I had always liked the wilder roses best. I kept walking around the bushes, trying to find a rose that suited me best. In the process, I spotted a door tucked among the flowers. I didn’t knock yet. I needed to find a rose first.
Ah—there was the one! A smaller, more humble flower in a dark crimson. My hand had just met the stem when the door creaked open.
“Picking my roses, are you?”
But it was too late. The flower was in my hand.
I turned, cheeks burning, stammering out, “I’m—I’m sorry, I—“ What was I thinking, grabbing flowers from a man’s garden without asking?
And there he was. The goblin king himself. My eyes hardly knew what to make of him, where to look first. The sharp, stunning golden eyes? A mouth of fearsome teeth—far more of them than he needed, I thought. Or his hands, covered in black leather gloves with elongated tips to make room for his claws?
And then there were the small black horns rising from his coarse, wild black hair. Each one was adorned with a golden ornament, shaped like a twig or an antler, like two small horn-circlets.
“Never mind it,” he said. His voice was a little raspy and growly. “Come here. Let me see what the night has brought me this time.”
My heart was fluttering in an uneven patter as I came closer, realizing how tall he was. Tall and strong and broad. My eyes only came up to his chest. He was dressed more like a laborer than a king, I thought, his shirt, vest, and trousers well-fitted but homespun and simple. He had good quality boots and a hooded cloak, although the hood was down as if he wanted me to get a proper look at what I was getting into.
“You’re awfully pretty,” he said, with a slightly skeptical tone. “At least, as far as the humans prefer.”
“I can’t help it,” I said.
“Surely a girl like you could find a husband to care for you, if you are penniless.”
I was vaguely irritated, and didn’t care to explain my business to him. “And yet, here I am, so obviously not. Did you ever consider that maybe there isn’t anyone in town worth marrying?”
“You probably haven’t looked very hard.”
“Will you give me a coin or not?”
“Will you allow me to fuck you in exchange for one gold coin? No sicknesses nor babes can result. I will take you as many times as I like tonight and in the morning you may go unless you choose to stay.”
How blunt. So, it really was this and nothing else. There wasn’t some other secret purpose for inviting women to his house.
So, I really was going to lose my virginity tonight, to this beast of a man. I was surely blushing again. I hoped it was too dark to see.
There really was no question of saying no at this point. I had come all this way, and I needed food and shelter. Besides that…well, he was not so ugly as I expected. Or maybe he was precisely as ugly as I expected. The portrait of him in the book was fairly accurate. But you liked that portrait, whispered some voice deep down inside of me.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then, come in.” He held the door open.
I took a hesitant step inside, and then another, and the door shut behind me with a hollow thud. I glanced back, since I had not seen him move, nor heard his clothing rustle. It appeared that it had shut all by itself.
We stood inside a dark passage, lit by the soft light of a candelabra. He held out a glove and said, “I will take that rose from you now.”
“I’m sorry for picking it.”
“You could hardly help it.” He shrugged, and I handed him the rose. He cradled the blossom in his hand. There was a small crystal vase with water sitting inside the passageway, and he put the rose there.
A faint rumble seemed to come from deep within the earth, and shake the passage so that dirt rained from the ceiling. I pulled my hood over my head with a gasp.
He looked up. “Tremors. You have nothing to fear from them,” he said. “Sometimes the caverns get moody when I have a guest.”
“The caverns have moods?”
“Very sour moods.”
Then he led me deeper into the passage.
“Oh,” I breathed, as he opened a door. The room opened up, and the walls and ceilings sparkled with tiny lights and glowing crystals. We were standing inside a hall that would be the envy of any palace. A fireplace was built into one wall, with a small fire burning within, and paintings hung on the walls, of wild little goblin maidens dancing with sticks of fire. It looked like fun, whatever they were doing (once I had double-checked that no humans were being burned or mutilated somewhere in the painting, as rumors occasionally suggested). Beautifully carved benches were gathered around the fire, and a loaf of warm bread and a shaped round of golden butter was waiting for me, along with some wine.
“Rest your feet and have some food,” he offered. “Make yourself at home. You have an hour or so. I will come for you at sunset.”
“Oh—all right—I mean—we haven’t even exchanged names.”
“You want my name? Most are content to think of me as the goblin king.”
“We’re going to…do something pretty intimate, I mean, I suppose you do it all the time, but…”
“I don’t know if I want you to have my name, pretty one. I know you’re only here for one purpose.”
“Like wanting a coin is any better than what you want me for.”
He stepped a little closer to me, and looked down. Slowly, his hand lifted to my face, and the somewhat stiff, yet soft material of his glove traced my cheek. “You know, tonight, I might actually enjoy it. But I’m not giving you my name, and I won’t have yours. It isn’t that kind of transaction, is it?”
“Just—don’t call me ‘pretty one’,” I said.
“Why not?”
“At home my father calls me ‘Beauty’. And half the time I think that’s all anyone sees when they look at me. I know I shouldn’t wish to be ugly; I probably wouldn’t like it. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be known for being clever or courageous instead of pretty. If I’m going to—submit to you—I’d at least ask that you not call me that.”
“Easy enough,” he said. “Now, I will let you have your meal and a warm bath.”
“All right—that is—where is the bath? Where is my chamber for the night?”
“Go ahead and explore. You’ll find it.”
He turned and disappeared down another shadowy hall.
I sat down at the table and spread the butter on the bread. I was so hungry I couldn’t really worry anymore. I poured some of the wine and drank it down. Maybe a little bit of alcohol would calm my nerves. But it was also possible that they were beyond calming.
When the entire loaf of bread was gone, I started getting my bearings. I’m going to be here a long time, I told myself. I needed as many gold coins as possible to keep my family from losing everything. But with my hunger no longer so pressing, my stomach squirmed with fears. It was hard to imagine just what I was getting myself into. I knew what happened between men and women, but I also knew it could hurt, or be pleasurable. It could be shameful or romantic. And strangely, I wasn’t sure what I expected out of the goblin king.
This house, if you could call it that, was not formed like other houses. The walls were uneven, the passages twisting and sloping. Crystals and rocks jutted from walls, and tiny lights sparkled in veins. One room had a dining table formed from a giant rock that came out of the wall, with stalactites reaching down like chandeliers. Another room had a pipe organ formed into the cave, and some of the pipes appeared to be shaped from the very rocks themselves, although truly it was hard to say where the organ ended and the cave began.
I had never seen such an astonishing, magical place. But there were no servants, no sign of any people at all.
Why is he here all alone? Who cleans and maintains this place?
Of course, there were hermits who chose to live alone, usually religious men. I didn’t think the goblin king was religious. I wondered if he was a king at all. He certainly didn’t
have any subjects, but the caverns went on and on. I didn’t have time to even begin to explore them all. Just by the size of the rooms, it was obvious that there used to be large feasts and gatherings in the past.
He wasn’t really alone, I reminded myself. He paid women to come here. But when he touched my face, he said he might actually enjoy it.
There definitely was something going on here, something beyond the gossip, but I thought it must not be apparent or some other girl would have figured it out before me.
I poked my head into the next room and let out an audible gasp.
At home, we had an entire shelf of books. It was as tall as I was, and as wide as one of my father’s arms was long. I thought we were rich in literature.
Now I knew it was nothing. The goblin king had more books than the subscription library. The shelves reached to the top of the ceiling and wrapped all around the room, which was large enough to contain a number of tables and chairs. The shelves had been built into the uneven shape of the cavern, and one part of the room was a tucked away nook, a tiny cave of books. Two leather chairs were there, as if waiting for me to claim one of them.
I hardly knew where to begin. There seemed to be some book for every subject one could imagine. I ran my fingers along all the spines, bound in different colors, some in cloth and others in leather. Botany. Farm implements. Animals of the world. Histories of humans, goblins, elves, faeries, and every other thinking creature. Books with huge color plates showing different costumes, different birds, different maps, the placement of bones and muscles within the body. Myths and legends. Philosophy. Astronomy. Astrology. (Maybe it would tell me what kind of man the goblin king really was?)
And then there were novels. He must have owned every novel I had ever heard anyone mention in my entire life, and more besides.
I was still perusing the shelf, and probably had been for an hour already, opening one book and then another (with an occasional sneeze) when I heard a small clink of dishes.
Behind me, a tray of food was on the table. This time, it was a nice warm stew and a cup of chamomile tea—I could smell it all from here. Perfect for eating in the damp, cool interior of the caves, and relaxing before bed.
But where had it come from?
“Hello?” I whispered.
No response.
I wasn’t about to refuse warm food and a book paired together—what heaven!—so I didn’t question it. I arranged myself carefully in one of the leather chairs, the stew in my lap, spoon in one hand and book in the other, the tea within reach. I tried to eat quickly because I knew I only had an hour, but I didn’t have much concept of time underground. Surely I could take fifteen minutes, just to start a chapter…
Suddenly, a grandfather clock behind me began to toll its bell, and I almost sprung out of my chair in terror. Had there been a clock there before? Surely I would have noticed such an impressive clock. It was taller than I was, and displayed the phases of the moon—a clock worthy of a king.
There was no arguing it. The clock chimed eight o’ clock, and I felt sure it was telling me to get into the bath and make myself ready for the goblin king. A chiming clock becomes a very ominous sound when you are expecting such a night as this, I thought, yanking my cloak around my body as I hurried down the uneven corridor, looking for my bedroom. Another small tremor shook the hallway.
Here was a large room with a beautiful carved bed and a large wooden wardrobe to match, with double doors. On one side of the room was a cozy table and chairs, and off to the other side was a porcelain tub, with steam wafting out of it. Warm water awaited me, and a towel as well as a nightgown were already folded neatly across a rack nearby.
I hesitated only briefly before slipping off my clothes. Even in a family that had been fairly well-to-do, a warm bath with clean water all to myself was a luxury that the youngest sister out of four never, ever enjoyed. And I’d had such a long day of walking, the warm water instantly relaxed every muscle in my body. I grabbed the soap and lathered my arms and legs. Such soft soap! Everything here was the finest example of itself I had ever seen. I tipped my head back and looked at the ceiling, realizing that it was quite high up—maybe ten feet above me—and glinting with tiny lights like constellations.
They were constellations, actually, or at least the lights were formed that way. I spotted many that I recognized. Another map, I thought, for studying the stars.
A hand pounded on the door.
“It is time for you to fulfill your bargain, o courageous one,” the goblin king said.
I rushed out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor, and swiped myself with the towel before yanking the nightgown on over my half-wet body. “C-come in,” I said, and the door creaked open.
Chapter Two
The goblin king looked just the same as before. He walked into the room without making any comment on the water spilled everywhere or my damp hair. In fact, he seemed impatient, but I was freshly aware of his strength, his height, his manliness, and all the sharp edges of him. The light here was even more dim than the last time I’d seen him, and yet his pale flesh and golden eyes stood out, as if he were made to be seen in this light.
“Stand at the foot of the bed,” he said without preamble, “and bend over the footboard.”
My heart was in my throat. “Is this how we’re going to do it?”
“Yes.” He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you want to look at my face.”
“Well…I thought that was how it was done. I would rather see your face.”
He bared his fangs and a part of me did want to shudder back, seeing those crowded teeth again. I tried to hide it, but he noticed.
“Down,” he said. “I don’t want to see your face.”
I didn’t exactly move with haste. I was shuddering all over. His eyes were upon me, unblinking, unwavering.
I lowered my head onto the soft, feather-stuffed bedspread. The footboard was pressing against my stomach and I felt a little sick. I edged forward more so it was under my hips—although this forced my bottom into a more prominent position. He pushed the hem of my nightgown up to my waist, and I heard him unbutton his trousers.
“Why do you do this?” I asked, hoping to stall him—hoping to understand, at least.
“Why?”
“Yes, why!”
“This is not a question I will answer for you.”
“Because, I must say…” I twisted my head around to get a look at him. “You don’t seem like you’re enjoying it any more than I am. And it seems to me that if you’re going to be paying a gold coin every night for this, it would add up, and you ought to enjoy it.”
“Oh, I will enjoy it very much, in the moment it’s happening,” he said, and I felt his stiff flesh press against my folds.
I went utterly rigid. My heart was beating so fast that it was hard to keep my voice steady; any moment I was sure that thing between his legs was going to force its way inside me.
“But you wouldn’t like to look at my face, since I do happen to be beautiful, whether I like it or not?”
His fingers gripped my arm, and he leaned down so his breath touched my ear, even as his erection was still pressing against me. “Why do you want to have my name and see my face?” he demanded. “Do you imagine you’re going to fall in love with me, little human? Trust me—you won’t.”
“It sounds to me like you’re the one who has made up your mind not to fall in love.”
He grabbed me now and shoved me onto my back, so I could see the massive cock hanging out of his trousers, and the fierce glow of his eyes.
“Wide-eyed virgins,” he muttered. “A waste of time. But if you really want to see my face, if you really want me to see yours, then—I’ll proceed.”
“Yes.” I forced my speech to be firm.
His gloves slid down my thighs, urging them apart. I gripped the bed sheets in anticipation.
He looked at me and hesitated. It was clear to me then that he wasn’t used to seeing the faces of the gi
rls who came to him either, and he didn’t really want to see me. He wanted to get it over with.
“You are beautiful,” he said, the rasp in his voice turning softer and huskier. “Gods damn you.” My nightgown was still pushed up around my waist, and I blushed as his eyes dropped between my legs, away from my face, as if he wanted to remind himself what he was here for. My hands gripped the bed more tightly. I looked away, let my eyes wander to the ceiling, to the stars, trying to show him that I was ready.
For a moment, nothing happened.
The thumb of his glove slid between my mounds and began to stroke me firmly. I didn’t expect this at all. I could feel the slight stiffness of the leather and the seam that wrapped around where the two sides of the glove were sewn together. Heat rose within me and another finger nudged just inside my entrance—I could feel the hard shape of his claw beneath the glove there.
I felt very warm where he touched me, and unaccountably excited. His fingers met my sudden slickness, and he pushed his finger in a little farther.
I started to feel ashamed, and my thighs drew together, even as I didn’t want him to stop.
Maybe I was the girl Clara didn’t want me to be. Here I was, with the goblin king, in the actual moment, and I didn’t want him to stop.
He did stop.
“Enough of that,” he said, as if to himself more so than me.
He took my knees and pushed them up toward my armpits, so I was displayed for him. He shifted position, so he was over me but I didn’t look at him now. I still felt hot—and wet, and warm. Something much wider than a finger nudged into me, spreading me open. I drew in an urgent breath, my entire body tensing.
“Try to breathe slower,” he said, “and it will not hurt so much.”
It kept going, forcing its way into me.
I tried to breathe. He wasn’t going to wait for me to accept him. It still hurt. I felt stretched and broken, and there was still a lot of him to go. I looked down to see my nether lips stretched wide around his thickness. He spread his arms out over my head, his body looming over me, and I could see the pale skin of his throat as he started pumping his cock into me, each stroke going a little deeper, like trails of fire inside me. Although it was pain, it was not a pain like anything I had felt before. It was like an urgent ache, almost satisfying, like the pain was also the cure for a wound I didn’t know was bleeding.
Beauty and the Goblin King Page 2
