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Golden Cuffs 29: The Thorns

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

The queens take their pleasure on Belle in a most singular fashion

Read on AO3. Please read on AO3, because that’s the version that has italics and I use italics a lot in this chapter. But reblog on Tumblr!

Trigger Warning: Rape and torture, including nonconsensual kissing while someone is asleep. This chapter has thorns, so people who get squeamish around needles and piercings need to proceed with caution. We've also got forced cunnilingus. There is physical torment, bleeding, and verbal abuse throughout.

Even before Belle opened her eyes, her other senses were flooded. Rough iron shackles bit into her wrists. Chains held her down and against the wall. Hunger gnawed at her empty stomach. The iron collar gripped tight around her throat. She felt the coldness of the stone floor she had been sleeping on, felt the aches and discomfort that came from lying there for hours. Between her legs, she felt the heated throb of pain from where her hair had been ripped out the day before.

But on top of all these sensations, all this misery, Belle felt something soft. Warmth brushed against the gooseflesh on her arms. Something featherlight and lovely floated through the tangles in her hair. Still half-asleep, Belle heard a sound, sweet and musical. Someone was humming a tune.

The softness, the ease, traveled over Belle’s body. She felt herself relax and curl out, like a cat napping in the sun.

“That’s a good princess,” a pleasant voice praised her.

Belle felt the warmth against her face, felt the looseness and the comfort overtake her. How good it felt to not hurt anymore, to feel something tender for the first time in so long. Her jaw relaxed and her lips parted and then something hot and foreign was over her mouth and worming its way in between her teeth.

“No!” Belle gave out a muffled cry. She tried to resist, but it was no use. The hands that had been around her, had soothed her and pleased her, now gripped her and forced her to hold still.

Opening her eyes, Belle saw Regina on the other side of the room, sitting at a table laid with food, drinking from a glass of wine. Robed in a gauzy purple dressing gown, the queen did not bother to hide her disgust as she looked at Belle on the floor.

So Maleficent was kissing her now, forcing her to lie still and not resist. Maleficent had been touching her while she slept. Belle closed her eyes and tried to come up with some reality where this was a dream, a nightmare. Surely she would wake up in her cell in Rumpelstiltskin’s castle. Surely this wasn’t real!

But when Maleficent broke the kiss with a loud pop, Belle saw strings of saliva dripping down the woman’s smiling face, and she knew that it was real. This was her life for the next two days, as a plaything for the queens.

“Now why did you have to wake up, princess?” Maleficent kept her hands on Belle as she spoke. Like Regina, she was wearing a dressing gown so sheer that Belle could see the pale outline of her body through the black material. Maleficent shook her head and tutted. “But I suppose princesses always wake up when you kiss them.”

“I keep telling you, she’s not a princess,” Regina declared from her seat. “The stupid toy isn’t royalty or nobility. She’s only the daughter of a landed knight. That’s barely even gentry.”

“Oh, no, my darling,” Maleficent looked at Regina sweetly while still stroking Belle. “Of course she’s a princess! All little girls are princesses, didn’t your mother teach you that?”

Grimacing, Regina stood up. “My mother taught me power only comes from blood. Blood you’re born with or blood you’ve spilled.” She looked down at Belle and sneered. “You don’t have either. You’re nothing!”

Belle looked up at her, too exhausted and unsettled to keep her questions to herself. “Then why are you bothering with me? If I’m so insignificant, why am I even worth torturing?”

“Because you’re Rumple’s sweet nothing,” Maleficent chirped, pulling her into an embrace. “Our Dark One usually plays his cards close to the chest, so when he starts waving around a little ace of hearts like you, well! How could we resist the opportunity to see what makes you so special?”

As subtly as she could, Belle inched herself away from Maleficent’s touch. “What are you finding out?”

“Nothing,” Regina said. “There’s nothing in you that can’t be found in a thousand other pretty girls. Maybe you’re just special because you can tolerate pain, or you can tolerate monsters. Maybe you’re special because you can get off on that sort of thing. Do you like fucking lizards instead of men? Is that why you made a deal to get out of your marriage?”

“No,” Belle said softly.

“Then what is it?” With her bare hand, Regina hit Belle across the ear so hard it made her head spin. “You’re just a stupid girl! You’re a broodmare, just like I was supposed to be! You’re supposed to be bought and sold to a man, for power or money or just because you have no other options!” She hit Belle again, on the other side of her head, and the force was enough to knock her out of Maleficent’s arms.

Maleficent got up off the floor and stood by Regina as the queen grabbed Belle by the hair and pulled her to her feet.

“I had to claw and fight and kill my way out of that life!” Chest heaving, she twisted her fist in Belle’s hair. Belle winced and felt hot tears of pain. “How did you get out of it? How were you saved from a husband? Why should you be so lucky?”

She threw Belle to the ground and turned to Maleficent’s waiting embrace. Belle landed on her side and stayed on the stone floor, breathing deeply through the pain of impact. Blinking back her tears, Belle made herself look at the queens. In Maleficent’s arms, Regina looked strangely small. For the first time, Belle saw their embrace as being not of passion, but of need. That rage she had just encountered had been more genuine than Regina’s other tantrums. It had come from a real pain in her heart. And after her rage, Regina had turned to the other woman for comfort, for reassurance. For love. And Maleficent was giving it.

As she had last night, Belle admired the peculiar affection these women had for each other. They were so in tune with each others needs and desires. Maleficent was so willing to make Regina happy, and Regina was so needful of Maleficent’s steadfast presence. They delighted in each other, and delighted in doing things together, even terrible things.

They would delight in doing terrible things to Belle.

“In case you couldn’t tell,” Maleficent said while Regina composed herself, “we’re going to hurt you tonight.

From the floor, Belle nodded. “I could tell.”

“But first,” Regina’s voice was clear and imperious, “you’re going to beg.” “Beg for mercy?” “Beg for dinner. Aren’t you hungry, child?” Regina was smiling now, her momentary emotions now either passed or hidden. She was a queen again, her regality a flawless mask.

Belle’s lips were dry. She was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast on the day of the party. That might as well have been a thousand years ago. “I am hungry,” she tried to make her voice sweet and pleading. “Will you please feed me, Your Majesty?”

Smirking, Regina waved her hand. The chains that bound Belle to the wall unwrapped from their hooks and moved in the air to wrap around the rafters of the bedchamber. It was a slow and awkward magic, nothing like how the cuffs forced her to hurry when Rumple gave her an order. The chains dragged in the air, and Belle had enough time to follow them at her own pace. She stood up and walked over to where Regina wanted her to be. There was enough slack in the chain that she was able to stand comfortably.

“If you’re going to beg, you have to do it on your knees, idiot. Grovel properly before a queen.”

Her eyes lowered, Belle sank to her knees. There was not enough slack for her to keep her hands down beside her, so Belle knelt with her arms raised over her head. It was similar to the posture they had put her in the day before in front of the mirror.

The mirror was still in the corner, reflecting her subjugation back to her. Belle tried not to look at it. What a mirror saw was not the truth. Rumple had said that, a long time ago.

Regina sat down at the little table in front of a meal fit for royalty. Maleficent sat with her, but did not touch the human food.

“Now,” the queen said. “I’m going to have a late luncheon, and you’re going to beg me for whatever I think you deserve. You may eat as much as you can get.” She took a long knife and expertly cut into a large roasted swan.

“Please,” Belle began at once. Rumple had never made her beg for food, but she knew a game when she played one. “I know I’m not worthy, but I’m so hungry, Your Majesty. It would be so good of you too--”

“Good?” Regina said with her mouth full. “Do you think I’m good?”

“I think you are glorious, Your Majesty. And magnanimous. Everything a queen should be! You have the power to be merciful, and kind, to take pity on this low creature who grovels at your feet.”

“I think she has you confused with someone else,” Maleficent chuckled.

Regina grinned at her lover and then looked over at Belle. She had eaten the meat off the swan’s wing and held the bones in her hands. “Do you know what I do to low creatures like you?”

Belle bit her lip. “No, Your Majesty.”

Regina’s smile turned grim as she broke the bones, snapping them in half. Then she tossed the pieces at Belle.

Only one piece of bone landed in range of where Belle could reach. And she almost had to break her arms as she stretched her body down to pick it off the floor with her mouth. There was no meat on the bone, only a bit of gristle and the dark marrow within. Belle took what nourishment she could, and spat out the rest onto the floor behind her.

She looked up at Regina. In the mirror, Belle could see her eyes--wide and innocent and pleading. The sort of lie Regina would want to see. “Gods bless Your Majesty, for your graciousness and your generosity.”

Regina snorted. “That’s a little over the top.”

It went on like that, begging and flattery and degradation. Regina threw food and Belle picked crumbs off the ground or licked splatters off her body or--more than once--caught pieces in mid-air like a trained dog. The acting didn’t bother her. It was pretending, like in one of Rumple’s games. At the end of it all, her stomach no longer gnawed with hunger.

Regina left the uneaten food and dirty dishes on the table. A servant would have to come and collect them later. The queens stood in front of Belle, their gazes sweeping over her naked body in all its misery and vulnerability.

“I don’t like the chains,” Maleficent said casually, as though she were talking about the style of a dress. “There’s nothing magical about them. Anybody can chain up a slave.”

Regina’s eyes flicked over her lover and she licked her lips. “Are you going to suggest something only you can do?”

“It’s not just me,” Maleficent demurred. “It’s a simple spell, I can teach it to you, my love. But, yes.” She brushed her hand over Belle’s cheek and cupped her chin. “We need to do something special for our Rumple’s little flower.”

The chains loosened and fell to the ground, bringing Belle down with their weight. She collapsed onto the floor and lay limp. She waited for them to do whatever they were going to do, waited for another order, or for more pain. With a flick of the wrist, Regina swept the chains away, back to where they had been hanging on the wall.

Belle was still manacled and collared, but nothing bound her to anything. Tentatively, she rolled her shoulders and stretched out her arms and legs. It seemed as though she could still move everything. She took a deep breath and waited.

Maleficent stood above her with her eyes closed and her hands extended. A green glow emanated around her, casting a noxious light over the dark room.

Just as Belle was about to ask what the sorceress was doing, she felt a sharp pain in her ankle. Looking down, Belle saw that her skin had been pierced by a black thorn the size of her smallest finger. A vine had grown up out of the stone floor and wrapped itself around her foot.

Belle’s breath caught in her throat as more shoots sprang out of the floor and grew into vines before her eyes. What terrible magic was this? The black plants grew under her and around her, wrapping around her arms and legs as though she were a trellis. Thorns covered the leafless vines, needle-sharp and merciless. They pressed into her skin and some cut through and drew blood. Hot tears pooled in Belle’s eyes and she ground her teeth to keep from crying out.

Vines wrapped around her arms and wrists and made her move with them as they grew. Her arms were forced behind her back, wrapped around a column of thicker branches that were bunched together like thatch. The vines at her legs moved her ankles behind the column as well, forcing her to open her thighs and expose her secret places.

Would they hurt her there? Belle couldn’t keep the thought from her mind. Earlier, they had torn out her hair and vandalized her body. Would they mutilate her as well? Would the black thorns press against her tender pink flesh? Would Maleficent make the vines grow up inside her? The thought made Belle tremble with fear--and with every move she made, the thorns pushed more deeply into the flesh of her back, flesh she had thought was beyond feeling any more pain.

The vines stayed away from her cunt. A thick branch roped around her neck above the collar to keep her head up. Another grew diagonally up her torso like a sash, crossing between her breasts. She had never known such pain, so complete and all-consuming. The vines still moved around her, the thorns a constant menace. She felt like she was being burned alive.

Vaguely, Belle recognized that in the back of her mind she was waiting for something. After another moment, she realized what it was: Peace. That was what usually happened when she was in pain. Usually, she felt the most wonderful, absurd sense of contentment. When Rumple beat her body, her mind and heart melted into something lovely and safe. She had been expecting that.

But there was no safety here. Rumple wasn’t hurting her, Maleficent was. And Rumple wasn’t going to pleasure her when this was over, they were going to fuck her. The queens had no interest in her safety or well-being. There were no rules here. Belle had no deal that protected her with them. Regina would not comfort her and hold her when it all became too much. These women would not allow her to ask a question to repay for what they had done to her.

Belle let out a ragged cry. “Stop!” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and dropped onto her chest. The saltwater stung against her fresh wounds. “Please, Maleficent! No more!”

Through a haze of green magic, Maleficent opened her eyes. She took a moment to regard Belle, to look at her handiwork and the torture she had created.

She smiled.

“Our little bud thinks she’s had enough,” Maleficent remarked to Regina. “Do you agree, my darling?”

Regina shrugged. “You can stop if you want to. The work is already astounding.”

Maleficent preened. With a wave of her hand, the green light faded away. The pain that pierced Belle’s body became a little less, just enough for her to bear it.

Belle sobbed and tried her best to breathe. She was so utterly alone. All the familiar customs that marked her games with Rumpelstiltskin were gone. The queens were playing with her, but she was not playing along. She had no say in this torture, no protection, no escape. All she could do was breathe and count as a victory every moment she was alive.

Regina circled the thatch of thorns where Belle was bound. Her eyes traveled from the roots in the floor, over Belle’s exposed body and up to where the vines wrapped around the rafters. She reached for Maleficent. “You are amazing, my love. Your power, your skill, your bloodlust. Incredible.”

“You inspire me, my evil queen.” The two women embraced and kissed, clinging to each other possessively. Behind them, Belle closed her eyes and kept breathing.

“Go first,” Regina said when they broke apart. “You did all the work, you deserve to reap the rewards.”

“What a generous lover I have.” Maleficent’s hand lingered on Regina’s cheek even as she went over to the vines. Her face was still dreamy as she looked at Belle. “Have you ever licked a cunt before, whore?”

Belle blinked. The words were nothing new, but the abrupt change of tone made her pause. Had she ever licked a cunt? Was that what they would demand of her? What if she couldn’t do it?

“No,” she whimpered. “Never.”

“That’s hardly surprising. Does Rumple do it to you?”

“Yes,” Belle said, her voice still small.

“Now that is a surprise,” Regina smirked as she refilled her wine glass. “Most men would cut their tongues out of their heads before using them for a woman’s pleasure.”

“Well, Rumple always was a queer duck. But who are we to talk?” Maleficent chuckled and slipped her dressing gown off her shoulders. The gauzy fabric piled on the floor and Maleficent stood before Belle, naked as sin.

Every part of her was long and bony. Yellow waves of hair swept down her otherwise shaved body. Her breasts were even smaller than Belle’s--tight and pointed, with nipples so dark as to be almost black against her pale skin. Maleficent’s hands were large, with long, graceful fingers. Belle watched as those hands drifted leisurely over Maleficent’s body, from her neck to her torso to her hips to her smooth and hairless mound.

“Do you think I’m pretty, Belle? Do you like my body?”

“You’re beautiful,” Belle answered.

It was not a lie. Maleficent was striking and magnificent, the sort of creature that inspired awe and worship. She looked like a goddess, or a fiery succubus who wouldn’t think twice before slaughtering the unworthy. How could Belle be expected to satisfy such a force of nature?

“What a sweet thing to say,” she caressed Belle’s cheek. Despite her fear, Belle leaned in to the touch, taking comfort in the kindness, no matter how temporary it might be.

Behind them, Regina noisily flopped onto the couch. “Are you going to start, my love?”

“Yes,” Maleficent cooed. Still with her hand on Belle’s cheek, she leaned in and opened her mouth to kiss her.

This time, Belle knew to keep her mouth slack and loose. She closed her eyes and felt the heat of Maleficent’s face against her skin. As when she had been sleeping, the other woman’s tongue snaked into her mouth, but Belle didn’t fight it. Forcing herself to stay meek and compliant, Belle allowed the kiss to happen. If she chose to let it happen, perhaps it wouldn’t feel so awful.

She didn’t realize she was being moved downward until her legs bent to touch the floor. The vines that ensnared her were lowering her to the ground. Maleficent bent to keep kissing her until Belle was at the level of Maleficent’s waist. Then, with a sudden jerk, Maleficent sucked Belle’s tongue from her lips and stood up, pressing her female parts against Belle’s open mouth.

It was only a reflex that made Belle try to dart away from this strange object, and even that unthinking effort was in vain. The vines kept Belle’s head exactly where Maleficent wanted it to be. Thorns pressed against the soft flesh of her neck, but they wouldn’t pierce her skin unless she moved away. She was unharmed, as long as she obeyed.

Belle had to focus on the folds of flesh that currently enveloped her face. She wanted to gag on it, to choke and pull back and take just one moment to acclimate herself. But Maleficent gave her no chance. Belle had to get to work.

Maleficent’s cunt was odd and overpowering, but Belle had no choice but to overcome her revulsion, and quickly. She had to pleasure this woman. Under Belle’s tongue, Maleficent was unpleasantly sour, with even more of a vinegary bite than Belle had tasted on herself. The scent of her was sharp and powerful. Belle could imagine it lingering on her body for days after this was done. Even when she was safe with Rumple again, she would smell Maleficent’s cunt in her nightmares.

It was nightmarish enough to be blinded, to have the whole of her consciousness submerged in a hot, close, moistness. Belle felt Maleficent’s folds against her skin, and she turned her head slowly to determine the dimensions of her new world. Yes, it was like the worst kind of dream--the sort where you cannot move but you must go forward, into the hellish blackness of the unknown. Carefully, Belle began to move her tongue, and then her lips, all over Maleficent’s cunt.

“I hope you’re a quick learner,” she said over Belle’s head. “I’ll make allowances for your innocence, but when you do this for my queen you’ll have to be perfect.”

Her mouth full, Belle nodded. She would have to do this to Regina as well. And Regina was a different type of monster altogether. Behind her closed eyes, Belle felt a surge of fresh tears. How was she going to do this? And how could she possibly do it well enough to please Regina?

Maleficent rocked her hips against her, rubbing herself against Belle’s nose and teeth. Belle moved her tongue in as pleasing a way she could manage, sticking it out and bobbing her head to keep up with Maleficent’s movements. Was that right? Did she like that?

Even though she could turn into a dragon, Maleficent’s anatomy was like Belle’s. With her lips and tongue, Belle mapped out folds of flesh and an interior passage and even a spot seemed to give Maleficent a sharp and singular pleasure.

“There! Yes!” she shrieked. The thorns clenched even tighter against Belle’s body. “Don’t move, you clever slut. Just stay there and keep licking.”

Belle broke away just long enough to take a breath, and then redoubled her efforts. She swirled her tongue everywhere it could reach and rubbed at Maleficent’s pleasure spot with her nose. Didn’t Rumple do it like that? Wasn’t that how he liked to make her come? But he was so much more practiced than Belle, and his nose was so much bigger. Could she do what he did? Would she be good enough to please Maleficent? Good enough to keep Regina from hurting her?

As her orgasm approached, Maleficent became more generous with her noises and her praise. Doing her best to follow frantic instructions, Belle moved her mouth faster and rougher against Maleficent. Belle felt her clenching around her chin. The witch thrust her whole body against Belle’s head, pushing her into the thorns. Belle screamed in pain and the noise was muffled by Maleficent’s cunt.

But the vibrations--or the sound, or the pain that had produced it--finally pushed Maleficent over the edge.

In the blackness behind her closed eyes, Belle saw a wave of green light. A pulse of warm wetness gushed onto her face. But once Maleficent had stepped away and Belle could breathe through her nose again, the fragrance that greeted her was not the pungent brine of a woman’s orgasm.

It was roses.

Belle looked around at the thorns that held her in place. When Maleficent came, they had all burst into bloom. The thorns were still there, Belle still felt the pain all over her body. But she was also surrounded by flower blossoms. Every rose was full and perfect. Every rose was as red as blood.

In front of her, Maleficent pulled back. Even standing, her body was loose and relaxed. Her eyes were closed and lavender smoke wafted up from her mouth. Blearily, she staggered over to Regina and collapsed with her on the couch. Maleficent curled up and Belle saw her shudder and tremble in pleasure.

Regina held her naked lover against her robed chest. She stroked her blonde hair, and looked at Belle with a cold hatred.

A new fear twisted in Belle’s stomach. So far, Regina had burned hot--her anger coming out in spurts that were satisfied as soon as Belle submitted to the pain she inflicted. But now there was murder in the queen’s eyes. Not a thoughtless rage, but a calculating assessment of how Belle had offended her and how she would pay for it.

Still bound to the column of thorns, Belle summoned up all her bravery and looked the queen in the eye. “Did I please her well enough, Your Majesty? I want only to serve.”

“Shut up, you little bitch.” Again, Regina did not shout, she did not even command. Her voice had no more emotion than the cold steel of a knife in the darkness.

“Be nice,” Maleficent murmured from her place at Regina’s chest. “She did very well.”

With a tight smile, Regina lifted up Maleficent’s chin. “Will you be alright if I leave you to take my turn on her?”

“Of course.” Maleficent leaned back against the purple couch, her bony limbs loose and relaxed. “It’s a fun ride.”

“We’ll see how much fun I can have with her.” Regina stood and slipped off her purple dressing gown.

Belle noticed her breasts first. Astonishingly, the queen’s ample bosom was not the work of clever corsetry and flattering gowns. Even naked, she had the breasts of a statue or a painting--so impossibly round and perfect that Belle had never imagined a real woman could look like that. And it probably wasn’t magic either. Regina flaunted her body with too much thoughtless confidence for her beauty to be anything other than the luck of nature.

She was not so pale as Maleficent. And everywhere Maleficent’s body was made of straight lines, Regina had luscious curves. The queen stood with her hands on her round hips, her thighs spread apart. Like Maleficent--and like Belle, now--the space between her legs was smooth and hairless. Belle looked, transfixed and terrified, at the part of Regina that it would be her task to satisfy.

Belle licked her lips as the queen approached, but before she could do anything else, Belle felt her hair being pulled back, her face being lifted up to Regina’s scrutiny. Mercifully, the thorns did not tighten around Belle’s throat. Did Regina choose not to use them? Or did she have no power over Maleficent’s magic?

She moved Belle with her hands, gripping her by the jaw as she caught every angle of her face. Belle could only take shallow, panicked breaths as the queen dug her nails into her flesh.

“You smell like her,” she whispered, her face contorted in anger. “Do you think you got anything by pleasuring her? Do you think it meant anything?”

“No,” Belle shook as she spoke. “Not unless you say it did, Your Majesty.”

“It didn’t,” Regina hissed. “You’re nothing! You don’t deserve to pleasure her--or me either! You’re not special! You’re not even good at being a whore! You’re just a collection of holes made for getting fucked! The Dark One only wants you to put his cock in you! Do you understand that?” Regina began to laugh. “Do you even know what it means to be a woman in this world?” Her grip tightened on Belle’s throat. “It means getting fucked. Over and over and over until maybe, someday, you get to fuck back.”

Regina curled her lip in a grimace, and for the first time, Belle noticed a flaw in her perfect mask of beauty. There was a scar on her lip. It was faint and old and covered by cosmetics, but Belle could make it out just the same. Who had done that to this powerful woman? How long had the queen been marked by pain? What other wounds did Regina have, either visible or hidden?

How long would it be until she gave Belle just as many wounds as she had suffered?

With a grimace, Regina leaned toward Belle with her mouth open. But instead of a kiss--even a dominating, angry kiss--Belle felt the queen’s tongue on her cheek. Her stomach dropped as she realized Regina was licking her. She was licking Maleficent’s sour smell off of Belle’s face.

“You don’t deserve her,” Regina whispered. “You don’t deserve anything that’s happened to you.”

“I know that!” Belle blurted, then realized what she’d said. How could she be so stupid! Hastily, she corrected herself. “Your Majesty. I know I don’t deserve the honor of--”

“Shut up!” Regina snarled. “Use your mouth for something fucking worthwhile!” With that, she stood up and thrust her body against Belle’s face.

Regina kept one hand in Belle’s hair the whole time. She forced Belle’s head back and slammed her hips against her face over and over. The impact hurt and Belle didn’t understand how it didn’t hurt Regina. Was she immune to physical pain? Or was she so caught up in hurting Belle she didn’t feel how she was harming herself?

Regina gave Belle no control over the movements of her head. She barely had time or thought to move her tongue or her lips. All she could do was brace herself as Regina ground her body against her face.

Belle closed her eyes and let it happen. This was a nightmare that had no resolution, no goal to even be hoped for. This nightmare would be nothing but terror until she woke up.

This was nothing that Belle was doing, or even that she was being forced to do--it was being done to her. Regina put for the effort. She thrust and grunted and ground herself into Belle over and over again. Too frightened to move, Belle froze her heart and let the queen work her will.

Regina tasted different than Maleficent. Her cunt had a strange darkness to it. Where Maleficent had been sour and underripe, Regina tasted almost sweet at first. But then there was a stomach-turning sensation of foulness--like an apple with a slimy, rotted core. Over and over, Belle was forced to delve into that core and taste that poison.

Suddenly, Regina backed away. Belle had only the time to take a single breath before she felt the slap. Regina’s hand was cold against her flushed cheek.

“Are you even trying?” Regina sneered. “Is this what Rumple wants from you? That you just lie back and think of ogres?” She slapped Belle again, and her cheek scraped against the thorns.

Belle tried to breathe. “I--” she panted, her breath coming in shallow and strange. “I--” She had no answer to give the queen. “I--” How did Regina know about the ogres?

“Oh, shut up, you stupid cow,” Regina said before she began her assault again. She straddled Belle’s head, her legs twisting over her shoulders. She gripped the thorny vines, knowing they wouldn’t dare hurt her. Then Regina pushed herself against Belle’s face back and forth, riding her like a horse.

Belle couldn’t breathe. Regina pressed Belle into her pleasure so tightly that there was no room for air. She couldn’t break away, not even for a moment. She tried to even turn her head, but Regina yanked her back into the position that she wanted. Belle tried to speak, to scream, but her words were lost in Regina’s flesh. Her arms were bound, she had no way to signal her distress.

And Regina didn’t care. The distress was the point. Belle could weep and struggle and scream, but the fact would remain: Belle wasn’t breathing because Regina didn’t want her to breathe. Her shoulders went limp as she realized how easy it would be for her to die this way, suffocating on a queen’s cunt.

Would Rumple let her die tonight? Did his deal with these evil women allow for them to kill her? The cuffs had saved her from drowning once. At his word, they had pulled her out of a briny darkness even more merciless than the one she was in now. And on the night of the party, the cuffs had made her defend herself against Regina, because of Rumple’s order. Would they save her now? Was there a power yet unknown to her that would keep her safe?

No. It was only luck that just as Belle slipped away into the blackness, Regina shifted her position. Now she was only on Belle’s mouth, and not her nose. Belle could breathe again, though the air was polluted by the stench of roses and evil pleasures.

She breathed, and felt tears stream down her cheeks. The tears mixed with Belle’s blood and saliva and Regina’s wetness on her face. What kind of potion could Rumple make from those ingredients?

Above her, Regina was still grinding away, seeking out a pleasure that Belle had no means to give. Through weary eyes, Belle watched the queen’s breasts bounce from the exertion. Her dark hair was loose and tousled. A sheen of sweat glistened on her lustrous skin. It really was a shame that such a gorgeous body belonged to such an ugly woman.

Finally, Regina grunted and jerked against Belle’s chin. She dismounted from Belle’s shoulders and pulled her out of the vines. Belle felt her skin rip as she was wrenched away from the thorns. Regina tossed her to the ground and Belle knelt with her head bowed.

“Are you satisfied, my darling?” Maleficent asked from the couch. She was stretched out with her legs spread and her fingers idly fondling her hairless mound. “It was a good show.”

Regina poured herself another glass of wine. “That pitiful excuse for a cuntlicker isn’t going to satisfy me without help.”

“Poor thing.” Maleficent sat up and waved Belle over to her. “Come here, pretty princess.”

On her hands and knees, Belle crawled over to Maleficent as quickly as her wounds would allow. She didn’t get on the couch, but knelt and looked up at the sorceress.

Maleficent stroked Belle’s hair and petted her like a dog. Belle felt something warm and wet against her back. A cloth. It touched her skin and Belle hissed in fresh pain.

“It’s all right,” Maleficent said in a high-pitched, playful voice. “I’m just cleaning the blood off to make you pretty again.”

Warm water, fragrant with healing herbs, dripped over Belle’s tattered back. She let out a wordless whine and Maleficent cooed and offered her more comfort.

“Such a pretty girl,” she said. “And a good girl, too. With enough experience, you could be a very fine cuntlicker.”

Without quite understanding why she was doing it, Belle rubbed her face against Maleficent’s bare legs. In response, Maleficent kept washing Belle. She praised her and made sweet sounds as she ran her fingers through Belle’s hair and gently pulled apart her tangles. Through all of this, Belle breathed, and let herself be comforted.

A part of Belle didn’t want to be comforted. She knew that this sweetness was tainted. Maleficent had hurt her just as much as Regina, why should Belle accept anything from her? But Belle knew that she needed to take whatever healing was offered to her. She had played this game with Rumpelstiltskin often enough. He liked to make her relax after one strike, so the next one would hurt more. The queens were the same, only their strikes were so much worse and the time between them all too brief.

“Let’s get her on the bed,” Regina said after a few minutes. “It’s time to stop pussyfooting and have some real fun.”

#poor belle

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