Frozen/Unfrozen
Once Upon A Time, in Queendom far, far away….
I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle, and what follows isn’t a bedtime story for nice girls. This is a bedtime story for all the dirty girls, nasty girls, twisted bitches and evil sluts. This is a bedtime story for all the girls who grew up with strange fire and shards of ice in their hearts, for the girls who grew up to love too hard and break too readily, or to love too deep and to harden, to shield themselves when no one else did. This is for the girls who crave a different kind of happily ever after, and especially for the girls who seek true love’s kiss from another girl- just like me.
I live here in a palace I built myself, with my power and my rage, entirely from snow and ice and the passion I hold for dominion. My Ice Palace is a fortress, a wonder of the world, and my home; one I share, with my girls.
On entering my Ice Palace, there is a simple understanding that all of my girls adhere to. I am their Domme, as well as their Queen, they live by my word, and my word is law.
The girls who are slow to learn this lesson suffer for it. The girls who cannot are compelled to leave my presence, forever. And the girls who take those beliefs, that mantra, into their hearts are mine for as long as I see fit, for as long as their bodies bring me pleasure, for as long as my love for them lasts.
In the Ice Palace, I have three love laws:
Do not question my love for you, Princess.
Do not question how much I love you, Princess.
Do not question how I give my love to you, Princess.
All my girls are my Princesses, by day. But by night- my girls become something else entirely. My girls become whores, pain sluts, worshipful submissives, the odd uppity brat I can beat lovingly back into her place. My girls become ugly/pretty/dirty little things, with ripped bodices, torn gowns, made up faces smeared into ruined submission, tears coating their porcelain cheeks. Their hair, so pristine and coiled in place every morning, pulled into a fucked out mess, or ripped from their delicate scalps when I wrench their heads back to admire the line of their neck, the shocked o-gape of their rosebud mouths and the fear in their eyes so wide for me.
All of my best girls live with me, under my protection, under the blue glow of my icy fortress so impenetrable. No men enter here- no man would dare. I always have several, each with her own bedchamber, her private quarters, she is kept in the lap of luxury during the day. She wants for nothing, she is spoiled with all of the trappings of my good fortune. She is kept in beautiful gowns, endless treats and pets and whimsy. She is gifted her heart’s desire thrice over and I shower her in attention, devotion, I kiss her and stroke her long hair, hold her in her bedchamber, kiss the pretty tears from her face when another girl pokes fun or breaks her doll.
And then I break MY doll. I get to break them, all of them, my pretty, pampered dollies. Whenever I wish- I have a Queendom to run, so my perversions are usually reserved for night time visits, for debauched dances in my ballroom, for visits down to my dungeons where all manner of long forgotten devices have been preserved for my personal pleasure. After all that coddling, I am owed pleasure. As much as I see fit- it is my right, it befits my position. I take pleasure in their cries, their gorgeous moans, in the panting screams that fill the air when I let loose my demons on their little pale bodies.
I always have many girls under me, close to my heart, but two girls live within it and always will- these two special babygirls live in my own quarters, in the highest room of the tallest tower, and both are bound to me for life.
One is a little blonde harlot I rescued from entrapment to live curled at my feet- Rapunzel.
The other was a love gift, from my own mother- she is my baby sister, Ana. For this I feel no shame. Who better to love a girl than her own flesh and blood? Who better to teach her the way of pain than the one girl who will always give her back to pleasure, just to see her smile?
Rapunzel and Ana sleep in my bed, when I am present, and even if I am not they are free to do so with each other- I encourage such play. They are a bonded pair, a little duo of mischief and magic. Both have felt loss too early in their young lives and both have many burdens upon their dainty hearts. Rapunzel is afraid of a cage, she is afraid of returning to the clutches of her wicked captor, and I keep her safe from her fears and from her nightmares. Ana is afraid of loving too hard and losing too soon- I keep her safe by loving her hardest, always. My pair of prized beauties I treat with the utmost tenderness.
Until I don’t.
Rapunzel and Ana are also the girls I push the hardest, because they are the girls who will never leave the gates of my Queendom. I can push and push and I know in my soul they will come back to me, from whatever state I have driven them into; I can always pull them back and their love only shines brighter, it never dims or fades or softens into companionship. They are both wilful, passionate, not altogether sensible; Rapunzel is impulsive, reckless and Ana is off the wall, distracted and messy. They need my direction as much as my devotion; they need to know they will always be cared for, and in return, their bodies are mine. To do with as I please. And I take full advantage of their submission, often. They are trained hard and used harder.
Rapunzel is a tiny girl, curvy with it; blonde, with hair impossibly long, coiled and coiled into ropes of golden fantasy, trailing at will. Her hair has healing properties, which I can compel her to use at will. I can spank her raw, allow her to weave her magic and then beat her bare skin made brand new again back into a bruised and ruined state. I have lost many hours to the revelry of this novelty, and my best pain whore has learned to crave such diabolical treatment, to worship the evil glimmer in my cat-like blue eyes. Her little feet so often bound, her pink tipped breasts clamped and her mouth held unnaturally wide to force her to drool all over her lovely curves, she is subjected to all manner of pain, to as much as I can muster, to pain beaten and lashed and also pulled from the dark magic I hold in my fingertips and the rush of my icy cold blood.
I hurt my Ana too, but she is also a different breed, a rarer breed- she can be made into the masochist, but her deepest love is for the art of submission, for the honour of allowing me to put her through low, low acts of depravity. She worships under humiliation, degradation, all manner of twisted games, horrible games in which she is fated to lose and yet we play anyway, bonded by our sisterly devotion, by the ruined passion that burns a twin flame in our hearts. I put her under beasts, under wolves and mountain lions, I watch them mount her and claw her back as they fuck her into the soft piles of snow, freezing her pretty tits into tender mounds, her face into red raw grief. The cold itself, the ice, cuts her front as they tear into her from behind and what do I do, for my girl? I watch. And I laugh. And she loves me for it.
Often I bring them together, for torture and for sex and for sex involving torture. Sometimes, there is just beauty, just play, just hours of kissing and lavish love making with kittenish tongues in pink places and my girls love to cum, to make me cum, to help each other fulfil their deepest desires and to gift me mine, endlessly.
Tonight, we will play a game. A mean game, a horrid game- I will test their bond, and their devotion to me anew, because I am never quite satisfied. Ever since my strange magic revealed itself, my incredible power, I have hungered: for more power, for servants to witness it, for my ability to wield it to grow. I am beset by constant cravings, bodily; I throb with the cold heat of my passion, with the evil that dwells in my core. I am always aroused, I am never sated, never done, my quest for power over pussy and pain, for total dominion among women is my life’s work and my body’s constant state. I need to play this game. I need to compel them to prove themselves- soon I will be leaving them, on a rare excursion during which time my focus must not be drawn to their pretty forms. I have diplomatic matters to attend to; a Queendom requires a Queen, as well as a Domme. I shan’t be taking them with me.
I will make them mine once more, before I set sail, and if they please me I will return with gifts, treasures and stories to warm their lovely hearts. And before I go, as tradition dictates, there will be a ball. A massive affair- all my girls will be in attendance, all the Duchesses and Princesses, Countesses and Marquesses, Dominas, Infantas and their ladies in waiting, all will be invited from surrounding areas and beyond and all will attend, to fawn over their one true Queen, to ensure my support for their endeavours and to bid me good luck on my travels. There will be dancing, champagne, an orchestra and acrobats, chocolate fountains and sweets, flowers that love the cold clinging to every pillar, and of course, my enormous chandeliers, fully lit, glittering in the moonlight and in the glow of the cold flames only I can conjure, flames that light the way but give off no heat, just a cold burn, a nasty ice burn if touched by skin that isn’t mine.
The invites have been sent, the preparations made; my servant girls in their little maid outfits and high heels have worked tirelessly for 12 days and 12 nights to pull this off, my biggest soiree to date. An extra special surprise has been hidden in the room and the hour of my arrival approaches- midnight, of course.
I am washed and dressed by three pretty chambermaids, who fawn over my lily white curves, gently washing my platinum tresses and braiding my hair over and over, redoing it until every loop and coil is perfect, not a strand out of place. I leave it partly down, the rest piled on my head crown like. I am a vision in my favourite light blues and silvers, a floor length gown dropping to the floor, to skim over the tiles of clearest ice. My shoes are my highest and they are made entirely of glass. I am no careless Cinderella slut- they will remain on my feet until a pretty young thing pulls them off in order to lick the lovely arch of my foot, to give me worship. I allow my chambermaids to kiss at my shoulders, to run their hands over my body as they adjust my bodice and smooth my skirts; such lowly girls will work for such small comforts, and be glad of it.
My date tonight, the girl on my arm, is Rapunzel. My bouncy blonde I love to see in baby pink and her tiny feet look best to me left without shoes; her dress is tight, low cut, her skirts are full and beneath she has been instructed to not wear panties. She is shaved bare, as are all my girls, and I can sense from here, from across the room, that she is wet as she stands in the doorway to my private dressing room, awaiting my presence so we may enter the party together, as planned. She looks good enough to eat, powdery pink, tits set high in that clinging bodice, pushed up and together, almost obscene on such a little thing. Her makeup is peachy and soft, her eyes round and sparkling with excitement. She wants to go to the ball.
"Excited aren't you, kitten? Look at you. Such a pretty picture. My gorgeous doll, you look every inch the Princess tonight."
"Yes Miss. Ooh thank you. I'm so so happy! I can't wait to dance and drink champagne and oh I bet the ballroom is beautiful, full of flowers and all the pretty girls. I've never been to a real ball before!"
"I know baby girl. You're excited to see all the other women in their dresses? I know, you have yet to attend a ball here, this is your first. And on my arm as well, that’s an honour. If there are any lonely girls here tonight, do you think we should bring one back to our room with us, to play?"
"Miss! Everyone will have a plus one. Coupled up."
"So if there's a girl here on her own, some little lost wallflower, you wouldn't want to lure her up to our tower and bed her together, show her how we play?"
"Oh. Well if she was really on her own. That's sad. I'd want to cheer her up."
"I've seen how you like to cheer up sad girls, kitten. You have very specific methods."
"Oh Miss. I don't mean sex. Maybe give her a cuddle, get her a drink. Make her feel pretty too."
"Aw my kitten. You want to make the whole world feel pretty. Such a treasure. Can you hear the music, all the commotion? They are here to see me, your Queen, and the girl she has chosen to attend to her all night. That’s you, little one. Happy?"
“Beyond happy, Miss! Are we ready?”
“Yes. Take my hand. We shall go to the ball.”
****
As soon as we enter, all eyes are on us. The music dies as all heads turn to the top of my glassy steps down into the ballroom. The ladies gasp and begin to chatter as we make our descent- Rapunzel blushes and looks down but I front them out, the gossips and the admirers and the secret enemies, those who would seek to supplant me, if only they had power that could match mine.
None do.
I know my beauty; there is so much power in that alone, sometimes I hardly need the magic that dances in my hands and in the end of my tongue, in the long reach of my legs and the glittering source of pleasure at the apex of my thighs. I hardly need the magic, but I love to show off. I cast little spells as I circulate the room- I conjure doves made of ice that flutter for minutes before drifting into snowflakes. I spin kittens out of fluffy snow that gambol and play, until they lay down to rest and freeze in place, perfect white statues. I weave jewellery out of thin air, crystals, and place them on the necks of the girls I most admire that night- a raven haired Duchess in scarlet, a dirty blonde Countess in forest green who flirts a little loudly.
A Princess, set to inherit a Queendom of her own- bold in all white with auburn hair and a confident smile, very young, catches my eye. Something in her demeanour says Domme to me and in my head I mark her down for that training, as one of the rarest of girls I will select to gift some of my power to. For her I craft a tiara and place it with a simple kiss to her cheek, a dazzling look- everyone in the room knows what this means, and the brave Princess, she knows it too. This honour I give so rarely, I haven’t seen the likes of her for years. I see her grow into the moment, a beaming smile and a flirtatious stance. With that I know my choice is a good one, and I look forward to working with her.
I return to the party- I drink a little, loosen, and Rapunzel and I take to the dance floor. We spin and twirl and I kiss my girl deep, I lavish her with my mouth, I drink her in; my body craves her and she responds in kind. We kiss and we move as close together as we can as the music continues to swell, to grow in power as mine does, to grow into the cavernous space. I begin to get wet- soon, I think, someone will notice.
Someone will look up.
Sure enough, within minutes of that thought, I hear the first scream. More soon follow. I halt, spin on my heel and I look to where she should be and my eyes find her and I smile. There she is. My best girl, my Ana, but not where you would expect her, not pride of place on one of the two lesser thrones either side of my own, no- tonight, she has been awarded a special sort of honour. A humiliation. No dress for my Ana, in fact, no clothes at all. And no dancing.
My Ana hangs, suspended, many metres above us.
She hangs, beautifully, from the chandelier, the biggest, in the centre of the room, at the heart of the festivities. She has not been allowed clothes. She is gagged, her mouth held wide with a nasty metal spider, and a pool of her shame is forming on the icy floor beneath, freezing in place as she dribbles uncontrollably. Her eyes are wide with terror and her hair, tied back, crystallizes in the frigid air. She was washed before this ceremonial placing, but not allowed to dry, to warm- she is statuesque indeed. Tiny beads cling to her nipples, to the curve of her stomach, to the ends of her blue toes and her fingers. Glimmering flashes of light dance as she blinks, because even her eyelashes are white with frost, and only her eyes are free to move.
She is Frozen.
She will survive this, because I keep her alive up there. My magic keeps her heart beating and her blood flowing. Should I stop casting my love spell, she would die, and she knows this. Her body is still but her mind races, I feel it. I feel my Ana, always. I can read her from a thousand miles away. She is, in this moment, absolutely petrified. Because if she falls, she will shatter, break apart, literally, and even my magic cannot put a stopper in death when She comes. Even my magic cannot piece back together a dolly that broken.
She would be beyond my help, beyond us all, like our beautiful mother. She knows this, too- my Ana longs for our mother, ceaselessly. Cries for her at night, clutches at our bedsheets and howls her pretty heart out. My love for my Ana feeds her passion, but she craves a mother still, a maternal chest to press herself against. I understand. We fuck each other because we can, but also because neither of us can let go of our mummy issues, so we fuck them away and I beat them away and she screams them out and that is our truth. There is no shame in it.
Right now, Ana is flooded with her shame. If she wasn’t frozen there too, she would drip with it. This I want to see. She has been frozen enough; now, I will begin the spectacle. I will begin the thaw.
I begin to ease off my enchantments and sure enough, she begins to melt. Silvery drops fall away; my girl makes a little shower of rain, so gentle, and my guests watch in awe, some in lust, as her pink begins to return, to creep into the blue and white. She begins to warm up.
Rapunzel, on the other hand, is on fire. She’s a whore, my long haired lovely, and she loves to see Ana suffer as much as she loves to take it for herself. Something of the sadist dwells in the poisoned, bitten apple heart of my red blooded girl and she dances with glee, with excitement, as she watches her companion subjected to such torture.
“Rapunzel, hush, just watch, just look at her. Look at what she can do.”
“Miss, this is amazing! Where did you even get the idea?”
“A Mistress would never tell. Just enjoy it, watch and learn- maybe that could be you, for the next one?”
“Mmmmm do you think I will be ready Miss? I’m not as trained as Ana.”
“Of course. If I say you’re ready, you will make it so, won’t you Princess?”
“Yes Miss. Oh look. She’s trying to make a sound. Haha oh she can’t! She wants to but her throat must still be frozen inside, look.”
“I know babygirl. She’s mute. I will keep her that way, for now. She can move but she cannot cry for me, for help. She is stuck.”
“Will you free her, Miss?”
“Should I free her, Rapunzel? Or should I leave her there all night and have you to myself in the tower, fuck you until dawn and beyond, forget she’s even there?”
“Make me your favourite Miss, really? You only ever have Ana alone up there, no one else, not even me!”
“Do you deserve to be my favourite, Rapunzel, really?”
I cock an eyebrow and look at her hard. She is tempting a heavy fate. All of my girls know Ana is my sister, none dare mention it- I have never had to speak this law into existence, it is simply known. We are blood. This will not be discussed, questioned or joked about.
The last girl that tried ended up swinging from a noose outside my turret window. I have not heard a word on the matter since.
“Oh. Um. Perhaps not, Miss. Sorry. I spoke out of turn.”
“Yes. And at my party, too, my ball, that costs me so dearly and takes so long to prepare for. I think a punishment is in order, don’t you?”
Rapunzel looks wounded, but the masochist is already awake; I see her, in the glimmer, in the sheen of her eyes.
“Yes Miss. As you wish.”
And with that, I make the change I had planned all along. I stand back and with a flourish my gown drifts away and in place I conjure a cat suit, full body, in stunning bright silvery white, to cling to every inch of me but leave me free, unencumbered by skirts, to put on a show of my own. My shoes grow taller still and my coiled crown comes loose, my platinum hair falling down to my waist, and I spin it into a singular heavy braid, whip-like down my back. My eyes glow with purple, my malice and I feel the hate, the evil, come into my blood like black ink in water, spreading.
Rapunzel, my good girl after all, drops to her knees. Every other girl, woman, older woman in the room follows suit. The maids flee, the serving girls set down their platters to follow or hide behind pillars. Only one girl refuses to drop, my bold Princess from earlier with her tiara still intact, and I allow this, I allow her to bear witness and to forgo submission. My newest one, her training can begin before I even discover her true name- I know her title, I know her lineage, but I do not know her name. I smile at her and I feel the heat of her lust from across the room. I love this girl already. She has power. But I must move on- she is not in the plan for right now.
My first move is to grab a bottle of champagne from the nearest end table, pop the cork, and pour the contents over my girl’s head, frothing and cold. Rapunzel shivers and moans as I ruin her dress, laugh as her mascara runs a dirty black, laugh harder still as her nipples harden beneath her bodice. With a cutting motion an ice blade appears from nowhere and cuts her dress in half, to fall away at the waist. Her tits turn me on; pink and white and so biteable, always covered in little purples marks of my mouth’s devotion, of Ana’s devotion. Rapunzel knows enough to not cover herself with her hands, or risk a cane to each palm 10 times over, but she cries as the humiliation takes hold. She is more maso than sub, and I wish to address this imbalance in her training, one I have let go on a little too long in my sadistic haze, the sadism she brings out with her pale green eyes that sparkle when she is lost in her pain/pleasure drop, in the tension between the two. I conjure flowers from the air, blue and white and palest pink jewels of ice, and I place them in her hair before I continue.
I craft from the ground a raised platform, waist height for me; with her own long blonde tresses I bind her limbs to the altar, to points I spin in seconds, to anchor her body in place. She is on her back, for now, and this punishment will be performed for all to see. Ana, above us, melts slowly, comes back to life to see her sister sub subjected to this madness, to my anger. Soon, she will join us.
The ladies of my various allied Queendoms and Duchies and strongholds, they know I am renowned for this. Many have never seen it before, in action; murmurings of uprisings have been heard, have alerted my spies and my loyalists, and I know it is high time my true nature was revealed, for them all to see, this side of it in any case.
Rapunzel pants and moans- the bondage alone causes her pretty cunt to throb and to drip. She is aided in this by the element of exhibitionism, which tonight is exceptional. I summon a whip of crystalline blue from the sky and without hesitation I lay into her. She is immediately in agony, and she lets me know. She pitches her screams high and they catch in her throat, raw; the cold air makes this hard. She reeks of wine and pussy and soon, a little blood, as the skin weakens and some welts split into grazes. I pay particular attention to her breasts and between her legs, where I beat her silly; she is so inflamed, I see it. Swollen, red, she will feel this for days. She will feel this and remember and her cunt will leak and I will know.
I lash her until my wrist aches and then I toss my weapon aside to straddle her. With my hands I twist her nipples, hard, and bend to lick her neck, where ice and sweat meet, hot and cold both in her pain. She groans and shakes- the party goers begin to lose themselves. They dare not approach, but they either leave in a hasty retreat, or the more dominant among them seek a girl to lie between their thighs and kiss into their growing desire. My new bold Princess, she does no such thing; she has more control than that, already. She simply watches. And waits. I sense her waiting. I allow it.
I kiss my pretty Rapunzel, deep, release a heady moan into her mouth.
“Have you had enough, pretty girl? Dirty cunt? Are you done, or do you want more, right here, right now, in this room, in front of all of these distinguished guests? I could be gone many months, whore, so choose wisely. I know only my touch brings this out in you, only my touch is enough, no one else comes close, do they? Answer me, bitch,” I hiss into her face.
She meets my eyes, and hers are full of tears. I throb at the sight of them.
“No Miss, I haven’t had enough. Please Miss. Hurt me more? No one else can do it like you, Miss, I need it, please?”
I laugh at her. I kiss her a few more times, and release my grip on her breasts. Ana is ready to come down. Ana is ready for the next stage. Centre stage.
I lower her slowly; she is naked, and unbound, and now she lies before me on the floor, shaking, very much able to move but still without her voice. She points at her mouth gaped wide and shakes her head, so scared, my little one, my best girl. I shake my own head, slowly, and for the first time today I address her.
“No, Ana. You want it back, you earn it. Understand me? You do as you’re told. Get up off the floor, and do as you’re fucking told. Too many tears of late, too much, late nights spent begging me not to go, to stay, to never get on that ship. I’m not your fucking mother, I won’t get blown overboard and die for stupidity like she did. Get up. Prove your worth to me, or I’ll toss you in the sea myself and I won’t even watch you as you drown.”
“Yes...yes Miss…”
The cruelty in my voice is hard for her, I know this. Our bond goes deep, but our truth must go deeper, and I have spoken my truth to her. She has to let me go, I have to make this trip, she has to trust me to return. She has no choice, she has to learn.
“Ana, do you trust your Queen?”
“With all of my fragile heart, Miss, yes.”
“Good girl. Get on top of your sister. Sixty-nine. I am going to tie you in place above her. Do it, now.”
A double bind, in public. I watch as she mounts the altar and settles herself. Rapunzel moans, hard, into her and Ana cannot help herself, she twitches and cries out. The lovely pair melt into a perfect sixty-nine and I admire their form. With my magic and Rapunzel’s locks I bind them to each other, Ana’s forearms to Rapunzel’s thighs, and I watch as they begin to eat. I give them over to their pleasure; it will be short lived, and neither one will orgasm without my say so.
The next step. I breathe deep, center myself, allow their cries to turn me on, to draw my power into me further. I exhale and in a rush I release a blanket of ice to cover them both. I freeze them both, in place. The power and the concentration required is so intense- I have never before attempted this feat. I need more silence. I turn to face my raucous remaining guests, women lost inside each other and in their drunken lust.
“OUT! Get out! Party’s over, go home to your palaces and your stately homes, get out of my sight. All of you. Take your pretty girls home to fuck, the room is mine.”
They flee. In couples and trios and little gangs they leave to touch each other, lick each other, pleasure each other in their carriages, in their reserved rooms for distant travellers, in the basement if necessary. I care not. I simply need them gone. Only one dares remain.
Of course. My bold new recruit, she wants to push on her luck. I let her- this is so unusual, so unlike me, put her pull is strong and I want to keep her here. In fact….
“Approach me, Princess, but do it slowly please. Walk towards me. You may look me in the eye.”
She does not hesitate. She has waited for exactly this, I know it, I sense she has foreseen it. She radiates power now, from every inch of her glowing in white. She is bride like, she is married to her own desires, I feel it. I want this girl. In so many ways, in so many versions of events, too many to name, I want her, but I will not disrespect her, not this girl. She is born so rare and so high, from a green and leafy place many many miles away, where my snowfall does not kiss the ground but for a few months a year. Men still rule such faraway lands, a tradition that disgusts me, and powerful women in those countries are few. A very rarely felt piece of me wants to kneel and kiss the ground she walks on, but I dismiss the notion with a toss of my head.
“Name yourself, Princess. I know who birthed you but I neglected to learn your name.”
“Louise. That’s my name.”
I sigh, with joy.
“Warrior. That’s what your name means, in my other language, the language of my mothers and grandmothers. Of course that’s your name. Little fighter.”
She does not respond, not even to smile. She doesn’t want to talk etymology. She wants a place here. She wants a position. She looks at my frozen girls and without asking she approaches them. I watch, astonished. She holds out a hand, to stroke Ana’s back, and she glances up at me. Wordlessly I nod. I could not even tell you why. No one touches Ana without verbal consent from my own lips. Ever.
She lays her hand down, gently, and runs the length of her, strokes her ass, moves to stroke her face flash frozen, moving to dip back down into Rapunzel, runs a finger over her precious pink tongue now permanently poised, until I release the spell. She moves again to stroke Rapunzel’s feet, to admire the baby pink toe nails, walks around to cup Rapunzel’s head in both hands and look into her eyes from above, wide open, unseeing. She takes them both in, and she begins to lose herself in her desire.
Then something happens I definitely did not intend. Could never have predicted, did not even sense coming. Magic- not mine.
No one else has been born with enchanted blood, not for millennia. I am the first for an age, or I was.
And it isn’t ice. It’s fire.
I allow my mouth to fall open as she weaves flame magic and she melts my own efforts, in minutes, less. I let my magic fall away as she consumes them both with hers, both of my girls. She lights them up- for them, no time has passed, and they resume their pleasure, they take no notice of the huge and empty space. Their bodies glow pink and heated and she withdraws before she burns them- not even this warrior dares burn my babygirls without my consent. She approaches me, and without a second thought, she takes my hand. Her touch is warm. I shake a little, before I have a chance to stop myself. She smiles, so bright in the darkening room.
“It’s ok. I know. I’ve never let anyone see it before. Where I am from, this isn’t allowed. I do it anyway, but in secret. My mother...she senses, but she does not say. I just wanted to see, if I could, and I wanted to let them play.”
I stare at her in wonder. I say nothing- I pull her in, and I kiss her. She tastes like cinnamon and ash. I want to eat her. She knows this, too, and she moans.
“All three of you. To the tower. With me, now.”
Together my new Princess and I release the kittenish girls and we make our way, touching and laughing, no darkness required, not this night. A new dynamic will form, in the heavenly glow of my tower room, in the silken sheets and in the dawn light streaming in from the crystalline window-panes. A new girl will join me, at my side, for the first time. My sister and my sub and now my lover, too, a fourth. We go forth, into a bright new day, connected, and each of us, unfrozen and utterly free.
And they lived- happily ever after.