Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
The tips of two brushes trace up, up, finally coming into contact with my clit for a delicious second before they pull away again.
I fear it will be the longest day of my life.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The prince’s party is held beneath a pavilion in the garden, erected especially for the occasion. The black court attire of mourning has been banished, and everyone is required to attend dressed in golds and reds, by royal decree.
Even I am dressed so, by the faeries who have tormented me all day. They worked their magic upon my appearance as they worked their magic upon my body, and I arrive at the party on a canopied palanquin with sheer golden curtains and red velvet cushions. I am bare, flushed, and desperate, my wrists restrained by golden manacles.
There hasn’t been a single moment of the day that I haven’t been on the very brink of climax. I loathe the faeries who carry me, loathe more the one that rides the palanquin, kneeling between my legs and working a slender phallus in and out of my dripping, aching cunt. I feel myself reaching the peak and no longer hope that this time will be different. I can only sob weakly when the instrument is withdrawn and the treacherous green faery waits until I’m ready again.
I’ve watched her and her matching counterpart come again and again, robbing me of pleasure that should have been mine. I’ve watched Cassan struggle and beg, too, and it’s the only reason I don’t resent him for this foolish plan.
I haven’t seen Cassan since sundown. The faeries thought it good fun to position the two of us face to face, still restrained, so close that we could feel the warmth of each others’ straining, sweating bodies. The faeries took turns stroking the head of Cassan’s cock back and forth over my clit until we both begged to be loosed from our bonds. Any other thought that might have been in my mind tonight has been drowned out by the relentless need of my body, my hunger for Cassan, and my desperation for release.
They bring my palanquin beneath the red-and-gold striped roof of the pavilion, which is brightly lit with luminous globes. There are no chairs or tables, but piles and piles of cushions, all occupied by writhing masses of fae bodies. There is a round dais placed directly in the middle of the pavilion, and that is where the faeries lower my palanquin.
They’ve brushed my curls into copper waves, painted my lips crimson, and draped a thin, golden chain around my waist. The ring through my hood has been replaced by a curved bar topped with a ruby, the small gold ball on the other end tucked directly against my clit. Every jostle threatens to tip me over the edge, but the wicked green faeries know when I am too close, and exactly how to keep me from coming.
A mixture of applause and appreciation rises above the wet smacking and feral grunting of the copulating courtiers.
I look about for Cassan, relieved that our ordeal has nearly ended. I spy him at the end of the pavilion, bound to a gilded post with his hands behind his back, bucking and shouting under the ministrations of a faery in a gold mask. The faery rubs his own cock against the prince’s with two oiled hands, stopping whenever it is evident that Cassan is close. The prince’s eyes meet mine and his chest heaves with a sigh of obvious relief.
“She is here,” he calls out. “Take me to her.”
The green faery hops down from the palanquin to stand beside it. She grasps my foot and plants it flat, bending my knee up slightly. The purple faery pulls my knee back, and the other two faeries mirror their position, holding me open as Cassan is brough forward, arms still bound behind him. The four faeries who carry him are all fully nude, with impressive, thick cocks and bodies that look chiseled from stone. I’m not certain that one of them isn’t truly made of alabaster, like the statues in the library, for there seems to be no pigment to any part of him. Two of them look as Cassan does, golden tan, but with shining blonde hair, and the fourth is the same sea foam green of the faery from earlier. They lift Cassan up as they mount the dais to lower him over me.
The faeries holding me are strong. Though I want to reach out for Cassan with my legs, pull him into my body, I cannot. Neither can he control his own motion; one of his blond attendants grasps the prince’s raw, sensitive cock and moves it into position.
A drumbeat begins. Slow, at first, but gaining speed as the blond faery slicks Cassan’s tip back and forth over my clit, then moves it down to rest at my opening.