Creating a Bdsm History!

Aarav's P.O.V~

It's been days since that stirring night. And since then we had been restless arranging for my cousin's wedding. Every ritual and day divided me and Aadhya apart, allowing us no chance to talk adequately.

Her temperament and mine towards each other have altered in two contrasting forms. She's turned more informal, and I've grown more infatuated with her.

Throughout the customs, I sought to find ways to speak to her, but all she did was persuade my words off.

I wished to talk about Prashant that day but ended up soliciting another reason. He continued growing adjacent to her with each day passing by. Which was bugging me more with each day.

But I stood afar, regarding her. I observed her laughing and chit-chatting with others as she avoided me.

Not only days, but the nights also grew unpleasant for me. I coveted her touch; I craved more.

I recited that night more than hundreds of times in my head, imagining her performing those things all over again. I touched myself, struggling to feel what she gave me, and failed every time.

Nothing is the same anymore. My hate for her has deviated into something I can't name, and I require her to feel the same for me. But she doesn't, and it burns my heart.

Giving her behavior and her nature a review. There's no way she admires me the same way I admire her.

Just like right now. We're returning to my palace. Now that the wedding has successfully taken place, we have to return to our duties.

The wedding was a marvelous day for all of us, which brought substantial correlations, love, and a life partner for my cousin.

I recall what he said when we were leaving for the palace. "try to keep your fiancé as happy as possible. A happy woman leads to a happy marriage and a great kingdom." I don't assume we have that kind of relationship.

She's peering outside the carriage, relishing the mustard fields as I glare at her face.

She looks so beautiful as the sunlight pours warmth onto her face through a vacant window. She takes my breath away every time I see a smile on her face.

She's making me feel so foreign. Not solely I'm a different one here. She has also varied.

At first, I assumed she was behaving peculiarly because of her head injury. But now I suspect her. Who she is?

Why has she not been afflicted the way I am? Does she despise me that much? It aches my heart.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" I blanked out. Absorbed by my thoughts, I kept my eyes on her. "Hmm?" She asks again, completely jolting me back to reality.

"I wished to talk to you about something, but couldn't." Determination. I have to gather a lot of it to discuss that night.

"What about?" She talks with modesty, mildly looking at me. "A-about that night." Although I wished to talk about Prashant I again end up asking about something utterly nonsense.

But I still expected her to be astonished or bewildered, but she's nothing at all. She's as composed as a lifeless creature. Like that night left no effect on her, making my thoughts right about her.

"Do you remember what happened that night?" I continue asking about the most troublesome topic. I want to tell her to stay away from him. I assume I'll have to introduce Prashant somewhere amid the conversation.

Aadhya's P.O.V~

I've been noticing a difference in him. His eyes on me and his manner toward me are unusual. But why? He acts gentle and warm. Almost as if he cares about me.

He's been glaring at me from the moment we stepped into the carriage. Generating an atmosphere of my disliking. So I choose to shatter the silence.

"Do I remember that?" He mentions that night inquiring if I recall it, which makes me snicker. Why is he asking such a question when he knows we were sober that night?

He sits right in front of me, his powerful posture troubled for the first time. He can't associate with my eyes for more than a few seconds.

Does he wish to do it again? It can't be anything else. I never understood that the mighty prince right in front of me can like such degrading sex. Not that I degraded him that day. Otherwise. I would've scared the old century boy.

"What? Do you miss that night?" Smirking with my tone, I lift my leg to insert between his legs on the wooden seat as I watch him flutter to his knees. He was not at all prepared for it.

He's wearing royal attire, dressed from his head to the toe in gold color. He looks so masculine and handsome in it. But he'd look better without it.

Now that I have had his taste, I wish to taste him again and again. He peers blankly at me in shock until I waver his eyes. Dragging my feet, I land it against his bulge, watching him go powerless as I rub it gently.

"You do want it." He gasps at my words and disrupts more, as I rub his length more. "Do you want me to take care of it?" He bites his lips, responding. "Stop, the carriage rider will hear us." His innocence drives me crazy.

He might be arrogant in general, but he's so generous and submissive during bed. "Do you want me to stop?" I ask, lifting the heavy lehenga I'm wearing and smoothly taking a seat on his thighs.

"Tell me. If you say stop, I'll stop." His eyes quiver, unable to look at me as I replace my feet with my hand. "But he'll hear us." I kiss the slight of his skin available for my eyes. His neck.

"You mean he'll hear -you." He whimpers more with my vigorous strokes. "You'll have to keep it down, prince. Or we can stop right now."

Aarav's P.O.V~

My rising bulge pleads for her hands, for her touch, as well as my whole body. I never thought that she could have this much influence over me that I'll be begging to be tormented. "Do you want me to stop?" She urges again.

She very well realizes what she's doing to me.

"No! No, please! I'll keep my voice down." She smirks, sliding her hands inside the wide silk pants I'm wearing, gliding away the kurta to the side.

Her hands are so cold. How her hands are always so cold. They scatter goosebumps on my skin. She maintains her eyes on me as I hold her waist. Smoothly, she strokes my member from the base to the tip.

"Look at you. Who'll believe you're about to be a king?" I don't perceive why, but her provoking remarks are crowding my ears with delight.

I struggle to sit solidly to defend her from falling, but it's so tough. Her fingers are bruising my ego as they rub against the tip of my member. It feels so good.

"Do you like it?" I nod forthwith to her question as if it's my obligation not to make her wait. "You're such a charming boy."

"I'm not a boy." I protest. I've never been called a boy by someone other than my parents. She chortles, driving her fingers in my mouth. What is she doing? "Do you not like it?" She presents her sophisticated face, but I realize what's behind that.

Her fingers dance around in my mouth, with my tongue, trying to go deeper into my throat. I love the way she's peering at me, at my lips and cheeks as they puff up because of her fingers.

"You enjoy it as well, yet you claim the opposite." Harshly, she draws out her slippery fingers from my mouth and uses my saliva as a lubricant on my dick. I whimper at her touch unable to hide them.

"Now, are you my good boy?" Her tone is essentially territorial. She wants to hear me affirm it. "No!" I stutter as she smirks again, stroking my member roughly.

She narrows her grip around my member, clutching the tip when she reaches it. It feels so wonderful, yet it stings a bit. I hustle to control my tone. "Tell me you're my good boy." My body trembles and my member twitches more at the tone she's using.

I can't win against her. "I'm your good boy." She smirks, accomplished, and plants her lips on my neck again. Sucking and nibbling, she's marking my neck. It wasn't as reprehensible as I expected it would be to call me her good boy.

It kind of feels delighting and gratifying.

Aadhya's P.O.V~

He sinks his head to my chest, whimpering, limiting his bursting moans as I stroke him faster and faster. His whole body reacts to my touch, quivering as he holds onto my body.

The stallion is rushing rapidly to the king's landing as he's twitching so much in my hands, running close to his orgasm.

The nerves on his member have blown up, and the tip of his is swollen. He plunges into my hands to feel more pleasure. "Does it feel good?" I charge with a rasp in my tone. He nods, unable to form words as he's struggling to suppress his moans.

"Words. I said I prefer words." I extract the tip as he squirms and whimpers, peering up at me in defeat. "I'm -- I'm sorry. It feels so good. It feels amazing."

His whimpers and stuttering words rile me up. I've never been this turned on by any other guy before. It's like I want to hear him more. I want to tease and torment him more.

His warmth does something different to me. His eyes do something unique and peculiar to me. Why is he like that? Why am I feeling like this?"

I watch him becoming unable to hold his moans as he asks. "Who are you?" He's so captivating, his skin, his moans, and everything. I can tell he's about to explode any second.

The way his body is reacting, he won't be able to hold it any longer.

"You are different. You are so different from the old Aadhya. You're not Aadhya. You are someone else." He stutters, moaning at last, unable to suppress them any longer. Bearing tight to my body, I practically feel his nails on my skin.

He settles his head again into my chest as he finally escapes the agony of holding it together. He discharges until there's nothing left inside his balls. "You're damn right, prince. I'm not Aadhya. I'm Nina. I'm not her. I can never be her."

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