by Sahara Kelly
“Oh yeah, Leatherfly. Oh yeah,” endorsed Persephone, eyes closing with pleasure.
“But…” He eased himself away from her with a wince.
“But what?”
“We have to go out.”
“What?”
“Look, if it wasn’t Oberon himself, I’d be the first one to say fuck them all and you’d be stark naked underneath me right this second. But he is the King, and it’s damn near a royal command. We have to go.”
Persephone sighed. “I suppose. It was too good to be true, wasn’t it?” She shrugged herself back into a more normal frame of mind. The one that said how unlikely it was that Mr. Perfectly-Slick Studded Wings would actually be falling head over landing gear for someone like her.
Hands slid up her sides and around her back.
“Oh, no, baby, it wasn’t too good to be true. Not yet.” His fingers darted around her tiny budding wings and she gasped as they stroked her sensitive flesh.
“God, Thorne,” she breathed.
“Yeah, honey. Just imagine…” His touches flickered and fluttered on the twelve million nerve endings that were all hard-wired to her cunt. She could feel her juices leaking from her and her breasts ached for his mouth, his hands, his wingtips, any part of him to ease their need.
“Dear heavens,” she sobbed, all but coming apart under his touch. She grabbed the first thing that came to hand, which turned out to be his cock. His indrawn breath matched hers as his fingers moved faster.
She ripped the zipper down and shoved her hands into Thorne’s pants, cradling the erection that fell readily into her hands.
“Oh my, you’re…you’re incredible,” she said, entranced by the thick and hot length of him. She ran her hand up and down, and circled the base, squeezing firmly.
His gasp pleased her, although she almost lost her concentration as his fingers found a new and entirely incredible place to massage around her thrusterbud.
“Thorne, I’m going to—“ she choked, flinging her head back and hanging onto his cock for dear life.
“I know babe, I know…” His voice was as tight as his balls, and she felt the veins in his cock twitch as he groaned loudly.
She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. Thorne was coming into her hand, hot and alive and pulsing in her grasp. His fingers were driving her to insanity, and he hadn’t even touched her clit or her breasts. Her entire body shook and trembled from his touch on her back and when he savagely pulled the front of her dress away from her and fastened his mouth to her nipple it was almost a relief.
His tongue pulled and suckled and his teeth bit down as his finger penetrated into the mystery of her thrusterbud.
She screamed. And came. And came. For what felt like hours.
Spasms shook her from head to toe, deliciously painful cramps rocketed through her spinal column to echo the clenching of her womb, and her cunt wept tears of delight.
She collapsed into Thorne’s waiting arms, exhausted, sated, and happier than she’d ever been in her entire life.
“Holy fucking-A.”
Thorne’s words dropped into the now-quiet room like machine gun fire, jerking Persephone out of her stupor.
“You brought me off with a hand job. I can’t believe it.”
Persephone blushed. “Well. So much for romance.” She straightened herself and moved out of Thorne’s embrace.
He seemed quite stunned, just looking down at himself and the wet stain he’d left on his clothes.
“You weren’t exactly idle, either, you know.” She pulled her halter top back into place and refastened the tie. Her back ached a little and she winced.
“You okay?” His concern warmed her heart.
“I think so. That was something else, though. What, I’m not sure, but definitely in the category of something else.”
Thorne looked at her uncertainly. “Does—er—does that mean it was…good?”
Persephone hid a grin. “Yeah, Thorne. That means it was…fabulously spectacular. Bells, fireworks, earth moving, that sort of thing.”
Thorne regained his customary expression. “Well, of course it was. Nothing but the best for you, babe.” He moved toward the bathroom then turned back. A wide grin spread across his face.
“Well, okay. I guess it was good for you.”
She glanced over at him with a puzzled frown.
“Look at those beauties.”
She swiveled and checked the mirror. Where there had been a pair of small baby wings, there was now a matched set of quite respectably sized wings, glittering softly in the growing darkness of their room.
“Wow…” she breathed. “Wow. Sugar was right. Sex works.”
Thorne chuckled from the bathroom. “You said that right, honey.” He emerged a few moments later, clean, changed and smiling. “Let’s go party, Persephone. I want to dance with you, hold you against me, make a public display of ourselves and let Fairyland know you’re mine. And most of all, I want to come home with you. Sleep with you after making love to you. Hold you all night and wake up with my arms warming you and my wings around you.”
Persephone’s eyes filled with tears. If this was a dream, please don’t ever let her wake up. If it was the answer to her birthday wish, then thank you to the gods of birthday wishes. She’d never make another one.
“You’re on, Leatherfly. Let’s go rock Fairyland, and then come home and rock the Universe.”
* * * * *
Persephone wasn’t quite sure what to expect when she entered the dark and dusky interior of Neville’s “Gnome Away From Gnome” that evening, and it showed in the hesitant expression on her face.
Thorne had no such problems. All his attention was focused on his beautiful wingwoman.
“Hey Thorne.”
“Hi, Leatherlover…”
“Thorne baby. How’ve you been?”
The chorus of female greetings that flowed over him as he walked Persephone past the tables toward the back of the club bounced off his wings like raindrops.
He could feel a slight tension in Persephone’s spine, however, as he rested his hand just above the swell of her buttocks.
“Come here, often, Leatherfly?” she asked, with a dry tone to her voice and a raised eyebrow.
“Not anymore,” he answered, slipping his hand even lower and squeezing her buttocks.
He was satisfied with the slightly cross-eyed glance she gave him and the falter in her stride.
He led her to a larger booth where a couple was already seated.
“Hey, boss.” Norman Elderbranch stood and shook hands with Thorne, staring all the while at Persephone. Next to him, Cobweb dimpled at the two of them.
“Persephone, this is Norman Elderbranch, my right hand gnome, and I think you’ve met Cobweb Glitterworm?”
Persephone smiled and shook hands with Norman, trying hard not to bend down to his level too obviously. Thorne was touched that she’d even consider it.
“Hello, Norman. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And Cobweb, lovely to see you again.”
Thorne hid a grin. The professional Persephone had just peeped through, regardless of the fact she was dressed like a horny fairy’s wet dream and had wings that sparkled like pink diamonds. He couldn’t wait to get her in his office. Actually he was having a hard time waiting to get her anywhere. He considered the possibility of dragging her off to the bathroom for a quickie.
“Don’t you think so, Mr. Leatherfly?” Cobweb’s delicate voice grated on his aroused body and wrenched him back out of his fantasy.
“Um, yeah. Whatever.”
Persephone glared at him and Norman grinned.
“What? What’d I say? It’s loud in here, I didn’t catch everything.”
“Oh, sit down,” said Persephone, tugging him onto the banquette next to her. The waitress hovered next to their table with a pad in one feeler, a tray balanced between two others, a cell phone and pager in yet others, and a pencil poised to take their order.
“Hi Mayfly
. Looking good. How’re the kids?”
“Great, Thorne. Thanks for the toys, by the way. My son loved that truck.”
Thorne blushed and looked away.
“So, what’ll it be, Persephone?” Norman asked.
“I have no idea, Norman. What does one order in Fairyland? Usually I have a light beer…” Persephone tilted her head and looked at the little fellow.
“Oh, Persephone,” tinkled Cobweb. “Beer’s way too heavy for us fairies. Why don’t you try something light and sweet?”
“Like nectar, I suppose?”
“Oh yes, absolutely. All the in-crowd just loves it. Especially the honeysuckle one.”
“There goes Sal’s stock, up another couple of points,” she whispered to Thorne as the Mayfly took their orders.
Thorne grinned, needing no further explanation. “I’ve got some, too.”
She punched him gently, then turned the hit into a caress and took his breath away. “D’you think the King and Queen will be here soon?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” answered Thorne. “They hate to miss a good time.”
“Real party royals, Persephone,” added Norman. “Of course, they’ve had a couple thousand years to practice, and if you could hear them tell their tales about the old times and the parties they had back then, whew. It’d melt your wing wax.”
A blast of sound interrupted their conversation, and Persephone leaned back into Thorne’s arm with her glass of nectar in her hand.
“Dancing?” She looked up at him with a smile that made his heart ache.
“Not yet, sweetheart. We get a floorshow first.”
“Oh cool.” She turned a little and brushed his side with her breast. He felt his pulse rate leap and fought a battle with himself to keep his hands out of her tempting cleavage. For the moment, anyway. “I love live entertainment. Is it a band, a singer? What is it? A rock group?”
Thorne swallowed. “Er—not exactly.”
“Faireeeeessss and Beeeeeeings…” a loud voice blasted through the speakers that were placed around the room. “Neville is proud to present for your entertainment this evening…direct from the Fairyland Palace in Las Vegas…the Canterbury Belles. Accompanied by their Gnimble Gnomes.”
A roar of applause filled the room at this announcement.
“As a special treat, the Gnomes have invited a Guest Gnome to perform with them this evening…put your hands together for Gnaughty Gnicholas.”
Thorne swallowed and prayed that his wingwoman was broad minded.
Chapter 8
The lights dimmed over the raised stage, and Persephone slid her hand into Thorne’s as she waited for the show to begin. She was having a wonderful time. The nectar was delicious—Cobweb had been right—and she was considering a second glass. She had a hunky fairy all her own who couldn’t seem to get close enough to her or stop touching her. And she was about to watch what was probably some kind of risqué floorshow.
And it was still her birthday. Life didn’t get much better. Or odder, but then again, who said normal was fun?
A drumbeat began and two cloaked figures slid into the spotlight. Delicate veils swathed their wings and blended with the softness of their cloaks, hiding most of their bodies and sparkling under the lights.
The bodies swayed in time with the drumbeat, and behind them Persephone could see a line of smaller figures, silhouetted against the curtains at the back of the stage. Their pointy hats gave them away. They had to be the Gnimble Gnomes.
The drums picked up and a mournful guitar began twanging out a sad refrain.
In perfect timing, the two cloaks fell to the floor, revealing two female fairies.
Persephone gasped. They were wearing stardust and not much else. And boy, were they stacked.
“They’re not real, Persephone, don’t worry. Implants, you know.” Cobweb leaned over the table and patted Persephone’s hand reassuringly. “They wouldn’t be able to fly if they were real. But since Tinkerbell went Hollywood and got herself a pair, every would-be fairy ’star’ figures she’s got to have big—um—well, you get the idea.” Cobweb stuttered to a halt, obviously realizing she was talking to a woman who possessed star qualities of her own that were quite real, and owed nothing to the surgeon’s skill. She blushed a little and sat back next to Norman, whose beard twitched slightly.
Persephone shot a glance over at Thorne, only to see him frowning at Cobweb. A drum roll brought her attention back to the stage.
The Canterbury Belles slipped the rest of their veils off and were revealed as glorious red-winged creatures with softly silvered bodies and tiny red thongs that sparkled and glittered brightly. Their breasts were bare and pointing at the audience as they began to sway to the music.
Their movements became slightly more provocative.
Their hips began thrusting in a gently rhythmic fashion, bringing a few calls of approval from the crowd. As they continued their dance, the gnomes behind them filed out into the spotlight, marching slowly to the drumbeat and swaying in time with the girls’ hips.
These, realized Persephone, were not your everyday, sit-next-to-the-tub-of- roses-on-the-front-lawn, gnomes.
Their tunics looked like shiny blue satin, cut long in front, their hats stiff, pointy-sharp and decorated with sequins, and their red trousers were transparent. When they turned, Persephone was treated to the sight of five little gnome bums, just barely covered by their tunics.
She stirred. Thorne’s hand gripped hers tighter and he settled her practically on his lap, folding his wings around her protectively.
She snuggled in with a smile and a sigh of contentment and returned her attention to the cute little gnome bottoms that were bouncing around on stage.
“Oooh, Norman,” cooed Cobweb from the other side of the table. “You’d look good in that.”
Persephone stifled a chuckle as Norman slid as close to Cobweb as he could, tucked his hand behind her back and whispered something in her ear, making her giggle and shiver.
Persephone could just imagine where his hand was and what it was doing. She glanced up at Thorne to catch sight of his eyes burning down at her. He folded his other wing across their bodies and slid his hand into the pocket of her dress.
Well, that was fine, until Persephone realized she didn’t have a pocket in her dress.
“I had this made especially for tonight,” whispered Thorne, licking up the outside of her ear as he spoke.
His hand had passed right through the hidden slit in the leather and was even now resting above her pussy, stroking, caressing, moving softly over her skin.
Her back itched like hell.
“I won’t touch your thrusterbud here, babe. Some things are best kept for more private surroundings.”
She sighed as his fingers speared through her pubic hair.
“But we have other options. Just keep watching the show.”
Persephone did as she was told.
The gnomes had cleared away the veils and removed their hats, placing them in two pointy piles at either side of the stage. The Canterbury Belles, pleased to be free of their draperies, were now running their hands lightly up and down each other’s bodies, turning, twisting, moaning, and generally making sure that everyone got to see their nipples as they were pulled and tweaked, and their breasts as they were lifted and offered.
The audience was getting increasingly restless, with several moans indicating patrons who were doing a lot more than lip-synching with this particular act.
The music sped up a little, heightening the sexual tension, and with a little drum roll a new gnome leapt onto the stage.
This, deduced Persephone, must be Gnaughty Gnicholas.
It wasn’t a difficult deduction.
Gnicholas was practically gnaked.
His costume was completely transparent, and although Persephone had no idea what the general cock size was for an average gnome, Gnicholas had to be outstanding when measured by any standard.
He was hung like a—well,
whatever began with G and was really huge. She couldn’t think of anything because she was stunned at what she was seeing.
“Never realized gnomes hid such secrets, did you?” said Thorne quietly.
“Dear heavens,” she answered, stomach fluttering as his hand moved against her skin.
Thorne grinned. “Look at Cobweb,” he whispered.
Persephone risked a glance across the table. Cobweb’s eyes were the size of saucers and her mouth hung open in a rather unflattering manner. Norman, on the other hand, grinned like an idiot, clearly waiting for Cobweb to make the connection.
Cobweb turned to Norman. He turned the grin down a couple of notches, and smiled at her affectionately.
She licked her lips and swallowed.
Norman pulled her onto his lap and fluffed her wings out to either side.
At that point, Persephone ducked down behind the protection of Thorne’s wings. There were some things that she probably shouldn’t be watching.
From her shielded cocoon she returned her attention to the show. And was completely distracted by Thorne, whose fingers were teasingly playing with her hair, her flesh, and now, her clit.
Sheesh. This was something else.
Gnicholas had assumed a position on his knees and was beckoning the Belles with his hands raised.
They fluttered over to him, and hovered, one on either side, hands above their heads in wanton pleasure.
Fascinated, Persephone stared as Gnicholas’ beard began to twitch and divide itself into two streams of hair. It parted cleanly and each side seemed to develop a life of its own. Beads of sweat began to glisten on Gnicholas’ brow.
The beard halves began swaying, almost like puppets on a string. They crept up the thighs of the Belles on either side of him, and Gnicholas closed his eyes in concentration.
With a grunt, he tipped his head slightly, and each beard half slipped under the thong of a Belle. His erection grew.
The girls moaned.
The beard trembled and with a mighty roar, Gnicholas commanded his beard to pull.
It yanked the thong off each fairy, leaving them gnude. Persephone shook her head in disbelief. She was thinking in gnome.