WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye

by Arianna Skye

  Korrigan stood proud. “I'll send for you in one hour's time. Wear something more appropriate.” She grabbed the black gossamer gown and ripped it off Aine’s body. Korrigan smirked. Oh, Aine's punishment would not be harsh, but it would definitely leave its mark. She twisted around and marched out the door, slamming it behind her.

  ~*~*~

  Korrigan smirked, watching Sionnach hang from the swing. He was stronger than she realized and it would be a pleasure to break his spirit. Her pathetic guard hadn’t lasted near as long as her virile White Faerie slave. The other guards had since come and pulled his miserable, whimpering form from the swinging restraints, finally leaving her alone with Sionnach.

  His long, sleek braid dangled as he swayed back and forth. As if she hadn't noticed his and Aine's attraction for each other. Sparks flew anywhere they crossed paths. Korrigan would be damned if she'd share one of her pleasure-slaves with her brainless little sister.

  She stroked Sionnach's bulging biceps in lazy circles. “I have a special treat for you, slave.” Smiling, she traced her fingertip along his rock-hard chest, flicked a nipple and pinched it hard while she moved her tongue against his lips. She glanced up at his pulsing shaft as it stiffened.

  Wonderful. Watching her pleasure the man she fancied would be the perfect punishment for Aine.

  “Thus proving the man doesn't always think with his heart.” She turned to one of the palace guards. “Send for my sister.”

  “Yes, My Queen.” The guard flitted his wings and floated out of the chamber.

  She pulled a lever, lowering Sionnach. “Awfully quiet today, slave. Will you be near as quiet as I pleasure you in front of my sister?”

  “What has Aine done?” the slave asked. “She’s been nothing but loyal to your cause.”

  “Defiance does not become you, slave.” Korrigan grabbed the whip from her throne and flicked her wrist. She grinned, enjoying Sionnach’s wince as the whip licked his nipples. She grabbed his cock as the door creaked open and slamming her mouth up and down his shaft, she turned her head to see Aine standing there. With a wry smile, she continued to pleasure Sionnach. Her smile grew to a wide grin, hearing Sionnach try and fight the groan that erupted from his mouth. Then he came on her lips.

  “That wasn't an acceptable performance, slave. Perhaps your attentions were elsewhere?” She held the whip high. Aine's loud gasp echoed along with the sound of the whip slapping against his cock. Sionnach groaned in pain and Aine slumped to the ground in a fit of tears.

  Korrigan spat on Sionnach in disgust. “Have fun in the Outer Realm.” With a wide smirk, she shot a bolt of lightning at him from her fingers. How dare he turn his eyes to someone else!

  The darkest and bleakest corner of Otherworld would be the perfect place for him. A bright flash of light surrounded him. When it faded, Sionnach was gone.

  She turned to Aine with a sneer. “There's your punishment, my dear sister. Now be gone.” She lashed out her fist, sending Aine flying backwards out the large doors. Korrigan commanded the door slam shut, spun toward her throne, picked her whip off the floor and grinned. She had a war to plan. No one would dare defy the future queen of all faeriedom. She swished the lash and took her seat on the throne. With news of Rhiannon’s return, she needed a new course of action.

  ~*~*~

  Rhiannon sighed, stretching her arms. She cuddled and scrunched her large fluffy pillow.

  She hadn’t had this good a sleep in God knows how long. One moment she was kissing Cerne and the next moment she was in bed. Hah! She knew he wasn’t real. She let her eyes stay closed a few more minutes, enjoying the extra few moments of shuteye, and breathed in the crisp air around her. The aroma of fresh flowers and fragrant herbs mingling with exotic fruits lingered in the air. It smelled like heaven—her own private botanical garden.

  Twisting in the luxurious sheets that were a tad bit silkier than they used to be, she opened her eyes.

  What the fuck?

  This wasn’t her bed. It wasn’t even her room. A giant four-poster bed that enveloped her sat in the center of a white marble room. Violet and lavender sheer swags draped against the posts of the bed. The silken-sheeted mattress molded to her body like a glove. Sleep Number be damned.

  This bed was coming back home with her. She looked over and spotted her bikini top lying on the foot of an elegant gold chaise. This got freakier as the day went on.

  “Oh, wonderful. You’re awake,” a rich, feminine voice echoed from the corner. The being, who appeared to be floating, smiled and approached Rhiannon. Long blonde braids fluttered in

  time with the wings on her back.

  Wings? Hell no! Not this shit again. This had gone too damn far.

  “You can tell whoever set this practical joke up that it isn’t funny.” The only person who knew her well enough was Lara. And frankly, Lara appeared to have gone off the deep end too.

  Must be the water, Rhiannon decided. She racked her brain, trying to think of who else could’ve done something so idiotic?

  “Ben?” She’d turned down Ben Madison in the programming department a week ago to go to a performance of A Midsummer’s Night’s Eve at Shakespeare in the Park. He was the only logical suspect.

  “No, not Ben,” the beautiful faerie-costumed lady replied. “And I assure you, my wings are real.” She fluttered them back and forth.

  “So you’ve lost your faerie cherry?” Rhiannon asked, remembering Cerne’s explanation on how faeries obtained their wings. At the woman’s blank expression, Rhiannon continued.

  “You’ve gotten laid...knocked boots...fucked?”

  “Humans can be so crass when it comes to intimacy.” She sighed. “To be honest, one can lose their, as your human friends say, virginity, without gaining their wings.” The golden-haired woman shook her head and rolled her eyes. “There is so much Cerne did not tell you.”

  “Let me guess. You must be dear old mom,” Rhiannon replied with sarcasm. “Come give your long lost daughter a big hug.” She opened her arms wide.

  The woman threw back her head and chuckled. “Dearest Rhiannon, I’m not your mother, but I do thank you for the compliment. No one in Fey, save for you, matches Queen Titania in beauty.”

  What is this woman smoking? Even though the faerie was a little off her rocker, she was smokin’ hot.

  “Well if you aren’t my mother, who the fuck are you? My faerie godmother?”

  “I love your wit, Princess Rhiannon. Your mother will be pleased you’ve inherited her sense of humor.” She took a seat next to Rhiannon on the bed. “I’m Maeve Windsong, one of the White Faerie elders.” She extended her hands to Rhiannon.

  Rhiannon raised an eyebrow. “I’m not your princess. I already tried telling that to Cerne. I have to go home. I need to finish my presentation for work. My promotion is riding on it.”

  “This is your life. You are our princess. The life you were living before is a lie.” Maeve

  gazed at her with crystal green eyes.

  Oh my God, does everyone here have green eyes? Talk about inbreeding. No wonder these folks were out of their gourds.

  Maeve reached out and stroked Rhiannon’s hair, brushing some from her face. “I realize it’s a little hard to comprehend, but you must accept your destiny.”

  “My destiny is Hobart and Johnson Design Group. I’m going to be a Senior Design Analyst.”

  “Sounds tedious.” Maeve yawned. “Slaving away day in and day out for what? Humans are so absurd at times. A wealth beyond imagination will be yours, Rhiannon. All you need to do is accept the challenge.”

  “How many things do I need to accept? First, Cerne said there was my fate, and there was my destiny. Now there’s a challenge? Can’t you faeries keep your shit in order?” Rhiannon threw her hands up in exasperation.

  Maeve threw her head back and laughed. “They are all relative, my dear.” Maeve’s peridot crystal eyes pleaded with her. “Without challenges we’ll never learn our fate, and without fate we’ll never fulfil
l our destinies.”

  Great. This winged psycho was going all philosophical now. Psychology and philosophy did not mix. “I don’t know who put you up to this, but I really need this promotion.” She searched for her cell phone.

  “Interesting contraptions humans tie themselves to.” Maeve dangled the cell by its antenna.

  “Unfortunately, they don’t work in Fey.” She flipped the phone shut.

  Rhiannon grabbed the phone out of Maeve’s hands. “It’s rude to snoop through other people’s property.”

  “It looked interesting.” Maeve smiled. “You know what they say, we faeries like shiny things.”

  Rhiannon shrugged. “That’s odd. I’ve always thought faeries had a fetish for socks.”

  “Socks?”

  “My mom always told me the sock faerie stole our socks from the laundry when one came up missing.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Maeve wrinkled her nose. “Socks?” Ridiculous? Didn’t this woman realize how silly she looked and acted? Although Rhiannon

  had to admit the flying trick was rather impressive. “Yes, socks. Probably just a story to keep us entertained.”

  Maeve huffed. “I assure you there are better things to do than thieve a malodorous piece of human garb. That sounds more like a goblin’s or troll’s doing.” Goblins, trolls, and ogres, oh my! When was this insanity going to stop? She waited for some strange game show host to come out and announce, “Congratulations, Ms. Rhiannon Kinsley, you’ve won an all-expenses-paid trip down Psychedelic Lane!” Rhiannon broke out into loud guffaws. Fits of laughter racked through her body and then came the dreaded snorts, the uncontrollable Revenge of the Nerds snorts that put even the geekiest of geeks to shame. She doubled over, unable to control her laughter. Tears soon followed as she gasped for breath.

  “Rhiannon?” Maeve asked, reaching out to her. “Are you all right?” She knelt down next to Rhiannon and took her in her arms.

  “I’m fine. Haven’t you faeries ever had a good laugh?” Rhiannon wiped a tear from her cheek and shook her head. “Probably not. You’re too busy with your wings up your butt.”

  “Cerne is here.” A huge grin lit Maeve’s face. Not more than two seconds later, a knock echoed through her door. “He’s early. You need to get dressed.” Rhiannon glanced down at her long billowing nightgown of violet silk ruffles and some other unknown see-through material. It felt as if she wore nothing at all.

  “These clothes are light as air, yet they’re so exquisite and detailed.” She sighed. If she wasn’t so dedicated to Hobart and Johnson, she could definitely see herself skipping reality even for a little of this dream world.

  “Onora,” Maeve called.

  A young—wingless—woman appeared from the adjoining room. “Yes, Councilwoman Windsong?”

  “Please make sure the princess is garbed appropriately to meet her future husband. Take her to the dressing room. I would like to speak to Lord Silverwing before presenting the princess.” Future husband? No way in hell—then again, did faeries even believe in hell—was she going to get married. She had more important things to worry about—like Hobart and Johnson and the fact that if she wasn’t tripping, she more than likely would be standing in the unemployment line. However, her crazy story would ensure she’d have no problem getting her wages. “I’m not marrying anyone.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her and raised her chin. All she wanted to do was go home, finish her design proposal and get her promotion. The sooner she woke up from this twisted fairy tale, the sooner she’d be presenting her proofs to the CEO of HelioTropics sunless tanning lotion. And then the deal would be sealed.

  Maeve sighed. “Cerne was right. You are a stubborn woman, but you aren’t tainted. I can feel it.”

  Super. Her secret was out. Apparently she had a neon “VIRGIN” sign hanging from her neck flashing in big pink letters. She’d never even gone down on any guy before Cerne. It amazed her how much he enjoyed her giving him pleasure. Thank goodness for those instructional videos she ordered. She couldn’t wait to do it again. Remembering Cerne thrusting himself to the back of her throat while he spewed his semen caused her pussy to drip and the tiny thatch of hair along her labia to moisten.

  “Princess Rhiannon?” Maeve’s voice broke her thoughts. She snapped her fingers in Rhiannon’s face. A wide, knowing grin swept across the faerie’s face.

  Rhiannon shook her head and blushed. “Oh...umm...sorry. I was daydreaming.” Maeve winked. “I cannot blame you. Cerne is quite an extraordinary—” A tinge of rose flooded her cheeks. “Umm...man.”

  Rhiannon raised an eyebrow in curious wonder. Maeve’s blush could only mean one thing.

  She’d been intimate with Cerne in the past. “Have you and Cerne...” She bit her lip.

  “Umm...slept together?”

  She should be jealous of Maeve, but for some strange unknown reason, the idea of him pleasuring Maeve in similar fashion caused a wave of desire to wash through her. Maybe she could give Rhiannon a few pointers on his likes and dislikes.

  Maeve took Rhiannon in her arms. “Cerne and I grew up together. We’ve shared a lot. But I’m permanently attached to Belenus. He’s my consort.” She shooed Rhiannon away. “Now off you go with Onora. We’ll continue our discussion later and then the lessons will begin.” Lessons? The way Maeve winked made her wonder exactly what sort of lessons she’d be receiving.

  With a sigh, Rhiannon turned and allowed Onora her arm. “Lead the way, Onora.” Entering the dressing room, she turned for one last glimpse of Maeve who flashed Rhiannon a comforting smile, assuring her all would be well. But would it really?

  Chapter Five

  Cerne prepared to knock harder, when the door swung open. With a welcoming smile, Maeve stood there wearing a gauzy azure blue gown.

  “Come in.” Maeve motioned him inside. “Your princess is being dressed and will be out shortly.”

  Cerne took in the luxurious chamber. The violet sheer draperies, the high-posted canopy bed, the expanse of alabaster white marble columns. Soon he and Rhiannon would share this room, among other things.

  “Magnificent,” Cerne said, taking in the surroundings. But certainly not as much as he took in his future life-mate. How he wished Beltane was sooner. He could not wait to sink himself into her moist heat, pump his cock in her, hard and fast, and make her come all over him while she screamed his name in ecstasy. Gods’ blood, he thought, feeling himself pressing against his breeches.

  “Cerne?” Maeve asked. “Is everything well?” She smirked, obviously noticing his raging erection.

  “I’m fine,” he muttered. “How long until I see my princess?”

  “Have a seat.” Maeve pointed to the gold-trimmed chaise. She closed and reopened her hand, producing a glass of faerie red wine. Ah, no four dollar human swill tonight, he thought, taking the challis from Maeve. He’d only bestow the most exquisite faerie libations upon his Rhiannon. She would have no other choice but to believe.

  He took a sip of wine, comparing the sweetness to the honey between Rhiannon’s thighs.

  Nothing could compare to her musky release. He turned his head and caught a glimpse of the skimpy top she’d been wearing in the pool. He picked up the forest-green slip of fabric and brought it to his nose, drawing in her delicious scent and felt himself throb as he recalled the many naughty things he intended to do her.

  “Ahem.” Maeve chuckled. “You’re acting like a unicorn in heat.” Cerne raised an eyebrow. “And, pray tell, how do you know how a unicorn in heat acts?” Maeve winked. “During Bel’s and my young and foolish days, we were busy in the meadow

  when we noticed we weren’t alone. Those horns aren’t just for defense, by the way. We—”

  “I think I’ve heard enough.” Cerne scrunched his nose.

  Maeve threw back her head in laughter. “April Fools’!” Cerne raised an eyebrow. “Taken to following human customs, eh Maeve? She’s bewitched you too—”

  “You? Bewitched?” Maeve grinne
d. “You’re in love. Wonderful!” Cerne spat out his wine. “I’m not in love. It’s purely physical.”

  “That’s what you say now. We all say it. Even me.” Maeve winked. “Love isn’t as rare as you believe.”

  “Whatever, Maeve. Not for a Silverwing—especially this Silverwing.” He set his goblet on the crystal table next to the chaise.

  Maeve flitted her wings. “Please don’t bore me with any more talk of stale prophecies. I don’t think I can bear another minute of it.” She threw her hand to her chest and heaved a sigh.

  “Prophecies are made for one reason only, to be proven wrong. And you, Cerne, are just the man to do it.”

  ~*~*~

  “Your Highness, what are you doing?”

  Rhiannon smiled at the maid. “It’s called eavesdropping.” Turning back to the golden door, she placed her ear on it. Fucking faeries, she thought. They certainly knew how to keep their rooms soundproof. Talk about the power of the subconscious. Even though it was just her imagination, it seemed so real. She didn’t think she’d be waking up any time soon, so she might as well take advantage of her dream. “I suppose I should get dressed, huh?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Onora replied.

  “Rhiannon.” There was no way in hell she would play into this elaborate practical joke. “I’m not really a princess.”

  Onora sighed. “I cannot call you by your given name. I would be disrespecting the royal family.”

  Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Oh, okay. Call me whatever you want. I don’t friggin’ care.”

  “Why don’t you want to be a princess?” Bemusement filled Onora’s eyes, as if Rhiannon

  were the crazy one.

  “You’re all imaginary. You don’t really exist. You’re simply a creation of my overstressed mind.”

  “Councilwoman Windsong told me you’d be stubborn.” Onora swished her light blonde hair behind her. She thrust a pink gauzy dress out toward Rhiannon.