Part of Celestia’s mind stood back, wondering at the folly of defying Jonathan Tucker, her human master, as she just had. But the largest portion of her wit, and all her heart, and at the base of everything the flowing, aching shameful place between her legs, had not the slightest doubt concerning this course of action that came now instinctively: the moment had arrived, and the magic of creation—the erotic force of all creation bodied forth in the worldtree and thence from the worldtree into girls like Celestia—took hold of her.
“You would not dare,” Celestia hissed. “I have said that the law gives you power over me, human, but I am the daughter of King Oberon of the fae realms, a princess of the elder folk. You would not dare whip me. If we mate, or I allow you to do so with my girl Deirdre, it will be upon the terms I decree!”
Celestia could feel Deirdre’s confusion. Even when the princess didn’t send or receive thoughts from a person with whom she was linked, their emotions still came through. To her astonishment it seemed Jonathan Tucker could detect the thought-sending. Feeling Deirdre’s emotions, though, relied on a passive sense, a different sort of fae gift. Celestia knew that their master wouldn’t notice it happening, for it never ceased happening, any more than Celestia could abruptly eschew her sense of touch or smell.
Now she knew her girl, as Celestia had just been inspired to call the sweet new friend who had saved her from service to the witchkind, had recognized the change that had come over the still-mysterious princess. Deirdre’s eyes had gone very wide.
How could Celestia help Deirdre understand what still puzzled the fae girl herself so much? How she could feel submissive one moment and then, inspired by the force of the elder law, her body’s law, terribly rebellious the next?
Could she tell the human girl that the princess’ cunt flowed with need for fucking when she told Jonathan Tucker that he must not punish his new possession shamefully, naked on his bed?
“Your highness,” Deirdre whispered. “Don’t!”
In the plea Celestia heard a sense almost of betrayal that made her heart ache. She knew Deirdre had felt terribly embarrassed when Celestia had instructed her to submit to Jonathan Tucker—and now the princess had decided seemingly to reverse that counsel. Would Deirdre understand in time? Would she rebel as Celestia must? Somehow Celestia felt sure the human girl would not defy their master—that her role in the working out of the worldtree’s law would follow a different course.
She had no more time to think of Deirdre, though, for Jonathan Tucker had taken firm hold of Celestia’s elbow and begun to march her into his adorable little home. The cabin, which Celestia now saw had a spacious room with a towering stone hearth, doors leading thence, she supposed to kitchen, bathroom, and—the very thought made her stomach flip-flop inside her, and her cheeks burn—bedroom.
Her human master, controlling Celestia easily despite the struggles that gave her a thrilling sense of his bodily strength, led her by the elbow toward one of the doors. True, Jonathan Tucker did not stand as tall as a fae lord, but the force of his sinews allowed him to do as he pleased with Celestia, she felt—and despite her need to squirm in his grasp, the feeling of his physical power made her nipples tingle.
Jonathan Tucker cast his face over his shoulder for a moment. “Deirdre,” he said, “come with us. I want you to see what happens to disobedient girls in my house.”
“No, please,” Celestia said, her heart suddenly quailing with the shame of the idea. “Please do not let her see, Jonathan Tucker!”
“You will call me master, now, girl, or I will punish you even more shamefully before I fuck you.”
Celestia remembered having used that terrible word herself, only a few minutes before, under the tree, and now she found that it made her cheeks glow with shame. Some transformation had indeed begun in her, here in this human world, her shame returning.
“Do not say that word to me! If we must mate, I shall—”
But Jonathan Tucker merely kept pulling Celestia toward the door, which he opened to reveal a cozy bedchamber with a big bed.
Big enough for three, Celestia found herself thinking, with a mixture of emotions she could not have described fully even now that the hidden knowledge had blossomed inside her. Jonathan Tucker will take us both to this bed, certainly. He will make us ride his root, since I refused the worldtree’s.
What had she done? Would it not have been better to serve as a princess under the earth, than to be stood next to the human man’s neatly made bed and told to take off the warm surcoat he had given her, and lie over the pillows he placed there to raise her bottom?
“Do as you’re told, Celestia,” said Jonathan Tucker, his voice a little more gentle now that he could see the princess did not seem to mean to flee. “Clothes off and over the pillows. This is how a young lady is punished in our world, bare bottom up to have her lesson.”
Deirdre had come in behind them, as their master had instructed. Jonathan Tucker spoke to her, now, “Deirdre, if you come from this world, you know it’s true. Tell Celestia what happens to naughty girls.”
Celestia felt her brow furrow, as she turned to her golden-haired human companion. Again she had the impression that being in Jonathan Tucker’s world, and even more in his cabin, had brought back to her the shame, if not the innocence, that caused her to rebel and, Celestia felt sure, would make her continue to defy him. It hardly seemed possible that she and Deirdre had done naked service in the bowers of the witchkind: now the princess could scarcely imagine what she would say if Jonathan Tucker should ask about what she had undergone before she came into his possession. She didn’t think she could bear to admit that she had sucked a dwarf’s cock while he wanked her shameful place, that she had been spanked so hard over his knee, that little Deirdre had been made to kiss and lick down there… that she had watched Erotia ride the root with a cock in her bottom, or seen Eumele deflowered upon the terrible bench.
Deirdre bit her lip and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, what?” Jonathan Tucker prompted in a severe tone.
The human girl looked at him with desperation in her eyes and red in her cheeks: Celestia could feel how difficult it was for her to speak the shameful words, and the princess felt sure Deirdre had undergone the same transformation she herself had. Something about Jonathan Tucker, and the way he treated them, combined somehow with the magic of the elder law, made the two girls who had seen such degrading sights in the bowers of the witchkind, and had felt all the erotic urges that the worldtree thrust into them, as embarrassed about those urges as if they had never served, or even seen, a man’s hardness.
“Girls get spanked for being naughty.”
“Where?” their master demanded.
Deirdre’s voice fell to a murmur. “Their bottoms.”
“Their bare bottoms,” Jonathan Tucker confirmed. “Ordinarily, a young lady or a wife who disobeys and disrespects the man who’s in charge of her has her panties taken down. That will happen to the two of you, once I get you into some modest clothing, when you need to feel my firm hand. Since you came to me in this indecent state, though, I think it’s fitting you be punished this way, Celestia. A bed whipping with her husband’s belt is what a wife gets when she disobeys. I know I’m not your husband, girls, but it seems like I’m something even more when it comes to the bedroom. You’ll be whipped, now, Princess, and then I’ll fuck you.”
Celestia’s whole body shuddered at the sound of these final words from her master, the dread and the arousal mixed so finely and thoroughly that she could only give voice to a tiny cry, feeling a deep crease develop in her brow as she looked up into his eyes.
“Please, your highness,” Deirdre pleaded. “Please be good for Master.”
Celestia looked at the human girl, and knew that fate had sent Deirdre to her paradoxically not to persuade her but rather to strengthen the resolve to defy—the will that she sensed could alone realize the prophetic law graven on the trunk of the worldtree. If she wanted to rule all the realms of faerie, and see her mother again, she must always do the opposite of what Deirdre said.
“I will not,” Celestia said, as forcefully as she could though her voice quavered with the trembling all over her body. “You shall not punish me that way. You are my master, and I will try—”
But again Jonathan Tucker interrupted her attempt to assert her will over the way things would go in his house. He seized Celestia by her upper arms and placed her over the pillows, still in the parka, as she cried out and struggled in his grasp.
“Please,” Deirdre pleaded. “Please, Jonathan. Don’t whip her too hard. She doesn’t mean to… she doesn’t!”
Jonathan Tucker’s voice emerged as a growl. “She may not mean to be disobedient, but she certainly has a strange way of showing it.”
He held Celestia’s arms behind her back as she heard him unbuckling that stout brown leather belt at his waist. He couldn’t really mean to use it on her? It would be worse than the straps of the witchkind’s dwarfs!
Jonathan Tucker lifted the parka to expose her little bottom. He tapped the leather of his belt against her tender hind-cheeks.
“Keep this still, now,” he said. “Show me you accept your punishment.”
Suddenly the fear and the shame took control. Now that he had rendered all her protests and her struggles ineffectual the defiance seemed to leave her, and she found that though her terrible arousal kept increasing, her defiance had flown. She could not bear the lashes of that belt, Celestia felt: she simply could not.
“Please, Master,” she said. She struggled again, but out of fear rather than resistance. “Please don’t whip me.” A wave of submissive passion washed through her: she would do anything for him—suck his cock, let him put it in her cunt, her bottom, and fuck her just the way he liked—if only he did not whip her.
“Please,” Deirdre said again.
But Jonathan Tucker said, “You’re going to get what you deserve, girls, in my house, beginning now.”
Celestia heard the belt whistle through the air, and she cried out even before it struck, and then she felt the fiery line across her bottom and she cried out again at the smart of it. Jonathan Tucker whipped Princess Celestia long and hard, as she screamed for mercy. Deirdre began to cry, as well, and clung for a moment to Jonathan’s arm begging him to stop, but he told her to stand quietly while her friend was punished, or she would be next.
Finally, when her bottom and thighs felt like they must be streaked all over with the red marks of the discipline she had earned, he stopped, and took his left hand from her wrists where he had restrained them behind her.
“Go ahead and rub your bottom, Princess,” he said gruffly. “It’ll help you get ready. Deirdre, you come and kneel in front of me.”
Celestia heard her human master’s breeches drop to the floor around his ankles, and she knew that Deirdre would have to take his cock in her mouth now. Celestia could feel how hard Jonathan Tucker must be, and her heart quailed to think that this was how a princess of the fae would lose her maidenhead.
It was my choice. Her bottom blazed like fire, but it had been her choice. She reached back and touched, whimpering at the pain as she rubbed her poor punished hind-cheeks.
“That’s it,” Jonathan Tucker said, his voice thick with desire. “Rub that sweet little bottom. How many men have been in that pussy before me?”
Celestia felt faint as she heard the wet sounds of Deirdre’s mouth around the man’s cock, and she wished she could see the shameful act as it occurred, but she knew she must keep her eyes forward now, submissive to her master’s desire.
“None, Master,” she murmured.
Jonathan felt thunderstruck. He had been a few of his Bobby Sues’ and Mary Janes’ first, but the idea of deflowering a magical fairy princess—especially one whose conduct seemed to tell of dozens, hundreds, even thousands of lovers over some immortal lifespan—seemed a difficult one to think through. The way his cock responded to Celestia’s words made that thinking even harder: his body seemed less thunderstruck than taut and very, very hungry.
And Deirdre, on her knees, sucking his penis with a skill Jonathan had never known from a Bobby Sue, made matters even more complicated. He looked down at his hardness as he thrust his hips gently to move the shaft in and out of her sweet lips. She had her eyes on his lap as she did her shameful duty, her cheeks pink with the embarrassment of this act that proper young women, such as it seemed she had been once upon a time, were told never to perform.
He put his left hand on the back of Deirdre’s neck to hold her still as he found the back of her throat, fucking her face in a way he had never done with a girl before. The sight of Celestia rubbing her well-whipped bottom and thighs, showing him that bare pussy where his cock would soon go, and the sound of her moaning with submission to his possession of her and the lovely human girl whose velvet mouth gave him so much pleasure, drove him nearly wild with desire.
Jonathan stroked Deirdre’s cheek with the back of his right hand, pulling his cock out until only the tip remained between her lips. She seemed so very obedient to this sexual service that he wondered where she could possibly have learned to please a man so well.
“Look at me, Deirdre,” he said softly, all his frustration and severity gone now that his girls seemed intent on pleasing their master.
Deirdre turned wide and anxious eyes up to his, her cheeks getting even more flushed.
“You’re doing so well. Where did you learn to suck a cock like this?”
He pulled the head of his penis out, so she could answer, lifting his cock, pumping it enjoyably in his left hand, using his right hand now to present his balls to Deirdre’s face. He had never done that with a girl before, but the longer this scene continued—the longer the whole story, or perhaps dream, of his owning this magical pair went on—the more he felt that the elder power decreed that his pleasure, as the fortunate master of a fairy princess, must dictate the course of events.
He heard Celestia sobbing now with frustrated pleasure, saw her rubbing more firmly at her punished cheeks, parting them widely as if to offer him the wet cunt and crinkly pink anus that made him pump his cock faster as he surveyed them. He felt Deirdre kiss his balls, lick them, without even his command to do so, and that brought a surprised grunt of pleasure from his chest.
Jonathan didn’t understand this enchanted scene in any rational way, but he felt the sense of it far down below, with a sort of perception he supposed he had always known he had but had never put into action before. It had lain unused, passive, in the way he felt about the mountains and the light: he had felt with it but had never comprehended with it before. Now he knew, with a certainty that went far beyond what he had always considered thought to involve, that these girls needed mastering exactly as he chose, with the only price of his pleasure being the firm-handed guidance he could give them in return, toward their own pleasure, their own release.
Before Deirdre could answer his question, then, Jonathan said to Celestia, “Play with yourself, Princess. Masturbate for me. When you obey me like a good girl, and behave like a proper young lady, you’ll be allowed to touch your pussy.”
Then he said to Deirdre, softly, “Watch, now. Do you like to play with your pussy, too?”
With a cry that somehow mingled abject shame and ecstatic gratification, Celestia thrust her right hand under her hips, leaving her left to continue rubbing her whipped hind-cheeks ever more fiercely. Jonathan watched, feeling himself entranced by the princess’ sex magic even as he knew himself to be its master, pumping his cock in time with her fingers’ dance upon the glistening bud of her sweet clitoris.
“She’s never been allowed to do that before,” Deirdre whispered. “Neither have I. Girls are spanked for it, down below. The dwarfs and the witchmasters spank very hard. They put us in belts so that we can’t touch our pussies.”
This information washed over Jonathan as a sort of flood filled with flotsam he hoped he could grasp eventually but had no inclination to examine right now. Celestia cried out over and over now in short little whimpers.
“Did a witchmaster teach you to suck, then?” he asked softly. “You may go ahead and play with yourself, too, while you tell me.”
Deirdre gave her own grateful cry as she accepted his gift with gladness, putting her little hand between her thighs and rubbing frantically.
“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes closed now. “Oh, yes. Master Typhaon. I had to suck his cock every day, before I rode the root.”
More fascinating flotsam that hardened Jonathan’s cock despite not knowing what it meant to ride the root.
Celestia gave a louder, longer cry. He could see and hear how close she had come now to orgasm, and for the first time he noticed something strange: she seemed to be glowing, or not Celestia exactly, but the air around her. He frowned in puzzlement, but merely added it to the list of things he must ask about, perhaps when he and his girls weren’t naked.
“Oh, fuck her, sir,” Deirdre pleaded. “Can’t you hear how much she needs it?”
“Yes, I can,” Jonathan said, stroking Deirdre’s golden hair fondly. “Do you need it, too, little one?”
Deirdre bit her lip and nodded sharply, her eyes still closed.
Jonathan turned, still pumping his cock, to see Celestia’s self-pleasure, feeling the pull of the elder power more strongly than he ever had before, and knowing, to the astonishment of his ‘rational’ mind, what it meant: he had no choice but to fuck a fairy princess.
She needed it.
As he climbed atop his bed to part her knees still further, to take her hands away from her cunt and bottom, hold them atop her hips as he took a firm grasp, to push the head of his cock gently into the sweet coral petals of the place it must go, that rational mind did comprehend something startling: this elder power, this ancient law of nature, rendered the coitus, the mating, the fucking of men and women a different thing from what his society told him. Moreover, sex represented something even more different from what Bobby Sues and Mary Janes heard about at home from their mothers and from what Jonathan had heard from his brothers and in the army.
Celestia needed fucking. Deirdre needed fucking. Bobby Sue and Mary Jane and Jonathan Tucker learned at most that men needed to release their pent-up energies, but that girls had no such needs. That girls who thought they had such needs should be cured of them somehow, as soon as possible.
So the girls of Jonathan’s world were spanked if a guardian or a husband found them masturbating, just as Jonathan knew he would spank his own wonderful girls. But when a Bobby Sue went over her husband’s knee, the husband, obeying the foolish laws of men, punished her to teach her not to yield to an impulse that came from the worldtree, that truly brooked no long resistance. If a Mary Jane got the belt for necking with her boyfriend, her guardian tanned her hide in a vain attempt to deny her need. Those poor girls of Jonathan’s human world, in this benighted time and place, could never hope to find the eldritch magic according to whose law Jonathan would never deny his girls the pleasures of their cunts, if they only learned to obey him properly.
He pressed inward, half-maddened by the pleasure of Celestia’s virginal pussy. He couldn’t even tell if the velvet sheath of her vagina, within which he moved his cock as gently as possible now, had some marvelous magic in the special way it seemed to grip the head of his manhood, or if the whole scene—the glow, the feeling of power, the idea of the ancient needs of men and women—had electrified his body somehow, so that he could hardly even imagine how he had thought of fucking a Bobby Sue or Mary Jane as sex.
This was sex: this was true bodily pleasure. He would share it with his magical girls, his fairy princess and her human servant.
“Oh, Master,” Celestia sobbed. “Oh, Master. Please. Please. Please.”
“Please what, Celestia?” Jonathan asked softly, bending his head close to the long raven hair that smelled of the forest, so that he could murmur in her ear.
Celestia gave a little whimper, and Jonathan sensed, with the new empathy she seemed to have brought him at least where she and Deirdre were concerned, that despite everything she felt the shame of being a whipped girl in a parka and nothing else, her hands held, her cunt open. She had an essential modesty just as great as any girl in upstate New York, and that somehow constituted her secret power: shame and modesty, as manifested in the beauty of the hidden glen, and the space behind the waterfall; innocence, as embodied in the hidden pleasures of a girlish cunt, a rosy clit, a puckered anus.
The social standards, the human laws, of Jonathan’s world had taken this power and dammed it up—as, it seemed from what Deirdre said of the strange place from which the girls had come, they did under the earth. Deirdre’s words made him think, though, that under the earth they dammed the power of girls’ natural needs and natural shame to some greater purpose. Here in upstate New York, they dammed it to create, he supposed, what they would call happy families.
But in Jonathan’s house, he and these magical girls would un-dam it as pleased them, and they would see where their sexual, magical power took them. In Celestia’s begging he heard the same greater purpose that seemed to find him from the very roots of the mountains and of the trees: he didn’t know what the destiny to which his fairy princess had called him would hold, but he felt its rightness in his bones.
And, above all, in his hard, hard cock.
“Please,” Celestia whispered. “Please fuck me, Master. Please… I need your… your root.”
The root. The cock. Celestia must ride this root, came to his mind from somewhere far away and yet very near. He took firm hold of her hips, and thrust himself inside, as she and Deirdre cried out together.
The air didn’t just glow, then, as Jonathan began to move inside his fairy princess, hardly able to contain the urge to ride hard, to use, to enjoy her to the full. It pulsed, in white, and green, and blue, and red. Deirdre, behind them, watching, cried out that she was coming, and then again, and then again, as if the erotic energy that came from Celestia’s enchanted cunt had reached out to her and forced climax after climax upon her.
Jonathan tried manfully to stave off his own orgasm, and succeeded at least well enough so that he felt Celestia begin to come beneath him. He had resolved to fuck her as gently as he could, her first time, thinking back to the tenderness that Bobby Sue and Mary Jane had needed when he deflowered them, but Celestia bucked beneath him like a wild animal, her hips riding back and forth even as he rode her, as if she were indeed upon some tree root, making nature magic spring up from the earth. He couldn’t stop himself: he rode hard, and he came, too, Deirdre screaming out one final climax behind them at the sight of the fairy princess fucked for the first time, by her human master.
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