Bluebeard's Curse (Dark Tales Book 1)

by Regine Abel

  “Eric! Oh God… I–I can’t… Eric!”

  Her hands clawed at the mattress and her head rolled from side to side as pleasure built within her. Astrid screamed, her body shaking with the spasms of her orgasm. She was so beautiful in her rapture, I had to clamp a tight hand around the base of my cock to keep myself from climaxing too. My stomach cramped with the need for release, and I gritted my teeth through the burning ache. Only once buried balls deep inside my wife would I spill my seed. However, the urge to come didn’t slow me down. While Astrid was riding out the waves of ecstasy, I began to scissor my fingers in and out of her, stretching her. I added a third finger which met with some resistance. Astrid didn’t fight the intrusion, either too dazed to notice or the discomfort was negligible.

  Looking up from my succulent feast, I took in the voluptuous beauty lying before me. Her amber eyes were darkened by passion. Her plump lips, slightly agape, emitted the sexiest keening sounds in response to my touch. Astrid’s delicate hands plucked away at her hardened nipples, and my mouth watered, wanting to take their place. Under the candlelight, a thin coat of sweat on her honeyed skin made her glow. I wanted to lick every inch of her, and rub myself against her, skin to skin. Her legs shook with her impending release. I teased her sensitive spot a few more times and she exploded once again.

  Rising up, I slowly licked her tart juices from my hand, a smug smile on my face. She tasted good and her delicate musk was a heady aphrodisiac. Astrid looked at me with smoldering eyes, her breathing still labored. It caught in her throat when, after discarding my boots, I rid myself of my breeches. I wasn’t a small man and towered by a full head above her. But it was the girth of my manhood that concerned her. Even with her prepared to receive me, it would be a tight fit. Her pleasure was all that mattered to me, though. I would go however slowly was required to avoid hurting her.

  No woman had ever stirred such burning desire in me. From the moment my eyes noticed the golden goddess in the ballroom, my body clamored for her.

  “Move up the bed, Astrid,” I said, my voice thick with lust.

  She scrambled backward eagerly. I suspected it was more to put distance between herself and my turgid shaft than out of docile obedience.

  “Spread your legs for me,” I said, crawling on top of the bed towards her.

  After a slight hesitation, she complied. Her apprehension was palpable. To have her at my mercy, submitting to my will in spite of her fear, was incredibly intoxicating. Settling between her thighs, I lowered my chest to hers while supporting my weight on my forearms.

  “Do not fear, my bride. I have no desire to harm you,” I whispered, my lips inches from hers. “Pleasure is all I want to give you. Let me show you how good it can be between us.”

  Astrid nodded, giving me a shaky smile. That display of courage increased my respect for her. She would need every ounce of that strength to face the year that awaited her. I kissed her deeply and she wrapped her arms around me, caressing my back. Her fluttering touches were electric, setting my skin ablaze. I would never get enough of that. My hand explored her body while our tongues continued to war. When the tension finally bled out of her, I started rubbing my cock against her soaking cleft, coating it with her juices. She moaned and trembled every time the engorged head grazed her clitoris. The need to claim her was overwhelming, even if I only got to have her for a short while.

  I shut out thoughts of the past, the future, of everything apart from giving into the moment and my burning desire. Placing the tip of my shaft against her opening, I gently pushed myself inside her. She was incredibly tight so I got no further than the head of my cock before pulling out and pushing back in. It took every ounce of my willpower to patiently rock in and out, gaining one excruciatingly slow inch after the other. She gasped against my mouth when I breached her maidenhead and her nails dug into my back. I moaned at the sting and fought the urge to ram my cock the rest of the way in. I continued rocking slowly in and out of her and soon I was sheathed to the hilt.

  “Astrid… You are so tight, so warm. Do you have any idea how good you feel around me?” I whispered, my voice hoarse with lust. “You were made for me.”

  I started pumping into her, half mad with pleasure. Each stroking motion sent bolts of liquid fire through my groin and exploded in blistering tendrils along my spine. She was so hot, so wet. The way her silky walls caressed my cock made me want to spill my seed. She felt so good… so damn good. And that sultry voice of hers…

  “Are you mine, Astrid?”

  “Yes… I… I’m yours… Oh God!”

  When my cock once again hit her special spot, Astrid raked her nails down my back and a strangled cry escaped me at the exquisite burn. I lost control. Lifting her leg to open her wider for me, I pounded into her. The slapping sound of skin meeting skin permeated the room. The need to come was riding me too hard; there was no more holding off. But I wanted her right there, with me. My hand snaked between us and I rubbed the swollen nub between her legs. Moments later, she shattered into another orgasm. Her inner walls clamped down almost painfully around me. Gripping her hips in a bruising hold, I rammed my cock deep inside her and roared as blinding bliss streamed through my shaft. I held still for a few seconds while my cum filled her. The involuntary contractions of her sheath drained me to the last drop.

  Shuddering from the last vestiges of this glorious oblivion, I covered her face with soft kisses before rolling on my back. I drew her into my embrace, and she snuggled close, her head resting on my shoulders. My heart hammered and my labored breath echoed hers. I couldn’t recall ever coming so hard nor sex ever feeling this good. Full of wonder, I gazed at her lovely face, before running my hand down her back. It was slick with sweat and she shivered. I vowed to make tomorrow, and the rest of her short life as easy and pleasurable as I could. But tonight, it was just us and I reveled in every second of her blissful ignorance. Pulling the covers over us, I gave her one last sensuous kiss before we drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  When we arose next morning, the servants had already prepared a warm bath for us, which we made quick use of. Efficient as ever, Tormund had brought back some of Astrid’s clothes and personal belongings after delivering the hand fasting contract and bride price to her father. It pleased me to find out she favored flowy tunic dresses to the more elaborate, corseted gowns that many ladies wore. Tunic dresses were easier to remove and offered less protection against wandering hands. My hands…

  Twice more last night, I had woken Astrid and made her mine. I would have done so again this morning if the first wedge of her medallion lighting up hadn’t doused the burning embers of my arousal. Astrid hadn’t noticed, but I couldn’t postpone the inevitable. It was stupid of me to have allowed myself to think of us as merely husband and wife, even if only for one night. She would be dead in the next few weeks… or a handful of months, at best. However mind-blowing the sex had been, she was just a shooting star, briefly illuminating the endless darkness of my miserable life. I knew better than to get attached or let myself feel.

  We engaged in casual chatter over breakfast. Our conversation was strained due to the tension building within her. She wanted to know what temptation would be set before her and I had delayed enough.

  “Are you ready?” I asked, when she pushed back her plate, sated.

  Astrid didn’t ask for what – there was no need. She answered with a stiff nod. I offered her my arm before leading her through the castle to the large doors blocking the entrance to the dungeon. On our way, we encountered a few servants scurrying about. Those who could gave us a wide berth, the others curtseyed before making a quick retreat.

  “They’re avoiding us,” she whispered to herself.

  Once again, I was impressed with my new bride’s observational skills.

  “Yes, they are.”

  She frowned and looked at me with questioning eyes. “But why?”

  “Actually, they’re avoiding you, to be more accurate.” Her face took on
a hurt expression, but she needed to understand the seriousness of her situation. “It appears you were well-loved by your former servants. Until they know that you will succeed where others have failed, our servants would rather not grow fond of you.”

  She flinched, but didn’t comment. Her eyes glimmered with determination and she lifted her chin in defiance. I repressed a smile of approval. She would need this kind of attitude if she were to prevail. I opened the door to the dungeon. The air was damp and stuffy. Astrid moved closer to my side as we climbed down the narrow staircase. The flicker of the sconces along its sides, and the dripping sounds in the distance, made our descent even more ominous.

  A short corridor at the base of the stairs opened up to an octagonal room. Multiple archways marked the paths to the various rooms within. But it was the closed arched door straight ahead that caught Astrid’s attention. With a sound of awe, she left my side, walking ahead toward it.

  My heart sank. Would she fail that quickly? She stood gaping at the large door. At its center, there was a recessed keyhole in a shape matching her nautilus medallion. Intricate vine-like tendrils were carved on the door’s face. Each tendril spread from the keyhole and connected to one of twelve large gems embedded in the stone wall around the doorframe. Astrid ran her fingers along the carved patterns on the door.

  “This is so beautiful! How does it open? What’s inside?” she asked, turning to face me.

  Her excitement faded when she noticed my stern expression. She frowned, glanced at the door, then back at me. Her eyes widened in understanding and she quickly backed away from it.

  “Is this it?” she asked, looking warily at the door. “Is that the temptation?”

  “Yes,” I said, standing right in front of the bane of my existence. I ran a hand over the door before facing my wife. “You must never open that door, Astrid. Never. Do not ever seek to find out what lies within. And never, ever, under any circumstances, enter the room beyond of your own free will. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, Eric.” She nodded frantically, still casting worried glances at the door.

  “I would have your solemn word on this, Astrid,” I said, cupping her face with both hands. “Swear it to me. Swear by all that you hold dear that you will never open this door and that you will never go inside. Swear it.”

  “I swear it, Eric.” She put her trembling hands on my chest. “As God is my witness, I swear it. I will never open this door, and I will never go inside.”

  Drawing her to me, I crushed her lips with mine. The kiss was more desperate than passionate. Twenty-seven times before I’d heard such a promise. Twenty-seven times it had been broken. I didn’t want to care for Astrid: I couldn’t afford to. But I feared I was already starting to.

  She looked at the door once more and suddenly pulled the necklace hidden beneath her tunic dress. “That’s the key,” she said to me. When I nodded, she asked, “If breaking the curse requires your wife not to open the door for one year, why show it to me? Why give me the key and set me up for possible failure?”

  “Because it’s in the nature of curses to set a challenge nigh impossible to overcome. You cannot break a curse by simply hiding from it. It’s meant to test you to your limits, ensuring most will fail.” I took the medallion from her hands. “But in this instance, there’s another reason I must show this to you.” I flipped the medallion around. “Notice anything different?”

  The spiraled pattern of the nautilus was divided in thirty-one segments; one for each day of the current month – Mars.

  “The first segment, at the base of the spiral… It wasn’t lit before,” she said.

  “Correct. Every day that you wear it, another segment will light up. Once all of them are lit, you must place the medallion in the keyhole and turn it counterclockwise to transfer the energy to them,” I said pointing at the gems embedded in the stone wall. “You will repeat this twelve times. Succeed, and all of this ends.”

  “This energy… The medallion isn’t sucking out my soul or anything, is it?”

  “No, Astrid. I told you, the medallion isn’t meant to harm you.”

  “Ok then,” she said with a relieved sigh. “This sounds straightforward enough. I should be able to handle that.”

  I gave her a sad smile. “For both our sakes, I hope you can.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Astrid

  Eric gave me a tour of the open sections of the castle. Most of them where devoted to his royal functions. The throne room and the council chamber were where he spent most of his time. There was a boudoir for me to use at my leisure and one of the most impressive private libraries I had ever seen. While many of the topics of the books themselves didn’t inspire me, their craftsmanship and the beautiful illuminations alone kept me coming back. The ballroom was rarely used, but the adjoining music room would become one of my favorite places in the castle. Although I was proficient with the flute and harpsichord, it was the harp I loved the most. I spent many evenings with Eric sipping rum while he listened to me playing. The maidens rushed to line up at the edge of the dance floor in a cacophony of scraping chairs, and the clinging of glasses quickly discarded on nearby tables.

  In light of Eric’s comment, I avoided the servants. While I had no intentions of failing, making them uncomfortable or reading pity in their eyes was the last thing I needed or wanted. Eric had encouraged me to explore the castle and to have any room I desired reopened – no restriction other than the Sealed Door.

  During the first couple of weeks, I followed his suggestion. Or rather, I did when I wasn’t reading, embroidering, or writing letters to my sister. It was less scary in the light of day. However, the dusty, stuffy rooms and the covered furniture didn’t exactly spur my enthusiasm. I would investigate a handful of rooms, then answer the call of the courtyard and its fabulous gardens.

  In the end, it was the gallery that drove me out of the castle and snuffed out any desire of exploring it further. An entire wall had been dedicated to Eric’s past wives – twenty-seven in total. Next to Ariana’s portrait, his last bride, a golden plaque read the name ‘Astrid’. The paintings seemed to glare at me accusingly. I nearly jumped out of my skin when something akin to an evil woman’s laughter resonated inside the room… No… not the room… inside my head.

  Overwhelmed by an impending sense of doom, I blindly ran out of the castle, not caring about the startled shouts and worried looks of the guards and servants. I couldn’t breathe. I needed to get away. However, the burning in my lungs and legs eventually forced me to stop. Taking in my surroundings, I realized this was an abandoned section of the immense courtyard, deep beyond the gardens. In the distance, the castle loomed under the bright mid-afternoon sun.

  A few feet from me, a broken fountain stood amidst overgrown vegetation. I sat by the edge to catch my breath. It was silly of me to have overreacted like that. There had been no laughter. My overactive imagination was playing tricks on me.

  I looked at my makeshift bench. Moss and vines had claimed what had surely been a beautiful piece of art. In the middle of the fountain, the life-sized statue of a crowned mermaid sat on the back of a white horse with a fishtail. Her dead eyes also seemed to stare at me. Feeling uneasy, I got up and walked away.

  The air was fresh and delicately scented by the wildflowers around me. The sun felt like a warm caress on my face. My sister Kara would chastise me for exposing myself like this. Among my many shortcomings, my olive skin was a far cry from the fair complexion believed to be the epitome of beauty. My propensity to seek the outdoors and walk in the sun did nothing to improve my situation – not that I particularly cared.

  I followed a stone path hidden by bushy trees and overgrowth. I wondered where it led, and why this area had been left to be reclaimed by nature. It wasn’t long before I stumbled upon an abandoned greenhouse. Why it had been built so far from the castle was a mystery. Although the door wasn’t locked, it took a bit of effort to open. The rusty hinges resisted and complained,
but eventually yielded to my persistence.

  The strong smell of wet earth and rotting leaves greeted me. Two long tables were covered with dead potted plants and dust. More pots hung from metal poles along the glass ceiling. Against the back wall, a pair of faded cast iron chairs sat near a workbench with various gardening tools and containers. I picked up one of the sealed containers and shook it gently. It sounded like there were seeds inside. I opened the side drawers of the workbench. One was empty and the other contained more gardening tools. The third was locked. Intrigued, I looked for the key – in vain.

  Disappointed, I explored the vicinity of the greenhouse. It would require work, but it could be restored to its former glory. Blocking out the knowledge that it had no doubt belonged to one of Eric’s previous wives, I started making plans for my new botanical retreat.

  A few hours later, I decided it was time to return to the castle. The sun would be setting soon and I didn’t want to walk through the underbrush in the dark.

  Tormund greeted me at the entrance with a look of obvious relief on his face.

  “Your Highness, I’m pleased to see you’re well. We were worried.”

  “Oh? I’m sorry if I caused you any distress. But why the concern?”

  “The servants saw you running out of the castle, apparently upset. You weren’t seen for hours. Is everything alright?”

  My hysterical reaction to those portraits was embarrassing and best forgotten. I nodded with a smile I hoped would reassure him. “Yes, Master Tormund. All is well. I needed a little fresh air.”

  He seemed to want to press the issue but, after a brief hesitation, he offered me his arm instead. “Dinner will be served shortly. I will take you to the dining hall. His Majesty will join you presently.”

  Accepting his arm, I followed him in silence, wishing I had returned earlier to freshen up. While I took reasonable care of my appearance, I had never been particularly coquettish – until now. The way Eric looked at me, silver eyes stormy with desire did the most delicious things to me. He hadn’t lied that first night, a fortnight ago, when he hinted at the extent of his sexual appetite. My husband was insatiable… and I loved it.