King For A Day 2 (Patreon)

“I can’t get your tits out of my mind,” he groaned in her ear. “They deserve to be naked—covered in my cum.”

“Don’t talk like that! Just let me go now, please, and we’ll forget this ever happened,” Padme sighed. “Before someone sees us…”

“You can’t say you don’t want this, can you? You just don’t want to be seen. I don’t care if the whole Republic sees us. I’m taking you right here—not stopping for one second, not waiting one more damn second—you’re lying to yourself if you think you really give a kriff about being seen…”

She tried to wiggle free; it was impossible. Anakin had her pinned against the railing. His fingers worked at the fastening of her dress and in a moment he had it open, letting out her gorgeously pert breasts.

They hung there for a moment, nipples puckering in the open air, growing tighter and harder than they already were. Then Anakin took them in his hands, with nothing between him and her but a fine sheen of sweat, and he kneaded the resilient flesh. His fingers dug deep into her firm cleavage, until her little brown nipples twinged with the pressure he was exerting on them.

“Ohhhh! Anakin! You can’t! Please, this isn’t right!” Padme keened. Her hands clung tightly to the railing for support against the hard storm of Anakin’s aggression.

“It feels right, though,” Anakin rasped. “You love the way it feels—admit it. You can’t lie to someone who can sense every thought as it burns through your brain.”

He squeezed so hard that her breasts overflowed his fingers. Her nipples grew thick and large with his teasing. Sparks of pleasure shot through her tits with every new shape his massaging hands squeezed them into, but Padme could never admit to it. She kept moaning and struggling—trying to pull her hips away from the scorching pressure of his growing erection, her ever more receptive ass.

“I don’t want this!” Padme groaned.

“No, you just can’t admit it. But you won’t be able to lie to yourself much longer, any more than I could.” He let out a coarse laugh. “If I’d held out any longer, it’d most likely be you ravaging me.”

Reluctantly he let go of her breasts, instead stooping to run his hands over her legs, lifting up her skirt and getting at her stockings, her garters. He bunched her skirt up over her tailbone and quickly whisked down her panties so that they were out of the way.

“It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong,” Padme repeated, but she seemed to be telling herself this as much as Anakin. She wasn’t really resisting him anymore; her body no longer wiggled. She simply braced herself against the railing for Anakin to do as he liked with her.

He knelt behind Padme and untangled her panties from her ankles. Then he forced her legs to spread, staring as the motion opened up her buttocks, widening the cleft between them. Her asscheeks were trim and well-sculpted, with just enough rounded flesh there in all her lean, slight body to make them enthralling.

He gripped her cheeks and pried them wide apart, then sank his mouth in-between and ran his tongue over her anus. Padme quivered, feeling such an unexpected touch on such a taboo area. Her eyes flickered up in her head. She couldn’t keep saying that it was wrong—even a politician couldn’t lie that well.

Even a princess had a gamey taste there, but Anakin didn’t mind. What his mind was even capable of thinking was awash in how beautiful Padme was and how many fantasies he was currently fulfilling with each passing moment. He’d been afraid to be alone with her for a long time. His cock was maddeningly hard, just from feeling the nearness of her soft, limber body to his.

No woman he’d had before had ever fired his lust like this. They simpered and moaned and panted, but they didn’t burn for him like he burned for Padme. And with every moment he spent on her, the flame was spreading.

They were meant for each other, he knew. The Force willed it. With each passing second, his boldness was being rewarded. Not even a reward for him, but in the pleasure that Padme so obviously felt.

“Dank fucking farrik, Ani, that’s so dirty!” Padme whimpered. “How can you make me feel so ashamed?”

“Because you like being ashamed,” Anakin hissed, running his tongue between her asscheeks again. “Or at least, you’re going to.”

Padme blushed deeply, while her fingers tightened on the railing that so dutifully held her up. It was awful, but Anakin’s tongue felt good—as good as everything else he had done to her. And whatever he was going to do to her, Padme was sure it would feel even better. How could such dirty things make her feel so amazing?

She opened her legs more for Anakin, showing him he was welcome to do much more to her. But she kept up her soft whimpering, more like a scolded dog than a Republic senator.

Anakin kissed the insides of her thighs. “It’s okay, Padme. I don’t care that you have hang-ups. I know I should—they’ve probably kept you from enjoying yourself the way you’ve needed to for a long time. But the fact that you’ve gone unsatisfied for so long must be why you’re so tender and sensitive now. So I can’t rightly regret it. Only make it worth all the time you’ve done without…”

Padme grimaced. If only he wouldn’t talk to her like that. It was embarrassing enough, being so naked with him right out in the open, all while he played with her asshole. And to add to that, he had to say such tender, romantic things—affecting her emotionally as much as he’d impacted her physically. And he wasn’t even manipulating her; as a senator, she’d be used to that. Everything he said was sincere and painfully close to the truth.

She opened her mouth to say something—what, she had no idea—but before she could utter a syllable, his tongue was at her pussy. He licked her swollen labia and probed the tip of his tongue through her opening.

All Padme could do was moan. Her knees were weak. If he kept this up for any length of time, she would drop to the ground like a repulsorlift that’d lost power.

“So dirty! Kriff, it’s so dirty!” she whined. “But so good! It feels like—feels like…”

He forced her buttocks far apart, made her sex tilt up towards his mouth. His thumbs parted her labia and he pressed his tongue into her, swirling it through her inner folds. His licks repeatedly touched her clitoris. Padme could only shudder with pleasure.

As outré as he’d been in ravaging her, it was nothing compared to how he violated her with the sensations she now felt. She hadn’t known she could feel like this—had never achieved this level of ecstasy with her own touch or any of her rare lovers, no matter how carefully she chose them.

“You dirty nerf-herder! Oh shit, Anakin, you’re so… bad!” she moaned. “Your tongue is driving me crazy! It’s not—it’s not supposed to feel this way—make me feel these things—so good—like a—OOH! Like a whore…! A w-whore desperate for d-death sticks!”

She was wet to begin with; his tongue made her flood. Juices, warm and profusely slippery, poured out of her. The inner lips of her labia grew thicker and more sensitive, making Padme keenly aware of the lubrication flooding her passage. It was like her body was begging to be invaded—betraying her even as her thoughts delivered her to Anakin’s tender mercies…

He tasted her for another few moments. Padme couldn’t help herself—she humped against his mouth with gentle, undulating motions, knowing she must look even worse than a whore. Like a bitch in heat. She even saw her wavering reflection down in the waters below the balcony. To her own eyes, she looked more like an addict receiving a hit than a woman enjoying herself. She wanted more with a desperation that defied passion… it was outright need.

When Anakin stopped, she quailed in protest. But he ignored her, coming up to his feet, unbuckling his belt, dropping his trousers. His prick bolted out. He grabbed hold of it, thick and solid, and Padme stared at it like the sight of such a weapon might shock her to her senses.

It didn’t. She didn’t care if he impregnated her. She didn’t care if that massive endowment ruined her for other men, permanently altered the symmetry of her body. She only cared about one thing: “You’re going to fuck me, right?” she panted. “You’re going to put that big dick inside of me?” She tried not to plead, even if it was obvious in her tone.

“I’m going to give you what you want,” Anakin told her, a teasing smirk on his handsome face, twisting it almost entirely away from the boyish charm she felt such affection for.

One hand stroked her flank, petting her firm ass like he was tending to an unruly bantha, while his other hand pumped his erection like it might somehow achieve even more hardness.

“Yes!” Padme gasped. “I want you inside me, Ani! I want that big thick cock to… to do what it’s supposed to do! Oh please, it’s—it’s what I want!”

Anakin smiled deviously. She was as hot as he could’ve hoped for, with the same heat he’d suffered for so long. Padme might whine and protest for the sake of decorum, but deep down, she couldn’t deny her need. And he was glad to join her in fulfilling it. She had to be one of the most beautiful women in the galaxy—he’d make her feel like it.

Eventually.

“Ask me nicely,” he teased. “Are you sure it’s not ‘wrong’? Maybe I should stop right now, before we do something we ‘regret’.”

“It’s too late for that, you know it’s too late for that!” Padme hissed. “I want you! I want that! Give me that big cock right in my cunt and fuck me silly! I don’t care if it’s wrong anymore—not when it feels like this!”

Anakin smiled again, even wider this time. And he pressed his manhood forward until it was nestled between Padme’s thighs. Her sex was wide open, wet enough for every inch he had to give her. He eased himself into her cuntlips with no problems whatsoever. But before he could feed himself into her at that nice, steady pace, Padme shoved herself back—impaling her own body on every hardened inch that she could get.