Prince Maillard was betrayed by his lover, Talia, and nearly assassinated by the radical group that she secretly worked with. Now, he keeps her as a pet, controlling her body and her pleasure using a high-tech chastity device. 4k words, very dark content rating.
Content warnings/tags: noncon; sexual slavery as a legal punishment; revenge sex; nonconsensual restraints; emotional abuse and humiliation.
It was the end of a long, exhausting day of intergalactic diplomacy and negotiations, and Prince Maillard welcomed the tranquility of the walk back to his living quarters.
There was a transport that could bring him near-instantly from his offices at the top of the station to his home at the center, but the long, meandering walk that connected the two passed through several public and private greenhouse-gardens, refreshing his spirit with the sight and scent of green plants and the soft sounds of splashing water from decorative fountains built into the greenhouse irrigation systems.
The walk also gave him time to play a little game of anticipation with the pet waiting in his quarters.
As he walked, he occasionally pulled out his tablet and toyed with the various settings on the open application. It had been developed as a custom order for the Prince, to match the piece of technology that it connected to back in his quarters; on his instruction, none of the settings had any labels, allowing him to adjust them in public or even in the middle of political meetings without comment.
He stopped for a moment beside a burbling artificial creek and twiddled with a sliding control, idly running the slider up and down in slow and then quicker movements. Then, once he was quite sure his pet was feeling his attention, he flipped one of the radial selections before hitting a button that would remember and repeat the pattern he had been wiggling the slider in.
The last half of the Prince's walk home saw him in a much better mood.
When he stepped into his living quarters, he found the recipient of his attentions immediately. She was in his receiving-room, bent over in a very expressive pose, one hand braced on the arm of his settee, the other pressed between her thighs. She was breathing heavily, her muscles straining and twitching against the invisible restraints that had been triggered by the radial selection on the application. Her thin dress was rucked up between her legs as if she had been trying to pull it up when the restraints had locked her into place.
"Talia," he greeted.
She bared her teeth at him. "You fucking bastard--ahhh," the anger in her voice faded into a whine of need as her eyes rolled back in her head.
The device that the Prince controlled was locked on to her body in multiple parts: two cuffs around her wrists, another two around her ankles, and--most vitally--the belt around her waist. Her hand, the one which had been trapped between her thighs when the Prince had triggered the magnetic field restraints on the cuffs, flexed and scrabbled against the metal plate of the belt now, scrunching the fabric of her dress.
The Prince pulled out his tablet, curious, and saw that the repeating pattern on the slider had kicked up to the higher speed, the slider rocking up and down in quick movements. Talia began to let out helpless, frustrated little grunts as the slider crept higher and higher on each oscillation.
The slider was connected to sonic pulse generators on the inside of the belt. Although no part of the belt pressed directly against Talia's sex, the sonic pulses--as it had been explained to the Prince--made it feel as if the air itself was vibrating against her clit and labia, providing very precise bursts of sensation that could feel incredibly intense. At a high enough setting, they could even bring her to orgasm without a single physical touch to her body.
Once the Prince had learned that, of course, he had promptly had the controls re-configured so that he would never accidentally push her over that threshold.
As the pattern dropped back into the slower waves, Talia let out a quiet sigh that might have been disappointment or relief, her breath shaking.
The Prince hummed and tapped the button to take back manual control of the slider, pushed it all the way to the top, and left it there.
Talia cried out and tried to jerk her hips forward, but they were held in place by the belt, restrained by the same magnetic field as the cuffs. Her naked toes curled against the floor. Her breasts, barely covered by the dress that was pressed obscenely tight between her legs where she was trying to rub herself, heaved as she sucked in a breath.
"Fu-u-uck," she gasped out, tilting her head back in a helpless display of need. "You're such a fucking--ughh..." she sagged as the Prince unlocked her restraints, allowing her to move freely again, but her pose didn't change much; she clutched tighter at the settee and rolled her hips, knees spreading sluttishly, her fingers scrabbling between her legs as she instinctively tried to reach her aching cunt.
"So disrespectful," the Prince scolded.
He walked past her and into his bedroom, tossing the tablet onto the bed as he began to strip out of his formal clothing, the panting and groans of Talia in the next room providing as nice of a backdrop as the running water had in the garden.
Talia had been his lover once, years ago. He had been enamored with her, had been prepared to marry her.
Then he had learned that she was a traitor--a spy, sent to report on him by a rebel group that wanted to overthrow his family's governance. He had nearly been assassinated in the fallout, but the rebel group had ultimately been captured, their surviving members sent to various prison camps to serve life sentences of hard labor.
Except for Talia. Prince Maillard had asked to oversee her sentence...personally.
She had always been a very demanding lover, insisting that he pleasure her in every way he was capable of. He had been more than happy to do so when she had him fooled; now that he knew her better, it provided a special satisfaction to control the orgasms that she had once thought were her right, tormenting her until she was desperate enough to beg and humiliate herself for the opportunity to earn even a single touch to her traitorous cunt.
"Remind me," he called, "when was the last time I gave you an orgasm?"
Talia didn't reply, but the conspicuous lack of insults--and the quiet whimpering noises that accompanied her heavy panting--said more than enough.
"A few months now at least," the Prince mused out loud. "And it was a ruin, wasn't it? That's right."
He smiled at the memory: he had locked Talia in place in a humiliating pose, bent back over the arm of the settee with her thighs spread, and had removed the belt. She had been so eager at first, and then had been so distressed when he insisted on just gently toying with her clitoris, blowing air on it and rubbing a soft brush back and forth until she sobbed out a weak, ruined orgasm under the teasing touches. She had been in a wonderful state after that, begging in a broken voice for him to fuck her leaking pussy so that she could come properly.
"Maybe we should try that again, to remind you of your place. What do you think?"
"No," Talia said immediately, sounding a great deal less rebellious.
Prince Maillard rejoined her in the front room, now wearing only a robe. Talia had lowered herself down to kneel on the floor--likely less out of respect and more because her legs couldn't hold her weight any longer under the assault of sonic stimulation--and she was shuddering with tension, one hand still pressing and grasping against the metal between her thighs like she couldn't help but try and touch her clit despite knowing full well that it was locked away from her.
He smirked down at her. "No?"
"Please," she gasped, her face twisting at the bitterness of the word. "Please, Maillard, not that again. I can't stand the ruins, they make me feel so--so empty. Anything else, please, I'm begging you."
"You're begging me? A minute ago you were cursing me," he pointed out. "But I suppose I should incentivize you when you demonstrate the ability to act civilized. Rewards are how you train an animal, isn't that right? Fine. No ruin today."
As he spoke, he tapped the slider on the tablet in his hands, turning off the sonic pulses as well. Talia groaned, relaxing on the floor into a huddle of sweat-damp limbs as the stimulation stopped.
Prince Maillard walked over and nudged her side with his foot. "Don't you have anything to say to me?" When she didn't immediately respond, he sighed. "When you show no gratitude, Talia, it makes me less inclined to be kind to you."
"Thank you," she muttered finally, sounding as if she had to fight to keep the sulk out of her voice.
"You're welcome," he responded politely, and smirked when she lifted her head enough to glare at him. "Up, now, I want to make use of you."
Talia pushed herself up onto her knees, clearly assuming that he meant to use her mouth--not an unreasonable assumption, since that was typically his preference; he found it especially entertaining to force her to suck him while subjecting her to the sonic pulses, making her moan around his cock in delicious desperation--but he gestured for her to keep rising. "On your feet. Over the arm of the settee, I suppose, the way that you were when I walked in; that was a very nice position."
