The Heartwood Box: A Fairy Tale

by Lilia Ford

  Derek and Donal began their nightly card game, which both played as if the fate of humanity and Faerie hinged on the outcome. Damian came in half an hour later, dressed like his brothers, except that he wore a shirt as usual. He had taken a quick bath and had a plate in the kitchen and now settled down at the other end of the table to tackle the mountain of paperwork that always followed his visits to the garrison.

  It was an ordinary evening.

  “Play the new piece,” Donal said, not taking his eyes from his cards. Genevieve was happy to oblige, quickly becoming absorbed with revising and making further marks in her book. When she finally looked up almost an hour later, she realized all three brothers were staring at her.

  “What?” she asked. Damian was giving her his treacherously bland smile. “What are you up to?” she demanded.

  “Darling, it’s time to say goodnight.”

  “Is it?” she said suspiciously.

  Damian prowled towards her. “Yes, and I think you should say goodnight to Donal, love.”

  Genevieve stood up herself and began moving back, though there was nowhere to go except out into the storm.

  “What… what do you mean?”

  “I wish you to say goodnight to Donal—in whatever way you think he would best like. Do you know what that is, darling?”

  “The way that Donal likes?” she squeaked, disbelieving. Damian raised his eyebrows at her. “Now? In here?”

  She looked at Donal, who appeared surprised but decidedly willing.

  “Yes darling,” Damian answered. “In fact, I think you should make a habit of saying goodnight to him on his off nights. I’m sure my brother would greatly appreciate such a gesture.” When Genevieve still hesitated, Damian said, “Derek, would you help Genevieve, please.”

  Derek was instantly on his feet, moving with that panther-like grace of his. He took her by the elbow and guided her over to Donal, who was also standing now.

  “Kneel down, darling,” Damian ordered.

  When she didn’t instantly obey, Derek put both hands on her shoulders and forced her down and then took hold of her hair and wrapped it around his hand tightly.

  “Darling, are you going to obey me or must I send you to the study with Derek?” Damian asked.

  Genevieve felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the combination of Damian’s sultry voice in her head, Derek’s intense presence directly behind her, and Donal’s wicked smile before her. Donal was already aroused, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. She untied the drawstring, freeing him. She reached forward to grip him, but Damian said, “Hands down—use only your mouth.”

  As happened so often when Damian gave her a command, she obeyed without thinking, leaning forward to catch Donal’s cock in her mouth. She could feel his shudder of pleasure as her tongue ran down his shaft, but then she remembered that they weren’t alone. She shut her eyes tightly.

  “Eyes open! Whenever you take one of us in your mouth, you will keep your eyes on his face the entire time,” came Damian’s command. “Donal make sure she obeys.”

  Damian’s iron tone had its usual effect, and Genevieve moaned, her mouth filled with Donal’s cock. Donal gripped her chin and held it as her mouth worked over him. Though she’d enjoyed taking him like this before, she’d never imagined doing it could get her this aroused.

  Damian of course noticed. “I think our girl likes saying goodnight. Derek, check and see if Genevieve is enjoying herself.”

  Derek knelt down behind her. “Her legs are pressed together,” he growled.

  “I think it’s time Genevieve had a lesson in how to kneel properly,” Damian said. “Genevieve, pull off of Donal for a moment.” She was almost mindless now, so Donal guided her head back. “Derek, take her dress off.”

  That roused her: she clutched her dress to stop him, but Derek pushed her forward into Donal’s grip and gave her buttocks three stinging slaps.

  “Arms up, Genevieve,” Derek ordered. She didn’t dare disobey again. He whisked the dress off, leaving her in only her stockings and garters. “Don’t you dare cover your breasts!” he barked, giving her another slap on her rear end. “You are on your knees to please Donal, and he wants to see them!”

  “Derek, instruct her on how to kneel properly,” Damian said calmly.

  “Knees apart, Genevieve!” Derek ordered. “Farther apart… farther!” Finally, he just reached down and spread her knees as far apart as they would go.

  “Excellent. You may continue saying goodnight to Donal now, darling,” Damian said in his lordly tone. Donal stroked her cheek, and she reached for him with her hands, earning herself a sharp command from Damian. “Mouth only! Put your hands behind your back and lace your fingers. Do not forget again.”

  Genevieve instantly obeyed and leaned forward and caught Donal in her mouth again. Each command, each correction sent another jolt of lust through her until she wondered that she could stay upright.

  “Derek, check and see if Genevieve is enjoying saying goodnight.”

  Derek pulled her tightly against him with his left arm, the bare skin of his chest hot against her back. He ran the fingers of his right hand through her folds. She must be soaking by now.

  “Aye, she’s good and roused,” Derek said, holding his hand before his face and then up for Donal’s inspection. To her shock, Donal took Derek’s fingers in his mouth.

  “I can vouch that our girl’s enjoying saying goodnight,” Donal said.

  “Excellent. Feel free to reward her if you wish, Derek,” Damian said lazily.

  Derek massaged her right breast with one hand, while brushing his fingers lightly over her sex with the other, but he steadfastly refused to touch her bud. It was such torture Genevieve tried to yell his name, though her mouth was filled.

  “You can yell all you want to, but you will keep your mouth on him,” Derek whispered so only she could hear. “I want to see you try your hardest to please Donal—as if your life depended on it.” Derek’s voice had taken on that rich, velvety timbre that he saved for their most intimate moments. It was pure seduction. “I love seeing you like this, angel. Such a dutiful little bride, saying goodnight to your husband’s brother just like an obedient wife should. Take him deeper. Relax your mouth so you don’t choke. I know you can work him with that beautiful mouth of yours.”

  She obeyed, allowing Donal to thrust all the way to the back of her throat.

  “Good girl,” Derek murmured. He pinched her nipple between two of his fingers, scissoring them until the sensation was just shy of pain—only Derek ever touched her that way. She groaned loudly again.

  Donal began running his hands through her hair, confusing her with all the competing sensations. Suddenly Damian was very close, just over her shoulder.

  “I want her to come with him,” Damian said. “Donal are you good?”

  “I can wait for our girl,” Donal answered, slowing the pace of his thrusts into her mouth.

  “Genevieve, you will keep your arms behind your back, or all three of us will take turns thoroughly spanking you, which I would regret since I had been looking forward to our ride tomorrow.”

  Her body lurched with a mixture of fear and desire at his threat. She tightened the grip on her fingers until her knuckles ached, lest that demon of hers surface, as it occasionally did, and prompt her to some insane act that earned her a punishment.

  “Derek, work her breasts. I’ll bring her to the point.”

  She tried to look at Damian to see what he was doing, which earned her a brutal slap on her buttocks from Derek, sharp enough to make her eyes water. “Keep your eyes on Donal,” Derek growled. “You are on your knees to please him, not yourself.”

  “Poor little girl,” Donal soothed. “She pleases me very much. Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart.”

  Thankfully, Donal’s warm eyes and reassuring tone were enough to hold her. She didn’t turn when Damian knelt right at her side and reached down between her legs and began exploring.

  She groa
ned loudly, both from the surge of pleasure and the struggle not to look. “Stay with me, little girl,” Donal said, sensing how hard it was for her. “You know there’s nothing I love more than watching you take my cock in your mouth.”

  Somehow Derek and Damian happened upon the same rhythm, Derek massaging her breasts, Damian her bud. Donal sensed it and began to match them, pumping into her mouth. She screamed then, building dangerously close. Damian pulled back just enough. “Donal?”

  “Soon. Damnation that feels good,” he hissed. Donal’s cock hardened palpably, and his movements became more urgent. Damian began again, manipulating her bud until her whole body was tensing as her climax approached.

  “I’m going to bring her now,” Damian said, making a little swirl with his fingers that caused her whole body to seize and left her trying to scream as Donal pumped into her mouth.

  “Ah, Gods, Genevieve,” Donal yelled just afterwards. He thrust four or five more times, and then came the spray of warm fluid into her mouth, which never failed to surprise her. He immediately put his hand on the back of her head. “You know what I want. Swallow it, every drop,” he ordered.

  When Donal finally released her, Genevieve collapsed back into Derek’s arms, utterly mindless. Derek put his arms around her, kissing her neck, whispering in her ear, “That was beautiful, angel. I’m proud of you.”

  “I think it’s bedtime for our girl,” Damian said.

  Derek stood with Genevieve in his arms, kissing her on the mouth before handing her to Damian. Damian held her so that Donal could kiss her goodnight as well. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, ruffling her hair.

  “Say goodnight, darling,” Damian said.

  “Goodnight,” she murmured.

  “And now it’s my turn,” Damian said in a tone that made her toes curl. It told her that no matter how aroused he was, he planned on being absolutely ruthless with her. “We might not see you tomorrow, but don’t fear. Genevieve will come down before bed to say goodnight to Donal—tomorrow and all of your off-nights. Derek, you will make sure she doesn’t forget.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  Damian and Donal were seated at the table waiting for the other two so they could begin lunch. After five minutes, Damian decided to check where Genevieve had gotten to when his home’s usual peace was shattered by ear-piercing screams.

  “Oh brother,” Donal groaned. “Here it comes.”

  Damian downed the full glass of wine before him and then decided to pour another. “Would you like one?” he asked.

  “Yes, please!” Donal said in a mournful tone.

  They both fortified themselves as the screams got closer. Finally Derek appeared in the doorway, his face dark with fury—with an equally enraged Genevieve heaved over his shoulder, frantically pounding his back.

  “Genevieve and I have some business to discuss. She will not be able to ride for several days,” he announced.

  “Don’t you dare, you bastard,” Genevieve screamed and then let out a string of expletives that would make a demon mercenary blush.

  “I warned you what would happen if you used that language!” Derek roared at her.

  There were several more expletives followed by, “I’ll kill you Derek! I swear it!”

  “Very well,” Damian replied in a studiously reasonable tone. “I needed to attend to some matters with the garrison anyway. Perhaps Donal will come with me.”

  “That might be best,” Derek said and exited. Next they heard the door to the study slam shut, which muffled most of the shrieks.

  “Do I have you to thank for my wife’s new vocabulary?” Damian said, pouring himself one final half-glass of wine.

  Donal had the grace to look abashed. “Peter finds it amusing to annoy his wife by teaching our girl to swear like a quartermaster. I’d never have guessed a painter would know so many obscenities. He’s really quite impressive.”

  Damian prayed for patience. He was convinced he deserved to be canonized for tolerating Genevieve’s continued friendship with the diminutive blond virago, whose lovely face, in his opinion, did not atone for her shrewish disposition.

  However, he did concede that Peter’s pastel portrait of Genevieve standing in a flower-filled meadow, which currently graced the wall of the dining room, perfectly captured his wife’s fresh, unforced sensuality. He’d since commissioned a full-length oil portrait that would look perfect in their bedroom.

  “Should I speak to Thomas and George?” Donal asked, getting to his feet.

  Damian rose as well. “Fine. How long do you need to pack?”

  “Actually, I’m packed already. I had a feeling an explosion was imminent.”

  “You might have mentioned it to me. I just got back!” He’d been looking forward to three nights—and days—between his wife’s thighs.

  Donal just shrugged. “I’ll try to remember next time I sense the demon about to awake.”

  Damian could only laugh ruefully. There had been surprisingly few adjustments to the initial plan, which had worked almost miraculously well, thanks most of all to his highly tolerant and adaptable wife. Certain habits had emerged: for example on his nights, Donal preferred to sleep in the conservatory with Genevieve. Derek, on the other hand, always stayed with Genevieve in their bedroom, of course rigorously enforcing the rule about chaining her to the bed.

  On his brothers’ nights, Damian visited his troops, falling into a pattern of working four grueling days and then having three heavenly days with Genevieve, the largest part of which were spent in their bedroom.

  Derek and Donal, in contrast, preferred to alternate their nights rather than have two in a row. The days Damian was away, Genevieve usually spent with Donal practicing her music, visiting her parents or friends in town, or learning to cook with Roderick.

  The only surprise was that Genevieve never once did anything to get herself sent to the study. In the early weeks Damian had worried about it, entertaining and discarding several theories as to why: she was afraid of how severe Derek would be; she was afraid of injuring Damian’s feelings; Donal was lying to cover for her.

  The reason was predictably more complicated. Genevieve spent far too much time worrying about the three of them, relentlessly scrutinizing herself for any sign of preference or hint of unfairness. Her anxiety made her unconsciously avoid doing things that might upset one of them.

  He also realized that temperamentally, it was difficult for her to disobey when one of them issued a serious command. Still he wasn’t happy with the situation and resolved to intervene. Though he truly didn’t want her to do anything that put herself at risk, he couldn’t stand the idea that his wife was monitoring her behavior to that degree.

  It turned out that his worry was unnecessary, though he would never have predicted the reason. Two months after they set up their household, Damian had been stunned to see Derek drag a shrieking Genevieve into the study and lock the door.

  An hour later, Derek found Damian and Donal in the dining room and announced he needed four more days. Damian had to acknowledge that Derek had actually been civil when he requested that his brothers stay at the fortress and order the servants away. Derek also promised he would make up their lost days after “it was over.”

  Damian was proud of how he’d reacted. He’d not punched his brother or tried to knife him. Instead he’d calmly asked, “What is happening with my wife?”

  “She needs this,” Derek answered curtly and then added, “I don’t think she’ll be able to ride for the next week.” With that he’d left the room.

  There had been a long moment of silence while Damian debated various ways to murder Derek, when Donal said, “Leave it. If he says she needs it, then she probably does. You’ve not been here, but something has been brewing with her over the last week.”

  Damian was about to say something, when Donal added, “You don’t want to know. Let me take the two days afterwards. The worst will be over by then. And then you and she can spend a whole we
ek together. Derek and I will cover you at the gate. You’ll have the house to yourselves.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked Donal. Donal was still the one who always seemed to make the compromises to accommodate his less flexible brothers.

  “Of course,” Donal said without hesitation. “Stop worrying, Damian. I dealt with it the last time. I know how to help her.”

  So they had left.

  Damian had, however, sought out Declan, who advised him that he must allow matters to play out.

  “Derek said she wouldn’t be able to ride for a week,” he protested.

  “Your rule is a sound one,” Declan responded. “However, you must accept that there are times when that limit is too stringent. Did you allow Derek access to her heartwood box?”

  “Yes, I did what you recommended,” Damian said. “I left the box unlocked; he knows where it is.”

  “I know it is not easy, Damian, but you made the right choice.”

  “I don’t think she’ll stop him.”

  “I realize that. Do you think if she wished him to, she would keep silent?”

  “I just wish I understood this,” he confessed.

  “You know, Genevieve once asked me why Derek craved punishing her. She was concerned it might injure him to fulfill her need.” Damian shook his head. Who other than his wife would even think such a thing? “Do you ever wish you were different, Damian?”

  Damian smiled at Declan, who’d watched generations of his descendants cope with these dark, unruly passions, always guiding them with love and patience. “I used to, but not since I met her.”

  Declan’s eyes grew hazy. “I used to curse Titania for banishing me—and to find love of all things. And then a little thief fell into my arms, cursed me out, and tried to break my nose.”

  Damian was astonished. Declan never spoke of the woman who had won his heart so long ago. “I always imagined your wife was like our mother.”

  Declan barked out a laugh and then said ruefully, “I’ve seen few women who could match your mother for gentleness; not my wife, certainly.” He chuckled at some memory. “Desire is a great mystery, Damian. You can trust Derek.”