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@deetz-n-beej
Hi friends! In the interest of keeping a roof over my head, I'm running a sale on art commissions! 40% off anything (yes anything)!! My goal is to make about $200 to get me into a hotel until I get paid Thursday.
Anything helps and I am obviously happy to work for my money. I can also beta/edit written works or essays if that's a thing you need!
Please allow 7-14 days turnaround. NSFW available to my discretion and at an up charge. Thank you! đLore Busts: $25-$40 Simple Char
Kind of in a rough spot. We are in between places, we had booked an Airbnb, but due to them not having working A/C in this 100+ weather we had to cancel, weâre waiting on a refund from Airbnb but we may not see that until next week. Itâs me, luxe, kiddos and pets. Raising funds to keep our butts in a hotel for the next few days. Weâre working with a social worker to figure some things out housing wise. If you need art, know someone who needs art, need help managing social media, editing papers, tutoring elementary school kids etc. please let us know. Or if you want to donate to the cause or share weâre grateful for any help we can get. I included my cashapp and PayPal. We also have Apple Pay 512-770-2458 and Facebook pay. Our previous paypal is holding funds and frozen.
Iâm not proud of where we are, but weâre going to get out of this spot in life. Weâre going to be okay. And weâll come out stronger on the other side.
$buffo827: cashapp
PayPal: @lorelegend
America is a joke
Hi. I have to be out of my house by May 15th, and when I had surgery last November the surgeon double charged me $8k.
I have been fighting this legally since then and just got news that they can't do anything to get it back.
I am trying to raise money to get out of this house and into somewhere stable before my family and I end up in our car. Anything helps.
Trying to move last minute and do some necessary repairs to my current home. $8k I had saved was charged out of my account for a surgery and
Cashapp: $Buffo827
Hello friends. Monday night my neighborhood was hit hard by a series of tornadoes that completely wrecked us.
While our house is mostly okay, we were without power for 36 hours and still don't have water.
My family has been staying in a hotel which is quickly outpacing our budget and we still need to repair our home and replace all the food we lost.
If you're at all able to help out I have open art commissions and I've attached my partner's PayPal if you're at all able to help us out! Thank you!
Go to paypal.me/edgarsapothacary and type in the amount. Since itâs PayPal, it's easy and secure. Donât have a PayPal account? No worries.
Please help me and my family out if you can!
Not Soon Enough
@deetz-n-beejâ
Crazy wasnât the right word to describe exactly what Beetlejuice was feeling. He knew crazy. Even in life, he had never been a patient man, so he was sure that had to be all this was.
Beetlejuice had spent the majority of summer vacation, or whatever the hell she had called it, glancing back and forth between the television and the time. His eyes catching perhaps a little too long on the picture of Lydia hanging on the other side of the room. Frowning, the poltergeist sunk even lower against his hand as he stared at the screen.
How long had it actually been?
The fact that time moved so differently in the Neitherworld certainly didnât help matters.  What was a day on up top felt like an eternity down here.  That was the point of the afterlife after all.  To draw out whatever time you had left in the most painstakingly way possible.  Pre-Lydia he had spent his days filling his time with whatever distracted him more, but nowâŚhe was spoiled. Â
Finding out exactly what it was like to have a true friend had shown him exactly what he had been missing for however long he had been stuck in this hole.  Tasting what it was like on the other side and expecting him to go even a moment without her was a crueler punishment than he could even dare to think of. He had almost had enough, already feeling the grip he held on himself loosen slightly.
She had to come back soon. She just had to. Â
That summer had dragged on like nothing else. Her parents had insisted she come with them out to Lake Tahoe of all places, far, far from home and her best friend.
It was fun enough, but it was mostly full of watching her father and Delia float through Las Vegas where she was too young to really appreciate anything.
Her birthday came and went without him, and she felt his loss more than ever. Now she was sixteen! Nearly an adult! Wouldnât he be sorry to know heâd missed it? Surely.
Now, on the long drive from the Bridgeport airport back to their tiny town of Winter River, she was a ball of well contained excitement. If her parents caught on, she was sure theyâd say nothing and chalk it up to her wanting to be back to her darkroom to develop photos.
As the car pulled up the drive she jumped out and ran inside, shouting to her parents that sheâd be down for her luggage after a post-flight nap.
In truth, she went straight to the mirror of her vanity and knocked three times. What if he wasnât there? What would she do?
Burying his head into his hand, he couldnât stop the frustration that he could feel slowly bubbling over. He should have tried harder to stop her from leaving. Why didnât he? He could have easily scared her parents to death and drug her to the Neitherworld, no problem.
Beetlejuice sneered at the thought of hiimself. He was different. Lydia had changed him in some way and he was having a hard time deciding if he liked the switch. As much as he hated trying to âbehave himselfâ, it was hard to deny that he enjoyed making her happy by the attempt at least. It was hard to keep himself on a leash when she wasnât there to remind him. Already feeling himself chomping at the bit, it was becoming more difficult to keep himself at bay from his old wiley ways.
Things sure were quiet without her chipper little voice around. The silence ate away at him, easily pushing him past insanity.Â
He was about to start contemplating a full-on babes rescue mission when he heard the knocks echoing through the house like a sweet melody. That certainly caught his attention. Instantly disappearing from his home in the Neitherworld, Beetlejuice popped into existence on the other side of the glass. Floating forward, a sly smile slid across his face as he kicked his feet up behind him.
âHowâs it goinâ, babes?â His voice was soft, but it was all he could do to keep his excitement in check. His long-dead heart absolutely throbbing behind his chest as if to try and force him through the glass.
She grinned when he came into focus, settling on the bench of her vanity and rolling her eyes.
âOh, you know. Just getting back from vacation⌠just turned sixteen.â
She leaned on her hand and smiled at her ghost through the glass.
âI brought you a gift, if youâd like to come out here.â
She had struggled with deciding what to get him, and had ultimately settled on two things of equal grossness. She had kissed him terribly. Just seeing him through the mirror lifted her mood.
He was painfully aware of where she had been and would undoubtedly deny the fact that he spent every second staring at the clock waiting for her to come back home. They had plenty of stuff they could have done together, so why she had decided to spend the vacation with her parents eluded him.
âSixteen, eh? Thatâs the age where ya reallyâŚreallyâŚâ He paused, unsure of how to continue his sentence. âReallyâŚâ He couldnât even remember the last sixteen year old he had been around. What the hell did sixteen year old even do nowadays anyways? Lydia had been the only living person he had even bothered with for a couple centuries, so the normalcy that followed actually living life and growing up was something he had no clue on. After a few moments, he gave up, throwing his hands in the air as he floated closer to the mirror. âIâm sure itâs the age where ya do somethinâ.â
âA gift? For me?â Shit, he didnât get her anything. âWell, yer gonna have ta said the magic words if ya really want me to come out.â Beetlejuice waggled his eyebrows, winking playfully at her before he looked down at himself. He quickly straightened his suit, not that it would help, as he prepared himself for the transfer over into the other world. He was sure he could conjure something up, but he was much more excited to see what she had gotten for him to think straight.
"Two gifts! Keep up."
She giggled and with a quick thrice of his name, the room around her shifted, crackling with the strange static energy she'd come to associate with her best friend.
As soon as he cleared the mirror she jumped him, pulling him out of his levitation to hug him tight and hum her contentment at having him back in her arms.
"Missed you, smelly ghost."
She went to her carryon bag and pulled out two packages, one very small and box shaped, containing a pair of cuff links she'd found with tiny beetles set in resin. The other was the most hideous Las Vegas themed Hawaiian shirt she'd been able to put eyes on.
Not Soon Enough
@deetz-n-beejâ
Crazy wasnât the right word to describe exactly what Beetlejuice was feeling. He knew crazy. Even in life, he had never been a patient man, so he was sure that had to be all this was.
Beetlejuice had spent the majority of summer vacation, or whatever the hell she had called it, glancing back and forth between the television and the time. His eyes catching perhaps a little too long on the picture of Lydia hanging on the other side of the room. Frowning, the poltergeist sunk even lower against his hand as he stared at the screen.
How long had it actually been?
The fact that time moved so differently in the Neitherworld certainly didnât help matters.  What was a day on up top felt like an eternity down here.  That was the point of the afterlife after all.  To draw out whatever time you had left in the most painstakingly way possible.  Pre-Lydia he had spent his days filling his time with whatever distracted him more, but nowâŚhe was spoiled. Â
Finding out exactly what it was like to have a true friend had shown him exactly what he had been missing for however long he had been stuck in this hole.  Tasting what it was like on the other side and expecting him to go even a moment without her was a crueler punishment than he could even dare to think of. He had almost had enough, already feeling the grip he held on himself loosen slightly.
She had to come back soon. She just had to. Â
That summer had dragged on like nothing else. Her parents had insisted she come with them out to Lake Tahoe of all places, far, far from home and her best friend.
It was fun enough, but it was mostly full of watching her father and Delia float through Las Vegas where she was too young to really appreciate anything.
Her birthday came and went without him, and she felt his loss more than ever. Now she was sixteen! Nearly an adult! Wouldnât he be sorry to know heâd missed it? Surely.
Now, on the long drive from the Bridgeport airport back to their tiny town of Winter River, she was a ball of well contained excitement. If her parents caught on, she was sure theyâd say nothing and chalk it up to her wanting to be back to her darkroom to develop photos.
As the car pulled up the drive she jumped out and ran inside, shouting to her parents that sheâd be down for her luggage after a post-flight nap.
In truth, she went straight to the mirror of her vanity and knocked three times. What if he wasnât there? What would she do?
Burying his head into his hand, he couldnât stop the frustration that he could feel slowly bubbling over. He should have tried harder to stop her from leaving. Why didnât he? He could have easily scared her parents to death and drug her to the Neitherworld, no problem.
Beetlejuice sneered at the thought of hiimself. He was different. Lydia had changed him in some way and he was having a hard time deciding if he liked the switch. As much as he hated trying to âbehave himselfâ, it was hard to deny that he enjoyed making her happy by the attempt at least. It was hard to keep himself on a leash when she wasnât there to remind him. Already feeling himself chomping at the bit, it was becoming more difficult to keep himself at bay from his old wiley ways.
Things sure were quiet without her chipper little voice around. The silence ate away at him, easily pushing him past insanity.Â
He was about to start contemplating a full-on babes rescue mission when he heard the knocks echoing through the house like a sweet melody. That certainly caught his attention. Instantly disappearing from his home in the Neitherworld, Beetlejuice popped into existence on the other side of the glass. Floating forward, a sly smile slid across his face as he kicked his feet up behind him.
âHowâs it goinâ, babes?â His voice was soft, but it was all he could do to keep his excitement in check. His long-dead heart absolutely throbbing behind his chest as if to try and force him through the glass.
She grinned when he came into focus, settling on the bench of her vanity and rolling her eyes.
"Oh, you know. Just getting back from vacation... just turned sixteen."
She leaned on her hand and smiled at her ghost through the glass.
"I brought you a gift, if you'd like to come out here."
She had struggled with deciding what to get him, and had ultimately settled on two things of equal grossness. She had kissed him terribly. Just seeing him through the mirror lifted her mood.
Not Soon Enough
@deetz-n-beejâ
Crazy wasnât the right word to describe exactly what Beetlejuice was feeling. He knew crazy. Even in life, he had never been a patient man, so he was sure that had to be all this was.
Beetlejuice had spent the majority of summer vacation, or whatever the hell she had called it, glancing back and forth between the television and the time. His eyes catching perhaps a little too long on the picture of Lydia hanging on the other side of the room. Frowning, the poltergeist sunk even lower against his hand as he stared at the screen.
How long had it actually been?
The fact that time moved so differently in the Neitherworld certainly didnât help matters.  What was a day on up top felt like an eternity down here.  That was the point of the afterlife after all.  To draw out whatever time you had left in the most painstakingly way possible.  Pre-Lydia he had spent his days filling his time with whatever distracted him more, but nowâŚhe was spoiled. Â
Finding out exactly what it was like to have a true friend had shown him exactly what he had been missing for however long he had been stuck in this hole.  Tasting what it was like on the other side and expecting him to go even a moment without her was a crueler punishment than he could even dare to think of. He had almost had enough, already feeling the grip he held on himself loosen slightly.
She had to come back soon. She just had to. Â
That summer had dragged on like nothing else. Her parents had insisted she come with them out to Lake Tahoe of all places, far, far from home and her best friend.
It was fun enough, but it was mostly full of watching her father and Delia float through Las Vegas where she was too young to really appreciate anything.
Her birthday came and went without him, and she felt his loss more than ever. Now she was sixteen! Nearly an adult! Wouldn't he be sorry to know he'd missed it? Surely.
Now, on the long drive from the Bridgeport airport back to their tiny town of Winter River, she was a ball of well contained excitement. If her parents caught on, she was sure they'd say nothing and chalk it up to her wanting to be back to her darkroom to develop photos.
As the car pulled up the drive she jumped out and ran inside, shouting to her parents that she'd be down for her luggage after a post-flight nap.
In truth, she went straight to the mirror of her vanity and knocked three times. What if he wasn't there? What would she do?
Phantom in the Halls
@deetz-n-beej
Time had been relentless. Beetlejuice had no way of knowing exactly how much time had passed as he hovered through the halls of the so-called boarding school, whatever the hell that meant. It had to have been a long ass time considering how many kids he watched make it through their schooling entirely.
The Poltergeist of St. Marieâs had become something of a legend. The Magnum Opus of his time on the mortal plane. Unfortunately for him, he never actually got the recognition he so deserved. No one could see him. Which meant his hauntings were chocked up to just that. A ghost. A run-of-the-mill spook. Not that all-powerful poltergeist that this world used to know him as. The name Beetlejuice used to spring fear into the hearts of the pathetic humans that lived on this plane and now? His name had disappeared and become meaningless.
Typical.
He wasnât sure when exactly he had become attached to this school, but all he knew was the fact that he was unable to leave. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this cruel fate, but he was sure it couldnât have been that bad. Right?
After all of the horrible, unspeakable acts he had caused in this realm. Fires, plagues, mass murders, to name a few. After all that, he had been reduced to nothing but a pathetic ghost cursed to haunt this god-forsaken school. Heard a strange noise? It was the Phantom. A basketball running along the ground? Phantom. Felt an eerie hand on your shoulder? Phantom. He had quickly derided into a spooky story that was passed from student to student.
While it had its drawbacks, it certainly wasnât all bad. After many decades had gone by, he had learned to entertain himself. One of the biggest perks of being unseen had definitely been just that. He was unseen. He could go wherever he wanted, as long as it was within the school borders, when he wanted, spy on who he wanted, it was quickly becoming heaven. His favorite pastime had easily become watching girls in the bathroom. For more than the obvious viewpoints, they were the biggest gossip in the whole place. He would easily hear all the dirt for the day in the span of about an hour or two of snooping, all while grinning perversely down into a stall.
As the new school term had begun, he had more than entertained himself as the students gossiped, ranging from talking shit about the âstupid new kidsâ to complaints of how difficult the new school was to navigate. âOh man.â He rolled to the side, glaring at the ceiling as the girls slowly exited the bathroom. âThese kids get dumber every year.â
Boarding school was never what Lydia had in mind. Sure, she could do without the annoyance of teenaged boys running around while she tried to get an education, but being away from her family was hard on her.
It had been her stepmother's idea. The school was a preparatory, and many of its young women went on to Ivy League schools to become doctors, lawyers or trophy wives.
Lydia had no interest in any of those career options.
She wanted to be a photographer, and the massive stone buildings that made up St. Mary's lent themselves well to her craft. It was in taking these photos that she first noticed the man.
She looked between her camera and the building, brushing it off as a fluke.
That was until she saw him again, hovering in the air near the bathrooms. She stopped to stare, her eyes wide. "Who are you?"
I Gave You Blood, Blood, Gallons of the Stuff
A violent churning in her belly paired with uncomfortable slick stickiness between her thighs rudely woke Lydia from the embrace of sleep. It took her a moment to fully come to and realize what had happened, but once her fingers returned from between her legs painted bright crimson, she flew to an upright position, horrified at the sight that met her. Oh no. Her period had come, and after so long without consistent, balanced nutrition, it came with a vengeance. The soft, beautiful pure white bedding she loved so much was tainted now. Dirty. A guilty bloodstain blossomed out on the covers from where she was leaking. With a shaking hand, she dared peak beneath the blanket only to let out a cry of anguish at the warzone down there. She froze. Betelgeuse was still snoring beside her. Helpless tears pricked at her eyes while she trembled and panicked. He couldnât see this. She couldnât hide this. A cramp twisted her insides, pulling a pained groan up her throat, and the tears finally fell past her lashes, streaming fat and fast down her cheeks. She pulled her hair, biting her lip until skin broke, anything to distract and keep from crying out in anguish. He was going to be so mad.
With his wifeâs startling sudden awakening, Betelgeuse snorted and sat up to respond to the perceived threat, ready to fight off any attacker in a momentâs notice.
âWhaâ? âS wrong, kittenâŚâ
He reached out to rub her back, his mind still muddled with sleep and the rigor mortis that had begun to set in as he rested. It took him a long moment to realize exactly what had gone wrong.
Blazing red against their soft white sheets, the evidence of her distress suddenly became clear to her sleepy husband and all traces of his rest disappeared. His eyes went wide, darting between the deep red bloodstain and his wife.
Heâd never seen so much blood come from a woman unless she was seriously, seriously ill. Was she hurt? Had he damaged her somehow in the course of their lovemaking? He was panicked, swiftly pulling her out of bed and across the room where he dropped to his knees to investigate.
âFuckâ Lyds, what happened? Yer bleedinâ⌠Oh my god, yer bleedinâ⌠donât worry baby, Iâll go get a doctor!
She was clearly upset, and the sight of her pretty plush lip torn to shreds â he assumed from biting back pain and nothing elseâ sent him into a frantic course of action. Get human-looking. Get the doctor. Pray to god his young, beautiful wife survived whatever was afflicting her.
Expecting fury or disgust from her wonderful husband, all his blustering worry was both a shock and relief to Lydia. Before she could blink he had her on her feet, bare naked, holding her in place by her hips while he knelt and shoved his face close to the blood-soaked crux of her thighs. Didnât he care about the soiled sheets on his beloved grandmotherâs bed? Wasnât she in trouble? âI-Iâm s-sorry,â she stuttered through frazzled tears, squirming through his firm grip, unable to watch as he scrutinized her. âI didnâtâ didnât mean toâ toâ I just havenât had it in such a long time, I forgot about it andâŚâ Doctor? Did he say Doctor? âDonât take me to the doctor!â She begged with sudden urgency, horrified at the prospect. âIâm fine! They canât do anything! Itâs just my period.â Her voice shrunk with shame there. âIâll wash the sheets. Iâm so sorry, Beej, please donât be upset!â
Upset? Why on earth or under it would he be upset with her?
Did he say sheâd experienced this before? How could she have? There was so much blood, he was sure she was going to pass out at any moment.
âWhat? Babes, fuck the sheets! Yer bleedinâ! What kinda asshole ya take me for?â
Once satisfied that the flow of blood seemed to have stopped for the moment, he scooped her back into his arms and made for a warm bath.
âYa said ya did this before⌠howâd ya make it stop? What do you need, Lyds, just tell me and Iâll get it for ya!â
For once, he found himself woefully unprepared. He had never so much as heard a woman talk about their cycle, except maybe in passing. In his day, a woman would have taken to bed for a few days with a headache and then returned to the parlor for tea right as rain. Heâd never even pondered the thought of so muchâŚ.
âDoes it hurt?â
âUh-huh,â she nodded up and down her pathetic concession to pain, sniffling and puffy-eyed like a child waiting for mommy to kiss their scraped knee. âLike knives in my belly. Like all my organs want out. Hurts.â Given permission to actually feel her suffering, Lydia indulged, humiliated by the dramatic display and hurting. âI canât make it stop. It just does. The first day is the worst. Should be better tomorrow. Wonât stop for a couple days. Maybe longer, or less. I donât know. I havenât had it in so long, I donât know whatâs going to happenâŚâ Modern women only had it marginally better than women from his time as far as societal shame went. This was the most Lydia had ever discussed her cycle with a male person before, much less someone she was intimately entangled with. It was surreal and mortifying. âIâm sorry,â she conceded before once more falling into sobs, hating that her body was forcing him into having this cringey, embarrassing conversation. This wasnât his problem. It was a womanâs trouble, none of his business.Â
He scowled at her soft, sorrowful confession of pain, rubbing his hand down her leg from hip to knee before standing up to kiss her gently.
He hated seeing her in pain. When theyâd worked her slowly through her hunger pains as she recovered from her malnutrition, heâd spent hours holding and comforting her, and he was more than ready to do it again.
With a wave of his hand, the sheets were clean of the deep scarlet that had stained it, and Lydia herself was clothed in a set of soft flannel pajamas that he hoped would keep her comfortable.
She was all that mattered. Their whole magnificent castle could crumble and as long as she was safe and healthy, he wouldnât give two shits.
âMy love, what do you need⌠I.. ya want a cloth or somethinâ for the blood? Painkillers? Tea? Just say the word, baby girlâŚâ
I Gave You Blood, Blood, Gallons of the Stuff
A violent churning in her belly paired with uncomfortable slick stickiness between her thighs rudely woke Lydia from the embrace of sleep. It took her a moment to fully come to and realize what had happened, but once her fingers returned from between her legs painted bright crimson, she flew to an upright position, horrified at the sight that met her. Oh no. Her period had come, and after so long without consistent, balanced nutrition, it came with a vengeance. The soft, beautiful pure white bedding she loved so much was tainted now. Dirty. A guilty bloodstain blossomed out on the covers from where she was leaking. With a shaking hand, she dared peak beneath the blanket only to let out a cry of anguish at the warzone down there. She froze. Betelgeuse was still snoring beside her. Helpless tears pricked at her eyes while she trembled and panicked. He couldnât see this. She couldnât hide this. A cramp twisted her insides, pulling a pained groan up her throat, and the tears finally fell past her lashes, streaming fat and fast down her cheeks. She pulled her hair, biting her lip until skin broke, anything to distract and keep from crying out in anguish. He was going to be so mad.
With his wifeâs startling sudden awakening, Betelgeuse snorted and sat up to respond to the perceived threat, ready to fight off any attacker in a momentâs notice.
âWhaâ? âS wrong, kittenâŚâ
He reached out to rub her back, his mind still muddled with sleep and the rigor mortis that had begun to set in as he rested. It took him a long moment to realize exactly what had gone wrong.
Blazing red against their soft white sheets, the evidence of her distress suddenly became clear to her sleepy husband and all traces of his rest disappeared. His eyes went wide, darting between the deep red bloodstain and his wife.
Heâd never seen so much blood come from a woman unless she was seriously, seriously ill. Was she hurt? Had he damaged her somehow in the course of their lovemaking? He was panicked, swiftly pulling her out of bed and across the room where he dropped to his knees to investigate.
âFuckâ Lyds, what happened? Yer bleedinâ⌠Oh my god, yer bleedinâ⌠donât worry baby, Iâll go get a doctor!
She was clearly upset, and the sight of her pretty plush lip torn to shreds â he assumed from biting back pain and nothing elseâ sent him into a frantic course of action. Get human-looking. Get the doctor. Pray to god his young, beautiful wife survived whatever was afflicting her.
Expecting fury or disgust from her wonderful husband, all his blustering worry was both a shock and relief to Lydia. Before she could blink he had her on her feet, bare naked, holding her in place by her hips while he knelt and shoved his face close to the blood-soaked crux of her thighs. Didnât he care about the soiled sheets on his beloved grandmotherâs bed? Wasnât she in trouble? âI-Iâm s-sorry,â she stuttered through frazzled tears, squirming through his firm grip, unable to watch as he scrutinized her. âI didnâtâ didnât mean toâ toâ I just havenât had it in such a long time, I forgot about it andâŚâ Doctor? Did he say Doctor? âDonât take me to the doctor!â She begged with sudden urgency, horrified at the prospect. âIâm fine! They canât do anything! Itâs just my period.â Her voice shrunk with shame there. âIâll wash the sheets. Iâm so sorry, Beej, please donât be upset!â
Upset? Why on earth or under it would he be upset with her?
Did he say sheâd experienced this before? How could she have? There was so much blood, he was sure she was going to pass out at any moment.
âWhat? Babes, fuck the sheets! Yer bleedinâ! What kinda asshole ya take me for?â
Once satisfied that the flow of blood seemed to have stopped for the moment, he scooped her back into his arms and made for a warm bath.
âYa said ya did this before⌠howâd ya make it stop? What do you need, Lyds, just tell me and Iâll get it for ya!â
For once, he found himself woefully unprepared. He had never so much as heard a woman talk about their cycle, except maybe in passing. In his day, a woman would have taken to bed for a few days with a headache and then returned to the parlor for tea right as rain. Heâd never even pondered the thought of so muchâŚ.
âDoes it hurt?â
I Gave You Blood, Blood, Gallons of the Stuff
A violent churning in her belly paired with uncomfortable slick stickiness between her thighs rudely woke Lydia from the embrace of sleep. It took her a moment to fully come to and realize what had happened, but once her fingers returned from between her legs painted bright crimson, she flew to an upright position, horrified at the sight that met her. Oh no. Her period had come, and after so long without consistent, balanced nutrition, it came with a vengeance. The soft, beautiful pure white bedding she loved so much was tainted now. Dirty. A guilty bloodstain blossomed out on the covers from where she was leaking. With a shaking hand, she dared peak beneath the blanket only to let out a cry of anguish at the warzone down there. She froze. Betelgeuse was still snoring beside her. Helpless tears pricked at her eyes while she trembled and panicked. He couldnât see this. She couldnât hide this. A cramp twisted her insides, pulling a pained groan up her throat, and the tears finally fell past her lashes, streaming fat and fast down her cheeks. She pulled her hair, biting her lip until skin broke, anything to distract and keep from crying out in anguish. He was going to be so mad.
With his wifeâs startling sudden awakening, Betelgeuse snorted and sat up to respond to the perceived threat, ready to fight off any attacker in a momentâs notice.
âWhaâ? âS wrong, kittenâŚâ
He reached out to rub her back, his mind still muddled with sleep and the rigor mortis that had begun to set in as he rested. It took him a long moment to realize exactly what had gone wrong.
Blazing red against their soft white sheets, the evidence of her distress suddenly became clear to her sleepy husband and all traces of his rest disappeared. His eyes went wide, darting between the deep red bloodstain and his wife.
Heâd never seen so much blood come from a woman unless she was seriously, seriously ill. Was she hurt? Had he damaged her somehow in the course of their lovemaking? He was panicked, swiftly pulling her out of bed and across the room where he dropped to his knees to investigate.
âFuckâ Lyds, what happened? Yer bleedinâ... Oh my god, yer bleedinâ... donât worry baby, Iâll go get a doctor!
She was clearly upset, and the sight of her pretty plush lip torn to shreds â he assumed from biting back pain and nothing elseâ sent him into a frantic course of action. Get human-looking. Get the doctor. Pray to god his young, beautiful wife survived whatever was afflicting her.
Cosplay Photo Set Part II: Goth Wives Getting Ready for a Night on the Town
These little boys better watch out ;) Lyds can get pretty possessive over her woman.Â
Iâve hungered for your touch a long lonely time
@deetz-n-beej Jacques was indeed a nice skeleton. He had a heavy French accent, a pencil-thin mustache that Lydia was pretty sure was drawn on, and a spider-girlfriend named Ginger that Lydia simply adored. Together they kept her entertained until she fell asleep in his arms. Even then, he continued to carry her, whirling her through the quickly dispersing crowd until one by one they all went home and the castle was theirs again. Life returned to exactly as it was before the ball. He was even more affectionate, in fact. For three mornings in a row, rather than making her travel to the table in the corner so far, far away from the bed, he served her breakfast in her sheets while she layed in like a precious thing meant for spoiling and fattening. She couldnât remember the last time she washed her own hair. He shampooed and conditioned it for her whenever it was in need. More than that, he tended to everything else too; rubbing every inch of her down with a sugary scrub that sloughed away any dead skin, drying her delicately once it was time to get out, then fashioning her damp hair into braids so it would dry wavy the way he liked. Lastly, he would have her lie out nude on the bed so he could massage her neck to toe with a divine smelling skin balm that made her oh-so soft. He would make her turn over and do her backside as well, always with the most disciplined, evenly weighted strokes. But then, when she would embrace him after and try to entangle him in kisses, pull him further down the burning path he had stoked, heâd stop. Dress her as he liked, tell her he loved her, and then pull her into bed with him to sleep without any sex whatsoever. Every single night. For a week. Lydia was ready to sob. The bath was almost over. Rather than a pile of mush in his hands, Betelgeuse found his bride wide-eyed and skittish, gaze flickering from her own nude body, to him, to the bed, and then back to herself over and overâ as if she couldnât quite figure out which of these things was failing her. Tonight she would seduce him. Put more effort into it. He loved her. He wanted her. Didnât he? âIâm ready to get out,â she gulped, hating the way her voice wavered. Why did she sound like she was lying? Doing something wrong? It wasnât fair.Â
He glanced at her as he scrubbed away the last of her imaginary grime. She was getting more anxious by the second, it seemed. It was just as well.
She shouldnât have tried to run.
He had realized, whirling through the ballroom with her safely tucked into his arms, that she had enjoyed the loss of her virtue more than heâd thought she would. She made it clear over the following week that she would like a repeat performance, but he played dumb.
The longer they went the more desperateâand therefore more apologeticâ she became. He knew that it was at the back of her mind. He had successfully made sex a treat, and by withholding it was punishing her for her transgressions.
He pet her cheek gently when she announced that she was done. âLet me just go and get yer nightgown thenâŚâ
Heart pounding at what she was about to attempt, she was stiff and difficult for him to get out of the tub, not purposefully. All she wanted was to be good for him. She stalled up until the very last possible moment, when he instructed her to lift her arms above her head. She didnât immediately listen. Defiance. Quickly, before he could misinterpret her disobedience, her hand flew out, clumsily landing on the horribly, cringingly soft cock beneath his trousers. Her hand shook. It was all she could do not to yank it back and make a run for it, try her chances in the tunnels again. That was a stupid thought and she hated herself for it, wincing while she forced out the line that had been ringing through her head for several nights now; âI⌠donât th-think I need a nightgownâŚâ
He raised an eyebrow at her bold advance, biting back the chuckle that threatened to leave him at her attempts at seduction. It was cute, really. She was trying so hardâŚ
âNow, why do you think that sweetness? Wonât you get cold without it?â
He shook the garment and it became a pair of soft, plush pajamas. He was going to make her work for this. If she really wanted it, sheâd have to beg for it.
âTell me why you donât need your pjs, babyâŚâ
He smirked, stepping closer to her. His eyes raked over her bare form, his tongue slipping out to run over his lips.
Oh God. None of her fantasies ever made it this far. He was always happy to oblige, taking the hand on his cock for what it was the way any man would. What was she supposed to say now? Her wrist crippled, unable to continue holding him or discern how long she actually had. It felt like a long time. How long had she gone without speaking now? âIâm notâ I donâtââ Her tongue wouldnât cooperate. Emotion bubbled up her throat. Her knees actually knocked together, the cold harassing her in a cruel twist as she stood there wet and embarrassed, denying clothing. Was she being a slut? Did he not like it the last time they were together? Is that why he wasnât interested? âI wanted⌠I thought you would tooâŚâ Her chin dipped down to ineffectively hide her crumpling face, too many mean thoughts now intruding for her to make it through even this pathetic attempt at seduction. Perfectly worthless. âNevermind.â Â
âNo, no⌠babesâŚâ
He dropped the clothing, abandoning them easily. Heâd told her before, he didnât mind if she walked around in the buff all the time. He ran his hand down her arm, pulling her into his arms.
âKitten⌠Iâm glad ya wanna⌠do that again, but I justâŚâ
Time to put on the juice. He was nothing if not an actor. Every conman worth his salt had to be.
He made a show of looking at his feet, then back up into her eyes, his own wide and pitiful.
âI thought that maybe Iâd pushed you too far, before. Had been too quick to put ya under meâŚâ
He squeezed her arms and sighed pathetically.
âThought that mighta been why ya tired to run away. I want ya here with me, even if we never fuck againâŚâ
His eyes hardened slightly, his look intense.
âYou donât want to leave me, do ya?â
As soon as he turned those big green eyes on her, she was mush for him. Those tears that had pushed and threatened for so long finally had their way, spilling hot down her cheeks when he squeezed her, staring down at her like he wanted to eat her alive. You donât want to leave me, do ya? âNever,â she promised, horrified by the very prospect. Her hands tightened in his suit to drive the point home, ground him there with her in case he had a mind to float away. âI love when you touch me,â she confessed, made bold again by his show of âvulnerability.â âYouâre so good. Even when it hurts, I just want moreââ That was probably an odd thing to say. Her breath was quickening, and she became achingly aware of her nipples hard and tight against his rough, dirty suit. Tears slowing, she held him ever closer, straining up on her tiptoes to get nearer to his face. âI like it so much⌠I ran away because I thought you wanted to give it to someone else⌠and that would kill me, Daddy.â
He frowned, putting on an em passion red face even as the tiny, perverted part of him wrung itâs hands excitedly. His plan seemed to have worked perfectly.
âOh, princessâŚ. daddy never wanted to give it to someone else. Youâre the only girl for me⌠butâŚâ
He sighed dramatically, rubbing his hand down to hold her ass, pulling her flush against him.
âYa know you really worried me⌠and dancin with the prince before I even got to finish with ya⌠well. That hurt daddyâs feelingsâŚâ
He picked her up and headed for the bed, ready to reward her for her clear regret. He set her on the edge of the bed and kissed her firmly.
âPromise me that Iâm youâre only guy? You donât want no one but me, do ya?â
âI promise,â she nodded eagerly, residual tears falling from her pink cheeks to her snowy little breasts. âIâll never dance with anyone else ever, ever again! Iâm so sorry, Iâm so, so so sorry, please forgive meâŚâ How awful of a wife was she that she could have hurt him in such a way? This was all her fault, really. Why didnât she tell the Prince to buzz off? After he put so much work into her birthday? And then to run away and make him worry about her? She was the worst. âTell me what to do,â she begged, clutching him to her desperately. Already writhing against him practically. âI want to make it better. Iâm all yours, I promise! You can do whatever you want to me, anything at all. Iâll do anything for you. I just want to be with youâŚâ
He let her cry just a little longer before kissing her roughly and hauling her up onto the bed further. She seemed sufficiently sorry. Maybe it was time to let her have her fun.
He turned to lay flat on his back, pulling her up and onto his chest so he could kiss and grope at her the way he wanted to. She was soft from her bath, warm and still damp where his hand caressed down her back.
âI want you to be up top this time, kitten. You show daddy just exactly how sorry you are.â
He chuckled softly and stretched his arms over his head. It would be interesting to see what she did.
âYouâve watched porn, ainât ya? Go on and show me what youâve learned.â
For a moment, Lydia was thrown back to their first night together in the honeymoon suite, when he first offered her the freedom of choice; anything she wanted to eat. The buffet was still open. The prospect of partaking was just as scary and confusing now as it was then. âOkayâŚâ she sat up in preparation, excited and nervous and hot to the touch. It would be okay. He would like it. Even if she messed up, he would show her how to do it right. Everything was fine. Deep breath. What would he do if he was trying to make her feel good? Well, first he would need her naked. Reverently almost, putting care into every step, she set about undressing him. Each revealed piece of mottled, violent flesh was blessed with a kiss from her. She started with his jacket, then took and aching amount of time to unloop his tie and unbutton his shirt, warm lingering kisses burning a trail all the way. Was she moving too slowly? The thick bulge jutting into her tummy certainly thought so. She only got his pants as far down as the knee before kissing a trail back up to his groin. âI love you,â she whispered against his cock, daring eye contact finally. He hadnât said a word since giving her the order and it was making her nervous all over again. âIs this okay?â
He pet her hair gently, smiling down at her as she gently unclothed and explored him. She was shy and sweet like this, as eager to please as ever and soft in the way she touched him.Â
With his pants around his knees it was easy to kick them away, allowing him to spread his legs wide and give his little wife room to work. The sweet admission of love spoken against his cock made the organ jump excitedly, jerking up to slide against her cheek.Â
âThatâs perfect,baby⌠ya feel so fuckinâ goodâŚâ
He smiled somewhat sweetly, still wanting her to see this as a special treat. If she got to nervous, heâd drop it and take control, but as it was he wanted her to do what she could to please him.Â
âGo ahead, kitten⌠just like daddy taught ya, huh?â
Lydia could count on one hand how many times she had gone down on him. He certainly had her beat as far as numbers were concerned. It was commonplace for his face to be stuffed between her thighs. Not for the past week, however. It was special to be permitted and encouraged to servicing him like this. He got to show her how good and talented he was with his mouth all the time, while she almost never got to give her jaw a stretch and learn herself on his body. Committed to perfecting herself for him, she didnât spare a second at his encouragement before swallowing down as much as she could at once. It wasnât much. Her mouth wasnât wet enough, wrought dry from arousal. Regardless, she kept at it with adamant dedication, suckling until the exquisite flavor of his precum made her moan and salivate, rock him closer toward the tight enclosure of her throat.Â
At least she was trying. He had improved somewhat since the last time theyâd tried this, but she was certainly eager.
Enthusiasm was worth something.
He tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her down, rocking his hips steadily as she rocked and bobbed her head over him as best she could. He could tell this was yet to be a comfortable act for her, but she never piped up even a word of complaint.
âThatâs nice, kitten⌠ya feel great around me. Just relax that little throat and let me inâŚâ
Helplessly, she whined once he locked her in with that heavy hand right on top of her head, grimy claws threading through her needlessly wet tresses. For the briefest moment, she protested, pushing back against his hold until the fear struck that he might end their tryst all together if she did. Her nostrils flared and she blinked back tears brought upon by her gag reflex. She could do better. Determined not to let them both down, she swallowed back the worst of the discomfort, breathing deeply through her nose. Her aching jaw stretched wider and silken lips slid further down toward the impossible mass of the base of his cock. Once there, she stayed there a moment just to breathe and process the work she had done. A rebellious tear escaped the cage of her long lashes, rolling down her cheek, lips, and finally meeting his pulsating cock. Now, to do it all over again.
He cursed as his bulbous head popped past the resistance of her gag reflex and sank deeper into her throat. Their time apart had been hard on him too, and he was quickly reaching a peak he wasnât ready to scale.
He pulled her back as she gasped for breath, her pretty cinnamon eyes watering as though heâd punched her. In a way, he supposed he had.
He ran his hand through her hair and kissed her roughly, biting at her lips playfully.
âGettin real good at that, kitten. But I think we both know itâs time to move this along, huh?â
When he pulled her away from servicing him after only scant few minutes of progress, Lydia immediately worried that she had done something wrong. What if she messed up somehow and he didnât want her to try ever again? This could be the last opportunity she ever got to please her husband before he gave up on her completely.
âI can do better,â she insisted with wet eyes, a facet of panic coloring her tone. âWas it bad? I didnât mean to gag. It was an accident, pleaseâ!â
She couldnât take another week like this one; being subjected to his perfect, tortuous love while remaining disallowed an outlet to return it.
âJustâ just let me try. I promise I can be a good wifeâŚâ
He frowned, confused slightly by her frantic request to keep trying. Maybe heâd gone too far, or too long on this punishment. She seemed to be in tears just from him redirecting her attention.
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek gently, then pulled at her lower lip down as he considered her, his head tipped to the side.
âI know you can, kitten⌠youâre gonna be the best wife in the world. But Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya?â
He smirked softly and patted her cheek. He pulled her up into his lap, sliding a hand between her thighs to tease over her slit.
âNow. Letâs move this along like I said, my good girlâŚ.â
Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya? âUh-huh.â She nodded up and down robotically, committed to pleasing him. In that moment, he could have told her to jump off a bridge and she would have agreed without question. Without further complaint or fuss, she listened, falling into place above him as he situated her. She belonged here with him. Their fit wasnât perfect, not like normal princesses and their princes, but who wanted to be normal anyway? A sharp gasp parted slick lips as she shimmied down, forcing the thick head and a little more in. Gravity was slowly pulling her down, finding resistance in her stubbornly squeezing internal tendons. Unfettered by the short bites of discomfort, she continued to gasp and rock, working her way down inch by delicious inch.Â
He slowly guided her down until their thighs met, an animalistic growl leaving him. It had been torture to him as well to keep from taking her on every surface of the castle. Clearly it had been worth it.
He pulled her down to kiss her roughly, his hands tangling in her long dark locks.
âGod damn, I am never gonna get tired of this⌠ya feel so good, LydsâŚâ
He ran his hands down to grip her hips, rocking up into her slowly at first, then faster, almost punishing.
Once he got going, her priorities shifted from showing how well she could work himâ or tryâ to holding on for the ride. It was different with her on top, though she wasnât anymore in control here than she was beneath him. With weighty lunges and masculine grunts accompanying, he pulled her down on to him at the same time that he pounded up, over and over again, the intensity of it rendering her beyond comprehensive speech. âBeej!ââ she shrieked his cutesy nickname on a sweetly painful downward slam, scratching viciously down his back and arching as if for escape, only to whimper and go limp. It was better this way. When it was time for her to work again, he would let her know. For now, her only job was to take it. Â
She was sweet and dutiful in the way she went pliant and soft in his bruising, firm grip. Heâd trained her well, it seemed, even with only one run under their belts. It was just as well.
If she was good, he wouldnât have to be mean again. Though he did like to be a little cruel.
She whimpered and sighed somewhere close to his ear, though he couldnât be bothered to actually locate her face. He was too preoccupied with watching his cock slide in and out of her tight cunt.
âThatâs it baby⌠good girl⌠fuck!â
Good girl. It felt like it had been ages since he called her that. DIdnât she dislike it once upon a time? Why ever would she have? Currently, the patronizing praise provided her with nothing but a deep sense of contentment and an indistinguishable glow of warmth. All was well. He was pleased. More than pleased, he was pleasured. Any insecurity and fear left in her fled under his intensity, crumbling as the ferocity of their rut plateaued. Of course he wanted her. How could she have thought anything less with how completely he claimed her; every part of her open and bleeding and prime for devouring. When the floodgates finally burst, it was just as violent and intense as the dance that brought her there. He fucked her right through it, never breaking form or pausing, too busy chasing his own peak to stop and appreciate hers. It was the sweetest torture. âBeeâ!â She cried out as he continued to pull her down onto him through the unceasing waves of euphoria. It was too good. Too much, too fast, too hard. He was going to break her. âI canât,â she pled brokenly, unsure what she was even asking for as wetness leaked from her eyes. âI canât! Please!â Â
He barely realized sheâd reached her highest point, and certainly didnât notice the moment she fell over it. The only clues he was given were the tightening of her walls around him and heightened pitch of her moans.
He chased his end viciously, thrusting up into her with only one goal in mind. Heâd missed this almost as much as she had, though heâd know theyâd come back to it of course. Heâd had no doubt sheâd come crawling back.
It didnât take long until heâd worked her through her first orgasm and straight into a second, his own following close on its heels. His thrusts became less steady, more frantic as he tipped his head back into the pillows with a growl.
âFuck! Lydia!â
He gripped her punishingly tight, one hand on her ass and the other just above her hip where heâd been guiding her in their tryst. Now, all he could do was hold on and pant as he slowly faded out of the frenzy of their joint climax.
So, so slowly, like a cobra releasing its asphyxiated victim, his painful grip coaxed away until his hands were loose and lax over her, revealing the dark, finger-shaped bruises left behind. She crumpled over him as he deflated, cock still hard and pulsating inside of her. Her heart pounded inbetween them and Lydia was acutely aware of it, as well as her labored breaths in contrast to his bodyâs telling stillness. From the waist down, she was raw and tender, aching in secret places sheâd been yearning to feel since last he stretched her open. Unlike their last time, Lydia didnât have any sweet curious requests for more. No, he had filled her quota to the brim. Something inside of her had torn just a bit, adding a tinge of pink to the combined fluid leaking from their joining point. Lydia didnât have any complaints. This was bliss, the perfect completion and togetherness she wanted from him. How wonderful and generous he was to deliver despite her cruel, ungrateful behavior toward him. She didnât deserve him. He should have let her run away that night so she could never hurt him again. âDo you still love meâŚ?â
Love? Heâd never given the thought much weight. All his life, living and after, heâd let the women he used make whatever assumptions they wanted to.
Telling a woman he loved her was uncharted territory. Of course, it was true⌠he loved Lydia in a way heâd never had to deal with before. So much so that the words nearly escaped his lips.
âCourse, yer my babesâŚMy wifeâŚMy baby girlâŚ. why ya even askinâ me?â
Her search for his affection cut their afterglow somewhat short, Betelgeuse immediately uncomfortable at the topic of feelings.
âThat was a great fuck, Lyds, really⌠ya did perfect.â
He didnât like that. She would never ask again, then. It wasnât necessary, really. She may as well have asked him what color the sky was. Why ya even askinâ me? âI donât know⌠Just dumb I guessâŚâ There wasnât any insecurity or discomfort in her lazy, fuzzy reply. It was simply an obligatory answer to a question he asked. If he wanted a real answer, she would put more thought into it and try harder. Vulgar as the praise that followed was, Lydia was nonplussed. He meant it with love and she could only revel in that she had been able to make him so happy. âI barely did anything,â she still brushed it off, doubting the existence of any skill on her part. âIâll get better. I promise. I want to be able to make you all sleepy and weak. Youâre cute like that.â âCuteâ was certainly an improvement from ânot ugly.âÂ
He made a show of pretending to gag, rolling her over and off of him to playfully collapse on top of her, careful not to squish her too badly.
"Cute? Ugh! Come on, babes! I got a rep to maintain here!"
He rolled over to lay beside her, pulling her close to his side with a chuckle.
" 'f anyone's cute here it's my girl... I mean look at her!"
He tickled her gently, quickly backing off in the face of her exhaustion. He was quite pleased with himself. He had a properly trained and eager wife, a home they could share indefinitely and, as he was reminded by a tiny whine, a couple of pets to appease his father complex.
Afterlife was good.
Almost too good.
Surely the other shoe would kick him in the ass any day.
Iâve hungered for your touch a long lonely time
@deetz-n-beej Jacques was indeed a nice skeleton. He had a heavy French accent, a pencil-thin mustache that Lydia was pretty sure was drawn on, and a spider-girlfriend named Ginger that Lydia simply adored. Together they kept her entertained until she fell asleep in his arms. Even then, he continued to carry her, whirling her through the quickly dispersing crowd until one by one they all went home and the castle was theirs again. Life returned to exactly as it was before the ball. He was even more affectionate, in fact. For three mornings in a row, rather than making her travel to the table in the corner so far, far away from the bed, he served her breakfast in her sheets while she layed in like a precious thing meant for spoiling and fattening. She couldnât remember the last time she washed her own hair. He shampooed and conditioned it for her whenever it was in need. More than that, he tended to everything else too; rubbing every inch of her down with a sugary scrub that sloughed away any dead skin, drying her delicately once it was time to get out, then fashioning her damp hair into braids so it would dry wavy the way he liked. Lastly, he would have her lie out nude on the bed so he could massage her neck to toe with a divine smelling skin balm that made her oh-so soft. He would make her turn over and do her backside as well, always with the most disciplined, evenly weighted strokes. But then, when she would embrace him after and try to entangle him in kisses, pull him further down the burning path he had stoked, heâd stop. Dress her as he liked, tell her he loved her, and then pull her into bed with him to sleep without any sex whatsoever. Every single night. For a week. Lydia was ready to sob. The bath was almost over. Rather than a pile of mush in his hands, Betelgeuse found his bride wide-eyed and skittish, gaze flickering from her own nude body, to him, to the bed, and then back to herself over and overâ as if she couldnât quite figure out which of these things was failing her. Tonight she would seduce him. Put more effort into it. He loved her. He wanted her. Didnât he? âIâm ready to get out,â she gulped, hating the way her voice wavered. Why did she sound like she was lying? Doing something wrong? It wasnât fair.Â
He glanced at her as he scrubbed away the last of her imaginary grime. She was getting more anxious by the second, it seemed. It was just as well.
She shouldnât have tried to run.
He had realized, whirling through the ballroom with her safely tucked into his arms, that she had enjoyed the loss of her virtue more than heâd thought she would. She made it clear over the following week that she would like a repeat performance, but he played dumb.
The longer they went the more desperateâand therefore more apologeticâ she became. He knew that it was at the back of her mind. He had successfully made sex a treat, and by withholding it was punishing her for her transgressions.
He pet her cheek gently when she announced that she was done. âLet me just go and get yer nightgown thenâŚâ
Heart pounding at what she was about to attempt, she was stiff and difficult for him to get out of the tub, not purposefully. All she wanted was to be good for him. She stalled up until the very last possible moment, when he instructed her to lift her arms above her head. She didnât immediately listen. Defiance. Quickly, before he could misinterpret her disobedience, her hand flew out, clumsily landing on the horribly, cringingly soft cock beneath his trousers. Her hand shook. It was all she could do not to yank it back and make a run for it, try her chances in the tunnels again. That was a stupid thought and she hated herself for it, wincing while she forced out the line that had been ringing through her head for several nights now; âI⌠donât th-think I need a nightgownâŚâ
He raised an eyebrow at her bold advance, biting back the chuckle that threatened to leave him at her attempts at seduction. It was cute, really. She was trying so hardâŚ
âNow, why do you think that sweetness? Wonât you get cold without it?â
He shook the garment and it became a pair of soft, plush pajamas. He was going to make her work for this. If she really wanted it, sheâd have to beg for it.
âTell me why you donât need your pjs, babyâŚâ
He smirked, stepping closer to her. His eyes raked over her bare form, his tongue slipping out to run over his lips.
Oh God. None of her fantasies ever made it this far. He was always happy to oblige, taking the hand on his cock for what it was the way any man would. What was she supposed to say now? Her wrist crippled, unable to continue holding him or discern how long she actually had. It felt like a long time. How long had she gone without speaking now? âIâm notâ I donâtââ Her tongue wouldnât cooperate. Emotion bubbled up her throat. Her knees actually knocked together, the cold harassing her in a cruel twist as she stood there wet and embarrassed, denying clothing. Was she being a slut? Did he not like it the last time they were together? Is that why he wasnât interested? âI wanted⌠I thought you would tooâŚâ Her chin dipped down to ineffectively hide her crumpling face, too many mean thoughts now intruding for her to make it through even this pathetic attempt at seduction. Perfectly worthless. âNevermind.â Â
âNo, no⌠babesâŚâ
He dropped the clothing, abandoning them easily. Heâd told her before, he didnât mind if she walked around in the buff all the time. He ran his hand down her arm, pulling her into his arms.
âKitten⌠Iâm glad ya wanna⌠do that again, but I justâŚâ
Time to put on the juice. He was nothing if not an actor. Every conman worth his salt had to be.
He made a show of looking at his feet, then back up into her eyes, his own wide and pitiful.
âI thought that maybe Iâd pushed you too far, before. Had been too quick to put ya under meâŚâ
He squeezed her arms and sighed pathetically.
âThought that mighta been why ya tired to run away. I want ya here with me, even if we never fuck againâŚâ
His eyes hardened slightly, his look intense.
âYou donât want to leave me, do ya?â
As soon as he turned those big green eyes on her, she was mush for him. Those tears that had pushed and threatened for so long finally had their way, spilling hot down her cheeks when he squeezed her, staring down at her like he wanted to eat her alive. You donât want to leave me, do ya? âNever,â she promised, horrified by the very prospect. Her hands tightened in his suit to drive the point home, ground him there with her in case he had a mind to float away. âI love when you touch me,â she confessed, made bold again by his show of âvulnerability.â âYouâre so good. Even when it hurts, I just want moreââ That was probably an odd thing to say. Her breath was quickening, and she became achingly aware of her nipples hard and tight against his rough, dirty suit. Tears slowing, she held him ever closer, straining up on her tiptoes to get nearer to his face. âI like it so much⌠I ran away because I thought you wanted to give it to someone else⌠and that would kill me, Daddy.â
He frowned, putting on an em passion red face even as the tiny, perverted part of him wrung itâs hands excitedly. His plan seemed to have worked perfectly.
âOh, princessâŚ. daddy never wanted to give it to someone else. Youâre the only girl for me⌠butâŚâ
He sighed dramatically, rubbing his hand down to hold her ass, pulling her flush against him.
âYa know you really worried me⌠and dancin with the prince before I even got to finish with ya⌠well. That hurt daddyâs feelingsâŚâ
He picked her up and headed for the bed, ready to reward her for her clear regret. He set her on the edge of the bed and kissed her firmly.
âPromise me that Iâm youâre only guy? You donât want no one but me, do ya?â
âI promise,â she nodded eagerly, residual tears falling from her pink cheeks to her snowy little breasts. âIâll never dance with anyone else ever, ever again! Iâm so sorry, Iâm so, so so sorry, please forgive meâŚâ How awful of a wife was she that she could have hurt him in such a way? This was all her fault, really. Why didnât she tell the Prince to buzz off? After he put so much work into her birthday? And then to run away and make him worry about her? She was the worst. âTell me what to do,â she begged, clutching him to her desperately. Already writhing against him practically. âI want to make it better. Iâm all yours, I promise! You can do whatever you want to me, anything at all. Iâll do anything for you. I just want to be with youâŚâ
He let her cry just a little longer before kissing her roughly and hauling her up onto the bed further. She seemed sufficiently sorry. Maybe it was time to let her have her fun.
He turned to lay flat on his back, pulling her up and onto his chest so he could kiss and grope at her the way he wanted to. She was soft from her bath, warm and still damp where his hand caressed down her back.
âI want you to be up top this time, kitten. You show daddy just exactly how sorry you are.â
He chuckled softly and stretched his arms over his head. It would be interesting to see what she did.
âYouâve watched porn, ainât ya? Go on and show me what youâve learned.â
For a moment, Lydia was thrown back to their first night together in the honeymoon suite, when he first offered her the freedom of choice; anything she wanted to eat. The buffet was still open. The prospect of partaking was just as scary and confusing now as it was then. âOkayâŚâ she sat up in preparation, excited and nervous and hot to the touch. It would be okay. He would like it. Even if she messed up, he would show her how to do it right. Everything was fine. Deep breath. What would he do if he was trying to make her feel good? Well, first he would need her naked. Reverently almost, putting care into every step, she set about undressing him. Each revealed piece of mottled, violent flesh was blessed with a kiss from her. She started with his jacket, then took and aching amount of time to unloop his tie and unbutton his shirt, warm lingering kisses burning a trail all the way. Was she moving too slowly? The thick bulge jutting into her tummy certainly thought so. She only got his pants as far down as the knee before kissing a trail back up to his groin. âI love you,â she whispered against his cock, daring eye contact finally. He hadnât said a word since giving her the order and it was making her nervous all over again. âIs this okay?â
He pet her hair gently, smiling down at her as she gently unclothed and explored him. She was shy and sweet like this, as eager to please as ever and soft in the way she touched him.Â
With his pants around his knees it was easy to kick them away, allowing him to spread his legs wide and give his little wife room to work. The sweet admission of love spoken against his cock made the organ jump excitedly, jerking up to slide against her cheek.Â
âThatâs perfect,baby⌠ya feel so fuckinâ goodâŚâ
He smiled somewhat sweetly, still wanting her to see this as a special treat. If she got to nervous, heâd drop it and take control, but as it was he wanted her to do what she could to please him.Â
âGo ahead, kitten⌠just like daddy taught ya, huh?â
Lydia could count on one hand how many times she had gone down on him. He certainly had her beat as far as numbers were concerned. It was commonplace for his face to be stuffed between her thighs. Not for the past week, however. It was special to be permitted and encouraged to servicing him like this. He got to show her how good and talented he was with his mouth all the time, while she almost never got to give her jaw a stretch and learn herself on his body. Committed to perfecting herself for him, she didnât spare a second at his encouragement before swallowing down as much as she could at once. It wasnât much. Her mouth wasnât wet enough, wrought dry from arousal. Regardless, she kept at it with adamant dedication, suckling until the exquisite flavor of his precum made her moan and salivate, rock him closer toward the tight enclosure of her throat.Â
At least she was trying. He had improved somewhat since the last time theyâd tried this, but she was certainly eager.
Enthusiasm was worth something.
He tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her down, rocking his hips steadily as she rocked and bobbed her head over him as best she could. He could tell this was yet to be a comfortable act for her, but she never piped up even a word of complaint.
âThatâs nice, kitten⌠ya feel great around me. Just relax that little throat and let me inâŚâ
Helplessly, she whined once he locked her in with that heavy hand right on top of her head, grimy claws threading through her needlessly wet tresses. For the briefest moment, she protested, pushing back against his hold until the fear struck that he might end their tryst all together if she did. Her nostrils flared and she blinked back tears brought upon by her gag reflex. She could do better. Determined not to let them both down, she swallowed back the worst of the discomfort, breathing deeply through her nose. Her aching jaw stretched wider and silken lips slid further down toward the impossible mass of the base of his cock. Once there, she stayed there a moment just to breathe and process the work she had done. A rebellious tear escaped the cage of her long lashes, rolling down her cheek, lips, and finally meeting his pulsating cock. Now, to do it all over again.
He cursed as his bulbous head popped past the resistance of her gag reflex and sank deeper into her throat. Their time apart had been hard on him too, and he was quickly reaching a peak he wasnât ready to scale.
He pulled her back as she gasped for breath, her pretty cinnamon eyes watering as though heâd punched her. In a way, he supposed he had.
He ran his hand through her hair and kissed her roughly, biting at her lips playfully.
âGettin real good at that, kitten. But I think we both know itâs time to move this along, huh?â
When he pulled her away from servicing him after only scant few minutes of progress, Lydia immediately worried that she had done something wrong. What if she messed up somehow and he didnât want her to try ever again? This could be the last opportunity she ever got to please her husband before he gave up on her completely.
âI can do better,â she insisted with wet eyes, a facet of panic coloring her tone. âWas it bad? I didnât mean to gag. It was an accident, pleaseâ!â
She couldnât take another week like this one; being subjected to his perfect, tortuous love while remaining disallowed an outlet to return it.
âJustâ just let me try. I promise I can be a good wifeâŚâ
He frowned, confused slightly by her frantic request to keep trying. Maybe heâd gone too far, or too long on this punishment. She seemed to be in tears just from him redirecting her attention.
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek gently, then pulled at her lower lip down as he considered her, his head tipped to the side.
âI know you can, kitten⌠youâre gonna be the best wife in the world. But Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya?â
He smirked softly and patted her cheek. He pulled her up into his lap, sliding a hand between her thighs to tease over her slit.
âNow. Letâs move this along like I said, my good girlâŚ.â
Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya? âUh-huh.â She nodded up and down robotically, committed to pleasing him. In that moment, he could have told her to jump off a bridge and she would have agreed without question. Without further complaint or fuss, she listened, falling into place above him as he situated her. She belonged here with him. Their fit wasnât perfect, not like normal princesses and their princes, but who wanted to be normal anyway? A sharp gasp parted slick lips as she shimmied down, forcing the thick head and a little more in. Gravity was slowly pulling her down, finding resistance in her stubbornly squeezing internal tendons. Unfettered by the short bites of discomfort, she continued to gasp and rock, working her way down inch by delicious inch.Â
He slowly guided her down until their thighs met, an animalistic growl leaving him. It had been torture to him as well to keep from taking her on every surface of the castle. Clearly it had been worth it.
He pulled her down to kiss her roughly, his hands tangling in her long dark locks.
âGod damn, I am never gonna get tired of this⌠ya feel so good, LydsâŚâ
He ran his hands down to grip her hips, rocking up into her slowly at first, then faster, almost punishing.
Once he got going, her priorities shifted from showing how well she could work himâ or tryâ to holding on for the ride. It was different with her on top, though she wasnât anymore in control here than she was beneath him. With weighty lunges and masculine grunts accompanying, he pulled her down on to him at the same time that he pounded up, over and over again, the intensity of it rendering her beyond comprehensive speech. âBeej!ââ she shrieked his cutesy nickname on a sweetly painful downward slam, scratching viciously down his back and arching as if for escape, only to whimper and go limp. It was better this way. When it was time for her to work again, he would let her know. For now, her only job was to take it. Â
She was sweet and dutiful in the way she went pliant and soft in his bruising, firm grip. Heâd trained her well, it seemed, even with only one run under their belts. It was just as well.
If she was good, he wouldnât have to be mean again. Though he did like to be a little cruel.
She whimpered and sighed somewhere close to his ear, though he couldnât be bothered to actually locate her face. He was too preoccupied with watching his cock slide in and out of her tight cunt.
âThatâs it baby⌠good girl⌠fuck!â
Good girl. It felt like it had been ages since he called her that. DIdnât she dislike it once upon a time? Why ever would she have? Currently, the patronizing praise provided her with nothing but a deep sense of contentment and an indistinguishable glow of warmth. All was well. He was pleased. More than pleased, he was pleasured. Any insecurity and fear left in her fled under his intensity, crumbling as the ferocity of their rut plateaued. Of course he wanted her. How could she have thought anything less with how completely he claimed her; every part of her open and bleeding and prime for devouring. When the floodgates finally burst, it was just as violent and intense as the dance that brought her there. He fucked her right through it, never breaking form or pausing, too busy chasing his own peak to stop and appreciate hers. It was the sweetest torture. âBeeâ!â She cried out as he continued to pull her down onto him through the unceasing waves of euphoria. It was too good. Too much, too fast, too hard. He was going to break her. âI canât,â she pled brokenly, unsure what she was even asking for as wetness leaked from her eyes. âI canât! Please!â Â
He barely realized sheâd reached her highest point, and certainly didnât notice the moment she fell over it. The only clues he was given were the tightening of her walls around him and heightened pitch of her moans.
He chased his end viciously, thrusting up into her with only one goal in mind. Heâd missed this almost as much as she had, though heâd know theyâd come back to it of course. Heâd had no doubt sheâd come crawling back.
It didnât take long until heâd worked her through her first orgasm and straight into a second, his own following close on its heels. His thrusts became less steady, more frantic as he tipped his head back into the pillows with a growl.
âFuck! Lydia!â
He gripped her punishingly tight, one hand on her ass and the other just above her hip where heâd been guiding her in their tryst. Now, all he could do was hold on and pant as he slowly faded out of the frenzy of their joint climax.
So, so slowly, like a cobra releasing its asphyxiated victim, his painful grip coaxed away until his hands were loose and lax over her, revealing the dark, finger-shaped bruises left behind. She crumpled over him as he deflated, cock still hard and pulsating inside of her. Her heart pounded inbetween them and Lydia was acutely aware of it, as well as her labored breaths in contrast to his bodyâs telling stillness. From the waist down, she was raw and tender, aching in secret places sheâd been yearning to feel since last he stretched her open. Unlike their last time, Lydia didnât have any sweet curious requests for more. No, he had filled her quota to the brim. Something inside of her had torn just a bit, adding a tinge of pink to the combined fluid leaking from their joining point. Lydia didnât have any complaints. This was bliss, the perfect completion and togetherness she wanted from him. How wonderful and generous he was to deliver despite her cruel, ungrateful behavior toward him. She didnât deserve him. He should have let her run away that night so she could never hurt him again. âDo you still love meâŚ?â
Love? He'd never given the thought much weight. All his life, living and after, he'd let the women he used make whatever assumptions they wanted to.
Telling a woman he loved her was uncharted territory. Of course, it was true... he loved Lydia in a way he'd never had to deal with before. So much so that the words nearly escaped his lips.
"Course, yer my babes...My wife...My baby girl.... why ya even askin' me?"
Her search for his affection cut their afterglow somewhat short, Betelgeuse immediately uncomfortable at the topic of feelings.
"That was a great fuck, Lyds, really... ya did perfect."
Iâve hungered for your touch a long lonely time
@deetz-n-beej Jacques was indeed a nice skeleton. He had a heavy French accent, a pencil-thin mustache that Lydia was pretty sure was drawn on, and a spider-girlfriend named Ginger that Lydia simply adored. Together they kept her entertained until she fell asleep in his arms. Even then, he continued to carry her, whirling her through the quickly dispersing crowd until one by one they all went home and the castle was theirs again. Life returned to exactly as it was before the ball. He was even more affectionate, in fact. For three mornings in a row, rather than making her travel to the table in the corner so far, far away from the bed, he served her breakfast in her sheets while she layed in like a precious thing meant for spoiling and fattening. She couldnât remember the last time she washed her own hair. He shampooed and conditioned it for her whenever it was in need. More than that, he tended to everything else too; rubbing every inch of her down with a sugary scrub that sloughed away any dead skin, drying her delicately once it was time to get out, then fashioning her damp hair into braids so it would dry wavy the way he liked. Lastly, he would have her lie out nude on the bed so he could massage her neck to toe with a divine smelling skin balm that made her oh-so soft. He would make her turn over and do her backside as well, always with the most disciplined, evenly weighted strokes. But then, when she would embrace him after and try to entangle him in kisses, pull him further down the burning path he had stoked, heâd stop. Dress her as he liked, tell her he loved her, and then pull her into bed with him to sleep without any sex whatsoever. Every single night. For a week. Lydia was ready to sob. The bath was almost over. Rather than a pile of mush in his hands, Betelgeuse found his bride wide-eyed and skittish, gaze flickering from her own nude body, to him, to the bed, and then back to herself over and overâ as if she couldnât quite figure out which of these things was failing her. Tonight she would seduce him. Put more effort into it. He loved her. He wanted her. Didnât he? âIâm ready to get out,â she gulped, hating the way her voice wavered. Why did she sound like she was lying? Doing something wrong? It wasnât fair.Â
He glanced at her as he scrubbed away the last of her imaginary grime. She was getting more anxious by the second, it seemed. It was just as well.
She shouldnât have tried to run.
He had realized, whirling through the ballroom with her safely tucked into his arms, that she had enjoyed the loss of her virtue more than heâd thought she would. She made it clear over the following week that she would like a repeat performance, but he played dumb.
The longer they went the more desperateâand therefore more apologeticâ she became. He knew that it was at the back of her mind. He had successfully made sex a treat, and by withholding it was punishing her for her transgressions.
He pet her cheek gently when she announced that she was done. âLet me just go and get yer nightgown thenâŚâ
Heart pounding at what she was about to attempt, she was stiff and difficult for him to get out of the tub, not purposefully. All she wanted was to be good for him. She stalled up until the very last possible moment, when he instructed her to lift her arms above her head. She didnât immediately listen. Defiance. Quickly, before he could misinterpret her disobedience, her hand flew out, clumsily landing on the horribly, cringingly soft cock beneath his trousers. Her hand shook. It was all she could do not to yank it back and make a run for it, try her chances in the tunnels again. That was a stupid thought and she hated herself for it, wincing while she forced out the line that had been ringing through her head for several nights now; âI⌠donât th-think I need a nightgownâŚâ
He raised an eyebrow at her bold advance, biting back the chuckle that threatened to leave him at her attempts at seduction. It was cute, really. She was trying so hardâŚ
âNow, why do you think that sweetness? Wonât you get cold without it?â
He shook the garment and it became a pair of soft, plush pajamas. He was going to make her work for this. If she really wanted it, sheâd have to beg for it.
âTell me why you donât need your pjs, babyâŚâ
He smirked, stepping closer to her. His eyes raked over her bare form, his tongue slipping out to run over his lips.
Oh God. None of her fantasies ever made it this far. He was always happy to oblige, taking the hand on his cock for what it was the way any man would. What was she supposed to say now? Her wrist crippled, unable to continue holding him or discern how long she actually had. It felt like a long time. How long had she gone without speaking now? âIâm notâ I donâtââ Her tongue wouldnât cooperate. Emotion bubbled up her throat. Her knees actually knocked together, the cold harassing her in a cruel twist as she stood there wet and embarrassed, denying clothing. Was she being a slut? Did he not like it the last time they were together? Is that why he wasnât interested? âI wanted⌠I thought you would tooâŚâ Her chin dipped down to ineffectively hide her crumpling face, too many mean thoughts now intruding for her to make it through even this pathetic attempt at seduction. Perfectly worthless. âNevermind.â Â
âNo, no⌠babesâŚâ
He dropped the clothing, abandoning them easily. Heâd told her before, he didnât mind if she walked around in the buff all the time. He ran his hand down her arm, pulling her into his arms.
âKitten⌠Iâm glad ya wanna⌠do that again, but I justâŚâ
Time to put on the juice. He was nothing if not an actor. Every conman worth his salt had to be.
He made a show of looking at his feet, then back up into her eyes, his own wide and pitiful.
âI thought that maybe Iâd pushed you too far, before. Had been too quick to put ya under meâŚâ
He squeezed her arms and sighed pathetically.
âThought that mighta been why ya tired to run away. I want ya here with me, even if we never fuck againâŚâ
His eyes hardened slightly, his look intense.
âYou donât want to leave me, do ya?â
As soon as he turned those big green eyes on her, she was mush for him. Those tears that had pushed and threatened for so long finally had their way, spilling hot down her cheeks when he squeezed her, staring down at her like he wanted to eat her alive. You donât want to leave me, do ya? âNever,â she promised, horrified by the very prospect. Her hands tightened in his suit to drive the point home, ground him there with her in case he had a mind to float away. âI love when you touch me,â she confessed, made bold again by his show of âvulnerability.â âYouâre so good. Even when it hurts, I just want moreââ That was probably an odd thing to say. Her breath was quickening, and she became achingly aware of her nipples hard and tight against his rough, dirty suit. Tears slowing, she held him ever closer, straining up on her tiptoes to get nearer to his face. âI like it so much⌠I ran away because I thought you wanted to give it to someone else⌠and that would kill me, Daddy.â
He frowned, putting on an em passion red face even as the tiny, perverted part of him wrung itâs hands excitedly. His plan seemed to have worked perfectly.
âOh, princessâŚ. daddy never wanted to give it to someone else. Youâre the only girl for me⌠butâŚâ
He sighed dramatically, rubbing his hand down to hold her ass, pulling her flush against him.
âYa know you really worried me⌠and dancin with the prince before I even got to finish with ya⌠well. That hurt daddyâs feelingsâŚâ
He picked her up and headed for the bed, ready to reward her for her clear regret. He set her on the edge of the bed and kissed her firmly.
âPromise me that Iâm youâre only guy? You donât want no one but me, do ya?â
âI promise,â she nodded eagerly, residual tears falling from her pink cheeks to her snowy little breasts. âIâll never dance with anyone else ever, ever again! Iâm so sorry, Iâm so, so so sorry, please forgive meâŚâ How awful of a wife was she that she could have hurt him in such a way? This was all her fault, really. Why didnât she tell the Prince to buzz off? After he put so much work into her birthday? And then to run away and make him worry about her? She was the worst. âTell me what to do,â she begged, clutching him to her desperately. Already writhing against him practically. âI want to make it better. Iâm all yours, I promise! You can do whatever you want to me, anything at all. Iâll do anything for you. I just want to be with youâŚâ
He let her cry just a little longer before kissing her roughly and hauling her up onto the bed further. She seemed sufficiently sorry. Maybe it was time to let her have her fun.
He turned to lay flat on his back, pulling her up and onto his chest so he could kiss and grope at her the way he wanted to. She was soft from her bath, warm and still damp where his hand caressed down her back.
âI want you to be up top this time, kitten. You show daddy just exactly how sorry you are.â
He chuckled softly and stretched his arms over his head. It would be interesting to see what she did.
âYouâve watched porn, ainât ya? Go on and show me what youâve learned.â
For a moment, Lydia was thrown back to their first night together in the honeymoon suite, when he first offered her the freedom of choice; anything she wanted to eat. The buffet was still open. The prospect of partaking was just as scary and confusing now as it was then. âOkayâŚâ she sat up in preparation, excited and nervous and hot to the touch. It would be okay. He would like it. Even if she messed up, he would show her how to do it right. Everything was fine. Deep breath. What would he do if he was trying to make her feel good? Well, first he would need her naked. Reverently almost, putting care into every step, she set about undressing him. Each revealed piece of mottled, violent flesh was blessed with a kiss from her. She started with his jacket, then took and aching amount of time to unloop his tie and unbutton his shirt, warm lingering kisses burning a trail all the way. Was she moving too slowly? The thick bulge jutting into her tummy certainly thought so. She only got his pants as far down as the knee before kissing a trail back up to his groin. âI love you,â she whispered against his cock, daring eye contact finally. He hadnât said a word since giving her the order and it was making her nervous all over again. âIs this okay?â
He pet her hair gently, smiling down at her as she gently unclothed and explored him. She was shy and sweet like this, as eager to please as ever and soft in the way she touched him.Â
With his pants around his knees it was easy to kick them away, allowing him to spread his legs wide and give his little wife room to work. The sweet admission of love spoken against his cock made the organ jump excitedly, jerking up to slide against her cheek.Â
âThatâs perfect,baby⌠ya feel so fuckinâ goodâŚâ
He smiled somewhat sweetly, still wanting her to see this as a special treat. If she got to nervous, heâd drop it and take control, but as it was he wanted her to do what she could to please him.Â
âGo ahead, kitten⌠just like daddy taught ya, huh?â
Lydia could count on one hand how many times she had gone down on him. He certainly had her beat as far as numbers were concerned. It was commonplace for his face to be stuffed between her thighs. Not for the past week, however. It was special to be permitted and encouraged to servicing him like this. He got to show her how good and talented he was with his mouth all the time, while she almost never got to give her jaw a stretch and learn herself on his body. Committed to perfecting herself for him, she didnât spare a second at his encouragement before swallowing down as much as she could at once. It wasnât much. Her mouth wasnât wet enough, wrought dry from arousal. Regardless, she kept at it with adamant dedication, suckling until the exquisite flavor of his precum made her moan and salivate, rock him closer toward the tight enclosure of her throat.Â
At least she was trying. He had improved somewhat since the last time theyâd tried this, but she was certainly eager.
Enthusiasm was worth something.
He tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her down, rocking his hips steadily as she rocked and bobbed her head over him as best she could. He could tell this was yet to be a comfortable act for her, but she never piped up even a word of complaint.
âThatâs nice, kitten⌠ya feel great around me. Just relax that little throat and let me inâŚâ
Helplessly, she whined once he locked her in with that heavy hand right on top of her head, grimy claws threading through her needlessly wet tresses. For the briefest moment, she protested, pushing back against his hold until the fear struck that he might end their tryst all together if she did. Her nostrils flared and she blinked back tears brought upon by her gag reflex. She could do better. Determined not to let them both down, she swallowed back the worst of the discomfort, breathing deeply through her nose. Her aching jaw stretched wider and silken lips slid further down toward the impossible mass of the base of his cock. Once there, she stayed there a moment just to breathe and process the work she had done. A rebellious tear escaped the cage of her long lashes, rolling down her cheek, lips, and finally meeting his pulsating cock. Now, to do it all over again.
He cursed as his bulbous head popped past the resistance of her gag reflex and sank deeper into her throat. Their time apart had been hard on him too, and he was quickly reaching a peak he wasnât ready to scale.
He pulled her back as she gasped for breath, her pretty cinnamon eyes watering as though heâd punched her. In a way, he supposed he had.
He ran his hand through her hair and kissed her roughly, biting at her lips playfully.
âGettin real good at that, kitten. But I think we both know itâs time to move this along, huh?â
When he pulled her away from servicing him after only scant few minutes of progress, Lydia immediately worried that she had done something wrong. What if she messed up somehow and he didnât want her to try ever again? This could be the last opportunity she ever got to please her husband before he gave up on her completely.
âI can do better,â she insisted with wet eyes, a facet of panic coloring her tone. âWas it bad? I didnât mean to gag. It was an accident, pleaseâ!â
She couldnât take another week like this one; being subjected to his perfect, tortuous love while remaining disallowed an outlet to return it.
âJustâ just let me try. I promise I can be a good wifeâŚâ
He frowned, confused slightly by her frantic request to keep trying. Maybe heâd gone too far, or too long on this punishment. She seemed to be in tears just from him redirecting her attention.
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek gently, then pulled at her lower lip down as he considered her, his head tipped to the side.
âI know you can, kitten⌠youâre gonna be the best wife in the world. But Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya?â
He smirked softly and patted her cheek. He pulled her up into his lap, sliding a hand between her thighs to tease over her slit.
âNow. Letâs move this along like I said, my good girlâŚ.â
Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya? âUh-huh.â She nodded up and down robotically, committed to pleasing him. In that moment, he could have told her to jump off a bridge and she would have agreed without question. Without further complaint or fuss, she listened, falling into place above him as he situated her. She belonged here with him. Their fit wasnât perfect, not like normal princesses and their princes, but who wanted to be normal anyway? A sharp gasp parted slick lips as she shimmied down, forcing the thick head and a little more in. Gravity was slowly pulling her down, finding resistance in her stubbornly squeezing internal tendons. Unfettered by the short bites of discomfort, she continued to gasp and rock, working her way down inch by delicious inch.Â
He slowly guided her down until their thighs met, an animalistic growl leaving him. It had been torture to him as well to keep from taking her on every surface of the castle. Clearly it had been worth it.
He pulled her down to kiss her roughly, his hands tangling in her long dark locks.
âGod damn, I am never gonna get tired of this⌠ya feel so good, LydsâŚâ
He ran his hands down to grip her hips, rocking up into her slowly at first, then faster, almost punishing.
Once he got going, her priorities shifted from showing how well she could work himâ or tryâ to holding on for the ride. It was different with her on top, though she wasnât anymore in control here than she was beneath him. With weighty lunges and masculine grunts accompanying, he pulled her down on to him at the same time that he pounded up, over and over again, the intensity of it rendering her beyond comprehensive speech. âBeej!ââ she shrieked his cutesy nickname on a sweetly painful downward slam, scratching viciously down his back and arching as if for escape, only to whimper and go limp. It was better this way. When it was time for her to work again, he would let her know. For now, her only job was to take it. Â
She was sweet and dutiful in the way she went pliant and soft in his bruising, firm grip. Heâd trained her well, it seemed, even with only one run under their belts. It was just as well.
If she was good, he wouldnât have to be mean again. Though he did like to be a little cruel.
She whimpered and sighed somewhere close to his ear, though he couldnât be bothered to actually locate her face. He was too preoccupied with watching his cock slide in and out of her tight cunt.
âThatâs it baby⌠good girl⌠fuck!â
Good girl. It felt like it had been ages since he called her that. DIdnât she dislike it once upon a time? Why ever would she have? Currently, the patronizing praise provided her with nothing but a deep sense of contentment and an indistinguishable glow of warmth. All was well. He was pleased. More than pleased, he was pleasured. Any insecurity and fear left in her fled under his intensity, crumbling as the ferocity of their rut plateaued. Of course he wanted her. How could she have thought anything less with how completely he claimed her; every part of her open and bleeding and prime for devouring. When the floodgates finally burst, it was just as violent and intense as the dance that brought her there. He fucked her right through it, never breaking form or pausing, too busy chasing his own peak to stop and appreciate hers. It was the sweetest torture. âBeeâ!â She cried out as he continued to pull her down onto him through the unceasing waves of euphoria. It was too good. Too much, too fast, too hard. He was going to break her. âI canât,â she pled brokenly, unsure what she was even asking for as wetness leaked from her eyes. âI canât! Please!â Â
He barely realized she'd reached her highest point, and certainly didn't notice the moment she fell over it. The only clues he was given were the tightening of her walls around him and heightened pitch of her moans.
He chased his end viciously, thrusting up into her with only one goal in mind. He'd missed this almost as much as she had, though he'd know they'd come back to it of course. He'd had no doubt she'd come crawling back.
It didn't take long until he'd worked her through her first orgasm and straight into a second, his own following close on its heels. His thrusts became less steady, more frantic as he tipped his head back into the pillows with a growl.
"Fuck! Lydia!"
He gripped her punishingly tight, one hand on her ass and the other just above her hip where he'd been guiding her in their tryst. Now, all he could do was hold on and pant as he slowly faded out of the frenzy of their joint climax.
Iâve hungered for your touch a long lonely time
@deetz-n-beej Jacques was indeed a nice skeleton. He had a heavy French accent, a pencil-thin mustache that Lydia was pretty sure was drawn on, and a spider-girlfriend named Ginger that Lydia simply adored. Together they kept her entertained until she fell asleep in his arms. Even then, he continued to carry her, whirling her through the quickly dispersing crowd until one by one they all went home and the castle was theirs again. Life returned to exactly as it was before the ball. He was even more affectionate, in fact. For three mornings in a row, rather than making her travel to the table in the corner so far, far away from the bed, he served her breakfast in her sheets while she layed in like a precious thing meant for spoiling and fattening. She couldnât remember the last time she washed her own hair. He shampooed and conditioned it for her whenever it was in need. More than that, he tended to everything else too; rubbing every inch of her down with a sugary scrub that sloughed away any dead skin, drying her delicately once it was time to get out, then fashioning her damp hair into braids so it would dry wavy the way he liked. Lastly, he would have her lie out nude on the bed so he could massage her neck to toe with a divine smelling skin balm that made her oh-so soft. He would make her turn over and do her backside as well, always with the most disciplined, evenly weighted strokes. But then, when she would embrace him after and try to entangle him in kisses, pull him further down the burning path he had stoked, heâd stop. Dress her as he liked, tell her he loved her, and then pull her into bed with him to sleep without any sex whatsoever. Every single night. For a week. Lydia was ready to sob. The bath was almost over. Rather than a pile of mush in his hands, Betelgeuse found his bride wide-eyed and skittish, gaze flickering from her own nude body, to him, to the bed, and then back to herself over and overâ as if she couldnât quite figure out which of these things was failing her. Tonight she would seduce him. Put more effort into it. He loved her. He wanted her. Didnât he? âIâm ready to get out,â she gulped, hating the way her voice wavered. Why did she sound like she was lying? Doing something wrong? It wasnât fair.Â
He glanced at her as he scrubbed away the last of her imaginary grime. She was getting more anxious by the second, it seemed. It was just as well.
She shouldnât have tried to run.
He had realized, whirling through the ballroom with her safely tucked into his arms, that she had enjoyed the loss of her virtue more than heâd thought she would. She made it clear over the following week that she would like a repeat performance, but he played dumb.
The longer they went the more desperateâand therefore more apologeticâ she became. He knew that it was at the back of her mind. He had successfully made sex a treat, and by withholding it was punishing her for her transgressions.
He pet her cheek gently when she announced that she was done. âLet me just go and get yer nightgown thenâŚâ
Heart pounding at what she was about to attempt, she was stiff and difficult for him to get out of the tub, not purposefully. All she wanted was to be good for him. She stalled up until the very last possible moment, when he instructed her to lift her arms above her head. She didnât immediately listen. Defiance. Quickly, before he could misinterpret her disobedience, her hand flew out, clumsily landing on the horribly, cringingly soft cock beneath his trousers. Her hand shook. It was all she could do not to yank it back and make a run for it, try her chances in the tunnels again. That was a stupid thought and she hated herself for it, wincing while she forced out the line that had been ringing through her head for several nights now; âI⌠donât th-think I need a nightgownâŚâ
He raised an eyebrow at her bold advance, biting back the chuckle that threatened to leave him at her attempts at seduction. It was cute, really. She was trying so hardâŚ
âNow, why do you think that sweetness? Wonât you get cold without it?â
He shook the garment and it became a pair of soft, plush pajamas. He was going to make her work for this. If she really wanted it, sheâd have to beg for it.
âTell me why you donât need your pjs, babyâŚâ
He smirked, stepping closer to her. His eyes raked over her bare form, his tongue slipping out to run over his lips.
Oh God. None of her fantasies ever made it this far. He was always happy to oblige, taking the hand on his cock for what it was the way any man would. What was she supposed to say now? Her wrist crippled, unable to continue holding him or discern how long she actually had. It felt like a long time. How long had she gone without speaking now? âIâm notâ I donâtââ Her tongue wouldnât cooperate. Emotion bubbled up her throat. Her knees actually knocked together, the cold harassing her in a cruel twist as she stood there wet and embarrassed, denying clothing. Was she being a slut? Did he not like it the last time they were together? Is that why he wasnât interested? âI wanted⌠I thought you would tooâŚâ Her chin dipped down to ineffectively hide her crumpling face, too many mean thoughts now intruding for her to make it through even this pathetic attempt at seduction. Perfectly worthless. âNevermind.â Â
âNo, no⌠babesâŚâ
He dropped the clothing, abandoning them easily. Heâd told her before, he didnât mind if she walked around in the buff all the time. He ran his hand down her arm, pulling her into his arms.
âKitten⌠Iâm glad ya wanna⌠do that again, but I justâŚâ
Time to put on the juice. He was nothing if not an actor. Every conman worth his salt had to be.
He made a show of looking at his feet, then back up into her eyes, his own wide and pitiful.
âI thought that maybe Iâd pushed you too far, before. Had been too quick to put ya under meâŚâ
He squeezed her arms and sighed pathetically.
âThought that mighta been why ya tired to run away. I want ya here with me, even if we never fuck againâŚâ
His eyes hardened slightly, his look intense.
âYou donât want to leave me, do ya?â
As soon as he turned those big green eyes on her, she was mush for him. Those tears that had pushed and threatened for so long finally had their way, spilling hot down her cheeks when he squeezed her, staring down at her like he wanted to eat her alive. You donât want to leave me, do ya? âNever,â she promised, horrified by the very prospect. Her hands tightened in his suit to drive the point home, ground him there with her in case he had a mind to float away. âI love when you touch me,â she confessed, made bold again by his show of âvulnerability.â âYouâre so good. Even when it hurts, I just want moreââ That was probably an odd thing to say. Her breath was quickening, and she became achingly aware of her nipples hard and tight against his rough, dirty suit. Tears slowing, she held him ever closer, straining up on her tiptoes to get nearer to his face. âI like it so much⌠I ran away because I thought you wanted to give it to someone else⌠and that would kill me, Daddy.â
He frowned, putting on an em passion red face even as the tiny, perverted part of him wrung itâs hands excitedly. His plan seemed to have worked perfectly.
âOh, princessâŚ. daddy never wanted to give it to someone else. Youâre the only girl for me⌠butâŚâ
He sighed dramatically, rubbing his hand down to hold her ass, pulling her flush against him.
âYa know you really worried me⌠and dancin with the prince before I even got to finish with ya⌠well. That hurt daddyâs feelingsâŚâ
He picked her up and headed for the bed, ready to reward her for her clear regret. He set her on the edge of the bed and kissed her firmly.
âPromise me that Iâm youâre only guy? You donât want no one but me, do ya?â
âI promise,â she nodded eagerly, residual tears falling from her pink cheeks to her snowy little breasts. âIâll never dance with anyone else ever, ever again! Iâm so sorry, Iâm so, so so sorry, please forgive meâŚâ How awful of a wife was she that she could have hurt him in such a way? This was all her fault, really. Why didnât she tell the Prince to buzz off? After he put so much work into her birthday? And then to run away and make him worry about her? She was the worst. âTell me what to do,â she begged, clutching him to her desperately. Already writhing against him practically. âI want to make it better. Iâm all yours, I promise! You can do whatever you want to me, anything at all. Iâll do anything for you. I just want to be with youâŚâ
He let her cry just a little longer before kissing her roughly and hauling her up onto the bed further. She seemed sufficiently sorry. Maybe it was time to let her have her fun.
He turned to lay flat on his back, pulling her up and onto his chest so he could kiss and grope at her the way he wanted to. She was soft from her bath, warm and still damp where his hand caressed down her back.
âI want you to be up top this time, kitten. You show daddy just exactly how sorry you are.â
He chuckled softly and stretched his arms over his head. It would be interesting to see what she did.
âYouâve watched porn, ainât ya? Go on and show me what youâve learned.â
For a moment, Lydia was thrown back to their first night together in the honeymoon suite, when he first offered her the freedom of choice; anything she wanted to eat. The buffet was still open. The prospect of partaking was just as scary and confusing now as it was then. âOkayâŚâ she sat up in preparation, excited and nervous and hot to the touch. It would be okay. He would like it. Even if she messed up, he would show her how to do it right. Everything was fine. Deep breath. What would he do if he was trying to make her feel good? Well, first he would need her naked. Reverently almost, putting care into every step, she set about undressing him. Each revealed piece of mottled, violent flesh was blessed with a kiss from her. She started with his jacket, then took and aching amount of time to unloop his tie and unbutton his shirt, warm lingering kisses burning a trail all the way. Was she moving too slowly? The thick bulge jutting into her tummy certainly thought so. She only got his pants as far down as the knee before kissing a trail back up to his groin. âI love you,â she whispered against his cock, daring eye contact finally. He hadnât said a word since giving her the order and it was making her nervous all over again. âIs this okay?â
He pet her hair gently, smiling down at her as she gently unclothed and explored him. She was shy and sweet like this, as eager to please as ever and soft in the way she touched him.Â
With his pants around his knees it was easy to kick them away, allowing him to spread his legs wide and give his little wife room to work. The sweet admission of love spoken against his cock made the organ jump excitedly, jerking up to slide against her cheek.Â
âThatâs perfect,baby⌠ya feel so fuckinâ goodâŚâ
He smiled somewhat sweetly, still wanting her to see this as a special treat. If she got to nervous, heâd drop it and take control, but as it was he wanted her to do what she could to please him.Â
âGo ahead, kitten⌠just like daddy taught ya, huh?â
Lydia could count on one hand how many times she had gone down on him. He certainly had her beat as far as numbers were concerned. It was commonplace for his face to be stuffed between her thighs. Not for the past week, however. It was special to be permitted and encouraged to servicing him like this. He got to show her how good and talented he was with his mouth all the time, while she almost never got to give her jaw a stretch and learn herself on his body. Committed to perfecting herself for him, she didnât spare a second at his encouragement before swallowing down as much as she could at once. It wasnât much. Her mouth wasnât wet enough, wrought dry from arousal. Regardless, she kept at it with adamant dedication, suckling until the exquisite flavor of his precum made her moan and salivate, rock him closer toward the tight enclosure of her throat.Â
At least she was trying. He had improved somewhat since the last time theyâd tried this, but she was certainly eager.
Enthusiasm was worth something.
He tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her down, rocking his hips steadily as she rocked and bobbed her head over him as best she could. He could tell this was yet to be a comfortable act for her, but she never piped up even a word of complaint.
âThatâs nice, kitten⌠ya feel great around me. Just relax that little throat and let me inâŚâ
Helplessly, she whined once he locked her in with that heavy hand right on top of her head, grimy claws threading through her needlessly wet tresses. For the briefest moment, she protested, pushing back against his hold until the fear struck that he might end their tryst all together if she did. Her nostrils flared and she blinked back tears brought upon by her gag reflex. She could do better. Determined not to let them both down, she swallowed back the worst of the discomfort, breathing deeply through her nose. Her aching jaw stretched wider and silken lips slid further down toward the impossible mass of the base of his cock. Once there, she stayed there a moment just to breathe and process the work she had done. A rebellious tear escaped the cage of her long lashes, rolling down her cheek, lips, and finally meeting his pulsating cock. Now, to do it all over again.
He cursed as his bulbous head popped past the resistance of her gag reflex and sank deeper into her throat. Their time apart had been hard on him too, and he was quickly reaching a peak he wasnât ready to scale.
He pulled her back as she gasped for breath, her pretty cinnamon eyes watering as though heâd punched her. In a way, he supposed he had.
He ran his hand through her hair and kissed her roughly, biting at her lips playfully.
âGettin real good at that, kitten. But I think we both know itâs time to move this along, huh?â
When he pulled her away from servicing him after only scant few minutes of progress, Lydia immediately worried that she had done something wrong. What if she messed up somehow and he didnât want her to try ever again? This could be the last opportunity she ever got to please her husband before he gave up on her completely.
âI can do better,â she insisted with wet eyes, a facet of panic coloring her tone. âWas it bad? I didnât mean to gag. It was an accident, pleaseâ!â
She couldnât take another week like this one; being subjected to his perfect, tortuous love while remaining disallowed an outlet to return it.
âJustâ just let me try. I promise I can be a good wifeâŚâ
He frowned, confused slightly by her frantic request to keep trying. Maybe heâd gone too far, or too long on this punishment. She seemed to be in tears just from him redirecting her attention.
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek gently, then pulled at her lower lip down as he considered her, his head tipped to the side.
âI know you can, kitten⌠youâre gonna be the best wife in the world. But Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya?â
He smirked softly and patted her cheek. He pulled her up into his lap, sliding a hand between her thighs to tease over her slit.
âNow. Letâs move this along like I said, my good girlâŚ.â
Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya? âUh-huh.â She nodded up and down robotically, committed to pleasing him. In that moment, he could have told her to jump off a bridge and she would have agreed without question. Without further complaint or fuss, she listened, falling into place above him as he situated her. She belonged here with him. Their fit wasnât perfect, not like normal princesses and their princes, but who wanted to be normal anyway? A sharp gasp parted slick lips as she shimmied down, forcing the thick head and a little more in. Gravity was slowly pulling her down, finding resistance in her stubbornly squeezing internal tendons. Unfettered by the short bites of discomfort, she continued to gasp and rock, working her way down inch by delicious inch.Â
He slowly guided her down until their thighs met, an animalistic growl leaving him. It had been torture to him as well to keep from taking her on every surface of the castle. Clearly it had been worth it.
He pulled her down to kiss her roughly, his hands tangling in her long dark locks.
âGod damn, I am never gonna get tired of this⌠ya feel so good, LydsâŚâ
He ran his hands down to grip her hips, rocking up into her slowly at first, then faster, almost punishing.
Once he got going, her priorities shifted from showing how well she could work himâ or tryâ to holding on for the ride. It was different with her on top, though she wasnât anymore in control here than she was beneath him. With weighty lunges and masculine grunts accompanying, he pulled her down on to him at the same time that he pounded up, over and over again, the intensity of it rendering her beyond comprehensive speech. âBeej!ââ she shrieked his cutesy nickname on a sweetly painful downward slam, scratching viciously down his back and arching as if for escape, only to whimper and go limp. It was better this way. When it was time for her to work again, he would let her know. For now, her only job was to take it. Â
She was sweet and dutiful in the way she went pliant and soft in his bruising, firm grip. He'd trained her well, it seemed, even with only one run under their belts. It was just as well.
If she was good, he wouldn't have to be mean again. Though he did like to be a little cruel.
She whimpered and sighed somewhere close to his ear, though he couldn't be bothered to actually locate her face. He was too preoccupied with watching his cock slide in and out of her tight cunt.
"That's it baby... good girl... fuck!"
Iâve hungered for your touch a long lonely time
@deetz-n-beej Jacques was indeed a nice skeleton. He had a heavy French accent, a pencil-thin mustache that Lydia was pretty sure was drawn on, and a spider-girlfriend named Ginger that Lydia simply adored. Together they kept her entertained until she fell asleep in his arms. Even then, he continued to carry her, whirling her through the quickly dispersing crowd until one by one they all went home and the castle was theirs again. Life returned to exactly as it was before the ball. He was even more affectionate, in fact. For three mornings in a row, rather than making her travel to the table in the corner so far, far away from the bed, he served her breakfast in her sheets while she layed in like a precious thing meant for spoiling and fattening. She couldnât remember the last time she washed her own hair. He shampooed and conditioned it for her whenever it was in need. More than that, he tended to everything else too; rubbing every inch of her down with a sugary scrub that sloughed away any dead skin, drying her delicately once it was time to get out, then fashioning her damp hair into braids so it would dry wavy the way he liked. Lastly, he would have her lie out nude on the bed so he could massage her neck to toe with a divine smelling skin balm that made her oh-so soft. He would make her turn over and do her backside as well, always with the most disciplined, evenly weighted strokes. But then, when she would embrace him after and try to entangle him in kisses, pull him further down the burning path he had stoked, heâd stop. Dress her as he liked, tell her he loved her, and then pull her into bed with him to sleep without any sex whatsoever. Every single night. For a week. Lydia was ready to sob. The bath was almost over. Rather than a pile of mush in his hands, Betelgeuse found his bride wide-eyed and skittish, gaze flickering from her own nude body, to him, to the bed, and then back to herself over and overâ as if she couldnât quite figure out which of these things was failing her. Tonight she would seduce him. Put more effort into it. He loved her. He wanted her. Didnât he? âIâm ready to get out,â she gulped, hating the way her voice wavered. Why did she sound like she was lying? Doing something wrong? It wasnât fair.Â
He glanced at her as he scrubbed away the last of her imaginary grime. She was getting more anxious by the second, it seemed. It was just as well.
She shouldnât have tried to run.
He had realized, whirling through the ballroom with her safely tucked into his arms, that she had enjoyed the loss of her virtue more than heâd thought she would. She made it clear over the following week that she would like a repeat performance, but he played dumb.
The longer they went the more desperateâand therefore more apologeticâ she became. He knew that it was at the back of her mind. He had successfully made sex a treat, and by withholding it was punishing her for her transgressions.
He pet her cheek gently when she announced that she was done. âLet me just go and get yer nightgown thenâŚâ
Heart pounding at what she was about to attempt, she was stiff and difficult for him to get out of the tub, not purposefully. All she wanted was to be good for him. She stalled up until the very last possible moment, when he instructed her to lift her arms above her head. She didnât immediately listen. Defiance. Quickly, before he could misinterpret her disobedience, her hand flew out, clumsily landing on the horribly, cringingly soft cock beneath his trousers. Her hand shook. It was all she could do not to yank it back and make a run for it, try her chances in the tunnels again. That was a stupid thought and she hated herself for it, wincing while she forced out the line that had been ringing through her head for several nights now; âI⌠donât th-think I need a nightgownâŚâ
He raised an eyebrow at her bold advance, biting back the chuckle that threatened to leave him at her attempts at seduction. It was cute, really. She was trying so hardâŚ
âNow, why do you think that sweetness? Wonât you get cold without it?â
He shook the garment and it became a pair of soft, plush pajamas. He was going to make her work for this. If she really wanted it, sheâd have to beg for it.
âTell me why you donât need your pjs, babyâŚâ
He smirked, stepping closer to her. His eyes raked over her bare form, his tongue slipping out to run over his lips.
Oh God. None of her fantasies ever made it this far. He was always happy to oblige, taking the hand on his cock for what it was the way any man would. What was she supposed to say now? Her wrist crippled, unable to continue holding him or discern how long she actually had. It felt like a long time. How long had she gone without speaking now? âIâm notâ I donâtââ Her tongue wouldnât cooperate. Emotion bubbled up her throat. Her knees actually knocked together, the cold harassing her in a cruel twist as she stood there wet and embarrassed, denying clothing. Was she being a slut? Did he not like it the last time they were together? Is that why he wasnât interested? âI wanted⌠I thought you would tooâŚâ Her chin dipped down to ineffectively hide her crumpling face, too many mean thoughts now intruding for her to make it through even this pathetic attempt at seduction. Perfectly worthless. âNevermind.â Â
âNo, no⌠babesâŚâ
He dropped the clothing, abandoning them easily. Heâd told her before, he didnât mind if she walked around in the buff all the time. He ran his hand down her arm, pulling her into his arms.
âKitten⌠Iâm glad ya wanna⌠do that again, but I justâŚâ
Time to put on the juice. He was nothing if not an actor. Every conman worth his salt had to be.
He made a show of looking at his feet, then back up into her eyes, his own wide and pitiful.
âI thought that maybe Iâd pushed you too far, before. Had been too quick to put ya under meâŚâ
He squeezed her arms and sighed pathetically.
âThought that mighta been why ya tired to run away. I want ya here with me, even if we never fuck againâŚâ
His eyes hardened slightly, his look intense.
âYou donât want to leave me, do ya?â
As soon as he turned those big green eyes on her, she was mush for him. Those tears that had pushed and threatened for so long finally had their way, spilling hot down her cheeks when he squeezed her, staring down at her like he wanted to eat her alive. You donât want to leave me, do ya? âNever,â she promised, horrified by the very prospect. Her hands tightened in his suit to drive the point home, ground him there with her in case he had a mind to float away. âI love when you touch me,â she confessed, made bold again by his show of âvulnerability.â âYouâre so good. Even when it hurts, I just want moreââ That was probably an odd thing to say. Her breath was quickening, and she became achingly aware of her nipples hard and tight against his rough, dirty suit. Tears slowing, she held him ever closer, straining up on her tiptoes to get nearer to his face. âI like it so much⌠I ran away because I thought you wanted to give it to someone else⌠and that would kill me, Daddy.â
He frowned, putting on an em passion red face even as the tiny, perverted part of him wrung itâs hands excitedly. His plan seemed to have worked perfectly.
âOh, princessâŚ. daddy never wanted to give it to someone else. Youâre the only girl for me⌠butâŚâ
He sighed dramatically, rubbing his hand down to hold her ass, pulling her flush against him.
âYa know you really worried me⌠and dancin with the prince before I even got to finish with ya⌠well. That hurt daddyâs feelingsâŚâ
He picked her up and headed for the bed, ready to reward her for her clear regret. He set her on the edge of the bed and kissed her firmly.
âPromise me that Iâm youâre only guy? You donât want no one but me, do ya?â
âI promise,â she nodded eagerly, residual tears falling from her pink cheeks to her snowy little breasts. âIâll never dance with anyone else ever, ever again! Iâm so sorry, Iâm so, so so sorry, please forgive meâŚâ How awful of a wife was she that she could have hurt him in such a way? This was all her fault, really. Why didnât she tell the Prince to buzz off? After he put so much work into her birthday? And then to run away and make him worry about her? She was the worst. âTell me what to do,â she begged, clutching him to her desperately. Already writhing against him practically. âI want to make it better. Iâm all yours, I promise! You can do whatever you want to me, anything at all. Iâll do anything for you. I just want to be with youâŚâ
He let her cry just a little longer before kissing her roughly and hauling her up onto the bed further. She seemed sufficiently sorry. Maybe it was time to let her have her fun.
He turned to lay flat on his back, pulling her up and onto his chest so he could kiss and grope at her the way he wanted to. She was soft from her bath, warm and still damp where his hand caressed down her back.
âI want you to be up top this time, kitten. You show daddy just exactly how sorry you are.â
He chuckled softly and stretched his arms over his head. It would be interesting to see what she did.
âYouâve watched porn, ainât ya? Go on and show me what youâve learned.â
For a moment, Lydia was thrown back to their first night together in the honeymoon suite, when he first offered her the freedom of choice; anything she wanted to eat. The buffet was still open. The prospect of partaking was just as scary and confusing now as it was then. âOkayâŚâ she sat up in preparation, excited and nervous and hot to the touch. It would be okay. He would like it. Even if she messed up, he would show her how to do it right. Everything was fine. Deep breath. What would he do if he was trying to make her feel good? Well, first he would need her naked. Reverently almost, putting care into every step, she set about undressing him. Each revealed piece of mottled, violent flesh was blessed with a kiss from her. She started with his jacket, then took and aching amount of time to unloop his tie and unbutton his shirt, warm lingering kisses burning a trail all the way. Was she moving too slowly? The thick bulge jutting into her tummy certainly thought so. She only got his pants as far down as the knee before kissing a trail back up to his groin. âI love you,â she whispered against his cock, daring eye contact finally. He hadnât said a word since giving her the order and it was making her nervous all over again. âIs this okay?â
He pet her hair gently, smiling down at her as she gently unclothed and explored him. She was shy and sweet like this, as eager to please as ever and soft in the way she touched him.Â
With his pants around his knees it was easy to kick them away, allowing him to spread his legs wide and give his little wife room to work. The sweet admission of love spoken against his cock made the organ jump excitedly, jerking up to slide against her cheek.Â
âThatâs perfect,baby⌠ya feel so fuckinâ goodâŚâ
He smiled somewhat sweetly, still wanting her to see this as a special treat. If she got to nervous, heâd drop it and take control, but as it was he wanted her to do what she could to please him.Â
âGo ahead, kitten⌠just like daddy taught ya, huh?â
Lydia could count on one hand how many times she had gone down on him. He certainly had her beat as far as numbers were concerned. It was commonplace for his face to be stuffed between her thighs. Not for the past week, however. It was special to be permitted and encouraged to servicing him like this. He got to show her how good and talented he was with his mouth all the time, while she almost never got to give her jaw a stretch and learn herself on his body. Committed to perfecting herself for him, she didnât spare a second at his encouragement before swallowing down as much as she could at once. It wasnât much. Her mouth wasnât wet enough, wrought dry from arousal. Regardless, she kept at it with adamant dedication, suckling until the exquisite flavor of his precum made her moan and salivate, rock him closer toward the tight enclosure of her throat.Â
At least she was trying. He had improved somewhat since the last time theyâd tried this, but she was certainly eager.
Enthusiasm was worth something.
He tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her down, rocking his hips steadily as she rocked and bobbed her head over him as best she could. He could tell this was yet to be a comfortable act for her, but she never piped up even a word of complaint.
âThatâs nice, kitten⌠ya feel great around me. Just relax that little throat and let me inâŚâ
Helplessly, she whined once he locked her in with that heavy hand right on top of her head, grimy claws threading through her needlessly wet tresses. For the briefest moment, she protested, pushing back against his hold until the fear struck that he might end their tryst all together if she did. Her nostrils flared and she blinked back tears brought upon by her gag reflex. She could do better. Determined not to let them both down, she swallowed back the worst of the discomfort, breathing deeply through her nose. Her aching jaw stretched wider and silken lips slid further down toward the impossible mass of the base of his cock. Once there, she stayed there a moment just to breathe and process the work she had done. A rebellious tear escaped the cage of her long lashes, rolling down her cheek, lips, and finally meeting his pulsating cock. Now, to do it all over again.
He cursed as his bulbous head popped past the resistance of her gag reflex and sank deeper into her throat. Their time apart had been hard on him too, and he was quickly reaching a peak he wasnât ready to scale.
He pulled her back as she gasped for breath, her pretty cinnamon eyes watering as though heâd punched her. In a way, he supposed he had.
He ran his hand through her hair and kissed her roughly, biting at her lips playfully.
âGettin real good at that, kitten. But I think we both know itâs time to move this along, huh?â
When he pulled her away from servicing him after only scant few minutes of progress, Lydia immediately worried that she had done something wrong. What if she messed up somehow and he didnât want her to try ever again? This could be the last opportunity she ever got to please her husband before he gave up on her completely.
âI can do better,â she insisted with wet eyes, a facet of panic coloring her tone. âWas it bad? I didnât mean to gag. It was an accident, pleaseâ!â
She couldnât take another week like this one; being subjected to his perfect, tortuous love while remaining disallowed an outlet to return it.
âJustâ just let me try. I promise I can be a good wifeâŚâ
He frowned, confused slightly by her frantic request to keep trying. Maybe heâd gone too far, or too long on this punishment. She seemed to be in tears just from him redirecting her attention.
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek gently, then pulled at her lower lip down as he considered her, his head tipped to the side.
âI know you can, kitten⌠youâre gonna be the best wife in the world. But Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya?â
He smirked softly and patted her cheek. He pulled her up into his lap, sliding a hand between her thighs to tease over her slit.
âNow. Letâs move this along like I said, my good girlâŚ.â
Yer gonna listen from here on in, arenât ya? âUh-huh.â She nodded up and down robotically, committed to pleasing him. In that moment, he could have told her to jump off a bridge and she would have agreed without question. Without further complaint or fuss, she listened, falling into place above him as he situated her. She belonged here with him. Their fit wasnât perfect, not like normal princesses and their princes, but who wanted to be normal anyway? A sharp gasp parted slick lips as she shimmied down, forcing the thick head and a little more in. Gravity was slowly pulling her down, finding resistance in her stubbornly squeezing internal tendons. Unfettered by the short bites of discomfort, she continued to gasp and rock, working her way down inch by delicious inch.Â
He slowly guided her down until their thighs met, an animalistic growl leaving him. It had been torture to him as well to keep from taking her on every surface of the castle. Clearly it had been worth it.
He pulled her down to kiss her roughly, his hands tangling in her long dark locks.
"God damn, I am never gonna get tired of this... ya feel so good, Lyds..."
He ran his hands down to grip her hips, rocking up into her slowly at first, then faster, almost punishing.
