Miranda's Tempest

Tilly Hunter

Description

Shakespeare's The Tempest, Grimm's Hansel and Gretel and Homer's The Odyssey get a kinky makeover in this collection full of dominance and submission, bondage and beatings. Miranda loves to submit to her forbidden lover, Caliban, but she wields a power of her own and together she and Caliban turn the bedraggled prince Ferdinand into their plaything. Young lovers Hansel and Gretel are lured to the witch's house, where Hansel finds himself chained and caged ready to be used in the coven's midsummer ritual, but Gretel takes on the witch at her own game. Penelope has survived the long years of her husband Odysseus' travels with the help of her 12 beloved handmaidens, but one of the 108 suitors who vie for her hand in marriage proves his true devotion.

Sujets

• Erotic literature

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 03 janvier 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781782345244
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
MIRANDA’S TEMPEST
Three Classic Tales with a Kinky Twist


By
Tilly Hunter



Publisher Information
Published in 2012 by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © Tilly Hunter
The right of Tilly Hunter to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



Miranda’s Tempest
Miranda looked down over the island from a ledge in front of her favourite cave. She saw the results of her father’s storm played out in miniature. Tiny figures dragged themselves ashore far below, spluttering and dripping. The air shimmered strangely as Aerial, a sprite under her father’s command, brought his grand plot to fruition. Despite the roaring tempest that had whipped the sea into foaming mountains, none had perished. The nobles of Milan and Naples were brought bedraggled but safe to the island; their vessel now lay in a sheltered harbour out of sight, its crew in an enchanted sleep.
Prospero, usurped Duke of Milan, had brought his enemies to their knees and thought the reclamation of his title from his power-hungry brother within his grasp. He hadn’t reckoned on his daughter. Exiled with him on this barren isle from the age of three, bored half to death at his lectures born of bitterness and self-pity and now, a grown woman, forced to meet her swarthy lover in secret after Prospero condemned their union, Miranda had her own plans.
‘It’s nearly time,’ she called to Caliban. She turned to look at where he reclined, naked, in the shelter of the cave. ‘I can’t wait until we can be together without hiding. I can hardly believe it will truly happen.’
‘It will happen, my sweet,’ he told her. ‘You will make it happen. You have power far beyond that wielded by your father.’ It was true. Miranda had secretly mastered the magic of his books and allied it to the deep earth lore Caliban’s witch mother Sycorax had instructed him in before she died in exile on the island. ‘My mother taught me everything she knew,’ he said, ‘but it is you who has taken that knowledge and made it your own.’ He beckoned her into the cave.
Miranda went to her lover, slipping her loose shift from her body as she walked. His gentlest coaxing commanded her, as always. He patted the cool earth beside him and she lowered herself into his arms. She had seen only two men in her entire life until this day, which brought the finest gentlemen of Italy into her domain.
And she herself was the only woman she had known, beyond the vaguest memories of her nursemaids. She recalled the horror she had experienced at her maturing body. The physical debilitation her swelling breasts had brought until she learned to refashion her rough garments to support them. The mortal fear on the day her most intimate parts flowed with blood. Her father had not warned her. He knew little of women and their bodies, preferring books to people.
It had been Caliban who had explained, quietly and tenderly, what was happening to her, long before their friendship had bloomed into passion. Even so, her father had condemned him to slavery for daring to converse with the girl alone. Miranda pitied her mother, dead within hours of the birth of her first child having never known the passionate embrace of a real man.
‘My Caliban,’ she sighed, her lips against the soft brown skin of his chest. ‘I love you with all my being.’
‘I know, little one,’ he said, cupping her jaw in his broad fingers. ‘You are mine. Body, heart and spirit. And I promise to cherish each one.’ He shifted his weight to lean over her, cradling her head in one arm. He kissed his way up her jawline, then down her neck to her collarbone, murmuring, ‘Mine, mine, mine.’ Miranda squirmed at the feather-light tickle of his lips, but he placed a hand on her ribcage, beneath her breasts, and held her in place.
‘Oh Caliban, my master. I don’t know what I’d do without you to keep me grounded. The forces within me rip me apart, but you make me whole again. You pin me to the earth and bind my floating soul back within its fleshy confines.’
Caliban took her wrists and pinned each one to the gritty floor beside her head. She felt his stiff manhood brush her legs as he moved on top of her. She recalled her sheer wonderment at her first sight of his thick shaft nestled in tight black curls. The wrinkled skin was so much darker than the rest of his body. And when it grew... she would not have believed it possible had she not seen it with her own eyes, felt it with her own hands.
His kisses grazed down her chest to her left breast, where he nipped and nuzzled at her hardening nipple. Miranda longed to feel him inside her, but knew he would take his time. He would make her beg and eventually, when her pleas melted into incoherent tears, he would take her. Already the flesh between her legs was swelling.
Gathering both wrists into one of his strong hands, he held them above her head against the earth. His mouth on one nipple, he moved a hand to the other, circling it with the work-roughened pad of a finger. Miranda arched her back and parted her thighs. Caliban laughed. ‘So eager, my sweet.’ He ran his fingers to her mound. ‘You want me down here, do you?’
‘Yes, I want you. I need you.’
‘And you will get me. But there is no rush.’ Miranda moaned her frustration. ‘Lie still for me,’ Caliban said, ‘and I will worship at your sacred fount.’ He released her wrists, but Miranda left them in place above her head. Her lover was selfless in his devotion to her pleasure, but he wanted her complete surrender to his ministrations. She wished he would tie her wrists and tether them to the big rock at the back of the cave, as he had before. This was so much more difficult. She longed to run her fingers over his cheek as he tongued her nipple, to push his head towards her sex.
Caliban kissed between her breasts and slowly down to her belly, gripping her hips. Miranda pressed her buttocks into the ground, fighting the urge to thrust her pelvis towards him. Kisses fluttered over her hips, his tongue flicked into the sensitive crease between her mound and thigh. So close. His lips moved over her hair down there. She felt his breath hot on the flesh that hid her clit. A desperate whimper tore from her throat as he moved on down her inner thigh.
‘Please,’ she moaned. Caliban stopped and raised his head. As soon as his hands released her hips, she thrust her sex at him, thighs tense. ‘Please.’
‘Please what, my love?’ She knew that wicked smile well.
‘Please lick me down there. Between my legs.’
‘You know what it’s called, sweet one.’
‘My pussy. Caliban please. Lick my pussy. My clit.’
‘All in good time.’
Miranda groaned through clenched teeth. Her hands made fists so tight they ached, knuckles grinding into the grit. Caliban turned his attentions back to her stomach, kisses flaming over her yielding flesh. Up to her ribcage, the very edge of her breasts, the maddening point between them. Back to her neck, jaw, temple. Her hips ground into his body, her mound rubbing against him so hard it pumped the skin over his shaft.
Pressing his lips to hers, he stifled her mewling. She opened her mouth wide to him. His tongue probed. As her lips parted, her cunt gaped, mirroring her hunger. His chest rasped over her nipples. Big hands held her face. Breath bursting through her nose, she felt the kiss overwhelm her. Eyes closed, head spinning, mouth stretched. Now she wanted him in her mouth, his hardness straining her jaw and choking her throat. And he knew it. He pulled up, leaving her gasping, and walked his knees to her shoulders, placing the end of his cock to her lips.
She lifted her head to suck in his tip. Ignoring his command, she raised her arms and reached for him, grasping his buttocks to pull him tighter against her face. He cupped a hand beneath the nape of her neck, easing his entry, cramming her mouth full. Full of flesh. Hot and hard. She curled the sides of her tongue around him, pulled her lips over her teeth to smooth his passage. He pumped his way in, jabbing against the roof of her mouth. She dug fingernails into his ass to urge him deeper. His tip hit her throat, stifling a breath. She resisted the urge to jerk her head away, to fight the obstruction. Saliva pooled in her mouth and trickled down her chin. All the while, her hips were thrusting her sex into the air, thighs straining, stomach hollowed. Her clit throbbed.
Cock. It was the only thought, the only image in Miranda’s mind. Big, hard cock. The contradiction of its texture; loose skin over rigid flesh. She concentrated on opening her throat to it, breathing around it, relaxing her aching jaw to keep on sucking it. Her focus now was purely on the hope Caliban would come in her mouth and fill her throat with spunk. She groaned in time to his movements, staccato bursts of longing around the choking thrusts. Groaning a wordless plea, begging him to flood her mouth.
His own moans quickened with hers. He gripped the base of his cock with his free hand, his knuckles hitting her lips as he pumped. His shaft swelled and hardened. Miranda barely tasted the first spurt of come, it was so deep in her throat. He pulled his tip onto her tongue for the second and third gushes. Its tang was like a wave in the face on an ocean swim mingled