(Disney) Tourist Attractions
Title: Tourist Attractions
Fandom: Disney - Wreck It Ralph/Sleeping Beauty/Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs/Aladdin/The Princess And The Frog/Tangled/Beauty And The Beast/The Little Mermaid/Brave/Cinderella
Pairings: Calhoun/Aurora, Calhoun/Snow White, Calhoun/Jasmine, Calhoun/Tiana, Calhoun/Rapunzel, Calhoun/Belle, Calhoun/Ariel, Calhoun/Merida, Calhoun/Cinderella
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3462
Notes: Bondage. For Femslash February, a prompt at the disney_kink meme, and 100_women, prompt "strangers".
Summary: The 'most magical place on Earth' indeed.
Calhoun figured she’d hate this place the moment she found out it was called the Magic Kingdom.
It’s kind of like the arcade, split up into different worlds, although here they’re called ‘lands’. The characters don’t come from games, they come from ‘stories’.
Whatever, it’s all the same to Calhoun.
Truth is, she hated the arcade at first, too. All those colourful sprites and avatars, bouncing around without a care in the world, not understanding that Calhoun and her squad were guarding them from danger every moment of every hour of gameplay.
It wasn’t about pride or her wanting glory - the medal of Hero’s Duty meant little to her. It was the knowledge of how easily the arcade could fall apart if she slipped, even for a moment. It was knowing that if the Cybugs ever ventured from her game, she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself to take them down.
Of course, she’d been proven wrong in that regard.
She’d never thought she’d meet a man like Felix, not after what happened at her first wedding. She’s never been more glad to be mistaken.
She’s got to admit, she was wrong about the Magic Kingdom as well. It might be saccharine sweet on paper, but there’s more to it than that.
Like the princesses.
See, Felix may seem naïve but he’s older than most of the characters in the arcade. He understands her, he doesn’t judge and he won’t be upset or jealous.
Felix gets it, which leaves Calhoun free to explore and enjoy herself in her own particular way.
After all, there are no Cybugs here to get in the way. She knows, she checked. Thoroughly.
So there’s no reason to hold back when she runs into a blonde in a sweeping pink gown at the Town Hall just inside the entrance. The woman is called Aurora, Princess Aurora, and Calhoun quickly learns just how much she enjoys being on her back.
Calhoun damn well enjoys it too.
“Spread for me,” she purrs, sliding the heavy magenta fabric up long legs, two thumbs digging into the meat of those creamy thighs, pushing them wider apart until she can hitch one up on each of her shoulders. She buries her face against Aurora’s folds, feeling them swell against her, Aurora’s hips trying to buck up, even as Calhoun smirks and holds her down.
She puts all her strength into it, until Aurora’s back is curved off the couch they’re sprawled on, only her head and shoulders still pressed into the cushions. Holding Aurora up like that, her heels digging into Calhoun’s back, suspended half in the air so she has no control of the pace, so she’s completely at Calhoun’s mercy. Mouthing at her clit, Calhoun’s tongue thrusting inside in a rhythm that’s almost brutal, hard and fast and forcing cries from Aurora’s rose-red lips.
When Aurora comes, flushed and shaking, Calhoun pulls back just in time to watch her eyes roll up in her head before she blacks out.
It’s tempting to stay there, admiring the softer curves beneath the angled lines of that pink bodice, but Calhoun still has a lot of exploring to do.
Besides, it turns out Aurora’s kind of a heavy sleeper after a good orgasm.
Calhoun’s soon walking up Main Street, trying to ignore the overwhelming smell of cinnamon that’s so thick she wouldn’t be surprised if it were being pumped out into the air on purpose, when she runs into another princess.
Snow White is the oldest of all the princesses, apparently, although you wouldn’t know it to look at her. But she’s quite insistent that she’s been around the longest and that she considers it her duty to welcome each new character to the kingdom.
“Don’t sweat it, Princess,” Calhoun drawls with a smile that shows all her teeth. “Aurora already provided a very enthusiastic welcome.”
Snow White looks like innocence and sweetness made flesh, but from the impressive blush that steals across her pale face she knows exactly what Calhoun’s talking about.
The way her eyes flutter, gaze lowering slightly before looking up through her lashes, makes it clear she still wants to provide her own special welcome, even if she isn’t the first to do so.
It doesn’t take long before Calhoun’s chasing that flush down over Snow White’s collarbones and her small, perfect breasts, her hardened nipples a soft petal-pink against her porcelain skin. Snow White’s sat on one of the ornate tables just inside the bakery doors, and Calhoun’s always had an appreciation for a girl who’s not afraid to get wild in a public place.
Snow White grips Calhoun’s shoulders with surprisingly strong, work-calloused hands when Calhoun works her fingers inside of her, her thumb stroking over soft, ebony-black hair. Snow White’s voice is already high-pitched but it trembles so much it sounds almost like a cracked whistle in the back of her throat as Calhoun coaxes moans and pleas from that plush scarlet mouth.
She leaves Snow White some time later, the princess smiling dazedly at her from behind the bakery window, now happily chewing a toffee-coated apple and fluttering her hand in a goodbye wave.
Calhoun’s gratified to note there’s still a pink slash of colour across that fair skin.
She takes a hard left before she reaches the castle dominating the skyline, drawn by the sign that points towards the bridge declaring it leads to Adventureland.
It sounds like her kind of place.
Shame it doesn’t live up to its promise. She passes a gaggle of roaring pirates that are too drunk to walk in a straight line, let alone present a challenge. Calhoun rolls her eyes at their antics and moves on, a sneer pulling at her lips as they attempt to stumble to wherever it is they’re supposed to be, muttering mutinously about gold and some bird who apparently stole it.
The flying carpets rippling in lazy circles are enough to draw her attention, but it’s only when a figure moving through the bazaar catches her eye that Calhoun’s mood lifts.
There’s jet-black hair, shimmery blue fabric and a flash of a toned stomach, and Calhoun feels her eyes narrow in appreciation.
This princess is called Jasmine, and it makes a beautiful kind of sense that she’s hanging around Adventureland, considering her appetite for adventure.
“Let me show you something new,” Calhoun whispers against caramel skin, and apparently those are the magic words, because Jasmine grins and presses closer.
They stretch out together across thick, deeply-coloured carpets, kissing fiercely, and when Jasmine nips playfully at Calhoun’s bottom lip, her patience runs out. She shifts backwards, twisting around, knowing Jasmine’s eyes are on her, dark with curiosity and lust.
Jasmine’s thighs open to her immediately and Calhoun takes a long moment just to run her tongue lightly across Jasmine’s labia, to taste her pleasure. But her body is hungry for more, and she throws a leg over Jasmine’s chest so her knees are planted either side of the princess’s head, so her breasts rub against Jasmine’s stomach.
It’s been a few years since she’s tried a sixty-nine, but with the right partner it’s always worth it.
And Jasmine is definitely the right partner. She mimics Calhoun’s every movement perfectly, lips and tongue and even the faintest scrape of teeth, until she begins to figure out exactly what drives Calhoun crazy.
Fast learner, this one.
Calhoun buries her growl between Jasmine’s legs when she comes, feeling Jasmine pulse under her tongue, feeling her cry vibrate right down into Calhoun’s core.
When she continues on, the heady scent of incense and Jasmine’s skin still tickling her senses, Calhoun ducks through a shortcut and finds herself on the edge of Frontierland. Rather than turn left and explore the land proper, she takes a right and walks into Liberty Square.
It turns out to be the right choice when she meets Tiana under a secluded gazebo.
Tiana beams warmly in greeting, her expression shifting into something welcoming in an altogether different way when she notices Calhoun’s appreciative gaze dragging down her body.
Tiana’s green ball gown has a huge skirt and far too many petticoats which fall awkwardly over Calhoun’s head and shoulders when she pushes underneath them. Above her, she knows Tiana is gripping the white railing as Calhoun mouths at the dark skin of her inner thighs, drawing her underwear down shapely legs.
There’s soft jazz music floating through the air, muffled slightly by the fabric around Calhoun’s head, but Tiana’s groans quickly begin to overpower it as Calhoun eats her out. Tiana’s voice is rich as she begins to babble an impressive litany of filth and desire, her accent twisting around the words and making Calhoun smirk against the sensitive flesh beneath her lips. She presses a single finger up and into Tiana, working that sweet spot just inside as her mouth continues to rub against her outer folds, and Tiana lets out a long, melodious note of pleasure as her body falls over the edge.
Calhoun expects Tiana to be a weak-kneed mess when she withdraws from under the skirt, but Tiana’s on her instantly, pushing her back to the ground and straddling her waist.
“Guess you don’t like owing people favours,” Calhoun snorts with a grin.
Tiana gives her a sensual smile in return and begins pulling at the catches of Calhoun’s armour with surprisingly efficient movements.
It ends up being Calhoun who feels weak-kneed as she walks away a while later, although she’d never let anyone know.
She follows the path past an ominous looking mansion on the left, which a sign declares to be haunted. Calhoun can’t help but scoff - she doubts it can come even the slightest bit close to the terrifying world of Hero’s Duty. She bypasses it, instead marching into Fantasyland.
It feels as if she’s barely stepped into this next land when she’s confronted by a bubbly girl in a purple dress with blonde hair that seems to go on forever. She’s standing beneath a lonely-looking tower and her face lights up with excitement when she sees Calhoun.
Calhoun has never been one to disappoint.
She quickly has the girl, Rapunzel, pressed against the base of her tower, their lips clashing, her fingers ripping at the laces of Rapunzel’s bodice to expose the perky breasts beneath. Rapunzel’s hands are everywhere, at Calhoun’s neck, at her waist, her chest, her hips, and Calhoun reaches up for Rapunzel’s face, only to find her arm pinned to her side.
She glances down in surprise to find her wrist wrapped within a circle of golden hair that’s holding it trapped against her hip.
Rapunzel gives a mischievous giggle and Calhoun responds with an expression like a hungry shark.
“Oh, it is on,” she hisses in challenge.
Rapunzel’s stronger than she looks and agile too, but she can’t stand up to Calhoun’s training. It’s quick work to wrap Rapunzel’s arms with her own hair, to tie them behind her back, Rapunzel moaning breathily, her body writhing wantonly, a light sheen of sweat forming over her naked breasts.
Girl obviously has a thing for bondage.
Luckily Calhoun has a thing for girls who have a thing for bondage.
She watches Rapunzel’s arms and shoulders strain experimentally as Calhoun shoves the skirt of her dress up to her hips. But the hair doesn’t loosen its grip, even when Calhoun wraps one arm around Rapunzel’s waist and pulls her higher up the tower wall, roughly pushing one thigh up between Rapunzel’s legs.
Her hand reaches down to grip the firm curve of Rapunzel’s ass, encouraging her hips to roll down, and Calhoun swallows every gasp and whimper, their mouth’s moving together as Rapunzel begins to ride Calhoun’s thigh. She grunts, shifting Rapunzel’s legs slightly until one begins to rub against her own crotch, and then they’re rocking together, grinding against each other, Rapunzel’s arms pinned so all she can do is feel it. Lips breaking apart so Rapunzel can tilt her head back, throat working and eyes wide and hazy as she pants out her release.
It pains Calhoun to unwrap Rapunzel’s arms from their binds when they’re through - she makes one hell of a picture like that, clothing ripped and still flushed and a satisfied smile stretching across her freckled face. But no matter how good Rapunzel looks, Calhoun can’t bring herself to leave the princess like that, vulnerable to any passing danger.
She’s still thinking of the image Rapunzel made though as she wanders through Fantasyland, until she finds herself in a somewhat newer-looking area. There’s a winding path to her left, leading down to a small cottage, and she follows it and ducks inside.
That’s where she finds Belle.
She may look demure, with doe-like brown eyes and a sweet smile, but out of all the princesses, it turns out Belle likes it the most rough and animalistic. There’s an almost beast-like passion inside of her, a desperate hunger in the way she kisses, and when Calhoun sweeps blueprints and books out of the way to bend Belle over a table, Belle groans and claws at the wood in a manner that sends shivers down Calhoun’s spine. She kicks Belle’s ankles apart, shoving the blue fabric of her dress up and ripping at her underclothes to expose her thighs and ass. She pushes two fingers inside without further preamble and Belle is wet and ready for her and already arching for more.
It’s as if Belle’s thirst is insatiable, as if her need for more can’t be contained in her slender body. Calhoun gives her a third finger, then another, muscles in her arms working as she thrusts them in and out, deeper and deeper. Feeling Belle shudder with it, and it’s when Calhoun pushes a thumb in beside her fingers, stretching Belle wide, that she finally comes with a shout that turns into a crooning moan as she clenches around Calhoun’s fingers, pulsing with sensation.
She leaves a sated Belle some time later, and it’s only when she hears the soft noise of water lapping against rock that she realises just how thirsty she is. Calhoun follows the sound and is disappointed to find the undrinkable salt water of the ocean.
She’s less disappointed to find a redheaded mermaid lounging on a rock, staring back at her in surprise.
Ariel, it turns out, is the princess of the ocean. She’s sensitive in both mind and body, and Calhoun peels away purple shells to bare Ariel’s breasts, her skin glistening with water as she arches up into Calhoun’s touch.
Calhoun kisses at Ariel’s neck, not caring that the salt water only drives her thirst on. She’s a little forceful, teeth scraping along Ariel’s throat, lust wound higher by the sensation of Ariel’s tail sliding against her legs, slippery and wet. She squeezes Ariel’s breast hard, palming and cupping it fiercely, and Ariel lets out a beautifully haunting cry, her voice like music.
“That’s right,” Calhoun grins, fingers settling over Ariel’s throat. “Sing for me.”
More than anything, Ariel’s a curious young woman, and Calhoun’s happy to indulge her. She spreads her legs, her hands tangled in that shock of red hair, and guides Ariel’s face between her thighs. Occasionally murmuring encouragement and instructions but mostly happy to let Ariel explore, her tongue mapping Calhoun’s sex like a discovered treasure. Rolling against her and then pressing inside, and Ariel groans for the new taste and the feeling of it vibrates through Calhoun as she pants and arches, orgasm washing over her like a wave.
When she leaves the ocean and the mermaid behind, Ariel’s melodic cries still echoing in her mind, Calhoun finds herself wandering through a circus, all bright colours and organ music.
Calhoun’s never liked the circus.
She averts her gaze from the rollicking clowns, one suspicious eye kept on the elephant soaring in loops through the sky, and uses the castle as a landmark to draw her away from the garish tents and smell of popcorn.
The castle seems even larger up close, and Calhoun follows the pale grey stone walls around until she catches sight of a cascade of red hair.
Her first thought is of Ariel, but this hair is more copper than strawberry, falling in haphazard waves of tight curls. It belongs to another princess, this one named Merida. She speaks with a enthusiastic brogue, and Calhoun notes the weapon she wields with an ease born of obvious practice, arrows zinging through the air to hit each target dead-centre.
Calhoun’s impressed, even more so when Merida pounces. She’s playful, teasing and tough, laughing happily as she leaves fingernail marks striping across Calhoun’s shoulders.
“Oh, you wanna play rough, do you?” Calhoun smirks, feeling the scratches throb deliciously.
They roll across the mossy ground together, teeth digging into skin, pulling hair, and Merida laughs through it all, giggles and growls into Calhoun’s mouth when they kiss. Calhoun finally pins the girl on her back and Merida squirms delightfully as Calhoun shoves her deep blue skirt up to her chest.
She fucks Merida with her fingers, making it slow just to watch the way Merida bares her teeth and tries to push faster, harder. But Calhoun holds her down, draws it out, opening Merida up at her own leisurely pace until there are softer noises amongst the taunts and jibes, mewls and whimpers. Merida’s sky blue eyes are glassy with pleasure, twigs caught in her hair, when Calhoun brings her over the edge, feeling Merida tighten around her fingers as she gasps through her climax.
Merida remains lying on her back, arms crossed behind her head and smiling at the clouds overhead, skirt still around her waist, unabashedly exposed, when Calhoun continues her journey to the castle doors. She finds them thrown open, which seems like an invitation to let herself inside, and she follows the winding stone staircase up to a huge dining hall.
In the centre of the room, wearing a glistening silver-blue dress and humming quietly to herself as she sets the large round table, Calhoun discovers her final princess of the day.
Cinderella, it turns out, is still not used to allowing others to do things for her, despite having been a princess for quite some time. Which Calhoun respects, but the idea of taking control, of worshipping such incredible beauty, is too tempting to ignore.
Cinderella laughs, a happy, lilting sound, when Calhoun lays her back against the table, cutlery and napkin rings clattering to the ground.
Calhoun removes the glass slippers slowly, kisses the arch of her foot, nips lightly at her toes. Cinderella sighs and squirms, sliding her voluminous skirt up her legs because apparently she can’t resist making herself useful. Calhoun rewards her by kissing at the inside of her thighs, fluttering touches, breath ghosting over Cinderella’s flushed labia but lips not making contact.
“No more helping,” Calhoun informs her with a growl. “You’re going to lie there and you’re going to take it.”
The noise Cinderella makes in response is low and sultry, hair catching against the table and beginning to slip free of its bindings as she nods enthusiastically.
Calhoun pushes up on to table, kneels over Cinderella’s sprawled form, watching in satisfaction as the princess throws her arms over her head and curls her fingers over the edge of the table, impressively obedient. Calhoun kisses her, deep and wet, fingers moving between Cinderella’s legs, feeling the heat building there. Cinderella whimpers and gasps but never lets go of the table as she’s worked open, thighs fanning apart invitingly. Calhoun rolls her tongue around pearl earrings, moves down to at the black choker around Cinderella’s neck, digging in her teeth around its edges as Cinderella writhes for her.
Her thumb presses down against Cinderella’s clit, rubbing in insistent circles, fingers still crooked inside, her mouth still moving against that slender neck, and when Cinderella comes Calhoun feels the vibration of her cry when her lips are pressed to Cinderella’s throat.
Afterwards, Calhoun accepts Cinderella’s offer of a stiff drink, reclining in one of the decadently padded chairs. It’s been a long day, and her body aches in all the best kinds of ways. Tactically, this is a good place to spend the night. From high up in the castle like this, she’ll be able to see the entirety of the Magic Kingdom from the balconies and ornate stained-glass windows.
She chooses not to look, though. Instead Calhoun smiles as Cinderella sits in her lap, sipping white wine and still looking blissed out, her head resting against Calhoun’s armoured shoulder.
After all, tomorrow’s another day for exploring. If there are more princesses out there that Calhoun hasn’t met yet, well, she wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.
Fandom: Disney - Wreck It Ralph/Sleeping Beauty/Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs/Aladdin/The Princess And The Frog/Tangled/Beauty And The Beast/The Little Mermaid/Brave/Cinderella
Pairings: Calhoun/Aurora, Calhoun/Snow White, Calhoun/Jasmine, Calhoun/Tiana, Calhoun/Rapunzel, Calhoun/Belle, Calhoun/Ariel, Calhoun/Merida, Calhoun/Cinderella
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3462
Notes: Bondage. For Femslash February, a prompt at the disney_kink meme, and 100_women, prompt "strangers".
Summary: The 'most magical place on Earth' indeed.
Calhoun figured she’d hate this place the moment she found out it was called the Magic Kingdom.
It’s kind of like the arcade, split up into different worlds, although here they’re called ‘lands’. The characters don’t come from games, they come from ‘stories’.
Whatever, it’s all the same to Calhoun.
Truth is, she hated the arcade at first, too. All those colourful sprites and avatars, bouncing around without a care in the world, not understanding that Calhoun and her squad were guarding them from danger every moment of every hour of gameplay.
It wasn’t about pride or her wanting glory - the medal of Hero’s Duty meant little to her. It was the knowledge of how easily the arcade could fall apart if she slipped, even for a moment. It was knowing that if the Cybugs ever ventured from her game, she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself to take them down.
Of course, she’d been proven wrong in that regard.
She’d never thought she’d meet a man like Felix, not after what happened at her first wedding. She’s never been more glad to be mistaken.
She’s got to admit, she was wrong about the Magic Kingdom as well. It might be saccharine sweet on paper, but there’s more to it than that.
Like the princesses.
See, Felix may seem naïve but he’s older than most of the characters in the arcade. He understands her, he doesn’t judge and he won’t be upset or jealous.
Felix gets it, which leaves Calhoun free to explore and enjoy herself in her own particular way.
After all, there are no Cybugs here to get in the way. She knows, she checked. Thoroughly.
So there’s no reason to hold back when she runs into a blonde in a sweeping pink gown at the Town Hall just inside the entrance. The woman is called Aurora, Princess Aurora, and Calhoun quickly learns just how much she enjoys being on her back.
Calhoun damn well enjoys it too.
“Spread for me,” she purrs, sliding the heavy magenta fabric up long legs, two thumbs digging into the meat of those creamy thighs, pushing them wider apart until she can hitch one up on each of her shoulders. She buries her face against Aurora’s folds, feeling them swell against her, Aurora’s hips trying to buck up, even as Calhoun smirks and holds her down.
She puts all her strength into it, until Aurora’s back is curved off the couch they’re sprawled on, only her head and shoulders still pressed into the cushions. Holding Aurora up like that, her heels digging into Calhoun’s back, suspended half in the air so she has no control of the pace, so she’s completely at Calhoun’s mercy. Mouthing at her clit, Calhoun’s tongue thrusting inside in a rhythm that’s almost brutal, hard and fast and forcing cries from Aurora’s rose-red lips.
When Aurora comes, flushed and shaking, Calhoun pulls back just in time to watch her eyes roll up in her head before she blacks out.
It’s tempting to stay there, admiring the softer curves beneath the angled lines of that pink bodice, but Calhoun still has a lot of exploring to do.
Besides, it turns out Aurora’s kind of a heavy sleeper after a good orgasm.
Calhoun’s soon walking up Main Street, trying to ignore the overwhelming smell of cinnamon that’s so thick she wouldn’t be surprised if it were being pumped out into the air on purpose, when she runs into another princess.
Snow White is the oldest of all the princesses, apparently, although you wouldn’t know it to look at her. But she’s quite insistent that she’s been around the longest and that she considers it her duty to welcome each new character to the kingdom.
“Don’t sweat it, Princess,” Calhoun drawls with a smile that shows all her teeth. “Aurora already provided a very enthusiastic welcome.”
Snow White looks like innocence and sweetness made flesh, but from the impressive blush that steals across her pale face she knows exactly what Calhoun’s talking about.
The way her eyes flutter, gaze lowering slightly before looking up through her lashes, makes it clear she still wants to provide her own special welcome, even if she isn’t the first to do so.
It doesn’t take long before Calhoun’s chasing that flush down over Snow White’s collarbones and her small, perfect breasts, her hardened nipples a soft petal-pink against her porcelain skin. Snow White’s sat on one of the ornate tables just inside the bakery doors, and Calhoun’s always had an appreciation for a girl who’s not afraid to get wild in a public place.
Snow White grips Calhoun’s shoulders with surprisingly strong, work-calloused hands when Calhoun works her fingers inside of her, her thumb stroking over soft, ebony-black hair. Snow White’s voice is already high-pitched but it trembles so much it sounds almost like a cracked whistle in the back of her throat as Calhoun coaxes moans and pleas from that plush scarlet mouth.
She leaves Snow White some time later, the princess smiling dazedly at her from behind the bakery window, now happily chewing a toffee-coated apple and fluttering her hand in a goodbye wave.
Calhoun’s gratified to note there’s still a pink slash of colour across that fair skin.
She takes a hard left before she reaches the castle dominating the skyline, drawn by the sign that points towards the bridge declaring it leads to Adventureland.
It sounds like her kind of place.
Shame it doesn’t live up to its promise. She passes a gaggle of roaring pirates that are too drunk to walk in a straight line, let alone present a challenge. Calhoun rolls her eyes at their antics and moves on, a sneer pulling at her lips as they attempt to stumble to wherever it is they’re supposed to be, muttering mutinously about gold and some bird who apparently stole it.
The flying carpets rippling in lazy circles are enough to draw her attention, but it’s only when a figure moving through the bazaar catches her eye that Calhoun’s mood lifts.
There’s jet-black hair, shimmery blue fabric and a flash of a toned stomach, and Calhoun feels her eyes narrow in appreciation.
This princess is called Jasmine, and it makes a beautiful kind of sense that she’s hanging around Adventureland, considering her appetite for adventure.
“Let me show you something new,” Calhoun whispers against caramel skin, and apparently those are the magic words, because Jasmine grins and presses closer.
They stretch out together across thick, deeply-coloured carpets, kissing fiercely, and when Jasmine nips playfully at Calhoun’s bottom lip, her patience runs out. She shifts backwards, twisting around, knowing Jasmine’s eyes are on her, dark with curiosity and lust.
Jasmine’s thighs open to her immediately and Calhoun takes a long moment just to run her tongue lightly across Jasmine’s labia, to taste her pleasure. But her body is hungry for more, and she throws a leg over Jasmine’s chest so her knees are planted either side of the princess’s head, so her breasts rub against Jasmine’s stomach.
It’s been a few years since she’s tried a sixty-nine, but with the right partner it’s always worth it.
And Jasmine is definitely the right partner. She mimics Calhoun’s every movement perfectly, lips and tongue and even the faintest scrape of teeth, until she begins to figure out exactly what drives Calhoun crazy.
Fast learner, this one.
Calhoun buries her growl between Jasmine’s legs when she comes, feeling Jasmine pulse under her tongue, feeling her cry vibrate right down into Calhoun’s core.
When she continues on, the heady scent of incense and Jasmine’s skin still tickling her senses, Calhoun ducks through a shortcut and finds herself on the edge of Frontierland. Rather than turn left and explore the land proper, she takes a right and walks into Liberty Square.
It turns out to be the right choice when she meets Tiana under a secluded gazebo.
Tiana beams warmly in greeting, her expression shifting into something welcoming in an altogether different way when she notices Calhoun’s appreciative gaze dragging down her body.
Tiana’s green ball gown has a huge skirt and far too many petticoats which fall awkwardly over Calhoun’s head and shoulders when she pushes underneath them. Above her, she knows Tiana is gripping the white railing as Calhoun mouths at the dark skin of her inner thighs, drawing her underwear down shapely legs.
There’s soft jazz music floating through the air, muffled slightly by the fabric around Calhoun’s head, but Tiana’s groans quickly begin to overpower it as Calhoun eats her out. Tiana’s voice is rich as she begins to babble an impressive litany of filth and desire, her accent twisting around the words and making Calhoun smirk against the sensitive flesh beneath her lips. She presses a single finger up and into Tiana, working that sweet spot just inside as her mouth continues to rub against her outer folds, and Tiana lets out a long, melodious note of pleasure as her body falls over the edge.
Calhoun expects Tiana to be a weak-kneed mess when she withdraws from under the skirt, but Tiana’s on her instantly, pushing her back to the ground and straddling her waist.
“Guess you don’t like owing people favours,” Calhoun snorts with a grin.
Tiana gives her a sensual smile in return and begins pulling at the catches of Calhoun’s armour with surprisingly efficient movements.
It ends up being Calhoun who feels weak-kneed as she walks away a while later, although she’d never let anyone know.
She follows the path past an ominous looking mansion on the left, which a sign declares to be haunted. Calhoun can’t help but scoff - she doubts it can come even the slightest bit close to the terrifying world of Hero’s Duty. She bypasses it, instead marching into Fantasyland.
It feels as if she’s barely stepped into this next land when she’s confronted by a bubbly girl in a purple dress with blonde hair that seems to go on forever. She’s standing beneath a lonely-looking tower and her face lights up with excitement when she sees Calhoun.
Calhoun has never been one to disappoint.
She quickly has the girl, Rapunzel, pressed against the base of her tower, their lips clashing, her fingers ripping at the laces of Rapunzel’s bodice to expose the perky breasts beneath. Rapunzel’s hands are everywhere, at Calhoun’s neck, at her waist, her chest, her hips, and Calhoun reaches up for Rapunzel’s face, only to find her arm pinned to her side.
She glances down in surprise to find her wrist wrapped within a circle of golden hair that’s holding it trapped against her hip.
Rapunzel gives a mischievous giggle and Calhoun responds with an expression like a hungry shark.
“Oh, it is on,” she hisses in challenge.
Rapunzel’s stronger than she looks and agile too, but she can’t stand up to Calhoun’s training. It’s quick work to wrap Rapunzel’s arms with her own hair, to tie them behind her back, Rapunzel moaning breathily, her body writhing wantonly, a light sheen of sweat forming over her naked breasts.
Girl obviously has a thing for bondage.
Luckily Calhoun has a thing for girls who have a thing for bondage.
She watches Rapunzel’s arms and shoulders strain experimentally as Calhoun shoves the skirt of her dress up to her hips. But the hair doesn’t loosen its grip, even when Calhoun wraps one arm around Rapunzel’s waist and pulls her higher up the tower wall, roughly pushing one thigh up between Rapunzel’s legs.
Her hand reaches down to grip the firm curve of Rapunzel’s ass, encouraging her hips to roll down, and Calhoun swallows every gasp and whimper, their mouth’s moving together as Rapunzel begins to ride Calhoun’s thigh. She grunts, shifting Rapunzel’s legs slightly until one begins to rub against her own crotch, and then they’re rocking together, grinding against each other, Rapunzel’s arms pinned so all she can do is feel it. Lips breaking apart so Rapunzel can tilt her head back, throat working and eyes wide and hazy as she pants out her release.
It pains Calhoun to unwrap Rapunzel’s arms from their binds when they’re through - she makes one hell of a picture like that, clothing ripped and still flushed and a satisfied smile stretching across her freckled face. But no matter how good Rapunzel looks, Calhoun can’t bring herself to leave the princess like that, vulnerable to any passing danger.
She’s still thinking of the image Rapunzel made though as she wanders through Fantasyland, until she finds herself in a somewhat newer-looking area. There’s a winding path to her left, leading down to a small cottage, and she follows it and ducks inside.
That’s where she finds Belle.
She may look demure, with doe-like brown eyes and a sweet smile, but out of all the princesses, it turns out Belle likes it the most rough and animalistic. There’s an almost beast-like passion inside of her, a desperate hunger in the way she kisses, and when Calhoun sweeps blueprints and books out of the way to bend Belle over a table, Belle groans and claws at the wood in a manner that sends shivers down Calhoun’s spine. She kicks Belle’s ankles apart, shoving the blue fabric of her dress up and ripping at her underclothes to expose her thighs and ass. She pushes two fingers inside without further preamble and Belle is wet and ready for her and already arching for more.
It’s as if Belle’s thirst is insatiable, as if her need for more can’t be contained in her slender body. Calhoun gives her a third finger, then another, muscles in her arms working as she thrusts them in and out, deeper and deeper. Feeling Belle shudder with it, and it’s when Calhoun pushes a thumb in beside her fingers, stretching Belle wide, that she finally comes with a shout that turns into a crooning moan as she clenches around Calhoun’s fingers, pulsing with sensation.
She leaves a sated Belle some time later, and it’s only when she hears the soft noise of water lapping against rock that she realises just how thirsty she is. Calhoun follows the sound and is disappointed to find the undrinkable salt water of the ocean.
She’s less disappointed to find a redheaded mermaid lounging on a rock, staring back at her in surprise.
Ariel, it turns out, is the princess of the ocean. She’s sensitive in both mind and body, and Calhoun peels away purple shells to bare Ariel’s breasts, her skin glistening with water as she arches up into Calhoun’s touch.
Calhoun kisses at Ariel’s neck, not caring that the salt water only drives her thirst on. She’s a little forceful, teeth scraping along Ariel’s throat, lust wound higher by the sensation of Ariel’s tail sliding against her legs, slippery and wet. She squeezes Ariel’s breast hard, palming and cupping it fiercely, and Ariel lets out a beautifully haunting cry, her voice like music.
“That’s right,” Calhoun grins, fingers settling over Ariel’s throat. “Sing for me.”
More than anything, Ariel’s a curious young woman, and Calhoun’s happy to indulge her. She spreads her legs, her hands tangled in that shock of red hair, and guides Ariel’s face between her thighs. Occasionally murmuring encouragement and instructions but mostly happy to let Ariel explore, her tongue mapping Calhoun’s sex like a discovered treasure. Rolling against her and then pressing inside, and Ariel groans for the new taste and the feeling of it vibrates through Calhoun as she pants and arches, orgasm washing over her like a wave.
When she leaves the ocean and the mermaid behind, Ariel’s melodic cries still echoing in her mind, Calhoun finds herself wandering through a circus, all bright colours and organ music.
Calhoun’s never liked the circus.
She averts her gaze from the rollicking clowns, one suspicious eye kept on the elephant soaring in loops through the sky, and uses the castle as a landmark to draw her away from the garish tents and smell of popcorn.
The castle seems even larger up close, and Calhoun follows the pale grey stone walls around until she catches sight of a cascade of red hair.
Her first thought is of Ariel, but this hair is more copper than strawberry, falling in haphazard waves of tight curls. It belongs to another princess, this one named Merida. She speaks with a enthusiastic brogue, and Calhoun notes the weapon she wields with an ease born of obvious practice, arrows zinging through the air to hit each target dead-centre.
Calhoun’s impressed, even more so when Merida pounces. She’s playful, teasing and tough, laughing happily as she leaves fingernail marks striping across Calhoun’s shoulders.
“Oh, you wanna play rough, do you?” Calhoun smirks, feeling the scratches throb deliciously.
They roll across the mossy ground together, teeth digging into skin, pulling hair, and Merida laughs through it all, giggles and growls into Calhoun’s mouth when they kiss. Calhoun finally pins the girl on her back and Merida squirms delightfully as Calhoun shoves her deep blue skirt up to her chest.
She fucks Merida with her fingers, making it slow just to watch the way Merida bares her teeth and tries to push faster, harder. But Calhoun holds her down, draws it out, opening Merida up at her own leisurely pace until there are softer noises amongst the taunts and jibes, mewls and whimpers. Merida’s sky blue eyes are glassy with pleasure, twigs caught in her hair, when Calhoun brings her over the edge, feeling Merida tighten around her fingers as she gasps through her climax.
Merida remains lying on her back, arms crossed behind her head and smiling at the clouds overhead, skirt still around her waist, unabashedly exposed, when Calhoun continues her journey to the castle doors. She finds them thrown open, which seems like an invitation to let herself inside, and she follows the winding stone staircase up to a huge dining hall.
In the centre of the room, wearing a glistening silver-blue dress and humming quietly to herself as she sets the large round table, Calhoun discovers her final princess of the day.
Cinderella, it turns out, is still not used to allowing others to do things for her, despite having been a princess for quite some time. Which Calhoun respects, but the idea of taking control, of worshipping such incredible beauty, is too tempting to ignore.
Cinderella laughs, a happy, lilting sound, when Calhoun lays her back against the table, cutlery and napkin rings clattering to the ground.
Calhoun removes the glass slippers slowly, kisses the arch of her foot, nips lightly at her toes. Cinderella sighs and squirms, sliding her voluminous skirt up her legs because apparently she can’t resist making herself useful. Calhoun rewards her by kissing at the inside of her thighs, fluttering touches, breath ghosting over Cinderella’s flushed labia but lips not making contact.
“No more helping,” Calhoun informs her with a growl. “You’re going to lie there and you’re going to take it.”
The noise Cinderella makes in response is low and sultry, hair catching against the table and beginning to slip free of its bindings as she nods enthusiastically.
Calhoun pushes up on to table, kneels over Cinderella’s sprawled form, watching in satisfaction as the princess throws her arms over her head and curls her fingers over the edge of the table, impressively obedient. Calhoun kisses her, deep and wet, fingers moving between Cinderella’s legs, feeling the heat building there. Cinderella whimpers and gasps but never lets go of the table as she’s worked open, thighs fanning apart invitingly. Calhoun rolls her tongue around pearl earrings, moves down to at the black choker around Cinderella’s neck, digging in her teeth around its edges as Cinderella writhes for her.
Her thumb presses down against Cinderella’s clit, rubbing in insistent circles, fingers still crooked inside, her mouth still moving against that slender neck, and when Cinderella comes Calhoun feels the vibration of her cry when her lips are pressed to Cinderella’s throat.
Afterwards, Calhoun accepts Cinderella’s offer of a stiff drink, reclining in one of the decadently padded chairs. It’s been a long day, and her body aches in all the best kinds of ways. Tactically, this is a good place to spend the night. From high up in the castle like this, she’ll be able to see the entirety of the Magic Kingdom from the balconies and ornate stained-glass windows.
She chooses not to look, though. Instead Calhoun smiles as Cinderella sits in her lap, sipping white wine and still looking blissed out, her head resting against Calhoun’s armoured shoulder.
After all, tomorrow’s another day for exploring. If there are more princesses out there that Calhoun hasn’t met yet, well, she wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.