin. He lapped it up, abuzz with satisfaction. When she was finally still, he smiled against her, planting a kiss at her apex before he drew back.
She was spread out before him, invitingly disheveled, her legs open, eyes glassy. She was breathing hard, head turned to the side, a blue vein jumping in her throat. She peered up at him from the corner of her eye. He grabbed her chin, turned her to face him. Her surprised squeak disappeared into his mouth when he kissed her, the remains of her own juices coating her lips. His tongue pushed past her lips, and he gave her an enthusiastic preview of what was to come, thrusting deeply into her mouth as she wriggled in his grip. Soon though, she relaxed, and Ganondorf let out a pleased purr. He continued to work his tongue against hers as he undid the ties to his leggings to let his aching cock free. He stroked himself, slicking up with precome before he nudged against her vulva, searching for the entrance. She murmured against his lips, a noise of hazy confusion. There, soft and vulnerable, the spot where slippery flesh parted, the half-open gate. He pressed down.
Zelda keened into his mouth, thrashed against his weight, against the hands now holding her in a vice grip. Ganondorf groaned and sank in deeper, relishing her struggle. Soon would come the moment of submission, but for now he enjoyed that shocked cry, the way her body bent like a bowstring, the tight squeeze of her untouched cunt. The rush of adrenaline as she struggled fruitlessly against him. His balls ached with unspent seed. He pictured her, plump and rosy cheeked, belly straining with the weight of his unborn child. That would be a pretty sight, he thought, especially if she learned to give of herself willingly.
For a breathless minute, he thought that moment wouldn’t come. Zelda writhed and twisted, breath frantic. He had to pin her wrists so that she wouldn’t try to scratch his face as he pulled out and plunged back in, earning a strangled sound. She was so tight, he wondered if she would ever stretch to accommodate him, or if this was what it would be like every time he took her. Slowly though, the thrashing lessened, and satisfaction bloomed in Ganondorf’s chest. He hissed with pleasure as the princess began to rock against him.
“That’s a good pet,” he murmured, rolling his hips. The princess let out a sweet whimper, thighs flexing. He now wished that he had fully removed his clothes, if only to feel more of that delectable skin against his own.
He drew up onto his knees, dragging her hips with him so that she touched the bed only with her shoulders. At this angle, every part of her was spread out before him, a banquet for his eyes and hands. He fingered the taut flesh of her entrance, smirked when she gasped and her hands fluttered helplessly. Her clit was swollen and blood-gorged, sensitive from use. He rolled it gently between his fingers, watching her face, then gave a light pinch that made her body jerk.
“Please, I—Ah! Ohh—“
She was dripping, clear, slippery fluid coating her slender thighs where they parted around his waist. Little tremors shook her body as he fucked her, all pretense of resistance gone.
He watched his cock disappear into her again—where did it all go? She was trembling, slender frame taut and knotted with tension, mouth open and eyes screwed shut. Ganondorf tempered the urge to descend on her, lay into her with the ferocity that his body demanded. He could, of course, but not if he was to keep his promise to treat her gently. He wanted her to ache for him after they were done, to lie awake thinking about the pleasure that was hers for the taking at his hands.
He slowly pulled out and lowered her hips to the bed, then flipped her handily onto her stomach. Zelda squeaked. Taking himself in hand, he maneuvered the head of his cock to brush against her cunt, slipping through the ample moisture to tease her clit and sensitive pink folds. Zelda wriggled, torn between canting her hips back towards him and rubbing her swollen sex against the bedsheets. He gripped one soft cheek to still her, then rubbed his cock against her hole, dipping in, teasing, but not quite indulging.
She was so butter-soft it almost made him sick. Plush and smooth, slippery as an oyster, inside and out. She trembled and made sweet little gasping sounds as he teased her, peering back at him with that same wary look, her hands clenched in the bedsheets. He crawled over her, poised to sink back down.
“Do you want it, princess?” he growled, low in her ear. She shivered beneath him, with desire or fear he could not tell. He paused at her entrance. It flexed, pulsated, sucking at him like the lips of a curious horse. Ganondorf grinned. Whether she wanted this or not, her body certainly did. Her body was hungry. He would give it its fill.
He plunged back in, thumping against her thighs. Zelda wailed, jerking in his grip, her cunt spasming. Fuck that was good. He fucked into her, momentarily forgetting himself, overtaken by lust, his need to conquer, to claim. She squealed and writhed, and it awakened some primal, slavering bloodlust within him, the dog finally catching the warm-blooded hare. The squelch of her little cunt, the searing heat of her body, he couldn’t get enough, he wanted more, more and more. His hips stuttered, and he stilled, breathing hard, his climax restrained by a thread.
He almost hoped she didn’t get used to him right away, so he could experience this again, squeeze himself into that tight little hole, make her submit while she trembled and cried and begged.
Oh, but that wasn’t likely, because she was already rocking back into him, fucking herself on his cock even as she whimpered. Slowly he halted his motions, waiting to see if she would continue to slam herself against him with no outside guidance.
Oh, she did, the little minx. Long moments passed before she noticed and went rigid, snapping her head around to glare at him.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account!” said Ganondorf with a smirk.
“I—You..!” the princess sputtered. She was so cute, that indignant scowl.
“Yes Princess? Is there something you want?”
“W-Gh—well don’t stop now!” she cried, little hands clenching in the bedsheets.
“As you wish,” hissed Ganondorf, sinking in slowly to the hilt.
Zelda moaned and trembled, arching her back like a cat. Ganondorf stretched to pin her wrists to the bed as he mouthed at a flushed, pointed ear. He worked his hips in slow undulations, a gentle reprieve. She clenched around him, and he moaned appreciatively.
“You’re doing so—ah! So well, little one. I am—hah—truly impressed.” His hips jerked a little too roughly, earning a surprised yelp. He worked a hand underneath her chin and lifted it to bare the side of her throat, which he kissed possessively, an apology and a claim. “Most don’t take me so well even after months of practice. You—” he hilted himself inside her, his aching, swollen balls slapping against the wetness that covered her inner thighs. She squirmed in his grip. “—are a natural. The perfect little plaything—ungh! Made for taking my cock.” His skin prickled and his composure began to slip. “I’ll h-have you, have you gagging for it, crawling on your hands and knees just for a taste—”
“And what if I don’t?” gasped the princess, glaring over her shoulder. “I’ll bite you—AH! Scratch you, make you bleed. What have I to lose?”
Still so defiant. Ganondorf paused, pulling out to flip Zelda onto her back again. He gripped her throat as he pushed back into her, inch by aching inch. She bit her plush bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut, trembling from head to toe. Ganondorf smirked. He gripped her jaw and hissed, “Look at me.”
The princess obeyed, hand fluttering to his wrist. He held her gaze until she fidgeted and her eyes flinched away. “No,” Ganondorf growled. “Look. At. Me.” Zelda’s eyes flicked back, her expression uneasy.
Ganondorf began again to fuck her, less gently this time. He caught every flinch, relished in every tiny gasp.
“Listen to me—unh, very carefully, princess,” he murmured, fighting to keep his tone steady. “You are mine. I will have you whenever, wherever, and however I please. Do you understand?”
His princess nodded, worrying her lip again, tears beading in her bright eyes.
“Good,” Ganondorf purred, rolling his hips. Zelda whimpered. “You are my prize, my treasure—and I value my treasures greatly. I will be good to you. If—” He rolled his hips again, grinding deep into her belly, as deep as he would go. “If you obey me, serve me, with reverence and pleasure. I will not tolerate insolence. If you fight, if you disobey,” he gripped her jaw harder, bringing their lips together, and whispered hotly, “You will find how truly cruel I can be.”
A tremor wracked Zelda’s tiny frame. She gasped, legs jerking in the sheets. A long, animalistic moan tore from her throat.
“That’s it, fuck,” Ganondorf’s hips stuttered, his thighs ached, “Give into it princess, give yourself to me, you’re mine.”
Her eyes rolled back as she came. The tight, rhythmic contractions of her body squeezed him, drew him in. A bolt of pleasure, blinding, lanced up his spine, and he was momentarily lost to the sensation of fucking her, taking her, owning her. His cock jumped, and he was coming too, spurt after spurt of thick, hot semen painting her trembling insides. It kept coming, long seconds after he would normally be done, and he growled with satisfaction at the thought of filling her up, making her fat with his seed. The fluid sluiced out around his cock and pooled between her thighs. She made a questioning sound and squirmed beneath him. He shushed her with a kiss.
They lay entwined for what could have been minutes or hours. When, grudgingly, Ganondorf raised himself onto his elbows, his desire stirred anew. Beneath him Zelda was boneless and disheveled, her eyes closed, face sweaty and flushed with satisfaction. He was loathe to pull out, to break their connection. He wanted her. Wanted to feast on her flesh, gorge himself to bursting. But no, he shouldn’t work her too hard this first night. He drew back, his softened cock trailing a pale ribbon of seed—his seed—from her core.
She needed rest and a good meal, a chance to recover and build her stamina. She was his prize, after all, his jewel among jewels, and he would be no king of thieves if he mishandled his treasure.
Strong arms carried her to a bath chamber, where a large basin of water waited. Where did it come from? She hadn’t seen a single servant since returning to the castle. Magic? She supposed so. Magic to sear the air and trick the senses. Magic to summon ghostly servants and basins of hot water. Only logical.
She alighted on the stone floor, colt-legged, and slid gracelessly into the water. To her relief, the man who called himself the Demon King (What a ridiculous title. As if anyone would take her seriously if she went around calling herself Fairy Princess or some such nonsense,) did not stay to cajole affection or conversation from her. At least he had enough sense not to expect pillow talk after… All of that.
Zelda sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. To think! Her, a ravished maiden, locked away in the castle, like some storybook cliché.
It could be worse, she supposed. The Demon King was not, in fact, a demon. He was a man, young, and very nearly handsome. He could have killed her—should have, by all rights. Instead he took her, wholesale, for himself, a political prisoner and spoil of war in one package. Bully for him.
Considering the circumstances, he had conducted himself as well as one might hope. Aside from when he had slapped her, the brute. He was gentle enough, and attentive to her pleasure. More so than she had been taught to expect, even from her hypothetical future husband. In fact, he seemed rather fixated on her wanting him, coming to him of her own accord. Learning to like it, and she supposed, by extension, him.
That was odd, she thought dimly, sinking further into the water. Why did he care? She was stuck here regardless. Did he hope to placate her? In that case, why touch her at all? She shut her eyes and took deep breath before submerging her head, sinking to the bottom of the basin. Ethereal waves of hair slid through her fingers as she brushed them back from her face.
Those bright, hungry eyes. The weight of his body. His hand on her throat, burning like a brand. Heat fluttered between her legs, a novel sensation with which she had become rapidly more familiar over the past few hours.
If he wanted her to want him, she could use that. She could insinuate herself into his good graces, give and withhold affection to achieve the desired result.
She had seen it done, by the wives and mistresses of her father’s court. She could do it too. It might be her only way to fight back, to buy time, to give the boy—Link, that was his name—a fighting chance.
She breached the surface with a determined exhale. She could do it. She could manipulate, cajole, survive. And if it meant further enduring the Demon King’s affections… Well, she could think of worse ways to pass the time.