SPELLBOUND: An Anthology of Erotically Retold Fairy Tales

by Spellbound- An Anthology of Erotically Retold Fairy Tales [Ravenous] (epub)

  The wind tickled the back of her neck. She turned her head to it. Elle had wandered to a dilapidated factory building propped beside a vacant overpass, in a part of the city she had never seen. Over-achieving college seniors never went to this side of the town. Even the homeless had found better places to spend this very cold New Year’s Eve.

  Elle saw a barrel in the alley between the overpass abutment and crumbling brick wall. The trash is where these love letters belong. She marched her frozen legs over to the metallic drum. The warmth from a small fire might even chase away the worst of this chill. It would certainly be a fitting end to all his empty words. Elle pulled Graeme’s lighter out of her pocket and looked at the inscription: Elle, to keep you warm until I return. He gave it to her the day before they parted.

  “Liar,” she sniffled. Elle lit the brown paper bag at the top of the barrel. The frozen paper wouldn’t light. She placed the last letter on top of the frozen garbage. The bejeweled lid slid to the side, revealing almost a decade of love letters. Yellow, white, pink and blue papers filled the box, folds betraying their origin, and childish handwriting giving way to young adult strokes. Removing a piece of white-lined paper from the stack, Elle unfolded it. Three postcards fell out.

  “Elle ma Belle,” it started in a hurried, masculine hand. “This letter will be short. I don’t have much time before we head out again, but I wanted to send my love. I’m getting razzed for the letters. The guys have started throwing stamps at me. I’ve started collecting them and will affixing them to post cards. My love always, Graeme.”

  “I want you back,” Elle whispered, and watched the words float away on the mist of her warm breath. A warm tear cut a course through the dam of frozen water on her lashes. Elle flicked the lighter. A flame appeared in her cold hands. She lit the bottom corner of the letter. A strangely heavy smoke enveloped her as the hot flames crawled up the letter, singeing the white paper into gray ash. Graeme’s words were faintly legible on the ghostly paper. Elle felt warmer.

  The smoke dissipated, and the cold returned like a million searing pin pricks. The wind blew the film of ash from her fingers. Elle picked up the three postcards. One was a fat lady holding a pumpkin. Another showed a black and white dog with a stick. The third showed mountains of dry sand. All said, “Graeme loves Elle: January 1, 2008.”

  “Tomorrow,” she hissed. They were supposed to marry on New Year’s Day. A week ago, she expected Graeme at the door. Instead she watched from her window as a dark sedan pulled up to the dorm. Two uniformed figures emerged. Elle flew down the stairs, certain the men were Graeme and his best man. She was at the door to welcome them before they had even made their way to the entrance.

  He’ll never be back. Strangers delivered the news coldly, with a note. Elle cracked the flame to life again.

  The orange and yellow heat caressed the three thick, dry postcards Elle fanned downward to meet the licking flame. As it rose, the thick smoke returned to caress her with strange warmth. Within the smoke, Elle felt touched and safe.

  She looked through the grey mist surrounding her. The cement buttresses of the overpass and crumbling brick edifice were obscured. The piercing rain disappeared. Is the storm over? she wondered. She saw a form; visible only by the swirling eddies of smoke.

  The postcards burnt to her fingertips. Elle dropped them. The fire and smoke died instantly. The figure was gone.

  Elle reached for another note. Paper still folded, she lit the corner. The smoke billowed up around her, thicker still. The figure returned: the outline of a man. His back was to Elle, and he was walking away. The figure came more into focus. He was strong, and in the patchy yellows and tans of military fatigues. He walked with a calm, slow gait. Elle knew that confidence. She knew that man.

  “Graeme!” she choked. He stopped and turned. She saw his face. Elle’s heart leapt to life.

  “Graeme!” she cried again, stronger in the assertion.

  He mouthed her name before the smoke faded. The paper was ash in her fingers.

  Elle blinked at the clearness around her. The stinging rain and biting wind assaulted her. She grabbed a handful of pages with a hand that shook more in excitement than cold. She lit the muddled-up collection of paper. The flame licked the letters in her grasp.

  The smoke came back thicker than before. Graeme returned.

  “Graeme,” Elle called, but she could not move nearer to him.

  “Elle! What are you doing here?” Graeme asked, running to her. The distance between them was gone with the thought.

  “How could you leave me?” she asked as his hands touched the skin of her face. She melted into the warmth of his strong fingers. She held his hands on her face, reveling in the glorious sensations his nearness brought.

  “No Elle. I could never leave you. I love you,” he said, stroking her hair with his free hand.

  “But the letter? It broke my heart,” Elle said, breathing in the musty smell of his uniform.

  “Elle, I’m so sorry. I was trying to come home. I really was.” His arms pulled her close. The rough fabric scratched her cheek. The smell of the fabric choked her. But beyond it was the familiar scent of their life of green grass, autumn leaves and warm dirt. It was a smell Elle never thought she would enjoy again. She grabbed the collar of Graeme’s shirt and pulled his face close to hers. He let her go. “Graeme, I never want to lose you again. Please don’t go.”

  “Elle, my love, you don’t have to lose me. We’re together now. We’ll be together forever,” he said, smiling.

  She kissed those playful lips, tasting the sweet happiness of him. The joy invaded Elle. She felt happy. Graeme’s mouth expertly explored hers. He knew just when to keep his lips soft, and went to thrust his tongue between her teeth to increase their intimacy and connection. Elle ached for that connection now, and Graeme responded to her need. His hands caressed her cheeks as he held her face. She arched her body against him, deepening the kiss any way she could.

  Amid the pleasure, a pain stung Elle’s left hand. She looked to see her hand was burning. She shook the fire out. With the flames went the smoke and Graeme.

  “Elle don’t go! Elle…” she heard Graeme’s plea in the evaporating fog.

  “Graeme!” she screamed, clawing the air he occupied moments ago. Panic gripped her chest worse than any cold or hurt. The smoke will make him come back.

  Elle spied the bejeweled shoebox atop the frozen garbage. “Graeme, I’m coming!” she called. She crumpled the top few letters, and stuffed them under the stack inside the dry cardboard container. She lit the wad.

  The smoke returned, congealing around her.

  “Elle,” Graeme breathed, warm at her check. His strong arms slipped around her again. His fatigues were gone. Now he wore the soft T-shirt and playfully worn denim she knew him in. “You felt cold. I got something for you,” Graeme smiled at her.

  “What?” she asked. Just seeing him again is enough.

  Taking her hand, Graeme walked Elle though the wall of the building. She knew she should have found it strange, but instead she was thrilled to find herself in a familiar room. One she hadn’t seen in years: the hotel room where they made love for the first time.

  “I wanted to bring you to the place we discovered passion together.”

  “Graeme, I missed you so much.” Elle leaned over to stroke familiar contours of his face.

  “I missed you too,” he smiled into her clear blue eyes. Graeme led her to the bed and removed Elle’s shoes and socks. The frozen fabric slid off like the weight of the world.

  Graeme kissed her. She tasted the pleasure of his lips and the warmth returning to her core. As they kissed, his large hands caressed her body. Her skin greedily drank in the sensations. She whispered his name, giddy with the pleasure of his nearness. She never thought she would feel him again. His hands stoked down her sides, followed by his mouth. He spoke endearments between each thirsty kiss.

  Graeme he unwrapped her, and Elle lay naked on the silken blankets of t
he bed. He lay beside her. He caressed the sensitive skin of her lower abdomen. “You are so beautiful,” he said. His voice was warm with love. His fingers dipped lower, searching for the pleasure spots within Elle’s silken folds. He knew everywhere she was most responsive. She couldn’t imagine anyone knowing her better. The gentle message sent ripples of desire through Elle. Her breathe caught in her throat. His touch became focused. Her release came. The pleasure was pure and explosive, producing tears at the corner of her eyes.

  As the pleasure of her orgasm faded, a different burning sensation began. Graeme, along with everything around them, began to fade from Elle’s view. Before she could stop it, she had returned to standing in the bitter cold, her finger scorched, her heart longing. This time, however, she knew what to do. She leaked some of the lighter fluid on the remains of the bejeweled box and cracked the flame to life.

  As she had hoped, the smoke and Graeme returned.

  “I knew you’d be back,” he said. He caressed a swirling lock of Elle’s blonde hair.

  She nuzzled his hand. “Nothing can keep me from you.”

  Once again, she gave him Graeme her hand and he walked her through the building. This time there was an ornate fireplace complete with a raging fire throwing off welcome heat. Elle had never been in this place before, but knew it immediately. Graeme had created the home they’d dreamed of making together. They were finally here.

  “Warm your toes,” he offered, lowering Elle to several large floor pillows. She breathed in the scent of the fire. It was amazing how cold she had gotten in their brief time apart.

  The heat of the fire warmed her body as but Graeme’s touch heated Elle’s core. He rubbed her feet with slow circles, kneading her strained muscles. Elle arched her back.

  “I missed your foot rubs,” she purred.

  “Let me make up for that,” Graeme said. He stroked her skin, trailing eddies of excited heat in the wake of an intoxicatingly slow advance up her legs and thighs.

  “You have a lot to make up for,” she warned playfully.

  His brow lifted over an impish twinkle in his happy blue eyes. Graeme stroked downward pulling the stress out of Elle’s toes as though he were weeding a garden.

  Elle curled her toes and purred at the electric relaxation. She leaned backward in a luxurious stretch across the soft velvet pillows.

  “I missed the sounds you make,” he said, his deep voice thick. He kneaded the pliable muscles of her legs again, and then moved to her hips. The movements of Graeme’s thick thumbs wreaked delirious havoc on Elle’s senses. He moved higher up to her waist and ribcage.

  Elle purred again, loudly. Graeme chuckled. She sat up slightly, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him onto her. She teased his ear with a lick. He tasted like a sweet homecoming. They kissed until she was breathless.

  “I’ve missed something else,” she said after a deep breathe. Graeme trailed a string of kisses down her long neck. Her hands toyed with the hem of his soft T-shirt, tickling the skin just above his jeans.

  Graeme chuckled again. “Me too.”

  Elle pulled his shirt off. The muscles of his chest and arms broadcast the skill of his profession. “Where did all these come from?” Elle asked, tracing the contours of his rippled body. She pushed him down onto the pillows.

  “You can thank Uncle Sam for those. But I did it all for you,” Graeme said kissing her on the lips. “I love you.”

  Elle removed the rest of his clothes with admiration of his new, firmer shape. Graeme helped her undress, enjoying the sleek contours of her body. “There was one part of you that didn’t need any extra firming,” Elle said playfully, running her hands along the length of his cock. She never tired of his reaction to her attention.

  It was his turn to purr, a rough grumble in his throat. She felt triumph in the sound. Elle kissed her way down Graeme’s body. She heard his heartbeat against her ear: strong alive, and pulsing with desire for her. She giggled, and kissed the firm skin of his abdomen. Her tongue followed the familiar line of hair down until she could wrap her mouth around Graeme’s erection.

  Elle caressed his base while her tongue swirled with all his favorite moves. His tormented groan was a heady triumph. She pumped faster.

  “Elle,” he moaned.

  Finally, unable to wait any longer, she sat up, put one leg on either side of his body, and hovered above him. Graeme pulled her down on his length. As she enveloped the thick silk, pleasure erupted within her.

  She was with Graeme, skin to skin. They were truly together. She focused on every glorious thrust, the soothing and familiar weight of him, and the tickle from the start of his stubble. They took their time. Their sweat washed the memory of their separation away.

  Finally they lay exhausted, limbs entangled, sweating.

  “Love you, Elle,” Graeme whispered into her heart.

  “I love you, too.” She cuddled closer, content.

  A warm light shone down on them. In the distance, Church bells rung in the New Year. Today was the day.

  Graeme kissed her again and helped her to her feet. When Elle looked down, they were dressed in their wedding clothes. “Are you ready?” Graeme asked, wrapping a cloak around her elegant white gown.

  Elle smiled, fixing the collar of his shirt. “I’ve waited for today for my entire life. It’s the happiest day of my life.”

  Graeme reached for her hand. “Mine too. Come on. Let’s go home together.”

  “Forever,” Elle agreed, taking his hand as they walked into the warm light in peace.

  Letting Her Hair Down

  By Ashlyn Chase

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair!”

  Rapunzel rolled her eyes and tossed her magazine onto the cold stone floor. She knew damn well who stood at the bottom of her tower, although she hoped beyond hope she might be wrong this time. She rose and glared out the window. Once again, it was the evil sorceress claiming to be her mother. “Crap,” she muttered.

  She sighed, reminding herself defiance useless, and gathered up her tresses. Her golden locks spilled over the windowsill and down the 70-foot stone wall.

  Rapunzel knew this twisted, onion-eyed freak couldn’t possibly be her real mother; but hadn’t yet discovered how she wound up with her. The woman wasn’t too bad as far as crazy mothers go; until Rapunzel turned 12. Then, the sorceress imprisoned her in a moldy old tower.

  “Frau Gothel,” Rapunzel called out the window. “Why can’t you use a ladder like normal people?”

  The woman stamped her foot. “I told you to call me Mommy Dearest! And if I left a friggin’ ladder lying around, someone would surely rescue—I mean, kidnap you! The world is a terrible, dangerous place. I’m protecting you from it.”

  The villainous old cow grabbed hold of Rapunzel’s beautiful silken strands and began hauling herself up.

  “Jeez! Ouch, oh, ow, ow, shit, damn, fuck, motherfucker, cocksucker, son of a bitch!” Rapunzel cursed fluently, thanks to a succession of uncles who were actually the sorceress’ suitors. The evil nut-bag climbed Rapunzel’s hair like a rope ladder, nearly pulling it out by the roots.

  “Now, now,” she cackled when she finally reached the top. “Don’t be rude. I brought you a sandwich.”

  “Bologna and cheese?”

  “What else?”

  “With lettuce and mustard?”

  “Oops. I forgot the mustard. Well, I guess I’ll just have to take the sandwich back down, slather some mustard on it, and come back.”

  “No!” Rapunzel coughed to cover her horror at the thought of enduring the worst case of hair pulling in history twice in one day. “No, that’s all right. I’ll eat it this way. I like stale bread covered in fat, cow parts and nitrates. Mm. Yummy.” She patted her stomach.

  “Oh good. Only the best for Mommy Dearest’s precious one-and-only. Now, eat up.”

  Rapunzel took a bite of the sandwich and mumbled around it as she chewed. “So, are you ever going to tell me about my real parents?”
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  The pockmarked sorceress heaved a huge sigh. “Oh, I suppose so. After all, you’re an adult now and you can probably handle the truth.” Under her breath she added, “Besides, you’re trapped here and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Rapunzel perked up her ears.

  “As you know,” Frau Gothel began, “I have a terrific vegetable garden, lush with every type of salad green, plus tomatoes, carrots, onions and celery.” Rapunzel nodded. “Many years ago, in that garden grew a plant called rapunzel. It’s particularly delicious in salads, and I noticed one of my neighbors coveting it. One night, her husband climbed over my fence and stole some!”

  Rapunzel gasped. Having been threatened for years with all the dastardly things the skanky bitch could do to punish her if she didn’t cooperate, she couldn’t imagine what the poor man must have endured. “What did you do to him?”

  “Oh, nothing. We made a deal. He could have my rapunzel, if I could have their first-born child. And that, my precious, was you!”

  Rapunzel stood with her jaw agape. “They traded me for a vegetable?”

  “I’m afraid so, dear. So, you see? You’re much better off with Mommy Dearest who loves you more than a salad ingredient.”

  Rapunzel’s knees went out from under her and she landed on the cold, stone floor. “Crap!” She lost her appetite and set the sandwich aside.

  “Well, I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time.”

  “Yes, Frau—I mean, Mommy Dearest.”

  “That’s better,” Frau Gothel patted Rapunzel on the head, climbed over the window ledge, and slid down Rapunzel’s long hair like a fire pole.

  “Ouch, ow, ow, shit, damn, fuckin’-a!”

  When the hag reached the bottom, she called up to her. “Don’t forget to eat your bologna and cheese sandwich. It has all the food groups in it. I take good care of my girl, don’t I?”