Fifty Shades of Fairy Tales Omnibus

by Roxxy Meyer, Leigh Foxlee

  A condom wrapper rips open, and moments later the man behind me slides his long, thick penis deep inside of me. He times this with a sharp rap against my butt and my cunt clenches down tight around him in reaction to both the penetration and the slap. I cry out as I suck the other man’s cock, and this makes him buck up into my mouth even more insistently.

  The lady teasing my sex with the vibrator now moves her mouth to my nipples. She tugs with teeth until more sharp sensation rockets from my breasts to my sex. I writhe and whimper as I feel a third orgasm building within me.

  Another stinging slap is delivered to my ass by the velvety paddle as the lover fucking me teases me with shallow thrusts. I clamp down around his penis, begging him to fuck me deep, but he continues to torture me for a while before he complies. His thrusts grow carnal and intense and the pressure in my g-spot explodes, making me ejaculate with this orgasm. He pulls out just in time to have me gush my juices all over his chest and abs. At the same time I finish off the lover in my mouth, and he cums deep down my throat, spilling his salty seed between my lips.

  I ask them to remove the blindfold and then request my lady lover suck off the man who fucked me so well while I watch. She presses her beautiful, large breasts together and tells him to cum all over them, which he does after he removes the condom. Then I crawl to the floor so I can lick her clean.

  After we recover from this first round, we bring the woman back up onto the couch and get ready to start all over again.

  ***

  One week later, I lay between my lovers, sexually satisfied and feeling sleepy as we lounge in the king sized bed in my apartment. I watch the two of them sleep as I think of all that’s happened.

  Daniel and the guys hired an excellent PR agent we’ve been working with to keep this whole matter from falling to gutter paparazzi who will twist the facts and have a field day with it. The agent is a respected member of the local GLBT community, and he’s turned us all into darlings for the cause. Along with the guys, I’ve become an advocate for spreading awareness of the homophobia that lingers in sports and sports entertainment. We’ve reached out to other closeted athletes, and the guys never once have had to think about retiring from MMA due to nasty threats from colleagues or the media. Oh, sure, there have been uproars, but everything has worked out far more positive than any of us expected.

  And as the Beast snores and rolls over onto his side, I think how thrilled I am we all got our happy ending.

  ***

  The Little Mermaid

  A charter boat captain takes a bdsm adventure beneath the sea.

  By Roxxy Meyer

  ***

  The Little Mermaid

  I button up my thick cable knit sweater and let the wind whip my strawberry blonde hair about my pale, plain face as I walk from my Honda to Sydney Harbour. Fat seagulls are out in full force today, giving me a baleful eye that says if I don’t have food I’m not welcome in their territory. For all their puffing of chest and squawking, I know the birds are harmless, and I grin at their antics.

  I board my boat, the Sea Enchantress, and wait. I’m sure there will be no late comers for a charter boat tour today. I use my grandpa Horace’s old lobster boat to take folks on whale, seal, and puffin watching tours. But I can’t really compete with the fancier setups many other charter companies have and I’m barely hanging on to my tiny, one person company.

  Still I keep the boat to feel close to Grandpa Horace. It’s all I have left of him, after he disappeared into the Atlantic Ocean on one trip out to her watery depths. The Sea Enchantress came back without him, and Horace Griffiths was never heard from again. But if business doesn’t pick up, I’ll have to sell the boat soon and look for a source of income elsewhere.

  “He’s still alive out there, somewhere,” I often tell my mother, who my grandparents had helped out after she became a single mom with the death of my own father, who was killed by his watery mistress. At least his body was recovered.

  Mother just shakes her head at me. “He’s gone, love, and he isn’t coming back. Let him rest.”

  But no matter how many years pass, I still can’t shake the feeling my grandpa, a lobster fisherman and charter boat captain before me, is still out there somewhere. And one day I will find him.

  Just as I’m checking over the boat, two men walk down the pier toward my vessel. The rain is moving in now, and fat grey clouds smother the pale blue sky as tiny drops fall on my cheeks and nose. It’s been a cold and wet April.

  The men wear dark navy colored pea coats and both are tall and well built. One has a mop of dark, unruly curls that just cover his ears. The other has short ashen blond hair and a hawkish nose. When they looked up at me, I note their eyes are the color of sea foam. There is something odd about this pair, something eerie, but I would never turn down a willing customer. I can’t afford to pass up the cash.

  “Erin Snow?” the darker haired man calls up to me.

  I nod. “I am. You two looking to book a tour?”

  The blond one steps closer to my boat. “Actually, we need to speak with you.”

  He takes a hand from his pocket and opens it, showing me a string of iridescent pearls. I recognize them as my Gran Gladys’ necklace. A good luck charm my grandpa carried with him on every journey out to the ocean.

  “You know my grandpa?” the words rasp out of me in surprise.

  The two men nod and the dark haired one speaks, “We do. We’ve come to you on his behalf. May we board the boat?”

  I tell them to climb aboard and they do. Both must duck low when they walk under the strong canopy that covers the deck. This is used to protect my passengers from the strong Atlantic winds on our tours, particularly on days when the ocean is nasty and fickle.

  They follow me into the wheelhouse. Once inside, the blond hands me my gran’s pearls, and as our fingers touch I look up into those sea foam eyes and the attraction is powerful, instant. His slender lips curl into a smile as electricity seems to buzz between our fingertips. His hand, cool to touch, lingers on mine. The dark haired one draws near and the sexual sparks grow stronger. I tamp down this strong reaction so I can hear what they have to say.

  “Your grandpa is in trouble,” the dark haired one tells me.

  My thoughts reel and I stop him, placing a hand against the front of his thick pea coat. More electric energy seems to spark up my arm and I nearly gasp at the strange reaction I’m having to these men.

  “Wait a minute,” I say. “I don’t even know who either of you are. You could be lying to me. You could be con men here to steal my boat for all I know.”

  The blond one grins that damnable, knowing grin again. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves first then. I’m Jamie and this is my comrade in arms, Markus.”

  “Comrade in arms.” I screw up my face. “Either you talk funny or you were in the military.”

  He laughs at this, showing wide, white teeth. His face is all lean lines and square jawed, whereas his friend has that youthful, rounded soft face that never gives away its true age. His lips are full and appear very kissable. I shake my head then, inwardly chiding myself for thoughts of sex with these complete strangers when my focus should be on my grandpa.

  “We are in a military of sorts,” Markus explains. “We serve your grandpa.” He pauses then, taps a finger against those lush lips. “But, before I go any farther … Tell me, Erin, you grew up on Cape Breton Island. You know the stories, the folklore. Fairy people and the like.”

  I nod, feeling my brow furrow. “Yeah, every Cape Bretoner does. We’ve got the Fairy Hole at Cape Dauphin. Some say it’s a sea cave or was carved out by an old underground river. Anyone with Celtic blood knows about it and our other legends. The Mi’kmaq have stories too.”

  He walks closer to me and his warm breath fans my face. “Do you believe those stories?”

  I shake my head and laugh nervously. “Just old superstitions if you ask me.”

  He regards me with those sea foam eyes that seem to
swirl like the very water that surrounds us. “What if I told you some of those stories are true? What if I told you merpeople exist, and my comrade and I are of this race of underwater people? What if I told you your grandpa is our king?”

  I gulp and back away from him. “I’d tell you you’re not right in the head.”

  Markus remains impassive but his eyes still give that all too knowing look. Now they seem to hold a glimmer of challenge. “We can prove it to you. Take us to Glooscap Island and we’ll show you.”

  He places some coins in my hands that look straight out of some old pirate movie. They gleam in my palm and I bite one to test the gold. It’s soft and appears real. If these are antique coins, I’m sure I can get some decent cash for them.

  “Fine.” I let out a long exhale and ignore the nerves tightening my stomach. “What have I got to lose?”

  We leave the craggy coastline and saltbox houses behind us. The rain is pelting down harder now and the waves kick up around the boat as a fierce wind whips them into a frenzy. Sea gulls take flight and fight the strong currents, weaving and bobbing in the air as they do so.

  As we pull up to the jagged coastline of Glooscap Island and I steer the boat into the tiny harbour there, I turn to Jamie and say, “So you’re telling me my grandpa abandoned us all to rule beneath the sea?”

  His sparkling eyes, close to my own bluish-green ones I realize, pin me. “Didn’t you always suspect he was still alive?”

  A knot tightens my throat. “How could you know that?”

  He taps his forehead. “Merpeople are always connected. And he didn’t abandon you. He’s been watching over you, your mother, your grandmother ever since he left.”

  “My poor Gran went to her grave grieving him,” I whisper, feeling sorrow for my now departed grandmother and anger too at Gramp’s abandonment, if these men tell me the truth, that is. “I’ve struggled all this while, searching for him.”

  “Have you really struggled that much, Erin?” Markus says. “Hasn’t there always been just enough to get you and your family by? Not plenty, I know, but you’ve never been homeless.”

  I whirl on him. “No, but I’ve never had a real life, either. Always scrimping by, hanging onto this damn old boat.” I kick the base of the trawler’s helm.

  “Why do you think you held onto it and didn’t go into something more profitable, hmm?” Jamie questions now. “Because the merpeople are in your veins, too, and this kept you close to your true home. The ocean. Don’t deny the call has been strong for you, just as it was for your grandpa. Few of us can resist it for long, and then we must return.”

  If their words are true, I still think it’s unfair Grandpa abandoned us and went back to his true home. But I also can’t deny what Jamie says about the call of the ocean. It’s always been an undeniable obsession for me.

  We depart the boat and walk across the rocky shore. Glooscap Island is sparsely inhabited, and only a few boats dot the pier that is in need of repair. Far off in the distance, a few saltbox homes dot the grey horizon. I pull the coat I’ve grabbed from the wheelhouse tighter around my neck and follow the men on a path that leads us into a sparse forest of maple and fir.

  I realize how foolish I am again, and only pray they aren’t a pair of ruthless maniacs out to rob and rape me. But something deep in my gut and heart tells me I’m safe, tells me they speak the truth. I’m terrified either way, but the compulsion to see for myself leads me on.

  Soon we arrive at a cave that is lit by phosphorescent mushrooms and filled with an eerie glow. Inside is far warmer and less damp than I expected.

  “We’ll camp here tonight,” Jamie says and Markus agrees.

  “Wait a minute,” I say. “I can’t stay here. I have tours to run tomorrow.”

  “Has anyone booked a tour for tomorrow?” Markus asks dryly, not even looking at me as he begins to gather dry pieces of driftwood for a fire.

  I fume at him but don’t want to show it. “No.” I cross my arms over my small but pert boobs.

  Jamie smiles, looking back as he heads to the mouth of the cave. “Then why not stay and enjoy the adventure? Come gather some more wood with me.”

  Outside the cave, we gather up small and fatter fallen twigs from the surrounding maples and fir as well as some more dry driftwood.

  As we do, Jamie says to me, “You’ll have to forgive Markus. He doesn’t have the finesse I do with people.” He gives a charming smile and I almost relax, but I’m still not ready to trust these strange men.

  “You can’t go home tomorrow either, I’m afraid.” His face goes serious, drawing severe lines around his strong mouth. “We need you to come with us for a while.”

  My heart begins to ram hard against my rib cage. My nostrils flare as I take in a long breath to calm myself. “I’m taking my boat right now and going home.”

  I drop my armload of wood and make a run for it, but Jamie is fast and his strong arms ensnare my waist before I can make it to the pier. His warm breath fans my ear as he draws me closer, and his stubbly cheek grazes against my neck as he whispers, “Please, you must trust us. I swear you’re in no danger. Let us prove to you what you’ve always known--that your grandpa is still alive.”

  I sag in his arms, but I will not let myself cry. I won’t give him or his friend the satisfaction of seeing my tears, no matter how frightened I might be. “Seems I have no choice.” Though I relent, I’m already planning my getaway.

  He sweeps his lips over my neck and I shiver. His strong, slender hands trace the curve of my rib cage, cup my breasts through my thick coat and sweater. Instant relaxation begins to flood through me, like when I’m sitting in front of the fireplace at home as it blazes away on a cold winter afternoon. I let my shoulders relax against his chest.

  “You always have a choice,” he whispers as his lips hover above mine. “But your grandpa needs your help and we promised we’d bring you to him. Now, let’s go catch some fish for supper with those poles I saw in your wheelhouse.”

  A few hours later I’m sitting on a sleeping bag the men and I have brought up from the small cabin Grandpa had built beneath the main deck of the trawler. We’ve also brought in some blankets and one more sleeping bag Grandpa had stored below. A fire blazes in the center of our small camp and Markus throws the fish bones from our dinner into the flames.

  After an eventful day I begin to grow sleepy, but I fight off the tiredness, not wanting to doze and let down my guard.

  “As I said, Princess, you’re in no danger,” Jamie reassures me once more as he moves to the other sleeping bag he has claimed. “Go ahead and rest.”

  Markus climbs inside the blankets we grabbed from the cabin and simply nods to agree with his friend. Not big on charm, that one.

  “I’m not a princess,” I tell them both through a yawn then I climb inside my bag. “I’m a lobsterman who was never very good at catching lobster.”

  Markus gives a rare laugh at this. “You’re our king’s granddaughter. That makes you a princess.”

  “Sure, sure.” I wave a hand at him as I get comfy then lay down. “And tomorrow my boat will be filled with bags of cash.”

  “You’ll soon see the truth, princess.”

  After I see my grandpa, I’m going home,” I mumble as I begin to drift off.

  But I’m soon awake as soft noises stir me from a light doze. I know these sounds--the mutterings of passion. I strain to listen, and what I hear makes my skin heat and my pussy grow wet. The two men are clearly making love.

  It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone. Trying to keep my charter boat company out of the red and helping out mom with Gran until my grandmother died didn’t leave a lot of time for a social life. And the last guy I was with, some bartender from a local pub where my mother waitressed, didn’t know his way around a woman’s body at all.

  So their heated groans are getting to me fast. My breath quickens and I reach down between my legs to unfasten my jeans. Fingers slip beneath my bargain store cotton pa
nties and I start to rub my clit furiously in time with their sounds of sex, of flesh slapping against flesh.

  My body reacts quickly to my touch. Liquid heat flows out from my swelling clitoris and tightens my pelvis, makes my pussy tingle and grow wetter still. The tingling becomes an intense pulse and I rub faster and faster until I can’t help but let out a loud gasp as I come. I writhe inside my sleeping bag from the intensity of my first orgasm in a while.

  A broad palm closes over my arm through the fabric of my sleeping bag. Markus’ deep baritone makes my face heat with embarrassment. “Would you like to join us, Princess?”

  He stands naked and gleaming in the firelight, holding a hand out to me. I drink in his tall, muscular form as the flames turn green and outline the curves of his strong, well honed body.

  Without hesitation, I slip my fingers into his and let him guide me to my feet. The cave seems to change as we walk toward the other merman, as do my two traveling companions. Even I feel different now, and I notice the arm of the man guiding me shimmers as if tiny scales line his skin.

  “What’s happening?” I ask him. “Am I dreaming?”

  He laughs. “No, you’re awakening to your true nature. Merpeople are very sexual creatures and we have many natural magics.”

  The fair-haired man holds a hand up to me as I draw near the blankets he and his lover were making out on. He pulls me down between them and their cool hands glide over my skin. I’m chilled from the sea air, but I start to warm up from their touches. Part of me thinks What am I doing? I barely know these guys and they could be lying to me about everything.

  One of them leans in and kisses me. No simple peck, no. His tongue glides across my lips and coaxes my mouth open, melting more of my inhibitions. He sucks on my bottom lip then pulls it gently with his teeth before his tongue slips inside my mouth and entwines with mine.

  Behind me, my other lover glides his smooth, strong hands around my waist and up beneath my sweater. Since I’m small breasted I seldom wear a bra, and his palms close around the small mounds of flesh. His finger tease and pinch my nipples until I sigh into the other’s kiss.