A little NSFW story I wrote after reading a bit of Irish folklore about the Gancanagh. I hope you enjoy!
Sylvie’s feet ached as she continued along the forest path, her breathing heavy after such a long journey. It’d taken two days to leave the village where she grew up; luckily, she’d been able to find a kind man with a wagon to let her ride for the first few hours, but even when they’d gotten miles away from the village, she insisted on going further. The kind man had to stop in the next village over, so she had to make it on foot. Even now in her mind she could hear their last conversation. She’d told him that she would heading off into the Clearing wood in hopes of making it across to the next village, but he’d turned pale when she said it and looked into her eyes with great fear.
“Clearing wood ain’t no place for a young lass like you,” he’d warned, “Tis best if ye take the long way about.”
When she’d asked why, he told her of some legend of dangerous creatures that supposedly lived in the wood. Monsters and evil faeries. She thanksed the man and continued on her journey straight to the clearing wood which was a shortcut to the next village over. She was of age now and had no belief or use for fairytales such as that. The clearing wood was the most lush forest she’d ever seen; almost as if she’d stepped into another world entirely. The trees were lush and green, vibrant flowers bloomed as soft yellow sunlight drifted down into the forest floor. The sweet chirping of birds were all around her, and the rushing stream that cut through the wood was clean and beautiful. She became distracted on her walk and began to stare in awe at the beauty of the forest. She found an old stump that had been carved into the shape of a chair, or rather almost a throne. Twisted entertwining branches formed the top. She took her rest there, resting her tired feet and leaning her head back with her eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on her face. The air was sweet and cool, like a cool cloth cleaning her face. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the atmosphere was so relaxing that she found her eyes grew heavy and she began to sink further and further into quiet, restful sleep.
When she awoke, the darkened veil of night had slipped over the sky, and the stars glittered to form their constellations and collections to tell the stories of heroes and monsters. She quickly rose to her feet with a gasp, looking at her surroundings. The trees were stranger than before, twisting like the gnarled hands of an old woman. All around her little bugs of light floated in the air like golden stars hanging in the atmosphere. The wood was colored in a purple, gauzy haze as if some magic had fallen over it. She looked all around, not knowing where exactly she was, nor how to get back on the main road.
A noise sounded behind her. Panic rose in her throat as she whirled around to meet her attacker, but nothing was there. Rustling of leaves, then the faint twinkle of laughter. Silvery and light. She picked up the skirt of her dress and began to walk as fast as she can. The woods seeming to go on forever and ever with no end in sight. She picked up her pace into a run, and went on like that for hours and hours until her feet ached and she could no longer move. She found herself in the exact same place she started. At the tree stump. She rested on it again, breathing heavily.
“Well, hello there.”
She looked up, startled to see a man standing there in the darkness, illuminated by only the moon. He stood far above any man she’d ever seen in stature, his body was lithe and muscular. Flaming auburn hair fell down onto his shoulders, framing a perfect face, strong jawline, aquiline nose, and bright green eyes that outshone any emerald stone. He was dressed in a white billowing shirt and leather vest, hugging his broad chest. She stared at him with a look of awe, her heart struck with a sense of wild attraction. She’d never beheld a man like this. He looked almost wild with his hair freely blowing in the wind and his feet bare in the grass. His green eyes were mischievous. She stood again, her breath now caught.
“Oh, sir, I didn’t see you.”
Her voice was quiet, still as if he were a doe she were afraid to scare off. She tucked some hair behind her ear. He tilted his head and his lips curled up into a smirk.
“No problem. I would die a thousand times just for one look from you, lass…”
She blushed, stammering, “Sir, if you please, I need to get out of here to the next village. Can you help me?”
“Well, of course I can help ya,” he answers, stepping closer, “But you see, you’ve made a little mistake, my lady.”
Her heart pounded in her breast, “What’s that?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you not to enter the forrest of the Faery King?”
She furrows her brows. Wasn’t that just a fairytale? A legend they told to keep children from wandering into the woods alone? She tried to step back, but found her feet frozen to the ground.
“The Faery King?” she repeats breathlessly.
The blink of an eye he is mere inches from her, looking down into her eyes, “The dreaded Faery King who snatches children from their mothers, who tricks the foolish traveller, who seduces the lonely maid.”
There was a power emanating from him, heavy and dark, smoke and lightning. She trembled under his gaze. She first thought herself crazy to believe it, but the more she looked at him, the more he drew near, the quicker she realized that this was the Faery King. That dreaded figure she’d heard about in her old stories her mother used to tell her at night before she went to sleep.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she mutters helplessly.
“No, you shouldn’t,” he answered with an up til now uncharacteristic harsh tone, “But you are, and you will pay the price.”
She swallowed hard, “Please, sir, I don’t have anything. No money or goods.”
He smirked, reaching out and curling his fingers around some tendrils of her hair and letting them glide over his fingers, “But you have yourself, which is the true price I desire.”
Heat poured into her face, her eyes unable to help falling over his perfect form. She’d never been spoken to in such a way, it sent a sharp pang of arousal through her body. She put her hands over her breast, trying to hide it away from his piercing gaze. His eyes moved over her body as smoothly as if he were caressing it, one continuous journey over her form. She thought of running, but knew she couldn’t move. Terror filled her. He had not yet touched her skin and yet she felt him on her skin, already pleasuring her, already gracefully undoing her.
“Now then,” he made his move, stepping right up to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. Pulling her close, their lips meeting as naturally as sand and ocean. Electricity shot through her, spreading down to the very tips of her fingers. She tried to resist, but found herself melting against his strong body. His scent was fire and earth, sending a chill down her spine. His hands explored her, travelling over her waist and hips and ass with elegant talent.
“You will find yourself in a misty haze, obeying my word.”
Her body obeyed him, even as her mind protested. She was too terrified to speak, and yet his touch sent chills directly through her nerves, arousing new feelings in her.
“Come,” he says, “Lay on the forest floor.”
And she did, her tired legs and body laying down on the grass, which was now soft as the softest silk. Even with the twisting trees, they were still out in the open, easily seen by anyone who would dare to enter and look upon them. Though, something told her this was what he wanted. And she would be lying if she denied her want as well. For a moment, he simply stood above her, taking in her form. Her buxom body, the earthen brown ringlets of her hair, her dark eyes staring up at him under her lashes. Without even realizing it, she had slightly spread open her legs, her woolen skirt riding up just above her knees, revealing her beautiful legs. She felt exposed beneath his gaze, not just for the indecent way she was reclining, but the look of pure lust and hunger in his eyes. She shivered, both in fear and anticipation. She’d never known a man, much less a Faery, much less a Faery King. Would she find herself in pain? Faeries were tricksters and wicked, as she’d always been told. Perhaps he would turn her into one of these trees as punishment, or some other form of trickery.
Her thoughts were interrupted when he began to untie his leather vest, pulling the golden strings loose and pulling it and his shirt over his head, letting the garments fall to the ground with a soft whoosh. His body was smooth and supple, elegantly framed. His muscles curved softly along his arms and torso, leading down to his hips which formed a lovely V shape just before they disappeared into his trousers. She blushed deeply, wondering what his skin would feel like as it brushed against hers. His hands, large, veined hands, began to loosen his belt, all the while his gaze never once leaving her, as if she were a prize at the end of a race. His trousers slipped off his hips and fell, revealing him in his entirety. He was large and thick, the member already grown hard and pulsing with desire. He was perfect, unlike anything she’d ever seen. Beautiful and breathtaking. He took a step closer before kneeling down, his legs on either side of her, sliding the hem of her skirt further up her thighs, the cool night air sending goosebumps across her skin. She gasped, trembling to feel his fingertips brush against her.
Noticing her shy trembling, he turned up the corner of his lip, “You are untouched.”
She blushed, heat pouring into her cheeks and burning her face. She couldn’t look away even in her embarrassment. That word was pregnant with possibilities, so much seductive intention behind it that her stomach clenched to think about what crossed his mind as he said it. Despite herself, she nodded, though he needed no confirmation from her. Her throat was dry, and she could feel the sheepskin undergarments sticking to her skin as she grew wet with desire. Her hips shifted, discomfort growing with each passing moment. How she longed for his touch, ached for it. Determined to take his time, as if the night would last forever, he began by undoing her light blue tunic which was covered by her overskirt and apron. His elegant fingers stopped at her throat, where he found a bronze broach with a single jewel inside the center. She reached up and covered it with her hands, her fear of losing it more powerful than his spell.
“Please, no,” she begged.
His emerald eyes looked on her, an unknowable depth behind the lust. He undid the pin and set it aside as to open her tunic fully, revealing her large, rounded breasts. Her nipples erect against the cool air dancing over her sensitive flesh. She licked her lips, almost arching her back to entice him to touch them. Her eagerness was noticed and obliged. Once his palm covered her right breast she sighed with a great relief. Her legs spread even further of their own accord, welcoming his hips to bear down on hers.
“Soft and delicate as a fawn,” he says sweetly, leaning down and wrapping his perfect lips around her hardened nipple, his tongue darting out to flick over it. She whimpers. He sucks so tenderly, as if that part of her was so worthy enough of adoration that he needed to take his time and be gentle. His other hand cupped her left breast, kneading the rose-petal soft skin with the mastery and skill of an experienced lover. Her hips already began to buck, wanting him now more than she could ever remember wanting anything. His hard cock brushed against her naked thigh and she shivered with eager anticipation. But he seemed to be in no hurry. They had the night. His fingers slip between her thighs, tugging down the sheepskin undergarments, the cool night air brushing against her sensitive flesh. He caresses the skin with his fingertips, gliding over her flesh as her juices soaked his fingers.
His touch was slow, deliberate, playing her skillfully as an instrument and making sweet, melodic whimpers and moans. His long digits, forefinger and ring finger, glided inside her with ease, penetrating her untouched entrance with a gentle violation. She squealed, hot nectar seeping from her hole at the new and pleasurable sensation. Pressure built up in her lower abdomen as he thrust his hand back and forth slowly, stretching open her virgin hole. Her lips parted, eyes shutting tight, “Oh…”
Soon her hips rolled in time with his fingers, her moans filling the night as they floated from her lips. The wet sounds of his ministrations only served to further her arousal until she could feel her essence dripping down her inner thighs and ass. Her walls spawned around his long fingers.
Just as her orgasm began to peak, he pulled out his fingers, leaving her body to convulse as a scream caught in her throat. Without the tending of his fingers her release was stifled, ruined and denied by him. She could only whimper and buck her hips, looking up at him with scared confusion. He flashed a wicked grin, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking them clean, his tongue cleaning off every drop. A sheen of sweat covered her body as she panted for air. The arduous torture continued. He picked up her legs by the ankles and placed them on his broad shoulders, leaning down to breathe in her scent. Without warning his tongue lapped over her slit, sliding over here dewy lips. She nearly bolted upright, but was still frozen by the spell. He was skilled with his fingers, and he proved to be as much a master with his tongue. It slid inside her and found its way to her most intimate and pleasurable parts as if he could sense them. He gave extra attention to her clit, which pulsed and swelled beneath his lips as they sucked and kissed it. She closed her thighs around his head, wanting to hold him there. He only deepened his exploration by finding her entrance and gently requesting access by licking at her walls before slipping his tongue into her hole, tending to it masterfully. Her lower body felt heavy with arousal, aching for him to make her cum, which he seemed like he could do with only the snap of a finger. After several minutes of oral attention, he sat up and licked his lips, her nectar coating his chin. She was drunk on pleasure, so heavy with it she could barely move. Yet he had denied her release once again, cruelly. Now, she felt him bear down on her, her eyes focusing on his chiseled torso as he began to stroke his cock across her slit, igniting her nerves once again. Their eyes met and he slid his full length inside her. The pressure made her cry out, her body stretching to accommodate him. She moaned eagerly, shaking with desperate need as he began to thrust, his hips rolling with serpentine grace. Somehow every spot she’d thought had been well pleasured and touched were now being stimulated anew. She cursed breathlessly, body beginning to spasm.
“I need to—! Please, please let me cum!”
It was as if he held her in agonizing suspension, not allowing her to orgasm with just the power of his will. Each wet thrust brought forth more hot spewing juices from her, her skin was sweaty and her hair stuck to her brow. The tension in her body was too much, she would pass out without release soon. Her moans were hoarse and desperate. Finally, after he’d sufficiently fucked her into a stupor, he grinned and leaned to whisper in her ear, “Cum for me, my little dove.”
At his command her body released everything that had been building up. A powerful, raging orgasm ravaged through every inch of her body, making her shake and convulse as she screamed. It lasted for so long it felt like hours when she collapsed onto the forest floor panting and heaving with exhaustion.