The Three Princesses (3 page)

The Woodsman turned; shoulders hunched, muscles taut, and stalked after her. She laughed again, and turned to dance away, leading him across the bed, a ghost that he could not catch, a wind that passed through his fingers as if he were a slow and clumsy oaf. The more she evaded him the more his savage desire grew, his anger and resentment blending into a need to dominate her, to control her, to make her beg him for more. She laughed and danced and on he followed, till she finally turned and slipped within the cradle of his arms. Before he could hug her to him, however, she dropped to her knees, and with a practiced flick undid his belt.

The Woodsman froze, jaw clenched, and felt her pull his belt free with a snap. She tossed it aside onto the bed, and then pulled down his pants, raking his thighs painfully as she did so, looking up at him and grinning all the while. He stood panting, his hard stomach shivering as he watched her pull down his small clothes, and his cock sprang forth. It was large, wide, with a thick vein running along its length. The head was broad and smooth and massively swollen, and for a moment Circe simply stared at it, looking for all the world to be taken aback. Then with a feline purr she reached up with both hands, and curled her fingers along its length. It was so large that she could wrap both hands around it, and still have the head emerge.

"Oh yes," she whispered deep in her throat. "This is what I have dreamed of. This is what I need." She began to stroke its length, teasing once more at first, trailing the tips of her fingers along its girth, back and forth and then down to curl over his balls which hung heavy between his thighs. She whispered her touch over them then back up his cock to the very tip, where he would gasp and contract so that his cock would jerk up with the tension. Again she laughed, a soft sound, and on she went, coaxing and teasing and playing and torturing him until he thought he would lose his mind, would be unable to hold back and simply fall upon her to ravish her right there on the carpet.

Just when he could hold himself back no longer, she placed both hands together so that each formed a semi-circle, and ran them both down his shaft firmly, pulling the skin of his cock down taut and making his tip swell even larger. He groaned, and when she leaned forward and the tip of her tongue darted across his head, he closed his eyes. It felt like a slice of flame. Up came her hands, then down smoothly, firmly, drawing him taut once more, and again she licked, around the shaft now, up and down, deft touches that only made him desire more. Down and around and then up came her hands then down and this time she slipped his head fully into her mouth, and when he felt that hot, wet heat enclose him he bunched his hands into fists and shuddered like a tree struck by his own ax.

Her lips were tight around his shaft, and still she worked her hands rhythmically as she suckled him within her mouth, working her tongue around his head and down his length. Up and down went her hands, and he felt a fire building within his balls and crotch that he had never felt before, a raging need, something that consumed him utterly. The need for release grew ever more pressing, but she would not give it. His cock luxuriated within her mouth, and then she rose up higher, above him, and with a practiced move descended so that the length of his prick entered the back of her throat, and he felt his head push against the back of her mouth and then slip past as she took his whole length slowly past her lips.

It was too much. Her throat was tight, constricting in the most pleasurable of ways, her lips around the very base of his shaft, her fingers tickling and pulling at the skin of his balls, massaging them as he reached down and clasped the back of her golden head. She seemed not to mind in the least, and he felt himself rising to the tips of his feet, his mouth opening as he roared his need, and all his pent up desire and passion came roaring up from his very core as he came thunderously into her throat.

Circe rose up with him, pulling back so that his cock slipped free from her throat and he shot his cum endlessly into her mouth. She worked her hands along his shaft as he did so, sucking deep from him as spurt after spurt flew into her mouth, and when he finally could come no more she pulled away with a victorious and wicked grin across her face, a single strand of cum falling from the corner of her mouth.

The Woodsman groaned, rocking on his heels, blinking, his chest heaving, hands opening and closing spasmodically. Never had he come like that. It had transcended pleasure, felt titanic, as if his cock had been the greatest oak in the forest, and she had torn that orgasm from him like plucking the very tree, roots and all, from the core of his being. Gasping, he felt her icy cold kisses on his thighs, her hands reaching around to cup his cheeks. She kissed and nuzzled him, rubbing her cheek against the underside of his prick which still shuddered and danced, and looked up at him from where she knelt.

"Oh my beautiful man," she said, purring and satisfied. "My beautiful, strong, righteous man. There. After all these years, there. Oh yes. And we are just beginning."

The Woodsman took a deep, heaving breath, and looked down at her. All thought was gone from him, all coherency. He looked down at Circe as if he didn't know who she was or why she was there, still clad in her black dress, her hair so full and long that it nearly touched the floor as she knelt. Reaching down, feeling that savagery returning already, he slipped his thick fingers amongst her locks and grasped a fistful which he then pulled tight, turning her head to the side. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him, but her smile never quite slipped away. Her hair was smooth and almost liquid, so easily did it flow and drape about her. He felt a sense of power holding it, a thick knot of her hair clutched in his strong fist, and he tightened his grasp and forced her to turn her head ever more till her dark blue eyes grew bright and tears stood in their corners. But still she smiled up at him, and he heard himself growl deep in his chest as he released her hair and scooped her up under the arms and turned and tossed her onto the bed.

His cock was hard already as he looked at her where she lay. Her hair was an aureate corona about her head, and her lips were a shocking blood red against her porcelain skin, her eyes narrowed with lust, one knee drawn up, the other leg straight, her dress hugging her lithe figure, tight across her breasts. He stepped up to the bed, knelt on it, moved over her, and then reached down and gripped the black lace hem below her neck. With a ferocious jerk he tore it clear down the front of her body, the fabric shredding and jerking her body up as it did so. Her breasts leaped into view, and with another growl he tore the rest away, using both hands now, until she was naked to the waist, her stomach smooth but for the dimple of her bellybutton, her ribs arching up, her breasts full, her arms slender, her neck long and her face, oh her face, inciting him further with that smile that never left her.

With another growl the Woodsman bent over her, grabbed her by the sides and lifted her body to his lips, brought a breast to his mouth and bit her cold nipple. She gasped as he suckled and sucked on her nipple, feeling it grow immediately hard under his touch. He was not gentle. He could tell she didn't want that, nor did he want to give her any tenderness. Instead he went back and forth from one full breast to the other, filling his hand with its roundness as he kissed the other, pressing his face to them and moaning and kissing and licking as she pushed and arched her body up against his. Rising, he reached up and yanked his shirt over his head, and then fell upon her, pressing her cool length against his chest, feeling her smooth and nubile body against his muscles, her arms wrapped around his back as he kissed her neck and then sought her mouth, but once again she turned her face away, laughter bubbling forth.

Giving up on her lips, he knelt back, and pulled the remnants of her dress off her hips and legs and tossed it aside. She laid naked before him, fully a woman though her pussy was shaved completely smooth. Pausing, he reached down and traced her slit with the tip of his finger, and it was as if he traced a line of electricity so much did she gasp and writhe. He ran the pad of his thumb up the side of one full lip, and then down the other. She moaned, closed her eyes and pressed her chin to her shoulder. He reached down and held her beneath one knee, raising her leg up and to the side, opening her cunt so that he could see a gleaming slice of crimson. He pushed aside her other thigh, pressing her knee to the bed, and splayed her open wide, so that she could hide nothing from his stare, so that her pussy lay open, the lips slowly parting, her heady musky scent rising and driving him mad. He knelt there, still, simply looking down at her, holding back as his dick grew harder and more demanding, feeling himself grow turgid with desire once more, and then he looked up at her and met her eyes.

She was watching him just as he had been staring at her. Watching him, admiring him, measuring him. Waiting. Seeing what he would do. They held each other's gaze for a long moment, and a cold control descended upon him. He would fuck her, oh yes, he would ride her until she could be ridden no more, but he was doing this for his son. For his freedom. Not for her. Not for her body, no matter how perfect it was. He was doing this because he had to - but if he had to, he would fuck her so hard she would not forget him for a thousand years to come.

Some awareness of his thoughts entered her eyes, and her smile grew faint. They looked at each other, and for the very first time, it was as equals, one appraising the other in that moment of silence. Her smile never quite disappeared, but a new solemnity entered her eyes that had not been there before. The Woodsman knelt between her legs, one lifted to the side from below the knee, the other pushed down hard into the mattress, his cock large and swollen and glistening as he stared down at her, and then, slowly, almost tenderly, he released her knee and took his cock and pressed its head down upon the top of her slit where her clitoris lay.

Circe closed her eyes with a moan and turned her face to one side once more, pressing her cheek against the sheet. The Woodsman slowly drew the head of his cock down the length of her pussy, and then rubbed it back up once more, feeling her lips part beneath him, feeling the slender firmness of her clit move from one side to the other beneath him. Back and forth he moved his cock, feeling an almost cruel desire to make her come, to drive her to ecstasy as she had driven him. She closed her eyes and groaned once more, turning her face to the other side, bringing one hand up to cup her breast and the other to her mouth, slipping the tip of her pinky finger between her lips. On and on he went, inexorably, rubbing his cock up and down her clit till finally he leaned back and broke contact with her. She moaned for awhile longer, and then stilled and opened her eyes and looked at him.

He took his cock in his hand once more and leaned forward and this time pressed the head of his cock between her lips. They pushed back before it, and then slowly slipped around his head so that he felt her hot wetness beneath. Releasing her other leg, he gripped her by the hips, holding her tight as he slowly, ever so agonizingly slowly, slid himself into her pussy. She arched her back, pushing down on her shoulders and angling her hips so that she opened up before his width, and slowly, holding her tightly, he slid deeper into her. Still he felt that cold control, that distance, that cruel detachment. Deeper he slid, watching her face all the while. Circe closed her eyes and squeezed her nipple tight, pressing her large breast against her chest as she bit her lower lip. Deeper he slid, his veined length disappearing inside her, until finally he lost his patience and jerked forward, burying himself to the haft within her.

Circe let out a shocked cry, and her dark blue eyes flared open. Holding her tight by the hips, the Woodsman began to slowly gyrate his hips, moving and grinding about in a small circle, feeling his engorged length deep within her, feeling himself rub against her soft ridges, so deep that his balls were pressed against her buttocks, that her clit was buried in the hair at the base of his shaft. He lifted her completely of the bed and held her to him, and she pressed back against the bed, need and hunger in her eyes, and he saw that the amusement was gone, that detachment, that she was fully here, with him, needing him, needing his cock, wanting it, all of it.

The Woodsman pulled back, watched her lips hug his shaft as he retracted, and then with firm power slid deep once more to the hilt. Circe gasped, and again he pulled back. She felt divine around his cock, silken and smooth and wet and heavenly, not as tight as her throat but in some manner better, matching him perfectly, receiving each thrust with pleasure. Still he held onto his control. Each thrust was measured, rough, to the base of his cock, and then slowly back out, slowly, drawing forth his glistening member, until his head was just encased by her delicate lips and then he'd pause, as if hesitating, and then drive it home again, her whole body shaking, her breasts rocking, her head turning from one side to the other, moaning, groaning, gasping as he drove her mad.

He would not relent, did not want to relent, but she felt too perfect. His own desire was mounting, his own need. That fire was burning once more in his cock, in its root deep within him, and he gripped her tighter around the hips in an attempt to control himself, burying his fingers cruelly in her flesh as he did so. She laughed, and he saw that she liked the pain, the sting of his grip, and this only pushed him farther. Again and again he rammed his veined cock deep into her, and again and again he slowly pulled free. Circe held her breasts, kneading the nipples, and a thin sheen of sweat appeared over her smooth skin. Sweat was burning across the Woodsman's forehead now, stinging as it ran into his eyes, running down his back and over his chest. Deeper and deeper, pounding now, rhythmic and potent, over and over again into her he slid, until she began to let out cries of pleasure, of need, losing her sense of self, her control. Again and again, faster and harder he went into her, until at last he was pulling out as fast as he was ramming home, slipping his hands down and around to grasp her round ass cheeks and leaning back and pulling her against him.