Naughty Fairy Tales Volume I: A Three Book Collection - AJ Tipton - ebook
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Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, and Sleeping Beauty as you've never seen them beforeIn a magical kingdom far away, there lived cursed princes, warrior women, and powerful heroes. This three-book collection features sexy genderswapped retellings of the classic fairy tales: Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, and Sleeping Beauty. The heroes have become heroines, the heroines have become heroes, and nothing is as it seems.What the Queen Wills: In this steamy FFM polyamorous tale of seduction, liberation, and intoxicating strangers, even the humblest of peasants has a shot with the Queen if she so wills. Hunting Red: This mature romance involves valiant swashbuckling, stormy love-making, and a villain you'll want to sink your teeth into. Breaking the Curse: Raven’s Royal Mate: This sexy adult retelling of Sleeping Beauty involves light bondage, drunken sorcerers, and a love strong enough to defy magic.These STANDALONE novellas can be read in any order. There are no cliffhangers, and each short ends as it should: happily ever after.

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Naughty Fairy Tales Volume I

A Three Book Collection

AJ Tipton

Illustrated byLydiaChai

Copyright © AJ Tipton 2015 The right of AJ Tipton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (or other similar law, depending on your country). All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author, except in cases of brief quotations embodied in reviews or articles. It may not be edited, amended, lent, resold, hired out, distributed or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s written permission. Permission can be obtained from a.j.tipton.author@gmail.com

This book is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is purely coincidental.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Cover art photos provided by BigStock.com, Morgue Files, Flickr.com, and Upsplash.com.

Created with Vellum

Contents

What the Queen Wills

Hunting Red

Breaking the Curse

Letter from the Authors

Meet AJ Tipton

What the Queen Wills

Eliot’s face hit the wood floor with a wet thump. His head spun from the impact and his vision blurred so badly he almost didn’t see the leather boot swinging towards his ribs. He absorbed the hit, letting a cry escape his lips. A drop of blood hit the floor and he hoped the cut on this forehead wouldn’t leave a scar.

Well, this is a bit of an overreaction.

Eliot grit his teeth and clenched his fists, trying to resist his natural impulse to fight back. He was taller and stronger than both of his older brothers; he could easily thrash them both if he wanted to.

But that wouldn’t be right, he told himself for the third time. I owe them so much.

“Eat this, you spineless twerp!” Artie, the oldest, said as he ground ashes from the banked fireplace all over Eliot's face, then spat on him. Artie was built like a boxer, muscular but short. Shadows from the fires of the wall torches made him look like a squatting troll. “Nobody would want a freak like you at their Gathering.”

Artie's cracking voice echoed off the walls of the dank servants’ quarters. They'd already broken three of the chairs and Eliot just hoped they didn't use the fireplace pokers as more weapons for his punishment. The cinders covering his face itched and burned where they made contact with the cut on his forehead.

“Tell ‘em, Artie!” Mitch, the middle brother, chimed in, contributing nothing as usual. As short as his brother, Mitch was slender where Artie was wide, with a beak-like nose and bad posture that exacerbated his weasel-like appearance. He leaned against one of the old carved wardrobes, picking his teeth with grimy fingernails.

Eliot had nearly made it to a Gathering this time. He’d received his very own invitation, the first ever specifically addressed to him. He had barely believed it at the time.

The toe of Artie’s boot got him in the stomach and Eliot wheezed. So it was too good to be true after all.

He’d known his brothers didn’t approve of him going to town Gatherings, considering his affliction. If it wasn’t for the encouragement of their maid, Amelia, he never would have dared to try and go at all. Eliot assumed, or at least hoped, that despite their tough love, they would be happy to see he was invited. He hadn’t realized his brothers would react so strongly to catching him trying put his costume together.

He knew now. They’d caught him in the middle of getting dressed, nearly bare except for the few strips of fabric necessary for an appropriate Gathering outfit: a serviceable codpiece out of his brothers’ throw-away scraps of leather and belts.

They’d burst in, radiating fury. The crisscrossing blue veins in Artie’s forehead protruded with rage to an alarming degree. Mitch, meanwhile, didn’t look so much angry as gleeful—with an unprecedented level of sweat dripping from his forehead to show it—at Eliot’s anticipated punishment.

“We raised you, you ungrateful dipshit. What makes you think you have the right to do anything without our permission?” Artie’s voice cracked halfway through the last word.

Another boot slammed into Eliot’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. Mitch took his cues from Artie, kicking at the same spot Artie’s foot just struck.

“Yeah, we fucking raised you, you oversized runt,” Mitch repeated.

As Eliot curled into a ball, heaving for breath, Artie and then Mitch turned on Amelia, fists clenched and deep V’s in their foreheads signaling their anger wasn’t purged yet.

Eliot felt a cold stillness fill his chest as his brothers advanced on Amelia. She had only been working with them for a few months, a lithe blonde in her early twenties whose kindness had surprised him from the start.

But then, she didn’t know about his affliction. His brothers had told him as soon as he hit puberty that any woman who knew about his condition wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him.

Amelia was too beautiful, sweet and kind to ever consider being with someone like Eliot, but he adored her nonetheless. Eliot couldn’t stand the thought of any harm coming to her. As Mitch advanced upon her, Amelia tried to get behind one of the chairs and made a grab for one of the skillets hanging on the wall. Artie was too fast.

“And you, bitch!” Artie bellowed, grabbing her forearm and swinging her around to face him. “Who gave you the goddamn right to interfere?” He sniffed in her face, capturing her wrists with both hands. “You thought this little turd could actually go to a Gathering?”

Mitch moved towards the restrained woman, snorting and giggling under his breath. “Yeah, you ain’t got the right, bitch!”

This isn’t right! Eliot couldn't watch any more. He leapt to his feet, ignoring the pain screaming from the bruises and cuts all over his body. His brothers had treated Eliot like a disobedient mule all his life, but watching them prey on an innocent woman like Amelia was too much to bear. He clenched a fist and swung hard, rolling his hips as his shoulder rotated, knocking Artie to the ground.

Blood sprayed across the room. Artie’s nasal bone was no match for Eliot’s punch and shattered on impact. Mitch immediately ran from the room, letting out a high-pitched, nasal scream as he fled. Artie wobbled on his feet, pinching his nose to stem the flow of blood running down his chin.

“You better stay here, freak.” He spat, sending a small mist of blood out into the well-kept room. “You know where you belong.” He stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” Amelia’s voice was barely a whisper. Her hands trembled as she crept across the room, her fingers nervously combing her mussed hair back into place.

Eliot crumpled to the floor, bruises already beginning to bloom on his exposed skin. “I just need a minute...ow!”

Amelia dropped to her knees beside him, her hands already probing Eliot’s flesh, expertly examining his wounds. He couldn't help noticing the perfect curve of her full lips. They were so red and plump, they looked painted. “It doesn’t feel like you have any broken bones, so that’s good news at least.” She smiled up at him, her bright blue eyes shining.

Eliot struggled to think of anything other than the feel of her hands on his body. Despite his best efforts, his dick began to grow hard, pressing into the scant fabric of his half-sewn codpiece. “I’m sorry they were so rough with you,” he said, working to keep his voice steady. “They’re not bad people.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow and snorted softly, but her gentle hands continued their examination. Her fingers caressed and explored the muscular flesh of his back. He had to stifle a moan as she ran her fingers over his shoulder blades, his ribs, his spine. Her hands were so soft and delicate, and he relished every touch. No woman had ever touched him like this.

Her touch felt heavenly, not only because of the smoothness of her caresses, but knowing the sweet strokes were from Amelia, the gentle soul he already admired so much; her every probing touch sent shivers of want to his cock.

“They are bad people, Eliot,” she said. “You shouldn’t let them treat you the way they do.” Amelia’s hands wandered down to Eliot’s bare legs as she spoke. Her eyes focused on the bulge forming beneath the leather codpiece. “We can keep going, if you want?” Her big blue eyes looked into Eliot’s, almost daring him.

“Forget the costume. I’m not going to the Gathering.” Eliot’s voice was soft in defeat. He couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and touch her. He slowly stroked his fingertips up and down Amelia’s arm, smiling as she shivered at his attention.

Amelia's amazing mouth curved up in a wicked grin. “We can have our own party right here.”

Eliot nearly fell over in surprise as Amelia slid into his lap, capturing his lips with her own. He groaned against her luscious mouth as he ran his hands up and down her back, pulling her close while unzipping her dress. Amelia wrapped her legs around Eliot’s back, rubbing her core against the soft ridges of his abs as she wriggled her arms and chest out of her dress. He helped pull the fabric off her body and jumped a little as her hard nipples rubbed up and down his chest.

“You should know something,” he started to say before she grabbed his face and pulled his lips down to cover her peaked nipple. He quickly flicked his tongue against the sensitive flesh, loving her deep moan of pleasure.

He was becoming painfully hard against Amelia’s leg, and he savored each moment of contact as she squirmed and writhed against him. He moved his mouth up her chest in a series of small kisses until he reached the nape of her neck, sucking at her delicate skin. He moved his hand slowly up her stomach and ribs until he reached her breast, kneading and molding the tender flesh still damp from his tongue.

Amelia pulled his head up from her neck, eyes dark with lust. “Take me now.”

“Yes.” He growled against her skin. Eliot gently guided Amelia down to the hardwood floor, peppering her with kisses and gentle bites. His hand dipped down to her core, stroking her swollen folds. “You’re so wet.” She squirmed against his hand, her own hands pawing at the scrap of fabric between her and Eliot’s swollen cock.

“But you really need to know," he yelped as she bit into his forearm, "Before we do this, I’ve got to tell you.” He cupped her lovely face and looked into her eyes. ”The reason I shouldn’t go to the Gatherings—the reason my brothers call me a freak—is that I’ve got an affliction.”

“Affliction?” Her gaze wandered up and down his well-muscled torso. “There's nothing wrong with you that I can see.”

“It's because you don't know about my abnormally-sized cock,” he wanted to close his eyes so he wouldn't see the disappointed look on her face when she heard. “I know women find it repugnant but…” Eliot took a deep breath in, willing himself to continue his sentence. She’s going to find out; I might as well be honest. “I...Well, I’ve got a really big dick.”

Amelia slowly blinked once. Twice. “I want to see,” she said, more calmly than he’d imagined. Any second she is going to run screaming out of here. He let go of her face and watched with a helpless dread as she rushed to untie the last strap securing Eliot’s codpiece.

“Oh my.” She smiled, wrapping her delicate hand around his massive girth. Her hand barely made it all the way around. “Eliot, I don’t know how to tell you this.” She lifted her hips and guided his cock to her entrance, her breath speeding up as the enormous shaft neared her wet crease. ”But your affliction? It’s awesome.”

“So you’re actually okay with it?” Eliot resisted the urge to immediately sink into Amelia’s velvety warmth. He couldn’t believe she was being so understanding about his horrible curse. The woman was clearly a saint.

“More than okay. Trust me. Any woman would be more than okay.” Amelia pulled him closer and kissed him hard, making Eliot’s head spin with lust.

He leaned forward and thrust deep into Amelia, hearing her gasp as she took his full length inside her. She felt amazing: so soft and wet and tight around his cock. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest as he worked in her, moving slowly at first to allow her to adjust to his size. He ran his fingers down her thighs as he thrust, leaving behind trails of white flesh that flashed back to pink as he released her.

Everything about her was glorious; the way she tossed her head back as she groaned beneath him, the way her legs gripped him and she thrust up to meet him, the way her mouth felt along his chest.

He could tell she was close: her eyes closed in ecstasy and her breath came in short pants. Her bucking hips under him matched him thrust for thrust.

“Eliot! Yes! Fuck!” She writhed on the floor, becoming increasingly incoherent as her moans increased in volume and enthusiasm.

“Cum for me, Amelia, I need you to cum for me,” he panted and bit her gently on the nipple as he slid his hand down to where their bodies met and rubbed against her clit.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but her voice came out as a desperate whimper. He slammed his swollen member into her faster and harder until her walls convulsed and spasmed around him, sending him over the edge. Stars exploded behind his eyes and he spilled his seed inside her.

“Thank fuck!” His roar shook the pans against the wall.

They lay still for a few minutes as Eliot softened inside her passage and their breath steadied.

Finally, Amelia pushed against Eliot’s chest for him to roll off. “Thank fuck,” she said like a prayer as she looked at him. “That was amazing. You know your brothers are assholes, right? Your only affliction is that you have a truly astounding gift for sex.”

The wooden floor felt cold after laying on Amelia’s warm flesh, but she nestled against him, resting her head on his heaving pectorals.

“I want to believe you,” Eliot breathed, running a hand up and down her smooth thigh. “It’s just hard to believe so much I’ve been told about myself is a lie.”

She played gently with his chest hair. “But do you believe your brothers are capable of lying to you?”

He didn't say anything, just studied the pattern of cobwebs on the ceiling.

“Yes, that's what I thought,” she said softly. She chewed on her lower lip and tilted Eliot's head so he would look at her. “You know I care about you, but I don’t think I’m safe here anymore. Your brothers won't ever forgive me for helping you here. And you can't be around all the time to protect me from both of them.” Her voice was so soft he barely heard her words.

Eliot wanted nothing more than to cling to her, to bury himself into her night after night, finding new ways to make her body keen and shake. But he knew she was right. His brothers were far too short-tempered to be trusted with someone as pure and good as Amelia.

He nodded and rested his head against her breast, listening to the sound of her beating heart one last time.

He had to let her go.

Amelia’s heels clicked on the stone palace hallways. Her arms were a little tired from the morning spent hauling padding down from storage for the Gathering, but at least here she didn’t have to worry about an unwelcome pinch from Mitch’s weaselly hands. Nothing brought down Queen Cassandra’s—may-she-cum-long-and-hard—ire quicker than sexual advances without consent. The last butler who grabbed a maid’s ass without her verbal permission got his hands chopped off.

The sound of Amelia’s heels echoed off the arched passageways, bouncing off the stained glass windows depicting scenes of epic heroic lovemaking between historic Crispin kings and queens.

Eliot should see these, Amelia thought to herself as passed a window depicting a stylized portrait of the great King Jayne, his erect cock so huge it was nearly level with his shoulders. Kneeling men and women filled the bottom of the pane, arms outstretched in worship of his enormous dick, with tiny jewels of drool dripping from their mouths. If Eliot was here,he’d never believe his shitbag brothers again about women hating big dicks.

Amelia sighed a little, adjusting the overflowing basket of corsets in her arms so the leather and lace bodices didn’t slide off each other. She tried to ignore the pang in her gut when she remembered sweet Eliot left alone with his brothers in that dismal old house. It had been a little over a month since she left, but she missed seeing his face every day. With her gone, he would be stuck with all the chores, and if his brothers’ social schedules suffered because he couldn’t sew a straight seam in leather, she knew Artie wouldn’t hesitate to pound Eliot into the ground.

Her fellow maids hustled past, carrying baskets of toys and costumes for the Gathering, their short uniforms with fluffy skirts barely covering anything, garter-buckled tights and corsets pushing their busts sky-high.

Queen Cassandra—may-she-cum-long-and-hard—has excellent taste, Amelia thought to herself as the parade of legs and cleavage walked past. The butlers were equally busy in their tight leather vests and skin-tight assless chaps, carrying lamps and covered serving dishes to the various alcoves serving as play rooms for the Gathering.

One particularly fine ass belonging to a tall valet with black hair who gave her a wink and a tiny shimmy as he walked by. He wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as Eliot, but she obligingly winked back with a tiny smile. She wouldn’t toss that ass out of bed. The longing in her loins still burned. He was no Eliot. He was no Queen Cassandra either, for that matter.

Amelia had only caught a glimpse of the queen when she first arrived at the palace, but Amelia already felt a little drunk whenever she thought about the queen’s magnificence.

Queen Cassandra was beauty and power personified: tall, polished, her perfectly rounded breasts always tastefully displayed, with her long legs crossed over one knee in perfect poise, and her brown hair spilling down over her statuesque figure like a goddess from storybooks.

Amelia could feel warm dampness spreading across her core as she tried to keep her face composed. The overflowing basket of corsets in her hands threatened to topple over any second, but the brush of lace and satin against her fingertips only fed her fantasies about the queen’s flawless skin under her hands, under her tongue.

It wasn’t just the queen’s beauty that enthralled her. The longer Amelia was at the palace, the more she was impressed with Queen Cassandra’s improvements. Gatherings had always been a staple of Crispin history and culture, but she turned them from meaningless hedonistic sex parties for the rich to elite soirees open to anyone who could demonstrate skilled sexual prowess. The cultural tradition was now embraced by all levels of society to an unprecedented degree, assisted by the newly-developed STD immunizations as well as fool-proof oral birth control for both men and women.

Oh, if only there was a way to pair Eliot’s amazing cock with Queen Cassandra’s flawless body...

Amelia was so distracted thinking of the possibilities that she nearly walked into one of the palace security guards making rounds in the hallway. Amelia recognized Lola immediately. She was of Queen Cassandra’s inner circle, her mass of black, winding braids and violet eyes distinguishing her as one of the most memorable members of staff.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Lola said, grabbing two of the corsets off the top of Amelia’s basket before they fell off.

“Thanks,” Amelia mumbled, shaking herself free of a vivid day-dream where Eliot’s cock filled her mouth while Cassandra’s tongue lapped between her legs.

“So, you all busy getting ready for the Gathering?” Lola said cheerily. The smiling woman held up the two corsets she’d grabbed in front of her. One was a bright blue with yellow ribbons along the front making a crisscross pattern like a Mayfair pole. The other was black leather edged with red lace along the bustle and a long overlapping satin skirt hanging in waves down the back. Lola put the blue and yellow back on top of Amelia’s pile, arranging the stack so it was slightly more stable, then tucked the black lace corset into her guard jacket.

“This one is too good for the masses.” Lola winked at Amelia. When Amelia opened her mouth, Lola held up a metal-gloved hand. “Don’t worry your pretty blonde head. I’ll tell Cassy about this when I see her.” She caught the eye of somebody standing behind Amelia in the hallway and made a tiny wave. As Amelia turned her head to see who Lola was signaling, Lola grabbed her chin and forced her head to continue to look only at Lola’s grinning face.

“So tell me, New Girl, what’s this Gathering about anyway?”

“Umm…” Amelia’s mind raced. Lola’s smooth hand on her chin distracted her. Who is standing behind me? “Queen Cassandra—may-she-cum-long-and-hard—just concluded successful trade agreements with the kingdom of Magners and we’re celebrating the new boost to the country’s economy?” Her voice rose slightly at the end in a question. Amelia was nearly sure that was the reason for this particular Gathering. It was either that or the successful diplomatic peace treaty with Magners, but she was pretty sure there was a trade agreement involved as well. No nation could rival Crispin for their export of satin, silks, and body augmentation costumes.

Only Queen Cassandra could leverage our talents for designing bustiers and codpieces to increase the gross national product.

Amelia could feel herself getting aroused again. She forced herself to think of Mitch’s lips to cool herself down and keep her face looking professionally friendly at Lola.

“Huh, sounds very impressive,” Lola said dismissively as she started to riffle through the stack of corsets in Amelia’s arms. Amelia could feel her temper rising as a blazing heat in her cheeks.

“It is impressive! Queen Cassandra is the best ruler we’ve had in three centuries!” She snatched the basket away from Lola’s inquisitive hands.

“May-she-cum-long-and-hard,” Lola added for her, a slight smirk on her face.

“Yes,” Amelia said, deflating. May-she-cum-long-and-hard. It was the traditional honorific that everyone had to say after the queen‘s name, but today—with Eliot so much on her mind—the words felt more sincere than usual.

The blush Amelia had been trying to keep off her face built and spread as she pictured the queen on her back atop satin sheets, toes curled in intense orgasm. This time, the fantasy included Eliot on top of the queen, his dick spearing the queen’s cunt as Amelia rode the queen’s face and her majesty’s tongue licked at Amelia’s clit.

“Hello? You in there?” Lola waved her hand in front of Amelia’s face. “Did you just have a stroke? Because I can go grab a medic if you just had a stroke.”

“No, no, I was just thinking about somebody who is never going to be invited to the Gathering.” And how his dick would look pounding into the queen. Probably best not to finish that thought out loud.

“Oh, is he really awful in bed? Because you know the rules of the kingdom. Anyone who knows their way around pleasure spots is eligible for an invitation.” Lola’s eyes glanced behind Amelia so fast Amelia wasn’t sure she saw Lola’s eyes actually move.

“No!” Amelia said quickly. “His body is a miracle. His cock is the biggest I’ve ever seen and he can do wonders with his tongue. He just has these two wicked brothers who are so jealous of him they keep him under lock and—”

“Name and address. Now,” said a female voice draped like confident silk from behind Amelia’s shoulder. Amelia turned like she was in a trance and found her eyes locked on Queen Cassandra’s—may-she-cum-long-and-hard—deep chocolate eyes.

Amelia’s mouth moved on its own accord, spilling out Eliot’s name and address in one breath as her eyes roamed the queen’s exquisite face. Queen Cassandra’s heart-shaped face should have looked delicate, but the shapely arch of her nose gave her silhouette a sharp strength. Lines around the edges of her eyes and mouth marked years of care for the kingdom, but her face still held a youthful light.

Amelia’s fists clenched around the basket so hard she could feel the fibers of the wicker digging clefts into her skin. She was terrified if she let go of the basket she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from running her fingers along the queen’s cheekbone and up to the curve of her ear.

I want to feel my fingers in your passage, she thought.

“I’ll make sure you’re serving at the Gathering then, pretty one,” the queen said. Chuckling softly to herself, the queen turned away and glided down the hallway, maids and butlers dodging out of her way like an oncoming avalanche.

“Holy fuck, did I say that aloud?” Amelia whispered to Lola, the blood draining from her face.

Lola’s laugh was loud and deep like a warrior cry. “Don’t worry about it, new girl, Cas has that effect on everybody.”

“But Eliot—”