This is an excerpt from "A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women" edited by Kristina Wright. It has been reprinted with permission from Cleis Press.
He did not come every night, and even when he did, sometimes he only stood and watched me work over the shirts. He was the king of the land, and there were no doors that were barred to him. If he wished to watch a madwoman sew endlessly and silently with flowers, it was his right. His name was Marek, but I had little enough cause to use it, and when he opened the door to my room, I stood and then knelt before him in greeting, a subject to her liege. Of course I did not speak.
He stripped his black leather gloves from his hands, and instead of telling me to rise, he came to stand close to me. He had bathed before the hunt. My nose was filled with the smell of sage soap, and underneath that was his own smell, warm and rich. He was a tall man, though not broad, and this close to him, I felt the way that I had when he first caught me. He could tear me to pieces if he wished, but something told me that he never would.
"Well, lovely," he said after a moment, "Do you think this will be the night that I make you speak?"
He spoke, and that gave me permission to raise my eyes to him. My expression of frank doubt and skepticism made him laugh, and he stroked a familiar hand down my cheek. I was the princess of a realm even greater than his, and it should have humiliated me when he petted me like a prize hunting dog. Instead, it filled me with warmth and pleasure, because I knew what was going to happen next.
He allowed me to put the delicate shirt that I was working on in the cedar chest, and he waited patiently while I loosened the laces of my kirtle. There were nights when he simply cut the laces with his knife, but tonight he seemed content to wait, sitting in my chair as I pulled away my heavy dress. He stayed still until I was down to my silk shift, and then he came to tug it over my head.
There was always a moment of delicious vulnerability when I was finally bare in front of him. My long black hair was still braided, failing to protect my modesty at all, and I left my hands at my sides, refusing to be cowed by his height or his strength. That made him laugh, and he took ruthless advantage of my confidence, stroking lean and calloused hands down the column of my neck, along my side and over my hips. His gentle touch made my nipples harden longingly, and he dipped his head to lick at one and then the other.
The heat and warmth of his tongue made me shift my weight from foot to foot. I knew that he was playing a game, and that there would be no easy climax for me that night, but I couldn’t help the fact that my body craved him. Curse or not, I had wanted him since the moment I laid eyes on him, and he knew it.
"You’re gorgeous, my little silent one," he murmured, moving to stand behind me. "Perfect in every part…"
He cupped my breasts, one in each hand. They were small, not even filling up the palms, but he regarded them as if they were precious. I gasped when he started to squeeze, digging his fingers gently into the soft flesh and making me crowd back against the hard bulk of his body. Standing so close, I could feel the length of his cock inside his trousers, and with a soft little cry, I pressed my rear against him.
Now, I could have moaned, I’m ready now, can’t you see?
He laughed softly, kissing the rim of my ear, and one hand slid down my belly to the hair between my legs. His fingers were gentle but insistent, and when he found my clit there, he worked it until I was panting and red. I wasn’t even pretending anymore. I pressed myself back against him, and if I could have, I would have turned to undress him. That didn’t seem to be the game we were playing because he suddenly released me to stand away.
The loss of his body’s warmth and support made me stumble, but then he closed both hands around my wrists and led me to the wall, turning me to face it. I wasn’t sure what he was after until he placed my hands palm-flat on the stone.
"Don’t move them from that spot," he whispered in my ear, and I nodded, swallowing hard.
He pressed one booted foot against my bare calf, and with a sigh, I braced my legs farther apart. The cool air hitting my damp parts made want more and more, and he laughed, dragging one hand up along my thigh to nestle between my legs.
I kept as still as I could as he pressed first one, then two fingers inside me. I was so wet that I took him easily, and for a blissful few moments, I worked myself on his hand, thinking that perhaps he would give me more. He drew his fingers away too soon, and he stepped away from me for a moment.
"Do you know what this is, lovely?"
I turned my head to see him holding what I at first mistook for a scourge, a short whip with a dozen knotted tails. The scourge was meant to punish criminals, and sometimes it could flay them to the bone. I must have gasped, because he laughed and stepped closer.
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