by M J Marstens
“Are you ready?” Frostine whispers in my ear.
I pause.
Ready for what?
Frostine leans in to rub his throbbing erection against my ass, and then I know.
Fuck yes, I’m ready. I’ve been waiting for a good dicking my entire life. Frostine chuckles against my ear.
“Well, let’s hope my dicking lives up to your dreams,” he murmurs seductively.
I realize then that I spoke out loud. I’m higher than fuck and everything around me is exploding in sensation. Every sense is on overload. And the feelings just intensify when Frostine stretches me from behind and enters me swiftly. The air rasps from my lungs and I struggle to bring any back in. Underneath me, I feel Anise tense.
“Everyone relax,” Frostine croons, and it’s like my body is jell-o.
I let go.
Then Anise lets go.
And then, we’re fucking flying.
Every time Frostine thrusts into me, he pushes me deeper into Anise, and closer to my climax. Our movements become faster, and more erratic, until Frostine groans and unleashes deep inside my ass. I garble out his name just as Anise screams mine, and we come together.
We collapse on top of each other, a sticky, but satisfied mess.
All I can think is this is the best party I’ve ever attended, and by far, the best dicking.
ANISE
Any moment, I expect the guys to show up and find me in a heap with two other men. Of course, another awkward explanation will ensue, but for once, I can’t even feel a blush begin to grace my cheeks. Frostine and Lolli have left me boneless and sated. I can barely summon the energy to move, let alone feel guilty.
“What are you thinking, sugarpop?” Lolli asks, his eyes large and dilated.
“Why, I can’t seem to feel guilty. . . I’m sure it’ll come later,” I announce.
Frostine lets out a snort.
“Honeycake, you don’t feel guilty because you have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“That’s what you think. I-”
“Anise,” he says, using my real name for the first time, “you don’t owe me an explanation. Or anyone else. I can tell from the collar you wear that it’s complicated. But submission is a choice. A gift that you give. And no matter what, honeycake, no one owns you. The minute you start recognizing and accepting your own choices is the moment that collar no longer has a hold on you.”
Queen Frostine echoes the words that I once spoke to Lord Licorice and Jolly Rancher, reminding me of their importance and truth.
Just because I choose to give all doesn’t make me the weakest link.
It makes me the strongest.
Because everyone around me needs and craves that control and because I accede it to them, means I’m really the one with the power. The minute I take my submissiveness away, they have nothing to dominate. As long as I can remember that I hold all the cards, I shouldn’t feel any guilt. The men that I’ve fallen for need me just as much as I need them.
And it’s about time they knew it.
Especially Graham.
For the first time in my life, I feel vindicated.
I’m not a pawn for King Umami to marry off to better his kingdom or for Mari to use.
I’m Anise Spyse, Royal Ambassador and abuse survivor.
I ruin everything by giggling girlishly.
“Fuck, you two are higher than a kite,” Frostine notices. “Maybe that’s why you don’t feel guilty.”
I know he’s teasing, so I stick my tongue out at him.
I wonder if my eyes look like Lolli’s.
Smiling, I untangle myself from the mass of manly limbs I’m coiled in and walk over to get my dress. I attempt to put the thing on, but end up merely draping it over myself and falling into the sugary sand.
Frostine and Lolli laugh uproariously.
Another chuckle joins them.
For some reason, my body wants to tense in fear but is simply too relaxed to do anything more than turn toward the newcomer.
Dressed in his garish pink, purple, and green silk is Jolly Rancher.
Think of the devil and he’ll appear, I muse in my head and again giggle.
A small part of me is frantic, scrambling for me to sober up, but all I can think is how I want to float away, up, up, up, up.
“A beach party? How delightful, may I join?” Jolly asks in mock politeness.
Frostine seems wary, but Lolli is practically drooling.
“Only if I can lick you,” he barters.
Jolly chuckles again.
“Of course, my prince, but only after I’ve set your body on fire.”
He turns to me, still lying down.
“You’re next, my sweet lemondrop.”
With that, reddish-orange balls of fire fill each hand. The familiar cinnamon-scented magic saturates the air and its power crackles around us. I know this magic. It’s what Lord Licorice used to threaten the Kookaburra.
“Clove fire,” Frostine breathes fearfully.
“Yes, clove fire. A wonderful creation from the real queen. Maraschino manipulated her knowledge of spices from her time in their kingdom to create something new with her magic. An unstoppable magic,” he adds, laughing cruelly.
“Unstoppable?” I ask in terrified confusion.
“Unstoppable,” Jolly confirms, not answering my question.
Instead, he shows me.
With an almost lazy stretch of his arm, he gently lobs one glowing ball of fire at Lolli. It hits the prince square in the chest and suddenly, his entire body is engulfed in flames. His screams pierce the air.
“THE OCEAN! GET IN THE OCEAN, LOLLAND!” Frostine screams at the burning man.
I watch in horror as Lolli somehow makes it to the water’s edge and tosses himself in. The waves tumble him, taking him under, and now I’m concerned he might drown, but in seconds, the turbulent waters spit him back out on the beach.
Still ablaze.
And then Jolly’s words click.
Nothing will put this magical fire out.
Not even water.
“No, no, no, no,” I sob, watching my friend burn to death.
The scent of melting flesh and cinnamon permeates my every breath and I begin to dry heave at the smell and sight.
“Your turn, princess,” Jolly declares joyfully.
I watch in slow motion as he winds his arm back and unleashes my death at me.
Run, run!
My brain screams at me to act, but my feet simply don’t heed the command.
Something hard collides into my left side and sends me sprawling to the ground.
I turn in time to see Frostine’s body take the brunt of the fireball intended for me. Like Lolli, he’s instantly consumed by the hellish inferno.
“GO!” he roars at me.
I’m torn, but I know there’s nothing I can do to save these men and I won’t let Frostine’s sacrifice be in vain. I spare a quick glance at Jolly, who seems stunned by the turn of events. He narrows his eyes at me and gives chase, but my sugarsand high fills me with adrenaline.
My feet might as well have wings, and I dash over the sand, barely feeling it beneath my soles.
I veer away from the ocean, towards the northwest.
That’s the direction of the Lollipop Woods, right?
My mind is a twist of fear and numbness. I’m still too high to work at my fullest capacity, but in truth, it might actually be what’s saving me from collapsing in panic. The sugarsand keeps my volatile emotions under wraps as I flee for my life.
Soon, the sand transforms underneath my feet, as do my surroundings.
The land becomes muggier, denser, soggier.
I rack my brain, trying to recall a map I haven’t seen in years. I think this is the Marsh of Mallow. I shiver, remembering when Graham and I crossed the Sour Swamp. If I never stepped foot in a wetland again, it would be too soon.
The marsh was dangerous, deadly even, but my demise already pursues me.
I’m just trading in one death threat for another, and quite frankly, the marsh seems the lesser of the two evils.
I run headlong into the bog, throwing caution to the wind.
Jolly follows at a distance, but I can still hear his taunt:
“Run, run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t escape my pain; I’m a sadistic man.”
GRAHAM
I’m reeling.
The information the Sugarlanders have just divulged is mind boggling.
Transformational.
They claim Anise is the true heir to the Spyse Kingdom.
Like a moron, I finally connect all the dots.
Anise Spyse.
Spyse Kingdom.
In my defense, The Savory Citadel doesn’t have much to do with the northern kingdoms. Our allies and friends are to the south, so very little is known about these other monarchies. Sugarland is the next closest kingdom, but trade is practically impossible with the lands in-between.
It all makes sense now though.
My father didn’t just marry a foreign commoner; he married a dowager queen.
Anise wasn’t a step-niece to the king, but an actual daughter of one.
A princess.
Even higher in ranking than me, an heir to my uncle’s throne.
I demanded to know how the Sugarlanders could be so sure.
Their answer:
Anise’s eyes.
Her purple-as-fuck eyes.
Only those with purple eyes are the true rulers and heirs of the Spyse kingdom.
Purple eyes, a trait so rare, only those of herbal descent have it.
No one’s ever even seen anyone else with purple eyes, except for one other person:
Maraschino, the exiled queen.
Which means Mari must be related to Anise.
My stomach revolts at the implications.
How am I going to tell my sister this?
“Not easily,” Plumpy murmurs, and I realize that I’ve spoken out loud.
“We need to speak with the king immediately,” General Caramello says.
Everyone agrees and we spring into action. If we leave now, we can reach the Candied Castle by nightfall.
“I’ll get Anise,” I announce to a frowning Chester, Plumpy, and Pepper.
I scowl right back.
They’ve been barely civil to me after my speech to Anise and it rankles me to no end.
How dare these assholes judge me?
They have no idea what Anise and I have been through.
When she and I return to The Savory Citadel, I’ll begin my official grooming as heir. There simply is no place for Anise in my life in the capacity that I desire her. It killed me- fucking killed me- to push my stepsister further away from me than she has already grown; but in reality, a marriage will be arranged for me.
I have a duty to my uncle and to my kingdom.
Would the pompous Sugarlanders prefer I keep Anise as my mistress, hushed away like some dirty secret?
I refuse to hurt her anymore.
The only dirty secret we’ll have between us is our love for one another.
And there’s a good chance I killed that, too.
I know one of the others should speak with Anise, but I can’t seem to stay away. The look in her eyes when I called her sister nearly ended me. The despondent acceptance that made me want to rage at her not to give up on me, but I’ve sealed my fate.
I’m a fool.
A jealous fool, but now is not the time.
There is much at stake and my stepsister must learn of her heritage.
I walk out into the afternoon sunshine but don’t see Anise. I call for her a few times, trying to tamp down my anxiety. When she doesn’t answer, I yell for Chester, Pepper, and Plumpy. They come running when they hear the edge of panic in my voice.
“She’s gone. I can’t find her,” I rasp out.
General Caramello comes out of his house behind the other Sugarlanders.
“My son was out here. Let us ask him. Lolland! Lolland!”
No answer.
Now everyone is worried.
Chester holds up a hand, demanding our silence, while he closes his eyes to work his tracking magic.
“I do not sense any disturbances or other magical signatures besides the prince’s,” he finally says.
“The prince?” I wonder.
“Yes, Lolland is Kandi’s heir,” the general answers heavily. “Kandine decreed it two years ago, but it has weighed heavily on my son. It is not something he embraces. Since the announcement, he’s become more rebellious. My wards are set in place to help me keep him safe and keep an eye on him, but with so much company. . .”
Caramello trails off and Pepper nods his understanding.
“The prince and Anise went off on their own, didn’t they?” Pepper surmises.
“More like he lured her away,” the general snorts.
“Anise is her own woman. If she went, it was of her own accord, but that’s neither here nor there. We must get to them for both their safety,” Plumpy says. “Chester, work your magic.”
“Luckily, the prince’s magical signature is bright. It looks like he went east.”
“The ocean,” the general sighs.
“Is that bad?” I ask, alarmed by Caramello’s sagging shoulders.
I swear to god, prince or no prince, I’ll kill this bastard if he’s brought Anise into any harm.
“The ocean is a tempestuous mess, but I doubt anyone with half a brain would attempt to get into it. No, the problem is the sugarsand,” he explains.
“Sugarsand?”
“It’s a hallucinogenic substance made from the evaporated waters of the ocean,” Pepper murmurs.
Mother.
Fucker.
The shithole prince not only steals my sister but is also getting her high?
I feel bad for Caramello and all of Sugarland.
They are about to be princeless.
PEPPER
Son of a sugar whore, the prince is off doing who knows what with Anise.
I haven’t seen Lolland since King Kandi announced him heir to the throne. Sugarland is a much quieter place since Maraschino’s exile. There are no more festivals, parties, or balls. Everyone keeps to their region and to themselves.
We’ve all lost so much it seems.
I knew the lad hated being groomed as prince, but I didn’t know Caramello had trouble reigning the boy in.
Perhaps the general tightened the leash too much and Lolland was looking for an excuse to find trouble.
To escape.
I must say, Anise is a most troublesome escape.
I think about her pouty lips, both sets, and it has me aching to find her.
Kiss her.
Lick her.
Taste her.
She’s like sugarsand in my blood; an addiction that I’ll never get enough of. Tasting her that one time has only whetted my appetite for more. And seeing her struggle against her desire for Graham, only to have him completely deny his own love, makes me yearn to heal her hurts.
I wonder if Lolli is doing that now.
They’re better suited for one another.
Both young and curious.
But Anise doesn’t want that.
She wants someone mature.
Commanding.
Domineering.
Someone like me.
And Plumpy.
And Chester.
And Graham, damn him and his foolishness.
Someone needs to talk some sense into Savory.
It might as well be me.
I walk up next to Graham, noting his purposeful stride and set face.
Well, shit.
This is going to be worse than Lord Licorice’s servant.
I better rein him in before he does something stupid and the general skewers him.
I’m just about to caution Graham, when a faint, but familiar scent tickles my nose.
I freeze.
I know that smell.
>
It haunts my dreams.
O
PLUMPY
A sweet, sickly smell pervades the air, making me gag.
I look over and Pepper is standing stock-still, even paler than normal.
Behind me, Chester and Caramello have also paused, twin looks of trepidation contorting their faces.
“Ugh, what in the sweet fuck is that smell?” Graham says between coughing and gagging.
“Clove fire,” I whisper.
“Clove fire?”
No one answers him as we all dash towards the beach. We scramble over the crest of one sugarsand dune and then pause at the massacre that lies below us. It takes a moment for anyone to react and then the general’s screams sound like an alarm around us.
“LOLLI! LOLLI! SON!”
Caramello runs to the fried remains of his only child, the magic of the fire burning the boy to death, but still preserving his features enough to be identified.
The general’s broken sobs and my harsh breathing is all I can hear.
I scan the beach and see another body.
It’s too big to be Anise.
Chester solemnly walks over to the scorched person, careful not to touch him.
“Frosty,” he mutters after a second. “Damn, he was the last one in his tribe, too. Kandi is going to be pissed.”
The Malt tribe of the Icing Ocean had been practically decimated in Maraschino’s uprising or lost to the Sweet Nothing. Only the chief’s son remained, a boy named Frosty, who had a penchant for being called Frostine.
No one is alive to mourn his death, except for us.
I look over to the general, who’s still crumpled next to Lolli’s body.
“Caramello, I’ll send word for the Dragées. They’ll come with special coffins made of sugarplum wood that should contain Maraschino’s magic. We’ll send them to the Candied Castle and hold a state funeral for both these men.”
I pause, wondering if my words have even infiltrated his mind.
As I turn around to address the others, the general’s low words reach my ears.
“Thank you, Plumsley. I am in your debt. Please have the Dragées keep my son’s remains safe while I am away.”
“Away?”
“Yes, away,” the general affirms. “I have a killer to catch.”