The Anniversary

Chapter 1 Part 3

Marcus was nearing his limit, and she knew that. During their dance, she could feel the tension rising in him. It was so tangible she could cut it with a knife. All he could think of, even before the mind-wrecking display she’d put up for him, was getting some privacy as soon as he could afford to, and pleasing himself for the rest of the night. Otherwise, he’d end up ploughing his own sister.

It wasn’t soon enough. She needed him to be broken down completely, his mind a mush, feeling like he was walking through a swamp, or swimming up against a river with an irresistible current. Her body was driving him crazy, but it wasn’t enough to push him over the edge. He needed to be lit up by jealousy, burning with the fury of a sun, his logic and reason crushed under the weight of his instincts and giving way to pure, undiluted compulsion.

He was avoiding her now, which told her he was almost done for. This gave her enough time to hatch her plan. Her brother was the most strong-willed person she knew, and he didn’t have the fortitude to resist her, so the pathetic weaklings hoping to be her princes were no match. She was certain she’d made a few of them come in their pants. She’d do things like “accidentally” rub their inner thighs as they trailed their hands down her spine, and they would start spasming. Their feelings were transparent, no matter how hard they tried hiding them, no matter how deep they buried them.

She barely had to try to lure them in her trap. A few bats of her eyelids and a couple of inviting motions, and she had three men onto her. She hadn’t expected more than one to show up, but apparently there were a bunch of people willing to drop all pretences of formality and jump on her like wild animals. These apes couldn’t fathom being on Marcus’ level. They were so amoral and debauched, they were going to deflower her on the same day she was presented to them, nearing her adolescence but still in large part a child.

Two men were before her, on either side of her; the third one was behind her, resting against the corner. She recognised the last one: he was one of Marcus’ advisers, a decrepit old creep and a stick in the mud. He was likely trying to vent his frustration about what he wasn’t getting from his hag of a wife, or what he never did get. He was preaching about modesty and moderation to the masses and to the royal family every waking day, but now he didn’t think twice before laying hands on the first princess, the king’s own little sister, and a undeveloped child at that. Emilia didn’t know whether to be disgusted at his hypocrisy, or be proud in the knowledge that even the most insecure husk of a man could know true beauty when seeing it.

Marcus noticed her before too long; she could see him in her peripheral vision. He was standing there, not knowing how to react. He probably was still trying to process exactly what it was that he was looking at. Good. She was going to give him the performance of a lifetime. She wanted to know how he would handle it. Would he run straight at them, and cave in their skulls with a single well-placed punch each? Would he draw the nearest sword and castrate all three of them? Would he show them how it’s done by taking her right there and then, show them how to properly break in a child, where everyone could see, where everyone could hear?

Knowing he was looking at her in such an intimate state excited her. She was committing some transgression, doing something wrong, befouling some image of purity expected of a 10-year-old girl, doing something a child wasn’t supposed to do. She could feel the heat building up in herself, and especially between her legs. She could feel her arousal leaking down to her thighs and tracing her legs; she was so hypersensitive it made her shiver. She could smell the stench of the men surrounding her; vile, lowly men, who didn’t deserve to touch something as divinely pure as she.

She raised both of her arms and wrapped them around the old man behind her, as she pressed her buttocks against his groin. The man on her right started kissing her collarbone, then moved down to her sides, and then aimed for her armpit. His tongue felt warm and tickly, but it was a surprisingly erotic experience. He enjoyed her smooth skin, a young child’s skin that had never experienced hair growth. He caressed her small arm with one of his hands, his tongue tracing circles around her armpit, covering it with his saliva. With his other hand, he started fondling her chest, pressing against her nonexistent breasts, and occasionally pinching her hard, erect n*****s.

The man on her left was kissing her ear, her cheek, and her neck. His hand was on her hip, and he moved lower, touching her outer thigh, then gradually moving inside. He felt her excess lubrication there, and pressed harder between her legs to gain access. She toyed with him for a little while, but she parted her legs eventually, as he slowly, awkwardly reached up towards her kiddy cunt, pushing away the loincloth-like end of her dress obscuring the view. She could feel his fingers when he reached her, as he froze, confused about what he was feeling, before figuring it out: she had covered up her genitals using a strip in the colour of her skin, stuck on her p***y with an adhesive. That didn’t stop the man from trying to stimulate her through it.

The old man behind her took his time to liven up, but after enough friction from Emilia’s backside, he finally got the idea. He lowered his hand down to her arse, making sure to feel every ridge and contour of her back on the way there. He squeezed a buttock and exhaled deeply, as if a million fantasies came to fruition. He put a finger in her butt crack, as he used two others to spread her cheeks wide. She felt a finger touching her hairless, immature anus, feeling her folds and teasing her entrance. Her sphincter tightened by reflex, fuelling his lust. He was probing her rear end for entrance, he was going to stick his finger in there. If her brother didn’t do something soon, he was going to watch his little sister getting touched in her most dirty place, sodomised by this old man.

She was going to lose her mind. She had never felt so hot and so dirty before; she was drenched in her own lubricants. She wasn’t thinking straight, the only thought occupying her mind being how much she craved release. She closed her eyes and imagined her brother doing this to her, her brother playing with her arse, teasing her dirty spot. She imagined him forcing his huge adult d**k in her preteen turd cutter, stretching her sphincter to its limits and beyond. She imagined all those people looking at her in disgust, surprise, and arousal, seeing the pure little angel getting her s**t pushed in. She was close, she was going to climax, she didn’t care what was going on any more, she just wanted to come.

“Excuse me! Ladies and gentlemen!” her brother’s voice echoed through the room. He was hitting his glass with a fork or something to attract attention. “It’s been an honour having you here tonight. I’d like to thank…”

Marcus went on to deliver a speech of sorts. This promptly made Emilia’s reverse harem fearful, stopping them in their tracks, and also leaving her unsatisfied. Initially, she was angry that he hadn’t acted sooner, and then that he hadn’t let her climax, but the more she thought of it, the more she appreciated the genius of it.

He’d got back on her for all the teasing she’d done on him. He’d diffused the situation without drawing attention to her shenanigans. Her suitors had ran away in fear, not knowing whether he’d seen them, but not really being able to ask him about it either. They were going to live in paranoia for the rest of their short lives, while Marcus was busy pondering the most creative punishment for the three.

Emilia collected herself and put her dress in order. She waited for Marcus to finish his speech and for the applause to die down; the party was revitalised following that. Marcus used the opportunity to sneak out of the room while people were busy frolicking. It was easy to tell from his restlessness what he was about to do, or at least it was easy for Emilia.

He thought he was going to get off easy tonight; that he was going to get some privacy and then pleasure himself however many times it required to feel so exhausted he’d practically faint, to sleep without having to think about what had transpired tonight. Or, at least, that’s what he wanted to believe. In truth, the memories of this night would haunt him to the grave. Countless gallons of jizz would be spilled revisiting these sights, sights exciting him far more than his mediocre wife. Long after Emilia’s marriage, he’d be pondering the possibilities. What if? What if he’d taken her that night? What did she feel like on the inside? What experiences had he given away to another man because he’d been too tied up in the social expectations of a good brother to take charge?

Emilia saw the possibilities and tossed them aside. If Marcus was going to take a deep sleep of s****l exhaustion tonight, he wouldn’t be doing it alone.