Oct 092013

To read the beginnings, click here.

The people noticed the thorn bush growing and wrapping around the watch tower at the edge of town. Calling upon the newest hero, Prince Philip was summoned.

No one dared to go near the thicket of thorns, and Philip had to dismount from his horse and hack his way through with his sword, his cape quickly becoming tattered. The low-hanging clouds created a slight chill, and he felt some trepidation as he looked back and couldn’t see the path that he had made as the bush had grown back already.

By the time he had made his way to the tower, his arms ached and he was thankful that there was nothing left of his cape, and that his shirt and pants were torn to allow air in. He looked up, and decided it would be easier to climb up the tower then to fight his way through the bramble inside, besides he had a gruesome notion of being suffocating within by thorns.

He sighed, and began climbing, once more cursing the fact that he was a champion – albeit a reluctant one. Maybe once he was at the top he could figure out where the damned shrub was coming from. Thorns wound their way in and out of the windows at the pinnacle, but for one, and he climbed in that one.

He caught his breath. There was his bride – well, she would be in two days time. He chuckled, sheathing his sword. He should’ve known it was the same witch who caused the tower to be overtaken – how many witches could there be anyhow?

The clouds parted, and the sun beamed in through the windows, a sheer curtain reflecting the light, coming from the ceiling down beside Aurora, shielding her from the thorn bush alongside the walls. She was laying in a bed (a bed in the tower? he thought), naked except for a gossamer red sheet draped across her torso. He had never seen her this unclothed before, the sheet rose up to the peaks of her nipples, showed the curve of her tiny waist (corset training? he questioned), and shadowed around her hips, barely covering the tops of her thighs. Her golden hair cascaded around her face like a halo – indeed even the sun’s rays reflected that.

She was asleep – as it often was. Her eyes closed gently, the eyebrows and lashes thick and a slightly darker shade than her tresses. He wondered at the hair between her thighs, not having seen that but felt. Could the witch be any more explicit, he thought, than to provide a bed with a naked beauty, surrounded by thorns so there were no prying eyes?

Still, there wasn’t much room in a tower designed for watching. Already at her feet, he didn’t wish to get near to the thorns along the sides of her bed. He stripped off his boots and pants, trying to stay balanced to not fall, then kneeled at the foot of the bed and took off the remains of his cape and shirt. His skin prickled at the chill, but with the sun out it wasn’t nearly as cold as he expected. He lifted up one of her legs and moved it to the side. As he expected, Aurora didn’t move.

With her legs spread, Philip slid his hands up the outside of her thighs, shifted towards her as he did so, and slid the fabric up around her waist. Her curls were a slight shade darker than her hair, and he parted them with a hand, moving his tongue to her clit, his fingers stroking her entrance. He half anticipated her to take that great gulping breath – a signal he had to come to know as her awakening, but she didn’t stir. Slowly, almost as if afraid to wake her, he began kissing, sucking, tasting her sex, again comparing it to honey when it did start to dampen.

When he had his fill, he moved up, shifting the sheet off to the side, and nipped at her nipples until they hardened. He thought it wondrous that she responded still asleep, and was curious what she would be like when they were married and she was alert the entire time. He shifted further up, slowly running his tongue around her bottom lip – softly parted from her upper one. So soft, her lips, her breasts, he contemplated as he cupped one breast and squeezed. Leaning up on one arm, he guided his throbbing member at her entrance, scrutinizing her face for a flickering of acknowledgment or awareness. There was none. Such a deep spell of slumber.

Slowly, he eased himself into her, and her chest expanded with that breath, her eyes flickered open. He continued pushing, and forced himself against her barrier. She cried out, her eyes immediately welling up with tears, looking confused and accusingly at him.

“Shh, my lovely,” he stopped his advance in her, and leaned down to kiss her gently. “You would not wake up. I was unsure of what it would take,” and hoping for this, he added silently. “I can’t stop now, not for my sake. Please, I must continue.” Tears still streaming from her eyes, she nodded, their noses rubbing as she moved up and down. “Good girl,” he leaned down and kissed her again, and moved the barest amount. She held her breath, but didn’t cry out. It encouraged him, and he eased himself fully into her, then slowly moved out and in again.

Not as focused on her reaction, he became aware of a smell, and turned his head, seeing the thorn branches produce rose after rose of the darkest red. The room was covered in red, the fragrant blossoms dominating the small space. She made a noise, and again his attention was brought back to her. He bent down to kiss her again, and she wrapped her arms around him.

He began moving inside of her faster, picking up a rhythm that felt good to him, briefly concerned that she would probably not be pleased this first time as tender as she was. Her body enveloped around him like a sheath, and he thrusted in and out, trying to last, wondering if he should even try, if it would make it more painful for her. She made a noise against his mouth, her hands gripped into his shoulders, and he felt her tighten. He came instantly, but still forced himself to move a few more times, hoping that she was orgasming. When her hands hit his shoulders, he slowed to a stop.

And then laughed, he couldn’t help it. This hero bit with Aurora was wonderful, and he looked amazing to the town – unknowing of the limits he was allowed to cross. And his engagement to a cursed woman was not the curse he feared. She was gorgeous to look at, pleasing, and passionate (at least half asleep). He leaned to kiss her and announced, “I cannot wait to be married to you.” She blushed, as she often did so easily, and smiled.

I did not follow the prompt of disturbing films, but see who did…Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

 Posted by at 8:36 pm
Sep 172013

He sighed, hearing the bells toll the time. Maybe she wasn’t coming…or….she was late, again. Given his good lucks and the shared passion, he couldn’t picture her standing him up.

He sighed, a tad impatient. There was no helping it, he had a date with Aurora, and his parents expected them to be seen together with the upcoming nuptials imminent. He grabbed his horse’s reigns, and swung up, heading towards the nearest forest. Knowing Aurora, she was lost in the forest, or the spell took her again.

The spell…he didn’t know how he felt about that yet. His family came from a long line of heroes, surely they didn’t need to taint the name with a family’s who was cursed, especially when they ruled the land. And yet it was that damnable hero image they wanted to maintain that caused them to betroth him to Aurora. If anyone needed saving, it was her.

He remember telling his father he didn’t want to be bothered with saving a damsel in distress. He father overruled his wishes, as always, but tried to soothe his temper with, “she was made for pleasure, lad. You’ll like her soon as you see her.”

If only his father realized how right he was, but Philip wasn’t about to enlighten him, would rather he feel guilty. Aurora was stunning to look at, with long silky blonde tresses, a slight exotic slant to her rather blue eyes, a pert nose, and lucious lips. She was curvy in a way that few women were in the kingdom, with a bountiful breasts, a slender waist, and hips unusual for not giving birth yet.

And as for the curse…well, that could be gotten around. He has slayed a dragon and awakened her with a kiss…it seemed all the men in his family encountered a dragon at one time or another. But the kiss was chaste, as befitting a prince gentleman. Her lovely eyes opened and she smiled. He wanted her then, wanted to smother her smile in kisses, stretch his length alongside hers and touch her until she truly belonged to him. But he didn’t.

He didn’t find the witch that first time, nor the second time she fell asleep to the curse. The second time he was sent for by servants, who summoned him when no one could wake her, asleep by a spinning wheel. And he resented them watching him try to wake her, as he wanted to run his hands over her curves before touching her lips softly with his. Yet, when his lips did touch hers under the watchful eyes of others, she didn’t stir as before. He looked to the others confused, who simply shrugged, and then back at the beauty on the floor. He brushed her hair more fully to the side, marveling at the smooth texture, and leaned down again. This time, he breathed against her lips, slowly brushing his lips back and forth with the slightest of touches, and – hoping his body blocked the view – slipped his tongue in. Meeting no resistance, she tasted of honey, and he slid his tongue alongside hers, when he felt it tense and move back, and then meet his own. It was his turn to smile, for not only had he saved her again, but she responded to his tongue without withdrawing.

The third time he had seen the witch, a tall, lithe figure all in black retreating away. He went to go after her, and almost tripped on his future bride, sleeping around the corner of the building. Her clothes were torn in a few places, and dirt smudged one cheek. He bent down, realizing there was no one around him, and slid his hands around her tiny waist, and up the curve of her breasts. The top was tight, the corset even tighter underneath, and he resented the layers. He realized his knees were getting dirty, kneeling in the dirt, lusting after someone who again needed saving, and grasped the back of her hair, lifting her head slightly to kiss her, not being gentle and thrusting his tongue in immediately. She didn’t stir. Frustrated, Philip gripped her shirt and corset to pull her up more, and the laces parted, exposing the curve of her breasts. He couldn’t help himself, he lowered her to laying again and moved one hand inside, feeling the swell and the heat, fingertips searched and found a nipple, and he played with the bud until it hardened, then leaned down for another try at kisses while he pinched it.

A moan escaped her lips, and she arched slightly into his fingers, her tongue dancing with his own.

Maybe there was something to this hero business, he thought. Aurora protested after a moment more, but he knew she was fighting against her own passion, could see her grasping for breath as he was grasping for control.

The fourth time he saw the witch again, was on his horse and could easily have caught her, but he was curious by this point, and instead searched for Aurora. He found her behind a bush, her skirt in tatters, some material still caught in the bush beside her. He wondered if she fell, or if she was running from the witch. They had not discussed the witch, which seemed odd, he now realized, but talking to her was the last thing he thought of every time he saw her.

She was laying on her side, and he rolled her over, lifting the hair away from her face. Those lips seemed made for him. so full and soft and giving. He loosened the strings of her top and freed one of her breasts, laid himself next to her, and kissed the globe, hearing her breathe deeper, aware of her waking. He didn’t stop, just increased the suction, his other hand freeing her other breast and toying with it. Her hands gripped his hair, pulling him more fully against her, and after a time, he let his other hand roam down to her knee, among the tattered material, and sliding up her creamy thigh. Suddenly, her hand released his hair and stopped his hand mid-thigh. “We can’t,” she breathlessly pleaded. “Oh please, we can’t yet.”

He let out a groan of frustration, realizing he’d have to use a servant girl again, instead of the one he wanted – the one that would soon be his. But he wasn’t sure if he should push his luck, after all, their families met quite often. So far, she hadn’t shared their moments of passion, but he had no idea if she would if he proceeded against her protests.

“I can’t take much more of this rescuing,” he complained, secretly looking forward to the next time, “every time it requires more from me.” He sat up, and she hurriedly did the same.

She looked at him, then down at the ground meekly, gathering her shirt together to tie back up. “Soon,” she promised softly, still looking down but smiling. He wondered if she noticed his bulge in his pants, if she would even understand what that meant.

And the next time, fingers stroked her soft lips between her thighs, curls tickling his fingertips, and drops of the sweetest dew formed against them. He pulled his fingers up, tasted them. Honey, he thought again, so sweet. He heard a rustling, and saw the shadowy form in the forest. He gazed at the witch, too far away to see anything but her form, and then ignored her, moving his fingers down and then parting her entrance, sliding a finger fully inside her wet tight heat. As he felt her breath expand, he leaned down to kiss her protest before she became fully aware, and melded his mouth fiercely against her as he finger dipped in and out, curving against her upper wall. Her fist pounded into his chest, her tongue trying to push against his, and then suddenly she was kissing him, and her hands gripped his shirt, drawing his weight more fully into her chest, as she tensed. He felt her clench around his finger, and then was flooded with her moisture.

He broke the kiss and looked up, first at the bewildered lovely, then up further to see if the witch appreciated the show. She was gone.

“I’m sorry,” Aurora gasped, turning a lovely shade of pink.

He chuckled, and kissed the tip of her pert nose. “Soon,” he promised, “you will know better than to be sorry. And you will learn how to please me in return.”

She smiled slightly, blushed further, and went to move away and reassemble her clothing.

He anticipated the next time she needed saving, as there was only so much further he could go. He wondered if it was going to be before their wedding date in just a fortnight, and hoped it was.

Yes, he was beginning to appreciate the spell and the entitlement it gave him before the wedding night…no, no, he was just saving her the best he could, he amended. But would he like to find his wife asleep periodically forever? The mother of his children? Perhaps after he was married, he would track down the witch and kill her.

Moving away from the bells, and heading into the forest, he began to hardened as he pondered how he was going to have to wake her this time, and if the witch would move in closer for a better view….

To read more, click here.

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...


 Posted by at 12:34 pm