She blinks. Then makes an odd sound from her nose, somewhere between a sneeze and a scoff. “Okay.”
Just that. One word. No further comment. Yet, somehow, it feels like she is laughing at me.
I begin removing the weapons from my body, laying each one aside with careful restraint. So I am not tempted to use them before the time of the sacrifice.
“You will strip out of your dress,” I tell her. “And I will proceed to clean your body.”
“Yes, sir,” she answers, saluting—this time with all four fingers, rather than the singular middle one she offered earlier.
I do not care for this version of a salute either. She seems far more confident—impudent, even—than the situation warrants.
But then she shifts awkwardly, her feet shuffling on the stone floor. “Would you mind turning around? And maybe letting me clean my own body?”
Here lies the difference between us. She tries to hide her defiant glee. I succeed.
“No,” I say without emotion. While doing triumphant aerials inside.
She sighs. “Okay, now it’sstartingto feel more like a punishment.”
She throws her shoulders back. “One doomed-princess strip show coming right up. Let’s see if I can remember how the dancers performed at the First Princess’s pre-wedding party, back before she married the second son of Elephim.…”
With that, she begins humming a nonsense tune, lyrics improvised as she dances.
“Boo-boo-boo-boop, taking off this tunic I got from a goat…
Dah-dah-dah-dah-DAH, and here goes this dress I’ve been dying to get off for nearly two whole days… La-la-la-la-LAAAH… I guess the shoes gotta go, too.”
The dance and the song are meant to be silly—I can tell. But there is nothing unserious about how my body responds to the reveal of her bountiful curves.
She looks even softer with nothing on.
Cute talonless toes. Thick, stout thighs that look made to hold her bottom in the air while I conquer her in the name of Eryx. Ample hips—wide enough that my hands will not slip down them, no matter how hard I take her from behind. And breasts—large and round…
Nipples that tighten under my stare, budding into small stones I could pinch between my fingers.
I do not realize she has stopped singing until silence blooms in the room, tense and pulsing, like the organ no longer trapped behind my stone sleeping cast.
She breaks it first. “Are we going to, um… get on with this terrible punishment?”
Punishment
SALLIE ROSE
No,Stone Fae do not blink.
But the glow in the Stone Fae King's eyes flickers—like someone coming out of a trance.
“Yes… we shall proceed.”
He produces a time glass out of nowhere. Of course, the sand in it is blood red, not pale brown like every other time glass I’ve ever seen.
Where does one evengetblood-red sand? It’s got to be a dye job, right?
Anyway, he flips it and sets it down on the seat of that scary red throne—the same one I woke up to this morning.
“Your punishment will last as long as it takes for the sand to drain from the top.”
Then, to my great surprise, he picks me up. In his arms. Like a baby. Cradling me to his chest, his bicep flexing against my back.
