Pussy in Boots (Naughty Fairy Tales)

by Fox, Georgia

  She grunted into her gag and heard his soft, low chuckle growing nearer. His hand stroked her hair and then lifted it forward, over her shoulder. She felt his breath on her nape, as he whispered, "I've decided to give you just one chance to plead on your master's behalf. If he wants my niece, I assume he sent you to win my good will, not my animosity. Hmmm?"

  She swayed against the wall as he moved her tail, playing with it.

  "So if you show me your tongue again, as you did in the courtyard earlier, or if you show me any bold defiance, your master will suffer, will he not?" He leaned closer and she felt his warm, bare cock pressed against her bottom. "Perhaps you don't want your master to get what he desires, is that it? Perhaps you came to sabotage his quest to win my niece's hand in marriage."

  His hands stroked down her back, from shoulders to waist, his fingers splayed wide.

  "Only a very naughty, badly-behaved slave would act as you have done this evening in my presence. I begin to wonder if this Marquis ever sent you to me at all. Did you come to me of your own accord, to make trouble? Do you act out of jealousy, to thwart your master's plan?"

  He slid one long-fingered hand under her tail and spanked her lightly.

  "If you are here for his good, you will perform to my pleasure this evening and comply with my every wish. Then I shall look upon your master with favor in the matter of my niece."

  His fingertips crept into her crack, moving the plug again so that breath caught in her throat and the ominous pulsing began again deep in her cunny.

  "And I shall look upon you with equal favor, my pretty slave."

  She heard and felt the clicks as he unfastened the chains that held her pussy cup in place. He took it from her, so that only the anal plug and pony tail remained. Reaching between her legs he used two fingers to gently rub the crest of her labia, exerting pressure so that the waves built quickly.

  "Lift your arse toward me. Arch your spine. Present yourself."

  He held her tail aside with his free hand, presumably so he could watch as he manipulated her toward orgasm.

  She was wet again already. The harder he worked his fingertips over and inside her quim the tighter her bottom clenched on the anal plug. And that aroused her until she felt sure there was steam coming out of her ears. The mere whisper of his voice, blown against the nape of her neck had started it. As his fingers slid into her, he too must have felt her slippery desire quickening and he laughed. "Doesn't our honey flow sweetly? Your body at least is obedient."

  She pushed back, desperately wanting to finish this time, but he withdrew his fingers. Left her in a fevered state of want once more.

  "You come only when I say you can," he whispered, blowing in her ear. "Now I own you and your twat. I own your pleasure."

  She moaned into her silk gag, which was moist with heated breath.

  He slapped his hard cock against her bottom and the sound echoed in that chamber, flesh smacking flesh. Oh Christ, she wanted that cock inside her. Cat's body betrayed her in this man's presence. He knew how to irritate her and how to excite her. All while she was helpless, bound and captive.

  Cat pushed further back, moving her hips. With her ankles held far apart by the rod cuffed between them, she had no hope of reaching her own pleasure until the Comte allowed it and now he tormented her with his big, heavy, hot cock, slapping it back and forth over her cheeks. Then suddenly he pushed the broad head at her pussy lips. She gasped.

  Oh please yes. Yes!

  The bastard held it there, chuckling at her distress, while her sticky dew trickled down her inner thighs and coated his crest. She could smell her sheer need. And his. She ground herself against his phallus, moaning deeply, but he stepped back a few inches, until she could only just feel his damp cockhead brushing her labia.

  He took the plug from her clenched anus and that sudden release made her juices flow even stronger, left her gasping. Her heart leapt in excitement. She was near dizzy with it, pushing her hips back, her body begging him for release. Now her arse was emptied, it wanted filling again. His hands reached around her and unclipped the chain from her nipples. He caressed and cupped those pert bubbies, while pressing his manhood against the crack of her arse.

  "Do you want me to mount you, pretty slave? Do you want your master's cock to ravish you where you stand?"

  She nodded frantically, shameless.

  His lips kissed the back of her neck, a touch as soft and luxurious as velvet. "Shall we go at it like dog and bitch? Shall I make you squeal as I fill you with my seed?"

  She nodded again and felt his hot tongue touch her ear.

  Suddenly he sneezed.

  If she wasn't gagged she would have laughed.

  Just when she thought he would impale her backside on his wondrous shaft, he withdrew again. "I don't believe you know yet, what an honor it is to be fucked by your new master."

  Cat almost choked on her gag. Her face was burning hot, her breasts in his hands felt heavy, swollen to twice their normal size. Had he put something in her wine, she wondered? Some herb to heighten her sensitivity?

  He stepped further away. His hands left her body and she shivered.

  "Come slaves," he muttered.

  For the first time she heard the sounds of someone else in that room. She'd been too distracted to hear it before. Their breathing was scattered, their sighs excited.

  "My new recruit needs to learn by your example."

  Cat's senses reached out into the frustrating darkness. Longing to see, longing to share the pleasure those other slaves were about to know.

  "Bend over," she heard him command. "Side by side. Good slaves. Ah yes. How lovely you look, pussies lined up together. Which one of you shall I have first?"

  At once the other slaves cried out, pleading for his cock.

  If not for her blindfold, Cat would have rolled her eyes. What could be so special about his manhood?

  "This one I think." He grunted. One of the slaves gasped in delight and Cat heard the rapid smacking of flesh to flesh. The Comte's harsh, rasping breaths filled the room and to her horror, the churning arousal mounted again in her cunt. Several minutes later the sounds ended abruptly and then began again. This time the other slave cooed and groaned, her voice higher than the first girl. Before long he was clearly alternating, plunging in and out of both girls at will, while they giggled and gasped, crying out for him, competing playfully with one another.

  Cat knew she should feel disgust, but she was too hot and sticky. Her pulse pounded in her temple. She did not like to be left out.

  Apparently the Comte knew this.

  When he was done, he came close to her again and kissed her perspiring brow. "If you show me every obedience tomorrow, you will have your turn next. I will save myself for you, my pretty slave."

  He reached between her thighs and ran his fingertip up over her pussy all the way to her anus, testing her wetness, laughing softly at what he found. With no more than that teasing last caress, he left her.

  She was furious. Damn him. She would get her revenge for that.

  Chapter Nine

  The Comte rose the next day early, eager to resume the new slave's training. By tonight she had better be ready for his bed, because he was more than ready to have her there.

  It was the first of May and his castle was unusually merry—like his mood. Bowers of greenery, gathered from the forest, hung over every door, filling the air with the freshness of spring. Clouds of blossoms, gathered in fat bunches, arrayed his table and decorated the breast of every guard, as well as the hair of every slave girl.

  Today he must discuss, with his niece, her prospective suitors, including this mysterious Marquis. But first, he wanted to see his new slave. While he shaved, he sent Gideon to fetch her.

  Half an hour passed and the guard did not return.

  Hearing a ruckus in the yard, the Comte looked out, just in time to see a slender black cat darting through legs and leaping over tumbling baskets as people tried to escape Gideon's
path. The Comte stared, infuriated. Why was the guard chasing a damned cat, when he was sent to fetch the slave girl?

  As he watched, the cat narrowly missed a trampling under horse hooves, outran two madly barking hounds, and slipped out under the lowering portcullis with only inches to spare.

  The Comte dropped his razor into the basin and cursed. What the Devil was going on?

  He threw his robe over his shoulders and ran down the tower steps, meeting Gideon half way. The guard was breathless, drained of color.

  "My lord, the girl was gone. All that remained was that cat. When I unlocked the chamber door it ran out between my legs. Frightened the life out of me."

  "Gone? How could she be gone? Has spring madness gone to your head, man?"

  Gideon shook his head, looking bewildered. "I assure you, sir, the chamber is empty."

  "But I left her bound by her wrists and with the spacing rod between her ankles."

  The guard had nothing to say. Pale as a ghost, probably assuming he would be held responsible for this, he could only shrug haplessly. Together they returned to the dungeon, where those leather cuffs dangled empty.

  Maximillian Rafael, fifth Comte de Falaise, had never lost a slave in his life. Rage ripped through him. He'd been thwarted, tricked. But he'd get his hands on her again, no mistake. Oh yes, he'd make her sorry for this.

  "I'll lead a search party into the forest, my lord, she can't have gone far."

  The Comte ground his jaw, disappointment settling heavily in his loins. She'd somehow bewitched him into wanting her, despite her defiant attitude. Truly it would be time consuming to bring her to order and he was a busy man with far more important things on his mind, than one naughty slave girl who refused to play the submissive.

  But he wanted her back.

  And there was one way to do it without chasing after her. He spun around to the guard, who jumped a few inches in fear, awaiting his master's wrath.

  "Gideon, you will find out where the Marquis de Revellaux lives and invite him to visit so that my niece can become acquainted."

  The guard's color began to return. "The Marquis, my lord?"

  "That's right. I might have chosen my niece's future husband. Especially if he agrees to my demands." The Comte smirked, his rage melting away. "I have something he wants—the Lady Serena. And he has something I want."

  Gideon looked down at his feet and mumbled a sad, weary, "Yes, my lord."

  ****

  Peter splashed water on his face and stared down at his quivering reflection in the wash basin. He supposed he wasn't much to look at. He tried out a few smiles, but none looked genuine today. He hadn't had much sleep—been too restless, worrying about that stupid cat all night. Well he'd have to cheer himself up if he meant to entertain Lady Serena today by the stream. She always said she liked it when he made her laugh.

  He grabbed a rag to dry his face and that was when he happened to glance out of the window. The sun was glorious that morning, the air full of pollen and birdsong.

  And there was his cat, strolling leisurely down the path, tail cocked high, feet padding gracefully, eyes wide and tiny black nose in the air. Butter wouldn't melt.

  Peter's heart lifted.

  He threw his rag down and pushed the shutters further open. The sun's warm caress touched his brawny forearms. "There you are, damned cat! Where the Hell have you been?"

  As if in absolutely no hurry, the creature paused to watch a dandelion seed float by. When it caught on her whiskers, she swept it away with an arrogant paw and then trotted on into the cottage, heading straight for her waiting saucer of milk.

  "So you came back, eh?" Peter laughed, amazed at how quickly his day became brighter. "Found out the grass isn't always greener, I suppose."

  She crouched, purring, and then that little pink tongue stabbed rapidly into the milk. Poor thing was thirsty. She was all in one piece though and back safely. Her coat was sleek and shiny as ever, her glossy tail sweeping back and forth over the stone floor as she enjoyed her milk.

  Peter pulled on his tunic and then bent down to stroke the creature's small, sun-warmed head. With one finger he tickled behind her ears and she rubbed her head against his knuckles, her purr growing louder.

  Really, he thought, it wasn't manly to make such a fuss of one, fairly useless little stray cat. And he spoiled her enough as it was. Then she repaid him by leaving him to worry all night!

  "Don't think I missed you, cat," he muttered, even as he continued scratching behind her pricked ears. "You need me more than I need you. Who else would feed you and give you a warm bed every night?"

  The cat rolled over, paws in the air, tapping at his hand playfully, milk shining on her whiskers.

  "I'll forgive you this once," Peter whispered, pressing a finger lightly to her little nose. "Don't…" tap, "do it…" tap, "again!"

  ****

  It was good to be back. Only one thing blotted her blue-sky: Peter's continuing fascination with Lady Serena. She had hoped that over time it would fade and he would see through the woman's innocent act. Now that she knew about the lady's rich suitors and all the gifts they offered her uncle by way of a bribe, Cat was even more certain that Serena had no serious intentions for Peter. She merely toyed with the carpenter for her own dark amusement, teasing him with flashes of breast, letting him kiss her on the mouth—and all of it while Gideon watched from behind a tree. Serena knew the guard was there. On several occasions, Cat saw the lady looking over and smiling in Gideon's direction while Peter kissed her. The wench tormented both men, but only one was aware of it.

  If only Peter was not so thick headed, so blinded by his lust.

  At night, in his bed, she doubled her efforts to keep him enthralled, acting out every fantasy as he wanted it. Surely, one day, he would realize that Serena could never give him all the things he got from his dream lover. Surely.

  Often she found herself thinking of the Comte and how he'd tried to tame her. The man must have been furious to find her gone that morning. The moment the sun reached in through the high, barred dungeon window, she'd transformed back into a cat again and slipped easily out of her bindings. Thankfully.

  Although she wished it was not the case, the thought of his masterful, demanding touch, and his whispers against the nape of her neck, still caused a wicked little shiver of excitement. He, like his niece, enjoyed tormenting people. But Cat had a feeling she'd tormented him just as badly as he did her. Certainly, when he found her escaped, he must have wished he'd fucked her when he had the chance, not teased her unmercifully all night.

  Serve him right. Arrogant bugger. He'd left her wanting. Then it was her turn. Payback.

  She wouldn't go there again. Not for all the cream in the country. Even if the thought of his hands on her breasts again, lit the flames of desire in her cunny.

  She let that energy build inside her and she shared it at night with Peter and his lovely, obliging, never-withheld cock.

  "You're a lusty wench," he moaned happily as she bounced on his shaft and his hands gripped her buttocks tightly. His eyes were closed again, of course, and she let him think he dreamed. Meanwhile her mind wandered again to the way the Comte had treated her, whipping her arse and making her wear a horses tail. How dare he? Bastard. Horny old bastard.

  Making her listen while he had his way with other women after leaving her in a state of high arousal and no way to satisfy it.

  She rode Peter harder, her pussy creaming all over his thick cock.

  There, take that, my lord. See me now? Now I'm coming without your blessed permission.

  How she wished she could do this in front of the Comte. Tease him, leave him panting and rock hard. She would bind his hands behind his back, tie his legs to that spacing bar. And gag him. Oh, but these wouldn't blindfold him. She'd make certain he saw it all.

  She rose up, switching from her knees to her feet so that Peter's dick penetrated from a new, deeper angle. Squatting in this wide open pose, she lifted herself until his
cock was almost all the way out of her pussy. Peter groaned and grabbed her hips, trying to force her down on him. She laughed, pushing his hands away.

  She imagined the Comte watching her, staring at her sex as she lowered and raised on Peter's gleaming wet cock.

  "Fuck me," Peter groaned, jerking under her, grabbing his balls in one hand. "Yes, fuck me."

  So she did, impaling herself over and over again, faster and faster, pumping up and down on his hot shaft until he cried out, almost in agony.

  Oh, yeah he liked that. She closed her eyes and pictured the Comte's mute fury as he spat into his gag and watched her cunt swallow another man's seed while his was left to build and build, never permitted release.

  Was blue not a noble color, she mused wickedly? By the time she was done with him, The Comte de Falaise's balls would be the noblest in the country.

  ****

  "It's no good, cat," he muttered, flinging his belt of tools across the workbench and shaking rain out of his hair. "I can't let her marry another. She just told me her father has invited three men to his manor and he expects her to choose one as her husband. I can't bear to think of another man taking her virginity. Somehow I must rescue her!"

  She'd been chasing a spare block of wood under the bench. Now she stopped and crouched, watching his muddy boots pass by and leave a wet trail across the flagged floor. Rescue her? This was getting worse and worse.

  Had he lost his mind? He was a carpenter not a bloody knight in shining armor. Why could he not be content with things the way they were? Cat had to be, for heaven's sake!

  She thought she'd kept him sated at night and prevented his lust from becoming anything more serious. Apparently not. Perhaps she'd even made it worse by accident, because now he talked about Lady Serena as if it was her body he knew every night in dreams—as if it was Lady Serena who let him thrust his cock into her backside and kept him happy with her sexual prowess. Furious, she swiped out at his ankle and he jumped as she rendered a long scratch in the worn leather. Her arse still hurt from last night when he'd pounded into her as she crouched on the bed on all fours, and here he was obsessed with another wench. Rotten bugger!