The Dragon Lord's Spoils

Natalie's POV

I was on my knees when I asked him.

Edwin's cock was buried deep in my throat. My hands braced against his thighs for balance. Tears streamed down my face from gagging but I didn't pull back. Three years had taught me exactly how he liked it. Deep. Desperate. Degrading.

He fisted my hair. Thrust harder. I relaxed my throat and took it. Swallowed around him. Used my tongue on that sensitive spot just under the head.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You've gotten so good at this."

When he finally pulled out, I gasped for air. Spit and precum dripped down my chin. I didn't wipe it away. He liked seeing me messy. Ruined.

"Your Highness." My voice was hoarse. Raw. "Tomorrow, when you leave for the capital—"

His hand tightened in my hair. Warning. "What about it?"

I swallowed hard. Tasted him on my tongue. "Will you take me with you?"

For a long moment he just looked down at me. His cock was still hard. Still glistening with my saliva. His pale eyes were calculating. Cold.

"That depends," he said slowly. "On how well you perform tonight."

Fear spiked through me. But I buried it. Locked it away with everything else I couldn't afford to feel. "I'll do anything, Your Highness. Please. Just tell me what you want."

His smile was sharp. Predatory. "Show me. Convince me you're worth the trouble of keeping."

So I did.

"On the bed," he said. "Ass up."

I crawled onto his bed. Got on my hands and knees. Spread my legs wide. Arched my back to present myself. My pussy was already wet despite the revulsion churning in my gut. Three years of conditioning. My body had learned to respond even when my mind screamed in protest.

Edwin mounted me from behind. No warning. No preparation. Just shoved his thick cock into my pussy in one brutal thrust. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. He liked me quiet. Compliant. A warm hole for him to use.

He fucked me hard. His hips slammed against my ass with wet slapping sounds. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to bruise. I rocked back to meet every thrust. Clenched around him. Made the little gasping sounds he liked.

"That's it," he growled. "Take it like the good little whore you are."

"Yes, Your Highness," I whispered. "Thank you, Your Highness."

He grabbed my breasts. Squeezed them roughly. Pinched my nipples until pain shot through me. I arched into his hands. Moaned like I loved it.

When he flipped me onto my back, I wrapped my legs around his waist immediately. Pulled him deeper. His cock stretched me. Filled me. I performed like my life depended on it. Because it did.

Three years. Three years of this and I had never once felt pleasure from it. Maybe I was built wrong. Maybe some women just couldn't feel anything during sex.

Was that God's mercy? A compensation for everything else He'd taken from me? The inability to bond through physical intimacy meant I could survive this without breaking completely.

"Beg for it," he commanded.

"Please, Your Highness." The words burned my throat like acid. "Please fuck me harder. Use your worthless whore. Fill my pussy with your cum. I need it. I need you."

His thrusts became savage. Punishing. My body jolted with each impact. My breasts bounced. My pussy clenched around him.

When Edwin finally came, he slammed deep and held there. His cock pulsed inside me. Hot cum flooded my pussy. He groaned against my neck. His weight pressed me into the mattress.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then he pulled out. Rolled off me. Sprawled across his bed with the satisfied languor of a man well-serviced.

I lay there. Cum leaked out of my pussy onto his sheets. My body ached. My throat was raw. My lips were swollen. But I didn't move. Didn't clean myself. Not until he told me to.

Edwin reached out lazily. His fingers tangled in my hair. Almost affectionate if you didn't look at the ownership in the gesture.

"You've outdone yourself tonight," he murmured. His voice was thick with post-coital satisfaction. "Perhaps you are worth the trouble after all." He paused. "We'll find you proper clothes. Can't have you looking like a camp whore when we reach the capital."

Relief flooded through me so intensely my vision blurred.

"Thank you, Your Highness." I kept my voice steady. Grateful. "You won't regret this. I'll be no trouble at all."

I slid off the bed. Cum still dripping down my thighs. I didn't clean myself until I reached my pallet at the foot of his bed. Even then I only used the rough cloth I kept there. Water was rationed. I couldn't waste it.

I curled up on the thin pallet at the foot of his bed. Pulled my single blanket over my naked body.

Three years ago, I had been General Vane's daughter. A promising student at the Academy. Then my father was executed for treason he didn't commit. My mother killed herself two days later. I was left with nothing but a traitor's name.

When the war became real, the Emperor's decree came. Punishment for being a traitor's daughter—sent to the military camps as a whore. Not a choice. A sentence.

I arrived at the border camp expecting to be thrown to the enlisted men. To be used and discarded like all the others.

But Prince Edwin saw me on my first day. Recognized me from before the fall. Claimed me as his personal property before anyone else could touch me.

Lucky, I suppose. If that word even applied anymore.

At least I only had to serve one man instead of dozens. At least Edwin didn't have the diseases that rotted through the common soldiers.

Small mercies in hell.

For three years, I had belonged to him alone. It wasn't freedom. But it was survival.

Tonight he had returned claiming victory. Tomorrow he would leave for the capital.

If he left me behind, the soldiers would drag me into their tents within hours. I had seen what happened to abandoned camp followers. Seen the hollow eyes. Heard the screams.

I would go mad. Or die. Probably both.

So I had begged him to take me. Used the only currency I had left—my body. Degraded myself completely to earn his promise.

And it had worked.

He would take me to the capital. I would survive.

The sound that woke me was wrong.

Not the usual pre-dawn stirring of a military camp. Something chaotic. Urgent. Punctuated by shouts that carried the unmistakable edge of panic.

I jolted upright. My heart hammered before my mind fully processed what I was hearing.

The tent was empty.

Edwin's bed showed signs of hasty abandonment. His dress uniform from yesterday lay discarded on the floor. His boots were gone.

I scrambled to my feet. Grabbed my shift and shawl. Stumbled toward the tent entrance.

The moment I pushed through the flap, I understood.

The camp was burning. Edwin had lied about the victory.

He had used me one last time. Made me believe I had earned my survival.

And then he had left me here to die.