A new frontier, a fresh field

There was no struggle, not really. Vel overpowered the elven beauty with ease, the two of them falling to the ground with him on top, the knife tumbling from her hands and vanishing into thin air as his steel grip tightened on her wrists. Power coursed through him like never before, power and desire. Desire to conquer and subjugate. She had pulled a weapon on him, she needed to be put in her place. She would know the pleasure that came with submitting to him. To this world’s one true ruler.

With her now disarmed and on her back, there was no longer any need to keep his hold on her wrists. Without a weapon she posed absolutely no threat to him. The Heir moved one hand to her throat, holding her in place and squeezing gently, while the other reached under her dress to tear off her undergarments. A slight whimper escaped her, but there were no words. His mind enveloped hers, encircling her formidable defenses as he used his free hand to free his manhood.

She struggled in his grip, but it was in vain. He formed part of his mind into a telepathic battering-ram, despite having do idea how to do it. As he pulled back that mental weapon, he lined up his other weapon with her elven sex. It was smooth on his glans, not just free of hair but free of the texture that skin which grew hair had. His other hand now also free, he wrapped both around that smooth and slender neck.

Finally, words escaped her, though her eyes remained squeezed shut. “No! No, no, no, aaaahhh!” The surprisingly quiet exclamation came as The Heir finally began his dual ****. The first hit by the battering ram against her membrane was perfectly in sync with his cock plunging into her. He felt her maidenhead give way with only the briefest hint of resistance. Her mind put up far more of a fight, the first **** leaving no damage or impression at all. That was okay, The Heir loved a challenge. A prize that needed conquering was all the sweeter for it.

She was writhing underneath him, fully impaled on his impressive length. It was such a contrast to the tall, composed, and inscrutable beauty he had been walking with just moments ago. This was a scared and beaten foe. It didn’t quite fit, being overpowered alone would hardly reduce her to this, would it? Her mind being entirely enveloped by his was probably the main reason. Surrounded by an enemy, by the enemy, on all sides. Completely cut off, alone. It must be terrifying indeed. The thought pleased and aroused The Heir, and his weapon twitched inside her warm walls. The writhing was doing lovely things for him as well, the gentle movements lightly stimulating his member.

The Heir slowly pulled himself back out, until only his head remained inside that tight royal hole. Simultaneously he readied another mental ****. The power was thrumming within him, dancing in his veins. He thrust in both mind and body, once again assaulting the princess’ insides. She arched her back underneath him, another stifled cry of distress issuing from her lips. “Iiiieeeeaaah!”

The Heir loved it, loved this. He loved dominating her so, subjugating one of his chief foes and plundering her insides so thoroughly. Tears were squeezing out of the corners of her shut eyes and running down her temples towards the forest floor. He still could not see anything inside her mind though, the membrane was still completely unblemished and its surface still entirely opaque. He would change that, though. Time to step it up.

Pulling back again, The Heir hammered Lethiliie with another dual ****, but this time he didn’t pause afterwards. He kept it up, hammering into her in both the physical and mental realms at a furious pace. Strangled wails **** their way past his restricting hands out of her mouth as he pounded her. This was a joy like no other. War, conquest, victory, and claiming the spoils all in one.

The sustained **** showed no sign of stopping as The Heir kept battering both her mind and cervix. She felt him knocking both in her mind and at the entrance to her womb. Panic hit her mind as the enemy’s spear reached that sacred part of her. Inside her womb was the only hope for the royal elven line to continue. To have it be despoiled by the seed of evil, even if it could not take root there, would be a disaster.

The Heir reveled in her terror, even before he realized what him seeing that meant. Her membrane had finally showed the first cracks, and he had gleaned his first insight into her mind. It had been brief, and only the intensity of her panic and how at the forefront of her mind it had been had allowed him to read it. But it was progress, the first breach in the bastion that was her mind. She cried out again as he pounded against her cervix, but there was more than despair and horror in her strangled yell this time. Her melodies had been mostly silent since he attacked her, at most registering to him as a slight undertone of dismay. But with that last exclamation they had returned and had carried with them the unmistakable notes of pleasure. He grinned as she began succumbing to the unwanted pleasure, a clear testament to his power and prowess. Even as he continued relentlessly assaulting her mind, she derived more and more pleasure from the accompanying physical pounding.

The first delicious moan slipped past his clutching fingers and her soft lips, and he felt her begin to push back against his thrusts. The Heir reveled in it, reveled in this triumph, this utter domination. Here was the princess of his enemies, writhing and moaning in pleasure underneath him like a whore as he **** himself on her. Despite herself, she was deriving pleasure from her forceful conquest. She was enjoying her greatest foe defiling her most sacred parts, and she no doubt hated that.

As he continued to mercilessly fuck her into the dirt and tirelessly batter her mind, her pleasure only grew, and the cracks only widened. Her eyes still pinched shut, tears still making their way down her temples, she spoke. “It’s so… How can it be… Why is it so goooood?” The words were hoarse and choked, his hands restricting her ability to draw breath and speak. Even so, her climax as the words ended was unmissable. The final word was stretched out into a howling moan and her body shook and convulsed under The Heir, her walls contracting around his hammering manhood.

For some reason that, the pleasure and her orgasm, weakened that incredibly resilient membrane more than anything he had done so far. Impressions from her mind began assaulting his mind as they spilled forth from the new myriad breaches. The Heir never ceased thrusting though, nor did he slow his mental ****. He saw her fear, felt her pleasure as well as the despair that came with feeling that pleasure. Her terror and revulsion as she felt him penetrating both her innermost sanctums, but also her undeniable desire for it to continue. For this pleasure to continue, to experience another high like the climax she had just had. It already seemed far too long ago. The Heir would oblige her, another orgasm would be coming soon. As would he.

The Heir finally let go of the royal throat as he felt his orgasm building. Lethiliie drew in a ragged breath as the pressure vanished, but her eyes remained closed. He moved his hands to her hips, seeking to drive himself as deep as possible when he planted his seed. She understood what was about to happen, he saw the mingled despair and desire in her mind. She wanted another orgasm, craved it, but she dreaded him coming inside her. No part of her wanted that. Only his wants mattered, though.

“No, no, no, no, no, NOOOOOOAAAAAIAIIII!” Her murmured protest became her loudest scream yet as her second climax rocked her body. The Heir kept fucking her throughout it, chasing his own finish. Her spasming body was shaking as he slammed their bodies together, his powerful grip on her hips bruising that flawless flesh.

As her second orgasm ran its course, before his own could even arrive, a third one immediately wracked her lithe body. “MOTHER FORGIVE ME IT’S TOO GOOOOOD!” Her membrane shattered, falling like an undermined wall. But The Heir didn’t rush in, instead drawing his encirclement a little tighter: Showing her that he could enter her mind, even crush if he so pleased. And he could. but his instincts told him to hold back. And hold back he did, mentally. He did no such thing in the physical world, hilting as deep as he possibly could inside the royal cunt, flooding her womb with his incompatible seed.

As she felt it, felt what she perceived to be her doom flooding her even as she was still in the throes of incomparable bliss, her eyes fluttered open for the first time since The Heir had taken her down. And, as his manhood softened and that furious power retreated, Velas met those beautiful eyes. In them he saw such confusion, and in them he saw the future. A future. Despite still not entering her mind, he felt the vision claim them both.