Daddy's

by Helen Goodman

  Madeleine pushed back the covers and looked down at herself. She took off her undergarments and peered closely at her privates. How strange, this soft-furred mound. It felt so..vulnerable. And yet, whenever she kissed Stephen, a pleasing sensation emanated from it. Madeleine wondered. She lay back on the bed and moved her hand between her legs. It felt pleasing when she touched it. The dips and folds, and the lip between that was a fleshy bump. She grew moist when she touched it, and she found her eyes half-closing in pleasure as she stroked herself. What was this? She knew of the mermen who mated with the mermaids, but it was nothing like this. It couldn't be. Perhaps she was in heat, perhaps this was the right time to mate with Stephen.

  With that thought, Madeleine got up from her bed and cautiously opened the door. She had to make sure not to be seen. The corridors were empty. Quietly, she tiptoed down the hall to Stephen's bedroom. Without the slightest of sounds she crept in and closed the door behind her. In the moonlight, she could just make out Stephen's sleeping form on the bed.

  Quietly, she slipped under his covers and cuddled up behind him. Taking a deep breath, she reached across his body and felt for his manhood with her hands.

  Stephen was having an odd dream. Someone was fondling him most pleasingly. He felt his erection grow under the ministrations and suddenly jolted awake. He sat up and turned to see who it was.

  "Madeleine!" He whispered. "What are you doing here!"

  Madeleine said nothing. He could just make out a comforting smile in the darkness. Her hands did not stop stroking him. He gulped at the sensations she was creating. She stretched her arms further and slipped her hands under his waistband, touching his skin directly. A low groan formed in his throat as he felt her massage him gently but firmly, her soft fingers pliant on his arousal and soothing on his ball sacs.

  "Madeleine we can't..."

  She shushed him, turning so that they faced each other on the bed. She took his right hand and placed it under her night-dress. To his surprise he found that she was not wearing undergarments. His hand found warm, wet flesh between her legs. She shuddered visibly under his touch.

  Stephen breathed raggedly. This was never in the rule-book for castle etiquette. He had no idea what to do. Perhaps --

  "I will wed you," Stephen said under a groan. He brushed his fingers over Madeleine's soft pussy. "I will wed you in the morning, and we shall be man and wife. That is, if you agree," he said, almost-pained under her touch.

  Madeleine smiled with delight. She took Stephen's hand away and knelt by his lap. It was so strange, this protruding organ. And yet...

  Stephen's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt Madeleine's mouth engulf him. Her tongue circled the crown of his penis and he stiffened further in the wet glove of her mouth.

  "Aghh.. Maddie. Wait. We can wait...till tomorrow," he urged, pulling her head away and up toward him. Madeleine smiled silently and straddled him. In alarm, Stephen felt her legs part over him as she attempted to mount him. His stiff shaft pulsed warm and willing. Her pussy lips spread on either side of him. It took all of his willpower not to thrust up into her.

  "Madeleine, Madeleine," he moaned, lifting her off him and arranging himself. He reached out and turned on the bedside lamp. Her face was flushed with arousal. "Tomorrow. I promise," he said. Pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, Stephen led Madeleine back to her room.

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  Siobhan watched the scene in her pearl locket. She fumed inside. Still, she knew she had time to ensnare the unwitting prince. She waited till Madeleine was in her room before she crossed the grounds and entered Stephen's room. He turned, thinking it was Madeleine.

  "Maddie I told you-"

  Siobhan took a trinket from her pocket and crushed it. The silver mist that was Madeleine's voice wafted in the room and Stephen's eyes clouded over as he fell under her spell.

  Laughing softly with wicked glee, Siobhan led the hapless prince to his bed, where she undressed him.

  "Such a fine specimen, the little minx has chosen," she laughed. She stroked him to full hardness before spreading her legs and impaling herself on him. A deep, satisfied moan escaped her. "Ohhh the humans have something right, at least," she murmured. Arching her back, she rode the enchanted prince on and on, riding out the waves of her pleasure, till he spurted inside her.

  Dawn was breaking when Siobhan finally lifted herself off the prince.

  "Come now, Princey. It's time for a wedding."

  --------------------

  Madeleine could do nothing but stare in numb shock. The Prince stood before the altar with a strange woman by his side. She knew it was the sea-witch. It had to be. He loved her, she knew that.

  Flustered, she paced the castle grounds searching for a plan.

  It came to her, but it was an unconventional scheme. Still, it was all that she had. When the vows were taken and the newlyweds had adjourned to her conjugal chambers, Madeleine slipped to the sea.

  Her tears turned silver in the jade-green waters, and it was not long before her sisters emerged from the sea. Their faces were distraught when they saw her.

  "Madeleine, we knew you must've gone to the witch, oh Madeleine, what are we to do?"

  She was wordless, but Madeleine managed to convey her message to them through gestures.

  "We will do our best sister. The lagoon by the bay, bring her there at six. We will be there."

  Mary held Madeleine's hand before she left.

  "Be careful, sister."

  Madeleine nodded. She rushed back to the castle.

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  "So, you've come to your senses have you?" Siobhan laughed. She had a protective arm on her prince. He stood silent by her side. "Well, I see no reason why we shouldn't enjoy the little picnic you've prepared for us. And I know how much Prince here loves picnics,"

  Madeleine turned red.

  "Alright bring us to your little cove. I think I'll just hang on to this prince for a while more. He's very good in bed, you know," Siobhan cackled.

  The sky was just beginning to turn pink with dusk when they arrived by the lagoon.

  Madeleine led Siobhan to her seat by the water.

  "Well, it is very lovely indeed. I have to hand it to you-"

  Before Siobhan could finish her words, a flurry of mermaids emerged from the water and dragged her into it. Loud screams and thrashing followed.

  Madeleine knew she had limited time. The sky was fast turning red. She went to Stephen's side and removed his clothes. He sat, unmoving, caught fast in the spell. Frantic, she looked at him and tried to get him back to his senses, but he was unresponsive despite Siobhan's subduing. An idea flashed to her and Madeleine kneeled before Stephen. She took his cock in her mouth. He grew hard quickly under her soft, sucking mouth. She looked up with her eyes but his face was as expressionless as before. The skies turned ever darker. With her left hand she cradled his balls. She sucked on him with all her might, and suddenly she saw a muscle move in his face. His limbs shuddered and he orgasmed in her mouth. Blinking, Stephen looked down at Madeleine. "What the-"

  Down in the water, Siobhan morphed back into her usual form, since her enchanted one was suffocating underwater. A silvery mist spread through the water and to her delight Madeleine found her voice back.

  "Stephen! Oh, Stephen you were under a spell. Please, we have to make love, or I will turn back into a mermaid and belong to the sea-witch!"

  Stephen was slack-jawed, but he could see the mermaids thrashing in the water, trying to subdue the enraged sea-witch.

  Madeleine tore her dress and undergarments, and took his hand to cup her mound once more.

  "Please," she implored.

  A resoluteness came over Stephen's features and he pressed Madeleine against the sand. He spread her legs. The sun was close to setting, but he could not help but dip his head between her legs. She shuddered as he pleasured her with his mouth, feasting on her luscious wetness.

  "Please!" She cried, seeing the
orb of the sun dip at the corner of her eye.

  Stephen raised himself on his arms and fit his body to the curve of Madeleine's. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he pressed the blunt head of his manhood to her yielding mound. She nodded to him and he lowered his head to the nook of her shoulder and flexed his hips forward. Madeleine gasped and thrashed under him as she felt his warm flesh part her lips. A deep pleasure flooded her between her legs. Stephen's eyes were black with desire, and he plunged into her over and over. The sweetness of the sensations overcame them both and they shuddered in orgasm.

  Down in the water the sea-witch unleashed a piercing scream. The force of their love shot a shaft of white light into the water and she exploded into smithereens, till all that was left of her was greying pieces of fungus adrift in the waves.

  Madeleine panted from under Stephen. He looked down at her and laughed. She laughed too, and the sound of her voice was like so many pretty bells in his ears.

  She got up and thanked her sisters tearfully. They held her close and bid her farewell.

  There was a second wedding that day. It was held on the beach so that the merpeople could attend, and everybody was full of joy and celebratory spirit.

  And late that night, Madeleine found Stephen smiling against the skin of her shoulder, his strong hand snaking down between them to fondle her new legs.

  As she turned and received her lover, she knew that she had finally found where she belonged.

  The End.

  Cowpoke

  The girl kneeled on the hard-packed dirt, watching the cowboy pace in front of her with wary eyes. She hadn't been this terrified since the first time. The rowdy noise of woman-starved cowboys was simply a fence away. If they saw her, whether over the plank fence or through a loose board, or if either of them made too much noise, she doubted Richard could keep them from having their turn. Worse, she wasn't entirely sure he would even try.

  This certainly had not been the fate she'd expected when she'd responded to his tentatively scribed letters, which he'd shyly admitted to her were dictated to another. It didn't take long indeed for her to realize that all the shyness and romanticism of a tender young man was projected on the page from an innocent imagination. She knew that if she read those letters now, the voice reading them would be gruff and far surer of itself.

  "Take off your dress," he said quietly. The volume aside, there was no choice of refusing him in his tone.

  She unbuttoned the bodice, slipped it off to bare her tender skin to the air. She took a deep breath and her small naked breasts heaved. A moment later she had loosened the lacing at the waist of the skirt and pulled the fabric over her head. She gathered the clothing in her arms a moment, but laid them in the dust beside her. Any dirty place was as good as another, nearly. Besides, she hadn't felt clean these last few weeks and doubted she ever would again.

  Those were all the clothes he'd let her wear today, no decent under-things. She didn't need them, he said. Pretty clothes were useless out here, as were prim women. It was impractical in the Texas heat to layer on corsets, shifts and under-skirts, drawers and stockings and shoes. But still, they were layers she desired between the wild, Western men and herself.

  "I want you while I'm sittin' up against that fence. It better be good, or I might have to teach you a lesson."

  She tried to keep her mind from running through the lists of lessons she'd already learned, and the methods with which they had been taught. Neither list would help her give him what he wanted, except for inspire the enthusiasm he desired.

  Rough fingers stroked the sides of her face. She kept as slack as possible, letting him turn her chin from side to side, but his pants remained fastened for now. He leaned low and whispered again. She was sure no one on the other side of the fence could hear him speak, but there was no way to know he would stay so hushed.

  "That milky white skin of yours shows the lash so nicely." It had been a few days since that. He hadn't been as harsh as he could have; she had received harsher lashings from her father for lesser transgressions. But the marks still remained, pink across her soft buttocks and thighs. Then he'd taken another strip of leather and a leather awl and cobbled an old belt of his into a sort of chastity belt, with the wide band of leather pressing against her clit and holding apart her nethers. He'd made her wear it until the chafing made her come spill onto the leather.

  Kneeling, she was belt-high and she fixed her gaze on it. She wasn't afraid of either of the belts anymore, but she rarely raised her gaze above his waist. It was his eyes she was afraid of catching, hungrily looking at her, seeing her naked even when she was clothed, hiding thoughts of what he might next do to her to satisfy his lusts. They were her lusts, too, she was starting to realize. Her body grew wet for him, and sore as it was, it now accepted him easily within.

  Richard knelt in front of her, his clothes brushing against her naked, vulnerable body. He was older than her age of nineteen by about ten years, but those ten years had made him hard from head to toe. When he lay against her, she could feel every hard muscle and it only made her feel all the more soft. She might become less tender and soft as this hard life wore on her, but she still had sloping curves and pale skin, firm breasts. When his calloused hand cupped any part of her body, she felt like she was pressed against the roughness of a brick wall. And when his cock ravaged inside her, he might have been fucking her with a wooden pole.

  Still, as rough hands roved over her body now, she felt the tell-tale signs of her body succumbing to him. Her nipples puckered and her breasts tightened as he squeezed them. Her belly quivered a little when he stroked it and she felt that spot between her legs sending begging messages that he bring his fingers there. That was what had been most confusing to accept -- that she craved even his rough caress, his hard, impassionate fingers stroking between her legs.

  His hard hands explored her body ruthlessly. She thought there wasn't a place on her that he hadn't touched, but sometimes she was wrong and he found a new place, a new sensation. When she took his member into her mouth once, she hadn't understood how erotic the stroking and pulling of his fingers in her hair could be, for instance. She had thought she'd be diminished, gagging on his salty taste, but her scalp tingled pleasantly as he rubbed through her loose hair.

  "Move forward a little," he said, moving behind her. She moved one knee forward a scant inch or two, then brought the other to its side. She glanced over her left shoulder, hoping she wouldn't see anyone particularly tall walk by. The fence was high, but she could hear boots in the dirt and see the very tops of hats lope past. It was evening, but it was still plenty light, and the small town would fill up fast as the work day ended.

  "A little more," he said, a little louder and with a painful pinch on her backside. She dutifully obeyed and tried not to think about the fence or the lusts of the men she was barely hidden from.

  Richard sat down after removing his belt and unfastening his fly. His stiff penis bobbed as he got comfortable, shoulders against the fence behind him. He was reclining a bit, leaving her position farther in front of the fence than she imagined, but she tried not to think about it. This would be over soon and he would let her dress, hide her away again. He wouldn't risk allowing another man to father a babe on her, would he?

  His long legs pressed against her knee and calf, and he urged her to step over, straddling him. She felt so terribly exposed this way. She couldn't help but imagine his view, her ass-cheeks split and gaping like they needed a man between them, her round white thighs spread over his muscled ones. He moved and she could even feel his leather gun holster still strapped around his thigh, though he had unfastened his gun-belt.

  She looked down, tired of staring forward into the hushed barn. Staring forward without him in front of her only made her more afraid someone would approach and see their coupling, her humiliation. Instead she looked at his boots.

  He must have been admiring his view for a while, for he said and did nothing. Then he pressed his hand into th
e chasm between her legs, fingers tangled in her bush and wrist pressed up against her splayed labia. He flexed his fingers, massaging her pubis, reaching towards her hip bones and belly button, but what she could really feel most was the flexing of the tendons and muscles in his wrist, pressed hard against her clit. He pushed against her so firmly, he might have curled his bicep a bit more and lifted her right off the ground.

  She held in a whimpered, "Oh, God," and let him do as he might. He rubbed her and opened her more. She felt embarrassed that she was beginning to leak all over his forearm, as he pulled and rubbed and flexed. When he finally released her, she was more than ready for his cock. She might have behaved in all sorts of wanton ways to feel him inside her.

  "Lean forward." His whisper was hoarser now. She obeyed, putting her hands on the ground on either side of his knees. This position showed off her bum and she arched her back almost without thinking to open even more fully to him. If she thought about it, she might have been ashamed to arch her back like a cat in heat, but she was past some of that embarrassment now.

  Both of his hard-skinned hands roamed over her buttocks and down her open thighs. She imagined him leaning forward and licking her; it was a shocking thought and it made her close her eyes. He hadn't done that, not once, but if she could take him in her mouth, couldn't he do the same? He wouldn't though, she decided. She could feel it when his fingertips ran over the welted skin from her beating, and once or twice he followed a line across, dipping deep between her buttocks as it crossed the crease.

  A finger slipped into her wet hole unexpectedly. It dove deep and on the second thrust, was joined by another. It hurt a little, despite her readiness, because of the roughness of his fingers. Not to mention, he rarely left her alone, not since their first night together. He pounded into her without mercy night after night, and while she was quickly schooled and ready, she had no relief from the onslaught to recover. His fingers sawed into her, forcefully and without rhythm. Her body twitched in unwilling response and something inside her let go and drenched his fingers with lube. They slid more easily, but then he added a third finger, stretching her. Still, she began to rock with his movements, a little unconsciously.