The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(40)

Beatrice gave out a startled yelp, once again squirming her hips.

Rhys swirled his tongue over her opened lips. Tasting her musky heat. Reveling in the undeniable proof of her attraction to him, to his punishment, to his authority. He shifted upwards, dipping his tongue into her slightly opened puckered hole. Preparing her.

Rhys lurched up onto his knees. Unlacing his breeches, he freed his engorged cock. Grasping the shaft, he ran the head of his cock through her arousal, caressing her nether lips. Once he was slick with her dew, he pressed the tip against her back passage.

“Wait! No! You can’t!”

“You deserve every inch of this,” he growled.

Thrusting his hips forward, he watched as the head of his cock widened and stretched her tiny hole. The dark pink skin whitened as it was pulled open.

“Oh, god! Stop!” yelled Beatrice.

It was torment. The sharp piercing pain. Her body fought the intrusion. Clenching, Clamping. Wincing. Her breaths came in quick bursts. Her toes curled as her feet kicked out. Nothing would stop his slow steady push into her body.

Rhys groaned as the crest slipped in, her tiny hole closing tightly around the top of the shaft. Thrusting forward, his thick cock forced her back passage open painfully wide. Nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing her body forced to accept him, to see his cock disappear deep inside, against her will. When he was finally fully seated to the hilt, he reached around to cup her breasts. Pushing her torso up, he pulled her back to meet his chest, the movement impaling her even more fully onto his shaft.

Beatrice rolled her head back. Choking on her own sobs, it felt so much worse with her upright on her knees, tighter, more strained, more…full. It was awful.

“Please! Please! Enough! Oh, god. It’s enough,” she begged.

“I’ve only just started,” said Rhys darkly. Keeping a firm hold on her breasts, he shifted his hips back then forth, driving in and out. Each thrust deeper than the last.

Beatrice scrambled to brace herself. Her nails digging into the hard leather of the saddle. It was all too much. She felt overwhelmed. Over-powered. He was in complete control.

Shifting his right hand from her breast, Rhys caressed her stomach as he slid his hand further down. Plunging his two middle fingers between her clenched thighs, he vigorously started to rub her cunny. The friction creating its own heat. Taking his two fingers, he ruthlessly pinched her sensitive bud.

“No! Don’t!” Beatrice groaned as the sensations of pain mixed with pleasure.

Rhys could feel her back passage tighten around his shaft every time he tormented her clit. Rolling the bud between his fingers, he squeezed and pinched, glorying in her strained cry.

“I won’t stop punishing your bottom till you cum,” he roughly whispered against her ear.

Beatrice’s only response was a whimper. She was beyond words.

Rhys continued to thrust with agonizing ferocity. Her bottom hole began to redden from his onslaught. Despite his girth, her entrance was still restrictively tight.

Beatrice closed her eyes and let everything wash over her. The feel of his coarse hand on her breast. His fingers rubbing titillating circles around her clit. The tormenting, throbbing ache of his cock driving into her bottom. The disturbing swirl of stinging pleasure. The scent of cedarwood on his skin. Green earthy scent of fresh hay.

Opening her eyes on a shock of misery as he thrust hard, Beatrice’s gaze was drawn to the bay window. Out in the pasture, she watched in stunned shock as Rhys’ black stallion approached her chestnut mare. Despite her shying away, the stallion chased her around the paddock, refusing her rebuke. Finally, he pinned the mare against a fence corner. Beatrice watched in fascinated horror as the stallion reared on its hind legs before mounting her much smaller mare from behind. The stallion bit the mare as she tried to move away, forcing her to endure his assault. It was violent. Raw. Primal.

The room swirled and melted into a spinning trundle of color, scents and sounds. She tilted her head back on a deep-throated scream as a release was ripped from her body. She was only dimly aware of Rhys’ roar of completion as she collapsed onto the cold, smooth saddle.

“Say it,” he ground out near her shoulder. His cock still buried inside of her. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed.





Chapter Nine





Three Months later, Dessin Animé Kingdom.


Rhys stood impatiently by his father, the King, on a red velvet covered dais. For the fifth time in a quarter hour, he checked his pocket watch.

“Son, she will be here. You know there are the formalities to be observed,” assured his father. “You act as if it has been months since you last laid eyes on the girl.”

If felt like years, thought Rhys. It was protocol to separate the bride and groom for several days before the ceremony. Rhys tried to argue against it. He chafed at the idea of being away from Beatrice for so much as a moment, especially as she was in a new land surrounded by strangers. His father’s ministers would have none of it. It was a royal wedding after all. There were formalities to be observed as everyone was forever reminding him.

“She is fine. I understand from my courtiers she started ordering everyone about and arranging things to her liking from the moment she entered the palace,” reported the bemused King. His father could not be happier his son approved of his choice of bride. The future of the Dessin Animé Kingdom was in good hands.