The Virgin and the Fae

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!!


When she opened her eyes, they were in a bedroom, though not the one she’d been in the day before.

This one seemed more oppressive somehow.

A fire was lit in the fireplace at the other side of the room, contributing only a flickering, faint light.

In the dimness, Charlotte believed that she could make out two scaled, stone monsters on either side of the fire that reared up on their hind legs. Their heads jutted out from the wall, snarling grotesquely.

The bed was large with four posts, though it did not have any draperies over it like hers had had. And Charlotte found herself being conducted towards it. She resisted, but the sensations of being aflame made her too weak to struggle. Garrick held her down gently, while he secured first one hand and then the other with a piece of cloth to the bedposts.

Once she realized what was happening, Charlotte tried struggle more, but he subdued her legs easily, binding them as well to their respective bedposts. She lay there, naked and spread eagle on the bed. Charlotte pulled at her ties but the fabric would not give. The knots were tight, not tight enough to pinch, but strong enough to withstand her attempts to escape.

The heat was becoming too intense, and it seemed to be pooling in her belly. Something told Charlotte that if she could only rub her legs together, it would alleviate the pressure building within. But her legs were bound too far apart.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her cracked lips.

Garrick stared down at her as she writhed, his eyes dark.

“What’s happening to me?” She asked. He seemed frozen in place, mesmerized by her naked body as it moved, glistening faintly with sweat. “Please,” Charlotte pleaded pitifully, “please, I’m frightened.”

Garrick sat down besides her, stroking her hair back from her forehead.

“My Charlotte. My little Charlotte. I forget how young you are still. You’ve never truly been aroused before, have you? I watched you that first time you tried to touch yourself. I think you’d heard the girls whispering about it in the locker room. And you were always so curious…” Charlotte remembered vividly that night, it had been not long after her fifteenth birthday, and rather than anything pleasurable, she’d felt only frustrated and foolish. “You never tried again. Was it that? Its not like you to give up on things so easily.” He was waiting for an answer.

Charlotte panted through a wave of heat, before replying, “It made me uncomfortable.”

He nodded. Of course it would, Charlotte had always seemed like she went out of her way to numb herself. Arousal and gratification would have been, for her, the antithesis of what she sought.

“Please, just tell me what’s happening to me.”

“This is arousal, little one, albeit an artificial one.”

“The drink?”

“Its the sap of a root Fae women often ingest before meeting their lovers. It should cause an extended--and heightened--state of arousal.” Suddenly Charlotte knew what was going to happen next.

“You’re going to rape me now, aren’t you? That’s my punishment, isn’t it?” Charlotte felt disgusted with herself that the idea of him touching her down…there was appealing.

“No. No, little one. I’m not going to touch you at all. That is your punishment.” He said removing his hand from her forehead.

With that he stood and walked to the chair by the fire. Charlotte couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he even picked up a book as he went.

Charlotte moaned, something within her tightening in an excruciating way. It was pleasurable, but tormenting. She ached to relieve the heat and the pressure within her. Her body contorted, trying to rub her legs together, to apply some touch to her aching wet core.

For almost half an hour, Charlotte remained relatively quiet, twisting in her bonds and stifling her moans. But it soon became impossible to keep quiet anymore. Loud guttural groans escaped from her and she began begging Garrick, pleading with him to touch her. Everything was a haze of unfulfilled pleasure, a teetering on the edge of a precipice, but what falling off it meant, Charlotte had no idea.

Another half hour past and she’d begun screaming at him, demanding he help her. Words Charlotte never used spilled from her mouth, “fuck” she repeated over and over again both as an exclamatory and an imperative.

After that Charlotte lost track of time, her eyes were too clouded to see the clock on the mantelpiece anymore.

The rest of the night blended together, a mix of pleas and curses, screams and tears. A few times that night, Garrick walked over to the bed, staring down at her with wild eyes. He always looked like his resolve had broken, his hands twitched at his sides as if it took great strength to restrain them from touching her.

“Please,” Charlotte begged, her voice hoarse from screaming. “Please, just fuck me.”

“So you finally understand desire now, little one?”

“Y-yes,” she responded, still writhing against the heat.

“Then understand this, I want you to beg me, to plead with me to fuck you of your own accord. I want you to want me more than anything because of what I do to you, not because of this drug.” Charlotte let out a whimper when she realized he was refusing.

“But if you fuck,” Charlotte paused, the word still felt foreign in her mouth. Collecting her thoughts, she continued, “if you fuck me now, then you don’t have to worry about the unicorns.” He frowned slightly,

“How much do you understand our talk of unicorns?”

“Enough to know that I’m safer for everyone if you fuck me.” She rolled her hips lewdly off the bed, holding them up in the hopes that he might, just maybe take pity on her and fuck her.

The heat was returning again. It was like waves that crashed against her, slipping away leaving her with momentary respite before crashing down around her even harder than before.

She cried in frustration, pitiful moans filling the air. Everything felt too intense--too intense to think, too intense to even breathe fully.

A bit of light began to filter through the room. It was nearly sunrise.

“You’ve been so good, little one,” Garrick murmured encouragingly. He sat down besides her on the bed. “Its over now.” And with that he reached his hand down between her thighs, slipping a finger within her. His other fingers rubbed up and down the sensitive skin, concentrating on the bit of flesh where all the heat seemed to be emanating from.

Within a second, a release—thunderingly powerful—pounded through her. Her body stiffened and she arched upwards with a gasp.

It was as if the world had melted away and she was cradled in soft, tendrils of pleasure. Somehow she knew this is what she’d been seeking; instinctively, she’d known that it was this completion she’d wanted.

Lethargy spread over her. So tired. Her eyes closed.

Charlotte felt her bonds being undone. And she curled up on her side, falling instantly asleep.

Garrick stared down at the sleeping girl. He too ached for release, but he knew he had to be patient.

This night had been Charlotte’s punishment, but it had been his punishment as well. To have her so close and so vulnerable pleading with him to take her…it had taken more willpower than he’d known he possessed to not touch her, taste her, fuck her.

But her punishment was over. So why did his continue?

He thought of Locke’s assertion that he wanted Charlotte to love him. Was that true? Certainly he wanted Charlotte to desire him and he had every intention of treating her like a treasured possession rather than an expendable amusement.

But why was he so unwilling to hurt her? The prospect of punishing her had made him nervous. He knew it was necessary if she was to learn her place and yet to beat her or physically harm her had been repulsive. He imagined her eyes filling with hatred, as he struck her. A hatred that would be deep and irreversible, unlike the transient one she felt for him now.

Perhaps that was why he couldn’t bring himself to take her just yet. Now that the Fae recognized her as his, the necessity of a public claiming was gone. He had time, and he would allow her her time to want him and to be prepared for their joining.

Love to the Fae was as fantastical as the Fae were to humans. And yet it was well documented that humans did love, whatever that emotion entailed. They committed themselves to one another, blindly and unquestioningly cherishing the other’s presence.

The idea that a Fae could ever feel that way for him…it was impossible, nothing but fantasy. And yet, for a human it was possible…For Charlotte, it might be possible for her to…And he did want her to love him, he realized. Not for any romanticized reasons, but because from the moment he’d seen Charlotte, he had wanted her.

And now that he had her physically, he had come to understand that was not enough. It was not enough to own her. Even if he could hold her here, never allowing her the opportunity to escape, she would still wish to escape.

And though he’d once thought that that didn’t matter, it did now.

He had felt her happiness when she’d pictured the forest. It had issued from her, rippling through her thoughts. He’d never been able to read Charlotte’s mind before, he’d never needed to. But he found that if he focused hard enough, if her emotions were strong enough, he could sense her feelings.

Yesterday he had felt her fear and her panic, then her momentary triumph. He’d known she was out of the caverns when he’d felt that. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but somehow she made it out of the maze of underground caverns. Then her fatigue and emptiness.

But nothing could tell him where she was.

But then he’d seen the forest, as clearly as if he were there himself. His Charlotte, if she were to try and memorize something, of course she’d detail it meticulously.

The emotions had been so vibrant, however. Emotions so strong that he’d felt them as if they were his own. Never had he felt such happiness, it was not even his own and yet he felt hers so clearly that it was as if it were his own. He had almost laughed with her laugh, so tightly had he felt their connection.

But it was all because of the beast. The beast made her happy. The beast made her laugh.

Garrick wanted her to feel such vibrant happiness around him.

He wanted her to laugh for him.

He wanted to possess her so fully that if were the castle doors to be flung wide, she would never try to walk out them.

He wanted his little bird to forget her cage.