“Keep your eyes closed,” he said softly. Then he started to massage her belly, rubbing hard in the direction of her heart, and stroking softly as he pulled back. Higher and higher his hands went, spreading sweet oil onto her breasts. His hands cupped her breasts and then he pinched her nipples, gently, then harder until she squirmed and gasped in near pain. When he stopped, her nipples tingled madly.
He massaged her neck, and then he started at her fingertips and rubbed all the way up her arms to her shoulders. Now her body felt loose and warm, but the feather teasing her clit kept her body queerly tense. She couldn’t relax. Instead, she writhed subtly, trying to rub the feather against her throbbing clit. But the ties holding her legs apart kept her from being able to do so.
Henri massaged her feet, and stroked his hands up her legs, closer and closer to her sex, but without touching it. His hands brushed against it, but only as softly as the feather. Violet’s head spun with longing. In a minute she would scream.
And then she felt the rod pushed against her anus. Slick with oil, the first bead popped in, followed by the second, slightly larger. Her eyes flew open. Henri knelt between her legs, holding the glass rod with one hand, his cock in the other hand. His cock was so hard it had turned nearly purple, and she could tell he fought for control by the way his balls contracted.
The rod slipped in another bead length, and then another. Her ass felt all stretched out and full, and she uttered a strangled cry. Little pulses raced through her body, and her ass clenched around the rod. She lifted her hips, begging for more.
“If you don’t take me now, I’ll come without you,” she promised. Anything to get him inside her! The rod drove her mad, but her cunt gaped with need.
Then he raised himself on his arms and thrust his hard cock into her. Simultaneously he drew the rod out of her ass, pulling it bead by bead. As he did, her cunt contracted in a flurry of pulsing. As soon as the rod left her body completely, he ordered, “Do away with your bonds, untie yourself so that I may feel your arms and legs wrapped around me as I come.”
She obeyed, then arched her back and welcomed him inside her, her breath catching in her throat and leaving it with a cry. “Harder,” she gasped, then said nothing as the feelings crested over her and she lost herself in the steady movement of his hips. He plowed into her as if she were a field to be sown but before she could crest and let herself go, he slowed, pulling his cock out and teasing her with its round head until she screamed with frustration.
“Inside me, now!” she cried, and grabbed frantically at his hips to pull him into her. He refused, holding her off easily, his face a study in concentration as he dipped his cock just a few millimeters at a time into her sex. She could see the tip pulsing as he prodded her, and the sight nearly undid her.
Just when she could take it no longer, he plunged back into her and thrust the entire length of his staff into her sheath. Again and again, he pounded into her, touching her womb with each long, strong thrust, until his arms started to shake and he uttered a low groan.
There was a moment of silence, when they both stopped breathing and moving, savoring the sensations that joined them as one. Then the wave broke over them and they shuddered together. It made him cry out, as if he was in pain, but Violet knew better now. He would always fight against losing himself, and when it happened it would shake him to his very bones.
Her body erupted in jarring throbbing that started at her womb and spread until it encompassed every part of her body, leaving her drenched and totally sated.
Afterwards she held Henri. The tremors in his body answered hers. His hair was damp and his breathing came in deep shudders, his forehead resting upon her shoulder.
“Hold me. Hold me tightly. Henri my darling, how I love you. Look at your arm, it’s shaking.”
He looked, and gave a deep sigh, sinking heavily onto the bed at her side. “How could I leave you?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion. He tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her close to him, kissing her lips, her cheeks and her eyelids.
“It will only be for one month. That is the time I need to become fully human. When we next meet, I will become your wife, and we will have many children together.”
“Can you see into the future?” He stroked her cheek with one hand, and drew the covers up over them with the other.
“A little, not clearly. But I see two boys and a girl. Prince Thibauld, Prince Tristan, and the Princess Fairnight Winter Ruby Starlight. Yes, I think that will suit her very well.” Violet snuggled closer into Henri’s embrace.
“Do fairy princesses always have such long names?”
“Of course, it’s tradition!” She giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “We’ll call her Ruby. Any other questions?”
“No, my darling Fairnight Winter Violet Frost. I will post the banns as soon as we get back to the kingdom,” said King Henri. “I will make you my queen.” He hesitated. “But don’t let any of my courtiers see you whipping me. It may make them insolent.”
Violet laughed her silvery, fairy laugh. “Never fear, my love, my king. I promise no one will ever know that I spank you every once in a while, when you deserve it. And no one will know how many times you lay me across your knees to spank me,” she added with a laugh.
“And tell me, what about us? Will we live happily ever after?”
Violet raised her eyebrows. “Why, of course, sire! In enchanted fairy tales, every dream comes true.”
“And you,” said King Henri, leaning over and kissing her lips, “are most definitely an enchanting fairy.”
About the author:
Samantha Winston is the pen name for Jennifer Macaire, an American freelance writer/illustrator. She was born in Kingston, NY, and lived in Samoa, California, and the Virgin Islands before moving to France. She attended Parsons school of design for fine art, and Palm Beach Junior College for art and English literature. She worked for five years as a model for Elite. Married to a professional polo player, she has three children.
After settling in France, she started writing full time and published short stories in such magazines as Polo Magazine, PKA’s Advocate, The Bear Deluxe, Nuketown, The Eclipse, Anotherealm, Linnaean Street, Inkspin, Literary Potpourri, Mind Caviar and the Vestal Review. One of her short stories was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. In June 2002 she won the 3am/Harper Collins flash fiction contest for her story ‘There are Geckos’.
As Jennifer Macaire, she has written a series of seven fiction novels based on the life of Alexander the Great—the first, Time for Alexander published by Jacobyte Books in April 2002. Book two, Heroes in the Dust, will appear in March 2003, also with Jacobyte. Her science fiction novel Virtual Murder will be published by Novel Books, Inc. in March 2003, and Angels On Crusade, a fiction novel about the ill-fated eighth crusade, will appear in October 2003.
Samantha welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.
Also by Samantha Winston:
A Grand Passion
Cajun Nights
Darla’s Valentine
Diamina
Elf Song
Gladys Hawke
Once Upon A Prince
Storm Warnings
The Argentine Lover
The Frog Prince Of Marecage
The Phallus From Dallas, written with Ciarra Sims
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
www.ellorascave.com
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Taming the King Page 4