The Forbidden Room (Fairy Tales Behaving Badly) (3 page)

“You liked it, didn’t you?” She heard him say. “See how wet you are. See how drenched your cunt is.” A finger rubbed against her, and she screamed from the sensation.

“Do you know why I chose you, Melisande?” She could barely shake her head. He moved in front of her. “I saw you at the marketplace one day. You were beautiful and demure. Fool that I was, I stopped by the market nearly everyday, until I could determine your habits, remember the days you would come to sell your vegetables. I inquired about you, learned of your village and of your sweet nature. I wanted you from the first day I laid eyes on you. Do you remember me? You dropped an apple, once, and I returned it to you.”

Melisande shivered at his confession, the heat between her thighs still unquenched. She remembered that day. The stranger had been hooded so that little of his face could be seen, but his smile as he gave her back the apple she had lost had been slow and knowing. His hand had lingered by hers, and she had stepped closer to him without thinking, her body taking in the light musk, the spicy masculine smell of him. She realized what she was doing just in time and stepped back, cheeks flushed. She had behaved poorly that day, but the stranger had not seemed to mind, bowing to her before taking his leave.

“I knew you would never consent to be any man’s mistress, no matter how much money he might lavish on you. And yet I could tell there was passion underneath all your sweetness, one I could shape to my own desires. I suspected my reputation would frighten you, so I sought other means. Until then, I could not stop thinking of your face, the way your body had leaned into mine, tempting me. I wanted you that day, would have thrown you atop the nearest table in that marketplace and drove my cock into you if I could. Have you seen my latest statue? I had it commissioned shortly after.”

He gestured at one of the bronze statues in the room that was closest to the table, and Melisande gasped. It was the statue she had been exploring when the Marquise had entered; the statue of a girl constrained in the same way she was now, on her knees and elbows with her backside thrust into the air. She saw the look of pleasurable excitement in her expression. It looked so much like her, Melisande realized now, recognizing her features in the bronze woman’s. The man behind her was in the process of plowing his thick cock into her, his face lesser defined, but seemed to carry with it the Marquise’s arrogant bearing.

“When I heard of the plague that swept through your village, I had feared for you. I sent healers to your village with the express instruction of saving you, though I am sorry they could not save your father and mother.” Melisande gasped softly. So it was the Marquise of Eddom who had been responsible for saving so many of the villagers, many who may not have made it had they not come. “I had wanted to take more time and introduce myself to you, to court you as you deserved. I knew you loved your village, but I knew you were struggling. In time you might leave, or accept another’s proposal. And so I acted. I took advantage of your good heart and your misfortune, but I am not sorry, for I would do it again. Can you still bear it, living with such a man? Will you choose to take your chances elsewhere - or remain with me?”

She looked up at him then, and something in the look in his eyes, in the twist of his mouth, told her that if she chose to leave, he would set her free in that instant, despite all his desires, for all his tender harshness. “I would like to try,” she whispered, a swift tremor passing through her at her own words, and his green eyes darkened.

“Are you willing to give up your body to me, Melisande, to have in each and every way I desire?” The dark promise in those words, the rough way he said them, only made her quiver, more wetness spilling down her thighs.

“Yes, milord,” she whispered, only wanting him to ease the ache inside her, knew what he must do to accomplish this.

He smiled at her then, low and seductive. He moved out of her vision again, and her eyes widened as she felt him again behind her, felt her strong, lean fingers drawing her pouting lips apart, exposing her wet, depraved little core for him. She felt the cool air touch her there, heat and shame rushing through her. Something soft and warm began to probe at her depths. The Marquise’s finger, sliding into her sopping wetness. Soon, his mouth joined it, began to explore her thoroughly, the bridge of his nose nudging into her reddened cheeks, his breath hot against her inflamed skin.

Melisande cried out at the twin sensations, so different and yet so similar, the swirling tension in her belly growing with every second that his mouth lavished at her tight cunny, lapping at her sweet nectar. He changed direction abruptly, his expert tongue no longer a soft, stroking implement, but now a rough, piercing instrument, surging into her. He had withdrawn his finger, and both his hands gripped the back of her thighs to prevent her from moving back and forth against him, rendering her vulnerable to his tongue, which retreated to circle her exposed nub before stabbing back into her snug tunnel. Her clasping channel squeezed tightly around the invader, her fingers clawing at the wooden table beneath her.

She cried out again when he stopped, this time from frustration. She felt him rise, felt the undeniable sounds of his breeches being unfastened, the rustle of cloth.

“Do you know what I am about to do to you now, Melisande?” He asked, voice all but growling with need.

She whimpered, was rewarded with another slap against her buttocks. “Yes,” she gasped into the table.

“Tell me, Melisande. Tell me what I am about to do to you.”

“You’re about to put your… your hard
thing,
inside me….”

“I am going to put my hard
cock
inside you, Melisande. I am going to pleasure your innocent, delicious little cunt with my thick prick. Tell me.”

“You… you are going to put your hard…
cock,
inside me. You are going to pleasure my innocent, delicious little cunt, w-with your thick… ah!” He was pressing against her again, but this time with something larger, harder. Oh, so many times larger. He rubbed against her dewy folds, and she could feel the tip pf him probing there, before moving further down, to lodge itself against her clasping tightness.

“Tell me to fuck you, Melisande.” He was forcing himself into her, inch by slow inch, and Melisande fought to bring her knees together, instinctively trying to stop his hard shaft from entering further. All she got for her efforts was to make herself tighter for him, her cunt lips squeezing around his length and only pushing him deeper. She moaned at his invasion as he opened her up, at the feeling of being so unbearably stretched.

“Please, I…
ohh
…”

He stopped when he came upon her maidenhead, and the pain increased. She could only sob her relief as she felt him withdraw, giving her a moment’s respite before he lunged forward again without warning, impaling her throbbing pussy and depriving her of her virginity in one hard, smooth stroke.

She screamed, pain shooting up her belly as her hips bucked, trying in her panic to keep him from entering her any deeper.

“Shh,” he soothed, as his finger reached around her to return to the soft curls between her thighs, gently stimulating the nub there while he waited for her to grow accustomed to his cock, hard and throbbing and immense inside her. He teased her, patient and caressing, until more wetness spilled out of her, priming her body for more to come.

Melisande whimpered when she felt him ease out, at the delicious friction of his cock rasping against her inner walls. It sent little jolts of unplanned pleasure through her. He moved back until only the tip remained, then thrust forward again with just as much force as he had done that first time, and Melisande wailed as he forced her pussy to accept his cock, lodging deep. The pain was lesser this time, faint tendrils of bliss taking its place.

He rocked into her with slow, short thrusts, pausing every now and then to withdraw fully and plunge into her again, making her shake and roll her hips each time he did so. Once she began to relax, once most of the hurt had disappeared, he began to ram harder into her sheath. She could do nothing but accept his thick prick as it slid across a spot inside her that made her keen aloud, his heavy balls slapping against her still-sensitive buttocks as he impaled her cunny.

Each delicious thrust sent her tightening around him, and she could hear the Marquise grunt every time his hips slammed into her. Finally she could take no more, and her cries were long and loud as pleasure burst forth, seeking to encompass every part of her, the first she had ever experienced.

As she slowly came down from the heights of her ecstasy, she noticed that the Marquise had stopped his thrusting, his heavy breathing hot against the small of her back. She sensed that he had not reached his peak the way she had hers, that he was waiting for her to come down so he could continue.

And continue he did. He reared back and began to ride her hard, harder than before. The force of his thrusts sent the table moving forward in small jerks, but Melisande was too lost to notice. Every fiber of her being was concentrated on thrusting her hips back against her captor as she was able to, yielding to his rough demands. She cast a quick look behind her, wanting to see his face.

She saw, for the first time, the Marquise of Eddom fucking her, his face strained as he plowed into her with abandon. His shirt lay unbuttoned, to reveal his hard, muscular chest. His breeches were gone, and she could see glimpses of his hard male flesh rearing up, slick and glistening with her own juices, before he would slam the full length of it into her tiny body, forcing her cunt to bear the brunt of his attacks. The cords in her neck were straining, and his mouth was twisted in a grimace. The sight of him, growling and rutting into her like a majestic beast, was enough to send her spiraling into another orgasm, coming as he stroked into her heat. This time her cries were mixed with his own, warmth spilling into her as he shuddered against her body, buried so deep with his seed spilling into her womb.

Melisande was barely conscious by the time he withdrew from her - completely this time. She was dimly aware of him removing the chains that bound her ankles and wrists, felt his warmth enveloping her as he took her into his arms. “I shall save your ass until our wedding night,” he whispered into her ear, and she shuddered in reply.

He lifted her, carried her away from the blue room, back toward the long hallway to, she knew, the bed they would share from that day onward. The Marquise of Eddom’s betrothed smiled sleepily against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and knew she would enjoy living in the castle with her new master from now on.

The wedding took place five days later, and many of the villagers were invited. They were happy to find that Melisande had taken very well to both her new home and her new husband, who was handsome and somewhat reserved, but charmingly polite. Her old friend, the village priest, performed the marriage ceremony himself, and the glowing bride hugged him afterward, telling him that she was thankful to him and to God, for helping her make the right decision.

That night, the Marquise of Eddom sodomized his bound wife with his large cock; after plowing repeatedly into her soft cunt, after feeling her spend countless times beneath him. “You are mine,” he whispered, as his invading prick stretched her, leaving her breathless with anticipation.

“I am yours,” Melisande whispered, submitting completely to him. With a hard groan the Marquise reared back, and drove into her again.

- FIN -

About Annie Eppa

Annie Eppa is a writer or erotic romance and erotica. When not writing, she can be found gallivanting all over the world as a freelance photographer. She has a strange fascination with matryoshka dolls, and once lived in a treehouse.

Follow her blog for new releases and giveaways at
http://annieeppa.wordpress.com
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New information for her erotic fantasy romance series,
the Maidens
, is on Goodreads, with the first book due out November 2013, with two other books in 2014. View them here:

The Shrinemaiden
|
The Slavemaiden
|
The Silvermaiden

An Excerpt from The Shrinemaiden

“Thank you, Captain.” Adelai said, trying to hide her pleasure at his words, used to his teasing. Over the course of these months she had relaxed her guard more with him, and the witty banter they enjoyed with each other perhaps crossed the line between what should be proper sometimes. She had learned enough times in class that men prize wit just as much as beauty, and she had enough practice of the first with Captain Thornton. “You may only be a mere captain of the guard, but I’m glad I was able to satisfy you.”

It was the wrong thing to say,certainly more forward than any she had ever uttered, and the words left her mouth before she realized the euphemism. Adelai clapped her hand to her cheek, blushing, heard him inhale sharply.

“You have no idea how much I would like to satisfy you.” The captain’s voice was rough, husky. “Gods, Adelai. Sometimes I forget that you’re a….”

“A shrinemaiden,” Adelai finished, trying desperately to salvage the situation, but only succeeding in digging herself in further. “Shrinemaidens are known throughout all the kingdoms for their seductive arts, after all.”