by james
Now that he’d sated himself twice, he wanted to bring his bride-to-be to the same pinnacle of pleasure. A new feeling took over him. He was a man now, and responsible for his wife’s satisfaction. He’d possessed her in every way, and now she was his.
He pushed his fingers in further, and then thrust with his cock. He could feel himself, through Lily’s body, his cock pressing against his hand. The impression nearly made him lose his head off his shoulders. A pulsing started deep in his belly and flowed towards the tip of his cock. He knew the flood was coming, but he wanted to gratify Lily first. He leaned down and bit her gently on the back of her neck, thrusting rapidly, as he’d seen the stallion do. Now he was the stallion, and this was his mare.
Lily cried out again, this time shrieking as her orgasm shook her from head to foot, leaving her panting and flushed. Prince Lupin came a second later, holding her breast in one hand, his other fingers buried in her cunt. Afterwards, he collapsed at her side, holding her in his arms, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his cock still buried deeply in her body.
And that is when Violet conjured them back to the palace.
They arrived in front of the court, still entwined, their bodies sticky, and glistening with sweat. Prince Lupin raised his head, blinked, and then gave a rather tired grin. “I’ve found my bride,” he said. He waved his arm at one of the gaping courtiers. “Yorik, be a good man, throw us some robes and let’s get the wedding on the way!”
He felt Lily’s nipples harden against his chest and he chuckled. “Do you like it too when everyone is watching us? Can you feel me getting hard again?” he whispered into her ear, and he was tickled to see her turn bright red.
King Henri let out a furious bellow when he saw who was lying in Prince Lupin’s arms. But there could be no doubt that the marriage was consummated, so he had to resign himself to being the father of the bride, rather than her husband.
Wrapped in a new robe, Lily kissed her prince, said, “I do.”
Lupin, also dressed, kissed her back and set the crown of gold and pearls on her head. Then she and Prince Lupin went to the royal baths to share a marble tub.
Epilogue
“Of course they lived happily ever after.” Violet sighed and put her magic mirror away. “I just love a happy ending.
“You may be wondering what happened to King Henri, after his daughter married Prince Lupin. Well, he returned to his kingdom. Would you like to see?”
She took the magic mirror out of the silken purse and blew softly upon it. “Look. There he is.”
In the magic mirror, an image appeared. King Henri sat on his throne, his head in his hands. Lines of sorrow marred his handsome face, for handsome he was. He had a proud, leonine air about him that his sadness accentuated.
“My poor Henri, he is happy for his daughter, despite his appearance. But he longs for a wife and heir for his kingdom. If he dies, the kingdom will fall apart, prey to greedy, neighboring kingdoms. He doesn’t want to bring war upon his people, for he is a good king.”
Violet got up from the fallen log where she’d been sitting and wandered about the small clearing. Her bare feet barely stirred the soft grass, for she’d taken her fairy aspect again and now multicoloured wings flashed on her back.
“I fear I shall have to intervene. When my dear friend, Summer Willow died, she begged me to care for her daughter. She also asked me to make sure Henri found happiness… I think I can take care of that.” A sly smile played about her mouth. “After all, King Henri is quite well endowed. Now mirror, show me the present!”
She waved, and the magic mirror showed King Henri getting ready for his royal bath. Pretty maids took his cloak, tunic and leggings. They stared at his wide shoulders and flat stomach, and swallowed hard as they feasted their eyes on his magnificent, long, thick cock. But he didn’t notice the lusty glances they threw his way. He was too wrapped up in his sorrow.
He sat and let them scrub his back, and when one reached down to wash his crown jewels, Violet gave an annoyed cry. “Please excuse me, I will have to leave you now. I hope you enjoyed the story of Lily and Lupin as much as I enjoyed telling it to you.”
She put the magic mirror away, and then she spun three times around. When she stopped, she was wearing a dress the color of sheer delight, and her hair was the color of gold and her eyes were the blue of the summer’s sky.
The End
Prince of the Logos
By Mary Winter
Chapter One
Another beautiful day, and I’m stuck inside like a servant. Amelle frowned a she stirred the concoction bubbling in the pot once more, wishing she didn’t have to do mundane chores. She looked out the glass window, which was the only extravagance in the humble cottage. Her mother picked herbs in the garden. Amelle knew Daria Morningrose had been a great healer once. She had cured noble and common alike of their illnesses. Amelle knew her mother spoke of a lover, her father, who refused to share his life with Daria and her unborn child. She didn’t want to end up like her mother. She wanted more.
With a sigh, Amelle wiped damp strands of her blond hair out of her eyes. Sweat plastered her thin blue gown to her body, turning the fabric nearly sheer. She stirred a pot of soup, then switched spoons and stirred a pot of dye that sat bubbling next to the soup. She wanted to be outside tending the garden or perhaps making a trip into town for her mother, but Daria always gave her an endless stream of chores. Yesterday she had been on her hands and knees with lye soap scrubbing the floor of the cottage, just because it had to be done once a week. I just want a day off. Daria spends half a day each week working at her weaving. Why can’t I have the same kind of leisure?
She watched as her mother bent over the cabbage patch, frowning at the tender young plants. Daria looked at the leaves of first one plant, then the next, a grim expression on her face. Turning her attention back to the pot, Amelle’s sour expression mirrored her mother’s. They needed the cabbage and all the other vegetables in the garden, to get them through the winter. It wouldn’t do to have them eaten by some rodent.
The stew’s tempting aroma filled the cottage, and Amelle’s stomach rumbled. She had eaten a slice of bread with a bit of honey for breakfast, but now the sun eased towards the horizon, and Amelle was hungry. She thought about stealing a ladle of stew, but the stew needed to last them for the week and she knew her mother had carefully measured out each portion. It doesn’t matter how hungry I am. Daria would beat me if she caught me with even a crumb that she hadn’t given to me for a meal. She sighed. When she went to the village for supplies, she heard stories of women baking cookies and of cuts of meat so tender they melted in the mouth. There never had been enough money for such delicacies.
Amelle wanted a different life. She fought back a pensive sigh as she watched her mother fuss over the garden. The villagers would see to it that her mother was well taken care of while Amelle traveled, as she had always wanted. She glanced down at her body that was outlined by the sweaty dress. She was tall, with high, firm breasts and rounded hips. Her blond hair fell nearly to her waist, and she couldn’t imagine that a knight or a noble wouldn’t want her if she could make it to the King’s castle to meet one. Amelle glanced outside the window again in time to see her mother straighten and march back into the house. Turning back towards the pot, she tried to shove her dreams of a prince away.
Her mother sniffed the air. “You haven’t been stirring the stew correctly, have you?” She stepped forward, depositing her armload of root vegetables and herbal leaves on the table. “I told you. Stir three times, then wait for the broth to still, and then stir three times again. You’ve been beating this poor stew to death.” Daria snapped at her daughter. “You stupid girl! You’ve been daydreaming again!”
Amelle looked at her mother. Daria had once been stunning, but now time shoved streaks of gray through her blonde hair, and her body had thickened with age. Amelle knew that her mother meant well, so she simply nodded. “I’m sorry, mother,” she replied.
Daria walked over to the simmering pot and peered inside. She gave two delicate sniffs, and then grabbed the spoon from her daughter’s hand. “Something has been feasting on our cabbage,” she said. “Why don’t you take care of it? If it’s a rabbit, perhaps we can roast it.
“Yes, mother,” Amelle replied. She didn’t relish the guard duty, but at least it got her out of the cottage. And she did need to protect her mother’s cabbage plants. She also feared what her mother might do to her if she failed. Beatings with a birch stick might be the least of her worries if she didn’t get rid of the hare. Grabbing the broom from its post in the corner, she carried it outside. From inside the cottage, Amelle heard her mother singing an old minstrel tune, and once again, she found herself wondering what kind of life her mother had lived before she had been born.
Once outside, Amelle breathed deeply. She glanced over the manicured garden with its rows of flowers and herbs beside the kitchen garden. Beans climbed a trellis made of stakes. A pumpkin plant sprawled its leaves into the lawn. Careful not to step on the pumpkin vine, Amelle walked into the middle of the garden where the cabbage plants grew. The dirt felt warm beneath her bare feet, and she glanced from the garden to the forest beyond. Amelle knelt by the cabbage plants, noticing the daintily nibbled leaves. Motion in the yard caught her attention, as a bunny hopped past, nibbling on fresh new grass. The rabbit raised its head and twitched its nose. The small rabbit, one of this year’s babies, glanced at Amelle, then bounded away into the forest.
Amelle watched it go. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that her mother still stirred the stew and hadn’t seen the lapse in judgment. Amelle wished the young rabbit well. It looked too small to have done much damage to the cabbage plants, and the tiny creature needed all the help it could get. She leaned back in the grass, knowing that the rabbit wouldn’t return as long as she sat by the garden. The sun warmed her, a gentle breeze drying her sweat-soaked dress. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat and the fresh air seep into her bones. Perhaps she should head off to town on her own, she thought. Maybe even to the King’s castle. She didn’t need to be cooped up in her mother’s cottage. With that thought in mind, she drifted into a sleep.
* * * * *
Something soft brushed against Amelle’s cheek, and she sneezed as she felt feathery whiskers on her face. Opening her eyes, she saw that dusk had fallen. A glance back at the cottage showed a candle burning in one of the windows. She turned her head and saw a large wild hare sniffing her.
She stifled a yelp. The hare jumped back, regarding her with an intent stare from a few feet away.
Amelle levered herself to a sitting position. The broom lay beside her, and she thought about picking it up to shoo the hare away. Surely this hare with its cunning stare had been the one to eat their cabbage.
Come with me. She heard the summons in her mind, a low, masculine voice that sent shivers all the way to her toes. The voice sounded husky, like the imagined voice of her prince, and Amelle shook her head to clear it. She rose to her feet.
“Go away,” she growled at the hare, bending over to pick up the broom. “Quit eating our cabbage.” She shook the broom at it, expecting the creature to turn tail and run like any normal wild animal. It stood its ground, and she could have sworn it was laughing at her.
Come with me. The summons sounded more insistent this time, like the press of a man’s strong hand against her back. Amelle closed her eyes. She glanced back at the cottage, knowing her mother sometimes worked long into the night, forgetting to even have supper or be sure her daughter ate. She stepped towards the hare and then stopped. I’m not allowed to go into the forest. Mother forbid it. Amelle breathed deeply and looked back towards her house. Glancing again at the hare, she found herself torn between what her life always had been and what it could be. She softly shook her head. Someday she would leave and find a real prince. Until then, she had to behave.
She stepped back, broom held in front of her like a weapon. It’s impossible for a beast to speak in my mind. Completely impossible. She glared at the hare. “Shoo,” she hissed.
It remained still. Not even its nose twitched. You’re not imagining things, and who says you won’t find a prince in the forest?
Amelle stared wide-eyed at the hare. It had spoken to her. As crazy as it sounded, this hare had spoken in her mind. Am I crazy? Will I be burned as a sorceress? All thoughts of fleeing to the King’s castle and taking refuge fled. If she were crazy, no one would want to harbor her, and she would be stuck here with her mother for the rest of her life. No. I refuse to believe this. She swung the broom at the hare, narrowly missing the tips of its ears.
The creature stood its ground, the twitching of its nose the only movement in the waning sunlight. A ray of light caught the wild hare, turning its homely brown coat into burnished copper. The sun played over its fur, highlighting the subtle hues. She’d never seen another hare look as this one did. It was gorgeous, and Amelle stepped forward to touch the creature. Mother wants me to kill it, but I can’t. Not when it is as beautiful as it is. Mother leeches enough beauty from this place. I’m a grown woman now. I can make my own decisions, can’t I?
The hare remained completely still. Bending over, giving the hare a good view of her unbound breasts through the gaping neck of her dress, she lightly touched its back. It didn’t move, so she caressed it again. This was no ordinary animal, Amelle knew that much.
If the hare stayed here it would die. Amelle couldn’t let that happen, not while she was here to protect it. If the creature wanted her to go somewhere, then she would go. “Where do you want me to go?” she asked, her voice sounding small and frightened. Her heart pounded in her chest, and sweat dampened her palms. Her mother warned her about the woods. When she was younger, she played and swung amid the leafy branches like a woodland nymph, but when her woman’s flow had begun, her mother kept her away from the forest. If the forest was so dangerous, Amelle wondered, then why did her mother build the cottage so near?
The hare’s nose twitched twice, then it bounded into the forest. Amelle followed, catching glimpses of it as it waited for her. She paused at the edge of the trees, the lengthening shadows filling her with fear.
Your prince awaits you. The words were spoken in her mind with such clarity that Amelle jumped. She pressed a hand to her throat, feeling the rapid beating of her heart. There, on the path in front of her, sat the hare.
The wild hare turned his head, giving her such a human stare that Amelle blushed. Suddenly, she was aware how she looked. She wore a dress made of fabric so thin the outline of her breasts clearly showed, and when the sun hit the material the flimsy fabric hid nothing. Her hair, once twisted on top of her head, now fell in disarray around her shoulders. Instinctively, her hand reached up to touch the fallen coif.
“I’m in no shape to meet a prince, little hare,” Amelle said as she walked forward, feeling foolish for talking to a forest creature.
You’re beautiful. The hare stared at her as she drew closer. The words could only have come from the creature. Amelle’s hands shook with the realization that a hare had been speaking in her mind.
Maybe I should go back and forget about all of this. Mother thinks I daydream too much as it is. If she knew I heard voices. Amelle shuddered and turned to see if she could see the cottage, half wanting to return. The trees obscured it from her vision.
I’ve come this far; I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see where the hare is leading me. The hare leapt forward twice, then waited for her to follow.
Amelle stared hard at the creature. It had told her a prince waited for her in the forest, and she really wanted to find a prince. I’ll come back before mother realizes I’m gone, she promised herself. In her daydreams, her prince was handsome, with broad shoulders and lean hips.
She stopped walking, imagining him standing on the path in front of her dressed in the finest royal livery. Closing her eyes, she savored the image of his full, kissable lips. In all her dreams, he would r
each for her, stroking her hair. She felt it, the strong hand pulling the last of the pins from her coif to let her hair tumble around her shoulders. With gentle fingers, he would comb through her tresses. She felt the gentle weight of a man’s fingers in her hair, and slowly, she opened her eyes, imaging his heat as he stood behind her.
“Your prince awaits.” The masculine voice whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her back.
Amelle gasped. She turned and saw a man standing behind her. He reached out, caressing her hair, his hand lingering to cup a rounded buttock as he stood behind her. “Oh,” Amelle said, and then darted away. Whirling, she faced him. “Who are you?” She drank in his form. His shaggy reddish hair fell to his shoulders, a mane as thick and full as any horse’s. His chest was bare, revealing whorls of the same, reddish-brown hair between his pectorals and in a line that arrowed down towards the leather leggings he wore. The leather cupped his muscled thighs and calves, caressing like a lover to disappear into leather riding boots. Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze back to his face.
“Kanin,” he said. He stepped forward, his gaze hungry.
Amelle shivered. Beneath his stare, she felt her nipples growing hard. He stopped in front of her, and she thought she would die if he didn’t touch her. She looked at him, at his full, kissable lips, and knew she wanted to taste him. “Are you…Are you a prince?” she asked in a breathy voice.
Kanin laughed. His masculine chuckle filled the air. “If you want me to be,” he said. Reaching for her, he caressed her cheek, sending another shiver darting through Amelle. Her limbs grew heavy, and a curious warmth began between her legs. He caressed her cheek with his thumb, the pad sliding over her lower lip. She parted her lips at the action, a kind of awareness tingling through her body. With her tongue, she tasted him. It wasn’t unpleasant, and she swirled her tongue around the end of his thumb, drawing it deeper into her mouth. Kanin stepped forward, his free arm wrapping around her waist to pull her to him.