Alien Ever After Read Online Loki Renard

Categories Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
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She wails as I fuck her, her hips bucking back against me in demonstration of her desire. She is a quick learner, my virgin princess.

I unbind her and carry her back to bed, my seed slipping from her sex in a slow but significant flow. I am so looking forward to our Ever After together. Now that I have found her and claimed her innocence, I will be forgiven my sins. The darkness that has lurked inside me these years has been expunged, and I have been made anew.

I have deflowered her, but I have also whipped her. She deserves some respite from the latter, having been such a good girl after all.

Laying my royal bride-to-be face down on the bed, I pick up a jar of salve and spread it first over my own fingers, where it feels pleasantly cool. It will feel even better to her lash-marked skin. She will not soon forget this punishment, nor will the evidence of it fade immediately.

I gently begin to tend to her, to soothe what I made sore. There is something quite perverse about this act, the cooling salve almost immediately settling her if her sobs are anything to go by. I can make her sore and sorry, and then I can make her whimper with gratitude for this little sliver of kindness. These are powers that could easily be twisted for dark and selfish ends, but I know what will happen if I become selfish. I know what will happen to Happily Ever After.

The room has settled now, along with the princess. The skies are perfectly blue again outside, and doves soar the skies rather than ravens and buzzards. The walls are clean and bright, and where skulls and bones previously laid are books and baubles of all kinds.

“You were a very good girl,” I praise her. “You took your punishment very well. And you were ever so good for me, surrendering your virginity.”

She is not ready to talk yet beyond little muttered whimpers and embarrassed whispers. That does not matter, because other parts of her body are speaking to me. As I rub her hot bottom, I cannot help but notice the way her hips rise toward me. She is offering herself to me again. What a hungry little beast she is.

4

Emmaline

When I wake in the morning, the entire castle has changed in some non-visible yet very tangible way. Sunlight is streaming in across the bed where I lie with my ardent King Charming, his arms wrapped around me. He held me all night long while I was slumbering and now, as I wake, his eyes open and he gazes into mine and I feel a sudden rush of love and adoration both for him and from him.

“Hello, princess,” he purrs. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” I say. “I slept so very well.” I turn over and cuddle up with him, feeling so very warm and so very cozy. He is my lover, my king, and he has made me a woman in a whole new way. I feel a sense of completion… wait. Is this Happily Ever After? It sure feels like it. It feels like everything is going to be okay forever, like all bad things have melted away in an irresistible wave of goodness and completion and…

Tap tap tap.

There is a respectful knock at the door.

“Come!” Charming calls.

It opens, and a tall, regal butler steps into the room, black suit, white gloves, and a mouse head. But not in a creepy way. Actually, no, it’s kind of creepy. But no. It’s charming. It’s part of our Happily Ever After.

He is carrying a silver tray between his gloved hands, a tray stacked high with pancakes dripping with what I know must be the best maple syrup in the world. I can smell it from the doorway.

“Your breakfast, my king,” he says. “And my queen. I am sorry, Queen Emmaline.”

“Not quite a queen yet,” Charming says. “We must have a wedding and then a coronation. For now, she remains a princess.”

“Yes, your majesty. Of course, your majesty.”

The butler has an adorable British accent, and the way his little white whiskers twitch is quite charming. There’s a light in his beady dark eyes, a cheerful glimmer of humor. He carries the tray over to the bed and places it over the king’s lap.

I reach out with my fingers, pluck a pancake from the top of the stack, curl it up and start eating. I am hungry. Very hungry. The moment the pancake touches my tongue, I taste butter and rich flour, sweetness and fat and the perfect viscous topping of real maple syrup, syrup somehow even more real than any I’ve tasted on Earth. It’s deeper, fuller. It tastes like it is meant to taste, and somehow I know that to my very core.



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