A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment (Fablemere Fae #1) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: Fablemere Fae Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
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Because of the minotaur’s beastly appearance, I wrongly assumed he would rut into me like an animal. He’s a highly skilled lover, though, and fucks me with deliberate slowness that soon overwhelms me with sensation. I succumb to my helplessness, to my powerlessness as he wrings moans and whimpers from me that I cannot stifle. I come again, feel my stretched muscles flutter around him, and he bellows to the ceiling.

“Unchain her,” he tells Arcus, and at once the shackles no longer hold me. The minotaur jerks my legs around his thick waist and pulls me up flush against him; impaled on his cock, I barely come up to his chest.

“I need to fuck her properly,” he snarls, and staggers a few steps.

I cry out in pain as my back collides with the wall and I find myself trapped between two solid objects. He rams his hips against mine, and I feel the plaster behind me crack under the force. He spears into me in short thrusts, then makes a sound I assume is the bovine equivalent of a growl. He pulls out of me entirely and slings me like a rag doll over his shoulder to stride to the bed.

I’m dizzy, achy, but my body is desperate to be filled again. When he grips me around my waist and slams me down on the entire of length of him, I scream in relief. He lifts me up and down, leaving me nothing to do but hang limp in his hands while he uses me. He lifts his hips and bounces me down harder, until the spell is no longer enough to keep him from battering me and I yelp with pain every time I take him down to the root. The brutal thrusts rake the length of his cock against my clit and I am powerless to keep from coming once more.

I gasp for breath and close my eyes to stop the room from whipping up and down in my vision, grit my teeth to keep them from knocking together. My hair flies around my face, my tits bounce painfully, and finally he pushes me down, his hands on my shoulders to hold me tightly on his cock. His release is scalding and forceful, and it sprays from the seal of my opening around his wide shaft. I slump forward, my sweat-drenched skin plastered against his, while he crushes me in his grip.

“What did I tell you?” Arcus asks smugly.

The minotaur gives a few short strokes, savoring my pussy while he softens. His cock finally falls from me to slap onto the bed.

“Cenere, mate of Luthian of Mithrax,” the king says with a hint of amusement. “You may be my new favorite toy.”

Chapter Twenty

Despite his proclamation that I’m his shiny new plaything, Arcus doesn’t call on me the next day. It’s all for the better, because Luthian informs me that the princes, one of whom is my intended—although he doesn’t know it yet—have returned from a trip to The Sorrowlands.

I can only imagine what a son of Arcus gets up to in a land of vampires and other assorted horrors.

“Is he quite so insufferable as his father?” I ask while Luthian inspects me in my bedroom.

“Cassan? No. I actually enjoy his company. We’ve had many delightful encounters.” Luthian tugs at the front of my gown. It’s a frothy white confection of soft linen that will be nearly transparent in the sunlight, perfect for our stroll through the gardens. The neckline sweeps below my breasts, fully exposing them, and a long slit up the skirt reveals flashes of the copper curls over my mound with every step. He untucks a ruffle at my shoulder and steps back. “You didn’t enjoy your time with the king?”

“The king is impressed with me. That’s all that matters.” The fact that he doesn’t understand the art of torment the way Luthian does is inconsequential. The king will be gone soon enough. I lower my voice, though I know our conversations are safe behind Luthian’s wards. “When will you dispatch him?”

“As soon as I get the chance.” He offers me his arm. “Now, shall we go intrigue your future mate?”

We exit into the garden that once had been deserted during my afternoon strolls, but which now teems with faeries taking advantage of the soft grass and trickling fountains. The atmosphere here is playful, focused on pleasure rather than torment, at first sight. But then we approach a huge circular fountain and I note the ornamentation has changed since the last time I saw it. Where before it was simply a tall column with an overflowing basin atop it, there are figures now. Faeries in chains, hanging from that basin, their legs spread wide as stone fish in front of each of them spit a steady stream of water over their splayed labia. They send up a cacophony of moans and shouts, all of them twisting and writhing in the throes of orgasm one moment, begging and desperately seeking escape the next.


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