The sound of chanting brought Max to his feet. Whatever happened every night must have been happening at that very moment in the other room. Max crept toward the door and cracked it just far enough to peek in. The princesses were all dressed in traveling cloaks and standing in a circle, each one with a white stone at her feet. They wore their dancing slippers. Alaren chanted some child’s rhyme, and the stones melted into the floor and disappeared. Then the floor within the circle fell away, the very stone forming into a descending circular stairway. Alaren led the way down, the flower-twins followed in their pairs, and Lavinia went last, singing out of tune to herself.
The room was clear, so Max threw open the door and pursued. He came to the stairwell and peered down it, but he saw only blackness. Where did these stairs lead? The princesses had descended, and they came back every morning, so it could not have been too dangerous. Or perhaps it was not dangerous for them. If he were to intrude – there was great magic at work here, so he had to have his wits about him. Max reached inside his tunic and fingered the necklace that hung around his neck. He had worn it since the campaigns in Delphiny, and he breathed easier knowing it was there. There was nothing left to do but go down, so he did. One step at a time, silent as death, Max descended until he was enveloped in utter blackness. He wondered if even a torch would brighten this darkness. The pitch blackness touched his face and caressed his skin; he was passing through something.
Max’s senses were smothered, and he stumbled blindly and unfeelingly down the stairs. Panic gripped him, and his heart raced as he wondered if he would ever come out of the void. His mind wanted to wander into the empty spaces and lose itself, but Max kept a tight rein on his reason. Even still, he felt it slipping away, like a wild animal straining against a leash. Too much longer and the void would claim him. The first sense he had of anything other than nothingness was the scent of lilacs. Alaren. But it was more than the dark-eyed princess; it surrounded him in much the same way the emptiness did. With each step, the smell grew stronger until it completely replaced the void, and Max found himself standing on green grass at twilight. A slow-flowing river slid by, and fireflies hovered over the surface of the water. The soft turf beneath his feet called to him, and he felt as if he could just lie down and sleep on the grass for a thousand years. But there was mischief afoot and no time to sleep.
The princesses were down by the river’s edge, each pair of twins getting in a boat. Alaren and Lavinia oversaw the loading of the precious cargo, and Max knew this was his chance. He slipped behind Lavinia, who still hummed distractedly to herself, and popped over the side of her boat. Cloaked male figures helped the twins into their boats, so no one saw Max as he crawled under the wide bench near the stern of the boat and waited. Relying on his trained hearing, he was able to make out that Alaren went alone with her escort. Then Lavinia was helped into the boat where Max hid, and her mysterious, hooded escort rowed away from shore, making his way across the deep but narrow river.
Max’s ear was pressed to the wood of the boat, and he could hear the waters lapping against the sides of the vessel. The hypnotic patterns of the disturbed river beckoned him to sleep, but just as he had done while standing on the grass, he shook his head clear of the twilight realm’s charms and focused on his mission. He remembered the thrill of Alaren’s touch on his cock, of how her lips had tasted on his lips.
They reached the other side soon enough, and Max waited until everyone had disembarked and was walking across a forested clearing before he ventured forth. When he did, he found himself standing in the midst of a field of poppies. Red flowers sprung up on long, thin stems from where he stood to the edge of the forest, even as far in front of him as the palace that glowed like moonlight beyond the trees. Max’s cock swelled at the scent of the poppies. If he ingested or smoked these, he guessed he would be able to fuck for hours. These faery poppies were unlike their mundane counterparts.
The twelve princesses with their escorts, like a cloaked pilgrimage, walked ahead of him, and they were silent as the whole faery realm Max knew he was in. All but Lavinia. She whistled the same tune she had been singing and humming earlier, some snatch of melody that accompanied Alaren’s rhyme.
Max followed in silence, stalking them like he had tracked so many enemies in the field. He blessed his training, convinced that no tender prince had ever made it this far. Soon all would be revealed, and he would solve the mystery of the dancing princesses, a mystery the princesses obviously did not want solved.
The company entered the palace, and the forest glowed with its light. The bark of the trees here was silver, their leaves iridescent purple. The trees leaned toward him, their branches moving with a breeze Max could not feel. He hurried onward, not wanting to be left alone with the trees. He looked back once or twice, expecting to see them coming for him, but there was nothing. He chided himself for his foolish fancies.
Max passed down a long, high-arched corridor of marble, the most marvelous construction he had ever seen. The walls glowed with the light of no torch. Indeed, he could not identify the source. It was as if they emitted their own brilliant glow. Though Max gawked and craned his neck to see every piece of wonderful architecture, the cloaked company sped forward, clearly accustomed to their magical surroundings.
At last the corridor opened into an opulent ballroom, a cavernous room with walls of gold and a glittering floor in an alternating pattern of silver and gold. In the middle of the ballroom stood a woman who resembled the princesses in every way – all save Alaren. This woman was tall, with long limbs, fair skin, and blonde hair. Even her eyes were blue. She could have been their sister. Max looked at Alaren with fresh eyes and began to understand.
“Welcome again to our midnight ball,” the woman called out, “where we dance until your knees tremble and you can dance no more.” She wore a body suit of some reflective black fiber, and it hugged her every curve. Her breasts nearly burst from the tight bodice, and even the shape of her pussy lips was visible in the costume’s constraining proportions. Heavy stitching ran right over her clit. Max had seen such clothing before, and he knew that with every step she took, the cord stimulated her pussy. Her stiletto heels matched her outfit. She held a riding crop in her hand, and she slapped it against the buttocks of the cloaked man who stood beside her, his head bowed, hiding his face in his cowl. Six cloaked figures stood with the black-clad mistress of the ball, six in addition to the princesses’ escorts. The boatmen moved to stand near the mistress, and they, too, assumed a position of subservience, standing in a wide stance, their hands folded before their crotches, their heads bowed.
“Well, what are we waiting for, Perdita?” Lavinia asked, skipping forward in a trippingly charming little twirl. “Let’s dance!”
Perdita smiled, white teeth parting red lips. She snapped her fingers, and from behind pillars came twelve more cloaked figures. They glided forward effortless as water. “Strip!”
The men tore their cloaks from their bodies to reveal their nakedness. Not completely naked, mind. They wore cock jewelry, engraved gold rings attached to gold chains grasping at their half-hard penises. Their hard muscles rippled under their dark skin; they were all black-haired and dark-eyed like Alaren. Max nodded from where he hid near the entryway. Despite the shock of seeing all these men get naked, Max had enough wherewithal to realize one thing: Alaren was not one of the princesses.
What came next made Max bite his own fist, lest he run out and snatch Alaren away, crushing her to his chest and devouring her with kisses. All the princesses let their cloaks slip off their shoulders and fall to the floor. They all wore corsets, panties, stockings, and nothing more save their dancing slippers. The sight of Alaren’s long, dark limbs inflamed Max with desire. He had never before seen anything so beautiful, not in the foreign cat-houses, nowhere. He wanted to feel her high, tight ass in her silk panties underneath his rough skin. He wanted to hold her slim waist while he parted her sex with his cock. Max unsnapped his codpiece and let his cock fall
free. He would keep it restrained no longer. He ran his hand up and down the shaft, hardening the muscle the rest of the way. It did not take long. He kept his eyes locked on Alaren as she moved toward two Fae men and claimed them as dance partners. They looked on her with lust, but not the burning desire Max had for her. Their hunger was tempered by something Max could not identify. Perhaps it was simply because they were Fae. Max did not care what the reason was. His cock was rock hard in his hand, and he would pleasure himself for as long as he could look at Alaren.
Each princess chose two dancing partners, and an invisible orchestra struck up a waltz. The music fell like dew drops and moonlight over the room, coating everyone and everything in its beauty, doubling in Max his longing for Alaren. She fell into the arms of one of her partners, leaning back into his chest. He cradled her in his powerful arms, and they swayed together. The other man joined them, and Alaren was pressed between their flesh. They moved with the waltz, their feet unerringly skipping across the ballroom floor while their bodies undulated against one another. They moved like waves in the sea. Each thrust evoked a pull. When one exhaled, the other inhaled. Grab and swirl, push and grind, the dancers performed their sex-waltz. Max brought himself almost to climax before he stopped suddenly, letting his cock go as it twitched in anticipation of orgasm. He knew how to build up his cum for a final, explosive release. He grabbed his cock again and resumed stroking.
Perdita, the mistress of the ball, walked around to different trios of dancers and administered light spankings where she thought appropriate. Some of the twins she upbraided for not giving themselves to the night, for not dancing with all the passion they could muster. The princesses giggled and moaned, enjoying every moment of their punishment. Max wondered if some of them did not dance badly on purpose just so they could get spanked. After being disciplined, the twins danced with greater heat as they wiggled their buttocks on their partners growing cocks. Perdita walked on, and the expression on her face reminded Max of a matron of a particular cat-house he used to visit regularly. Everyone had assumed that due to her severity, she hated men and wanted nothing to do with them. But Max had known better. Over her own protestations, he gave her a good fucking one night, taking her instead of one of her girls. That was just what she had needed, and he had known that. Whenever he went back there, he always fucked her. Perdita was much the same way. She looked stern and intimidating, but Max knew all she needed – all she wanted – was a forceful cock inside her that would not spurt within the first minute of intercourse. Strong women had that effect on men. They needed even stronger men with even greater stamina to topple them and give them the orgasms they craved.
Max returned his attention to Alaren, and his cock regained its vigor. Alaren was the woman for him; there was no doubt about it. She was what he needed. Max lost track of time. He did not know how long he stood there jacking off, but the music finally ended. The princesses’ slippers were worn through. They must have danced for hours, but how time flowed in the faery realm Max did not know. He was still as horny as ever. The princesses were all covered in sweat, their hair drenched and clinging to her skin, their corsets moving up and down with their labored breathing.
“Ladies, your blindfolds!” Perdita called out, cracking her crop against her own thigh.
The faery dancers blindfolded the princesses.
“Now, to your chambers of love!”
Three by three, the dancers scattered down different corridors toward chambers unknown to Max. Each princess was accompanied by two faery lovers, and as Alaren disappeared down one hallway, Max panicked. He wanted her, and he had to have her that very instant, or he would die. At least, that was the way he felt, and he would not be denied. He waited until no one remained in the ballroom, and then he sprinted down the corridor in pursuit. He tapped one of the faeries on the shoulder and whispered in his ear that he was to service Lavinia tonight.
The faery looked at him with dull eyes that Max assumed shone like stardust when not under the influence of the poppies, for that was the only thing that could explain their behavior. They were detached yet horny, as if the poppies were both a drug and an aphrodisiac. Alaren deserved better; she deserved a real man who would take her with all the force she craved. Although the faery men were beautiful, physically perfect, they lacked initiative. Max would see Alaren fucked by no cock save his own gloriously independent one.
The faery man simply nodded and walked off in the other direction.
“What was that?” Alaren asked, turning her head. She was still blindfolded.
“Nothing,” Max hazarded a whisper. “Your chamber awaits.”
Would she recognize his voice?
Alaren stood still a moment, but then moved onwards, led by the other faery’s arm. They passed all manner of bedrooms, ranging from plush to hard, from pleasurable to painful. One room had a table with shackles and manacles attached to it. A woman – or man – might get chained down there and given forced fellatio. Another room was nothing more than a cage in which stood another device for a subject to be strapped into and experimented on sexually. But they did not stop at any of these rooms. They moved on until they came to room where a swing hung from four points in the ceiling.
The faery bound Alaren’s hands behind her and then moved as if to pick her up. Max had to improvise and go along with whatever the faery had planned. He did not want to give away his presence so early. Together they lifted Alaren into the swing, a cleverly designed hammock that kept her legs spread apart, her sex exposed to any and all who might want to partake. It also supported her weight horizontally with shoulder straps so that she would fall neither forward nor backward. Max made sure not to brush his clothing against Alaren’s skin, because she knew the faeries were naked.
The faery man looked at Max, and Max mimed that the faery should take the pussy. He did not want the bristles of his mustache giving him away. Instead Max moved around to the front. He tore away Alaren’s corset with one mighty rip, breaking clasps, and she cried out in delight. He pushed his sleeves up over his elbows, and finding some vials of oils nearby, he poured some into his hands and massaged her breasts, running his fingers across her nipples, pinching them softly at first, then clamping down hard. He held them tightly for several seconds until Alaren squirmed and fished for kisses that he could not give her.
The faery’s face disappeared between Alaren’s legs, and she shuddered, drawing in a deep and sudden breath. “Oh, yes, just like that.”
Her nipples were hard as pebbles, and though Max did not put his mouth to them, he chanced flicking them with his tongue. With two tongues working on her at the same time, Alaren could not contain her sighs and moans, and she bucked her legs in the stirrups. Her hands remained bound behind her back, so she could not touch Max, but she moved as if she was dying to – which seemed only to increase her desire for him.
Max played and pinched, tweaked and licked until Alaren grit her teeth and growled in her frustration-mixed desire. “Get inside me, you fools!”
Max smiled to himself. He liked them saucy. Max was not ready to give up the game yet, so he silently instructed the faery to take the front. If Alaren leaned her head against Max’s tunic, she would know. Max considered removing his tunic and other clothing, but he did not want to be without his dagger, and he did not want the faeries to see his necklace.
The faery turned Alaren into a suspended seated position and bent his knees, angling his cock up toward her pussy. He slipped inside her wet pussy and buried himself. Alaren moaned and squeezed his torso with her shapely thighs. Max, however, took his time. He massaged her anal rosebud with his oiled thumb until he felt her muscles loosen in increased need. Only then did he pour oil down the length of his cock and rub around until the whole shaft was slick, hard, and ready. He snapped the codpiece completely off so that no fabric was near enough to touch Alaren’s skin.
Max grasped her buttocks as he placed the head of his penis against her back passage. The faery man paused in his
thrusting, obviously well trained in double penetration. Max had done a three-way with two women before, but he preferred this more. Even for a man, there was something sexier about a woman getting filled up at the same time. Max began his push slowly, testing Alaren’s anal barrier. Her ass clenched against the pressure, but not so much as to bar his way. The fat cock head slipped in, and Max paused as Alaren trembled and howled.
“Don’t stop,” she cried. “Bury it!”
Max obliged her, letting his oiled shaft find its way home. She lifted her hips, putting her full weight on her waist so that she could get her ass as high as possible. Max wiggled until his balls touched her pussy lips and slapped against the faery’s sack. He could feel the faery man’s own hard cock resting against his, in a different passage separated only by a thin veil of flesh. Slowly they started, filling her up again and again with their meat, making her scream until she came.
It was not until sweat ran in rivulets down her back that Max removed the blindfold. Alaren immediately leaned forward and kissed the faery man who was in her pussy. But when she leaned back to kiss the man attending so lovingly to her ass, she gasped.
“Maximilian!”
Chapter Four
Alaren’s pussy spasmed as her orgasm rocked her. Maximilian had somehow outwitted them, and he was fucking her ass. She had wondered who this new partner was, whose hands had been on her, whose cock was ripping her ass apart, but she had not dared to hope that it was Maximilian. Now that she saw him, she could not contain her pleasure. “Maximilian,” she said again, and this time her voice was low and breathy. “Kiss me.”
The Twelve Naughty Princesses (Naughty Fairy Tales) Page 3