5 comments/ 83879 views/ 7 favorites Fable By: Julirose Isolated in the mountains above a tiny village, the two-story stone manor was both austere and foreboding with its narrow barred windows and high-arched heavy iron doors. In the rear of the manor were myriad gardens accessible to visitors from a walled stone walkway leading out from the main hall, except for one garden that a roof-high iron cage guarded completely. Peering inside, guests of the manor could view some of the finest roses gathered by the Lord of the manor for his mistress. They could inhale their fragrance as it wafted through the wrought-iron bars, but could not touch a single fragile petal. The mistress's bedroom opened upon this garden allowing her to tend to her roses in complete safety. His Lordship spent many hours away from his home tending to his trade and visitors to the manor were few. Standing in the shade of an ancient oak, George stared at the young beauty strolling through the summer garden, entranced by her lithe form and amused by her impertinence as she snapped blossoms off the prized bushes. Her chestnut curls fell at the shoulders of her white satin dress, her pale skin a sharp contrast to her vibrant lips and dazzling green eyes. She flitted about the garden like a crazed hummingbird, pausing only to remove the flowers that offended her. As she bent forward to clip some blossoms near the garden fence, George stared at the iridescent drops of sweat clinging to her bosom. She smiled at him, slowly untied her bodice allowing her pale orbs to hang freely over her corset, and went back to trimming the blossoms from the roses. She glanced up from her work from time to time to smile at her young admirer as he followed her around the garden wall. When Constance finished her gardening, she scurried inside, closed the door behind her and peered out through her curtains to see if the handsome stranger were still watching from outside her cage. That night, Constance dreamt that George was with her in her boudoir. He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her close. She felt his hand on her breast as he gently turned her head and embraced her lips in a passionate kiss. He pressed her back against the wall and freed her breasts from her bodice, attacking them with his hungry tongue until each nipple stood at attention. George knelt down and lifted her skirt, sticking his long supple tongue between her legs. He suckled at her little button, making her squirm and moan. He stuck the tip of his tongue deep into her sex and drank her flowing juices. She awoke from her dream with her virginity still intact. After her usual lunch of bread and broth, Constance spent the late afternoon, sitting near the fence on a curved stone bench. Her breasts dripped sweat onto her corset while she fanned herself with her skirt. Noticing that her young gentleman had returned she leaned toward the fence and whispered loudly, “Please help me; I am a prisoner here.” He bowed politely. “I am a seducer of women and a defiler of virgins,” he teased. “Oh, that you could,” she muttered cryptically. “Then kiss me,” she demanded. “But you don’t know me,” he whispered as he stood near her at the fence. “Kiss me anyway,” she insisted pressing her lips through the bars. His lips embraced her passionately, leaving her breathless when he was through. “That deserves a reward,” she crooned as she headed toward her room. “Tomorrow,” she yelled back before he could ask. That evening, the handmaiden queried her mistress about a young gentleman seen on the estate grounds. Constance denied any knowledge of him, but her handmaid warned her anyway of the dire consequences of speaking to strangers. Constance assured her that she had not seen him about. The handmaid’s warnings disturbed her dream that night. His appearance in her boudoir was as sudden as it had been the night before but he was far from gentle. George grabbed her, forced her down upon her bed where he ripped open the bodice of her nightdress, and proceeded to assault her breasts. George paused long enough to rip open the rest of her dress before biting into her nipples and forcing his hardened rod between her legs. She awoke again with her bed soaked and her virginity intact. “But I’ve already seen those,” he protested. George smiled at Constance as she teased him with her breasts, holding them up with her hands and licking her nipples in front of him. He reached through the bars and motioned to her to come closer. She winked as she moved close enough for his hands to touch, then giggled and withdrew. “I want my reward,” George demanded. Constance hesitantly stepped forward and allowed George to caress her silky mounds. He massaged her nipples while slowly drawing her toward the fence. His hands grasped her breasts firmly as they pulled them through. The young man licked a nipple with his tongue, gripped it in his teeth and gently pulled on it. Constance gasped quietly while he gently teased her breast. She gripped the fence tightly, feeling lightheaded when the convulsions began. George smiled at Constance as she regained her equilibrium. “Soon, my love, soon,” he whispered as he left her standing there, her heart beating wildly. Constance endured her evening meal by thinking of George. Her maidservant repeated her warning about the danger of speaking to strange men and Constance feigned agreement. She hurried through her dinner, anxious to sleep, hoping to dream of her seducer again. Instead, she was restless and took a moonlit walk in the garden. George was there, standing close to the iron cage smiling as she approached. Constance hurried to the spot where he stood and kissed him through the bars. George commanded her to stand upon the wall, directed her where to place each foot, and secured her hands to the cage with silk ties. He raised her skirt and placed his fingers into her hole. He massaged her little button with his thumb until her juices began to flow. He grabbed her ass cheeks and forced her naked sex against the iron bars of the cage. George slipped his face between the bars and hungrily assaulted her mound. Constance begged George for more of him, but he ignored her pleas while driving her deeper into ecstasy with his agile tongue. George left her still needy while he untied her hands kissed her passionately and then ordered her to bed. While Constance slept fitfully dreaming of her lover, George searched the garden fence for a means of entry to her keep. Hidden under a large rose arbor, he found a long forgotten service gate through which the gardeners had brought in the roses. Its lock had rusted from years of neglect, crumbling to dust when he forced it open with his knife. He spent the night sawing through vines, clearing away a small area beneath the arbor, large enough for two, but still sheltered from view. In the early morning hours, Constance hurried outside searching the shadows eagerly for her erstwhile lover. George peered through the roses at the object of his lust. Her heart skipped a beat when George called to her from his hiding place. She crawled through the thorny vines, and embraced him passionately; while smothering her with kisses, he lowered her to the hard ground. Kneeling over her, he untied her bodice exposing her silky breasts. George grabbed her mounds, gripping them tightly, digging his nails into them while he began to assault her nipples with his teeth, biting gently at first then increasing the pressure until they fully engorged. George pushed up her skirt, spread her legs and attacked her mound, suckling until she was moaning loudly. He slipped his lithe tongue deep into her hole and brought her to the edge of ecstasy. Again, he left her needy as he hurried her off to her morning lessons, swearing her to secrecy about his appearance inside the garden. Constance scurried back to her room after lunch and slipped out into the garden in search of George, but he was not there. She wandered about the house during the afternoon daydreaming about her paramour. She hardly ate her dinner and retired early to her room. George was waiting for her. He stepped out of the shadows and forced her against the bedroom door while he barred it shut. He ripped open the bodice to her dress and hungrily attacked her nipples. He slipped the dress down off her shoulders to her waist. George took his blade to the dress and cut it free leaving her standing naked before him. Constance bit her lip in anticipation of his next move. George knelt down and fed hungrily at her slit while she braced herself against the door. George grabbed Constance and dragged her out into the garden forcing her to crawl under the rosebushes. He freed his throbbing organ from its pouch and forced open her sopping thighs. Her juices gushed from her hole while he rubbed it against her mound Grabbing her by her shoulders, George stifled her scream with a kiss while his stiff manhood tore through the last of her defenses. Constance dug her nails into his back as her convulsions began, surrendering herself completely to his pleasuring. George drew his knife against her neck cutting a small wound into it, drawing a trickle of blood. He took the wound into his mouth and began the draining of her blood, while he matched her convulsions with his deep strokes. She was too weak to protest as he rode her through the night, draining her lifeblood, relentlessly pursuing his own satisfaction. In the early morning, George was still feeding at her weeping neck, draining the last of her life while still engaged in his lustful pursuit. As the last drop of blood left her oblivious form, he withdrew his pulsating rod and spewed his superfluous fluid over her pale corpse. Fabled Infatuation Lydia lay silent, unmoving, holding her breath in her bed as the shadows closed in around her. Tonight, she had prepared for the intrusion, and she would discover who watched her so quietly at night. The clock ticked, the only sound in her bedroom, counting down the seconds, the minutes, the hours. He appeared every night now, around two o'clock, and that witching hour arrived in just a few minutes. Her anxiety skyrocketed as she watched the hand move around in a circle, and she strained her ears, wanting to hear that mild breathing which had become familiar to her, even lulling her to sleep at times. There would be no such lullaby tonight. She thought she heard a clink at the window, and Lydia froze, the hair on the back of her neck standing up and sending an electrical tingle down her spine. But no sound followed, and she was ready to scream her frustration. Several more minutes passed, and the sound repeated, this time with the soft hiss of a sigh. Attuning herself to the rhythm of the breathing pattern, so faint she almost decided she'd imagined it, she smiled to herself. Her visitor had arrived. With painfully slow movement, she curled her fingers around the string and began pulling, her eyes closed and all her energy focused on audio reception. When she felt tension, she counted to three silently and gave a sharp, microscopic tug. The other end, tied to the lamp switch, flicked the light on so instantly and unexpectedly that her visitor was caught as if rooted to his spot, crouching in her window. Sitting up in bed, Lydia blinked several times at the...boy? Man? What was he? She broke the silence first. "How long have you been watching me?" He raised an eyebrow. "How did you know I was here?" "I asked you first." "Three weeks, two days." His tone was deadpan, but his voice was seductive, lyrical, a tenor pitch that drew nails gently down her back with a shiver in response. She huffed. "Why?" He shook his head. "I answered your question, you answer mine now." What childish play! Fine, she would answer with a childish response. "I heard you breathing, woke up and saw your shadow. Figured I'd put it in the drawer and keep it till you came back." He self-consciously touched the points of his ears. "Alright, I get it. I'm not Peter Pan, and I'm no Lost Boy. So no more cracking jokes." She smirked and started to say something, but as she formed the words, he snapped his fingers, and nothing came out. Magic? Should she be frightened, intrigued, or indignant. He chuckled and snapped again, and her voice returned mid-sentence. "...acting like a child, maybe I wouldn't poke fun at you." She drew the cover up farther around her, covering her chest and her scant clothing. "And by the way, what right do you have to take away my voice? You're the intruder. I should have you arrested." He rolled his eyes. "Right. Call the police and tell them you have a nameless pointy-eared fairy creature at your window. They'll come alright, and there'll be a lock-up, but it won't be me, and you won't go to jail; you'll go to the psych hospital." He was probably right, but he'd brought up another point. "Well, if you're going to sit in my window and spy on me in my skivvies, the least you could do is tell me your name." His face scrunched like a young boy's as he considered that. "If I tell you my name, will you let me touch your hair?" His odd request took her off guard. "Why do you want to touch my hair?" He held out a hand and made a motion like he was caressing it. "The silken black waves...they call to me. They shine in the dark." As he spoke, a soft blue light glowed around her, and she pulled a lock in front of her face. Her hair did shine, as if it had its own power source. Her eyes grew large, and she swallowed audibly. "Sure," she decided, awed by the magic he possessed. She wondered what the touch of a magical being – one who identified as a fairy-creature – would feel like. "My name is Link." An odd name, but she supposed that James or Mark wouldn't be magical enough. She nodded. "I'm Lydia. Come over here, and you can touch my hair." He hesitated for a moment, then seemed to glide across the floor as if his feet weren't even touching the ground. Link sat on the edge of her bed and reached out, barely brushing his fingertips over her crown and down the length of her tresses. "Your hair is perhaps the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His touch ignited something within, and she swallowed again, resisting the urge to run her hands over his face, his chest which looked rock hard beneath the suede vest he wore, and every other part of him. She felt as though she needed to explore him from head to toe, and she wondered if he wielded magic over her even now, implanting that desire in her. "What are you?" she whispered, and instantly winced at her forward question, which she had thought, and not meant to speak. His hand moved to her neck, her shoulder, and every place he touched, her skin heated like a flame had been held to it. "A nymph," he replied, his own voice soft as he watched her with curious eyes that changed colors from blue to aqua to green to yellow and back again, so bright she could even see them in the dark. Lowering his voice and pitch even further, he asked, "May I touch more of you?" Lydia's heart sped as moisture coated the space between her thighs at his words. She wanted his hands, his mouth, his body everywhere. But she needed to know one thing. In a shaky voice, she asked, "Why have you been watching me?" A hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips as his eerie color-changing eyes finally met hers. "Because you intrigue me. I feel a magic in you that draws me, and I don't think I've ever seen the likes of your beauty. And your hair..." He trailed off, combing fingers through it and drawing a moan of pleasure from Lydia. She didn't hesitate this time but leaned forward and touched her lips to Link's, wanting and needing to taste him. He complied, opening to her and letting their tongues mingle and dance together as their breath and heart rate quickened together and worked in sync. Whatever magic this was, the effect brought her to physical and mental ecstasy the likes of which Lydia had never dreamed possible. And as he sighed, she could tell Link fell victim to it, too. When he leaned into her, Lydia let him push her, and she lay back on her pillow, welcoming the warmth of his body as he lay on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him, afraid he would suddenly disappear and hoping that, if magic worked that was, clinging to him would mean she went with him. He slid a hand beneath her, caressing her back with the gentlest of strokes. "You sleep with no clothes on," he whispered against her lips. She shuddered deliciously. "I don't like to feel restricted. I like to be free." He drew away from her and smiled down at her, a seductive, mischievous smile. "Very convenient for peeping Peter Pans." She giggled, but he cut her short with a hand on her breast, the laughter ending in a gasp. She arched her back, wanting to feel more of him, and he complied, squeezing and molding her, pinching and tugging her nipple in obvious fascination. Her hands splayed over his chest, feeling the taut, hard muscles and the smooth expanse of skin, and she started to push the vest off his shoulders. She cried out as his clothing completely disappeared, leaving him as nude as she was, and she shifted so they were touching all the way to their toes. His erection pressed against her stomach, and she found his desire for her more erotic than anything she'd experienced in the past. Wrapping her arms around him and brushing fingers and palms over his wickedly perfect back, she wrapped one leg around him, urging him to move against her. He moaned, his mouth consuming her neck, her throat, and kissing its way down to her breasts. When he took one in his mouth, rolling her nipple around with his tongue and biting at it with gentle but sharp teeth, she cried out again, and without bidding, her body shuddered with a release that left her wet and begging for him to enter. Still, he didn't quit, and he slid down her body, kissing and licking until he reached the juncture between her thighs. When he suckled and licked at her clit, she found herself panting his name and fisting her hands in the thick, blond curls on his head. He lapped and laved until she came again in sweet, forceful release, writhing and whimpering with the intensity of the feeling. Link chuckled and crawled back up her body, and Lydia instinctively reached for his shaft, making him gasp as she curled her fingers around it and stroked tentatively, getting a feel for the size and shape of his cock. He was well formed, and she wanted desperately to feel him inside her as he thrust in her hand, helping her in her ministrations. Link pressed his lips to her shoulder once, then took her mouth again, making love to it with thrusts of his tongue and caresses of his lips. He nicked her lip with his teeth, but she barely noticed, taking pleasure in his attentions, including the hands that eagerly explored the rest of her body. They stopped on her hips, and she felt him shifting. She spread her legs in invitation, wrapping them around his back and linking her ankles together to hold on. He touched the tip of his head to her, begging entrance, and she thrust her hips forward, just enough so she could feel him pressing inside, his head throbbing with the need for more. Link took the cue, and in one long, slow stroke, found his way into the sheath of her. They shivered together, squeezing their eyes shut at the completeness of the connection, and when Lydia opened her eyes again, Link smiled down at her and raised his eyes to the room in a gesture telling her to look around. She sucked in a breath, not believing her eyes. One by one, candles appeared, hovering in the air and giving off a magical glow. And in their rings of light, silver glitter seemed to hang by the thousands of bits as if suspended in some sort of cloud. When she turned large, awestruck eyes back to Link, her heart raced. A faint blue aura shone from his body. He lifted one hand, and his palm was like a mirror. Staring at her own reflection, she barely recognized herself – ruddy pink cheeks, eyes glowing emerald green, lips swollen from kissing, and a purple haze around her, an aura of her own. "How did you do that?" she gasped. He shook his head. "I can do all the things you see here by wielding my magic, but I cannot do more than draw out your magic. You've done that to yourself, through your connection with me." He kissed her softly again, his palm cupping her cheeks, and she sighed. And he began a rhythmic thrust, almost like a dance atop her, drawing his cock out until only the very tip brushed at her walls, then reentering to the base of his shaft, massaging her pussy with his movements until she started to rock with him. Lydia's eyes rolled back in her head, and she lost herself in the act, passion overwhelming her as the magic she felt built inside her. She breathed in unison with Link, their hearts beating at the same speed, and on the back of her eyelids, she could see herself melting into Link until they were a single, glowing white being, hovering in the heavens above on a pair of thin, gossamer wings. For an instant, there was intense pain in her back, as if someone tore at her skin, and she winced, digging her nails into Link's shoulders. "Unbelievable," he whispered, holding still, buried deep inside her. Alarmed at the pain and his exclamation, she opened her eyes and pleaded with her gaze for an answer. But his hands were already running over the wings wrapping around them, a pair of translucent purple gossamer wings that moved as she felt waves of pleasure pour through her, wings that belonged to her. "You are part fairy," he told her, his voice full of disbelief, wonder, and admiration, all combined with the incredible desire and sexual tension between them. His fingers on those wings sent lightning bolts of heat through her body, and she reached for his hands, kissing his palms and rolling her hips in her own need to complete the coupling. She wrapped the wings around both of them, enveloping them in a cocoon which only the light of the candles could pierce. With an almost pained look, Link began moving again, faster and harder, almost desperate. They two clung to each other, grasping at limbs and shoulders and hips and hair. Their individual lights glowed brighter, swirling around each other within the veil of her wings, creating an incredibly beautiful show, and when she came again, fireworks exploded around Lydia. With a final thrust, Link cried out and joined her in the ultimate pleasure, his cum making her shout out his name as she felt his release and it drove her orgasm to new heights. Slowly, Lydia began to recover her breath as Link lay atop her, heaving for his own. She felt as if her lungs weren't big enough to support her body, and her brain seemed to be deprived of oxygen. All in all, she wondered if she hadn't dreamed everything, if perhaps she wasn't ill and delusional with fever. But when Link's fingers found her cheek and strummed it in a familiar, loving manner, she smiled and let the pleasure of that caress roll over her, her wings fluttering slightly at the affection he showed. After long minutes, Link rose above her and looked down, searching her face. "I think that explains a lot." His voice sounded soft but not weak, just tired and happy. She frowned at him. "I'm not sure what you mean." Before he answered, he drew himself out of her and shifted to lay beside her, on his side with his head on his crooked arm so he could look down at her with those strangely gorgeous eyes. "I've been drawn to your window for a long time. I managed to stay away for months, and then I couldn't any longer. I've watched you sleep, desperate to touch you and your hair." He ran a hand over the sweaty mess now, a smile playing on his lips. "And all this time, you've been suppressing a very important part of you without even knowing." Lydia shook her head, still not understanding. "But how could I be..." She trailed off. She couldn't imagine being a fairy. It sounded ridiculous to her ears, and yet, here she was, staring at a very attractive nymph who had just given her the most intense pleasure of her life. Mythical creature or not, there was something about him she wanted and needed, and he'd given her no reason not to believe in the reality of magic. "One of your parents is a fairy, Lydia, and they just never told you. But you are part fairy, and you carry more magic than any mere human could ever possess. On top of that, we were meant to have a connection, and that is why I was drawn to you, why you sensed me, and why you welcomed me in even if I seemed a stranger. In our hearts, we are not strangers." It all sounded so fatalistic, but at the same time, Lydia could feel it in her heart, that something lay between them, like a thread tying them together, one that was unbreakable. She stared into his eyes, trying to imagine how she could go about her life now, how she could continue to just go to work, come home, and do mundane things. As if reading her mind, Link laid a butterfly kiss on her lips and told her, "I hope you are ready for change. Your life cannot be the same. But I can teach you to use your wings, control your magic, if you wish. And I can make our love grow, give you everything you ever desired." She swallowed past a lump in her throat. Love. Yes, he was a stranger, but she knew him with everything she was, and she did love him. Overwhelmed with emotion and afraid to speak, she nodded and managed, "Thank you." His smile settled her, though it also made her body crave more of him, already. With a sinister smile, she ran one finger down the center of his chest and looked at him through lowered eyelashes. "Could you also show me more of this amazing coupling magic?" He chuckled seductively and rolled her over on top of him. "I am more than willing to aid in that." And he was, she could feel it.