Pussy in Boots (Naughty Fairy Tales) Read online

  What of this woman he saw today? It made Cat sad to think another body could lay here with him and push her aside. There would be no room for her on that bed then. If his new woman didn't like cats she could be tossed out. Most women didn't like to share their men.

  He would miss his dream lover, surely, as she would miss him if she had to leave. A great heaving emptiness opened in her heart, but she fought the temptation to weep and pressed her face into his neck, kissing his warm skin where the scent of the day's sun still lingered. Why was he so different to any other master she'd had? Why should it hurt so much this time to think of losing him?

  Once she decided he'd rested long enough, she wriggled, lowered her head and ran her tongue over his nipple. She loved teasing that little peak, making him moan and move restlessly. Under his breath he muttered something indefinable. His forefinger slipped between her buttocks, prying for the tiny hole there, and when he found it, rubbing his fingertip against her anus. She opened her mouth wider, her teeth closing over that swelling nipple, but careful not to bite. She ground her mons up and down his hip and thigh, while he fingered her backside. Already she wanted his lovely cock inside her again.

  She had planned to sit astride, but he surprised her, suddenly flipping his weight over, covering her body, holding her under him, her wrists clamped in his strong hands and hauled up over her head. He rubbed his freshly engorged cockhead over her labia where, just half an hour before, he'd sucked and licked in a frenzy. Her usually gentle lover was rougher tonight, as if he too feared their time together coming to an end.

  "I'm coming in, my fine and fancy wench," he growled, eyes still shut tight. "You can't stop me."

  Did he want her to pretend she resisted? She'd known men who liked role-playing, but this was new from him.

  "I'll have that sweet, tender, rich young pussy. Now spread it wide to make room for a real man's cock."

  She obeyed meekly, playing her part, widening her thighs, rolling her hips up so that her dewy private folds rubbed on his hard prick, kissed it. He released one of her wrists and reached down, fumbling, pressing his callused thumb to her nether mouth and pinching her lips until they felt swollen. He positioned his thick cock at her entrance.

  "Yes, I'll have you, my lady. I'll be your first. I'll take you for a ride you'll never forget."

  She gasped as he slowly, teasingly, inched his way inside.

  Arching under him, breathing hard, shivering with want, she did her best to portray a virginal innocent. His hand swept up again to clamp fiercely around her free wrist and pin it down, just like the other. He thrust his hips from side to side and then surged forward, no more teasing.

  His rigid member filled her, claimed her. For three seconds he merely lay over her, sweating, panting. She felt his pulse beating through her pussy. Then he began a slow, hard fucking, each forward motion accompanied by a loud grunt of pleasure.

  His eyelashes, dusted with moonbeams, twitched against his cheeks but never lifted. His beautifully carved mouth twisted in a victorious smile and then his pace quickened, causing his bed to complain with a series of frightened squeaks.

  "Yes, my sweet, hot maiden, now you're mine. Now. You're. Mine!"

  Somehow she held on, kept up with the wild rhythm, enjoyed every pitiless thrust. Her blood sang with excitement as another climax ripped through her. Damn he was good. She wouldn't be averse to more like this. Gentle was good too, but this—

  His balls bounced against her wet flesh as he fucked her faster now, his breath rasping out over her head, his fingers so tight around her wrists, her hands were numb.

  "Oh yesssss" he growled, spitting over his lips and then, a moment later he froze, just before his cock unloaded deep inside her body. He shuddered, half-laughing, and began pumping his hips again, his seed overflowing, his sac smacking into her with bruising force.

  She cried out, writhing under him, legs clamped around his waist, her cunny sopping wet, his cream dripping down between her buttocks and onto the fleece under her

  Oh master, she purred inside, her heart racing.

  He kissed her brow and sank down over her, finally loosening his grip on her sore wrists. His prick stayed within her, softening bit by bit, but slowly.

  To claim a virgin? Is that what he wanted? And suddenly she thought again of the woman he said he'd seen today. So that was what this was all about.

  Damn it. They always thought they wanted a virgin. She blamed it on fairy tales.

  Chapter Three

  "I have to find a way to have her, Cat," he murmured between bites of bread and cheese. "She's the woman of my dreams. I know it." The stray he'd taken in, made a sudden graceful leap onto his knee and rubbed its ear on his shirt. He leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully fondling the animal's small head with the palm of his free hand. "I took one look at her and it was...like waking from a long sleep."

  Ah! He sighed in disgust. Here he was talking to a wretched cat. Must be going mad.

  He looked at the sleek black creature as it made a tight circle in his lap, looking for a spot to curl up, its long tail looping upward, stroking his chin. Peter was more of a dog man and had never kept a cat until this one appeared on his doorstep a few months ago, looking lost and hungry. It didn't do much except eat, nap and look for attention. For some reason he let it stay, even let it sleep on his bed. Occasionally the thing was good company, he supposed reluctantly. At least it never told him to shut up and stop being a fool, as any other lodger might.

  "What do you think, Cat? How am I going to win this woman who is so far above me, eh?"

  It turned its head, big green eyes assessing him with a hint of superiority.

  "All well and good to say, just go and get her, Cat! That's the easy answer yes. But consider this..." He raised his finger and tapped the cat's small nose. "She's an Comte's niece and I'm merely a carpenter. See?"

  The animal rumbled out a low purr and rubbed its nose on his knuckle.

  "The Comte de Falaise's niece. Of all people I should fall in love with!"

  Abruptly the cat sprang from his lap and looked back at him, tail raised, eyes wide, ears pricked.

  "Now you understand." He chuckled. "Now you see my dilemma. The Comte de Falaise wants to get his pretty niece married to a rich nobleman no doubt. I haven't a chance."

  Ever since he saw that golden haired angel yesterday, he hadn't been able to settle his mind to much else. Even last night he'd dreamed of stealing away her maidenhead, taking it lustily, while she lay beneath him, trembling, yet begging him to take her.

  Thinking of that dream again he was instantly hard, his cock restlessly swelling, pushing at his breeches. That pussy last night had felt so damn good. He crushed the piece of bread in his hand and crumbs flew across the table. He knew that fucking her would be just the same in reality and he didn't want to think of any other man having the pleasure of bedding his angel. He wanted to rub his face between those tender bubbies, tear off her frilly silk petticoats and mount her so hard she screamed his name like a prayer.

  His cock reacted to the vision by stretching another two inches, until he had to adjust his breeches.

  He glanced down, looking for the cat. It sat in a patch of sun in the open doorway, it's back turned to him, tail swishing gently over the flagged floor. Seemed almost wistful, pensive, staring out. Cats were odd creatures, he mused. In lots of ways they were like women. A man never knew what they were thinking.

  Now dogs were easier. Their thoughts were written plain on every expression and if they could speak it would be in the same language as man. Cats did things their own way and probably had their own tongue.

  She glanced back at him, her ears twitching. She raised a paw, licked it and wiped it over her whiskers. Morning ablutions. Then she looked away again, nose in the air. Was the creature thinking about leaving now it grew warmer out? He was surprised she stayed as long as she did. But he enjoyed her company, he realized. He'd be sorry to come home and not see that funny face watchin
g for him. She must sit on the window ledge waiting for him to come down the lane every time he went out without her.

  The cat stood and padded elegantly back to where he sat.

  "Decided to stay, eh?" He sniffed.

  She batted her paw at the frayed leather cuff of his boot.

  "Aye. Time to go to work." He got to his feet and put on his coat. "I saw the perfect stump of wood yesterday in the forest. I'm going to carve it for my angel and take it to her."

  ****

  She would just have to help the man. Someone must pull him out of this pie-eyed dream about the Comte's niece, for when she heard that name—Falaise—on his lips, her heart almost stopped. Falaise was a man with a notorious temper, a cruel streak a mile wide according to rumor, and would not take kindly to his niece consorting with a humble carpenter. Poor Peter bit off far more than he could chew. Lucky she was there to take care—

  Oh, a dandelion seed! She chased it a few feet as it bobbed along on the breeze.

  Peter walked out into the sun carrying his axe and she trotted along at his side.

  "Coming with me today, cat?"

  Of course. She had to keep an eye on him in case he did anything foolish about his fanciful notion of being "in love" with the Comte's ward. She couldn't have him getting his skull cracked open by an angry nobleman, for then who would pour her milk, light her fire and let her cuddle in the crook of his arm at night? But maybe if she could somehow help him to get this fancy out of his blood...

  Together they walked through the forest, passing under a shivering canopy of emerald green. Cat leapt back and forth, chasing the moving pattern of sun and shadow, her path never straight, but Peter knew where he was headed and soon he'd located an oddly shaped branch that reached out over the rushing stream.

  "Here," he muttered, running his hand over the bark. "This is where I first saw her, right after I found this."

  Cat skipped down to the water's edge and peered in at her reflection. Well her hair was sable and her eyes bright as spring grass. That hadn't changed. It was still a bit of a shock however, even after all this time, to see whiskers and perky ears. She poked at the image with one paw and shattered it.

  Behind her, Peter began chopping away at his ugly branch. She sat and groomed herself for a moment and then stopped, mid-lick. Horses approached. She fixed her gaze on the other side of the stream and just a few moments later two figures appeared. One was a man in guard's livery; the other a woman with flowing buttercup-gold hair and the face of a china doll.

  Peter's chopping stopped abruptly and she heard a dull thud as he dropped his axe. She cringed. Good thing it didn't land on his foot.

  "Hello, young man," the girl called out in a thin, reedy voice. "By chance we meet again. What good fortune."

  Awfully bold for an aristocratic young lady, Cat thought with a sneer. Hadn't the girl heard it wasn't proper to address a man first? The blonde was dismounting already, passing her reins to the guard who looked on in disinterest. "I didn't have a chance yesterday to thank you properly, since you disappeared so hastily into the trees."

  Peter still hadn't spoken or moved. Cat turned her head to look at him. He stared across the stream, lips ajar, eyes wide.

  Say something, you prize idiot!

  The young lady came all the way down to the water, stepping delicately in silk slippers that were not made to cross anything more challenging than polished parquet and marble surfaces. "What is your name, sir?" she asked. "I long to know it. I have thought about you ever since yesterday."

  Desperate much? If Cat had an eyebrow she would have arched it. This "pure young virgin" was clearly no fading lily. And she evidently had plans for Peter, coming back to find him again. He, of course, was completely taken in, unable to see anything beyond her empty-headed, little girl act.

  "Don't be afraid," she added, smiling broadly. "No one knows I came here. There won't be any trouble." She looked over at the guard and raised her voice to a clipped shout. "Go away and don't come back until I call for you."

  The guard slowly turned his horse and led hers off behind the nearest clump of trees.

  "You see," the lady chirped proudly. "People do as I say."

  Well aren't you just precious.

  Finally Peter moved, bowing awkwardly and then stumbling down over the bracken to the bank side, looking as if he didn't know what to do with his hands. "Lady Serena, I am honored you remember me."

  Cat yawned and dabbled her paw in the water again, fascinated by the rings it made.

  "My name is Peter Proudfoot. I am a carpenter." He pointed over his shoulder. "From yonder village."

  The young woman smiled again. "I should like to bring a basket of food to you and your lady wife. In gratitude for mending my wheel yesterday."

  "I have no wife, my lady."

  "Oh!"

  Cat sniffed, whiskers twitching.

  Lady Serena twirled a blonde curl around one finger. "Not even a sweetheart?"

  "No, my lady. There is no one. I live alone."

  Cat glared up at him, feeling as if her heart had just been stomped upon. Apparently she didn't count!

  "Good. I confess I hoped you had no woman in your life. Is that very selfish of me?"

  Peter flushed. "I…don't…"

  "I am dreadfully lonely here, you see. I have come to live with my uncle and life at his manor is very dull. I am not allowed any fun, but you look just the sort to amuse me. Will you stay a while and talk?"

  Evidently, thought Cat, Lady Serena was in the mood for a bit of rough. She studied the girl on the opposite bank side. Dainty, fluttery, fragile in appearance, but clearly not in temperament since she'd come out to flirt with a man, obviously without her guardian uncle knowing. Now she smiled at Peter and swung her skirt, giggling. Making her little breasts heave out of her lacy bodice.

  Tramp.

  Cat watched Peter balancing on the stepping stones that crossed the stream. He had all the grace of a blind ox. Still, it was all too easy to see him through Lady Serena's eyes. She must admire his broad shoulders and slim hips, the thick muscles in his arms and thighs, the tautness of his buttocks.

  "Is that yours?"

  Aha, the woman had seen her sitting there by the water, watching.

  "It has very strange eyes, like a witch's familiar. I don't like the way it looks at me."

  Peter took one last leap and landed on the other side. He looked back at Cat. "Go home, Puss."

  I think I'll stay. Fool. Can't you see what she wants you for? An afternoon's diversion she can laugh about later with her entitled friends. But mayhap it would get her out of his system. Peter might realize, eventually, that Lady Serena was not what she appeared to be.

  Cat got up and walked around a tree, rubbing her itchy back on the rough bark.

  "There. She's gone," she heard Peter say, and she knew he was smiling as he spoke. Her heart suffered another cruel punch.

  But defiantly she stayed, sitting behind the tree, peeping around it, her head bowed under a fat leaf. She watched them sit together on a fallen log, while Peter told Lady Serena all about the wood he planned to carve in her image. When the young woman laughed it sounded like icicles falling and shattering on glass.

  Then she placed her small hand on Peter's knee and told him she hoped he would get all the measurements exactly so. She leaned forward to show off her generous bosom, while he stared down at it and his eyes gleamed with hot lust.

  Cat curled her claws and stuck them in the bark. Slowly she began ripping them up and down, taking her jealousy out on the tree.

  A slight movement caught her eye and she turned her head, to see the lady's guard standing behind another tree, watching the two people on the bank side. He looked sad. Cat suspected that if he too had claws he would be scarring bark just as she did.

  Chapter Four

  He couldn't believe his luck. The Lady Serena met him ever day by the stream in the forest and, after a few days, even went so far as to allow him a kiss. But
she said it could go no further.

  "I am to save my maidenhead for marriage," she told him in her soft, lisping voice that made him want to wrap her in fleece and protect her. "My uncle will soon find me a husband and I must remain pure for him on my wedding night."

  Peter was frustrated. Good thing he had his dream lover every night on which he could play out the fantasies he was forbidden by Lady Serena.

  His midnight bedmate came to him now, each time, as if she was a shy virgin. There was always slight resistance followed by complete submission when she joined him in that wild coupling, their bodies beating together, skin slapping skin, his cock like a battering ram. She knew what he wanted and how he wanted it.

  "My naughty lady," he whispered one evening, nuzzling her long straight hair, parting her buttocks with his rigid phallus. "I'm going to rut you hard tonight. Will you take me here?" He prodded her anus.

  "Oh no, sir," she purred, back bent, pushing her bottom upward, her hips rocking in his hands. "Don't ask me for that. 'Tis wicked, sir. I cannot."

  "But you will," he choked into her soft hair. "You must, I demand it."

  "Won't it hurt me, sir?"

  "If you resist. Better spread your legs and relax. Then you'll take me into your arse all the way. As I desire." He sat back on his heels to look at his long, thick cock, poised to breach her tiny hole. For the first time ever in these torrid dreams, he opened his eyes. He had to do it.

  At first he saw only differing degrees of shadow for there were no candle stumps still lit and the fire gave out nothing more than a soft, flickering glow. But gradually her shape appeared. He saw her shoulder, her round bottom, the curve of her back with a sheen like satin. And her hair as it spilled over her shoulders. It was black as soot and he had not expected that in his dream. Why would his fantasy have dark hair, when Lady Serena was fair?