I'm not new to tumblr but I am new to this blog, so an introduction feels appropriate.
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Hi! I'm Rowen. I write monster romance, read monster romance, and sometimes I make art when the stars align and I remember how my hands work. I'm thirty with three cats, a ton of dead houseplants and a couple of living ones.
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✨What you'll find here ✨
💜Monster Romance (NSFW is likely so begone if you're under 18)
💜Writing
💜Witchcraft
💜Cats
💜More Cats
💜Art
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LINKS
www.rowenchant.com
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I am always looking for more writer friends and am constantly in need of peer pressure to stay accountable and keep writing. Will it extend to making art and other creative practices I neglect? No idea but we'll find out together.
✨love you stay safe out there ✨
Second-chance romance || Regency era || SFW fluff, getting together, falling in love, grumpy/sunshine (f is the grump), age gap (f is older), chronic illness/disability (f), lots of non-sexual but sensual-by-Regency-standards touching, near nudity, mention of death of first spouse || 3.4k words (14-minute read time)
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The woman hissed as the seawater touched her back with its icy fingers. Why her physician thought sea bathing would be beneficial for her health was incomprehensible, but, after trying every other treatment and having them all fail to relieve her pain, she had no choice but to try this one.
So far, it did not seem to be working, unless being distracted by the beauty of the shimmering indigo water stretching out before her counted as pain relief. It brought a momentary smile to her lips as she gazed out toward the limitless horizon. She had always loved the sea, but had not been able to visit for over a decade, too busy with raising her children, running her household, and caring for her much older husband in these last declining years of his life. But now her children were grown, her husband was dead, and she was at liberty to focus on taking care of herself for a change.
An envious sigh escaped her lips as she gazed out at the group of merfolk that were playing at the surface, far beyond where she stood. They looked so carefree, popping their heads up, slapping their tails on the water, twisting and darting about. Probably, none of them had to deal with burning pain in all of their joints like she did.
A head shot up out of the water not two feet in front of her, so quickly that she flailed backwards with a splash and nearly went under—but a hand caught her arm and hauled her back up. “Oh dear! I’m sorry, madam!”
She sputtered and blinked the water out of her eyes to see that it was a merman holding her by the arm, gazing directly into her face with his dark purple eyes. “Are you alright?”
“You frightened me,” she complained, jerking her arm away from him and rubbing at her elbow.
“Yes, terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He peered at her with a look of curious concern. “Did I hurt your arm?”
“No no, it was already hurt.” He looked even more alarmed at that. “Don’t fret, it’s not injured, it merely aches, along with every other joint in my body. Don’t trouble yourself about it.”
But his face lit up as if she had told him something happy, his pointed fin-like ears lifting and the fleshy whisker-like tendrils on his cheeks standing straight out. “I know just what you need! Stay right there!” And he dove back under the water and shot away.
She frowned after him. What on earth did he mean about knowing what she needed? He knew nothing about her. What a strange, flighty creature to appear and disappear so suddenly!
After standing idly in the water for several more minutes, her skin began to prickle with the cold of the water. She had been in too long. She turned and began trudging back toward the shore.
“Wait!” she heard behind her, and turned to see that the merman had returned. “I have something for you!”
A rough rope made of sea plants was tied diagonally across his torso, and fastened to that was a small container made of shell. The top was open, and he dug his fingers in it to bring out some sort of greenish-black salve-like substance. Before she could ask him what it was, he had grabbed her arm again and started smearing the stuff onto her elbow. “I beg your pardon!” she protested.
“It will ease your pain,” he said, moving down to her wrist to apply more there, utterly unconcerned by her affronted expression. “Trust me.”
“Trust you! I have no idea who you are, sir, but you are certainly no physician. Why, you are barely even full grown!”
He grabbed her other arm to begin applying the substance there. “I am 28.”
“Precisely.”
He made an odd clicking sound in his throat that sounded like a scoff, though he was smiling. “I do not know everything about humans, but I am certain that you consider your males fully grown well before the age of 28.”
She eyed him warily, but for some reason, did not pull away from him. Perhaps it was because the salve on her skin did indeed feel soothing. It was strangely warm, and a tingling sensation was spreading from every spot where it touched her, numbing the pain slightly as it went. Still, she could not resist protesting a bit more. “Since you are fully grown, you ought to know how inappropriate it is to touch a female you are not related to.”
He clicked and smiled again. “You humans are too scrupulous.” But he dropped his hand from her arm, and scooped out the remainder of the strange substance. “Here. Take the rest to apply yourself.”
She let him scrape it into her cupped hand, still unsure why she was tolerating him at all, but did not thank him for it. He was unfazed by her cold manner, smiling broadly, wishing her well, and, when she turned to glance at him one last time from the shore, waving energetically at her.
It was purely from curiosity that the woman smeared the rest of the salve he had given her onto her knees and ankles.
The next morning, she woke up feeling less stiff and achy than she had in years. There was still pain, but far less than she felt on most days. She was astonished. Could that silly merman’s concoction really have made a lasting improvement to her joints?
She felt so well that she skipped the sea bathing that day. But the following morning, she regretted it, for the pain had returned nearly to its typical levels.
She went back to the sea, her eyes scanning the water. After a quarter of an hour, a familiar salmon-pink head and torso popped up from the surface and glided toward her. “Hello!” the merman said cheerfully. “How are you feeling?”
“Much the same as always,” she said sourly.
“That is because you did not come yesterday. You should visit the sea every day until the malady is completely done away with.”
“You sound like my physician.”
“He sounds like an intelligent fellow,” he smiled. “Is he mer?”
“Human.”
“Ah, well, some humans are worthwhile. Some humans I like a great deal. Wait here.” He darted away with a splash of his silver tail.
She blinked in surprise at his abrupt departure. Young people had too much energy and not enough patience.
But at 42, she had patience in spades, so she waited for him to return, trailing her fingers through the water at her hips and watching the soft waves.
That was when the thought drifted into her head that it was odd he knew she had not come yesterday. How could he know that unless he had stayed near this beach watching for her all day long? It must have been a lucky guess.
Several minutes later, the merman returned bearing the container of greenish-black salve again. This time, she held out her arm to him without him having to grab it, and he smiled in approval and began to apply it to her skin. He did it more slowly this time, carefully but firmly rubbing it into each knuckle on her fingers, and she couldn't help sighing quietly in pleasure.
“How long have you suffered from these pains?” he asked.
“Several years.”
“And you only now have sought relief?”
“I tried a few things before my latest physician recommended sea bathing, but I had not much time to devote to my health until recently.”
“Why is that?”
He should not be asking her such personal things, but the way he was touching her had put her at ease, so she answered him. “All my energies had been devoted to my children and husband.”
“Why are they not here with you, helping you? Surely you deserve care from them, not just they from you.”
She was touched by such a sentiment. Very few people thought that way about women, and even less about mothers in particular. “He passed away last year, and my children are grown now.”
“How can that be—you cannot be older than 35.”
“Ridiculous flattery. I am sure you can see that I am over 40.”
He shrugged. “Either way, you are still young.”
“Stop it. I detest flattery.”
“But I mean it. You do not behave or look as though you are old, and so you are not.”
She stared at his face as he focused on rubbing her elbow. He seemed to be in earnest.
“Now your legs,” he suddenly said, and dropped fully under the water.
The woman nearly screamed when she felt his hand take hold of her calf and the other rub over her knee. She grabbed onto the bottom of her sea-bathing shift to hold it tight around her thighs like flimsy armor. This was wildly inappropriate! She should stop him! Yet, already it felt so good to have the tingling warmth of the salve seeping into her knee, and so she stayed still, apart from whipping her head from side to side to see if anyone was watching her. Not that any land people could tell what was happening from above the water, but it still felt as if she was doing something illicit.
When he surfaced again she hissed at him, “Why did you do that?”
“To help you,” he said simply.
“Why? You don't even know me!”
“Because I like your smile, and want to see you smile again.”
She furrowed her brow. “When did I smile?”
“Two days ago, when you were staring out at the water.”
“And that's all? For a smile?”
He gave her a smile of his own, showing his strange teeth, his whiskers perking up. “It is a beautiful smile, and you seem like someone who deserves to have more of them than you have allowed yourself.”
She stared at him again, dumbfounded that he should care at all about her happiness, a complete stranger—and that someone so young would find anything about her beautiful. “You make no sense.”
He laughed. “Life is too short to worry about making sense. I should much rather be happy than sensible.” He bowed his head at her, his wet wine-colored hair flopping into his eyes. “I will see you tomorrow. Good day, madam.” And he abruptly dove down and swam away.
The next day, the merman surfaced as soon as she waded into the water, smiling and waving at her as if they were old friends. A young woman nearby looked at her. “You have a merman for a friend?” the stranger asked.
“He’s not a friend, he is…” She did not know how to explain what he was, for she did not know herself, and so she merely walked onward, away from the other woman and toward the merman.
“How do you feel today?” he asked her.
She had to admit it was pleasant to have someone care enough to ask her that. “Better than yesterday.”
“Excellent! I knew you would.”
He was already in possession of the salve and began rubbing it on her at once. “What is this?” she finally asked.
“Mostly a crushed up sea plant.”
“Mostly?”
“You do not want to know what else it has in it,” he said with a sly smile.
“What! Ugh!” she tried to jerk her arm away, but he held tight and laughed.
“Humans are too scrupulous, as I said.”
“Tell me what it is.”
“Absolutely not,” he said, still laughing, still rubbing.
She made a noise of frustration and looked away from him. Her eyes landed on the young woman she had spoken to before, who was watching the two of them with raised eyebrows. Embarrassment crept into her belly.
“Stop touching me; someone is watching.”
The merman followed her line of sight to the other woman, then dropped his hands away. “Can you swim?” he asked.
“What does that have to do with—yes, of course I can swim, I am in the sea, am I not?”
“Many humans cannot swim, even ones that visit the sea, and you are not entirely well.”
“I can swim,” she huffed.
“Swim around to the other side of those rocks. I will meet you there.” He swam off in a flash of pink and silver.
Once again, she had no idea why she was going along with what this impulsive young merman wanted, yet a few minutes later she found herself on the other side of the rocky outcropping he had indicated. A small cove was there, with no humans present, only a few merfolk that she could see as brightly colored shapes moving within the shallow water. Her merman—or rather, the merman she had been conversing with—already had his torso out to watch for her arrival.
He beckoned her up onto the pebbly beach, pulling himself out too. It was the first time she let herself get a good look at all of him, and she was surprised how handsome she found him when he looked so different from all the males she was used to. The silver scales of his tale shone so brightly in the sun they were almost blinding, and the salmon-pink of his wet skin looked more vibrant than ever. He was thick all over, around his middle, his arms and shoulders, his tail, which must be nearly six feet long all on its own. He looked so powerful, alive with youth and life.
“There is no one to watch us here, other than my own kind, and they will not care what we do,” he said, breaking her out of her reverie. “So, may I continue?”
She nodded wordlessly. He lifted her leg into his lap, making her breath catch and muscles tense at the scandalous familiarity, but he immediately launched into a tale about the sea, distracting her and easing her tension. He talked the whole time he rubbed her legs, asking her questions about her previous visits to the sea, what she liked about it, and so on.
When she told him a story about building a sand castle for her daughter on the beach many years before, she smiled at the memory, and the merman’s face perked up too. “Ah, there’s your lovely smile,” he said.
She turned her face away, still smiling but bashful now. It had been a long time since she had felt admired by anyone else.
“I must return to the water now,” he finally declared, and she only then noticed that his skin and fins had entirely dried. They must have been speaking for the better part of an hour! “May I meet you here again tomorrow?”
“Oh! Ah, yes, I suppose so.”
His lips curled into a crooked smile. “You suppose you will meet me or you will meet me?”
“Very well,” she sighed. “I will meet you. Satisfied?”
“For now.” He quickly dragged himself to the water. “Until tomorrow.”
It was not until she was in bed that night that she realized she still did not know his name, nor he hers.
She rectified this as soon as they were together in the cove the next day, and then they talked again as he massaged her limbs for close to an hour. Every time he succeeded in making her smile, he flashed her his inhuman but charming smile as well.
This went on for several more days. By this point, she hardly had any need of the salve any longer, and so they often spent their time together simply floating in the shallow water of the cove, or, when she was too cold, she would sun herself on a rock while he laid on his back in the water below her, talking up at her, or she would wander along the beach collecting pretty pebbles and shells while he watched her.
One day, he asked her if she ever had pain in her back, and when she said she did, he asked if he could apply the salve there.
“I am not going to take off my shift!” she exclaimed.
“You need not take it off, just lift it in the back, and keep it held down in front. All I will see is a bit of the skin of your back. What is so bad about that?”
It suddenly hit her how improper this whole situation was. She had been letting this male whom she hardly knew see her nearly naked and touch her again and again. She had grown too complacent. How did it ever get to this point? And what could ever come of this anyway? “Everything! This whole arrangement is madness. Why do I even let you do this to me at all?”
“Because you like how I make you feel,” he said, and there was something in his low tone that made her stomach flutter. “And there is nothing wrong with that. Let me take care of you.”
Her heart was pounding like she'd been running. But there was something so bewitching to what he offered her that once again she did as he wanted—held tight to the bottom hem of her shift in front and reached behind with her other hand to tug the back out from under her arse.
The merman shifted to sit behind her, and then she felt his hands slowly push up under her shift to trail over her spine, making pleasure swirl in her belly. His fingers dug into each vertebrae, pressing the warming salve into her skin, loosening each joint and muscle, and she moaned at how good it felt. “That's it,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you, yes.”
His hands worked down to the base of her spine and fanned out over the top of her arse, sliding over to her hips to squeeze, and another moan slipped free of her lips. “I love making you feel good,” he whispered close to her ear.
“B-but why?” she breathed. “Why do you care about me?”
“You have a good heart, kind and loving, despite how cross you like to act. You love beauty. You are beautiful.”
“I'm not—I'm old, I'm broken—”
“You are perfect.”
That stole her breath clean from her lungs for a moment.
“Why are you saying all this?” she finally asked.
“Because I want you.”
“But—but you have only known me two weeks, and I'm human—”
“I don't care.”
“—and I'm 14 years older than you.”
“That’s good. Me being so much younger will make it easier for me to take care of you for much longer.”
Oh, there was something so appealing in that idea! She, who had taken care of others for so long, to finally be the one taken care of! And not just in body, but in heart—to be fully loved, weaknesses and all. Didn’t she deserve that? Her husband had been 14 years older than her, in fact, so what was wrong with her being that same number of years older than her partner?
Still, she could not conceive of how a relationship between them could really work. “This is madness,” she repeated. “This cannot be what you truly want, a lifetime of taking care of an old woman.”
“You are not an old woman!” he laughed as he pulled himself back in front of her. “You will not be so for many years yet, and even when you are, I will still love you.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “What kind of love would it be if it was so weak as to fade away with age?”
“You’re getting that muck on my face,” she could not resist complaining, and he clicked in his throat, his purple eyes sparkling with amusement.
“You love that muck,” he pointed out.
“Only because you still haven’t told me what horrid things are in it.”
His thumbs stroked her cheeks. “And I never will.”
“You love me?” she whispered.
“I do. I always will.”
“I love you as well.”
His whiskers and fin-ears stuck straight out in his joy. “Then will you marry me?”
“How? How could we possibly marry? We cannot even live together.”
He shrugged. “We will come up with something.”
She had to laugh in disbelief at his nonchalance. “You make no sense.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “but I am happy, and that is all that matters.”
She smiled brilliantly, because for the first time in a long time, she was truly happy too.
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The prompt for this came from @rowenchant, and while I originally meant to write it as a reader-insert and possibly sequel to this kiss snippet, I got this other idea featuring an older female character, because I’m an older female myself and the world needs more monster stories with FMCs older than 35.
This story is dedicated to Martha Lloyd, Jane Austen's dear friend who at the age of 62 got married for the very first time to Jane's 53-year-old brother Frank Austen. Good for you, Martha!
If you're curious how sea bathing worked for ladies during the Regency, this article is a great overview with fun pictures from the period.
I'm working on Pt. 3 of the Werewolf and his Mate for my Monster Mania series to finish their story, and then the sky's the limit! What should the next monster I write about be?
I know " woke " might tell you if you can do that but fairies really only eat plants and healthy food so it would not be possible for them to be overweight, fat. or chubby
"Minotaur and mouse," chapter 16: The wedding night 🌶️
Male minotaur x female human
Summary for this chapter: Rees and Margaret—and the goddess of erotic poetry Erato—enjoy their wedding night to the fullest, plus a peek at their happily ever after a few weeks later. (This is a much longer chapter, but they, and you, deserve all the smut!)
Tags for this chapter: NSFW 🌶️, p in v 🍆, creampie 💦, oral (f receiving) 👅, hand kink 🖐, finger sucking 👆, horn play 😈, size kink 💕, praise 👏, goddess roleplay with femdom ♀️
Read on AO3 or below:
Margaret wanted to scoff at the overblown romanticism of Rees’s statement that she was “perfection,” but alas, she adored the preposterous minotaur, and could do nothing except smile brilliantly at him.
He kissed it from her lips, pressing his mouth hard to hers for only a few seconds before he was moving off to her jaw, then down to the side of her neck, where he gently nipped her with his blunt teeth, making her squeak. “I told you I needed to mar your flawless skin,” he murmured, then trailed his lips down to bite her shoulder next, right next to the strand of pearls she still wore at his request.
He walked her back to the bed as he nibbled and kissed her, lifting her into it and laying out between her legs. She jumped when he bit the inside of her thigh, though it didn’t truly hurt, and he immediately licked over it tenderly. Just a few inches away, she was aching for that tongue.
Fortunately, he seemed just as eager to get on with things rather than tease her further, and his mouth quickly descended on her cunt, licking and sucking, nosing and rubbing at her pearl, then adding his fingers as well, one at first, then a second, sliding them in easily, curving them to stroke her walls, lighting her up from the inside.
“Did you prepare for my size, here?” he asked in a low voice, gently pumping his fingers in her.
“Yes. I used the largest in the box.”
She watched a shudder travel down his body. “Good wife. I should like to see that sometime.” He leaned closer. “But tonight, it will only be I who will fill you.”
He slipped his fingers free and sat up on his knees to apply oil to his cock. Margaret's cunt clenched just watching his big hand stroke along it from tip to root, leaving it glistening. She expected him to then position it at her opening, but instead he dropped down and began to kiss her, letting his cock merely rest against her mound.
Tension that she had not realized she was holding melted away with the tender movements of his lips against hers and the soft sweep of his tongue in her mouth, and she sighed into his kisses. It was only then that she felt him flex his hips so his cockhead nudged at her sex, and without breaking the kiss he reached down to take hold of himself and start guiding it in.
Margaret gasped as the blunt head of his bull cock passed her rim and lodged itself inside her cunt. “Alright?” Rees whispered.
“Yes.”
He pressed his lips back to hers, then started to move again in a slow slide deeper into the tight channel of her sex. The pressure was intense but not painful, and when she felt the ridge on his cock pass through her opening, she moaned in pleasure.
“Halfway in. Still alright?”
“Yes, Rees, oh, I already feel so full!”
“You’re so blessedly tight, my God,” Rees groaned, sinking a bit further, then pulling back to give his first careful thrust. “Can you take a little more?”
“Yes, please, Rees!”
“Good wife.” He pushed forward with more force, and a sharp pang of pleasure burst out from the friction of his cock rubbing over some spot inside her, making her cry out. The sound energized Rees, his next thrust coming sharper and faster, then again, and again.
“Feels so good inside you,” Rees panted with his thrusts. “Knew you would feel perfect. I’m meant to be here, deep inside your body, united with you, my love.”
Rees pushed his body up just enough to have space to tilt his head down, making the lyre-shaped horns that stood nearly straight from the top of his head rotate down on either side of Margaret’s head. He pushed the pearl-capped tips of his horns into the mattress, caging her under him as he hunched his back and continued to pump into her. She felt tiny with those thick bars of carved bone on both sides and his huge head hovering above hers, and it was thrilling to feel herself at the mercy of someone so powerful, yet also comforting, like his body was a shield protecting her from everything outside the two of them.
She lifted her hands to his velvety muzzle, and he turned his mouth into each palm in turn, kissing and licking them. “Yes, yes my darling,” she said, “you're meant to be inside me, and around me, just like this.”
“Just you,” he said in a fervent rumble. “Only ever you, Margaret. My one.”
Her hands found his horns, stroked down their length, each groove a fresh I love you stenciled onto her skin. She said it back to him aloud: “I love you, Rees. I adore you.”
He unleashed a sound like she'd never heard before, thick and deep as thunder, and her cunt throbbed knowing how much she was affecting him with her words and touch. But he allowed her to stroke his horns only a few moments longer before he lifted his head and began to sit up. “I'll finish if you continue, and I’m not ready for this to be over. Hell, I won’t ever be ready.”
He took hold of both of her hands, interlacing his thick furred fingers with her thin smooth ones. “These talented hands can undo me with ease.” He pinned them both above her head on the shaking mattress, and grinned down at her. “That's better. Look at you, all stretched out beneath me, your pretty tits bouncing with each thrust, your pearls too. Gorgeous. Taking me so well.”
Her strand of pearls felt cool against the flushed skin of her heaving chest. The rough timbre of his voice, his praise, the squeeze of his hands connected to hers, the stretch of his cock plundering her so deep—it was all rushing and building together like a flooding river about to break its banks. “Rees, Rees!” she cried out, too overcome to express anything more coherent, but her husband understood her.
“You’re close, you need to come,” he rumbled. “Come on my cock, Margaret, come for me, my beautiful pearl, my precious little wife. I love you.”
Bliss surged up and consumed her in a powerful wave, and her cunt clamped down around the thick cock filling her, making both she and her husband cry out together in a wild harmony. He bucked into her harder, short, fast thrusts, and then bellowed for a second time as he swelled and released within her cunt, drenching her insides with his hot seed.
He dropped to his hands, his massive chest heaving in and out with tortured breaths. “Did you…?” Margaret asked.
He huffed out a short laugh. “You have seen me climax before—and couldn’t you feel it?”
“Well it’s rather different when it’s happening inside me,” she pointed out.
His softening cock twitched from where it was still enveloped. “Mm yes, it does feel different inside you. I loved it.” He rubbed his knuckles on her cheek. “Did you like it, pearl? I wasn’t too rough?”
“I climaxed, didn’t I—couldn’t you feel it?” she teased. He snorted and rolled off to the side, cradling an arm behind her back and flopping his tail over her hip. “You weren’t too rough,” she said with sincerity. “It felt exquisite.”
“I’m glad. Oh Margaret,” he sighed, “that was better than anything I’ve ever felt before. You are better. My one.”
Margaret had never before known what it felt like to be number one of anything—the best, the favorite, the most important and treasured. From everyone Rees could have had, did once have, he had chosen her over them all. That had once baffled her, but now, though she still felt immensely grateful, she also felt how right it was. She finally knew her worth. Her smile shone like gold and eyes glittered like jewels. “Yes. That’s me.”
———
After Rees helped Margaret clean up, they laid about together for some time, still naked except for Margaret’s pearl necklace, which he fiddled with as they talked of the wedding behind them, the honeymoon before them, and many charming little nothings. There was a serene pleasure to it that Rees had never felt after sex before. With his previous lovers, there had usually been some conversation afterwards, but it had always been shallow, lacking the feeling of intimacy and deep contentment he was experiencing doing it now with his wife.
Not that there wasn’t a current of need still running beneath the peacefulness. He had waited months to have Margaret, and could not be satiated with only one fuck. But he would not push her for more, on the night of her first time.
Fortunately, Margaret asserted herself. “Would you like me to be Erato now?” she purred in his ear, which immediately jumped up.
“I thought you would be too tired, or shy.”
“You have so little faith in me?”
“I did not want to be greedy on our first night—but if you are offering, then yes, I would very much like you to be Erato now. Please.”
He dressed sloppily and went out to pace the hallway of the inn so she could prepare. When she called him back into the room, he almost choked. The peplos’s gauzy white fabric clung to her body in a way that made it more erotic than had she been naked. The same green ribbon that had secured the peplos around the lyre now cinched around her waist as if she had become the present herself. She still wore the pearl necklace, and a laurel wreath sat atop her head, with her hair loosely pinned back from her face and the rest hanging free down her back. She held her lyre in her lap, and had the book of erotic poetry propped open on a table next to her.
“Mar—uh, Erato.” He bowed to her, then sat down in a chair placed before her. “My divine queen, you look radiant.”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement and pleasure. “Thank you, minotaur. Why have you come to my temple?”
“I have come to demonstrate my devotion to you, my lady, and to beg you to grace me with your heavenly voice and music.”
“To beg?” she smiled.
He clasped his hands before him. “Yes, please, I beg you, my beautiful muse, please let me hear you.”
“Very well. Since you beg so prettily.”
She began to recite the poetry in her rich voice while languidly strumming the lyre, not in any particular song that his untrained ear could discern, but making it sound beautiful nonetheless. The erotic language in the poetry was shocking to hear from Margaret's lips, but she did not hesitate or blush—her voice rang out with all the confidence of a true goddess.
The sounds sunk under his skin and heated his blood, making his cock stand at attention. He freed it from his trousers and wrapped his hand around it to gently stroke.
“No,” his muse said. “Do not touch yourself, minotaur.”
The order only made his cock more desperate, but he released it. “Apologies, my queen.”
She pursed her lips in a coy smile, and resumed reading. Rees stared at her gorgeous hands plucking at those strings and had to stick his own hands under his thighs to keep himself from grabbing his aching cock.
She finished her poem, her fingers stilling against the strings, and Rees looked up to meet her eyes. “That was…tantalizing, my queen. You are tantalizing. Will you allow me the honor of worshiping you now, beautiful goddess?”
“You may kneel before me, minotaur.”
He dropped to his knees immediately and shuffled forward on them. She rose from her seat and reached out to trail her fingers over the side of his muzzle. “You watched my hands as I played,” she said. “Start your worship with my hands.” She slid her fingers to his lips. “Suck.”
He opened up and let her place two fingers onto his tongue, and he closed around them to suck them with a moan. “Do you like having part of a goddess inside you?” she asked, and all he could do was hum in agreement.
Her free hand touched one of the silver pins securing the peplos at each shoulder. “Unfasten this,” she commanded him, and he reached up to remove each pin, sending the white fabric swishing down to her waist. He stared at her exposed breasts and groaned around her fingers.
She slid them free and immediately pulled his head to her breast. “Suck here now.” He eagerly closed his mouth around her nipple, caressing her other breast with his hand, and gloried in the decadent sigh that fell from her open lips. “I can feel how devoted you are to me, minotaur.”
His horns stood in front of her face, and she lifted a hand to trace over one of the swirling grooves with a single finger, sending heat twisting in his belly. “I think these beautiful carvings were made in my honor, yes?” He nodded as fervently as he could without taking his mouth from her breast. “You must be very devoted to me, then.”
Suddenly she leaned forward and dragged her tongue all the way up his horn from the base. A strangled sound burst from his chest as a lightning strike of pleasure raced from that horn to his groin, making his cock, which had already been standing out straight from the open flap on his trousers, grow even harder. She licked the other horn next, then grabbed them both and alternated running her tongue over each while pumping the other like it was his cock.
Needy whines escaped his lips around her nipple. Never had he felt bliss like this before—no one had ever licked his horns, he had never even thought to ask for that, but Margaret, his clever, bold Margaret had thought of it, all while he was supposed to be the one worshiping her.
He pulled back and blurted out, “Please! Please let me pleasure you, Ma—m-my lady.”
“You think you can please a goddess?”
The haughty challenge in her expression was so arousing he had to clench his jaw shut as he fought not to come, which shocked him. He took a few deep breaths through his nose before he could speak. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Very well,” she said in a bored tone, “you may try.”
He took hold of the bottom of her peplos and raised it until her sex came into view, exhaling roughly. He leaned it to tenderly trace his tongue up her slit. “Is this agreeable, my queen?” he murmured.
“Yes. Continue.”
“Thank you,” he breathed, and lifted the fabric over his horns to enclose his head under her gown and start licking through her folds with reverence.
The rich sound of Margaret's laughter rang out and shot to his cock. “Your head alone barely fits,” she giggled. “You are so big, minotaur.” The laughter slipped out of her voice as it pitched lower and thicker. “So very big compared to me. Oh, your tongue is…”
She wobbled on her feet, and Rees clapped a hand over her ass to steady her. He felt unsteady himself—the scent and taste of her with a hint of his seed still mingled in it was as intoxicating as the hardest drink, and the soft sounds of her enjoyment filled him with sparkling warmth from horn to hoof. He could become addicted to her pleasure, he thought.
“Stop,” she suddenly gasped, and Rees whined but obeyed. “I want you inside me.”
He ducked out from under the fabric. “You don't have to—I just want you to climax.”
She arched her brows at him. “Are you saying no to your goddess?”
Fuck, there was something so erotic about tiny Margaret being so domineering! It made him want to obey and curry her favor. He shook his head. “Never, my goddess.”
“Then undress and sit.” She gestured toward the chair behind him.
He scrambled up to rip his shirt and trousers off, then back himself into the chair. His muse did not undress, merely hitched up her peplos to climb onto his lap, all the fabric bunched around her waist. She held to his shoulder with one hand, and wrapped the other around his cock, making him jolt as she stroked down it once. “Now what?” she whispered.
He knew she was asking—as Margaret, not Erato—how to take his cock inside her from atop him, and helped her rise to her knees and position his cock beneath her. “Lower yourself slowly,” he said.
He gasped as her soft cunt opened and welcomed him in, more and more of him. It was enthralling to watch something so big disappear into such a small person. He had wanted to watch himself get swallowed up the first time, but had kissed Margaret to relax her and increase her pleasure so that the discomfort and anxiety of her first penetration would be reduced. But this time, he could watch, and oh, it was incredible.
When she could take no more of his length, he guided her up again with his hands wrapped around her hips, and she quickly set a rolling rhythm of her own. “Yes, just so, my lady,” he moaned.
Just as with the first time, the feeling of unification from being so deeply embedded within her body nearly overwhelmed him, eclipsing even the physical pleasure of sliding through such tight heat. “Being inside you is a privilege, my divine queen. Thank you for letting me worship you like this.”
He spread his hands and pushed his palms up her sides, over her breasts, tracing fingertips across the pearl necklace on her chest, a beautiful symbol of who she really was beneath this play-acting. He swept one hand down her arm to meet her hand in a sinuous dance, both of them watching as they twisted and turned and tangled their fingers around each other’s.
Her hand on his shoulder slid up his neck to rest upon his cheek, and he looked away from their joined hands to find her staring at his face like she was the one doing the worshiping. Her eyes, which had snared him from the first moment he saw them, but which had once been so piercing in how they regarded him, were now radiating the most pure love, while also gleaming with a ravenous yearning, like she could not get enough of him, even now, even when he was buried as deep inside her as he could reach. This look alone sent scorching bliss shooting through him, and he sobbed as the physical pleasure of her adoration overwhelmed him.
But he held his release back—he needed her pleasure more than he needed air. He tilted his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, and shoved a hand between them to thumb at her pearl. She squealed and grabbed for his horns again, using them for leverage to ride higher and harder on his cock, slamming herself down now, and he bucked up to meet her like a wild bull. Her maddening little hands squeezed tighter on the base of each horn, and then her cunt squeezed too in a sudden clench around his cock as she unleashed a shuddering moan. He held her still atop him and pulled his head back to watch her release wash through her, her back arching like Artemis’s bow.
“Oh! Don’t stop!” she cried out. “Come inside your muse!”
He bounced her on his throbbing cock again, grunting and huffing through his flared nostrils, tail thrashing the chair behind his flexing hips, until flame billowed up and consumed him in a flash of light and heat. He exploded inside her cunt, everything he had pouring out of him and into the temple of her perfect body, like an offering to his goddess, his queen, his wife, the one to whom he would always dedicate all of himself for all the rest of his days.
———
3 weeks later
“How am I supposed to play with your hand in my face?” Margaret drawled.
Rees was unabashed; he continued to rub his fingertip along the gold ring on the underside of Margaret’s nose. Ever since the piercing had fully healed, he had not been able to stop touching it. It was just so lovely to contemplate its meaning, and utterly charming how tiny it was! “You can play without seeing, I’m sure, but I can’t see your ring from back here.”
“Liar.” He was more than a whole head taller than her; he could certainly look down over her head from where he was wedged behind her on a small bench to play her harp. “And besides, you could simply sit and watch me from another chair if you need to see my face so badly.”
He smoothed a hand over her thigh, his own much thicker one bracketed along the outside of it, her bottom nestled back tight into his groin. “No thank you; I prefer this seat.”
“Well, then, shall I tell you a secret?”
“You know I love hearing your secrets, master spy.”
She reached up behind her and found his thick silver nose ring, hooking her finger into it to tug him down and then whispering, “I prefer you sitting right here with me as well.”
He angled his head to press a kiss to her cheek, feeling it lift under his lips as she smiled. “Good. Because I am never leaving you, pearl.”
The little mouse had once feared just that, but not a trace of that fear remained. She trusted her minotaur husband completely. “I know. I am yours forever, Rees, and you will always be mine.”
Rees smiled with gleaming warmth, and his voice rang out with loud certainty and bright joy as he agreed: “Only ever yours, Margaret.”
~ 😈🎩 ~
End of chapter 16 | Master list for this fic
This is the ending—for now. I have ideas for an epilogue. I think I shall make a poll to ask what y’all think about it…
If you enjoyed this story, I would love to hear from you, in a comment or ask! I always feel a little sad finishing a story with characters I have come to love so much, but knowing that other people love them too makes me feel better for having shared it with you all.
Taglist for this fic: @flippinsweettots, @eclaire-and-pocky
All my Regency monster stories: full master list or #my writing
I've been thinking a lot about what it's like to make things by hand in romance/erotica spaces because yes, romance novels are mass produced and yes, the readers are looking for similar tropes in every work and yes, it can be considered predictable so it's supposedly only natural that some authors would turn to AI to make things.
The idea of that still makes my stomach turn, because in my mind the whole genre of romance is a celebration of the joy and excitement and healing we find falling in love. How can you want to enter a space dedicated to love and not want to do the work that comes with making something you care about? I don't know if I'll ever understand it, and I really, really hope that it doesn't discourage people from pursuing their bliss through creation when some seem determined to outsource joy.
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
Monsters and Magic @rowenchant - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
