Beauty (A Faery Story 3)

“Stay still, love. Let my brother have his treat. He’s waited so long to taste you.” The words were hot on her skin.

Two pulled at the silk of the gown she wore, hauling it down her body until she was naked in front of them. She knew she would be horrified if this happened in her reality, but in the dream she felt sexy and beautiful. She loved the way Two stared down at her, his eyes widening as he took in her body.

She was perfect in this dream. She was soft, and her breasts were full. She was curvy the way beautiful royals were. Somehow her mind filled out her form to what it should have been. In the harsh light of day, she was typical of a woman who plowed fields for her existence. She wasn’t gaunt, but she wasn’t filled out the way a princess would be. She was a peasant and she looked it, but here she was everything she’d dreamed of being.

“You’re so lovely.” Two’s fingers skimmed over her skin.

And they were amazing. Dark hair and eyes. Perfect faces with sharply masculine features. They were everything she could have dreamed of.

Two caught her ankles and very gently forced her legs apart.

“Leave them there.” One whispered the command in her ear, his hands tweaking her nipples.

Two climbed on the bed looking like a big predatory cat. He got to his belly, his mouth hovered right over her pussy. “Can you smell her, brother?”

“She smells like she wants it,” One replied. “Do you want it, princess? Do you want my brother to sink his tongue deep inside your cunt? Do you want him to taste every inch of your pussy? To stroke your little clit until you come?”

“Yes.” A simple answer, but it came from her soul. She wanted more than the orgasm. She wanted to feel connected to them, to sink so far into them that she never had to feel alone again. She wanted this time when she could be Bronwyn again.

Bron gasped as his warm tongue slipped over her flesh. Her pussy lit up, beginning to pulse as blood rushed through her system. It was so intimate, so beautiful. She could feel her whole pussy soften and moisten. She was coming alive under his touch. She writhed as he drew his tongue over her clitoris.

Fingers tightened on her nipples, erotic pain flaring, making a sharp contrast to the soft pleasure at her core.

“You stay still, princess. You don’t want him to stop, do you? He’ll stop, and we’ll have to discipline you. If you don’t behave, you’ll feel the flat of my hand on that perfect ass of yours and then you’ll suck us both and get nothing in return.”

Despite the fact that everything inside her tightened at the thought of having One spank her, she didn’t want to lose Two’s tongue on her pussy. She was close, so close to something she’d never felt before. She’d played with herself, found comfort in masturbating, but this was something completely different. This was a massive quake where before she’d managed a gentle shaking. This was something utterly new.

One tortured her nipples while Two lashed her pussy with his tongue. Bron whimpered and cried, trying to float over the edge, but they kept it up. Two’s tongue danced all over her pussy, lighting her up but never spending enough time to force her over that ever-elusive edge. Two gently pulled back the petals of her pussy, licking and sucking every inch of her flesh.

“You taste so good.” The words seemed to sink into her skin. She felt his nose running over her pussy.

And then he speared her, his tongue fucking into her cunt as his cock would. While he pierced her with his tongue, he pressed on her clit, and she went flying.

* * * *

She came awake with a cry of joy on her lips.

Bronwyn sat straight up in bed, her chest heaving as she tried to drag air into her lungs. Her hands were shaking, her nipples still peaked and wanting.

Tears leaked out of her eyes.

She was awake, and they were gone once more.

Loneliness swept across her. She could still feel their hands on her, but she was alone. Brutally, painfully alone.

She stared out into the star-filled night and prayed for sleep to take her once more.

* * * *

Torin Finn stared out over his kingdom, trying not to let the screams and cries get to him. Normally the wailing of the condemned was simply a sign that all was right in his kingdom, but today the sound seemed to have actual weight and motion, pushing at him. He had a fucking headache from that damn noise.

Why couldn’t traitors die more quietly? Did they really have to scream every time they were stabbed or cut or had their fingernails pulled from their bodies?

He sighed. It was because they were unworthy. They were not sidhe. Sidhe died properly. Even his own brother had died with a quiet dignity, his bright gray eyes widening as the sword went through his heart. Seamus Finn had died as a king should, with rage in his eyes and no cry on his lips.

Yes, his brother had died well.

“I’m glad I did one thing right.”