Enchanted Submission - An erotic bdsm fantasy novella by Lily Harlem Page A
Authors: Lily Harlem
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plush seating and long corridor of privately owned rooms.
Only members were allowed in The Basement; only members plus one guest. Rapunzel wasn’t a member, she couldn’t be, only men were given membership and that rule was further restricted to men with royal connections – it really was that exclusive. But it didn’t stop Rapunzel getting in when she really set her mind to it because her reputation preceded her. Her wall-skimming Prince Nikos had gabbled to everyone about what had really occurred in the high tower she’d been imprisoned in, why he’d risked life and limb and the wrath of a wicked witch to shimmy up to Rapunzel week after week, month after month. Now, thanks to him, men were keen for a taste of her dominant handling and tripping over themselves to pay her ten gold coin admission. It seemed a blonde-haired dominatrix with a knack for swinging a cat-o-nine tails was on more royal fantasy lists than you would think.
But Rapunzel wasn’t interested in dominance any more. She’d had her fill of being in charge and running the show. What she really fancied was a taste of submission; she wanted to forsake control and enjoy the ride with a man who wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted. Turn her into a sexual pretzel, tie her up and fuck her until she could take no more but had to because he wasn’t done yet, hadn’t finished using her body like it was a possession, an object, his own.
She looked across at Cinderella shouting an order of champagne over the bar. The disco lights danced around her pretty profile. She was so sweet, too sweet. She’d get a shock tomorrow night when Prince Charming got her into bed, because from Rapunzel’s experience when she’d met him at the Toad Hall Ball the year before, Prince Charming wasn’t likely to wait until he got Cinderella into bed; he was more likely to claim her virginity on the way up the castle’s 101-step staircase, take her hard and rough against the wall, snag her silk wedding dress on the sharp stones and dishevel her elaborate, floral hair do. Yes, poor innocent Cinders was in desperate need of preparation otherwise she’d turn into a quivering wreck at the first ping of her bra strap; the marriage would be doomed from the word go.
‘Let’s head upstairs.’ Tinkerbell jerked her thumb towards the ceiling.
Belle nodded and shouted above the music, ‘They’ve got mermen on the underwater poles tonight. I quite fancy a twirl!’ She drained her champagne in one slug. ‘Shame I forgot my swimsuit. I’ll just have to dive in naked.’
Cinderella pointed to the busy dance-floor. ‘Er, shall we ... shall we have a dance here first?’
Tinkerbell shook her head. ‘I don’t think so ... Look who’s just walked in.’
All heads turned to the stone arched entrance. Standing shoulder to shoulder, silhouetted by amber back lights stood two men, one broad and solid, the other lean and muscular. Both had their arms folded as they surveyed the joint with enough male belligerence to start their own army and enough confidence to share among several hundred mortals.
‘Oh, shit,’ Belle said, her rosebud mouth pursing and her snubbed nose wrinkling. ‘What the hell’s Beast doing here? Can’t I have one night out without having to dodge him?’
Rapunzel’s response was the total opposite to her friends; her heartbeat quickened and her breath hitched in her throat. Prince Raif wasn’t a beast anymore, he was a brooding hunk of pure, unadulterated testosterone, but since their acrimonious divorce, Belle always referred to him as Beast, spitting the word as though bitter on her tongue.
Rapunzel sipped champagne and concentrated on the bubbles bursting in her mouth. She’d heard Beast had frequented The Turret several times lately and was keen to learn more about what turned him on. What really sparked his interest in a princess? Things Belle had hinted at leading up to their court appearance had made her curious; a slip of the tongue
Only members were allowed in The Basement; only members plus one guest. Rapunzel wasn’t a member, she couldn’t be, only men were given membership and that rule was further restricted to men with royal connections – it really was that exclusive. But it didn’t stop Rapunzel getting in when she really set her mind to it because her reputation preceded her. Her wall-skimming Prince Nikos had gabbled to everyone about what had really occurred in the high tower she’d been imprisoned in, why he’d risked life and limb and the wrath of a wicked witch to shimmy up to Rapunzel week after week, month after month. Now, thanks to him, men were keen for a taste of her dominant handling and tripping over themselves to pay her ten gold coin admission. It seemed a blonde-haired dominatrix with a knack for swinging a cat-o-nine tails was on more royal fantasy lists than you would think.
But Rapunzel wasn’t interested in dominance any more. She’d had her fill of being in charge and running the show. What she really fancied was a taste of submission; she wanted to forsake control and enjoy the ride with a man who wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted. Turn her into a sexual pretzel, tie her up and fuck her until she could take no more but had to because he wasn’t done yet, hadn’t finished using her body like it was a possession, an object, his own.
She looked across at Cinderella shouting an order of champagne over the bar. The disco lights danced around her pretty profile. She was so sweet, too sweet. She’d get a shock tomorrow night when Prince Charming got her into bed, because from Rapunzel’s experience when she’d met him at the Toad Hall Ball the year before, Prince Charming wasn’t likely to wait until he got Cinderella into bed; he was more likely to claim her virginity on the way up the castle’s 101-step staircase, take her hard and rough against the wall, snag her silk wedding dress on the sharp stones and dishevel her elaborate, floral hair do. Yes, poor innocent Cinders was in desperate need of preparation otherwise she’d turn into a quivering wreck at the first ping of her bra strap; the marriage would be doomed from the word go.
‘Let’s head upstairs.’ Tinkerbell jerked her thumb towards the ceiling.
Belle nodded and shouted above the music, ‘They’ve got mermen on the underwater poles tonight. I quite fancy a twirl!’ She drained her champagne in one slug. ‘Shame I forgot my swimsuit. I’ll just have to dive in naked.’
Cinderella pointed to the busy dance-floor. ‘Er, shall we ... shall we have a dance here first?’
Tinkerbell shook her head. ‘I don’t think so ... Look who’s just walked in.’
All heads turned to the stone arched entrance. Standing shoulder to shoulder, silhouetted by amber back lights stood two men, one broad and solid, the other lean and muscular. Both had their arms folded as they surveyed the joint with enough male belligerence to start their own army and enough confidence to share among several hundred mortals.
‘Oh, shit,’ Belle said, her rosebud mouth pursing and her snubbed nose wrinkling. ‘What the hell’s Beast doing here? Can’t I have one night out without having to dodge him?’
Rapunzel’s response was the total opposite to her friends; her heartbeat quickened and her breath hitched in her throat. Prince Raif wasn’t a beast anymore, he was a brooding hunk of pure, unadulterated testosterone, but since their acrimonious divorce, Belle always referred to him as Beast, spitting the word as though bitter on her tongue.
Rapunzel sipped champagne and concentrated on the bubbles bursting in her mouth. She’d heard Beast had frequented The Turret several times lately and was keen to learn more about what turned him on. What really sparked his interest in a princess? Things Belle had hinted at leading up to their court appearance had made her curious; a slip of the tongue
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