Fractured Fairy Tales (30 page)

Arthur retreated to his chamber early that evening. Normally, he would take a trot through the fields and nod at some of his subjects. Diplomacy was always a part of each day, but after witnessing the wizardry of Merlin—the visit from Archimedes—Arthur was spent. After having a light meal and discussing matters of the kingdom with his lead advisor, he turned in for the night. And what a splendid night it was.

All the window openings were left unlatched so he could experience the sweet aroma of night. Most people feared the night due to “evils” like Merlin, but Arthur loved it. It was the only time when Britain slept. And when Britain slumbered, Camelot did the same. All this meant that he was no longer a king fighting wars, making orders, stressing over heirs. No. He was only Arthur in a grand room that he never could have imagined when he was a younger, destitute child in the filthy grime of Britain’s streets.

A smile spread on Arthur’s face as he pulled up his fur-lined pelt, burrowing himself deeper into his bed. It was time for his personal peace.

“Smiling already? We have yet to fix the issue.”

Arthur jumped, erect in his bed with the terror that Merlin was in his chamber. But when he inventoried his room, everything seemed unfamiliar. For one, it was extremely miniscule, barely large enough to hold his monstrous bed. There was no fireplace and only a small table and wooden chair were present in a corner sandwiched between two windows. Even though he was not in his bed chambers, possibly not in the castle at all, the thing that frightened him the most was it was no longer night. It was light as day outside and he had only shut his eyes before he heard Merlin’s haunting voice.

Arthur heard the loud pop of two fingers snapping and his bed shrank to half its size. After scrambling to the top of the bed, Arthur witnessed the wizard enter through a door that seemed to appear out of thin air.

Merlin was a very dominant presence. Taller than any man he had ever seen. Bronze tinted skin as if he had been out in the sun all his life. Onyx hair that he kept bundled in a tie that hung loosely down his back. If Arthur had to guess, Merlin’s hair probably reached past his hip. Always present in black leather and bindings, he looked like an executioner ready to deliver a sentence. He had on black boots that rose to a stop at a fashionable silver plate right at the knee. His legs, not as thin as he remembered, were concealed by leather pants with his black, billowy shirt carefully tucked in. There was a strap that crossed his chest that held his sword that hung tight to his left hip. Arthur could not understand for the life of him why Merlin carried around the weapon when he could easily kill an assailant with a simple clap of his hands. Boasting to be more than a thousand years old, his youthful features made him appear close to his early thirties, late twenties.

“I sense you have a few questions for me.” Merlin’s voice always sent a chill up Arthur’s spine. It made him want to think twice before he chose his words. The last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing.

“How did I get here?” Arthur asked then gulped. For some odd reason, he knew that was a stupid question to lead with.

The wizard started to pace around the room, his shadow seemed to lengthen instead of follow him as he walked. The magic and oddities had begun.

“How did you get here?” Merlin chuckled.
Yeah, stupid question.
“I think you know the answer to that question. I will not answer to or about anything as trivial as to why or how you got somewhere. Anything else you want to ask? And do use your brains this time,
Runt
.”

Arthur grimaced when he heard the appellation. Runt was the nickname that Merlin bestowed on him during their training. He always laughed at Arthur making him feel less than a man. Calling him a
runt
like he was part of some litter of animals. After taking a deep breath, Arthur increased his courage, searching for the right question. And he was to deliver. Merlin required a question that he would get or there would be hell to pay.

“What happens now?”

Merlin chuckled. “Good. Very good.” Arthur felt his chest swell with pride. He had done something right. “You must bathe…the day is getting old.”

Bathe? Day getting old?
Arthur glanced out of one of the windows from his position on the bed and his breath caught in his chest. The deep orange of a setting sun was starting to emerge.
What in the hell? I just got here.

“Stop trying to figure everything out, Runt. You are in my realm and things happen when
I
want them to. Simple.” Without allowing Arthur to digest his comment, Merlin snapped his fingers and Arthur, still dressed in his bed garments stood in a different room. It was filled with steam that tickled at his nose and smelled of fragrant oils. Under his bare feet, the floor was warm unlike the cool flooring in the bath chamber in Camelot. The walls seemed to be made of stone, but Arthur could not make out the definite material due to the darkness of the chamber. There was only one fire torch affixed to a wall that gave the entire room a light orange tint to the gray smoke. Merlin also seemed to have vanished.

“Archimedes!”
Merlin’s voice boomed then echoed until a tall man appeared before Arthur. Not as tall as Merlin, but definitely a foot higher than Arthur. He was shirtless. His brawny torso was well-defined, showing the ripple of his abs, thick expanse of his chest, and musculature of his shoulders and arms. His hair was short, stark white and spiked. His eyes the color of the finest silver that sparkled so brightly, Arthur could have sworn they looked like…
diamonds?

“Archimedes?” The man that Arthur knew as the grand owl and servant to Merlin was not a bird or animal, but a
man
.

“The master wants you to bathe and I will assist in that.”

Arthur’s first reaction was to shy away, even protest. He had never had a man bathe him before. Touch his flesh. His
naked
flesh. But he knew that if he was not compliant, he would not hear the end of it. And, again, he would have to deal with Merlin’s wrath.

Arthur quivered with apprehension as Archimedes lifted Arthur’s bed gown from his body. Standing there before Merlin’s assistant while disrobed was unnerving. It did not help that Archimedes was known to be a chatter box, but in his human form he was eerily quiet and mysterious.

With a hand to Arthur’s back, Archimedes guided him to the steamy waters of what appeared to be a large cauldron.
Oh, Hades no! Merlin is planning on cooking me into a stew of some sort.

“Get in the water, Runt!”

Merlin’s voice cracked into the tranquil moment like a storm thundering over the hills. Arthur scampered into the liquid, grimacing as he felt the scalding heat kiss his flesh.

“Shit,” Arthur yelped as he eased into the liquid fire that stopped at his chest when he was submerged and seated.

Archimedes took a cloth that smelled of honey and spice and dipped it into the water. Once it was wet, Archimedes placed the hot cloth over Arthur’s face and eyes. Without having sight, Arthur was left to the mercy of the man before him. He felt another cloth touch his chest as Archimedes began to bathe him. Considering Arthur was under a tremendous amount of stress, he put up a valiant effort to be stiff and uncomfortable, but eventually he relaxed and leaned back against the cauldron wall.

Arthur listened to the deliberate swishing of the water as he felt droplets of fragrant liquid sprinkle against his chest. He began to groan from the sensation of being touched. Caressed. Even if it were with a man. Archimedes mopped the cloth over Arthur’s abs. Even though Arthur was not much of a fighter, he did spar on a weekly basis. His body was trim and fit. Adored by many. Many kings of the time, although near warlords, were frumpy and old. Not Arthur—the young king. His straight cinnamon hair was cut short only stopping short of his ears. His shoulders were broad and his torso had little to no body fat. Due to his constant riding of horse for pleasure, his thighs were thick and his height was intimidating by some.

Arthur felt the grip of Archimedes travel up his inner thighs. Arthur’s lips parted in yet another failed attempt to stifle his hum of pleasure. Then he felt the same touch of Archimedes on his shaft. He tickled his fingers against length in a dance of delight.
Oh, no.
Arthur’s nipples perked, heating on the edge of gratification. When Archimedes began to swirl the pads of his fingertips against the tip of Arthur’s manhood, Arthur began to pant uncontrollably. He did not know what was coming over him. Fire filled his veins. The heat was overpowering. Arthur found it difficult to hold back any longer. Before he could stop himself, he closed his eyes tight and grunted as his inner cream filled the hot water. It was like his shaft was a cannon unloading. It nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

“Oh, heavens me,” Arthur voiced, his appetite whet for more of the glorious sensation.
What? He yearned for…more?
Arthur panted and tried to catch his breath from his release. His mind was in a whirlwind. It had been almost a year since he had experienced something so delicious as what
Archimedes
had done to him.
A man? How could it be?
Once he lifted the veil of the damp cloth, Archimedes was gone. Replaced by…
Merlin
.

The wizard began to clap in a languid manner.

“Bravo, Runt. Bravo!”

With another snap of Merlin’s fingers, Arthur found himself back in his bed in the unassuming room. It was night and he was confused beyond belief. A tray of sliced venison and grains was placed at the foot of the bed, but Arthur had no appetite. So much had happened in only a matter of hours. From the original sight of Archimedes as the owl that he was accustom to right down to the view of his manlike form. A man that had made him react in a way that Arthur almost believed to be extinct. Simply, Arthur was terrified. Yet, that was his normal reaction while being near to Merlin—terror.

He nestled into his bed with thoughts of their first few adventures while Arthur was in transition as the new king of Britain. First up was etiquette which included everything from manners to dialogue to posture. Whenever Arthur would complete something in error, Merlin would swat Arthur’s bottom with a riding crop that he kept attached to his hip, just under his sword scabbard. It took some time for Arthur to adjust to his new life of finery. Not eating with his hands. Not slouching. Using perfect dialect, even learning new languages such as Greek. It was all overwhelming, but he could not quit or face the consequences. He felt backed into a corner then, and now, there was nowhere to go as well.

The only thing that gave him cause for elation was the memory of spilling his seed inside of the cauldron. Arthur could only think that he was cured. Within moments of arrival nonetheless. The conundrum, though, he was still in Merlin’s realm. Not returned to Camelot. Was there more to do? Did he need to consummate his victory?

“Eat, Runt!”

Arthur yelped at Merlin’s evocative voice.

“You will need your strength at daybreak.”

With that, the room became eerily silent. Mute. The blackness of a naked sky void of stars watched him through unmasked windows. His journey was not finished. He was not cured.

Arthur sat up on his elbow and pulled the tray closer to him as he picked at the delicious meat and season grain. Before he knew it, he had finished the entire portion and felt the heaviness of a full belly and welcome sleep.

Arthur fluttered his eyes open after what seemed to be a few seconds of sleep. The birds were singing and the sky was kissed with the pink lips of the heavens. Merlin’s land was infinite meaning that time did not exist. Days and nights were only an illusion so Arthur was not sure if he had slept the night away. One thing was certain, Arthur felt more than rested. He would have thought he slumbered for days in just a blink of an eye. Merlin had that kind of control.

*Snap*

Arthur found himself in a moderately sized chamber. Nothing was in it but a long rectangular table that sat in front of two windows. Next to the table was a wooden chair that was void of armrests just a back, the seat, and four legs. Nothing spectacular there.

Arthur looked down and he was dressed in garbs not like his norm. Similar leather pants and boots as Archimedes had worn the day before. He too was missing a shirt, but he had two hide straps that criss-crossed over his chest. The straps themselves had metal loops traversing the material. Arthur was questioning his attire when he felt a cool gust approach him from behind. When he turned, only a breadth away, there stood the powerful wizard with an ominous grin on his face. Arthur’s breath caught in his lungs, but he dared not make a peep.

“You look quite rested,” Merlin drawled with a slight hiss at the end. It was that final hiss in his words that seemed to crawl up Arthur’s spine. The terror that most would flee from stood before him in the flesh.

Merlin walked around Arthur while Arthur eagerly followed the magnificent man with his timid gaze. Merlin had his hands crossed at the small of his back as he glided toward the table. With the faint fanning of his fingers, a large, high-back, upholstered chair appeared to the rear of the table. The chair as if knowing who it was meant for, slowly pivoted in the direction of Merlin like a turning dial. Merlin took a seat then the chair languorously rotated to face the table again.

The wizard crossed his legs, leisurely at best. Arthur could feel Merlin watching him. Boring holes into him. Like he was as limpid as water. The wizard cocked his head in deep study.

“So, Runt, are you ready for your first lesson? Do you have any questions before we get started?”

“Eh, I thought I was cured,” Arthur stated with a timorous tremble to his voice.

“No. You simply had a preliminary test.” Merlin glanced down at Arthur’s pants.

He could feel his thighs smolder in reaction to whatever the sorcerer was doing.

“I had to make sure…all of your parts…were in working order.”

“So, I didn’t harden? How was I able to—”

“No need for insignificant questions. It’s time to start.” Yet another
dumb
question was asked of the almighty Merlin.
Fuck.

*Snap*

Within a flash, the once empty wooden chair was filled. A maiden—no—a woman of profound experience sat before him and her master. Hair as black as a winter’s night, cascaded down her breasts. Ample mounds of pallid flesh with blush hued nipples sitting atop. Her bosom was rising and falling in rapid succession. She was in need. Wanton. Heated. Her oval face with plump, rosy cheeks had a covering over her eyes to conceal her sight. She began to writhe and thrust about on the chair like an animal in heat. Her supple thighs spread apart as she curled her bare feet inward. Her mons was completely absent of hair, making Arthur gasp. He had never seen such a sight in his life.

*Snap*

Arthur was on all fours like a horse. His eyes, too, were shielded. Arthur knew he was still in the same room due to the exotic grumbles of the woman sitting in the chair. But being without sight was putting him in a panic. Within moments the room quieted, no more moans, no more panting. Deathly silence.

“Runt, I have a challenge for you.”

Arthur gulped.

“While you are in my charge, in my realm, you are to refer to me as master, as all my subjects do. Understood,” Merlin hissed.

“Yes.”

Arthur felt the searing burn of the riding crop to his rear. Even through thick pants, it left a sizzling ache.
Shit, that was a wrong answer.

“Yes…
master
,” Arthur corrected and braced himself for more pain. Nothing.

“Good, now for your task.” Even though Arthur did not hear Merlin rise from his seat, Arthur could feel the movement of the air, the clapping of his boots to the hard floor. Merlin was circling him. And Arthur was on edge.

“Our beautiful friend is a maiden to a very prominent goddess so we shall treat her well. She has never encountered the flesh of a man. No one has broached her purity. As you have wondered, she is under a deep spell with a catch. Her body heat is rising, even as I speak. Your task and the only thing that can save her is to bring her to climax. Runt, you are to copulate our guest.”

“How should I do that, master?” Arthur asked as he heard the scraping of Merlin’s chair against the stone floor. “I can’t see her or harden.”

Merlin rumbled with laughter. “It’s simple, Runt, use your many talents of pleasure. Now with haste, make her scream. This is life…and…death.”

Shit.

Arthur stayed planted on all fours trying to devise a strategic plan. Wars, battles, and anything called of a ruler, he had been trained and knowledgeable but his current task was proving a mighty challenge. He felt like eons had passed, but he remembered there was no such thing as time in the magical realm. However, that did not do anything to calm his nerves.

Okay, Arthur, think
, he said to himself.
I have to make her come with haste. Life and death. But how? I can’t use my cock, that’s for sure. That leaves fingers and tongue. Tongue. That’s the show, good king.

Arthur felt great about his choice of tool for use, but his plan was non-existent. There was an alluring maiden sitting only a stone’s throw away. Supple. Delicious. Craving. But she was in danger. Only so much heat could be applied to a person or it would end in disaster. It was imperative that he got to her. How? It was a very daunting question.

“Time is of the essence. I would hate to have to deliver bad news to her goddess if she perishes under
your
care, Runt.”

Me? How can this be blamed on me?
His mind was like mush and the wizard was taunting him.

Arthur began to crawl forward. He was not sure if Merlin had altered his position in the room just to toy with him, but after moving forward for a moment, something changed in his heightened senses. His nose picked up a scent. It was faint, but it smelled of flowers in bloom. Pure and innocent.
Unbroached.
Arthur was in the right direction so he surged forward with urgency.

Once his face collided with her knee, Arthur took a moment to sneer in pain then he got to work. He brushed his cheek up against the feverish thighs of the maiden. She continued to contort with need. Her floral scent increase.
The musk of this woman is intoxicating
, Arthur thought.

His nose was the first thing to hit pay dirt. Her clitoris was a hardened nub. Extended enough for him to tickle it with his lips. She was already moist and ready. Arthur sat back on his haunches and sucked her stimulated flesh into his mouth with unabashed fervor. He suckled on her clit like a tit to a child. Even though she was stone quiet, Arthur could not contain his own moans of pleasure.

He wanted to savor the moment. Be one with her. Take his time.
Time is of the essence
echoed in his mind. He had to save her. Arthur parted her lips and dove his tongue deep into her depths. Like the sweetest of summer fruits she was filling him with her nectar, but it was not enough. He needed her cup to runneth over. The only way to complete the task was with a climax.

The maiden, still able to move even though mute, was bucking against him. Thrusting closer to his mouth. It was as if she wanted him to eat her alive. Sweet and untouched. Arthur could not sway his delight in pleasing her. Pleasing her? That was a new notion. He was the king. His subjects were to make life splendid for
him
. Now his task was to please another. That was it. Give onto others and maybe he will be cured from his terrible affliction.

Arthur sucked and licked into her tightness. Her slit was so liquefied that he was finding it difficult to keep a hold to her nub. Arthur inserted a finger into her. Feeling her snugness. She conformed to him. Then she almost levitated from the chair when she grabbed hold of his hair. With one final push against his finger, Arthur removed the intrusion and planted his tongue in the path of her undammed river.

Her scream was loud. Painstakingly audible. Grunts like a dying fox. Howls like a wolf. She stood causing Arthur to sit back further. It was no way in Hades that he was leaving her hot chasm void while it came. Drowning him with sweet suffocation. If it were his final breath…he was right where he needed to be.

*Snap*

Arthur fumbled forward into the chair. His eyes uncovered. The exotic virgin…gone. He was panting. Eyes watering because he had seen the heavens. Liquid gold she was. Instinctively, he wiped at his mouth for one last sip of her fruit. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. He was dry as a whistle. Left in dread to wonder if what happened had truly…happened. Then the deliberate claps of Merlin snapped him out of his daze.

Sitting in his chair, legs crossed, evil expression, Merlin smiled at Arthur with more than a glint. He was pleased. Proud even. What happened did in fact occur.

“Bravo, Runt, bravo!”