Background:

This is an excerpted sex scene from a much larger fantasy story I've written. Two races, the Shirikai and Valadrians, have been at war. The Shirikai, let by Varanik, have invaded the Valadrian city of Dirath, defended by princess Oonagh. Oonagh is based on the German fantasy singer of the same name (Senta-Sofia Delliponti). In this story, she is a powerful sorceress, and famous and loved in Valadria for her beauty of voice and bright personality. She lead the defense of Dirath, where she engaged in a one-on-one magic duel with Varanik, and was brutally defeated. He had privately offered a generous resolution to the invasion -- the people's lives would be spared, and their wealth unplundered, but in return she would submit herself to be his personal concubine, reluctantly accepting defeat both on behalf of herself and also for everybody else who'd have suffered should she refused him.
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The door to her bedchamber creaked open, pulling Oonagh from her troubled thoughts. The hours of waiting had done little to calm her nerves, each minute a reminder of the impending confrontation. She had been given time to wash and dress, the simple gown she wore now feeling more like a shroud than a garment of peace. When Varanik stepped inside, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across his stern features, Oonagh felt a shiver of anticipation and dread. This was the first time she had seen him so closely, his presence as commanding in this intimate setting as it had been on the battlefield. His dark eyes held hers with an intensity that sent a jolt through her, the unspoken promise of dominance clear in his gaze. Her heart pounded as he approached, every step measured, purposeful, as if savoring the moment of final conquest.

His voice possessed an unfathomable depth, resonating like the peal of a resounding bell. It was ethereal, yet simultaneously soothing - and undeniably alluring. Oonagh felt an involuntary shiver course through her, her skin prickling against her will. She raised her gaze to meet his, her lips parting slightly, her expressive brown eyes reflecting a mixture of trepidation and appeasement.

"Do you regret your decision, Princess?" Varanik's voice was low, almost gentle, yet the power behind it was unmistakable.

Oonagh swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I did what I had to do for my people," she replied, trying to summon the strength that had once defined her.

Varanik nodded, a small, almost approving smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You are brave, Oonagh. But bravery alone will not shield you tonight."

He reached out, gently lifting her chin with a single finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Surrendering to me was just the beginning. Now, you will learn what true submission means."

Oonagh's breath hitched, her resolve wavering as his words sank in. "I... I understand," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Good," Varanik said, his smile widening. "Then let us begin."

He took her hand, leading her to the edge of the bed. Oonagh followed, her steps hesitant yet unresisting. The room was dimly lit, the shadows dancing on the walls as the flickering light from the torches cast an almost surreal glow. Varanik turned to face her, his expression a mix of sternness and curiosity.

"Remove your gown," he instructed, his tone brooking no defiance.

Oonagh's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the ties of her gown. With deliberate slowness, she untied the knots, the fabric slipping off her shoulders and pooling at her feet. She stood before him, vulnerable and exposed, her heart racing in her chest.

Varanik's gaze roamed over her, taking in every detail. "You are exquisite," he said, his voice a hushed whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "And tonight, you will belong to me completely."

He stepped closer, his body radiating a heat that Oonagh could feel even before he touched her. His hands found her waist, pulling her against him with a possessive urgency. She could feel the strength in his grip, the undeniable authority that he wielded over her. As he leaned in, his lips brushed against her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

He kissed her hard, his lips almost brusing hers as he explored her mouth with a hunger that was both frightening and intensely thrilling. His hands traced the contours of her body with the same fervent urgency, caressing every curve as if committing them to memory. He then firmly pinned one of her wrists above her head, his other hand slipping beneath the hem of her skirt to gently stroke the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

She gasped against his lips. Moving slowly up towards her waistband he paused at first when encountering fabric there, teasingly running his fingers along its edge before suddenly jerking it downwards without warning to yank off completely in one swift motion - exposing Oonagh fully.

With her clothing discarded, he pressed forward again so that their bodies became flush against each other. He ran kisses across Oonagh's neck as his hands expertly stroked her nipples and clitoris with perfect precision,never lingering too long, maintaining a delicate balance between intense pleasure and sweet torment.

Finally, with her body already trembling from his touch, and an overwhelming heat consuming them both, he moved lower still to position himself between Oonagh's legs. Her heart pounded. It was finally happening. His mouth found hers again as he entered her in one slow thrust. There was a hint of pain at first, but it quickly subsided. Oonagh tried to clear her mind, feeling humiliated by her own enjoyment, and trying to suppress it. But it was of no avail.

She lay in a daze as her muscles were slowly pushed apart, stretching and adjusting to accommodate his manhood. She could hardly believing what was happening. Seeing that she was avoiding his gaze, Varanik grabbed her chin firmly and kissed her hard again. Her muscles tightened, and she felt electric spasms coursing through her. Why did she find pleasure in this? His thrusts grew gradually faster, becoming more urgent and controlling. His touch was possessive and controlling, yet subtle and agile.

He moved inside her with a raw intensity that communicated what this moment meant with no words needing to be exchanged. Oonagh could no longer deny the pleasure she was feeling, nor fight against it any longer. With each thrust of his hips she felt herself surrendering more and more to him - her captor - willingly allowing him to take control in this way .She moaned softly with each movement, a sound that only seemed to drive him wilder still as he began slamming harder into her; pushing further and deeper than ever before until all Oonagh could do was cling onto him, her last vestiges of resistance dissolving.

With inhuman strength he flipped her and tossed her on her stomach - and to her surprise, she found herself immediately and willingly positioning herself on all fours and arching her back, presenting her ass to her conqueror. A wave of euphoria enveloped her now - she was fully and willingly surrendering - the exquisite feeling of submission as she offered herself to him was delightful.

He entered her ass without warning - and with surprising ease - the muscles of her sphincters relaxing and offering no resistance. He grabbed a handful of her hair tightly in one hand and pulled it back so that she was forced to arch further towards him.

His pace increased rapidly. She felt an odd sense of deja vu in this position, feet dangling, ass presented submissively, body being slammed forward and backward as she gazed at the sheets. Varanik had outplayed her at every part of the battle. It was not truly a fight -- she was unable to put up any real resistance. She felt like she felt now -- bent over and getting owned. He was only making literal what he had already done to her figuratively. But this time, she loved it.

The sound of their skin colliding loudly reverberated through the room, her beautiful golden-peach cheeks rippling from the force as he plunged deep into her ass, his cock invasively forcing her muscles apart, filling her and conquering her thrust by thrust.

"Yes," Oonagh murmured, her voice hoarse and breathless as she finally became fully aware of the pleasure coursing through her body. "Yes, yes - take me! Claim me for yours!" She gasped with each thrust, eyes rolling back in delight at the sensation that consumed her. He spanked her over and over as he fucked her - hard enough to sting but not hard enough that she didn't enjoy it. His free hand roaming, pinching, teasing, as he relentlessly pummeled her body.

Oonagh moaned as his dominance over her grew ever more intense. She felt like she was melting beneath him - into the bedspread and then through it until eventually there would be nothing left of her but a conquered city in its place; no longer a princess, or even an individual Valadrian anymore, but just another part of this new kingdom he was creating for himself with each thrust inside her.

"Yes, I'm yours - all of me is yours," Oonagh murmured. She was in a daze; no longer able to think, only letting him take control as he continued ravishing her body from behind.

Varanik seemed to take her words as a challenge, pushing himself even harder into Oonagh now. His hands roamed around her body - grabbing onto her waist and pulling tight against him each time he thrust forward.

He grabbed a fistful of hair in one hand and yanked it back hard, making Oonagh cry out before then using his free hand to pull down on the shoulder opposite from where he was holding; forcing her further down towards the bedspread. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her -- starting in her ass, but extending like bolts of electricity throughout her entire body.

"Yes...yes! Harder, please! Take me, own me!" Oonagh begged.

In truth, Oonagh knew was happening. She had been sexually unsatisfied all her life. Few in the kingdom could equal her spellpower, and she knew it. Her knowledge that she could overpower any of her previous sexual partners, combined with her sorceress pride had left her submissive desires woefully unfulfilled. But now, her blatant and abject defeat only fueled the eroticism. It was like being presented with a royal feast after ages of starvation. Each rhythmic sound of him pounding against her, along with the shaking of the bed, symbolized his blatant victory over her. She reviled in the violation, the intimate, raw, submission.

"Harder, Varanik! Fuck me like you did on the field! Fuck me!!"

Varanik tightened his grip on her hips, fingers digging into her soft skin as he continued to relentlessly pound into her. "Who rules over you, Oonagh?" he demanded, his voice a dark rumble of victory.

"You do, Varanik! You rule me, conquer your subject!!"

Varanik: "Louder, Oonagh. Let all of Valadria hear their princess's wanton submission."

"Yes!! Fuck me! Make me your whore! Show me who's in charge!" Oonagh gasped breathlessly between each thrust.

There was a momentary pause as her hair was released. She then felt her head being pressed down into the sheet, his sole against her face. "Oh gods, yes," she thought. Her toes curled and muscles tightened again. He thrusted into her with a rough circular motion that rocked her body back and forth.