Fifty Shades of Sleeping Beauty (9 page)

As the head entered her, she writhed and howled on the bed, her feet kicking out. Worrying that he had hurt her, the king stopped but she glared at him.
“Deeper, you bastard! Bloody well fuck me - now!”

His smile returned and, with a buck of his hips, he thrust another inch more deeply into her, making her howl once more. As her legs kicked, he grabbed her slender thighs and pulled them up so that her legs were wrapped about him, her feet resting on his buttocks as he pushed harder into her. “Oh yes! Oh yes!” she began to whimper. “Fuck me! Harder, you bloody bastard!”

A lifetime of repression and a century of frustration had weighed heavily on the young princess, and she thrust her own hips up, trying to pull him into her so that the head of his cock would slam into his womb. Soon, sweat was beginning to pour off both of them and Osiman held himself up on his arms, looking down in triumph on his precious princess as he slammed into her, making her body tremble with each thrust.

This time there was no nightmare. In this waking dream, Talia was not shown paradise only to have the promise snatched away from her. As
Osiman’s cock ploughed her cunt vigorously, so her climax began to build, a violent orgasm that swept through her body as her juices sluiced his way more easily, her buttocks shuddering with each powerful thrust.

“Oh, by the gods!
Oh, bloody hell! Oh yes! Yes! YES!!!!”

Her voice was like a crack of thunder that filled not only the room but the whole castle. Lights shone in front of her eyes and her head felt as though it would explode with pleasure.
Osiman’s climax followed not far behind, his erection quivering as his seed began to ripple along its length, and Talia discovered to her utter delight that her own powerful orgasm was redoubled by the sensations of her lover exploding inside her.

As they lay there, gasping together, the king still lying between her legs, she reached her arms around him and hugged him tightly, as though to absorb him into her. It was only after a
few moments of exhaustion that she realised that she was no longer bound up, her manacles having mysteriously vanished.

“The spell,”
Osiman said between panting breaths. “It’s broken. Your family, everyone in the castle, soon they’ll wake.”

“Oh,” said Talia a little disappointed - and feeling guilty at her own selfishness. “I suppose they will. That means they’ll come looking for me soon.” A sly smile spread across her face. “I don’t suppose we have time for one more before they get here,
do we?”

Osiman
, so handsome and perfect as he lay beside her, returned her smile. “My princess,” he replied, “I am yours forever. There will be plenty of time for whatever you desire once I have made you mine.”

Talia’s only response was to let out a whoop of joy as the king stepped from the bed and, with a swift motion of his powerful arms, swept her up from the bed and, both of them completely naked, carried her towards the door.

A cockerel crowing somewhere outside woke Queen Isis. Her head was fuzzy from the depth of her sleep and it took her a while to wonder why she had fallen asleep in her clothes - and, indeed, to remember why it was that she was in the king’s bedchamber. For his part, Magnus lay on his back, snoring loudly.

“I must have dropped off,” she said, partly to him but more
to no-one in particular. She had the vague sensation that she had something important to tell her husband which is why she had come to his room, but for the time being she couldn’t remember for the life of her what it was.

Pushing herself up onto one arm, she looked at her husband who was sleeping like a baby. Now in the prime of his life, Magnus looked even more solid and manly than he had when she married him, but while Isis herself barely looked a day older than when she had first come to his palace, grey hairs were now beginning to appear on the king’s head. Not that she minded a jot: she still loved him.

As she reached out to touch him, her gentle fingers made him jump to startled wakefulness. “What! What? Fire and damnation! What’s going on?” He looked confused for several seconds until he saw her and smiled.

“My,” he said quietly. “What a dream I had.” He frowned at the recollection of it. “How long was I asleep?”

Isis looked around them. It was broad daylight outside. “Not long,” she said uncertainly. Certainly the sun didn’t appear to have moved much, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they had slept for a very long time indeed. Had they lain together all night and into the next day? Surely someone would have interrupted them before then.

Her thoughts were disturbed by Magnus reaching up and gently tugging her sleeve. “Mind you,” he said with a smile on his handsome face, “I’m glad you slept with me, even if we didn’t get up to any jiggery-
pokery. I can’t believe we don’t do this more often.”

With a laugh, she allowed him to pull her down to his face and kiss her deeply. She told herself that there was a very good reason why she had resisted the temptations her husband offered, but now his lips tasted too good to miss.

After only a few moments kissing and canoodling (with Magnus’s hands following their own merry way across the queen’s body), everything suddenly came back to her in a flash.

“Talia!” she exclaimed. “We must find her now!”

“Oh, our daughter won’t mind us enjoying ourselves just a bit longer,” he replied.

“She’s in trouble! Something
terrible’s happened! Don’t you remember? It’s why I came to find you before we fell asleep.”

The king looked confused for a few moments then his mouth dropped as the terrible memory returned. “By the gods!” he yelled, leaping from the bed. “If anyone’s harmed my daughter, I’ll hang them with their own guts!”

Spurred into action, he fled from his chamber towards the throne room, yelling for guards as he did so and followed by the queen, who hoisted her skirts to pursue him more quickly. She was more than a little surprised to see so many drowsy people, some of the guards hastening to stand to attention as the king passed and evidently embarrassed that they had fallen asleep on the job.

Bursting into the throne room, Magnus bellowed at the top of his voice: “Guards! Guards! Where is my daughter! Find her now!” Storming ahead, he was followed by Isis who let the doors close behind her as around them various courtiers and soldiers rubbed their sleepy eyes.

“What’s been going on?” Magnus demanded. “Has my court decided to doze off while the King went about his kingly duties with the Queen?” The sharp crack of his voice made the guards nearest to him snap to attention. Jabbing a finger at the nearest of them he ordered: “I want my daughter found - now! Do you hear? I want no stone of this castle left unturned until she is brought to me!”

As the soldiers began to run around in a panic and courtiers bustled about to cover their disgrace, the doors at the far end of the courtroom swung open and a voice loudly declared:

“There’ll be no need for that, your Majesty. Your daughter is safe and well.”

Turning to squint towards the open door, Magnus’s mouth dropped in astonishment. “Bloody hell!” he gasped. “You’re stark bloody naked!”

And so the young man was, and in his arms he carried an equally naked woman who clung to his shoulders.

It seemed to take King Magnus a few moments to adjust his eyes, for he did not
recognise his daughter at first. When he did, however, he asked incredulously: “Talia? Is that you?” Then a terrible realisation dawned on his face. “Guards!” he shouted. “Arrest this man, immediately!”

“Oh, daddy!”
Princess Talia cried out in a clear, ringing voice. “Stop being such a bore!” As men rushed towards the pair, she slipped from Osiman’s hold and pressed herself against him, giving a little wiggle of her bum as she felt his manhood pressing into it. The guards, faced with the taboo of a very naked - and very beautiful - princess, stopped in confusion.

“What the hell is going on?” Magnus yelled. “Will someone please explain? And why, by the gods, are you standing naked with this... man!” A stream of vile curses had filled the king’s brain, but he refrained from saying them.

“It’s the curse,” said Isis, her own face starting to become softer. “It’s been lifted.”

It was now his wife that Magnus stared at incredulously.
“The curse? What curse?”

Isis turned and looked at him, shaking her head in amusement. “You
know,
the
curse. The one we’ve been living in fear of since almost the day Talia was born.”

“That’s right, daddy,” Talia said, coming forward.
Some of the guards, more chivalrous than the others, turned their backs so as not to see her lovely form. The others just ogled. “Lucky bastard,” one whispered to his neighbour. “I’d give her one.”

“I’d give her a hundred,”
came the reply.

Holding
Osiman’s hand, Talia led him to the foot of the throne. “Father,” she said. “This is King Osiman, and he’s the one who woke me from my slumber, and so lifted the curse from the entire palace.”

Magnus’s face was twisted with various emotions - relief, fear, astonishment, anger - and then something his daughter had said echoed in his befuddled brain.

“Wait a minute,” he said quietly, “did you say, ‘King’?” Then more loudly: “King!”

“I’m afraid it’s true,” said
Osiman, coming forward and standing as boldly as though he was dressed in all his regal finery rather than as naked as the day he was born. A few of the women in the room tittered behind their hands at the noble sight and even Queen Isis raised an eyebrow. “In the time that this spell was laid upon your castle, things have... rather changed in Nysa.”

“Changed?
How?” Magnus’s face was suspicious.

“Well, you were asleep for a
very
long time,” Osiman began to explain slowly.

“How long?”

“A century. Perhaps a bit more.”

“A... a century?”
Magnus fell back in his throne as though he had been hit, and a collective gasp rose from the court.

“My ancestors, the descendants of
Osiman the Mighty, conquered your kingdom as you slept, and we have ruled these lands during all that time.”

Queen Isis pursed her lips. “I thought I saw the resemblance,” she said quietly, coming nearer to
Osiman. “I knew your great-great-great-great-great grandfather.” The recollection seemed to make her go misty-eyed for a moment.

“But... but what has happened to my people? We must call up the army, to defend and liberate them!”

“A bit late for that!” a voice called out from the other end of the throne room.

“Bloody hell!”
Magnus cursed. “What hope is there to defend my kingdom if I can’t even protect my throne room from unannounced visitors?”

The queen, however, had bounded away from the throne. “Serena!” she cried out joyously, ignoring the other, shadowy figure
who followed her some paces behind. “What brings you here?”

“The same thing that woke you up,” her sister replied, beaming happily at the queen’s embrace. “I
realised the spell had been broken and I rushed here as quickly as I could.” She looked over Isis’s shoulder and shouted to Magnus. “You don’t need to worry about the people of Nysa. Things were a bit grim in the first few years, but this one has proved himself a very worthy regent in your absence. In any case, if you remember you were never that good at raising an army.”

At this, Magnus slumped back into his seat grumpily, not looking at anyone around him (and especially not the handsome, naked man who held his daughter by the waist). “Well, thank you very much,” he said sarcastically in the general direction of
Osiman, “for rescuing my daughter. Now, if you’d just like to piss off perhaps I can get back to the general business of ruling my kingdom.”

“I think you’ll find it’s
my
kingdom now,” said Osiman, a fierce pride entering his face.

Seeing her father prickle at this, Talia intervened between the pair. “Now, now,” she said hastily. “It can always be difficult meeting the in-laws for the first time, but let’s not do something we’ll all regret.”

“In-laws?” burst out Magnus. “Are you bloody telling me you’re planning on getting married?”

Seeing an opportunity for some diplomatic negotiation,
Osiman gently pushed his way past Talia and dropped to one knee.

“If it please your Majesty, and were you gracious enough to accede to my request, then I do indeed ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

At this, Magnus began to bluster but Queen Isis came to the pair and touched Osiman lightly on the shoulder. “Of course he’d be delighted to accept, we both would.” She gave Magnus a stern look as he began to protest at which he deflated.

“Very well,” he replied testily. “I accept. But for the gods’ sakes, get some clothing to cover you both up. Your immodesty is... somewhat daunting.”

“I’ll say,” Isis breathed. Catching herself, she looked at her daughter and winked. “You’ll be a very lucky woman.”

As a general air of exuberance
began to settle on the court (and Osiman and Talia were hastily garbed to protect Magnus’s pride), the shadowy figure who had accompanied Serena began to draw away. Seeing this, the witch plucked the stranger’s robe.

“Come on, you. You have some explaining to do.”

Reluctantly, the stranger was brought forward to the throne.

“And who’s this?” Magnus asked wearily. “Someone to tell me that my bathroom has been overrun by rodents with oversize cocks?” Isis poked his ribs at this, but then she turned her attention to the stranger with a frown.

Slowly, the figure lifted the front of its robe, and the king (or kings), queen and princess saw a woman’s pair of hands emerge, long painted nails reaching up to draw back the veil that covered her face.

“Bella!” cried Talia joyfully.

“Bellatrix!” Magnus and Isis hissed.

“Who?” asked
Osiman.

And indeed it was the third sister, looking mournful as everyone about her was happy. Serena came behind her wayward sister and gave her a sharp poke from behind.

“You have something to say, don’t you?”

Bellatrix nodded but instead of speaking looked at the floor downcast.

“I should have you thrown into the deepest pit so that you never see the light of day again!” Isis scowled at her sister.

“Steady on, dear,” Magnus murmured, shocked at his wife’s sudden change of mood. However,
realising that something more supportive was required, he added: “Speak, woman. Explain yourself - before we do indeed take you to the dungeons.”

Bellatrix raised her face and stared first at Talia, who looked on in confusion, and then to her sister, the queen.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last.

“Sorry!” Isis’s face was almost red with fury.
“Bloody sorry! After all you did!” She was about to launch into a terrible fit and strike her sister when Talia rushed up between the two women.

“Stop it! Don’t fight!” she cried. “This is Bella!”

“That is your bloody bitch of an aunt!” Isis cried back, causing Talia’s face to register a look of shock.

“Oh dear,” the young woman said quietly to herself. “That’s awkward.” She gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry,” she told Bellatrix, “I was going to come to your
defence, but I think under the circumstances it could, well, you know, get a bit complicated.”

Bellatrix nodded stiffly but returned her attention to her sister. “I know what I did was wrong. There’s not been a day I’ve not regretted it for the past hundred years. I’m not going to make excuses and I’ve come here to accept my punishment - whatever it might be.”

At this, the queen drew herself up imperiously and opened her mouth to pronounce judgement, savouring the moment when she could sentence her sister to death. Seeing this, however, Osiman hastily intervened.

“
Your Majesties,” he said, “if I might be so bold as to suggest a punishment that would be fitting, this would resolve to the honour of both our houses.”