Forbidden Fables, page 21
“Good girl…you love that, don’t you? You need this.”
I turn my head towards hers, and her mouth captures mine. The kiss is deep, hungry. Her tongue slides between my lips, and her fingers play me like a harp. I moan into her mouth, and her other hand slips up my body to toy with my nipple.
For the first time in my life, I am going to peak at the hands of another. My body is primed and ready.
“Just relax…fear not, I have you.”
The circles become long strokes, and she enters me with one finger, and I whine. She finds the tight ball of flesh with her thumb and strums it in rhythm with her finger that explores inside of me.
I grind against her hand, pressure ebbing deep inside my hips, and the two spots she expertly rubs at the same time send me tipping over the steady hill of strokes until I’m climaxing around her fingers.
It didn’t matter Charles wasn’t here to see, I am certain he will hear my cries of euphoria wherever he is.
Chapter 23
Charles
My cock is rigid, to the point of being too uncomfortable to sit and watch the two women fondle one another any longer. I have to move away from them before I start to reach for it…for them.
I can feel Charity’s eagerness all over my skin, just by her pink cheeks and wide eyes, as I watched the pair caress each other beneath the water.
There is no stopping what is happening inside that damned water spring.
My hackles are raised, and I feel on edge…careful to keep an eye on Freyja’s movements behind Charity from afar.
I don’t go back to the cabin, I hide like a coward behind a thick rosebush a few feet beyond the hot spring.
Am I a coward for not stopping what is transpiring between them? Or am I just a pervert who wants to watch them…not really because I want to protect Charity, but so I can watch her.
Memories of the brothel flood my mind again, and I blink my eyes a few times as if to wish them away.
I can’t stay here and watch, but something pulls my eyes back to them, an empty ache inside of me. My breath comes in shallow droves as I watch Charity’s head fall back onto Freyja’s shoulders, eyes shut. My hands find a branch, and I grab onto it to keep myself steady. A sharp prick bites the insides of my fingers, and I hiss, yanking it back, a small dot of blood left in the wake of the rose bush’s thorns. I suck the spot while my eyes continue to observe the women’s soft bodies thrash gently against one another.
I’m hard, so fucking hard, leaving me angry enough to fist my cock into erupting fury.
How can a demon woman be as beautiful and intoxicating as her? Did I truly want to undertake such a responsibility by will of The Lord? will I be able to keep a vow of chastity and protection under the watchful eye of Deacon Domenico?
Freyja has me questioning it all, but I know Charity is the one who has awakened this need deep inside of me.
I allow myself to stroke my swollen shaft just once. Hell…I wasn’t ordained just yet; I have this test to pass first. So why not enjoy this one little wank in the meantime?
I hear footfalls behind me in the woods, and I jerk my hand away from my crotch, throwing a look over my shoulder. There is nothing but emptiness, but my heart thuds heavily in my chest, and I decide to venture inside the cabin to see what damning evidence I can find.
I have to prove to myself that Freyja is what I think she is, and later, prove the same to Charity.
As I walk up the creaking, wooden steps to the small cabin, I am stumped as to why this rickety-old shack looks so delightful and modern on the inside. I try so hard to find reasoning besides magic, but I simply cannot.
I run my hands along the perfectly painted, dark walls. Flowers hang from the ceiling around the room, and there isn’t a shelf that doesn’t have a melted candle or glass jar resting atop it. The bookshelves that line the walls inhabited thousands of books, the sheer number overwhelming me. I walk to the easel, the familiarity of the paint brushes sticking out of a jar filled with water, and my fingers twitch at the thought of picking one up to stroke lines across the blank canvas.
I turn my focus on a dark doorway to the back of the room, forcing myself to resist the temptation that she surely laid out to distract me. Surveying the room, I make sure I am alone.
Whenever this man—Freyja’s grandfather—returned, the risk of our demise will be doubled. But how am I going to pull Charity away from this sex-induced glamour? Anything and everything she can ever want is here. Not to mention the fact Thomas is ignorant and insufferable, not even I like the man.
I breech the doorway, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The shelves look old and dusty, nothing like the rest of the home. A large tabletop is dressed in black and red linens, candles, and gems I’d never seen before. A mirror sat at the top, along with what looks like a wooden statue of a naked woman wrapped in a python. I shiver, an icy finger of dread running down my spine.
I have no means to kill this woman—the only choice I have is to get her to the tall house and to Domenico. Armed with holy water and crosses, perhaps he will damn her back to hell from which she came; I did not know.
I pick up a box of matches that lay below the statue, lighting one so I can see the shelves a little better. The match hisses to life, and as I hold the flame to the shelves, I gasp.
Hundreds of jars, filled with water and what looks like tongues, fingers, and…male extremities. I drop the match just as the flame is about to lick my fingers, backing up slowly until I’m pressed against a wall.
This is what Charity needs to see—the proof that Freyja is indeed evil, a witch who casts spells and kills men. How will I get her back here without Freyja noticing…without her watchful gaze on us both…I did not know.
My mind does cartwheels over the images of her emerald eyes and curved lips committing such heinous acts. Even I didn’t want to believe it is true. Did she have claws? Fangs? Weapons that we can not even fathom?
My hand finds a latch just at my waist, and I pull it. Falling on my bottom, I brace myself with my palms on the floor, looking around at what seems to be Freyja’s bedroom.
It is exactly the opposite of what I have witnessed in the dusty, dark room next door, much more in keeping with the rest of the house. This room is full of treasures and jewels, plush pillows and blankets, and the sweet smell of vanilla. A lamp sits low beside a nest of cushions, a red, sheer scarf draped over the top. It casts an eerie, sensual color over the entire room…a vision that sends nostalgia of the brothel from which I came all through my body. I crawl to the bed, pick up the silk robe she wore this morning, and bring it to my nose. I inhale her musky, sweet scent deeply ravenous for the thrill it pulses through me. My thoughts turn back to the vision of Charity and her together, imagining what Freyja’s magic fingers did to her innocent body, what soft sounds spill from Charity’s lips with pleasure.
I slide on the bed and onto my back, rubbing the silk fabric down my body. Greedily pulling down my shorts and running the silk over my cock, a sharp intake of breath leave my lungs. I stroke myself up and down, letting it slide over the shaft and beneath my tightened sack. Groaning again, I wrap it around the thickness and turn onto my belly. I grip the bed blankets tightly and rock my hips into the cushion, fucking into the bed the way I wanted to fuck the witch while Charity watches.
Only, I didn’t want to stop there, I want to fuck them both, one after the other until they are soaked with my seed. I cry out violently as I spurt into the robe, feeling the most satiated I ever have in years.
Chapter 24
Freyja
Igather Charity into my arms after her fruitful orgasm beneath my fingertips. My own cunt throbs after watching her mewls crest, then subside. But I will be patient; she is making an emotional connection with me…I can smell it on her skin.
“You did so well for your first time, pet. I’m so proud of you.”
Her eyes open, and she pulls herself away from me, her cheeks pink with orgasm, and smiles sheepishly. “It wasn’t the first time.”
I kiss her cheek lightly and pull myself out of the water, handing her one of my many robes from Asaahn. She rises, taking it and marveling at it. “Is this silk? I have only ever read about it, but never felt it…it feels…glorious.”
I nod, and she wraps it around her tall, lithe frame, closing her eyes at the feel.
Oddly, I feel pleased with her happiness, and I want to please her more. I want to share with her all the spoils of my hard work and travels. I want her to feel the things I have felt over these years, harvesting and manifesting this life I have now.
It is a strange feeling, and I think about what it is I can show her next.
I take her hand and lead her back to the cabin, still naked since she now wears my robe.
It hasn’t always been this way. My family did not leave me with much, and it wasn’t clear why they wanted to escape the Welsh lands where my sister and I grew up. I have an inkling it has something to do with my mother’s father—the one responsible for burning my grandmother. I don’t think my father can accept the fact that he failed to kill the man who left my mother with that wretched old woman.
I know as soon as we enter my home that Charles has been up to something. Things have been touched, moved and the air is thick with sex. His sex.
Charles is handsome in a charming, boyish way. Not the usual type I prefer. The ones I take life away from…take souvenirs from. He smells innocent, pure…but I can’t quite tell the why of it yet.
“Can I get you anything, sweet boy?” I purr as sweetly as I can. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and his body sits stiffly, almost aggressively, in the chair beside the easel I have procured just for him.
His eyes dart to Charity again, who is watching me…naturally. It is as though he feels the need to keep an eye on her with me. Perhaps he needs her validation—a strange thing for a man to seek from a woman.
“I want to show you something.”
Charity’s face lights up, and she kneels beside the table where I stand, ever so eager to do as I say.
I can truly see this one here with me each day—a companion, my companion.
My own little pet.
I turn, reaching up on my toes to the tallest bookshelf full of glass jars, and find the one with the loosened top containing my latest find: a large Huntsman spider.
“Ah, here…” I say, holding up the spider, between the two with their eyes wide and fixed on the dancing body of a light tan and dark brown arachnid.
Charles nearly jumps out of his chair, cringing away from my hand. Charity ‘oohs and ahs,’ her soft brown eyes wide with wonder.
I unscrew the top, and the spider slowly crawls up my hand with a little encouragement from my fingertips.
“Lord, almighty! Get that thing away from us! Are you mad?!” Charles exclaims, which causes Charity’s face to turn to him, her eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.
“That thing is just a spider…are you truly afraid of it, Charles?”
His face is beat red now, and he is half hidden behind the chair. I stifle a chaste laugh. Charity meets my eyes and covers her giggle with her hand.
Soft…just as I thought.
“What terrifies you, Charles?” I ask as the spider steadily crawls up my arm and stops at my elbow.
Charity stands, walking slowly to me, reaching for the spider trying to escape me.
Deftly, she sweeps him up into her hands, cradling him. She moves her head from side to side, observing his arched legs. “Beautiful.”
Charity walks to the chair where Charles is still cowering behind it, and he falls back on his hands, backing away as she taunts him.
“A spider, Charles? You’re afraid of a little spider?”
I grin, amused by her bravery and mocking. I wanted to grab her by the neck and push her against the wall while the spider still roamed her body.
Good girl.
“I…. I’m not scared…just…not use to seeing them. I lived in a church…in London. There was no such insect just roaming about…”
Ah…a church…
The spider suddenly drops and makes a beeline for Charles.
It only takes me two steps to close in on it, and I drop to my knees, capturing it with both my hands.
His mouth is hanging open in horror, and I hold his blue eyes for a long beat and smile, opening my hand slowly.
Eyes darting down, he peeks inside my hands, and I violently slam them together, the spider crumpling into a tiny ball. Charles and Charity both gasp in unison, and I drop the ball to the floor.
“Truly amazing how something can look intimidating…yet can be destroyed in one, swift motion. Hm?”
Charles swallows and blinks a few times. Charity crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes down at him as if it is his fault and not mine that the spider is no longer alive.
Charles stands, dusting off his breeches, and sits again as if he didn’t just cower like a child at the sight of a bug.
“Balls, Charles, you just had to act like a little girl. See what happens when you let fear control you? Now it’s dead.” Charity announces, and my heart swells at her words.
“Indeed, my pet. It’s all a matter of perspective. Do you know what that means, Charles?” I ask with hands on my hips.
Charles subtly nods his head. “I do. Some may find a spider perfectly normal…and others might be…threatened by it.”
I pace slowly in front of the massive bookshelf Charity can’t seem to keep her eyes off of. “Indeed. However, I can remember my mother quoting something her mother used to say, ‘Normal is an illusion. What is normal to a spider, is chaos to a fly.’
After the three of us eat a large meal of venison stew, I am able to shoo away Charles to bed with most of the encouragement coming from Charity, insisting she wants to speak with me about ‘woman things.’
I doubted that very much.
Charity lay her head in my lap in front of the fire while I stroke her soft hair. I undo the tight braids she wore, one by one, wondering why she will hide the wild curls that frame her face so well.
What a pity that she has never been shown freedom.
She speaks to me lazily, her lids heavy with sleep. I feed her hawthorn berries, and her lips become loose with secrets.
“…he just showed up…out of nowhere…with Charles in tow—a young man who looks nothing like him. I’m not even sure they are related. It’s all so very suspicious to me.” She yawns as she finishes, and she places her warm hand on my thigh, and for the first time in years, I feel calm…complacent. It feels odd…yet familiar.
Like an old but trustworthy friend that’s returned.
“And this…Thomas…” I grit out the name, the name my mother can barely speak, and one my father refused to. “You say he is now the town’s leader…the town’s pastor?”
She nods, and her eyes are fully closed now.
“He is an awful, angry man. He has never been kind to me.”
I stop stroking, anger burning at the back of my neck. “Has he ever hurt you?”
She doesn’t respond, and I take her silence as confirmation. I picture the same man that killed my grandmother hurting Charity, and I seethe. He will suffer for what he has done to my family.
“Tell me…where exactly is this town you came from?” I ask a bit loudly, and I shift so that she is forced to sit up, her ivory skin flushed with heat from the fire.
I want to do depraved, vile things to her perfect mouth. I want to mark her body with my teeth, dragging them over her perfect skin until it blooms red for me.
I want to make her mine.
Chapter 25
Charity
This is the third night that we’ve stayed here with Freyja.
It felt like nothing more than one day to me. Although I did miss my mother and sister, and my cats; I did not miss the suffocating town or the man that infiltrated my home and my life, turning it upside down.
I never want to leave.
It is inevitable someday I will have to leave my family to marry; to continue the tradition of creating my own family and having my own children.
The idea of bearing a child is more terrifying than the notion of marrying a man I didn’t love. I didn’t want the responsibility of caring for another human life.
It is too much for me to even think about.
What I did want to think about is the feeling of Freyja’s hands on me, pulling her fingers into my mouth and kissing her endlessly.
I want to kiss her from head to toe, feel her tongue slide against mine. Taste her, caress her, inhabit her.
The fire reflects in her emerald eyes, and she holds my stare long enough for my nipples to become erect through the sheer nightgown I wear that is hers.
“Come here…” she coos, and I crawl to her on my hands and knees, capturing her mouth with mine.
Her hands are in my hair, tangled and pulling my face closer to hers.
It feels strange not having my braids secured tightly to my head. The feeling is blissful and freeing.
Our mouths are wide, and our teeth clack together a few times before we find a steady rhythm of strokes and sucks.
She pins me down, straddling my hips with hers, and my head swims with dizziness from her heady scent and delicate hands on my breasts.
Pulling the gown over my head, she hurriedly pulls hers as well, and then she is above me, both of our naked bodies wash in the blazing firelight.
“I…I want to feel you…” I stammer, and she raises her hips off mine, guiding my hand to her warmth. My hand shakes as I cup her cunt, feeling her wetness as my fingers sink inside her folds. She closes her eyes, and I gasp, raising my hips up, fucking the air with my own throbbing cunt.
“will you like me to ride you, sweet pet? Feel my wet lips slide over yours?” she whispers, and I all but fall over the edge at her words.
