FIC: The Earth's Turning (NC-17, Jaffar/Princess, Fadl/Zainab), part 7/7
Title: The Earth's Turning (part 7/7, completed fic)
Author: Snowgrouse
Fandom: The Thief of Bagdad (1940)
Pairing: Jaffar/Princess, OMC/OFC (Fadl/Zainab)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Erotica, Historical Romance, Fantasy
Warnings: Extensive anal play, light bondage, mentions of past violence/horror imagery
Length: ~52 000 words
Summary: The autumn stars always drive Yassamin mad from desire, mad: this year, her frenzy is of an altogether sodomitic nature. Jaffar, of course, is only glad to experiment with various treatments to help assuage her 'fever.'
However, come Mehregan, the bloodstained memory of Harun al-Rashid arises to torment both Jaffar and Fadl: they are unable to hide the truth of the Barmakid tragedy from Zainab and the children any longer. How many Barmakids did die that day? How did Jaffar and Fadl survive the massacre? And how did they enact their revenge?
Meanwhile, Fadl and Zainab's relationship deepens in unexpected ways, their pleasures given altogether new dimensions by sexual spells gifted to them by Jaffar.
(Finally, Jaffar shares with her the delicious vision spreading out before his eyes: her arse, gaping open wide, filled to the brim with golden, sloshing oil; his hands leaving great, golden smears upon the white mounds of her buttocks, the way her fat ripples between his fingers as he clutches at her flesh with his hands.
But he wants more, more, wants to make this arse into a feast before he takes it all: now, he begins to slap and claw the oil into her buttocks with great relish, leaving red welts in his wake. Yassamin shivers as the oil tingles in the welts, healing them immediately; Jaffar, in turn, bursts out laughing as he realises he is now competing with the oil, creating new patterns with his hands only to have them instantly swallowed up by the golden glow.
Yet this but fans the flames of his cruel caprice. He attacks her with a newfound excitement, clawing at her, slapping at her more and more violently, then decides to chase his scratches with bites: an animal, he huffs and he snorts there as she wails underneath his assault, loving being so ravaged, devoured. His mouth full of her flesh, he puffs through his nostrils as he beats her gleaming buttocks, grabbing at them roughly, shaking them, biting her so hard she shrieks; her cunny leaps at this, dripping, clenching over and over at each sweet flash of pain he gifts her with.
On and on he mauls her thus, adoring the glittering play of light upon her oiled flesh as he makes it jiggle for him, dance for him, his slaps ringing loudly in the room; hissing, he now lifts to his knees, she groaning in delight as he begins to rut his cock up and down between her cunny's lips. Finally, finally he is touching her cunny; she is clenching and clenching against his cock, rutting back against him with equal fervour.
"Please, husband," she moans, her womb lifting, so tightly does her cunny now squeeze in its need; "please."
"Push it out," he snarls, slapping her arse, and now her anus purses shut tightly, painfully as he releases the spell that'd been holding it open. "Go on, go on, go on," he pants as he fucks her slit there, the head of his cock swollen and purpling, his words rapid, frantic; "push it out, push it out over my cock, shit it out, my sweet--!"
But she is doing so already, keening, letting go of the oil as she lets go of all shame: in wild, maenad delight, she now purses out the oil in a perfect, glittering arc, first splashing golden onto his belly, then trickling golden onto his cock.
Yet Jaffar is the one shaking, now, he the one staggering, wailing in his need; he clutches at his balls brutally so as not to come there and then. He bites his lip until he draws blood, shivering as Yassamin sprays the last of the oil onto his cock, the oil splattering everywhere, slickening their skin as they rub together, smeared with its golden heat.
Finally, finally, with a desperate upward clamber he mounts her, his bloodied mouth dragging a red stripe up her spine; he sheathes himself in her arse in one thrust, she stiffening in shock, her entire body locking up from the impact on her internal organs. It's too much, too fast, too wonderful, too terrible: she tumbles and falls, somersaults into unconsciousness.
But soon, she is pulled out of the blackness and into his arms once more: into the arms of a still-panting, snarling animal. He returns her to her senses a slithering beast atop her; hissing, he spreads the oil all over her body, sliding his hands up her stomach. With a growl, he traps her breasts within the cages of his long, bony fingers, squeezing their tender flesh cruelly with his claws.
"You're so delicious, delicious, delicious," he lisps as he fucks her there, as fast and as rough as dogs upon the street.)
Author: Snowgrouse
Fandom: The Thief of Bagdad (1940)
Pairing: Jaffar/Princess, OMC/OFC (Fadl/Zainab)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Erotica, Historical Romance, Fantasy
Warnings: Extensive anal play, light bondage, mentions of past violence/horror imagery
Length: ~52 000 words
Summary: The autumn stars always drive Yassamin mad from desire, mad: this year, her frenzy is of an altogether sodomitic nature. Jaffar, of course, is only glad to experiment with various treatments to help assuage her 'fever.'
However, come Mehregan, the bloodstained memory of Harun al-Rashid arises to torment both Jaffar and Fadl: they are unable to hide the truth of the Barmakid tragedy from Zainab and the children any longer. How many Barmakids did die that day? How did Jaffar and Fadl survive the massacre? And how did they enact their revenge?
Meanwhile, Fadl and Zainab's relationship deepens in unexpected ways, their pleasures given altogether new dimensions by sexual spells gifted to them by Jaffar.
(Finally, Jaffar shares with her the delicious vision spreading out before his eyes: her arse, gaping open wide, filled to the brim with golden, sloshing oil; his hands leaving great, golden smears upon the white mounds of her buttocks, the way her fat ripples between his fingers as he clutches at her flesh with his hands.
But he wants more, more, wants to make this arse into a feast before he takes it all: now, he begins to slap and claw the oil into her buttocks with great relish, leaving red welts in his wake. Yassamin shivers as the oil tingles in the welts, healing them immediately; Jaffar, in turn, bursts out laughing as he realises he is now competing with the oil, creating new patterns with his hands only to have them instantly swallowed up by the golden glow.
Yet this but fans the flames of his cruel caprice. He attacks her with a newfound excitement, clawing at her, slapping at her more and more violently, then decides to chase his scratches with bites: an animal, he huffs and he snorts there as she wails underneath his assault, loving being so ravaged, devoured. His mouth full of her flesh, he puffs through his nostrils as he beats her gleaming buttocks, grabbing at them roughly, shaking them, biting her so hard she shrieks; her cunny leaps at this, dripping, clenching over and over at each sweet flash of pain he gifts her with.
On and on he mauls her thus, adoring the glittering play of light upon her oiled flesh as he makes it jiggle for him, dance for him, his slaps ringing loudly in the room; hissing, he now lifts to his knees, she groaning in delight as he begins to rut his cock up and down between her cunny's lips. Finally, finally he is touching her cunny; she is clenching and clenching against his cock, rutting back against him with equal fervour.
"Please, husband," she moans, her womb lifting, so tightly does her cunny now squeeze in its need; "please."
"Push it out," he snarls, slapping her arse, and now her anus purses shut tightly, painfully as he releases the spell that'd been holding it open. "Go on, go on, go on," he pants as he fucks her slit there, the head of his cock swollen and purpling, his words rapid, frantic; "push it out, push it out over my cock, shit it out, my sweet--!"
But she is doing so already, keening, letting go of the oil as she lets go of all shame: in wild, maenad delight, she now purses out the oil in a perfect, glittering arc, first splashing golden onto his belly, then trickling golden onto his cock.
Yet Jaffar is the one shaking, now, he the one staggering, wailing in his need; he clutches at his balls brutally so as not to come there and then. He bites his lip until he draws blood, shivering as Yassamin sprays the last of the oil onto his cock, the oil splattering everywhere, slickening their skin as they rub together, smeared with its golden heat.
Finally, finally, with a desperate upward clamber he mounts her, his bloodied mouth dragging a red stripe up her spine; he sheathes himself in her arse in one thrust, she stiffening in shock, her entire body locking up from the impact on her internal organs. It's too much, too fast, too wonderful, too terrible: she tumbles and falls, somersaults into unconsciousness.
But soon, she is pulled out of the blackness and into his arms once more: into the arms of a still-panting, snarling animal. He returns her to her senses a slithering beast atop her; hissing, he spreads the oil all over her body, sliding his hands up her stomach. With a growl, he traps her breasts within the cages of his long, bony fingers, squeezing their tender flesh cruelly with his claws.
"You're so delicious, delicious, delicious," he lisps as he fucks her there, as fast and as rough as dogs upon the street.)