The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(27)

Till everything melted into one complete moment. Scent became color. Touch became emotion. And sight…sight was only him.

Her release poured over Rhys. He felt her body tighten and clench around his fingers. He watched the small puffs of air leave her red lips with each exhale. Felt her body tremble with each thrust of her hips. Slowly pulling his fingers free, Rhys shifted to stand in front of her.

“Kneel up,” he commanded.

Still lost in a world of sensation, Beatrice did not move.

Rhys placed a hand under her chin. “Kneel. Up,” he repeated with more force.

Beatrice raised up on her elbows before sitting back, cringing when the rounded edge of her heels dug into her still sore bottom.

One again, Rhys lamented being unable to get a glimpse of her breasts. The riding jacket and corset hid every detail from his hungry gaze. He hoped they were full and luscious. Enough to fill a man’s hands.

“Open your mouth.”

Beatrice pressed her lips tight. Even after a demonstration of his power over her both physical and emotional, she still resisted.

Rhys’ only response was to raise one eyebrow with a look that promised an even more severe punishment if she continued to disobey.

Beatrice opened her lips, slightly.

“Wider.”

With a mewling sound of displeasure, Beatrice opened her mouth wider.

Rhys traced her bottom lip with a dew soaked fingertip before pushing two fingers into her mouth.

“Suck. I want you to taste your own arousal.”

Beatrice tried to pull back. Rhys stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on the back of her head, forcing her forward.

“I said suck,” he ground out.

Beatrice’s tongue touched the leather clad tip. It tasted sweet and earthy. The smell of the wet leather mixing with her own musk, teasing her nose.

Rhys pushed the fingers in deeper causing Beatrice’s throat to close on a choke. He refused to relent.

“Suck.”

Beatrice swirled her tongue around his fingers in earnest now. Hollowing her cheeks as she pulled on the leather, tasting herself on him.

Rhys felt his cock lengthen and swell to even larger proportions as he watched her reaction to being force fed his cum soaked fingers. Such a beautiful sight. Her full red lips and pale cheeks stood in stark contrast to the black leather of his gloves. Her large amber eyes wide with fear and grudging desire.

“Good girl.”

He laughed as her eyes filled with malice as they narrowed. Still she obediently sucked.

Feeling the pull of her mouth on his fingers as her tongue circled the tips, he could not wait to fill her mouth with his cock. It would be a striking sight.

As much as he could stay in this field for the rest of his life testing her limits, the sun had long ago set and it was getting cold. He needed to get her back home. Pulling his fingers free, he walked away without a word to retrieve her skirt and riding trousers. Beatrice remained on the hard bench, trying to come to terms with what just transpired between her and the arrogant stranger.

Beatrice immediately tried to grab her belongings the moment he neared. Rhys held them out of reach. “Not so fast, my little fierce feline.” Reaching down he pulled his knife free from his boot. Beatrice stilled. Flicking the sharp blade open, he took a step closer. Beatrice held her breath. Rhys reached out to capture one perfect, silky curl. Pulling the lock tight, he flicked it with his blade.

Beatrice cried out as if he had actually struck her. Her hand flying to the offended shorn lock.

Rhys then cut a ribbon from the bodice of her riding jacket. After tossing her clothes to her, Rhys wrapped the purple ribbon around her lock of hair.

Beatrice stood before him after quickly donning her skirt, leaving the trousers. They were difficult to step in to and she didn’t want to spend another moment bare before his searching gaze.

“What do you intend to do with that?” she asked scathingly as she looked at the beribboned lock of hair in his grasp. Her tawny hair looked like bright, spun gold lying next to the tanned skin of his hand.

“It is a memento. It will help me dream about this for years to come,” he said with a salacious wink.

Beatrice flinched at the word dream. Twisted images of the beast, the forest and the gypsy’s curse flashed across her mind’s eye.

Marching over to her horse, who was nuzzling with his stallion nearby, Beatrice tossed over her shoulder. “I doubt you have days to live let alone years after I am done with you.” Her boldness returning in spades now that she was dressed and away from his grasp.

Rhys stalked towards her with purpose. Grabbing her around the waist, he gave her a bruising kiss meant more to send a message of dominance than seduction. “It would be a mistake to underestimate me.”

Rhys then lifted her up into the saddle. She was forced to once again ride astride. It was not safe to ride side saddle on a forward hunting saddle. Rhys watched the play of emotions across her face. Pain when her bruised bottom first hit the saddle. Trepidation when she realized she would have to ride astride. Regret the moment her bare cunny felt the cold, smooth leather. She had forsaken her riding trousers so there was nothing to protect her highly sensitive hidden core from feeling the brush of the leather with every shift of the horse beneath her. With every pound of its hooves, she would be reminded of his fingers and her spanking.

Keeping hold of her reins, Rhys mounted his own stallion, leading both horses back to the main estate.