When Lady Isabella is granted a husband she knows there can be no refusing. This is the queen's will, and no one refuses the queen. But the husband she is given turns out to be not just any courtier handpicked by the cruel, tyrannical Queen Ingaret.
He is "Brutus", a wild man recently captured from his isolated tropical island. A naked, long-haired, enormous savage, who knows only a handful of words - all learned from a bunch of lusty sailors and none suitable for the ears of a lady. A brute with a manhood that has made him a prize exhibit in the queen's menagerie of rare animals.
Isabella must find some way to tame the beast who is now her husband, but she must also keep the perverted, spiteful queen entertained, for this is not just her future safety at stake. It is his life.
Can this mismatched couple find a way to bond in bed and out of it? Can they live happily forever - and ever after?
Excerpt:
He was ravenous. The taste of her pussy— not puzzy, she had taught him—
was sweeter than wine and went to his head in just the same way. She
liked it when he licked her there, so he discovered, and she encouraged
him to keep doing it.
When she let her hands slide up and down his body, and across his shoulders, he found he liked that too. It was soothing, made him feel warm in a way he never had before. Warm on the inside. It was a gesture that seemed admiring, for when he was walked out in the yard and there was a bazaar taking place, he had witnessed other women touch cloth like this, running their hands over it and sighing.
And as she explored him with her small, light, gentle hands, he did the same to her body, wishing his hands were as smooth as hers. The dip in her waist was deep when she lay on her side, her hip a high slope that trembled when he licked the curve with his tongue. Her teats were almost too much for his hands to hold and he sucked on them with delight. When he pulled her close and felt her soft belly against the hard ridges of his muscle it brought him such intense pleasure that he let his head fall back and a low rumble came out of his throat— more of a purr than the howl he expected.
His bride caressed the groin-snake with her hands and then her mouth, tasting timidly at first and then growing bolder. Her little tongue tickled his balls and travelled all the way from sturdy root to the fleshy knob that ached and swelled.
Brutus had never had so much good attention focused upon him and he wanted it to go on forever, so he held back his urge to rut and let it build at a slower pace while she played with his body and petted him with tenderness. * * * *
When he turned onto his back, Isabella slowly stretched her body over his and licked his eyebrows, then his eyelids. He made a questioning grunt and she laughed lightly. Suddenly she felt immensely powerful. The queen had, no doubt, expected her to feel helpless and dominated by the wild man in bed, but he was not an ogre, or any sort of monster. He was a man. And she would teach him, lead the way through her own deflowering.
From this position she would have more leverage, be able to make the pace suit her better than she would if he lay above.
He ran a hand down her spine, tracing the curve with his long fingers, making her shiver, and then he cupped her bottom in both hands and lifted her.
Poised straddling his cock, Isabella muttered a hasty prayer and then she pressed downward.
Brutus groaned, staring at the sight of his erect manhood slowly penetrating her body. Still gripping her buttocks, his fingers trembled and dug into her flesh.
Every so often she paused, readjusting her position. She leaned forward.
"Kiss me, Brutus."
"Kizz?"
Her heart quaked to think he had never known a kiss. So she tenderly laid her lips to his, tasting the wine and roast peacock from their wedding feast. Inside her pussy, his cock throbbed, causing an echoing flutter to rush through her, radiating from that one tightly filled place. She gasped, jolting, for it made her skin tingle as if lightning had struck.
He pressed his hand to the back of her head, holding her head still, keeping her lips against his. And then, as she was sinking into that kiss, he flipped her over onto her back.
When she let her hands slide up and down his body, and across his shoulders, he found he liked that too. It was soothing, made him feel warm in a way he never had before. Warm on the inside. It was a gesture that seemed admiring, for when he was walked out in the yard and there was a bazaar taking place, he had witnessed other women touch cloth like this, running their hands over it and sighing.
And as she explored him with her small, light, gentle hands, he did the same to her body, wishing his hands were as smooth as hers. The dip in her waist was deep when she lay on her side, her hip a high slope that trembled when he licked the curve with his tongue. Her teats were almost too much for his hands to hold and he sucked on them with delight. When he pulled her close and felt her soft belly against the hard ridges of his muscle it brought him such intense pleasure that he let his head fall back and a low rumble came out of his throat— more of a purr than the howl he expected.
His bride caressed the groin-snake with her hands and then her mouth, tasting timidly at first and then growing bolder. Her little tongue tickled his balls and travelled all the way from sturdy root to the fleshy knob that ached and swelled.
Brutus had never had so much good attention focused upon him and he wanted it to go on forever, so he held back his urge to rut and let it build at a slower pace while she played with his body and petted him with tenderness. * * * *
When he turned onto his back, Isabella slowly stretched her body over his and licked his eyebrows, then his eyelids. He made a questioning grunt and she laughed lightly. Suddenly she felt immensely powerful. The queen had, no doubt, expected her to feel helpless and dominated by the wild man in bed, but he was not an ogre, or any sort of monster. He was a man. And she would teach him, lead the way through her own deflowering.
From this position she would have more leverage, be able to make the pace suit her better than she would if he lay above.
He ran a hand down her spine, tracing the curve with his long fingers, making her shiver, and then he cupped her bottom in both hands and lifted her.
Poised straddling his cock, Isabella muttered a hasty prayer and then she pressed downward.
Brutus groaned, staring at the sight of his erect manhood slowly penetrating her body. Still gripping her buttocks, his fingers trembled and dug into her flesh.
Every so often she paused, readjusting her position. She leaned forward.
"Kiss me, Brutus."
"Kizz?"
Her heart quaked to think he had never known a kiss. So she tenderly laid her lips to his, tasting the wine and roast peacock from their wedding feast. Inside her pussy, his cock throbbed, causing an echoing flutter to rush through her, radiating from that one tightly filled place. She gasped, jolting, for it made her skin tingle as if lightning had struck.
He pressed his hand to the back of her head, holding her head still, keeping her lips against his. And then, as she was sinking into that kiss, he flipped her over onto her back.
