true. Her voice quivered much like her legs as she grasped onto the wall, hoping for the added support to keep her standing.
“Do you need to know my name?” A large hand crept up her dress, pulling the skirts up above her waist awkwardly. They bunched up, the round hoops erect and pressed against her back. Her behind was exposed and the dank air from the labyrinth caressed her thighs along with the stranger’s fingers. Eventually, the hand made it to the lips of her pussy, probing around the swollen pink nub hidden between.
This made Arabelle even more desirous for the stranger as she writhed her hips back, desperately seeking for him to be more direct with his touch. His fingers pinched her clit, prompting for Arabelle to moan. The sound of her longing echoed dangerously down the labyrinth. Somewhere in the palace, someone would catch the faint declaration of pleasure that would travel up through the vents. The thought of this drove Arabelle on with passion. It was almost like being watched. Or even better, being caught like the queen almost caught her watching behind the curtains.
“No, monsieur, I do not need your name,” Arabelle breathed against the cold stones of the passageway walls. Her fingernails scratched against the sediment as the stranger pushed forward, filling her at once with the impressive girth of his French cock. She was not expecting such a move so soon, and despite being so wet, she still gasped out with the pleasurable pain of being taken without warning. Of being claimed.
“Mon dieu, mademoiselle, you are so tight.” The man hunched slightly over Arabelle, using his leverage to drive her up so her toes were barely touching the floor. One of his wonderfully large hands snaked around the front of her dress and over the tear that he had made to release her breasts. He pinched at her nipple in much the same way that he did her clitoris, provoking Arabelle to moan out in much the same way, as well.
Arabelle smiled almost sinisterly as the queen’s consort impaled her, and she replied to his observation with a simple, “You have…taken me for the first time.” It was mostly the truth. Besides taking herself with the ends of her hairbrushes, her fingers, or the help of one of the other maids, she had never been claimed by a man before. Until now. And her body wanted more of it. This was the moment she was waiting for. This was why she denied pageboy after pageboy as they rubbed their cocks against her inner thighs, begging to be let in. Arabelle wanted the queen’s man.
The stranger was driven on by learning that he had taken a virgin. Arabelle could feel the urgency in each one of his thrusts. They caused her breasts to press up against the cold stone wall. The feel of her erect nipples scratching against the harsh stone made Arabelle cry louder as she angled her hips and pushed them back into man. This forced him deeper within her, so much so that Arabelle could feel the whole of his cock pressing against her warm insides. Still, she wanted more and more of him, and so she slammed her hips into his over and over again, unable to stop herself.
Sounds of the wet slapping, body against body, filled the tunnels, along with the passionate moaning of Arabelle. The man only grunted every now and then, but he was practiced since he could not make a sound while having the queen, lest Her Highness be found out. Every now and then, he would lean over and bite into Arabelle’s shoulder, muffling what could have been an agonizingly pleasurable cry that he never allowed to fruition.
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