Re: Sleeping Beauty 1/?
anonymous
July 30 2011, 22:55:08 UTC
How could anybody blame him? After all she had been blessed with beauty beyond measure, her voice so fair that birds would grow silent at the sound of her. All who came within her presence felt nothing but love and adoration for her. So why was he so different? He grumbled as he downed another glass of wine. He was no fool, he knew why he was different. He was her father. By god he was her father, he should not be feeling this was about his own daughter.
But even now, in those moments where that little voice in the back of his mind told him he was disgusting he could feel her beneath him, slim waist, perky breasts, hitched breath, rose red lips. Another groan as he could feel the familiar twitch in his groin. What a horrible person he was.
He was a devout king, made no decision without keeping his kingdoms best interest at heart. He attended sermons, went to confession and prayed. He took care of his kingdom and his family. They never had want for anything, was he so wrong to want this one thing for himself? He glared down into his wine glass, whose contents had been drained.
It was those damn fairies, them and their so called 'blessings'. And his wife, who hadn't laid with him since their daughter was born. And now when Aurora was no younger than his wife when he married her. And oh such beauty she possessed, more than he mother had ever carried.
He threw his glass against the wall, the sound of the glass shattering echoing against the stone walls. His wife had long since gone to bed, she slept in Aurora her chambers so she would not need to share a bed with him. If she was anything like a loyal wife she would fulfill her duties, both as his wife and as a woman. Maybe then he would not have...
He buried his face into his hands. It hadn't been that long after her sixteenth birthday, the age his wife was when he married her. And he had started noticing the first signs of womanhood. Her hips had gotten wider, her chest had gotten bigger, soon she would be married off to Phillip and she would produce him an heir.
All perfectly normal thoughts to have. But it wasn't those thoughts that bothered him, it were the very visual ones at the thought of Aurora producing an heir. After that he couldn't quite help himself. Each time he saw Aurora and she would embrace him he would feel this.. need. Yes it was best explained as a need. And he would try to bed his wife each time he felt it, but she had made it all to clear she had no interest in sharing their bed. And though it would be well within his right as a man and as a king to force it upon her; he too had long since lost his interest for his wife.
But this left him most unsatisfied and frustrated, one night however...
Re: Sleeping Beauty 2/?
anonymous
July 30 2011, 22:56:55 UTC
The main hall was cleared, in the very center stood Aurora, perched on a stool with women fretting around her, fitting fabrics to her skirts and taking measurements of her chest, arms and legs. Pleasantly chattering as they were. He really hadn't meant to intrude when he walked in, but once he saw what he stumbled in on he found himself unable to leave. The maids first objected but when he insisted they knew better than to speak up. He took his seat on his throne as he watched the women working around his daughter. Removing her corset and stretching her arms above her head, showing off the supple curves of her body with nothing but her underdress to cover them. They must have clothed and undressed her several times until Aurora asked for a break. The women objected loudly, they had several designs still that they needed to try but he suddenly found himself calling out. And the women where shaken into silence by his authoritative tone. Even Aurora looked startled.
The women left, leaving Aurora in her underclothes and him on his throne. She heaved a sigh of relief as she walked up to him, her blue eyes filled with a youthful innocence her body did not mimic. "Thank you father." She stood before his throne, hands folded on her stomach, a stance she had copied from her mother. "Are you well father?" She asked, concern tinting her words. And he stood, so suddenly she almost stepped back... almost. He walked up to her and walked around her, placing his hands on her shoulders, feeling the thin layer of fabric separating him from her body. And he led her, gently to stand in front of her mother's throne.
"Soon Aurora you will find yourself wed and you will need to take up this seat." A shudder underneath his fingertips. "Father I have never even met prince Phillip, what if I feel nothing for him?" She turned to face him, doubt written on her face. And something about the look in her eyes made him want to lie to her, tell her she would learn to love him, that love was something that would grow, but instead a bitter truth came to him, and now, faced with this beautiful woman, who was yet of age; he felt no need to lie. "It is not about love Aurora, it is about your duty as a princess and as a woman. You will marry who we choose for you and fulfill your duty, it is what your people expect from you."
She looked heart broken once the words had left him and for a moment he expected her to cry, but instead she folded her hands tightly on her stomach and spoke; most dutiful, most honourable. "As you say father." And that respect, that obedience broke what little restraint he managed to maintain.
With some lie he had managed to get her up to his chambers, he couldn't even remember what it was. Once in his chambers he locked the door and pinned her to the bed, she tried to push him off of course but he could remember screaming at her, that she needed to fulfill her womanly duty and she stopped struggling and started sobbing softly.
Though sinful his intent he had made it his goal to make it as pleasurable as possible for her, make it so that her body would echo with the pleasures he fed it.
So he showered her body with all the passion he had felt within his own body, taking his time, giving attention to each bit of her body, mapping out the paths that would draw the right sounds from her. Moving down her body, from her perky breasts and rosy nipples to her taught stomach and rounded hips. At this point she was moaning between sobs, begging him to stop but he could only smirk as he traced her flower with his fingers, where the moist heat beckoned him in closer. How could he possible stop now? When her body had already warmed to him. She would be frustrated like he was he told himself but 'she' deserved better.
Re: Sleeping Beauty 3/3
anonymous
July 30 2011, 22:59:11 UTC
The entrance hurt, as was to be expected, but less so than with her mother, he had not taken his time with her, no, he loved Aurora far more completely. And she felt so much better than her mother, so much tighter, warming, perfect. And each time he filled her, her soft moans; however well hid, drove him on. Burying himself inside her, teasing her to buck against him, crying louder when he body betrayed the need her mind had not yet accepted. "Yes" he thought, "give into it, ride it out, wave after wave" He made love to her until she tightened around him, moaning softly behind her hands, red lips trying to contain it, but her body rocked freely, hips pressing back each time he slowed his rhythm.
He would take no less than two victories that night however. So when she came and her body laid beneath him trembling he turned her around, never removing himself from her. He placed her on her knees, her rounded hips feeling great underneath his fingers. She moaned into the pillow as he slammed into her, much rougher now that her entrance had stretched enough to encompass him comfortably. Once he was buried till the hilt he leaned over her back until his mouth reached her ear. "Do you feel me?" She made a sound in-between a moan of pain and a moan of pleasure. He slammed into her again and again, her hips bucking involuntarily each time he buried himself inside of her. "Give into it." He demanded and she made another incoherent sound as he fingers dug into the sheets. He rode her. in out, in out, until her hips started bucking more and more and her breathing hitched in her throat each time he moved out of her. "Come with me." He demanded, nails digging into her hips and together they screamed their release.
She slumped down onto the bed, face buried in the sheets as he held up her hips until he had softened inside of her. Once he had 'relieved' himself he drew away from her, tired beyond belief. He looked down at her as she pulled her legs up to her chest. She shivered so he drew the covers over her. She looked up at him, tired tear stained eyes and rosy cheeks as she swallowed. He smiled at her. "Rose, don't look at me like that. It wasn't so bad was it?" And she tried to speak but decided against it. He kissed her forehead and told her to sleep it off.
He went down to the bathchambers and vomitted. Never again he swore, he would never think of her like that again, once was enough, he had sated his passions and would contain himself from now on.
But here he was, drinking wine to try and drown this need. To drown out her voice each time he pleasured himself. To keep himself from noticing her body as she sat beside him, to stop imagining those red lips around him... those fingers. "Once more..." he told himself "and it will go away." "Once more..."
He grumbled as he downed another glass of wine. He was no fool, he knew why he was different. He was her father. By god he was her father, he should not be feeling this was about his own daughter.
But even now, in those moments where that little voice in the back of his mind told him he was disgusting he could feel her beneath him, slim waist, perky breasts, hitched breath, rose red lips.
Another groan as he could feel the familiar twitch in his groin. What a horrible person he was.
He was a devout king, made no decision without keeping his kingdoms best interest at heart. He attended sermons, went to confession and prayed. He took care of his kingdom and his family. They never had want for anything, was he so wrong to want this one thing for himself?
He glared down into his wine glass, whose contents had been drained.
It was those damn fairies, them and their so called 'blessings'. And his wife, who hadn't laid with him since their daughter was born. And now when Aurora was no younger than his wife when he married her. And oh such beauty she possessed, more than he mother had ever carried.
He threw his glass against the wall, the sound of the glass shattering echoing against the stone walls.
His wife had long since gone to bed, she slept in Aurora her chambers so she would not need to share a bed with him. If she was anything like a loyal wife she would fulfill her duties, both as his wife and as a woman. Maybe then he would not have...
He buried his face into his hands. It hadn't been that long after her sixteenth birthday, the age his wife was when he married her. And he had started noticing the first signs of womanhood. Her hips had gotten wider, her chest had gotten bigger, soon she would be married off to Phillip and she would produce him an heir.
All perfectly normal thoughts to have. But it wasn't those thoughts that bothered him, it were the very visual ones at the thought of Aurora producing an heir.
After that he couldn't quite help himself. Each time he saw Aurora and she would embrace him he would feel this.. need. Yes it was best explained as a need. And he would try to bed his wife each time he felt it, but she had made it all to clear she had no interest in sharing their bed. And though it would be well within his right as a man and as a king to force it upon her; he too had long since lost his interest for his wife.
But this left him most unsatisfied and frustrated, one night however...
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He really hadn't meant to intrude when he walked in, but once he saw what he stumbled in on he found himself unable to leave. The maids first objected but when he insisted they knew better than to speak up.
He took his seat on his throne as he watched the women working around his daughter. Removing her corset and stretching her arms above her head, showing off the supple curves of her body with nothing but her underdress to cover them.
They must have clothed and undressed her several times until Aurora asked for a break. The women objected loudly, they had several designs still that they needed to try but he suddenly found himself calling out. And the women where shaken into silence by his authoritative tone. Even Aurora looked startled.
The women left, leaving Aurora in her underclothes and him on his throne. She heaved a sigh of relief as she walked up to him, her blue eyes filled with a youthful innocence her body did not mimic.
"Thank you father." She stood before his throne, hands folded on her stomach, a stance she had copied from her mother. "Are you well father?" She asked, concern tinting her words. And he stood, so suddenly she almost stepped back... almost.
He walked up to her and walked around her, placing his hands on her shoulders, feeling the thin layer of fabric separating him from her body. And he led her, gently to stand in front of her mother's throne.
"Soon Aurora you will find yourself wed and you will need to take up this seat." A shudder underneath his fingertips. "Father I have never even met prince Phillip, what if I feel nothing for him?" She turned to face him, doubt written on her face. And something about the look in her eyes made him want to lie to her, tell her she would learn to love him, that love was something that would grow, but instead a bitter truth came to him, and now, faced with this beautiful woman, who was yet of age; he felt no need to lie.
"It is not about love Aurora, it is about your duty as a princess and as a woman. You will marry who we choose for you and fulfill your duty, it is what your people expect from you."
She looked heart broken once the words had left him and for a moment he expected her to cry, but instead she folded her hands tightly on her stomach and spoke; most dutiful, most honourable. "As you say father."
And that respect, that obedience broke what little restraint he managed to maintain.
With some lie he had managed to get her up to his chambers, he couldn't even remember what it was.
Once in his chambers he locked the door and pinned her to the bed, she tried to push him off of course but he could remember screaming at her, that she needed to fulfill her womanly duty and she stopped struggling and started sobbing softly.
Though sinful his intent he had made it his goal to make it as pleasurable as possible for her, make it so that her body would echo with the pleasures he fed it.
So he showered her body with all the passion he had felt within his own body, taking his time, giving attention to each bit of her body, mapping out the paths that would draw the right sounds from her. Moving down her body, from her perky breasts and rosy nipples to her taught stomach and rounded hips. At this point she was moaning between sobs, begging him to stop but he could only smirk as he traced her flower with his fingers, where the moist heat beckoned him in closer. How could he possible stop now? When her body had already warmed to him.
She would be frustrated like he was he told himself but 'she' deserved better.
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"Yes" he thought, "give into it, ride it out, wave after wave" He made love to her until she tightened around him, moaning softly behind her hands, red lips trying to contain it, but her body rocked freely, hips pressing back each time he slowed his rhythm.
He would take no less than two victories that night however. So when she came and her body laid beneath him trembling he turned her around, never removing himself from her. He placed her on her knees, her rounded hips feeling great underneath his fingers. She moaned into the pillow as he slammed into her, much rougher now that her entrance had stretched enough to encompass him comfortably. Once he was buried till the hilt he leaned over her back until his mouth reached her ear. "Do you feel me?" She made a sound in-between a moan of pain and a moan of pleasure. He slammed into her again and again, her hips bucking involuntarily each time he buried himself inside of her. "Give into it." He demanded and she made another incoherent sound as he fingers dug into the sheets.
He rode her. in out, in out, until her hips started bucking more and more and her breathing hitched in her throat each time he moved out of her. "Come with me." He demanded, nails digging into her hips and together they screamed their release.
She slumped down onto the bed, face buried in the sheets as he held up her hips until he had softened inside of her.
Once he had 'relieved' himself he drew away from her, tired beyond belief. He looked down at her as she pulled her legs up to her chest. She shivered so he drew the covers over her. She looked up at him, tired tear stained eyes and rosy cheeks as she swallowed.
He smiled at her. "Rose, don't look at me like that. It wasn't so bad was it?" And she tried to speak but decided against it.
He kissed her forehead and told her to sleep it off.
He went down to the bathchambers and vomitted. Never again he swore, he would never think of her like that again, once was enough, he had sated his passions and would contain himself from now on.
But here he was, drinking wine to try and drown this need. To drown out her voice each time he pleasured himself. To keep himself from noticing her body as she sat beside him, to stop imagining those red lips around him... those fingers.
"Once more..." he told himself "and it will go away." "Once more..."
fin
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Such a amazing job my dear. I love it.
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